set his draperies, as it is termed; at least since the son could remember: but that they were the production of his own feelings; and of the observations which he had made, with scarcely any assistance from artificial arrangements and dispositions of them upon a figure.

Besides the works already mentioned, those which stand among the principal are, the Bronze Group, in the square of Somerset-House-Lady Miller's, at Bath-Lord Rodney's, at Jamaica-Lord Heathfield's, at Buckland, near Plymouth-Earl and Countess of Effingham's, at Jamaica-Sir George Pocock's and Bishop Thomas', in Westminster Abbey-Mr. Howard's and Dr. Johnson's, in St. Paul's Cathedral -and the Pediment of the East-India House.

Mr. B. had under his hand, at the time of his death, the following monuments: that of Mr. Whitbread; Sir William Jones; the poet Mason; and the Rev. Joseph Milner; with some others of less importance.*

This distinguished artist, and excellent man, was suddenly attacked with an inflammation in his bowels, on the evening of Sunday, August 4th, 1799, which occasioned his death in little more than two days. During this short illness, he expressed a firm reliance on that sure foundation on which he had long and constantly built. He departed on Wednesday morning, August 7th, in the 59th year of his age: leaving two sons and three daughters by his first wife, and three sons by his last, the surviving widow.

In the former edition, other works were here enumerated; as the monument of General Dundas, for St. Paul's; Captains Harvey and Hutt, for Westminster Abbey: a Group for India, containing a colossal statue of Marquis Cornwallis; and an equestrian Bronze of William the Third, for St. James' Square. But I learn from Mr. John Bacon, that these works were not even begun at the time of his father's death, though the commissions were received. In mentioning them, therefore, to Mr. Cecil as works " under hand," he was too scrupulously delicate; and I think it an act of common justice to restore to Mr. John Bacon, the credit of these works, since to him it exclusively belongs. J. P.

Thus departed a man, who, though one of the most distinguished artists of his day, had a mind capable of esteeming this rank but a small attainment. He grasped at the higher honours and unfading rewards which he now enjoys. Amidst the infirmities and temptations to which our common nature is subject, and under which an enlightened eye and a sincere heart led him often bitterly to complain, he was decided in the grand point, and determinately pursued it. He desired to bear his testimony to it after his death; and therefore ordered, by his will, a plain tablet with the following inscription (after the name and date) to be placed near his grave:

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WHAT I WAS AS AN ARTIST SEEMED TO ME OF SOME IMPORTANCE WHILE I LIVED: BUT WHAT I REALLY WAS AS A BELIEVER IN CHRIST JESUS, IS THE ONLY THING OF IMPORTANCE TO ME NOW."

Mr. B. was about five feet eight inches in stature, of a fair complexion, and interesting countenance, expressive of his natural vivacity, tenderness, and

address.

Though in passing through this short narrative, I could not avoid giving some general intimations of the character and sentiments of Mr. B. I shall begin a more particular account of them here, by remarking, that, in communicating his ideas, Mr. B. was sometimes forcible and happy; especially if the occasion and the assembly demanded care and preparation. I am informed, from the best authority, that the observations which he used to make at the Royal Academy, were received with the greatest attention and deference.

In familiar discourse, especially when he indulged the metaphysical turn of his mind, he was frequently circuitous and obscure: what was successful, burst like lightning from a cloud; but unlike that meteor, it remained to enlighten and to warm. He had a habit of illustrating his conceptions by emblems and analo

gies: the fertility of his mind for these was peculiar. In attempting to convey a full view of any topic, he would sometimes amplify and wiredraw to tediousness; but the hearer was often well paid, at length, for his attention, by some forcible allusion or comparison, without which he seldom spoke long together. The reader will perceive this in the passages, which, as a specimen of his usual style and manner of speaking, I have put down in these memoirs. So quick, indeed, and lively, were his feelings and sympathies, that they were frequently accompanied with his tears.

