object; but this artifice is denied to the sculptor, who is necessitated to diminish the size of those things which are of least importance, in order to give dignity to the predominant figures. Raphael, in making the boat so small in the miraculous draught of fishes, is thought to have injudiciously applied this rule of antient sculpture; for he ought to have accomplished, by foreshortening, the same effect which he meant to produce by diminishing the size. It should, however, be observed, that great doubts are entertained if the statues on the Monte Cavallo were originally integral parts of the same group; but although this doubt may be well founded, it will not invalidate the supposed general principle of the antient sculptors, corroborated, as it is, by innumerable examples.
In the evening, after visiting the palaces, Mr. Robinson carried Mr. West to see a grand religious ceremony in one of the churches. Hitherto he was acquainted only with the simple worship of the Quakers. The pomp of the papal ceremonies was as much beyond his comprehension, as the overpowering excellence of the music surpassed his utmost expectations. Undoubtedly, in all the spectacles and amusements of Rome, he possessed a keener sense of enjoyment, arising from the simplicity of his education, than most other travellers. That same sensibility to the beauty of forms and colours which had awakened his genius for painting, was, probably, accompanied with a general superior susceptibility of the other organs as well as the sight; for it is observed that a taste for any one of the fine arts is connected with a general predilection for them all. But neither the Apollo, the Vatican, nor the pomp of the Catholic ritual, excited his feelings to so great a degree as the spectacle which presented itself to his view around the portico of the church. Bred in the universal prosperity of Pennsylvania, where the benevolence of the human bosom was only employed in acts of hospitality and mutual kindness, he had never witnessed any spectacle of beggary, nor had he ever heard the name of God uttered to second an entreaty for alms. Here, however, all the lazars and the wretched in Rome were collected together; hundreds of young and old in that extreme of squalor, nakedness, and disease which affrights the English traveller in Italy, were seen on all sides; and their importunities and cries, for the love of God, and the mercy of Christ, to relieve them, thrilled in his ears, and smote upon his heart to such a degree, that his joints became as it were loosened, and his legs scarcely able to support him. Many of the beggars knew Mr. Robinson, and seeing him accompanied by a stranger, an Englishman, as they concluded the Artist to be from his appearance, surrounded them with confidence and clamours.
* * * * *
As they returned from the church, a woman somewhat advanced in life, and of a better appearance than the generality of the beggars, followed them, and Mr. West gave her a small piece of copper money, the first Roman coin which he had received in change, the relative value of which to the other coins of the country was unknown to him. Shortly afterwards they were joined by some of the Italians, whom they had seen in the morning, and while they were conversing together, he felt some one pull his coat, and turned round. It was the poor woman to whom he had given the piece of copper money. She held out in her hand several smaller pieces, and as he did not understand her language, he concluded that she was chiding him for having given her such a trifle, and coloured deeply with the idea. His English friend, observing his confusion, inquired what he had given her, and he answered that he did not know, but it was a piece of money which he had received in change. Robinson, after a short conversation with the beggar, told Mr. West that she had asked him to give her a farthing. “But as you gave her a two-penny piece,” said he, “she has brought you the change.” This instance of humble honesty, contrasted with the awful mass of misery with which it was united, gave him a favourable idea of the latent sentiments of the Italians. How much, indeed, is the character of that people traduced by the rest of Europe! How often is the traveller in Italy, when he dreads the approach of robbers, and prepares against murder, surprised at the bountiful disposition of the common Italians, and made to blush at having applied the charges against a few criminals to the character of a whole people–without reflecting that the nation is only weak because it is subdivided.
Chap. VII.
Anecdote of a famous Impoverisatore.–West the subject of one of his finest effusions.–Anecdote of Cardinal Albani.–West introduced to Mengs.–Satisfactory result of Wests’s first essay in Rome.–Consequences of the continual excitement which the Artist’s feelings endured.–He goes to Florence for advice.–He accompanies Mr. Matthews in a tour.–Singular instance of liberality towards the Artist from several Gentlemen of Philadelphia.
It was not, however, the novelty, variety, and magnificence of the works of art and antiquity in Rome, that kept Mr. West in a constant state of high excitement; the vast difference in the manners of the people from those of the inhabitants of America, acted also as an incessant stimulus on his feelings and imagination: even that difference, great as it happened to be, was rendered particularly interesting to him by incidents arising out of his own peculiar situation. One night, soon after his arrival in Rome, Mr. Gavin Hamilton, the painter, to whom he had been introduced by Mr. Robinson, took him to a coffee-house, the usual resort of the British travellers. While they were sitting at one of the tables, a venerable old man, with a guitar suspended from his shoulder, entered the room, and coming immediately to their table, Mr. Hamilton addressed him by the name of Homer.–He was the most celebrated Improvisatore in all Italy, and the richness of expression, and nobleness of conception which he displayed in his effusions, had obtained for him that distinguished name. Those who once heard his poetry, never ceased to lament that it was lost in the same moment, affirming, that it often was so regular and dignified, as to equal the finest compositions of Tasso and Ariosto.–It will, perhaps, afford some gratification to the admirers of native genius to learn, that this old man, though led by the fine frenzy of his imagination to prefer a wild and wandering life to the offer of a settled independence, which had been often made to him in his youth, enjoyed in his old age, by the liberality of several Englishmen, who had raised a subscription for the purpose, a small pension, sufficient to keep him comfortable in his own way, when he became incapable of amusing the public.
After some conversation, Homer requested Mr. Hamilton to give him a subject for a poem. In the mean time, a number of Italians had gathered round them to look at Mr. West, who they had heard was an American, and whom, like Cardinal Albani, they imagined to be an Indian. Some of them, on hearing Homer’s request, observed, that he had exhausted his vein, and had already said and sung every subject over and over. Mr. Hamilton, however, remarked that he thought he could propose something new to the bard, and pointing to Mr. West, said, that he was an American come to study the fine arts in Rome; and that such an event furnished a new and magnificent theme. Homer took possession of the thought with the ardour of inspiration. He immediately unslung his guitar, and began to draw his fingers rapidly over the strings, swinging his body from side to side, and striking fine and impressive chords. When he had thus brought his motions and his feelings into unison with the instrument, he began an extemporaneous ode in a manner so dignified, so pathetic, and so enthusiastic, that Mr. West was scarcely less interested by his appearance than those who enjoyed the subject and melody of his numbers. He sung the darkness which for so many ages veiled America from the eyes of Science. He described the fulness of time when the purposes for which it had been raised from the deep were to be manifested. He painted the seraph of knowledge descending from heaven, and directing Columbus to undertake the discovery; and he related the leading incidents of the voyage. He invoked the fancy of his auditors to contemplate the wild magnificence of mountain, lake, and wood, in the new world; and he raised, as it were, in vivid perspective, the Indians in the chase, and at their horrible sacrifices. “But,” he exclaimed, “the beneficent spririt of improvement is ever on the wing, and, like the ray from the throne of God which inspired the conception of the Virgin, it has descended on this youth, and the hope which ushered in its new miracle, like the star that guided the magi to Bethlehem, has led him to Rome. Methinks I behold in him an instrument chosen by heaven, to raise in America the taste for those arts which elevate the nature of man,–an assurance that his country will afford a refuge to science and knowledge, when in the old age of Europe they shall have forsaken her shores. But all things of heavenly origin, like the glorious sun, move Westward; and Truth and Art have their periods of shining, and of night. Rejoice then, O venerable Rome, in thy divine destiny, for though darkness overshadow thy seats, and though thy mitred head must descend into the dust, as deep as the earth that now covers thy antient helmet and imperial diadem, thy spirit, immortal and undecayed, already spreads towards a new world, where, like the soul of man in Paradise, it will be perfected in virtue and beauty more and more.” The highest efforts of the greatest actors, even of Garrick himself delivering the poetry of Shakespeare, never produced a more immediate and inspiring effect than this rapid burst of genius. When the applause had abated, Mr. West being the stranger, and the party addressed, according to the common practice, made the bard a present. Mr. Hamilton explained the subject of the ode: though with the weakness of a verbal translation, and the imperfection of an indistinct echo, it was so connected with the appearance which the author made in the recital, that the incident has never been obliterated from Mr. West’s recollection.
While the Artist was gratifying himself with a cursory view of the works of art, and of the curiosities, Mr. Hope, of Amsterdam, the father of the gentlemen who have since become so well known in London for their taste in the arts, and their superb collections of pictures and marbles, arrived in Rome. Mr. West being introduced to him, accompanied him to Cardinal Albani, to whom he had letters of introduction, and witnessed a proof of the peculiar skill of his Eminence. The Cardinal requested Mr. Hope to come near him, and according to his usual custom with strangers, drew his hands over his face, observing that he was a German. In doing the same thing to Mr. West, he recognized him as the young American.
At this time Mengs was in the zenith of his popularity, and West was introduced to him at the Cardinal’s villa. He appeared to be as much struck as every other person, with the extraordinary circumstance of an American coming to study the fine arts; and begged that Mr. West would show him a speciman of his proficiency in drawing. In returning home, our Artist mentioned to Mr. Robinson that as he had never learnt to draw, he could not produce any sketch like those made by the other students; but that he could paint a little, and if Mr. Robinson would take the trouble to sit, he would execute his portrait to shew Mengs. The proposal was readily acceded to, and it was also agreed, that except to two of their most intimate acquaintances, the undertaking should be kept a profound secret. When the picture was finished, it was so advantageous to the Artist, that it tended to confirm the opinion which was entertained of his powers, founded only on the strength of the curiosity which had brought him from America. But, before shewing it to Mengs, it was resolved that the taste and judgment of the public with respect to its merits should be ascertained.
Mr. Crespigne, one of the two friends in the secret, lived as a Roman gentleman, and twice a year gave a grand assembly at his house, to which all the nobility and strangers in Rome, the most eminent for rank, birth, and talents, were invited. It was agreed that the portrait should be exhibited at one of his parties, which happened to take place soon after it was finished. A suitable frame being provided, the painting was hung up in one of the rooms. The first guests who arrived, were Amateurs and Artists; and as it was known among them that Robinson was sitting to Mengs for his portrait, it was at once thought to be that picture, and they agreed that they had never seen any painting of the Artist so well coloured. As the guests assembled, the portrait became more and more the subject of attention, and Mr. West sat behind on a sofa equally agitated and delighted by their strictures, which Mr. Robinson reported to him from time to time. In the course of the evening Mr. Dance, an Englishman of great shrewdness, was observed looking with an eye of more than common scrutiny at the portrait, by Mr. Jenkins, another of the guests, who, congratulating Robinson in getting so good a portrait from Mengs, turned to Dance, and said, “The he must now acknowledge that Mengs could colour as well as he could draw.” Dance confessed that he thought the picture much better coloured than those usually painted by Mengs, but added that he did not think the drawing either so firm or good as the usual style of that Artist. This remark occasioned some debate, in which Jenkins, attributing the strictures of Dance to some prejudice which he had early conceived against Mengs, drew the company around to take a part in the discussion. Mr. Crespigne seizing the proper moment in their conversation to produce the effect intended, said to Jenkins that he was mistaken, and that Dance was in the right, for, in truth, the picture was not painted by Mengs. By whom then, vociferated every one, “for there is no other painted now in Rome capable of executing any thing so?” “By that young gentleman there,” said Mr. Crespigne, turning to West. At once all eyes were bent towards him, and the Italians, in their way, ran and embraced him. Thus did the best judges at once, by this picture, acknowledge him as only second in the executive department of the art to the first painter then in Rome. Mengs himself, on seeing the picture, expressed his opinion in terms that did great honour to his liberality, and gave the Artist an advice which he never forgot, nor remembered without gratitude. He told him that the portrait showed that he had no occasion to learn to paint at Rome. “You have already, sir,” said he, “the mechanical part of your art: what I would, therefore, recommend to you, is to see and examine every thing deserving of your attention here, and after making a few drawings of about half a dozen of the best statues, go to Florence, and observe what has been done for Art in the collections there. Then proceed to Bologna, and study the works of the Caracci; afterwards visit Parma, and examine, attentively, the pictures of Corregio; and then go to Venice and view the productions of Tintoretti, Titian, and Paul Veronese. When you have made this tour, come back to Rome, and paint an historical composition to be exhibited to the Roman public; and the opinion which will then be formed of your talents should determine the line of our profession which you ought to follow.” This judicious advice, so different from those absurd academical dogmas which would confine genius to the looking only to the works of art, for that perfection which they but dimly reflect from nature, West found accord so well with his own reflections and principles, that he resolved to follow it with care and attention. But the thought of being in Rome, and the constant excitement arising from extraordinary and interesting objects, so affected his mind, accustomed to the sober and uniform habits of the Quakers, that sleep deserted his pillow, and he became ill and constantly feverish. The public took an interest in his situation. A consultation of the best Physicians in Rome was held on his case, the result of which was a formal communication to Mr. Robinson, that his friend must immediately quit the capital, and seek relief from the irritated state of his sensibility in quiet and retirement. Accordingly, on the 20th of August he returned to Leghorn.
