“...your most obliged servant, Benjamin West”: America’s First Artistic Mentor Andrés De los Ríos On Monday, July 13, 1805, some of the greatest minds and men of Philadelphia met to take yet another step in the development of their country’s arts. Gathered inside the home of future House Representative Joseph Hopkinson were some of the city’s most illustrious figures at the time: Pennsylvania District Attorney, William Rawle; founding father, George Clymer; Chief Justice William Tilghman; and eminent artist Charles Willson Peale, to name a few. This prominent group made history that day by finally naming their latest contribution to Philadelphia’s (and by extension, the United States’) cultural landscape; thus, they officially became the Board of Directors for “the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts” (PAFA)—the country’s first museum and school dedicated solely to the collection, dissemination, and education of the arts. Following this memorable act, the Academy’s directors agreed on the next order of business: “that from a high respect entertained for the genius, talents, and distinguished fame of our Countryman Benjamin West, he be elected an honorary Member of this Academy” (PAFA Minutes). This motion—taken in the midst of momentous deliberations—reveals the expatriate’s place in the hearts and minds of his fellow Philadelphians, for whom he provided a symbolic base upon which to build their artistic enterprise. This paper will present West’s role as a remote yet essential embodiment of the academic models and artistic practices that would foster the development of the fine arts in the flourishing North American colonies. In other words, it will argue that Benjamin West was, until his death in 1820, an active contributor who represented both the traditional, or European origins of American artistry and the first steps into new, expanded modes of art. While most scholars agree that West began his long career in the arts during his humble beginnings in Springfield, Pennsylvania, none deny the importance of the three years he spent in Continental Europe between 1760-3, a watershed experience in his artistic education that later influenced American art as a whole. The artist himself believed the experience to be so critical that he frequently urged his future students to follow his exact steps, going so far as to lay out a specific itinerary for American, British, and German artists alike (Lloyd 150; Forster-Hahn 367). In Italy, West was the first American artist to see firsthand the masterpieces of Europe’s Renaissance and to copy them for the purpose of his own studies. In the academies and collections of Rome, Bologna, Venice, and Florence, West found himself learning directly from the works of Old Masters like Raphael, Titian, and Correggio (Lloyd 151). From each artist, West extracted various qualities worth emulating in his own pieces: in Michelangelo, he thus found “a compleat [sic] knowledge of the form of the human figure”; Veronese in turn produced “relieffe [sic] and harmony” through an excellent use of shadows; and Raphael gave “property and fitness to his subject” thanks to the “fine fancey arraignment [sic] of his figures” (Forster-Hahn 368-9). As shown in the writings of Charles Willson Peale, Thomas Sully, and Leigh Hunt, the expatriate’s veneration for the painters of old would endure well into his later years (Peale 1766-9, Memoirs; West 1755-1819, Selected Papers; Sully to PAFA 30 Aug. 1808). Once he became London’s most successful artist, West filled his own domestic spaces with works by Rubens, Raphael, and Titian, all ripe for imitation by novice and senior artists alike as lasting “‘sources’ from which to learn ‘perfection in the art of painting’” (Weber 28; Forster- Hahn 373). “…your most obliged servant, Benjamin West” 13 FIGURE 1 Benjamin West, The Death of General Wolfe, 1770, oil on canvas, 60 x 84 7/16 in. National Gallery of Canada, Gift of the 2nd Duke of Westminster to the Canadian War Memorials, 1918; Transfer from the Canadian War Memorials, 1921, no. 8007 But while the whole Grand Tour had much to offer in terms of pictorial inspiration, only in Rome could West and his contemporaries study the world’s major collections of classical sculpture. After his visit to the Eternal City, Benjamin West would argue for the rest of his life in favor of Roman forms as essential models in the education of any artist. In a letter to Charles Willson Peale, West explained that these figures presented a “correctness of outline, and the justness of character in the human figure” that “leave no room for improvements” (Prown 29). As evidenced by paintings such as Penn’s Treaty With the Indians, or Hercules Between Virtue and Vice, throughout his career West made frequent use of Roman figures like the