is said to have exclaimed, when he essayed to paint them, ‘Rot them for a couple of rogues, they have everybody’s faces but their own.’ Generally, it may be noted, the full-lengths of men--sometimes, also, the full-lengths of women--are less attractive than the half-lengths and the busts, though whatever could be done by any artist to overcome the difficulty of making the full-length interesting, could be done by Gainsborough, since he was a master of draperies, and skilled, as a pupil of Gravelot’s should have been, in the secrets of dignified and gracious carriage. But, to remain for the moment with the men’s portraits, one’s admiration of the elegance and harmony of Tenducci’s portrait must be in excess of any feeling that can rightly be prompted by the ‘Garrick.’ This, again, is the portrait of an artist--Gainsborough’s sympathies were with artists--and Tenducci is said to have ‘warbled so divinely.’ And then, to take an instance from the women’s portraits, and to single out a full-length figure, in which the face is modelled with exceptional exactness, and is one, too, of peculiar refinement, take the portrait of Lady Sheffield, with her aquiline nose and her almond-shaped eyes--even here the importance of the countenance is a little effaced by the brilliant light on the showy drapery of the skirt. No one could assert that, for real charm, that picture--masterly as it is in its own kind--is equal to any one of half a dozen busts or half-lengths in the same Gallery. But, on the other hand, the ‘Sir Bate Dudley,’ ‘skilled in the nice conduct of a clouded cane,’ is an instance of Gainsborough’s occasional triumph, even with the full-length male figure; and the ‘Mrs. Graham,’ at Edinburgh, is one of the most fascinating full-length portraits of a woman that has been painted since the days of the Venetians. Furthermore, three more quite masterly full-length male portraits are in the Grosvenor Gallery itself: they are first, those that are lent by the Queen, the portrait of Colonel St. Leger, the portrait of ‘Fischer’ the musician, and last, the familiar ‘Blue Boy,’ a work directed possibly at the theories of Sir Joshua and inspired by the practice of Van Dyck.