RAPHAEL WITH HIS MAITRE D'ARMES.

Tradition has persevered to give this admirable picture, known from

the print in Crozat, to Raphael. It does not, however, require more

than a comparison with his other portraits, from the first to that

of Leo the Tenth, to see that the donation is gratuitous; if it

were to be given to any other master, Giorgione has undoubtedly the

first claim upon it, and there is no known work of his which can

dispute its precedence, though it agrees with them in style. That

conscious purity of touch which, exclusively, scorns all

repetition, visible chiefly in the nose and nostrils of the Maitre

d'Armes, the unity of tone in the whole of the colour, and that

breadth, which, without impairing the peculiarity of character or

the detail, presents the whole at once,--dualities never attained

by the dry and punctiliory Roman principles, speak a Venetian

pencil. The forefinger of the right arm is perhaps not designed, or

foreshortened, with the energy or correctness which might be

expected from the boldness of the conception, or from the power of

either Raphael or Giorgione: but the character of the hand as well

as its colour, is in unison with the head. Why the principal

figure should be called a Maitre d'Armes is not easily conceived;

it is certainly the most important of the two, and the leading

figure of the picture. The second, although full-faced, is

subordinate, and can by no courtesy of physiognomy be construed

into the head of Raphael, unless the heads in the Tribuna at

Florence, in this gallery, in Vasari, in the school of Athens, &c.;

as well as the head of the figure wrapped in a _Ferrajuolo_, and

sitting in a painter's study, as meditating, by M. Antonio, be

spurious. It bears indeed some resemblance to a head etched by W.

Hollar, and subscribed with his name; but the authority on which

that appellation rests, is too futile to be admitted.

JOHN AB EYCK.

If these be the works of John ab Eyck, there is not only an

additional proof, that he could not be the inventor of

oil-painting, but likewise that, for near a century after him, the

colour of the Flemings continued in the same retrograde taste which

checked the Italian design, from the time of Lorenzo Ghiberti to

that of Leonardo da Vinci. The pictures here exhibited as the works

of Hemelinck, Metsis, Lucas of Holland, Albert Durer, and even

Holbein, are inferior to those which are ascribed to Eyck, in

colour, execution, and taste. Compared with their composition, the

pictures of Andrea Mantegna are nearly reduced to apposition; and

the draperies of the three figures on a gold ground, especially

that of the middle figure, could not be improved in simplicity or

elegance by the taste of Raphael himself. These three figures,

indeed, are in a style far superior to the rest; but even these,

whether we consider each figure individually, or relatively with

each other, their masses, depth, and relief, cannot be surpassed by

those which are ascribed to the German, Dutch, and Flemish masters

of the succeeding century. The three heads of God the Father, the

Virgin, and St. John the Baptist, are not inferior in roundness,

force, or sweetness, to the heads of Leonardo da Vinci, and possess

a more positive principle of colour; the harmony of _chiar' oscuro_,

at which Leonardo aimed, admitted of no variety of tints than what

might be obtained by the gradation of two colours. His carnations

appear to have been added by glazing; such is the head of Mona Lisa.

PHILIPP DE CAMPAGNE--THE VISION OF ST. AMBROSE.

The title of this picture is not accurate. It is an intermediate

figure of Apostolic gait, and in garments of legendary colours,

that shews the saints arrayed in white, who themselves seem less

occupied by the errand for which they came, than by the place which

they had left. Whatever in this picture is not vision is admirably

toned, solemn, dim, and yet rich, the colours of a sacred place,

and cloistered, devout meditation. Of these, St. Ambrose himself

partakes; but the Apostle who addresses the Bishop, and the two

Saints themselves, are by far too ponderous, and their outlines far

too much defined for celestial beings, and for the clouds on which

they are placed: their drapery, although admirably folded, recalls

in the saints too strongly marble, and in the Apostle too palpably

reality.

A DEAD CHRIST.

This figure, which has much of the genuine stern Italian colour,

resembles the Dead Christ, as he is called, in the library at Basle

by Holbein, in attitude perhaps,--is inferior to it in truth, but

certainly much superior in style: it has much of Carravaggio; the

head in shade has a mysterious effect, but the fore-part of the arm

with the hand wants the rigid truth of the Italian master whom he

seems to have imitated.

LE BRUN--THE DEATH OF CATO.

The countenance of this figure is as unlike Cato, as the style of

colour is to all other works of Le Brun: it is a common man with a

beard, powerfully drawn, and painted in an austere Italian tone.

NICHOLAS POUSSIN.

From the extensive list exhibited, we shall select four to make a

few characteristic observations--"The Martyrdom of St. Erasmus,"

formerly an altar-piece at St. Peter's in Rome; "The Philistines

struck by the Plague;" "The Death of Saphira;" and "Winter, or the

Deluge."

The actual martyrdom of St. Erasmus is one of those subjects which

ought not to be told to the eye--because it is equally loathsome

and horrible; we can neither pity nor shudder; we are seized by

qualms, and detest. Poussin and Pietro Testa are here more or less

objects of aversion, in proportion to the greater or less energy

they exerted. This is the only picture of Poussin in which he has

attempted to rival his Italian competitors on a scale of equal

magnitude in figures of the size of life; and here he was no

longer in his sphere; his drawing has no longer its usual precision

of form, it is loose and Cortonesque; his colour on this scale has

neither the breadth of fresco, nor the glow, finish, or impasto of

oil.

In "The Plague of the Philistines," he has again laid too great a

stress on objects of aversion;--instead of the effects of

infection, he has personified the effluvia of putrefaction; he has

indeed discriminated his story from all others of the same species,

by the introduction of the mice, the temple of Dagon, the arch, and

the fall and fragments of the Idol: and the variegated bustle of

the colours is covered by that frowning tone, which ought to

preside where "Jove hangs his planetary plague into the murky air."

In "The Death of Saphira" it is unnecessary to treat here what has

been observed in another place,[53] that it is neither told with

perspicuity nor adequate dignity. We shall only observe, that if

the drawing and drapery of his figures be in his best style, the

colour is in his worst. It presents to the eye neither light nor

shade, and might furnish a definition of tints that never ought to

approach each other. That austerity of unbroken colour which has

been considered as a characteristic of the Roman school to which

Poussin properly belonged, and of which the best specimen is given

in the Transfiguration, admits of an euphony unattainable by the

dim crudity adopted by Poussin in this picture.

For all the aforegoing defects, the last picture to be noticed,

"The Winter, or Deluge," makes up twenty degrees, which, in every

requisite of real painting, places Poussin in the first rank of

art. It is easier to feel than to describe its powers; it is,

compared with the former, the most palpable part of the astonishing

difference of effect between the works of the same man when

inspired by sentiment or suggested by cold reasoning. What we see

before us is the element itself, and not its image; its reign is

established, and by calm degrees ingulphs the whole; it "mocks the

food it feeds on." Its lucid haze has shorn the sun of his beams;

Hope is shut out, and Nature expires.

A. VANDYCK.--LA MÈRE DE PITIÉ.--ST. MARTIN, &c.

"The Mother of Pity" appears to me the most impressive of Vandyck's

pictures in point of expression. The face of the mother, though

not ideal, has elegance, and grief tempered by dignity. The Christ,

extended from her lap, has less of attitude than his other Christs,

and a truer colour. The bodies of the dead Christs of Vandyck, in

general, appear rather transparent, silver leaf over some dark

substance, and sometimes, especially in the legs, resemble some

stained marble more than a body: but here we see real substance, a

frame of flesh forsaken by circulation: it seems an imitation of

the Christ of Caravagio, but handled with greater delicacy. The

whole would, in my opinion, have possessed greater pathos, and

perhaps produced a stronger effect, had he sacrificed the Angel and

St. John to the solitary group of the Mother and Son.

The composition of St. Martin resembles that of Albert Durer. The

countenance of St. Martin is not that of a man who will readily

part with his own comforts to alleviate the sufferings of others.

That of his companion has more mind, more dignity, and better

forms. The paupers are excrescences of deformity; but in colouring,

the picture unites every power of Vandyck and of Rubens, in a very

high degree.

"Charles the First, &c." This picture may be considered in two

different lights; as a picturesque composition, and as a

representation of character. In the first, there cannot perhaps be

conceived a more happy combination of the different materials,

whose concurrence is required to constitute a harmonious whole.

Nothing can surpass the comprehension which balances its masses of

light and shade, equally lucid and juicy, deep and aërial, various

and united; its colour at once soothes and invigorates our eye; but

when we recover from the enamoured trance of technic enjoyment, we

look for the character and the sentiment embodied by such art; we

find, instead of Charles, a cold, flimsy, shuffling figure, with

pretension to importance, but without dignity,--a man absorbed by

his garment.

"La Kermesse, ou fête de Village--Kermis, or Village

Gambols."--Rubens.

This is rustic mirth personified. Rapidity of conception and

equality of execution equally surprise in this composition; variety

and unity separate and combine its numerous groups; the canvass

reels; the satiated eye might perhaps wish for a little more

subordination, for a mass more eminently distinguished by white or

black, to give a zest to the clogging sweetness of the general

form. But Rubens worked under influence, and his pencil roamed

through the whole without predilection: he was not here a painter;

he was the instrument of untameable mirth. There is a group in this

picture which seems to have been suggested by the struggling group

of two soldiers in the cartoon of the horsemen, by Leonardo da

Vinci. This may be judged a cold observation; but artists must

judge coldly.

Zustris.--"Venus on her bed waiting for Mars, playing with Cupid

and her Doves."

This wanton conceit is a singular phænomenon on the Dutch horizon

of art. We know no more of Zustris than what the catalogue chooses

to inform us; but his work proves, that if he could conceive

amorously, or what might be better styled, libidinously, he grew

cold in the progress of execution. The face of Venus does not

assist her action. The picture wants shade, and glow, and keeping;

but there is an idea of elegance in the lines, and the flesh wants

only shade to become Venetian.

TITIAN--PORTRAIT OF TITIAN AND HIS MISTRESS.

The full value of this picture cannot perhaps be appreciated better

than when it is considered after the examination of a portrait by

Rubens. The unaffected breadth, the modest, unambitious reflexes,

an air of suffusion rather than penciling, a certain resignation

even in the touch, shew us Nature, rather than its image. This

charming female displays a mind superior to the cares of the toilet

she is engaged with, sees beyond the mirror which her lover holds,

and at which her lover, if it be her lover, assists. The great

merit of Titian, and perhaps his exclusive merit as to execution,

is to be totally free from all pretence, from all affectation. His

vehicle conveys the idea of the thing, and passes unobserved. To

Tintoret, to Paolo--the thing in general served to convey the

vehicle. The Miracle of St. Marc derives all its merit from that

whirlpool of execution, which sweeps undistinguished all individual

merit into one mighty mass. As a whole, of equal comprehension,

energy, and suavity, it astonishes the common man of organs, and

the artist who enters into the process of this amalgama, equally;

but when the first charm is over, and we begin to examine the

parts, we shall not find they were drawn forward, distanced, or

excluded by propriety and character."

The intimacy which commenced in Paris, in the year 1801, between Fuseli

and Mr. Robert Smirke, the celebrated architect, was kept up; and when

he left England for Italy, the former gave him letters of introduction

for Rome, which he found very useful. This kindness on the part of

Fuseli, was acknowledged by Mr. R. Smirke in the following letter:

"Rome, March 20, 1803.

"DEAR SIR,

"I have, you see, a second time availed myself of your permission

to write to you; but as it is now above two months since I sent my

last letter, you will not find the intrusion, I hope, troublesome.

There is, I always feel, a sort of pleasure in communications of

this kind with a distant friend, which is extremely agreeable; when

writing, at the moment, I forget the distance of 1500 miles, and am

talking with him. You desired I would endeavour to write to you in

Italian; I must confess, however, that as yet I feel such a

deficiency in my knowledge of that language as to make me afraid of

venturing upon so bold a task; and as I have been so neglectful as

not to attend regularly to instructions in it, I am afraid it will

be yet some time before I can venture. In justification,

nevertheless, I have to say that I never avoid the opportunity of

being obliged to make use of it; and in the house I live, no

language but Italian is spoken.

