188 THE TRUE AND THE FALSE. and, passing through France, proceeded to the Eternal City. He remained there six years, the funds for his support being provided by the generous Burke, and Barry's two elder brothers. Throughout this long apprenticeship to Art, Barry toiled hard, for his was not a nature to shrink from work; but his peculiar temperament, aggravated by the circumstances of his early life, brought him into frequent collision with his fellow-students. Burke tendered him again and again the most friendly advice, couched in the most delicate language; warning him that 'the arms with which the ill dispositions of the world are to be combated, and the qualities by which it is to be reconciled to us, and we to it, are moderation, gentleness, a little indulgence to others, and a great distrust of ourselves;' but the wild Irish nature and impetuous genius of Barry spurned control and brooked no restraint. 5. He returned to England, and became involved, as Burke had predicted, in a succession of personal squabbles, which lowered his self-respect and affected his reputation. He painted several pictures for exhibition, all giving proof of his possession of no ordinary powers, but all marked by characteristic defects, which the critics he had offended by his self-assertion were prompt to discern and censure. Thus, he produced a picture on the 'Death of Wolfe,' wherein he represented all the characters naked, in accordance with those false canons of Art which condemned the use of modern costume. Benjamin West, at the same time, composed his famous picture on the same subject, introducing the figures in the dress they had actually worn, and the public, generally correct in its tastes and feelings, decided in favour of West and truth. Barry grew more and more morose. He neglected his person, and yielded to 'slothful and uncleanly habits,' and, having gone out of his way to attack and quarrel with Sir Joshua Reynolds, he also lost for a time the friendship and countenance of Burke. Meanwhile, he was suffering from all the agonies of poverty. 6. Yet the brave soul of this unfortunate man never succumbed. His devotion to Art was as thorough and unselfish as ever. As he himself said, 'Every day he BARRY S CARTOONS. เ 189 centred more and more in his art; he gave himself totally to it, and, except honour and conscience, was determined to renounce everything else.' He occupied a small tenement in Castle Street, which had become his by bequest, but which, from want of funds, he was compelled to suffer to fall into ruin. Here he composed his Inquiry into the Real and Imaginary Obstructions to the Acquisition of the Arts in England,' an elaborate reply to the sneers of those arrogant Continental critics who pronounced the climate and soil of England unfavourable to the cultivation of the arts. As a further and more convincing reply, as an undying vindication of British painting, he resolved upon the composition of a series of classical cartoons, and proposed to the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce, to adorn their great room in the Adelphi with suitable compositions, on condition that he was allowed to select his own subject, and was provided with the necessary canvas, paints, and models. The theme he chose was the 'Progress of Human Improvement,' which he proceeded to illustrate in six pictures. The first was emblematical of the early dawn of civilisation, when mankind was just awakening to a knowledge of the refining influences of music, law, and religion; the second, of the age of agriculture, when men began to earn their bread by the sickle and plough; the third, of the establishment of order, and the growth of literature, art, and science; the fourth, of the triumphs of man upon the seas; the fifth, of the age of commerce and manufactures; and the last, of Elysium, and the eternal bliss of the virtuous in a future world. When he commenced this great labour, which occupied him nearly seven years, he had but sixteen shillings in his pocket, and daily, after working at his cartoons from sunrise until sunset, he retired to his dilapidated tenement in Castle Street, to sit up half the night painting or engraving for the booksellers, that he might earn enough to purchase his scanty fare. What a strong, brave, earnest heart was this! Assuredly he deserved to realise his enduring ambition, and win the fame for which he toiled so hard. 7. As the work progressed, Barry's friends made an 190 THE SUNSET OF LIFE. application on his behalf to the Society which profited by his labours; but it was not until after a long delay that they wrung from its authorities a gift of a hundred guineas. When the noble toil was ended, they presented him with two hundred guineas more, and allowed him to exhibit the pictures to the public, by which he realised five hundred pounds. These sums, together with about two hundred and fifty pounds, the gifts of some affluent admirers of his genius, were all the remuneration he received for his six years' arduous work. He placed them, with unwonted prudence, in the funds, and they yielded a small yearly income which abundantly sufficed for his few and simple wants. 