'*as5®V‘ 
 
Ulrich Middeldorf 
 
 
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 ov.,q ViLes^t. President of 
 
 SH.d,.c R.n,.rn,n V.,n Pr.cid.nt ^f th^ -Rn^^l 
 
 ^s^u,n of the account of Benj^n West’s life in America by John Galt, the novelist. — 
 
 
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 Ulrich Middeldorf 
 
Galt (T.), The Life anri ^ -D ^turtles of Beni. West, President of 
 
 IV of Lo;ln benjamin West, Esq., President of the Royal - 
 
 8vo, 1V+4+ i6o pp., orig. boards : 
 
 ^ of London, prior to his arrival in LonC 
 
 packed), uncut, London, i8i6 
 
 ’oabin 26457. ' £1^ 
 
 First Edition of the account of Benjamin West’s life in America by John Gait, the novelist. 
 
 Y. 
 
rium bejjjAIvIIN. - GALT, John. The Life and Studies of Benj . West, President of 
 rtialiun\cademy of London, prior to his Arrival in England; comp, from material fur- 
 4 l6 />/cimself. IV, 160 pp. , Bds. London, 18 16. - First Ed. Of great interest for the 
 
 conditions in 18th-cent. Philadelphia, where West grew up, and of N.Y. 
 
 ... $30. 00 - 
 
 m-}. 
 
 
 
 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 
 
 https://archive.org/details/lifestudiesofben00galt_0 
 
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V 
 
 TO 
 
 ALEXANDER GORDON, ESQ. 
 
 THIS LITTLE WORK 
 
 IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR. 
 
^ ' 
 
 
Vll 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The professional life of Mr. West constitutes 
 an important part of an historical work, in which 
 the matter of this volume could only have been 
 introduced as an episode, and, perhaps, not with 
 much propriety even in that form. It was my 
 intention, at one time, to have prepared the 
 whole of his memoirs, separately, for publication;; 
 but a careful review of the manuscript convinced 
 me, that the transactions in which he has been 
 engaged, subsequently to his arrival in England, 
 are so much of a public nature, and belong so 
 immediately to the history of the Arts, that such 
 a separation could not be effected without essen-^ 
 tially impairing the interest and unity of the main 
 design ; and that the particular nature of this 
 portion of his memoirs admitted of being easily 
 detached and arranged into a whole, complete 
 within itself. 
 
Vlll 
 
 I do not think that there can be two opinions 
 with respect to the utility of a work of this kind. 
 Mr. West, in relating the circumstances by which 
 he was led to approximate, without the aid of an 
 instructor, to those principles and rules of art, 
 which it is the object of schools and academies 
 to disseminate, has conferred a greater benefit on 
 young Artists than he could possibly have done 
 by the most ingenious and eloquent lectures on 
 the theories of his profession ; and it was neces- 
 sary that the narrative should appear in his own 
 time, in order that the authenticity of the inci- 
 dents might not rest on the authority of any 
 biographer. 
 
 April 25 , iSlfi. 
 
 JOHN GALT. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 The Birth and Paternal Ancestry of Mr. West. — His Maternal 
 Family. — His Father. — The Origin of the Abolition of 
 Slavery by the Quakers. — The Progress of the Abolition. — 
 The Education of the Negroes. — The Preaching of Edmund 
 Peckover, — His Admonitory Prediction to the Father of 
 West. — The first Indication of Benjamin s Genius. — State 
 of Society in Pennsylvania. — The Indians give West the 
 Primary Colours. — The Artist's first Pencils. — The Present 
 of a Box of Colours and Engravings. — His first Painting. . 5 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 The Artist visits Philadelphia. — - His second Picture. ‘ — M^iU 
 Hams the Painter gives him the works ofFresnoy and Richard- 
 son. — Anecdote of the Taylor's Apprentice. — The Drawings 
 of the Schoolboys. — Anecdote relative to Wayne. — Anec- 
 dote relative to Mr. Flower. — Anecdote relative to Mr. Ross. 
 — Anecdote of Mr. Henry. — The Artist's first Historical 
 Picture. — Origin of his Acquaintance with Dr. Smith of 
 Philadelphia.— The friendship of Dr. Smith, and the cha- 
 racter of the early companions , of West. — Anecdote of Gene- 
 ral Washington 26 
 
 b 
 
X 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 The course of instruction adopted by Provost Smith. — The 
 Artist led to the discovery of the Camera. - — His Father be- 
 comes anxious to place him in business. — Extraordinary pro- 
 ceedings of the Quakers in consequence . — The Speech of 
 
 Williamson the Preacher in defence of the Fine Arts. — Mag- 
 nanimous Resolution of the Quakers. — Reflections on this 
 singular transaction ,44 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Reflections on the Eccentricities of Young Men of Genius with 
 respect to pecuniary matters. — The Death of the Artist's 
 Mother. — - The Embodying of the Pennsylvanian Militia: 
 an Anecdote of General Wayne. — The Artist elected Com- 
 mandant of a corps of Volunteer boys . — The circumstances 
 which occasioned the Search for the Bones of Bradock's army. 
 — The Search. — The Discovery of the Bones of the Father 
 and Brother of Sir Peter Halket . — ■ The Artist proposed af- 
 terwards to paint a Picture of the Discovery of the Bones of 
 the Halkeis.— He commences regularly as a Painter. — He 
 copies a St. Ignatius .- — He is induced, to attempt Historical 
 Portraiture. — His Picture of the Trial of Susannah. — Of 
 the merits of that Picture 58 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Motives which induced him to visit New York. — State of So- 
 ciety in New York . — Reflections on the sterility of American 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 XI 
 
 talent. — Considerations on the circumstances which tend to 
 produce Poetical feelings. — The causes which produced the 
 peculiarities in the state of Society in New York. — The Ac^ 
 cident which led the Artist to discover the method of colouring 
 Candle-light and Fire effects after Nature. — He copies 
 Strange's engraving of Belisarius, hy Salvator Rosa. — The 
 occurrence which hastened his Voyage to Italy, with the Anec- 
 dote of his obligations to Mr. Kelly. — Reflections on Plu- 
 tarch, occasioned hy reference to the effect which his works 
 had on the mind of West. — The Artist embarks ; occurrence 
 at Gibraltar. — He arrives at Leghorn. — Journey to Rome 75 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 State of the stat ionary Society of Rome. — Causes which rendered 
 the City a delightful temporary residence . — Defects of the 
 Academical methods of study . — His introduction to Mr. Ro- 
 binson. — 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. ... 95 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 Anecdote of a famous Improvisatore. — West the subject of one 
 of his finest effusions. — Anecdote of Cardinal Albani. — West 
 introduced to Mengs. — Satisfactory result of West's first 
 essay in Rome. — Consequence 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 Gentle- 
 men of Philadelphia 
 
 113 
 
XH 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. VliL 
 
 The result of the Artist's experiment to discover the methods by 
 which Titian produced his splendid colouring. — He returns 
 to Rome. — Reflections suggested hij 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 Ho- 
 norary 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 129 
 
THE 
 
 LIFE AND STUDIES 
 
 OF 
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 CHAR h 
 
 The Birth and Paternal Ancestry of Mr. West. — His Maternal 
 Family. — His Father. — The Origin of the Abolition of 
 Slavery by the Quakers.-— The Progress of the Abolition . — 
 The Education of the Negroes. — The Preaching of Edmund 
 Peckover. — His Admonitory Prediction to the Father of 
 West. ~ The first Indication of Benjamin's Genius, • — State 
 of Society in Pennsylvania. — The Indians give West the 
 Primary Colours. — The Artist's first Pencils. ■ — The Present 
 of a Box of Colours and Engravings. — His first Painting. 
 
 Benjamin west, the subject of the fol- 
 lowing Memoirs, was the youngest son of John 
 West and Sarah Pearson, and was born near 
 Springfield, in Chester County, in the State of 
 Pennsylvania, on the 10th of October, 1738. 
 
 B 
 
2 
 
 The branch of the West family, to which he 
 belongs, has been traced in an unbroken series to 
 the Lord Delawarre, who distinguished himself 
 in the great wars of King Edward the Third, and 
 particularly at the battle of Cressy, under the 
 immediate command of the Black Prince. In the 
 reign of Richard the Second, the ancestors of 
 Mr. West settled at Long Crandon in Bucking- 
 hamshire. About the year l66j they embraced 
 the tenets of the Quakers ; and Colonel James 
 West, the friend and companion in arms of the 
 celebrated Llampden, is said to have been the 
 first proselyte of the family. In l6g9 they emi- 
 grated to America. 
 
 Thomas Pearson, the maternal grandfather of 
 the Artist, was the confidential friend of William 
 Penn, and accompanied him to America. On 
 their first landing, the venerable Founder of the 
 State of Pennsylvania said to him, Providence 
 has brought us safely hither ; thou hast been the 
 companion of my perils, what wilt thou that I 
 should call this place ?” Mr. Pearson replied, 
 that since he had honoured him so far as to 
 desire him to give that part of the country a 
 
3 
 
 name, he would, in remembrance of his native 
 City, call it Chester.” The exact spot where 
 these patriarchs of the new world first landed, 
 is still pointed out with reverence by the inha- 
 bitants. Mr. Pearson built a house and formed a 
 plantation in the neighbourhood, which he called 
 Springfield, in consequence of discovering a large 
 spring of water in the first field cleared for culti- 
 vation ; and it was near this place that Benjamin 
 West was born. 
 
 When the West family emigrated, John, the 
 father of Benjamin, was left to complete his edu- 
 cation at the great school of the Quakers at Ux- 
 bridge, and did not join his relations in America 
 till the year 1714. Soon after his arrival he mar- 
 ried the mother of the Artist ; and of the worth 
 and piety of his character we have a remarkable 
 proof in the following transactions, which, per- 
 haps, reflect more real glory on his family than 
 the achievements of all his heroic ancestors. 
 
 As a part of the marriage portion of Mrs. West 
 he received a negro slave, whose diligence and 
 fidelity very soon obtained his full confidence. 
 
 B 2 
 
4 
 
 Being engaged in trade, he had occasion to make 
 a voyage to the West Indies, and left this young 
 black to superintend the plantation in his absence. 
 During his residence in Barbadoes, his feelings 
 were greatly molested, and his principles shocked, 
 by the cruelties to which he saw the negroes sub- 
 jected in that island ; and the debasing effects 
 were forcibly contrasted in his mind with the 
 morals and intelligence of his own slave. Con- 
 versing on this subject with Doctor Gammon, 
 who was then at the head of the community of 
 Friends in Barbadoes, the Doctor convinced him 
 that it was contrary to the laws of God and Nature 
 that any man should retain his fellow-creatures 
 in slavery. This conviction could not rest long 
 inactive in a character framed like that of Mr. 
 West. On his return to America he gave the 
 negro his freedom, and retained him as a hired 
 servant. 
 
 Not content with doing good himself, he en- 
 deavoured to make others follow his example, 
 and in a short time his arguments had such an 
 effect on his neighbours, that it was agreed to dis- 
 cuss publicly the general question of Slavery. 
 
This was done accordingly ; and, after debating 
 it at many meetings, it was resolved by a con- 
 siderable majority that it was the duty of 
 Christians to give Freedom to their Slaves. 
 The result of this discussion was soon after- 
 wards followed by a similar proposal to the head 
 meeting of the Quakers in the township of Go- 
 shen in Chester County; and the cause of Hu- 
 manity was again victorious. Finally, about the 
 year 1753 , the same question was agitated in the 
 annual general assembly at Philadelphia, when it 
 was ultimately established as one of the tenets of 
 the Quakers, that no person could remain a mem- 
 ber of their community who held a human creature 
 in slavery. This transaction is perhaps the first 
 example in the history of communities, of a great 
 public sacrifice of individual interest, not origi- 
 nating from considerations of policy or the exi- 
 gences of public dariger, but purely from moral 
 and religious principles. 
 
 The benevolent work of restoring their natural 
 rights to the unfortunate Negroes, did not rest 
 even at this great pecuniary sacrifice. The 
 Society of Friends went farther, and established 
 
6 
 
 Schools for the education of their children ; and 
 some of the first characters among themselves vo- 
 lunteered to superintend the course of instruction. 
 
 In the autumn of 1738^ Edmund Peckover, a 
 celebrated Orator among the Quakers^ came to 
 the neighbourhood of Springfield^ and on the 
 28th of September preached in a meeting-house 
 erected by the father of Mrs. West at the distance 
 of about a mile and a half from his residence. 
 Mrs. West was then the mother of nine children, 
 and far advanced in her pregnancy with Benjamin. 
 — Peckover possessed the most essential qualities 
 of an impressive speaker, and on this occasion 
 the subject of his address was of extraordinary 
 interest to his auditors. He reviewed the rise 
 and progress of society in America, and with 
 an enthusiastic eloquence which partook of the 
 sublimity and vehemence of the prophetic spirit, 
 he predicted the future greatness of the country. 
 He described the condition of the European na- 
 tions, decrepid in their institutions, and corrupt 
 in their morality, and contrasted them with the 
 young and flourishing establishments of the New 
 World. He held up to their abhorrence the 
 
7 
 
 licentious manners and atheistical principles of 
 the French, among whom God was disregarded 
 or forgotten ; and, elevated by the importance of 
 his subject, he described the Almighty as mus- 
 tering his wrath to descend on that nation, and 
 disperse it as chaff in a whirlwind. He called on 
 them to look towards their home of England, and 
 to see with what eager devotion the inhabitants 
 worshiped the golden image of Commerce, and 
 laid the tribute of all their thoughts on its altars; 
 believing that with the power of the idol alone, 
 they should be able to withstand all calamities. 
 ^‘The day and the hour are, however, hastening 
 on, when the image shall be shaken from its pe- 
 destal by the tempest of Jehovah’s descending 
 vengeance, its altars overturned, and the wor- 
 shipers terribly convinced that without the favour 
 of the Almighty God there is no wisdom in man! 
 But,” continued this impassioned orator, from 
 the woes and the crimes of Europe let us turn 
 aside our eyes ; let us turn from the worshipers 
 of Commerce, clinging round their idols of gold 
 and silver, and, amidst the wrath, the storm, and 
 the thunder, endeavouring to hold them up ; let 
 us not look at the land of blasphemies; for in the 
 
8 
 
 crashing of engines, the gushing of blood, and 
 the shrieking of witnesses more to be pitied than 
 the victims, the activity of God’s purifying dis- 
 pleasure will be heard ; while turning our eyes 
 towards the mountains of this New World, the 
 forests shall be seen fading away, cities rising 
 along the shores, and the terrified nations of Eu- 
 rope flying out of the smoke and the burning to 
 find refuge here.”— All his auditors were deeply 
 affected, particularly Mrs. West, who was taken 
 with the pains of labour on the spot. The meeting 
 was broken up ; the women made a circle round 
 her as they carried her home, and such was the 
 agitation into which she was thrown, that the 
 consequences had nearly proved fatal both to the 
 mother and the infant, of which she was prema- 
 turely delivered. 
 
 This occurrence naturally excited much atten- 
 tion, and became the subject of general conversa- 
 tion. It made a deep impression on the mind of 
 Mr. West, who could not divest himself of a 
 feeling that it indicated something extraordinary 
 in the future fortunes of his child; and when 
 Peckover, soon afterwards, on his leaving that 
 
9 
 
 part of the country^ paid him a farewell visit, he 
 took an opportunity of introducing the subject. 
 The warm imagination of the Preacher eagerly 
 sympathised with the feelings of his friend. He 
 took him by the hand, and, with emphatic solem- 
 nity, said that a child sent into the world under 
 such remarkable circumstances would prove no 
 ordinary man; and he charged him to watch 
 over the boy’s character with the utmost degree 
 of paternal solicitude. It will appear in the 
 sequel, that this singular admonition was not lost 
 on Mr. West. 
 
 The first six years of Benjamin’s life passed 
 away in calm uniformity ; leaving only the placid 
 remembrance of enjoyment. In the month of 
 June 1745, one of his sisters, who had been 
 married some time before, and who had a daugh- 
 ter, came with her infant to spend a few days at 
 her father’s. When the child was asleep in the 
 cradle, Mrs. West invited her daughter to gather 
 flowers in the garden, and committed the infant 
 to the care of Benjamin during their absence ; 
 giving him a fan to flap away the flies from mo- 
 lesting his little charge. After some time the 
 
10 
 
 child happened to smile in its sleep, and its 
 beauty attracted his attention. He looked at it 
 with a pleasure which he had never before expe- 
 rienced, and observing some paper on a table, 
 together with pens and red and black ink, he 
 seized them with agitation, and endeavoured to 
 delineate a portrait : although at this period he 
 had never seen an engraving or a picture, and 
 was only in the seventh year of his age. 
 
 Hearing the approach of his mother and sister, 
 he endeavoured to conceal what he had been 
 doing ; but the old lady observing his confusion, 
 enquired what he was about, and requested him 
 to show her the paper. He obeyed, entreating 
 her not to be angry. Mrs. West, after looking 
 some time at the drawing with evident pleasure, 
 said to her daughter, I declare he has made a 
 likeness of little Sally,” and kissed him with 
 much fondness and satisfaction. This encou- 
 raged him to say, that if it would give her any 
 pleasure, he would make pictures of the flowers 
 which she held in her hand ; for the instinct of 
 his genius was now awakened, and he felt that 
 he could imitate the forms of those things which 
 pleased his sight. 
 
11 
 
 This curious incident deserves consideration in 
 two points of view. The sketch must have had 
 some merits since the likeness was so obvious^ 
 indicating how early the hand of the young artist 
 possessed the power of representing the observa- 
 tions of his eye. But it is still more remarkable 
 as the birth of the fine arts in the New Worlds 
 and as one of the few 'instances in the history of 
 art, in which the first inspiration of genius can 
 be distinctly traced to a particular circumstance. 
 The drawing was shown by Mrs. West to her 
 husband, who, remembering the prediction of 
 Peck over, was delighted with this early indica- 
 tion of talent in his son. But the fact, though 
 in itself very curious, will appear still more re- 
 markable, when the state of the country at that 
 period, and the peculiar manners of the Quakers, 
 are taken into consideration. 
 
 The institutions of William Penn had been 
 sacredly preserved by the descendants of the first 
 settlers, with whom the remembrance of the 
 causes Mdiich had led their ancestors to forsake 
 their native country, was cherished like the tra- 
 ditions of religion, and became a motive to them- 
 
12 
 
 selves, for indulging in the exercise of those 
 blameless principles, which had been so ob- 
 noxious to the arrogant spirit of the Old World. 
 The associates of the Wests and the Pearsons, 
 considered the patriarchs of Pennsylvania as hav- 
 ing been driven from England, because their en- 
 deavours to regulate their conduct by the example 
 of Jesus Christ, mortified the temporal preten- 
 sions of those who satisfied themselves with at- 
 tempting to repeat his doctrines; and they 
 thought that the asylum in America was chosen, 
 to facilitate the enjoyment of that affectionate in- 
 tercourse which their tenets enjoined, free from 
 the military predilections and political jealousies 
 of Europe. The effect of this opinion tended to 
 produce a state of society more peaceful and 
 pleasing than the World had ever before exhi- 
 bited. When the American Poets shall in future 
 times celebrate the golden age of their country, 
 they will draw their descriptions from the au- 
 thentic history of Pennsylvania in the reign of 
 King George the Second. 
 
 From the first emigration in ibSl, the colony 
 had continued to thrive with a rapidity unknown 
 to the other European Settlements. It was blessed 
 
13 
 
 in the maxims upon which it had been founded, 
 and richly exhibited the fruits of their beneficent 
 operation. At the birth of Benjamin West it 
 had obtained great wealth, and the population 
 was increasing much more vigorously than the 
 ordinary re- production of the human species in 
 any other part of the world. In the houses of 
 the principal families, the patricians of the coun- 
 try, unlimited hospitality formed a part of their 
 regular economy. It was the custom among 
 those who resided near the highways, after sup- 
 per and the last religious exercise of the evening, 
 to make a large fire in the hall, and to set out a 
 table with refreshments for such travellers as 
 might have occasion to pass during the night ; 
 and when the families assembled in the morning 
 they seldom found that their tables had been un- 
 visited. This was particularly the case at Spring- 
 field. Poverty was never heard of in the land. 
 The disposition to common charity having no 
 objects, was blended with the domestic affections, 
 and rendered the ties of friendship and kindred 
 stronger and dearer. Acts of liberality were fre- 
 quently performed to an extent that would have 
 beggared the munificence of the Old World. 
 
14 
 
 With all these delightful indications of a better 
 order of things, society in Pennsylvania retained, 
 at this time, many of those respectable prejudices 
 which gave a venerable grace to manners, and 
 are regarded by the practical philosopher as little 
 inferior in dignity to the virtues. William Penn 
 was proud of his distinguished parentage, and 
 many of his friends traced their lineage to the 
 antient and noble families of England. In their 
 descendants the pride of ancestry was so tern- 
 pered with the meekness of their religious tenets, 
 that it lent a kind of patriarchal dignity to their 
 benevolence. 
 
 In beautiful contrast to the systematic morality 
 of the new inhabitants, was the simplicity of the 
 Indians, who mingled safe and harmless among 
 the Friends. In the annual visits which they 
 were in the practice of paying to the Plantations, 
 they raised their huts in the fields and orchards 
 without asking leave, nor were they ever molested. 
 Voltaire has observed, that the treaty which was 
 concluded between the Indians and William Penn 
 was the first public contract which connected the 
 inhabitants of the Old and New World together, 
 and, though not ratified by oaths, and without 
 
15 
 
 invoking the Trinity, is still the only treaty that 
 has never been broken. It may be farther said, 
 that Pennsylvania is the first country which has 
 not been subdued by the sword, for the inha- 
 bitants were conquered by the force of Christian 
 benevolence. 
 
 When the great founder of the State marked 
 out the site of Philadelphia in the woods, he 
 allotted a piece of ground for a public library. 
 It was his opinion, that although the labour of 
 clearing the country would long employ the set- 
 tlers, hours of relaxation would still be requisite ; 
 and, with his usual sagacity, he judged that the 
 reading of books was more conducive to good 
 morals and to the formation of just sentiments, 
 than any other species of amusement. The dif- 
 ferent counties afterwards instituted libraries, 
 which the townships have also imitated : where 
 the population was insufficient to establish a 
 large collection of books, the neighbouring fami- 
 lies formed themselves into societies for procuring 
 the popular publications. But in these arrange- 
 ments for cultivating the powers of the under- 
 standing, no provision was made, during the 
 reign of George the Second, for improving the 
 
faculties of taste. The works of which the 
 libraries then consisted, treated of useful and 
 practical subjects. It was the policy of the Qua- 
 kers to make mankind wiser and better; and they 
 thought that, as the passions are the springs of 
 all moral evil when in a state of excitement, 
 whatever tends to awaken them is unfavourable 
 to that placid tenour of mind which they wished 
 to see diffused throughout the world. This no- 
 tion is prudent, perhaps judicious ; but works of 
 imagination may be rendered subservient to the 
 same purpose. Every thing in Pennsylvania was 
 thus unpropitious to the fine arts. There were 
 no cares in the bosoms of individuals to require 
 public diversions, nor any emulation in the ex- 
 penditure of wealth to encourage the ornamental 
 manufactures. In the whole Christian world no 
 spot was apparently so unlikely to produce a 
 painter as Pennsylvania. It might, indeed, be 
 supposed, according to a popular opinion, that a 
 youth, reared among the concentrating elements 
 of a new state, in the midst of boundless forests, 
 tremendous waterfalls, and mountains whose 
 summits were inaccessible to the lightest foot 
 and wildest wing,” was the most favourable 
 
17 
 
 situation to imbibe the enthusiasm either of 
 poetry or of painting, if scenery and such acci- 
 dental circumstances are to be regarded as every 
 thing, and original character as nothing. But 
 it may reasonably be doubted if ever natural 
 scenery has any assignable influence on the pro- 
 ductions of genius. The idea has probably arisen 
 from the impression which the magnificence of 
 nature makes on persons of cultivated minds, 
 who fall into the mistake of considering the 
 elevated emotions arising in reality from their 
 own associations, as being naturally connected 
 with the objects that excite them. Of all the 
 nations of Europe the Swiss are the least poetical, 
 and yet the scenery of no other country seems 
 so well calculated as that of Switzerland to awaken 
 the imagination ; and Shakespeare, the greatest 
 of all modern Poets, was brought up in one of 
 the least picturesque districts of England. 
 
 Soon after the occurrence of the incident 
 which has given rise to these observations, the 
 young Artist was sent to a school in the neigh- 
 bourhood. During his hours of leisure he was 
 permitted to draw with pen and ink ; for it did 
 
 c 
 
i8 
 
 not occur to any of the family to provide him 
 with better materials. In the course of the 
 summer a party of Indians came to pay their 
 annual visit to Springfield, and being amused 
 with the sketches of birds and flowers which 
 Benjamin shewed them, they taught him to pre- 
 pare the red and yellow colours with which they 
 painted their ornaments. To these his mother 
 added blue, by giving him a piece of indigo, so that 
 he was thus put in possession of the three primary 
 colours. The fancy is disposed to expatiate on 
 this interesting fact ; for the mythologies of an- 
 tiquity furnish no allegory more beautiful ; and 
 a Painter who would embody the metaphor of 
 an Artist instructed by Nature, could scarcely 
 imagine any thing more picturesque than the 
 real incident of the Indians instructing West 
 to prepare the prismatic colours. The Indians 
 also taught him to be an expert archer, and he 
 was sometimes in the practice of shooting birds 
 for models, when he thought that their plumage 
 would look well in a picture. 
 
 His drawings at length attracted the atten- 
 tion of the neighbours ; and some of them 
 
19 
 
 happening to regret that the Artist had no pen- 
 cils, he enquired what kind of things these w^ere, 
 and they were described to him as small brushes 
 made of camels’ hair fastened in a quill. As 
 there were, however, no camels in America, 
 he could not think of any substitute, till he 
 happened to cast his eyes on a black cat, the 
 favourite of his father ; when, in the tapering 
 fur of her tail, he discovered the means of 
 supplying what he wanted. He immediately 
 armed himself with his mother’s scissors, and, 
 laying hold of Grimalkin with all due caution, 
 and a proper attention to her feelings, cut off the 
 fur at the end of her tail, and with this made his 
 first pencil. But the tail only furnished him 
 with one, wdiich did not last long, and he soon 
 stood in need of a further supply. He then had 
 recourse to the animal’s back, his depredations 
 upon which were so frequently repeated, that his 
 father observed the altered appearance of his 
 favourite, and lamented it as the effect of dis- 
 ease. The Artist, with suitable marks of contri- 
 tion, informed him of the true cause; and the old 
 gentleman was so much amused with his inge- 
 
 c; 2 
 
20 
 
 nuity, that if he rebuked him, it was certainly 
 not in anger. 
 
 Anecdotes of this kind, trifling as they may 
 seem, have an , interest independent of the in- 
 sight they afford into the character to which 
 they relate. It will often appear, upon a careful 
 study of authentic biography, that the means of 
 giving body and effect to their conceptions, are 
 rarely withheld from men of genius. If the cir- 
 cumstances of Fortune are unfavourable. Nature 
 instructs them to draw assistance immediately 
 from herself, by endowing them with the faculty 
 of perceiving a fitness and correspondence in 
 things which no force of reasoning, founded on 
 the experience of others, could enable them to 
 discover. This aptness is, perhaps, the surest 
 indication of the possession of original talent. 
 There are minds of a high class to which the 
 world, in the latitude of its expressions, often 
 ascribes genius, but which possess only a supe- 
 rior capacity for the application of other men’s 
 notions, unconnected with any unusual portion 
 of the inventive faculty. 
 
21 
 
 ' In the following year Mr. Pennington, a 
 merchant of Philadelphia, who was related to 
 the West family, came to pay a visit to Mr. 
 West. This gentleman was also a member of 
 the Society of Friends, and, though strictly at- 
 tentive to the peculiar observances of the sect, 
 was a man of pleasant temper and indulgent 
 dispositions. He noticed the drawings of birds 
 and flowers round the room, unusual ornaments 
 in the house of a Quaker; and heard with sur- 
 prise that they were the work of his little cousin. 
 Of their merit as pictures he did not pretend 
 to judge, but he thought them wonderful pro- 
 ductions for a boy only entering on his eighth 
 year, and being told with what imperfect mate- 
 rials they had been executed, he promised to 
 send the young Artist a box of paints and pen- 
 cils from the city. On his return home he ful- 
 filled his engagement, and at the bottom of the 
 box placed several pieces of canvass prepared for 
 the easel, and six engravings by Grevling. 
 
 The arrival of the box was an aera in the ' 
 history of the Painter and his art. It was received 
 with feelings of delight which only a similar mind 
 
22 
 
 can justly appreciate. He opened it, and in the 
 colours, the oils, and the pencils, found all his 
 wants supplied, even beyond his utmost con- 
 ceptions. But who can describe the surprise 
 with which he beheld the engravings ; he who 
 had never seen any picture but his own draw- 
 ings, nor knew that such an art as the Engraver’s 
 existed ! He sat over the box with enamoured 
 eyes ; his mind was in a flutter of joy ; and he 
 could not refrain from constantly touching the 
 different articles, to ascertain that they were real. 
 At night he placed the box on a chair near his 
 bed, and as often as he was overpowered by 
 sleep, he started suddenly and stretched out his 
 hand to satisfy himself that the possession of 
 such a treasure was not merely a pleasing dream. 
 He rose at the dawn of day, and carried the 
 box to a room in the garret, where he spread 
 a canvass, prepared a pallet, and immediately 
 began to imitate the figures in the engravings. 
 Enchanted by his art he forgot the school hours, 
 and joined the family at dinner without mention- 
 ing the employment in which he had been en- 
 gaged. In the afternoon he again retired to his 
 study in the garret; and for several days sue- 
 
23 
 
 cessively he thus withdrew and devoted himself 
 to painting. The schoolmaster, observing his 
 absence, sent to ask the cause of it. Mrs. West, 
 affecting not to take any particular notice of the 
 message, recollected that she had seen Benjamin 
 going up stairs every morning, and suspecting 
 that the box occasioned his neglect of the school, 
 went to the garret, and found him employed 
 on the picture. Her anger was appeased by the 
 sight of his performance, and changed to a very 
 different feeling. She saw, not a mere copy, 
 but a composition from two of the engravings. 
 With no other guide than that delicacy of sight 
 which renders the Painter’s eye, with respect to 
 colours, what the Musician’s ear is with respect 
 to sounds, he had formed a picture as complete, 
 in the scientific arrangement of the tints, not- 
 withstanding the necessary imperfection of the 
 pencilling, as the most skilful Artist could have 
 painted, assisted by the precepts of Newton. She 
 kissed him with transports of affection, and 
 assured him that she would not only intercede 
 with his father to pardon him for having absented 
 himself from school, but would go herself to the 
 master, and beg that he might not be punished. 
 
24 
 
 The delightful encouragement which this well- 
 judged kindness afforded to the young Painter 
 may be easily imagined ; but who will not regret 
 that the mother’s over-anxious admiration would 
 not suffer him to finish the picture, lest he should 
 spoil what was already in her opinion perfect, 
 even with half the canvass bare ? Sixty-seven 
 years afterwards the writer of these Memoirs 
 had the gratification to see this piece in the 
 same room with the sublime painting of Christ 
 Rejected,” on which occasion the Painter de- 
 clared to him that there were inventive touches 
 of art in his first and juvenile essay, which, with 
 all his subsequent knowledge and experience, he 
 had not been able to surpass. 
 
25 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 The Artist visits Philadelphia. — His second Picture. — Wil- 
 liams the Painter gives him the works ofFresnoy and Richard- 
 son . — Anecdote of the Taylor s Apprentice . — The Drawings 
 of the Schoolboys. — Anecdote relative to Wayne. — Anec- 
 dote relative to Mr. Flower. — Anecdote relative to Mr. Ross. 
 — ■ Anecdote of Mr. Henry. — The Artist's first Historical 
 Picture. — Origin of his Acquaintance with Dr. Smith of 
 Philadelphia . — The friendship of Dr. Smith, and the cha- 
 racter of the early companions of West. — Anecdote of Gene- 
 ral Washington. 
 
 In the course of a few days after the affair 
 of the painting, Mr. Pennington paid another 
 visit to Mr. West ; and was so highly pleased 
 with the effect of his present, and the promising 
 talents of his young relation, that he entreated 
 the old gentleman to allow Benjamin to accom- 
 pany him for a few days to Philadelphia. This 
 was cheerfully agreed to, and the Artist felt him- 
 self almost as much delighted with the journey 
 
^6 
 
 as with the box of colours. Every thing in the 
 town filled him with astonishment ; but the view 
 of the shipping, which was entirely new, par- 
 ticularly attracted his eye, and interested him 
 like the imaginary spectacles of magic. 
 
 When the first emotions of his pleasure and 
 wonder had subsided, he applied to Mr. Pen- 
 nington to procure him materials for painting. 
 That gentleman was desirous of getting pos- 
 session of the first picture, and had only resigned 
 what he jocularly alleged were his just claims, 
 in consideration of the mother’s feelings, and 
 on being assured that the next picture should 
 be purposely painted for him. The materials 
 were procured, and the Artist composed a land- 
 scape, w'hich comprehended a picturesque view 
 of a river, with vessels on the water, and cattle 
 pasturing on the banks. While he was engaged 
 in this picture, an incident occurred which, 
 though trivial in itself, was so much in unison 
 with the other circumstances that favoured the 
 bent of his genius, that it ought not to be 
 omitted. 
 
27 
 
 Samuel Shcemaker an intimate Friend of 
 Mr. Pennington^ one of the principal merchants 
 of Philadelphia, happened to meet in the street 
 with one Williams, a Painter, carrying home 
 a picture. Struck by the beauty of the per- 
 formance, he enquired if it was intended for 
 sale, and being told that it was already dis- 
 posed of, he ordered another to be painted for 
 himself. When the painting was finished, he 
 requested the Artist to carry it to Mr. Pen- 
 nington’s house, in order that it might be 
 shewn to young West. It was very well exe- 
 cuted, and the boy was so much astonished at 
 the sight of it, that his emotion and surprise 
 attracted the attention of Williams, wdio was 
 a man of observation, and judged correctly in 
 thinking that such an uncommon manifestation 
 of sensibility in so young a boy, indicated some- 
 thing extraordinary in his character. He en- 
 tered into conversation with him, and enquired 
 if he had read any books, or the lives of great 
 men. The little amateur told him that he had 
 
 * This gentleman was afterwards introduced by Mr. West 
 to the King> at Windsor^ as one of the American Loyalists. 
 
28 
 
 read the Bible, and was well acquainted with the 
 history of Adam, Joseph, David, Solomon, and 
 the other great and good men whose actions are 
 recorded in the Holy Scriptures. Williams was 
 much pleased with the simplicity of the answer; 
 and it might have occurred to him that histories 
 more interesting have never been written, or 
 written so well. Turning to Mr. Pennington^ 
 who was present, he asked if Benjamin was his 
 son ; advising him at the same time to indulge 
 him in whatever might appear to be the bent 
 of his talents, assuring him that he was no com- 
 mon boy. 
 
 This interview was afterwards much spoken 
 of by Williams, who in the mean time lent 
 him the works of Fresnoy and Richardson on 
 Painting, and invited him to see his pictures 
 and drawings. The impression which these 
 books made on the imagination of West finally 
 decided his destination. He was allowed to 
 carry them with him into the country ; and 
 his father and mother, soon perceiving a great 
 change in his conversation, were referred to 
 the books for an explanation of the cause. 
 They read them for the first time themselves^ 
 
and treasuring in their minds those anecdotes 
 of the indications of the early symptoms of 
 talent with which both works abound^ they 
 remembered the prophetic injunction of Edmund 
 Peckover. 
 
 The effect of the enthusiasm inspired by 
 Richardson and Fresnoy may be conceived from 
 the following incident. Soon after the young 
 Artist had returned to Springfield, one of his 
 schoolfellows, on a Saturday’s half holiday, en- 
 gaged him to give up a party at trap-ball to ride 
 with him to one of the neighbouring plantations. 
 At the time appointed the boy came, with the 
 horse saddled. West enquired how he was to 
 ride ; Behind me,” said the boy; but Benjamin, 
 full of the dignity of the profession to which he 
 felt himself destined, answered, that he never 
 would ride behind any body. O ! very well 
 then,” said the good-natured boy, you may take 
 the saddle, and I will get up behind you.” Thus 
 mounted, they proceeded on their excursion ; 
 and the boy began to inform his companion 
 that his father intended to send him to be an 
 apprentice. In w'hat business ?” enquired West; 
 
30 
 
 A taylor/' answered the boy. Surely/’ said 
 West, you wilt never follow that trade ani- 
 madverting upon its feminine character. The 
 other, however, was a shrewd, sound-headed lad, 
 and defended the election very stoutly, saying 
 that his father had made choice of it for him, 
 and that the person with whom he was to learn 
 the business was much respected by all his neigh- 
 bours. But what do you intend to be, Ben- 
 jamin ?” West answered, that he had not 
 thought at all on the subject, but he should like 
 to be a painter. painter!” exclaimed the 
 
 boy, what sort of a trade is a painter ? I never 
 heard of such a thing.” A painter,” said 
 West, is a companion for Kings and Empe- 
 rors.” Surely you are mad,” replied the boy, 
 for there are no such people in America.” 
 Very true,” answered Benjamin, but there 
 “ are plenty in other parts of the world.” The 
 other, still more amazed at the apparent absurd- 
 ity of this speech, reiterated in a tone of greater 
 surprise, You are surely quite mad.” To this 
 the enthusiast replied by asking him if he re^ly 
 intended to be a taylor. Most certainly,” an- 
 swered the other. Then you may ride by your- 
 
self, for I will no longer keep your company,” 
 said West, and, alighting, immediately returned 
 home. 
 
 The report of this incident, with the affair of 
 the picture, which had occasioned his absence 
 from school, and visit to Philadelphia, made 
 a great impression on the boys in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Springfield. All their accustomed 
 sports were neglected, and their play-hours de- 
 voted to drawing with chalk and oker. The 
 little president was confessedly the most expert 
 among them, but he has often since declared, 
 that, according to his recollection, many of 
 his juvenile companions evinced a degree of 
 taste and skill in this exercise, that would not 
 have discredited the students of any regular 
 academy. 
 
 Not far from the residence of Mr. West a 
 cabinet-maker had a shop, in which Benjamin 
 sometimes amused himself with the tools of the 
 workmen. One day several large and beautiful 
 boards of poplar tree were brought to it ; and he 
 happening to observe that they would answer 
 
very well for drawing on, the owner gave him 
 two or three of them for that purpose, and he 
 drew figures and compositions on them with 
 ink, chalk, and charcoal. Mr. Wayne, a gentle- 
 man of the neighbourhood, having soon after 
 occasion to call at his father’s, noticed the boards 
 in the room, and was so much pleased with the 
 drawings, that he begged the young Artist to 
 allow him to take two or three of them home, 
 which, as but little value was set on them, was 
 thought no great favour, either by the painter 
 or his father. Next day Mr. Wayne called 
 again, and after complimenting Benjamin on his 
 taste and proficiency, gave him a dollar for each 
 of the boards which he had taken away, and 
 was resolved to preserve. Doctor Jonathan 
 Moris, another neighbour, soon after, also made 
 him a present of a few dollars to buy materials 
 to paint with. These were the first public pa- 
 trons of the Artist ; and it is at his own request 
 that their names are thus particularly inserted. 
 
 About twelve months after the visit to Phi- 
 ladelphia, Mr. Flower, one of the Justices 
 of the county of Chester, who possessed some 
 
33 
 
 taste in painting, requested Mr* West to allow 
 Benjamin to spend a few weeks at his house. A 
 short time before, this gentleman had met with 
 a severe domestic misfortune in the loss of a wife, 
 to whom he was much attached ; and he resolved 
 to shew his respect to her memory by devoting 
 his attention exclusively to the improvement of 
 his children : for this purpose he had sent to 
 England for a governess qualified to undertake 
 the education of his daughters, and he had the 
 good fortune to obtain a lady eminently fitted 
 for the trust. She arrived a few days only before 
 the young Artist, and her natural discernment 
 enabled her to appreciate that original bias of 
 mind which she had heard ascribed to him, and of 
 which she soon perceived the determination and 
 the strength. Finding him unacquainted with 
 any other books than the Bible, and the works of 
 Richardson and Fresnoy, she frequently invited 
 him to sit with her pupils, and, during the inter- 
 vals of their tasks, she read to him the most strik- 
 ing and picturesque passages from translations of 
 the antient historians and poetry, of which Mr. 
 Flower had a choice and extensive collection. 
 It was from this intelligent woman that he heard. 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 for the first time, of the Greeks and Romans; 
 and the impression which the story of those illus- 
 trious nations made on his mind, was answerable 
 to her expectations. 
 
 Among the acquaintance of Mr. Flower was a 
 Mr. Ross, a lawyer in the town of Lancaster, a 
 place at that time remarkable for its wealth, and 
 which had the reputation of possessing the best 
 and most intelligent society to be then found in 
 America. It was chiefly inhabited by Germans, 
 who of all people in the practice of emigrating, 
 carry along with them the greatest stock of know- 
 ledge and accomplishments. The society of Lan- 
 caster, therefore, though it could not boast of 
 any very distinguished character, yet compre- 
 hended many individuals who were capable of 
 appreciating the merit of essays in art, and of 
 discriminating the rude efforts of real genius from 
 the more complete productions of mere me- 
 chanical skill. It was exactly in such a place 
 that such a youth as Benjamin West was likely 
 to meet with that flattering attention which is 
 the best stimulus of juvenile talent. The wife of 
 Mr. Ross was greatly admired for her beauty, and 
 
35 
 
 she had several children who were so remarkable 
 in this respect as to be objects of general notice. 
 One day when Mr. Flower was dining with them^ 
 he advised his friend to have their portraits taken; 
 arid mentioned that they would be excellent sub- 
 jects for young Westi Application was in con- 
 sequence made to old Mr. West^ and permission 
 obtained for the little Artist to go to Lancaster 
 for the purpose of taking the likenesses of Mrs. 
 Ross and her family. Such was the success with 
 which he executed this task, that the sphere of 
 his celebrity was greatly enlarged ; and so nu- 
 merous were the applications for portraits, that 
 it was with difficulty he could find time to satisfy 
 the demands of his admirers. 
 
 Among those who sent to him in this early 
 stage of his career, was a person of the name of 
 William Henry, He was an able mechanic, and 
 had acquired a handsome fortune by his profes- 
 sion of a gunsmith. Henry was, indeed, in se- 
 veral respects, an extraordinary man, and pos- 
 sessed the power generally attendant upon genius 
 under all circumstances, that of interesting the 
 imagination of those with whom he conversed. 
 
 D 2 
 
36 
 
 On examining the young Artist’s performance, 
 he observed to him, that, if he could paint as 
 well, he would not waste his time on portraits, 
 but would devote himself to historical subjects ; 
 and he mentioned the Death of Socrates as af- 
 fording one of the best topics for illustrating the 
 moral effect of the art of painting. The Painter 
 knew nothing of the history of the Philosopher ; 
 and, upon confessing his ignorance, Mr. Henry 
 went to his library, and, taking down a volume 
 of the English translation of Plutarch, read to 
 him the account given by that writer of this 
 affecting story. 
 
 The suggestion and description wrought upon 
 the imagination of West, and induced him to 
 make a drawing, which he shewed to Mr. Henry, 
 who commended it as a perspicuous delineation 
 of the probable circumstances of the event, and 
 requested him to paint it. West said that he would 
 be happy to undertake the task, but, having 
 hitherto painted only faces and men cloathed, he 
 should be unable to do justice to the figure of the 
 slave who presented the poison, and which he 
 thought ought to be naked. Henry had among 
 
37 
 
 his workmen a very handsome young man, and, 
 without waiting to answer the objection, he sent 
 for him into the room. On his entrance he 
 pointed him out to West, and said, There is 
 your model.” The appearance of the young man, 
 whose arms and breast were naked, instant- 
 aneously convinced the Artist that he had only 
 to look into nature for the models which would 
 impart grace and energy to his delineation of 
 forms. 
 
 When the death of Socrates was finished, it 
 attracted much attention, and led to one of those 
 fortunate acquaintances by which the subsequent 
 career of the Artist has been so happily facilitated. 
 About this period the inhabitants of Lancaster 
 had resolved to erect a public grammar-school ; 
 and Dr. Smith, the Provost of the College at 
 Philadelphia, was invited by them to arrange 
 the course of instruction, and to place the in- 
 stitution in the way best calculated to answer the 
 intention of the founders. This gentleman was 
 an excellent classical scholar, and combined with 
 his knowledge and admiration of the merits of 
 the antients that liberality of respect for the en- 
 
38 
 
 deavours of modern talent, with which the same 
 kind of feeling is but rarely found connected. 
 After seeing the picture and conversing with the 
 Artist, he offered to undertake to make him to 
 a certain degree acquainted with classical litera- 
 ture ; while at the same time he would give him 
 such a sketch of the taste and character of the 
 spirit of antiquity, as would have all the effect 
 of the regular education requisite to a painter. 
 When this liberal proposal was communicated to 
 old Mr. West, he readily agreed that Benjamin 
 should go for some time to Philadelphia, in order 
 to take advantage of the Provost’s instructions ; 
 and accordingly, after returning home for a few 
 days, Benjamin went to the capital, and resided 
 at the house of Mr. Clarkson, his brother-in-law, 
 a gentleman who had been educated at Leyden, 
 and was much respected for the intelligence of his 
 conversation, and the propriety of his manners. 
 
 Provost Smith introduced West, among other 
 persons, to four young men, pupils of his own, 
 whom he particularly recommended to his ac- 
 quaintance, as possessing endowments of mind 
 greatly superior to the common standard of man- 
 
39 
 
 kind. One of these was Francis Hopkins, who 
 afterwards highly distinguished himself in the 
 early proceedings of the Congress of the United 
 States. Thomas Godfrey, the second, died after 
 having given the most promising indications of 
 an elegant genius for pathetic and descriptive 
 poetry. He was an apprentice to a watchmaker, 
 and had secretly written a poem, which he pub- 
 lished anonymously in the Philadelphia news- 
 paper, under the title of The Temple of Fame.” 
 The attention which it attracted, and the enco- 
 miums which the Provost in particular bestowed 
 on it, induced West, who was in the Poet’s con- 
 fidence, to mention to him who was the author. 
 The information excited the alert benevolence of 
 Smith’s character, and he lost no time until he 
 had procured the release of Godfrey from his in- 
 denture, and a respectable employment for him 
 in the government of the state ; but this he did 
 not live long to enjoy: being sent on some 
 public business to Carolina, he fell a victim to 
 the climate. 
 
 It is pleasant to redeem from oblivion the me- 
 mory of early talent thus prematurely withdrawn 
 
40 
 
 from the world. Many of Godfrey’s verses were 
 composed under a clump of pines which grew 
 near the upper ferry of the river Schuylkill, to 
 which spot he sometimes accompanied West and 
 their mutual friends to angle. In the heat of the 
 day he used to stretch himself beneath the shade 
 of the trees, and repeat to them his verses as he 
 composed them. Reid was the name of the 
 other young man, and the same person who first 
 opposed the British troops in their passing 
 through Jersey, when the rebellion of the Pro- 
 vinces commenced. Previous to the revolution, 
 he was bred to the bar, and practised with dis- 
 tinction in the courts of Philadelphia. He was 
 afterwards elected a Member of Congress, and is 
 the same person who was appointed to meet Lord 
 Carlisle on his mission from the British Court. 
 
 Provost Smith was himself possessed of a fluent 
 vein of powerful eloquence, and it happened that 
 many of his pupils who distinguished themselves 
 in the great struggle of their country, appeared 
 to have imbibed his talent ; but none of them 
 more than Jacob Duchey, another of the four 
 youths whom he recommended to the Artist. 
 