"It was a considerable time after my arrival in Rome that I

succeeded in finding Signor Ven. Gambini, though doubtless only

from want of more proper application. I found that his memory of

you and your friendship with him had not failed in the slightest

degree; he enquired with much kindness after you, and showed me

immediately a book, in which he has preserved with care a sketch

you made upon one of the leaves; the only memorial, he told me,

that he had of your work. He has a bust of you, which he has placed

in his principal room, between those of Clio and Melpomene; it gave

me really much pleasure to see the remembrance of a friend, absent

between twenty and thirty years, so warmly preserved. His reception

of me was, as you may suppose, extremely kind and civil; but as I

find him surrounded with books, probably in a busy employment, and

that so different to mine, I have not seen much of him, nor cannot

but be afraid always of being troublesome.

"It is now nearly two months since I arrived in Rome, having

scarcely stopt on the road after leaving Pisa, whence my last

letter to you was dated, except for two or three days at Sienna.

Florence pleased me very much, from the slight view I had of it. I

was there but a day, as I purpose spending a month there, at least,

on my return from the southern parts of the country. The Gallery, I

suppose, must be much less interesting since the French have taken

so much from it; but as it is, it struck me particularly. I was

much pleased with the arrangement; for though it has nothing of the

astonishing _coup d'oeil_ of the Louvre, I should think it was

better calculated to shew the statues and pictures, and still more,

to assist the artist who studies from them.

"I have been very highly gratified with what I have seen in Rome.

The numerous remains of excellent Roman art, both in sculpture and

architecture; the magnificent appearance of many of the modern

buildings; the splendour of the churches, and many collections of

paintings, cannot fail to make it always a most interesting place

even to those who at other times have felt but slightly the

excellencies of art. It has, I imagine, suffered a good deal during

the last eight years. What the French have taken, (though perhaps

the finest works,) is not the only loss, for the distress and

poverty attending the confusions of the country have caused the

sale of the best pictures in many of the collections, and a sad

neglect in general of their palaces. St. Peter's did not quite

equal my expectations. I never anticipated _much_ from the

architecture; but it was in the general appearance to the eye that

I was in some degree disappointed. The grandeur of the approach

(the circular portico, fountains, and vestibule) is certainly most

striking; but in the interior particularly, there appears to me a

great want of proportion, and from the colossal boys and

decorations crowding about it, the just scale much destroyed;

neither do I think the richness of the finishings, or the strong

glare of light admitted into the building, quite appropriate to the

solemnity of its character. In the Vatican adjoining, I believe but

little alteration has taken place since you were here, except in

the rooms containing the statues. They are chiefly small, but have

been fitted up with much elegance. The wonderful picture of Michael

Angelo in the Capella Sistina is quite uninjured. Those in the

ceiling will not, I am afraid, (as they ought,) resist for ever the

injuries of weather. One small piece affected by damp on the

outside has fallen. What a pity it is they did not observe the

precaution made use of by the ancients, by which many of their

fresco works remain as perfect as when first painted! A space of

two or three inches was left between the wall and tile on which the

stucco was laid, so that it was completely defended from all

exterior damps. I was disappointed in the Arabesque paintings of

Raphael in the Galleries; of course not in the design, but in the

present condition; they are so injured by being exposed to the open

air, as to be much obliterated. His fresco paintings in the same

palace are in good preservation. Of Michael Angelo and Raphael,

though I had seen but very few of their works, and certainly among

the least able to appreciate their merits till I came here; I had

no idea of what painters they were, nor how they could so represent

Nature in all its actions.

"I have seen most of the modern artists of Rome--they are chiefly

young. They have many large, bold undertakings in hand; several

subjects I have seen, twenty-five feet long, either for churches,

or for the Earl of Bristol, an old nobleman here of singular

character, who gives sometimes much encouragement, and often

beyond, I believe, even his power. The manner of painting is very

like what I think I have observed among the French: much attention

and minuteness in detail, while the great principal object of the

story is perhaps failed in. There is not however, I think, so much

extravagance in the representation of action, as I often observed

in the modern French pictures. Among the best historical painters

here are Camuccini, Landi, and Benvenuti. Of the sculptors, Canova,

of course, holds by far the highest rank; many of his works are

certainly very beautifully designed and executed. Next to him, one

of the name of Maximilian is placed as the best. With respect to

the modern architecture, both in its churches and palaces, I must

confess myself somewhat surprised that the excellent models of

ancient art constantly before them have not been more successfully

studied. In general, I think the taste is of rather a heavy,

disagreeable kind, but often a sort of magnificence in the whole

effect which is imposing. I purpose now leaving Rome for a time,

intending on my return to devote some time to more attentive and

diligent study. My time hitherto has been employed, for a great

part, in seeing all the different antiquities and buildings

contained within the extensive walls of the city and in its

suburbs. You may not perhaps have heard of my intention of spending

two or three months in Greece, as it is within so short a time that

I have determined upon it, and consequently since I communicated

it to my family at home. I have been making many inquiries here,

and find it a journey practicable, and as little subject to

difficulties as one can expect; I think too that one may derive

more advantage from a study of the ancient works there, which are

less known, and which have perhaps been the models of the finest

here, than from any in this country. When writing my last letter

home, in which I mentioned my intention, I thought of going by way

of Ancona, where I should embark in a vessel that went to any part

of Greece; since then, I have somewhat changed my plan, purposing

now to go by way of Naples and Otranto, and there embarking for

Corfu. It may still be nearly a fortnight before I set out, as some

preparation is necessary. Greece, it appears, does not afford the

little conveniences found in this country for travellers. I am very

well provided with letters there from the kindness of some English

I have met with here. There is one family from whom I have received

much kindness, (the Earl of Mount Cashell's,) with whom I believe

you are acquainted, as I have often heard you spoken of in it.

"My paper leaves me no more room than to say, if you should ever

have leisure to write me a few lines, they will be received with

the greatest pleasure; and wishing you the best health,

"Believe me, your very sincere friend,

"Robert Smirke."

"Henry Fuseli, Esq. R.A."

"My direction will be at Mr. Fagan's, Piazza Colonna, Rome."

In the year 1803, Fuseli left Queen-Anne-Street, and took the lease of a

commodious house, No. 13, Berners' Street, which had been built by Sir

William Chambers for his own residence; here he remained until December

1804, when he was elected Keeper of the Royal Academy, Mr. Rigaud being

then his competitor. The salary and commodious apartments allotted to

this office placed him in such circumstances as to render him, in a

degree, independent of fortuitous commissions. Although now in his

sixty-fourth year, he retained great mental and bodily activity, and

from his taste and extensive knowledge in the higher branches of the

fine arts, a more judicious choice could not have been made by the

Members of the Royal Academy; this opinion was expressed by his late

Majesty, George the Third, when the President, Mr. West, laid before

him the resolution of the Academicians for his approval.

The following anecdote connected with his election has been told, but

not correctly. When Fuseli tendered himself for the office of Keeper of

the Royal Academy, Northcote and Opie voted against him; but being

conscience-stricken, not only on account of his abilities, but from

having received favours at his hands, they considered it right to call

upon him the day after the election to explain their motives. After

having heard them, and in their explanation they in some degree blamed

each other; he answered, in his usual sarcastic manner, "I am sorry you

have taken this trouble, because I shall lose my character in the

neighbourhood. When you entered my house, the one must have been taken

for a little Jew creditor, the other for a bum-bailiff; so, good

morning."

This year (1804) Fuseli visited Liverpool for the last time, and passed

a great deal of his time while there with Mr. Roscoe: on his return to

London, he wrote the following letter to Mr. Joseph Johnson, the nephew

of his much respected friend of that name:--

"London, June 21, 1804.

"DEAR SIR,

"Give me leave to return you my warmest thanks for your kindness.

Though my circumstances did not permit me to spend as many hours as

I could have wished under your hospitable roof, every moment I

passed with you and Mrs. Johnson, added some new obligation to

those which you had already heaped on me and mine, and it will be

one of my warmest wishes to be able to shew, at some time or other,

that my gratitude lies deeper than my lips.

"I have spent a day or two at Purser's Cross, which is the name of

your Uncle's place; though in the neighbourhood of London, it is a

sweet retired and healthful spot, and if he could be persuaded to

spend more of his time at it, must be eminently conducive to his

health. I hope Mrs. Johnson has not forgot her promise, to come and

reside and nurse him there, as soon as it is in her power.

* * * * *

"Please to present my best compliments to all the friends I saw at

your house, or in your company.

"I am, dear sir,

"Your obedient friend and servant,

"Henry Fuseli."

"Joseph Johnson, Esq."

CHAPTER X.

The Biographer's Introduction to Fuseli.--New Edition of

Pilkington's Dictionary of Painters, superintended by

Fuseli.--Establishment of the British Institution, and Fuseli's

limited Contributions to the Exhibition there.--Subject from

Dante.--Fuseli's Remarks on Blake's Designs.--His Lectures on

Painting renewed.--Tribute of esteem from the Students of the

Academy.--Letter.--Death of Mr. Johnson, and Fuseli's sympathy on

the occasion.--Fuseli re-elected to the Professorship of Painting

at the Royal Academy.

In June 1825, Mr. Bonnycastle, late Professor of Mathematics to the

Royal Military College at Woolwich, who had then been the intimate

friend of Fuseli for twenty-five years, introduced me to him, having

observed previously to this introduction, that I should find him a man

of the most extensive knowledge, quickness of perception, ready wit, and

acuteness of remark, that I had ever met with. This introduction was

soon followed by daily intercourse between Fuseli and myself, which

ripened into the sincerest friendship, and was the cause of my passing

with him many of the happiest hours of my life.

In the year 1805, some of the booksellers wishing to publish an improved

edition of Pilkington's Dictionary of Painters, applied to Fuseli,

through Mr. Johnson, to be the editor. In consequence of the

solicitation of this friend, he accepted the task, but with reluctance,

as he had a mean opinion of the work, and constantly designated its

author a driveller. To the original he added a great number of names,

and either re-wrote the lives, or inserted in notes the characters of

most of the principal painters of the several schools.

At this period, a number of noblemen and gentlemen, zealous for the

encouragement of the fine arts in England, especially historical

painting, established the British Institution, and Fuseli was solicited

to send thither some pictures for exhibition and sale. He, however, had

no high opinion of the scheme; for although, in common with other

artists, he wished it to succeed--for he held that "the man who

purchases one picture from a living artist, which may have some

pretensions to the highest class of art, does more real service to the

fine arts than he who spends thousands upon the works of the old

masters;" yet he thought, to use his own words, "from the colour of the

egg, it was more likely to produce an ichneumon than a sphynx;" and

expressed reluctance to be a contributor. Mr. Coutts, who used every

endeavour to promote the establishment and the prosperity of the British

Institution, advised him to become an exhibitor, and to send, among

other pictures, "The Lazar-house," observing, "I never intended to

deprive you of this, it is yours, and therefore sell it, if you can." In

addition to this picture, the price of which was fixed at 300 guineas,

Fuseli sent "The Nursery of Shakspeare," for which he asked 150 guineas;

and "Christ disappearing at Emaus:" the price he put upon this was 100

guineas. The leading members of the Institution hesitated to admit that

admirable production of his pencil, "The Lazar-house," considering the

subject too terrible for the public eye; and they had three meetings

before they came to the resolution of exhibiting it. This hesitation on

their part, a slight degree of damage which "The Nursery of Shakspeare"

sustained in its removal from the rooms, and the not finding a purchaser

for either of the pictures, made Fuseli resolve never to exhibit there

again, to which resolution he pertinaciously adhered.[54]

In 1806, he painted from Dante, Count Ugolino being starved to death

with his four sons in the Tower, which, from that circumstance, was

afterwards called, "Torre della Fame;" this picture, as it came in

competition with that well known subject from the pencil of Sir Joshua

Reynolds, was admired and censured more than any other he had previously

produced. Fuseli took the moment when Ugolino is petrified by his

situation,--"bereft of tears, his heart is turned to stone;" he has

represented him in a sitting posture with his youngest son stretched

dead over his knees, while the other three are either writhing under the

agonies of hunger, dying, or given up to despair. This picture (now in

my possession) is as superior in drawing, in truth to nature placed

under such circumstances, and to the story, as Sir Joshua's soars above

it in colour, in manual dexterity, and in chiaroscuro.

