In a letter dated September 20, 1812, he says:—­

“I have just finished a model in clay of a figure (the ’Dying Hercules’), my first attempt at sculpture.  Mr. Allston is extremely pleased with it; he says it is better than all the things I have done since I have been in England put together, and says I must send a cast of it home to you, and that it will convince you that I shall make a painter.  He says also that he will write to his friends in Boston to call on you and see it when I send it.

“Mr. West also was extremely delighted with it.  He said it was not merely an academical figure, but displayed mind and thought.  He could not have made me a higher compliment.

“Mr. West would write you, but he has been disabled from painting or writing for a long time with the gout in his right hand.  This is a great trial to him.

“I am anxious to send you something to show you that I have not been idle since I have been here.  My passion for my art is so firmly rooted that I am confident no human power could destroy it. [And yet, as we shall see later on, human injustice so discouraged him that he dropped the brush forever.]

“The more I study it, the greater I think is its claim to the appellation of ‘divine’ and I never shall be able sufficiently to show my gratitude to my parents for their indulgence in so greatly enabling me to pursue that profession, without which I am sure I would be miserable.  If ever it is my destiny to become great and worthy of a biographical memoir, my biographer will never be able to charge upon my parents that bigoted attachment to any individual profession, the exercise of which spirit by parents toward their children has been the ruin of some of the greatest geniuses; and the biography of men of genius has too often contained that reflection on their parents.  If ever the contrary spirit was evident, it has certainly been shown by my parents towards me.  Indeed, they have been almost too indulgent; they have watched every change of my capricious inclinations, and seem to have made it an object to study them with the greatest fondness.  But I think they will say that, when my desire for change did cease, it always settled on painting.

“I hope that one day my success in my profession will reward you, in some measure, for the trouble and inconvenience I have so long put you to.

“I am now going to begin a picture of the death of Hercules from this figure, as large as life.  The figure I shall send to you as soon as it is practicable, and also one of the same to Philadelphia, if possible in time for the next exhibition in May.

“I have enjoyed excellent health and spirits and am perfectly contented.  The war between the two countries has not been productive of any measures against resident American citizens.  I hope it will produce a good effect towards both countries.”

He adds in a postscript that he has removed from 82 Great Titchfield Street to No. 8 Buckingham Place, Fitzroy Square.