Part 24

Under Professor Benjamin Silliman, a name greatly honored in science, Morse found great delight and profit. He wrote to his parents, that he should bring home "a chemical trough, gun-barrels, retorts, etc."

With this fondness for science, Morse showed a decided ability in art. He took pictures of his classmates, at one dollar each, and miniatures on ivory at five dollars each, thus helping to pay his expenses. The price charged was very low, but possibly it was all the pictures were worth, for as yet he had never taken a lesson.

Long before his college course was at an end, he had decided to become a painter, probably much against the unspoken wishes of his parents, who must have felt that poverty would be his companion, for some years, at best.

On going home to Charlestown, he attended a course of anatomical and surgical lectures in Boston. Washington Allston, then at the head of his profession in America, had spent two years in Boston, and was about to return to Europe. Morse went with him and took lodgings in London. At once he wrote home, "I only wish you had this letter now to relieve your minds from anxiety, for while I am writing I can imagine mother wishing that she could hear of my arrival, and thinking of thousands of accidents which may have befallen me. I wish that in an instant I could communicate the information; but three thousand miles are not passed over in an instant, and we must wait four long weeks before we can hear from each other."

On the outside of this letter, yellow with age, he wrote toward the end of his life, "LONGING FOR A TELEGRAPH EVEN IN THIS LETTER."

In London he soon met Benjamin West, born in Springfield, Penn., then at the head of the Royal Academy in England. He had been poor and obscure; now he was distinguished, and courted even by royalty. Morse, ever ambitious, soon arranged to study under West, and became his devoted admirer. He wrote home: "Mr. West is in his seventy-fourth year, but to see him you would suppose him only about five-and-forty.... He expressed great attachment to his native country, and he told me, as a proof of it, he presented them with this large picture ('Christ Healing the Sick'). I walked through his gallery of paintings of his own production. There were upwards of two hundred, consisting principally of the original sketches of his large pieces. He has painted in all upward of six hundred pictures, which is more than any artist ever did, with the exception of Rubens. Mr. West is so industrious now that it is hard to get access to him, and then only between the hours of nine and ten in the morning. He is working on eight or nine different pieces at present, and seems to be more enthusiastic than he ever was before.... No man, perhaps, ever passed through so much abuse, and I am confident no one ever bore up against its insolence with more nobleness of spirit. With a steady perseverance in the pursuit of the sublimest profession, he has travelled on, heedless of his enemies, till he is sure of immortality.

"Excuse my fervor in the praise of this extraordinary man.... I think there can be no stronger proof that human nature is the same always, than that men of genius in all ages have been compelled to undergo the same disappointments, and to pass through the same storms of calumny and abuse, doomed in their lifetime to endure the ridicule or neglect of the world, and to wait for justice till they were dead."

How well, unknowingly, Morse foretold his own career; disappointments, abuse, ridicule!

Stimulated by the industry and renown of West, he worked at his drawing from half-past seven in the forenoon until five in the afternoon, and then again in the evening. He learned what all persons learn, sooner or later, that there is no easy road to fame.

West encouraged the young artist, and this added fuel to the flame of ambition. Desiring admission to the Royal Academy, he spent two weeks in making a drawing from a small cast of the Farnese Hercules. Showing it to Mr. West for his criticism, West said, "Very well, sir, very well; go on and finish it."

"It is finished," replied Morse.

"Oh, no," said Mr. West; "look here, and here, and here."

Morse drew a week longer, and again presented it. "Very well, indeed, sir," he said; "go on and finish it."

"Is it not finished?" asked Morse, half discouraged.

"Not yet," said West; "see you have not marked that muscle, nor the articulations of the finger-joints."

A third time he presented the drawing, and received the same advice as before. "I cannot finish it," said Morse, despairingly.

"Well," said West, "I have tried you long enough. Now, sir, you have learned more by this drawing than you would have accomplished in double the time by a dozen half-finished beginnings. It is not numerous drawings, but the character of one, which makes a thorough draughtsman. Finish one picture, sir, and you are a painter."

Morse was now admitted to the Royal Academy, and had visions of becoming great. He writes home: "I have just finished a model in clay of a figure ('The Dying Hercules'), my first attempt at sculpture. Mr. Allston is extremely pleased with it; he says it is better than all the things I have done since I have been in England, put together, and says I must send a cast of it home to you, and that it will convince you that I shall make a painter.... Mr. West also was extremely delighted with it. He said it was not merely an academical figure, but displayed thought. He could not have paid me a higher compliment.... My passion for my art is so firmly rooted that I am confident no human power could destroy it. The more I study, the greater I think is its claim to the appellation of divine, and I never shall be able sufficiently to show my gratitude to my parents for enabling me to pursue that profession without which I am sure I should be miserable. And if it is my destiny to become GREAT, and worthy of a biographical memoir, my biographer will never be able to charge upon my parents that bigoted attachment to any individual profession, the exercise of which spirit by parents toward their children has been the ruin of some of the greatest geniuses."

