BENJAMIN WEST.
At a time when America was regarded in Europe as a savage region, and
when Americans were looked upon as little better than barbarians by the
people of the mother country, it was no slight achievement for an
American artist to rise by the force of his genius to the proud position
of President of the Royal Academy of Great Britain.
The man who won this triumph was BENJAMIN WEST. He was born in
Springfield, Pennsylvania, on the 10th of October, 1738. His parents
were Quakers, plain, simple people, who feared God, lived a just life,
and desired above all other things that their children should become
pious and useful men and women. The old mansion-house where the future
artist was born was situated in Chester County, and is still standing.
It is not far from Philadelphia, and the place is now called Westdale.
His father's family emigrated from England to America with William Penn,
at his second visit, in 1699. John West married the daughter of Thomas
Pearson, by whom he had ten children. Of these, Benjamin was the
youngest son. His mother was a woman of great piety, and, being once in
attendance upon a memorable religious revival, at which she was terribly
agitated by the preaching of one Edward Peckover, an itinerant Quaker
minister, was taken with premature labor, of which Benjamin West was
born.
It was predicted that a child who had been brought into the world under
such circumstances would be a man of more than ordinary fame, and the
good mother treasured these prophecies in her heart, and watched the
career of her boy with the keenest interest.
When he was but seven years old, he was left one day to watch beside the
cradle of the infant child of his eldest sister, who, though married,
was still living at home. Being unusually silent for a long time, his
mother concluded that she would go and see what he was doing. Upon
entering the room where he had been left with his charge, she saw him
kneeling by a chair which he had placed close up to the cradle, gazing
at the infant, and making what she supposed to be marks on a paper which
lay on the chair. Stealing up behind him softly, she saw to her
astonishment that this boy, only seven years old, had executed, with
black and red ink and a pen, an accurate though rude likeness of the
sleeping babe. This was the first evidence he had ever given of his
predilection for art, and was indeed a most surprising performance for
so young a child.
[Illustration: THE TRUANT'S SECRET DISCOVERED.]
The next summer a party of Indians came to Springfield to pay their
annual visit, and to please them little Benjamin showed them some
sketches of birds and flowers which he had executed with pen and ink.
The savages were delighted with them, and presented him with the red and
yellow pigments with which they colored their ornaments. In addition to
this gift, they taught him how to prepare these colors, to which he
added another, namely, indigo, which his mother gave him from her
laundry. His colors were rude enough, but his pencils were ruder. They
were made of the hairs which he had pulled from a cat's back and
fastened in the end of a goose-quill. Soon after this, a relative from
Philadelphia, chancing to visit the old homestead, was struck with the
talent of the little fellow, and upon his return to the city sent him a
box of colors, with pencils and canvas and a few prints. He was only
nine years old, but he was a born artist. He had never seen any painting
of merit, and the few prints which his relative gave him were the most
finished productions he had ever seen. The box of colors was his most
precious possession, and it opened to him new fields of enjoyment. The
day of its arrival he gave himself up entirely to the pleasure of
examining it. "Even after going to sleep," says his biographer, "he
awoke more than once during the night, and anxiously put out his hand to
the box, which he had placed by his bedside, half afraid that he might
find his riches only a dream. Next morning he rose at break of day, and,
carrying his colors and canvas to the garret, proceeded to work. Every
thing else was now unheeded; even his attendance at school was given up.
As soon as he got out of the sight of his father and mother, he stole to
his garret, and there passed the hours in a world of his own. At last,
after he had been absent from school some days, the master called at his
father's house to inquire what had become of him. This led to the
discovery of his secret occupation. His mother, proceeding to the
garret, found the truant; but so much was she astonished and delighted
by the creation of his pencil, which also met her view when she entered
the apartment, that, instead of rebuking him, she could only take him in
her arms and kiss him with transports of affection. He made a new
composition of his own out of two of the engravings, which he had
colored from his own feeling of the proper tints; and so perfect did
the appearance already appear to his mother, that, although half the
canvas yet remained uncovered, she would not suffer him to add another
touch to what he had done. Mr. Gait, West's biographer, saw the picture
in the state in which it had thus been left sixty-seven years afterward;
and the artist himself used to acknowledge that in none of his
subsequent efforts had he been able to excel some of the touches of
invention in this his first essay."
