ote: HARDHAM'S SNUFF]

Yet another, of a very different type, is John Hardham. "When they
talked of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff," wrote Goldsmith of Sir
Joshua Reynolds,

He shifted his trumpet, and only took snuff.

Had it not been for Chichester the great painter might never have had
the second of these consolations, for the only snuff he liked was
Hardham's No. 37, and Hardham was a native of Chichester. Before he
became famous as a tobacconist, Hardham was, by night, a numberer of the
pit for Garrick at Drury Lane. One day he happened to blend Dutch and
rappee and poured the mixture into a drawer labelled 37. Garrick so
liked the pinch of it which he chanced upon, that he introduced a
reference to its merits in some of his comic parts, with the result that
Hardham's little shop in Fleet Street soon became a resort, and no nose
was properly furnished without No. 37. As Colton wrote, in his
_Hypocrisy_:--

A name is all. From Garrick's breath a puff
Of praise gave immortality to snuff;
Since which each connoisseur a transient heaven
Finds in each pinch of Hardham's 37.

The wealth that came to the tobacconist he left to the city of
Chichester to relieve it of certain of its poor rates; and the citizens
still magnify Hardham's name. He died in 1772 and had the good sense to
restrict the expense of his funeral to ten pounds.

[Sidenote: WILKIE'S BUMPS]

Chichester was the scene of a pleasant incident recorded by Leslie in
his _Autobiographical Recollections_. He was staying with Wilkie at
Petworth, the guest of their patron, and the patron of so many other
painters, Lord Egremont, of whom we shall learn more when Petworth is
reached. They all drove over to Chichester after a visit to Goodwood.
Lord Egremont, says Leslie, "had some business to transact at
Chichester; but one of his objects was to show us a young girl, the
daughter of an upholsterer, who was devoted to painting, and considered
to be a genius by her friends. She was not at home; but her mother said
she could soon be found, 'if his lordship would have the goodness to
wait a short time.' The young lady soon appeared, breathless and
exhausted with running. Lord Egremont mentioned our names, and she said,
looking up to Wilkie with an expression of great respect, 'Oh, sir! it
was but yesterday I had your head in my hands.' This puzzled him, as he
did not know she was a phrenologist.

"'And what bumps did you