Apollo Belvedere and the Vatican Meleager in order to embellish his characters with the imposing gravitas of the ancients (35). Later on, urged by West himself, the two contemporary American art academies in Philadelphia and New York chose to follow in his footsteps and invest in casts of Greek and Roman sculptures (West to PAFA 22 Jul. 1807). West perceived these to be necessary materials “to instruct not only the mind of the student in what is excellent in art—but that should equally instruct the eye and judgement of the public to know and properly appreciate excellence when it is produced” (West to Rawle 21 Sep. 1805). This is why one can now find classical masterpieces worthy of est’sW own domestic collection such as the aforementioned Apollo Belvedere, the Venus de Medici, and the Laocoön, still being studied and sketched by new generations of aspiring artists at PAFA’s school (Weber 27-8). In addition to his fervent devotion to the artistic lessons embodied in classical subjects, West was also a firm believer in their traditional role as visual representations of virtue. In a letter to Rembrandt Peale, West stressed the Plutarchian potential of these figures in art, believing that they could grant paintings the “powers to dignify man, by transmitting to posterity his noble actions … to be viewed in those invaluable lessons of religion, love of country, and morality” (Evans 142). Despite his confidence in the moral value of history painting and its hoards of ancient characters, West would be one of the first artists to take the genre one step further. According to an anonymous account composed around 1770, the American was the only artist “bold enough to paint a subject out of the days of the country to which [he] belongs,” thus breaking the genre’s bonds to the backgrounds of Greece and Rome (Letter ca.1770). A century and a half later, art historian Edgar Wind also commented that West, in the 14 Expanding the Audience for Art in the 19th Century FIGURE 2 Matthew Pratt, The American School, 1765, oil on canvas, 36 x 50 1/4 in. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Samuel P. Avery, 1897, 97.29.3 Death of General Wolfe (fig. 1), managed to do the impossible by depicting heroes of his age with the same honor and reverence that befitted classical models (Wind 117). This resulted in a form of art that conserved the artistic principles of the historical genre while at the same time engaging an expanded, modern audience. Although few might have read Livy’s account on Regulus’s departure from Rome, most at the time understood the “message of virtue, courage, and self-sacrifice” embodied in General James Wolfe (Abrams 180). Further proof of West breaking away from traditional artistic patterns and stepping onto new ground is found in his role as a teacher. As exemplified in Matthew Pratt’s studio painting, The American School (fig. 2)—where West stands in green to the left of the scene—the expatriate differed from his British peers not only in his enthusiastic willingness to receive American artists, but also in his fatherly optimism and uncommon accessibility (Evans 21). Over the course of his career West received more than two dozen American artists in his home at Newman Street; this select group (dubbed “America’s First Academy” by scholar Frederick Logan) spawned three generations of artists, including Matthew Pratt, Charles Willson Peale, Gilbert Stuart, John Singleton Copley, Thomas Sully, and John Trumbull, to name but a few (Logan 26; Evans, Taste of His Times 109). Thanks to the letters these men composed during or after their time with West, one can get a glimpse of the artist as an open, amicable role model. For example, William Dunlap described his mentor as having “no secrets or mysteries, [for] he told all he knew”—a stark contrast to Sir Joshua Reynolds, West’s predecessor as president of the Royal Academy, whose students were “absolute strangers” to his methods. Driving the point home, Charles Robert Leslie outlined West’s morning schedule as beginning with an early inspection of his pupils’ works, during which he offered valuable advice before heading to his own canvas (Evans 22). West’s “parental fondness” and “gentle humanity” towards his American students stand out even more in light of the many periods of hostility between Great Britain and the United States; as Samuel Morse bluntly described it in a letter from 1811, the Britons “no longer despise, they hate the Americans.” (Rather 329). And yet despite the turbulent relations between these nations, West extended to all American artists the reception he offered to his friend, John Green: “I shall most gladly receive you and “…your most obliged servant, Benjamin West” 15 FIGURE 3 Benjamin West, Christ Healing the Sick, 1817, oil on canvas, 132 x 216 in.