Summary

Peter Cunningham The Story of Nell Gwyn — Chapter VIII. (1852)

There is no armour against fate:
Death lays his icy hands on Kings.
Lely should have painted Nelly in her mourning; but the delicate hand which drew with so much grace the Beauties of King Charles the Second's Court, and Nelly with her lamb among them, was lying torpid under the church in Covent Garden, and the painters who succeeded him, Wissing, Kneller, and Verelst, had little skill in transferring from life to canvas those essential graces of expression which Lely caught so inimitably in his La Belle Hamilton and his Madame Gwyn.
Source: Wikisource

Peter Cunningham The Story of Nell Gwyn — Chapter VIII. (1852)

Some strict disciplinarians of the Church will hear perhaps with a smile that Nell Gwyn was troubled at any time with a thought about religion. But their incredulity is uncharitable. Nelly doubtless had her moments of remorse; and, though her warmth in the cause of Protestantism may in the first instance have been strengthened by her hatred to the Duchess of Portsmouth, yet the kindly feeling avowed for her by Tenison, affords surely a strong presumption that her faith was unshaken and her repentance sincere.
Source: Wikisource

Peter Cunningham The Story of Nell Gwyn — Chapter VIII. (1852)

With the single exception of a too grave and thoughtful picture in the Lely room at Hampton Court, there is not a single picture of Nelly in any of the royal collections. When Queen Charlotte was asked whether she recollected a famous picture of Nell Gwyn, known to have existed in the Windsor gallery, and which Her Majesty herself was suspected of having removed, she replied at once "that most assuredly since she had resided at Windsor there had been no Nell Gwyn there."
Source: Wikisource

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