vigour and facility, and dipped his pen freely in the public controversies of those times. He was known to be the author of many ingenious pieces on history, politics, and criticism, signed "Investigator," and since collected into a volume. He acquired credit by a pamphlet on the subject of Elizabeth Canning, which had the merit of opening the eyes of the nation to the real truth of that mysterious story. He corresponded, too, with Voltaire and Rousseau; both of whom he had visited when abroad; and his letters are said to have been elegant and witty. Ramsay, in short, led the life of an elegant, accomplished man of the world, and public favourite; the companion of the first of his day, and the admitted ornament of the highest societies.

When he was busy with his first portrait of Queen Charlotte all the crown jewels and the regalia, too, were sent to him: the painter said, such a mass of jewels and gold deserved a guard, and sentinels were accordingly posted day and night in front and rear of his house. His residence was in Harley Street, on the west side, just above the Mews; and his studio consisted of a set of coachmen's rooms and haylofts gutted, all thrown into one long gallery.

Soon after his appointment to be King's painter he made a third excursion to Rome, accompanied by his son, who has since risen to distinction in the army; and here, we are told, his chief pleasure lay in examining and copying the ancient Greek and Latin inscriptions in the corridors of the Vatican. This kind of employment, it seems, he loved infinitely better than his

pro

fessional labours: he had, however, enough of the artist, and the Briton, too, about him, to be much annoyed when he found the genius of his country questioned. The President of the Roman Academy, desirous of doing all honour to the King of Great Britain's painter, showed him the School of Art, and all the drawings of the students; but was rash enough to drop a hint that England had nothing of the kind that could compare with what he was exhibiting. Ramsay kindled up at this, and said, "Well, sir, I will show you how we draw in England." He instantly wrote to Davie Martin, desiring him to put his drawings into his trunk, and bring them to Rome. On the arrival of Davie, his master arranged all his drawings in due order, and then called in the President and his scholars. Ramsay always declared this to be the proudest day of his life: "for," said he, "the Italians were confounded and overcome, and British skill triumphant." That he believed in his victory there can be no doubt but we know not what the Italian artists said of it. Rome at that time had few skilful hands, but in drawing she has generally excelled; her deficiency is in sentiment and in colour. Ramsay indulged his champion with a month's look at the wonders of the eternal city, and then sent him home to spread the news of this perhaps unlooked-for victory.

Ramsay himself presently returned to England, and resumed his flourishing practice, until an unfortunate accident befell him, which made him lay down the brush for the rest of his life. Reading of a fire in which lives were lost, he was

so touched by the calamity, that he rose and desired all his household and pupils to follow him, and he would show the way how they might make their escape, even though, as in the story he had been perusing, all the lower part of the premises were on fire. He pushed a ladder through the loft-door, desired them all to watch what he did, went quickly up, and said, "Now I am safe, I can escape along the roofs of the adjoining houses." As he turned to come down again he missed the step, fell, and dislocated his right arm in so severe a way that it never fairly recovered.

Happening at the time to be occupied with a portrait of the King for the Excise Office, he held up his right arm with his left, and so finished the work; and, what is remarkable, it was said, both by himself and others, to be the finest portrait he ever painted.

This momentary effort speaks much for the spirit of the man: but his constitution had been sorely shattered; and finding himself in a disabled state, he resolved to try once more the vivifying air of Italy. Philip Reinagle had now become skilful in the art; and Ramsay, leaving his brush in his pupil's hand, gave him an order to complete, during his own absence, fifty pairs of kings and queens at ten guineas each. Accompanied by his son, he set off from London; but his shoulder continued painful; sleepless nights more and more shook his frame: and his early alacrity of spirit was gone. He reached Rome, however, in safety, and established himself once more among the scenes most dear to his

fancy. Meanwhile, the copying of kings and queens began to weary Reinagle; and he wrote to Ramsay that ten guineas was not price sufficient. Ramsay augmented it to thirty; still this did not render the task less irksome: Reinagle manufactured the article according to contract; but the dose of portraiture was so strong, that when, after the toil of six years, he completed his undertaking, he never could think of that department again without a sort of horror. His imitation of Ramsay's style had by this time become so perfect, that the work of the pupil could not be distinguished from that of the master.

Ramsay continued to reside in Italy several years, and maintained a correspondence with some of the first men of his day both in France and England. His health, however, never was thoroughly restored; and by degrees that love of home came upon him, which, it is said, comes upon all. In the summer of 1784 he departed for his native land, which he expected to gain by short and easy stages. He reached Paris with difficulty: the motion of the carriage had brought on a slow fever, which medicine failed to remove, and he died in August, in the seventy-first year of his age.

Ramsay was middle sized, well made, and finely proportioned, and his looks were acute and intelligent. He was hasty and irritable, passionate and headstrong, but easily smoothed down and pacified; a steadfast friend, and a most agreeable companion. In extent of learning and variety of knowledge he surpassed all artists of his time; and was considered an ornament to the Royal

Academy, not so much as a portrait painterthough even in that he was second only to Reynolds-as for the accomplishments of a gentleman and scholar, his taste in poetry as well as in art, and his not inconsiderable powers as a writer. He was fond of delicate eating, and was as determined a consumer of tea as Dr. Johnson himself, but had no relish for stronger potations: it is said, that even the smell of a bottle of claret was too much for him.

In his own art we may, perhaps, trace something of the same rather effeminate turn. His execution was neat, careful, and finished; but the freedom of his pencilling never reached the character of boldness: the placid and the contemplative were his element, energy he never even attempted; and his colouring seldom deserted the regions of the pale and the grey. Walpole has recorded his belief, that if he did not achieve a first-rate name, it was for want of subjects rather than of genius; and I shall conclude, with the more detailed opinion of Northcote, in his lately published Conversations: "There was Ramsay, of whom Sir Joshua used to say, that he was the most sensible among all the painters of his time, but he has left little to show it. His manner was dry and timid. He stopped short in the middle of his work, because he knew exactly how much it wanted. Now and then we find tints and sketches, which show what he might have been if his hand had been equal to his conceptions. I have seen a picture of his of the Queen soon after she was married; a profile, and slightly done, but it was a