, no; I mean I would have liked to have been Raphael without troubling
myself about existing now, either in soul or body."

"Really such a desire is an absurdity; think it over, and you will see it
for yourself."

He flew into a rage, and abused me so heartily that I could not help
laughing.

Another time he made a comparison between a tragic author and a painter,
of course to the advantage of the latter.

I analysed the matter calmly, shewing him that the painter's labour is to
a great extent purely mechanical, and can be done whilst engaged in
casual talk; whilst a well-written tragedy is the work of genius pure and
simple. Therefore, the poet must be immeasurably superior to the painter.

"Find me if you can," said I, "a poet who can order his supper between
the lines of his tragedy, or discuss the weather whilst he is composing
epic verses."

When Mengs was beaten in an argument, instead of acknowledging his
defeat, he invariably became brutal and insulting. He died at the age of
fifty, and is regarded by posterity as a Stoic philosopher, a scholar,
and a compendium of all the virtues; and this opinion must be ascribed to
a fine biography of him in royal quarto, choicely printed, and dedicated
to the King of Spain. This panegyric is a mere tissue of lies. Mengs was
a great painter, and nothing else; and if he had only produced the
splendid picture which hangs over the high altar of the chapel royal at
Dresden, he would deserve eternal fame, though indeed he is indebted to
the great Raphael for the idea of the painting.

We shall hear more of Mengs when I describe my meeting with him at Rome,
two or three years later.

I was still weak and confined to my room when Manucci came to me, and
proposed that I should go with him to Toledo.

"The ambassador," he said, "is going to give a grand official dinner to
the ambassadors of the other powers, and as I have not been presented at
Court I am excluded from being present. However, if I travel, my absence
will not give rise to any remarks. We shall be back in five or six days."

I was delighted to have the chance of seeing Toledo, and of making the
journey in a comfortable carriage, so I accepted. We started the next
morning, and reached Toledo in the evening of the same day. For Spain we
were lodged comfortably enough, and the next day we went out under the
charge of a cicerone, who took us to the Alcazar, the Louvre of Toledo,
formerly the palace of the Moorish