Itis deemed appropriate to devote this page to the infelicities which often fall to the lot of men of genius, in hopes to strike a sympathetic chord; since to them the world owes all that is beautiful as well as useful in art. It is well known that men of fine imaginations and delicate taste, are generally distinguished for acute sensibilities, and for being deficient in more practical qualities; they are frequently eccentric, and illy adapted to contend with the coldness and indifference of the world, much less its sarcasm and enmity. The history of Art is full of melancholy examples.
When Torregiano, the cotemporary of Michael Angelo, had finished his exquisite group of the Madonna and Child for the Duke d’Arcos, with the assurance of a rich reward, the nobleman sent two servants, bearing two well-filled bags of money, with orders to bring the work to his palace. The sculptor, upon opening the bags, found nothing but brass maravedi! Filled with just indignation, he seized his mallet, in a moment of uncontrollable rage, and smashed the beautiful group into a thousand pieces, saying to the servants, “Go, take your base metal to your ignoble lord, and tell him he shall never possess a sculpture by my hand!†The infamous nobleman, burning with shame, resolved on a terrible revenge; he arraigned the unhappy artist before the Inquisition, on a charge of sacrilege for destroying the sacred images. Torregiano was imprisoned and condemned to death by torture; but to escape that awful fate, he destroyed himself in the dungeon.
It is not necessary to go back further than the history of this work, to find melancholy examples of the trials of genius. Thomas Banks vainly endeavored to introduce a lofty and heroic style of sculpture into his native country. He could obtain no commissions to execute in marble his most beautiful and sublime compositions, and was compelled to confine himself to monumental sculpture. James Barry, after struggling with poverty and neglect all his days, died in a garret, a raving maniac. A subscription had been started for his relief; but it was all expended in defraying his funeral expenses, and in erecting a monument to his memory in St. Paul’s Cathedral, with this inscription,—“The Great Historical Painter,James Barry. Died, Feb. 1806, aged 65â€! His remains were laid out in state, in the Great Room of the Adelphi—the true and appropriate monument of his genius. The Society had requested the members of the Royal Academy to decorate their Room, and when all others declined, Barry nobly came forward, and offered his services gratuitously, which were gladly accepted. He spent seven long years in decorating this apartment with fresco paintings, which the Society publicly declared was “a national ornament, as well as a monument of the talents and ingenuity of the artistâ€; and Dr. Johnson said, “They shew a grasp of mind that you will find nowhere else.†Observe the contrast: Cunningham says, that when he began this great work, he had but a shilling in his pocket, and during its execution he lived on the coarsest fare, in a miserable garret, subsisting by the sale of an occasional drawing, when he could find a purchaser!
The life of William Blake presents a picture no less melancholy. An eccentric and extraordinary genius, he seemed, in the flights of his wild imagination, to hold converse with the spirits of the departed; and in some of his works there is a truly wonderful sublimity of conception and grandeur of execution. Although not appreciated during his lifetime, he toiled on in abject poverty with indefatigable industry, reveling in visions of future fame. His Ancient of Days was his greatest favorite;three days before his death, he sat bolstered up in bed, and touched it over and over with the choicest colors, in his happiest style; then held it off at arms’ length, exclaiming, “There! that will do! I cannot mend it.†Observing his wife in tears, he said, “Stay, Kate! keep just as you are; I will draw your portrait, for you have been an angel to me.†She obeyed, and the dying artist made a fine likeness. He was cheerful and contented to the last. “I glory,†said he, “in dying, and have no grief but in leaving you, Katharine; we have lived happy and we have lived long; we have ever been together, but we shall be divided soon. Why should I fear death! Nor do I fear it. I have endeavored to live as Christ commands, and have sought to worship God truly.†On the day of his death, Aug. 12, 1827, he composed and sung hymns to his Maker, so sweetly to the ear of his beloved Katharine, that she stood wrapt to hear him. Observing this, he said to her, with looks of intense affection, “My beloved, they are not mine—no, they are the songs of the angels.â€
Young Proctor, the sculptor, was a student of the rarest promise, in the Royal Academy. After obtaining two silver medals, the president, Benjamin West, had the suggestion conveyed to him, that he had better execute a historical composition. Accordingly, in the next year, Proctor produced his model of “Ixion on the Wheel,†and in the following year, “Pirithous slain by Cerberus,†both of whichexcited great admiration. In the third year, he conceived a much bolder flight of imagination, “Diomed torn in pieces by Wild Horses,†which was far more successful than his previous efforts, approaching, in the opinion of the best judges, the grandeur of Michael Angelo, and even the Phidian period of Greek design. But this noble emanation of high native talent could not find a purchaser, and at the close of the exhibition it was returned to the studio of the sculptor, who, stung to the heart by this severe disappointment, instantly destroyed his sublime creation. Derided by his more favored but less deserving cotemporaries, Proctor shunned society, and having exhausted all his means of support to produce this last work, he was reduced to the greatest straits. When Mr. West, after some time, succeeded in ascertaining the place of his obscure retreat, he stated the circumstance to the Academy, who unanimously agreed to send Proctor to Italy, with the usual pension, and fifty pounds besides, for necessary preparations. This joyful intelligence was immediately communicated to the despairing artist, but it came too late! his constitution, undermined by want and vexation, was unable to bear the revulsion of his feelings, and he shortly after breathed his last, “a victim,†says his biographer, “to anti-national prejudices.â€
The life of Thomas Kirk, termed the “English Raffaelle,†is another melancholy example of unappreciated genius. Chagrin and disappointment ofhis ambitious hopes, consigned him to an untimely grave. Taylor, in his History of the Fine Arts in Great Britain, says, that a few years ago, one of Hogarth’s pictures brought at public sale in London, more money than the artist ever received for all his paintings together. Nollekens, the sculptor, bought two landscapes of Richard Wilson, for fifteen guineas, to relieve his pressing necessities. At the sale of the effects of the former after his decease, they brought two hundred and fifty guineas each!