41 
 
 He became a Clergyman, and was celebrated 
 throughout the whole of the British Provinces 
 in America as a most pathetic and persuasive 
 preacher. The publicity of his character in 
 the world was, however, chiefly owing to a let- 
 ter which he addressed to General Washington, 
 soon after the appointment of that chief to the 
 command of the army. The purport of this 
 letter was to persuade the General to go over 
 to the British cause. It was carried to him by a 
 Mrs. Ferguson, a daughter of Doctor Graham, a 
 Scottish Physician in Philadelphia. Washing- 
 ton, with his army, at that time lay at Valley- 
 forge, and this lady, on the pretext of paying 
 him a visit, as they were previously acquainted, 
 went to the camp. The General received her 
 in his tent with much respect, for he greatly 
 admired the masculine vigour of her mind. 
 When she had delivered the letter he read it 
 attentively, and, rising from his seat, walked 
 backwards and forwards upwards of an hour, 
 without speaking. He appeared to be much 
 agitated during the greatest part of the time; but 
 at length, having decided with himself, he 
 stopped, and addressed her in nearly the follow- 
 
42 
 
 ing words : Madam, I have alw'ays esteemed 
 
 your character and endowments, and I am fully 
 sensible of the noble principles by which you are 
 actuated on this occasion ; nor has any man in 
 the whole continent more confidence in the inte- 
 grity of his friend, than I have in the honour of 
 Mr. Dudley. But I am here entrusted by the 
 people of America with sovereign authority. They 
 have placed their lives and fortunes at my dis- 
 posal, because they believe me to be an honest 
 man. Were I, therefore, to desert their cause, 
 and consign them again to the British, what would 
 be the consequence? to myself perpetual infamy; 
 and to them endless calamity. The seeds of ever- 
 lasting division are sown between the two coun- 
 tries ; and, were the British again to become our 
 masters, they would have to maintain their do- 
 minion by force, and would, after all, retain us 
 in subjection only so long as they could hold their 
 bayonets to our breasts. No, Madam, the pro- 
 posal of Mr. Duchey, though conceived with the 
 best intention, is not framed in wisdom. America 
 and England must be separate states ; but they 
 may have common interests, for they are but one 
 people. It will, therefore, be the object of my 
 
43 
 
 life and ambition to establish the independence of 
 America in the first place ; and in the second, to 
 arrange such a community of interests between 
 the two nations as shall indemnify them for 
 the calamities which they now suffer, and form 
 a new aera in the history of nations. But, Ma- 
 dam, you are aware that I have many enemies ; 
 Congress may hear of your visit, and of this letter, 
 and I should be suspected were I to conceal it 
 from them. I respect you truly, as I have said ; 
 and I esteem the probity and motives of Mr. Du- 
 chey, and therefore you are free to depart from 
 the camp, but the letter will be transmitted with- 
 out delay to Congress.” 
 
 Mrs. Ferguson herself communicated the cir- 
 cumstances of this interesting transaction to Mr. 
 West, after she came to England; for she, as well 
 as Mr. Duchey, were obliged to quit the country. 
 It is painful to add, that Duchey came to England, 
 and was allowed to pine unnoticed by the Go- 
 vernment, and was heard of no more. 
 
44 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 The course of instruction adopted hy Provost Smith.-— The 
 Artist led to the discovery of the Camera. — His Father be- 
 comes anxious to place him in business. — Extraordinary pro- 
 ceedings of the Quakers in consequence . — The Speech of 
 Williamson the Preacher in defence of the Fine Arts. — Mag- 
 nanimous Resolution of the Quakers. — Reflections on this 
 singular transaction. 
 
 There was something so judicious in the 
 plan of study which Provost Smith had formed 
 for his pupil^ that it deserves to be particularly 
 considered. He regarded him as destined to be 
 a Painter; and on this account did not impose 
 upon him those grammatical exercises of language 
 which are usually required from the young student 
 of the classics, but directed his attention to those 
 incidents which were likely to interest his fancy, 
 and to furnish him at some future time with sub- 
 jects for the easel. He carried him immediately 
 to those passages of antient history which make 
 
45 
 
 the most lasting impression on the imagination 
 of the regular-bred scholar, and described the 
 picturesque circumstances of the transactions with 
 a minuteness of detail that would have been su- 
 perfluous to a general student. 
 
 In the midst of this course of education the 
 Artist happened to be taken ill of a slight fever, 
 and when .it had subsided, he was in so weak 
 a state as to be obliged to keep his bed, and to 
 have the room darkened. In this situation he 
 remained several days, with no other light than 
 what was admitted by the seams and fissures in 
 the window-shutters, which had the usual effect 
 of expanding the pupil of his eyes to such a de- 
 gree that he could distinctly see every object in 
 the room, which to others appeared in complete 
 obscurity. While he was thus lying in bed, he 
 observed the apparitional form of a white cow 
 enter at the one side of the roof, and walking 
 over the bed, gradually vanish at the other. The 
 phenomenon surprised him exceedingly, and he 
 feared that his mind was impaired by his disease, 
 which his sister also suspected, when on entering 
 to inquire how he felt himself, he related to her 
 
46 “ 
 
 what he had seen. Without, however, saying 
 any thing, she went immediately and informed 
 her husband, who accompanied her back to the 
 apartment; and as they were standing near the 
 bed. West repeated the story, exclaiming in his 
 discourse that he saw, at the very moment in 
 which he was then speaking, several little pigs 
 running along the roof. This confirmed them in 
 the apprehension of his delirium, and they sent 
 for a physician. But the doctor could discover 
 no symptoms of fever; the pulse was regular, the 
 skin moist and cool, the thirst was abated, and 
 indeed every thing about the patient indicated 
 convalescence. Still the Painter persisted in his 
 story, and assured them that he then saw the 
 figures of several of their mutual friends passing- 
 on the roof, over the bed ; and that he even saw" 
 fowls pecking, and the very stones of the street. 
 All this seemed to them very extraordinary, for 
 their eyes, not accustomed to the gloom of the 
 chamber, could discern nothing ; and the learned 
 physician himself, in despite of the symptoms, 
 began to suspect that the convalescent was really 
 delirious. Prescribing, therefore, a composing 
 mixture, w"hich the Painter submitted to swallow. 
 
47 
 
 he took his fee and leave, requesting Mrs. Clark- 
 son and her husband to come away and not dis- 
 turb the patient. After they had retired, curio- 
 sity overcame the influence of the drug, and the 
 Artist got up, determined to find out the cause 
 of the strange apparitions which had so alarmed 
 them all. In a short time he discovered a diago- 
 nal knot-hole in one of the window-shutters, and 
 upon placing his hand over it, the visionary paint- 
 ings on the roof disappeared. This confirmed 
 him in an opinion that he began to form, that 
 there must be some simple natural cause for 
 what he had seen ; and, having thus ascertained 
 the way in which it acted, he called his sister and 
 her husband into the room and explained it to 
 them. When able to go down stairs, Mr. Clark- 
 son gave him permission to perforate one of the 
 parlour window-shutters horizontally, in order to 
 obtain a representation on the wall of the build- 
 ings of the opposite side of the street. The effect 
 was as he expected, but, to his astonishment, 
 the objects appeared inverted. Without attempt- 
 ing to remedy this with the aid of glasses, as a 
 mathematical genius would perhaps have done, 
 he was delighted to see in it the means of stu- 
 
48 
 
 dying the pictural appearance of Nature, and he 
 hailed the discovery as a revelation to promote 
 his improvement in the art of painting. On his 
 return soon after to his father’s, he had a box 
 made with one of the sides perforated ; and, ad- 
 verting to the reflective power of the mirror, he 
 contrived, without ever having heard of the in- 
 strument, to invent the Camera. Thus furnish- 
 ing another proof, that although the faculty 
 which enables a man to excel in any particular 
 art or science is a natural endowment, it is seldom 
 unaccompanied with a general superiority of ob- 
 servation. It will, however, not be disputed, that 
 a boy under sixteen, who had thus, by the guidance 
 of his own unassisted judgment, found out a me- 
 thod of ascertaining the colour and outline of 
 natural objects as they should appear in painting, 
 possessed no ordinary mind. Observations of 
 this nature mark the difference between innate 
 talent and instructed habits ; and, whether in 
 painting, or in poetry, in art, or in science, con- 
 stitute the source of that peculiarity of intellect 
 which is discriminated from the eflPects of educa- 
 tion by the name of original talent. The self- 
 educated man of genius, when his mind is formed, 
 
49 
 
 differs but little in the method of expressing his 
 notions^ from the most mechanical disciple of the 
 s.chools ; but the process by which he attains that 
 result, renders his history interesting by its inci- 
 dents, and valuable by the hints which it furnishes 
 for the study of human character. It is, perhaps, 
 also, one great cause of his own distinguishing 
 features of mind, as the very contrivances to 
 which he has recourse have the effect of taking, 
 as it were, something extraneous into the matter 
 of his experiments which tinges the product with 
 curious and singular effects.- — West, on afterwards 
 mentioning his discovery to Williams the painter, 
 was surprised to find himself anticipated, that 
 Artist having received a complete Camera some 
 time before from England. ^ 
 
 In this favourable state of things he attained 
 his sixteenth year, when his father became anx- 
 ious to see him settled in some established bu- 
 siness. For, though reluctant to thwart the bias 
 of a genius at once so decided and original, and 
 to which the injunction of Peckover had rendered 
 him favourable and indulgent, the old gentleman 
 was sensible that the profession of a painter was 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 not only precarious^ but regarded by the religious 
 association to which he belonged, as adverse to 
 their tenets, by being only ornamental ; and he 
 was anxious, on his son’s account and on his 
 own, to avoid those animadversions to which he 
 was exposed by the freedom he had hitherto 
 granted to the predilections of Benjamin. He, 
 therefore, consulted several of his neighbours on 
 the subject ; and a meeting of the Society of 
 Friends in the vicinity was called, to consider, 
 publicly, what ought to be the destiny of his son. 
 
 The assembly met in the Meeting-house near 
 Springfield, and after much debate, approaching 
 to altercation, a man of the name of John Wil- 
 liamson rose, and delivered a very extraordinary 
 speech upon the subject. He was much respected 
 by all present, for the purity and integrity of his 
 life, and enjoyed great influence in his sphere 
 on account of the superiority of his natural wis- 
 dom, and, as a public preacher among the Friends, 
 possessed an astonishing gift of convincing elo- 
 quence. He pointed to old Mr. West and his 
 wife, and expatiated on the blameless reputation 
 which they had so long maintained, and merited 
 
51 
 
 so well. They have had/’ said he, ten chil- 
 dren, whom they have carefully brought up in the 
 fear of God, and in the Christian religion ; and 
 the youth, whose lot in life we are now convened 
 to consider, is Benjamin, their youngest child. 
 It is known to you all that God is pleased, from 
 time to time, to bestow upon some men extraor- 
 dinary gifts of mind, and you need not be told by 
 how wonderful an inspiration their son has been 
 led to cultivate the art of painting. It is true that 
 our tenets deny the utility of that art to mankind. 
 But God has bestowed on the youth a genius for 
 the art, and can we believe that Omniscience be- 
 stows His gifts but for great purposes ? What 
 God has given, who shall dare to throw away? 
 Let us not estimate Almighty wisdom by our no- 
 tions ; let us not presume to arraign His judgment 
 by our ignorance, but in the evident propensity 
 of the young man, be assured that we see an im» 
 pulse of the Divine hand operating towards some 
 high and beneficent end.” 
 
 The effect of this argument, and the lofty com7 
 manding manner in which it was delivered, in- 
 duced the assembly to agree that the Artist should 
 
 E 2 
 
52 
 
 be allowed to indulge the predilections of his 
 genius ; and a private meeting of the Friends was 
 appointed to be holden at his father’s house, at 
 which the youth himself was requested to be pre- 
 sent, in order to receive, in form, the assent and 
 blessing of the Society. On the day of meeting, 
 the great room was put in order, and a numerous 
 company of both sexes assembled. Benjamin 
 was placed by his father, and the men and women 
 took their respective forms on each side. After 
 sitting some time in silence, one of the women 
 rose and addressed the meeting on the wisdom of 
 God, and the various occasions on which He se- 
 lected from among His creatures the agents of His 
 goodness. When she had concluded her exhor- 
 tation, John Williamson also rose, and in a speech 
 than which, perhaps, the porticos of Athens never 
 resounded with a more impressive oratory, he re- 
 sumed the topic which had been the subject of 
 his former address. He began by observing that 
 it was fixed as one of their indisputable maxims, 
 that things merely ornamental were not necessary 
 to the well-being of man, and that all superfluous 
 things should be excluded from the usages and 
 manners of their society. In this proscription. 
 
53 
 
 we have included,” said he, the study of the fine 
 arts, for we see them applied only to embellish 
 pleasures, and to strengthen our inducements to 
 gratify the senses at the expense of our immortal 
 claims. But, because we have seen painting put 
 to this derogatory use, and have, in consequence, 
 prohibited the cultivation of it among us, are we 
 sure that it is not one of those gracious gifts which 
 God has bestowed on the world, not to add to the 
 sensual pleasures of man, but to facilitate his im- 
 provement as a social and a moral being ? The 
 fine arts are called the offspring and the emblems 
 of peace. The Christian religion itself is the 
 doctrine of good will to man. Can those things 
 which only prosper in peace be contrary to the 
 Christian religion ? But, it is said, that the fine 
 arts soften and emasculate the mind. In what 
 way ? is it by withdrawing those who study them 
 from the robust exercises which enable nations and 
 people to make war with success ? Is it by lessen- 
 ing the disposition of mankind to destroy one an- 
 other, and by taming the audacity of their animal 
 fierceness ? Is it for such a reason as this, that w^e 
 who profess to live in unison and friendship, not 
 only aniong ourselves, but with all the world — r 
 
54 
 
 that we should object to the cultivation of the fine 
 arts^ of those arts which disarm the natural fero- 
 city of man ? We may as well be told that the 
 doctrine of peace and life ought to be proscribed 
 in the world because it is pernicious to tbe prac- 
 tice of war and slaughter, as that the arts which 
 call on man to exercise his intellectual powers 
 more than his physical strength, can be contrary 
 to Christianity, and adverse to the benevolence of 
 the Deity. I speak not, however, of the fine arts 
 as the means of amusement, nor the study of them 
 as pastime to fill up the vacant hours of business, 
 though even as such, the taste for them deserves 
 to be regarded as a manifestation of Divine favour, 
 in as much as they dispose the heart to kind and 
 gentle inclinations. For, 1 think them ordained 
 by God for some great and holy purpose. Do we 
 not know that the professors of the fine arts are 
 commonly men greatly distinguished by special 
 gifts of a creative and discerning spirit ? If there 
 be any thing in the usual course of human affairs 
 which exhibits the immediate interposition of the 
 Deity, it is in the progress of the fine arts, in 
 which it would appear he often raises up those 
 great characters, the spirit of whose imaginations 
 
55 
 
 have an interminable influence on posterity, and 
 who are themselves separated and elevated among 
 the generality of mankind, by the name of men 
 of genius. Can we believe that all this is not for 
 some useful purpose? What that purpose is, 
 ought we to pretend to investigate ? Let us ra- 
 ther reflect that the Almighty God has been 
 pleased among us, and in this remote wilderness, 
 to endow, with the rich gifts of a peculiar spirit, 
 that youth who has now our common consent 
 to cultivate his talents for an art, which, accord- 
 ing to our humble and human judgment, was 
 previously thought an unnecessary ministration 
 to the sensual propensities of our nature. May 
 it be demonstrated by the life and works of the 
 Artist, that the gift of God has not been bestowed 
 on him in vain, nor the motives of the beneficent 
 inspiration which induces us to suspend our par- 
 ticular tenets, prove barren of religious or moral 
 effect. On the contrary, let us confidently hope 
 that this occurrence has been for good, and that 
 the consequences which may arise in the society 
 of this new world, from the example which Ben- 
 jamin West will be enabled to give, will be such 
 a love of the arts of peace as shall tend to draw 
 
56 
 
 the ties of affection closer^ and diffuse over a wider 
 extent of community the interests and blessing of 
 fraternal love.” 
 
 At the conclusion of this address, the women 
 rose and kissed the young Artist, and the men, 
 one by one, laid their hands on his head and 
 prayed that the Lord might verify in his life the 
 value of the gift which had induced them, in de- 
 spite of their religious tenets, to allow him to 
 cultivate the faculties of his genius. 
 
 The history of no other individual affords an 
 incident so extraordinary. This could not be 
 called a presentiment, but the result of a clear ex- 
 pectation, that some important consequence would 
 ensue. It may be added that a more beautiful 
 instance of liberality is not to be found in the re- 
 cords of any religious society. Hitherto, all sects, 
 even of Christians, were disposed to regard, with 
 jealousy and hatred, all those members who em- 
 braced anv pursuit that might tend to alienate 
 them from their particular modes of discipline. 
 The Quakers have, therefore, the honour of having 
 been the first to allow, by a public act, that their 
 
57 
 
 conception of the religious duties of man was liable 
 to the errors of the human judgment^ and was 
 not to be maintained on the presumption of be- 
 ing actually according to the will of God. There 
 is' something at once simple and venerable in the 
 humility with which they regarded their own pe- 
 culiar principles^ especially contrasted with the 
 sublime view they appeared to take of the wis- 
 dom and providence of the Deity. But, with 
 whatever delightful feelings strangers and poste- 
 rity may contemplate this beautiful example of 
 Christian magnanimity, it would be impossible to 
 convey any idea of the sentiments with which it 
 affected the youth who was the object of its exer- 
 cise. He must have been less than man had he 
 not endeavoured^ without ceasing, to attain an ho- 
 nourable eminence in his profession ; or, had he 
 forgotten, in the honours which he has since re- 
 ceived from all polished nations, that he was au- 
 thorized by his friends and his religion, to culti- 
 vate the art by which he obtained such distinc- 
 tions, not for his own sake, but as an instrument 
 chosen by Providence to disseminate the arts of 
 peace in the world. 
 
CHAP. IV. 
 
 Reflections on the Eccentricities of Young Men of Genius with 
 respect to pecuniary matters. — - The Death of the Artist's 
 Mother. — The Embodying of the Pennsylvanian Militia ; 
 an Anecdote of General Wayne . — The Artist elected Com- 
 mandant of a corps of Volunteer hoys . — The circumstances 
 which occasioned the Search for the Bones of Bradock's army. 
 
 - — The Search. — The Discovery of the Bones of the Father 
 and Brother of Sir Peter Halket . — The Artist proposed af- 
 terwards to paint a Picture of the Discovery of the Bones of 
 the Halkets. — He commences regularly as a Painter. — He 
 copies a St. Ignatius, — He is induced to attempt Historical 
 Portraiture. — His Picture of the Trial of Susannah. ■ — Of 
 the merits of that Picture. 
 
 np 
 
 X HERE is a regardless independence about 
 minds of superior endowment, which, in similar 
 characters, manifests itself differently according 
 to the circumstances in which they happen to 
 be placed. Devoted to the contemplation of 
 the means of future celebrity, the man of genius 
 frequently finds himself little disposed to set 
 a proper value on the common interests of 
 
59 
 
 of life. When bred in affluence, and eicempted 
 from the necessity of considering the importance 
 of money to the attainment of his object, he is 
 often found, to a blameful degree, negligent of 
 pecuniary concerns ; and, on the contrary, when 
 his situation is such that he may only hope for 
 distinction by the practice of the most parsimo- 
 nious frugality, he will as often appear in the 
 social and propelling season of youth enduring 
 voluntary privations with an equanimity which 
 the ostentatious fanatic or contrite penitent would 
 in vain attempt to surpass. This peculiar feature 
 of the self-sustained mind of genius has often 
 been misunderstood, and seldom valued as it 
 ought to be. The presumptuous weak who mis- 
 take the wish of distinction for the workings of 
 talent, admire the eccentricities of the gifted 
 youth who is reared in opulence, and, mistaking 
 the prodigality which is only the effect of his 
 fortune, for the attributes of his talents, imitate 
 his errors, and imagine that, by copying the 
 blemishes of his conduct, they possess what is 
 illustrious in his mind. Such men are incapable 
 of appreciating the self-denial which Benjamin 
 West made it a duty to impose upon himself on 
 
66 
 
 entering the world ; but to those who are truly 
 conscious of possessing the means of attracting 
 the admiration of their contemporaries and poste- 
 rity, the voluntary abstinence of a youth of genius 
 will afford them delight in the contemplation, 
 even though they may be happily free from the 
 obligation of practising it themselves. 
 
 When it was determined among the Friends 
 that Benjamin West should be allowed to culti- 
 vate the art of Painting, he went to Lancaster, 
 but he was hastily recalled by a severe domestic 
 misfortune. His mother was seized by a dan- 
 gerous illness, and being conscious that she could 
 not live long, she requested that he might be sent 
 for home. Benjamin hastily obeyed the sum- 
 mons, but, before he reached the house, her 
 strength was exhausted, and she was only able to 
 express by her look the satisfaction with which 
 she saw him approach the bed, before she ex- 
 pired. tier funeral, and the distress which the 
 event naturally occasioned to her family, by all of 
 whom she was very tenderly beloved, detained 
 the young Artist some time at his father’s. About 
 the end of August, in 175b, however, he took his 
 
6l 
 
 final departure, and went to Philadelphia. But, 
 before proceeding with the narrative of his profes- 
 sional career, it is necessary to advert to son)e of 
 the public transactions of that period, by which 
 his sensibility was powerfully excited. Indeed it 
 will appear throughout the whole of these singu- 
 lar memoirs, that the subject of them was, per- 
 haps, more immediately affected by the develope- 
 ment of national events, than usually falls to the 
 lot of any individual so little connected with 
 public men, and so far remote from the great 
 thoroughfare of political occurrences. 
 
 After the destruction of General Bradock’s 
 army, the Pennsylvanians being alarmed at the 
 defenceless state in which they were placed by 
 that calamity, the Assembly of the Province 
 resolved to embody a militia force ; and Mr. 
 Wayne, who has been already mentioned, was 
 appointed Colonel of the Regiment raised in 
 Chester County. This defensive measure an- 
 nounced that the golden age of the country was 
 past, and the change felt by the peaceful Quakers 
 indicated an alteration in their harmless man- 
 ners. West, among others, went to view the 
 
62 
 
 first muster of the troops under the command of 
 Colonel Wayne, and the sight of men in arms, 
 their purpose and array, warmed his lively ima- 
 gination with military enthusiasm. In conjunc- 
 tion with a son of the Colonel, a boy of his own 
 age, with whom he had become acquainted, he 
 procured a gun, and determined also to be a sol- 
 dier. Young Wayne was drilled by the dicipii- 
 narians of his father’s corps, and he, in turn, 
 exercised West, who, being more alert and activ^e, 
 soon obtained a decided superiority; but what 
 different destinies were attached to them ! West 
 has attained, in the intellectual discipline of the 
 arts of peace, an enviable reputation; and Wayne, 
 who was inferior to him in the manual of the 
 soldier, became an illustrious commander, and 
 partook, as the companion in arms of Washing- 
 ton, of the glory of having established the inde- 
 pendence of America. 
 
 The martial preparations inspired all the 
 youths of Pennsylvania with the love of arms, 
 and diffused the principles of that military spirit 
 which was afterwards exerted with so much 
 effect against the erroneous policy of the mother 
 
^3 
 
 country. West, soon after his drilling under 
 young Wayne, visited Lancaster ; and the boys 
 of that town having formed themselves into a 
 little corps, made choice of him for their com- 
 mandant. Among others who caught the spirit 
 of the time, was his brother Samuel, who pos- 
 sessed a bold character and an enterprising dispo- 
 sition. He was about six years older than the 
 Artist, and, being appointed a Captain in Colonel 
 W^ay lie’s regiment, joined the troops under the 
 command of General Forbes, who was sent to 
 repair tlie disasters which had happened to the 
 unfortunate Bradock. 
 
 After the taking of Fort Duane, to which the 
 new name of Pittsburgh was given, in compli- 
 ment to the minister of the day. General Forbes 
 resolved to search for the relics of Bradock’s 
 army. As the European soldiers were not so 
 well qualified to explore the forests. Captain 
 West was appointed, with his company of Ame- 
 rican sharpshooters, to assist in the execution 
 of this duty; and a party of Indian warriors, 
 who had returned to the British interests, were 
 requested to conduct him to the places where 
 
6*4 
 
 the bones of the slain were likely to be found. 
 In this solemn and affecting duty several officers 
 belonging to the 42d regiment accompanied the 
 detachment^ and with them Major Sir Peter 
 Halket, who had lost his father and a brother 
 in the fatal destruction of the army. It might 
 have been thought a hopeless task that he should 
 be able to discriminate their remains from the 
 common relics of the other soldiers ; but he was 
 induced to think otherwise^ as one of the Indian 
 warriors assured him that he had seen an officer 
 fall near a reixiarkable tree, which he thought he 
 could still discover ; informing him at the same 
 time, that the incident was impressed on his 
 memory by observing a young subaltern, who, 
 in running to the officer’s assistance, was also 
 shot dead on his reaching the spot, and fell across 
 the other’s body. The Major had a mournful 
 conviction in his own mind that the two officers 
 were his father and brother, and, indeed, it was 
 chiefly owing to his anxiety on the subject, that 
 this pious expedition, the second of the kind that 
 History records, was undertaken. 
 
^5 
 
 Captain West and his companions proceeded 
 through the woods and along the banks of the 
 river towards the scene of the battle. The In- 
 dians regarded the expedition as a religious ser- 
 vice, and guided the troops with awe, and in 
 profound silence. The soldiers were affected with 
 sentiments not less serious ; and as they explored 
 the bewildering labyrinths of those vast forests, 
 their hearts were often melted with inexpressible 
 sorrow ; for they frequently found skeletons lying 
 across the trunks of fallen trees, a mournful proof 
 to their imaginations that the men who sat there, 
 had perished of hunger, in vainly attempting to 
 find their way to the plantations. Sometimes 
 their feelings were raised to the utmost pitch of 
 horror by the sight of sculls and bones scattered 
 on the ground— a certain indication that the bodies 
 had been devoured by vvild beasts ; and in other 
 places they saw the blackness of ashes amidst the 
 relics, — the tremendous evidence of atrocious rites. 
 
 At length they reached a turn of the river 
 not far from the principal scene of destruction, 
 and the Indian who remembered the death of 
 the two officers, stopped ; the detachment also 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 halted. He then looked around in quest of 
 some object which might recall, distinctly, his 
 recollection of the ground, and suddenly darted 
 into the wood. The soldiers rested their arms 
 without speaking. A shrill cry was soon after 
 heard ; and the other guides made signs for the 
 troops to follow them towards the spot from 
 which it came. In the course of a short time 
 they reached the Indian warrior, who, by his 
 cry, had announced to his companions that he 
 had found the place where he was posted on 
 the day of battle. As the troops approached, he 
 pointed to the tree under which the officers had 
 fallen. Captain West halted his men round the 
 spot, and with Sir Peter Halket and the other 
 officers, formed a circle, while the Indians re- 
 moved the leaves which thickly covered the 
 ground. The skeletons were found, as the In- 
 dian expected, lying across each other. The 
 officers having looked at them some time, the 
 Major said, that as his father had an artificial 
 tooth, he thought he might be able to ascertain if 
 they were indeed his bones and those of his bro- 
 ther. The Indians were, therefore, ordered to 
 remove the skeleton of the youth, and to bring 
 
67 
 
 to view that of the old officer. This was imme- 
 diately done, and after a short examination, Major 
 Halket exclaimed, It is my father !” and fell back 
 into the arms of his companions. The pioneers 
 then dug a grave, and the bones being laid in it 
 together, a highland plaid was spread over them, 
 and they were interred with the customary honours. 
 
 When Lord Grosvenor bought the picture 
 of the death of Wolfe, Mr. West mentioned 
 to him the finding of the bones of Bradock’s 
 army as a pictorial subject capable of being 
 managed with great effect. The gloom of the 
 vast forest, the naked and simple Indians sup- 
 porting the skeletons, the grief of the son on 
 recognizing the relics of his father, the subdued 
 melancholy of the spectators, and the picturesque 
 garb of the Pennsylvanian sharpshooters, un- 
 doubtedly furnished topics capable of every effect 
 which the pencil could bestow, or the imagina- 
 tion require in the treatment of so sublime a 
 scene. His Lordship admitted, that in possess- 
 ing so affecting an incident as the discovery of 
 the bones of the Halkets, it was superior even 
 to that of the search for the remains of the 
 
 F 2 
 
6*8 
 
 army of Varus; the transaction, however, being 
 little known, and not recorded by any historian, he 
 thought it would not be interesting to the public. 
 Other engagements have since prevented Mr. West 
 from attempting it on his own account. But it is 
 necessary that the regular narrative should be 
 resumed ; for the military history of the Artist 
 terminated when he was recalled home by the 
 last illness of his mother, although the excitement 
 which the events that led to it occasioned never 
 lost its influence on his mind, especially that of 
 the incident which has been described, and which 
 has ever been present to his imagination as one of 
 the most affecting occurrences, whether consi- 
 dered with respect to the feelings of the gentle- 
 men most immediately interested in it, or with 
 respect to the wild and solemn circumstances 
 under which the service was performed. 
 
 On his return to Philadelphia, he again re- 
 sided with Mr. Clarkson, his brother-in-law ; 
 and Provost Smith, in the evenings, continued to 
 direct his attention to those topics of literature 
 which were most suitable to cherish the expan- 
 sion of his mind, and to enrich his imagination 
 
69 
 
 with ideas useful to his profession. While his lei- 
 sure hours were thus profitably employed, his re- 
 putation as a portrait painter was rapidly extended. 
 His youth, and the peculiar incidents of his his- 
 tory, attracted many sitters, and his merits veri- 
 fied the recommendations of his friends. This 
 constancy of employment, no doubt materially 
 tended to his improvement in the manipulation 
 of his art ; for whatever may be the native force 
 of talent, it is impossible that the possessor can 
 attain excellence by any other means than prac- 
 tice. Facility to express the conceptions of the 
 mind must be acquired before the pen or the 
 pencil can embody them appropriately, and- the 
 author who does not execute much, however little 
 he may exhibit, can never expect to do justice to 
 the truth and beauty of his own ideas. West 
 was very soon duly impressed with the justness 
 of this observation ; and, while in the execution of 
 his portraits, he was assiduous to acquire a ready 
 knowledge of those characteristic traits which 
 have since enabled him to throw so much variety 
 into his compositions ; he felt conscious that, 
 without seeing better pictures than his own, he 
 could neither hope to attain distinction, nor to 
 
70 
 
 appreciate his own peculiar powers. It was this 
 consideration that induced him to adopt a most 
 rigid system of frugality. He looked forward to 
 a period when he might be enabled^ by the fruits 
 of his own industry, to visit the great scenes of 
 the fine arts in Europe ; and the care with which 
 he treasured the money that he received for his 
 portraits was rewarded even at the time with the 
 assurance of realizing his expectations. The 
 prices which he first fixed for his portraits^ were 
 two guineas and a half for a head, and five guineas 
 for a half length. 
 
 After what has already been mentioned of 
 the state of Society in Pennsylvania, it is needless 
 to say that at the period to which these memoirs 
 refer, there were but few pictures in the Bri- 
 tish Plantations ; indeed, without any other ex- 
 planation, all that should be contended for by any 
 person who might imagine it necessary to advo- 
 cate the pretensions of Benjamin West to be 
 placed in the list of original and self-instructed 
 artists, would be readily granted, upon stating the 
 single fact, that he was born in Pennsylvania, and 
 did not leave America till the year lj6o. At the 
 
71 
 
 same time, it might be construed into an injudi- 
 cious concealment, if it were not mentioned that 
 Governor Hamilton, who at that period presided 
 with so much popularity over the affairs of the 
 province, possessed a few pictures, consisting, 
 however, chiefly of family portraits. Among 
 them was a St. Ignatius, which was found in the 
 course of the preceding war on board a Spanish 
 prize, and which Mr. Pennington obtained leave 
 for West to copy. The Artist had made choice 
 of it himself, without being aware of its merits as 
 a work of art, for it was not until several years 
 after that he discovered it to be a fine piece of the 
 Morillo school, and in the best style of the master. 
 
 This copy was greatly admired by all who 
 saw it, and by none more than his valuable friend 
 Provost Smith, to whom it suggested the notion 
 that portrait-painting might be raised to some- 
 thing greatly above the exhibition of a mere phy- 
 sical likeness; and he in consequence endeavoured 
 to impress upon the mind of his pupil, that cha- 
 racteristic painting opened a new line in the art, 
 only inferior in dignity to that of history, but re- 
 quiring, perhaps, a nicer discriminative tact of 
 
72 
 
 mind. This judicious reflection of Dr. Smith 
 was however anticipated by Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
 who had already made the discovery, and was 
 carrying it into effect with admirable success. 
 The Provost, however, was unacquainted with 
 that circumstance, and induced West to make an 
 experiment by drawing his portrait in the style 
 and attitude of the St. Ignatius. 
 
 While he was thus employed on portraits, 
 a gentleman of the name of Cox called on him 
 to agree for a likeness of his daughter; and the 
 picture of Dr. Smith attracted his attention. It 
 indeed appeared to him to evince such a capa- 
 city for historical composition, that, instead of 
 then determining any thing respecting his daugh- 
 ter’s portrait, he gave an order for an historical 
 picture, allowing the Artist himself to choose the 
 subject. This task had peculiar charms ; for the 
 Painter in the course of reading the Bible to 
 his mother some time before, had been led to 
 think that the Trial of Susannah was a fine 
 subject, and he was thus enabled, by the libe- 
 rality of Mr. Cox, to embody the conceptions 
 of his imagination while they were yet in all the 
 
73 
 
 freshness and vigour of original formation. He 
 made his canvas about the size of a half length 
 portrait^ on which he introduced not fewer than 
 forty figures. In the execution he followed the 
 rule which he had adopted in painting the Death 
 of Socrates, and drew the principal figures from 
 living models. — It is not known what has become 
 of the Trial of Susannah. In the rebellion of the 
 Colonies, Mr. Cox adhered to the British inte- 
 rest ; and his daughter, the last person into whose 
 possession the picture has been traced, having 
 married a British officer, came to England dur- 
 ing the war, and the Artist has not heard where 
 she has since resided. 
 
 In point of composition, Mr. West is of opi- 
 nion that the Trial of Susannah was superior 
 to the Death of Socrates. In this he is probably 
 correct ; for during the interval between the exe- 
 cution of the one and the other, his mind had 
 been enlarged in knowledge by reading, his eye 
 improved by the study of pictorial outline and 
 perspective in the Camera^ and his touch softened 
 by the portraits which he painted, and particu- 
 larly by his careful copy of the St. Ignatius. In 
 
74 
 
 point of drawing, both pictures were no doubt 
 greatly inferior to many of his subsequent works ; 
 but his son, long after he had acquired much ce- 
 lebrity, saw the picture of the Death of Socrates ; 
 and was of opinion that it was not surpassed by 
 any of them in variety of composition, and in that 
 perspicuity of narrative which is the grand cha» 
 racteristic of the Artist’s genius. 
 
75 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Motives which induced him to visit Netv York. — State of So- 
 cietij in New York . — Reflections on the sterilitij of American 
 talent. — Considerations on the circumstances which tend to 
 produce Poetical feelings. — ■ The causes which produced the 
 peculiarities in the state of Society in New York. — The Ac- 
 cident which led the Artist to discover the method of colouring 
 Candle-light and Fire effects after Nature. — He copies 
 Strange's engraving of Belisarius, by Salvator Rosa. — The 
 occurrence which hastened his Voyage to Italy, with the Anec- 
 dote of his obligations to Mr. Kelly. — Reflections on Plur 
 tarch, occasioned by reference to the effect which his works 
 had on the mind of West. — The Artist embarks; occurrence 
 at Gibraltar.- — He arrives at Leghorn. — Journey to Rome. 
 
 But although West found himself in posses- 
 sion of abundant employment in Philadelphia^ 
 he was sensible that he could not expect to in- 
 crease his prices with effect^ if he continued con- 
 stantly in the same place. He also became sen- 
 sible that to view life in various lights was as 
 
76 * 
 
 necessary to his improvement as to exercise his 
 pencil on different subjects. And, beyond all, he. 
 was profoundly sensible, by this time, that he 
 could not hope to attain eminence in his profes- 
 sion, without inspecting the great master-pieces 
 of art in Europe, and comparing them with his 
 own works in order to ascertain the extent of his 
 powers. This philosophical view of his situation 
 was doubtless partly owing to the excellent pre- 
 cepts of Provost Smith, but mainly to his own 
 just perception of what was necessary to the suc- 
 cessful career of an Artist : indeed the principle 
 upon which the notion was formed is universal, 
 and applies to all intellectual pursuits. Accord- 
 ingly, impressed with these considerations, he 
 frugally treasured the earnings of his pencil, that 
 he might undertake, in the first place, a profes- 
 sional journey from Philadelphia, as preparatory 
 to acquiring the means of afterwards visiting 
 Europe, and particularly Rome. When he found 
 that the state of his funds enabled him to under- 
 take the journey, he went to New York, 
 
 The Society of New York was much less in- 
 telligent in matters of taste and knowledge than 
 
77 
 
 that of Philadelphia. In the latter city the insti- 
 tutions 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 com- 
 monly found in the European capitals, was little 
 behind them in point of practical and historical 
 information. Dr. Smith, the Provost of the col- 
 lege, 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 learn- 
 ing and extensive reading, capable of vying with 
 the same description of persons in Europe, are to 
 
78 
 
 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 sen- 
 sible 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 quali- 
 ties of poetry. The forests, though interminable, 
 were but composed of trees ; the mountains and 
 rivers, though on a larger scale, were not associ- 
 ated in the mind with the exertions of patriotic 
 valour, and the atchievements of individual enter- 
 
79 
 
 prize, like the Alps or the Danube, the Gram- 
 pians 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 re- 
 search, 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 culti- 
 vate. In its earliest form it is the mode of ex^ 
 pressing affection and admiration ; but, before it 
 
8o 
 
 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 con- 
 nected with its scenery. Among some of the 
 Indian tribes a vein of original poetry has, in- 
 deed, 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, how'ever, to which 
 these memoirs chiefly refer, events of great im- 
 portance have occurred, and the recollections 
 connected with them, no doubt, tend to imbue 
 the American climate with the elements of poe- 
 tical thought ; but they are of too recent occur- 
 rence 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 imagina- 
 tion to combine them with her own creation. 
 The fields of battle are almost too fresh for the 
 
8l 
 
 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 dispo- 
 sition 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 habi- 
 tuated by the nature of their transactions to over- 
 look the intrinsic qualities of the very commodi- 
 ties 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 em- 
 ployment in taking likenesses destined to be 
 transmitted to relations and friends, he met 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 with but few in whom he found any disposition 
 congenial to his own ; and the eleven months 
 which he passed there, in consequence, contri- 
 buted less to the improvement of his mind than 
 might have been expected from a city so flourish^ 
 ing. 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 fre- 
 quently 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 acade- 
 mies of Europe, tradition has preserved the me- 
 thods by which all the magical effects of light 
 
S3 
 
 and shadow have been produced, with the excep- 
 tion, 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 unac- 
 quainted 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 ob- 
 servation 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 Beiisarius, 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 pic- 
 ture instead of the engraving. 
 
 G 2 
 
84 
 
 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 hos- 
 pitality of the partners, wrote to their corre- 
 spondent Mr. Allen, at Philadelphia, to send 
 them a cargo of wheat and flour. Mr. Allen 
 was anxious that his son, before finally embark- 
 ing in business, should see something of the 
 world ; and Provost Smith, hearing his intention 
 of sending him to Leghorn with the vessel, im- 
 mediately 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 
 
85 
 
 for a half-length to ten guineas^ by which he ac- 
 quired 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 gen- 
 tleman, 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 waitinof till the vessel was clear to sail. 
 West had the gratification to see, in Philadel- 
 phia, his old friend Mr. Henry, for whom he 
 had painted the Death of Socrates. Towards 
 
him he always cherished the most grateful affec- 
 tion. 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 re- 
 garded, almost without hyperbole, as the recorder 
 of antient worth, and the tutor of modern ge- 
 nius. 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 unap- 
 propriated strength are converted into an uniform 
 energy, endowed with productive action. Plu- 
 tarch, 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 
 
87 
 
 of individuals. He had no taste for the blemishes 
 of mankind. His mind delighted in the contem- 
 plation 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 in- 
 spiring 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 o;reat men who date their career 
 from reading his pages, had he been actuated by 
 the minute and invidious spirit of modern bio- 
 graphy. 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 de- 
 lighted to record ; and of parting from early asso- 
 ciates 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. 
 
‘88 
 
 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 an- 
 other 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 car- 
 rying of provisions into Italy, by which pro- 
 hibition the ship and cargo would have been 
 forfeited had she been arrested in attempting 
 to enter an Italian port, or, indeed, in pro- 
 ceeding 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 1 have ever had in 
 the world 1” and he refrained from asking any 
 more questions. There was, undoubtedly, much 
 
Sg 
 
 generosity in this conduct, for by the indul- 
 gence of the crown, all prizes taken in war be- 
 come the property of the captors ; and Captain 
 Carney, rather than enrich himself at the ex- 
 pence 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 pas- 
 sengers to dine on board his fris^ate ; and the com- 
 pany, 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 efiect 
 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^ 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 plea- 
 sure to the strangers, the officers sent them pre- 
 sents from their stock. 
 
 After touching at several parts of the coast 
 of Spain, the ship arrived safely at Leghorn, 
 
 * The two frigates, the Shannon, Captain Meadow, since 
 Lord Manvers, whose intimacy still continues with Mr. West 5 
 and the Favourite sloop of war. Captain Pownelh 
 
91 
 
 where mercaotile 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 hospi- 
 tality, 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 morn'- 
 ing ; the air was perfectly placid, not a speck of 
 vapour in the sky, and a profound tranquillity 
 seemed almost sensibly difiused over the land- 
 scape. The appearance of Nature w^as calcu- 
 
92 
 
 iated 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 ele- 
 vated 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 con- 
 template 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 ap- 
 peared to be part of a column. On going tow'ards 
 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 
 
93 
 
 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 uncul- 
 tivated 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 
 aftairs, and that the procession of the arts and 
 sciences from the East to the West demonstrated 
 their course to be neither stationary nor retro- 
 grade; 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 
 
94 
 
 gorgeous oroeii of the giory 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 philoso- 
 phical. 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. 
 
95 
 
 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. Ro-° 
 hinson. — Anecdote of Cardinal Alhani. — '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 ele- 
 gance 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 tra- 
 veller would forget that the name of Christianity 
 was employed in supporting a baneful ad minis- 
 
tration 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 exer- 
 cises of the faculties of memory, taste, and judg- 
 ment, in the company of persons distinguished 
 for their knowledge and genius. For, with all 
 the social intercourse for which Paris was cele- 
 brated in the reign of Louis XV. the local objects 
 at Rome gave a higher and richer tone to conver- 
 sation there ; even the living vices were there less 
 offensive than at Paris, the rumours of them be- 
 ing 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 mis- 
 guided judgment led them to believe were salu- 
 tary to their eternal welfare. But it ought to be 
 observed, that the immorality of the Romans was 
 
91 
 
 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, w^ho came prepared to be dis- 
 gusted with the degenerated Romans, often bade 
 them adieu with sentiments of respect, and re- 
 membered 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 contempla- 
 tion 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 
 
 H 
 
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 simulta- 
 neously 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 vir- 
 tue, 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 even- 
 ings 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 antient 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 
 
99 
 
 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 enjoy- 
 ment, surrounded by the greatest works of human 
 creation, and placed amidst the monuments of 
 themost illustrious of mankind, — and that of the 
 Quakers of Pennsylvania, employed in the me- 
 chanical industry of felling timber, and amid the 
 sobriety of rural and commercial oeconomy, were 
 like the extremes of a long series of events, in 
 w'hich, though the former is the necessary con- 
 sequence 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 
 naturally disposed to the contemplation of 
 H 2 
 
 was 
 
100 
 
 the sublime and beautiful, both as to their moral 
 and visible effect, it made a deep and indelible im- 
 pression. It confirmed him in the wisdom of 
 those strict religious principles which denied the 
 utility of art when solely employed as the me- 
 dium 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 at- 
 tained their excellence, were no longer regarded. 
 The study of Nature was deserted for that of the 
 antique ; and pictures w^ere 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 con- 
 
101 
 
 vincing 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 produc- 
 tions 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 establish- 
 ing 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 
 
102 
 
 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 ren- 
 dered 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. Crispigne, an English gentle- 
 man who had long resided at Rome, where the 
 evening party was held. 
 
103 
 
 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 Car- 
 dinal fancying that tlie 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 
 mirtii at the Cardinal’s expence, for his com- 
 plexion 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 
 
104 
 
 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 ques- 
 tions, invited West to come near him, and run- 
 ning 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 in- 
 quiries 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 or^ him. The whole company, which 
 consisted of the principal Roman nobility, and 
 strangers of distinction then in Rome, were inte- 
 rested in the event ; and it was arranged in the 
 course of the evening that on the following morn- 
 ing they should accompany Mr. Robinson and 
 his protege to the palaces. 
 
 At the hour appointed, the company assem- 
 bled ; and a procession, consisting of upwards 
 
105 
 
 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 pro- 
 duce that effect which the company were anxious 
 to witness. The statue then stood in a case, en- 
 closed 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 sur- 
 prised with a sudden recollection altogether dif- 
 ferent from the gratification which he had ex- 
 pected ; 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 exclama- 
 tion, requested Mr. Robinson to translate to them 
 what he said ; and they were excessively morti- 
 fied to find that the god of their idolatry was 
 
106 
 
 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 chesty while 
 the quick breathing of their speed in the chace, 
 dilates the nostrils with that apparent conscious- 
 ness 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 trans- 
 lation. 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 
 
107 
 
 works of Michael Angelo^ was still less satisfac- 
 tory: indeed^ he continued always to think, that, 
 with the single exception of the Moses, that Ar- 
 tist had not succeeded in giving a probable cha^ 
 racter to any of his subjects, notwithstanding the 
 masterly hand and mind which pervade the 
 weakest of his productions. 
 
 Among the first objects which particularly in- 
 terested 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 hu- 
 man 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 oc- 
 curred to him that it was probably reduced ac- 
 cording to some unknown principle of antient 
 art ; and in this notion he was confirmed, by ob- 
 serving something of the same kind in the relative 
 proportion of human figures and animals, on the 
 different gems and bas-reliefs to which his atten- 
 
io8 
 
 tion was subsequently directed. The antient 
 sculptors uniformly seemed to consider the hu • 
 man 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 ob- 
 scurity, 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 
 
109 
 
 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 inte- 
 gral parts of the same groupe ; 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 reli- 
 gious ceremony in one of the churches. Hitherto 
 he was acquainted only with the simple worship 
 of the Quakers. The pomp of the papal cere- 
 monies was as much beyond his comprehension, 
 as the overpowering excellence of the music sur- 
 passed 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 
 
110 
 
 other travellers. That same sensibility to the 
 beauty of forms and colours which had awakened 
 his genius for painting, was, probably, accom- 
 panied 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 pre- 
 sented itself to his view around the portico of the 
 church. Bred in the universal prosperity of 
 Pennsylvania, where the benevolence of the hu- 
 man bosom was only employed in acts of hospi- 
 tality and mutual kindness, he had never wit- 
 nessed 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 toge- 
 ther ; hundreds of young and old in that extreme 
 of squalor, nakedness, and disease, which aflfrights 
 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 
 
Ill 
 
 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 
 
112 
 
 the idea. His English friend^ observing his con- 
 fusion, 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, con- 
 trasted 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 travel- 
 ler in Italy, when he dreads the approach of rob- 
 bers, 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. 
 
113 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 Anecdote of a famous Improvisatore. — West the subject of one 
 of his finest effusions. — Anecdote of Cardinal Albani . — West 
 introduced to Mengs. — Satisfactory result of West's first 
 essay in Rome. — Consequence 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 Gentle- 
 men 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 inha- 
 bitants 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 inci- 
 dents arising out of his own peculiar situation. 
 One night, soon after his arrival in Rome, Mr. 
 