The model of the "Dying Hercules" was sent to the Society of Arts at the Adelphi, and Morse received the gold medal given for the best work in painting, sculpture, and architecture.

Morse had taken letters of introduction to several prominent persons, like Wilberforce and Zachary Macaulay, the father of the historian, but he was too busy to use them. He gives another reason also--poverty. He says, "With regard to my expenses, I got through the first year with two hundred pounds, and hope the same sum will carry me through the second. If you knew the manner in which we live, you would wonder how it was possible I could have made so great a change in my habits. I am obliged to screw and pinch myself in a thousand things in which I used to indulge myself at home.... I breakfast on simple bread and butter, and two cups of coffee; I dine on either beef, mutton, or pork (veal being out of the question, as it is one shilling and six pence per pound), baked, with potatoes, warm perhaps twice a week, all the rest of the week cold; at tea, bread and butter, with two cups of tea. This is my daily round.

"I have had no new clothes for nearly a year; my best are threadbare, and my shoes are out at the toes; my stockings all want to see my mother, and my hat is growing hoary with age.... 'But,' you will say, 'what do you do with the money, if you live thus sparingly?' Why, I will tell you the whole. When I first came to London, I was told, if I meant to support the character of a gentleman, I must take especial care of my personal appearance; so I thought it a matter of course that I must spare no expense in order to appear well. So, this being first in my mind, I (supposing very wisely that London folks had nothing else to do but to see how I was dressed) laid out a considerable part of my money on myself; meanwhile, picture-galleries and collections, with many other places which I ought constantly to have visited, and which cost some money, were neglected. And why? Because I could not afford it.

"Well, in process of time, I found no very particular advantage to be gained by supporting the character of a gentleman, for these reasons: in the first place, nobody saw me; in the second place, if they had seen me, they would not have known me; and, thirdly, if they had known me, they would not have cared a farthing about me. So I thought within myself what I came to England for, and I found that it was not to please English folks, but to study painting; and, as I found I must sacrifice painting to dress and visiting, or dress and visiting to painting, I determined on the latter, and ever since have lived accordingly, and now the tables are turned. I visit galleries and collections, purchase prints, etc.; and when I am asked why I don't pay more attention to my dress, I reply that I cannot afford it."

Morse had now painted the "Death of Hercules," a large picture, eight feet by six feet and a half. The painting was received at the exhibition at Somerset House, though six hundred other works were refused. It was adjudged by the press to be one of the best nine among a thousand pictures; many of them by such men as Turner, Lawrence, and Wilkie. Surely, he had reason to be encouraged.

What little leisure Morse could obtain he spent in reading the old poets,--Spenser, Chaucer, Dante, and Tasso. He now made the acquaintance of Rogers, Coleridge, and others. Once, as he was going into the country with Coleridge, he took in the carriage Irving's "History of New York." On retiring, Coleridge took the book and began to read. Morse fell asleep, and in the morning was surprised to find the lights burning, and his friend still reading. It was now ten o'clock, and Coleridge was so absorbed that he did not know that the whole night had passed. Later, Irving and Coleridge became warm friends.

In need of money, Morse repaired to Bristol, where he spent several months, having had the promise of work; but not a single person called to look at his pictures, and not one came for a portrait. He had already been abroad four years, and now stern necessity called him home. He had just finished a large picture, "The Judgment of Jupiter in the Case of Apollo, Marpessa, and Ida," to compete for the highest prize offered by the Royal Academy for historical composition; but as he could not be present to receive the premium, he was not allowed to enter the picture. He accordingly brought it home with him, arriving in Boston October 18, 1815.

Dr. Morse had engaged a studio for his son in Boston, and the "Judgment of Jupiter" was opened for exhibition. People came, and saw, and praised, and went away without leaving any orders for pictures. A year went by, and not one person offered to buy the "Judgment of Jupiter," and not one person ordered a historical work. This was indeed discouraging to an enthusiastic artist. He began now to turn his mind toward invention, for which he had a natural tendency; and during the evenings he thought out an improvement in the common pump, one that could be adapted to the forcing-pump in the fire-engine. The pump and the "Judgment of Jupiter" certainly had not very much in common.

The patent pump was put on exhibition on Gray's Wharf in Charlestown, but it did not cause money to flow into the pockets of its inventor.

Disappointed in his art work, Morse took letters of introduction from his father to several ministers in the neighboring towns, and started out to paint portraits at fifteen dollars apiece. This was not very much better than the five-dollar miniatures on ivory while in college, especially as he had been to the expense of four years in Europe.