against his Jacobite confederates, were pleased. Bank of England notes of £100 and £200 were lent to Strange for him to partly copy from. It was suggested that the notes should not be payable on demand, but "after the Restoration." All present were merry over this suggestion, and Strange was ordered to complete the work. In the autobiographical fragment he says, "Next day, being Sunday, my carpenter was early employed in cutting out the wood, in order to begin on Monday. It was not so with a coppersmith, whose assistance I more immediately required. He was a good Presbyterian, and thought he would be breaking the Lord's day. But necessity has no law. He turned out even better than his promise, overcame his prejudice, went to work, and furnished me with a copper-plate on Monday about noon." Thus Strange became "moneyer" to the Stuart Prince.

The engraver, however, was more than this. He was a gentleman private in the Prince's Life Guards. These Guards had the honour of being in the front whenever danger threatened, or they were chosen to face peril in the rear, in order to cover the army; and the safety of the Prince, who was nearly always where the fight waxed most furious, was committed to their keeping. Strange went through it all, and was in the last fight, or twenty minutes' bloody skirmish, at Culloden. He narrates how the Jacobite army, attempting to surprise and destroy the Duke of Cumberland's camp by a night attack, did not arrive near it till the sun was up and a surprise was out of the question. The wearied, depressed, and famished soldiers staggered back, and at length stood at bay, and withstood the attack of their pursuers at Culloden. How it ended need not here be detailed. There was a general flight of the Jacobite survivors, and they who escaped the swords of Cumberland's cavalry (who gave no quarter) took to the mountain fastnesses, and there got a little breathing time before they renewed the race for life. Of the incidents which Strange encountered at this terrible period, when so many perished, but little is told. This "moneyer" and soldier of the Jacobite army had many escapes, and was hotly pursued. His old master, Cooper, is the authority quoted by Dennistoun for saying "that when hotly pressed he dashed into the room where the lady (Isabella Lumisden) whose zeal had enlisted him in the fatal cause, sat singing at her needlework, and, failing other means of concealment, was indebted for safety to her prompt invention. As she quickly raised her hooped gown, the affianced lover disappeared beneath its ample contour, where, thanks to her cool demeanour and unfaltering notes, he lay undetected while the rude and baffled soldiery vainly ransacked the house. . . . When the vigilance of pursuit was somewhat abated he left the Highlands and returned to Edinburgh, where for the first time," says Mr. Dennistoun

-who forgets that Strange had previously engraved the Prince's portrait—" he turned his talents to account, contriving to maintain himself in concealment by the sale of small drawings of the rival leaders in the rebellion, many of which must still be extant, and which were purchased at the time in great numbers at a guinea each. A fan also, whose intended owner gave it in his eyes additional value, and on which his pencil had, on that account, bestowed more than usual pains, was sold at this time with a sad heart . . . to the Earl of Wemyss, who was too sensible of its value to allow it to be repurchased when that was proposed a short time afterwards.”

Strange was permitted to reside unmolested in Edinburgh; but he was uneasy, and he had ample reason for being so. How his name was not found among those who had been proclaimed, is inconceivable. How the English Government could hang the humble but heroic Manchester barber, Syddal, and allow the Jacobite forger of notes, as the Whigs would naturally call him, to live tolerated, is not to be explained. The rakish Jemmy Dawson, whom Shenstone's sentimental ballad and "cock-and-bull" story has helped to fame, barely did more than show himself with a white cockade and in Jacobite regimentals, blue and red, with a plaid scarf, dancing with the prettiest girls in Carlisle and Manchester, was hanged, drawn, and quartered on Kennington Common. Some of Dawson's comrades had done even less, but suffered equally terrible death, and they all suffered like brave, unostentatious gentlemen; but Strange, who had fought in the Life Guards of Charles Edward, was not even seriously questioned. He was not named as "being wanted," nor was he excepted in the Act of Grace of 1747. Whatever the reason may be, Strange was uneasy, and he was resolved to make happiness and safety beyond further doubt. He claimed the hand of the lady for whose sake he had put his life in peril by serving and fighting "for her Prince." Isabella's father was "a weak, but hard and selfish man." He refused his consent; whereupon the young lovers took their own course, as being old enough to judge for themselves. They were united by a clandestine marriage, in 1747. Shortly after which event, Strange, fortunately for his fame and our delight, began to make trips to the Continent, for the purposes of improvement and of studying the best original examples of the old masters. He felt his way, so to speak, prudently; but he also showed at Rouen of what stuff he was made by carrying off the prize at the Academy of Arts at Rouen. Strange seems to have been there under Descamps, who was a native of Dunkirk, and only seven years older than Strange. In painting family groups, village scenes, and historical compositions, Descamps had some merit, but he was never of great distinction. When it was known that he was engaged in writing the lives of the Flemish,