Shall instances like these stain the annals of American Art, or will this free people accord to its gifted sons the encouragement they so richly deserve? May the sympathies of those who can perceive in painting and sculpture, most efficient means of mental culture, refinement, and gratification, be enlisted by these sad memories, to render timely encouragement to exalted genius! It adds to national and individual profit, pride, and glory. How much does America owe Robert Fulton and Eli Whitney? Millions, untold millions!
The advantages which a country derives from the cultivation of the fine arts, are thus admirably summed up by Sir M. A. Shee, late President of the Royal Academy, London:—
“It should be the policy of a great nation to beliberal and magnificent; to be free of her rewards, splendid in her establishments, and gorgeous in her public works. These are not the expenses that sap and mine the foundations of public prosperity, that break in upon the capital, or lay waste the income of a state; they may be said to arise in her most enlightened views of general advantage; to be amongst her best and most profitable speculations; they produce large sums of respect and consideration from our neighbors and competitors, and of patriotic exultation among ourselves; they make men proud of their country, and from priding it, prompt in its defense; they play upon all the chords of generous feeling, elevate us above the animal and the machine, and make us triumph in the powers and attributes of men.â€
Sir George Beaumont, in a letter to Lord Dover, on the subject of the purchase of the Angerstein collection by the government, speaking of the benefit which a country derives from the possession of the best works of art, says, “My belief is that the Apollo, the Venus, the Laocoön, &c., are worth many thousands a year to the country that possesses them.†When Parliament was debating the propriety of buying the Angerstein Collection for £60,000, he advocated the measure with enthusiasm, and exclaimed, “Buy this collection of pictures for the nation, and I will give you mine.†And this he nobly did, not in the form of a bequest, but he transferred them at once as soon as the gallerieswere prepared for their reception, with the exception of one little gem, with him a household god, which he retained till his death. This picture was a landscape by Claude, with figures representing Hagar and her child, and he was so much attached to it that he took it with him as a constant traveling companion. When he died, it was sent to its place in the Gallery. The value of this collection was 70,000 guineas. Such instances of noble generosity for public benefaction, deserve to be held in grateful remembrance, and should be “written in letters of gold on enduring marble,†for the imitation of mankind.
After the peace of Amiens, Benjamin West visited Paris, for the purpose of viewing the world’s gems of art, which Bonaparte had collected together in the Louvre. He had already conceived a project for establishing in England a national institution for the encouragement of art, similar to that of the Louvre, and he took occasion one day, while strolling about the galleries in company with Mr. Fox, the British minister, and Sir Francis Baring, to point out to them the advantages of such an institution, not only in promoting the Fine Arts, by furnishing models of study for artists, but he showed the propriety, in a commercial point of view, of encouraging to a seven fold extent, the higher department of art in England. Cunningham relates that Fox was so forcibly struck with his remarks that he said, “I have been rocked in the cradle ofpolitics, but never before was so much struck with the advantages, even in a political bearing, of the Fine Arts, to the prosperity, as well as the renown of a kingdom; and I do assure you, Mr. West, if I ever have it in my power to influence our government to promote the Arts, the conversation which we have had to-day shall not be forgotten.†Sir Francis Baring also promised his hearty coöperation. West was mainly instrumental in establishing the Royal British Institution. Taylor, in his History of the Fine Arts in Great Britain, says, he battled for years against coldly calculating politicians for its accomplishment; at length, his plan was adopted with scarcely an alteration.
“The commercial states of the classic ages of antiquity held the arts in very high estimation. The Rhodians were deeply engaged in commerce, yet their cultivation of the arts, more especially that of sculpture, was most surprising. The people of Ægina were equally engaged in commercial pursuits, but they were also admired for the correctness and elegance of their taste and manners, as well as their sculpture. A more ancient people still, the Phœnicians, Tyrians, Tyrrhenians, Etruscans, or Carthagenians, who were all colonies from one race of men, long before the foundation of Rome, understood and taught others the working in metals, one instance of which is remarkable: Hiram, king of Tyre, cast the brazen sea, and other immense objects in metal, for Solomon’s temple. Let us cast oureyes on Argos, Athens, Corinth, and Sicyon, those ancient abodes of good taste and transcendent genius; each of them were commercial states and cities. The remains of their beautifully-sculptured marbles, which once were in profusion, and of which we now strive to possess even the fragments, at almost any cost, show evidently that their commercial pursuits and relations with other countries had not narrowed, if it had not rather developed, the powers, and given that elastic vigor to the human mind that can, under due encouragement, overcome the greatest difficulties, and produce the grandest or the most enchanting works of utility or imagination. The marble quarries of Paros and Pentelicus were by such encouragements transformed into the noblest temples and most exquisitely beautiful statues of deities, heroes, and men, that it is possible to conceive. Such was the case throughout all the cities on the coast of the Ægean sea and of the Cyclades. Their arts increased their commerce; this was the source of their wealth; and fully aware of these advantages, their wealth reacted again on their arts, and thus there was kept alive that healthful movement of the whole popular mind, directed to the useful and elegant purposes of life.
“Let us come down to much later times, and to states far less remote, and ask what it was that gave such wealth and consequence to Venice, Genoa, Holland, and Flanders, to Pisa, Florence, and Lucca, not one of which states possessed much extentof territory, nor any large amount of population? The answer is, ‘their commercial enterprise and industry did it for them.’ True; but it is equally remarkable, that in all these states and cities the fine arts gave their powerful aid to those pursuits, as the splendid manufactures of these people testify. And where have the arts been fostered with more parental solicitude, or in what region have they shed more glory upon mankind, than they have done in these comparatively small territories? But it was the same principle that produced such splendid works in Greece: the cause and effect were precisely the same, the mode only was changed. But the principles are universal and eternal, and they may be brought to operate in other countries, to the fullest extent, and with as much grandeur, grace, and beauty, as they ever did attain, even in their most prosperous periods, under the guidance of Pericles, when they reached the highest splendor of Chryselephantine art, under the master minds of Phidias and Praxiteles, Callicrates and Ictinus, and at a later period displayed the equally resplendent genius of Apelles, Zeuxis, and Parrhasius, in the time of Alexander—those splendid epochs of painting, sculpture, and architecture, which shed an imperishable lustre upon the most enlightened states of the Hellenodic confederacy, and on the throne of the greatest conqueror of ancient times. We must not omit mentioning their palmy state in the Augustan age of Rome, and their still more glorious elevation there during the memorablecinque cento.
