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Page 74
BENJAMIN WEST.
BORN 1738. DIED 1820.
In the year 1738, there came into the world, in the town of Springfield,
Pennsylvania, a Quaker infant, from whom his parents and neighbors
looked for wonderful things. A famous preacher of the Society of Friends
had prophesied about little Ben, and foretold that he would be one of
the most remarkable characters that had appeared on earth since the days
of William Penn. On this account, the eyes of many people were fixed
upon the boy. Some of his ancestors had won great renown in the old wars
of England and France; but it was probably expected that Ben would
become a preacher, and would convert multitudes to the peaceful
doctrines of the Quakers. Friend West and his wife were thought to be
very fortunate in having such a son.
Little Ben lived to the ripe age of six years, without doing any thing
that was worthy to be told in history. But, one summer afternoon, in his
seventh year, his mother put a fan into his hand, and bade him keep the
flies away from the face of a little babe, who lay fast asleep in the
cradle. She then left the room.
The boy waved the fan to-and-fro, and drove away the buzzing flies
whenever they had the impertinence to come near the baby's face. When
they had all flown out of the window, or into distant parts of the
room, he bent over the cradle, and delighted himself with gazing at the
sleeping infant. It was, indeed, a very pretty sight. The little
personage in the cradle slumbered peacefully, with its waxen hands under
its chin, looking as full of blissful quiet as if angels were singing
lullabies in its ear. Indeed, it must have been dreaming about Heaven;
for, while Ben stooped over the cradle, the little baby smiled.
"How beautiful she looks!" said Ben to himself. "What a pity it is, that
such a pretty smile should not last forever!"
Now Ben, at this period of his life, had never heard of that wonderful
art, by which a look, that appears and vanishes in a moment, may be made
to last for hundreds of years. But, though nobody had told him of such
an art, he may be said to have invented it for himself. On a table, near
at hand, there were pens and paper, and ink of two colors, black and
red. The boy seized a pen and sheet of paper, and kneeling down beside
the cradle, began to draw a likeness of the infant. While he was busied
in this manner, he heard his mother's step approaching, and hastily
tried to conceal the paper.
"Benjamin, my son, what hast thou been doing?" inquired his mother,
observing marks of confusion in his face.
At first, Ben was unwilling to tell; for he felt as if there might be
something wrong in stealing the baby's face, and putting it upon a sheet
of paper. However, as his mother insisted, he finally put the sketch
into her hand, and then hung his head, expecting to be well scolded. But
when the good lady saw what was on the paper, in lines of red and black
ink, she uttered a scream of surprise and joy.
"Bless me!" cried she. "It is a picture of little Sally!"
And then she threw her arms round our friend Benjamin, and kissed him so
tenderly, that he never afterwards was afraid to show his performances
to his mother.
As Ben grew older, he was observed to take vast delight in looking at
the hues and forms of nature. For instance, he was greatly pleased with
the blue violets of spring, the wild roses of summer, and the scarlet
cardinal-flowers of early autumn. In the decline of the year, when the
woods were variegated with all the colors of the rainbow, Ben seemed to
desire nothing better than to gaze at them from morn till night. The
purple and golden clouds of sunset were a joy to him. And he was
continually endeavoring to draw the figures of trees, men, mountains,
houses, cattle, geese, ducks, and turkeys, with a piece of chalk, on
barn-doors, or on the floor.
In these old times, the Mohawk Indians were still numerous in
Pennsylvania. Every year a party of them used to pay a visit to
Springfield, because the wigwams of their ancestors had formerly stood
there. These wild men grew fond of little Ben, and made him very happy
by giving him some of the red and yellow paint with which they were
accustomed to adorn their faces. His mother, too, presented him with a
piece of indigo. Thus he now had three colors,--red, blue, and
yellow--and could manufacture green, by mixing the yellow with the blue.
Our friend Ben was overjoyed, and doubtless showed his gratitude to the
Indians by taking their likenesses, in the strange dresses which they
wore, with feathers, tomahawks, and bows and arrows.
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