Messrs. Jackson and Rutherford, by whose most friendly recommendation he had obtained so much flattering distinction at Rome, received him into their own house, and treated him with a degree of hospitality that merits for them the honour of being considered among the number of his early patrons. Mr. (afterwards Sir John) Dick, then the British Consul at Leghorn, and his lady, also treated him with great partiality, and procured for him the use of the Imperial baths. His mind being thus relieved from the restless ecstasy which he had suffered in Rome, and the intensity of interest being diminished by the circumscribed nature of the society of Leghorn, together with the bracing effects of sea-bathing, he was soon again in a condition to resume his study in the capital. But the same overpowering attacks on his feelings and imagination soon produced a relapse of his former indisposition, and compelled him to return to Leghorn, where he was again speedily cured of his fever, but it left in its dregs a painful affection in the ancle, that threatened the loss of the limb. The well-known Nanoni, an eminent surgeon, who had introduced many improvements in the treatment of diseased joints, was at this period resident in Florence, and Messrs. Jackson and Rutherford wrote to Sir Horace Mann, then the British Minister at the Ducal Court, to consult him relative to the case of Mr. West: his answer induced them to advise the Artist to go to Florence. After a painful period of eleven months confinement to his couch and chamber, he was perfectly and radically cured.
A state of pain and disease is adverse to mental improvement; but there were intervals in which Mr. West felt his anguish abate, and in which he could not only participate in the conversation of the gentlemen to whose kindness he had been recommended, but was able, occastionally, to exercise his pencil. The testimonies of friendship which he received at this perdiod from Sir Horace Mann, the Marquesses of Creni and Riccardi, the late Lord Cooper, and many others of the British nobility then travelling in Italy, made an indelible impression on his mind, and became a stimulating motive to his wishes to excel in his art, in order to demonstrate by his proficiency that he was not unworthy of their solicitude. He had a table constructed so as to enable him to draw while he lay in bed; and in that situation he amused and improved himself in delineating the picturesque conceptions which were constantly presenting themselves to his fancy.
When he was so far recovered as to be able to take exercise, and to endure the fatigue of travelling, a circumstance happened which may be numbered among the many fortunate accidents of his professional career. Mr. Matthews, the manager of the important commercial concerns of Messrs. Jackson and Rutherford, was one of those singular men who are but rarely met with in mercantile life, combining the highest degree of literary and elegant accomplishments with the best talents for active business. He was not only confessedly one of the finest classical scholars in all Italy, but, out of all comparison, the best practical antiquary, perhaps, then in that country, uniting, along with the minutest accuracy of criticism, a delicacy of taste in the perception of the beauty and judgment of the antients, seldom found blended with an equal degree of classical erudition. Affairs connected with the business of the house, and a wish to see the principal cities of Italy, led Mr. Matthews, about the period of Mr. West’s recovery, to visit Florence, and it was agreed between them that they should together make the tour recommended by Mengs.
In the mean time, the good fortune of West was working to happy effects in another part of the world. The story of Mr. Robinson’s portrait had made so great a noise among the travellers in Italy, that Messrs. Jackson and Rutherford, in sending back the ship to Philadelphia, in which the Artist had come passenger, mentioned it in their letters to Mr. Allen. It is seldom that commercial affairs are mingled with those of art, and it was only from the Italian shore that a mercantile house could introduce such a topic into their correspondence. It happened that on the very day this letter reached Mr. Allen, Mr. Hamilton, then Governor of Pennsylvania, and the principal members of the government, along with the most considerable citizens of Philadelphia, were dining with him. After dinner, Mr. Allen read the letter to the company, and mentioned the amount of the sum of money which West had paid into his hands at the period of his departure from America, adding that it must be pretty far reduced. But, said he with warmth, “I regard this young man as an honour to the country, and as he is the first that America has sent to cultivate the fine arts, he shall not be frustrated in his studies, for I have resolved to write to my correspondents at Leghorn, to give him, from myself, whatever money he may require.” Mr. Hamilton felt the force of this generous declaration, and said, with equal animation, “I think exactly as you do, Sir, but you shall not have all the honour of it to yourself, and, therefore, I beg that you will consider me as joining you in the responsibility of the credit.” The consequence of this was, that upon West going, previously to leaving Florence, to take a small sum of about ten pounds from the bankers to whom he had been recommended by Messrs. Jackson and Rutherford, a letter was brought in, while he was waiting for his money, and the gentleman who opened it said to him, “that the contents of the letter would probably afford him unexpected pleasure, as it instructed them to give him unlimited credit.” A more splendid instance of liberality is not to be found even in the records of Florence. The munificence of the Medici was excelled by that of the magistracy of Philadelphia.
Chap. VIII.
The result of the Artist’s experiment to discover the methods by which Titian produced his splendid colouring.–He returns to Rome.–Reflections suggested by inspecting the Egyptian Obelisk.–Considerations of the Author on the same subject; an anecdote of a Mohawk Indian who became an Actor at New York.–Anecdote of a Scottish Fanatic who arrived in Rome, to convert the Pope.–Sequel of the Adventure.–The Artist prepares to visit England.–Having completed his St. Jerome, after Corregio’s famous picture, he is elected an Honorary Member of the Academy of Parma, and invited to Court.–He proceeds by the way of Genoa towards France.– Reflections on the State of Italy.–Adventure on reaching the French frontiers.–State of Taste in France.
From Florence the Artist proceeded to Bologna, and having staid some time there, carefully inspecting every work of celebrity to which he could obtain access, he went on to Venice, visiting in his route all the objects which Mengs had recommended to his attention. The style of Titian, which in breadth and clearness of colouring so much excels that of almost every other painter, was the peculiar characteristic of the Venetian school which interested him the most, and seemed to him, at first, involved in inexplicable mystery. He was never satisfied with the explanations which the Italian amateurs attempted to give him of what they called the internal light of that master’s productions. Repeated experiments, however, enabled him, at last, to make the discovery himself. Indeed, he was from the first persuaded that it was chiefly owing to the peculiar genius of the Artist himself,–to an exquisite delicacy of sight which enabled him to perceive the most approximate tints,–and not to any particular dexterity of pencilling, nor to any superiority in the materials of his colours. This notion led Mr. West to try the effect of painting in the first place with the pure primary colours, and softening them afterwards with the semi tints; and the result confirmed him in the notion that such was probably the peculiar method of Titian. But although this idea was suggested by his visits to the collections of Venice, he was not perfectly satisfied with its soundness as a rule, till many years after his arrival in London, and many unsuccessful experiments.
Having completed his tour to the most celebrated repositories of art in Italy, and enriched his mind, and improved his taste, by the perusal rather than the imitation of their best pieces, he returned to Rome, and applied himself to a minute and assiduous study of the great ornaments of that capital, directing his principal attention to the works of Raphael, and improving his knowledge of the antient costume by the study of Cameos, in which he was assisted by Mr. Wilcox, the author of the Roman Conversations,–to whom he had been introduced by Mr. Robinson, at Mr. Crespigne’s, on the occasion of the exhibition of the Portrait,–a man of singular attainments in learning, and of a serene and composed dignity of mind and manners that rendered him more remarkable to strangers than even his great classical knowledge.
Of all the monuments of antient art in Rome, the Obelisk brought from Egypt, in the reign of Augustus, interested his curiosity the most, and even for a time affected him as much as those which so agitated him by their beauty. The hieroglyphics appeared to resemble so exactly the figures in the Wampum belts of the Indians, that it occurred to him, if ever the mysteries of Egypt were to be interpreted, it might be by the aborigines of America. This singular notion was not, however, the mere suggestion of fancy, but the effect of an opinion which his early friend and tutor Provost Smith conceived, in consequence of attending the grand meeting of the Indian chiefs, with the Governors of the British colonies, held at East town, in Pennsylvania, in the year following the disastrous fate of Bradock’s army. The chiefs had requested this interview, in order to state to the officers the wrongs and injuries of which they complained; and at the meeting they evidently read the reports and circumstances of their grievances from the hieroglyphical chronicle of the Wampum belts, which they held in their hands, and by which, from the date of their grand alliance with William Penn, the man from the ocean, as they called him, they minutely related all the circumstances in which they conceived the terms and spirit of the treaty had been infringed by the British, defying the officers to show any one point in which the Indians had swerved from their engagements. It seemed to Dr. Smith that such a minute traditionary detail of facts could not have been preserved without some contemporary record; and he, therefore, imagined, that the constant reference made to the figures on the belts was a proof that they were chronicles. This notion was countenanced by another circumstance which Mr. West had himself often noticed. The course of some of the high roads through Pennsylvania lies along what were formerly the war tracks of the Indians; and he had frequently seen hieroglyphics engraved on the trees and rocks. He was told that they were inscriptions left by some of the tribes who had passed that way in order to apprize their friends of the route which they had taken, and of any other matter which it concerned them to know. He had also noticed among the Indians who annually visited Philadelphia, that there were certain old chiefs who occasionally instructed the young warriors to draw red and black figures, similar to those which are made on the belts, and who explained their signification with great emphasis, while the students listened to the recital with profound silence and attention. It was not, therefore, extraordinary, that, on seeing similar figures on the Egyptian trophy, he should have thought that they were intended to transmit the record of transactions like the Wampum belts.–A language of signs derived from natural objects, must have something universal in its very nature; for the qualities represented by the emblematic figure, would, doubtless, be those for which the original of the figure was most remarkable: and, therefore, if there be any resemblance between the Egyptian hieroglyphics and those used by the American Indians, the probability is, that there is also some similar intrinsic meaning in their signification. But the Wampum belts are probably not all chronicles; there is reason to believe that some of them partake of the nature of calendars, by which the Indians are regulated in proceedings dependant on the seasons; and that, in this respect, they answer to the household Gods of the patriarchal times, which are supposed to have been calendars, and the figure of each an emblem of some portion of the year, or sign of the Zodiac. It would be foreign to the nature of this work to investigate the evidence which may be adduced on this subject, or to collect those various and scattered hints which have given rise to the opinion, and with a faint, but not fallacious ray, have penetrated that obscure region of antient history, between the period when the devotion of mankind, withdrawn from the worship of the Deity, was transferred to the adoration of the stars, and prior to the still greater degradation of the human faculties when altars were raised to idols.
