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.
Onthe 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 infirmstate 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 ofOpie."
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 givenin 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 theMontpelierof 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 mostcommodious 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 Curiuspreparing 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 havenot 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. Thesubject, 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,
"Whenmy son Robert left us, about ten days since, I sent by him a slight outline of afrieze, 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 inchiar' 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 markmentioned by Vasari, I determined, a few months since, to examine it, and sending for two or three friends, we took it out, and on theedge 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 goodchymist, 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, isMr. 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 himall my interest with youfor 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 herea 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 Œdipus. 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:—
"κτύπησε μὲν ζεὺς χθόνιος, αἱ δὲ παρθένοιῥίγησαν ὡς ἤκουσαν· ἐς δε γουνάταπατρὸς πεσοῦσαι, κλαῖον."[57]
"κτύπησε μὲν ζεὺς χθόνιος, αἱ δὲ παρθένοιῥίγησαν ὡς ἤκουσαν· ἐς δε γουνάταπατρὸς πεσοῦσαι, κλαῖον."[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 Œdipus; 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 unpopularwith 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, Imustvote 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 ofhis 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 mademehappy, because you could not have written it, had you not been soyourself.
"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, onthe 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 onlyadmired 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."
"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 Xmo4to 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,
"Youhave 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 anhour 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 literaturein 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 ascan 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 ofbody 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,Soonshall I follow thee!
"Indeed, were it not for those I should leave behind, I would not careif 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,
"OldMr. 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 onTuesday, 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.
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.
Theintimates 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 tobe 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 writerof 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 wroteyou 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 thed—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 fora 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:—
ὙΠΕΡΙΔΩΝ Ἁ ΝΥΝ ἘΙΝΑΙ ΦΑΜΕΝ.
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 terrentOmnia te adversum spectantia, nulla retrorsum."
——[61]"Quia me vestigia terrentOmnia 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 ofnature 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 thismean? 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 byMrs. 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, acarte 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 usualfeelings 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 accountof 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 "recommendto 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 amatter of dutyto 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 thebuilding, 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 TOTHE 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.
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.
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.
Itmay 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 expressionof 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 hadbeen 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 languageshe 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 forvivâ vocerepetition, and are lost as soon as the object for which they were gotten is passed by; on the contrary, what he once attained wasseldom 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 bestproduction. 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—