Mr. Blake, who was not only a celebrated engraver, but known also for

his original designs, distributed this year (1805) a prospectus for

publishing an edition of the poem of "The Grave" of William Blair, to be

illustrated with fifteen plates designed and engraved by himself. This

work was patronized by the names of the principal artists of the day;

but before he entered upon its publication, he submitted his drawings

to the judgment of the then President of the Royal Academy (Mr. West),

and also to Fuseli. The latter, in particular, being pleased with the

wildness of the invention, wrote his opinion thereon in the following

words:

"The moral series here submitted to the public, from its object and

method of execution, has a double claim on general attention.

"In an age of equal refinement and corruption of manners, when systems

of education and seduction go hand in hand; when Religion itself

compounds with fashion; when, in the pursuit of present enjoyment, all

consideration of futurity vanishes, and the real object of life is

lost--in such an age, every exertion confers a benefit on society which

tends to impress Man with his destiny, to hold the mirror up to life,

less indeed to discriminate its characters, than those situations which

shew what all are born for, what all ought to act for, and what all must

inevitably come to.

"The importance of this object has been so well understood at every

period of time, from the earliest and most innocent to the latest and

most depraved, that reason and fancy have exhausted their stores of

argument and imagery, to impress it on the mind: animate and inanimate

Nature, the seasons, the forest and the field, the bee and ant, the

larva, chrysalis and moth, have lent their real or supposed analogies

with the origin, pursuits, and end, of the human race, so often to

emblematical purposes, that instruction is become stale, and attention

callous. The Serpent with its tail in its mouth, from a type of

Eternity, is become an infant's bauble; even the nobler idea of Hercules

pausing between virtue and vice, and the varied imagery of Death leading

his patients to the Grave, owe their effect upon us more to technic

excellence than allegoric utility.

"Aware of this, but conscious that affectation of originality and trite

repetition would equally impede his success, the Author of the moral

series before us has endeavoured to wake sensibility by touching our

sympathies with nearer, less ambiguous, and less ludicrous imagery, than

what mythology, Gothic superstition, or symbols as far-fetched as

inadequate could supply. His invention has been chiefly employed to

spread a familiar and domestic atmosphere round the most important of

all subjects, to connect the visible and the invisible World, without

provoking probability, and to lead the eye from the milder light of

time to the radiations of Eternity.

"Such is the plan and the moral part of the Author's invention; the

technic part, and the execution of the artist, though to be examined by

other principles, and addressed to a narrower circle, equally claim

approbation, sometimes excite our wonder, and not seldom our fears, when

we see him play on the very verge of legitimate invention; but wildness

so picturesque in itself, so often redeemed by taste, simplicity, and

elegance, what child of fancy, what artist would wish to discharge? The

groups and single figures on their own bases, abstracted from the

general composition, and considered without attention to the plan,

frequently exhibit those genuine and unaffected attitudes, those simple

graces which Nature and the heart alone can dictate, and only an eye

inspired by both, discover. Every class of artists, in every stage of

their progress or attainments, from the student to the finished master,

and from the contriver of ornament to the painter of history, will find

here materials of art and hints of improvement!"

This opinion he allowed Blake to publish as recommendatory of his work.

In the early part of the year 1806, the Council of the Royal Academy

requested that Fuseli would again deliver a course of lectures on

painting, which he accordingly did, as Mr. Opie had not prepared his.

This course he prefaced by the following address:

"Gentlemen,

"I once more have the unexpected honour of addressing you in this

place, at the request of the President and Council, with the

concurrence, and at the express desire of the Gentleman whom the

Academy has appointed my successor, and whose superior ability,

whenever he shall think proper to lay his materials before you,

will, I trust, make ample amends for the defects which your

indulgence has, for several years, connived at in my recital of

these fragments on our art."

Fuseli had now been more than two years Keeper of the Academy, which had

afforded the students sufficient time to appreciate the value of his

instructions, particularly in the antique school. And in order to mark

their sense of the advantages which they had derived from his talents,

they presented him, by the hands of Mr. Haydon, then a student, with an

elegant silver Vase, the design for which, at their solicitation, was

given by that eminent artist Flaxman; it bears the following

inscription:--

TO

HENRY FUSELI, ESQ. R.A.

KEEPER OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY,

FROM

THE STUDENTS.

1807.

The Vase, by the desire of Fuseli and the kindness of his widow, is now

in my possession; and I not only value it as a beautiful work of art,

but regard it as a tribute paid to the genius and talents of my honoured

friend, whose memory will ever be held most dear in my recollection.

In the summer of 1809, Fuseli wished me to accompany him into the

country for a short time; but as I had promised to pass three or four

weeks with a relation and friend (who was much esteemed by him), the

Reverend Thomas Rackett, at Spettisbury, in Dorsetshire, I could not

accede to his solicitations. The following letter written to me while

there, as it shews the disposition of his mind, and gives some account

of his pursuits, may not be uninteresting in this place.

"Somerset House, 31st August, 1809.

"DEAR SIR,

"Your letter of the 26th, which I found on my desk at my return

from Fulham, gave me equal surprise and pleasure; nothing but

yourself could have been more welcome, and I should not have waited

till now, to present you in answer with a scrawl of mine, had I not

been desirous of obliging Mr. Cavallo by adding a specimen of

Lavater's hand-writing: several old parcels of letters did I turn

over, but that which contains the chirognomic characters of my

departed friend, I have not yet been able to light on, and am

afraid it is in some bundle of papers at Purser's Cross, to which

place I shall probably return on Saturday, and on finding what I

want, take care to remit it to you for Don Tiberio.[55]

"The spirit in which you wrote your letter, makes me happy; a mind

like yours, fraught with all the requisites for genuine pleasure,

is sure to find it or to make it in every place; how much must you

enjoy then in the friendly mansion which separates you from me and

those real friends you have left here!

"Your account of the Nunneries you have visited, confirms Hamlets

verdict: 'Frailty, thy name is woman!' How self-contradictory, that

the 'animal of beauty,' as Dante calls woman, should exchange her

claims to social admiration and pleasure, and the substantial

charms of life, for the sterile embraces of a crucifix or some

withered sister, by the dim glimmer of cloistered light,--lost to

hope, and marked by oblivion for her own! Tyranny, deception, and

most of all, that substitute for every other want, 'the

undistinguished space of woman's will,' can alone account for such

phenomena.

* * * * *

"September 1st.

"So far I went yesterday, when luckily some one prevented the

process of my letter, and opening to-day a parcel I had not thought

of before, I found some letters, &c. of Lavater's: what I have

enclosed, is the address of one written to me when I lived in St.

Martin's Lane; be so kind to present it to your friend.

"What you say of Mr. Rackett's politeness, is extremely flattering,

and I beg you will return my respects and best wishes to him and

the ladies. As the weather has been so unpropitious, I do not

expect to hear of many entomological captures or discoveries: I beg

to inform him, that of some pupæ of _Sphinx euphorbiæ_, found on

the spurge of the Devonshire sands, I have reared, perhaps for the

first time in England, two beautiful moths.

"My wife is still at Woolwich. Mr. Haughton's respects attend you:

and I,

"My dear Sir, remain

"Affectionately and sincerely yours,

"Henry Fuseli."

"To John Knowles, Esq."

I have already noticed the social intimacy which subsisted for so long a

time between Fuseli and Mr. Johnson the bookseller; the latter had been

afflicted with an asthma for many years. In the month of December, 1809,

he had an alarming attack of this disorder, which increasing rapidly, a

message was sent to Fuseli, intimating that if he wished again to see

Mr. Johnson, he must come without delay. A carriage was instantly

ordered, and as it drew up, Mr. Carrick Moore the Surgeon, of whose

abilities, Fuseli had the highest opinion, accidently arrived at the

Academy. Fuseli, who was in tears and in violent agitation, cried out,

"Come with me, I beseech you, Moore, and save, if possible, my valued

friend, Johnson." On their arrival at Mr. Johnson's house, in St. Paul's

Church-yard, they found him breathing with difficulty, his countenance

ghastly, his limbs cold, and his quivering pulse hardly perceptible; he,

however, recognised Fuseli, and expressed pleasure at seeing him. But no

means which were tried could restore the sinking energies of the vital

functions, and the patient in a short time ceased to live.

As Fuseli had been on terms of intimacy and of the strictest friendship

with Johnson for nearly forty years, this sad event shocked his

sensitive heart. He wrote the day after to Mr. Joseph Johnson, the

nephew, in the following terms:--

"London, Somerset House, 21st Dec. 1829.

"MY DEAR SIR,

"As the present melancholy occasion must bring you, and perhaps

Mrs. Johnson, to London, permit me to request the favour of your

remaining with us, and taking a bed at our house during your stay.

"If my grief for the loss of my first and best friend were less

excessive, I might endeavour to moderate your's; but I want

consolation too much myself to offer it to others.

"My wife joins in my request to you and Mrs. Johnson, and we both

remain ever your faithful but disconsolate friends,

"Sophia and Henry Fuseli."

"Joseph Johnson, Esq."

Mr. Johnson was regretted not only by a numerous circle of private

friends, but by the literary world in general. Many authors now living,

and others who have paid the debt of nature, were fostered by his

bounty, and but for his encouragement the world would have been deprived

of most of the beautiful poems of Cowper; for, when "The Task," not

being appreciated by the public, met with a very tardy sale, its author

had made up his mind to write no more. Mr. Johnson, who was well aware

of the merits of this poem, urged him to proceed, stating, that he had

no doubt it would finally receive that favour from the public which it

so justly merited. This expectation was afterwards realized to its

utmost extent, and the author received from his publisher a handsome but

unexpected gratuity.[56]

Mr. Johnson was a man of probity, liberality, and sound sense, with an

acute judgment. The author of this memoir, who witnessed the urbanity of

his manners, and partook of the hospitality of his table at least once

a-week for some years, can bear testimony to these, as well as to the

good sense which he exercised, and the prudence with which he allayed

the occasional contests of his irritable guests, many of whom were

distinguished men of letters, of various characters, and conflicting

opinions. And although the conversation took a free range, yet the

placid equanimity of their host regulated in some degree its freedom,

and kept it within due bounds. Fuseli was always a favoured guest at

this table; when absent, which rarely happened, a gloom for the time

pervaded the company: but, when present, his acute taste in poetry,

oratory, and the fine arts; his original opinions, singular ideas, and

poignant wit, enlivened the conversation, and rendered him a delightful

companion. On these occasions, however, Johnson was rather a listener

than a contributor; but he enjoyed the animated remarks and retorts of

his amusing friend, and in his will left him a handsome legacy.

Fuseli wrote the following epitaph, which gives a just and unvarnished

character of this amiable man, and which is placed on his tomb in the

church-yard of Fulham:--

HERE LIE THE REMAINS OF

JOSEPH JOHNSON, LATE OF ST. PAUL'S, LONDON,

WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE ON THE 20TH DAY OF

DECEMBER, 1809, AGED 72 YEARS.

A MAN

EQUALLY DISTINGUISHED BY PROBITY, INDUSTRY,

AND DISINTERESTEDNESS IN HIS INTERCOURSE

WITH THE PUBLIC, AND EVERY DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL

VIRTUE IN LIFE; BENEFICENT WITHOUT

OSTENTATION, EVER READY TO PRODUCE MERIT

AND TO RELIEVE DISTRESS; UNASSUMING IN PROSPERITY,

NOT APPALLED BY MISFORTUNE; INEXORABLE

TO HIS OWN, INDULGENT TO THE WANTS

OF OTHERS; RESIGNED AND CHEERFUL UNDER THE

TORTURE OF A MALADY WHICH HE SAW GRADUALLY

DESTROY HIS LIFE.

The death of Opie, which took place rather unexpectedly, in 1807, after

he had delivered only four lectures at the Royal Academy, in which he

availed himself of several remarks of Fuseli in his unpublished

discourses, caused a vacancy in the Professorship, which was filled by

the election of Mr. Tresham. This appointment he held until the early

part of the year 1810, and then tendered his resignation, declining to

lecture under the plea of indisposition. The Academicians met for the

purpose of electing a Professor of Painting; but no one offering

himself, all being aware of the great talents of Fuseli in this

particular, they came to a resolution, that a law which forbids the same

person to hold two situations, should be dormant in his case; he was

therefore re-elected Professor of Painting on the 10th of February,

1810, and was allowed to retain the joint offices of Keeper of the

Academy and Professor of Painting during the remainder of his life. A

higher compliment than this could not have been paid to any man, and it

marked in an extraordinary manner the estimation in which his talents

were held.

