Some time ago (MM, ­October 16 and November 1, 2012), Sriram V. wrote a detailed story about the Chantrey statue of Thomas Munro. Now, to add to that, reader A. Raman sends us excerpts from a letter written by ‘C’ in 1840 but published in the ­Madras Journal of Literature and Science in 1844.

The great object of Sir Francis Chantrey in all works of this nature is to combine simplicity in the outline and drapery with dignity in the attitude and expression: it is only necessary to look at the figure recently erected on the island to be satisfied as to how completely he has here succeeded in attaining this happy union.

The horse may be looked upon rather as the Artist’s beau ideal of the animal than as the representation of any particular species, although no doubt the Arab blood will be found to ­prevail in its composition, and fortunately so when we consider the country where it was to find its final resting place. The pains which Sir Francis took with this part of his task are almost incre­dible; the whole of the royal stud... then in all its glory – was submitted individually to his ­inspection – he consulted the best veterinarians – and finally kept it in the model for a space of nearly four years, in order that he might be able to avail himself of any improvements which time or reflection might suggest. The preserving of the clay for so long a period in a proper state of ­moisture was alone a work of no ordinary difficulty and anxiety, for unless the greatest care be taken, it is sure to bake dry in summer and freeze hard in ­winter, either of which by ­distorting the form will in one day ruin the labour of months. When at last however he was completely satisfied, a mould was taken in plaster of Paris, and a cast in the same material took the place of the enormous mass of clay which was immediately broken up to be ­moulded into other forms.

The horse being thus fixed in somewhat more permanent materials, Chantrey then proceeded to the figure of the rider, which had to be gathered from the most incongruous sources – the chief of which was the admirable portrait by Sir Martin Archer Shee; but when we reflect that a painting gives only one point of sight and that a piece of sculpture has to be viewed in every direction, it forms of itself no mean tribute to the Artist’s skill, that in a place when every body is familiar with Munro’s face and form, not one objection has been raised to the fidelity with which he has caught up the likeness of a man whom he never even saw. The drapery is a happy compound of the ancient and modern, and though perhaps it would scarcely pass muster with the fastidious authorities in the Adjutant General’s Office, it is still sufficiently military to satisfy ordinary persons and at the same time not offend the taste of the lovers of the antique, whose prejudices founded as they are in nature must always find favour with a true Artist.

When the whole work was cast in plaster of Paris, the next step was to form moulds of such a material, as would be at once sufficiently fine to preserve the delicacy of the workmanship; and yet strong enough to bear the heat of melted bronze. This object is effected by a mixture of brick-dust and plaster in nearly equal proportions, and ten or twelve inches thick. Inside of this again, in order to regulate the thickness of the metal, a core was constructed of the same materials and about half an inch smaller in every proportion than the true size of the figure. These moulds when completed were placed in immense ovens and slowly baked dry, for had the slightest moisture remained when the metal was poured in, the mould would have been burst to pieces. In ­order to ascertain this important point with certainty a small hole was bored into the thickest part of the mould, and some grains of the material extracted, which were immediately placed in a pair of Dr. Wollaston’s scales and their weight ascertained with the utmost nicety – they were then exposed to considerable heat and once more put into the scale, after which if their weight was less than on the first trial, it was evident that the mould had still some moisture remaining – the experiment was repeated till all was thoroughly dry.

The mould of the horse was divided into five and that of the rider into three pieces. A pit close to the furnace was then dug sufficiently deep to bury each of these parts – one was placed in it and all around was rammed tight with fine sand leaving two or three runners of channels for the metal to pass through – the bronze entered from below the mould and gradually ascended to the top, had it at once been poured in from above the bronze would have been honey-combed and full of bubbles when allowed to cool. After some time the sand was dug away, and the mould having been broken up, the metal was brought out black and rough – a few days’ hard rubbing with files and sand paper soon removed this outer coating and left it bright and shining, which appearance in its turn was deadened into its present hue by an application of muriatic acid and potash.

The various pieces were joined together in the following manner – half an inch was sawed off the edges of the parts to be connected, and the interior was filled with sand; a small crucible of melted bronze was then prepared and poured along the interval – the heat of this metal was sufficient to make the rims of the solid part become liquid, and when the bronze became cool, the whole was found burned into a solid mass.

Though the process is liable to many accidents, I am not aware that more than two failures were made in the whole number of meltings. The sword, the bridle, and the lower part of the tail were also formed in separate castings.