“But to reach these proud eminences of intellectual grandeur and extensive usefulness, the arts must be solicited, ample protection must be afforded to them; similar inducements to those which produced these great results must not only be offered, but substantially and permanently provided for their use. This garden of the human intellect must be regularly and assiduously cultivated with great care, and kept clear of the noxious weeds that would deform its beauties. Under genial treatment, all its charms develop themselves, and an endless variety of interesting and charming creations are called into existence, illustrating the high principles of religion, the noblest traits of moral and heroic conduct, and the sweetest dreams of the poetic muse: but the turmoils of war and high political contention are to them most injurious, blasting their fairest bloom, as the poisonous simoon of the desert withers the gardens of Palestine; and to these two causes, and these only, aided by anti-English prejudice, can we attribute the very slow advances which the arts had made among the natives of Britain until the auspicious period of which we are now treatingâ€â€”time of George III.—Taylor’s History of the Fine Arts in Great Britain, vol. ii, p. 150.
Homer, who flourished about B. C. 900, gives a striking proof of the antiquity of the fine arts, in his description of that admirable piece of chased andinlaid work—the shield of Achilles. Its rich design could not have been imagined, unless the arts necessary to produce it had arrived to a high degree of perfection in his country at the time he wrote, though we may doubt whether, at the period of the Trojan war, three hundred years before Homer, there existed artificers capable of executing it.
Within a century after the taking of Troy, the Greeks had founded many new colonies in Asia Minor, and the Heraclidæ finally regained their ancient seats in the Peloponnesus. It is worthy of remark that about that period, David built his house of cedars, and Solomon adorned Jerusalem with her magnificent first temple, and that Hiram, king of Tyre, sent to Solomon “a cunning man, endued with understanding,†to assist him in the building of the temple, but more especially to superintend the execution of the ornaments. (1st Kings, vii, 13, and 2d Chron., ii, 14.)
The stoa or celebrated Portico at Athens, called the Pœcile on account of its paintings, was the pride of the Athenians. Polygnotus, Mycon, and Pantænus adorned it with pictures of gods, heroes, benefactors, and the most memorable acts of the Athenians, as the incidents of the siege and sacking of Troy, the battle of Theseus against the Amazons, the battle between the Athenians and Lacedæmonians at Œnoe in Argolis, the battle of Marathon, andother memorable actions. The most celebrated of these were a series of the Siege of Troy, and the Battle of Marathon by Polygnotus, more especially the latter, which eclipsed all the others, and gained the painter so much reputation that the Athenians offered him any sum he should ask, and when he refused all compensation, the Amphictyonic council decreed that wherever he might travel in Greece, he should be received with public honors, and provided for at the public expense.
According to Pausanias, Polygnotus represented the hero Marathon, after whom the plain was named, in the act of receiving Minerva, the patroness of Athens, accompanied by Hercules, about to be joined by Theseus, whose shade is seen rising out of the earth—thus claiming Attica as his native soil. In the foreground, the Greeks and Persians are combating with equal valor, but in extending the view to the middle of the composition, the barbarians were seen routed and flying to the Phœnician ships, which were visible in the distance, and to the marshes, while the Greeks were in hot pursuit, slaying their foes in their flight. The principal commanders of both parties were distinguished, particularly Mardonius, the Persian general, the insertion of whose portrait gratified the Athenians little less than that of their own commander, Miltiades, along with whom were Callimachus, Echetlus, and the poet Æschylus, who was in the battle that day. It is evident that the painter did not strictly follow history, but treated his subject in a grand poetic and heroic style, and that too, we may rest assured, with consummate skill, to have elicited such applause from a people too refined to be deceived by any meretricious trickery of art.
Mosaics are ornamented works, made in ancient times, of cubes of variously colored stones, and in modern, more frequently of glass of different colors. The art originated in the East, and seems first to have been introduced among the Romans in the time of Sylla. It was an ornament in great request by the luxurious Romans, especially in the time of the Emperors, for the decoration of every species of edifice, and to this day they continue to discover, in the ruins of the Imperial Baths, and elsewhere, many magnificent specimens in the finest preservation. In Pompeii, mosaic floors and pavements may be said to have been universal among the wealthy.
In modern times, great attention has been bestowed to revive and improve the art, with a view to perpetuate the works of the great masters. In this way, Guercino’s Martyrdom of St. Petronilla, and Domenichino’s Communion of the dying St. Jerome, in St. Peter’s Church, which were falling into decay, have been rendered eternal. Also, the Transfiguration of Raffaelle, and other great works. Pope Clement VIII. had the whole interior dome of St. Peter’s ornamented with this work. A grandMosaic, covering the whole side of a wall, representing, as some suppose, the Battle of Platea; as others, with more probability, one of the Victories of Alexander, was discovered in Pompeii. This work, now in the Academy of Naples, is the admiration of connoisseurs and the learned, not only from its antiquity, but from the beauty of its execution. The most probable supposition is, that it is a copy of the celebrated Victory of Arbela, by Philoxenes.
Vasari says that the art of Mosaic work had been brought to such perfection at Venice in the time of the Bianchini, famous mosaic painters of the 16th century, that “it would not be possible to effect more with colors.†Lanzi observes that “the church and portico of St. Mark remain an invaluable museum of this kind of work; where, commencing with the 11th century, we may trace the gradual progress of design belonging to each age, up to the present, as exhibited in many works in mosaic, beginning from the Greeks, and continued by the Italians. They consist chiefly of histories from the Old and New Testaments, and at the same time, furnish very interesting notices of civic and ecclesiastical history.†There are a multitude of mosaic pictures in the churches, galleries, and public edifices of Italy, especially at Venice, Rome, Florence, Milan; and some of the greatest artists were employed to furnish the designs. In delicate ornamental work, the pieces are multiplied by sawing into thin slabs. Some specimens made of precious stones, are of incredible value.
