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!”
WEST’S FIRST PATRONS.
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’S EDUCATION.
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.
WEST’S DEDICATION TO ART.
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 hitherto been 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.
WEST’S EARLY PRICES.
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.”