it was a busy scene, but ill executed. This point was immediately contested by a she-cousin, who observed, that it was greatly admired by many, and particularly by John Opie, a lad of great genius.'

Having learned the place of the artist's abode, I instantly sallied forth, and found him at the bottom of a sawpit, cutting wood, by moving the lower part of an instrument which was regulated above by another person. Having enquired in the dialect of the county, if he could paint?

"Con you paient? I was instantly answered from below, in a similar accent and language; that he could paient Queen Charlotte, and Duke William *, and Mrs. Somebody's Cot!'

"A specimen was immediately shown me, which was rude, incorrect, and incomplete. But when I learned that he was such an enthusiast in his art, that he got up by three o'clock of a summer's morning to draw with chalk and charcoal, I instantly conceived that he must possess all that zeal necessary for obtaining eminence. A gleam of hope then darted through my bosom ; and I felt it possible to raise the price of his labours from eight-pence or a shilling to a guinea a-day. Actuated by this motive, I instantly presented him with pencils, colours, and canvas, to which I added a few instructions."

The Doctor then proceeded to state, that Opie had the run of his house during the last three or four years that he remained in Cornwall.

"The young artist now got himself a nag," added he, "to carry him from place to place, in order to ease his limbs, and support the dignity of the profession. Though not so welcome as the master, the horse constantly lived in clover.”

After two or three months absence from his patron, he returned to Truro with specimens of further progress, when the Doctor bade him boldly demand a half guinea for a head; to which the modest youth replied, that he was afraid that so great a sum was superior to his merits, and, moreover, that he really believed that the county could not afford it. The Doctor, however, persisted; and a half guinea was the future

William Duke of Cumberland.

stipulation between painter and sitter. In short, the youth, by his assiduity rose, to his own astonishment, to a guinea, to the entire satisfaction of his marvelling employers." At length I proposed to him, first to go to Exeter, and then to London, and having lost an income of 300l. or 400l., by the change of scene, entered into a written engagement, by which it was agreed, that we should share the joint profits in equal divisions. We actually did so for a year; but at the end of that time my pupil told me I might return to the country, as he could now do for himself."

"Notwithstanding this provocation, I got Opie introduced to Mrs. Bos. (perhaps Bosville), who introduced him to Mrs. Delaney, who introduced him to the king; but his d—d -d democratic principles spoiled all! Being ignorant how to get on, he disobliged every body.

very handThen,

"A lady wished that her portrait should be some," and expressed an inclination accordingly. Madam,' replied the artist, you wish to be painted otherwise than - I see you you are do not want your own face!"" The Doctor concluded with asserting, "that during the first year he actually took out writs against several of his sitters, who were rather tardy in their payments;" and closed the whole by remarking, "that he was possessed of capacity rather than of genius."

Here follows a short note, received after a dinner-party, where he had been treated with singular attention, by some persons of distinction.

66 My dear Sir,

when shall I

"I beg a thousand pardons for not sending before — inclosed are a few hints for your next production see you again? — O quando ego te auspiciam ? "I am truly yours,

"To-morrow my pamphlet comes out, baptised

"J. W.

last!' I shall inclose an order for one, if you will take the trouble of sending.

The protracted existence of the subject of this memoir, notwithstanding his three grand desiderata, was not wholly exempt from disease. But from two maladies-asthma and deafness he not only recovered, but endeavoured to render the skill obtained, by their endurance, beneficial both to others and himself. At length he was assailed by one of those infirmities which are reckoned the most melancholy that can fall to the lot of a mortal; this was blindness, arising from two cataracts. At first it assumed a mild aspect, and only operated as a slight impediment to his lucubrations; but he soon after became, first a miops, and then totally dark, notwithstanding an attempt, on the part of Sir William Adams, to couch his right eye. After this he was led about by a young man; and still continued to visit such of his friends as resided in the vicinity of Somers' Town, within the precincts of which he had now taken up his abode.

This unhappy event proved a great hindrance to the diffusion of the productions of his muse for she still continued to visit him with her inspirations. Yet on great occasions he was accustomed to dictate to an amanuensis, and thus to prove that neither age nor blindness was able to deprive him of his poetic excellence.