In working, the different pieces are cemented together, and when dry the surface is highly polished, which brings out the colors in great brilliancy. The ancients usually employed different colored marbles, stones, and shells; the Italians formerly employed brilliant stones, as agate, jaspar, onyx, cornelian, &c., but now they employ glass exclusively.
The Greek masters in sculpture have been happily designated as “Magicians in Marble.†The taste which the Grecian people possessed for the beautiful, is well known. It stands among the chief of those characteristics by which they designated persons of great eminence. Their artists considered beauty as the first object of their studies; and by this means they surpassed all other nations, and have become models for all ages.
Of Phidias, the most celebrated sculptor of Greece, the Athenians spoke with rapture which knew no bounds. Lucian says, “We adore Phidias in his works, and he partakes of the incense we offer to the gods he has made.†Pausanias relates, that when this artist had finished his magnificent statue of the Olympian Jupiter, Jupiter himself applauded his labors; for when Phidias urged the god to show by some sign if the work was agreeable to him, the pavement of the Temple was immediately struckwith lightning. Such incidents though fabulous, are valuable, inasmuch as they serve to prove the exalted notions the people entertained of the objects to which they relate.
Eupompus, the painter, was asked by Lysippus, the sculptor, whom, among his predecessors, he should make the objects of his imitation? “Behold,†said the painter, showing his friend a multitude of people passing by, “behold my models. From nature, not from art, by whomsoever wrought, must the artist labor, who hopes to attain honor, and extend the boundaries of his art.â€
Apelles, according to the general testimony of ancient writers, was the most renowned painter of antiquity; hence painting is termed, by some of the Romans, the Apellean art. He flourished in the last half of the fourth century before Christ. Pliny affirms that he contributed more towards perfecting the art than all other painters. He seems to have claimed the palm in elegance and grace, or beauty, thecharisof the Greeks, and thevenustasof the Romans; a quality for which, among the moderns, perhaps Correggio is the most distinguished; but in the works of Apelles, it was unquestionably connected with a proportionably perfect design; a combination not found among the moderns. Pliny remarks that Apelles allowed that he was equalled by Protogenes in all respects save one, namely, in knowing when to take his hand from the picture. From this we may infer that the deficiency in grace which he remarked in the works of Protogenes, was owing to the excessive finish for which that painter was celebrated. Lucian speaks of Apelles as one of the best colorists among the ancient painters.
Apelles was famed for his industry; he is said never to have allowed a day to pass without exercising his pencil. “Nulla dies sine linea,†is a saying that arose from one of his maxims. His principal works appear to have been generally single figures, and rarely of more than a single group. The only large compositions of his execution that are mentioned by the ancient writers are, Diana surrounded by her Nymphs, in which he was allowed to have surpassed the lines of Homer from which he took the subject; and the Procession of the High Priest of Diana at Ephesus.
In portraits, Apelles was unrivalled. He is said to have enjoyed the exclusive privilege of painting Philip and Alexander the Great, both of whom he painted many times. In one of his portraits of Alexander, which was preserved in the temple of Diana at Ephesus, he represented him wielding the thunderbolts of Jupiter: Pliny says the hand and lightning appeared to start from the picture; and, judging from an observation in Plutarch, the figure of the king was lighted solely by the radiance ofthe lightning. Apelles received for this picture, termed the Alexander Ceraunophorus, twenty talents of gold (about $20,000). The criticism of Lysippus, upon this picture, which has been approved by ancients and moderns, that a lance, as he had himself given the king, would have been a more appropriate weapon in the hands of Alexander, than the lightnings of Jupiter; is the criticism of a sculptor who overlooked the pictorial value of the color, and of light and shade. The lightning would certainly have had little effect in a work of sculpture, but had a lance been substituted in its place in the picture of Apelles, a totally different production would have been the result. This picture gave rise to a saying, that there were two Alexanders, the one of Philip, the invincible, the other of Apelles, the inimitable.
Competent judges, says Pliny, decided the portrait of Antigonus (king of Asia Minor) on horseback, the master-piece of Apelles. He excelled greatly in painting horses, which he frequently introduced into his pictures. The most celebrated of all his works was the Venus Anadyomene, which was painted for the people of Coös, and was placed in the temple of Æsculapius on that island, where it remained until it was removed by Augustus, who took it in lieu of 100 talents tribute, and dedicated it in the temple of Julius Cæsar. It was unfortunately damaged on the voyage, and was in such a decayed state in the time of Nero, that the Emperor replaced it with a copy by a painter named Dorotheus. This happened about 350 years after it was executed, and what then became of it is not known. This celebrated painting, upon which every writer who has noticed it has bestowed unqualified praise, represented Venus naked, rising out of the ocean, squeezing the water from her hair with her fingers, while her only veil was the silver shower that fell from her shining locks. This picture is said to have been painted from Campaspe, a beautiful slave of Apelles, formerly the favorite of Alexander. The king had ordered Apelles to paint her naked portrait, and perceiving that the painter was smitten with the charms of his beautiful model, he gave her to him, contenting himself with the painting. He commenced a second Venus for the people of Coös, which, according to Pliny, would have surpassed the first, had not its completion been interrupted by the death of the painter: the only parts finished were the head and bust. Two portraits of Alexander painted by Apelles, were dedicated by Augustus, in the most conspicuous part of the forum bearing his name; in one was Alexander, with Castor and Pollux, and a figure of Victory; in the other was Alexander in a triumphal car, accompanied by a figure of War, with her hands pinioned behind her. The Emperor Claudius took out the heads of Alexander, and substituted those of Augustus. The following portraits are also mentioned among the most famous works of this great artist: Clituspreparing for Battle; Antigonus in armor, walking by the side of his Horse; and Archelaus the General, with his wife and daughter. Pausanias mentions a draped figure of one of the Graces by him, which he saw in the Odeon at Smyrna. A famous back view of a Hercules, in the temple of Antonius at Rome, was said to have been by Apelles. He painted many other famous works: Pliny mentions a naked figure by him, which he says challenged Nature herself. The same author says he covered his pictures with a dark transparent liquid or varnish, which had the effect of harmonising the colors, and also of preserving the work from injury.
