West painted for George the Third a number of subjects taken from the early history of England, and received from the same monarch a commission for a series of paintings illustrating the progress of revealed religion, with which the king designed to ornament the chapel at Windsor Castle.  Of these twenty-eight were finished when the Prince of Wales, afterward George the Fourth, came into power as Prince Regent, and the commission was withdrawn.  The artist then began a series of grand religious subjects, upon which he was still engaged when death called him to rest from all his labors.  Of those which were completed, “Death on the Pale Horse” and “Christ Healing the Sick” are the best known in this country.

In 1792, upon the death of Sir Joshua Reynolds, West was made President of the Royal Academy.  The king wished to confer upon him the honor of knighthood, but he declined it, alleging that he was not wealthy enough to support the dignity of the position.  In consequence of dissensions in the Academy, West resigned his presidency in 1802.  The post was filled for a year by James Wyatt, the architect, and at the close of that time West was re-elected by every ballot but one—­that of Fuseli, who voted for Mrs. Lloyd, a member of the Academy, declaring that he considered “one old woman as good as another.”  West continued in this office until his death.

The close of his life was blessed with ample means, and, as he was in the full possession of all his faculties and covered with art’s supremest honors, it may be regarded as the happiest portion of his career.  His house was always open to Americans visiting England, and few things pleased him more than to listen to news from his native village.  He was a kind and judicious friend to young artists, especially to those of his own country studying in England, and took a lively pleasure in their success.  Leigh Hunt, whose mother was a relative of West, has left us the following description of him: 

“The appearance of West was so gentlemanly that the moment he changed his gown for a coat he seemed to be full dressed.  The simplicity and self-possession of the young Quaker, not having time enough to grow stiff—­for he went early to Rome—­took up, I suppose, with more ease than most would have done, the urbanities of his new position.  Yet this man, so well bred, and so indisputably clever in his art, whatever might be the amount of his genius, had received a homely or careless education, and pronounced some of his words with a puritanical barbarism; he would talk of his art all day.  There were strong suspicions of his leaning to his native side in politics, and he could not restrain his enthusiasm for Bonaparte.  How he managed these matters with the higher powers in England I can not say.”

Possessed originally of a sound and vigorous constitution, which he had not weakened by any species of dissipation, West lived to a good old age, and died in London on the 11th of March, 1820, in his eighty-second year.  He was buried in St. Paul’s Cathedral, by the side of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and under the same great dome which covers the tombs of Nelson and Wellington.