CHAPTER XI.

Fuseli's prefatory Address to his resumed Lectures.--His second

Edition of Pilkington.--He suffers from a nervous fever, and visits

Hastings in company with the Biographer.--His Picture of Marcus

Curius, and Letter relative to it.--Letter from Mr.

Roscoe.--Canova's Intercourse with Fuseli.--Anecdotes of Fuseli and

Harlow.--Letters from Fuseli to the Biographer.--Republication of

his Lectures, with additions.--Death of Professor Bonnycastle, and

Anecdote concerning him.--Death of Fuseli's friend and patron, Mr.

Coutts.--An agreeable party at Fuseli's house.

On the 26th of February 1810, Fuseli resumed his course of lectures, and

prefaced them by the following address:--

"Mr. President, and Gentlemen,

"Sincere as my gratitude and pleasing as my emotions must be on

being, by the indulgence of the Academy, appointed to address you

again, I should feel myself unworthy of this honour were I not to

regret the infirm state of health, the unfortunate cause which

occasioned the resignation of the Professor of Painting, and

disappointed the expectation you had a right to form from the

display of his brilliant talents. Severely, however, as this

disappointment may be felt by you, it is a consolation to reflect

that we still possess him, and that the Academy may still profit by

his advice and practical abilities: but what can I offer to

mitigate our grief on the awful decree which snatched from us his

predecessor, your late lecturer, my departed friend? In him society

has lost one of its best members, our Art one of its firmest

supporters, the Academy one of its brightest ornaments, and you a

solid, experienced, forcible, and lucid instructor. The innate

vigour of his mind supplied every want of education; his

persevering energy ruled circumstances, and made necessity the

handmaid of the art; his judgment, at a very early period,

discriminated the art itself from those vehicles of which he

possessed, in a very high degree, the most splendid; add to these,

that insatiable curiosity, which not only stimulated him to examine

every system, and to collect every observation on art, but to court

all relative knowledge, and whatever, though more distant, might

tend to illustrate his argument, enforce his proofs, or assist his

researches; and you have an aggregate of qualities, which, if he

had been suffered to complete his course, would have enabled him to

present you with a more connected series of instructions for your

studies than perhaps ever fell to the lot of any other school, and

might have conferred on England the honour of having produced the

best combined, least prejudiced, if not the most lofty or extensive

system of art.

"Such was your teacher:--to expatiate on the artist before his

companions, admirers, rivals, and scholars, within these walls,

which have so often borne testimony to the splendour and

versatility of his powers, would be equally presumption and waste

of time: that characteristic truth, that unaffected simplicity and

air of life which discriminate his portraits; the decision, the

passion, the colour, the effects that animate his history; the

solidity of his method, his breadth and mellowness of touch, now

fresh before us, with his writings, will survive and consecrate to

memory the name of OPIE."

Fuseli, this year (1810), gave a second edition of his "Pilkington's

Dictionary of the Painters;" to this he added more than three hundred

names and characters of artists, chiefly of the Spanish school, enlarged

the notes given in the previous edition, corrected some mistakes in

dates, and gave in an appendix a few names which had been omitted in the

alphabetical order, and also many particulars of the great masters of

the Italian school; the last he considered as too prolix for the body of

the work.

In the summer of 1813, Fuseli was attacked with a considerable degree of

fever on the nerves, attended with great depression of spirits: this he

considered a similar disease, but much milder in its effects than that

with which he had been afflicted in 1772, at Rome. This indisposition he

felt the more, from having enjoyed for the last forty-three years, an

uninterrupted state of good health. His medical friends advised change

of air, and more particularly for that of the sea-side. He accordingly

determined to pass a month at Hastings, and prevailed upon the writer of

this memoir to accompany him thither. The frequenters of this salubrious

bathing-place, called by some the _Montpelier_ of England, will hardly

recognise, from its present improved state, the description given of it

by Fuseli in a letter to a friend; but it was a true picture of the town

at that time. "Hastings appears to me to have been constructed by a

conspiracy of bone-setters, surgeons, and dissectors, as the most

commodious theatre of all possible accidents in contusions, falls,

dislocations, sprains, and fractures. The houses of one side of the

High-street, _i.e._ the most inhabited part of the town, are built on

what they misname a terrace; but, in fact, it is a mass of stony

fragments gathered from the shore, without any other polish than what

the wave had left behind; raised four or five feet above the road,

unguarded on the edge, and consequently, without the perpetual

interference of miracles, fatal to every stranger who approaches them at

night, in winter thaws, when spangled with ice, or flooded from the

tremendous ridge that beetles o'er the house-tops."

To form an adequate and correct opinion of the extent of Fuseli's

talents and information, and a proper notion of his feelings, it was

necessary to be an inmate of the same house: from the experience of this

and a subsequent opportunity, I can, with truth, assert, that he was not

only a most intellectual, but a pleasant and accommodating companion.

After a month had been spent at this pleasant watering-place, I had the

satisfaction of returning to London with him, he being restored to

perfect health.

This year (1813) he painted a picture for Mr. Joseph Johnson, of

Liverpool, "Marcus Curius preparing his frugal repast." When Mr.

Johnson gave the commission, he said, "I wish the subject to be some

mentally heroic action, taken either from the English or Roman History."

When this picture was finished, Fuseli addressed the following letter to

his friend:--

"London, Oct. 8, 1813.

"DEAR SIR,

"I have not been unmindful of what you so kindly commissioned me to

undertake for you, and the picture which I have painted now only

waits your commands. The _subject_, though not English, is

congenial with your own mind, and selected from the most virtuous

period of Rome. If I remember rightly, you approved of it when we

discussed the subjects here; but as you may not perhaps have since

had leisure to reconsider it, you will permit me to repeat it as

concisely to you as I can, and nearly in the words of Valerius

Maximus. 'Marcus Curius, who had repeatedly smitten the Samnites,

seated in his rustic chair, preparing his simple meal in a wooden

bowl, exhibited to the admiring Legates of the Samnites at once,

with the proof of the most rigid frugality, his own superiority.

Commissioned by the state, they spread before him treasure, and

humbly solicited his acceptance. With a smile of disdain, scarcely

deigning to look at it, Curius replied--Take back these baubles to

those who sent you, and tell them that Marcus Curius prefers

subduing the rich to being rich himself, and that you found him as

impregnable by bribes as irresistible in arms.'

"Such is the subject, my dear Sir, which I have endeavoured to

compose and execute for you, as well as my capacity and practice

permitted; I wish they had been greater. I remain, with my wife's

and my own warmest wishes for your own, dear Mrs. Johnson's, and

son's health and happiness, dear Sir,

"Your obliged and sincere friend,

"Henry Fuseli."

"Joseph Johnson, Esq."

Fuseli kept up a constant intercourse with his friends at Liverpool, and

particularly with Mr. Roscoe. The correspondence which passed between

this gentleman and him sometimes had relation to literature, but more

frequently to the fine arts; the following is a specimen of the

latter:--

"Liverpool, 24th May, 1814.

"MY DEAR FRIEND,

"When my son Robert left us, about ten days since, I sent by him a

slight outline of a frieze, under a picture of a Holy Family, by

Ghirlandajo, desiring him to give it you, and to enquire whether

you agree with me in thinking it likely to be the production of

Michelagnolo, who is said to have painted in the pictures of

Ghirlandajo, whilst a student with him. Slight as it is, being, in

fact, only the copy of a copy, you will be able to form an opinion

of it at first sight. The picture is in distemper as well as the

frieze, which is executed in chiar' oscuro, in a sort of oblong

broken touches, producing on the whole a good effect. The

superiority of the style of the frieze to that of the picture is

evident, and demonstrates to a certainty that they are the work of

different hands.

"I think I also told you, some time since, that I had a picture of

Leo X., with the Cardinals de' Medici and Rossi, which I have

reason to believe is the copy made by Andrea del Sarto, from that

of Raffaelle, and which was first sent to Mantua, afterwards went

to Parma, and thence to Capo di Monte, where it is now no longer to

be found. Many persons who had seen it there, assure me this is

undoubtedly the same picture. I have had it some years, and having

been frequently asked whether I had taken it out of the frame to

look for the mark mentioned by Vasari, I determined, a few months

since, to examine it, and sending for two or three friends, we took

it out, and on the _edge of the pannel_, near the shoulder of the

Cardinal de' Medici, found the remains of an inscription, in large

letters, which I conjecture to mean, "_Andrea Florentinus Pinxit_,"

with the date, which is so far obliterated as to be wholly

illegible. At all events, there undoubtedly has been an inscription

on the edge of the pannel, a circumstance in itself highly

favourable to its being the very picture which Vasari has

described. This picture is most highly finished, has an

indescribable force of colouring, and is in as fine a state of

preservation as the day it was painted. Those who have seen the

picture of Raffaelle in the Louvre, assure me that this is in every

respect equal to it. I long to have your decision on these two

pictures, but hope it will be on the spot.

"I lately got a fine picture by Bernardino Lovini, which confirms

in every point the account which Lanzi and you have given of him.

It is a Holy Family, with two attendant pilgrims, saints, small

life. I think you will admire it for its simplicity, pathos, and

beautiful colouring.

"I have a friend in Liverpool, who is a good chymist, and prepares

colours, which I believe to be of a superior quality. His name is

Strahan, and his agent for the sale of them in London, is _Mr.

Thos. Clay, No. 18, Ludgate-hill_. I shall esteem it a favour if

you will make a trial of them, and if they should be found to

answer better than those you are already supplied with, would

recommend them to your friends. I believe they are already in some

degree known amongst the artists; but Mr. Strahan is very desirous

that you should make a trial of them; and I have promised him _all

my interest with you_ for the accomplishment of his wishes.

"I hope Robert will have called on you before you receive this: for

your kindness and friendship both to him and Richard accept my best

thanks, and believe me, my dear friend, unalterably yours,

"W. Roscoe."

Canova visited England in the summer of 1816, and was then very much

struck with the pictures, as well as pleased with Fuseli's society. This

eminent sculptor remarked, that he not only showed the brilliancy of

genius in his conversation, but that he spoke Italian with the purity of

a well-educated native of Rome. And on his return, the Academy of St.

Luke, at Rome, at his request, sent a diploma, constituting Fuseli a

member of the first class, an honour which was conferred also, by the

like recommendation, upon Sir Thomas Lawrence and Mr. Flaxman.

In the year 1817, Fuseli sat, at my request, to Harlow for his portrait,

which is on pannel, of a cabinet size. This eminent painter was highly

gratified by the compliment, and exerted every faculty to do his best.

Fuseli obliged him and me by giving for this picture twelve sittings of

two hours each; and a more perfect resemblance, or characteristic

portrait, has seldom been painted. I attended Fuseli at each sitting,

and during the progress of this portrait. Harlow commenced and finished

his best and most esteemed work, "The trial of Queen Katherine," in

which he has introduced many portraits; but more particularly those of

the Kemble family; in the performance of this work, he owed many

obligations to Fuseli for his critical remarks; for when he first saw

the picture (chiefly in dead colouring), he said, "I do not disapprove

of the general arrangement of your work, and I see you will give it a

powerful effect of light and shadow; but you have here a composition of

more than twenty figures, or I should rather say parts of figures;

because you have not shewn one leg or foot, which makes it very

defective. Now, if you do not know how to draw legs and feet, I will

shew you;" and taking up a crayon, drew two on the wainscot of the room.

Harlow profited by these remarks, and the next time we saw the picture,

the whole arrangement in the foreground was changed. Fuseli then said,

"So far you have done well; but now you have not introduced a back

figure, to throw the eye of the spectator into the picture;" and then

pointed out by what means he might improve it in this particular.

Accordingly Harlow introduced the two boys who are taking up the

cushion; that which shews the back, is altogether due to Fuseli, and is

certainly the best drawn figure in the picture. Fuseli afterwards

attempted to get him to improve the drawing of the arms of the principal

object (Mrs. Siddons), who is represented as Queen Katherine, but

without much effect, particularly the left; and after having witnessed

many ineffectual attempts of the painter to accomplish this, he

desisted, and remarked, "It is pity that you never attended the Antique

Academy."

