Soon after Kneller’s arrival in England, he painted the portrait of the Duke of Monmouth, who was so much pleased with it that he persuaded the king, his father (Charles II.) to have his portrait painted by the _new artist_. The King had promised the Duke of York his portrait, to be painted by Sir Peter Lely, and unwilling to go through the ceremony of a double sitting, he proposed that both artists should paint him at the same time. Lely, as the king’s painter, took the light and station he liked; but Kneller took the next best he could find, and went to work with so much expedition, that he had nearly finished his portrait, when Lely had only laid in his dead coloring. This novelty pleased, and Lely himself had the candor to acknowledge his merit. Kneller immediately found himself in the possession of great reputation and abundant employment, and the immense number of portraits he executed, proves the stability of his reputation. He was equally patronized by Kings Charles, James, and William, and he had the honor of painting ten sovereigns. His best friend was King William, for whom he painted the beauties of Hampton Court, and by whom he was knighted in 1692, and presented with a gold chain and medal, worth £300. In the latter part of this reign, he painted the portraits of the members of the famous Kit-cat Club, forty-two in number, and the several portraits now in the gallery of the Admirals. He lived to paint the portrait of George I., who made him a Baronet. He died in 1723. His body lay in state, and he was buried at his country-seat at Wilton; a monument was erected to his memory in Westminster Abbey. KNELLER AND JAMES II. It was while sitting to this artist, that James the Second manifested a most surprising instance of coolness and shrewdness united. Kneller was painting his portrait as a present to Pepys, when suddenly intelligence arrived of the landing of the Prince of Orange. The artist was confounded, and laid down his brush. “Go on, Kneller,” said the king, betraying no outward emotion; “I wish not to disappoint my friend Pepys.” KNELLER’S COMPLIMENT TO LOUIS XIV. When Kneller painted the portrait of Louis XIV., the monarch asked him what mark of his esteem would be most agreeable to him; whereupon he modestly answered that he should feel honored if his Majesty would bestow a quarter of an hour upon him, that he might execute a drawing of his face for himself. The request was granted. Kneller painted Dryden in his own hair, in plain drapery, holding a laurel, and made him a present of the work; to which the poet responded in an epistle containing encomiums such as few painters deserve. “Such are thy pictures, Kneller! such thy skill, That nature seems obedient to thy will, Comes out and meets thy pencil in the draught, Lives there, and wants but words to speak the thought.” KNELLER’S WIT.