The Society of New York was much less intelligent in matters of taste and

knowledge than that of Philadelphia. In the latter city the institutions

of the college and library, and the strict moral and political

respectability of the first settlers, had contributed to form a community,

which, though inferior in the elegancies of living, and the etiquettes of

intercourse, to what is commonly found in the European capitals, was

little behind them in point of practical and historical information. Dr.

Smith, the Provost of the college, had largely contributed to elevate the

taste, the sentiment and the topics of conversation in Philadelphia. He

was full of the best spirit of antiquity, and there was a classical purity

of mind and splendour of imagination sometimes met with in the families

which he frequented, that would have done honour to the best periods of

polished society.

It would be difficult to assign any reason why it has so happened that no

literary author of any general celebrity, with the exception of Franklin,

has yet arisen in America. That men of learning and extensive reading,

capable of vying with the same description of persons in Europe, are to

be found in the United States, particularly in Philadelphia, is not to be

denied; but of that class, whose talents tend to augment the stock of

intellectual enjoyment in the world, no one, with the single exception

already alluded to, has yet appeared.

Poetry is the art of connecting ideas of sensible objects with moral

sentiments; and without the previous existence of local feelings, there

can be no poetry. America to the first European settlers had no objects

interesting to the imagination, at least of the description thus strictly

considered as poetical; for although the vigour and stupendous appearances

of Nature were calculated to fill the mind with awe, and to exalt the

contemplations of enthusiasm, there was nothing connected with the

circumstances of the scene susceptible of that colouring from the memory,

which gives to the ideas of local resemblance the peculiar qualities of

poetry. The forests, though interminable, were but composed of trees; the

mountains and rivers, though on a larger scale, were not associated in the

mind with the exertions of patriotic valour, and the achievements of

individual enterprize, like the Alps or the Danube, the Grampians or the

Tweed. It is impossible to tread the depopulated and exhausted soil of

Greece without meeting with innumerable relics and objects, which, like

magical talismans, call up the genius of departed ages with the

long-enriched roll of those great transactions, that, in their moral

effect, have raised the nature of man, occasioning trains of reflection

which want only the rythm of language to be poetry. But in the

unstoried solitudes of America, the traveller meets with nothing to awaken

the sympathy of his recollective feelings. Even the very character of the

trees, though interesting to scientific research, chills, beneath the

spaciousness of their shade, every poetical disposition. They bear little

resemblance to those which the stranger has left behind in his native

country. To the descendants of the first settlers, they wanted even the

charm of those accidental associations which their appearance might have

recalled to the minds of their fathers. Poetry is, doubtless, the first of

the intellectual arts which mankind cultivate. In its earliest form it is

the mode of expressing affection and admiration; but, before it can be

invented, there must be objects beloved and admired, associated with

things in nature endowed with a local habitation and a name. In America,

therefore, although there has been no lack of clever versifiers, nor of

men who have respectably echoed the ideas current in the old world, the

country has produced nothing of any value descriptive of the peculiar

associations connected with its scenery. Among some of the Indian tribes a

vein of original poetry has, indeed, been discovered; but the riches of

the mine are unexplored, and the charge of sterility of fancy, which is

made by the Europeans against the citizens of the United States, still

remains unrefuted. Since the period, however, to which these memoirs

chiefly refer, events of great importance have occurred, and the

recollections connected with them, no doubt, tend to imbue the American

climate with the elements of poetical thought; but they are of too recent

occurrence for the purposes either of the epic or the tragic muse. The

facts of history in America are still seen too much in detail for the

imagination to combine them with her own creation. The fields of battle

are almost too fresh for the farmer to break the surface; and years must

elapse before the ploughshare shall turn up those eroded arms of which the

sight will call into poetical existence the sad and dreadful incidents of

the civil war.