Harlow proved himself, on many occasions, to be among the vainest of

men, and generally wished it to be believed that he possessed

information to which he was a stranger. On one occasion he said to me,

"It is extraordinary that Fuseli, who is so fine a scholar, should

suffer engravers to place translations under the plates taken from the

classical subjects painted by him;" and remarked, "I was educated a

scholar, having been at Westminster school, and therefore wish to see

the subjects given in the original languages," and then imprudently

instanced the print taken from his picture of the death of Oedipus.

When Fuseli appointed the next sitting, on our way to Harlow's house, I

mentioned this conversation to him, and added, I really think he does

not understand one word of Greek or Latin, to which he gave his assent,

and remarked, "He has made, I think, an unfortunate choice; for, if I

recollect rightly, the Greek passage, as well as my translation of it,

are scratched in under the mezzotinto. But before we part, I will bring

his knowledge to the test." After he had sat the usual time, he asked

for a piece of chalk, and wrote in large letters, on the wainscot, the

following passage:--

"ktupêse men zeus chthonios, hai de parthenoi

rhigêsan hôs êkousan; es de gounata

patros pesousai, klaion."[57]

After having done so, he said to Harlow, "Read that," and finding by his

hesitation that he did not understand a letter, he resumed, "On our way

hither, Knowles told me you had said that I ought not to permit

engravers to put translations under the prints taken from me, and that

you had instanced the Oedipus; now that is the Greek quotation whence

the subject is taken, and I find you cannot read a letter of it. Let me

give you this advice: you are undoubtedly a good portrait painter, and I

think in small pictures, such as you are painting of me, stand

unrivalled; this is sufficient merit; do not then pretend to be that

which you are not, and probably from your avocations never can be--a

scholar."

Unfortunately for Harlow, he was very unpopular with the Royal

Academicians, and when he offered himself as a candidate for an

Associate of the Academy, there was but one vote in his favour. On the

evening of the election, Fuseli was taxed by some of his friends with

having given it, and he answered, "It is true, I did,--I voted for the

talent, and not for the man." This was not a solitary instance in which

Fuseli exercised his judgment as to the fitness of men to fill offices

in the Academy; and accordingly voted for them, distinct from any

private consideration. On a vacancy happening for the Professorship of

Anatomy, Mr. Charles Bell was among the candidates: this gentleman was

unknown to Fuseli, except by his works: his vote was requested by one of

his best and most intimate of friends (Mr. Coutts) for another person:

"I cannot," said he, "oblige you; I know of no man in England who is a

better demonstrator than Bell; and for a surgeon, he is a good artist;

such a man therefore the Academy wants for their Professor, and, as

such, I _must_ vote for him."

The month of September 1817, I passed with my relation and friend,

Richard Wilson, Esq. of the Cliff-house, at Scarborough; on this

occasion, as was always the case when out of London, Fuseli corresponded

with me; two of his letters are preserved, and I cannot refrain from

giving them to the public, as they shew the kindness of his disposition,

and the terms of friendship which subsisted between us. Understanding

that my apartments were about to be repainted, he wrote as follows:--

"To any other person an apology might be necessary; to you, whose

friendship can neither be heated or cooled by correspondence or

silence, I despise offering any: if by remaining mute, I have

deprived myself of one source of pleasure, it has reserved to me

another, when we meet: your letter made _me_ happy, because you

could not have written it, had you not been so _yourself_.

"Hammond has perhaps told you that I went to Luton with him and

Roscoe: I spent some happy hours there; and, of course, but few.

Since my return, I have been riding or crawling in a kind of

daylight-somnambulism between this place, Brompton, and

Putney-hill. Whether I shall continue so to do the remainder of the

month, or go to snuff in some sea air, will depend upon my wife's

success or disappointment at Cheltenham.

"The chief reason why I send you this scrawl, is to offer you a bed

here at your return, on the same floor with myself, and a chamber

as pleasant and as well furnished as my own, viz. with demigods and

beauties. I earnestly request you to accept of it, and not to

persist in the foolhardy resolution of sleeping in a newly painted

room. If Hammond is obliged to have his house painted, pray oblige

me with your compliance, and, in giving me the preference, you will

be at home, and your brother can surely not except against it,

considering the distance at which he lives. I will not take a

refusal.

"I feel my head so stupid, my hand so disobedient, my pen so

execrable, my ink such a mudpond, that I ought in mercy to save you

the trouble of deciphering more. Adieu, love me as I do you,

neither more nor less, and hasten your return.

"Ever,

"Henry Fuseli."

"Somerset House, September 12, 1817.

To John Knowles, Esq."

I accepted of his kind offer, and in my letter doing this, gave him a

transcript of an epitaph in Latin, inscribed on a brass plate which is

affixed to a pillar in the north aisle of Scarborough Church, and which

is not only admired there for the expression of feeling which it

contains, but for its Latinity. This epitaph is as follows:--

"Dum te, chara Uxor, gelido sub marmore pono,

Illustret vigili lampade funus amor;

Heu! periit pietas dulcissima, casta cupido,

Teque omnis virtus quæ negat esse meam.--

Oh! quàm felicem nuperrima Sponsa beâsti!

Nunc pariter miserum reddis amata Virum.

Iste dolor levis est charos ubi casus amicos,

Mors ubi disjungit, sola tremenda venit."

"In piam Memoriam Annæ charissimæ Uxoris, hæc dedicavit

mæstissimus Maritus J. North: Obiit die Xmo 4to Augusti, Anno

Dom. 1695, Ætatis suæ 22."

In answer to this letter, he wrote to me as follows:--

"Putney-hill, September 20, 1817.

"MY DEAR SIR,

"You have given me the greatest pleasure in accepting the offer

which I took the freedom of making to you; and my wife, the moment

she hears of it, will as much be flattered by your kindness as

myself,--for, before she went off, she earnestly desired me to make

the request.

"Thanks for the epitaph,--but with all possible respect for Mr. J.

North's Latinity and feelings, and notwithstanding the very free,

correct, and scholastic manner in which you have transcribed his

effusion; bowing likewise to the taste and discrimination of the

"Learned" where you are; I must own that the sense of the fourth,

and construction of the seventh and eighth lines are not very clear

to me.

"I am rambling about here in the charming thickets of this villa,

deliciously asleep, if fancy wake me not now and then with the

thunder of the wave beneath your feet. You cannot now stay long

from

"Yours, ever,

"Henry Fuseli."

"John Knowles, Esq."

The month of September 1818, was passed by me with Fuseli and Mrs.

Fuseli at Ramsgate; he was then in excellent health and spirits, and

although in his seventy-eighth year, had considerable bodily strength

and activity. Our constant practice was, to leave the house about five

o'clock in the morning, and sometimes earlier, to walk until eight,

breakfast, and employ ourselves during the middle of the day in reading

or writing. We walked for an hour before dinner, and did the same in

the evening before we retired to rest, the usual hour for which was

about ten o'clock. It was at this place that I collated his aphorisms in

their present form, under his inspection, and then made a fair copy of

them for the press.

In the year 1820, he published a quarto volume, containing three

additional lectures, reprinted the three which appeared in the year

1801, with some alterations and additions, and wrote an introduction,

which he called "A Characteristic Sketch of the Principal Technic

Instruction, Ancient and Modern, which we possess." This work was

purchased by Mr. Cadell the bookseller, for three hundred pounds.

Mr. Bonnycastle, the Professor of Mathematics to the Royal Military

College at Woolwich, died this year (1821), in the seventieth year of

his age;[58] he had been for more than forty years the intimate friend,

occasional companion, and always a great admirer of the talents of

Fuseli. Bonnycastle was a mathematician of celebrity, independently of

which he had a fine taste for poetry and English literature in general;

his memory was retentive, his knowledge extensive, and he was ever ready

to communicate what he knew. His conversational talents were of the

first order, and he occasionally enlivened his remarks with apposite

anecdotes. As he was the friend of my youth, I feel much satisfaction in

recording here my gratitude for instruction and many acts of kindness

received from this amiable man.

The following anecdote will afford a proof of the delicacy and feeling

of Bonnycastle's mind, and also of his excellent disposition. When his

"Introduction to Astronomy" was published, it was reviewed with a

considerable degree of asperity in a popular work of the day. Several of

his scientific friends, and Reuben Burrow in particular, considered that

it had not been fairly dealt with by the reviewer, and they determined

to discover the writer: they at length found out that it was Mr. Wales,

Mathematical Master of the School of Christ's Church Hospital. Burrow,

who was a man of quick sensibility, and an excellent mathematician, was

determined to avenge the cause of his friend, and constantly expressed

anxiety for the appearance of some new book by Wales; at length one was

published, upon "The Method of Finding the Longitude at Sea by

Chronometers." Burrow procured a copy of this work, had it interleaved,

and wrote numerous remarks on, and confutations of many parts of it,

which he carried to Bonnycastle, and said, "As you have a more polished

pen than myself, use these observations of mine, and make up a sharp

review of this paltry book for the public." Bonnycastle lost no time in

doing this, and was on his road to London, with the review in his pocket

for publication, when he accidentally met Wales, who was then in so bad

a state of health that he appeared to be in the last stage of a

consumption. This affected the mind of Bonnycastle so strongly that, on

his arrival in London, he immediately burnt the manuscript review, being

determined not to hurt the feelings of a man labouring under disease,

and thus perhaps to accelerate his death.

In the year 1822, Fuseli was bereft of another old and valued friend,

Mr. Coutts, the opulent banker, with whom he had been acquainted nearly

sixty years. This gentleman had on many occasions afforded him valuable

proofs of his sincere friendship. With him, and with his family during

the latter period of his life, in particular, Fuseli was almost

domesticated. By them, his very wishes were anticipated, and he received

from their hands, such attentions as can arise only from feelings of

respect and regard, accompanied by those comforts and elegancies which

wealth alone can bestow. And I cannot refrain from expressing my

conviction, that these attentions, which were afforded without the least

ostentation, not only contributed to make the winter of his life

pleasant, but really prolonged the existence of a man to whom the public

are so much indebted as an artist, critic, and teacher of the Fine Arts.

It has been often remarked, that old men do not feel so acutely the loss

of relations and friends, as those who are of a less advanced age. But

this was not the case with Fuseli; for, although now in his eighty-first

year, his faculties were unimpaired, and he still possessed a great

degree of sensibility. As one friend dropped into the grave after

another, he felt the loss of each, and constantly exclaimed, "It is my

turn next," advising me at the same time, as I advanced in life, to

cultivate the friendship of men younger than myself, that I might not be

left without friends in old age. Although when a younger man he appeared

to his acquaintances to cling much to life, yet now when he spoke of

death, it was without fearful forebodings. "Death," he used to say, "is

nothing; it is the pain and feebleness of body under a lingering

disease, which often precedes death, that I dread; for, at my time of

life, I can look forward but to a day, and that passes quickly." The

following extract of a letter to the Countess of Guilford, dated the

17th of November 1821, and written on his return to London with Mrs.

Fuseli, after they had passed some time at Brighton, will further show

his feelings on this subject.

"Taciti, soli, e senza compagnia.

"We jogged on, though at a swifter pace than Dante and his guides,

sympathising (one at least,) with autumn's deciduous beauty, and

whispering to every leaf the eye caught falling, _Soon_ shall I

follow thee!

"Indeed, were it not for those I should leave behind, I would not

care _if now_."

Mr. Roscoe this year (1821) visited London. From Fuseli's advanced age,

and Mr. Roscoe's weakness of body, the former anticipated that it would

be the last time they should meet--which anticipation, I believe, was

realized. A day or two after Mr. Roscoe's arrival, I received the

following note from Fuseli.

"Sunday, 11th February, 1821.

"MY DEAR SIR,

"Old Mr. Roscoe is in town for a few days at his son Robert's

house, No. 6, Dyer's Buildings, Holborn: I am to dine with them on

_Tuesday_, at five: Robert came to invite you to the party, but

finding you were out of town to-day, requested me to do it for him.

You cannot do a thing more agreeable to them or me than comply with

our request, if disengaged; and as it probably may be the last time

you will see Mr. Roscoe in London, I hope you will suffer no

trifling engagement to deprive us of you.

"Ever,

"Henry Fuseli."

"We may go together."

"To John Knowles, Esq."

A few days afterwards I had again the pleasure to meet Mr. Roscoe at

Fuseli's table; there were also present, Sir Thomas Lawrence, Mr. Lock,

Mr. Howard, R.A., Mr. J. Symmons, and Mr. Robert Roscoe. The

conversation was desultory, sometimes upon literature, at others upon

art; and at two more intellectual dinner-parties I have seldom been

present. Fuseli was animated and energetic, and shewed that he then

possessed a mind of the greatest vigour, with an unimpaired memory.

