As Clive and his friends were at Honeymans door, and just as we were entering to see the divine seated in state before his folio, Clive whispers, J. J., come along, old fellow, and show us some drawings. What are you doing? strap ons for sale
I was doing some Arabian Nights, says J. J., up in my room; and hearing a knock which I thought was yours, I came down
Show us the pictures. Lets go up into your room, cries Clive. What will you? says the other. It is but a very small place strapon with harness
Never mind, come along, says Clive; and the two lads disappear together, leaving the three grown gentlemen to discourse together, or rather two of us to listen to Honeyman, who expatiates upon the beauty of the weather, the difficulties of the clerical calling, the honour Colonel Newcome does him by a visit, etc., with his usual eloquence.
After a while Clive comes down without J. J., from the upper regions. He is greatly excited. Oh, sir, he says to his father, you talk about my drawings you should see J. J.s! By Jove, that fellow is a genius. They are beautiful, sir. You seem actually to read the Arabian Nights, you know, only in pictures. There is Scheherazade telling the stories, and what do you call her? Dinarzade and the Sultan sitting in bed and listening. Such a grim old cove! You see he has cut off ever so many of his wives heads. I cant think where that chap gets his ideas from. I can beat him in drawing horses, I know, and dogs; but I can only draw what I see. Somehow he seems to see things we dont, dont you know? Oh, father, Im determined Id rather be a painter than anything And he falls to drawing horses and dogs at his uncles table, round which the elders are seated.
Ive settled it upstairs with J. J., says Clive, working away with his pen. We shall take a studio together; perhaps we will go abroad together. Wont that be fun, father?
My dear Clive, remarks Mr. Honeyman, with bland dignity, there are degrees in society which we must respect. You surely cannot think of being a professional artist. Such a profession is very well for your young protege; but for you
What for me? cries Clive. We are no such great folks that I know of; and if we were, I say a painter is as good as a lawyer, or a doctor, or even a soldier. In Dr. Johnstons Life which my father is always reading I like to read about Sir Joshua Reynolds best: I think he is the best gentleman of all in the book. My! wouldnt I like to paint a picture like Lord Heathfield in the National Gallery! Wouldnt I just! I think I would sooner have done that, than have fought at Gibraltar. And those Three Graces oh, arent they graceful! And that Cardinal Beaufort at Dulwich! it frightens me so, I darent look at it. Wasnt Reynolds a clipper, thats all! and wasnt Rubens a brick! He was an ambassador, and Knight of the Bath; so was Vandyck. And Titian, and Raphael, and Velasquez? Ill just trouble you to show me better gentlemen than them, Uncle Charles