 1 
 
114 
 
 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. Ha- 
 milton addressed him by the name of Hdmer. — 
 He was the most celebrated Irnprovisatore in all 
 Italy, and the richness of expression, and noble- 
 ness 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 mo- 
 ment, 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 wan- 
 dering 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 
 
115 
 
 him comfortable in his own way, when he be- 
 came 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 Cardi- 
 nal 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 Ame- 
 rican come to study the fine arts in Rome; and 
 that such an event furnished a new and mag- 
 nificent theme. Homer took possession of the 
 thought with the ardour of inspiration. He imme- 
 diately 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 
 
 1 2 
 
Il6 
 
 dignified, so pathetic, and so enthusiastic, that 
 Mr. West was scarcely less interested by his ap» 
 pearance 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 deseending from heaven, 
 and di renting Columbus to undertake the disco- 
 very ; and he related the leading incidents of the 
 voyage. He invoked the fancy of his auditors to 
 contemplate the wild magnifieence 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 spirit 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 1 behold in him 
 an instrument chosen by heaven, to raise in Ame- 
 rica the taste for those arts which elevate the 
 
117 
 
 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 over- 
 shadow 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 him- 
 self delivering the poetry of Shakespeare, never 
 produced a more immediate and inspiring effect 
 than this rapid burst of genius. When the ap- 
 plause had abated, Mr. West being the stranger, 
 and the party addressed, according to the com- 
 mon practice, made the bard a present. Mr, 
 Hamilton explained the subject of the ode : 
 though with the weakness of a verbal trans- 
 lation, and the imperfection of an indistinct 
 
118 
 
 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 him.self 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 wit- 
 nessed a proof of the peculiar skill of his Emi- 
 nence. The Cardinal requested Mr. Hope to 
 come near him, and according to his usual cus- 
 tom 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 Cardinahs villa. He appeared to be as 
 
119 
 
 much struck as every other person, with the ex- 
 traordinary circumstance of an American coming 
 to study the fine arts ; and begged that Mr. West 
 would show him a specimen of his proficiency in 
 drawing. In returning home, our Artist men- 
 tioned 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 por- 
 trait to shew Mengs. I'he proposal was readily 
 acceded to, and it was also agreed, that except to 
 two of their most intimate acquaintances, the un- 
 dertaking should be kept a profound secret. 
 When the picture was finished, it was so advan- 
 tageous 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, be- 
 fore shewing it to Mengs, it was resolved that 
 the taste and judgment of the public with respect 
 to its merits should be ascertained. 
 
 Mr. Crespign^ one of the two friends in the 
 secret, lived as a Roman gentleman, and twice 
 
120 
 
 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 hap- 
 pened 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 Robin- 
 son 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 paint- 
 ing 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, con- 
 gratulating Robinson in getting so good a por- 
 trait from Mengs, turned to Dance, and said, 
 
121 
 
 That 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 so good as the usual style of that Ar- 
 tist. This remark occasioned some debate^ in 
 which Jenkins^ attributing the strictures of Dance 
 to some prejudice which he had early conceived 
 against Mengs, drew the company around to take 
 a part in the discussion. Mr. Crespigne seizing 
 the proper moment in their conversation to pro- 
 duce 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 painter now in Rome ca- 
 pable of executing any thing so good ?” By 
 that young gentleman there,” said Mr. Crespigne, 
 turning to West. At once all eyes were bent 
 towards him, and the Italians, in their way, ran 
 and embraced him. Thus did the best judges at 
 once, by this picture, acknowledge him as only 
 second in the executive department of the art to 
 the first painter then in Rome. Mengs himself, 
 
122 
 
 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 Flo- 
 rence, and observe what has been done for Art 
 in the collections there. Then proceed to Bo- 
 logna, and study the works of the Carracci ; after- 
 wards 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 com- 
 position 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 fol- 
 low it with care and attention. But the thought 
 of beino: in Home, 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 fe- 
 verish. 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 recommendations he had obtained 
 so much flattering distinction at Rome, received 
 him into their own house, and treated him witli 
 a degree of hospitality that merits for them the 
 honour of being considered among the number 
 
124 
 
 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 
 Leg horn, 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 for- 
 mer 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 
 
125 
 
 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 con- 
 versation of the gentlemen to whose kindness he 
 had been recommended, but was able, occasion- 
 ally, to exercise his pencil. The testimonies of 
 friendship which he received at this period 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. 
 
126" 
 
 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 scho- 
 lars in all Italy, but, out of all comparison, the 
 best practical antiquary, perhaps, then in that 
 country, uniting, along with the minutest accu- 
 racy of criticism, a delicacy of taste in the percep- 
 tion of the beauty and judgment of the antients, 
 seldom found blended with an equal degree of 
 classical erudition. Aflfairs 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. 
 
127 
 
 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 Phila- 
 delphia, 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 w^as only from the Italian 
 shore that a mercantile house could introduce 
 such a topic into their correspondence. It hap- 
 pened 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, 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. 
 
128 
 
 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 consi- 
 der 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 munifi- 
 cence of the Medici was excelled by that of the 
 magistracy of Philadelphia. 
 
1^9 
 
 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 Ho- 
 norary Member of the Academy of Parma, and invited to 
 Court. — He proceeds by the way of Genoa towards France.— 
 Refections on the State of Italy. — Adventure on reaching the 
 French frontiers. — ■ State of Taste in France. 
 
 ROM Florence the Artist proceeded tc Bo” 
 iogna, and having staid some time there, care- 
 fully 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 
 
 K 
 
had recommended to his attention. The style of 
 Titian^ which in breadth and clearness of colour- 
 ing 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 inexpli- 
 cable 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 experi- 
 ments, 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 collec- 
 
131 
 
 tions 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 cele- 
 brated 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 mi- 
 nute and assiduous study of the great ornaments 
 of that capital, directing his principal attention 
 to the works of Raphael, and improving his know- 
 ledge of the antient costume hy the study of 
 Cameos, in which he was assisted by Mr. Wil- 
 cox, the author of the Roman Conversations,— 
 to whom he had been introduced by Mr. Robin- 
 son, at Mr. Crespigne’s, on the occasion of the 
 exhibition of the Portrait,— a man of singular 
 attainments in learning,^ and of a serene and com- 
 posed dignity of mind and manners that rendered 
 him more remarkable to strangers than even his 
 great classical knowledge. 
 
 K 2 
 
132 
 
 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 abori- 
 gines 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 fol- 
 lowing 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 
 
133 
 
 the ocean, as they called him, they minutely 
 related all the circumstances in which they con- 
 ceived 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 In- 
 dians ; 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 ap- 
 prize 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 
 
134 
 
 instructed the young warriors to draw red and 
 black fiorures, 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 atten- 
 tion. It was not, therefore, extraordinary, that, 
 on seeing similar figures on the Egyptian trophy, 
 be 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 uni- 
 versal in its very nature ; for the .qualities repre- 
 sented by the emblematic figure, would, doubt- 
 less, be those for which the original of the figure 
 was most remarkable : and, therefore, if there 
 be any resemblance between the Egyptian hiero- 
 glyphics 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 par- 
 take of the nature of calendars, by which the In- 
 dians are regulated in proceedings dependant on 
 the seasons ; and that, in this respect, they 
 answer to the household Gods of the patriarchal 
 
135 
 
 times^ which are supposed to have been calen» 
 dars^ 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 an- 
 tient history, between the period when the de- 
 votion of mankind, withdrawn from the worship 
 of the Deity, was transferred to the adoration of 
 the stars, and prior to the still greater degrada- 
 tion 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. Ex- 
 cept 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 syste- 
 
136 
 
 matic contempt for whatever either tends to in- 
 crease their troubles^ to encumber the freedom 
 of their motions, or to fix them to settled habita- 
 tions. 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 intel- 
 lectual gratifications, to supply which so many 
 of the human race are degraded from their natu- 
 ral equality. The Indian, however, is not defi- 
 cient 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 lof- 
 tiest 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, how^ever, to assert 
 with Rousseau, that he is, therefore, better or 
 happier than civilized man ; but it wmuld be 
 equally so to deny him the same sense of dignity, 
 the same feeling of dishonour, the same love of 
 
137 
 
 renown, or ascribe to bis 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 expec- 
 tations of those who were interested in the expe- 
 riment. Two of them, however, in the end, re- 
 turned to their tribe, but they were rendered 
 miserable by the contempt with which they were 
 received ; and the brother of the one who re- 
 mained behind, was so affected with their degra- 
 dation, that he came to the city determined to 
 redeem his brother from the thraldom of civi- 
 lization. On his arrival he found he had become 
 an actor, and was fast rising into celebrity on the 
 stage. On learning this circumstance, the reso- 
 lute Indian went to the theatre, and seated him- 
 self 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. 
 
138 
 
 He upbraided him with the meanness of his dis- 
 position^ 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 civi- 
 lized society as calculated to make him depen- 
 dant 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 di- 
 gression to contrast this singular occurrence in 
 the theatre of New York with another truly Eu- 
 ropean, to which Mr. West was a witness, in the 
 Cathedral of St. Peter. Among other intelligent 
 acquaintances which he formed in Rome was the 
 Abate Grant, one of the adherents of that unfor- 
 tunate family, whom the baseness of their confi- 
 dential servants, and the factions of ambitious 
 demagogues, deprived, collectively, of their birth- 
 right. This priest, though a firm Jacobite in 
 
13.9 
 
 principle^ was^, like many others of the same 
 political sentiments, liberal and enlightened, 
 refuting, by his conduct, the false and fraudu- 
 lent calumnies which have been so long alleged 
 against the gallant men who supported the cause 
 of the ill-fated Stuarts. On St. Peter’s day, 
 when the Pope in person performs high mass 
 in the cathedral, the Abate offered to take Mr. 
 West to the church, as he could place him among 
 the ecclesiastics, in an advantageous situation to 
 witness the ceremony. Glad of such an offer, 
 Mr. West willingly accompanied him. The vast 
 edifice; the immense multitude of spectators; the 
 sublimity of the music ; and the effect of the 
 pomp addressed to the sight, produced on the 
 mind of the Painter feelings scarcely less enthusi- 
 astic than those which the devoutest of the wor- 
 shippers experienced, or the craftiest inhabitant 
 of the Vatican affected to feel. At the elevation of 
 the host, and as he was kneeling beside the Abate, 
 to their equal astonishment he heard a voice, 
 exclaiming behind them in a broad Scottish 
 accent, Lord, cast not the church down on 
 them for this abomination !” The surrounding 
 Italian priests, not understanding what the enthu- 
 
140 
 
 siast was saying, listened with great comfort to 
 such a lively manifestation of a zeal, which they 
 attributed to the blessed effects of the perform- 
 ance. The Abate, however, with genuine Scottish 
 partiality, was alarmed for his countryman, and 
 endeavoured to persuade him to hold his tongue 
 during the ceremony, as he ran the risk of being 
 torn to pieces by the mob. 
 
 It appeared that this zealous Presbyterian, 
 without understanding a word of any civilized 
 language, but only a dialect of his own, had come 
 to Rome for the express purpose of attempting to 
 convert the Pope, as the shortest way, in his opi- 
 nion, of putting an end to the reign of Antichrist. 
 When mass was over, the Abate, anxious to avert 
 from him the consequences which his extravagance 
 would undoubtedly entail, if he continued to per- 
 severe in it, entered into conversation with him. 
 It appeared he had only that morning arrived in 
 Babylon, and being unable to rest until he had 
 seen a glimpse of the gorgeous harlot, he had not 
 then provided himself with lodgings. The Abate 
 conducted him to a house where he knew he 
 would be carefully attended ; and he also endea- 
 
141 
 
 voured 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 In- 
 qiiisition, and lodged in a dungeon. On hearing 
 this, the Abate applied to King James in his behalf, 
 and by his Majesty’s influence he was released, and 
 sent to the British Consul at Leghorn, on condi- 
 tion of being immediately conveyed to his friends 
 in Scotland. It happened, however, that no ves- 
 sel was then ready to sail, and the taste of perse- 
 cution partaking more of the relish of adventure 
 than the pungency of suffering, the missionary 
 was not to be so easily frustrated in his meritorioug 
 design ; and, therefore, he took the first opportu- 
 nity 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, 
 
142 
 
 that the best way of treating the ridiculous mad- 
 man was to allow him to remain some time in 
 solitary confinement in the dungeons of the In- 
 quisition. 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 fur- 
 nishing 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 ho- 
 
143 
 
 noured, in consequence, with the marks of acade- 
 mical 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 Ame- 
 rica ; for the mother country was at that period 
 still regarded as the home of her American off- 
 spring. The advice of his father was in unison 
 with his own wishes, and he mentioned his inten- 
 tion to Mr. Wilcox. That gentleman, conceivii;^ 
 that he spoke of America as his home, expressed 
 himself with grief and surprise at a determination 
 so diflferent 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 
 
144 
 
 should be introduced to him ; and it was soon 
 after arranged that the Doctor should proceed to 
 Florence, while the iVrtist 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 
 betw^een 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 pre- 
 viously 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 
 
145 
 
 Quaker. Mr. West was, in consequence, in- 
 formed 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 Minis- 
 ter. 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 Lon- 
 don ; and, accordingly, to the astonishment of the 
 whole of the courtiers, he kept his hat on during 
 the audience. This, however, instead of offend- 
 ing tlie Prince, was observed with evident plea- 
 sure, 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 know- 
 ledge which he had acquired since his departure 
 from America. Although his art was always 
 uppermost in his thoughts, and although he could 
 
 L 
 
146 * 
 
 not reflect on the course of his observations with' 
 out 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 na- 
 tions ; 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 cha- 
 racter were often seen in all their genuine dignity 
 among the common people, still even the gene- 
 
147 
 
 ral 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 thevulgar, 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 uncon- 
 nected 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 coun- 
 try was covered with ruins, and the human cha- 
 racter was in ashes. Sometimes, indeed, a few em- 
 bers of intellect were seen among the clergy ; but 
 the brightness of their scintillation was owing to 
 the blackness of death with which they were con- 
 trasted. 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 
 
 L 2 
 
148 
 
 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 ail 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 diffus- 
 ing 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 dege- 
 neracy 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 ap- 
 peared 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 despo- 
 tism, becomes more and more vicious ; while, in 
 proportion to the extension of his freedom, 
 is the vigour of his private virtue. When 
 
149 
 
 deprived of the right of exercising his own judg- 
 ment, 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 eccen- 
 tricities more humourously indulged, nor the 
 generosity of his character more publicly ac- 
 knowledged. 
 
 In coming from Italy into France, Mr. West 
 was particularly struck with the picturesque dif- 
 ference 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 land- 
 scape it would not only be necessary to introduce 
 figures in the costume of the country, but in em- 
 ployments 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 
 
150 
 
 climates than mao himself. In making the ob- 
 servation, he was not, however, disposed to agree 
 with the continental philosophers, that this dif- 
 ference, 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, undoubt- 
 edly, contribute to form the cause of that prefer- 
 ence 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 man- 
 kind, climate is, perhaps, the most permanent, 
 it does not, therefore, follow that, because the cli- 
 mate 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, w^hat 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 osteo- 
 logical 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 in- 
 nocent 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 incapa- 
 city for excellence in the fine arts is induced by 
 
the English climate, merely because that climate 
 has the effect of producing a different moral tem- 
 perament among the inhabitants. 
 
 On the morning after arriving at the first fron- 
 tier 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 origi- 
 nated in some political occurrence, and they has- 
 tily 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 hear- 
 ing that you were Englishmen, have come with 
 the' other magistrates to express to you the sen- 
 timents 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, consi- 
 der 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 
 
154 
 
 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 Chat- 
 ham), 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 ter- 
 rible 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 
 requires no comment ; but it is a curious histori- 
 cal instance of the commencement of that moral 
 
 I 
 
 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 
 
155 
 
 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 man- 
 ner, 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 excel- 
 lence 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 
 
15 ^ 
 
 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 admira- 
 tion 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 dra- 
 matic 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 dis- 
 cover 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 
 
157 
 
 unfortunately believe they have already attained. 
 But these opinions, with respect to the pecu- 
 liarities 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 furnish- 
 ing a probable view of the effects of motives 
 and of passions ; and to the enforcement of this 
 
158 
 
 great argument his long life has been devoted, 
 whether with complete success it would be pre- 
 sumptuous in any contemporary to determine^ 
 and injudicious in the author of these memoirs 
 
 to assert. 
 
[A] Page 138. 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 j 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 ])reacher, 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 advan- 
 tages 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 propor- 
 tionably desperate and bloody. For several hours they sup- 
 ported a continued fire of musketry and cannon without 
 shrinking j till at length the American General, finding that 
 
i6‘o 
 
 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. 
 T’he 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 over- 
 whelming 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.’" 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Printed hy Nichols, Son, and Bentley, 
 Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London. 
 
THE 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 BENJAMIN WEST, Esq 
 
 PRESIDENT 
 
 OP THE 
 
 ROYAL ACADEMY OF LONDON, 
 
 S>ub0«iuent to fiis in tfiis Countcp 
 
 COMPOSED FROiM MATERIALS FURNISHED BY HIMSELF, 
 
 By JOHN GALT, Esq. 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE LIFE AND ADMINISTRATION OF CARDINAL WOLSEY, &C» 
 
 PART II. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, STRAND, 
 eook;sellers to the royal academy ; 
 
 AND W. BLACKWOOD, EDINBURGH. 
 
 1820. 
 
 sit 
 
Printed by A. and K. SpottiswoodCj 
 Printers- Street, London. 
 
SIMON M‘GILLIVRAY, Esq, 
 
 THIS WORK 
 
 IS INSCRIBED, 
 
 WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OF ESTEEM, 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 JNTearly the whole of this work was printed 
 during the last illness of Mr. West. The 
 manuscript had long previously been read to 
 him. My custom was, to note down those 
 points which seemed, in our conversations, to 
 bear on his biography, and, from time to time, 
 to submit an entire chapter to his perusal ; 
 afterwards, when the whole narrative was 
 formed, it was again carefully read over to him. 
 Still, however, I am apprehensive that some 
 mistakes in the orthography of names may have 
 been committed ; for although the same custom 
 was strictly observed in preparing the manu- 
 script of the first part of his Memoirs for the 
 press, yet, in perusing the proofs, he found 
 several errors of that kind. It was intended 
 that he should have read the proofs of this part 
 also, but the progress of his disease unfor- 
 tunately rendered it impracticable. 
 
 SOth Marchy 1820 . 
 
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INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Although Mr. West was, strictly speaking, a 
 self-taught artist, yet it must be allowed that 
 in his education he enjoyed great and sin- 
 gular advantages. A strong presentiment was 
 cherished in his family, that he would prove 
 an extraordinary man, and his first rude sketch 
 in childhood was haded as an assurance of the 
 fulfilment of the prediction of Peckover. The 
 very endeavours of his boyish years were ap- 
 plauded as successflil attainments ; no domestic 
 prejudices were opposed to the cultivation of 
 his genius ; even the religious principles of the 
 commimity in which he lived were bent in his 
 favour, from a persuasion that he was endowed 
 by Heaven with a peculiar gift ; and whatever 
 the defects of his early essays may have been, 
 it was not one of the least advantageous circum- 
 stances of his youth, that they were seen only 
 by persons, who, vithout being competent judges 
 
 A 4 
 
Vlll 
 
 of them, as works of art, were yet possessed of 
 such a decided superiority of intellect, that their 
 approbation in any case would have been 
 esteemed great praise. 
 
 The incidents attending his voyage to Italy, 
 and his introduction to the artists, virtuosi, and 
 travellers at Rome, were still more auspicious. 
 Taken in connection with his previous history, 
 they form one of the most remarkable illus- 
 trations of the doctrine of fortune, or destiny, 
 that is to be found in authentic biography. 
 Without any knowledge of his abilities or 
 acquirements, his arrival in the capital of Christ- 
 endom, the seat of the arts, was regarded as 
 an interesting event: his person was contem- 
 plated as an object of curiosity ; and a strong'dis- 
 position to applaud his productions, was excited 
 by the mere accident of his having come from 
 America to study the fine arts. A prepossession 
 so extraordinary has no parallel. It would 
 almost seem, as if there had been some arrange- 
 ment in the order of things that would have 
 placed Mr. West in the first class of artists, 
 although he had himself mistaken the workings 
 
]X 
 
 of ambition for the consciousness of talent. 
 Many men of no inconsiderable fame have 
 set out in their career with high expectations in 
 their favour; but few, of whom such hopes were 
 entertained, have, by a succession of works, 
 in which the powers of the mind were seemingly 
 unfolded with more and more energy, so long 
 continued to justify the presentiments of his 
 early friends. It is not, however, the object of 
 this undertaking to form any estimate of the 
 genius of Mr. West, or of the merits of his 
 works ; another opportunity, distinct from his 
 memoirs, will be taken for that purpose; but 
 only to resume the narrative of his progress, in 
 his profession, by which it will appear that a 
 series of circumstances no less curious than 
 those which tended to make him an artist, 
 facilitated his success, and placed him in that 
 precise station in society, where, in this country, 
 at the time, there was the only chance of 
 profitable employment as an historical painter. 
 
"" bn-: 
 
 ‘ ■ ' - 
 
 ■X 
 
 f-»wt 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PART IL 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Mr. West arrives in England. — Relative Condition of Artists 
 in Society. — Mr. West’s American Friends in this Country. 
 
 * — Of Governor Hamilton and Mr. Allen. — Circumstances 
 favourable to their Reception in the Circles of Fashion. — - 
 Mr, West’s Visit to Bath, and Excursions to see some cf 
 the Collections of Art in England. — He settles as a Portrait 
 Painter . — Introductio7i to Burhe and Dr. Johnson ^ — • 
 Anecdote of a Mo7ik, the Brother of Mr. Bu7'he. — ■ Intro- 
 duction to Archbishop Drummo7ul. — Mr. West’s Marriage. 
 
 Page 1 
 
 CHAP, II. 
 
 Some Notice of Archbishop Drummo7id. — Mr. West paints a 
 Picture for His Grace. — His Grace’s Plan to procu7'e 
 Engageme7its for Mr. West as an Histo7'ical Painter. — Pro- 
 ject for orna77ie7iting St. Paul’s Cathedral voith Pictures. — - 
 A7iecdote of Dr. Terrick, Bishop of Londo7i. — The Altar- 
 piece of St. Stephe7i’s Walbrook. State <f public Taste 
 voith respect to the Arts. — A7iecdotes of Hogarth and 
 Garrick 11 
 
 CHAP III. 
 
 Archbishop D7'U7nmo7id’ s Address m procurhig for Mr. West 
 the Patro7iage of the King.-— Smgidar Court Ayiecdote of 
 u Lady of Fashion.— Character of the King in hu Youth. 
 
Xll 
 
 — Anecdotes of the King and Queen * — The King employs 
 
 Mr, West to paint the Departure of Regulus. — Mr. West's 
 Celebrity as a Skater, — Anecdote of Lord Howe. — His 
 Fame as a Skater (f great Service in his professional 
 Success ; Page 20 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 The Kings personal Friendship for Mr, West, — Circum-’ 
 stances which led to the Establishment of the Royal 
 Academy, — First Exhibition of the Works of British 
 Artists, — The Departure of Regulus finished^ and taken 
 to Buckingham House, — Anecdote <f Kirby. — The 
 Formation of the Royal Academy. — Anecdote of Reynolds^ 
 
 — The Academy instituted 32 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 The Opening of the Royal Academy . — The Death of General 
 Wolfe, — Anecdote of Sir Joshua Reynolds, — New Pic- 
 tures ordered by the King, — Origin of the Series of 
 Historical Pictures painted for Windsor Castle, — Design 
 for a grand Chapel in Windsor Castle, to illustrate the 
 History of revealed Religion. — His Majesty s Scruples on 
 the Subject, — His confidential Consultation with several 
 eminent Divines, — The Design midertaken .45 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Singular Anecdote respecting the Author of the Letters of 
 Junius, — Of Lachlan McLean. — Anecdote of the Duke 
 of Grqfion, — Of the Marquis of Lansdowme, — Of Sir 
 Philip Francis; Critique on the Transfiguration of 
 Raphael by Sir Philip Francis, and Objections to his 
 Opinion. 57 
 
 iH 
 
‘ xm 
 
 CHAP. VII, 
 
 Observations on Mr» West's Intercourse voith the King.-^ 
 Anecdote of the American Wai\ — • Studies for the His- 
 torical Pictures at Windsor Castle. — - Anecdote of the late 
 Marquis of Buchingham. — Anecdote of Sir Joshua Hey- 
 nolds ; and of the Athenian Marbles. — Election of 
 Mr. West to the Presidency of the Royal Academy. — His 
 Speech to the Academicians on that occasion Page 70 
 
 CHAP. VIIL 
 
 The first Discourse of Mr. West to the Students of the 
 Academy. — Progress of the Arts. — Of the Advantages of 
 Schools of Art. — 0?i the Natural Origin of the Arts. — • 
 Of the Patronage which honoured the Patrons and the 
 Artists. — Professional Advice. — Promising State of the 
 Arts m Britain... 83 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Discourse to the Royal Academy in Observations on 
 
 the Advantage of drawing the Human Figure correctly. 
 
 On the Propriety of cultivating the Eye, in order to enlarge 
 the Variety f our Pleasures derived from Objects of Sight. 
 — On characteristic Distinctions in Art. — Illustrations 
 ' drawn from the Apollo Belvidere, and from the Venus de 
 Medici ; comprehending Critical Remarks on thoSe StaUies. 
 
 93 
 
 CHAP. X, 
 
 Discourse to the Academy in 1797. — ■ On the Principles of 
 Painting and Scidpture. — - Of Embellishments in Archi- 
 tecture. — -Of the Taste of the Ancients. — Errors of the 
 
XIV 
 
 Moderns, — Of the good Taste of the Greeks in Appropri- 
 ations of Character to their Statues. — On Orating. — 
 Of Light and Shade. — Principles of Colouring in Paint- 
 ing. — Illustration. — Of the W arm and Cold Colours. — = 
 Of Copfng fine Pictures. • — Of Composition. — - On the 
 Ben fits to he derived from Sketching; — and of the Advan- 
 tage of being familiar xvith the Characteristics of Objects in 
 Nature Page 103 
 
 CHAP. XL 
 
 Discourse. — Introduction. • — O 71 the Philosophy of Character 
 in Art. •— Of Phidias , — Of Apelles. Of the Progress of 
 the Arts among the Moderns. — Of Leonardo da Vinci , — ' 
 Of Michael Angelo^ Raphael^ aiid Bartolomeo. — Of 
 Titian. — Of the Effects of Patronage 121 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 Discourse. — Introduction. — Of appjropriate Character in 
 Historical Composition. — Architecture amo7ig the Greeks 
 and Romans, — - Of the Athenian Marbles. — Of the Ancient 
 Statues. Of the Moses and Saviour of Michael Angelo. 
 
 ‘ — Of the Last Judgment of Michael Angelo. — Of Leo- 
 nardo da Vinci. — Of Bartoloineo. — Of Raphael. — Of 
 Titian^ a?id his St, Peter Martyr. — Of the different Italian 
 Schools. ■ — Of the Effects of the Royal Acadeiny. — Of the 
 Prince Regent'’ s Promise to encourage the Fine Arts.,, IVl 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 Mr. West's Visit to Paris. — His distinguished Reception by 
 the Members (f the French Govermnent. — Anecdote of 
 Mr. Fox. ‘ — Origin of the British Institution. Anec- 
 dotes of Mr. Fox and Mr. Percival. =» Anecdote of the 
 
XV 
 
 King, — History of the Picture of Christ Healing the 
 Sick. — Extraordinary Success attending the Exhibition of 
 the Copy in America Page 17Y 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 Eejleclions, — (ffer of' Knighthood. — Mr. Wyatt chosen Pre- 
 sident of the Academy. — Restoration of Mr. West to the 
 Chair. — Intrigues respecting the Pictures for Windsor 
 Castle. — Mr. West's Letter to the King. — Orders to pro- 
 ceed with the Pictures. — The King’s Illness. — Mr. West’s 
 Allowance cut ojfy — U7id the Pictures countermanded .' — ■ 
 Death of Mrs. West. — Death of the Artist 188 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 207 
 

 -■«■«.? '0 ;^‘l . -.. ^ V , ■ 
 
THE 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Mr. West arrives in England, — Relative Condition of Artists 
 in Society.- — Mr. Wesfs American Eriends in this Country. 
 — Of Governor Hamilton and Mr. Allen, —^Circumstances 
 favourable to their Reception in the Circles of Fashion, — 
 Mr. Wesfs Visit to Bath, and Excursions to see some of 
 the Collections of Art in England. — He settles as a Portrait 
 Painter. — Introduction to Burlce and Dr. Johnson. — 
 Anecdote of a Monk, the Brother of Mr, Burke, — ■ IntrO’^ 
 duction to Archbishop Drummond. — Mr. Wesfs Marriage, 
 
 Me. West arrived in England on the 20 th of 
 August, 1763. The sentiments with which he 
 approached the shores of this island, were those 
 of a stranger visiting interesting scenes, mingled 
 with something of the solicitude and affections 
 
 B 
 
of a traveller returning home. He had no in- 
 tention of remaining in London : he was only 
 desirous to see the country of his ancestors, and 
 his mind, in consequence, was more disengaged 
 from professional feelings than at any period 
 from that in which his genius was first awakened. 
 He considered his visit to England as devoted 
 to social leisure, the best kind of repose after 
 mental exertion ; but the good fortune which 
 had hitherto attended him in so remarkable a 
 manner, still followed him, and frustrated the 
 intentions with which he was at that time 
 actuated. 
 
 Those who have at all attended to what was 
 then the state of the arts in this country, and 
 more particularly to the relative condition of 
 artists in society, and who can compare them 
 with the state of both at the present period, will 
 not hesitate to regard the arrival of Mr. West as 
 an important event. In the sequel of this work, 
 it may be necessary to allude to the moral and 
 political causes which affect the progress of the 
 fine arts, and opportunities will, in consequence, 
 arise to show how meanly they were considered. 
 
8 
 
 Ik)w justly, indeed, it may be said, they were 
 rejected, not only by the British public in 
 general, but even by the nobility. A few emi- 
 nent literary characters were sensible of their 
 importance, and lamented the neglect to which 
 they were consigned ; but the great body of the 
 intelligent part of the nation neither felt their 
 influence, nor were aw^are of their importance 
 to the commerce and renown of the kingdom. 
 Artists stood, if possible, lower in the scale of 
 society than actors ; for Garrick had redeemed 
 the profession of the latter from the degradation 
 to which it had been consigned from the time 
 of the Commonwealth ; but Beynolds, although 
 in high repute as a portrait-painter, and affect- 
 ing a gentlemanly liberality in the style of his 
 living, was not so eminently before the public 
 eye as to induce any change of the same con- 
 sequence towards his profession. 
 
 Mr. West found, on his arrival in London, 
 several American families who had come across 
 the Atlantic after the peace to visit their rela- 
 tions, and he had the unexpected pleasure of 
 hearing that Mr. William Allen, Governor 
 
 B 2 
 
4 
 
 Hamilton, and Dr. Smith, his earliest friends 
 and patrons, were in this country. 
 
 Mr. Allen, like many others in the colonies 
 at that time, was both a professional man and a 
 merchant. He held indeed the dignified ofiice 
 of chief justice in Pennsylvania, and was a person 
 of powerful and extensive connections in the 
 mother-country. Hamilton, who had been 
 many years governor, w^as chiefiy indebted to 
 him for the rank which he enjoyed, in conse- 
 quence of having married his sister. 
 
 The naval and military officers who had oc- 
 casion, during the war, to visit Philadelphia, 
 found in the houses of the governor and 
 Mr. Allen a cordial hospitality which they never 
 forgot. Many of these officers were related 
 to persons of distinction in London, and being 
 anxious to testify to the Americans their grateful 
 sense of the kindness which they had expe- 
 rienced, rendered the strangers objects of hospit- 
 able solicitude and marked respect in the first 
 circles of the metropolis. Mr. West, accordingly, 
 on his arrival, participated in the advantages of 
 
their favourable reception, and before he was 
 known as an artist, frequented the parties of 
 several of the highest characters in the state. 
 
 His first excursion from London was to 
 Hampton Court to see the Cartoons of Raphael. 
 Soon after, he visited Oxford, Blenheim, and 
 Corsbam ; whence he proceeded to Bath, where 
 Mr. Allen was at that time residing. Here he 
 remained about a month ; and in returning to 
 town made a short tour, in the course of which 
 he inspected the collections of art at Storehead, 
 Fonthill, Wilton House, the Cathedral of 
 Salisbury, and the Earl of Radnor’s seat at 
 Longford. At Reading he staid some time with 
 his half-brother, Mr. Thomas West, the eldest 
 son of his father. When he returned to London 
 he was introduced by Mr. Patoune, his travel- 
 ling companion from Rome, to Reynolds, and a 
 friendship commenced between them which was 
 only broken by death. He also, much about 
 the same time, formed an acquaintance with 
 Mr. Richard Wilson, the landscape painter, to 
 whom indeed he had brought very warm letters 
 
e 
 
 of introduction, from some of that great artist’s 
 , friends and admirers in Italy* 
 
 The first lodgings which Mr. West occupied, 
 
 ■ jE:. : . . 
 
 in His professional capacity, were in Bedford- 
 Street, Covent-Garden, where, when it was 
 understood that he intended to practise, he was 
 visited by all the artists of eminence then in 
 London, and welcomed among them with a 
 cordiality that reflected great honour on the 
 generosity of their dispositions. In this house 
 the first picture which he painted in England 
 was executed. The subject was Angelica and 
 Medora, which, with the Cymon and Iphiginia, 
 painted at Rome, and a portrait of General 
 Moncton, (who acquired so much celebrity by 
 his heroic conduct as second in command under 
 General Wolfe at Quebec,) by tlie advice of 
 Reynolds and Wilson, he sent to the exhibition 
 in Spring Gardens in 1764* 
 
 While he was engaged on the picture of An- 
 gelica and Medora, Dr. Markham, then Master 
 of Westminster-School, paid him a visit and in- 
 vited him to a dinner, at which he introduced 
 
7 
 
 him to Dr. Johnson, Mr. Burke, Mr. Ghrache- 
 roide, and Mr. Dyer. On being introduced to 
 Burke he was so much surprised by the resem- 
 blance which that gentleman bore to the chief 
 of the Benedictine monks at Parma, that when 
 he spoke he could scarcely persuade himself he 
 was not the same person. This resemblance 
 was not accidental ; the Protestant orator was, 
 indeed, the brother of the monk. 
 
 It always appeared to Mr. West that there 
 was about Mr. Burke a degree of mystery, con- 
 nected with his early life, which their long 
 intercourse, subsequent to the introduction at 
 Dr. Markham’s, never tended to explain. He 
 never spoke of any companions of his boyhood, 
 nor seemed to have any of those pleasing recol- 
 lections of the heedless and harmless days of 
 youth, which afford to most men of genius some 
 of the finest lights and breaks of their fancy ; 
 and his writings corroborate the observation. 
 For, although no prose writer ever wrote more 
 like a poet than this celebrated man, his 
 imagery is principally drawn from general 
 
 B 4 * 
 
8 
 
 nature or from art, and but rarely from any 
 thing local or particular. 
 
 The conversation after dinner chiefly turned 
 on American subjects, in which Mr. Burke, as 
 may well be supposed, took a distinguished 
 part, and not more delighted the Artist with the 
 rich variety and affluence of his mind, than sur- 
 prised him by the correct circumstantiality of 
 his descriptions ; so much so, that he was never 
 able to divest himself of an impression received 
 on this occasion, that Mr. Burke had actually been 
 in America, and visited the scenes, and been 
 familiar with many of the places which he so 
 minutely seemed to recollect. Upon a circum- 
 stance so singular, and so much at variance with 
 all that has hitherto been said respecting the 
 early history of this eminent person, it is need- 
 less to dilate. The wonder which it may excite 
 I have no means of allaying ; but I should not 
 omit to mention here, when Mr. Burke was 
 informed that Mr. West was a Quaker, that he 
 observed, he had always regarded it among 
 the most fortunate circumstances of his life. 
 
-9 
 
 that his first preceptor was a member of the 
 Society of Friends. 
 
 Dr. Markham in 1765 introduced Mr. West 
 to Dr. Newton, Bishop of Bristol, Dr. Johnson, 
 Bishop of Worcester, and Dr. Drummond, 
 Archbishop of York. Dr. Newton engaged 
 him to paint the Parting of Hector and Andro- 
 mache, and afte'rwards sat to him for his por« 
 trait, in the back ground of which a sketch of 
 this picture was introduced: and for the Bishop of 
 Worcester he painted the Return of the Prodigal 
 Son. The encouragement which he thus re- 
 ceived from these eminent divines was highly 
 creditable to their taste and liberality, and is in 
 honourable contrast to the negligence with 
 which all that concerned the fine arts were 
 treated by the nobility and opulent gentry. 
 It is, however, necessary to mention one 
 illustrious exception. Lord Rockingham offer- 
 ed Mr. West a regular, permanent engagement 
 of per annum to paint historical sub- 
 
 jects for his mansion in Yorkshire : but the 
 Artist on consulting his friends found them una- 
 nimously of opinion, that although the prospect 
 
10 
 
 of encouragement which had opened to him 
 ought to make him resolve to remain in England, 
 he should not confine himself to the service of 
 one patron, but trust to the public. The result 
 of this conversation was a communication to 
 Dr. Smith and Mr. Allen, of the attachment he 
 had formed for the lady whom he afterwards 
 married, and that it was his intention to return to 
 America in order to be united to her. In con- 
 sequence of this, an arrangement took place, by 
 which the father of Mr. West came over to this 
 country with the bride, and the marriage was 
 solemnised on the 2d of September, 1765, iri 
 the church of St. Martin in the Fields. 
 
n 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Some Notice of Archbishop Drummond. — Mr. West paints a 
 Picture for His Grace. — His Grace’s Plan to procure 
 Engagements for Mr. West as an Historical Painter. — Pro- 
 ject for ornamenting St. Paul’s Cathedral xioith Pictures . — - 
 Anecdote of Dr. Terrick, Bishop of London. — The Altar- 
 piece of St. Stephen Sy Walhrook. — State of public Taste 
 -with respect to the Arts. — Anecdotes of Hogarth and 
 Garrick. 
 
 In Archbishop Drummond Mr. West found one 
 of the most active and efficient patrons that he 
 had yet met with. This eminent prelate was 
 esteemed, by all who enjoyed the pleasure of his 
 acquaintance, for a peculiar dignity of mind, and 
 a liberality of sentiment that reflected lustre on 
 his exalted rank. He had in his youth travelled 
 on the Continent, and possessing an innate 
 sensibility to the moral influence of the fine 
 arts, had improved his natural taste by a care- 
 fill inspection of every celebrated work to which 
 he could obtain access. He lamented that in 
 
m 
 
 this great, flourishing, and triumphant nation, 
 no j ust notion of the value of the fine arts was 
 entertained; and on all occasions, when a 
 suitable opportunity presented itself, he never 
 failed to state this opinion, and to endeavour to 
 impress it on others. He frequently invited 
 Mr. West to his table; and the Artist remarked 
 that he seemed to turn the conversation on the 
 celebrity which the patronage of the arts had 
 in all ages reflected bn the most illustrious 
 persons and families, addressing himself with 
 particular emphasis to his sons. In the course 
 of one of these conversations, he engaged 
 Mr. West to paint for him the story of Agrip- 
 pina landing with the ashes of Germanicus, and 
 sent one of the young gentlemen to the library 
 for the volume in which Tacitus describes the 
 circumstances. Having read the passage, he 
 commented on it at some length, in order to 
 convey to Mr. WTst an idea of the manner 
 in which he was desirous the subject should be 
 treated. 
 
 The painter, on returning home, felt his 
 imagination so much excited by the historian's 
 
13 
 
 description, and the remarks of the Archbishops 
 that he immediately began to compose a sketch 
 for the picture, and finished it before going to 
 bed.^ Next morning he carried it to His 
 Grace, who, equally surprised and delighted 
 to find his own conception so soon embodied 
 in a visible form, requested the Artist to 
 proceed without delay in the execution of the 
 picture. 
 
 In the interim, the Archbishop endeavoured, 
 by all the means in his power, to procure 
 encouragement for Mr. West to devote himself 
 exclusively to historical composition ; and with 
 this view he set on foot a scheme to raise three 
 thousand guineas to constitute a fund, which 
 would be a sufficient inducement for the Artist, 
 in the first instance, to forego, at least for a 
 time, the drudgery of portrait painting. But the 
 attempt failed : so little was the public disposed 
 to patronise historical subjects from the pencil 
 of a living artist, that after fifteen hundred 
 pounds were subscribed, it was agreed to 
 relinquish the undertaking. As this fact is 
 important to the history of the progress of the 
 
14 . 
 
 arts in this coiintiy, I present my readers with 
 a copy of the subscription-paper, with the names 
 and amount of the sums atta,ched to them, by 
 the respective subscribers. 
 
 Ill 1766 Mr. West made a proposal to his 
 friend Bishop Newton, who was then Dean of‘ 
 St. Paul’s, to present a gratuitous offering to the 
 Cathedral, by painting a religious subject to fill 
 one of the large spaces which the architect of 
 the building had allotted for the reception of 
 pictures ; and speaking on the design one day 
 after dinner at the Bishop’s when Reynolds w^as 
 present, he said that the giving of the Law on 
 Mount Sinai would make an appropriate subject. 
 Reynolds was delighted with the idea of decor- 
 ating St. Paul’s by the voluntary offerings of 
 artists, and offered to paint a Nativity as his 
 contribution. A formal proposal was in con- 
 sequence made to the Dean and Chapter, who 
 embraced it with much satisfaction. But Dr. 
 Terrick, the Bishop, felt some degree of jealousy 
 at the design being adopted without consulting 
 him, and set himself so decidedly against it that 
 it was necessarily abandoned. Dr, Newdon had, 
 
 W 
 
15 
 
 in his capacity of Dean, obtained (without re- 
 flecting that Terrick had a veto over all) the con- 
 sent of the other curators of the Cathedral, namely, 
 of the Lord Mayor, the Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury, and the King. “ But,” exclaimed Dr. 
 Terrick, with the energy of an ancient martyr, 
 I have heard of the proposition, and as I am 
 head of the Cathedral of the metropolis, I will 
 not suffer the doors to be opened to introduce 
 popery.” It is to be hoped that the declar- 
 ation proceeded from the fear implied, and not 
 because Dr. Newton omitted to ask his con- 
 sent before applying to the King and the Arch- 
 bishop. 
 
 . Mr. West was, however, too deeply impressed 
 with the advantage which would accrue to the 
 arts by inducing the guardians of the Church to 
 allow the introduction of pictures, to be dis- 
 couraged by the illiberality of the Bishop of 
 London. He therefore made a proposal to 
 paint an Altar-piece for the beautiful church of 
 St. Stephen's, Walbrook, and it was accepted. 
 In the same year his friend, Mr. Wilcox, gave 
 him a commission to execute another sacred 
 
16 
 
 subject, which he presented to the Cathedral of 
 Rochester, and it is placed over the communion- 
 table. In these biographical sketches it cannot 
 be expected that a history of all Mr. West’s 
 numerous works should be related. It is the 
 history of the Artist, not of his works, that is 
 here written ; and, therefore, except where the 
 incidents connected with them are illustrative 
 of the state of public feeling towards the arts, 
 it is unnecessary to be more particular. I have, 
 however, prepared a complete catalogue of 
 his designs, with such remarks concerning 
 them as must satisfy any want that may be 
 felt by this systematic omission in the nar- 
 rative. I should, however, mention that, in this 
 stage of his career, the two of his earliest 
 pictures, which attracted the greatest share of 
 public attention, were t/ie Orestes and Pylades^ 
 and the Continence of Scipio, He had under- 
 taken them on speculation, and the applause 
 which they obtained, when finished, were an 
 assurance of his success and reward. His 
 house was daily thronged with the opulent and- 
 the curious to see them ; statesmen sent for 
 them to their offices ^ princes to their bed- 
 
 15 
 
17 
 
 chambers, and all loudly expressed their appro- 
 bation, but not one ever enquired the price ; 
 and his imagination, which had been elevated 
 in Italy to emulate the conceptions of those 
 celebrated men who have given a second exist- 
 ence to the great events of religion, history, and 
 poetry, was allowed ill England to languish over 
 the unmeaning faces of portrait-customers. It 
 seemed to be thought that the genius of the 
 Artist could in no other way be encouraged, 
 than by his friends sitting for their own like- 
 nesses, and paying liberally for them. The moral 
 influence of the art was unfelt and unknown ; 
 nor can a more impressive instance of this his- 
 torical truth be adduced, than the following 
 anecdote of Hogarth, which Garrick himself 
 related to Mr. West, 
 
 When that artist had published the plates of 
 the Election, he wished to dispose of the 
 paintings, and proposed to do so by a raffle 
 of two hundred chances, at two guineas the 
 stake ; to be determined on an appointed day. 
 Among a small number of subscribers, not half 
 what Hogarth expected, Garrick had put down 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 Jiis name ; and when the day arrived he went to 
 the artist’s house to throw for his chance. 
 After waiting a considerable time no other 
 person appeared, and Hogarth felt this neglect 
 not only as derogatory to his profession, but 
 implying that the subscription had something in 
 in it of a mendicant character. Vexed by such 
 a mortifying result of a plan wdiich he had 
 sanguinely hoped would prove, at least, a morn- 
 ing’s arnusement to the fashionable subscribers, 
 he insisted that, as they had not attended, nor 
 even sent any request to him to throw for them, 
 that Garrick should go through the formality of 
 throwing the dice ; but only for himself. The 
 actor for some time opposed the irritated artist; 
 but at last consented. Instead, however, of 
 allowing Hogarth to send them home, he begged 
 that they might be carefully packed up, until 
 his servant should call for them ; and on return- 
 ing to his house, he dispatched a note to the 
 painter, stating that he could not persuade 
 himself to remove works so valuable and ad- 
 mired, without acquitting his conscience of an 
 obligation due to the author and to his own 
 good fortune in obtaining them. And knowing 
 
19 
 
 the humour of the person he addressed, and 
 that if he had sent a cheque for the money 
 it would in all probability be returned, he in- 
 formed him that he had transferred two hundred 
 guineas at his bankers, which would remain at 
 the disposal of Hogarth or his heirs, whether it 
 was or was not then accepted. The charge of 
 habitual parsimony against Garrick was not 
 well founded 5 and this incident shows that he 
 knew when to be properly munificent. In the 
 acquisition and management of his affluent 
 fortune, it would have been more correct to ' 
 have praised him for a judicious system of 
 economy, than to have censured him for mean- 
 ness. It ought to have been considered, that he 
 was professionally required to deal with a class 
 of persons not famed for prudence in pecu- 
 niary concerns, and to whom the methodical 
 disbursements of most private gentlemen would 
 probably have appeared penurious. 
 
€0 
 
 CHAP. IIL 
 
 Archbishop Drummond' s Address in procuring for Mr. West 
 the Patronage of the King. — Singular Court Anecdote of 
 a Lady of Fashion . — Character of the King in his Youth. 
 
 • — Anecdotes of the King and Qjueen . — The King employs 
 Mr. West to paint the Departure of Regulus. — Mr. West's 
 Celebrity as a Skater. — Anecdote of Lord Houoe. — His 
 Fame as a Skater of great Service in his professional Success. 
 
 The coldness with which Archbishop Drum- 
 mond’s scheme for raising three thousand 
 guineas had been received by the persons to 
 whom he had applied, and the prejudice which 
 he found almost universally entertained against 
 the efforts of living genius, chagrined him 
 exceedingly. He regarded the failure as a 
 stigma on the age, and on his country; and, as a 
 public man, he thought it affected himself per- 
 sonally. With this feeling, he declared to the 
 gentlemen who had exerted themselves in the 
 business, that he saw no way of engrafting a 
 taste for the fine arts on the British public, 
 unless the King could be so far engaged in the 
 
 5 
 
m 
 
 attempt, as to make it fashionable to employ 
 living artists, according to the bent of their 
 respective talents. But, about this period, the 
 affair of Wilkes agitated the nation ; and the 
 Duke of Portland and Lord Rockingham, who 
 were among the most strenuous of Mr. WesPs 
 friends, being both of the Whig party, under- 
 valued the importance attached to His Majesty’s 
 influence and countenance. The Archbishop 
 was not, however, discouraged by their political 
 prejudices ; on the contrary, he thought that flis 
 Majesty was one of those characters who require 
 to be personally interested in what it is desired 
 they should undertake ; and he resolved to make 
 the attempt. The address with which His Grace 
 managed the business, evinced great knowledge 
 of human nature, and affords a pleasing view of 
 the ingenuousness of the King’s disposition; 
 
 When the picture of Agrippina was finished, 
 the Archbishop invited the most distinguished 
 artists and amateurs to give him their opinion of 
 the work ; and satisfied by the approbation which 
 they all expressed, he went to court, and took 
 an opportunity of speaking on the subject to the 
 
 c 3 
 
King, informing His Majesty, at the same time, of 
 all the circumstances connected with the history 
 of the composition ; and on what principle 
 he had always turned his conversations with 
 Mr. West to excite an interest for the pro- 
 motiori of the arts in the minds of his family. 
 The dexterity with which he recapitulated 
 these details produced the desired effect. The 
 curiosity of the King was roused, and he told the 
 Archbishop that he would certainly send for the 
 Artist and the picture. 
 
 This conversation probably lasted longer than 
 the usual little reciprocities of the drawing-room ; 
 for it occasioned a very amusing instance of 
 female officiousness. A lady of distinguished 
 rank, having overheard what passed, could not 
 resist the delightful temptation of being the 
 first to communicate to Mr. West the intel- 
 ligence ofJ:he honour that awaited him. On 
 quitting the palace, instead of returning home, 
 she went directly to his house, and, without dis- 
 closing her name, informed him of the whole 
 particulars of the conversation which had passed 
 between the Archbishop and the King. 
 