His next effort was a landscape, which comprehended a view of a river,
with vessels in the stream and cattle browsing on the banks. He could
not have been much over ten years of age at this time, and the picture,
though insignificant in itself, is remarkable as the work of a child. He
subsequently presented it to his friend, Mr. William Henry, of
Lancaster, whose family still retain possession of it. He visited
Philadelphia soon after, and received a few simple instructions in the
practical portion of his art, after which he went about through the
towns of the vicinity of his home, painting portraits of his friends. At
length he was sent for by Mrs. Ross, of Lancaster, a lady famed for her
great beauty, to paint the portraits of herself and her family--a great
honor for a lad of twelve.
It was in Lancaster, in the year 1750, that he made the acquaintance of
Mr. William Henry. That gentleman became deeply interested in the
precocious boy, and frequently came to watch him at his
portrait-painting. One day he said to Benjamin, that if he (Henry) could
paint equally well he would not waste his time upon portraits, but would
devote himself to historical subjects. In the course of the conversation
to which this remark gave rise, Mr. Henry proposed to him to make an
attempt in this direction, and suggested to him "The Death of Socrates"
as his first subject. The little artist frankly avowed that he had
never heard of the great philosopher, and Mr. Henry at once went to his
library and brought out a volume of Plutarch, from which he read to the
boy the beautiful story of the wise man's death. West listened with the
deepest interest, and expressed his perfect readiness to undertake the
task, but feared he would have difficulty in painting the figure of the
slave who presented the poison, and which he thought ought to be naked,
since he had hitherto painted only men with their clothes on. Mr. Henry
had in his employ a young man of fine appearance, and upon hearing
West's objection at once sent for him. As the workman entered the room
Henry pointed to him, and said to West, "There's your model." West took
the hint, painted the picture, which was purchased by Mr. Henry, and
thenceforth determined that in his art he would look only into nature
for his models.
At the age of sixteen he returned to Springfield. He was anxious to
continue his career as an artist, and as his parents were satisfied that
he was now old enough to enter upon some permanent occupation, they
agreed that his wishes should be submitted to a public meeting of the
Society of Friends. The meeting was called, and the matter was laid
before them, the boy himself being present. His relatives and friends
were all very proud of his talents, but as the profession of an artist
was so entirely at variance with all Quaker habits and ideas, they felt
that the subject was one which ought not to be rashly decided. Silence
prevailed for a long time after the opening of the meeting, but at
length John Williamson, moved by the Spirit, rose and addressed the
assemblage, declaring his belief that as the youth had not derived his
fondness for art from any of his associations or surroundings, and since
it was so manifestly a special gift from the Creator, it was their plain
duty to bid him go forward in the path that had been marked out for
him, and to wish him God-speed in his efforts. At the close of his
remarks silence again fell upon the assembly. Then the women rose, and
approaching the lad, one by one, kissed him on the cheek, and the men,
laying their hands on his head, prayed that the Lord might verify in his
life the value of the gift which had induced them, in spite of their
religious tenets on the subject, to allow him to enter upon the
permanent exercises of the profession so dear to his heart.
Thus was he dedicated to his art, and at the same time separated to a
certain degree from his Quaker brethren. Not long after this he violated
every principle of the Quaker dispensation by volunteering under Major
Sir Peter Halket to go in search of the remains of Braddock's army.
In 1756, at the age of eighteen, he established himself in Philadelphia
as a portrait painter, and soon after removed to New York, where he
painted portraits at five guineas a head, occasionally attempting an
historical piece. When he was twenty years old he made a visit to
Europe--a visit which decided his destiny. A famine in the south of
Europe induced a Philadelphia merchant to dispatch a vessel laden with
flour to Leghorn, and his son, who was to take passage in the ship,
proposed to West to accompany him, and thus secure an opportunity of
seeing the art-treasures of the Old World. West promptly accepted the
invitation, and some of his friends in New York provided him with an
outfit for the voyage. Upon arriving at Gibraltar, the vessel was
boarded by a British officer, who proved to be a kinsman of the son of
the owner of the ship, and he not only passed them without molestation,
but enabled them to secure unusual facilities in the voyage up the
Mediterranean. West arrived in Rome in July, 1759, and was kindly
received by the English Lord Grantham, to whom he bore letters of
introduction.