The idea of the Indians being in possession of hieroglyphical writings, is calculated to lead us to form a very different opinion of them to that which is usually entertained by the world. Except in the mere enjoyments of sense, they do not appear to be inferior to the rest of mankind; and their notions of moral dignity are exactly those which are recommended to our imitation by the literature of all antiquity. But they have a systematic contempt for whatever either tends to increase their troubles, to encumber the freedom of their motions, or to fix them to settled habitations. In their unsheltered nakedness, they have a prouder consciousness of their importance in the scale of beings, than the philosophers of Europe, with all their multiplicity of sensual and intellectual gratifications, to supply which so many of the human race are degraded from their natural equality. The Indian, however, is not deficient in mental enjoyments, or a stranger to the exercise of the dignified faculties of our common nature. He delivers himself on suitable occasions with a majesty of eloquence that would beggar the oratory of the parliaments, and the pulpits of Christendom; and his poetry unfolds the loftiest imagery and sentiment of the epic and the hymn. He considers himself as the lord of the creation, and regards the starry heaven as his canopy, and the everlasting mountain as his throne. It would be absurd, however, to assert with Rousseau, that he is, therefore, better or happier than civilized man; but it would be equally so to deny him the same sense of dignity, the same feeling of dishonour, the same love of renown, or ascribe to his actions in war, and his recreations in peace, baser motives than to the luxurious warriors and statesmen of Europe. Before Mr. West left America, an attempt was made to educate three young Indians at New York; and their progress, notwithstanding that they still retained something of their original wildness of character, exceeded the utmost expectations of those who were interested in the experiment. Two of them, however, in the end, returned to their tribe, but they were rendered miserable by the contempt with which they were received; and the brother of the one who remained behind, was so affected with their degradation, that he came to the city determined to redeem his brother from the thraldom of civilization. On his arrival he found he had become an actor, and was fast rising into celebrity on the stage. On learning this circumstance, the resolute Indian went to the theatre, and seated himself in the pit. The moment that his brother appeared, he leapt upon the stage, and drawing his knife, threatened to sacrifice him on the spot unless he would immediately strip himself naked, and return with him to their home in the woods. He upbraided him with the meanness of his disposition, in consenting to make himself a slave. He demanded if he had forgotten that the Great Spirit had planted the Indian corn for their use, and filled the forests with game, the air with birds, and the waters with fish, that they might be free. He represented the institutions of civilized society as calculated to make him dependant on the labour of others, and subject to every chance that might interrupt their disposition to supply his wants. The actor obeyed his brother, and returning to the woods, was never seen again in the town. [A]
It may, perhaps, not be an impertinent digression to contrast this singular occurrence in the theatre of New York with another truly European, to which Mr. West was a witness, in the Cathedral of St. Peter. Among other intelligent acquaintances which he formed in Rome was the Abate Grant, one of the adherents of that unfortunate family, whom the baseness of their confidential servants, and the factions of ambitious demagogues, deprived, collectively, of their birthright. This priest, though a firm Jacobite in principle, was, like many others of the same political sentiments, liberal and enlightened, refuting, by his conduct, the false and fraudulent calumnies which have been so long alleged against the gallant men who supported the cause of the ill-fated Stuarts. On St. Peter’s day, when the Pope in person performs high mass in the cathedral, the Abate offered to take Mr. West to the church, as he could place him among the ecclesiastics, in an advantageous situation to witness the ceremony. Glad of such an offer, Mr. West willingly accompanied him. The vast edifice; the immense multitude of spectators; the sublimity of the music; and the effect of the pomp addressed to the sight, produced on the mind of the Painter feelings scarcely less enthusiastic than those which the devoutest of the worshippers experienced, or the craftiest inhabitant of the Vatican affected to feel. At the elevation of the host, and as he was kneeling beside the Abate, to their equal astonishment he heard a voice, exclaiming behind them in a broad Scottish accent, “O Lord, cast not the church down on them for this abomination!” The surrounding Italian priests, not understanding what the enthusiast was saying, listened with great comfort to such a lively manifestation of a zeal, which they attributed to the blessed effects of the performance. The Abate, however, with genuine Scottish partiality, was alarmed for his countryman, and endeavoured to persuade him to hold his tongue during the ceremony, as he ran the risk of being torn to pieces by the mob.
It appeared that this zealous Presbyterian, without understanding a word of any civilized language, but only a dialect of his own, had come to Rome for the express purpose of attempting to convert the Pope, as the shortest way, in his opinion, of putting an end to the reign of Antichrist. When mass was over, the Abate, anxious to avert from him the consequences which his extravagance would undoubtedly entail, if he continued to persevere in it, entered into conversation with him. It appeared he had only that morning arrived in Babylon, and being unable to rest until he had seen a glimpse of the gorgeous harlot, he had not then provided himself with lodgings. The Abate conducted him to a house where he knew he would be carefully attended; and he also endeavoured to reason with him on the absurdity of his self-assumed mission, assuring him that unless he desisted, and behaved with circumspection, he would inevitably be seized by the Inquisition. But the prospect of Martyrdom augmented his zeal; and the representations of the benevolent Catholic only stimulated his enterprise; so that in the course of a few days, much to his own exceeding great joy, and with many comfortable salutations of the spirit, he was seized by the Inquisition, and lodged in a dungeon, On hearing this, the Abate applied to King James in his behalf, and by his Majesty’s influence he was released, and sent to the British Consul at Leghorn, on condition of being immediately conveyed to his friends in Scotland. It happened, however, that no vessel was then ready to sail, and the taste of persecution partaking more of the relish of adventure than the pungency of suffering, the missionary was not to be so easily frustrated in his meritorious design; and, therefore, he took the first opportunity of stealing silently back to Rome, where he was again arrested and confined. By this time the affair had made some noise, and it was universally thought by all the English travellers, that the best way of treating the ridiculous madman was to allow him to remain some time in solitary confinement in the dungeons of the Inquisition. When he had been imprisoned about three months, he was again liberated, sent to Leghorn, and embarked for England, radically cured of his inclination to convert the Pope, but still believing that the punishment which he had suffered for his folly would be recorded as a trial which he had endured in the service of the faith.
In the mean time West was carefully furnishing his mind by an attentive study of the costume of antiquity, and the beauties of the great works of modern genius. In doing this, he regarded Rome only as an university, in which he should graduate; and, as a thesis preparatory to taking his degree among the students, he painted a picture of Cimon and Iphigenia, and, subsequently, another of Angelica and Madoro. The applause which they received justified the opinion which Mengs had so early expressed of his talent, and certainly answered every object for which they were composed. He was honoured, in consequence, with the marks of academical approbation, usually bestowed on fortunate Artists. He then proposed to return to America, with a view to cultivate in his native country that profession in which he had already acquired so much celebrity. At this juncture he received a letter from his father, advising him, as peace had been concluded between France and England, to go home for a short time before coming to America; for the mother country was at that period still regarded as the home of her American offspring. The advice of his father was in unison with his own wishes, and he mentioned his intention to Mr. Wilcox. That gentleman, conceiving that he spoke of America as his home, expressed himself with grief and surprise at a determination so different from what he had expected; but, upon being informed of the ambiguity in the phrase, he exclaimed that he could hardly have resolved, on quitting Italy, more opportunely, for Dr. Patoune, a Scotish gentleman, of considerable learning, and some taste in painting, was then returning homeward, and waiting at that time in Rome, until he should be able to meet with a companion. It was therefore agreed that West should be introduced to him; and it was soon after arranged that the Doctor should proceed to Florence, while the Artist went to take leave of his friends at Leghorn, to express to them his gratitude for the advantages he had derived from their constant and extraordinary kindness, which he estimated so highly, that he could not think of leaving Italy without performing this pleasing and honourable pilgrimage. It was also agreed between him and his companion, that the Doctor should stop a short time at Parma, until West should have completed a copy of the St. Jerome of Corregio, which he had begun during his visit to that city with Mr. Matthews.
During their stay at Parma, the Academy elected Mr. West a member, an honour which the Academies of Florence and Bologna had previously conferred on him; and it was mentioned to the Prince that a young American had made a copy of the St. Jerome of Corregio in a style of excellence such as the oldest Academicians had not witnessed. The Prince expressed a wish to see this extraordinary Artist, particularly when be heard that he was from Pennsylvania, and a Quaker. Mr. West was, in consequence, informed that a visit from him would be acceptable at Court: and it was arranged that he should be introduced to His Highness by the chief Minister. Mr. West thought that, in a matter of this kind, he should regulate his behaviour by what he understood to be the practice in the court of London; and, accordingly, to the astonishment of the whole of the courtiers, he kept his hat on during the audience. This, however, instead of offending the Prince, was observed with evident pleasure, and made his reception more particular and distinguished; for His Highness had heard of the peculiar simplicity of the Quakers, and of the singularly Christian conduct of William Penn.
From Parma he proceeded to Genoa, and thence to Turin. Considering this City as the last stage of his professional observations in Italy, his mind unconsciously took a retrospective view of the different objects he had seen, and the knowledge which he had acquired since his departure from America. Although his art was always uppermost in his thoughts, and although he could not reflect on the course of his observations without pleasure and hope, he was often led to advert to the lamentable state into which every thing, as well as Art, had fallen in Italy, in consequence of the general theocratical despotism which over-spread the whole country, like an unwholesome vapour, and of those minute subdivisions of territory, in which political tyranny exercised its baleful influence even where the ecclesiastical oppression seemed disposed to spare. He saw, in the infamous establishment of the cicisbeo, the settled effect of that general disposition to palliate vice, which is the first symptom of decay in nations; and he was convinced that, before vice could be thus exalted into custom, there must exist in the community which would tolerate such an institution, a disregard of all those obligations which it is the pride of virtue to incur, and the object of law to preserve. It seemed to him that every thing in Italy was in a state of disease; and that the moral energy was subsiding, as the vital flame diminishes with the progress of old age. For although the forms and graces of the human character were often seen in all their genuine dignity among the common people, still even the general population seemed to be defective in that detestation of vice found in all countries in a healthful state of morals, and which is often strongest among the lowest of the vulgar, especially in what respects the conduct of the great. He thought that the commonalty of Italy had lost the tact by which the good and evil of actions are discriminated; and that, whatever was good in their disposition, was constitutional, and unconnected with any principle of religion, or sense of right. In the Papal states, this appeared to be particularly the case. All the creative powers of the mind seemed there to be extinct. The country was covered with ruins, and the human character was in ashes. Sometimes, indeed, a few embers of intellect were seen among the clergy; but the brightness of their scintillation was owing to the blackness of death with which they were contrasted. The splendour of the nobility struck him only as a more conspicuous poverty than the beggary of the common people; and the perfect contempt with which they treated the feelings of their dependants, seemed to him scarcely less despicable than the apathy with which it was endured. The innumerable examples of the effects of this moral paralysis to which he was a witness on his arrival in Rome, filled him for some time with indescribable anxiety, and all his veneration for the Roman majesty was lost in reflections on the offences which mankind may be brought to commit on one another. But at Genoa, Leghorn, and Venice, the Italians were seen to less disadvantage. Commerce, by diffusring opulence, and interweaving the interests of all classes, preserved in those cities some community of feeling, which was manifested in an interchange of respect and consideration between the higher and the lower orders; and Lucca he thought afforded a perfect exception to the general degeneracy of the country. The inhabitants of that little republic presented the finest view of human nature that he had ever witnessed. With the manliness of the British character they appeared to blend the suavity of the Italian manners; and their private morals were not inferior to the celebrity of their public virtues. So true it is, that man, under the police and vigilance of despotism, becomes more and more vicious; while, in proportion to the extension of his freedom, is the vigour of his private virtue. When deprived of the right of exercising his own judgment, he feels, as it were, his moral responsibility at an end, and naturally blames the system by which he is oppressed, for the crimes which his own unresisted passions instigate him to commit. To an Englishman the remembrance of a journey in Italy is however often more delightful than that of any other country, for no where else is his arrogance more patiently endured, his eccentricities more humourously indulged, nor the generosity of his character more publicly acknowledged.
