The students found constant amusement from Fuseli's witty and
characteristic retorts, and they were fond of repeating his jokes. He
heard a violent altercation in the studio one day, and inquired the
cause. "It is only those fellows, the students, sir," said one of the
porters. "Fellows!" exclaimed Fuseli, "I would have you to know, sir,
that those _fellows_ may one day become academicians." The noise
increased--he opened the door, and burst in upon them, exclaiming, "You
are a den of damned wild beasts." One of the offenders, Munro by name,
bowed and said, "and Fuseli is our Keeper." He retired smiling, and
muttering "the fellows are growing witty." Another time he saw a figure
from which the students were making drawings lying broken to pieces.
"Now who the devil has done this?" "Mr. Medland," said an officious
probationer, "he jumped over the rail and broke it." He walked up to the
offender--all listened for the storm. He calmly said, "Mr. Medland, you
are fond of jumping--go to Sadler's Wells--it is the best academy in
the world for improving agility." A student as he passed held up his
drawing, and said confidently, "Here, sir--I finished it without using a
crumb of bread." "All the worse for your drawing," replied Fuseli, "buy
a two-penny loaf and rub it out." "What do you see, sir?" he said one
day to a student, who, with his pencil in his hand and his drawing
before him, was gazing into vacancy. "Nothing, sir," was the answer.
"Nothing, young man," said the Keeper emphatically, "then I tell you
that you ought to see _something_--you ought to see distinctly the true
image of what you are trying to draw. I see the vision of all I
paint--and I wish to heaven I could paint up to what I see."