In New York Mr. West found the society wholly devoted to mercantile

pursuits. A disposition to estimate the value of things, not by their

utility, or by their beauty, but by the price which they would bring in

the market, almost universally prevailed. Mercantile men are habituated by

the nature of their transactions to overlook the intrinsic qualities of

the very commodities in which they deal; and though of all the community

they are the most liberal and the most munificent, they set the least

value on intellectual productions. The population of New York was formed

of adventurers from all parts of Europe, who had come thither for the

express purpose of making money, in order, afterwards, to appear with

distinction at home. Although West, therefore, found in that city much

employment in taking likenesses destined to be transmitted to relations

and friends, he met with but few in whom he found any disposition

congenial to his own; and the eleven months which he passed there, in

consequence, contributed less to the improvement of his mind than might

have been expected from a city so flourishing. Still, the time was not

altogether barren of occurrences which tended to advance his progress in

his art, independent of the advantage arising from constant practice.

He happened, during his residence there, to see a beautiful Flemish

picture of a hermit praying before a lamp, and he was resolved to paint a

companion to it, of a man reading by candle-light. But before he

discovered a method of producing, in day-light, an effect on his model

similar to what he wished to imitate, he was frequently baffled in his

attempts. At length, he hit on the expedient of persuading his landlord to

sit with an open book before a candle in a dark closet; and he found that,

by looking in upon him from his study, the appearance was exactly what he

wished for. In the schools and academies of Europe, tradition has

preserved the methods by which all the magical effects of light and

shadow have been produced, with the exception, however, of Rembrandt's

method, and which the author of these sketches ventures to suggest was

attained, in general, by observing the effect of sunshine passing through

chinks into a dark room. But the American Artist was as yet unacquainted

with any of them, and had no other guides to the essential principles of

his art but the delicacy of his sight, and that ingenious observation of

Nature to which allusion has been already so often made.

The picture of the Student, or man reading by candle-light, was bought by

a Mr. Myers, who, in the revolution, continued to adhere to the English

cause. The same gentleman also bought a copy which West made about the

same time of Belisarius, from the engraving by Strange, of Salvator Rosa's

painting. It is not known what has now become of these pictures; but when

the Artist long afterwards saw the original of Salvator Rosa, he was

gratified to observe that he had instinctively coloured his copy almost as

faithfully as if it had been painted from the picture instead of the

engraving.

In the year 1759 the harvest in Italy fell far short of what was

requisite for the ordinary consumption of the population, and a great

dearth being foreseen, Messrs. Rutherford and Jackson, of Leghorn, a house

of the first consequence then in the Mediterranean trade, and well known

to all travellers for the hospitality of the partners, wrote to their

correspondent Mr. Allen, at Philadelphia, to send them a cargo of wheat

and flour. Mr. Allen was anxious that his son, before finally embarking in

business, should see something of the world; and Provost Smith, hearing

his intention of sending him to Leghorn with the vessel, immediately

waited on the old gentleman, and begged him to allow West to accompany

him, which was cheerfully acceded to, and the Provost immediately wrote to

his pupil at New York on the subject. In the mean time, West had heard

that there was a vessel at Philadelphia loading for Italy, and had

expressed to Mr. William Kelly, a merchant, who was then sitting to him

for his portrait, a strong desire to avail himself of this opportunity to

visit the fountain-head of the arts. Before this period, he had raised his

terms for a half-length to ten guineas, by which he acquired a sum of

money adequate to the expenses of a short excursion to Italy. When he had

finished Mr. Kelly's portrait, that gentleman, in paying him, requested

that he would take charge of a letter to his agents in Philadelphia, and

deliver it to them himself on his return to that city, which he was

induced to do immediately, on receiving Dr. Smith's letter, informing him

of the arrangement made with Mr. Allen. When this letter was opened, an

instance of delicate munificence appeared on the part of Mr. Kelly, which

cannot be too highly applauded. It stated to the concern to which it was

addressed, that it would be delivered by an ingenious young gentleman,

who, he understood, intended to visit Rome for the purpose of studying the

fine arts, and ordered them to pay him fifty guineas as a present from him

towards furnishing his stores for the voyage.