His body, indeed, seems to have decayed faster than his mind. Being at length confined by habit rather than disease to his house, he seemed to lie in bed, either from indolence or whim. A respectable gentleman, to whom he had been long known, on his arrival from the country, paid a visit to Peter about three months before his death. "What is the matter with you?" observed this friend, "you lie here, apparently from choice, with your face to the wall, and your body enveloped in wool and calico?" "It signifies but little," was the reply," in what position a blind man takes his departure: and what should I rise for? It would be folly in me to be groping around my drawing-room; and with what uneasiness would it not be attended, to one now become so weak? When up and in motion, I am obliged to carry a load of eleven or twelve stone; but while here, I have only a few ounces of blankets to support!"

On being asked by another acquaintance at an interview, a very short time before his decease, "What he could bring him, to add to his comfort?" he replied, with a Sardonic smile, "Bring me back my youth!"

On the very next day, January 14, 1789, he breathed his last, at Montgomery's cottage, Somers' Town, where he had resided for many years; having been first attracted thither on account of the surrounding nursery grounds. At the end of a week his corpse, accompanied by a band of chosen friends, whom, we understand, he himself had expressly nominated, was buried in a vault in the church-yard of St. Paul's, Covent Garden, in a very appropriate position; for it was so contrived, at his own request, that the coffin of the author of the Lousiad should be so near as to touch that of the bard who had produced Hudibras, whose genius and originality he greatly admired.

Thus died, in the eighty-first year of his age, Dr. John Wolcot, not in poverty and want, as may be supposed by those who are disposed to infer penury from the usual fate of poets, both in ancient and modern times, but in comparative affluence. He was surrounded, indeed, by all the comforts that can render a sick-bed tolerable, and actually left a considerable property behind him, which he disposed by will, among those who were dear to him.

The person of Dr. Wolcot was not calculated to convey any favourable impression; there was nothing prepossessing, either in his countenance or figure. He was what was usually termed a thick, squat man; his face was large, dark, and flat, and there was no speculation in his eye." In respect to manners, too, he was not deemed in general either elegant or agreeable.

It must be allowed, however, that he conversed with ability, on several subjects, more especially when tête-a-tête with a friend, and displayed a most humane and beneficent character on a variety of occasions.

But it is from his works, and his works alone, that any lasting fame is to be expected; and yet such is the uncer

tainty of human praise, that by ceasing to appear so frequently as formerly before the public, and living to a very old age, Peter Pindar had almost survived his reputation!

Of his prose productions nothing has as yet been said. Indeed they were few in number, and not entitled, perhaps, to much celebrity: for, with an exception to his poetical effusions, he always seemed to compose with difficulty, and never, indeed, could express his sentiments with any degree either of facility or neatness. The Doctor, however, some years since, superintended a new edition of Pilkington's Dictionary of Painters, to which he made some few additions; and to this he was fully competent. The character of Richard Wilson, the famous landscape painter, was also drawn up by him; and of that artist he was always accustomed to speak with unbounded eulogium.

An attempt shall here be made, by means of what the late Horace Walpole (Earl of Orford) was pleased to term "Reminiscences," to contribute a few facts and anecdotes towards completing the biography of this extraordinary character.

His merits as a poet are well known; but his pretensions as a critic must be familiar only to a few of his associates. In the first character he attacked every rank in life, from the king to the cobler; but in the second, he flew at high game alone; for, like the eagle, he disdained to stoop to offal.

Accordingly, Dryden,

"The great High Priest of all the Nine,"

was not unfrequently the subject of Peter's severest remarks, and of all his productions, he constantly selected and fixed on "Alexander's Feast; or the Power of Music, an Ode on St. Cecilia's Day," for his keenest animadversions. This, doubtless, proceeded from the consideration, that it was generally supposed to possess more fire, fancy, and genius, than any other of the compositions of that celebrated poet, and had now been consecrated by the uniform applauses of both natives and foreigners for about a century and a half.