Dutch and German painters, Diderot said to him, "God grant, my dear Descamps, that you may be better in literature than in painting!" which was what Descamps proved to be.

From Descamps' studio Strange passed to the more important one of Le Bas, the engraver, who taught him, says a French biographer, la pointe sèche. Rouen gave refuge to numerous Jacobites, among whom was Andrew Lumisden, who vexed his father's soul by writing to him for sorely needed supplies, and for service in helping him to some lucrative employment. "From the Prince," he writes, in 1748, "I expect nothing; his own situation is too dismal." In one of Mrs. Strange's letters to her brother she showed her Jacobite spirit, with what she herself would have called "vivasity." After the birth of her first child, a daughter, she wrote: "Pray make Robie's compliments and mine to Sir Stewart and Mr. Hamilton, and tell them my daughter sends her honest wishes to them; the poor infant has early shown the spirit of Jacobitism; she had almost suffered martyrdom the tenth of this month for having two white roses in her cap.' The above was written when Robin was at home. The following was penned to her brother when her husband was absent on one of his study tours: "My dear little Mary Bruce is as thriving an infant as was ever seen. I must not neglect to tell you that I have taken great care of her education; for example, whenever she hears the word 'Whig' mentioned she grins and makes faces that would frighten a bear; but when I name the Prince she kisses me and looks at her picture, and greets you well for sending her the pretty gumflower. I intend she shall wear it at the coronation, such is the value I have for it, as 'tis a mark of your remembering my foster." And then she rattles on with her Jacobitery: "I have taken a very pretty, genteel house at the Cross, in that land where Sandy Stevenson has his shop; 'tis the third story; an easy scaled stair, looks very low from the street. I design to make more than the rent of my five large windows at the Restoration, though it is fourteen pounds and a crown."

Strange, of a roving disposition, was often absent from home, but it was always in pursuit of art. He worked with Le Bas, at Paris, the favourite engraver of pictures of the Watteau school. Strange, however, made selections for himself. He picked out a sparkling little Wouvermans, a Corregiesque Vanloo, and brought out engravings from them, at the humble price of half-a-crown each. While Andrew Lumisden was acting as under-secretary to King James at Rome, he purchased for his sister's husband Roman wares and Italian engravings. While Strange was working and studying, now in Scotland, anon on the Continent, his wife was energetically ruling his little family at home. In one of her letters, she had noticed the progress in dancing made by her son Jamie, under M. Lalauze, who, being

about to take a benefit at the theatre, was anxious to have his pupils dance for him on the stage. The mother of Jamie was willing, but Strange authorized Andrew Lumisden to make strong objections to this course; and Andrew, in the protest he wrote home, noticed how the Earl of Massareen was laughed at in Italy for his "theatrical dancing." Mrs. Strange vigorously defended herself, in this style:

"Jamie knows no more of a theatrical carriage than you do. He moves and dances like a gentleman. His master is as unlike a dancing-master as your holy father. Fear me not. I have given neither you nor any of the world reason to suspect my want of what's called common sense. I think I have seen through things you yourself have been blind to, as to the foibles of men or women. I will but do myself the justice when I say, I have as few of them as any she that ever wore petticoats. I know I have passion and plenty of revenge, which, to be sure, is the child of the devil, and not the brat of a weak brain. My wayward love is the only blot you can stamp on my skutchon; with that, when I see you, I shall vindicate myself in the deafest side of your head. Robie and you must submit the care of the children to me for this year. I foresee, though I might get the blame, was things to turn out ill, yet when they flourish I may never be thought of; but I hope to live to tell my own merit in their education myself. Jamie never learned ought but the minuat and lewer (which is a sort of minuat). He never saw a country-dance; he nor his sister has not been within the play-house door since April last."

