This picture is signed on the left-hand side, and is the original of many replicas or copies at St. James's Palace, at Burley-on-the-Hill, Woburn, The Grove, etc. It was painted for James II., who sent Wissing over to the Hague for the purpose. His popularity as a portrait-painter was great, and was partly due no doubt to his making such flattering likenesses. "When any lady came to sit to him whose complexion was any ways pale, he would commonly take her by the hand and dance her about the room till she became warmer." 51 William III. when Prince of Orange . . . . . W. WISSING. Three-quarters length, standing; facing to the right, in a rich dress. This is the companion piece to the foregoing. 52 Portrait of James Stuart the Pretender (_664_) . . . . . B. LUTI. Half-length; facing in front, inclined to the right; his right hand only is seen. He is in the robes of the Order of the Garter, of which the jewel hangs on his breast, and has a long full-bottomed wig, a lace cravat and cuffs. On his left is a table on which is the royal crown of England. The background is gray, with a red curtain. On canvas, 3 ft. 3 in. high, by 2 ft. 6 in. wide. The canvas is new. Behind was formerly this inscription:--"_James son of James II.; by the Cavaliere Benedetto Luti, from the Cardinal of York's collection at Frascati._" (Note in the _Royal Inventory_.) This picture and No. 839 were bequeathed to George III. by Cardinal York, the old Pretender's son, and the last of the Stuarts, who died in 1807. It was no doubt painted at Rome, some time between the year 1718, when Prince James accepted the asylum in the Eternal City offered him by the Pope, and the year 1724, when Luti died there. In 1720 he was married to the Princess Sobieski, and at the end of the same year the young Pretender was born. The Pretender's countenance has that heavy, sodden appearance, and that weak dejected look, which were due partly to his inert character, partly to his misfortunes, and not less to the debauched and indolent life he led. His person, indeed, was never impressive; and even an adherent, writing of the events at Perth in 1715, admits:--"I must not conceal, that when we saw the man, whom they called our King, we found ourselves not at all animated by his presence, and if he was disappointed in us, we were tenfold more so in him. We saw nothing in him that looked like spirit. He never appeared with cheerfulness and vigour to animate us. Our men began to despise him; some asked him if he could speak."