8. His latter years were comparatively calm and tranquil. He continued to study assiduously, and completed many works of merit, though he never became a favourite with the public. Elected Professor of Painting to the Royal Academy, he delivered a course of lectures which eminently illustrate the man's enthusiastic devotion to his art, and the ardour with which he concentrated all his powers upon the one great object of his life-long worship. Soon after their delivery he unfortunately quarrelled with the Council of the Academy, whom he had unquestionably insulted, and though strongly supported in the hot battle he fought by the sculptor Nollekens, was beaten, and dismissed from his professorship. Trusting he had now had enough of strife and contention, his friends came forward and raised a subscription of 1,000l., upon which Sir Robert Peel, the father of the late distinguished statesman, granted him an annuity. The same generous hand, after Barry's death, set up a monument to his memory in St. Paul's, and paid the expenses of the funeral. 9. His death was as singular as his life was eventful. 'Dining,' says Mrs. S. C. Hall, 'at a cheap house, he was seized with a sudden and violent illness; death had given him the unerring blow, and his great heart quivered under the shock. He was borne to the door of his lonely dwelling, and it could not be opened-some of those evil urchins who run about the streets had plugged the keyhole with AN ARTIST'S DEATH. 191 pebbles. The night was dark and cold; and, shivering with disease, Barry was carried to another abode. He was one of those strong men who cannot bear their weakness to be known. In his strange room he locked himself for forty hours, bearing his physical agony, it would seem, unheeded. At last he strayed out to make his complaint -for nature will have way-and the physician sent him to his friends Mr. and Mrs. Bonomi, who now managed to receive him into their house. The struggle was not strong, but terrible. He was a Christian hero to the last, talking cheerfully and kindly to those around him, anticipating, but not fearing, death. If he had summoned the same mild fortitude to his aid through life, he would have lived a happier man-happier and more useful, for his powers would have been doubled, increasing by the exercise of the proprieties and suavities which sway, and ought to sway, society; and, adding unto admiration love, the combination would have given greater might into his single hands than was ever possessed by any British painter. He lingered for ten or fifteen days, and then expired,' in the sixty-fifth year of his age (February 1806). The repute which Barry obtained he owed entirely to his unwearied application and natural capacity. That repute would have been wider and more permanent had it not been for the unfortunate defects of his character, his impetuosity, self-assertion, and contempt of social conventionalities. His life is, therefore, at once an example and a warning, by which, we trust, our younger readers will take heed to profit. RICHARD WILSON. 1. RICHARD WILSON, the third son of a clergyman in Montgomeryshire, was born in 1714. His father, soon after his birth, was appointed to the living of Mold, in Flintshire, considering himself as 'passing rich with forty pounds a year.' The future artist, therefore, was early accustomed to privations, and as early displayed a remarkable talent for drawing. He seized every opportunity, in 192 A FRIEND'S COUNSEL. his leisure moments, of covering the walls with faces and figures which he drew with a burnt stick. It is related of him that in his youth he painted for the village inn of Llanverris the sign of two grinning heads, with the motto, 'We three loggerheads be,' whence that village is now familiarly known through all the country-side as 'Loggerheads.' 2. His love of Art was so ardent, his devotion so sincere, that he endured all the miseries of poverty rather than abandon the profession in which he hoped to rise to eminence. He made his way to London, and laboured night and day to secure a scanty livelihood. The different lodgings which he inhabited in the metropolis are known to have been-over the north arcade of the Piazza, Covent Garden; in Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square; in Great Queen Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields; at the corner of Foley Place, Great Portland Street; and in Tottenham Street, Tottenham Court Road. To the Exhibition of 1760 he contributed a picture of 'Niobe,' which was purchased by William Duke of Cumberland. The poor painter thought he was now on the threshold of prosperity; but the public did not follow the lead of his princely patron, and Wilson sank deeper and deeper into difficulties. He had not as yet discovered the true bent of his genius, but addicted himself to portraitpainting and classical subjects, until, one day, having called at the house of Zucarelli, and growing fatigued with waiting for him, he amused himself by painting the scene which the chamber window overlooked. Zucarelli, when he arrived, was so delighted with the sketch that he asked Wilson whether he had ever studied landscape, and, receiving an answer in the negative, exclaimed, 'Then I recommend you to try, for you are sure of great success.' 3. The great success did not come at first, however. For his beautiful sketches, which are such vivid and truthful transcripts from nature, he received but half-a-crown a piece, and great was his gratitude when Paul Selby paid him a shilling or two more. But Wilson was not actuated by mere greed of money; he loved his art for his art's |