Pliny says Apelles was the first artist who painted tetrachromes, or paintings executed with four colors, viz.; lamp black, white chalk, ruddle, and yellow ochre; yet, in describing his Venus Anadyomene, he says she was rising from the green or azure ocean under a bright blue sky. Zeuxis painted grapes so naturally as to deceive the birds. Where got he his green and purple? There has been a great deal of useless disquisition about the merits of ancient painters, and the materials they employed. When we take into consideration their thorough system of education; that the sister arts had been brought to such perfection as to render them the models of all succeeding times; that these painters enjoyed the highest honors and admiration of their polished countrymen, who, it must be admitted, were competent to judge of the merits oftheir works; that the Romans prized and praised them as much as the Greeks themselves; that there were in Rome in the time of Pliny many ancient paintings 600 years old, still retaining all their original freshness and beauty, it can scarcely be doubted that the paintings of the great Greek artists equaled the best of the moderns; that they possessed all the requisite colors and materials; and, if they did not possess all those now known, they had others unknown to us. It is certain that they employed canvass for paintings of a temporary character, as decorations; and that they treated every subject, both such as required those colors suitable to represent the solemnity and dignity of the gods, as well as others of the most delicate tints, with which to depict flowers; for the Venus of Apelles, and the Flower-Girl of Pausias must have glowed with Titian tints to have attracted such admiration. Colonel Leake, in his Topography of Athens, speaking of the temple of Theseus, says that the stucco still bears the marks or stains of the ancient paintings, in which he distinctly recognized the blue sky, vestiges of bronze and gold colored armor, and blue, green, and red draperies. What then becomes of the tetrachromes of Apelles, and the monochromes of previous artists? for Mycon painted the Theseum near 200 years before the time of Apelles.
It was customary with Apelles to expose to public view the works which he had finished, and tohide himself behind the canvass, in order to hear the remarks made by spectators. He once overheard himself blamed by a shoemaker for a fault in the slippers of some figure; having too much good sense to be offended with any objection, however trifling, which came from a competent judge, he corrected the fault which the man had noticed. On the following day, however, the shoemaker began to animadvert upon the leg; on which Apelles, with some anger, looked out from the canvass, and reproved him in these words, which are also become a proverb, “ne sutor ultra crepidamâ€â€”“let the cobbler keep to his last,†or “every man to his trade.â€
In finishing a drawing of a horse, in the portraiture of which he much excelled, a very remarkable circumstance is related of him. He had painted a war horse returning from battle, and had succeeded to his wishes in describing nearly every mark that could indicate a high-mettled steed impatient of restraint; there was wanting nothing but a foam of bloody hue issuing from the mouth. He again and again endeavored to express this, but his attempts were unsuccessful. At last in vexation, he threw against the mouth of the horse a sponge filled with different colors, which produced the very effect desired by the painter. A similar story is related of Protogenes, in painting his picture of Jalysus and his Dog.
Apelles was held in great esteem by Alexander the Great, and was admitted into the most intimate familiarity with him. He executed a portrait of this prince in the character of a thundering Jove; a piece which was finished with such skill and dexterity, that it used to be said there were “two Alexanders, the one invincible, the son of Philip, and the other inimitable, the production of Apelles.†Alexander appears to have been a patron of the fine arts more from vanity than taste; and it is related, as an instance of those freedoms which Apelles was permitted to use with him, that when on one occasion he was talking in this artist’s painting room very ignorantly of the art of painting, Apelles requested him to be silent lest the boys who ground his colors should laugh at him. On another occasion, when he had painted a picture of his famous war-horse, Alexander did not seem to appreciate its excellence; but Bucephalus, on seeing his own portrait, began to prance and neigh, when the painter observed that the horse was a better judge of painting than his master.
Apelles, being highly delighted with a picture of Jalysus, painted by Protogenes of Rhodes, sailed thither to pay him a visit. Protogenes was gone from home, but an old woman was left watching a large piece of canvass which was fitted in a framefor painting. She told Apelles that Protogenes was gone out, and asked him his name, that she might inform her master who had inquired for him. “Tell him,†said Apelles, “he was inquired for by this person,†at the same time taking up a pencil, and drawing on the canvass a line of great delicacy. When Protogenes returned, the old woman acquainted him with what had happened. The artist, upon contemplating the fine stroke of the pencil, immediately proclaimed that Apelles must have been there, for so finished a work could be produced by no other person. Protogenes, however, drew a finer line of another color; and as he was going away ordered the old woman to show that line to Apelles if he came again, and to say, “This is the person for whom you were inquiring.†When Apelles returned and saw the line, he resolved not to be overcome, and in a color different from either of the former, he drew some lines so exquisitely delicate, that it was impossible for finer strokes to be made. Having done so, he departed. Protogenes now confessed the superiority of Apelles; flew to the harbor in search of him; and resolved to leave the canvass as it was, with the lines on it, for the astonishment of future artists. It was in after years taken to Rome, and was there seen by Pliny, who speaks of it as having the appearance of a large black surface, the extreme delicacy of the lines rendering them invisible, except on close inspection. They were drawn with different colors, the one uponor rather within, the other. This picture (continues Pliny), was handed down, a wonder for posterity, but especially for artists; and, notwithstanding it contained only those three scarcely visible lines (tres lineas), still it was the most noble work in the Gallery, though surrounded by many finished paintings by renowned masters.
This celebrated contest of lines between Apelles and Protogenes, is a subject which has greatly perplexed painters and critics; and in fact, Carducci asserts that Michael Angelo and other great artists treated the idea with contempt. The picture was preserved in the gallery of the Imperial palace on the Palatine, and was destroyed by the first fire that consumed that palace, in the time of Augustus; therefore it could not have been seen by Pliny, and the account must have been related by him from some other work. In regard to its vagueness, one of the principal causes, undoubtedly, is a mutilation of the text; but the whole thing is told with obscurity. Suffice it to say, that in the opinion of Professor Tölken of Berlin, and the best modern critics, this wonderful piece could not have contained onlythree simple lines, as stated by Pliny, else how could it have been termed “the most noble work in the gallery, and the wonder of posterity.â€
At the time this occurrence took place, Protogenes lived in a state of poverty and neglect; but the generous notice of Apelles soon caused him to be valued as he deserved by the Rhodians. Apellesacknowledged that Protogenes was even in some respects his superior; the chief fault he found with him was, that “he did not know when to take his hand from his work;†a phrase which has become proverbial among artists. He volunteered to purchase all the works he had by him, at any price he should name, and when Protogenes estimated them far below their real value, he offered him fifty talents, and spread the report that he intended to sell them as his own. He thus opened the eyes of the Rhodians to the merit of their painter, and they accordingly secured his works at a still higher price.