Q3, 
 
 In the evening, Barnard, who had been an 
 attendant on the King from the cradle, and who 
 was not more attached to His Majesty, than he 
 was himself in return affectionately beloved, 
 came to Mr. West, and requested him to be in 
 attendance next morning at the Queen’s house, 
 with the picture of Agrippina. In delivering 
 the message, this faithful servant was prompted 
 by his own feelings to give the Artist some idea 
 of His Majesty’s real character, which at that 
 time was very much misrepresented to the public ; 
 and Mr. West during the long term of forty 
 years of free and confidential intercourse with 
 the King, found the account of Barnard to be in 
 every essential and particular point correct. 
 
 The King was described to him as a young 
 man of great simplicity and candour of dis- 
 position, sedate in his affections, and deeply 
 impressed with the sanctity of principle ; scru- 
 pulous in forming private friendships ; but, when 
 he had taken any attachment, not easily swayed 
 from it, without being convinced of the necessity 
 and propriety of so doing. 
 
 c 4 
 
At the time appointed, Mr. West was in 
 attendance with the picture ; and His Majesty 
 came into the room where he was waiting. 
 After looking at it some time with much appa- 
 rent satisfaction, he enquired if it was in a 
 proper light ; and, on being told that the situa- 
 tion was certainly not the most advantageous, 
 he conducted the Artist through several apart- 
 ments himself, till a more satisfactory place was 
 found. He then called several of the domestics 
 into the room, and, indeed, assisted them himself 
 to remove the picture. When the servants had 
 retired, and he had satisfied himself with look- 
 ing at it, he went out of the apartment and 
 brought in the Queen, to whom he introduced 
 the Artist with so much warmth, that Mr. West 
 felt it at the moment as something that might 
 be described as friendliness. 
 
 The Queen, though at this period very young, 
 possessed a natural graciousness of manner, 
 which her good sense and the consciousness of 
 her dignity rendered peculiarly pleasing 5 so 
 that our Artist was not only highly gratified by 
 the unexpected honour of this distinguished 
 
introduction, but delighted with the affability 
 and sweetness of her disposition. 
 
 When Their Majesties had examined the pic- 
 ture', the King observed that he understood the 
 same subject had seldom been properly treated. 
 Mr. West answered, that it was, indeed, surprising 
 it should have been neglected by Poussin, who 
 was so well qualified to have done it justice, and 
 to whose genius it was in so many respects so 
 well adapted. His Majesty then told the Queen 
 the history of the picture before them, dwelling 
 with some expressions of admiration on the 
 circumstance of the sketch having been made 
 in the course of one evening after the artist 
 had taken coffee with the Archbishop of York, 
 and shown to His Grace the next morning. 
 Turning briskly round to Mr. West, he said, 
 “ There is another noble Roman subject which 
 corresponds to this one, and I believe it also 
 has never been well painted ; I mean the final 
 departure of Regulus from Rome. Don’t you 
 think it would make a fine picture ?” The 
 Artist replied, that it was undoubtedly a magni- 
 ficent subject. “ Then,” said His Majesty, ‘‘ you 
 
26 
 
 shall paint it for me and, ringing the bell in 
 the same moment, ordered the attendant who 
 answered to bring the volume of Livy in which 
 the event is related, observing to the Queen, in 
 a sprightly manner, that the Archbishop had 
 made one of his sons read to Mr. West ; but 
 
 I will read to him myself the subject of my 
 picture which, on the return of the servant 
 with the book, he did accordingly. And the 
 Artist was commanded to come with the sketch 
 as soon as possible. 
 
 The Archbishop was highly delighted at the 
 successful result of his scheme, and augured 
 from the event the happiest influence to the 
 progress of the arts ; nor has his patriotic antici- 
 pations been unrewarded ; for, without question, 
 so great and so eminent a taste for the fine arts 
 as that which has been diffused throughout the 
 nation, during the reign of George the Third, 
 was never before produced in the life-time of 
 one monarch, in any age or country. 
 
 But in relating the different incidents which 
 contributed to bring Mr. West into favourable 
 
^7 
 
 ^ notice, there is one of a peculiar nature, which 
 should not be omitted. During winter, at 
 Philadelphia, skating was one of the favourite 
 amusements of the youth of that city, and 
 many of them excelled in that elegant exercise. 
 Mr. West, when a boy, had, along with his com- 
 panions, acquired considerable facility in the art ; 
 and having become exceedingly fond of it,, 
 made himself, as he grew up to manhood, one 
 of the most accomplished skaters in America. 
 Some of the officers at that time quartered 
 there, also practised the amusement ; and, among 
 others, Colonel Howe, who afterwards succeeded 
 to the title of his elder brother, and who, under 
 the name of General Howe, is so well known in 
 the disastrous transactions of the subsequent 
 civil war, which ended in establishing the in- 
 dependence of the United States. In the 
 course of the winter preceding Mr. West’s de- 
 parture for Italy, they had become acquainted 
 on the ice. 
 
 In Italy Mr. West had no opportunity of 
 skating ; but when he reached Lombardy, where 
 he saw so much beautiful frozen water, he 
 
regretted that he had not brought his skates 
 v/ith him from America. The winter, however, 
 which succeeded his arrival in England, proved 
 unusually severe ; and one morning, when he 
 happened to take a walk in St. James’s park, 
 he was surprised to see a great concourse of 
 the populace assembled on the canal. He 
 stopped to look at them, and seeing a person 
 who lent skates on hire, he made choice of a 
 pair, and went on the ice. A gentleman 
 who had observed his movements, came up to 
 him as he retired to unbuckle the skates, and 
 said, “ I perceive. Sir, you are a stranger, and 
 do not perhaps know that there are much better 
 places than this for the exercise of skating. 
 The Serpentine River, in Hyde Park, is far supe- 
 rior, and the basin in Kensington Gardens 
 still more preferable. Here, only the populace 
 assemble ; on the Serpentine, the company, 
 although better, is also promiscuous ; but the 
 persons who frequent the basin in the Gardens 
 are generally of the rank of gentlemen, and 
 you will be less annoyed among them than 
 at either of the other two places.” 
 
29 
 
 In consequence of this information, on the 
 day following, Mr. West resolved to visit the 
 Gardens ; and, in going along Piccadilly with 
 that intention, bought a pair of skates, which, 
 on reaching the margin of the ice, he put on. 
 After a few trial-movements on the skirts of the 
 basin, like a musician tuning his violin before 
 attempting a regular piece of composition, he 
 dashed off into the middle of the company, and 
 performed several rounds in the same style 
 which he had often practised in America. 
 While engaged in this manner, a gentleman 
 called to him by name ; and, on stopping, he 
 found it was his old acquaintance Colonel 
 Howe. 
 
 The Colonel immediately came up, and ex- 
 claimed, “ Mr. West, I am truly glad to see you 
 in this country, and at this time. I have not 
 heard of you since we parted on the wharf at 
 Philadelphia, when you sailed for Italy ; but I 
 have often since had occasion to recollect you. 
 I am, therefore, particularly glad to see you 
 here, and on the ice j for you must know that, 
 in speaking of the American skaters, it has 
 
30 
 
 been alleged, that I have learnt to draw the long 
 bow among them ; but you are come in a lucky 
 moment to vindicate my veracity/^ 
 
 He then called to him Lord Spencer Hamilton, 
 and some of the Cavendishes, who were also on 
 the ice, and introduced Mr. West to them as 
 one of the American skaters, of whom they had 
 heard him so often speak, and would not credit 
 what he had said of their performance ; and he 
 requested Mr. West to show them what, in Phila- 
 delphia, was called the Salute. Mr. West had 
 been so long out of practice, that he was at first 
 diffident of attempting this difficult and graceful 
 movement : but, after a few trials, and feeling 
 confidence in himself, he at last performed it 
 with complete success. Out of this tribal inci- 
 dent, an acquaintance arose between him and 
 the young noblemen present. They spoke of 
 his talents as a skater ; and their praise, in all 
 their usual haunts, had such an effect, that, in 
 the course of a few days, prodigious crowds 
 of the fashionable world, and of all descriptions 
 of people, assembled to see the American skater. 
 When it was afterwards known to the public 
 
 8 
 
31 
 
 that he was an artist, many of the spectators 
 called at his rooms ; and he, perhaps, received 
 more encouragement as a portrait-painter bn 
 account of his accomplishment as a skater, than 
 he could have hoped for by any ordinary means 
 to obtain. 
 
3 ^ 
 
 CHAR IV. 
 
 The Kings 'personal Friendship for Mr, West, — Circum- 
 stances >which led to the Establishment of the Royal 
 Academy, — First Exhibition of the Works of British 
 Artists, —• The Departure of Regains finished, and taken 
 to Buckingham House, — Anecdote (f Kirby. — The 
 Formation of the Royal Academy. — Anecdote of Reynolds, 
 — The Academy instituted^ 
 
 Xhe King, at the period when he was pleased 
 to take Mr. West under his own particular 
 patronage, possessed great conversational powers, 
 and a considerable tincture of humour. He 
 had read much, and his memory was singularly 
 exact and tenacious : his education had, indeed, 
 been conducted with great prudence, and, in- 
 dependent of a much larger stock of literary 
 information than is commonly acquired by 
 princes, he was fairly entitled to be regarded as 
 an accomplished gentleman. For the fine arts 
 he had not, perhaps, any natural taste ; he had, 
 however, been carefully instructed in the prin- 
 ciples of architecture by Chambers, of delineation 
 
83 
 
 by Moser, and of perspective by Kirby ; and he 
 was fully aware of the lustre which the arts 
 have, in all ages, reflected on the different 
 countries in which the cultivation of them has 
 been encouraged to perpetuate the memory 
 of great events. His employment of Mr. West, 
 although altogether in his private capacity, was 
 therefore not wholly without a view to the 
 public advantage, and it is the more deserving 
 of applause, as it was rather the result of prin- 
 ciple than of personal predilection. 
 
 When Mr. West had made a sketch for the 
 Regulus, and submitted it to His Majesty, after 
 some conversation, as to the dimensions, the 
 King fixed on an advantageous part of the walls . 
 in one of the principal apartments, and directed 
 that the picture should be painted of a size 
 sufficient to fill the whole space. During the 
 time that the v/ork was going on, the Artist 
 was frequently invited to spend the evening at 
 Buckingham-house, where he was often de- 
 tained by the King as late as eleven o’clock, on 
 topics connected with the best means of pro- 
 moting the study of the fine arts in the kingdom. 
 
 D 
 
84 
 
 It was in these conversations that the plan of 
 the Royal Academy was digested ; but it is 
 necessary to state more particularly the different 
 circumstances which co-operated at this period 
 to the formation of that valuable institution. 
 
 At the annual exhibitions of the paintings 
 and drawings, which obtained the premiums 
 of the Society for the Encouragement of 
 Arts, Agriculture, and Commerce, it was then 
 customary with artists to send occasionally their 
 works to be exhibited with those of the com- 
 petitors, as a convenient method of making 
 themselves known to the public. But the 
 visitors hearing from the newspapers only of 
 the pictures which had gained the prizes, con- 
 cluded that they were the best in the exhi- 
 bition 5 and the works of the matured artists 
 were overlooked in the attention paid to the 
 efforts of juvenile emulation. This neglect 
 mortified the artists, and induced them to form 
 themselves into an association for the exhibition 
 of their own productions. The novelty of this 
 plan attracted much attention, and answered 
 the expectations of those with whom it origin- 
 
S5 
 
 ated. Such was the state of things with the 
 artists when Mr. West came to England; and 
 to the first exhibition, after his arrival, he sent, 
 as I have already mentioned, three pictures. 
 The approbation which these works obtained, 
 induced the association to elect him one of the 
 directors, and he held this situation till, the 
 society beginning to grow rich by the receipts 
 of the exhibitions, the management of its con- 
 cerns became an object of ambition. This 
 association was incorporated in 176»5, under the 
 designation of the Incorporated Artists. 
 
 Chambers and Payne, who were leading 
 members in the Society, being both architects, 
 were equally desirous that the funds should be 
 laid out in the decoration of some edifice adapted 
 to the objects of the institution. This occasioned 
 so much debate, division, and rivalry, among 
 their respective partisans, that Mr. West was 
 induced to resign the office of director, and to 
 withdraw along with Mr. Reynolds (afterwards 
 Sir Joshua) and others, disgusted with the 
 bickering animosities which disgraced the pro- 
 ceedings at their meetings. This transaction 
 
 D 2 
 
$6 
 
 made some noise at the time, and it happened on 
 the very day when Mr. West waited on the King, 
 with ^ his sketch of the Departure of Regulus, 
 that the newspapers contained some account of 
 the matter. His Majesty enquired the cause 
 and particulars of the schism, and Mr. West, in 
 stating what they were, mentioned that the 
 principles of his religion made him regard such 
 proceedings as exceedingly derogatory to the 
 professors of the arts of peace. 
 
 This led the King to say that he would gladly 
 patronise any association which might be formed 
 more immediately calculated to improve the arts. 
 Mr. West, after retiring from the palace, com- 
 municated this to Chambers and Moser, and, 
 upon conferring on the subject with Mr. Coats, 
 it was agreed that the four should constitute 
 themselves a committee of the dissenting artists, 
 to draw up the plan of an academy. When this 
 was mentioned to His Majesty, he not only 
 approved of their determination, but took a 
 great personal interest in the scheme, and even 
 drew up several of the laws himself with his 
 own hand. Nor shoidd one remarkable circum- 
 
37 
 
 stance be omitted ; he was particularly anxious 
 that the whole design should be kept a pro- 
 found secret, being apprehensive that it might 
 be converted into some vehicle of political 
 influence. „ 
 
 In the mean time the picture of the Departure 
 of Regulus was going forward, and it was finished 
 about the time that the code of rules for the 
 academy was completed. The incorporated 
 artists were also busy, and had elected as their 
 president Mr. Kirby, who had been preceptor in 
 perspective to the King, and who had deservedly 
 gained great celebrity by his treatise on the 
 principles of that branch of art. Kirby, having 
 free access to the royal presence, and never 
 hearing from His Majesty any thing respecting 
 the academy, was so satisfied in his own mind 
 that the rumours, respecting such an institution 
 being intended, were untrue, that, in his in- 
 augural address from the chair, he assured the 
 incorporated artists there was not the slightest 
 intention entertained of establishing a Royal 
 Academy of Art, 
 
 t/ 
 
 D S' 
 
38 
 
 When the Departure of Regulus was finished, 
 the King appointed a time for Mr. West to bring 
 the picture to Buckingham-house. The Artist 
 having carried it there, His Majesty, after look- 
 ing at it some time, went and brought in the 
 Queen by the hand, and seated her in a chair, 
 which Mr. West placed in the best situation for 
 seeing the picture to advantage. While they 
 were conversing on the subject, one of the pages 
 announced Mr. Kirby > and the King consulted 
 Her Majesty in German about the propriety of 
 admitting him at that moment. Mr. West, by 
 his residence among the German inhabitants of 
 Lancaster in America, knew enough of the 
 language to understand what they said, and the 
 opinion of the Queen was that Kirby might 
 certainly be admitted, but for His Majesty to 
 take his own pleasure. The attendant was in 
 consequence ordered to show him in, and Mr. 
 West was the more pleased at this incident, as 
 it afforded him an advantageous opportunity of 
 becoming personally known to Kirby, with whom, 
 on account of his excellent treatise, he had for 
 some time been desirous to become acquainted. 
 
39 
 
 When Kirby looked at the picture he ex- 
 pressed himself with great warmth in its praise, 
 enquiring by whom it had been painted ; upon 
 which the King introduced Mr. West to him. 
 It would perhaps be doing injustice to say that 
 the surprise with which he appeared to be 
 affected on finding it the production of so young 
 a man, had in it any mixture of sinister feeling ; 
 but it nevertheless betrayed him into a fatal 
 indiscretion. As a preceptor to the King, he 
 had been accustomed to take liberties which 
 ought to have terminated with the duties of that 
 office ; he, however, inadvertently said, “ Your 
 Majesty never mentioned any thing of this 
 work to me.” The tone in which this was 
 uttered evidently displeased the King, but the 
 discretion of the unfortunate man was gone, 
 and he enquired in a still more disagreeable 
 manner, ‘‘ Who made this frame ?” Mr. West, 
 anxious to turn the conversation, mentioned 
 the maker’s name ; but this only served to pre- 
 cipitate Mr. Kirby into still greater imprudence, 
 and he answered somewhat sharply, That 
 person is not Your Majesty’s workman and 
 naming the King’s carver and gilder said, It 
 D 4 
 
40 
 
 ought to have been made by him/’ The King 
 appeared a good deal surprised at all this, but 
 replied in an easy good-humoured way, “ Kirby, 
 whenever you are able to paint me a picture 
 like this, your friend shall make the frame.” 
 The unhappy man, however, could not be re- 
 strained, and he turned round to Mr. West, and 
 in a tone which greatly lessened the compli- 
 ment the words would otherwise have conveyed, 
 said, “ I hope you intend to exhibit this pic- 
 ture.” The Artist answered, that as it was 
 painted for His Majesty, the exhibition must 
 depend on his pleasure ; but that, before re- 
 tiring, it was his intention to ask permission for 
 that purpose. The King immediately said, “ As- 
 suredly I shall be very happy to let the work be 
 shown to the public.” — “ Then, Mr. West,” 
 added Kirby, “ you will send it to my exhi- 
 bition,” (meaning to the exhibition of the Incor- 
 porated Artists). “ No,” interposed the King, 
 hrmly, “ it must go to my exhibition, — to the 
 Royal Academy.” Poor Kirby was thunder- 
 struck ; but only two nights before, in the 
 confidence of his intercourse with the King, he 
 had declared that even the design of forming 
 
 6 
 
41 
 
 such an institution was not contemplated. His 
 colour forsook him, and his countenance became 
 yellow with mortification. He bowed with 
 profound humility, and instantly retired, nor 
 did he long survive the shock. 
 
 On the day following, a meeting of the 
 artists who had separated themselves from the 
 incorporated association, was to be holden in 
 the evening at the house of Wilton the sculptor, 
 in order to receive the code of laws, and to 
 nominate the office-bearers of the Academy. In 
 the course of the morning, Mr. Penny, who was 
 intended to be appointed professor of painting, 
 called on Mr. West and mentioned that he had 
 been with Reynolds, and that he thought, for 
 some unfathomable reason or another, that 
 distinguished artist would not attend the meet- 
 ing. Soon after, Moser likewise called,, and 
 stated the same thing. Mr. West was much 
 perplexed at this information ; for it had been 
 arranged with the King that Reynolds, although 
 not in the secret, nor at all consulted in the 
 formation of the Academy, should be the pre- 
 sident. He therefore went immediately to his 
 
4 ^ 
 
 house, and finding him disengaged, mentioned, 
 without alluding to what he had heard, the 
 arrangements formed for instituting an academy, 
 and that a meeting of thirty artists named by 
 the King, of the forty members of which it 
 was intended the Academy should consist, was 
 that evening to take place at Wilton’s. Rey- 
 nolds was much surprised to hear matters were 
 so far advanced, and explained to Mr. West 
 that Kirby had assured him in the most decided 
 manner, that there was no truth whatever in 
 the rumour of any such design being in agita- 
 tion, and that he thought it would be derogatory 
 to attend a meeting, constituted, as Kirby repre- 
 sented it, by persons who had no sanction or 
 authority for doing what they had undertaken. 
 To this Mr. West answered, “As you have been 
 told by Mr. Kirby that there is no intention to 
 form any institution of the kind, and by me. 
 that there is, that even the rules are framed, 
 and the officers condescended on, yourself to 
 be president, I must insist on your going with 
 me to the meeting, where you will be satisfied 
 which of us deserves to be credited in this 
 business.” 
 
In the evening, at the usual hour, Mr. West 
 went to take tea with Reynolds, before going to 
 the meeting, and it so fell out, either from 
 design or accident, that it was not served till a 
 full hour later than common, not indeed till 
 the hour fixed for the artists to assemble at 
 Wilton’s, so that, by the time they arrived 
 there, the meeting was on the point of breaking 
 up, conceiving that as neither Reynolds nor 
 West had come, something unexpected and 
 extraordinary must have happened. But on their 
 appearing, a burst of satisfaction manifested 
 the anxiety that had been felt, and without any 
 farther delay the company proceeded to carry 
 into effect the wishes of the King. The code 
 of laws was read, and the gentlemen recom- 
 mended by the King to fill the different offices 
 being declared the officers, the code of laws 
 was accepted. Reynolds was declared president. 
 Chambers treasurer, Newton secretary, Moser 
 keeper. Penny professor of painting. Wale 
 professor of perspective, and Dr. William 
 Hunter professor of anatomy. A report of the 
 proceedings was made to His Majesty next 
 morning, who gave his sanction to the election, 
 
44 
 
 and the Academy was thus constituted. The 
 academicians afterwards met and chose a coun- 
 cil to assist the president, and visitors to super- 
 intend the schools in three branches of art, 
 painting, sculpture, and architecture. Thus, 
 on the 10 th December, I768, under the title 
 of the Royal Academy of the Arts in London, 
 that Institution, which has done more to excite 
 a taste for the fine arts in this country, than any 
 similar institution ever did in any other, was 
 finally formed and established. 
 
45 
 
 CHAR V. 
 
 The opening of the Royal Academy. — The Death of General 
 Wolfe. — Anecdote of Sir Joshua Reynolds. — New Pic- 
 tures ordered hy the King. — Origin of the Series of 
 Historical Pictures painted for Windsor Castle. — Design 
 for a grand Chapel in Windsor Castle, to illustrate the 
 History of revealed Religion. — His Majesty's Scruples on 
 the Subject. — His confidential Considtation with several 
 eminent Divines. — The Design undertaken. 
 
 When the Academy was opened, the appro- 
 bation which the Regulus received at the 
 exhibition gratified the King, and he resolved 
 to give Mr. West still farther encouragement.^ 
 Accordingly, he soon after sent for him, and 
 mentioned that he wished him to paint anotlier 
 picture, and that the subject he had chosen 
 was Harnilcar making his son Hannibal swear 
 implacable enmity against the Romans. The 
 painting being finished it was carried to Buck- 
 ingham-house, and His Majesty, after looking; 
 at it with visible satisfaction, said, that he thought 
 Mr. West could not do better than provide him 
 
46 
 
 With suitable subjects to fill the unoccupied 
 pannels of the room in which the two pictures 
 were then placed* 
 
 About this period, Mr. West had finished his 
 Death of Wolfe, which excited a great sensation, 
 both on account of its general merits as a work 
 of art, and for representing the characters in 
 the modern military costume. The King men- 
 tioned that he heard much of the picture, but 
 he was informed that the dignity of the subject 
 had been impaired by the latter circumstance ; 
 observing that it was thought very ridiculous to 
 exhibit heroes in coats, breeches, and cock’d hats. 
 The Artist replied, that he was quite aware of 
 the objection, but that it was founded in pre- 
 judice, adding, with His Majesty’s permission, 
 he would relate an anecdote connected with that 
 particular point. 
 
 “ When it was understood that I intended to 
 paint the characters as they had actually ap- 
 peared in the scene, the Archbishop of York 
 called on Reynolds and asked his opinion, the 
 result of which was that they came together to 
 
 9 
 
47 
 
 my house. For His Grace was apprehensive 
 that, by persevering in my intention, I might 
 lose some portion of the reputation which he 
 was pleased to think I had acquired by his 
 picture of Agrippina, and Your Majesty’s of 
 Regulusj and he was anxious to avert the 
 misfortune by his friendly interposition. He 
 informed me of the object of their visit, and 
 that Reynolds wished to dissuade me from 
 running so great a risk. I could not but feel 
 highly gratified by so much solicitude, and 
 acknowledged myself ready to attend to what- 
 ever Reynolds had to say, and even to adopt 
 his advice, if it appeared to me founded on any 
 proper principles. Reynolds then began a very 
 ingenious and elegant dissertation on the state 
 of the public taste in this country, and the 
 danger which every attempt at innovation 
 necessarily incurred of repulse or ridicule ; 
 and he concluded with urging me earnestly to 
 adopt the classic costume of antiquity, as much 
 more becoming the inherent greatness of my 
 subject than the modern garb of war. I 
 listened to him with the utmost attention in my 
 power to give, but could perceive no principle 
 
48 
 
 in what he had delivered ; only a strain of per- 
 suasion to induce me to comply with an existing 
 prejudice, — a prejudice which I thought could 
 not be too soon removed. When he had finished 
 his discourse, I begged him to hear what I had 
 to state in reply, and I began by remarking 
 that the event intended to be commemorated 
 took place on the 13th of September, 1758, in a 
 region of the world unknown to the Greeks and 
 Romans, and at a period of time when no such 
 nations, nor heroes in their costume, any longer 
 existed. The subject I have to represent is the 
 conquest of a great province of America by the 
 British troops. It is a topic that history will 
 proudly record, and the same truth that guides 
 the pen of tlie historian should govern the 
 pencil of the artist. I consider myself as under- 
 taking to tell this great event to the eye of the 
 world ; but if, instead of the facts of the trans- 
 action, I represent classical fictions, how shall 1 
 be understood by posterity ! The only reason 
 for adopting the Greek and Roman dresses, is 
 the picturesque forms of which their drapery is 
 susceptible ; but is this an advantage for which 
 all the truth and propriety of the subject should 
 
49 
 
 be sacrificed? I want to mark the date, the 
 place, and the parties engaged in the event; 
 and if I am not able to dispose of the circum- 
 stances in a picturesque manner, no academical 
 distribution of Greek or Roman costume will 
 enable me to do justice to the subject. How- 
 ever, without insisting upon principles to which 
 I intend to adhere, I feel myself so profoundly 
 impressed with the friendship of this inter- 
 ference, that when the picture is finished, if you 
 do not approve of it, I will consign it to the 
 closet, whatever may be my own opinion of the 
 execution. They soon after took their leave, 
 and in due time I called on the Archbishop, and 
 fixed a day with him to come with Reynolds to 
 see the painting. They came accordingly, and 
 the latter without speaking, after his first cur- 
 sory glance, seated himself before the picture, 
 and examined it with deep and minute attention 
 for about half an hour. He then rose, and said 
 to His Grace, Mr. West has conquered. He 
 has treated his subject as it ought to be treated. 
 I retract my objections against the introduction 
 of any other circumstances into historical pic- 
 tures than those which are requisite and appro- 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 priate ; and I foresee that this picture will not 
 only become one of the most popular, but occa- 
 sion a revolution in the art/’ 
 
 On Mr. West pausing, the King said, “ I 
 wish that I had known all this before, for the 
 objection has been the means of Lord Grosvenor 
 getting the picture ; but you shall make a copy 
 for me.” Plis Majesty then entered into some 
 further conversation respecting subjects for 
 paintings to adorn the apartment ; and Mr. West 
 suggested that the Death of Epaminondas 
 would, as a classic subject, and with Grecian 
 circumstances, make a suitable contrast with 
 the Death of Wolfe. The King received this 
 idea with avidity 5 and the conversation being 
 pursued further on the same topic, the Artist 
 also proposed the Death of the Chevalier Bayard 
 for another picture, which would serve to illus- 
 trate the heroism and peculiarities of the middle 
 ages. Two pannels were still unprovided j and 
 Mr. West, with submission to His Majesty, 
 begged that he might be allowed to take the 
 incident of Cyrus liberating the Family of 
 the King of Armenia for the one, and of Se- 
 
 W 
 
 JS 
 
51 
 
 gestus, and his daughter, brought before Ger- 
 manicus, for the other. The King was much 
 pleased with the latter ideaj a notion being 
 entertained by some antiquaries that the Hano- 
 verian family are the descendants of the 
 daughter. 
 
 During the time that our Artist was engaged 
 in these works, he was frequentl}' at the palace 
 with the King ; and His Majesty always turned 
 the conversation on the means of promoting the 
 fine arts, and upon the principles which should 
 govern artists in the cultivation of their genius. 
 In one of these conversations, Mr. West hap- 
 pened to remark, that he had been much dis- 
 gusted in Italy at seeing the base use to which 
 the talents of the painters in that country had 
 been too often employed j many of their noblest 
 efforts being devoted to illustrate monkish 
 legends, in which no one took any interest, 
 while the great events in the history of their 
 country were but seldom touched. This led to 
 some further reflections ; and the King, recol- 
 lecting that Windsor-Castle had, in its present 
 form, been erected by Edward the Third, said, 
 
 E 2 
 
that he thought the achievements of his splendid 
 reign were well calculated for pictures, and 
 would prove very suitable ornaments to the halls 
 and chambers of that venerable edifice. To 
 this incident, the arts are indebted for the 
 series of pictures which bring the victories of 
 Cressy and Poictiers, with the other triumphal 
 incidents of that time, again, as it were, into 
 form and being, with a veracity of historical 
 fact and circumstance which render the 
 masquerades by Vario even a greater disgrace 
 to St. George’s Hall than they are to the taste 
 of the age in which they were painted. 
 
 In the execution of these diiferent historical 
 subjects, the King took a great personal interest, 
 and one piece became the cause of another, 
 until he actually acquired a feeling like enthu- 
 siasm for the arts. When he had resolved to 
 adorn Windsor-Castle with the achievements 
 and great events of the reign of Edward the 
 Third, he began to think that the tolerant 
 temper of the age was favourable to the intro- 
 duction of pictures into the churches: at the 
 same time, his scrupulous respect for what was 
 
53 
 
 understood to be the usage, if not the law, 
 relative to the case, prevented him for some 
 time from taking any decisive step. In the 
 course of different conversations with Mr. West, 
 on this subject, he formed the design of erect- 
 ing a magnificent oratory, or private chapel, in 
 the Horns’ Court of Windsor-Castle, for the 
 purpose of displaying a pictorial illustration of 
 the history of revealed religion. But, before 
 engaging in this superb project, he thought it 
 necessary to consult some eminent members of 
 the Church, who enjoyed his confidence, as to 
 the propriety of the design. Accordingly, he 
 desired Mr. West to draw up a list of subjects 
 from the Bible, susceptible of pictorial repre- 
 sentation, which Christians, of all denominations, 
 might contemplate without offence to their 
 
 I 
 
 tenets j and he invited Dr. Hurd, afterwards 
 ^ Bishop of Worcester, Dr. Douglas, Bishop of 
 Salisbury, the Dean of Windsor, and several 
 other dignitaries, along with the Artist, to con- 
 sider the business. He explained to the meet- 
 ing his scruples, declaring that he did not, in a 
 matter of this kind, owing to his high station in 
 the state, feel himself a free agent •, that he was 
 
 E 3 
 
54 
 
 certainly desirous of seeing the churches adorned 
 with the endeavours of art, and would deem it 
 the greatest glory of his reign to be distinguished, 
 above all others in the annals of the kingdom, 
 for the progress and successful cultivation of the 
 arts of peace. “ But, when I reflect,’^ said His 
 Majesty, ‘‘ how the ornaments of art in the 
 churches were condemned at the Reformation, 
 and still more recently in the unhappy times of 
 Charles the First, I am anxious to govern my own 
 wishes not only by what is right, but by what is 
 prudent, in this matter. If it is conceived that 
 I am tacitly bound, as Head of the Church of 
 England, to prevent any such ornaments from 
 being introduced into places of worship ; or if 
 it be considered as at all savouring in any de- 
 gree of a popish practice, however decidedly I 
 may myself think it innocent, I will proceed 
 no farther in tiie business. But, if the church 
 may be adorned with pictures, illustrative of 
 great events in the history of religion, as the 
 Bible itself often is with engravings, I will gladly 
 proceed with the execution of this design.’’ 
 Little else passed at this interview ; but he 
 requested the churchmen to examine the matter 
 
55 
 
 thoroughly ; and appointed a particular day for 
 them to report to him the result of their inves- 
 tigation : presenting to them, at the same time, 
 a paper, containing a list of thirty-five subjects 
 which he had formed with the Artist, for the 
 decorations of the intended chapel. 
 
 On the day appointed, Mr. West again met 
 those eminent members of the hierarchy in the 
 royal presence : when Dr. Hurd reported to His 
 Majesty, that they had very seriously considered 
 the important business which had been confided 
 to them ; that, having bestowed on it their 
 gravest attention, they were unanimously of 
 opinion, that the introduction of paintings into 
 the chapel, which His Majesty intended to erect, 
 would, in no respect whatever, violate the laws 
 or usages of the Church of England ; and that, 
 having examined the list of subjects, which he 
 proposed should constitute the decorations, there 
 was not one of them, but, which properly treated, 
 even a Quaker might contemplate with edifica- 
 tion. This inadvertent observation attracted 
 the King’s attention ; and he said, that the 
 Quakers were a body of Christians for whom he 
 
 E 4 
 
56 
 
 entertained the very highest respect, and that 
 he thought, but for the obligations of his birth, 
 he should himself have been a Quaker ; and he 
 particularly enlarged on their peaceful demean- 
 our and benevolence towards one another. 
 
 The result of this conference was, that Mr. 
 West immediately received instructions to make 
 designs from the list of subjects ; and afterwards 
 with the King himself, he assisted to form an 
 architectural plan of the chapel, which it was 
 proposed should be ninety feet in length by fifty 
 in breadth. When some progress had been 
 made in the paintings, Mr. Wyat, who had suc- 
 ceeded Sir William Chambers as the royal 
 architect, received orders to carry this plan into 
 execution ; and the grand flight of steps in the 
 great staircase, executed by that architect, was 
 designed to lead immediately to a door which 
 should open into the royal closet, in the new 
 chapel of Revealed Religion. 
 
57 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 y 
 
 Singular Anecdote respecting the Author of the Letters of 
 Junius . — Of Lachlan McLean. — Anecdote (f the Duke 
 of Grafton. — Of the Marquis of Lansdovone. — Of Sir 
 Philip Francis ; Critique on the Tra7isfguration of 
 Raphael by Sir Philip Francis, and Objections to his 
 opinion. 
 
 By the eminent station which Mr. West has 
 so long held among the artists, and admirers 
 of the fine arts, in this country, he became 
 personally acquainted with almost every 
 ^ litei’ary man of celebrity ^ and being for 
 many years a general visitor at the literary 
 club, immortalised as the haunt of Johnson, 
 
 I 
 
 Burke, Garrick, Goldsmith, and Reynolds, he 
 acquired, without particularly attending to the 
 literature of the day, an extensive acquaintance 
 with the principal topics which, from time to 
 time, engaged the attention of men of letters. 
 An incident, however, of a curious nature, 
 has brought him to be a party, in some degree. 
 
o8 
 
 with the singular question respecting the 
 mysterious author of the celebrated letters of 
 Junius. On the morning that the first of these 
 famous invectives appeared, his friend Governor 
 Hamilton happened to call, and enquiring 
 the news, Mr. West informed him of that bold 
 and daring epistle : ringing for his servant at 
 the same time, he desired the newspaper to be 
 brought in. Hamilton read it over with great 
 attention, and when he had done, laid it on his 
 knees, in a manner that particularly attracted 
 the notice of the painter, who was standing 
 at his easel. ‘‘ This letter,” said Hamilton, in a 
 tone of vehement feeling, “is by that damned 
 scoundrel M‘Lean.” — “ What M‘Lean?” 
 enquired Mr. West. — “ The surgeon of Otway’s 
 regiment : the fellow who attacked me so viru- 
 lently in the Philadelphian newspaper, on 
 account of the part I felt it my duty to take, 
 against one of the officers, a captain, for a 
 scandalous breach of the privileges of hos- 
 pitality, in seducing the wife of a very respect- 
 able man. This letter is by him. I know these 
 very words : I may well remember them,” 
 
 and he read over several phrases and sentences 
 
59 
 
 which M‘Lean had employed against him, 
 Mr. West then informed the Governor, that 
 M‘Lean was in this country, and that he was 
 personally acquainted with him. “ He came 
 over,’’ said Mr. West, with Colonel Barry, by 
 whom he was introduced to Lord Shelburn, 
 (afterwards Marquis of Lansdowne,) and is 
 at present private secretary to His Lordship.” 
 
 Throughout the progress of the controversy 
 with Junius, Hamilton remained firm in his 
 opinion, that the author was no other than the 
 same Lachlan M‘Lean, but at the literary club 
 the general opinion ascribed the letters for some 
 time to Samuel Dyer. The sequel of this anec- 
 dote is curious. M‘Lean, owing to a great im- 
 pediment in his utterance, never made any figure 
 in conversation ; and passed with most people 
 as a person of no particular attainments. But 
 when Lord Shelburn came into office, he was 
 appointed Under Secretary of State, and sub- 
 sequently nominated to a Governorship in India : 
 a rapidity of promotion to a man without family 
 or parliamentary interest, that can only be 
 explained by a profound conviction, on the part 
 
60 
 
 of his patron, of his superior talents, and 
 perhaps, also, from a strong sense of some 
 peculiar obligation. M‘Lean sailed for India 
 in the Aurora frigate, and was lost, in the wreck 
 of that ship, on the coast of Africa. That 
 the letters of Junius were not ascribed to him 
 by any party is not surprising, for his literary 
 talents were unknown to the public ; but the 
 general opinion of all men at the time was that 
 they were the production of some person in 
 connection with Lord Shelburn. 
 
 Upon this subject, 1 hold no particular 
 opinion of my own ; nor, indeed, should I have 
 perhaps noticed the circumstance at all, but for 
 a recent most ingenious publication which has 
 ascribed these celebrated letters to the late Sir 
 Philip Francis. One thing, however, merits 
 attention in this curious controversy. In the 
 Monthly Magazine for July, 1813, there is an 
 interesting account of a conversation between 
 Sir Richard Phillips and the Marquis of Lans- 
 downe on this subject ; in which His Lordship 
 speaks of the obligation to secrecy imposed on 
 himself in the question as having been removed 
 
61 
 
 by death; an incidental expression that at once 
 intimated a knowledge of the author, and that 
 he was dead at the time when this conversation 
 took place. The importance of the matter, as an 
 object of literary curiosity, will excuse the intro- 
 duction, in an abbreviated form, of what passed 
 at that interview, as v/ell as of some minor 
 circumstances connected with the question. 
 
 During the printing of Almon’s edition of 
 Junius, in which he endeavoured to show that 
 the letters were written by a Mr. Walter Boyd, 
 Sir Richard Phillips, the publisher of that work, 
 sought opinions among the characters then sur- 
 viving, whose names had been mixed with the 
 writings of Junius ; and he addressed himself 
 particularly to the Duke of Grafton, the Mar- 
 quis of Lansdowne, Mr. Horne Tooke, and Mr. 
 Grattan. Through two friends of the Duke of 
 Grafton he, was informed, “ that His Grace had 
 endeavoured to live down the calumnies of 
 Junius, and to forget the name of the author ; 
 and that, at the period of the publication, offers 
 were made to him of legal evidence on which 
 to convict the author of a libel; but that, 
 
62 
 
 as he had then treated the man with contempt, 
 he should decline to disturb him after so great 
 a lapse of time.” From this communication it 
 would seem, that the Duke believed that he 
 knew the author, and also that he was still alive. 
 
 Sir Richard, on calling upon the Marquis of 
 Lansdowne, to whom he was personally known, 
 found him in his sick chamber, suffering under 
 a general breaking up of the constitution, but 
 in his usual flow of spirits, anecdote, and con- 
 versation. On mentioning Almon’s new edition 
 of Junius, and that the editor had fixed on 
 Boyd as the author, the Marquis exclaimed, 
 “ I thought Almon had known better : I gave 
 him credit for more discernment: the world 
 will, however, not be deceived by him ; for 
 there is higher evidence than his opinion. Look 
 at Boyd’s other writings : he never did write 
 like Junius ; and never could write like Junius. 
 Internal evidence destroys the hypothesis of 
 Almon.” Sir Richard then said, that many 
 persons had ascribed these letters to His Lord- 
 ship ; and that the world at large conceived 
 that, at least, he was not unacquainted with the 
 
63 
 
 author. The Marquis smiled, and said, “ No, 
 no : I am not equal to Junius : I could not be 
 the author ; but the grounds of secrecy are now 
 so far removed by death, and changes of cir- 
 cumstances, that it is unnecessary the author of 
 Junius should much longer be unknown. The 
 world are curious about him j and I could make 
 a very interesting publication on the subject. 
 
 I knew Junius ; and I knew all about the writ- 
 ing and production of those letters. But look 
 at my own condition now : I don’t think I can 
 live another week : my legs, my strength, tell 
 me so ; but the doctors, who always flatter sick 
 men, assure me I am in no immediate danger. 
 They order me into the country, and I am . 
 going there. If I live over the summer, which, 
 however, I do not expect, I promise you a very 
 interesting pamphlet about Junius. I will put 
 my name to it : I will set that question at rest 
 for ever.” 
 
 Sir Richard looked at the swollen limbs and 
 other symptoms threatening the dissolution of 
 this distinguished nobleman ; and, convinced 
 that he was, in truth, never likely to see him 
 
I 
 
 64 
 
 again, and that the secret of Junius might be 
 lost with him, turned the conversation to the 
 various persons who had, at different times, 
 been named as the Junius ; and, after mention- 
 ing five or six whose respective pretensions the 
 Marquis treated as ridiculous, His Lordship 
 said, ‘‘ It is of no use to pursue the matter 
 further at this time. I will, however, tell 
 you this for your guide, Junius has never yet 
 been publicly named. None of the parties 
 ever guessed at as Junius were the true Junius. 
 Nobody has ever suspected him, I knew him, 
 and knew all about it ; and I pledge myself, if 
 these legs will permit me, to give you a pamphlet 
 on the subject, as soon as I feel myself equal to 
 the labour.’’ Sir Richard soon after took his 
 leave ; and about a week after the Marquis 
 expired. 
 
 From Horne Tooke no information could be 
 obtained : whenever Junius was mentioned, he 
 lost the balance of his mind, and indulged him- 
 self in so much vanity, conceit, and ingenuity, 
 that it was almost useless to speak with him on 
 the subject. 
 
65 
 
 Mr. Grattan wrote a very candid detiial of 
 any knowledge of the matter, in a latter which 
 w^as printed in the preface to Almon’s edition. 
 
 Of the pretension afterwards set forward for 
 Dr. Wilmotj I believe it was never entertained 
 or supported by any good evidence : Dr. Francis^ 
 the father of Sir Philip, had been long before 
 mentioned, but for what reason I have never 
 been able to ascertain. The answer of Sir 
 Philip himself on the subject is, however, 
 curiously equivocal, at least it so strikes me ; 
 although it is generally considered as a decided 
 denial. It is as follows : The great civility 
 
 of your letter induces me to answer it, which# 
 with reference merely to its subject-matter, I 
 should have declined. Whether you will assist 
 in giving currency to a silly, malignant false- 
 hood, is a question for your own discretion : 
 to me it is a matter of perfect indifference.’’ 
 But notwithstanding all this, an amusingly 
 mysterious circumstance has, I am informed, 
 transpired since the death of Sir Philip. In a 
 box, it is said, which he carefully deposited 
 with his banker’s, and which was not to be 
 
 F 
 
opened till after his death, a copy of the' 
 publication, “ Junius identified,’’ with a com- 
 mon copy of the letters of Junius, were found*. 
 I shall offer no comment on this occurrence, 
 for even granting that it was true, it might 
 have been but a playful trick — if Sir Philip 
 Francis was, in any respect, a humorist.^ But I 
 have already digressed too far from the imme- 
 diate object of my work ; and I cannot make a 
 better amends to my readers than by inserting, 
 here a short paper, written by that eminent 
 person^ and addressed to Mr. West. It is a 
 critique on the Transfiguration by Raphael, in 
 which Sir Philip evinces considerable ingenuity,, 
 by attempting not only to explain a defect in 
 the composition, felt by every man of taste^. 
 in the midst of the delight which,, in other 
 respects, it never fails to produce, but to show 
 that, so far from being any defect, it is in fact 
 a great beauty. 
 
 Transfiguration hy Raphaell 
 
 The title of this picture is a misnomer. The 
 picture itself tells you it is the Ascension, The 
 
67 
 
 Transfiguration is another incident, which 
 happened long before the Ascension, and is 
 recited in the ninth chapter of St. Luke : — 
 
 When the countenance of Jesus was changed, 
 and he became hegov, and his clothing was ^hitey 
 and lightened.’’ The robe of the ascending 
 Christ is blue. 
 
 The painter brings different incidents together 
 to constitute one plot. The picture consists of 
 three separate groupes, combined and united 
 in one scheme or action. 
 
 I. Jesus ascending perpendicularly into the 
 air, clothed in blue raiment, and attended by 
 two other figures. 
 
 II. Some of his disciples on the Mount, who 
 see the ascent, and lie dazzled and confounded 
 by the sight. 
 
 III. A number of persons at the bottom of 
 the Mount, who appear to look intently on 
 a young man possessed by a devil, and con- 
 vulsed, None of them see the Ascension but 
 
 r % 
 
felie young maiT, or rather the devil, who was in 
 him, does see it. On all similar occasions, those 
 fallen angels know the Christ, and acknowledge 
 him. The other figures are agitated with 
 astonishment and terror, variously and dis- 
 tinctly expressed in every one of them, at 
 sight of the effect which they see is made upon- 
 him by some object which they do not see. 
 
 This is the sublime imagination, by which the 
 lower part of the picture is connected with the 
 upper. 
 
 P. Francis. 
 
 13th July i 1816. 
 
 But although it must be confessed that this 
 comment is exceedingly ingenious, in so far as 
 it explains the painter’s ^design in representing 
 the demoniac boy, as the connecting link 
 between the action on the Mount,, and the 
 groupe at the foot of it ; yet, upon an examin- 
 ation of the picture, it will" be found that it 
 does not exhibit the Ascension, but the Trans- 
 figuration ; and I Beg leave to refer to a letter, 
 from my friend Mr. M‘Giliivray,, in the Appen- 
 
69 
 
 dix, which seems to me as perfectly satisfactory 
 on the subject as any thing of the kind I evet 
 met with. Mr. West was of the same opinion 
 as Mr. M‘Giilivray but in conversing with 
 him on the subject, he did not enter into so dis- 
 tinct an explanation of Ins reasons for dissent** 
 ing from the speculation of Sir Philip Francisl 
 In criticism, however, whether the matter in 
 question be works of art, or of literature, the 
 best opinion is exactly that which is the most 
 reasonable ; and the point at issue here, is not 
 one in which an artist’s judgment can be 
 allowed greater weight than that of any othei’ 
 man. 
 
 F 3 
 
70 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 Observations on Mr, West's Intercourse voith the 
 Anecdote of the American War. — ■ Studies for the His- 
 iorical Pictures at Windsor Castle, — Anecdote of the late 
 Marquis of Buckingham, — Anecdote of Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds ; and of the Athenian Marbles. — Election of 
 Mr, West to the Presidency of the Royal Academy, ~ His 
 Speech to the Academicians on that occasion. 
 
 While Mr. West was engaged on the series of 
 religious and historical works for the King, he 
 had frequent opportunities of becoming ac- 
 quainted with political incidents, that a man 
 less intent on his art, and more ambitious of 
 fortune, might have turned to great advantage. 
 This was particularly the case during the 
 American War, for His Majesty knowing the 
 Artist’s connections with that country, and 
 acquaintance with some of the most distin- 
 guished of the rebels, often conversed with 
 him on the subject j and pn different occasions 
 Mr. West was enabled to supply the King with 
 
71 
 
 more circumstantial information respecting some 
 important events than was furnished by the 
 official channels. I do not consider myself at 
 liberty, nor this a fit place, to enter upon 
 subjects so Httle in unison with the arts of 
 peace, or the noiseless tenour of an artist’s life ; 
 but, among other curious matters that may be 
 thrown out for the investigation of the future 
 historian, is an opinion which prevailed among 
 some of the best informed in America, that 
 when General Washington was appointed to the 
 supreme command of the army, it was with the 
 view and intention of effecting a reconciliation 
 between the two countries. A communication 
 to this purpose is said to have been made by 
 that illustrious man, which communication w as 
 never answered, nor ever laid formally before 
 the Privy Council, at least not until more than 
 six weeks after it had been received, and then 
 it was too late. America was lost ; and millions 
 spent, and thousands sacrificed afterwards in 
 vain. Whether, indeed, the King ever did 
 know the whole affair, may be doubted. 
 