In coming from Italy into France, Mr. West was particularly struck with the picturesque difference in the character of the peasantry of the two countries; and while he thought, as an Artist, that to give appropriate effect to a national landscape it would not only be necessary to introduce figures in the costume of the country, but in employments and recreations no less national, he was sensible of the truth of a remark which occurs to almost every traveller, that there are different races of the human species, and that the nature of the dog and horse do not vary more in different climates than man himself. In making the observation, he was not, however, disposed to agree with the continental philosophers, that this difference, arising from climate, at all narrowed the powers of the mind, though it influenced the choice of objects of taste. For whatever tends to make the mind more familiar with one class of agreeable sensations than another, will, undoubtedly, contribute to form the cause of that preference for particular qualities in objects by which the characteristics of the taste of different nations is discriminated. Although, of all the general circumstances which modify the opinions of mankind, climate is, perhaps, the most permanent, it does not, therefore, follow that, because the climate of France or Italy induces the inhabitants to prefer, in works of art, certain qualities of the excellence of which the people of England are not so sensible, the climate of Great Britain does not, in like manner, lead the inhabitants to discover other qualities equally valuable as sources of enjoyment. Thus, in sculpture for example, it would seem that in naked figures the inhabitants of a cold climate can never hope to attain that degree of eminence which we see exemplified in the productions of the Grecian and Italian sculptors; not that the Artists may not execute as well, but because they will not so readily find models; or, what is perhaps more to the point, they will not find a taste so capable of appreciating the merits of their performances. In Italy the eye is familiar with the human form in a state of almost complete nudity; and the beauty of muscular expression, and of the osteological proportions of man, is there as well known as that of the features and complexion of his countenance; but the same degree of nakedness could not be endured in the climate of England, for it is associated with sentiments of modesty and shame, which render even the accidental innocent exposure of so much of the body offensive to the feelings of decorum. It is not, therefore, just to allege, that, because the Italians are a calm, persuasive, and pensive people, and the French all stir, talk, and inconstancy, they are respectively actuated by different moral causes. It will not be asserted that, though the sources of their taste in art spring from different qualities in the same common objects, any innate incapacity for excellence in the fine arts is induced by the English climate, merely because that climate has the effect of producing a different moral temperament among the inhabitants.
On the morning after arriving at the first frontier town, in coming from Savoy into France, and while breakfast was preparing, Mr. West and his companion heard the noise of a crowd assembled in the yard of the inn. The Doctor rose and went to the window to inquire the occasion: immediately on his appearance the mob became turbulent, and seemed to menace him with some outrage.–The Peace of 1763 had been but lately concluded, and without having any other cause for the thought, it occurred to the travellers that the turbulence must have originated in some political occurrence, and they hastily summoned the landlord, who informed them, “That the people had, indeed, assembled in a tumultuous manner round the inn on hearing that two Englishmen were in the house, but that they might make themselves easy, as he had sent to inform the magistrates of the riot.” Soon after, one of the magistrates arrived, and on being introduced by the landlord to the travellers, expressed himself to the following effect: “I am sorry that this occurrence should have happened, because had I known in time, I should, on hearing that you were Englishmen, have come with the other magistrates to express to you the sentiments of respect which we feel towards your illustrious nation; but, since it has not been in our power to give you that testimony of our esteem; on the contrary, since we are necessitated by our duty to protect you, I assure you that I feel exceedingly mortified. I trust, however, that you will suffer no inconvenience, for the people are dispersing, and you will be able to leave the town in safety!” “This place,” he continued, “is a manufacturing town, which has been almost ruined by the war. Our goods went to the ocean from Marseilles and Toulon; but the vigilance of your fleets ruined our trade, and these poor people, who have felt the consequence, consider not the real cause of their distress. However, although the populace do not look beyond the effects which immediately press upon themselves, there are many among us well acquainted with the fountain-head of the misfortunes which afflict France, and who know that it is less to you than to ourselves that we ought to ascribe the disgraces of the late war. You had a man at the head of your government (alluding to the first Lord Chatham), and your counsellors are men. But it is the curse of France that she is ruled by one who is, in fact, but the agent and organ of valets and strumpets. The Court of France is no longer the focus of the great men of the country, but a band of profligates that have driven away the great. This state of things, however, cannot last long, the reign of the Pompadours must draw to an end, and Frenchmen will one day take a terrible revenge for the insults which they suffer in being regarded only as the materials of those who pander to the prodigality of the Court.” This singular address, made in the year 1763, requires no comment; but it is a curious historical instance of the commencement of that, moral re-action to oppression which subsequently has so fully realized the prediction of the magistrate, and which, in its violence, has done so much mischief, and occasioned so many misfortunes to Europe.
The travellers remained no longer in Paris than was necessary to inspect the principal works of the French Artists, and the royal collections. Mr. West, however, continued long enough to be satisfied that the true feeling for the fine arts did not exist among the French to that degree which he had observed in Italy. On the contrary, it seemed to him that there was an inherent affectation in the general style of art among them, which demonstrated, not only a deficiency of native sensibility, but an anxious endeavour to conceal that defect. The characteristics of the French School, and they have not yet been redeemed by the introduction of any better manner, might, to a cursory observer, appear to have arisen from a corrupted taste, while, in fact, they are the consequences only of that inordinate national vanity which in so many different ways has retarded the prosperity of the world. In the opinion of a Frenchman, there is a quality of excellence in every thing belonging to France, merely because it is French, which gives at all times a certain degree of superiority to the actions and productions of his countrymen; and this delusive notion has infested not only the literature and the politicks of the nation, but also the principles of Art, to such a deep and inveterate extent, that the morality of painting is not yet either felt or understood in that country. In the mechanical execution, in drawing, and in the arrangement of parts, the great French painters are probably equal to the Italians; but in producing any other sentiment in the spectator than that of admiration at their mechanical skill, they are greatly behind the English. Painting has much of a common character with dramatic literature, and the very best pictures of the French Artists have the same kind of resemblance to the probability of Nature, that the tragedies of their great dramatic authors have to the characters and actions of men. But in rejecting the pretensions of the French to superiority either in the one species of art or in the other, the rejection ought not to be extended too far. They are wrong in their theory; but their practice so admirably accords with it, that it must be allowed, were it possible for a people so enchanted by self-conceit to discover that the true subjects of Art exist only in Nature, they evince a capacity sufficient to enable them to acquire the pre-eminence which they unfortunately believe they have already attained. But these opinions, with respect to the peculiarities of the French taste, though deduced from incidental remarks in conversations with Mr. West, must not be considered as his. The respect which he has always entertained towards the different members of his own profession never allows him to express himself in any terms that might possibly be construed by malice or by ignorance to imply any thing derogatory to a class which he naturally considers among the teachers of mankind. He may think, indeed he has expressed as much, that the style of the French Artists is not the most perspicuous; and that it is, if the expression may be allowed, more rhetorical than eloquent; but still he regards them as having done honour to their country, and, in furnishing objects of innocent interest to the minds of mankind, as having withdrawn so far the inclinations of the heart from mere sensual objects. The true use of painting, he early thought, must reside in assisting the reason to arrive at correct moral inferences, by furnishing a probable view of the effects of motives and of passions; and to the enforcement of this great argument his long life has been devoted, whether with complete success it would be presumptuous in any contemporary to determine, and injudicious in the author of these memoirs to assert.
* * * * *
[A] The following Extract from the Journal of a Friend, who has lately travelled through the principal parts of the United States, will probably be found interesting, as it tends to throw some degree of light on the sentiments of the Indians; of which the little that is known has hitherto never been well elucidated.
“One of my fellow-passengers was a settler in the new state of Tenessee, who had come to Charleston with Horses for sale, and was going to Baltimore and Philadelphia for the purpose of investing his money in an assortment of goods suited to the western country. The ideas of civilized and savage life were so curiously blended in this man, that his conversation afforded me considerable amusement. Under the garb and appearance of a methodist preacher, I found him a hunter and a warrior; with no small portion of the adventurous spirit proper to both those characters. He had served as a militia-man or volunteer under General Jackson, in his memorable campaign against the Creek Indians in 1813; and he related to me some interesting particulars of the principal and final action which decided the fate of the war. The Indians had posted themselves at a place called, in their language, _Talapoosie_, and by the Americans, the Horse-shoe; a position of great natural strength, the advantages of which they had improved to the best of their skill, by a breast-work seven feet high, extending across the neck of land which formed the only approach to their encampment. This seems to have been viewed by the Creeks themselves as the last stand of their nation: for, contrary to the usual practice of the Indians, they made every preparation for defence, but none for retreat. Their resistance was proportionably desperate and bloody. For several hours they supported a continued fire of musketry and cannon without shrinking; till at length the American General, finding that he had lost a great number of men, and that he could not otherwise dislodge the enemy, gave orders for a general assault. The breast-work was carried by storm; and the Indians, broken at all points, and surrounded by superior numbers, were nearly all put to the sword. Out of one thousand warriors who composed the Creek Army, scarcely twenty made their escape. A body of Choctaw Indians, who attended the American Army as auxiliaries, were the chief actors in this massacre, and displayed their usual barbarous ferocity. It affords a remarkable illustration of the savage character, that the whole of this bloody scene passed in the most perfect silence on the part of the Indians: there was no outcry, no supplication for mercy: each man met his fate without uttering a word, singly defending himself to the last. The lives of the women and children were spared, but many of the boys were killed in the action, fighting bravely in the ranks with their fathers and elder brothers. My Tenessee friend received four arrows from the bows of these juvenile warriors, while in the act of mounting the breast-work.
“In hearing such a story, it is impossible not to be touched with a feeling of sympathy for a high-minded but expiring people, thus gallantly but vainly contending, against an overwhelming force, for their native woods, and their name as a Nation; or to refrain from lamenting that the settlement of the New World cannot be accomplished at a less price than the destruction of the original and rightful proprietors of the soil.”
END OF PART I.
The Life and Works of Benjamin West, Esq.
By John Galt, Esq.
Part II.
To Simon M’Gillivray, Esq.
This Work
Is inscribed, with every sentiment of esteem, by the Author.
Preface.
Nearly the whole of this work was printed during the last illness of Mr. West. The manuscript had long previously been read to him. My custom was, to note down those points which seemed, in our conversations, to bear on his biography, and, from time to time, to submit an entire chapter to his perusal; afterwards, when the whole narrative was formed, it was again carefully read over to him. Still, however, I am apprehensive that some mistakes in the orthography of names may have been committed; for although the same custom was strictly observed in preparing the manuscript of the first part of his Memoirs for the press, yet, in perusing the proofs, he found several errors of that kind. It was intended that he should have read the proofs of this part also, but the progress of his disease unfortunately rendered it impracticable.
J.G.
_30th March, 1820_.
Introduction.
Although Mr. West was, strictly speaking, a self-taught artist, yet it must be allowed that in his education he enjoyed great and singular advantages. A strong presentiment was cherished in his family, that he would prove an extraordinary man, and his first rude sketch in childhood was hailed as an assurance of the fulfilment of the prediction of Peckover. The very endeavours of his boyish years were applauded as successful attainments; no domestic prejudices were opposed to the cultivation of his genius; even the religious principles of the community in which he lived were bent in his favour, from a persuasion that he was endowed by Heaven with a peculiar gift; and whatever the defects of his early essays may have been, it was not one of the least advantageous circumstances of his youth, that they were seen only by persons, who, without being competent judges of them, as works of art, were yet possessed of such a decided superiority of intellect, that their approbation in any case would have been esteemed great praise.
The incidents attending his voyage to Italy, and his introduction to the artists, virtuosi, and travellers at Rome, were still more auspicious. Taken in connection with his previous history, they form one of the most remarkable illustrations of the doctrine of fortune, or destiny, that is to be found in authentic biography. Without any knowledge of his abilities or acquirements, his arrival in the capital of Christendom, the seat of the arts, was regarded as an interesting event: his person was contemplated as an object of curiosity; and a strong disposition to applaud his productions, was excited by the mere accident of his having come from America to study the fine arts. A prepossession so extraordinary has no parallel. It would almost seem, as if there had been some arrangement in the order of things that would have placed Mr. West in the first class of artists, although he had himself mistaken the workings of ambition for the consciousness of talent. Many men of no inconsiderable fame have set out in their career with high expectations in their favour; but few, of whom such hopes were entertained, have, by a succession of works, in which the powers of the mind were seemingly unfolded with more and more energy, so long continued to justify the presentiments of his early friends. It is not, however, the object of this undertaking to form any estimate of the genius of Mr. West, or of the merits of his works; another opportunity, distinct from his memoirs, will be taken for that purpose; but only to resume the narrative of his progress, in his profession, by which it will appear that a series of circumstances no less curious than those which tended to make him an artist, facilitated his success, and placed him in that precise station in society, where, in this country, at the time, there was the only chance of profitable employment as an historical painter.
