settle half his debts, it restored his credit. The balance was spent
in a trip to Paris with Wilkie, Paris being then (May 1814) the most
interesting place on earth. All the nations of Europe were gathered
together there, and the Louvre was in its glory. So absorbed and
fascinated was Haydon by the actual life of the city, that he finds
little to say about the works of art there collected. Yet his first
visit was to the Louvre, and he describes with what impetuosity he
bounded up the steps, three at a time, and how he scolded Wilkie for
trotting up with his usual deliberation. 'I might just as well have
scolded the column,' he observes. 'I soon left him at some Jan Steen,
while I never stopped until I stood before the "Transfiguration." My
first feeling was disappointment. It looked small, harsh and hard.
This, of course, is always the way when you have fed your imagination
for years on a work you know only by prints. Even the "Pietro Martyre"
was smaller than I thought to find it; yet after the difference
between reality and anticipation had worn away, these great works
amply repaid the study of them, and grew up to the fancy, or rather
the fancy grew up to them.... It will hardly be believed by artists
that we often forgot the great works in the Louvre in the scenes
around us, and found Russians and Bashkirs from Tartary more
attractive than the "Transfiguration"; but so it was, and I do not
think we were very wrong either. Why stay poring over pictures when we
were on the most remarkable scene in the history of the earth.'

On his return to London, Haydon was gratified by the news that his
friend and fellow-townsman, George Eastlake, had proposed and carried
a motion that he should be presented with the freedom of his native
city, as a testimony of respect for his extraordinary merit as a
historical painter. Furthermore, the Directors of the British Gallery
sent him a hundred guineas as a token of their admiration for his