its doctrines thought there was no political salvation for those who did not. And Mr. Opie had caught the enthusiasm, had imbibed the convictions which that eloquent work inspired; still he would not condemn the author of the Rights of Man unread, but felt the propriety and the justice of judging with his own eyes and understanding before he passed a definitive sentence. Strange is it, to the eye of reason, that conduct like this, apparently so natural and so easy, should make part of a man's panegyric, as if it were an act of uncommon virtue; yet those who have at all accustomed themselves to study the habits and motives of mankind in general, will own that the above-mentioned conduct was of the rarest kind; and that there are so many who are too indolent, or too prejudiced, to read, or to inquire on certain subjects and concerning certain people, that they attribute to writers and to sects, both in politics and religion, opinions and designs which it never entered into their heads to conceive of; and, taught by prejudice and aversion, believe that on some points ignorance is graceful, and inveteracy becoming. Different was the opinion, and different the practice, of Mr. Opie. He seemed to consider a prejudice and an enemy as the same thing, and to think it as desirable to get rid of the one as to subdue the other. But though all Mr. Opie's opinions might not be just opinions, whatever they were, they were the result of toil and investigation. He might, like others, occasionally mistake weeds for flowers; and bring them home, and carefully preserve them as such but the weeds were gathered by his own hands, and he had at least by his labour deserved that they should be valuable acquisitions.

On no subject did Mr. Opie evince more generosity and liberality of mind, than in his opinions respecting women of talents, especially those who had dared to cultivate the powers which their Maker had bestowed on them, and to become candidates for the pleasures, the pangs, the rewards, and the penalties of authorship. This class of women never had a more zealous defender than my husband against the attacks of those less liberal than himself. He did not lay it down as a positive axiom, that a female writer must fail in every duty that is most graceful and becoming in woman, and be an offensive companion, a negligent wife, and an inattentive mother. Idleness, in both sexes, was the fault that he was most violent against; and there was no employment, consistent with delicacy and modesty, that he wished a woman to be debarred from, after she had fulfilled the regular and necessary duties of her sex and her situation: nor, if authorship did not lead a woman to disregard and undervalue the accomplishments and manners of her own sex, or to be forward and obtrusive in company, did he think it just and candid

to affix to such a woman, the degrading epithets of unfeminine, or masculine.

When our marriage took place, he knew that my most favourite amusement was writing; and he always encouraged, instead of checking, my ambition to become an acknowledged author. Our only quarrel on the subject was, not that I wrote so much, but that I did not write more and better: and to the last hour of my existence I shall deplore those habits of indolence which made me neglect to write while it was in my power to profit by his criticisms and advice; and when, by employing myself more regularly in that manner, I should have been sure to receive the proudest and dearest reward of woman,-the approbation of a husband at once the object of her respect and of her love.

But had Mr. Opie been inclined to that mean and jealous egotism which leads some men to dislike even good sense in our sex, an aversion originating probably in their being self-judged, and desirous of shrinking from a competition in which they know that they could not be victorious, still, it was impossible for him to find a rival amongst women; for, if ever there was an understanding which deserved in all respects the proud and just distinction of a MASCULINE understanding, it was that of Mr. Opie. In many men, though of high talents and excellent genius, there are to be seen womanish weaknesses, as they are called, and littlenesses, the result of vanity and egotism, that debase and obscure the manliness of their intellect. But the intellect of Mr. Opie had such a masculine vigour about it, that it never yielded for a moment to the pressure of a weakness; but kept on with such a firm, untired, undeviating step toward the goal of excellence, that it was impossible for the delicate feet of woman to overtake it in its career.

Of Mr. Opie's industry and excessive application I shall now beg leave to speak.

In one respect he had perhaps, an advantage over most of his competitors. "Many artists," as Mr. Northcote judiciously observes "may be said to paint to live; but he lived to paint." To many, painting may be a pleasure, and is a profession; but in him it was a passion, and he was never happy but when he was employed in the gratification of it. Whenever he came to Norwich while I was on a visit to my father, I had no chance of detaining him there unless he found business awaiting him. But no society, and no situation, however honourable, and however pleasant, could long keep him from his painting-room. In the autumn of 1806, we were staying at Southill, the seat of Mr. Whitbread; and never did I see him so happy, when absent from London, as he was there; for he felt towards his host and hostess every sentiment of respect and admiration which it is

pleasant to feel, and honourable to inspire. But though he was the object of the most kind and flattering attention, he sighed to return to London and his pursuits :-and when he had been at Southill only eight days, he said to me, on my expressing my unwillingness to go away, "Though I shall be even anxious to come hither again, recollect that I have been idle eight days.

But his art was not only his passion, it was also his pride; and whatever had a tendency to exalt painting and its professors in the eyes of the world, was a source of gratification to him. He used often to expatiate on the great classical attainments of Mr. Fuseli, whose wit he admired, and whose conversation he delighted in but I have often thought that one cause of the pleasure which he derived from mentioning that gentleman's attainments was, his conviction that the learning of Mr. Fuseli was an honour to his profession, and tended to exalt it in the opinion of society. I saw the same sort of exultation in him, when Mr. Hoppner and Mr. Shee became candidates for literary reputation:-he loved to see the tie between poetry and painting drawn closer and closer (a tie which he felt to exist, though it was not generally allowed); and I well remember that, while he read the well-told tales of the one, and the excellent poem of the other, he seemed to feel a pride in them as the works of painters, and to rejoice that their authors united, in their own persons, the sister and corresponding arts.