Contents.
Part II.
Chap. I.
Mr. West arrives in England.–Relative Condition of Artists in Society.–Mr. West’s American Friends in this Country.–Of Governor Hamilton and Mr. Allen.–Circumstances favourable to their Reception in the Circles of Fashion.–Mr. West’s Visit to Bath, and Excursions to see some of the Collections of Art in England.–He settles as a Portrait Painter.–Introduction to Burke and Dr. Johnson.–Anecdote of a Monk, the Brother of Mr. Burke.–Introduction to Archbishop Drummond.–Mr. West’s Marriage.
Chap. II.
Some Notice of Archbishop Drummond.–Mr. West paints a Picture for His Grace.–His Grace’s Plan to procure Engagements for Mr. West as an Historical Painter.–Project for ornamenting St. Paul’s Cathedral with Pictures.–Anecdote of Dr. Terrick, Bishop of London.–The Altar-piece of St. Stephen’s Walbrook.–State of public Taste with respect to the Arts.–Anecdotes of Hogarth and Garrick.
Chap. III.
Archbishop Drummond’s Address in procuring for Mr. West the Patronage of the King.–Singular Court Anecdote of a Lady of Fashion.–Character of the King in his Youth.–Anecdotes of the King and Queen,–The King employs Mr. West to paint the Departure of Regulus.–Mr. West’s Celebrity as a Skater.–Anecdote of Lord Howe.–His Fame as a Skater of great Service in his professional Success.
Chap. IV.
The King’s personal Friendship for Mr, West.–Circumstances which led to the Establishment of the Royal Academy.–First Exhibition of the Works of British Artists.–The Departure of Regulus finished, and taken to Buckingham House.–Anecdote of Kirby.–The Formation of the Royal Academy.–Anecdote of Reynolds.–The Academy instituted.
Chap. V.
The Opening of the Royal Academy.–The Death of General Wolfe.–Anecdote of Sir Joshua Reynolds.–New Pictures ordered by the King.–Origin of the Series of Historical Pictures painted for Windsor Castle.–Design for a grand Chapel in Windsor Castle, to illustrate the History of revealed Religion.–His Majesty’s Scruples on the Subject.–His confidential Consultation with several eminent Divines.–The Design undertaken.
Chap. VI.
Singular Anecdote respecting the Author of the Letters of Junius,–Of Lachlan McLean.–Anecdote of the Duke of Grafton.–Of the Marquis of Lansdowne.–Of Sir Philip Francis; Critique on the Transfiguration of Raphael by Sir Philip Francis, and Objections to his Opinion.
Chap. VII.
Observations on Mr. West’s Intercourse with the King.–Anecdote of the American War.–Studies for the Historical Pictures at Windsor Castle.–Anecdote of the late Marquis of Buckingham.–Anecdote of Sir Joshua Reynolds; and of the Athenian Marbles.–Election of Mr. West to the Presidency of the Royal Academy.–His Speech to the Academicians on that occasion.
Chap. VIII.
The first Discourse of Mr. West to the Students of the Academy.–Progress of the Arts.–Of the Advantages of Schools of Art.–On the Natural Origin of the Arts.–Of the Patronage which honoured the Patrons and the Artists.–Professional Advice.–Promising State of the Arts in Britain.
Chap. IX.
Discourse to the Royal Academy in 1794.–Observations on the Advantage of drawing the Human Figure correctly.–On the Propriety of cultivating the Eye, in order to enlarge the Variety of our Pleasures derived from Objects of Sight.–On characteristic Distinctions in Art.–Illustrations drawn from the Apollo Belvidere, and from the Venus de Medici; comprehending critical Remarks on those Statues.
Chap. X.
Discourse to the Academy in 1797— On the Principles of Painting and Sculpture.–Of Embellishments in Architecture.–Of the Taste of the Ancients.–Errors of the Moderns.–Of the good Taste of the Greeks in Appropriations of Character to their Statues.–On Draiwing.–Of Light and Shade.–Principles of Colouring in Painting. –Illustration.–Of the Warm and Cold Colours.–Of Copying fine Pictures.–Of Composition.–On the Benefits to be derived from Sketching.–and of the Advantage of being familiar with the Characteristics of Objects in Nature.
Chap. XI.
Discourse.–Introduction.–On the Philosophy of Character in Art.–Of Phidias.–Of Apelles.–Of the Progress of the Arts among the Moderns.–Of Leonardo da Vinci.–Of Michael Angelo, Raphael, and Bartolomeo.–Of Titian.–Of the Effects of Patronage.
Chap. XII.
Discourse.–Introduction.–Of appropriate Character in Historical Composition.–Architecture among the Greeks and Romans.–Of the Athenian Marbles.–Of the Ancient Statues.–Of the Moses and Saviour of Michael Angelo.–Of the Last Judgment of Michael Angelo.–Of Leonardo da Vinci.–Of Bartolomeo.–Of Raphael.–Of Titian, and his St. Peter Martyr.–Of the different Italian Schools.–Of the Effects of the Royal Academy.–Of the Prince Regent’s Promise to encourage the Fine Arts.
Chap. XIII.
Mr. West’s Visit to Paris.–His distinguished Reception by the Members of the French Government.–Anecdote of Mr. Fox.–Origin of the British Institution.–Anecdotes of Mr. Fox and Mr. Percival.–Anecdote of the King.–History of the Picture of Christ Healing the Sick.–Extraordinary Success attending the Exhibition of the Copy in America.
Chap. XIV.
Reflections.–Offer of Knighthood.–Mr. Wyatt chosen President of the Academy.–Restoration of Mr. West to the Chair.–Intrigues respecting the Pictures for Windsor Castle.–Mr. West’s Letter to the King.–Orders to proceed with the Pictures.–The King’s Illness.–Mr. West’s Allowance cut off,–and the Pictures countermanded.–Death of Mrs. West.–Death of the Artist.
Appendix.
The Life and Works of Benjamin West
Chap. I.
Mr. West arrives in England.–Relative Condition of Artists in Society.–Mr. West’s American Friends in this Country.–Of Governor Hamilton and Mr. Allen,— Circumstances favourable to their Reception in the Circles of Fashion.–Mr. West’s Visit to Bath, and Excursions to see some of the Collections of Art in England.–He settles as a Portrait Painter.–Introduction to Burke and Dr. Johnson.–Anecdote of a Monk, the Brother of Mr. Burke.–Introduction to Archbishop Drummond.— Mr West’s Marriage.
Mr. West arrived in England on the 20th of August, 1763. The sentiments with which he approached the shores of this island, were those of a stranger visiting interesting scenes, mingled with something of the solicitude and affections of a traveller returning home. He had no intention of remaining in London: he was only desirous to see the country of his ancestors, and his mind, in consequence, was more disengaged from professional feelings than at any period from that in which his genius was first awakened. He considered his visit to England as devoted to social leisure, the best kind of repose after mental exertion; but the good fortune which had hitherto attended him in so remarkable a manner, still followed him, and frustrated the intentions with which he was at that time actuated.
Those who have at all attended to what was then the state of the arts in this country, and more particularly to the relative condition of artists in society, and who can compare them with the state of both at the present period, will not hesitate to regard the arrival of Mr. West as an important event. In the sequel of this work, it may be necessary to allude to the moral and political causes which affect the progress of the fine arts, and opportunities will, in consequence, arise to show how meanly they were considered, how justly, indeed, it may be said, they were rejected, not only by the British public in general, but even by the nobility. A few eminent literary characters were sensible of their importance, and lamented the neglect to which they were consigned; but the great body of the intelligent part of the nation neither felt their influence, nor were aware of their importance to the commerce and renown of the kingdom. Artists stood, if possible, lower in the scale of society than actors; for Garrick had redeemed the profession of the latter from the degradation to which it had been consigned from the time of the Commonwealth; but Reynolds, although in high repute as a portrait-painter, and affecting a gentlemanly liberality in the style of his living, was not so eminently before the public eye as to induce any change of the same consequence towards his profession.
Mr. West found, on his arrival in London, several American families who had come across the Atlantic after the peace to visit their relations, and he had the unexpected pleasure of hearing that Mr. William Allen, Governor Hamilton, and Dr. Smith, his earliest friends and patrons, were in this country.
Mr. Allen, like many others in the colonies at that time, was both a professional man and a merchant. He held indeed the dignified office of chief justice in Pennsylvania, and was a person of powerful and extensive connections in the mother-country. Hamilton, who had been many years governor, was chiefly indebted to him for the rank which he enjoyed, in consequence of having married his sister.
The naval and military officers who had occasion, during the war, to visit Philadelphia, found in the houses of the governor and Mr. Allen a cordial hospitality which they never forgot. Many of these officers were related to persons of distinction in London, and being anxious to testify to the Americans their grateful sense of the kindness which they had experienced, rendered the strangers objects of hospitable solicitude and marked respect in the first circles of the metropolis. Mr. West, accordingly, on his arrival, participated in the advantages of their favourable reception, and before he was known as an artist, frequented the parties of several of the highest characters in the state.
His first excursion from London was to Hampton Court to see the Cartoons of Raphael. Soon after, he visited Oxford, Blenheim, and Corsham; whence he proceeded to Bath, where Mr. Allen was at that time residing. Here he remained about a month; and in returning to town made a short tour, in the course of which he inspected the collections of art at Storehead, Fonthill, Wilton House, the Cathedral of Salisbury, and the Earl of Radnor’s seat at Longford. At Reading he staid some time with his half-brother, Mr. Thomas West, the eldest son of his father. When he returned to London he was introduced by Mr. Patoune, his travelling companion from Rome, to Reynolds, and a friendship commenced between them which was only broken by death. He also, much about the same time, formed an acquaintance with Mr. Richard Wilson, the landscape painter, to whom indeed he had brought very warm letters of introduction, from some of that great artist’s friends and admirers in Italy.
The first lodgings which Mr. West occupied, in his professional capacity, were in Bedford-Street, Covent-Garden, where, when it was understood that he intended to practise, he was visited by all the artists of eminence then in London, and welcomed among them with a cordiality that reflected great honour on the generosity of their dispositions. In this house the first picture which he painted in England was executed. The subject was Angelica and Medora, which, with the Cymon and Iphiginia, painted at Rome, and a portrait of General Moncton, (who acquired so much celebrity by his heroic conduct as second in command under General Wolfe at Quebec,) by the advice of Reynolds and Wilson, he sent to the exhibition in Spring Gardens in 1764.
While he was engaged on the picture of Angelica and Medora, Dr. Markham, then Master of Westminster-School, paid him a visit and invited him to a dinner, at which he introduced him to Dr. Johnson, Mr. Burke; Mr. Chracheroide, and Mr. Dyer. On being introduced to Burke he was so much surprised by the resemblance which that gentleman bore to the chief of the Benedictine monks at Parma, that when he spoke he could scarcely persuade himself he was not the same person. This resemblance was not accidental; the Protestant orator was, indeed, the brother of the monk.
It always appeared to Mr. West that there was about Mr. Burke a degree of mystery, connected with his early life, which their long intercourse, subsequent to the introduction at Dr. Markham’s, never tended to explain. He never spoke of any companions of his boyhood, nor seemed to have any of those pleasing recollections of the heedless and harmless days of youth, which afford to most men of genius some of the finest lights and breaks of their fancy; and his writings corroborate the observation. For, although no prose writer ever wrote more like a poet than this celebrated man, his imagery is principally drawn from general nature or from art, and but rarely from any thing local or particular.