CHAPTER XII.

Decline of Fuseli's Health.--Letter from Mr. James C.

Moore.--Fuseli's Bust by Baily, and Portrait by Sir Thomas

Lawrence.--His last Academical Lectures.--Particulars of his

Illness and Death.--Proceedings relative to his interment, with an

account of the ceremony.--Copy of his Will.

The intimates of Fuseli had observed, with much concern, that for two or

three years, although his general health did not appear to be materially

affected by age, yet there was a predisposition to water in the chest,

which usually manifested itself when he took cold, by his being

occasionally affected with some difficulty in breathing, irregularity of

pulse, and also by the swelling, in a slight degree, of his feet and

ancles. These symptoms were repeatedly removed, in a few days, by the

appropriate remedies, but after intervals they recurred. On the 23d

August, 1823, he sent a note to my house, early in the morning,

expressing a wish to see me immediately, which summons I promptly

obeyed. On my arrival, he said, that although when we parted at ten

o'clock the preceding evening, he did not feel at all indisposed; yet,

shortly after he had retired to bed, he found a difficulty in breathing,

such as he had never before experienced, and that his legs were much

swollen, and wished therefore to consult a friend of mine, Dr. Maton. I

told him that the Doctor was absent from London, and therefore advised

him to send for a physician with whom he and I were well acquainted,

(Sir Alexander Crichton,) to meet his friend and usual medical adviser,

Mr. Richard Cartwright; to which proposal he assented. Mrs. Fuseli was

at this time at Brighton, for the benefit of her health; and he gave me

strict injunctions not to inform her of his indisposition. But as his

medical advisers told me the disease was water in the chest, and that

the symptoms were alarming, I wrote to Mrs. Fuseli, informing her in

some degree of the facts; and, although much indisposed herself, she

came immediately to London.

His case, for some time, was considered to be almost hopeless; and Sir

Thomas Lawrence, in anxious solicitude for the safety of his friend,

advised that Dr. Holland should also be consulted. This gentleman was

fully aware of his danger, but coincided in every respect in the

propriety of the previous treatment, and said that nothing more could be

done. After three weeks of suffering, which Fuseli bore with patience

and fortitude, his spirits never having forsaken him, nature made a

great effort, and he, contrary to the expectations of his medical

attendants, rallied, and in a few weeks more was restored to a state of

comparative health.

During this illness, he received the visits of his particular friends in

the evening, and conversed with his usual energy; and it must have been

highly gratifying to his feelings to see the anxiety which they

manifested for his safety; more particularly the Countess of Guilford

and her two amiable daughters, the Ladies North, and also Sir Thomas

Lawrence,[59] who, with the writer of this account, allowed no

engagement to interfere, and were his constant companions every

evening. His friends who were absent from London amused him with their

letters, one of which is here transcribed.

"Stranraer, Aug. 10, 1823.

"DEAR FUSELI,

"I wrote you a few days ago; but as you've got a new doctor, I'll

scribble again. Dr. Holland seems to be Lady Guilford's,[60] and

every Lady thinks her's the best. Besides, she may deduce from high

authority, 'that when two or three are gathered together,' the

curer may be amongst them. Independently of their instructions,

communicate to her Ladyship, that, from my knowledge of your

constitution, I am sure that a glass of hock and soda will be both

salutary and agreeable. Half a dozen of the best from Hochheim will

then be transmitted to you.

"I say nothing of physic, of which plenty will be prescribed: but,

however nauseous, swallow it all. Pour out execrations on the d--d

drugs, rail with wit and spleen on the ignorance of your doctors,

and obey them implicitly; by all which you will obtain all the

relief from physic and physicians that is possible.

"Mr. Knowles sends us frequent bulletins, for which we are most

grateful. He acts like your warm and constant friend.

"Friendship was a quality you often extolled: the affection of

relations you used to hold cheap, as a mere instinctive sensation;

whereas friendship is a rational selection. It was that quality

which humanised Achilles, who without it would have been a brute.

Bestow some of it, then, upon me, and dictate a few words of

comfort; for I have long been, before you knew Knowles, your

faithful friend,

"James Carrick Moore."

After his recovery, it was evident that this severe illness had made an

inroad on his constitution; for, although it had no apparent effect upon

his mental energies, yet it was apparent that his bodily exertions were

enfeebled; for, when he was enabled to resume his accustomed exercise of

walking, it was not performed with that long stride and firm step for

which he had been before remarkable.

In the year 1824, Fuseli sat to Mr. Baily for a bust, which was

executed in marble: he had always a high opinion of the talents of the

sculptor, and on this occasion said to me, "I assure you, as an artist,

that there is much more of truth, expression, and feeling, in Baily's

work than in that of his competitors, however much they may enjoy the

public favour." On this bust he had the following line chiselled:--

HYPERIDÔN HA NYN EINAI PHAMEN.

Sir Thomas Lawrence also entertained a high opinion of Mr. Baily's

talents as a sculptor; and, in addition to the bust of Fuseli, had those

of Flaxman, Smirke, and Stothard chiselled by him. These were placed

among the exquisite specimens of ancient and modern art which adorned

his dining-room.

In the early part of 1825, he sat for a half-length portrait to Sir

Thomas Lawrence, which this great artist executed admirably. At this

time the Earl of Eldon was also sitting for his likeness, and Fuseli,

not recognizing the countenance, asked Sir Thomas who it was? who

answered, "It is the Chancellor." Fuseli took a piece of chalk, and

immediately wrote on the picture--

----[61]"Quia me vestigia terrent

Omnia te adversum spectantia, nulla retrorsum."

When Lord Eldon saw this, he was much amused; and on being told that it

was written by Fuseli, laughed heartily.

In the spring of 1824, I persuaded him not to lecture, which it was his

intention then to do, being apprehensive that the exertion which he must

employ would be too great for his diminished strength; in the early part

of 1825, he however delivered his last course of lectures, with

certainly less of energy of manner, but without much apparent fatigue:

he had also prepared some pictures for the ensuing exhibition at the

Royal Academy.

Notwithstanding these proofs of remaining powers, on Sunday, the 10th of

April 1825, Fuseli, being then on a visit to the Countess of Guilford

at Putney Hill, complained of indisposition, while walking in the

pleasure-grounds. He was engaged on that day to dine in St. James's

Place, with Mr. Samuel Rogers; and Lady Guilford had ordered her

carriage to convey him thither; but as his illness continued, Mrs.

Fuseli prevailed upon him (with difficulty) to remain in the house, and

he gave up the engagement. It was an affecting coincidence, that on the

evening before, being out on the lawn with the Ladies North, and looking

at the stars, which shone with great brightness, he said, (possibly from

the consciousness of symptoms which he considered dangerous,) "I shall

soon be amongst them." On the Monday, it was evident to all about him

that he was much worse, and he expressed a strong desire to see me;

being informed of his illness, I immediately went to Putney, and from

his altered appearance had great fears of what would be the issue. The

opinions of Sir Alexander Crichton and Dr. Holland, who arrived there

shortly after, confirmed my apprehensions, for they said, when

questioned by me, that "they could not give any specific name to the

complaint; for it appeared to them, that all the functions of nature

had given way, and, in their opinion, he could not last many days."

The attentions of the Countess of Guilford and her family to Fuseli were

unremitting; every thing was done by them to promote his comfort, and

even to anticipate his wishes; the question constantly asked was, "Can

nothing further be done to keep him a little longer with us?" but it was

too apparent, notwithstanding these kindnesses, and the skill and

attention of his physicians, that life was fast ebbing. I saw him every

day, and I have reason to believe that, from the commencement of his

illness, he did not expect to recover; for, on the Wednesday, he put his

hand into mine, and said, "My friend, I am fast going to that bourne

whence no traveller returns." But he neither expressed regret at his

state, nor, during his illness, shewed any despondency or impatience. I

left him at a late hour on the Friday (the evening before he died); he

was then perfectly collected, and his mind apparently not at all

impaired, but his articulation was feeble, and the last words which he

addressed to his physicians, the death guggles being then in his throat,

were in Latin: so perfect was his mind at this time, that he said to me,

"What can this mean? when I attempt to speak, I croak like a toad."

On Saturday morning, at seven o'clock, he was told that Mr. Cartwright

was in the house: as he knew two gentlemen of that name, he was

uncertain which it was. On Mr. Cartwright approaching his bedside, he

put out his hand, and exclaimed, "Is it you, Samuel?" This gentleman

raised him in his bed, and moistened his mouth and lips with liquid, by

means of a feather, for which he feebly thanked him.[62]

On Mr. Cartwright's arrival in London, he immediately wrote to me,

saying, "he feared ere I received his communication that Fuseli would be

no more;" this apprehension of his was shortly afterwards confirmed by a

letter from Lady Guilford, informing me that he had breathed his last

that morning, (Saturday, the 16th of April, 1825,) at half-past ten

o'clock, without much apparent pain, and in complete possession of his

faculties; and that, in consequence, my presence, as an intimate friend

and executor, being immediately required, both by Mrs. Fuseli and

herself, at Putney, she had sent her carriage to enable me to come down

without delay.

On my arrival at Putney Hill, I found the Countess of Guilford and the

Ladies Susan and Georgina North in deep grief. Fuseli was highly

esteemed by these ladies, and reciprocally felt towards them the warmest

friendship. He entertained for Lady Susan great regard; but he had for

Lady Georgina, that affection which a master usually feels towards an

amiable, accomplished, and highly promising pupil. This young lady had

devoted much time to the study of the Fine Arts, and, assisted by the

occasional hints and instructions of Fuseli, has arrived at eminence in

the highest branch, that of historical design. After some preliminary

observations, Lady Guilford observed, that she considered it a duty to

act upon this melancholy occasion as she was sure her father (Mr.

Coutts) would have acted were he alive; and she said, "As to

arrangements, I give you, Mr. Knowles, a _carte blanche_; but observe,

it is my wish, as Mr. Fuseli has died here, that his remains should be

so placed as will not disgrace a public funeral; for I feel convinced

that the Royal Academy will pay that tribute to his memory." Her

Ladyship added, (with her usual feelings of generosity,) "but if they

fail to do so, then I request you will order such a funeral as is due to

the high merits of the deceased; and any additional expense which may be

incurred by my wishes, I will gladly reimburse. Remember, my desire is,

to have every respect shewn to his remains." A few hours after I had

returned to London, Lady Guilford sent me in writing her instructions to

the above effect; and said in her note, that "she was induced to do so,

that her wishes and intentions might not be misunderstood."

Early on the Sunday morning, I called upon Sir Thomas Lawrence, not only

as a friend of the deceased, but in his official capacity as President

of the Royal Academy, to inform him of Fuseli's death, and to ask what

he considered would be the notions of the Members of the Academy with

respect to his funeral. Sir Thomas, who had been for many years the

friend and companion of Fuseli, and an admirer of his talents, met this

question with feeling and great candour, and remarked that, he knew of

no precedent for any public honours being paid to the remains of a

Keeper of the Royal Academy. I urged that there could not be a precedent

to operate in this case, for, on account of the great talents of the

deceased, the Royal Academy had rendered an existing law of theirs

nugatory, by allowing him to hold the situation not only of Keeper, but

also of Professor of Painting, a compliment which had fallen to the lot

of no other man, nor was such an occurrence likely again to take place.

Sir Thomas acknowledged that he had strong claims to some distinguished

attention being paid to his remains, and promised, under this view of

the case, to convene a meeting of the Council immediately, to take the

matter into consideration.

After this interview, I went to Putney Hill, for the purpose of removing

the corpse to Somerset House; and in the evening, followed the remains

of Fuseli there, where Mr. Balmanno, the other executor named in the

will, was ready to receive the body. It was, at our desire, placed in a

room, around the walls of which were arranged "The Lazar-house," "The

Bridging of Chaos," and other sublime productions of his pencil, the

subjects being chiefly from Milton.

