"Is it not finished?" asked Morse, half discouraged.
"Not yet," said West; "see you have not marked that muscle, nor the articulations of the finger-joints."
A third time he presented the drawing, and received the same advice as before. "I cannot finish it," said Morse, despairingly.
"Well," said West, "I have tried you long enough. Now, sir, you have learned more by this drawing than you would have accomplished in double the time by a dozen half-finished beginnings. It is not numerous drawings, but the character of one, which makes a thorough draughtsman. Finish one picture, sir, and you are a painter."
Morse was now admitted to the Royal Academy, and had visions of becoming great. He writes home: "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.... Mr. West also was extremely delighted with it. He said it was not merely an academical figure, but displayed thought. He could not have paid me a higher compliment.... My passion for my art is so firmly rooted that I am confident no human power could destroy it. The more I study, 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 enabling me to pursue that profession without which I am sure I should be miserable. And if 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."
The model of the "Dying Hercules" was sent to the Society of Arts at the Adelphi, and Morse received the gold medal given for the best work in painting, sculpture, and architecture.
Morse had taken letters of introduction to several prominent persons, like Wilberforce and Zachary Macaulay, the father of the historian, but he was too busy to use them. He gives another reason also—poverty. He says, "With regard to my expenses, I got through the first year with two hundred pounds, and hope the same sum will carry me through the second. If you knew the manner in which we live, you would wonder how it was possible I could have made so great a change in my habits. I am obliged to screw and pinch myself in a thousand things in which I used to indulge myself at home.... I breakfast on simple bread and butter, and two cups of coffee; I dine on either beef, mutton, or pork (veal being out of the question, as it is one shilling and six pence per pound), baked, with potatoes, warm perhaps twice a week, all the rest of the week cold; at tea, bread and butter, with two cups of tea. This is my daily round.
"I have had no new clothes for nearly a year; my best are threadbare, and my shoes are out at the toes; my stockings all want to see my mother, and my hat is growing hoary with age.... 'But,' you will say, 'what do you do with the money, if you live thus sparingly?' Why, I will tell you the whole. When I first came to London, I was told, if I meant to support the character of a gentleman, I must take especial care of my personal appearance; so I thought it a matter of course that I must spare no expense in order to appear well. So, this being first in my mind, I (supposing very wisely that London folks had nothing else to do but to see how I was dressed) laid out a considerable part of my money on myself; meanwhile, picture-galleries and collections, with many other places which I ought constantly to have visited, and which cost some money, were neglected. And why? Because I could not afford it.
"Well, in process of time, I found no very particular advantage to be gained by supporting the character of a gentleman, for these reasons: in the first place, nobody saw me; in the second place, if they had seen me, they would not have known me; and, thirdly, if they had known me, they would not have cared a farthing about me. So I thought within myself what I came to England for, and I found that it was not to please English folks, but to study painting; and, as I found I must sacrifice painting to dress and visiting, or dress and visiting to painting, I determined on the latter, and ever since have lived accordingly, and now the tables are turned. I visit galleries and collections, purchase prints, etc.; and when I am asked why I don't pay more attention to my dress, I reply that I cannot afford it."
Morse had now painted the "Death of Hercules," a large picture, eight feet by six feet and a half. The painting was received at the exhibition at Somerset House, though six hundred other works were refused. It was adjudged by the press to be one of the best nine among a thousand pictures; many of them by such men as Turner, Lawrence, and Wilkie. Surely, he had reason to be encouraged.