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tionless on such occasions as one of his own apostles. His words were few, his manner easy; his Quaker-like sobriety seemed little elevated by intercourse with nobles and waiting gentlewomen. On the Windsor pictures he expended much study, and to render them worthy of their place, he "trimmed,” as he told the King, "his midnight lamp." So closely was he imprisoned by their composition, that his attendance at the burial of so eminent a brother as Gainsborough was mentioned as something extraordinary.

It must not be supposed that he enjoyed without envy the threefold blessing of magnificent subjects, high prices, and kingly favour. Barry was famishing, and his complaints were loud and eloquent. Fuseli, with all his wit, learning, and imagination, could barely live; and Opie had been taught the severe though common lesson, that nothing is so unstable as the patronage of the powerful. The very calmness and moderation with which the King's historical painter carried himself was something provoking. He went from his gallery in Newmanstreet to Windsor, and back again, with the staid looks of one of the brethren going to, and returning from, chapel. Of his importance at Court, however, he was willing enough to speak, though in a mild and meek way; and as to high matters in general he affected somewhat of the vague diplomatic language of official men: West had probably no state secrets to conceal--if he had, his conversation kept them a mystery.

When he succeeded to the President's chair, the King wished to confer upon him the distinction of knighthood. To lay the royal sword on the shoulder of a Quaker was something new, and the curiosity of the courtiers was excited. The Duke of Gloucester called on West from the King to inquire if this honour would be acceptable. "No man," said Benjamin, "entertains a higher respect for political

honours and distinctions than myself, but I really think I have earned greater eminence by my pencil already than knighthood could confer on me. The chief value of titles is to preserve in families a respect for those principles by which such distinctions were originally obtained-but simple knighthood to a man who is at least as well known as he .could ever hope to be from that honour, is not a legitimate object of ambition. To myself then your royal highness must perceive the title could add no dignity, and as it would perish with myself, it could add none to my family. But were I possessed of fortune, independent of my profession, sufficient to enable my posterity to maintain the rank, I think that, with my hereditary descent and the station I occupy among artists, a more permanent title might become a desirable object. As it is, however, that cannot be; and I have been thus explicit with your royal highness that no misconception may exist on the subject." The Duke took West by the hand, and said, "You have justified the opinion which the King has of you; he will be delighted with your answer."

In that answer there was certainly very little of the Quaker. Possibly he was not without hope that the King would confer a baronetcy, and an income to support it, on one who, to descent from the lords of Delaware, could add such claims of personal importance. No farther notice, however, was taken of the matter; he went to the palace as usual, and as usual his reception was warm and friendly.

From 1769 till 1801 West had uniformly received all orders for pictures from his Majesty in person. They had settled the subject and price between them without the intervention of others, and, in addition to his one thousand pounds a year paid on account, he had received whatever more, and it was not much, might be due upon the pictures actually painted. A great change was near. A mental cloud fell upon

the King, and the artist was the first to be made sensible that the sceptre was departed from his hand. The doors of the palace, which heretofore had opened spontaneously like those of Milton's Paradise, no longer flew wide at his approach, but turned on their hinges grating and reluctantly. What this might mean he was informed by Mr. Wyatt, the royal architect, who called and said he was authorized to inform him that the pictures painting for the chapel at Windsor must be suspended till farther orders. "This extraordinary proceeding," says Galt, "rendered the studies of the best part of the artist's life useless, and deprived him of that honourable provision, the fruit of his talents and industry, on which he had counted for the repose of his declining years. For some time it affected him deeply, and he was at a loss what steps to take. At last, however, on reflecting on the marked friendship and favour which the King had always shown him, he addressed to his Majesty a letter, of which the following is a copy of the rough draught, being the only one preserved." After mentioning the message to suspend the paintings for the chapel, it proceeds"Since 1797 I have finished three pictures, begun several others, and composed the remainder of the subjects for the chapel, on the progress of Revealed Religion. Those are subjects so replete with dignity of character and expression, as demanded the historian, the commentator, and the accomplished painter to bring them into view. Your Majesty s gracious commands for my pencil on that extensive subject stimulated my humble abilities, and I commenced the work with zeal and enthusiasm.

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mated by your commands, I burned my midnight lamp to attain that polish which marks my scriptural pictures. Your Majesty's zeal for religion and love of the elegant arts are known over the civilized world, and your protection of my pencil had given it celebrity, and made mankind anxiously look for

the completion of the great work on Revealed Religion. In the station which I fill in the Academy I have been zealous in promoting merit; ingenious artists have received my ready aid, and my galleries and my purse have been opened to their studies and their distresses. The breath of envy or the whisper of detraction never defiled my lips, nor the want of morality my character; and your Majesty's virtues and those of her Majesty have been the theme of my admiration for many years.

"I feel with great concern the suspension of the work on Revealed Religion-if it is meant to be permanent, myself and the fine arts have much to lament. To me it will be ruinous, and it will damp the hope of patronage in the more refined departments of painting. I have this consolation, that in the thirtyfive years during which my pencil has been honoured with your commands, a great body of historical and scriptural works have been placed in the churches and palaces of the kingdom. Their professional claims may be humble, but similar works have not been executed before by any of your Majesty's subjects. And this I will assert, that your commands and patronage were not laid on a lazy or an ungrateful man, or an undutiful subject."

To this letter, written on the 26th of September, 1801, and carried to the court by Wyatt, West received no answer. On his Majesty's recovery, he sought and obtained a private audience. The King had not been made acquainted with the order for suspending the works, nor had he received the letter. "Go on with your work, West," said the King, kindly, go on with the pictures, and I will take care of you." He shook him by the hand and dismissed him. "And this," says Galt, "was the last interview he was permitted to have with his early and constant, and to him truly royal, patron. But he continued to execute the pictures, and, in the usual quarterly payments, received his £1000 per annum

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till his Majesty's final superannuation; when, without any intimation whatever, on calling to receive it, he was told that it had been stopped, and that the paintings for the chapel, of Revealed Religion, had been suspended. He submitted in silence-he neither remonstrated nor complained.”

The story of his dismissal from court was spread with many aggravations; and the malevolence of enemies which his success had created-there are always such reptiles-was gratified by the circulation of papers detailing an account of the prices which the fortunate painter had received for his works from the King. The hand which had drawn up this injurious document neglected to state that the sum of thirty-four thousand one hundred and eighty-seven pounds was earned in the course of thirty-three laborious years: and the public, looking only to the sum at the bottom of the page, imagined that West must have amassed a fortune. This notion was dispelled by an accurate statement of work done and money received, with day and date, signed with the artist's name, and accompanied by a formal declaration of its truth; a needless addition, for all who knew any thing of West, knew him to be one of the most honourable of men.

While suffering under the neglect of the court, the peace of Amiens opened the continent, and thither West went, to see with his own eyes the splendid works of the pencil and chisel, which Buonaparte had assembled in the Louvre. The President of the British Academy was not to be overlooked by the wily politicians who surrounded the future emperor. Minister after minister, and artist after artist, from the accomplished Talleyrand and the subtle Fouché to the enthusiastic Dénon and the ferocious David, gathered around him, and talked, with unbounded love, of historical painting and of its influence on mankind. In a series of entertainments, in which wine and flattery were poured out abundantly, the

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