The Council of the Royal Academy met, in conformity to the summons of

their President, and came to the resolution,--to "recommend to the

Academicians, at their general assembly about to be called for the

purpose, that the President, the Secretary, and Council, should be

desired to attend the funeral of Mr. Fuseli." The feeling, however, of

many of the Academicians at this general meeting is said to have been,

that this recommendation was not a sufficient honour to the memory of so

distinguished an artist and professor; for "the remembrance of his gibes

and his quillets," which had annoyed many while he lived, was now sunk

in death. But as the Members did not wish to disturb the resolution of

their Council, it was confirmed.

A curious coincidence took place at this meeting, with that convened in

the year 1792 for the purpose of considering how the funeral of Sir

Joshua Reynolds should be conducted. I allude to an objection of one

member only, in each case, to the honours proposed. With respect to the

funeral of Sir Joshua, an architect of considerable abilities and great

celebrity, (Sir William Chambers) considered it a _matter of duty_ to

object to the body lying in state, and a public funeral taking place

from Somerset House, without the sanction of the King; for, said he, "My

instructions, as surveyor of the building, are, that the Academy cannot

let or lend any part thereof, for any other purpose than that for which

it is appropriated." This objection, it is well known, was referred to

and overruled by the King. In the case of Fuseli, an Academician, a

portrait painter, objected both in the council and at the general

assembly to any honour being paid by the Academy, as a body, to the

remains of Fuseli. But the observations of this person, I have been

credibly informed, created feelings little short of disgust in many of

the Academicians present.

As the funeral was, by this resolution, to be considered a private one,

measures were immediately taken by the executors, to meet the wishes of

the relative and a friend of the deceased, by ordering such preparations

to be made at their expense as they considered due to his merits; and

invitations were accordingly sent, by their desire, to the President,

Secretary, and other members of the Council of the Academy, and to

several of his private friends, to attend the solemnity.

The funeral of Fuseli took place on Monday the 25th of April: it moved

from Somerset House at eleven o'clock in the morning, for St. Paul's

Cathedral, in the following order:--

Pages bearing funeral feathers, with attendants.

Four Porters in silk dresses.

THE HEARSE,

(Drawn by six horses decorated with velvet

and feathers)

Containing the Body enclosed in a leaden coffin; the outer wooden one

was covered with black velvet, ornamented with gilt furniture, and bore

the following inscription:

HENRY FUSELI, ESQ.

A.M. R.A.

KEEPER AND PROFESSOR OF PAINTING TO

THE ROYAL ACADEMY OF LONDON,

DIED THE 16TH APRIL, 1825,

AGED 86 YEARS.[63]

The hearse was followed by eight mourning coaches drawn each by four

horses, the first with the two Executors, Mr. Knowles and Mr. Balmanno.

In the others were the President, Secretary, Treasurer, and Council of

the Academy, and the private friends of the deceased, in the following

order:--Sir Thomas Lawrence, President; Henry Howard, Esq. Secretary;

Robert Smirke, Jun. Esq. Treasurer. Sir William Beechy, R.A.; T.

Phillips, Esq. R.A.; A. Chalon, Esq. R.A.; William Mulready, Esq. R.A.;

G. Jones, Esq. R.A.; R.R. Reinagle, Esq. R.A.; J. Wyatville, Esq. R.A.

Lord James Stuart, M.P.; Vice Admiral Sir Graham Moore, K.C.B.; The Hon.

Colonel Howard, M.P.; Sir E. Antrobus, Bart.; The Very Reverend Dr.

Charles Symmons; William Lock; Samuel Cartwright; Samuel Rogers; Henry

Rogers; William Young Ottley; William Roscoe, Jun.; Henry Roscoe; M.

Haughton; T. G. Wainewright, and R. B. Haydon, Esqrs.

The procession was closed by the private carriages of the following

persons, the intimate friends of the deceased. Mrs. Coutts (now Duchess

of St. Alban's), Marquis of Bute, Countess of Guilford; each drawn by

four horses, with the servants in state liveries. Lord Rivers; Lord

James Stuart; Honorable Colonel Howard; Sir Edmond Antrobus, Bart.; Rear

Admiral Sir Graham Moore; Sir Thomas Lawrence; Dr. Symmons; Mr. Lock;

Mr. Richard Cartwright; Mr. Smirke, and Mr. Wyatville.

The body was deposited in a small vault formed for the purpose, in the

crypt of St. Paul's Cathedral, between those which contain the remains

of his friends, Sir Joshua Reynolds and Opie.

On our return to the Royal Academy, the will was opened, with the

contents of which I was previously acquainted, as Fuseli consulted me

when he made it; and the following is a copy:--

"I, Henry Fuseli, Keeper of the Royal Academy, of London, being in

health and of sound mind, do make this my last will and testament.

I do hereby leave and bequeath unto my wife, Sophia Fuseli, all

money and every other description of property that I may be

possessed of at the time of my decease, to be for her own and sole

use. And I do hereby constitute and I appoint, John Knowles of the

Navy Office, and Robert Balmanno, of Mornington Place, Hampstead

Road, Esquires, as Executors to this my last Will and Testament,

revoking all other Wills and Testaments. Given under my hand and

seal, this twenty-first day of November, in the year of our Lord

One thousand eight hundred and twenty-two.

"Henry Fuseli," (L.S.)

"James Jones, }

William Church, } Witnesses."

In carrying this Will into execution, a difference of opinion arose

between Mr. Balmanno and myself respecting the propriety of disposing of

some of the property by private contract; and the matter was accordingly

referred to Mrs. Fuseli. As this lady gave her assent to the view which

I had taken of the affair, Mr. Balmanno, in consequence, renounced the

trust. The Will was therefore proved by me, solely, in the Prerogative

Court of Canterbury, on the 7th September 1825.

CHAPTER XIII.

Fuseli's personal appearance and habits.--Existing Memorials of him

in Pictures and Busts.--His method of dividing his time.--Anecdotes

exemplifying his irritability.--His attainments in classical and in

modern Languages.--Instances of his Powers of Memory.--His intimate

knowledge of English Poetry and Literature.--His admiration of

Dante.--His Passion for Entomology.--His opinions of some

contemporary Artists.--His conversational powers.--Anecdotes.--His

deficient acquaintance with the pure Physical Sciences.

It may now be proper to give some description of Fuseli's person and

habits. He was rather short in stature, about five feet two inches in

height, his limbs were well proportioned, his shoulders broad, and his

chest capacious. His complexion was fair; his forehead broad; his eyes

were large, blue, and peculiarly expressive and penetrating; his nose

large, and somewhat aquiline; his mouth was rather wide; and although

his features were not strictly regular, yet his countenance was, in the

highest degree, intelligent and energetic; the expression of his face

varied in a remarkable manner with the quick impressions of his mind. He

was clean and neat in his person and dress, and very particular with his

hair, which was carefully dressed every day with powder.

In youth, Fuseli was exceedingly temperate in all his habits: until the

age of twenty-one years he had never tasted fermented liquors; and in

more advanced age, his usual beverage was Port wine, in a moderate

quantity, or Port wine mixed with water; and during the whole of his

life he had never even tasted beer. He was habitually an early riser. In

London, during the summer months, he usually left his bed-room between

six and seven o'clock; but when in the country, he arose between four

and five. To these, and to the practice of standing while he painted, he

attributed the more than usual good state of health which he had

enjoyed. He possessed his faculties in an extraordinary degree to the

last period of his life: his fancy was vivid, his memory unimpaired, and

his eye-sight so good, that he could read the smallest print without the

aid of glasses: if any one of them had failed, it was his hearing; but

this, if impaired at all, was only so in a slight degree; and, in my

opinion, his complaint of this proceeded rather from inattention, on

his part, to any discourse which did not interest him, than from a

defect in the organ; for, when his attention was drawn to a subject, or

excited, this was in no degree apparent.

Although Fuseli had a great dislike to sit for his portrait, there are

the following busts and pictures of him:--A bust in marble, chiselled

when he was in Italy; of the merits of this he always spoke in high

terms, and it is supposed to be now in Rome. A portrait in profile, by

Northcote, taken at Rome in 1778, in the possession of James Carrick

Moore, Esq. A drawing by Sir Thomas Lawrence, in 1787, made for the

translation of Lavater's physiognomy. A portrait by Williamson, of

Liverpool, in 1789, in the possession of William Roscoe, Esq. A picture

by Opie, in 1800, which Mrs. Fuseli now has. A very characteristic

miniature, by Haughton, taken in 1808, in the collection of the Countess

of Guilford; and there are two or three subsequent miniatures by the

same artist. An elaborate portrait in oil colours, by Harlow, painted in

1817, in the possession of the writer of this memoir; and one less

wrought, by the same artist, for Mr. Balmanno. A bust in marble,

executed by Baily, in 1824, for Sir Thomas Lawrence. A portrait by Sir

Thomas Lawrence, taken in 1825, a few weeks before Fuseli's death, is

now in the possession of that gentleman's executor. And a bust in clay,

modelled from a cast of the face, taken after death, by Mr. Baily, for

the Countess of Guilford.

Notwithstanding some eccentricities, Fuseli was a man of method: his

daily occupations, which were almost unalterable, will give some notion

of this. If the weather were favourable, he usually walked for an hour

or two before breakfast; if otherwise, he read some classic author. At

breakfast (which generally occupied an hour), he was engaged in looking

over drawings of entomology, or in reading some book on that science.

After he had breakfasted, and while under the hands of the hair-dresser,

he read Homer in Greek. At half-past ten o'clock he went to his study,

and engaged himself in painting until four; then dressed, and walked

till the time appointed for dinner. In the evening, if not in society,

he amused himself in examining prints, executing drawings, or reading

the popular works of the time. When out of London, the middle of each

day was spent either in drawing, writing, or reading.

From infancy, Fuseli possessed very impetuous passions, which required,

when a boy, some degree of coercion, on the part of his parents, to

control. This irritability, in one instance, nearly cost him his life.

At Lyons, when a young man, he had a dispute with a person, which

aroused his feelings to such a height, that in a momentary fit of

passion he made use of that agility which he possessed in a considerable

degree, and kicked his antagonist in the face. The man coolly drew his

sword, and immediately inflicted a very severe wound upon the offending

leg. Notwithstanding this violence of disposition, when his anger was

aroused even to a high pitch, a kind word or look appeased him in a

moment. In the several relations of husband, friend, and master, he was

most affectionate and kind; but he required to be sought: if neglected,

he ceased to think of the objects whom he had before loved or esteemed;

and his constant theme was on such occasions, "I can live without them

who can do without me."

He possessed such a degree of pride and self-love in this particular,

that if he thought himself slighted, he would resent it, whatever might

be the rank or condition of the man: this has been witnessed on several

occasions, one of which now recurs to my memory. I accompanied him to a

private view of a picture, "The Trial of Queen Caroline;" after we had

been in the room a few minutes, he pointed out a clergyman, and said,

"That is Howley, the Bishop of London; he and I were very intimate.

Before he became a dignitary of the church, he used to come to my house

frequently, and sit there for hours together; but for some years he

seems to forget even my person." Shortly after, Lord Rivers came into

the apartment, and accosted Fuseli in his usual jocular manner, and

perhaps not knowing that he had been acquainted with the Bishop, took an

opportunity of introducing him. Fuseli immediately said, "I have seen

his Lordship before now," and turned upon his heel.