The conversation after dinner chiefly turned, on American subjects, in which Mr. Burke, as may well be supposed, took a distinguished part, and not more delighted the Artist with the rich variety and affluence of his mind, than surprised him by the correct circumstantiality of his descriptions; so much so, that he was never able to divest himself of an impression received on this occasion, that Mr. Burke had actually been in America, and visited the scenes, and been familiar with many of the places which he so minutely seemed to recollect. Upon a circumstance so singular, and so much at variance with all that has hitherto been said respecting the early history of this eminent person, it is needless to dilate. The wonder which it may excite I have no means of allaying; but I should not omit to mention here, when Mr. Burke was informed that Mr. West was a Quaker, that he observed, he had always regarded it among the most fortunate circumstances of his life, that his first preceptor was a member of the Society of Friends.
Dr. Markham in 1765 introduced Mr. West to Dr. Newton, Bishop of Bristol, Dr. Johnson, Bishop of Worcester, and Dr. Drummond, Archbishop of York. Dr. Newton engaged him to paint the Parting of Hector and Andromache, and afterwards sat to him for his portrait, in the back ground of which a sketch of this picture was introduced: and for the Bishop of Worcester he painted the Return of the Prodigal Son. The encouragement which he thus received from these eminent divines was highly creditable to their taste and liberality, and is in honourable contrast to the negligence with which all that concerned the fine arts were treated by the nobility and opulent gentry. It is, however, necessary to mention one illustrious exception. Lord Rockingham offered Mr. West a regular, permanent engagement of L700 per annum to paint historical subjects for his mansion in Yorkshire: but the Artist on consulting his friends found them unanimously of opinion, that although the prospect of encouragement which had opened to him ought to make him resolve to remain in England, he should not confine himself to the service of one patron, but trust to the public. The result of this conversation was a communication to Dr. Smith and Mr. Allen, of the attachment he had formed for the lady whom he afterwards married, and that it was his intention to return to America in order to be united to her. In consequence of this, an arrangement took place, by which the father of Mr. West came over to this country with the bride, and the marriage was solemnised on the 2d of September, 1765, in the church of St. Martin in the Fields.
Chap. II.
Some Notice of Archbishop Drummond.–Mr. West paints a Picture for His Grace.–His Grace’s Plan to procure Engagements for Mr. West as an Historical Painter.–Project for ornamenting St. Paul’s Cathedral with Pictures.–Anecdote of Dr. Terrick, Bishop of London.–The Altarpiece of St. Stephens, Walbrook.–State of public Taste with respect to the Arts.–Anecdotes of Hogarth and Garrick.
In Archbishop Drummond Mr. West found one of the most active and efficient patrons that he had yet met with. This eminent prelate was esteemed, by all who enjoyed the pleasure of his acquaintance, for a peculiar dignity of mind, and a liberality of sentiment that reflected lustre on his exalted rank. He had in his youth travelled on the Continent, and possessing an innate sensibility to the moral influence of the fine arts, had improved his natural taste by a careful inspection of every celebrated work to which he could obtain access. He lamented that in this great, flourishing, and triumphant nation, no just notion of the value of the fine arts was entertained; and on all occasions, when a suitable opportunity presented itself, he never failed to state this opinion, and to endeavour to impress it on others. He frequently invited Mr. West to his table; and the Artist remarked that he seemed to turn the conversation on the celebrity which the patronage of the arts had in all ages reflected on the most illustrious persons and families, addressing himself with particular emphasis to his sons. In the course of one of these conversations, he engaged Mr. West to paint for him the story of Agrippina landing with the ashes of Germanicus, and sent one of the young gentlemen to the library for the volume in which Tacitus describes the circumstances. Having read the passage, he commented on it at some length, in order to convey to Mr. West an idea of the manner in which he was desirous the subject should be treated.
The painter, on returning home, felt his imagination so much excited by the historian’s description, and the remarks of the Archbishop, that he immediately began to compose a sketch for the picture, and finished it before going to bed. Next morning he carried it to His Grace, who, equally surprised and delighted to find his own conception so soon embodied in a visible form, requested the Artist to proceed without delay in the execution of the picture.
In the interim, the Archbishop endeavoured, by all the means in his power, to procure encouragement for Mr. West to devote himself exclusively to historical composition; and with this view he set on foot a scheme to raise three thousand guineas to constitute a fund, which would be a sufficient inducement for the Artist, in the first instance, to forego, at least for a time, the drudgery of portrait painting. But the attempt failed: so little was the public disposed to patronise historical subjects from the pencil of a living artist, that after fifteen hundred pounds were subscribed, it was agreed to relinquish the undertaking. As this fact is important to the history of the progress of the arts in this country, I present my readers with a copy of the subscription-paper, with the names and amount of the sums attached to them, by the respective subscribers,
In 1766 Mr. West made a proposal to his friend Bishop Newton, who was then Dean of St. Paul’s, to present a gratuitous offering to the Cathedral, by painting a religious subject to fill one of the large spaces which the architect of the building had allotted for the reception of pictures; and speaking on the design one day after dinner at the Bishop’s when Reynolds was present, he said that the giving of the Law on Mount Sinai would make an appropriate subject. Reynolds was delighted with the idea of decorating St. Paul’s by the voluntary offerings of artists, and offered to paint a Nativity as his contribution. A formal proposal was in consequence made to the Dean and Chapter, who embraced it with much satisfaction. But Dr. Terrick, the Bishop, felt some degree of jealousy at the design being adopted, without consulting him, and set himself so decidedly against it that it was necessarily abandoned. Dr. Newtorn had, in his capacity of Dean, obtained (without reflecting that Terrick had a veto over all) the consent of the other curators of the Cathedral, namely, of the Lord Mayor, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the King. “But,” exclaimed Dr. Terrick, with the energy of an ancient martyr, “I have heard of the proposition, and as I am head of the Cathedral of the metropolis, I will not suffer the doors to be opened to introduce popery.” It is to be hoped that the declaration proceeded from the fear implied, and not because Dr. Newton omitted to ask his consent before applying to the King and the Archbishop.
Mr. West was, however, too deeply impressed with the advantage which would accrue to the arts by inducing the guardians of the Church to allow the introduction of pictures, to be discouraged by the illiberality of the Bishop of London. He therefore made a proposal to paint an Altar-piece for the beautiful church of St. Stephen’s, Walbrook, and it was accepted. In the same year his friend, Mr. Wilcox, gave him a commission to execute another sacred subject, which he presented to the Cathedral of Rochester, and it is placed over the communion-table. In these biographical sketches it cannot be expected that a history of all Mr. West’s numerous works should be related. It is the history of the Artist, not of his works, that is here written; and, therefore, except where the incidents connected with them are illustrative of the state of public feeling towards the arts, it is unnecessary to be more particular. I have, however, prepared a complete catalogue of his designs, with such remarks concerning them as must satisfy any want that may be felt by this systematic omission in the narrative. I should, however, mention that, in this stage of his career, the two of his earliest pictures, which attracted the greatest share of public attention, were _the Orestes and Pylades_, and _the Continence of Scipio_. He had undertaken them on speculation, and the applause which they obtained, when finished, were an assurance of his success and reward. His house was daily thronged with the opulent and the curious to see them; statesmen sent for them to their offices; princes to their bedchambers, and all loudly expressed their approbation, but not one ever enquired the price; and his imagination, which had been elevated in Italy to emulate the conceptions of those celebrated men who have given a second existence to the great events of religion, history, and poetry, was allowed in England to languish over the unmeaning faces of portrait-customers. It seemed to be thought that the genius of the Artist could in no other way be encouraged, than by his friends sitting for their own likenesses, and paying liberally for them. The moral influence of the art was unfelt and unknown; nor can a more impressive instance of this historical truth be adduced, than the following anecdote of Hogarth, which Garrick himself related to Mr. West.
When that artist had published the plates of the Election, he wished to dispose of the paintings, and proposed to do so by a raffle of two hundred chances, at two guineas the stake; to be determined on an appointed day. Among a small number of subscribers, not half what Hogarth expected, Garrick had put down his name; and when the day arrived he went to the artist’s house to throw for his chance. After waiting a considerable time no other person appeared, and Hogarth felt this neglect not only as derogatory to his profession, but implying that the subscription had something in it of a mendicant character. Vexed by such a mortifying result of a plan which he had sanguinely hoped would prove, at least, a morning’s amusement to the fashionable subscribers, he insisted that, as they had not attended, nor even sent any request to him to throw for them, that Garrick should go through the formality of throwing the dice; but only for himself. The actor for some time opposed the irritated artist; but at last consented. Instead, however, of allowing Hogarth to send them home, he begged that they might be carefully packed up, until his servant should call for them; and on returning to his house, he dispatched a note to the painter, stating that he could not persuade himself to remove works so valuable and admired, without acquitting his conscience of an obligation due to the author and to his own good fortune in obtaining them. And knowing the humour of the person he addressed, and that if he had sent a cheque for the money it would in all probability be returned, he informed him that he had transferred two hundred guineas at his bankers, which would remain at the disposal of Hogarth or his heirs, whether it was or was not then accepted. The charge of habitual parsimony against Garrick was not well founded; and this incident shows that he knew when to be properly munificent. In the acquisition and management of his affluent fortune, it would have been more correct to have praised him for a judicious system of economy, than to have censured him for meanness. It ought to have been considered, that he was professionally required to deal with a class of persons not famed for prudence in pecuniary concerns, and to whom the methodical disbursements of most private gentlemen would probably have appeared penurious.
Chap. III.
Archbishop Drummond’s Address in procuring for Mr. West the Patronage of the King.–Singular Court Anecdote of a Lady of Fashion.–Character of the King in his Youth.–Anecdotes of the King and Queen.–The King employs Mr. West to paint the Departure of Regulus.–Mr. West’s Celebrity as a Skater,–Anecdote of Lord Howe.–His Fame as a Skater of great Service in his professional Success.
The coldness with which Archbishop Drummond’s scheme for raising three thousand guineas had been received by the persons to whom he had applied, and the prejudice which he found almost universally entertained against the efforts of living genius, chagrined him exceedingly. He regarded the failure as a stigma on the age, and on his country; and, as a public man, he thought it affected himself personally. With this feeling, he declared to the gentlemen who had exerted themselves in the business, that he saw no way of engrafting a taste for the fine arts on the British public, unless the King could be so far engaged in the attempt, as to make it fashionable to employ living artists, according to the bent of their respective talents. But, about this period, the affair of Wilkes agitated the nation; and the Duke of Portland and Lord Rockingham, who were among the most strenuous of Mr. West’s friends, being both of the Whig party, undervalued the importance attached to His Majesty’s influence and countenance. The Archbishop was not, however, discouraged by their political prejudices; on the contrary, he thought that His Majesty was one of those characters who require to be personally interested in what it is desired they should undertake; and he resolved to make the attempt. The address with which His Grace managed the business, evinced great knowledge of human nature, and affords a pleasing view of the ingenuousness of the King’s disposition.
When the picture of Agrippina was finished, the Archbishop invited the most distinguished artists and amateurs to give him their opinion of the work; and satisfied by the approbation which they all expressed, he went to court, and took an opportunity of speaking on the subject to the King, informing His Majesty, at the same time, of all the circumstances connected with the history of the composition; and on what principle he had always turned his conversations with Mr. West to excite an interest for the promotion of the arts in the minds of his family. The dexterity with which he recapitulated these details produced the desired effect. The curiosity of the King was roused, and he told the Archbishop that he would certainly send for the Artist and the picture.