 The mind of Mr. West, however, had no 
 F 4} 
 
 \ 
 
.enjoyment in political cabals, in the petty 
 enmities of partisans, or the factious intrigues 
 of party leaders. He was by his art wholly 
 enchanted, and saw in the prospect before him 
 an adequate recompense in fame for all his 
 exertions, his days of labour, and his nights of 
 study. The historical pictures for Windsor 
 Castle cost him many a patient hour of mid- 
 night research ; for the means to assist his 
 composition, especially in architecture, and the 
 costume of the time, were then far from being 
 so easy of access as they are at present. A long 
 period of preference for classic literature, and 
 the illustration of the Greek and Roman story, 
 had withdrawn the public taste from the no 
 less glorious events of our own annals. To 
 mark, therefore, the epoch, and manners of the 
 age of Poictiers and Cressy, of the Institution 
 of the Garter, and the other heroic and mag- 
 nificent incidents of the reign of Edward the 
 Third, with that historical truth which the 
 artist thought essential to historical painting, 
 required the inspection of many an ancient 
 volume, and much antiquarian research. In 
 the composition for the Institution of the 
 
7S 
 
 Garter, the late Marquis of Buckingham offered 
 several suggestions, which were adopted; and 
 on His Lordship mentioning to the King that 
 Mr. West was descended of the Delawarre 
 family, the head of which bore a distinguished 
 part in the great events of that time. His 
 Majesty ordered Mr. West to insert his own 
 portrait among the spectators represented in the 
 gallery, and immediately over thp shield bearing 
 the arms of the Earl of Delawarre. Mr. West 
 himself was not, at that period, acquainted with 
 " the descent of his pedigree ; but it happened 
 in a conversation one day with Lord Bucking- 
 ham, that His Lordship enquired from what part 
 of England his family had been originally, and 
 upon Mr. West telling him, His Lordship said, 
 that the land which his ancestors had formerly 
 possessed was become his by purchase ; and that 
 the Wests of Long Crandon were sprung from 
 the ancient Earls of Delawarre. 
 
 But, except the historical information re- 
 quired for his pictures, in which he was inde- 
 fatigable, until master of all that could be 
 obtained, Mr. West, following the early and 
 
Wise advice of Dr. Smith of Phiiadelphiaj 
 wasted none of his time in other literary 
 pursuits. Among his learned and ingenious 
 cotemporaries, however, he acquired a general 
 knowledge of the passing literature of the day, 
 and in consequence, there are few authors of 
 any celebrity, especially the coteraporaries of 
 Johnson, of whom he does not possess interest- 
 ing anecdotes, as well as an acquaintance with 
 the merit which they were severally allowed to 
 possess. 
 
 One day at Sir Joshua Reynolds, after dinnei:;, 
 when Dr. Johnson, Goldsmith, and Burke were 
 present, the conversation turned on the degree 
 of excellence which sculpture attained among 
 the Greeks. It was observed incidentally, that 
 there was something in the opinion of the 
 ancients, on this subject, quite inexplicable ; 
 for, in the time of Alexander the Great, although 
 painting was allowed to have been progressive, 
 sculpture was said to have declined, and yet the 
 finest examples of the art, the Apollo and 
 Venus, were considered as the works of that 
 period. Different theories were sported on this 
 
75 
 
 occasion, to explain this seeming contradiction ; 
 none of them, however, were satisfactory. But, 
 on the arrival of the Athenian marbles, which 
 Lord Elgin brought to this country, Mr. West 
 was convinced, at the first sight of them, of the 
 justness of ancient criticism, and remembered 
 the conversation alluded to. 
 
 Perhaps I may be allowed to mention here, 
 without impropriety, that I was at Athens when 
 the second cargo of these celebrated sculptures 
 was dispatched j that I took some interest in 
 getting the vessel away ; and that I went with 
 ^her myself to the island of Idra. Two circum- 
 stances occasioned this interference on my part ; 
 — an Italian artist, the agent of Lord Elgin, 
 had quarrelled about the marbles with Monsieur 
 Fauvelle, the French Consul, a man of research 
 and taste, to whom every traveller that visited 
 Athens, even during the revolutionary war, 
 might have felt himself obliged. Fauvelle was, 
 no doubt, ambitious to obtain these precious 
 fragments for the Napoleon Museum at Paris j 
 and, certainly, exerted all his influence to get the 
 removal of them interdicted. On the eve of the 
 
76 
 
 departure of the vessel, he sent in a strong repre- 
 sentation on the subject to the governor of the 
 city, stating, what I believe was very true, that 
 Lord Elgin had never any sufficient firman or 
 authority for the dilapidations that he had 
 committed on the temples. Luseri, the Italian 
 alluded to, was alarmed, and called on me at 
 the monastery of the Roman propaganda, where 
 I then resided ; and it was agreed between us, 
 that if any detention was attempted, I should 
 remonstrate with the governor, and represent to 
 him that such an arrest of British property would 
 be considered as an act of hostility. But our fears 
 were happily removed. No notice was taken, 
 by the governor of Monsieur Fauvelle’s remon- 
 strance. In the evening I embarked on board 
 the vessel at the Pireus, and next morning was 
 safely landed on the island of Idra, where the 
 vessel, after remaining a day or two, sailed for 
 Malta. 
 
 But to return to the biographical narrative. 
 On the death of Sir Joshua Reynolds, in 1791, 
 Mr. West was unanimously elected President of 
 the Royal Academy. The choice was not more 
 
77 
 
 a debt of gratitude on the part of the Institution^ 
 to one who had essentially contributed to it& 
 formation, than a testimony of respect deserv- 
 edly merited by the conduct and genius of the 
 Artist who, when the compass, number, and 
 variety of his pictures are considered, was, at 
 that period, decidedly the greatest historical 
 painter then living, who had been born a British 
 subject. This event, at once so honourable to 
 his associates and himself, was confirmed by the 
 sanction of His Majesty on the ^4th of Marchy 
 179s ; on which occasion, on taking the chair,, 
 Mr. West addressed the Academicians to the 
 following effect : — ■ 
 
 «« Gentlemen, 
 
 The free and unsolicited choice with which 
 you have called me to fill this chair, vacated by 
 the death of that great character. Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, is so marked an instance of your 
 friendship and good opinion, that it demands 
 the immediate acknowledgment of my thanks, 
 which I beg you to accept. 
 
 I feel more sensibly the dignity to which 
 
 
78 
 
 you have raised me, as I am placed in succession 
 after so eminent a character, whose exalted pro- 
 fessional abilities, and very excellent discourses 
 delivered under this roof, have secured a lasting 
 honor to this Institution and to the country : 
 while his amiable dispositions, as a man, will 
 make his loss to be long regretted by all who 
 had the happiness to know him. 
 
 His Majesty having been graciously 
 pleased to approve and confirm the choice 
 which you have made of me as your President, 
 it becomes my duty, as far as my humble abili- 
 ties will permit, to study and pursue whatever 
 may be the true interest, the prosperity, and 
 t^e glory of this Academy. In the pro- 
 secution of this duty, I can make no doubt of 
 success, when I reflect that all the departments 
 and classes of this Institution are filled with men 
 of established professional reputation^ selected 
 #om professors of the three great branches of 
 art, which constitute the objects of your ^udiei^^ 
 and, when I see this union pf abilities strength- 
 ened by many ingenious productions of other 
 able artists, who, although they have not as yet 
 
79 
 
 the honour of belonging to this body, 
 nevertheless, enable us to maintain the accus- 
 tomed brilliancy of our Exhibitions^ and, con- 
 sequently, to secure to us the approbation of a 
 liberal and judicious public. 
 
 « The Exhibitions are of the greatest imfport- 
 ance to this Institution y and the Institution is 
 become of great importance to the country* 
 Here ingenious youth are instructed in the 
 art of design ; and the instruction acquired in 
 this place, has spread itself through the various 
 manufactures of this country, to which it has 
 given a taste that is able to convert the most 
 common and simple materials into rare and 
 valuable articles of commerce. Those articles 
 the British merchant sends forth into all the 
 quarters of the world,, where they stand pre- 
 eminent over the productions of other nations. 
 
 ^ But important as this is, there is another 
 consequence of a more exalted kind y I mean^ 
 the cultivating of those higher excellences in 
 refined art, which have never failed to secure 
 to nations, and to the individuals who have 
 
80 
 
 iiourished them, an immortality of fame, which 
 no other circumstances have been aqually able 
 to perpetuate. For it is by those higher and 
 more refined excellences of painting, sculpture, 
 and architecture, that Grecian and Roman 
 greatness are transmitted down to the age in 
 which we live, as if it was still in existence. 
 Many centuries have elapsed since Greeks and 
 Romans have been overthrown and dissolved as 
 a people ; but other nations, by whom similar 
 refinements were not cultivated, are erased from^ 
 the face of the earth, without leaving any 
 monument or vestige to give the demonstration 
 that they were ever great. 
 
 “ It may, therefore, be fairly assumed, that 
 an Academy, whose objects and effects are so 
 enlightened and extensive as those which are pro=* 
 secuted here, is highly worthy of the protection 
 of a patriot-king, of a dignified nobility, and of 
 a wise people. 
 
 Another circumstance, permit me, gentle- 
 men, to mention, because I can speak of it with 
 peculiar satisfaction, as important to the best 
 
81 
 
 interests of this Institution, and with the fullest 
 assurance of its truth, from the personal know- 
 ledge I have had of you all, and the intimacy in 
 which I have stood with most of you ; it is this, 
 that I have ever found you steadily determined 
 to support the regulations under which this 
 Academy has been governed, and brought to its 
 present conspicuous situation, and by an atten- 
 tion to which, we shall always be sure to go on 
 with the greatest prudence and advantage. 
 
 t 
 
 It is a matter of no less satisfaction to me^ 
 wlien I say, that I have always observed your 
 bosoms to glow with gratitude and loyal affection 
 to our August Founder, Patron, and Benefactor. 
 I am convinced, it is your wish to retain His 
 friendship, and the friendship of every branch 
 of His Illustrious Family. I know these to be 
 your sentiments, and they are sentiments in 
 which I participate with you. In every situ- 
 ation of my life it shall be my invariable study 
 to demonstrate my duty to my sovereign, my 
 love for this Institution, and my zeal for the 
 cultivation of genius, and the growth of uni- 
 versal virtue.” 
 
 (St 
 
8% 
 
 Mr. West having thus been raised to the head 
 of an institution, embracing within itself the 
 most distinguished artists at that time in the 
 world, it might be proper to pause here to 
 review the merits of the works and exertions by 
 which he acquired this eminent honour, had he 
 not, since that time, attained still more distinc- 
 tion in his profession, I shall, however, for the 
 present, suspend the consideration of his pro- 
 gress, as an artist, to trace his efforts, in the 
 situation of President of the Royal Academy, 
 to promote the improvement of the pupils, by 
 those occasional discourses, which, in imitation 
 of the excellent example of Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
 he deemed it an essential part of his duty to 
 deliver. 
 
83 
 
 CHAR VIII. 
 
 Wie Jirst Discourse of Mr, West to the Students of the 
 Academy, — Progress of the Arts, — Of the Advantages of 
 Schools of Art, — O71 the Natural Origin of the Arts. — 
 Of the Patronage vohich honoured the Patrons and the 
 Artists^ — Professional Advice, — Promising State qf the 
 Arts m Britain, 
 
 Me . West^s first discourse to the students of 
 the Royal Academy was delivered on the 10th 
 of December, 1792, on the occasion of the distrh 
 bution of the prizes. Without ostensibly differing 
 in his views from Sir Joshua Reynolds, who by 
 his lectures acquired, as an author, a degree of 
 celebrity equal to his fame as an artist, the new 
 President confined himself more strictly to 
 professional topics. He recalled to the remem- ' 
 brance of his auditors the circumstances in 
 which the Academy originated, and reminded 
 them of the encouragement which tne efforts 
 of artists had received from the countenance 
 
 © 2 
 
84 
 
 which the King had given to the arts. “ Let 
 those/’ said he, “ who have traced the progress 
 of the fine arts, say among what people did the 
 arts rise, from such a state as that in which they 
 were in this country about forty years ago, to 
 the height which they have attained here in so 
 short, a period. In ancient Greece, from the 
 retreat of Xerxes, when they were in their in- 
 fancy, to the age of Alexander the Great, when 
 they reached their maturity, we find a period of 
 no less than one hundred and fifty years elapsed. 
 In Rome we can make no calculation directly 
 applicable ; for among the Romans the habit of 
 employing Greek artists, and the rage of collect- 
 ing, suffered no distinct traces to be left of the 
 progress of the arts among them. Even in 
 architecture, to which their claims were most 
 obviously decided, we see not sufficiently the 
 gradations of their own peculiar taste and 
 genius. But in modern Italy, leaving out of 
 view the age of Cimabue, and even that of 
 Giotto, and dating from the institution of the 
 Academy of St. Luke at Florence, it required a 
 hundred and fifty years to produce a Michael 
 Angelo, a Raphael, and a Bramante.” 
 
85 
 
 Mr* West, after a few general observations on 
 the necessary union between moral conduct and 
 good taste, adverts to the alleged influence 
 which such institutions as the Royal Academy 
 have in producing mannerism in the students, 
 than which nothing can be more obnoxious to 
 the progress of refined art. “ But,” said he, 
 while I am urging the advantage of freedom 
 and nature in study to genius, let me not be 
 misunderstood. There is no untruth in the idea 
 that great wits are allied to great eccentricity. 
 Genius is apt to run wild if not brought under 
 some regulation. It is a flood whose current 
 will be dangerous if it is not kept within 
 proper banks. But it is one thing to regulate 
 its impetuosity, and another very different 
 to direct its natural courses. In every 
 branch of art there are certain laws by which 
 genius may be chastened ; but the corrections 
 gained by attention to these laws amputate 
 nothing that is legitimate, pure, and elegant. 
 Leaving these graces untouched, the schools of 
 art have dominion enough in curbing what is 
 mid, irregular, and absurd. 
 
 < 1 ^ 3 .. 
 
8(i 
 
 ‘‘ A college of art founded in this part of the 
 world cannot be expected, like a college of 
 literature, to lay before its young members all 
 that may be necessary to complete their 
 knowledge and taste. What is to be had from 
 books may be obtained almost every where ^ 
 but the books of instruction by which the artist 
 alone can be perfected, are those great works 
 which still remain immoveable in that part of 
 the world, where the fine arts in modern times 
 have been carried to their highest degree of 
 perfection, I trust a period will come, when 
 this Academy will be able to send the young 
 artist, not from one spot or one seminary to 
 another, but to gather improvement from every 
 celebrated work of art wherever situated. But 
 the progress and all future success of the artist 
 must depend upon himself. He must be in love 
 with his art or he will never excel in it. 
 
 That the arts of design were among the 
 first suggestions vouchsafed by Heaven to man- 
 kind, is not a proposition at which any man 
 needs to start. This truth is indeed manifested 
 by every little child, whose first essay is to make 
 
87 
 
 for itself the resemblance of some object to 
 which it has been accustomed in the nursery. 
 
 In the arts of design were conveyed the 
 original means of communicating ideas, which 
 the discoverers of countries show us to have 
 been seized upon, as it were involuntarily, by 
 all the first stages of society. Although the 
 people were rude in knowledge and in manners, 
 yet they were possessed of the means by which 
 they could draw figures of things, and they 
 could make those figures speak their purposes to 
 others as well as to themselves. The Mexicans 
 conversed in that way when Cortes came among 
 them ; and the savages of North America still 
 employ the same means of communicating in- 
 telligence. 
 
 When, therefore, you have taken up the 
 arts of design as your profession, you have 
 embraced that which has not only been sanc- 
 tioned by the cultivation of the earliest an- 
 tiquity, but to which their is no antiquity prior, 
 except that of the visible creation. 
 
 G 4 
 
88 
 
 “ Religion itselfi iii the earlier days of the 
 world, would probably have failed in its progress 
 without the arts of design, for religion was thjen 
 emblematic ; and what could an emblematic 
 theology do without the aid of the fine arts, and 
 especially the art of sculpture ? Religion and 
 the arts, in fact, sprung up together, were 
 introduced by the same people, and went hand 
 in hand, first through the continent of Asia, 
 then through Egypt, next through Greece and 
 her colonies, and in process of time through 
 every part of Italy, and even to the north of 
 Europe. In the pagodas of India, in some 
 caverns of Media, and among various ruins in 
 Persia, are still to be seen the early monuments 
 of emblematic art, and wrought in all the possible 
 difficulties of skiU. 
 
 When in the space of two thousand years 
 after the erection of some of those monuments, 
 the fine arts came to be established in Greece 
 in a better spirit as to taste, a higher estimation 
 could not be annexed to any circumstance in 
 society, than was given to the arts by the wise 
 and elegant inhabitants of that country. They 
 regarded them as their public records, the 
 
89 
 
 means of perpetuating aii public fame, all 
 private honour, and all valuable instruction. 
 The professors of them were considered as 
 public characters who watched over the events 
 that were passing, and who had in their hands 
 the power of embodying them for ever. And 
 is not this still the case with the artists of every 
 country, how varied soever may be its maxims, 
 or its system of action, from those of Greece ? 
 Is the artist indeed not that watchman who 
 observes the great incidents of his time, and 
 rescues them from oblivion? 
 
 When he turns from these views to 
 contemplate the patronage which has been 
 given to the fine arts, will he have less reason 
 to esteem his profession, — a profession so richly 
 cherished by all the greatest characters of the 
 earth? and which in return has immortalised 
 its patrons. Posterity has never ceased to 
 venerate the names of the Cosmos and Lorenzos 
 who bought art, and fostered to their full 
 maturity the various talents of their countrymen. 
 The palace of the Medici, still existing in 
 Florence, exhibits not only in its treasures the 
 
90 
 
 proofs of their munificence, but also within its 
 walls those apartments and offices for artists, in 
 every branch which those great men considered 
 requisite to the decoration of their residence. 
 And history has immortalised the solicitude with 
 which the vast fortune of the family, acquired 
 originally in honourable commerce, and rising 
 gloriously to sovereign power, was made con- 
 tributory to the nourishing’ of the arts and 
 literature ; of every thing that was intellectual, 
 liberal, and great.’’ 
 
 Mr. West then continued to enumerate the 
 honour which the successive illustrious patrons 
 of the fine arts have acquired, deducing from it 
 motives of emulation to the young students to 
 strive for similar distinction, that their names 
 may be mingled with those illustrious races and 
 families to whom Heaven is pleased to give 
 superior eminence and influence in human 
 affairs. In doing this he togk occasion to 
 animadvert on the base adulation of the artists 
 of France Jn the age of Louis XIV. j or rather 
 of the dishonour which the patronage of that 
 monarch has drawn upon himselfj by the 
 
91 
 
 unworthy manner in which he required the 
 artists to gratify his personal vanity. He 
 then proceeded to give some professional 
 advice. I wish/’ said he, to leave this 
 impression on the minds of all who hear me, 
 that the great alphabet of our art is the human 
 figure. By a competent knowledge of that 
 figure the painter will be enabled to give a 
 more just character and motion to that which 
 he intends to delineate. When that motion is 
 actuated by passion, and combined with other 
 figures, groups are formed. These groups make 
 words, and these words make sentences; by 
 which the painter’s tablet speaks a universal 
 language and he concluded with saying, 
 “ Gentlemen, It is a great treasure and a great 
 trust which is put into our hands. The fine 
 arts were late before they crossed the British 
 Channel, but now we may fairly pronounce that 
 they have made their special abode with us. 
 There is nothing in this climate unpropitious 
 to their growth ; and if the idea has been con- 
 ceived in the w-orld, enough has been done by 
 the artists of Great Britain to disprove it. I 
 know that I am speaking to the first professional 
 
characters in Europe in every branch of elegant 
 art, as well as those who are most distinguished 
 in taste and judgment. If there be diffiised 
 through this country a spirit of encourage- 
 ment equal to the abilities which are ripe to 
 meet it, I may venture to predict that the sun 
 of our arts will have a long and glorious 
 career/^ 
 
9S 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 MHscourse to the Royal Academy in 1794 .—- Observations on 
 the Advantage of drawing the Human Figure correctly. — - 
 On the Propriety of cultivating the Eye, in order to enlarge 
 the Variety of our Pleasures derived from Objects of Sight. 
 — ■ On characteristic Distinctions in Art. — Illustrations 
 drawn from the Apollo Belvidere, and from the Venus de 
 Medici ; comprehending critical Remarks on those Statues. 
 
 The prizes in the Royal Academy being dis= 
 ttibuted every second year, on the 10th of 
 December, 1794, Mr. West delivered another 
 Discourse, in which he took a more scientific 
 view of the principles of the fine arts, than iii 
 the desultory observations which constituted 
 the substance of his first lecture. As it con- 
 tained much valuable information, mixed up with 
 remarks incidental to the occasion, I have taken 
 the liberty of abstracting the professional in- 
 struction from the less important matter, in 
 order to give what deserves to be preserved 
 
94 
 
 and generally known in a concise and an un- 
 broken form. 
 
 “ It may be assumed,’’ said Mr. West, as 
 an unquestionable principle, that the artist who 
 has made himself master of the drawing of the 
 human figure, in its moral and physical expres- 
 sion, will succeed not only in portrait-painting, 
 but in the delineation of animals, and even of 
 still life, much better than if he had directed 
 his attention to inferior objects. For the 
 human figure in that point of consideration, in 
 which it becomes a model to art, is more 
 beautiful than any other in nature j and is dis- 
 tinguished, above every other, by the variety of 
 the phenomena which it exhibits, arising from 
 the different modifications of feeling and passion. 
 In my opinion, it would, therefore, be of in- 
 calculable advantage to the public, if the draw- 
 ing of the human figure were taught as an 
 elementary essential in education. It would do 
 more than any other species of oral or written 
 instruction, to implant among the youth of the 
 noble and opulent classes that correctness of 
 taste which is so ornamental to their rank in 
 
 1 1 
 
95 
 
 society ; while it would guide the artizan in the 
 improvement of his productions in such a 
 manner, as greatly to enrich the stock of manu- 
 factures, and to increase the articles of com- 
 merce'; and, as the sight is perhaps the most 
 delightful of all our senses, this education of the 
 eye would multiply the sources of enjoyment. 
 
 ‘‘ The value of the cultivated ear is well under- 
 stood ; and the time bestowed on the acquisition 
 of the universal language of music, is abundantly 
 repaid by the gratification which it affords, 
 although not employed in the communication of 
 knowledge, but merely as a source of agreeable 
 sensation. Were the same attention paid to the 
 improvement of the eye, which is given to that 
 of the ear, should we not be rewarded with as 
 great an increase of the blameless pleasures of 
 life, — from the power of discriminating hues 
 and forms, — as we derive from the knowledge 
 of musical proportions and sounds ? The cul- 
 tivation of the sense of sight would have such 
 an effect in improving even the faculty of exe- 
 cuting those productions of mechanical labour 
 which constitute so large a portion of the riches 
 
96 
 
 of a commercial and refined people, that it 
 ought to be regarded among the mere operative 
 classes -of society as a primary object in the 
 education of their apprentices. Indeed, it may 
 be confidently asserted, that an artizan, ac- 
 customed to an accurate discrimination of 
 outline, will, more readily than another not 
 educated with equal care in that particular, per- 
 ceive the fitness or defects of every species of 
 mechanical contrivance ; and, in consequence, 
 be enabled to suggest expedients which would 
 tend to enlarge the field of invention. We can 
 form no idea to ourselves how many of the 
 imperfections in the most ingenious of our 
 machines and engines would have been obviated, 
 had the inventors been accustomed to draw with 
 accuracy. 
 
 But, to the student of the fine arts, this im- 
 portant branch of education will yield but few 
 of the advantages which it is calculated to 
 afford, unless his studies are directed by a phi- 
 losophical spirit, and the observation of physical 
 expression rendered conducive to some moral 
 purpose. Without the guidance of such a spiritj 
 
97 
 
 J5ainting and sculpture are but ornamental 
 manufactures ; and the works of Raphael and 
 Michael Angelo, considered without reference 
 to the manifestations which they exhibit of 
 moral influence, possess no merit beyond the 
 productions of the ordinary paper-hanger. 
 
 The first operation of this philosophical 
 spirit will lead the student to contemplate the 
 general form of the figure as an object of 
 beauty ; and thence instruct him to analyse 
 the use and form of every separate part; the 
 relation and mutual aid of the parts to each 
 other; and the necessary effect of the whole 
 in unison. 
 
 By an investigation of this kind, he will 
 arrive at what constitutes character in art ; and, 
 in pursuing his analysis, he will discover that the 
 general construction of the human figure in the 
 male indicates strength and activity; and that 
 the form of the individual man, in proportion 
 to the power of being active, is more or less 
 perfect. In the male, the degree of beauty de- 
 pends on the degree of activity with which ali 
 
 H. 
 
98 
 
 the parts of the body- are capable of perform- 
 ing their respective and mutual functions ; but 
 the characteristics of perfection of form in the 
 female are very different ; delicacy of frame 
 and modesty of demeanour, with less capability 
 to be active, constitute the peculiar graces of 
 woman. 
 
 When the student has settled in his own 
 mind the general and primary characteristics, in 
 either sex, of the human figure, the next step 
 will enable him to reduce the particular cha- 
 racter of his subject into its proper class, 
 whether it rank under the sublime or the beau- 
 tiful, the heroic or the graceful, the masculine 
 or the feminine, or in any of its other softer or 
 more spirited distinctions. For the course of 
 his studies will have made him acquainted with 
 the moral operations of character, as they are 
 expressed upon the external form ; and the 
 habit of discrimination, thus acquired, will have 
 taught him the action or attitude by which all 
 moral mov^nents of character are usually ac- 
 companied. By this knowledge of the general 
 figure, this habitual aptitude to perceive the 
 
99 
 
 beauty and fitness of its parts, and of the cor- 
 respondence between the emotions of the mind 
 and the actions of the body, he will find himself 
 in possession of all that Zeuxis sought for in the 
 graces' of the different beautiful women whom 
 he collected together, that he might be enabled 
 to paint a proper picture of Helen ; and it is 
 the happy result of this knowledge which we 
 see in the Apollo Belvidere and the Venus de 
 Medici, that renders them so valuable as objects 
 of study. 
 
 ‘‘ But the student must be always careful to 
 distinguish between objects of study and objects 
 of imitation ; for the works which will best im- 
 prove his taste and exalt his imagination, are 
 precisely those which he should least endeavour 
 to imitate ; because, in proportion to their ap- 
 propriate excellences, their beauties are limited 
 in their application. 
 
 The Apollo is represented by the mytho- 
 logists as a perfect man, in the vigour of life ; 
 tall, handsome and animated ; his locks rising 
 and floating on the wind ; accomplished in mind 
 
 u % 
 
100 
 
 and body^ skilled in the benevolent art of 
 alleviating pain ; music his delight, and poetry 
 and song his continual recreation. His activity 
 was shown in dancing, running, and the manly 
 exercises of the quoit, the sling, and the bow. 
 He was swift in his pursuits, and terrible in his 
 anger. — Such was the Pythian Apollo; and 
 were a sculptor to think of forming the statue 
 of such a character, would he not determine 
 that his body, strong and vigorous from con- 
 stant exercise, should be nobly erect ; that, as 
 his lungs were expanded by habits of swiftness 
 in the chase, his chest should be large and full ; 
 that his thighs, as the source of movement in 
 his legs, should have the appearance of enlarged 
 vigour and solidity; and that his legs, in 'a 
 similar manner, should also possess uncommon 
 strength to induce and propagate the action of 
 the feet? The nostrils ought to be elevated, 
 because the quick respirations of running and 
 dancing would naturally produce that effect; 
 and, for the same reason, the mouth should 
 appear to he habitually a little open. While 
 his arms, firm and nervous by the exercise of 
 he quoit, the sling, and the bow, should par- 
 
 17 
 
101 
 
 ticipate in the general vigour and agility of the* 
 other members — and would not this be the 
 Apollo Belvidere ? 
 
 « Were the young artist, in like manner, ta 
 propose to himself a subject in which he would 
 endeavour to represent the peculiar excellences 
 of woman, would he not say, that these excel - 
 lences consist in a virtuous^ mind, a modest 
 mien, a tranquil deportment, and a gracefulness 
 in motion? And, in embodying the combined 
 beauty of these qualities, would he not bestow on 
 the figure a general, smooth, and round fulness ^ 
 of form, to indicate the softness of character ; . 
 bend the head gently forward, in the common ^ 
 attitude of modesty; and awaken our ideas of ^ 
 the slow and graceful movements peculiar to 
 the sex, by limbs free from that masculine and 
 sinewy expression which is the "consequence of 
 active exercise ? — and such is the Venus de 
 Medici. It would be utterly impossible to 
 place a person so formed in the attitude of the 
 Apollo, without destroying all those amiable 
 and gentle associations of the mind which are * 
 
 H 3 
 
102 
 
 inspired by contemplating ‘ the statue which 
 enchants the world/ 
 
 “ Art affords no finer specimens of the suc« 
 
 I 
 
 cessful application of the principles which I 
 have laid down than in those two noble pro- 
 diictions/\ 
 
103 
 
 CHAR X. 
 
 Discourse to the Academy in 1797. — the Principles of 
 Painting and Sculpture* — Of Embellishments in Archie 
 tecture. — Of the Taste of the Ancients, — Errors of {he 
 Moderns, — Of the good Taste of the Greeks in Appropri- 
 ations of Character to their Statues, — On Drawing, < — 
 Of Light and Shade, — Principles of Colouring in Paint- 
 ' ing, — Illustration, — Of the Warm and Cold Colours, — 
 Of Copying fine Pictures, —■ Of Composition, — 0?i the 
 Benefits to be derived from Sketching; — ~ and of the Advan- 
 tage of being familiar with the Characteristics of Objects in 
 Nature, 
 
 In the discourse which Mr. West delivered from 
 the chair of the Academy in l?97s he resumed 
 the subject which he had but slightly opened, 
 in that of which the foregoing chapter contains 
 the substance. I shall therefore endeavour in 
 the same manner, and as correctly as I can, to 
 present a view of the mode in which he treated 
 his argument, and as nearly as possible in his 
 own language. 
 
 H 4 
 
104 . 
 
 As the foundation of those philosophical 
 principles,” said Mr. West, on which the 
 whole power of art must rest, I wish to direct 
 the attention of the student, especially in paint- 
 ing and sculpture, to an early study of the 
 human figure, with reference to proportion^ 
 expression, and character. 
 
 When I speak of painting and sculpture, it 
 is not my intention to pass over architecture, as 
 if it were less dependent on philosophical 
 principles, although what I have chiefly to 
 observe with respect to it relates to embellish- 
 ment ; — a branch of art which artists are too 
 apt to regard as not under the control of any 
 principle, but subject only to their own taste 
 and fancy. If the young architect commences 
 his career with this erroneous notion, he will be 
 undone, if there is any just notions of his art 
 in the country. 
 
 “ It is, therefore, necessary, as he derives 
 his models from the ancients, that he should 
 enquire into the origin of those embellishments 
 with which the architects of antiquity decorated 
 
105 
 
 their various edifices. In the prosecution of 
 his enquiries, he will find that the ornaments of 
 temples and mausolea, may be traced back to the 
 periods of emblematic art, and become convinced 
 that the spoils of victims, and instruments of 
 sacrifice, were appropriate ornaments of the 
 temple j while urns, containing the ashes of the 
 dead, and the tears of the surviving friends, were 
 the invariable decorations of the mausoleum. 
 The good taste of the classic ancients prevented 
 them from ever intermixing the respective 
 emblems of different buildings, or rather, in 
 their minds custom preserved them from falling 
 into such an incongruous error, as to place the 
 ornaments belonging to the depositaries of the 
 dead on triumphal arches, palaces, and public 
 ofiiees. They considered in the ornaments the 
 character and purpose of the edifice ; and they 
 would have been ashamed to have thought it 
 possible that their palaces might be mistaken 
 for mausolea, or their tombs for the mansions of 
 festivity. 
 
 Is the country in which we live free from 
 the absurdities which confound these necessary 
 
106 
 
 distinctions ? Have we never beheld on the 
 porticoes of palaces, public halls, or places of 
 amusement, the skins of animals devoted to the 
 rites of the pagan religion, or vases consecrated 
 to the ashes of the dead, or the tears of the 
 living ? Violations of sense and character, in 
 this respect, are daily committed. We might, 
 with as much propriety, adorn the friezes of ' 
 our palaces and theatres with the skulls and 
 cross thigh-bones of the human figure, which 
 are the emblems of death in every country 
 throughout modern Europe ! 
 
 “I do not here allude to any particular 
 work, nor do I speak of this want of principle 
 as general. It is indeed impossible that I can 
 be supposed to mean the latter ; for we have 
 among us men distinguished in the profession of 
 architecture, who would do honour to the most 
 refined periods of antiquity. But all are not 
 equally chaste ; and in addressing myself to the 
 young, it is my duty to guard thein against 
 those deviations from good taste, which, without 
 such a caution, they might conceive to be 
 sanctioned by some degree of example. It k 
 
107 
 
 my wish to preserve them from the innovations 
 of caprice and fashion, to which the public is 
 always prone ; and to assure the youth of genius, 
 that while he continues to found the merit of 
 his works* on true principles, he will always 
 find, notwithstanding the apparent generality of 
 any fashion, that there is no surer way, eitlier 
 to fame or fortune, than by acting in art, as 
 well as life, on those principles which have 
 received the sanction of experience, and the 
 approbation of the wise of all ages. 
 
 1 shall now return to the consideration of 
 painting and sculpture. 
 
 The Greeks, above all others, afford us the 
 best and most decided proofs of the beauty 
 arising from the philosophical consideration of 
 the subject intended to be represented. To all 
 their deities a fixed and appropriate character 
 was given, from which it would have perhaps 
 been profanity to depart. This character was 
 the result of a careful consideration of the 
 ideal beauty suitable to the respective attributes 
 of the different deities. Thus in their Jupiter, 
 
108 
 
 Neptune, Hercules, Vulcan^ Mars, and Pluto ; 
 the Apolloy Mercuiy, Hymen, and Cupid, and 
 also in the goddesses Juno, Minen^a, Venus, 
 Hebe, the Nymphs and Graces j appeared a 
 vast discrimination of character, at the same 
 time as true an individuality as if the different 
 forms had been the works of Nature herself. 
 
 “ In your progress through that mechanical 
 part of your professional education, which is 
 directed to the acquisition of a perfect know* 
 ledge of the human figure, I recommend to 
 you a scrupulous exactness in imitating what 
 is immediately before you, in order that you 
 may acquire the habit of observing with precision 
 every object that presents itself to your sight. 
 Accustom yourselves to draw all the deviations 
 of the figure, till you are as much acquainted 
 with them as with the alphabet of your own 
 language, and can make them with as much 
 facility as your letters ; for they are indeed the 
 letters and alphabet of your profesrion, whether 
 it be painting or sculpture. 
 
 “ These divisions consist of the head, with 
 
109 
 
 its features taken in three points of view, front, 
 back, and profile ; the neck in like manner, 
 also the thorax, abdomen, and pelvis ; thigh, 
 knee, leg, ankle, the carpus, metacarpus, and 
 toes; the ciavicula, arm, fore-arm, wrist, 
 carpus, metacarpus, and fingers. While you 
 are employed on these, it would be highly 
 proper to have before you the osteology of the 
 part on which you are engaged, as in that 
 consists the foundation of your pursuit. And, 
 in this period of your studies, I recommend 
 that your drawings be geometrical, as when you 
 draw and study a column with its base and 
 capital. At the same time you should not 
 neglect to gain a few points in perspective, 
 particularly so far as to give effect to the square 
 and cylinder, in order to know what constitutes 
 the vanishing point, and point of distance, in the 
 subject you are going to draw. 
 
 After you have perfected yourselves in the 
 parts of the figure, begin to draw the Greek 
 figures entire, with the same attention to cor« 
 rectness as when you drew the divisions in 
 your earlier lessons. Attend to the perspective 
 
110 
 
 according to the vanishing point opposite to 
 your eye. You will naturally seek to possess 
 your mindwith the special character of the figure 
 l)efore you ; — and of all the Grecian figures, 
 I' would advise you to make from the Apollo 
 and' Venus a general measurement or standard 
 for man and woman, taking the head and its 
 features, as the part by which you measure 
 the divisions of those figures. 
 
 ‘‘ Light and shade must not be neglected j for 
 what you efiect in drawing by the contour of the 
 figure, light and shade must efiect with the 
 projections of those parts which front you in 
 thcx figure. Light and shade there produce 
 what becomes outline to another drawing of the 
 same object in a right angle to the place -vthere 
 you sit. 
 
 It seems not impossible to reduce to the 
 simplicity of rule or ’’"principle, what may have 
 appeared difficult in this branch of art to young 
 students, and may have been too often pursued 
 at random by others. All forms in nature, both 
 animate and inanimate, partake of the round 
 
 i6 
 
Ill 
 
 form more than of any other shape ; and when 
 lighted, whether by the sun or dame, or by 
 apertures admitting light, must have two relative 
 extremes of light and shadow, two balancing tints, 
 the illuminated and the reflected, divided by a 
 middle tint or the aerial. The effect of illumin- 
 ation by flame or aperture, differs from that of 
 the sun in this respect ; the sun illuminates with 
 parallel rays, wdiich fall over all parts of the 
 enlightened side of the subject, while the light 
 of a flame or an aperture only strikes directly 
 on the nearest point of the object, producing an 
 effect which more or less resembles the illumin- 
 ation of the sun in proportion to the distance 
 and dimensions of the object. 
 
 Let us then suppose a ball to be the object 
 on which the light falls, in a direction of forty- 
 five degrees or the diagonal of a square, and at 
 a right angle from the ball to the place where 
 you stand. One half of the ball will appear 
 illuminated, and the other dark. This state of 
 the two hemispheres constitutes the two masses 
 of light and shadow. In the centre of the mass 
 of light falls the focus of the illumination in the 
 
' ball ; between the centre of the illumination 
 and the circle of the ball, where the illumination 
 reaches its extremity, lies what may be called 
 the transparent tint; and between it and the 
 dark side of the ball lies the serial or middle 
 tint. The point of darkness, the extreme of 
 shade, is diametrically opposite to the focus of 
 illdmination, between which and the aerial tint 
 lies the tint of reflection. If the ball rests on 
 a plain, it will throw a shadow equal in length 
 to one diameter and a quarter of the ball. That 
 shadow will be darker than the shade on the ball, 
 and the darkest part will be where the plain and 
 ball come in contact with each other. 
 
 This simple experiment, whether performed 
 in the open sun-shine, or with artificial illumin- 
 ation, will lead you to the true principles of light 
 and shade over all objects in nature, whether 
 mountains, clouds, rocks, trees, single figures, 
 or groups of figures. It would therefore be of 
 great use, when you are going to give light and 
 shade to any object, first to make the experiment 
 of the ball, and in giving that light and shade, 
 follow the lessons with which it will furnish you. 
 
113 
 
 Yoii will find that this experiment will 
 instruct you, not only in the principles of light 
 and shade, but also of colours ; for that there is 
 a Corresponding hue with respect to colours is 
 not to be disputed. In order to demonstrate 
 this, place in the ball which you have illuminated, 
 the prismatic colours, suiting their hues to those 
 of the tints. Yellow will answer to the focus of 
 illumination, and the other secondary and 
 primary hues will fall into their proper places. 
 Hence, on the enlightened side of a group or 
 figure, you may lay yellow, orange, red, and then 
 violet, but never on the side where the light 
 recedes. On that side must come the other 
 prismatic colours in their natural order. Yellow 
 must pass to green, the green to blue, and the 
 blue to purple. The primary colours of yellow, 
 orange, and red, are the warm colours, and 
 belong to the illuminated side of objects j the 
 violet is the intermediate, and green, blue, and 
 purple are the cold colours, and belong to the 
 retiring parts of your composition. 
 
 “ On the same principle, and in the same 
 order, must be placed the tints which compose 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 the fleshy bodies of men and women, but so 
 blended with each other, as to give the softness 
 appropriate to the luminous quality and texture 
 of flesh ; paying attention, at the same time, to 
 reflections on its surface from other objects, and 
 to its participation of their colours. The latter 
 is a distinct circumstance arising from accident. 
 
 “ When the sun illuminates a human body, in 
 the same manner as the ball, the focus of the 
 illumination in that body will partake of the 
 yellow ; and the luminous or transparent tint, will 
 have the orange and the red. These produce, 
 what is called, the carnation. The pure red, 
 occasioned by the blood, lies in the lips, cheeks, 
 joints, and extremities of the figure, and no 
 where else. On the receding side of the focus is 
 the local colour of the flesh, and on the receding 
 side of that is the greenish tint ; in the shade 
 will fall the cold or bluish, and in the reflection 
 will fall the tint of purple. The most perfect 
 tint of ground, from which to relieve this 
 arrangement of colours, is either blue, grey, or 
 purple, for those colours partake of the com- 
 plexion of the watery sky in which- the rainbow 
 
115 
 
 appears, or the ground which best exhibits the 
 prismatic colours* 
 
 In acquiring a practical knowledge of the 
 happiest manner of distributing your colours 
 according to nature, it will assist you, if you 
 will copy with attention some pieces of Titian, 
 Correggio, Reubens, and Vandyke; the masters 
 in whose works you will most eminently find the 
 system pursued, which I have endeavoured to 
 illustrate by the simple image of the balL 
 
 Having passed from the antique school, to 
 that in which you draw after the living figure, 
 still adhere to that scrupulous exactness of 
 drawing with which you first set out ; marking 
 with precision the divisions of the figure. After 
 you have made yourselves acquainted with the 
 drawing of the living figure, you must then 
 begiiCto enlarge your lines, and to give softness 
 and breadth, to direct your attention to what 
 constitutes style and character, and to discrimi- 
 nate these from what constitutes manner. 
 
 To assist you in this nice discrimination,, 
 
 1 92 
 
115 
 
 consult the prints and works of Michael Angelrf, 
 Raphael, and Hannibal Carracci. In them you 
 will find the strongest and purest evidence of 
 style and character, yet all differing from each 
 other, and all equally brought out of nature# 
 I do not recommend them with a viev/ that you 
 should adopt the style and character of any of 
 them ; but to show from those great examples, 
 that style and character, although ever founded 
 in nature, are as various as the individual genius 
 of every artist ; that they are as free to you as 
 they were to those masters ; that if you will 
 consult your own mind, you will di'aw forth a 
 style and character of your own, and therefore 
 no man can ever be excused for sinking into a 
 mannerists 
 
 And I cannot omit to observe here, that in 
 the order of your studies, your mental powers 
 should be cherished and brought into action by 
 reading and reflection, but not until you have 
 acquired practical facility in your art. Too 
 often it happens, and I have seen it with 
 concern, that the presumption of youth, or the 
 errors of instruction, have reversed this order, 
 
117 
 
 and have carried many to attempt essays of 
 research and learning, before they were well 
 grounded in the principles of professional prac- 
 tice. What other consequences can follow from 
 such a course, but that the student will turn in 
 discontent from his own productions, because 
 they fall short of the ideas in his mind ; and in- 
 duce him, perhaps, to abandon, with disgust, a 
 profession in which he might have shone with 
 distinction, had he taken a right method of cul- 
 tivating his own powers ! 
 
 The great masters were all at an early age 
 great in the mechanical department of their art, 
 before they established any name by their phi- 
 losophical style and character. Michael Angelo, 
 when a mere youth, modelled and drew in a 
 manner which astonished his own master. 
 Raphael, at not more than nineteen years of 
 age, rivalled his instructor, Pietro Perugino, in 
 his executive talent ; and, owing to this, he was 
 enabled, at the age of only twenty-five, to send 
 forth his two great works, the Dispute on the 
 Sacramenty and the School of Athens, Guido, 
 Bernini, and many others of the first class, pur^ 
 
 I 3 
 
118 
 
 sued the same course of study, and were in the 
 full possession of their powers very young. 
 Vandyke, before he was twenty years old, as« 
 sisted Reubens in his greatest works ; and on a 
 certain occasion, when the pupils of Reubens 
 were amusing themselves in the absence of their 
 master, one of them happened to fall against 
 the Mother,’’ in the Descent from the Cross, 
 which Vandyke repaired in a manner so ad- 
 mirable, that when the painter came next ta 
 the picture, he expressed himself surprised at 
 the excellence of his own work, and said, that 
 he thought he had not done that arm so welL 
 In a word, wherever we find the executive 
 power high at an early age, whether in painting 
 or sculpture, we have an assurance of future 
 excellence, which nothing but indolence can pre- 
 vent. And, to give that early facility correct- 
 ness of execution, remember and pursue the 
 great maxim of Apelles : — 
 
 Nulla dies, sine linear <• 
 
 The young artist may, indeed, draw lines every 
 day and every hour with advantage, whether it 
 be to amuse himself in society or in the fields. 
 
119 
 
 He should accustom ' himself to sketch every 
 thing, especially vwhat is rare and singular in 
 nature. Let nothing of the animate creation 
 on the earth, or in the air, or in the water, pass 
 you unnoticed 5 especially those which are dis- 
 tinguished for their picturesque beauty, or re- 
 markable for dignity of form or elegance of 
 colour. Fix them distinctly in your sketch- 
 book and in your memory. Observe, with the 
 same contemplative eye, the landscape, the ap- 
 pearance of trees, figures dispersed around, and 
 their aerial distance, as well as lineal forms. In 
 this class of observations, omit not to observe 
 the light and shade, in consequence of the sun’s 
 rays being intercepted by clouds or other acci- 
 dents. Besides this, let your mind be lamiliar 
 with the characteristics of the ocean ; mark its 
 calm dignity when undisturbed by the winds, 
 and all its various states between that and its 
 terrible sublimity when agitated by the tempest. 
 Sketch with attention its foaming and winding 
 coasts with distant land, and that awful line 
 which separates it from the Heavens. Re- 
 plenished with these stores, your imagination 
 will then come forth as a river, collected from 
 I 4 
 
little springs, spreads into might and majesty. 
 The hand will then readily execute what it has 
 been so practised in acquiring ; while the mind 
 will embrace its subjects with confidence, by 
 being so well accustomed to observe their pic-, 
 turesque effect/^ 
 
1^1 
 
 I 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 Discourse. — Introduction , — On the Philosophy of Character 
 in Art. — Of Phidias. — Of Apelles. — Of the Progress of 
 
 the Arts among the Moderns. — Of Leonardo da Vinci. 
 
 Of Michael Angelo^ Raphael, and Bartolomeo.. — Of 
 Titian. - — Of the Effects of PaWonage. 
 
 It is not my intention to give all the discourses 
 which Mr. West addressed to the students of 
 the Academy, but only those which contain, 
 what may be called, illustrations of the principles 
 of his art. The following, however, is so 
 interesting and so various in its matter, that it 
 would be improper in me to make any attempt 
 to garble or abridge it, beyond omitting the 
 mere incidental notice of temporary circum- 
 stances. 
 
 The discourse which I am about to deliver, 
 according to usual custom on the return of this 
 day, must be considered as addressed more 
 
immediately to those among the students, who 
 have made so much progress in art, as to be 
 masters of the human figure, of perspective, and 
 of those other parts of study, which I have 
 heretofore recommended as the elements of 
 painting and sculpture ; and who are therefore 
 about to enter on the higher paths of professional 
 excellence. It will consequently be my object, 
 now, to show how that excellence is to be 
 attained ; and this will best be done, as I con- 
 ceive, by showing how it has been attained by 
 others, in whom that excellence has been most 
 distinguished in the ancient and modern world. 
 By pursuing the principles on which they moved, 
 you have the best encouragement in their 
 illustrious example, while, by neglecting those 
 principles, you can have no more reason to hope 
 for such success as they met with, than you can 
 think of reaching a distant land, without road 
 or compass to direct your steps. 
 
 “ The ground which I shall propose for your 
 attention is this — to investigate those philo- 
 sophical principles on which all truth of cha- 
 racter is founded, and by which that sublime 
 
1S3 
 
 attainment, the highest refinement in art, and 
 without which every thing else is merely 
 mechanical, may be brought to a decided point, 
 in all the variety by which it is distinguished 
 through the animated world. 
 
 ‘‘ On this ground, and on this alone, rose 
 Phidias and Apelles to the celebrity which they 
 held among the Greeks ; and among the Italians, 
 Leonardo da Vinci, Michael Angelo, Raphael, 
 Titian, Correggio, and some others, who became 
 the completest models in sculpture and painting. 
 Their predecessors, indeed, in both countries, 
 had for a considerable time been preparing the 
 way, but not having equally studied the best 
 means, or those means not having been equally 
 before them, it was reserved of course for the 
 great characters I have mentioned, to unite phi- 
 losophical with professional truth, and to exhibit 
 to the world in their works the standards of style. 
 From the same source arose another con- 
 sequence, ever worthy and pleasing to be 
 mentioned ; — the exhibition of those per- 
 fections was always accompanied by that ardent 
 patronage, which not only cheered their minds, 
 
124 . 
 
 and invigorated their powers, but has left a 
 glory on their country, which no subsequent 
 eyents have been able to obliterate, and which 
 never will be obliterated in any country where 
 the sublimity of art, involving the most refined 
 embellishments of civilized life, is cherished 
 by those who are in a capacity to cherish it. 
 
