So once more were his hopes of independence blasted, as they had been in the case of the pump and fire-engine.  He longed, like all artists, to be free from the petty cares and humiliations of the struggle for existence, free to give full rein to his lofty aspirations, secure in the confidence that those he loved were well provided for; but, like most other geniuses, he was compelled to drink still deeper of the bitter cup, to drain it to the very dregs.

In the month of August, 1823, he went to Albany, hoping through his acquaintance with the Patroon, Stephen Van Rensselaer, to establish himself there.  He painted the portrait of the Patroon, confident that, by its exhibition, he would secure other orders.  In a letter to his wife he says:—­

“I have found lodgings—­a large front room on the second story, twenty-five by eighteen feet, and twelve feet high—­a fine room for painting, with a neat little bedroom, and every convenience, and board, all for six dollars a week, which I think is very reasonable.  My landlord is an elderly Irish gentleman with three daughters, once in independent circumstances but now reduced.  Everything bears the appearance of old-fashioned gentility which you know I always liked.  Everything is neat and clean and genteel....  Bishop Hobart and a great many acquaintances were on board of the boat upon which I came up to this city.

“I can form no idea as yet of the prospect of success in my profession here.  If I get enough to employ me I shall go no farther; if not, I may visit some of the smaller towns in the interior of the State.  I await with some anxiety the result of experiments with my machine.  I hope the invention may enable me to remain at home.”

“16th of August. I have not as yet received any application for a portrait.  Many tell me I have come at the wrong time—­the same tune that has been rung in my ears so long.  I hope the right tune will come by and by.  The winter, it is said, is the proper season, but, as it is better in the South at that season and it will be more profitable to be there, I shall give Albany a thorough trial and do my best.  If I should not find enough to employ me here, I think I shall return to New York and settle there.  This I had rather not do at present, but it may be the best that I can do.  Roaming becomes more and more irksome.  Imperious necessity alone drives me to this course.  Don’t think by this I am faint-hearted; I shall persevere in this course, painful as is the separation from my family, until Providence clearly points out my duty to return.”

“August 22. I have something to do.  I have one portrait in progress and the promise of more.  One hundred dollars will pay all my expenses here for three months, so that the two I am now painting will clear me in that respect and all that comes after will be clear gain.  I am, therefore, easier in my mind as to this.  The portrait I am now painting is Judge Moss Kent, brother of the Chancellor.