While waiting till the vessel was clear to sail, West had the

gratification to see, in Philadelphia, his old friend Mr. Henry, for whom

he had painted the Death of Socrates. Towards him he always cherished the

most grateful affection. He was the first who urged him to attempt

historical composition; and, above all, he was the first who had made him

acquainted with the magnanimous tales of Plutarch; perhaps, the greatest

favour which could be conferred on a youthful mind, susceptible of

impressions from the sublime and beautiful of human actions, which no

author has better illustrated than that celebrated Biographer, who may

indeed be regarded, almost without hyperbole, as the recorder of

antient worth, and the tutor of modern genius. In his peculiar class,

Plutarch still stands alone, at least no author in any of the living

languages appears to be yet truly sensible of the secret cause by which

his sketches give that direct impulse to the elements of genius, by which

the vague and wandering feelings of unappropriated strength are converted

into an uniform energy, endowed with productive action. Plutarch, like the

sculptors of antiquity, has selected only the great and elegant traits of

character; and hence his lives, like those statues which are the models of

art, possess, with all that is graceful and noble in human nature, the

particular features of individuals. He had no taste for the blemishes of

mankind. His mind delighted in the contemplation of moral vigour; and he

seems justly to have thought that it was nearly allied to virtue: hence

many of those characters whose portraitures in his works furnish the

youthful mind with inspiring examples of true greatness, more authentic

historians represent in a light far different. It is the aim of all

dignified art to exalt the mind by exciting the feelings as well as the

judgment; and the immortal lessons of Plutarch would never have awakened

the first stirrings of ambition in the innumerable great men who date

their career from reading his pages, had he been actuated by the minute

and invidious spirit of modern biography. These reflections have occurred

the more forcibly at this juncture, as the subject of this narrative was

on the point of leaving a country in which were men destined to acquire

glory in such achievements as Plutarch would have delighted to record; and

of parting from early associates who afterwards attained a degree of

eminence in the public service that places them high in the roll of those

who have emulated the exploits and virtues of the Heroes of that great

Biographer.

The Artist having embarked with young Allen had a speedy and pleasant

passage to Gibraltar; where, in consequence of the war then raging, the

ship stopped for convoy. As soon as they came to anchor, Commodore Carney

and another officer came on board to examine the vessel's papers. It

happened that some time before, the British Government had, on account of

political circumstances, prohibited the carrying of provisions into Italy,

by which prohibition the ship and cargo would have been forfeited had she

been arrested in attempting to enter an Italian port, or, indeed, in

proceeding with such an intention. But Captain Carney had scarcely taken

his pen to write the replies to the questions which he put to the Master,

as to the owners of the vessel and her destination, when he again threw it

down, and, looking the other officer full in the face, said, "I am much

affected by the situation in which I am now placed. This valuable ship is

the property of some of my nearest relations, and the best friends that I

have ever had in the world!" and he refrained from asking any more

questions. There was, undoubtedly, much generosity in this conduct, for

by the indulgence of the crown, all prizes taken in war become the

property of the captors; and Captain Carney, rather than enrich himself at

the expence of his friends, chose to run the hazard of having his own

conduct called in question for the non-performance of his official duty.

It perhaps deserves also to be considered as affording a favourable

example of that manly confidence in the gentlemanly honour of each other

which has so long distinguished the British officers. On the mind of West

it tended to confirm that agreeable impression by which so many previous

incidents had made him cherish a liberal opinion of mankind. In other

respects, Captain Carney happening to be the officer who came on board,

was a fortunate circumstance; for on learning that young Allen was in the

ship, he invited the passengers to dine on board his frigate; and the

company, consisting of the Governor, his staff, and principal officers in

the garrison, tended to raise the consideration of the Artist, and his

companion in the estimation of the fleet with which their vessel was to

proceed to Leghorn. Indeed, throughout his whole life, Mr. West was, in

this respect, singularly fortunate; for although the condescensions of

rank do not in themselves confer any power on talent, they have the effect

of producing that complacency of mind in those who are the objects of

them, which is at once the reward and the solace of intellectual exertion,

at the same time that they tend to mollify the spirit of contemporary

invidiousness. The day after, the fleet sailed; and when they had passed

the rock, the captains of the two men of war [Footnote: The two

frigates, the Shannon, Captain Meadow, since Lord Manvers, whose intimacy

still continues with Mr. West, and the Favourite sloop of war, Captain

Pownell.] who had charge of the convoy, came on board the American, and

invited Mr. Allen and Mr. West to take their passage in one of the

frigates; this, however, they declined, but every day, when the weather

was favourable, they were taken on board the one ship or the other, to

dine; and when the weather did not permit this to be done with pleasure to

the strangers, the officers sent them presents from their stock.