There is no doubt that if Strange's wife had a good opinion of herself, she had one quite as good of her husband. As to the merits. and demerits of the two, she finely discriminates in one of her letters:

"I am far from being well, which I do not choose to signify to Robie. Was he to be with me to-morrow, it would do me no service. The immoderate fatigue I have had these many years in bringing in a family into the world, and the anxiety I have had in rearing them, join'd to many sore hearts, has wore out the best constitution in Europ. 'Tis true, I have had a severe additional fatigue since Robie went abroad, but I have had one substantial comfort: I have been my own mistress. I have had no chiding stuff, which I believe I sometimes brought on myself, but when I did, it was in defence of some saving truth. My frugality has often been dear to me, but yet, I'm of opinion, had my disposition been otherwise, he would have more justly found fault. Robie is of a sweet disposition, but has not so much forethought, nor so discerning a judgment as I have. When I'm gone, he will soon be flatter'd out of himself. ... Peace and quiet is my wish, but I despair of ever attaining it. Since ever my lord left me, my applycation to business, my constant desire of doing good and being oblidging, has fatigued me beyond measure. The thing that has late most hurt me is speaking. I exert with such spirit and vivasity that, when I'm left alone, after having entertain'd my visitors, I feel such a violent pain in my breast that I am useless for some time. I have had a dreadful cough this spring, which still sticks to me. To sum up all, when I sit down alone, and enter into a train of thoughts, I grow low-spirited."

In 1760 good judges in England recognised Robie's value. "I am

going," writes Walpole to Mann, in May, 1760, "to give a letter for

going to visit Italy. He is a Pray countenance him, though I believe Albano" (the residence

you to Strange, the engraver, who is
first-rate artist, and by far our best.
you will not approve his politics.
of the Pretender) "is his Loretto."

When Strange was in Italy there was also there Dalton, the Cumberland artist, who had been a coach-painter-probably painter of the artistic ornaments on coach-panels-and who was patronised by the Earl of Charlemont. On the earl's good word, he was subsequently employed by George the Third to buy pictures for him in Italy. Dalton subsequently became the king's librarian. There was enmity

between Dalton the Hanoverian, and Strange the Jacobite, of whom Dalton thought little compared with Bartolozzi, the engraver. But Strange was equal to the exigencies of the occasion. The famous Aldobrandini'Sleeping Cupid' had been offered to the King of England for two thousand zechins; but Robie contrived to secure it for his patron, Sir Laurence Dundas, at little more than a fourth of that sum. He, moreover, engraved the picture; and besides that, Cardinal York (the brother of Charles Edward) and Cardinal Colonnadi Sciarra had influence enough to clear away the obstacles which English court disfavour had put in the way of the Scottish artist.

Strange was now an artist of too much celebrity to be put down. He came from Italy to England in 1765; and he made such submission in a memorial to Lord Bute as must have excited the strong passion of his more intensely Jacobite wife, if she really knew the terms in which this submission was made. As it was, the asserted loyalty was but half believed in. Probably Strange's wife was suspected of being something of a Jacobite agent; certain it is that obstacles were raised against the admission of Strange as a member of the Society of Artists; and he was prepared to withdraw to Paris and to practise his art in that capital. Meanwhile his fame grew. He was not only a celebrity as an engraver, he was growing rich in picture-dealing. In the summer of 1767 he was no longer thinking of remaining in France, but of establishing himself and family in Castle Street, Leicester Fields, a fashionable little street at that period. There he worked, and there Mrs. Strange kept her Jacobitism warm. When the death of the old Pretender had made Charles Edward the inheritor of the nominal dignity of king, there was a rather ignoble scattering of old and faithful servants, Andrew Lumisden among them. It was on this occasion his sister wrote, from Castle Street: "I entreat the person " (Cardinal York) "whom I never saw, but even for his father's and family's sake I ever loved, to, if possible, patch up things so as, in the eye of the world, you may bid a respectful farewell. I could walk barefooted to kneel for this favour." Her next object was to obtain permission for Andrew's return to England