This conversation probably lasted longer than the usual little reciprocities of the drawing-room; for it occasioned a very amusing instance of female officiousness. A lady of distinguished rank, having overheard what passed, could not resist the delightful temptation of being the first to communicate to Mr. West the intelligence of the honour that awaited him. On quitting the palace, instead of returning home, she went directly to his house, and, without disclosing her name, informed him of the whole particulars of the conversation which had passed between the Archbishop and the King. In the evening, Barnard, who had been an attendant on the King from the cradle, and who was not more attached to His Majesty, than he was himself in return affectionately beloved, came to Mr. West, and requested him to be in attendance next morning at the Queen’s house, with the picture of Agrippina. In delivering the message, this faithful servant was prompted by his own feelings to give the Artist some idea of His Majesty’s real character, which at that time was very much misrepresented to the public; and Mr. West during the long term of forty years of free and confidential intercourse with the King, found the account of Barnard to be in every essential and particular point correct.
The King was described to him as a young man of great simplicity and candour of disposition, sedate in his affections, and deeply impressed with the sanctity of principle; scrupulous in forming private friendships; but, when he had taken any attachment, not easily swayed from it, without being convinced of the necessity and propriety of so doing.
At the time appointed, Mr. West was in attendance with the picture; and His Majesty came into the room where he was waiting. After looking at it some time with much apparent satisfaction, he enquired if it was in a proper light; and, on being told that the situation was certainly not the most advantageous, he conducted the Artist through several apartments himself, till a more satisfactory place was found. He then called several of the domestics into the room, and, indeed, assisted them himself to remove the picture. When the servants had retired, and he had satisfied himself with looking at it, he went out of the apartment and brought in the Queen, to whom he introduced the Artist with so much warmth, that Mr. West felt it at the moment as something that might be described as friendliness.
The Queen, though at this period very young, possessed a natural graciousness of manner, which her good sense and the consciousness of her dignity rendered peculiarly pleasing; so that our Artist was not only highly gratified by the unexpected honour of this distinguished introduction, but delighted with the affability and sweetness of her disposition.
When Their Majesties had examined the picture, the King observed that he understood the same subject had seldom been properly treated. Mr. West answered, that it was, indeed, surprising it should have been neglected by Poussin, who was so well qualified to have done it justice, and to whose genius it was in so many respects so well adapted. His Majesty then told the Queen the history of the picture before them, dwelling with some expressions of admiration on the circumstance of the sketch having been made in the course of one evening after the artist had taken coffee with the Archbishop of York, and shown to His Grace the next morning. Turning briskly round to Mr. West, he said, “There is another noble Roman subject which corresponds to this one, and I believe it also has never been well painted; I mean the final departure of Regulus from Rome. Don’t you think it would make a fine picture?” The Artist replied, that it was undoubtedly a magnificent subject. “Then,” said His Majesty, “you shall paint it for me;” and, ringing the bell in the same moment, ordered the attendant who answered to bring the volume of Livy in which the event is related, observing to the Queen, in a sprightly manner, that the Archbishop had made one of his sons read to Mr. West; but “I will read to him myself the subject of my picture;” which, on the return of the servant with the book, he did accordingly. And the Artist was commanded to come with the sketch as soon as possible.
The Archbishop was highly delighted at the successful result of his scheme, and augured from the event the happiest influence to the progress of the arts; nor has his patriotic anticipations been unrewarded; for, without question, so great and so eminent a taste for the fine arts as that which has been diffused throughout the nation, during the reign of George the Third, was never before produced in the life-time of one monarch, in any age or country.
But in relating the different incidents which contributed to bring Mr. West into favourable notice, there is one of a peculiar nature, which should not be omitted. During winter, at Philadelphia, skating was one of the favourite amusements of the youth of that city, and many of them excelled in that elegant exercise. Mr. West, when a boy, had, along with his companions, acquired considerable facility in the art; and having become exceedingly fond of it, made himself, as he grew up to manhood, one of the most accomplished skaters in America. Some of the officers at that time quartered there, also practised the amusement; and, among others, Colonel Howe, who afterwards succeeded to the title of his elder brother, and who, under the name of General Howe, is so well known in the disastrous transactions of the subsequent civil war, which ended in establishing the independence of the United States. In the course of the winter preceding Mr. West’s departure for Italy, they had become acquainted on the ice.
In Italy Mr. West had no opportunity of skating; but when he reached Lombardy, where he saw so much beautiful frozen water, he regretted that he had not brought his skates with him from America. The winter, however, which succeeded his arrival in England, proved unusually severe; and one morning, when he happened to take a walk in St. James’s park, he was surprised to see a great concourse of the populace assembled on the canal. He stopped to look at them, and seeing a person who lent skates on hire, he made choice of a pair, and went on the ice. A gentleman who had observed his movements, came up to him as he retired to unbuckle the skates, and said, “I perceive, Sir, you are a stranger, and do not perhaps know that there are much better places than this for the exercise of skating. The Serpentine River, in Hyde Park, is far superior, and the basin in Kensington Gardens still more preferable. Here, only the populace assemble; on the Serpentine, the company, although better, is also promiscuous; but the persons who frequent the basin in the Gardens are generally of the rank of gentlemen, and you will be less annoyed among them than at either of the other two places.”
In consequence of this information, on the day following, Mr. West resolved to visit the Gardens; and, in going along Piccadilly with that intention, bought a pair of skates, which, on reaching the margin of the ice, he put on, After a few trial-movements on the skirts of the basin, like a musician tuning his violin before attempting a regular piece of composition, he dashed off into the middle of the company, and performed several rounds in the same style which he had often practised in America. While engaged in this manner, a gentleman called to him by name; and, on stopping, he found it was his old acquaintance Colonel Howe.
The Colonel immediately came up, and exclaimed, “Mr. West, I am truly glad to see you in this country, and at this time. I have not heard of you since we parted on the wharf at Philadelphia, when you sailed for Italy; but I have often since had occasion to recollect you. I am, therefore, particularly glad to see you here, and on the ice; for you must know that, in speaking of the American skaters, it has been alleged, that I have learnt to draw the long bow among them; but you are come in a lucky moment to vindicate my veracity.”
He then called to him Lord Spencer Hamilton, and some of the Cavendishes, who were also on the ice, and introduced Mr. West to them as one of the American skaters, of whom they had heard him so often speak, and would not credit what he had said of their performance; and he requested Mr. West to show them what, in Philadelphia, was called the Salute. Mr. West had been so long out of practice, that he was at first diffident of attempting this difficult and graceful movement: but, after a few trials, and feeling confidence in himself, he at last performed it with complete success. Out of this trivial incident, an acquaintance arose between him and the young noblemen present. They spoke of his talents as a skater; and their praise, in all their usual haunts, had such an effect, that, in the course of a few days, prodigious crowds of the fashionable world, and of all descriptions of people, assembled to see the American skater. When it was afterwards known to the public that he was an artist, many of the spectators called at his rooms; and he, perhaps, received more encouragement as a portrait-painter on account of his accomplishment as a skater, than he could have hoped for by any ordinary means to obtain.
Chap. IV.
The King’s personal Friendship for Mr. West.–Circumstances which led to the Establishment of the Royal Academy.–First Exhibition of the Works of British Artists.–The Departure of Regulus finished, and taken to Buckingham House.–Anecdote of Kirby.–The Formation of the Royal Academy.–Anecdote of Reynolds.–The Academy instituted.
The King, at the period when he was pleased to take Mr. West under his own particular patronage, possessed great conversational powers, and a considerable tincture of humour. He had read much, and his memory was singularly exact and tenacious: his education had, indeed, been conducted with great prudence, and, independent of a much larger stock of literary information than is commonly acquired by princes, he was fairly entitled to be regarded as an accomplished gentleman. For the fine arts he had not, perhaps, any natural taste; he had, however, been carefully instructed in the principles of architecture by Chambers, of delineation by Moser, and of perspective by Kirby; and he was fully aware of the lustre which the arts have, in all ages, reflected on the different countries in which the cultivation of them has been encouraged to perpetuate the memory of great events. His employment of Mr. West, although altogether in his private capacity, was therefore not wholly without a view to the public advantage, and it is the more deserving of applause, as it was rather the result of principle than of personal predilection.
When Mr. West had made a sketch for the Regulus, and submitted it to His Majesty, after some conversation, as to the dimensions, the King fixed on an advantageous part of the walls in one of the principal apartments, and directed that the picture should be painted of a size sufficient to fill the whole space. During the time that the work was going on, the Artist was frequently invited to spend the evening at Buckingham-house, where he was often detained by the King as late as eleven o’clock, on topics connected with the best means of promoting the study of the fine arts in the kingdom. It was in these conversations that the plan of the Royal Academy was digested; but it is necessary to state more particularly the different circumstances which co-operated at this period to the formation of that valuable institution.
At the annual exhibitions of the paintings and drawings, which obtained the premiums of the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Agriculture, and Commerce, it was then customary with artists to send occasionally their works to be exhibited with those of the competitors, as a convenient method of making themselves known to the public. But the visitors hearing from the newspapers only of the pictures which had gained the prizes, concluded that they were the best in the exhibition; and the works of the matured artists were overlooked in the attention paid to the efforts of juvenile emulation. This neglect mortified the artists, and induced them to form themselves into an association for the exhibition of their own productions. The novelty of this plan attracted much attention, and answered the expectations of those with whom it originated. Such was the state of things with the artists when Mr. West came to England; and to the first exhibition, after his arrival, he sent, as I have already mentioned, three pictures. The approbation which these works obtained, induced the association to elect him one of the directors, and he held this situation till, the society beginning to grow rich by the receipts of the exhibitions, the management of its concerns became an object of ambition. This association was incorporated in 1765, under the designation of the Incorporated Artists.
Chambers and Payne, who were leading members in the Society, being both architects, were equally desirous that the funds should be laid out in the decoration of some edifice adapted to the objects of the institution. This occasioned so much debate, division, and rivalry, among their respective partisans, that Mr. West was induced to resign the office of director, and to withdraw along with Mr. Reynolds (afterwards Sir Joshua) and others, disgusted with the bickering animosities which disgraced the proceedings at their meetings. This transaction made some noise at the time, and it happened on the very day when Mr. West waited on the King, with his sketch of the Departure of Regulus, that the newspapers contained some account of the matter. His Majesty enquired the cause and particulars of the schism, and Mr. West, in stating what they were, mentioned that the principles of his religion made him regard such proceedings as exceedingly derogatory to the professors of the arts of peace.
This led the King to say that he would gladly patronise any association which might be formed more immediately calculated to improve the arts. Mr. West, after retiring from the palace, communicated this to Chambers and Moser, and, upon conferring on the subject with Mr. Coats, it was agreed that the four should constitute themselves a committee of the dissenting artists, to draw up the plan of an academy. When this was mentioned to His Majesty, he not only approved of their determination, but took a great personal interest in the scheme, and even drew up several of the laws himself with his own hand. Nor should one remarkable circumstance be omitted; he was particularly anxious that the whole design should be kept a profound secret, being apprehensive that it might be converted into some vehicle of political influence.
In the mean time the picture of the Departure of Regulus was going forward, and it was finished about the time that the code of rules for the academy was completed. The incorporated artists were also busy, and had elected as their president Mr. Kirby, who had been preceptor in perspective to the King, and who had deservedly gained great celebrity by his treatise on the principles of that branch of art. Kirby, having free access to the royal presence, and never hearing from His Majesty any thing respecting the academy, was so satisfied in his own mind that the rumours, respecting such an institution being intended, were untrue, that, in his inaugural address from the chair, he assured the incorporated artists there was not the slightest intention entertained of establishing a Royal Academy of Art.
When the Departure of Regulus was finished, the King appointed a time for Mr. West to bring the picture to Buckingham-house. The Artist having carried it there, His Majesty, after looking at it some time, went and brought in the Queen by the hand, and seated her in a chair, which Mr. West placed in the best situation for seeing the picture to advantage. While they were conversing on the subject, one of the pages announced Mr. Kirby; and the King consulted Her Majesty in German about the propriety of admitting him at that moment. Mr. West, by his residence among the German inhabitants of Lancaster in America, knew enough of the language to understand what they said, and the opinion of the Queen was that Kirby might certainly be admitted, but for His Majesty to take his own pleasure. The attendant was in consequence ordered to show him in, and Mr. West was the more pleased at this incident, as it afforded him an advantageous opportunity of becoming personally known to Kirby, with whom, on account of his excellent treatise, he had for some time been desirous to become acquainted.
