THE BOWYER BIBLE. (Vol. v., pp. 248. 309.)
Seeing a fresh notice of this great book in No. 124. of "N. & Q.," I venture to forward a few particulars concerning Bowyer, who was an old friend, even of between thirty and forty years' standing. He is long since gone to his rest; he has left neither widow nor child, scarcely a distant relative, so that the following can neither "give offence nor grieve." He has often told me particulars of his early career. Being a poor youth in search of employment, and withal moody enough at his prospects, he was one day walking down Newgate Street, and pausing to look at a print or two in a shop-window, it struck him he could take a likeness; so he went home to his indifferent lodging, having procured implements suitable, seated himself before a glass, and took his own portrait, which he considered was as successful as a first effort could be. Encouraged thereby, he was soon employed to paint others, and such note did he acquire that his miniatures were carried into court-circles, so that he became a sort of celebrity in that line, and Queen Charlotte appointed him her official miniature-painter—if such be the proper term.
He soon struck out much more important occupation, planning various publications, the most promising of which was his large edition of Hume's History of England; and this was so ponderous an undertaking that it was only at last disposed of by a lottery. His fondness for taking portraits never left him, and a very few years before his death he gratified my family by volunteering to paint a miniature of my father, and a capital likeness it was. He was much pleased with one of his successes, of which he has more than once told me with great glee. Just before George III. was secluded finally from public view, he and another artist, an old acquaintance, went one Sunday together to the Chapel-Royal at Windsor, and during the service each sketched the King on one of his nails: they adjourned to an inn, and while the impression was yet fresh, transferred to a sheet of paper the likeness of the venerable monarch. On returning with it to London, Bowyer sent it for the inspection of the Prince Regent, who was so pleased with this rough pencil-drawing, that he sent word back he would never part with it, and begged to know Bowyer's price. The latter said 105l., which the Prince Regent immediately forwarded.
I once found Bowyer drawing at a table, a wig placed on a stick before him, and he was taking the likeness of a very old friend, who was dead and gone, from memory. In this attempt he entirely succeeded, even to the surprise of all who knew the deceased.
About ten years ago a little book, called Henry VIII. and his Contemporaries, by B. Bensley, contained, concerning the earlier impressions of the Bible, the following note:—
"I trust to be pardoned for introducing a little anecdote relative to the Bible, exactly three hundred years after the period about which I am writing, that is not the less appropriate for being likewise illustrative of episcopal shrewdness. [The text is recording an instance of the then Bishop of London being bitten in an arrangement with a bookseller.] The most splendid Bible ever issued was that published by Macklin, printed by my late father, and the execution of which even his son may say, would alone hand down his name to posterity. Bowyer, publisher of another great national work—the folio edition of Hume's History of England, also a splendid specimen of my father's typography—had a copy of Macklin's Bible, which he employed his leisure during many years to illustrate, having the best opportunities, from his pursuits as an artist, publisher of prints, &c. On the completion of his labours, he valued the massy product, consisting of an immense number of prints, at 2500l.; and, after unsuccessful efforts to procure a purchaser, he put it up to be raffled for, issuing proposals to the nobility and gentry, &c. Among others, an aged bishop sent his name as a subscriber to this kind of lottery, and shortly after called at the rooms in Pall Mall to pay the two guineas; but, before he did so, he drew Mr. Bowyer apart, and gravely told him he could not quite make out how, by paying that sum, he could ensure possession of the great work. Upon its being explained to his lordship, that he could only take a chance with 1249 others, he expressed surprise and vexation, and declined to pay two guineas for the chance, which he then, probably, saw was objectionable in a moral point of view, as a species of gambling! The parties are all long since dead."
B. B.
Pembroke.