(for as yet he was really nothing more) could hardly hope to earn the
immense sum that such an expedition would necessarily cost him. So for
six years more he went on working at Liverpool in his own native
untaught fashion, doing his best to perfect himself, but feeling sadly
the lack of training and competition. One of the last works he executed
while still in Mr. Francis's service was a chimney-piece for Sir John
Gladstone, father of the future premier. Sir John was so pleased with
the execution, that he gave the young workman ten pounds as a present.
But in spite of occasional encouragement like this, Gibson felt himself
at Liverpool, as he says, "chained down by the leg, and panting for
liberation."

In 1817, when he was just twenty-seven, he determined to set off to
London. He took with him good introductions from Mr. Roscoe to Mr.
Brougham (afterwards Lord Chancellor), to Christie, the big picture-
dealer, and to several other influential people. Later on, Roscoe
recommended him to still more important leaders in the world of art--
Flaxman the great sculptor, Benjamin West, the Quaker painter and
President of the Royal Academy, and others of like magnitude. Mr. Watson
Taylor, a wealthy art patron, gave Gibson employment, and was anxious
that he should stop in London. But Gibson wanted more than employment;
he wanted to _learn_, to perfect himself, to become great in his
art. He could do that nowhere but at Rome, and to Rome therefore he was
determined to go. Mr. Taylor still begged him to wait a little. "Go to
Rome I will," Gibson answered boldly, "even if I have to go there on
foot."

He was not quite reduced to this heroic measure, however, for his
Liverpool friends made up a purse of L150 for him (we may be sure it was
repaid later on); and with that comparatively large sum in his pocket