 ‘‘ In a very early period of the arts in Greece, 
 we meet with a circumstance which shows the 
 advantages derived from consulting with phi- 
 losophy, if it does not also show the origin and 
 outset of those advantages. The circumstance 
 to which I allude is, that in the period when 
 the sculptors contented themselves with the 
 stationary forms and appearance of figures, in 
 imitation of their predecessors, the Egyptians ; 
 at that time they began to submit their works 
 to the judgment of philosophers, one of whom, 
 being called in to survey a statue, which a 
 sculptor, then eminent, was going to expose to 
 public view, remarked, that the human figure 
 before him wanted motion, or that expression 
 of intellect and will, from which motion and 
 character too must arise ; for man had a soul 
 
125 
 
 land mind, which put him at the head of the 
 animal creation, and, therefore, without that 
 soul and mind, the form of man was degraded. 
 
 This observation touched the point, then, 
 necessary to be obviated, in order to overcome 
 the primitive rudeness which still attached to 
 sculpture ; and without the application of the 
 principle contained in the observation, sculpture 
 and painting too might have stood still for ages. 
 And from what other source than the principles 
 of philosophic study, or, in other words, from 
 reflection on the moral powers or passions of 
 man, their several effects, as produced in their 
 workings on the human figure, could that im- 
 provement be obtained ? It was the constant 
 employment of the philosophic mind, to study 
 those causes and effects, and to reduce them to 
 a more distinct display for the truth and utility 
 of their own writings. The philosophers were, 
 therefore, the most likely to assist the artist in 
 those displays of character which tended to illus- 
 trate the truth of his own works. Nor on this 
 account is it any disparagement to the artists of 
 those days, when philosophic studies were con- 
 
fined to particular classes of men, that this moral 
 view of art was not sufficiently taken up by the 
 more mechanical part of the profession. 
 
 Thus, however, the opening was made to 
 the important expression of character. And 
 the lesson suggested by the philosopher alluded 
 to, is not confined to the Greeks alone. I wish, 
 young gentlemen, to leave it in all its force 
 upon your minds. For if the figures you design, 
 whether singly or in groups, have not their 
 actions correspondent to w^^l^ their minds 
 appear to be pursuing, they will suit any other 
 subject as well as that in which they are placed. 
 This remark is the more worthy of attention, 
 as it does not apply to any of the figures of 
 the Grecian masters whom I have mentioned. 
 The figure by Phidias on Monte Cavallo at 
 Rome, the Apollo, the Laocoon, the Venus, 
 the Hercules, and the fighting gladiator, are all 
 perfect on the just principles I have mentioned. 
 There is no room for amendment ; their pro- 
 priety is unquestionable ; their truth eternal. 
 And in the works of modern art, we see 
 
1^7 
 
 the same truth and perfection in the Capeila 
 Sestina by Michael Angelo, in the Supper by 
 Leonardo da Vinci at 'Milan, in the Cartoons by 
 Raphael, the St. Peter Martyr by Titian, and 
 the Note by Correggio. 
 
 Having mentioned the figure on Monte 
 Cavallo, representing, as you all know, a young 
 man curbing a horse, I cannot help stopping to 
 remark, that if any work of sculpture ever 
 demonstrated more strongly the value of uniting 
 philosophic science with that of art, for the 
 production of character, it is that work by 
 Phidias. Never did the power of art express 
 more evidently than is done in the head of the 
 young man, that every feature is moved by an 
 internal mental power, and corresponds in the 
 most perfect truth with what we see to be the 
 labouring passion. When we view it in front we 
 are astonished that the mouth does not speak. 
 No observer ever thinks that the head is a block 
 of stone. But the whole group is masterly on 
 the most refined principles of science. It was 
 intended to be seen at an elevated point, as 
 well as at a distant one. All its forms, there- 
 
128 
 
 fore, are grand without the minutiie of parts } 
 its effects are striking and momentary ; and irt 
 every circumstance considered, it is plainly 
 the work of consummate genius and science 
 united. 
 
 Was it possible that in an age which gave 
 a Phidias to the Greeks, there should not have 
 been a Pericles to reward, by his patronage, 
 merit so exalted? 
 
 «« We may Carry the same reflections into 
 the progress of the pencil. As the Greeks 
 became refined in their minds, they gained an 
 Apelles to paint, and an Alexander to patronise. 
 We are not enabled now to speak of the 
 works of that great master. His figure of 
 Alexander, in the character of young Ammon, 
 is described as his master-piece. Such was the 
 expression with which the hand grasped the 
 thunder-bolt, that it seemed actually to start 
 from the pannel. The expression and force of 
 cliaracter given to the whole, was equally 
 marvellous. And when we consider the refine- 
 ment to which the human mind had then - 
 
 i8 
 

 arrived among the Greeks, the immense value 
 which they put upon the works of that artist, 
 and that they were too wise to devote their 
 applause to things which fell short of consum- 
 mate excellence, we cannot doubt but it was 
 by the cultivation of the public mind that the arts 
 reached such attainments among them. What 
 must have been their exquisite state when the 
 simple line drawn by Protogenes, — in the con- 
 sciousness of his acknowledged perfection, and 
 which was intended to announce the man who 
 drew it, as much as if he had told his name, — 
 was so far excelled by another simple line over it 
 by Apelles, that the former at once confessed him- 
 self outdone ? Those two lines, simple as they 
 were, were by no means trifling in their instruc- 
 tion. They gave us, as it were, an epitome of th e 
 progress which the arts had long been making 
 in Greece. For if the drawing of a simple 
 line, of such a master as Protogenes, who was 
 conceived by many to hold the first pencil in 
 the world, was surpassed, to his great surprise, 
 by another, how high must refinement Iiave 
 been raised by the exertions of' the artists in a 
 period so emulous of perfection ! 
 
 K 
 
130 
 
 The stages in the progress of modern art 
 have been frequently distinguished by ages 
 similar to those which succeed one another in 
 the human growth. We may safely assert, that 
 in the infantine and youthful period of modern 
 art, literature and science were only seen in 
 their infancy and growth. The opening of 
 nature displayed in the works of Massaccio ; the 
 graces exhibited in those of Lorenzo Ghiberti ; 
 and the advancement in perspective made by 
 one or two others, kept pace nearly with that 
 progress in philosophy which appeared in the 
 best writings of those days. As the one took 
 a larger step in the next stage or period, the 
 other stepped forth in a like degree at the same 
 time j so that in Leonardo da Vinci we see the 
 great painter and the great philosopher : his 
 painting most clearly refined in its principles, 
 and enlarged in its powers by his philosophical 
 studies. As a "philosopher, and especially in 
 those parts of knowledge which were most in- 
 teresting to his profession, he laid that foundation 
 of science which has ever since been adopted 
 and admired. *^As a painter, he not only went 
 far beyond his predecessors, but laid down those 
 
131 
 
 principles of science in the expression of 
 individual character, and of a soul and figure 
 specifically and completely appropriated to each 
 other, which opened the way to the greatness 
 acquired by those who followed him in his 
 studies. In that point of excellence, Leonardo 
 da Vinci was original ; and it was the natural 
 result of a mind like his, formed to philosophical 
 investigation, and deeply attentive to all the 
 variety of appearances by which the passions are 
 marked in the human countenance and frame. 
 These he traced to their sources : he found 
 them in their radical principles, and by his 
 knowledge of these principles, his expression of 
 character became perfected. 
 
 The nature exhibited by Massaccio had not 
 gone to that extent of expression. It however 
 spoke a soul: he drew forth an inward mind on 
 the outward countenance : he gave a character; 
 but that character was not so discriminated as 
 to become the index of one particular passion 
 more than another ; or to decide, for instance, 
 the head of Jupiter from that of a Minerva: so 
 
 . * ■ . Iv 2 
 
18 ^ 
 
 at with the aid of different types, it should 
 not befit a Saviour or a Magdalene. 
 
 “We must take along with us in this review, 
 that the splendid patronage of the house of 
 Medici came forward to meet, and to cherish 
 the happy advancements made by the masters 
 of those days ; so that Florence, which was 
 tlien the greatest seat of the arts, was no less 
 brilliant and illustrious in the generosity which 
 strove to perpetuate them, than in the genius 
 by which they had been cultivated. 
 
 “ Leonardo da Vinci, by the principles which 
 he so effectually realised, has always been 
 considered as having established the manly as 
 well as the graceful age of modern art. But 
 manhood is never so fixed as to be incapable 
 of progress. The^manhood then attained in art 
 was capable of farther advancement beyond the 
 growth which the powers of Da Vinci had given 
 it. This was eminently illustrated by the 
 sublimity of style which was attained by the 
 genius of Michael Angelo and of Raphael; — 
 quality equally original in both, although issuing 
 
 / 
 
135 
 
 from different principles. In the former, it was 
 founded on that force and grandeur, allied 
 to poetic spirit, which rises above all that 
 is common, and leaves behind it all that is tame 
 and simply correct; which, not content with 
 engaging the senses, seizes on the imagination, 
 while it never departs from truth. In the latter, 
 it was made up of the beautiful and graceful, 
 which attracts by the assemblage of whatever is 
 most perfect and elevated in the character or 
 subject. 
 
 “ Raphael coming somewhat later than 
 Michael Angelo on the theatre of art, had the 
 advantage of many of that master’s works, as 
 well as of all the improvements which had been 
 made before. His life was a short one, and the 
 first studies of it were almost lost in the dry 
 school of Pietro Perugino. But he soon found 
 his way to the philosophy of Leonardo da Vinci, 
 and to the profound principles on which his 
 admirable expression of character is founded. 
 The dignity of drapery, and of light and shade, 
 opened by Bartolomeo, invited his studies ; and 
 the sublimity of the human figure in tbe 
 
 K S’ 
 
134 
 
 sculptures of his cotemporary, Michael Angelo^ 
 fastened on his contemplation. Thus he 
 entered at once, as it were, into the inheritance 
 of whatever excellencies had been produced be- 
 fore him. With these advantages he was called 
 to adorn the apartments of the Vatican. And 
 can we wonder that his first works there, at the 
 age of seven-and-twenty, were the Dispute on 
 the Sacrament, and the School of Athens ? 
 
 But what was it that contributed very much 
 to the production of those works ? It was not 
 the profound studies of Raphael’s mind, but the 
 spirit of the age which warmed those studies. 
 — It was a great age, in which learning and 
 science were become diffused, at least through- 
 out Europe : — a great age replete with cha- 
 racters studious of philosophy ; and, therefore, 
 fond of the instruction conveyed by the arts ; 
 
 fond of those high and more profound com- 
 positions which entered into the spirit of su- 
 perior character, and made some study and 
 research necessary to develope their beauties. 
 To meet the taste of such an age, the two first 
 public works of Raphael, above mentioned, were 
 
136 
 
 well suited, inasmuch as they were intended to 
 convey the comparative views of theology and 
 human science, or, in other words, the improve- 
 ment of the human mind arising from the two 
 great' sources of national wisdom and revealed 
 light. It must not also be forgotten, that while 
 the spirit of the age was warming his mind to 
 the peculiar dignity of theme and style which 
 marks his works, the generous and noble pa- 
 tronage of the papal court was exerting its 
 utmost power to immortalise him, and every 
 other great master that arose within the circle 
 of its influence. Their merit and their fame 
 found as animated a protector in Leo X. as 
 Phidias experienced in Pericles, or Apelles in, 
 Alexander the Great. 
 
 ‘‘ As the Florentine and Roman schools were 
 thus gradually refined in the excellence of de- 
 sign and charaoter, by the aid of philosophical 
 studies; so the Venetian masters were equally 
 indebted to the like studies, without which, 
 they would never have reached their admirable 
 system of colouring. If any have conceived 
 otherwise, they have taken a very superficial 
 
 K 4 
 
136 
 
 view of their system. Where is there greater 
 science concerned than in the whole theory of 
 colours ? It employed the investigation of 
 Newton ; and shall that pass for a common or 
 easy attainment which took up so much of hi& 
 profound studies ? The Venetian masters had 
 been long working their way to the radical 
 principles of this science, not only for a just 
 and perfect arrangement of their colouring, but 
 for that clear and transparent system in the use 
 of it, which have equally marked that school in 
 the days of its maturity under Titian. He it 
 was who established, on unerring principles, 
 founded on nature and truth, that accomplished 
 system which John Bellini had first laboured to 
 discover, and in which Giorgioni had made 
 further advancements. Besides his zeal in his 
 profession, Titian was born in that higher rank 
 of life which might be supposed to give him an 
 easier access to the elegant studies of philosophic 
 science 5 and he had prosecuted, with great 
 ardour, the science of chemisty, the better to 
 understand the properties of colour, their homo- 
 geneous blendings, purity, and duration ; as 
 well as the properties of oils, gums, and other 
 
filiids, which might form the fittest vehicles to 
 convey his colours upon canvass. 
 
 The elegant Charles V. was to Titian in 
 liberal pratronage what Leo X. was to Raphael. 
 That munificent prince carried him into Spain, 
 where his works laid the foundation of the 
 Spanish school in painting, and gave a relish for 
 that art to all the succeeding monarchs. 
 
 ‘‘ What has been remarked respecting Titian 
 and the Venetian school, is equally true of that 
 of Correggio among the Lombard painters. 
 The mind of Correggio appears evidently, by 
 his works, to have been profoundly enlightened ; 
 and especially in the philosophical arrangement 
 and general doctrine df colours. What has 
 been said by some concerning the low •'circum- 
 stances of his fortune, (which is not true,) 
 neither proves the obscurity of his birth, nor 
 that philosophical researches were out of his 
 reach, or beside his emulation. The truth is, 
 that he was born of a very honourable family^ 
 and was accomplished in the elegancies of life ; 
 not that it is necessary for any man to have 
 
138 
 
 the advantages of birth, in order to become 
 enlightened by science in any way whatever. 
 The patronage which attended him was of the 
 most elevated kind, being dispensed by the 
 illustrioLis houses of Mantua and Modena, as 
 well as by the institution of the Doma of 
 Parma. But what is by no means less worthy 
 of our notice is, that of all the masters who 
 have risen up in any of the schools of Italy, not 
 one has been the means of giving success and 
 reputation to those who have followed any of 
 their respective styles equally with Correggio* 
 The ineffable softness, sweetness, and grace in 
 his paintings, have never varied in their effects 
 with the course of time. And they who have 
 since partaken of these powers in his style, have 
 very generally become great masters, (distin- 
 guished by none of the excesses which have 
 sometimes attended the imitation of other 
 models,) and successful in gaining the appro- 
 bation and favour of the world. 
 
 ‘‘ The paths pursued by those great examples 
 must become yours, young gentlemen, or you 
 can neither be eminent in colouring, nor sure 
 
159 
 
 in the execution of your art. It is possibicj 
 that by habits of practice, handed over from 
 one to another, or by little managements in, 
 laying colours on the canvass, where little or 
 nothing of the general science has been studied 
 and attained, many may so far succeed as to 
 avoid glaring errors, and a violation of those 
 first principles which have their foundation in 
 nature. But that success is at all times 
 extremely hazardous and dependent on chance. 
 More frequently it has introduced invincible 
 conflicts between the primary and secondary 
 colours, to the min mf harmony and serial 
 perspective, and to the overthrow of the artist, 
 whenever the picture is glanced upon by the 
 eye of scientific discernment. Contemptible 
 are the best of such managements, even in the 
 hands of those that know them best, compared 
 with a full and masterly possession of the phi- 
 losophy by which this part of your art must be 
 guided. If the ordonnance of colour, on each 
 figure and on the whole, is not disposed accord- 
 ing to the immutable laws of the science, no fine 
 effect, or accordant tones of colours, can possibly 
 be produced. There is, therefore, but one way 
 
140 
 
 to make sure of success, and to raise your 
 characters in this point, and that is by making 
 yourselves masters of the whole philosophy of 
 colours, as Titian and Correggio did, and some 
 others, in whose works, from first to last, the 
 minutest scrutiny will never find a colour 
 misplaced or prejudiced by its disposition with 
 others. 
 
 To be perfect, is the emulation which belongs 
 to those arts in which you are engaged, and the 
 anxious hope of the country in which you live. 
 To animate you to that perfection, is the object 
 of what I have now addressed to you. I am 
 persuaded it is your ambition to be perfect. 
 This Academy looks with pleasure on the 
 progress of your studies, as it may look with 
 pride on the high and cultivated state to which 
 the arts have been raised among us ever since 
 they have had the establishment of a regular 
 school. It is no flattery to the present aera in 
 Britain to say, that in no age of the world have 
 the arts been carried in any country to such a 
 summit as they now hold among us, in so short 
 a period as half a century at most. Among the 
 
141 
 
 Greeks some centuries had elapsed, amidst no 
 little emulation in the arts, before they obtained 
 an Apelles. . In modern Italy, without going as 
 far back as we might, it took up a centuiy 
 from the appearance of Massaccio to the 
 perfection of a Raphael. If, then, the British 
 school has risen so much more speedily to that 
 celebrity in art, which it is too well known and 
 established to need any illustration here, what 
 should hinder her professors from becoming the 
 most distinguished rivals of the fame acquired 
 by the Greeks and Italians, with a due perse- 
 verance in the studies which lead to perfection, 
 and with those encouragements and support of 
 patronage which are due to genius ? 
 
 As the source of that patronage, we look 
 up with affectionate gratitude to the benign 
 and flattering attention of our most gracious 
 Sovereign, to whose regard for the elegant arts, 
 and munificent disposition to cherish every 
 enlargement of science, and improvement of 
 the human mind, his people are indebted for 
 this public seminary, his own favoured Insti- 
 tution, and the first which this country has ever 
 
14Q 
 
 been ^ so fortunate as to see established. Under 
 his royal patronage and support, this Academy 
 has risen to its present strength and flourishing 
 condition. His patronage, which would be 
 improperly estimated by mere expenditure, in a 
 country not simnar in the latitude of govern- 
 ment, or in the controul over revenue, to an- 
 cient Greece- or modern Italy, but properly by 
 its diffusive influence, has been the source of 
 every other patronage, in the country; has 
 inspired that refined taste and ardour for elegant 
 arts, which have given in fact a new character 
 to the people, and has raised within and without 
 this Academy that body of distinguished men, 
 whose works have contributed to immortalise 
 his reign, as his love for the arts has become 
 the means of immortalising them. 
 
 The patronage which has howled from other 
 quarters, deserves very honourable mention; 
 and is of so ^nuch importance, that without it 
 the spirit of art must droop, and the very 
 profession of it be contracted in every situation 
 whatever. It is not by the influence and 
 support of any individual character, how elevated 
 
14S 
 
 soever, or how warm soever in his attachment 
 to taste and elegance, that the extent of pro- 
 fessional talents spread throagh a country, can 
 be effectually sustained with adequate encourage- 
 ments. It is the wealthy and the great, who are 
 commonly trained by their situations to the 
 perception of what is elegant and refined, that 
 must come forward in such an illustrious under- 
 taking. It is only they who can meet every 
 where the merit, let it be disseminated as it 
 may, which is entitled to distinction. Without 
 the patronage of such, the arts could never have 
 obtained their high meridian in Greece and 
 Italy. Had not the communities and rich 
 individuals in Greece taken the arts under 
 their protection, not all the encouragement of 
 Pericles, or of Alexander the Great, could have 
 drawn forth that immense body of painting and 
 sculpture which filled the country. Had the 
 patronage' of Italy rested with the popes and 
 princes, unaccompanied by those munificent sup- 
 ports which flowed from the churches and con- 
 vents, as well as from private individuals of rank 
 and wealth, the galleries of that country could 
 never have been so superbly filled as they were, 
 
144 
 
 nor could those collections have been made from 
 thence, which have filled so many galleries and 
 cabinets elsewhere* 
 
 These facts are not to be denied ; but they 
 also lead us to another lesson, which is, that the 
 patronage so generally dispensed was for the 
 protection of living genius, and that they by 
 whom it was so dispensed sought no other 
 collections than the works of native and living 
 artists. On any other ground there can be no 
 such thing as patronage. Nothing else is 
 worthy of that name. The true and generous 
 patron of great works selects those which are 
 produced by the talents existing around him. 
 
 . By collecting from other countries, he may 
 greatly enrich^ himself, but can never give 
 celebrity to the country in which he lives. The 
 encouragement extended to the genius of a 
 single artist, though it may produce but one 
 original work, adds more to the celebrity of a 
 people, and is a higher proof of true patriotic 
 ardour, and of a generous love for the progress 
 of art, than all the collections that ever were 
 made by the productions of other countries, and 
 
145 
 
 all the expenditures that ever were bestowed in 
 making them. Did the habits of our domestic 
 circumstances, like those of Italy, permit the 
 ingenious student to have access to those works 
 of established masters, procured by the spirit of 
 their noble and wealthy possessors, and of many 
 distinguished amateurs on the most liberal terms, 
 and with the honourable purpose of forming the 
 taste, as well as enriching the treasures, of the 
 country, every thing would then be done, which 
 is wanting to complete the public benefit of 
 such collections, and the general gratitude to 
 which they who have made them would be 
 entitled. So abundant are the accomplislied 
 examples in art already introduced among us, 
 that there would then be no necessity for 
 students to run to other countries for those 
 improvements which their own can furnish. 
 
 ‘‘ It cannot be improper at any time to make 
 these remarks ; while it must also be observed, 
 that the patronage held forth by many great 
 and noble characters needs no spur ; and the 
 means projected by other spirited individuals 
 in opulent stations, for extending and perpetu- 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 ating the works of British masters, fall short in 
 tio degree of the most fervid energies and 
 examples, of which any country has been. able 
 to boast. 
 
 It is your duty, young gentlemen, to 
 become accomplished in your professions, that 
 you may keep alive those energies and examples 
 of patronage, when you come to draw the 
 attention of the world to your own works. It 
 is by your success that the arts must be carried 
 on and preserved here. Patronage can only be 
 expected to follow what is eminently meritorious, 
 and more especially that general patronage 
 diffused through the more respectable ranks of 
 society, which is to professional merit, what the 
 ocean is to the earth ; — the great fund from 
 whence it must ever be refreshed, and without 
 whose abundance, conveyed through innumerable 
 channels, every thing must presently become 
 dry, and all productions cease to exist.’’ 
 
147 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 t)iscourse. — Introduction. — Of ap'propriate Character in 
 Historical Composition. — Architecture among the Greeks 
 and Romans. — Of the Athenian Marbles. — Of the Ancient 
 Statues. — Of the Moses and Saviour of Michael Angelo. 
 — Of the Last Judgment of Michael Angelo. — Of Leo- 
 nardo da Vinci. — Of Bartolomeo. — Of Raphael. — Oj 
 Titian, and his St. Peter Martyr . — Of the different Italian 
 Schools — - Of the Effects of the Royal Academy. — Of the 
 Prince Regent’s Promise to encourage the Pine Arts. 
 
 After a careful examination of all the remain- 
 ing notes of Mr. West, it appeared to me, that 
 the discourse which he delivered on the 10th of 
 December, 1811, was the only one that required 
 particular notice, after those which I have 
 already introduced. In some respects it will, 
 perhaps, be deemed the most interesting of the 
 whole. 
 
 The few points,’* said the President, ‘‘ upon 
 which I mean to touch in the present Discourse, 
 
 L ^ 
 
148 
 
 are those which more immediately apply to the 
 students, who are generously striving to attain 
 excellence in the first class of refined art, — 
 historical painting. 
 
 Whether their exertions are directed to 
 painting, or the sister arts, architecture and 
 sculpture, the first thing they must impress 
 upon their minds, and engraft upon every shoot 
 of their fancy, is that of the appropriate cha- 
 racter, by which the subject they are about to 
 treat, is distinguished from all other subjects.^ 
 On this foundation, all the points of refined art 
 which are, in the truest sense, intellectual, inva- 
 riably rest 5 for without justness of character, 
 the works of the pencil can have but little value, 
 and can never entitle the artist to the praise of 
 a well-governed genius, or of possessing that 
 philosophical precision of judgment, wliich is 
 the source of excellence in the superior walk of 
 his profession# At the same time, let it be in- 
 delibly fixed in your minds, that when decided 
 character is to be given, that character must be 
 accompanied by correctness of outline, whether 
 it be in painting or in sculpture. Any repre- 
 
 15 
 
149 
 
 sentation of the human figure, in the higher de- 
 partment of art, wanting these requisites, is, to 
 the feelings of the educated artist, deficient in 
 that, for the loss of which no other excellency 
 can compensate. 
 
 “ Architecture. — -This department of art 
 received its decided character from the Greeks. 
 They distinctly fixed the embellishments to the 
 several orders ; and, by their adaptation of these 
 embellishments and orders, their buildings ob- 
 tained a distinct and appropriate character, 
 which declared the uses for which they were 
 erected. 
 
 “ The Romans, in their best era of taste, 
 copied their Grecian instructors in that appro- 
 priate character of embellishment which ex- 
 plained, at a glance, the use of their respective 
 buildings ; but, in their latter ages, they de- 
 clined from this original purity; and it is the 
 fragments of that corruption, in which they lost 
 the characteristic precision of the Greeks, that 
 we have seen of late years employed upon many 
 of our buildings. The want of mental reflec- 
 
 L 3 
 
ISO 
 
 tion ill employing the orders of architecture, 
 with a rational precision as to character, pro- 
 duces the same sort of deficiency which we find 
 in an historical picture ; w^here, although each 
 figure, in correct proportion, be well drawn, with 
 drapery elegantly folded, yet, not being em- 
 ployed appropriately to the subject, affords no 
 satisfaction to the spectator, 
 
 “ The Greeks were in architecture what they 
 were in sculpture ; and it is to them you must 
 look for the original purity of both. We feel 
 rejoiced, that the exertions recently made by a 
 noble personage to enrich our studies in both 
 of these departments of art are such, that we 
 may say, London has become the Athens for 
 study. It is the mental power displayed in the 
 Elgin marbles that I wish the juvenile artist to 
 notice. Look at the equestrian groups of the 
 young Athenians in this collection, and you will 
 find in them that momentary motion which life 
 gives on the occasion to the riders and their 
 horses. The horse we perceive feels that 
 power which the impulse of life has given to 
 his rider j we see in him the animation of his 
 
151 
 
 whole frame 5 in the fire of his eyes, the dis- 
 tention of his nostrils, and in the rapid motion 
 of his feet, yielding to the guidance of his rider, 
 or in the speeding of his course : they are, 
 therefore, in perfect unison with the life in 
 each. At this moment of their animation, they 
 appear to have been turned into stone by some 
 majestic power, and not created by the human 
 hand. The single head of the horse, in the 
 same collection, seems as if it had, by the same 
 influence, been struck into matble, when he was 
 exerting all the energy of his motion. 
 
 These admirable sculptures, which now adorn 
 our city, are the union of Athenian genius and 
 philosophy,, and illustrate my meaning respect- 
 ing the mental impression which is so essentially 
 to be given to works of refined art. It was this 
 point which the Grecian philosophers wished to 
 impress on the minds of their sculptors, not to 
 follow their predecessors the Egyptians in 
 sculpture, who represented their figures without 
 motion, although nearly perfect in giving to 
 them the external form. ‘ It is the passions,’ 
 iiaid they, ‘ with which man is endowed, that 
 
 X 4 
 
15^2 
 
 we wish to see in the movements of your figures/ 
 This advice of the philosophers was felt by the 
 sculptors, and the Athenian marbles are the 
 faithful records of the efficacy of that advice. 
 
 That you may distinctly perceive and in- 
 variably distinguish what we mean by appro- 
 priate character in art, particularly in sculpture, 
 I would class with these sculptures, the Hercules, 
 the Apollo, the Venus, the Laocoon, and the 
 Gladiator. In these examples you will find 
 what is appropriate in character to subject, 
 united with correctness of outline ; and it is 
 this combination of truths which has arrested 
 the attention of an admiring world, ever since 
 they were produced ; and which will attract to 
 them the admiration of after ages, so long as 
 the workings of the mind on the external form 
 can be contemplated and understood. 
 
 “ Now let us see what works there are since 
 the revival of art in the modern world, which rest 
 on the same basis of appropriate character and 
 correctness of outline, with those of the ancient 
 Greeks. 
 
153 
 
 “ The Moses which the powers of Michael 
 Angelo’s mind has presented to our view, claims 
 our first attention. In this statue the points of 
 character, in every mode of precise, determinate, 
 and elevated expression, have been carried to a 
 pitch of grandeur which modern art has not 
 since excelled. In this figure of Moses, Michael 
 Angelo has fixed the unalterable standard of 
 the Jewish lawgiver, — a character delineated 
 and justified by the text in inspired sculpture. 
 The character of Moses was well suited to the 
 grandeur of the artist’s conceptions, and to the 
 dreadful energy of his feelings. Accordingly, 
 in mental character, this figure holds the first 
 station in modern art ; and I believe we may 
 venture to say, had* no competitor in ancient, 
 except those of the Jupiter and Minerva 
 by Phidias. But the Saviour, all meekness and 
 benevolence, which Michael Angelo made to 
 accompany the Moses, was not in unison with 
 his genius. The figure is mean, but slightly 
 removed from an academical figure, and in no 
 point appropriate to the subject; so are most of 
 the single figures of the artist, in his great work 
 on the Day of Judgment ; but his groups in that 
 
154 
 
 composition are every where in character, and 
 have not their rivals either in painting or 
 sculpture. His Bacchus claims our admiration, 
 as being appropriate to the subject, by the same 
 excellence in delineation which distinguish the 
 groups in the Day of Judgment. No person can 
 have a higher veneration than I have for that 
 grandeur of character impressed on the figures 
 by Michael Angelo ; but it is the fitness of the 
 characters and of the action to the subject, to 
 which I wish to draw your attention, and 
 not to pour out praise on those points, in 
 which he and other eminent masters are 
 deficient. On this occasion, I must there- 
 fore be permitted to repeat, that most of the 
 single figures in his great work of the Day of 
 Judgment, are deficient in the fitness of appro- 
 priate character, and in the fitness of appropriate 
 action to the subject ; although as single figures 
 they demand our admiration. But excellent 
 as they are, they are but the ingenious 
 adaptation of legs, arms, and heads, to the 
 celebrated Torso, which bears his name, and 
 which served as the model to most of his figures. 
 All figures in composition, however excellent 
 
155 
 
 they may be in delineation, which have not their 
 actions and expressions springing from the 
 subject in which they are the actors, can only 
 be considered as academical efforts, without the 
 impress of mental power, and without any 
 philosophical attention to the truth of the 
 subject which the artist intended to illustrate. 
 
 Leonardo da Vinci is the first who had a full 
 and right conception of the principle which I 
 wish to inculcate, and he has shown it in his 
 picture of the Last Supper. But it is necessary 
 to distinguish what parts of the picture deserve 
 consideration. It is the decision, the appro- 
 priate character of the apostles to the subject ; 
 the significance of expression in their several 
 countenances, and the diversity of action in each 
 figure ; their actions seemingly in perfect unison 
 with their minds, and their figures individually 
 in unison with their respective situations ; some 
 are confused at the words spoken by our 
 Saviour : “ There is one amongst you who 
 shall betray me others are thrown under 
 impressions of a different feeling. In this 
 respect the picture has left us without an appeal, 
 
156 
 
 either to nature or to art. But Da Vinci failed 
 in the head of our Saviour. He has failed in 
 his attempt to combine the almost incompatible 
 qualities of dignity and meekness which are 
 demanded in the countenance of the Saviour. 
 He had exhausted his powers of characteristic 
 discrimination in the heads of the apostles ; and 
 in his attempt to give meekness to the coun- 
 tenance of Jesus, he sank into insipience. He 
 had the prudence, therefore, to leave the face 
 unfinished, that the imagination of the beholder 
 might not be disappointed by an imperfect image, 
 but form one in his mind more appropriate 
 to his feelings and to the subject. The ruin of 
 this picture, the report of which I understand is 
 true, has deprived the world and the arts of one 
 of the mental eyes of painting. But pleasing 
 as the works of Leonardo da Vinci are in 
 general, had he not produced this picture of the 
 Last Supper, and the cartoon of the equestrian 
 combatants for the standard of victory, he would 
 scarcely have emerged, as a painter of strong 
 character, above mediocrity. Indeed the 
 back-ground, and general distribution of this 
 picture, sufficiently mark their Gothic origin. 
 
157 
 
 But his pictures, generally speaking, are more 
 characterised by their laborious finishing, 
 gentleness, and sweetness of character, than by 
 the energies of a lively imagination. 
 
 “ Fra. Bartolomeo di St. Marco, of Florence, 
 was one of the first who became enamoured of 
 that superiority which grandeur and decision of 
 character gives to art ; and, indeed, of all those 
 higher excellences which the philosophical mind 
 of Da Vinci had accomplished. In the pictures 
 of Bartolomeo we behold, for the first time, that 
 breadth of the clair-obscure — the deep tones of 
 colour, with their philosophical arrangement, 
 united to that noble folding of drapery appro- 
 priate to, and significant of, every character it 
 covered ; a point of excellence in this master, 
 from which Raphael caught his first conception 
 of that noble simplicity which distinguishes the 
 dignity of his draperies, and which it became 
 his pride through life to imitate. 
 
 “ Bartolomeo, in his figure of St. Mark, has 
 convinced us how important and indispensable 
 is the union of mental conception with truth of 
 
158 
 
 observation, in order to give a decided and 
 appropriate character to an Evangelist of the 
 Gospel. None of the pictures of this artist 
 possess the excellence of his St. Mark except 
 one, which is in the city of Lucca, the capital 
 of the republic of that name ; and, as that pic- 
 ture is but little known to travellers, and 
 almost unknown to many artists who have 
 visited Italy, a description of it may not be un- 
 acceptable. 
 
 ‘‘ The picture is on pannel, and its dimensions 
 somewhat about twenty feet in height by four- 
 teen in width. The subject is the Assumption 
 of the Virgin Mary. The composition is divided 
 into three groups ; the Apostles and the sepul- 
 chre form the centre group, from the midst of 
 which the Virgin ascends ; her body-drapery is 
 of a deep ruby colour, which is the only decided 
 red in the picture, and her mantle blue, but in 
 depth of tone approaching to black, and ex- 
 tended by angels to nearly each side of the pic- 
 ture. This mantle is^ relieved by a light, in tone 
 resembling that of the break of day, seen over 
 the summit of a dark mountain, which gives an 
 19 
 
159 
 
 awful grandeur to the effect of the picture on 
 entering the chapel, in which it is placed over 
 the altar. That awful light of the morning is 
 contrasted with the golden effulgence above ; in 
 the midst of which, our Saviour is seen with 
 extended arms, to receive and welcome his 
 mother. 
 
 “ From the sepulchre, and the Apostles in 
 the centre, to the fore-ground, the third group 
 of figures partly lies in shade, occasioned by 
 the over-shadowing of the Virgin’s deep-toned 
 mantle extended by angels. On the other part 
 of the group, on the side where the light 
 enters, the figures are seen in the broad blaze 
 of day; and amongst them is the portrait of 
 the artist. 
 
 When I first saw this picture, my sensations 
 were in unison with its awful character ; and I 
 confess that I was touched with the same kind 
 of sensibility as when I heard the inexpressibly 
 harmonious blendings of vocal sounds in the 
 solemn notes of Non nobis Domine. I never 
 felt more forcibly the dignity of music and the 
 
160 
 
 dignity of painting, than from these two com- 
 positions of art. 
 
 “ When we consider the combination of ex- 
 cellence requisite to produce the sublime in 
 painting ; the union of propriety with dignity 
 of character ; the graceful grouping ; the noble 
 folding of drapery, and the deep sombrous tones 
 of the clair-obscure, with appropriate colours 
 harmoniously blending into one whole; — if 
 there is a picture entitled to the appellation of 
 suhllme^ from the union of all these excellences, 
 it is that which I have described : considered in 
 all its parts, it is, perhaps, superior to any 
 work in painting, which has fallen under my 
 observation. 
 
 “ When these powerful essays in art by Da 
 Vinci, Bartolomeo di St. Marco, and Michael 
 Angelo became celebrated, Raphael, having 
 attained his adult age, made his appearance at 
 Florence ; where the influence of the works of 
 those three great artists pervaded all the avenues 
 to excellence in art. 
 
The gentle sensibility of Raphael's mind 
 was like the softened wax which makes more 
 visible and distinct the form of the engraving 
 with which it is touched. Blest by Nature with 
 this endowment, he became like tlie heir to the 
 treasured wealth of many families. Enriched 
 by the accumulated experience which was then 
 in Florence, united to the early tuition of 
 delineating from nature under Pietro Perugino, 
 and the subsequent discoveries of the Grecian 
 relics, Raphael’s mind became stored witli all 
 that was excellent 5 and he possessed a practised 
 hand, to make his conceptions visible on his 
 tablets. Possessing these powers, he was invited 
 to Rome, and began his picture of The Dispute 
 on the BacramenL This picture he finished, 
 together with The School of ^Athens, before he 
 had attained his twenty-eighth year. At Rome 
 he found himself amidst the splendour of a 
 refined court, and in the focus of human endow- 
 ment. He became sensible of the' rare ad- 
 vantages of his situation; he had industry ahd 
 ardour to combine and to embrace them all ; and 
 the effect is visible in his works. The theolo- 
 gical arrangement of the disputants on the 
 
Sacrament, and the scholastic controversies at 
 Athens, convince us of this truth. In the upper 
 part of the Dispute on the Sacrament, something 
 may be observed of that taste of Bartolomeo in 
 drapery, and of the dryness and hardness of 
 his first master Pietro Perugino ; but in the parts 
 which make the aggregate of that work, he has 
 blended the result of his own observations. In 
 his School of Athens, this is still more strikingly 
 the case ; and in his Heliodorus we see ad- 
 ditional dignity and an enlargement of style. 
 
 “ At this period of his fife, such was the 
 desire of his society by the great, and such the 
 ambition of standing forward amongst his patrons 
 by all who were eminent for rank and taste, that 
 he was seduced into courtly habits, and relaxed 
 from that studious industry, with which he had 
 formerly laboured ; and there are evident marks 
 in many of his works in the Vatican, of a decline 
 of excellence, and that he was suffering pleasure 
 and indolence to rob him of his fame. Sensible 
 of this decline in his compositions, the powers 
 of his mind re-assumed their energies 5 and that 
 re-animation stands marked in his unrivalled 
 
163 
 
 compositions of the Cartoons which are in this 
 country, and in the picture of the Trans- 
 hguration. 
 
 The transcendant excellence in composition, 
 and in appropriate character to subject, in the 
 cartoon of Paul preaching at Athens, has left 
 us to desire or expect nothing farther to be done 
 in telling this incident of history. 
 
 In the composition of the death of Ananias, 
 and in the single figure of Elymas the sorcerer 
 struck blind, we have the same example of 
 excellence. We have indeed in many of the 
 characters and groups in the cartoons, the 
 various modes of reasoning, speaking, and feel- 
 ing ; but so blended with nature and truth, and 
 so precise and determined in character, that 
 criticism has nothing wherewith in that respect 
 to ask for amendment. 
 
 ‘‘ Had the life of this illustrious painter, 
 which closed on his birth-day in his thirty-seventh 
 year, been prolonged to the period of that of 
 Leonardo da Vinci, Michael Angelo, or Titian^ 
 
 M ^ 
 
164 
 
 when in the space of seventeen years at Rome 
 he has given the world more unrivalled works 
 of art, than has fallen to the lot of any other 
 painter, what an additional excellence might 
 we not have expected in his works for subsequent 
 generations to admire. 
 
 “ The next distinguished artist who comes 
 under our consideration is Titian. The grandeur 
 which Michael Angelo gave to the human figure, 
 Titian has rivalled in colour, and both were 
 dignified during their lives with the appellation 
 of The Divine. 
 
 ‘‘ 1 will pass over the many appropriate 
 portraits which he painted of men, and the 
 portraits of women, though not the most 
 distinguished for beauty, in the character of 
 Venus, to meet the fashion of the age in which 
 ne lived ; and notice only those works of 
 mental power, which have raised him to emi- 
 nence in the class of refined artists. On tliis 
 point, you will find that his picture of St. Peter 
 Martyr will justify the claim he has to that 
 rank. 
 
‘‘ St. Peter the Martyr was the head of a 
 religious sect : when on his way from the com 
 lines of Germany to Milan with a companion, 
 he was attacked by one in opposition to his 
 religious principles while passing through a 
 wood, and murdered. This is the subject of 
 the picture. The prostrate figure of the Saint, 
 just fallen by a blow from the assassin, raises 
 one of his hands towards heaven, with a coun- 
 tenance of confidence in eternal reward for the 
 firmness of his faith ; while the assassin grasps 
 with his left hand the mantle of his victim, 
 the better to enable him, by his uplifted sword in 
 the otlier hand, to give the fatal blow to the fallen 
 saint. The companion is flying off in frantic 
 dismay, and has received a wound in the head 
 from the assassin. / 
 
 The ferocious and determined action of 
 the murderer bestriding the body of the fallen 
 saint, completes a group of figures which have 
 not a rival in art. The majestic trees, as well 
 as the sable and rugged furze, form an awful 
 back -ground to this tragical scene, every way 
 appropriate to the subject. The heavenly mes- 
 
 M S 
 
166 
 
 sengers seen in the glory above, bearing the 
 palm branches as the emblem of reward for 
 martyrdom, form the second light ; the first 
 being the sky and cloud, which gives relief to 
 the black drapery of the wounded companion ; 
 while the rays of light from the emanation 
 above, sparkling on the dark branches of the 
 trees as so many diamonds, tie together by their 
 light all the others from the top to the bottom 
 of the picture. The terror which the act of 
 the murderer has spread, is denoted by the 
 speed of the horseman passing into the gloomy 
 recesses of a distant part of the forest. 
 
 This picture, taken in the aggregate, is 
 the first work in art in which the human figure 
 and landscape are combined as an historical 
 landscape, and where all the objects are the full 
 size of nature. 
 
 ‘‘ When rtaw this picture at Venice in 176l,~ 
 it was then in the same state of purity as when 
 the Bologna artists saw and studied it ; and it 
 is recorded that Caracci declared this picture to 
 be without fault. But we have to lament tbe 
 
. 167 
 
 fatal effects which the goddess Bellona has ever 
 occasioned to the fine arts when she mounts her 
 iron chariot of destruction. When this picture 
 fell under her rapacious power, on board a 
 French vessel passing down the Adriatic sea 
 from Venice, one of our cruisers chased the 
 vessel into the port of Ancona, and a cannon- 
 shot pierced the pannel on which the picture 
 was painted, and shivered a portion of it into 
 pieces. 
 
 On its arrival at Paris, the committee of 
 the fine arts found it necessary to remove the 
 painting from the pannel, and place it on 
 canvass ; but the picture has lost the principal 
 light. 
 
 “ But to sum up Titian^s powers of con-* 
 ception, no one has equalled him in the 
 propriety and fitness of colour. His pictures 
 of St. Peter Martyr ; the ‘David and Goliah ; 
 and the Last Supper, which is in the Escurial, 
 stand in the very highest rank in art. On the 
 latter of these pictures being finished, Titian in 
 his- letter to the King, announcing the circum** 
 
 M 4 
 
168 
 
 stance, says that it had been the labour of seven 
 years. But by his original sketch in oil colours, 
 which I have the good fortune to possess, and 
 by wliieh we may form an estimate, although 
 the general effect and composition are unrivalled, 
 the characters of the heads of the apostles are 
 not equal to those of Leonardo da Vinci on 
 the same subject, 
 
 ‘‘ Antonio Allegri da Correggio is the sixth 
 source, whose emanating powers have illu-^ 
 minated the fine arts in the modern world. A 
 superstitious mind, on seeing his works, would 
 suppose that he had received his tuition in 
 painting from the angels ^ as his figures seem to 
 belong to another race of being than man, and 
 to have something too celestial for the forms of 
 earth to have presented to his view. Such have 
 been the sayings of many on seeing his works 
 at Parma, but, to my conception, he painted 
 from the nature with which he was surrounded. 
 His pictures of the Note, St. Gierolimo, and 
 the St. George, are evident proofs of the observ- 
 ation. In the first of these pictures his mental 
 conception shines supreme. It is the idea of 
 
illuminating the child i’ the subject of our 
 Saviour’s nativity. This splendid thought of 
 giving light to the infant Christ, whose divine 
 mission was to illuminate the human mind from 
 Pagan darkness, no painter has since been so 
 bold as to omit in any composition on the same 
 subject. The two latter pictures have all the 
 beauties seen in the paintings of this master, 
 but they are deficient in appropriate character. 
 
 \ 
 
 “ The inspiring power of Correggio’s works 
 illuminated the genius of Parmegiano, the 
 energetic movements of whose graceful figures 
 have never been equalled, nor are they deficient 
 in the moral influence of the art. His Moses 
 breaking the tables in a church at Parma, and 
 his picture of the vision of St. Gierolimo, now 
 in England, are filled with the impress of his 
 intellectual powers, and stand pre-eminent over 
 all his works. 
 
 “ I have thus taken a survey of the works of 
 art, which stand supreme among the productions 
 of Grecian and Italian genius, and which are 
 the sources from which the subsequent schools 
 
170 
 
 have derived most of the principles of their 
 celebrity. 
 
 “ The papal vortex drew into it nearly all 
 the various powers of human refinement, and 
 the inspiring influence of the first school in art 
 having centered in Rome gave it superiority, 
 till the Constable Bourbon, by sacking that city, 
 obliged the fine arts to fly from their place, like 
 doves from the vultures : they never re-appeared 
 at Rome but with secondary power. 
 
 About a century subsequent to their flight 
 from Rome they were re-animated, and formed 
 the second school of art in Italy at the city of 
 Bologna under the Carracci, at the head of 
 which was Ludovico. He and his two relatives, 
 Hanibal and Augustin Carracci, derived their 
 principles from the Venetian School, from 
 ' Titian, Paul Veronese, and Tintoret, and from 
 the Lombard School of Correggio and Par- 
 megiano. But the good sense of Ludovico 
 raised by them and himself a school of their 
 own, which excelled in the power of delineating 
 the human figure, but which power gave to that 
 
171 
 
 school more academical taste than mental cha- 
 racter. 
 
 Their great work was that in the convent 
 of St. Michael in Boresco, near Bologna ; but 
 this work has perished by damp, and the only 
 remains on record of what it was, are in the 
 coarse prints which were done from copies 
 executed when it was in good condition. But 
 grand as it must have been according to the 
 evidence of these prints, it was but an aca- 
 demical composition. 
 
 “ The picture by Ludovico, however, of our 
 Saviour’s Transfiguration on the Mount, con- 
 sisting of six figures double the size of life, has 
 embraced nearly all the points of art, and has 
 placed the artist high in the first class of painters. 
 
 “ The masters of the Bolognese school going 
 to Rome and other parts of Italy, their successors 
 at Bologna contented themselves by retailing the 
 several manners of the three Carracci — Guido, 
 Domenichino and Guercino. This system of 
 retailing continued to descend from master to 
 
17 ^ 
 
 pupil, until the school of Bologna sunk into 
 irrecoverable imbecility. 
 
 The most esteemed work in painting by 
 Augustine Carracci is the Communion of St. 
 Jerom. It possesses grandeur of style, is bold in 
 execution, and the faces are not deficient in the 
 appropriate expression of sensibility towards the 
 object before them. It was on the composition 
 of this picture, that Domeriichino formed his on 
 the same subject, so much celebrated as to be 
 considered next in merit to BaphaeFs Trans- 
 figuration. But fine as it is admitted to be, we 
 must say, as a borrowed idea, it lessens the 
 merit of the artist’s originality of mind. 
 
 ‘‘ The finest picture by Guido is in a church 
 at Genoa, where he has brought to a focus ,all 
 the force of his powers in grace and beauty, 
 with an expression and execution of pencil 
 rarely to be met with in art. The subject is 
 the Assumption of the Virgin Mary. The 
 angels, who surround the Virgin, have some- 
 thing in their faces so celestial, that they seem 
 as if they had really descended front Heaven, 
 
 19 
 
17S 
 
 and sat to the artist while he painted them. 
 The Virgin herself seems to have had the same 
 complacency. The characters of the Apostles’ 
 heads are so exquisitely drawn and painted, as 
 to be without competition in the works of any 
 other painter. 
 
