Benjamin West
(1738-1820)
"THE AMERICAN RAPHAEL" BENJAMIN WEST
enjamin
west, the first American artist to
study abroad, had been at twelve a professional painter and at twenty famous in the provinces of New York
and Pennsylvania. When in 1760 he stepped from a grain ship onto the quay at Leghorn, a handsome young man
with a self-confident stride, he began the long procession of American youths who still crowd the art
academies of Europe. Before him lay what was perhaps the most successful career ever achieved by an American
artist. He was soon to be regarded all over the world as the leading exponent of the "grand style" of
painting, which Reynolds and Romney attempted so unsuccessfully that they were thrown back on what they
considered the mere hackwork of portraiture; he was to be a founder of the Royal Academy in London and its
president during twenty-seven-of the most brilliant years of English painting.
The appearance of an American art student in Rome created an
immediate sensation, for the dilettanti who haunted that ancient capital thought of Americans as a savage
people living in the twilight of a primeval forest. It seemed strange that there should be artists among
them, and almost unbelievable that one should penetrate to the centre of the civilized world; the rumour
that West belonged to the odd sect of Quakers heightened the wonder. No sooner had West arrived than the
young English aesthete Thomas Robinson, who was later to become British Foreign Secretary, swept the
American off to a reception where he. might exhibit him to the leading antiquarians and painters of
Rome.
West reported years later in
a discourse before the Royal Academy that after he had shaken
many a hand and looked into many a strange dark face, Robinson led
him with obvious awe into a room apart. There, surrounded with worshippers like an idol in a shrine, sat
a blind and shrivelled old man. Cardinal Alessandro Albani, Robinson whispered to West, was the nephew of
Pope Clement XI; he was rich; he was one of the most powerful princes of the Church; and despite his
blindness his word on art was law. His opinion of the beauty of a statue, once he had run his long, episcopal fingers over its surface, was so respected
that no sighted critic in Rome dared disagree; his pronouncements were final concerning even the most
delicate medals and intaglios.
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