In Protogenes, the able rival of Apelles, the arts received one of the highest tokens of regard they were ever favored with; for when Demetrius Poliorcetes was besieging the city of Rhodes, and might have taken it by assaulting it on the side where Protogenes resided, he forbore, lest he should do an injury to his works; and when the Rhodians delivered the place to him, requesting him to spare the pictures of this admired artist, he replied, “that he would sooner destroy the images of his forefathers, than the productions of Protogenes.â€
Cunningham says, “John West, the father of Benjamin, was of that family settled at Long-Crendon, in Buckinghamshire, which produced Colonel James West, the friend and companion in armsof John Hampden. Upon one occasion, in the course of a conversation in Buckingham palace, respecting his picture of the Institution of the Garter, West happened to make some allusion to his English descent, when the Marquis of Buckingham, to the manifest pleasure of the king, declared that the Wests of Long-Crendon were undoubted descendants of the Lord Delaware, renowned in the wars of Edward the Third and the Black Prince, and that the artist’s likeness had therefore a right to a place amongst those of the nobles and warriors, in his historical picture.â€
Galt says Benjamin’s birth was brought on prematurely by a vehement sermon, preached in the fields, by Edward Peckover, on the corrupt state of the Old World, which he prophesied was about to be visited with the tempest of God’s judgments, the wicked to be swallowed up, and the terrified remnant compelled to seek refuge in happy America. Mrs. West was so affected that she swooned away, was carried home severely ill, and the pains of labor came upon her; she was, however, safely delivered, and the preacher consoled the parents by predicting that “a child sent into the world under such remarkable circumstances, would assuredly prove a wonderful man,†and admonished them to watch over their son with more than ordinary care.
The first remarkable incident recorded of the infant prodigy, occurred in his seventh year; when, being placed to watch the sleeping infant of his eldest sister, he drew a sort of likeness of the child, with a pen, in red and black ink. His mother returned, and snatching the paper which he sought to conceal, exclaimed to her daughter, “I declare, he has made a likeness of little Sally!†She took him in her arms, and kissed him fondly. This feat appeared so wonderful in the eyes of his parents that they recalled to mind the prediction of Peckover.
When he was about eight years old, a party of Indians, who were always kindly treated by the followers of George Fox, paid their summer visit to Springfield, and struck with the rude sketches which the boy had made of birds, fruit, and flowers, they taught him to prepare the red and yellow colors with which they stained their weapons and ornamented their skins; his mother added indigo, and thus he was possessed of three primary colors. The Indians also instructed him in archery.
The wants of the child increased with his knowledge; he could draw, and had colors, but how to lay them on skillfully, he could not conceive; a pen would not answer, and he tried feathers with no better success; a neighbor informed him that it was done with a camel’s hair pencil, but as such a thing was not to be had, he bethought himself of the cat, and supplied himself from her back and tail. The cat was a favorite, and the altered condition of her fur was attributed to disease, till the boy’s confession explained the cause, much to the amusement of his parents and friends. His cat’s tail pencils enabled him to make more satisfactory efforts than he had before done.
When he was only eight years old, a merchant of Philadelphia, named Pennington, and a cousin of the Wests, was so much pleased with the sketches of little Benjamin, that he sent him a box of paints and pencils, with canvass prepared for the easel, and six engravings by Gribelin. The child was perfectly enraptured with his treasure; he carried the box about in his arms, and took it to his bedside, but could not sleep. He rose with the dawn, carried his canvass and colors to the garret, hung up the engravings, prepared a palette, and commenced work. So completely was he under this species of enchantment, that he absented himself from school, labored secretly and incessantly, and without interruption, for several days, when the anxious inquiries of his schoolmaster introduced his mother into hisstudio, with no pleasure in her looks. He had avoided copyism, and made a picture, composed from two of the engravings, telling a new story, and colored with a skill and effect which, to her eyes, appeared wonderful. Galt, who wrote West’s life, and had the story from the artist’s own lips, says, “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. 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 (West’s brother had sent it to him from Springfield), on which occasion the painter declared 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.†A similar story is told of Canova, who visited his native place towards the close of his brilliant career, and looking earnestly at his youthful performances, sorrowfully said, “I have been walking, but not climbing.â€
In the ninth year of his age, he accompanied his relative Pennington to Philadelphia, and executed a view of the banks of the river, which so much pleased a painter named Williams, that he took him to his studio, and showed him all his pictures, at the sight of which he was so affected that he burst intotears. The artist, surprised, declared like Peckover that Benjamin would be a remarkable man; he gave him two books, Du Fresnoy, and Richardson on Painting, and invited him to call whenever he pleased, to see his pictures. From this time, Benjamin resolved to become a painter, and returned home with the love of painting too firmly implanted to be eradicated. His parents, also, though the art was not approved by the Friends, now openly encouraged him, being strongly impressed with the opinion that he waspredestinatedto become a great artist.