It has been shewn, that Fuseli was educated for the clerical profession,

and as a requisite for this, he studied the classics in early life, in

order to attain a knowledge of what are called the learned languages:

taste led him to continue this study, in which he afterwards proved so

eminent; he wrote Latin and Greek accurately, and has often puzzled

learned Professors in their attempts to discover whence the passages

were derived, when he clothed his own original thoughts in classical

language. He was not ignorant of Hebrew; but in this, when compared with

Greek and Latin, his knowledge was superficial. In modern languages he

was deeply skilled; for he wrote French, Italian, German, and English,

with equal facility. On one occasion, when I saw him writing a letter in

French, I made the remark, "With what ease, Sir, you appear to write

that language!" he answered, "I always think in the language in which I

write, and it is a matter of indifference to me whether it be in

English, French, or Italian; I know each equally well; but if I wish to

express myself with power, it must be in German;"--in which he has left

several pieces of poetry. For the pleasure of reading Sepp's work on

insects, he gained, late in life, a competent knowledge of Dutch:

indeed, he had a peculiar facility of acquiring languages; for in this

particular his capacity was most extraordinary. He has told me, that,

with his knowledge of general grammar, and with his memory, six weeks of

arduous study was quite sufficient time to acquire any language with

which he was previously unacquainted. This capacity was evidently owing,

in a great degree, to his quickness of perception, and to his possessing

a most retentive memory; not of that kind, however, that easily commits

to it particular passages for _vivâ voce_ repetition, and are lost as

soon as the object for which they were gotten is passed by; on the

contrary, what he once attained was seldom or never forgotten. It was a

recollection of words as well as things: one or two examples of this

will suffice. His friend Bonnycastle also possessed great powers of

memory, and he, at Mr. Johnson's table, challenged Fuseli to compete

with him: this was immediately accepted. The best mode of trial was

submitted to Johnson, who proposed that each should endeavour to learn

by heart, in the shortest time, that part of the eleventh book of

Paradise Lost which describes a vision shewn to Adam by Michael. Fuseli

read this description of the cities of the earth, which is long, and,

from the words having little apparent connexion, difficult to be

remembered, only three times over, and he then repeated it without an

omission or error. Bonnycastle immediately acknowledged himself to be

vanquished. When "The Pursuits of Literature" were published, the public

were anxious to discover the author, and a friend said to Fuseli, "You

ought to know who it is, because he quotes you as authority for one or

two of his remarks," and mentioned the passages. Fuseli instantly

answered, "It must be Mathias; for I recollect that particular

conversation;" and stated the time, the place, and the occasion which

drew it forth, although many years had elapsed.

Fuseli's acquaintance with English poetry and literature was very

extensive; few men recollected more of the text, or understood better

the works of Chaucer, Spenser, Shakspeare, Milton, and Dryden. In

Shakspeare and Milton he was deeply read, and he had gained some

knowledge of the merits of the former in early life from the

translations into German of some of the plays of Shakspeare, by his

tutor Bodmer, who was well read in English poetry, and who subsequently

gave a translated "Paradise Lost." Notwithstanding the predilection

which Fuseli had for the ancients, particularly Homer, yet he considered

the three first acts of "Hamlet," and the second book of "Paradise

Lost," to be the highest flights of human genius. Indeed, he had a

decided preference for poetry and works of imagination. "England," he

once said, "has produced only three genuine poets, Shakspeare, Milton,

and Dryden." A friend asked, "What do you say of Pope?"--"Ay, ay," he

interrupted, "with Broome, Cawthorne, Yalden, Churchill, Dyer, Sprat,

and a long list of contemptibles. These are favourites, I know, and they

may be poets to you; but, by Heaven, they are none to me." Another

gentleman who was present, maintained the genius of Pope, and thought

the "Dunciad" his best production. Fuseli denied this, and added, "Pope

never shewed poetic genius but once, and that, in the 'Rape of the

Lock.'--A poet is an inventor; and what has Pope invented, except the

Sylphs? In the Dunciad, he flings dirt in your face every minute. Such a

performance may be as witty as you please, but can never be esteemed a

first-rate poem."--He then called his "Eloisa to Abelard," "hot ice."

For Gray, however, he had a high admiration; and when his opinion was

asked by one who imagined that he held him cheap, he said, "How! do you

think I condemn myself so much as not to admire Gray? Although he has

written but little, that little is done well."

When Addison was mentioned, he exclaimed, "Addison translated the fourth

Georgic of Virgil, except the story of Aristæus; you may thence know

what his taste was. How can you ask me about a man who could translate

that Georgic, and omit the most beautiful part?"

Of the more modern poets, Lord Byron was his favourite; and he always

read his writings as soon as they were published, with great avidity.

When pressed to read the works of those writers in verse who are admired

merely for the beauty of language and smoothness of versification, he

exclaimed, "I cannot find time, for I do not yet know every word in

Shakspeare and Milton."

He was well versed also in the works of foreign poets; but of these,

Dante was his favourite, for his imagery made the deepest impression on

his mind, and afforded many subjects for his daring pencil. "There was

but one instance," he said, "in which Dante betrayed a failure in moral

feeling. It is when Frate Alberigo, lying in misery in Antenora,

implores him to remove the ice from his face. Dante promises to do so,

on this condition--that the sinner shall first inform him who he is, and

for what crime he is punished. But after Alberigo has fulfilled the

conditions, the poet refuses to render him the service he had promised.

That is bad, you know; faith should be kept, even with a poor devil in

Antenora." After a pause, he burst out with Dante's description of the

Hypocrite's Punishment--

"O in eterno faticoso manto!"

"How well this is! I feel the weight, though I'm no hypocrite."

He did not accord with the feelings of Rousseau, in an epithet bestowed

on Metastasio, _"Le bouillant Metastasio!"_--"I do not know where he

discovered this fire; I am sure Metastasio never burnt my fingers, yet

he is sometimes beautiful." Fuseli continued, "_I tuoi strali terror de'

mortali_, _&c._ (the Coro in the Olimpiade.) These are grand lines."

His knowledge of history and its attendant chronology, was accurate and

extensive, and few men understood and remembered better the heathen

mythology, and ancient and modern geography.

He was not ignorant of natural history; but that branch which was

cultivated by him with the greatest ardour, was entomology, in which he

was deeply informed, particularly in the classes _lepidoptera_ and

_coleoptera_, but in the former he took the greatest delight; and in

acquiring a knowledge of the habits of insects, he was naturally led

into the consideration of their food; hence he was not unlearned in

botany. By skill and care, he sometimes reared in his house some of the

rarer English insects, among them, the _Sphinx atropos_, _Sphinx

uphorbiæ_, and others. His great love for entomology induced him

occasionally to introduce moths into his pictures, which he painted with

great care and fidelity, and when much taken with the subject, he made

them frequently incongruous. Thus, in a picture of Lycidas, from the

passage in Milton,

"Under the opening eye-lids of the morn,

What time the grey-fly winds his sultry horn,"

which is in the possession of James Carrick Moore, Esq., where the

shepherd and shepherdess, (exercising the licence of a painter, he has

introduced the latter,) are only ten inches in length, happening to find

in Mr. Johnson's garden at Fulham, a beautiful moth, he was so delighted

with the insect, that in spite of all propriety and his better

knowledge, he painted it the size of nature, hovering above the figures,

with expanded wings. This singular appearance in the picture attracted

the notice of the celebrated Dr. Jenner, who was skilled also in

entomology; and being invited to dinner to meet Fuseli, he consequently

enquired the subject. Mr. Moore informed him, that it was from Milton's

Lycidas, and from the line,

"What time the grey-fly winds his sultry horn."

"No, no," replied the Doctor, "this is no greyfly, but a moth, and winds

no horn; it is a mute." Fuseli, who heard this remark, knew well its

accuracy, and therefore said nothing; and the respect which he had

already entertained for Dr. Jenner, in consequence of his well-known

discovery, which has been so useful to mankind, was heightened, by

finding that he possessed also a knowledge of his favourite study; and

each was amused during the evening by the other's singularities.

It must be acknowledged that Fuseli was fully sensible of his various

acquirements, and never underrated his own powers; although apt to

undervalue those of others, particularly of some of his brother artists,

and also to speak of them slightingly, because they were unacquainted

with literature and even deficient in orthography: after talking with

them, he has said, "I feel humbled, as if I were one of them." Mrs.

Wollstonecraft was alive to this weakness in Fuseli's character, and on

one occasion emphatically exclaimed, "I hate to see that reptile Vanity

sliming over the noble qualities of your heart." This feeling with

regard to several of the artists,--for he esteemed the acquirements of

others,--was not given in reference to their powers as painters, for he

had a high opinion of the English school of art in some of its branches.

Of Sir Thomas Lawrence he has said to me, "The portraits of Lawrence are

as well if not better drawn, and his women in a finer taste, than the

best of Vandyck's; and he is so far above the competition of any

painter in this way in Europe, that he should put over his study, to

deter others, who practise this art, from entering,

'Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch' entrate.'"

Of Turner, he has observed, "he is the only landscape-painter of genius

in Europe." Wilkie, he considered "to have most of the qualities of the

best painters of the Dutch school, with much more of feeling and truth;"

and that "some of the fanciful pictures of Howard have poetic feeling

with fine colouring."

Fuseli seldom or never concealed his sentiment with regard to men, even

to their faces. Calling upon him one evening, I found Mr. Marchant and

Mr. Nollekens in his room: although I was well-known to these gentlemen,

he formally took me up to them, and said, "This, Mr. Knowles, is Mr.

Marchant, that, Mr. Nollekens, two of the cleverest artists in their

way, I believe, in Europe, but in every thing else, two old daddies."

Every one knows, who is acquainted with art, the powers which Northcote

displays when he paints animals of the brute creation. When his picture

of "Balaam and the Ass" was exhibited at the "Macklin Gallery,"

Northcote asked Fuseli's opinion of its merits, who instantly said, "My

friend, you are an Angel at an ass, but an ass at an Angel."

The conversational powers of Fuseli were extraordinarily great, and it

was his constant aim to shine in company. He was, however, very averse

to protracted discussions, and for a short period would sometimes take

the weaker side of the argument, in order to shew his powers; but if he

then found his antagonist too strong for him, he often resorted to some

witty retort, and dropped the conversation. In society he could not bear

a rival; and was dissatisfied if he were prevented from taking a part in

the conversation. Shortly after Mrs. Godwin's marriage, she invited him

to dinner to meet Horne Tooke, Curran, Grattan, and two or three other

men of that stamp; he had no objection to their political opinions, but

as they engrossed the whole conversation, and that chiefly on politics,

he suddenly retired from their company, and, joining Mrs. Godwin in the

drawing-room, petulantly said to her, "I wonder you invited me to meet

such wretched company."

His sentiments in society were delivered with an extraordinary rapidity;

his language was nervous, and his words well chosen. He possessed much

wit, sometimes of the playful but more frequently of the caustic kind;

and his ideas were often uncommon, and generally amusing, which being

poured forth with an enunciation and energy peculiar to himself, very

much increased their effect. Fuseli was quite aware that he expressed

himself sometimes too acrimoniously, and, after due consideration, he

frequently regretted it. In a letter to his friend Roscoe, he thus

expresses himself:--

"It was not necessary that I should be informed by our mutual

friend, that your affection for me continues unabated, although,

perhaps, you were a little startled by the _ferocity_ of my

conversation during your last visit in town. Affection built on the

base which I flatter myself ours is founded on, cannot be brushed

away by the roughness or petulance of a few unguarded words."

Again, to Mr. Ottley, he writes:--

"MY DEAR OTTLEY,

"My wife tells me I behaved ill to you last night, and insists upon

my making an apology for it: as I suspect she may be right, accept

my thanks for your forbearance and good-humour, and grant me the

benefit of Hamlet's excuse for his rashness to Laertes.

"Let us see you as soon as possible again. Respects to Mrs. Ottley.

"Ever yours,

"Henry Fuseli."

"Tuesday, July 27th, 1813."

Some anecdotes, in addition to those already given, will illustrate

better the nature and force of his conversational talents, than any

farther description. Discoursing one day with a gentleman at Mr.

Johnson's table upon the powers and merit of Phocion; a stranger, who

had apparently listened with attention to the conversation, interrupted

him by putting this question, "Pray, Sir, who was Mr. Phocion?" Fuseli

immediately answered, "From your dialect, Sir, I presume you are from

Yorkshire; and if so, I wonder you do not recollect Mr. Phocion's name,

as he was Member for your County in the Long Parliament;" and he then

resumed the discourse. Bonnycastle and another mathematician were

conversing upon the infinite extension of space, a subject in which

Fuseli could take no part, so as to shew his powers: he instantly cut it

short, by asking, "Pray, Gentlemen, can either of you tell me how much

broad cloth it will take to make Orion a pair of breeches?" Calling one

morning upon Mr. Johnson, he found him engaged in bargaining with an

author for the copyright of a book; after a time, the gentleman took

leave; when he was gone, Mr. Johnson said, "That is Mr. Kett, and his

work is to be called the 'Elements of Useful Knowledge.'" "In how many

volumes?" said Fuseli. "In two octavos," was the answer. "No, no,

Johnson," said he, "you cannot be serious; the Ocean is not to be

emptied with a tea-spoon." Meeting with a gentleman in society, who

piqued himself upon his knowledge of poetry, and boasted of being

thoroughly versed in Shakspeare, he exclaimed, in a sonorous tone,

"O, for a Muse of fire, that would ascend

The brightest Heaven of invention!"