 “ The most esteemed picture by Guercino is 
 is that of Santa Petranella, which he painted for 
 St. Peter’s Church, at Rome. 
 
 But, Gentlemen, if you aspire to excellence 
 in your profession, you must not rest your 
 future studies on the excellence of any indi- 
 vidual, however exalted his name or genius 5 
 but, like the industrious bee, survey the whole 
 face of nature, and sip the sweets from every 
 flower. When thus enriched, lay up your ac- 
 quisitions for future use ; and with that en- 
 richment from Nature’s inexhaustible source, 
 examine the great works of art to animate your 
 feelings, and to excite your emulation. When 
 you are thus mentally enriched, and- your hand 
 practised to obey the powers of your will, you 
 will then And your pencils, or your chisels, as 
 
174 
 
 magic wands, calling into view creations of your 
 own, to adorn your name and your country. 
 
 ‘‘ I cannot, however, close this Discourse, 
 without acknowledging a debt due from this 
 Academy, as well as that which is due to the 
 Academy itself. Soon after His present Majesty 
 had ascended the throne, his benign regard for 
 the prosperity of the fine arts in these realms 
 was manifested by his gracious commands to 
 establish this favoured Institution. 
 
 The heart of every artist, and of the friend 
 of art, glowed with mutual congratulation to see 
 a British King, for the first time, at the head of 
 the fine arts. His Majesty nominated forty 
 members guardians to his infant academy ; and 
 that they have been faithful to the trust which 
 he graciously reposed in them, the several 
 apartments under this roof sufficiently testify. 
 The professors are highly endowed with accom- 
 plishments and scientific knowledge in the 
 several branches to which they are respectively 
 appointed ; and the funds able to render relief 
 to the indigent and decayed artists, their widows 
 and children. 
 
175 
 
 Who can reflect for a moment on the rare 
 advantages here held out for the instruction of 
 youthful genius, and the aid given to the de- 
 cayed, their widows and helpless offspring, 
 without feeling the grateful emotions of the 
 heart rise towards a patriot King, for giving to 
 the arts this home within the walls of a stately 
 mansion, and towards the members of this 
 Academy, who, as his faithful guardians, have so 
 ably fulfilled the purposes for which the Insti- 
 tution was formed. 
 
 United to what the Academicians have 
 done, and are doing, another honourable 
 establishment, sanctioned by His Majesty for 
 promoting the 'fine arts, has been created and 
 composed of noblemen and gentlemen whose 
 known zeal for the success of refined art is so 
 conspicuous and honourable to themselves. 
 
 Such have been the efforts to give splen- 
 dour to the fine arts in this country, and such 
 are the results which have attended these 
 exertions ; that knowing, as we do, the move- 
 ments of the arts on the Continent, I may con- 
 fidently say, that our annual exhibitions, both 
 
as to number and taste, engrafted on nature 
 and the fruit of mental conception, are such 
 that all the combined efforts in art on the con- 
 tinent of Europe in the same time have not 
 been able to equal. To such attainments, were 
 those in power but to bestow the crumbs from 
 the national table to cherish the fine arts, we 
 might pledge ourselves, that the genius of 
 Britain would, in a few years, dispute the prize 
 with the proudest periods of Grecian or Italian 
 art. But, Gentlemen, let us not despair ; we 
 have heard from this place, the promise of 
 patronage from the Prince Regent, the pro- 
 pitious light of a morning that will open into 
 perfect day, invigorating the growth of all 
 around — the assurance of a new era to the 
 elevation of the fine arts, in the United 
 Kingdom.’^ 
 
177 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 Mr, Wesfs Visit to Paris. — His distinguished Reception hy 
 the Members of the French Government, — Anecdote of Mr, 
 Fox . — Origin of the British Institution. — Anecdotes of 
 Mr. Fox and Mr. Percival, — Anecdote of the King. — 
 History of the Picture of Christ Healing the Sick. — Extras 
 ordinary Success attending the Exhibition of the Copy in 
 America. 
 
 During the Peace of Amiens, Mr. West, like 
 every other person who entertained any feeling 
 of admiration for the fine arts, was desirous of 
 seeing that magnificent assemblage of paintings 
 and sculptures, which constituted the glory and 
 the shame of Buonaparte’s administration. He 
 accordingly furnished himself with letters from 
 Lord Hawkesbury, then Secretary of State, to 
 Mr. Merry, the British representative at the 
 consular court; and also with introductions 
 from Monsieur Otto, the French minister in 
 London, to the most distinguished members of 
 his government. 
 
 N 
 
-178 
 
 On delivering Lord Hawkesbury’s letters to 
 Mr. Merry, that gentleman informed him that 
 one of the French ministers had, the preceding 
 evening, mentioned that Monsieur Otto had 
 written in such terms respecting him, that he 
 and his colleagues were resolved to pay him 
 every mark of the most distinguished attention. 
 Mr. Merrv, therefore, advised Mr. West to call 
 on the several ministers himself with the letters, 
 and leave them with his card. As the object 
 for which the Artist had procured these intro- 
 ductions was only to obtain, with more facility, 
 access to the different galleries, he was rather 
 embarrassed by this information ; and would 
 have declined delivering the letters altogether ; 
 but Mr. Merry said, that, as his arrival in Paris 
 was already known to the government, he could 
 not with any propriety avoid paying his respects 
 to the ministers. 
 
 After delivering his letters and card accord- 
 ingly, the hotel where he resided was, in the 
 course of the week, visited by all the most 
 distinguished of the French statesmen ; and he 
 had the honour of being invited to dine with 
 
179 
 
 them successively. At these parties, the con- 
 versation tOrned very much on the importance 
 of the arts to all nations aspiring to fame and 
 eminence; and he very soon perceived, that the 
 vast collection of trophies which adorned the 
 Louvre, had not been formed so much for 
 ostentatious exhibition, as with a view to furnish 
 models of study for artists ; constituting, in fact, 
 but the elementary part of a grand system of 
 national decoration designed by Buonaparte, 
 and by which he expected to leave such memo- 
 rials to posterity as would convince the world 
 that his magnificence was worthy of his military 
 achievements. 
 
 It happened at this particular period, that the 
 galleries of the Louvre were closed to the public 
 for some time, but a deputation from the Central 
 Administration of the Arts, under whose care the 
 collections were particularly placed, waited on 
 Mr. West, and informed him, that orders were 
 given to admit him and his friends at all times. 
 Denon was at the head of this deputation ; and 
 in the course of the conversation which then 
 took place, that accomplished enthusiast ex« 
 
 N ^ 
 
180 
 
 plained to Mr. West more circumstantially the 
 extensive views entertained by tHe French 
 government with respect to the arts, mentioning 
 several of the superb schemes which were 
 formed by the First Consul for the decoration of 
 the capital. 
 
 This information made a very deep impression 
 on the mind of Mr. West, and. he felt extremely 
 sorrowful when he reflected, that hitherto the 
 British government had done nothing decidedly 
 with a view to promote the cultivation of those 
 arts, which may justly be said to constitute the 
 olive wreath on the brows of every great nation. 
 Mr. Fox and Sir Francis Baring, who were at 
 this same time in Paris, happened soon after 
 the departure of Monsieur Denon to call, and 
 they went with Mr. West to the Louvre, where, 
 as they were walking in the gallery, he explained 
 to them what he had heard. An interesting 
 discussion took place in consequence ; and 
 Mr. West endeavoured to explain in what 
 manner he considered the cultivation of the 
 fine arts of the utmost importance even in a 
 commercial point of view to England. 
 
181 
 
 Mr. Fox paid great attention to what he said, 
 and observed, in a tone of regret, “ I have been 
 rocked in the cradle of politics from my in- 
 fancy, and never before was so much struck 
 with the advantage, even in a political bearing, 
 of the fine arts to the prosperity, as well as the 
 renown, of a kingdom 5 and I do assure you, 
 Mr. West, that if ever 1 have it in my power to 
 influence our government to promote the arts, 
 the conversation that we have had to-day shall 
 not be forgotten.’’ Sir Francis Baring also 
 concurred in opinion, that it was really become 
 an imperious duty, on the part of the British 
 nation, to do something for a class of art that, 
 undoubtedly, tended to improve the beauty, 
 and multiply the variety of manufactures, inde- 
 pendent of all monumental considerations. 
 
 When Mr. West had returned home, the 
 subject was renewed with Sir Francis Baring ; 
 and he endeavoured to set on foot the form- 
 ation of a society, which should have the en- 
 couragement of the line arts for its object, and 
 thought that government might be induced 
 to give it pecuniary assistance. Sir Thomas 
 
 N 3 
 
Barnard took up the idea with great zeal ; and 
 several meetings took place at Mr. West’s house, 
 at which Mr. Charles Long and Sir Abraham 
 Hume were present, which terminated in the 
 formation of that association that now consti- 
 tutes the British Institution, in Pall Mall. 
 Mr. Long undertook to confer with Mr. Pitt, 
 who was then again in power, on the subject, 
 and the proposal was received by him with 
 much apparent sincerity. But a disastrous 
 series of public events about the same time 
 commenced : the attention of the Minister was 
 absorbed in the immediate peril of the state 5 
 and he fell a victim to his anxieties, without 
 having had it in his power to further the objects 
 of the association. 
 
 At the death of his great rival, Mr. Fox 
 came into office ; and he soon after called 
 on Mr. West, and, reminding him of the con- 
 versation in the gallery of the Louvre, said, “ It 
 is my earnest intention, as soon as I am firmly 
 seated on the saddle, to redeem the promise that 
 I then made.” But he also was frustrated in 
 his intentions, and fell a sacrifice to disease, 
 
183 
 
 without being able to take any step in the busi- 
 ness. In the mean time, the Shaksperian 
 Gallery was offered for sale ; and the gentlemen 
 interested in this project raised a sum of money, 
 by subscription, and purchased that building 
 with the intention of making it the approach to 
 a proposed national gallery. 
 
 From Mr. Percival the scheme met with a far 
 different reception. He listened to the repre- 
 sentations w^hich Mr. West made to him with 
 a repressive coldness, it might almost be said 
 with indifference, had it not been marked with 
 a decided feeling; for he seemed to consider 
 the whole objects of the British Institution, and 
 the reasons adduced in support of the claims 
 which the interests of the arts had on govern- 
 ment, as the visionary purposes of vain enthu- 
 siasts. It was not within the small compass of 
 that respectable individual’s capacity to con- 
 sider any generous maxim as founded in what 
 he deemed wisdom, or to comprehend, that the 
 welfare of nations could be promoted by any 
 other means than precedents of office, decisions, 
 of courts, and Acts of Parliament. An inci- 
 
 N 4 
 
184 
 
 dent, however, occurred, which induced him to 
 change his opinion of the utility of the fine arts. 
 
 At the anniversary dinner, in 1812, before the 
 opening of the Academy, he was present, with 
 other public characters. On the right hand 
 of the President was seated the Lord Chancellor 
 Eldon, on his left Lord Liverpool, and on the 
 right of the Chancellor Mr. Percival. A con- 
 versation took place, naturally inspired by the 
 circumstances of the meeting, in which Mr. 
 West recapitulated what he had formerly so 
 often urged j and Mr. Percival, perceiving the 
 impression which his observations made on 
 those to whom they were particularly addressed, 
 requested him to put his ideas on the subject in 
 writing, and he would lay it before the Prince 
 Regent. This took place on Saturday; on 
 Wednesday Mr. West delivered his memorial; 
 on the Friday following Mr. Percival was assas- 
 sinated; and since that time nothing farther 
 has been done in the business. 
 
 It is perhaps necessary to notice here, that 
 when it was first proposed to the King to 
 
185 
 
 sanction the establishment of the British Insti- 
 tution with his patronage, he made some ob- 
 jection, conceiving that it was likely to interfere 
 with the Royal Academy, which he justly 
 considered with the partiality of a parent. But 
 on Mr. West explaining to him that the two 
 institutions were very different in their objects, 
 the Academy being formed for the instruction 
 of pupils, and the other for the encouragement 
 of artists arrived at maturity in their profession. 
 His Majesty readily consented to receive the 
 deputation of the association appointed to wait 
 on him in form to solicit his patronage. Except, 
 however, the honour of the King’s name, the 
 British Institution, formed expressly for the 
 improvement of the public taste with a view to 
 the encouragement of the arts, has received 
 neither aid nor countenance as yet from the 
 state. 
 
 Before concluding this summary account of 
 the origin and establishment of the British 
 Institution, it may be expected of me to take 
 some notice of the circumstances connected 
 with the purchase and exhibition of Mr. West’s 
 
186 
 
 picture of Christ Healing theSickin the Temple ; 
 an event which formed an era in the history of 
 the arts in Britain, and contributed in no small 
 degree to promote the interests of the Insti- 
 tution. Perhaps the exhibition of no work of 
 art ever attracted so much attention, or was 
 attended with so much pecuniary advantage to 
 the proprietors; independent of which, the 
 history of the picture is itself interesting. 
 
 Some years before, a number of gentlemen, of 
 the society of Quakers in Philadelphia, set on 
 foot a subscription for the purpose of erecting 
 an hospital for the sick poor in that city. 
 Among others to whom they applied for con- 
 tributions in this country, they addressed 
 themselves to Mr. West. He informed them, 
 however, that his circumstances did not permit 
 him to give so liberal a sum as he could wish, but 
 that if they would provide a proper place in the 
 building, he would paint a picture for it as his 
 subscription, which perhaps would prove of 
 more advantage than all the money he could 
 alFord to bestow, and with this intention he 
 began the Christ Healing the Sick, While the 
 
187 
 
 work was going forward, it attracted a great deal 
 of notice in his rooms, and finally had the effect 
 of inducing the association of the British 
 Institution to make him an offer of three thousand 
 guineas for the picture. Mr. West accepted the 
 offer, but on condition that he should be at 
 liberty to make a copy for the hospital at 
 Philadelphia, and to introduce into the copy 
 such alterations and improvements as he might 
 think fit. This copy he also executed, and the 
 success which attended the exhibition of it in 
 America was so extraordinary, that the proceeds 
 have enabled the committee of the hospital to 
 enlarge the building for the reception of no less 
 than thirty additional patients. 
 
188 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 Rejiections* — Offer of Knighthood, — Mr, Wyatt chosen Pre- 
 sident of the Academy, — Restoration of Mr, West to the 
 Chair, — Proceedings respecting the Pictures for Windsor 
 Castle, — Mr, Wesfs Letter to the King, — Orders to pro- 
 ceed •with the Pictures, — The Kings Illness, — Mr, Wesfs 
 Allouvance cut off] — and the Pictures countermanded . — 
 Death of Mrs, West, — Death of the Artist, 
 
 Hitherto it has been my pleasant task to 
 record the series of prosperous incidents by 
 which Mr. West was raised to the highest 
 honours of his profession ; and had he survived 
 the publication of this volume, I should have 
 closed the narrative with the last chapter. But 
 his death, which took place after the proof was 
 sent to me for his inspection, has removed an 
 obligation which I had promised to respect 
 during his life, while it was understood between 
 us that the circumstances to which it related 
 were to be carefully preserved for a posthumous 
 publication. The topics are painful, and calcu- 
 lated to afford a far different view of human 
 
189 
 
 nature from that which I have ever desired to 
 contemplate : I do not allude to those things, 
 connected with political matters, in which Mr. 
 West was only by accident a witness, but of 
 transactions which personally affected himself. 
 
 During the time that he was engaged in the 
 series of great pictures for Windsor Castle, he 
 enjoyed, as I have already mentioned, an easy 
 and confidential intercourse with the King, and 
 I ought, perhaps, to have stated earlier, that 
 when he was chosen President of the Royal 
 Academy, the late Duke of Gloucester called on 
 him, and mentioned that His Majesty was 
 desirous to know if the honour of knighthood 
 would be acceptable. Mr. West immediately 
 replied, that no man had a greater respect for 
 political honours and distinctions than himself, 
 but that he really thought he had already earned 
 by his pencil more eminence than could be con- 
 ferred on him by that rank. “ The chief value/^ 
 said he, “ of titles are, that they serve to preserve 
 in families a respect for those principles by which 
 such distinctions were originally obtained. But 
 simple knighthood, to a man who is at least 
 
190 
 
 already as well known as he could ever hope to 
 be from that honour, is not a legitimate object 
 of ambition. To myself, then. Your Royal 
 Highness must perceive the title could add no 
 dignity, and as it would perish with myself, it 
 could add none to my family. But were I pos- 
 sessed of a fortune, independent of my profession, 
 sufficient to enable my posterity to maintain the 
 rank, I think that with my hereditary descent, 
 and the station I occupy among artists, a more 
 permanent title than that of knighthood might 
 become a desirable object. As it is, however, 
 that cannot be, and 1 have been thus explicit 
 with Your Royal Highness that no misconcep- 
 tion may exist on the subject.” The Duke was 
 not only pleased with the answer, but took Mr. 
 West cordially by both the hands, and said, 
 “ You have justified the opinion which the King 
 has of you, and His Majesty will be delighted 
 with your answer and when Mr. West next 
 saw the King his reception was unusually warm 
 and friendly. 
 
 But notwithstanding all these enviable cir- 
 cumstances, Mr. West was doomed to .share 
 
191 
 
 some of the consequences which naturally at- 
 tach to all persons in immediate connection 
 with the great. After his return from Paris, 
 it was alleged, that the honourable reception 
 which he allowed himself to receive from 
 the French statesmen had offended the King. 
 The result of this was the temporary elevation 
 of the late Mr. Wyatt to the President’s chair, 
 merely, as I think, because that gentleman 
 was then the royal architect; for it would be 
 difficult to point out the merits which, as an 
 artist, entitled him to that honour. But the 
 election, so far from giving satisfaction in the 
 quarter where it was expected to be the most 
 acceptable, only excited displeasure; and Mr. 
 West was, in due time, restored to his proper 
 seat in the Academy. 
 
 This, as a public affair, attracted a good deal 
 of notice at the time ; but it was, in its effects, 
 of far less consequence to Mr. West than a 
 private occurrence, originating in circumstances 
 that tend to throw a light on some of the pro- 
 ceedings that were deemed expedient to be 
 adopted during the occasional eclipses of the 
 King’s understanding. 
 
For upwards of twenty years Mr. West had 
 received all his orders from the King in person : 
 the prices of the pictures which he painted were 
 adjusted with His Majesty ; and the whole em- 
 bellishment of Windsor Castle, in what related 
 to the scriptural and historical pictures, was 
 concerted between them, without the inter- 
 ference of any third party. But, in the summer 
 of 1801 , when the Court was at Weymouth, 
 Mr. Wyatt called on Mr. West, and said, that 
 he was requested by authority to inform him, 
 that the pictures painting for His Majesty’s 
 chapel at Windsor should be suspended till 
 further orders. 
 
 Mr. West was much surprised at this com- 
 munication : but, upon interrogating Mr. Wyatt 
 as to his authority, he found that it was not from 
 the King ; and he afterwards discovered that 
 the orders were given at Weymouth by the 
 Queen, the late Earl of Roslyn being present. 
 What was the state of His Majesty’s health at 
 that time is now a matter of historical curiosity; 
 but this extraordinary ' proceeding deserves 
 particular notice. It rendered the studies of the 
 17* 
 
- 193 
 
 best part of the Artist’s life useless, and de^ 
 prived him of that honourable provision, the 
 fruit of his talents and industry, oil which he 
 had counted for the repose of his declining 
 years.' For some time it affected him deeply, 
 and he was at a loss what steps to take ; at last, 
 however, in reflecting on the marked friendship 
 and favour which the King had always shown 
 him, he addressed to His Majesty a letter, of 
 which the following is a copy of the rough 
 draft, being the only one preserved : I give it 
 verbatim ; — 
 
 The following is the Substance of a Letter I had 
 the honour of writing to His Majesty, when 
 at Weymouth, hy the conveyance of Mr, James 
 Wyatt, 
 
 To the King’s Most Excellent Majesty. 
 
 Gracious Sire, Newman st. sept. 26 . isor. 
 «« On the fifteenth of last month Mr. Wyatt 
 signified to me Your Majesty’s pleasure, — 
 ‘ That the pictures by me now painting for 
 His Majesty’s chapel at Windsor, should be 
 
 o 
 
194 
 
 saspended until further orders/ I feel it w 
 duty I owe to that communication, to lay before 
 Your Majesty, by the return of Mr. Wyatt to 
 Weymouth, a statement of those pictures which 
 I have painted to add to those for the chapel, 
 mentioned in the account I had the honour to 
 transmit to Your Majesty in 1797 j by the hands 
 of Mr. Gabriel Mathias. Since that period I 
 have finished three pictures, began several 
 others, and composed the remainder of the sub- 
 jects for the chapel, on the progress of Revealed 
 Religion, from its commencement to its com- 
 pletion y and the whole arranged with that cir- 
 cumspection, from the Four Dispensations, into 
 five-and-thirty compositions, that the most 
 scrupulous amongst the various religious sects 
 in this country, about admitting pictures into 
 churches, must acknowledge them as truths, or 
 the Scriptures fabulous. Those are subjects so 
 replete witli dignity, character, and expression, 
 as demanded the historian, the commentator, 
 and the accomplished painter, to bring them 
 into view. Your Majesty’s gracious com- 
 placency and commands for my pencil on that 
 extensive subject stimulated my humble abili- 
 
195 
 
 ties, and I commenced the work with zeal and 
 enthusiasm. Animated by your commands, 
 gracious Sire, I renewed my professional studies, 
 and burnt my midnight lamp to attain and give 
 that polish at the close of Your Majesty’s chapel, 
 which has since marked my subsequent scriptural 
 pictures. Your Majesty’s known zeal for pro- 
 moting religion, and the elegant arts, had en- 
 rolled your virtues with all the civilized world ; 
 and your gracious protection of my pencil had 
 given to it a celebrity throughout Europe, and 
 spread a knowledge of the great work on Re- 
 vealed Religion, which my pencil was engaged 
 on, under Your Majesty’s patronage : it is that 
 work which all Christendom looks with a com- 
 placency for its completion. 
 
 ‘‘ Being distinguished by Your Majesty’s be- 
 nignity at an early period as a painter, and 
 chosen by those professors highly endowed in 
 the three branches of the fine arts to fill their 
 highest station, and sanctioned by Your Majesty’s 
 signature in their choice 5 — in that station, I have 
 been, for more than ten years, zealous in promot- 
 
 o 2 
 
196 
 
 iiig merit in those three branches of art, which 
 constitutes the views of Your Majesty’s establish- 
 ment for cultivating their growth. The in- 
 genious artists have received my professional 
 aid, and my galleries and my purse have been 
 open to their studies and their distresses. The 
 breath of envy, nor the whisper of detraction, 
 never defiled my lips, nor the want of morality 
 my character, and, through life, a strict ad- 
 herer to truth ; a zealous admirer of Your 
 Majesty’s virtues and goodness of heart, the 
 exalted virtues of Her Majesty the Queen, and 
 the high accomplishments of others of Your 
 Majesty’s illustrious family, have been the theme 
 of my delight ; and their gracious complacency 
 my greatest pleasure and consolation for many 
 years, with which 1 was honoured by many in- 
 stances of friendly notice, and their warm at- 
 tachment to the fine arts. 
 
 With these feelings of high sensibility, with 
 which my breast has ever been inspired, I feel 
 with great concern the suspension given by 
 Mr. Wyatt to the work on Revealed Religion, 
 
197 
 
 my pencil had advanced to adorn Windsor-Castle* 
 If, gracious Sire, this suspension is meant to be 
 permanent, myself and the fine arts have to 
 lament. For to me it will be ruinous, and, to 
 the energetic artist, in the highest branches of 
 his professional pursuits — a damp in the 
 hope of more exalted minds, of patronage in 
 the refined departments in painting. But I 
 have this in store, for the grateful feeling of my 
 heart, that, in the thirty-five years by which my 
 pencil has been honoured by Your Majesty’s 
 commands, a great body of historical and 
 scriptural compositions will be found in Your 
 Majesty’s possession, in the churches, and in 
 the country. Their professional claims may be 
 humble, but they have been produced by a loyal 
 subject of Your Majesty, which may give them 
 some claim to respect, similar works not having 
 been attained before in this country by a subject ; 
 and this I will assert as my claim, that Your 
 Majesty did not bestow your patronage and com- 
 mands on an ungrateful and a lazy man, but on 
 him who had a high sense of Your Majesty’s 
 honours and Your Majesty’s interests in all cases^ 
 
 o 3 
 
198 
 
 as a loyal and dutiful subject, as well as servant, 
 to Your Majesty’s gracious commands; and I 
 humbly beg Your Majesty to be assured that 
 I am, 
 
 “ With profound duty, 
 
 ‘‘ Your Majesty’s grateful 
 
 ‘‘ Benjamin West.” 
 
 To this letter Mr. West received no answer ; 
 but on the return of the Court to Windsor, he 
 went to the Castle, and * obtained a private 
 audience of the King on the subject, by which 
 it appeared that His Majesty was not at all 
 acquainted with the communication of which 
 Mr. Wyatt was the bearer, nor had he received 
 Mr. West’s letter. However, the result of the 
 interview was, that the King said, ‘‘ Go on with 
 your work. West : go on with the pictures, and 
 I will take care of you.” 
 
 This was the last interview that Mr. West was 
 permitted to enjoy with his early, constant, and 
 to him truly royal patron ; but he continued to 
 execute the pictures, and in the usual quarterly 
 payments received the thousand per ann. 
 
199 
 
 till His Majesty’s final superannuation, when, 
 ' without any intimation whatever, on calling to 
 receive it, he was informed that it had been 
 stopped, and that the intended design of the 
 chapel of Revealed Religion was suspended. 
 
 This was a severe stroke of misfortune to the 
 Artist, now far advanced in life, but he submitted 
 to it with resignation. He took no measures, 
 nor employed any influence, either to procure 
 the renewal of the quarterly allowance, or the 
 payment of the balance of his account. But 
 being thus cast off from his best anchor in his 
 old age, he still possessed firmness of mind to 
 think calmly of his situation. He considered 
 that a taste for the fine arts had been greatly 
 diffused by means of the exhibitions of the 
 Royal Academy, and the eclat which the French 
 •had given to pictures and statues by making them 
 objects of national conquest ; and having thus 
 lost the patronage of the King, he determined 
 to appeal to the public. With this view he 
 resolved to paint several large pictures ; and 
 in the prosecution of this determination, he has 
 been amply indemnified for the effects of that 
 
 o 4 
 
^00 
 
 poor economy that frustrated the "nation from 
 obtaining an honourable monument of the taste 
 of the age, and the liberality of a popular 
 king. 
 
 Without imputing motives to any party 
 concerned, or indeed without being at all 
 acquainted with the circumstances that gave rise 
 to it, I should mention that a paper was circulated 
 among the higher classes of society, in which an 
 account was stated of the amount of the money 
 paid by His Majesty, in the course of more than 
 thirty years, to Mr. West. In that paper the 
 interval of time was not at all considered, nor 
 the expense of living, nor the exclusive prefer- 
 ence which Mr. West had given to His Majesty’s 
 orders, but the total sum ; — which, shown by 
 itself, and taken into view without any of 
 these explanatory circumstances, was very large, 
 and calculated to show that Mr. West might 
 really indeed do without the thousand pounds 
 a-year. In order, however, to place this pro- 
 ceeding in its true light, I have inserted in the 
 Appendix an account of the works executed and 
 designed by Mr. West lor the King, and the 
 
201 
 
 prices allowed for them as charged in the 
 audited account, of which the King himself had 
 approved. 
 
 Independent of the relation which this paper 
 bears to the subject of these memoirs, it is a 
 curious document, and will be interesting as 
 such, as long as the history of the progress of 
 the arts in this country excites the attention of 
 posterity. 
 
 I have now but little to add to these memoirs. 
 But they would be deficient in an important 
 event, were I to omit noticing the death of 
 Mrs. West, which took place on the 6 th of 
 December, I8I7. The malady with which she 
 had been afflicted for several years smoothed 
 the way for her relief from suffering, and 
 softened the pang of sorrow for her loss. She 
 was in many respects a woman of an elevated 
 character ; and her death, after a union of more 
 than half a century, was to her husband one of 
 those irreparable changes in life, for which no 
 equivalent can ever be obtained. 
 
202 
 
 The last illness of Mr. West himself was slow 
 and languishing. It was rather a general decay 
 of nature, than any specific malady ; and he 
 continued to enjoy his mental faculties in perfect 
 distinctness upon all subjects as long as the 
 powers of articulation could be exercised. To 
 his merits as an artist and a man 1 may be 
 deemed partial, nor do I wish to be thought 
 otherwise. I have enjoyed his frankest con- 
 fidence for many years, and received from his 
 conversation the advantages of a more valuable 
 species of instruction, relative to the arts, than 
 books alone can supply to one who is not an 
 artist. While I therefore admit that the par- 
 tiality of friendship may tincture my opinion of 
 his character, I am yet confident that the 
 general truth of the estimate will be admitted 
 by all who knew the man, or are capable to 
 appreciate the merits of his works. 
 
 In his deportment, Mr. West was mild and 
 considerate : his eye was keen, and his mind apt ; 
 but he was slow and methodical in his reflections, 
 and the sedateness of his remarks must often in 
 his younger years have seemed to strangers 
 
203 
 
 singularly at variance with the vivacity of his 
 look. That vivacity, however, was not the 
 result of any peculiar animation of temperament ; 
 it was rather the illumination of his genius ; "for 
 when his features were studiously considered, 
 they appeared to resemble those which we find 
 associated with dignity of character in the best 
 productions of art. 
 
 As an artist, he will stand in the first rank. 
 His name will be classed with those of Michael 
 Angelo and Raphael ; but he possessed little 
 in common with either. As the former has 
 been compared to Homer, and the latter to 
 Virgil, in Shakspeare we shall perhaps find 
 the best likeness to the genius of Mr. West. 
 He undoubtedly possessed, but in a slight 
 degree, that peculiar energy and physical ex- 
 pression of character in which Michael Angelo 
 excelled, and in a still less that serene sub- 
 limity which constitutes the charm of Raphael’s 
 great productions. But he was their equal 
 in the fulness, the perspicuity, and the pro- 
 priety of his compositions. In all his great 
 works the scene intended to be brought 
 
before the spectator is represented in such a 
 manner that the imagination has nothing to 
 supply. The incident, the time and the place, 
 are there as we think they must have been ; and 
 it is this wonderful force of conception which 
 renders the sketches of Mr, West so much more 
 extraordinary than his finished pictures. In 
 the finished pictures we naturally institute com^ 
 parisons in colouring, and in beauty of figure, 
 and in a thousand details which are never noticed 
 in the sketches of this illustrious artist. But 
 although his powers of conception were so 
 superior, — equal in their excellence to Michael 
 Angelo’s energy, or BaphaePs grandeur,' — still 
 in the inferior departments of drawing and 
 colouring, he was one of the greatest artists of 
 his age ; it was not, however, till late in life that 
 he executed any of those works in which he 
 thought the splendour of the Venetian school 
 might be judiciously imitated. 
 
 At one time he intended to collect his works 
 together, and to form a general exhibition of 
 them all. Had he accomplished this, the great- 
 ness and versatility of liis talents would have 
 
205 
 
 been established beyond all controversy j for 
 unquestionably he was one of those great men, 
 whose genius cannot be justly estimated by par- 
 ticular works, but only by a collective inspection 
 of the variety, the extent, and the number of 
 their productions. 
 
 On the 10th of March Mr. West expired 
 without a struggle, at his house in Newman 
 Street, and on the £9th he was interred with 
 great funeral pomp in St. Paul’s Cathedral. 
 An account of the ceremony is inserted in the 
 Appendix. 
 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 No. I. 
 
 Hie Account of Pictures painted by Benjamm West fm^ 
 His Majesty, by his Gracious Commands, from 1768 to 
 1780. A True Copy from Mr, Wesf s Account Boohs, 
 *with their several Charges and Dates, 
 
 When 
 
 painted. 
 
 
 . SUBJECTS. 
 
 £, 
 
 
 1769. 
 
 1. 
 
 Regulus, his Departure from 
 Rome - - - - - 
 
 420 
 
 0 
 
 
 2. 
 
 Hamilcar swearing his Son 
 Hannibal at the Altar 
 
 420 
 
 0 
 
 1771. 
 
 3. 
 
 Bayard at the moment of his death 
 receiving the Constable Bourbon 
 
 315 
 
 0 
 
 
 4. 
 
 The Death of Epaminondas 
 
 315 
 
 0 
 
 
 5. 
 
 The Death of General Wolfe - 
 
 315 
 
 0 
 
 1772. 
 
 6. 
 
 Cyrus receiving the King of 
 Armenia and family prisoners 
 
 157 
 
 10 
 
 
 7. 
 
 Germanicus receiving Sagastis 
 -and his Daughter prisoners 
 
 157 
 
 10 
 
 Carryforward ^2100 0 
 
€08 
 
 When 
 
 painted. 
 
 1779 . 
 
 SUBJECTS. £. t. 
 
 Brought forward 2100 0 
 
 8. The portrait of Her Majesty, 
 the Kit-cat size. 
 
 9. The portrait of His Majesty, 
 the same size, (companion,) 
 
 84 
 
 0 
 
 10. Six of the Royal Children in one 
 picture, size of life _ * - 
 
 315 
 
 0 
 
 1 1 . Her Majesty and Princess Royal, 
 in one picture - - - 
 
 157 
 
 0 
 
 12. His R. H. the Prince of Wales 
 
 and Prince Frederic (Duke of 
 York), in one picture whole 
 length - - - - 210 0 
 
 13. A second picture of Ditto, for 
 the Empress of Russia, sent by 
 
 His Majesty 210 0 
 
 14. A whole-length portrait Yf His 
 
 Majesty, — Lord Amherst and 
 the Marquis of Lothian in the 
 back-ground. - - - 262 10 
 
 15. A w^hole-length portrait of Her 
 
 Majesty, with all the Royal 
 Children in the back-ground - 262 10 
 
 1 6. Whole-length portraits of Prince 
 William (Duke of Clarence) and 
 Prince Edward (Duke of Kent), 
 
 in one picture - - - 262 10 
 
 1 7. Whole-length portraits of Prince 
 Adolphus and his sisters, in one 
 
 picture - 262 10 
 
 ^4126 0 
 
S09 
 
 1780. 
 
 When 
 
 paintecL 
 
 1780. 
 
 From the year 1769 the whole of the above 
 pictures to 1779 were painted and paid for 
 . by His i Majesty through the hands of Mr. 
 R. Daulton and Mr. G. Mathias. 
 
 At this period His Majesty was graciously 
 pleased to sanction my pencil with his commands 
 for a great work on Revealed Religion, from its 
 commencement to its completion, for pictures to 
 embellish his intended New Chapel in Windsor 
 Castle. I arranged the several subjects from 
 the four Dispensations. His Majesty was 
 pleased to approve the arrangement selected, 
 as did several of the Bishops in whose hands 
 he placed them for their consideration, and 
 they highly approved the same. 
 
 His Majesty then honoured me with his 
 commands, and did at that time, the better to 
 enable me to carry it into effect, order his 
 deputy privy-purse, Mr. G. Mathias^ to pay me 
 one thousand a year by quarterly payments, 
 which was regularly paid as commanded ; and 
 the following are the subjects which I have 
 painted from the Four Dispensations, for the 
 Chapel, of various dimensions. 
 
 Antideluvian Dispensation. 
 
 SUBJECTS. £. s. 
 
 1. The expulsion of Adam and Eve 
 
 from Paradise - ' - - 525 0 
 
 2. The Deluge - - _ 525 0 
 
 Carryforward ^^1050 0 
 
 p 
 
210 
 
 When 
 
 painted. 
 
 SUBJECTS. 
 
 Brought forward 1050 0 
 
 3. Noah and his Family sacrificing 525 0 
 
 Patriarchal Dispe^nsation. 
 
 4. The Call of Abraham going to 
 
 sacrifice his son Isaac - - 600 0 
 
 5. The Birth of Jacob and Esau - 525 0 
 
 6. Joseph and his brothers in Egypt, 
 composed, not painted. 
 
 7. The Death of Jacob surrounded 
 by his sons in Egypt, ditto. 
 
 The Mosaical Dispensation. 
 
 8. The Call of Moses, his Rod 
 turned into a Serpent before the 
 Burning Bush, composed, but not 
 painted. 
 
 9. Moses and his brother Aaron 
 before Pharaoh, their Rods turned 
 
 into Serpents - - - 1050 0 
 
 10. Moses destroying Pharaoh and ^ 
 
 his host in the Red Sea - 1050 0 
 
 11. Moses receiving the Laws on 
 
 Mount Sinai _ _ _ i260 0 
 
 12. Moses consecrating' Aaron and 
 
 his sons to the priesthood - 1050 o 
 
 13. Moses showing the Brazen Ser- 
 
 pent to the infirm to be healed 1050 0 
 
 Carry forward £8160 0 
 
When 
 
 painted. 
 
 211 
 
 SUBJECTS. £. 
 
 Brought forward 8160 0 
 
 11. The Death of Aaron on Mount 
 Hor, composed, but not painted. 
 
 15. Moses presenting Joshua to 
 Eleazar the priest, and Congre- 
 gation, as commanded, composed, 
 but not painted. 
 
 16. Moses sees the Promised Land 
 from the top of Mount Abarim, 
 and Death, a sketch in oil colours. 
 
 17. Joshua commanding the Ark 
 and Congregation to pass the 
 river into the Promised Land, a 
 sketch in oil colour. 
 
 The Prophets. 
 
 18. The prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah 525 0 
 
 19. The prophet Samuel anointing 
 David the son of Jesse, a sketch. 
 
 20. The prophesying of Zacharias at 
 
 the birth of John his son - - 525 0 
 
 2 1 . The Angels announcing the Birth 
 of our Saviour, a cartoon for a 
 painted-glass window, by Mr. 
 
 Forrest - - - - 525 0 
 
 22. The Birth of our Saviour, ditto, 
 
 for painted glass, by ditto - 525 0 
 
 23. The Wise Man’s Offering, a 
 
 cartoon for ditto - - 525 0 
 
 Carry forward £ 10,785 0 
 
 p 2 
 
When 
 
 painted. 
 
 SUBJECTS. £. s. 
 
 Brought forward 10,785 0 
 
 24. John the Baptist baptizing our 
 Saviour, on whom the Holy 
 
 Ghost descends - - - 1050 0 
 
 25. Christ’s Temptation and Victory 
 in the Wilderness, a sketch. 
 
 26. Christ beginneth to preach at 
 Nazareth, his native place, a 
 sketch. 
 
 27. Christ healeth the Sick and 
 
 Blind, &c. in the Temple - - 1050 0 
 
 2B. The Last Supper ; which picture 
 His Majesty presented to St. 
 
 George’s Chapel at Windsor - 735 0 
 
 29. A Last Supper, painted for the 
 
 King’s Chapel - - - 735 0 
 
 30. The Crucifixion, a study in oil 
 colour, for the glass painting by 
 Messrs. Jervis and Forrest to 
 colour from, and the cartoon the 
 
 size of the window - - 1050 0 
 
 31. The west end window of St. 
 
 George’s Chapel, 28 feet wide by 
 36 high, for them to draw the 
 
 figures from on the glass - 1050 0 
 
 ^2, The Resurrection, a study in 
 oil colour, for glass painting by 
 Messrs. Jervis and Forrest to 
 colour from - - - 525 o 
 
 Carry forward £ 16,980 0 
 
213 
 
 When 
 
 painted. 
 
 SUBJECTS. 
 
 Brought forward 16,980 
 33. And the cartoon the si^e of the 
 window at the east end of St. 
 George’s Chapel, 28 feet wide by 
 36 high, to draw from on the glass 1 050 
 And two side pictures - - 525 
 
 34*. The Assumption of our Saviour, 
 
 for the King’s Chapel - - 1050 
 
 35. Peter’s first Sermon, or the 
 
 Apostles receiving the Cloven 
 Tongues - - - - 1050 
 
 36. Paul and Barnabas rejecting the 
 Jews, and receiving the Gentiles 1050 
 
 s. 
 
 0 
 
 0 
 
 0 
 
 0 
 
 0 
 
 0 
 
 ^21,705 0 
 
 Painted fo)' His Majesty^ s State Rooms in Windsor Castle 
 the following Pictures from the Histoty of Edisoard III. 
 
 1. Edward III. embracing his Son on 
 
 the field of battle at Cressy - - 1 365 0 
 
 2. The Installation of the most noble 
 
 Order of the Garter - - 1 365 0 
 
 3. Edward the Black Prince receiv- 
 ing John King of France and his 
 
 son as prisoners - - - 1365 0 
 
 4. St. George destroying the Dragon 630 0 
 
 5. Queen Philippa defeats David 
 King of Scotland, at Nevil’s 
 
 Cross, and takes him prisoner - 525 0 
 
 Carry forward ^5250 0 
 
 p 3 
 
When 
 
 painted. 
 
 ^14 
 
 SUBJECTS. £, s. 
 
 Brought forward 5250 0 
 
 6. Queen Philippa soliciting Edward 
 III. to save St. Pierre and the 
 
 brave burgesses of Calais - 525 0 
 
 7. Edward III. forcing the passage of 
 
 the river Somme in France - 630 0 
 
 8. Edward III. crowning Ribemont 
 
 at Calais - - - 525 0 
 
 £69S0 O 
 
 By His Majesty’s commands I made 
 nine designs for the ceiling in the 
 Queen’s Lodge, Windsor, for Mr. 
 
 Haas to work the ceilings from. 
 
 Viz. 1. Genius inspiring the fine arts 
 to adorn the useful arts and sciences. 
 
 2. Agriculture. 3. Manufactures. 
 
 4. Commerce. 5. Botany. 6. Che- 
 mistry. 7. Celestial Science. 8. Ter- 
 restrial Science; and 9. To adorn 
 Empire - - - « 525 o 
 
 Myself and son, with Mr. Rebecca, 
 for painting transparent and water 
 coloured pictures to adorn the marble 
 gallery at a great evening entertain- 
 ment in the Castle given by Their 
 Majesties to the nobility - - 250 0 
 
 Painted for His Majesty a whole- 
 length portrait of Prince Octavius 
 holding the King’s sword - - 73 10 
 
 Carry forward j^848 10 
 
"215 
 
 SUBJECTS. £. s. 
 
 Brought forward 848 10 
 
 Painted for His Majesty the Apo- 
 theosis of Prince Octavius and Prince 
 Alfred, in one picture, the size of life 315 0 
 
 A portrait of Prince Augustus, half 
 length, for the Queen. 
 
 A second whole length of Her 
 Majesty, with all the Royal children 
 in the back-ground, which was placed 
 in Windsor Castle, but at present in 
 
 the Queen’s Palace, London 262 10 
 
 A picture of Peter denying our 
 Saviour, of which His Majesty ho- 
 noured me by accepting, two half- 
 length figures, the size of life. 
 
 ^1426 0 
 
 This is a true statement of the numbers of pictures, 
 cartoons, and drawings of designs, and sketches of 
 scripture subjects, as well as historical events, British 
 as well as Greek, Roman, and other nations, with 
 which I had been honoured by the King’s commands, 
 from 1768, to 5th January 1801, to paint for His 
 Majesty; and the charges I made for each was by him 
 most graciously acknowledged, when my account w^s 
 audited and allowed by Mr. G. Mathias, His Majesty’s 
 privy purse, who settled for debtor and creditor the 
 whole amount between the above dates. 
 
 p 4 
 
 Wlien 
 
 painted. 
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
No. II. 
 
 A Catalogue of the Wai'ks of Mr, West, 
 
 Regulus. 
 
 Hanibal. 
 
 Epaminondas. 
 
 Bayard. 
 
 Wolfe, the first and second. 
 
 Cyrus and the King of Armenia with his Family, 
 captives. 
 
 Germanicus and Segestus with his Daughter, captives. 
 
 The Apotheosis of Prince Alfred and Prince Octavius. 
 
 The picture of the Damsel accusing Peter. 
 
 The Queen, with the Princess Royal, in one picture. 
 
 Prince Ernest and Prince Augustus ; Princesses Au- 
 gusta, Elizabeth, and Mary, in one picture. 
 
 Prince William and Prince Edward, in one picture. 
 
 Prince Octavius. 
 
 The whole-length portrait of His Majesty in Regi- 
 mentals, with Lord Amherst and the Marquis of Lothian 
 on Horseback, in the back-ground. 
 
 The whole-length portrait of Her Majesty, with the 
 fourteen Royal Children, 
 
 The same repeated. 
 
 The Battle of Cressy, when Edward III. embraced 
 his son. 
 
 The Battle of Poitiers, when John King of France is 
 brought prisoner to the Prince. 
 
 The Institution of the Order of the Garter. 
 
The Battle of Nevifs Cross. 
 
 The Burgesses of Calais before Edward III. 
 
 Edward III. crossing the Somme. 
 
 Edward III. crowning Ribemont, at Calais. 
 
 St. George destroying the Dragon. 
 
 The -design of our Saviour’s Resurrection, painted in 
 colours, with the Women going to the Sepulchre; also 
 Peter and John. 
 
 The cartoon from the above design, for the east 
 window, painted in the Collegiate Church of Windsor, 
 on glass, 36 feet high by 28 wide. 
 
 The design of our Saviour’s Crucifixion, painted in 
 colours. 
 
 The cartoon from the above design, for the west 
 window in the Collegiate Church, painting on glass, 
 36 feet by 28. 
 
 The cartoon of the Angels appearing to the Shep- 
 herds, ditto for ditto. 
 
 The cartoon of the Nativity of our Saviour, for ditto, 
 ditto. 
 
 The cartoon of the Magi presenting Gifts to our 
 Saviour, for ditto, ditto. 
 
 The picture, in water-colours, representing Hymen 
 leading and dancing with the Hours before Peace and 
 and Plenty. 
 
 The picture, in water-colours, of Boys with the In- 
 signia of Riches. 
 
 The companion, with Boys, and the Insignia of the 
 Fine Arts. 
 
 Genius calling forth the Fine Arts to adorn Manu- 
 factures and Commerce, and recoxxling the names of 
 eminent men in those pursuits. 
 
 Husbandry aided by Arts and Commerce. 
 
^18 
 
 Peace and Riches cherishing the Fine Arts* 
 
 Manufactory giving support to Industry, in Boys and 
 Girls. 
 
 Marine and inland Navigation enriching Britannia. 
 
 Printing aided by the Fine Arts. 
 
 Astronomy making new discoveries in the Heavens. 
 
 The Four Quarters of the World bringing Treasures 
 to the Lap of Britannia. 
 
 Civil and Military Architecture defending and adorn- 
 ing Empire. 
 
 The Expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise. 
 
 The Deluge. 
 
 Noah sacrificing. 
 
 Abraham and his son Isaac going to sacrifice. 
 
 The Birth of Jacob and Esau. 
 
 The Death of Jacob in Egypt, surrounded by his 
 Twelve Sons. 
 
 Moses and Aaron before Pharaoh ; their Rods turned 
 into Serpents. 
 
 Pharaoh and his Host lost in the Red Sea, while 
 Moses stretches his Rod over them. 
 
 Moses receiving the Law on Mount Sinai. 
 
 Moses consecrateth Aaron and his Sons to the Priest- 
 hood. 
 
 Moses showeth the Brazen Serpent to the People to 
 be healed. 
 
 Moses shown the Promised Land from the top of 
 Mount Pisgah. 
 
 Joshua crossing the River Jordan with the Ark. 
 
 The Twelve Tribes drawing Lots for the Lands of 
 their Inheritance, 6 feet by 10. 
 
 The Call of Isaiah and Jeremiah, each 5 by 14. 
 
 David anointed King, 6 by 10, 
 
 17* 
 
219 
 
 Chrisfs Birth, 6 by 10. 
 
 The naming of John ; or, the Prophecies of Zacharias, 
 ditto. 
 
 The Kings bringing Presents to Christ, 6 by 12. 
 Christ among the Doctors, 6 by 10. 
 
 The Descent of the Holy Ghost on our Saviour at 
 the River Jordan, 10 by 14. 
 
 Christ healing the Sick in the Temple, ditto. 
 
 Christ’s Last Supper, 6 by 10. 
 
 Christ’s Crucifixion, 16 by 28. 
 
 Christ’s Ascension, 12 by 18. 
 
 The Inspiration of St. Peter, 10 by 14. 
 
 Paul and Barnabas rejecting the Jews, and receiving 
 the Gentiles, ditto. 
 
 John called to write the Revelation, 6 by 10. 
 
 Saints prostrating themselves before the Throne of 
 God. 
 