His notions of a painter at this time were also very grand, as the following characteristic anecdote will show. One of his school-fellows allured him, on a half holiday from school, to take a ride with him to a neighboring plantation. “Here is the horse, bridled and saddled,†said the boy, “so come, get up behind me.†“Behind you!†said Benjamin; “I will ride behind nobody.†“Oh, very well,†replied the other; “I will ride behind you, so mount.†He mounted accordingly, and away they rode. “This is the last ride I shall have for some time,†said his companion; “to-morrow I am to be apprenticed to a tailor.†“A tailor!†exclaimed West; “you will surely never be a tailor?†“Indeed but I shall,†replied the other; “it is a good trade. What do you intend to be, Benjamin?†“A painter.†“A painter! what sort of a trade is a painter? I never heard of it before.†“A painter,†said West, “is the companion of kings and emperors.†“You are surely mad,†said the embryo tailor; “there are neither kings nor emperors in America.†“Aye, but there are plenty in other parts of the world. And do you really intend to be a tailor?†“Indeed I do; there is nothing surer.†“Then you may ride alone,†said the future companion of kings and emperors, leaping down; “I will not ride with one who is willing to be a tailor!â€
West’s first patron was Mr. Wayne, the father of General Anthony Wayne, who gave him a dollar a piece for two small pictures he made on poplar boards which a carpenter had given him. Another patron was Mr. Flower, a justice of Chester, who took young West to his house for a short time, where he was made acquainted with a young English lady, governess to Mr. Flower’s daughters, who had a good knowledge of art, and told him stories of Greek and Roman history, fit for a painter’s pencil. He had never before heard of the heroes, philosophers, poets, painters, and historians of Greece and Rome, and he listened while the lady spoke of them, with an enthusiasm which he loved to live over again in his old age. His first painting which attracted much notice was a portrait of Mrs. Ross,a very beautiful lady, the wife of a lawyer of Lancaster. The picture was regarded as a wonderful performance, and gained him so much reputation, says Galt, “that the citizens came in such crowds to sit to the boy for portraits, that he had some trouble in meeting the demand.†At the same time, a gunsmith, named Henry, who had a classic turn, commissioned him to paint a picture of the Death of Socrates. West forthwith made a sketch which his employer thought excellent, but he now began to see his difficulties, and feel his deficiencies. “I have hitherto painted faces,†said he, “and people clothed. What am I to do with the slave who presents the poison? He ought, I think, to be painted naked.†Henry went to his shop, and returned with one of his workmen, a handsome young negro man half naked, saying, “There is your model.†He accordingly introduced him into his picture, which excited great attention.
West was now fifteen years old. Dr. Smith, Provost of the College at Philadelphia, happened to see him at Lancaster, and perceiving his wonderful talents, and that his education was being neglected, generously proposed to his father to take him with him to Philadelphia, where he proposed to direct his studies, and to instruct him in all the learning most important for a painter to know.
The art of painting being regarded by the Quakers as not only useless but pernicious, “in preserving voluptuous images, and adding to the sensual gratifications of man,†Mr. West determined to submit the matter to the wisdom of the Society, before giving a positive answer. He accordingly sent for his son to attend the solemn assembly. The Friends met, and the spirit of speech first descended on John Williamson, who, according to Galt, thus spake: “To John West and Sarah Pearson, a man-child hath been born, on whom God hath conferred some remarkable gifts of mind; and you have all heard that, by something amounting to inspiration, the youth has been induced to study the art of painting. It is true that our tenets refuse to own the utility of that art to mankind, but it seemeth to me that we have considered the matter too nicely. God hath bestowed on this youth a genius for art—shall we question his wisdom? Can we believe that he gives such rare gifts but for a wise and good purpose? I see the Divine hand in this; we shall do well to sanction the art and encourage this youth.†The Quakers gave their unanimous consent, and summoned the youth before them. He came, and took his station in the middle of the room, his father on his right hand, his mother on his left, while around him gathered the whole assembly. One of the women first spake, but the words of Williamson, says Galt, are alone remembered. “Painting,†said he, “has hithertobeen employed to embellish life, to preserve voluptuous images, and add to the sensual gratifications of men. For this we classed it among vain and merely ornamental things, and excluded it from amongst us. But this is not the principle but the mis-employment of painting. In wise and pure hands, it rises in the scale of moral excellence, and displays a loftiness of sentiment, and a devout dignity, worthy of the contemplation of Christians. I think genius is given by God for some high purpose. What the purpose is, let us not inquire—it will be manifest in His own good time and way. He hath in this remote wilderness endowed with rich gifts of a superior spirit this youth, who has now our consent to cultivate his talents for art; may it be demonstrated in his life and works, that the gifts of God have not been bestowed in vain, nor the motives of the beneficent inspiration, which induces us to suspend the strict operations of our tenets, prove barren of religious and moral effect!†At the conclusion of this address, says Galt, the women rose and kissed the young artist, and the men, one by one, laid their hands on his head. The scene made so strong an impression on the mind of West, that he looked upon himself as expressly dedicated to art, and considered this release from the strict tenets of his sect, as enjoining on his part a covenant to employ his powers on subjects pure and holy. The grave simplicity of the Quaker continued to the last in his looks, manners, and deportment; and the moral rectitude and internal purity of the man were diffused through all his productions.