After touching at several parts of the coast of Spain, the ship arrived

safely at Leghorn, where mercantile enquiries detained Mr. Allen some

time, and West being impatient to proceed to Rome, bade him adieu. Prior

to his departure from Philadelphia, he had paid into the hands of old Mr.

Allen the money which he thought would be requisite for his expenses in

Italy, and had received from him a letter of credit on Messrs. Jackson and

Rutherford. When they were made acquainted with the object of his voyage,

and heard his history, they showed him a degree of attention beyond even

their general great hospitality, and presented him with letters to

Cardinal Albani, and several of the most distinguished characters for

erudition and taste in Rome; and as he was unacquainted with French or

Italian, they recommended him to the care of a French Courier, who had

occasion to pass that way.

When the travellers had reached the last stage of their journey, while

their horses were baiting, West walked on alone. It was a beautiful

morning; the air was perfectly placid, not a speck of vapour in the sky,

and a profound tranquillity seemed almost sensibly diffused over the

landscape. The appearance of Nature was calculated to lighten and elevate

the spirits; but the general silence and nakedness of the scene touched

the feelings with solemnity approaching to awe. Filled with the idea of

the metropolitan city, the Artist hastened forward till he reached an

elevated part of the high road, which afforded him a view of a spacious

champaign country, bounded by hills, and in the midst of it the sublime

dome of St. Peter's. The magnificence of this view of the Campagna

excited, in his imagination, an agitated train of reflections that partook

more of the nature of feeling than of thought. He looked for a spot to

rest on, that he might contemplate at leisure a scene at once so noble and

so interesting; and, near a pile of ruins fringed and trellissed with ivy,

he saw a stone that appeared to be part of a column. On going towards it,

he perceived that it was a mile-stone, and that he was then only eight

miles from the Capitol. In looking before him, where every object seemed

by the transparency of the Italian atmosphere to be brought nearer than it

was in reality, he could not but reflect on the contrast between the

circumstances of that view and the scenery of America; and his thoughts

naturally adverted to the progress of civilization. The sun seemed, to

his fancy, the image of truth and knowledge, arising in the East,

continuing to illuminate and adorn the whole earth, and withdrawing from

the eyes of the old world to enlighten the uncultivated regions of the

new. He thought of that remote antiquity when the site of Rome itself was

covered with unexplored forests; and passing with a rapid reminiscence

over her eventful story, he was touched with sorrow at the solitude of

decay with which she appeared to be environed, till he adverted to the

condition of his native country, and was cheered by the thought of the

greatness which even the fate of Rome seemed to assure to America. For he

reflected that, although the progress of knowledge appeared to intimate

that there was some great cycle in human affairs, and that the procession

of the arts and sciences from the East to the West demonstrated their

course to be neither stationary nor retrograde; he could not but rejoice,

in contemplating the skeleton of the mighty capital before him, that they

had improved as they advanced, and that the splendour which would precede

their setting on the shores of Europe, would be the gorgeous omen of the

glory which they would attain in their passage over America.

While he was rapt in these reflections, he heard the drowsy tinkle of a

pastoral bell behind him, and on turning round, he saw a peasant dressed

in shaggy skins, driving a few goats from the ruins. The appearance and

physiognomy of this peasant struck him as something more wild and

ferocious than any thing about the Indians; and, perhaps, the observation

was correctly philosophical. In the Indian, Nature is seen in that

primitive vigour and simplicity, in which the actions are regulated by

those feelings that are the elements of the virtues; but in the Italian

bandit, for such he had reason afterwards to think was the real character

of the goat-herd, he saw man in that second state of barbarity, in which

his actions are instigated by wants that have often a vicious origin.

Chap. VI.

State of the stationary Society of Rome.--Causes which rendered the

City a delightful temporary residence.--Defects of the Academical

methods of study.--His introduction to Mr. Robinson.--Anecdote of

Cardinal Albani.--The Cardinal's method of finding Resemblances, and

curious mistake of the Italians.--The Artist's first visit to the

Works of Art.