 The opening of the Seven Seals; or. Death on the 
 Pale Horse. 
 
 The overthrowing the Old Beast and False Prophet. 
 The Last Judgment. 
 
 The New Jerusalem. 
 
 The picture of St. Michael and his Angels fighting 
 and casting out the Red Dragon and his Angels. 
 
 Do. of the Women clothed in the Sun. 
 
 Do. of John called to write the Revelation. 
 
 Do. of the Beast rising out of the Sea. 
 
 Do. of the Mighty Angel, one Foot upon Sea and the 
 other on Earth. 
 
 Do. of St. Anthony of Padua. 
 
 Do. of the Madra Dolo Roso. 
 
 Do. of Simeon, with the Child in his arms. 
 
A picture of a small Landscape, with a Hunt passing 
 in the back-ground. 
 
 Do. of Abraham and Isaac going to sacrifice. 
 
 Do. of a whole-length figure of Thomas a Becket, 
 larger than life. 
 
 Do. of the Angel in the' Sun assembling the Birds of 
 the Air, before the destruction of the Old Beast. 
 
 Four half-lengths. 
 
 The small picture of the Order of the Garter, differ- 
 ing in composition from the great picture at Windsor. 
 
 The picture of the Shunamite’s Son raised to Life by 
 the Prophet Elisha. 
 
 Do. of Jacob blessing Joseph’s Sons. 
 
 Do. of the Death of Wolfe, the third picture. 
 
 Do. of the Battle of La Hogue. 
 
 Do. of the Boyne. 
 
 Do. of the Restoration of Charles II. 
 
 Do. of Cromwell dissolving the Long Parliament. 
 
 A small portrait of General Wolfe, when a Boy. 
 
 The Picture of the Golden Age. 
 
 The picture of St. Michael chaining the Dragon, in 
 Trinity College, Cambridge, 15 by 8. 
 
 Do. of the Angels announcing the Birth of our 
 Saviour, in the Cathedral Church at Rochester, 
 10 by 6. 
 
 Do. of the Death of St. Stephen, in the church of 
 St. Stephen, Walbrook, 10 by 18. 
 
 Do. of the Raising of Lazarus, in the Cathedral of 
 Winchester, 10 by 14. 
 
 Do. of St. Paul shaking the Viper off his Finger, in 
 the chapel at Greenwich, 27 by 15. 
 
 The Supper, over the communion-table in the Col- 
 legiate Church at Windsor, 8 by 13. 
 
The Resurrection of our Saviour, in the east window 
 of the Collegiate Church at Windsor, 28 by 32. 
 
 The Crucifixion, in the window of ditto, 28 by 36. 
 
 The Angel announcing our Saviour’s Birth, in ditto, 
 10 by 14. 
 
 The Birth of our Saviour, in ditto, 9 by 16. 
 
 The Kings presenting Gifts to our Saviour, in ditto, 
 9 by 16. 
 
 The picture of Peter denying our Saviour, in the 
 chapel of Lord Newark. 
 
 The Resurrection of our Saviour, in the church of 
 Barbadoes, 10 by 6. 
 
 The picture of Moses with the Law, and John the 
 Baptist, in ditto, as large as life. 
 
 The picture of Telemachus and Calypso. 
 
 Do. of Angelica and Madora. 
 
 Do. of the Damsel and Orlando. 
 
 Do. of Cicero at the Tomb of Archimedes. 
 
 Do. of St. Paul’s Conversion ; his Persecution of the 
 Christians ; and the Restoration of his Sight, under the 
 hands of Ananias, in one frame, divided in three parts. 
 
 Do. of Mr. Hope’s Family, containing nine figures as 
 large as life. 
 
 Large figures of Faith, Hope, Charity, Innocence, 
 St. Matthew, St. Mark, St. Luke, St. John, St. Matthias, 
 St. Thomas, St. Jude, St. Simon, St James the Major, 
 St Philip, St. Peter, St. Andrew, St. Bartholomew, 
 St. James the Minor, Malachi, Micah, Zachariah, and 
 Daniel. 
 
 Paul shaking the Viper from his Finger. 
 
 Paul preaching at Athens. 
 
 Elimas the Sorcerer ^struck blind. 
 
 Cornelius and the Angel. 
 
Peter delivered from Prison. 
 
 Tke Conversion of St. Paul. 
 
 Paul before Felix. 
 
 Two whole-lengths of the late Archbishop of York’s 
 two eldest Sons. 
 
 A whole-length portrait of the late Lord Grosvenor. 
 
 The picture of Jacob drawing Water at the Well 
 for Rachael and her Flock, in the possession of 
 Mrs. Evans. 
 
 The picture of the Citizens of London olfering the 
 Crown to William the Conqueror. 
 
 The Queen soliciting the King to pardon her son 
 John. 
 
 Moses showing the brazen Serpent. 
 
 John showing the Lamb of God. 
 
 Three of the Children of the late Archbishop of York, 
 j with the portrait of the Archbishop, half-lengths, in the 
 possession of the Rev. Dr. Drummond. 
 
 The Family-picture, half-lengths, of Mrs. Cartwright’s 
 Children. 
 
 Do. of Sir Edmund Baker, Nephew and Niece, 
 half-length. 
 
 Do. of — Lunis, Esq.’s Children, half-lengths. 
 
 A Lady leading three Children along the Path of 
 Virtue to the Temple. 
 
 A picture of Madora. 
 
 The picture of the late Lord Clive receiving the 
 Duannic from the Great Mogul, for Lord Clive. 
 
 Christ receiving the Sick and Lame in the Temple, 
 in the Pennsylvanian Hospital, Philadelphia, 11 feet 
 by 18. 
 
 The picture of Pylades and Orestes, for Sir George 
 Beaumont. 
 
223 
 
 The original sketch of Cicero at the Tomb of 
 Archimedes, for ditto. 
 
 The picture of Leonidas ordering Cleombrotas into 
 Banishment, with his Wife and Children, for 
 W. 'Smith, Esq. 
 
 Do. of the Marys at the Sepulchre, for General 
 Stibert. 
 
 Do. of Alexander and his Physician, for ditto. 
 
 Do. of Julius Csesar reading the Life of Alexander. 
 
 Do. of the Return of the Prodigal Son, for Sir James 
 Earle. 
 
 Do. of the Death of Adonis, for Knight, Esq. 
 
 Portland Place. 
 
 Do. of the Continence of Scipio, ditto. 
 
 Do. of Venus and Cupid, oval, for Mr. Steers Temple. 
 
 Do. of Alfred dividing his Loaf, presented to Sta- 
 tioners’ Hall by Alderman Boydell. 
 
 Do. of Helen brought to Paris, in the possession of 
 a family in Kent. 
 
 A small sketch of the Shunamite’s Son restored, &c. 
 
 Cupid stung by a Bee, oval, for Vesey, Esq. 
 
 in Ireland. 
 
 Agrippina surrounded by her Children, and reclining 
 her Head on the Urn containing the Ashes of Ger- 
 manicus, ditto. 
 
 The Death of Wolfe, the fourth picture, for J^ord 
 Bristol. 
 
 A do. of do. the fourth picture, in the possession of 
 the Prince of Waldeck. 
 
 A small do of do. the fifth picture, ditto Moncton 
 family. 
 
 A small picture of Romeo and Juliet, for the Duke t 
 of CoLirland, 
 
A small picture of King Lear and his Daughters5 
 ditto. 
 
 Do. of Belisarius and the Boy, for Sir Francis Baring. 
 
 Do. of Sir Francis Baring and part of his Family, 
 containing six figures as large as life, ditto. 
 
 Do. of Simeon and the Child, as large as life, for 
 the Provost of Eton. 
 
 Do. of the late Lord Clive receiving the Duannic from 
 the Great Mogul, a second picture, for Madras. 
 
 The second picture of Philippa soliciting of Ed- 
 ward III. the pardon of the Burgesses of Calais, in the 
 possession of Willet, Esq. 
 
 Do. of Europa on the back of the Bull, at Calcutta, 
 
 Do. of the Death of Hyacinthus, painted for Lord 
 Kerry, but now in the National Gallery at Paris. 
 
 The picture of Venus presenting the Girdle to Juno, 
 painted for Lord Kerry, and in the National Gallery; 
 figures as large as life in both pictures. 
 
 Do. of Rinaldo and Armida, for Caleb Whitford, Esq. 
 
 Do. of Pharaoh’s Daughter with the Child Moses, for 
 
 Park, Esq. : the original painted for General 
 
 Lawrence. 
 
 Do. of the Stolen Kiss, painted for ditto, and in the 
 possession of ditto. 
 
 Do. of Angelica and Madora, for ditto, ditto. 
 
 Do. of the Woman of Samaria at the Well with 
 Christ, ditto. 
 
 Do. of Paetus and Arria, in the possession of 
 Col. Smith, at the Tower. 
 
 Do. of Rebecca coming to David, for Sir J. Ashley. 
 
 The Drawing respecting Christ’s Nativity, for Mr. 
 Tomkins, Doctors’ Commons. 
 
 Do. of Rebecca receiving the Bracelets at the Well, 
 for the late Lord Buckinghamshire. 
 
The dmwing of the Stolen Kiss, ditto. 
 
 Do. of Rinaldo and Armida, ditto. 
 
 Do. of. a Mother and Child, ditto. 
 
 The .whole-length portrait of Sir Thomas Strange', 
 in the Town-hall of Halifax. 
 
 Do. of Sir John Sinclair. 
 
 The picture of Agrippina landing at Brundusium, 
 (the first picture,) in the possession of Lord Kinnoul. 
 
 Do. of do. for the Earl of Exeter,, at Burleigh, 
 second picture. 
 
 Do. of do. (third picture,) in the possession of 
 
 Hatch, Esq., in Essex. 
 
 A small picture of Jupiter and Semele : the large 
 picture lost at sea. 
 
 Hector parting with his Wife and Child at the Sun 
 Gate. 
 
 -- The prophet Elisha raising the Shunamite’s son. 
 
 The raising of Lazarus. 
 
 Edward III. crossing the River Somme. 
 
 Queen Philippa at the Battle of Nevif s Cross. 
 
 The Angels announcing to the Shepherds tne Birth 
 of our Saviour. 
 
 The Magi bringing Presents to oui Saviour. 
 
 A view on the River Thames at Hammersmith. 
 
 A do. on the banks of the River Susquehanna, in 
 America. 
 
 The picture of Tangire Mill, at Eton. 
 
 Do. of Chryseis returned to her father Chyses. 
 
 Venus and Adonis, large as life. 
 
 The sixth picture of the Death of Wolfe. 
 
 The first and second picture of the Battle of La Hogue. 
 
 The sketch of Macbeth and the Witches. 
 
 The small picture of the Return of Tobias, 
 

 The small picture of the Return of the Prodigal Son. 
 
 Do. of Ariadne on the Sea-shore. 
 
 Do. of the Death of Adonis. 
 
 Do. of John King of France brought to the Black 
 Prince. 
 
 Do. of Antiochus and Stratonice. 
 
 Do. of King Lear and his Daughter. 
 
 The picture of Chryses on the Sea-shore. 
 
 Do. of Nathan and David : — “ Thou art the Man 1” 
 as large as life. 
 
 Do. of Elijah raising the Widow’s Son to Life. 
 
 Do. of the Choice of Hercules. 
 
 Do. of Venus and Europa. 
 
 Do. of Daniel interpreting the Hand-writing on the . 
 Wall. 
 
 Do. of the Ambassador from Tunis, with his Attendant, 
 as he appeared in England in 1781. 
 
 The drawing of Marius on the Ruins of Carthage. 
 
 Do. of Cato giving his Daughter in Marriage on his 
 Death, both in the possession of the Archduke Joseph. 
 
 Do. of Belisarius brought to his Family. 
 
 The large picture of the Stag, or the rescuing of 
 Alexander the Third, for Lord Seaforth, 12 feet 
 by 18. 
 
 The picture of Cymon and Iphigenia, and Endymion 
 and Diana, at Wentworth Castle, Yorkshire. 
 
 Do. of Cymon and Iphigenia, and Angelica and 
 Madora, in the possession of Mr. Mitton,' of Shrop- 
 shire, painted at Rome. 
 
 Small picture of the Battle of Cressy. 
 
 Small sketch of the Order of the Garter. 
 
 Mr. West’s small picture of his Family. 
 
227 
 
 The sketch of Edward the Third with his Queen, and 
 the Citizens of Calais. 
 
 Mr. West’s small copy from Vandyke’s picture of 
 Cardinal Bentivoglio, now in the National Gallery at 
 Paris, 
 
 Mr. West’s copy from Correggio’s celebrated picture 
 at Parma, viz. the St. Girolemo, now in the National 
 Gallery. 
 
 The large Landscape from Windsor Forest. 
 
 The picture of Mark Antony showing the Robe and 
 Will of Julius Caesar to the People. 
 
 Do. of ^gistus viewing the Body of Clytemnestra. 
 
 The large sketch of the window at Windsor, of the 
 Magi presenting Gifts to the Infant Christ. 
 
 The small sketch of the Battle of Nevil’s Cross. 
 
 The second small sketch of the Order of the Garter. 
 
 The small picture of Ophelia before the King and 
 Queen, with her brother Laertes. 
 
 Do. of the Recovery of His Majesty in the year 1789. 
 
 Do. from Thomson’s Seasons, of Miranda and her 
 Two Companions. 
 
 Do. of Edward the Third crowning Ribernont at 
 Calais, a sketch. 
 
 The picture of Leonidas taking leave of his Family on 
 his going to Thermopylae. 
 
 Do, of a Bacchante, as large as life, half-length. 
 
 First sketch of the Battle of Cressy. 
 
 The picture of Phaeton soliciting Apollo for the 
 Chariot of the Sun. 
 
 The second picture of Cicero at the Tomb of Archi- 
 medes. 
 
 The small picture of Belisarius and the Bo}'^, different 
 from that in the possession of Sir Francis Baring. 
 
 2 2 
 
The small picture of the Eagle giving the Vase of 
 Water to Psyche. 
 
 Do. of the Death of Adonis, from Anacreon. 
 
 Do. of Moonlight and the Beckoning Ghost,” from 
 Pope’s Elegy. 
 
 Do. of the Angel sitting on the Stone at the Sepulchre. 
 
 Second picture of the same, but differing in com- 
 position. 
 
 A small sketch of ditto. 
 
 A sketch of King Lear and his Daughter. 
 
 The second picture of Angelica and Madora. 
 
 Do. of a Damsel and Orlando. 
 
 Mr. West’s portrait, half-length. 
 
 Sketch of his two Sons, when Children. 
 
 Do, when Boys. 
 
 Do. when young Men. 
 
 Portrait of the Rev. — — Preston. 
 
 Picture of the Bacchante Boys. 
 
 Do, of the Good Samaritan. 
 
 Picture of the Destruction of the Old Beast and 
 False Prophet Revelation. 
 
 Do. of Christ healing the Sick, Lame, and Blind, in 
 the Temple. 
 
 Do. of Tintern Abbey. 
 
 Do. of Death on the Pale Horse ; or, the Opening of 
 the Seals. 
 
 Do. of Jason and the Dragon, in imitation of 
 Salvator Rosa. 
 
 Do. of Venus and Adonis looking at Cupids bathing. 
 
 Do. of Moses and Aaron before Pharaoh. 
 
 Do. of the Uxbridge Passage-boat on the Canal. 
 
 Do. of St. Paul and Barnabas rejecting the Jews, and 
 turning to the Gentiles. 
 
 14 
 
Picture of the Falling of Trees in the Great Park 
 at Windsor. 
 
 Do. of Diomed and his Chariot-horses struck by 
 the Lightning of Jupiter. 
 
 Do. of the Milk-woman in St. James’s Park. 
 
 Do. of King Lear in the Storm at the Hovel. 
 
 Do. of the Expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise. 
 
 Do. of the Order of the Garter. 
 
 Do. of Orion on the Dolphin’s back. 
 
 Do. of Cupid complaining to Venus of a Bee having 
 stung his finger. 
 
 Do. of the Deluge. 
 
 Do. of Queen Elizabeth’s Procession to St. Paul’s. 
 
 Do. of Christ shovdng a Little Child as the Emblem 
 of Heaven. 
 
 Do. of Harvest-home. 
 
 Do. of a View from the east end of Windsor Castle, 
 looking over Datchet. 
 
 Do. of Washing of Sheep. 
 
 Do. of St. Paul shaking the Viper from his Finger. 
 
 Do. of the Sun setting behind a group of Trees on the 
 banks of the Thames at Twickenham. 
 
 Do. of the driving of Sheep and Cows to water. 
 
 Do. of Cattle drinking at a Watering-place in the 
 Great Park, Windsor, with Mr. West drawing. 
 
 Do. of Pharaoh and his Host drowned in the Red 
 Sea. 
 
 Do. of Calypso and Telemachus on the Sea-shore ; 
 second picture. 
 
 Do. of Gentlemen fishing in the Water at Dagenham 
 Breach. 
 
 Do. of Moses consecrating Aaron and his Sons to the 
 priesthood. 
 
 Q 3 
 
Picture of the View of Windsor-Castle from Snow« 
 Hill, in the Great Park. 
 
 Do. of a Mother inviting her little Boy to come to 
 her through a small Stream of Water. 
 
 Do. of the naming of Samuel, and the prophesying of 
 Zacharias. 
 
 Do. of the Ascension of our Saviour, 
 
 Do of the Birth of Jacob and Esau. 
 
 Do. of the Brewer’s Porter and Hod Carrier. 
 
 Do. of Venus attended by the Graces. 
 
 Do. of Samuel, when a Boy, presented to Eli. 
 
 Do. of Christ’s Last Supper. (In brown colour.) 
 
 Do. of the Reaping of Harvest, with Windsor in the 
 back-ground. 
 
 Do. of Adonis and his Dog going to the Chace. 
 
 Do. of Christ among the Doctors in the Temple. 
 
 Do. of Moses shown the Promised Land. 
 
 Do. of Joshua crossing the River Jordan with the 
 Ark. 
 
 Do. of Christ’s Nativity. 
 
 Do. of Mothers with their Children, in water. 
 
 Do. of Cranford Bridge. 
 
 Do. of the sketch of Pyrrhus, when a Child, before 
 King Glaucus. 
 
 Do. of the Traveller laying his Piece of Bread on the 
 Bridle of the dead Ass. From Sterne. 
 
 Do. of the Captivity. From ditto. 
 
 Do. of Cupid letting loose Two Pigeons. 
 
 Do. of Cupid asleep. 
 
 Do. of Children eating Cherries. 
 
 Sketch of a Mother and her Child on her Lap. 
 
 The small picture of the Eagle bringing the Cup to 
 Psyche, 
 
i231 
 
 The picture of St. Anthony of Padua and the Child. 
 
 Do. of Jacob, and Laban with his Two Daughters. 
 
 Do. of the Women looking into the Sepulchre, and 
 beholding Two Angels where the Lord lay. 
 
 Do. of the Angel loosening the Chains of St. Peter 
 in Prison. 
 
 Do. of the Death of Sir Philip Sydney. 
 
 Do. of the Death of Epaminondas. 
 
 Do. of the Death of Bayard. 
 
 The small sketch of Christ’s Ascension. 
 
 The sketch of a Group of Legendary Saints. In 
 imitation of Reubens. 
 
 The picture of Kosciusco on a Couch, as he appeared 
 in London, 1797. 
 
 Do. of the Death of Cephalms. 
 
 Do. of Abraham and Isaac: — “ Here is the Wood 
 and Fire, but where is the Lamb for Sacrifice.” 
 
 The sketch of the Bard. From Gray. 
 
 Do. of the Pardoning of John by his brother King 
 Henry, at the Solicitation of his Mother. 
 
 Do. of St. George and the Dragon. 
 
 The picture of Eponina with her Children, giving 
 Bread to her Husband when in Concealment. 
 
 The sketch on paper of Christ’s Last Supper. 
 
 The picture of the Pardoning of John, at his Mother’s 
 Solicitation. 
 
 Do. of the Death of Lord Chatham. 
 
 Do. of the Presentation of the Crown to William the 
 Conqueror. 
 
 Do. of Europa crowning the Bull with Flowers. 
 
 Do. of Mr. West’s Garden, Gallery, and Painting* 
 Room. 
 
 Do. of the Cave of Despair. From Spenser. 
 
 . o 4 
 

 The picture of Christ’s Resurrection. 
 
 The sketch of the Destruction of the .Spanish 
 Armada. 
 
 The picture of Arethusa bathing. 
 
 The sketch of Priam soliciting of Achilles the Body 
 of Hector. 
 
 The picture of Moonlight. (Small.) 
 
 The small sketch of Cupid showing Venus his Finger 
 stung by a Bee. 
 
 The drawings of the Two Sides of the intended 
 Chapel at Windsor, with the Arrangement of the Pic“» 
 tures, &c. 
 
 The drawing of St. Matthew, with the Angel. 
 
 Do. of Alcibiades and Timon of Athens. 
 
 Do. of Penn’s Treaty. 
 
 Do. of Regulus. 
 
 Do. of Mark Antony, showing the Robe and Will of 
 Cassar. 
 
 Do. of the Birth of Jacob and Esau. 
 
 Do. of the Death of Dido. 
 
 The large sketch, in oil, (on paper,) of Moses receiv- 
 ing the Laws on Mount Sinai. 
 
 The large drawing of the Death of Hippolytus. 
 
 The large sketch, in oil, of the Death of St. Stephen. 
 On paper. 
 
 The drawing of the Death of Caesar. 
 
 Do. of the Swearing of Hannibal. 
 
 Do. of the Expulsion of Adam and Eve. 
 
 Do. of the Deluge. 
 
 The sketch, in oil, of the Landing of Agrippina. On 
 paper. 
 
 Do. of Leonidas ordering Cleombrotus into Banisli«» 
 ment. On paper. 
 
23S 
 
 The drawing of the Death of Epaminondas. 
 
 The sketch, in oil, of the Death of Aaron. On paper. 
 
 The drawing of the Death of Sir Philip Sydney. 
 
 The sketch, in oil, (on paper,) of David prostrate^ 
 whilst the destroying Angel sheathes the Sword. 
 
 Tke drawing of the Women looking into the Se- 
 pulchre. 
 
 Do. of St. John Preaching. 
 
 Do. of the Golden Age. 
 
 Do. of Antinous and Stratonice. 
 
 Do. of the Death of Demosthenes. 
 
 The large sketch, in oil, (on paper,) of Death on the 
 Pale Horse. 
 
 The drawing of King John and the Barons with 
 Magna Charta. 
 
 Do. of La Hogue. 
 
 Do. of Jacob and Laban. 
 
 The large ditto of the Destruction of the Assyrian 
 Camp by the destroying Angel. 
 
 The large sketch, in oil, (on paper,) of Christ raising 
 the Widow’s Son. 
 
 Do. in ditto, (on paper,) of the Water gushing from 
 the Rock, when struck by Moses. 
 
 The drawing of the Death of Socrates. 
 
 Do. of the Boyne. 
 
 Do. of the Death of Eustace St. Celaine. 
 
 The sketch, in oil, (on paper,) of the Procession of 
 Agrippina with her Children and the Roman Ladies 
 through the Roman Camp, when in Mutiny. 
 
 The drawing of the Rescue of Alexander III. of 
 Scotland from the Fury of the Stag. 
 
 Do. of the Death of Wolfe. 
 
 The sketch, in oil, of King Alfred dividing his Loaf 
 with a Pilgrim. 
 
The sketch, in oil, of the Raising of Lazarus. 
 
 The small whole-length of Thomas a Becket, in oil, 
 on canvass. 
 
 The small picture of the Death of the Stag. 
 
 The drawing of ditto. 
 
 Do. of Nathan and David. 
 
 Do. of Joseph making himself known to his Brethren. 
 
 The drawing of Narcissus in the Fountain. 
 
 Do. sketch, 'in small, of the Duannic received by Lord 
 Clive. 
 
 Do. of the Continence of Scipio. 
 
 Do. of the Last Judgment, and the Sea giving up its 
 Dead. 
 
 Do. of the Bard. From Gray. 
 
 Do. of Belisarius and his Family. 
 
 The sketch, in oil, of Aaron standing between the 
 Dead and Living to stop the Plague. 
 
 Do. on paper, of the Messenger announcing to 
 Samuel the Loss of the Battle. 
 
 The drawing of Sir Philip Sydney ordering the 
 Water to be given to the wounded Soldier. 
 
 The sketch of Christ Rejected. 
 
 The great picture of Christ Rejected. 
 
 Do. of Death on the Pale Horse. 
 
 The second picture of Christ healing the Sick. 
 
 The third great picture of Lord Clive receiving the 
 Duannic. 
 
 Portrait of the Duke of Portland. 
 
 Portrait of Himself, left unfinished. 
 
 N.B. Besides these productions, Mr. West has, in his 
 portfolios, drawings and sketches exceeding two hun- 
 dred in number. 
 
235 
 
 NATIONAL MONUMENT. 
 
 [The following letter on an interesting subject is curious^ 
 and is inserted here to be preserved.] 
 
 Mr, West's Letter to Sir George Beaumont.^ Bart. 
 
 East Cowes Castle, Isle of Wight, 
 Sept. 30. 1815. 
 
 “ Dear Sir George, 
 
 Your letter to me from Keswick of the thirty-first 
 of last month I have received at this place : in that letter 
 you have honoured me with the communication of ‘ the 
 Lords Commissioners of His Majesty’s Treasury having 
 done you the honour, among others, to inform you of 
 the commands of His Royal Highness the Prince 
 Regent, that measures be forthwith taken for the 
 erection of a monument to commemorate the victory 
 Waterloo, in pursuance of an address of the House of 
 Commons ; and to request you to apply to such artists 
 as you think fit, for designs for this national column 
 and you are pleased to say, that you believe at this 
 distance you cannot better forward their views than by 
 applying to me. 
 
 “ The honourable way in which you have noticed my 
 humble abilities in the arts, by calling on them for a 
 
256 
 
 design for a monument to perpetuate an occurrence of 
 such high military glory and national greatness as that 
 of the victory of Waterloo, demands my warmest 
 acknowledgments, and I also feel a duty and profound 
 respect for the sources of your instructions to procure 
 appropriate designs from the artists. When a monument 
 is to be raised by a great and victorious nation (such as 
 England) in memory of her departed as well as her 
 living heroes, I feel it of the highest importance to her 
 national character, when her arts and her arms stand so 
 high, that they should bear a proud record to posterity 
 of both their powers in such a building as that now under 
 consideration. 
 
 “To raise a record to departed virtue in an individual, 
 an obelisk, a column, "or a statue, may bear an honourable 
 name to posterity ; but a record when thousands have 
 devoted their lives to save their country from a rapacious 
 enemy, as in those victories gained by the Greeks at 
 Thermopylae and Marathon; the English at Blenheim 
 and Trafalgar ; and, lastly, that greatest of ail, gained by 
 the unsubdued valour and heroism of the armies of the 
 United Kingdom at Waterloo, demands a building of 
 greater magnitude and more national consequence than 
 that of a column. 
 
 “ Such a design as I have conceived to record that 
 victory I will give to yourself and others for your con- 
 sideration ; but not as a competitor presenting a drawing 
 or model for a decision to be made on it as offered for 
 competition : I therefore give you the following ideas on 
 friendly motives for a dignified building. 
 
S37 
 
 All records to be transmitted, must be by the three 
 means which have been established for that purpose ; 
 namely, the pen, the pencil, and the chisel. I therefore 
 propose a building wherein these three may be employed 
 to express the various incidents, and to mark that victory 
 distinct from all others, by applying the several spoils 
 and trophies taken ; and to have the building of con- 
 siderable magnitude. For as the subject is great, so 
 should be its representative : nothing little or mean 
 should be accepted, or permitted to appear in such a 
 work, nothing but what will mark the great features of 
 that event : all of which by dates, names, and sculptured 
 trophies, as well as paintings, may be proclaimed and 
 recorded to distant times. 
 
 The basis of such an erection being intended solely to 
 commemorate the battle of Waterloo, its name should 
 be in capital letters on the four faces, and the trophies 
 of that victory should enrich the sides of the same ; and 
 the characters of the various military in British arihies 
 made conspicuous by their numbers shown ; and on the 
 summit of the lofty pile the sovereign’s figure then in 
 power should be placed. 
 
 The plan and dimensions of the building I present 
 to you are as follows : Its base a square fof sixty feet, 
 
 and its height thirty : this will make each of the four 
 faces of the base a double square on its measurement. 
 From the centre of this base a building to be erected in 
 diameter thirty feet, and in height one hundred and 
 twenty, formed out of the spoils of victory, and diminish- 
 ing as it rises, and to be surmounted by a figure twelve 
 
238 
 
 feet in height, including the pedestal on which it stands. 
 In the centre, over the front face of the great case, to be 
 the equestrian group of the Duke of Wellington, under 
 which, in large letters, Waterloo to be inscribed; and 
 the four angles of the great base perpendicular tablets, 
 ornamented with military insignia expressive of the 
 British armies, and inscribed on the four tablets the 
 number of each regiment who shared in the glories of 
 that day, and by the four tablets be placed the statues of 
 distinguished generals. Thus I have presented you 
 with the external appearance of my imaginary building 
 in honour of the victory of Waterloo ; and the interior 
 of this building to be considered as the place of deposit 
 for preserving the powers of the pen, the pencil, and 
 other gems from perishing by water or by fire : to be 
 built of stone, and all its ornaments to be made of durable 
 metals : all of which to be illustrative of the victory for 
 which such a building was erected. 
 
 “ The situation of this building should be a populous 
 one,, and that within a circus or square of a diameter not 
 less than six hundred and fifty-eight feet. This size of 
 space will give the spectator an opportunity of viewing the 
 erection at double the distance of its elevation, which is 
 the optical distance that pictures, statues, and buildings 
 should always be seen at. 
 
 “ Should my ideas of a building to commemorate the 
 military achievements of Waterloo be viewed with 
 complacency by yourself and others, I shall feel a 
 satisfaction, as President of the Royal Academy, to have 
 done my duty ; and should His Royal Highness the 
 
^39 
 
 Prince Regent be pleased to signify his approbation, I 
 shall be gratified and honoured. With the sincerity of 
 profound respect, 
 
 I am. 
 
 My dear Sir George, 
 
 Your obliged and obedient Servant, 
 
 BENJAMIN WEST.’* 
 
Suffolk Lane, 28th Jan, 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 Sir Philip Francis’s critique on the Tran^giiration 
 appears very ingenious, so far as it explains the painter’s 
 design in representing the Demoniac Boy as the connect- 
 ing link between the action on the Moimt and the 
 groupe at the foot of it ; but I cannot agree with Sir 
 Philip in supposing the picture to represent the Ascension^ 
 and as you request me to state my reasons for this dissent, 
 I shall briefly endeavour to specify them. 
 
 I have not seen the original picture; but in the 
 copy of it by Harlow, which was much admired in 
 Rome, and which one would think must be accurate, at 
 least in regard to so important a point, since it was 
 exhibited beside the original— I say in Harlow’s copy 
 the raiment of our Saviour is nsohite, not blue. The 
 white has, indeed, in the shaded part, a bluish tinge, 
 but the colour is decidedly a *white^ and, therefore, Sir 
 Philip’s assumption that it is blue appears contrary to 
 the fact. 
 
 X. 
 
 The Tran^guration was witnessed by only three of 
 the Apostles, Peter, James, and John, (see St. Matthew, 
 
241 
 
 <iliap. xvii. V. 1, 2, and 3.) exactly as represented in the 
 picture, and (see v. 9.) as they came down from 
 the mountain, Jesus charged them, saying, ‘ Tell the 
 vision to no man, until the Son of Man be risen again 
 from the dead/ ” 
 
 It may be as well, to prevent the trouble of an 
 reference, to quote at once from the Evangelist, the 
 description of the subject which it appears to me tlie 
 painter meant to represent.’ • 
 
 Chap. xvii. as before. 
 
 1. And after six days Jesus taketh Peter, James, and 
 John his brother, and briiigetli them up into an high 
 mountain apart, 
 
 2. And was transfigured before them : and his face 
 did shine as the sun, and his raiment was white as the 
 light. 
 
 3. And, behold, there appeared unto them Moses and 
 Elias talking with him. 
 
 6. And when the disciples heard, they fell on their 
 faces, and were sore afraid. 
 
 14. And when they were come to the multitude, 
 there came to him a man, kneeling down to him, and 
 saying, 
 
 15. Lord, have mercy on my son: for he is lunatic, 
 and sore vexed : and oft-times he falleth into the fire, 
 and oft into the water. 
 
 16. And I brought him to thy disciples, and they 
 ^ould not cure him, &c. 
 
 Now this is exactly the scene delineated in the 
 
242 
 
 picture. There are on the Mount the three disciples, 
 fallen on the ground,* and shading their faces from 
 the ‘ bright cloudU which omrshadom the transfigured 
 Saviour ; and Moses and Elias are the two figures of 
 old men attending the Saviour, or ‘ talking mth him' 
 
 ** At the foot of the Mounts there are the multitude^ 
 the lunatic boy, his father holding him, the disciples 
 who could not cure him ; and one of whom appears in 
 the act of attempting to cure him, by addressing or 
 exorcising the demon who is in him. There are also 
 several voomen in the groupe ; and it seems that instead 
 of bringing ‘ different incidents together to constitute 
 one plot,’ the painter, on the contrary, has exactly 
 followed the Evangelist, and represented the same instant 
 of time in the action on the Mount, among the multitude 
 at the foot of it. 
 
 I cannot imagine how Sir Philip Francis could 
 have supposed the picture to represent the Ascension^ 
 which took place in the presence of the Eleven Apostles 
 and of them only, (see St. Luke, last chapter and last 
 paragraph,) as follows : 
 
 And he led them out as far as Bethany, and he 
 lifted up his hands, and he blessed them. And it came 
 to pass, when he blessed them, he was parted from them, 
 and carried up into Heaven,” 
 
 This bears no resemblance whatever to the scene 
 represented in the picture, and the opinion given by 
 
 19 
 
S4S 
 
 Sir Philip can only have arisen from an imperfect recol- 
 lection of the Sacred Writings, and from having neglected 
 to refer to the text. 
 
 I am, i 
 
 ‘‘ My dear Sir, 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 S. M‘G 
 
 John Galt^ Esq^, 
 
 K 2 
 
THE FUNERAL or Mr. WEST. 
 
 It would be improper to close this appendix without 
 giving: some account of the funeral of Mr. West. 
 
 Soon after Mr. West’s decease, a deputation from 
 the Council of the Royal Academy waited on his sons 
 and the executors, to apprise them of the intention of 
 that body to honour the remains of their late President, 
 by attending them to his grave, according to the cere- 
 monial adopted on the public interment of the late Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, in St. Paul’s Cathedral. His Majesty 
 having, as Patron of the Royal Academy, given his 
 gracious sanction that similar honours should be paid tO' 
 the late venerable President, his sons and executors 
 adopted active preparations to carry the arrangement 
 into effect. As the schools of the Royal Academy were 
 closed, and all its fiinctions suspended, by the death of 
 the late President, it was of material importance on this 
 account, and with the view to the usual preparatory 
 arrangements for the annual exhibition, that the funeral 
 should not be delayed ; and as early a day as practicable 
 w as therefore fixed for the public interment in St. Paul’s 
 Cathedral. The obvious consequence, however, of this 
 has been, that owing to the absence from town, at this 
 particular season, of so many noblemen and gentlemen 
 of the highest rank, and the indisposition of several 
 others, many warm admirers and friends of this cele- 
 
M5 
 
 brated artist and amiable man, who have, during his 
 long life, honoured him with their friendship, and who 
 have been particularly desirous of paying their last 
 tribute of respect to his remains, have been precluded 
 attending the funeral. The corpse was privately brought 
 to the Royal Academy on Tuesday evening, attended 
 by the sons and grandson of the deceased, and two 
 intimate friends, Mr. Henderson (one of the trustees 
 and executors of the deceased) and Mr. Hayes (for 
 many years his medical attendant), and was received by 
 the council and officers of the Ptoyal Academy, and 
 their undertaker and his attendants, with every mark of 
 respect. The body was then deposited in the smaller 
 Exhibition-room, on the ground-floor, which was hung 
 on the occasion with black. 
 
 I 
 
 About half-past ten yesterday morning, the Acade- 
 micians, Associates, and Students, assembled in the 
 Great Exhibition-room, and the nobility, gentry, and 
 the deceased’s private friends, soon after arrived, and 
 joined the mournful band. The chief mourners were 
 in seclusion in the library of the Academy. About 
 half-past twelve o’clock, the whole of the arrangements 
 having been effected, the Procession moved from Somer- 
 set-House to St. Paul’s Cathedral in the following; order? 
 
 Six Constables, by threes. 
 
 Four Marshahuen, two and two. 
 
 City Marshal on horseback. 
 
 Undertaker on horseback. 
 
 Six Cloakmen on horseback, by twos. 
 
 Four INIutes on horseback, by twos. 
 
 Lid of Feathers, with attendant Pages, 
 
246 
 
 Hearse and Six, 
 
 With rich trappings, feathers, and velvets, attended by Eight 
 Pages. 
 
 Two Mourning Coaches and four, 
 
 With attendant Pages, conveying the Pall-bearers. 
 Mourning Coach and Four, 
 
 With attendant Pages, conveying the Sons and Grandson of 
 the deceased, as 
 CHIEF MOURNERS. 
 
 Mourning Coach and Four, 
 
 With attendant Pages, conveying the Family Trustees and 
 ' Executors of the deceased. 
 
 Mourning Coach and Four, 
 
 With attendant Pages, conveying the Reverends the Vicar of 
 Mary -la-bonne, the Chaplain to the Lord Mayor, and 
 the Medical Attendant of the deceased. 
 
 Then followed Sixteen Mourning Coaches and Pairs, 
 With Attendant Pages, conveying the Right Rev. the Chaplain, 
 the Secretary for Foreign Correspondence, and the 
 Members of the Royal Academy and Students, 
 Twenty Mourning Coaches and Pairs, 
 
 With attendant Pages, conveying the Mourners and Private 
 Friends of the deceased. 
 
 The Procession was closed by above sixty carriages, 
 arranged in rank by ^the junior City Marshal and 
 Marshalmen — the servants wearing hat-bands and 
 gloves. 
 
 The Procession was attended on each side by fifty 
 Constables, to preserve order ; and the accesses from 
 Bridge-street, Chancery-lane, the Old Bailey, &c. were 
 stopped. On reaching St. Paul’s Cathedral, where the 
 senior City Marshal was in waiting, with several 
 
247 
 
 assistants, to arrange the Procession, it entered at the 
 great Western Gate, and was met at the entrance of 
 the Cathedral by the Church Dignitaries, &c. the whole 
 then proceeded to the Choir in the following order : 
 
 The two junior Vergers, 
 
 The Marshals. 
 
 The young Gentlemen of the Choir, two by two. 
 Their Almoner, or Master. 
 
 The Vicars Choral, two by two. 
 
 The Sub-Dean and Junior Canons, two by two. 
 
 The Feathers, with Attendant Pages and Mutes. 
 The two Senior Vergers. 
 
 Honourable and Fev. Dr. Wellesley. 
 
 The Canon residentiary, and the Rev. the Prebendary. 
 
 Pall-bearers. 
 
 The Earl of Aberdeen, 
 His Excellency the Ame- 
 rican Ambassador, 
 Hon. Augustus Phipps, 
 Sir Thomas Baring. 
 
 H 
 
 S 
 
 w 
 
 n 
 
 o 
 
 w 
 
 w 
 
 W 
 
 Pall-bearers. 
 
 Right Honourable Sir 
 William Scott, 
 Honourable Gen. Phipps, 
 Sir George Beaumont, 
 
 Sir Robert Wilson. 
 
 Chief Mourners. 
 
 The Sons and Grandson of deceased, namely, 
 
 Raphael Lamar West, Esq. 
 
 Benjamin West, Esq. 
 and 
 
 Mr. Benjamin West, jun. 
 followed by 
 
 Robert Brunning (the old Servant of deceased) 
 
 Henry Fauntleroy, Esq. and James Henry Henderson, Esq. 
 (the Family Trustees and Executors of deceased.) 
 and 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Heslop, Vicar of St. Mary-Ia-Bonne ; the Rev. 
 Mr. Borrodaile, Chaplain to the Lord Mayor; and Joseph 
 Hayes, JEsq. Medical Attendant on deceased (Dr. Baillie 
 being unavoidably absent). 
 
248 
 
 Then followed 
 The Bishop of Salisbury, 
 
 (As Chaplain to the Royal Academy, and an Honorary 
 Member). , . 
 
 Prince Hoare, Esq. 
 
 (Secretary for Foreign Correspondence to the Royal Aca- 
 demy.) 
 
 The body of Academicians and Associates of the Royal 
 Academy, according to seniority, two by two. 
 Students, two by two. 
 
 And the private mourners of the deceased, consisting of— 
 
 Aldermen Wood and Birch, Rev. Est, Rev. Holt Oakes, 
 
 Henry Bankes, Esq. M. P., William Smith, Esq. M. P., 
 Richard Hart Davies, Esq. M. P,, George Watson Taylor, 
 Esq. M. P., Jesse Watts Russell, Esq. M. P., Archibald 
 Hamilton, Esq., Thomas Hope, Esq., Samuel Boddington, 
 Esq., Richard Payne Knight,'^ Esq., Thomas Lister Parker, 
 Esq., George Hibbert, Esq., John Nash, Esq., John 
 Edwards, Esq., Major Payne, Captain Henry Wolseley, 
 Captain Francis Halliday, James St. Aubyn, Esq., Henry 
 
 Sansom, Esq., Magniac, Esq., George Sheddon, Esq., 
 
 James Dunlop, Esq., Joseph Ward, Esq., N. Ogle, Esq., 
 George Repton, Esq., William Wadd, Esq., Henry Wood- 
 
 thorpe, jun. Esq., Christ. Hodgson, Esq., Cockerell, 
 
 sen. Esq., — —Cockerell, jun. Esq., Leigh Hunt, Esq., 
 P. Turnerelli, Esq., J. Holloway, Esq., Charles Heath, Esq., 
 Henry Eddridge, Esq., A. Robertson, Esq., W. J. Newton, 
 
 Esq., John Taylor, Esq., T. Bonney, Esq., Muss, Esq., 
 
 Martin, Esq., J. Green, Esq., John Galt, Esq., William 
 
 Carey, Esq., Leslie Esq., Behnes, Esq., George 
 
 Samuel, Esq., John Young, Esq., Christopher 'Pack, Esq., 
 W* Delamotte, Esq., E. Scriven Esq., J. M. Davis, Esq., 
 C. Smart, Esq., &c. 
 
 It being Passion Week, the usual chanting and per- 
 formance of music in the Cathedral-service could not 
 take place, but an Anthem was, by special permission, 
 
249 
 
 allowed to be sung; and the Hon. and Rev. Dr. Wel- 
 lesley, assisted by the Rev. the Prebendary, performed 
 the solemn service in a very impressive manner. The 
 body was placed in the choir, and at the head were 
 arranged, on chairs, the chief mourners and executors. 
 The pall-bearers were seated on each side of the corpse, 
 and the Members of the Royal Academy, and other 
 mourners, were arranged on each side of the choir. After 
 the Anthem, the body was attended to the vault-door by 
 the pall -bearers, followed by the chief mourners and exe- 
 cutors, and was conveyed into the crypt, and placed 
 immediately beneath the perforated brass plate, under 
 the centre of the dome. Dr. Wellesley, with the other 
 canons, and the whole choir, then came under the dome, 
 and the pall-bearers, chief mourners, and executors, 
 stood by them. The Members of the Royal Academy 
 were ranged on the right, and the other mourners on the 
 left, forming a circle, the outside of which was protected 
 by the Marshals and undertaker’s attendants. Here the 
 remainder of the service was completed, and the sexton, 
 placed in the crypt below, at the proper period, let fall 
 some earth, as usual, on the coffin. After the funeral- 
 service was ended, the chief mourners and executors, 
 accompanied ,by most of the other mourners, went into 
 the crypt, and attended the corpse to its grave, which 
 was sunk with brick-work under the pavement at the 
 head of the grave of the late Sir Joshua Reynolds, and 
 adjoining to that of the late Mr. West’s intimate and 
 highly- valued fi’iend, Dr. Nev1:on, formerly Bishop of 
 Bristol, and Dean of St. Paul’s, the brick-work of whose 
 grave forms one side of Mr. West’s; thus uniting their 
 remains in the silent tomb. Sir Christopher Wren, the 
 great architect, lies interred close by, as well as those 
 eminent artists, the late Mr. Opie and Mr. Barry. 
 
 s 
 
S50 
 
 The Members of the Royal Academy, and all the 
 mourners, then returned to Somerset- House, in the like 
 order of procession (with the exception of the hearse 
 and feathers,) where refreshments were provided for 
 them. 
 
 The whole of this affecting ceremony was conducted 
 with great solemnity and respect, and was witnessed by 
 an immense concourse of people. 
 
 The carriages attending in the Procession were those 
 of the Lord Mayor, the AVchbishop of York, the Dukes 
 of Norfolk, Northumberland, and Argyll ; the Marquisses 
 of Lansdowne and Stafford; the Earls of Liverpool, 
 Essex, Aberdeen, Carlisle, Dartmouth, Powis, Miil- 
 grave, Darnley, and Carysfort ; Viscount Sidmouth ; 
 the Bishops of London, Salisbury, Carlisle, and Chester; 
 Admiral Lord Radstock; the Right Honourables Sh' 
 William Scott, Charles Manners Sutton, and Charles 
 Long; the American Ambassador; the Hon. General 
 Phipps, Augustus Phipps ; Sirs George Beaumont, 
 J. Fleming Leicester, Thomas Baring, and Henry 
 Fletcher; the Solicitor General, Sir Robert Wilson, 
 Dr. Heslop, Dr. Baillie, Aldermen Birch and Wood, 
 Mr. Chamberlain Clarke, Henry Bankes, Esq. M. P., 
 Richard Hart Davies, Esq. M. P., George Watson 
 Taylor, Esq. M. P., Jesse Watts Russell, Esq. M. P., 
 Henry Fauntleroy, Esq., Archibald Hamilton, Esq., 
 Thomas Coutts, Esq., John Penn, Esq., Thomas Hope, 
 Esq., Samuel Boddington, Esq., Walter Fawkes, Esq., 
 George Hibbert, Esq., John Yenn, Esq., John Soane, 
 Esq., Francis Chantiy, Esq., Henry Sanson, Esq,, 
 John Nash, Esq., John Edwards, Esq., George Sheddonj 
 17 * 
 
^51 
 
 Esq., James Dunlop, Esq., Joseph Ward, Esq., Henry 
 Meux, Esq. &c. &c. 
 
 The following is the Inscription upon the Tomb- 
 stone over the deceased : — 
 
 Here lie the Remains of Benjamin West, Esq., President 
 of the Royal Academy of Painting, Sculpture, and Archi- 
 tecture; born 10th Oct. 1738, at Springfield, in Pennsyl- 
 vania, in America; died in London, 11th March, 1820. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Printed by A. and R. Spottiswoode, 
 Printers- Street, London. 
 
1 
 
 Lately Published, 
 
 BY T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, STRAND, 
 
 BOOKSELLERS TO THE ROYAL ACADEMY. 
 
 THE LITERARY WORKS OF SIR JOSHUA REY- 
 NOLDS, Knt. late President of the Royal Academy ; con- 
 taining his Discourses, Papers iii the Idler, the Journal of a 
 Tour through Flanders and Holland, and also his Commentary 
 on Du Fresnoy’s Art of Painting. Printed from the Author’s 
 revised Copies, with his last Corrections and Additions. 
 To which is prefixed, some Account of the Life of the 
 Author, by EDMUND MALONE, Esq., one of his exe- 
 cutors ; Fifth Edition ; and now first added, a MEMOIR of 
 the LIFE of SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, hj Joseph 
 Farington, Esq. R. A. Handsomely printed in Three 
 Volumes Octavo, with a Portrait, price ll. 4^. in Boards. 
 
 Mr. FARINOTON’S ADDITIONAL MEMOIR of SIR 
 JOSHUA REYNOLIYS, to complete the former Editions, is 
 also sold separately, price 5s, in Boards. 
 
 LECTURES ON PAINTING, DELIVERED AT THE 
 ROYAL ACADEMY. By Henry Fuseli, P. P., with 
 additional Observations and Notes. Handsomely printed in 
 One Volume 4to. With a Portrait and other Engravings. ^ 
 
 The Second Part, containing THREE LECTURES, 
 never before published, is sold separately for the accommo- 
 dation of the purchasers of the former Part. 
 
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