"Among the distinguished persons whom Mr. West found in Rome, was the
celebrated Cardinal Albani. At an evening party, the Cardinal became
curious to witness the effect which the works of art in the Belvidere
and Vatican would produce on the young artist. 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 West 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 masterpieces 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, inclosed 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, were excessively mortified to find
that the god of their idolatry was compared to a savage. They mentioned
their chagrin, and asked West to give some more distinct explanation, by
informing them what sort of people the Mohawk Indians were. He described
to them 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 chase
dilates the nostrils with that apparent consciousness of vigor 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,' The Italians were
delighted with this descriptive explanation, and allowed that a better
criticism had never been pronounced on the merits of the statue."
Soon after his arrival in Rome, West painted a portrait of Lord
Grantham, which won him considerable reputation. It was at first
attributed to Raphael Meugs, but when the true artist was announced, and
the circumstances of his history became known, West found himself
suddenly famous, with orders enough to place him at once in comfortable
circumstances. Cardinal Albani and Lord Grantham were very kind to him
during his stay in Rome, and Raphael Meugs advised him to make a careful
tour of study through the Italian art capitals. While in Rome he painted
two pictures, "Cimon and Iphigenia," and "Angelica and Medora," which
were well received, and during this period he was elected a member by
the Academies of Florence, Bologna, and Parma. He made the tour advised
by Meugs, remaining in Italy several years. Thence he proceeded to
France, where he passed a short time in studying the French masters,
after which he went to England, intending to sail from that country for
America, where he had left his heart behind him in the keeping of a
young Quakeress of Philadelphia.
He reached London in 1763, and while continuing his studies here,
whither his reputation had preceded him from Italy, undertook some
commissions for Archbishop Drummond and several other church
dignitaries. These attracted general admiration, and his countrymen
residing in London were prompt to recognize and proclaim his genius. He
had relatives living in England, so that he was not an entire stranger
there. His success was marked from the first, and his friends urged him
to profit by so favorable a beginning, give up his idea of returning to
America, and make his permanent home in England. This he at length
decided to do, and devoted himself with increased ardor to his labors.
In two years he considered himself sufficiently well established to send
to Philadelphia for his betrothed. This lady, Miss Elizabeth Shewell,
came out to England under the care of his father, and in the same year,
1765, West was married to her in London. She was a lady of great
amiability of character, and by the English was often spoken of as the
Philadelphia beauty.
Soon after his arrival in England he produced a large painting on a
subject from Tacitus, "Agrippina Landing with the Ashes of Germanicus."
It was a decided success. George the Third was deeply impressed with it,
and congratulated West warmly upon its merits. At the same time the king
gave him a commission for a painting,--the subject to be "The Death of
Regulus,"--and thus began the friendship between the monarch and the
artist, which lasted for nearly forty years. He was a hard worker, and
during his long life his pictures followed each other in rapid
succession. They are estimated by a writer in Blackwood's Magazine at
three thousand in number. Mr. Dunlap says that they would cover a wall
ten feet high and a quarter of a mile long if arranged side by side on a
flat surface. The most famous are his "Death of Wolfe;" "Regulus, a
Prisoner to the Carthaginians;" "The Battle of La Hogue;" "The Death of
Bayard;" "Hamilcar Swearing the Infant Hannibal at the Altar;" "The
Departure of Regulus;" "Agrippina Landing with the Ashes of
Germanicus;" "Christ Healing the Sick;" "Death on the Pale Horse;" "The
Descent of the Holy Ghost on the Saviour in the Jordan;" "The
Crucifixion;" and "Christ Rejected."