When Kirby looked at the picture he expressed himself with great warmth in its praise, enquiring by whom it had been painted; upon which the King introduced Mr. West to him. It would perhaps be doing injustice to say that the surprise with which he appeared to be affected on finding it the production of so young a man, had in it any mixture of sinister feeling; but it nevertheless betrayed him into a fatal indiscretion. As a preceptor to the King, he had been accustomed to take liberties which ought to have terminated with the duties of that office; he, however, inadvertently said, “Your Majesty never mentioned any thing of this work to me.” The tone in which this was uttered evidently displeased the King, but the discretion of the unfortunate man was gone, and he enquired in a still more disagreeable manner, “Who made this frame?” Mr. West, anxious to turn the conversation, mentioned the maker’s name; but this only served to precipitate Mr. Kirby into still greater imprudence, and he answered somewhat sharply, “That person is not Your Majesty’s workman;” and naming the King’s carver and gilder said, “It ought to have been made by him.” The King appeared a good deal surprised at all this, but replied in an easy good-humoured way, “Kirby, whenever you are able to paint me a picture like this, your friend shall make the frame.” The unhappy man, however, could not be restrained, and he turned round to Mr. West, and in a tone which greatly lessened the compliment the words would otherwise have conveyed, said, “I hope you intend to exhibit this picture.” The Artist answered, that as it was painted for His Majesty, the exhibition must depend on his pleasure; but that, before retiring, it was his intention to ask permission for that purpose. The King immediately said, “Assuredly I shall be very happy to let the work be shown to the public.”–“Then, Mr. West,” added Kirby, “you will send it to my exhibition,” (meaning to the exhibition of the Incorporated Artists). “No,” interposed the King, firmly, “it must go to my exhibition,–to the Royal Academy.” Poor Kirby was thunderstruck; but only two nights before, in the confidence of his intercourse with the King, he had declared that even the design of forming such an institution was not contemplated. His colour forsook him, and his countenance became yellow with mortification. He bowed with profound humility, and instantly retired, nor did he long survive the shock.
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On the day following, a meeting of the artists who had separated themselves from the incorporated association, was to be holden in the evening at the house of Wilton the sculptor, in order to receive the code of laws, and to nominate the office-bearers of the Academy. In the course of the morning, Mr. Penny, who was intended to be appointed professor of painting, called on Mr. West and mentioned that he had been with Reynolds, and that he thought, for some unfathomable reason or another, that distinguished artist would not attend the meeting. Soon after, Moser likewise called, and stated the same thing. Mr. West was much perplexed at this information; for it had been arranged with the King that Reynolds, although not in the secret, nor at all consulted in the formation of the Academy, should be the president. He therefore went immediately to his house, and finding him disengaged, mentioned, without alluding to what he had heard, the arrangements formed for instituting an academy, and that a meeting of thirty artists named by the King, of the forty members of which it was intended the Academy should consist, was that evening to take place at Wilton’s. Reynolds was much surprised to hear matters were so far advanced, and explained to Mr. West that Kirby had assured him in the most decided manner, that there was no truth whatever in the rumour of any such design being in agitation, and that he thought it would be derogatory to attend a meeting, constituted, as Kirby represented it, by persons who had no sanction or authority for doing what they had undertaken. To this Mr. West answered, “As you have been told by Mr. Kirby that there is no intention to form any institution of the kind, and by me that there is, that even the rules are framed, and the officers condescended on, yourself to be president, I must insist on your going with me to the meeting, where you will be satisfied which of us deserves to be credited in this business.”
In the evening, at the usual hour, Mr. West went to take tea with Reynolds, before going to the meeting, and it so fell out, either from design or accident, that it was not served till a full hour later than common, not indeed till the hour fixed for the artists to assemble at Wilton’s, so that, by the time they arrived there, the meeting was on the point of breaking up, conceiving that as neither Reynolds nor West had come, something unexpected and extraordinary must have happened. But on their appearing, a burst of satisfaction manifested the anxiety that had been felt, and without any farther delay the company proceeded to carry into effect the wishes of the King. The code of laws was read, and the gentlemen recommended by the King to fill the different offices being declared the officers, the code of laws was accepted. Reynolds was declared president, Chambers treasurer, Newton secretary, Moser keeper, Penny professor of painting, Wale professor of perspective, and Dr. William Hunter professor of anatomy. A report of the proceedings was made to His Majesty next morning, who gave his sanction to the election, and the Academy was thus constituted. The academicians afterwards met and chose a council to assist the president, and visitors to superintend the schools in three branches of art, painting, sculpture, and architecture. Thus, on the 10th December, 1768, under the title of the Royal Academy of the Arts in London, that Institution, which has done more to excite a taste for the fine arts in this country, than any similar institution ever did in any other, was finally formed and established.
Chap. V.
The opening of the Royal Academy.–The Death of General Wolfe.–Anecdote of Sir Joshua Reynolds.–New Pictures ordered by the King.–Origin of the Series of Historical Pictures painted for Windsor Castle.–Design for a grand Chapel in Windsor Castle, to illustrate the History of revealed Religion.–His Majesty’s Scruples on the Subject.–His confidential Consultation with several eminent Divines.–The Design undertaken.
When the Academy was opened, the approbation which _the Regulus_ received at the exhibition gratified the King, and he resolved to give Mr. West still farther encouragement. Accordingly, he soon after sent for him, and mentioned that he wished him to paint another picture, and that the subject he had chosen was Hamilcar making his son Hannibal swear implacable enmity against the Romans. The painting being finished it was earned to Buckingham-house, and His Majesty, after looking at it with visible satisfaction, said, that he thought Mr. West could not do better than provide him with suitable subjects to fill the unoccupied pannels of the room in which the two pictures were then placed.
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About this period, Mr. West had finished his Death of Wolfe, which excited a great sensation, both on account of its general merits as a work of art, and for representing the characters in the modern military costume. The King mentioned that he heard much of the picture, but he was informed that the dignity of the subject had been impaired by the latter circumstance; observing that it was thought very ridiculous to exhibit heroes in coats, breeches, and cock’d hats. The Artist replied, that he was quite aware of the objection, but that it was founded in prejudice, adding, with His Majesty’s permission, he would relate an anecdote connected with that particular point.
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“When it was understood that I intended to paint the characters as they had actually appeared in the scene, the Archbishop of York called on Reynolds and asked his opinion, the result of which was that they came together to my house. For His Grace was apprehensive that, by persevering in my intention, I might lose some portion of the reputation which he was pleased to think I had acquired by his picture of Agrippina, and Your Majesty’s of Regulus; and he was anxious to avert the misfortune by his friendly interposition. He informed me of the object of their visit, and that Reynolds wished to dissuade me from running so great a risk. I could not but feel highly gratified by so much solicitude, and acknowledged myself ready to attend to whatever Reynolds had to say, and even to adopt his advice, if it appeared to me founded on any proper principles. Reynolds then began a very ingenious and elegant dissertation on the state of the public taste in this country, and the danger which every attempt at innovation necessarily incurred of repulse or ridicule; and he concluded with urging me earnestly to adopt the classic costume of antiquity, as much more becoming the inherent greatness of my subject than the modern garb of war. I listened to him with the utmost attention in my power to give, but could perceive no principle in what he had delivered; only a strain of persuasion to induce me to comply with an existing prejudice,–a prejudice which I thought could not be too soon removed. When he had finished his discourse, I begged him to hear what I had to state in reply, and I began by remarking that the event intended to be commemorated took place on the 13th of September, 1758, in a region of the world unknown to the Greeks and Romans, and at a period of time when no such nations, nor heroes in their costume, any longer existed. The subject I have to represent is the conquest of a great province of America by the British troops. It is a topic that history will proudly record, and the same truth that guides the pen of the historian should govern the pencil of the artist. I consider myself as undertaking to tell this great event to the eye of the world; but if, instead of the facts of the transaction, I represent classical fictions, how shall I be understood by posterity! The only reason for adopting the Greek and Roman dresses, is the picturesque forms of which their drapery is susceptible; but is this an advantage for which all the truth and propriety of the subject should be sacrificed? I want to mark the date, the place, and the parties engaged in the event; and if I am not able to dispose of the circumstances in a picturesque manner, no academical distribution of Greek or Roman costume will enable me to do justice to the subject. However, without insisting upon principles to which I intend to adhere, I feel myself so profoundly impressed with the friendship of this interference, that when the picture is finished, if you do not approve of it, I will consign it to the closet, whatever may be my own opinion of the execution. They soon after took their leave, and in due time I called on the Archbishop, and fixed a day with him to come with Reynolds to see the painting. They came accordingly, and the latter without speaking, after his first cursory glance, seated himself before the picture, and examined it with deep and minute attention for about half an hour. He then rose, and said to His Grace, Mr. West has conquered. He has treated his subject as it ought to be treated. I retract my objections against the introduction of any other circumstances into historical pictures than those which are requisite and appropriate; and I foresee that this picture will not only become one of the most popular, but occasion a revolution in the art.”
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On Mr. West pausing, the King said, “I wish that I had known all this before, for the objection has been the means of Lord Grosvenor getting the picture; but you shall make a copy for me.” His Majesty then entered into some further conversation respecting subjects for paintings to adorn the apartment; and Mr. West suggested that the Death of Epaminondas would, as a classic subject, and with Grecian circumstances, make a suitable contrast with the Death of Wolfe. The King received this idea with avidity; and the conversation being pursued further on the same topic, the Artist also proposed the Death of the Chevalier Bayard for another picture, which would serve to illustrate the heroism and peculiarities of the middle ages. Two pannels were still unprovided; and Mr. West, with submission to His Majesty, begged that he might be allowed to take the incident of Cyrus liberating the Family of the King of Armenia for the one, and of Segestus, and his daughter, brought before Germanicus, for the other. The King was much pleased with the latter idea; a notion being entertained by some antiquaries that the Hanoverian family are the descendants of the daughter.
During the time that our Artist was engaged in these works, he was frequently at the palace with the King; and His Majesty always turned the conversation on the means of promoting the fine arts, and upon the principles which should govern artists in the cultivation of their genius. In one of these conversations, Mr. West happened to remark, that he had been much disgusted in Italy at seeing the base use to which the talents of the painters in that country had been too often employed; many of their noblest efforts being devoted to illustrate monkish legends, in which no one took any interest, while the great events in the history of their country were but seldom touched. This led to some further reflections; and the King, recollecting that Windsor-Castle had, in its present form, been erected by Edward the Third, said, that he thought the achievements of his splendid reign were well calculated for pictures, and would prove very suitable ornaments to the halls and chambers of that venerable edifice. To this incident, the arts are indebted for the series of pictures which bring the victories of Cressy and Poictiers, with the other triumphal incidents of that time, again, as it were, into form and being, with a veracity of historical fact and circumstance which render the masquerades by Vario even a greater disgrace to St. George’s Hall than they are to the taste of the age in which they were painted.
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In the execution of these different historical subjects, the King took a great personal interests, and one piece became the cause of another, until he actually acquired a feeling like enthusiasm for the arts. When he had resolved to adorn Windsor-Castle with the achievements and great events of the reign of Edward the Third, he began to think that the tolerant temper of the age was favourable to the introduction of pictures into the churches: at the same time, his scrupulous respect for what was understood to be the usage, if not the law, relative to the case, prevented him for some time from taking any decisive step. In the course of different conversations with Mr. West, on this subject, he formed the design of erecting a magnificent oratory, or private chapel, in the Horns’ Court of Windsor-Castle, for the purpose of displaying a pictorial illustration of the history of revealed religion. But, before engaging in this superb project, he thought it necessary to consult some eminent members of the Church, who enjoyed his confidence, as to the propriety of