At about eighteen years of age, West commenced portrait painting as a profession in Philadelphia. His extreme youth, the peculiar circumstances of his history, and his undoubted merit, brought him many sitters. His prices were very humble—$12.50 for a head, and $25 for a full-length; all the money he thus laboriously earned, he carefully treasured, to secure, at some future period, the means of travel and study; for his sagacious mind perceived that travel not only influenced public opinion, but was absolutely necessary for him if he wished to excel, especially in historical painting. There were no galleries in America; he knew that the masterpieces of art were in Italy, and he had already set his heart on visiting that delightful country. He made a copy of a picture of St. Ignatius, by Murillo, which had been captured in a Spanish vessel, and belonged to Governor Hamilton; he also painted a large picture for Mr. Cox, from the history of Susanna, the Elders, and Daniel, in which he introduced no less than forty figures. This work gained him great reputation, and West always considered it the masterpiece of his youth; it was afterwards unfortunately destroyed by fire. After having painted the portraits of all who desired it in Philadelphia, he proceeded to New York, where he opened a studio, and Dunlap says for eleven months he had all the portraits he could execute, at double the prices he had charged in Philadelphia. An opportunity now presented itself, which enabled him to gratify his long cherished desire of going to Italy. The harvest had partially failed in that country, and Mr. Allen, a merchant of Philadelphia, was loading a ship with wheat and flour for Leghorn. He had resolved to send his son as supercargo, to give him the benefit of travel, and West’s invaluable friend, Provost Smith, made arrangements for the young painter to accompany the young merchant. It happened that a New York merchant, of the name of Kelly, was sitting for his portrait when this good news arrived, and West with joy spoke to him of the great advantage he expected to derive from a residence of two or three years in Italy. The portrait being finished, Mr. Kelly paid him ten guineas, and gave him a letter to his agent in Philadelphia, which, on being presented, proved to be an order from the generous merchant to pay him fifty guineas, as “a present to aid in his equipment for Italy.â€
West arrived at Rome on the 10th of July, 1760, in the 22d year of his age. Cunningham thus describes his reception: “When it was known that a young American had come to study Raffaelle and Michael Angelo, some curiosity was excited among the Roman virtuosi. The first fortunate exhibitor ofthis lion from the western wilderness was Lord Grantham, the English ambassador, to whom West had letters. He invited West to dinner, and afterwards took him to an evening party, where he found almost all those persons to whom he had brought letters of introduction. Among the rest was Cardinal Albani, who, though old and blind, had such delicacy of touch that he was considered supreme in all matters of judgment regarding medals and intaglios. ‘I have the honor,’ said Lord Grantham, ‘to present you a young American, who has a letter for your Eminence, and who has come to Italy for the purpose of studying the Fine Arts.’ The Cardinal knew so little of the New World, that he conceived an American must needs be a savage. ‘Is he black or white?’ said the aged virtuoso, holding out both hands, that he might have the satisfaction of touching, at least, this new wonder. Lord Grantham smiled and said, ‘he is fair—very fair.’ ‘What! as fair as I am?’ exclaimed the prelate. Now the complexion of the churchman was a deep olive—that of West more than commonly fair; and as they stood together, the company smiled. ‘As fair as the Cardinal,’ became for a while proverbial. Others, who had the use of their eyes, seemed to consider the young American as at most a better kind of savage, and accordingly were curious to watch him. They wished to try what effect the Apollo, the Venus, and the works of Raffaelle would have upon him, and thirty of the most magnificent equipages inthe capital, filled with some of the most erudite characters in Europe, says Galt, conducted the young Quaker to view the masterpieces of art. It was agreed that the Apollo should be first submitted to his view; the statue was enclosed in a case, and when the keeper threw open the doors, West unconsciously exclaimed, ‘My God! a young Mohawk warrior!’ The Italians were surprised and mortified with the comparison of their noblest statue to a wild savage; and West, perceiving the unfavorable impression, proceeded to remove it. He described the Mohawks, the natural elegance and admirable symmetry of their persons, the elasticity of their limbs, and their motions free and unconstrained. ‘I have seen them often,’ he continued, ‘standing in the attitude of this Apollo, and pursuing with an intense eye the arrow which they had just discharged from the bow.’ The Italians cleared their moody brows, and allowed that a better criticism had rarely been made. West was no longer a barbarian.â€
The excitement to which West was subjected at Rome, his intense application, and his anxiety to distinguish himself, brought on a fever, and for a time, interrupted his studies; by the advice of his physicians, he returned to Leghorn, for the benefit of the sea air, where, after a lingering sickness of eleven months, he was completely cured. But he found his funds almost exhausted, and he began to despair of being able to prosecute his studies according to the proposed plan. He called on his agents, to take up the last ten pounds he had in the world, when to his astonishment and joy, he was handed a letter of unlimited credit from his old friends in Philadelphia, Mr. Allen and Governor Hamilton; they had heard of his glorious reception at Rome, and his success with the portrait of Lord Grantham. At a dinner, one day, with Governor Hamilton, Mr Allen said, “I regard this young man as an honor to his country, and as he is the first that America has sent out to cultivate the Fine Arts, he shall not be frustrated in his studies, for I shall send him whatever money he may require.†“I think with you, sir,†replied Hamilton, “but you must not have all the honor to yourself; allow me to unite with you in the responsibility of the credit.†Those who befriend genius when it is struggling for distinction, are public benefactors, and their names should be held in grateful remembrance. The names of Hamilton, Allen, Smith, Kelly, Jackson, Rutherford, and Lord Grantham, must be dear to all the admirers of West; they aided him in the infancy of his fame and fortune, cheered him when he was drooping and desponding; and watched over his person and purse with the vigilance of true friendship. West always expressed his deepest obligation to these generous men, and it was at his particular request that Galt recorded their names, and their deeds.
West now proceeded with redoubled alacrity, to execute the plan recommended by Mengs. He visited Florence, Bologna, Parma, and Venice, and diligently examined everything worth studying. He everywhere received marks of attention, and was elected a member of the Academies of Florence, Bologna, and Parma. In the latter city, he painted and presented to the Academy, a copy of the famous St. Jerome by Correggio, “of such excellence,†says Galt, “that the reigning prince desired to see the artist. He went to court, and to the utter astonishment of the attendants, appeared with his hat on. The prince was familiar with the tenets of the Quakers, and was a lover of William Penn; he received the young artist with complacency, and dismissed him with many expressions of regard.†West returned to Rome, where he painted two pictures which were highly commended, one of Cimon and Iphigenia, and the other of Angelica and Medora. At Venice, he particularly studied the works of Titian, and Cunningham says, “he imagined he had discovered his principles of coloring.â€
As West was conversing one evening with Gavin Hamilton in the British Coffee House, at Rome, an old man, with a long and flowing beard and a harp in his hand, entered and offered his services as animprovisatore bard. “Here is an American,†said the wily Scot, “come to study the Fine Arts in Rome; take him for your theme, and, it is a magnificent one.†The minstrel casting a glance at West, who never in his life could perceive what a joke was, commenced his song. “I behold in this youth an instrument chosen by heaven to create in his native country a taste for those arts which have elevated the nature of man—an assurance that his land will be the refuge of science and knowledge, when in the old age of Europe they shall have forsaken her shores. All things of heavenly origin move westward, and Truth, and Art, have their periods of light and darkness. Rejoice, O Rome, for thy spirit immortal and undecayed now spreads towards a new world, where, like the soul of man in Paradise, it will be perfected more and more.†The prediction of Peckover, the fond expressions of his beloved mother, and his solemn dedication to art, rushed upon West’s memory, and he burst into tears; and even in his riper years, he was willing to consider the poor mendicant’s song as another prophecy.