I remember Cockburn the Richmond silversmith mentioning to me that a customer, who owed him £6, begged him as a favour to take the amount in Gothic crowns, of which he handed him twenty-four unused. There was a ridiculous notion, that the graceless florin was rare, and Diamond inquired about it of Hugh Owen, author of the monograph on Bristol china, and cashier of the Great Western Railway. The following Sunday Owen came down to Twickenham with a small cargo of them.
CHAPTER XI
The Stamp Book—A Passing Taste—Dr Diamond again—An Establishment in the Strand—My Partiality for Lounging—One of My Haunts and Its Other Visitors—Our Entertainer Himself—His Principals Abroad—The Cinque Cento Medal—Canon Greenwell—Mr Montagu—Story of a Dutch Priest—My Experience of Pictures—The Stray Portrait recovered after Many Years—The Two Wilson Landscapes—Sir Joshua’s Portrait of Richard Burke—Hazlitt’s Likeness of Lamb—The Picture Market and Some of Its Incidence—Story of a Painting—Plate—The Rat-tailed Spoon—Dr Diamond smitten—The Hogarth Salver—The Edmund Bury Godfrey and Blacksmiths’ Cups—Irish Plate—Danger of Repairing or Cleaning Old Silver—The City Companies’ Plate.
I have to retrace my steps to Reynolds, because he was quite fortuitously instrumental in inoculating me with a new weakness—the Postage Stamp. He was a man in very indifferent health, and during two years or so was laid up, so that he was unable to attend to his regular business, and beguiled his leisure with a study of Wedgwood and philately. The former proved sufficiently profitable to him, as soon as he was strong enough to attend to work; the latter was a mere passing amusement, and fructified only to the extent of placing him in possession of an album, formed by the consolidation of a number of others purchased and broken up. This he had by him, and did not propose to sell.
I remarked it on a shelf once or twice; the topic was beginning to awaken interest; and I elicited from the owner, that he might be tempted by £50. He was ultimately tempted by £16. There were about 3500 stamps; and the collection has since been greatly enlarged and entirely rearranged. I relinquished the pursuit, because I was advised that the liability to deception was excessive, and there my book lies, a record of a foolish passion. I sincerely believe, that Diamond had a finger in drawing my attention to stamps; for he had an important collection, which he shewed to me at Twickenham and which he sold, I understood, to a public institution for £70.
The frequenters of the Strand, where it is a gorge toward St Clement’s, must recollect the morality in metal-work over the premises of a stamp-merchant there. It represented a deadly combat between him and a figure of more stalwart proportions personifying the evil genius of the collector—the stamp-forger. This ingenious and impressive piece of mechanism was illuminated at night, and attracted the attention, which it so well deserved. But the police inconsiderately suppressed the spectacle, merely because it blocked the traffic at a difficult point, endangered human life, and was misconstrued into an advertisement.
I am persuaded that the sole chance of securing certain old issues in a few series is the acquisition of a genuine collection, as it stands, and the sale of the residuum. I made an effort in this direction one day some time since at Puttick’s; but the album contained a good deal that I did not want, and some forgeries; and it fetched £66.
I mention it as a flattering mark of confidence on the part of Messrs Sotheby & Co., that a very valuable album, which was to be sold in a few days, was lent by them to me for the purpose of examination at my own house. But I did not bid for it, after all.