His talent for illustration, together with his affectionate disposition, made him particularly the friend and favourite of children. He had an equal ability for instructing and for entertaining them. Taking some story from the Bible, with which the child was acquainted, and putting it into a transposed form, he used to express it in so simple, novel, and lively a manner, that the child supposed he was hearing a story entirely new, till he afterward discovered with surprise that the hero of the story was Joseph, David, &c.

He was naturally irritable; but not at all vindictive warm in his attachments; but more disposed to lament his wrongs, than to resent them. I do not

recollect any one, in whom I have observed so much natural irritability tempered with such meekness and forbearance. I remember to have seen his temper greatly tried in two instances. The first of these was a most unprovoked insult: the exemplary patience with which it was received, was remarked with admiration by several persons present. The latter instance produced only a silent grief, being a wound in the house of a friend.

There is another instance told in the family, which, however ridiculous, may serve to mark and contrast two characters. While Mr. B. was walking one day in Westminster Abbey, he observed a person standing

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before his principal work, who seemed to pride himself on his taste and skill in the arts, and who was exuberant in his remarks. "This monument of Chatham," said he to Mr. B. (whom it was evident he mistook for an ignorant stranger,) "is admirable upon the whole, but it has great defects." "I should be greatly obliged," said Mr. B. "if you would be so kind as to point them out to me." Why, here,' said the critic, and there do you not see?-bad— very bad!" at the same time employing his stick upon the lower figures with a violence that was likely to injure the work. "But," said Mr. B. "I should be glad to be acquainted why the parts you touched are bad." He found, however, nothing determinate in the reply; but the same vague assertions repeated, and accompanied with the same violence. "I told Bacon," said he, "repeatedly, of this, while the monument was forming. I pointed out other defects, but I could not convince him." What, then, you are personally acquainted with Bacon ?" said Mr. B. "O yes," replied the stranger, "I have been intimate with him for many years." "It is well for you then," said Mr. B. taking leave of him, "that your friend Bacon is not now at your elbow, for he would not have been well pleased at seeing his work so roughly handled."

It is the reward of sound character, that however it may be obscured by calumny or accident, time will bring forth its reality, and oblige even enemies to acknowledge it. This was verified in the probity of Mr. B. Those, who a long time felt it their interest to sink his rising reputation, have afterward been glad to appeal to his tried integrity.

The following anecdote I received from Mr. B.'s family, authenticated by part of a correspondence now before me.

Not long after the erection of the monument of the Earl of Chatham, a rival sculptor (whose

name I desire to omit) requested Mr. B. with other sculptors, to value some work which that artist had executed, as the price demanded had been objected to by his employer. Mr. B. gave an estimate of the value, which much disappointed the expectations of the sculptor. He took such offence at this, as led him to bring the subject into the news-papers; accusing Mr. B. of the highest injustice, and that with the most opprobrious epithets. Nor did this artist stop at representing Mr. B. as a very bad man, but endeavoured also to depreciate several of his public works. Yet, strange to tell, this very man, on a future similar occasion, applied again to Mr. B. begging his pardon for all that had passed, and confessing that he considered Mr. B. as a person upon whose justice, integrity, and candour, he could rely with the most implicit confidence.

Persons who were utterly averse from Mr. B.'s views as a Christian, yet placed unlimited confidence in him as an honest man. Mr. Ryley was an ingenious draftsman, who used to work principally for engravers; as may be seen by his name at the bottom of many modern plates. He also executed finished drawings of monuments for Mr. B.; but, though a professed deist, and of course one who held in contempt the religious views of Mr. B., yet, on hearing him accidently say that he was pressed for a sum of money, Mr. R. stept out, and, presently returning, brought a bag containing about 200 guineas, which he would fain have left for Mr. B.'s use. Mr. B. blamed him for keeping so much cash in his house, and, having often observed him to appear anxious and melancholy, spoke to him about arranging his affairs; particularly, knowing he had property, Mr. B. urged him to make his will. Mr. R. replied, he did not know how. Mr. B. proposed making one for him, which he accepted. On this, Mr. R. after naming a few legacies to rela