The picture which brought him most prominently before the public, and
which placed his popularity beyond dispute, was "The Death of Wolfe at
Quebec." It was fashionable at this time to treat nothing but subjects
from ancient history, and when West announced his intention of painting
a picture of contemporary history his friends warned him that he was
incurring a serious risk. Nevertheless he finished his "Death of Wolfe,"
and it was exhibited in the National Gallery. The public "acknowledged
its excellence at once, but the lovers of old art--called
classical--complained of the barbarism of boots, buttons, and
blunderbusses, and cried out for naked warriors, with bows, bucklers,
and battering rams." Lord Grosvenor was much pleased with the picture,
and finally purchased it, though he did so with hesitation, daunted to
some extent by the fierce storm of opposition with which the critics
received it. Sir Joshua Reynolds, then the President of the Royal
Academy, and the Archbishop of York, called on West and protested
against his barbarous innovation, but he declared to them that "the
event to be commemorated happened in the year 1759, in a region of the
world unknown to Greeks and Romans, and at a period of the world when no
warrior who wore classic costume existed. The same rule which gives law
to the historian should rule the painter." When the king saw the picture
he was delighted both with it and West's originality, and declared that
he was sorry Lord Grosvenor had been before him in purchasing it. This
was the inauguration of a new era in British art, and Sir Joshua
Reynolds was obliged to declare, "West has conquered. I foresee that
this picture will not only become one of the most popular, but will
occasion a revolution in art." This frank avowal was as honorable to Sir
Joshua as to West.
West painted for George the Third a number of subjects taken from the
early history of England, and received from the same monarch a
commission for a series of paintings illustrating the progress of
revealed religion, with which the king designed to ornament the chapel
at Windsor Castle. Of these twenty-eight were finished when the Prince
of Wales, afterward George the Fourth, came into power as Prince Regent,
and the commission was withdrawn. The artist then began a series of
grand religious subjects, upon which he was still engaged when death
called him to rest from all his labors. Of those which were completed,
"Death on the Pale Horse" and "Christ Healing the Sick" are the best
known in this country.
In 1792, upon the death of Sir Joshua Reynolds, West was made President
of the Royal Academy. The king wished to confer upon him the honor of
knighthood, but he declined it, alleging that he was not wealthy enough
to support the dignity of the position. In consequence of dissensions in
the Academy, West resigned his presidency in 1802. The post was filled
for a year by James Wyatt, the architect, and at the close of that time
West was re-elected by every ballot but one--that of Fuseli, who voted
for Mrs. Lloyd, a member of the Academy, declaring that he considered
"one old woman as good as another." West continued in this office until
his death.
The close of his life was blessed with ample means, and, as he was in
the full possession of all his faculties and covered with art's
supremest honors, it may be regarded as the happiest portion of his
career. His house was always open to Americans visiting England, and few
things pleased him more than to listen to news from his native village.
He was a kind and judicious friend to young artists, especially to those
of his own country studying in England, and took a lively pleasure in
their success. Leigh Hunt, whose mother was a relative of West, has left
us the following description of him:
"The appearance of West was so gentlemanly that the moment he changed
his gown for a coat he seemed to be full dressed. The simplicity and
self-possession of the young Quaker, not having time enough to grow
stiff--for he went early to Rome--took up, I suppose, with more ease
than most would have done, the urbanities of his new position. Yet this
man, so well bred, and so indisputably clever in his art, whatever might
be the amount of his genius, had received a homely or careless
education, and pronounced some of his words with a puritanical
barbarism; he would talk of his art all day. There were strong
suspicions of his leaning to his native side in politics, and he could
not restrain his enthusiasm for Bonaparte. How he managed these matters
with the higher powers in England I can not say."
Possessed originally of a sound and vigorous constitution, which he had
not weakened by any species of dissipation, West lived to a good old
age, and died in London on the 11th of March, 1820, in his eighty-second
year. He was buried in St. Paul's Cathedral, by the side of Sir Joshua
Reynolds, and under the same great dome which covers the tombs of Nelson
and Wellington.