During the pontificate of Pope Rezzonico, the society of Rome had attained

a pitch of elegance and a liberality of sentiment superior to that of any

other city of Christendom. The theocratic nature of the government induced

an exterior decorum in the public form of politeness, which, to strangers

who took no interest in the abuses of the state, was so highly agreeable,

that it tended even to appease their indignation against the laxity of

private morals. If the traveller would forget that the name of

Christianity was employed in supporting a baneful administration to the

vices, or could withdraw his thoughts from the penury and suffering which

such an administration necessarily entailed on the people, he had

opportunities of access at Rome to the most various and delightful

exercises of the faculties of memory, taste, and judgment, in the company

of persons distinguished for their knowledge and genius. For, with all the

social intercourse for which Paris was celebrated in the reign of Louis

XV. the local objects at Rome gave a higher and richer tone to

conversation there; even the living vices were there less offensive than

at Paris, the rumours of them being almost lost in the remembrance of

departed virtue, constantly kept awake by the sight of its monuments and

vouchers. Tyranny in Rome was exercised more intellectually than in the

French Capital. Injustice and oppression were used more in the form of

persuasion; and though the crosier was not less pernicious than the

bayonet, it inflicted a less irritating injury. The virtuous endured with

patience the wrongs that their misguided judgment led them to believe were

salutary to their eternal welfare. But it ought to be observed, that the

immorality of the Romans was greatly exaggerated. Individuals redeemed by

their merits the reproach of universal profligacy; and strangers, by being

on their guard against the moral contagion, suffered a less dangerous

taint than in the Atheistical coteries of Paris. Many, in consequence, who

came prepared to be disgusted with the degenerated Romans, often bade them

adieu with sentiments of respect, and remembered their urbanity and

accomplishments with delightful satisfaction.

It was not, however, the native inhabitants of Rome who constituted the

chief attractions of society there, but the number of accomplished

strangers of all countries and religions, who, in constant succession,

came in pilgrimage to the shrine of antiquity; and who, by the

contemplation of the merits and glories of departed worth, often felt

themselves, as it were, miraculously endowed with new qualities. The

collision of minds fraught with learning, in that high state of excitement

which the genius of the place produced on the coldest imaginations,

together with those innumerable brilliant and transitory topics which were

never elicited in any other city, made the Roman conversations a

continual exercise of the understanding. The details of political

intrigue, and the follies of individuals, excited but little interest

among the strangers in Rome. It seemed as if by an universal tacit

resolution, national and personal peculiarities and prejudices were

forgotten, and that all strangers simultaneously turned their attention to

the transactions and affairs of former ages, and of statesmen and authors

now no more. Their mornings were spent in surveying the monuments raised

to public virtue, and in giving local features in their minds to the

knowledge which they had acquired by the perusal of those works that have

perpetuated the dignity of the Roman character. Their evenings were often

allotted to the comparison of their respective conjectures, and to

ascertain the authenticity and history of the relics which they had

collected of ancient art. Sometimes the day was consumed in the study of

those inestimable ornaments of religion, by which the fraudulent

disposition of the priesthood had, in the decay of its power, rendered

itself venerable to the most enlightened minds; and the night was devoted

to the consideration of the causes which contribute to the developement

of genius, or of the events which tend to stifle and overwhelm its powers.

Every recreation of the stranger in Rome was an effort of the memory, of

abstraction, and of fancy.--Society, in this elevated state of enjoyment,

surrounded by the greatest works of human creation, and placed amidst the

monuments of the most illustrious of mankind,--and that of the Quakers of

Pennsylvania, employed in the mechanical industry of felling timber, and

amid the sobriety of rural and commercial oeconomy, were like the extremes

of a long series of events, in which, though the former is the necessary

consequence of the latter, no resemblance can be traced in their

respective characteristics. In America all was young, vigorous, and

growing,--the spring of a nation, frugal, active, and simple. In Rome all

was old, infirm, and decaying,--the autumn of a people who had gathered

their glory, and were sinking into sleep under the disgraceful excesses of

the vintage. On the most inert mind, passing from the one continent to the

other, the contrast was sufficient to excite great emotion; on such a

character as that of Mr. West, who was naturally disposed to the

contemplation of the sublime and beautiful, both as to their moral and

visible effect, it made a deep and indelible impression. It confirmed him

in the wisdom of those strict religious principles which denied the

utility of art when solely employed as the medium of amusement; and

impelled him to attempt what could be done to approximate the uses of the

pencil to those of the pen, in order to render Painting, indeed, the

sister of Eloquence and Poetry.

