To West must be given the record of achieving this honour; and what he
has thus done in restoring historical painting to the purity of its
original channel, can only be appreciated by those who have contemplated
the debauched taste introduced into this country by Verrio, Laguerre,
and other painters, who revived the ridiculous fooleries patronized in
the reign of James the First; but which had, by the countenance of the
nobility, and people of fashion, taken strong hold of most men’s minds.
“A change,” says Cunningham, “was now to be effected in the character of
British art: hitherto historical painting had appeared in a masquing
habit; the actions of Englishmen seemed all as having been performed, if
costume were to be believed, by Greeks or by Romans. West at once
dismissed this pedantry, and restored nature and propriety in his noble
work of ‘the Death of Wolfe.’ The multitude acknowledged its excellence
at once; the lovers of old art, the manufacturers of compositions,
called by courtesy classical, complained of the barbarism of boots and
buttons, and blunderbusses, and cried out for naked warriors, with bows,
bucklers, and battering rams. Lord Grosvenor, disregarding the frowns of
the amateurs, and the, at best, cold approbation of the Royal Academy,
purchased this work, which, in spite of laced coats and cocked hats, is
one of the best of our historical pictures. The Indian warrior watching
the dying hero to see if he equalled in fortitude the children of the
desert, is a fine stroke of nature and poetry.”
West, however, was plagued with misgivings as to his new doctrine; and
the dampers came forth in numbers with their unvarying, “It will never
do.” When it was understood that West actually intended to paint the
characters as they appeared on the scene, the Archbishop of York called
on Reynolds, and asked his opinion; they both called upon West to
dissuade him from running so great a risk. Reynolds warned him of the
danger which every innovation incurred of contempt and ridicule; and
concluded by urging him to adopt the costume of antiquity as more
becoming the greatness of the subject than the garb of modern warriors.
West replied that the event to be commemorated happened in the year
1758, in a region of the world unknown to Greeks and Romans, and at a
period when no warriors wearing such costumes existed. The subject to be
represented was a great battle, fought and won; and the same truth which
gives laws to the historian should rule the painter; that he wanted to
mark the place, the time, the people, and to do this he must abide by
the truth.
The objectors went away, and returned when West had finished the
picture. Reynolds seated himself before it, and examined it with deep
and minute attention for half an hour; then rising, said to Drummond,
“West has conquered--he has treated his subject as it ought to be
treated. I retract my objections: I foresee that this picture will not
only become one of the most popular, but will occasion a revolution in
art,” “I wish,” said king George the Third, to whom West related the
conversation, “that I had known all this before, for the objection has
been the means of Lord Grosvenor’s getting the picture; but you shall
make a copy of it for me.” This anecdote, though it operates against the
foresight of Reynolds, carries truth on the face of it.
The king not only gave West a pension of 1000_l._ a year, but when the
artist hinted that the noble purpose of historical painting was best
shown in depicting the excellencies of revealed religion, the monarch
threw open St. George’s Chapel to be decorated with sacred subjects; and
on his Majesty’s restoration to health, finding that the work had been
suppressed, and the money withheld, he instantly ordered him to be
paid, and the works proceeded with. The heads of the church, however,
acted otherwise; for when the Academy proposed to decorate St. Paul’s
with works of art, and Reynolds, West, Barry, Dance, Cipriani, and
Angelica Kauffman offered pictures free of expense, the Bishop of
Bristol, Dr. Newton, at that time Dean of St. Paul’s, warmly took up the
idea; but the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London refused
their consent. The Bishop of London said: “My good Lord Bishop of
Bristol, I have already been distantly and imperfectly informed of such
an affair having been in contemplation; but as the sole power at last
remains with myself, I therefore inform your lordship that whilst I live
and have the power, I will never suffer the doors of the metropolitan
church to be opened for the introduction of popery into it.”
Notwithstanding this heavy blow to the cause of art, the example of the
king was the cause of many altarpieces being painted by West and others;
one of the best of which is the very appropriate one in the chapel of
Greenwich Hospital.[11]