memorial, which West had drawn up, and the President at last relinquished the project in despair.*

West was now sixty-four years old-a life blameless and temperate had kept his strength unimpaired, and he had still the same composed and determined mind by which he was distinguished in his youth. He had also unbounded confidence in his own powers, and since the illness of his royal friend had closed the doors of the palace against him, he resolved to try once more his fortune with the public. He accordingly commenced painting a series of Scriptural subjects upon a large scale: and the first which appeared was that of "Christ healing the Sick." The history of this picture de serves to be told. The Quakers of Philadelphia requested West to aid them in erecting an hospital for the sick in his native town-he told them his circumstances scarcely admitted of his being generous, but he would aid them after his own way, and paint them a picture, if they would provide a place to receive it in their new building. They were pleased with this, and "Christ healing the Sick" was painted for Philadelphia. When exhibited in London, the crush to see it was very great -the praise it obtained was high-and the British Institution offered him three thousand guineas for the work: West accepted the offer, for he was far from being rich,-but on condition that he should be allowed to make a copy, with alterations, for his native place. He did so; and when the copy went to America, the profits arising from its ex

*The British Institution was formed out of the wreck of West's magnificent plan.

hibition enabled the committee of the hospital to enlarge the building and receive more patients.

The success of this piece impressed West with the belief that his genius appeared to most advantage in pictures of large dimensions, and that royal commissions had hitherto interposed between him and fortune. His mind, from long contemplation, was familiar with subjects of gigantic proportions; and he had soon sketched out several, and finished some. But the little snug and comfortable houses of England could not contain this colossal progeny; the doors of our churches are generally opened to art with reluctance-our palaces had already admitted more of the President's works than, perhaps, were welcome; and the owners of our galleries were unwilling to make room for such enormous pieces on Scripture subjects. There was no market for the manufacture. Few were tempted to become purchasers, though many were edified with the "Descent of the Holy Ghost on Christ at the Jordan," ten feet by fourteen-"The Crucifixion," sixteen feet by twenty-eight-" The Ascension," twelve feet by eighteen-and "The Inspiration of St. Peter," of corresponding extent. As old age benumbed his faculties, and began to freeze up the well-spring of original thought, the daring intrepidity of the man seemed but to grow and augment. Immense pictures, embracing topics which would have alarmed loftier spirits, came crowding thick upon his fancy, and he was the only person who appeared insensible that such were too weighty for his handling.

Domestic sorrow, mingled with professional disappointment. Elizabeth Shewell-for more than

fifty years his kind and tender companion-died on the 6th of December, 1817, and West, seventynine years old, felt that he was soon to follow. His wife and he had loved each other some sixty years-had seen their children's children-and the world had no compensation to offer. He began to sink, and though still to be found at his easel, his hand had lost its early alacrity. It was evident that all this was to cease soon; that he was suffering a slow, and a general, and easy decay. The venerable old man sat in his study among his favourite pictures, a breathing image of piety and contentment, awaiting calmly the hour of his dissolution. Without any fixed complaint, his mental faculties unimpaired, his cheerfulness uneclipsed, and with looks serene and benevolent, he expired 11th March, 1820, in the eighty-second year of his age. He was buried beside Reynolds, Opie, and Barry, in St. Paul's Cathedral.

The

pall was borne by noblemen, ambassadors, and academicians; his two sons and grandson were chief mourners; and sixty coaches brought up the splendid procession.

Benjamin West was in person above the middle size, of a fair complexion, and firmly and compactly built. His serene brow betokened command of temper, whilst his eyes, sparkling and vivacious, promised lively remarks and pointed sayings, in which he by no means abounded. Intercourse

with courts and with the world, which changes so many, made no change in his sedate sobriety of sentiment and happy propriety of manner, the results of a devout domestic education. His kindness to young artists was great-his liberality

seriously impaired his income-he never seemed weary of giving advice-intrusion never disturbed his temper-nor could the tediousness of the dull ever render him either impatient or peevish. Whatever he knew in art he readily imparted-he was always happy to think that art was advancing, and no mean jealousy of other men's good fortune ever invaded his repose. His vanity was amusing and amiable—and his belief-prominent in every page of the narrative which he dictated to his friend Mr. Galt-that preaching and prophecy had predestined him to play a great part before mankind, and be an example to all posterity, did no one any harm, and himself some good.

As his life was long and laborious, his productions are very numerous. He painted and sketched in oil upwards of four hundred pictures, mostly of an historical and religious nature, and he left more than two hundred original drawings in his portfolio. His works were supposed by himself, and for a time by others, to be in the true spirit of the great masters, and he composed them with the serious ambition and hope of illustrating Scripture and rendering Gospel truth more impressive. No subject seemed to him too lofty for his pencil; he considerered himself worthy to follow the sublimest flights of the prophets, and dared to limn the effulgence of God's glory and the terrors of the Day of Judgment. The mere list of his works makes us shudder at human presumption-Moses receiv ing the Law on Sinai-the Descent of the Holy Ghost on the Saviour in the Jordan-the Opening of the Seventh Seal in the Revelations-Saint Michael and his Angels casting out the Great Dragon

-the mighty Angel with one foot on sea and the other on earth-the Resurrection!-and there are many others of the same class! With such magnificence and sublimity who but a Michael Angelo could cope?

In all his works the human form was exhibited in conformity to academic precepts-his figures were arranged with skill-the colouring was varied and harmonious--the eye rested pleased on the performance, and the artist seemed, to the ordinary spectator, to have done his task like one of the highest of the sons of genius. But below all this splendour there was little of the true vitality -there was a monotony, too, of human character -the groupings were unlike the happy and careless combinations of nature, and the figures seemed distributed over the canvas by line and measure, like trees in a plantation. He wanted fire and imagination to be the true restorer of that grand style, which bewildered Barry, and was talked of by Reynolds. Most of his works-cold, formal, bloodless, and passionless-may remind the spectator of the sublime vision of the Valley of dry bones, when the flesh and skin had come upon the skeletons, and before the breath of God had informed them with life and feeling.

Though such is the general impression, which the works of West make, it cannot be denied that many are distinguished by great excellence. In his Death on the Pale Horse, and more particularly in the sketch of that picture, he has more than approached the masters and princes of the calling. It is, indeed, irresistibly fearful to see the triumphant march of the terrific Phantom, and