But the course of study in the Roman schools was not calculated to enable

him to carry this grand purpose into effect; for the principles by which

Michael Angelo and Raphael had attained their excellence, were no longer

regarded. The study of Nature was deserted for that of the antique; and

pictures were composed according to rules derived from other paintings,

without respect to what the subject required, or what the circumstances of

the scene probably appeared to be. It was, therefore, not one of the least

happy occurrences in his life that he went to Rome when society was not

only in the most favourable state for the improvement of his mind, and for

convincing him of the deleterious influence of the arts when employed as

the embellishments of voluptuousness and luxury; but also when the state

of the arts was so mean, that the full effect of studying the antique

only, and of grouping characters by academical rules, should appear so

striking as to satisfy him that he could never hope for any eminence, if

he did not attend more to the phenomena of Nature, than to the productions

of the greatest genius. The perusal of the works of other painters, he was

sensible, would improve his taste; but he was convinced, that the design

which he had formed for establishing his own fame, could not be realised,

if, for a single moment, he forgot that their works, however exquisite,

were but the imitations and forms of those eternal models to which he had

been instinctively directed.

It was on the 10th of July, 1760, that he arrived at Rome. The French

Courier conducted him to a hotel, and, having mentioned in the house that

he was an American, and a Quaker, come to study the fine arts, the

circumstance seemed so extraordinary, that it reached the ears of Mr.

Robinson, afterwards Lord Grantham, who immediately found himself

possessed by an irresistible desire to see him; and who, before he had

time to dress or refresh himself, paid him a visit, and insisted that he

should dine with him. In the course of dinner, that gentleman inquired

what letters of introduction the Artist had brought with him; and West

having informed him, he observed it was somewhat remarkable that the whole

of them should be addressed to his most particular friends, adding, that

as he was engaged to meet them at a party in the evening, he expected West

would accompany him. This attention and frankness was acknowledged as it

deserved to be, and is remembered by the Artist among those fortunate

incidents which have rendered the recollection of his past life so

pleasant, as scarcely to leave a wish for any part of it to have been

spent otherwise than it was. At the hour appointed, Mr. Robinson conducted

him to the house of Mr. Crispigné, an English gentleman who had long

resided at Rome, where the evening party was held.

Among the distinguished persons whom Mr. West found in the company, was

the celebrated Cardinal Albani. His eminence, although quite blind, had

acquired, by the exquisite delicacy of his touch, and the combining powers

of his mind, such a sense of antient beauty, that he excelled all the

virtuosi then in Rome, in the correctness of his knowledge of the verity

and peculiarities of the smallest medals and intaglios. Mr. Robinson

conducted the Artist to the inner apartment, where the Cardinal was

sitting, and said, "I have the honour to present a young American, who has

a letter of introduction to your eminence, and who has come to Italy for

the purpose of studying the fine arts." The Cardinal fancying that the

American must be an Indian, exclaimed, "Is he black or white?" and on

being told that he was very fair, "What as fair as I am?" cried the

Cardinal still more surprised. This latter expression excited a good deal

of mirth at the Cardinal's expence, for his complexion was of the darkest

Italian olive, and West's was even of more than the usual degree of

English fairness. For some time after, if it be not still in use, the

expression of "as fair as the Cardinal" acquired proverbial currency in

the Roman conversations, applied to persons who had any inordinate conceit

of their own beauty.

The Cardinal, after some other short questions, invited West to come near

him, and running his hands over his features, still more attracted the

attention of the company to the stranger, by the admiration which he

expressed at the form of his head. This occasioned inquiries respecting

the youth; and the Italians concluding that, as he was an American, he

must, of course, have received the education of a savage, became curious

to witness the effect which the works of Art in the Belvidere and Vatican

would produce on him. The whole company, which consisted of the principal

Roman nobility, and strangers of distinction then in Rome, were interested

in the event; and it was arranged in the course of the evening that on the

following morning they should accompany Mr. Robinson and his protegé to

the palaces.