But to return to Mr. Opie's industry.

It was not only from inclination, but from principle, that he was industrious: he thought it vicious for any one to be satisfied in art with aught less than excellence, and knew that excellence is not be obtained by convulsive starts of application, but by continued and daily perseverance; not by the alternately rapid and faint step of the hare, but by the slow yet sure and incessant pace of the tortoise. He required not the incitement of a yearly and public competition for fame to make him studious and laborious. He would have toiled as much had there been no exhibition, and not only during the few months or weeks preceding it did he prepare for that interesting and anxious period, but the whole foregoing year was his term of preparation.

It was his opinion, that no one should either paint or write with a view merely to present bread or present reputation, nor be contented to shine, like a beauty or a fashion, the idol only of the passing hour ;-he felt it right for painters and authors to experience the honourable ambition and stimulating desire to live

"In song of distant days;"

his time, therefore, his labour, and his study, were the coin with which he proudly tried to purchase immortality: nor did he ever

waste the precious hours of day-light in any pursuits or engagements which had not some connexion with his art or his professional interests. No wonder, then, that every successive year saw him improved in some branch of his profession :-no wonder that one of our first painters should have said of him, "Others get forward by steps, but that man by strides."

He was always in his painting-room by half past eight in winter, and by eight o'clock in summer; and there he generally remained, closely engaged in painting, till half past four in winter, and till five in summer. Nor did he ever allow himself to be idle even when he had no pictures bespoken: and as he never let his execution rust for want of practice, he, in that case, either sketched out designs for historical or fancy pictures, or endeavoured, by working on an unfinished picture of me, to improve himself by incessant practice in that difficult branch of his art, female portraiture. Neither did he suffer his exertions to be paralyzed by neglect the most unexpected, and disappointment the most undeserved. Though he had a picture in the exhibition of 1801, which was universally admired, and purchased as soon as it was beheld, he saw himself at the end of that year, and the beginning of the next, almost wholly without employment; and even my sanguine temper yielded to the trial, I began to fear that, small as our expenditure was, it must become still smaller. Not that I allowed myself to own that I desponded; on the contrary, I was forced to talk to him of hopes, and to bid him look forward to higher prospects, as his temper, naturally desponding, required all the support possible. But gloomy and painful indeed were those three alarming months; and I consider them as the severest trial that I experienced during my married life. However, as I before observed, even despondence did not make him indolent; he continued to paint regularly as usual, and no doubt by that means increased his ability to do justice to the torrent of business which soon after set in towards him, and never ceased to flow till the day of his death.

It is probable that many young artists, men whose habits and whose style are yet to form, will eagerly seek out opportunities to study the pictures of Mr. Opie, and endeavour to make his excellencies their own; but let them not overlook the legacy, the more valuable legacy which he has bequeathed to students, and even proficients in art, in the powerful example of his life. Such it appears, was his application, that it would have insured ability and renown, even had his powers been of a less superior kind; and such were his economy and self-denial, that they would have secured independence even where the means of obtaining it were slender and uncertain. For the gratifications of vanity, and for the pomps of life, Mr. Opie had no inclination; therefore he

could not be said to have merit in not trying to indulge in them. But though his tastes were simple, and he loved what may be denominated the cheap pleasures of existence, reading, conversation, an evening walk, either for the sake of exercise or for the study of picturesque effect, still, there were pleasures of a more expensive sort, for which he earnestly longed, but in which his well-principled economy forbade him to indulge; I mean the purchase of pictures and of books. But till he had acquired a certain sum, always the object of his industry-a sum that would, he trusted, make him independent of the world, he was resolved to deny himself every indulgence that was not absolutely necessary; for he shrunk with horror from the idea of incurring debts or pecuniary obligation: and as he never squandered any thing on unnecessary wants, he was always able to discharge every debt as it was incurred, whether of the day or of the week, and to meet the exigencies of the moment, not only for himself, but sometimes for others less provident, less self-denying, and less fortunate than he was.

He was temperate in most of his habits. Dinner parties, if they consisted of persons whose society he valued, he was always willing to join. Still, his habits and his taste were so domestic in their nature, that he, on the whole, preferred passing his evenings at home, to joining any society abroad; and he employed his hours from tea to bed-time either in reading books of instruction or amusement, in studying prints from the best ancient and modern masters, or in sketching designs for pictures of various descriptions. Not unfrequently did he allow himself the relaxation of reading a novel, even if it were not of the first class; for he was above the petty yet common affectation of considering that sort of reading as beneath any persons but fools and women. And if his fondness for works of that kind was a weakness, it was one which he had in common with Mr. Fox and Mr. Porson. But it was with great difficulty I could on any occasion prevail on him to accompany me either to public places or into private parties of a mixed and numerous kind; yet when at the theatre he was interested and amused, and still more so at the opera, as he delighted in Italian music and Italian singing; and such was the quickness of his ear, and so excellent was his musical memory, that in common he accurately remembered a tune that pleased him, on only once hearing it. He played the flute pleasingly and though he had not the smallest pretention to voice, he sung comic songs to me occasionally; and repeated comic verses with such humorous and apt expression, that I have often told him, I was convinced, had a troop of comedians visited his native place before he conceived his decided predilection for painting, that he would have been an actor instead of a