At the hour appointed, the company assembled; and a procession, consisting

of upwards of thirty of the most magnificent equipages in the capital of

Christendom, and filled with some of the most erudite characters in

Europe, conducted the young Quaker to view the master-pieces of art. It

was agreed that the Apollo should be first submitted to his view, because

it was the most perfect work among all the ornaments of Rome, and,

consequently, the best calculated to produce that effect which the company

were anxious to witness. The statue then stood in a case, enclosed with

doors, which could be so opened as to disclose it at once to full view.

West was placed in the situation where it was seen to the most advantage,

and the spectators arranged themselves on each side. When the keeper threw

open the doors, the Artist felt himself surprised with a sudden

recollection altogether different from the gratification which he had

expected; and without being aware of the force of what he said, exclaimed,

"My God, how like it is to a young Mohawk warrior." The Italians,

observing his surprise, and hearing the exclamation, requested Mr.

Robinson to translate to them what he said; and they were excessively

mortified to find that the god of their idolatry was compared to a

savage. Mr. Robinson mentioned to West their chagrin, and asked him to

give some more distinct explanation, by informing him what sort of people

the Mohawk Indians were. He described to him their education; their

dexterity with the bow and arrow; the admirable elasticity of their limbs;

and how much their active life expands the chest, while the quick

breathing of their speed in the chace, dilates the nostrils with that

apparent consciousness of vigour which is so nobly depicted in the Apollo.

"I have seen them often," added he, "standing in that very attitude, and

pursuing, with an intense eye, the arrow which they had just discharged

from the bow." This descriptive explanation did not lose by Mr. Robinson's

translation. The Italians were delighted, and allowed that a better

criticism had rarely been pronounced on the merits of the statue. The view

of the other great works did not awaken the same vivid feelings. Those of

Raphael, in the Vatican, did not at first particularly interest him; nor

was it until he had often visited them alone, and studied them by himself,

that he could appreciate the fulness of their excellence. His first view

of the works of Michael Angelo, was still less satisfactory: indeed, he

continued always to think, that, with the single exception of the Moses,

that Artist had not succeeded in giving a probable character to any of his

subjects, notwithstanding the masterly hand and mind which pervade the

weakest of his productions.

Among the first objects which particularly interested Mr. West, and which

he never ceased to re-visit day after day with increasing pleasure, were

the celebrated statues ascribed to Phidias, on the Monte Cavallo. The

action of the human figure appeared to him so majestic, that it seemed to

throw, as it were, a visible kind of awe into the very atmosphere, and

over all the surrounding buildings. But the smallness of the horse struck

him as exceedingly preposterous. He had often examined it before the idea

occurred to him that it was probably reduced according to some unknown

principle of antient art; and in this notion he was confirmed, by

observing something of the same kind in the relative proportion of human

figures and animals, on the different gems and bas-reliefs to which his

attention was subsequently directed. The antient sculptors uniformly

seemed to consider the human figure as the chief object, and sacrificed,

to give it effect, the proportions of inferior parts. The author of the

group on the Monte Cavallo, in the opinion of Mr. West, represented the

horse smaller than the natural size, in order to augment the grandeur of

the man. How far this notion, as the principle of a rule, may be sound, it

would be unnecessary, perhaps impertinent, to inquire here; but its

justness as applicable to the sculptures of antiquity, is abundantly

verified by the bas-reliefs brought from the Parthenon of Athens. It is,

indeed, so admitted a feature of antient art, as to be regarded by some

critics as having for its object the same effect in sculpture, which is

attained by light and shadow in painting.--In a picture, the Artist, by a

judicious obscurity, so veils the magnitude of the car in which he places

a victor, that notwithstanding its size, it may not appear the principal

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. Crespigné, 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. Crespigné 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. Crespigné, 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.

Crespigné'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

Abaté 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 Abaté 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 Abaté, 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 Abaté, 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 Abaté, 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 Abaté 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

Abaté 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 he 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.