CHAPTER XIV.

"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 Metastasionever 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 classeslepidopteraandcoleoptera, 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, theSphinx 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 usefulto 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 painterin 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, "Myfriend, 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 playfulbut 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 theferocityof 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,

"Mywife 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 morningupon 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 ascendThe brightest Heaven of invention!"

"Pray, Sir, do you happen to recollect where these lines are to be found?" He took some time to consider, and then answered, "Somewhere in Pope."—"I find you are well read in the Poets," said Fuseli.—Discoursing with a lady upon sculpture, who, however, was too well read in the classics to be a subject of his mischievous pleasantry, he pretended to inform her of a fine bas-relief which had been received by the Royal Academy from Rome. "What is the subject?" she asked.—"Hector and Andromache,"said he, "dashing out against a wall, the little Astyanax's brains." "Poh! why do you tell me such stuff?" said she. "Ay!youmay laugh," replied Fuseli, "but it would go down with many a one. I have often said such things in company without detection; only try it yourself at the next lord's house you may visit, and see how many fine ladies and dandies will detect you."

His powers in conversation were usually greater than those displayed in his writings, for in the latter he was always hesitating, and generally aiming at terseness, to convey his meaning in the fewest possible words; hence he was sometimes ambiguous, and often obscure. I ventured once to hint this to him, and he answered, "I endeavour to put as much information into a page, as some authors scatter through a chapter; and you know, 'that words are the daughters of earth, and things, the sons of heaven;' and by this sentiment I am guided."

Little can now be gathered, after such a lapse of years, of his oratorical powers in the pulpit. But his friend Lavater says, "Nature designed him for a great orator:" we must then bow to the authority of a man of his eminence, who had frequently heard Fuseli preach. He, however,delivered the powerful language in which his lectures are written in a strong voice, with proper emphasis, and with precision. Their effect, however, was in some degree lost to those who were not accustomed to his German pronunciation.

His want of taste for mathematics and the pure physical sciences, and consequent ignorance of them, has been noticed, and this led him into some incongruities in his paintings. In a picture of Lycidas, which he was executing for Mr. Carrick Moore, he introduced the sun just rising above the horizon, with a full moon, not in opposition to the sun, but upon the same side. Mr. Moore attempted to convince Fuseli that the moon never appeared full but when she was diametrically opposite to the sun: but failing in this, he advised him to consult his friend Bonnycastle, the Astronomer, upon the point. Some time after, Mr. Moore saw the picture again, and found that the full moon was changed to a crescent.—"Ho! ho!" said he, "so, Bonnycastle has convinced you of your error?" "No such thing," answered Fuseli. "He did not say the full moon was wrong; but, as she appears inclined to her quadrature, that it was as well to paint her so; and I have done it."

Fuseli's inherent shyness of disposition.—His opinions of various noted individuals, viz. Dr. Johnson, Sterne, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Gibbon, Horne Tooke, and Thomas Paine.—His cultivation of English notions and habits.—His attachment to civil and religious liberty.—His intimacy with theatrical matters.—His adventure at a Masquerade.—His powers as a Critic, both in Literature and Art, with various illustrative examples.—His impressions of Religion.—One of his Letters on Literature.

Theprofessional excellence, ready wit, great learning and acquirements in the classics and general literature, which Fuseli possessed, made his society coveted; and he might have associated with men of the highest rank and greatest talents of his time. But from childhood, he was of a very shy disposition, and not apt to make new acquaintances. When a boy, if a stranger happened to visit at his father's house, he would run away and hide himself; and with a similar feeling, throughlife, he contented himself with the association and attentions of old and tried friends, without attempting to make new acquaintances; and has often refused a pleasant dinner-party to meet some known friends, if he understood that one or two strangers were invited to be of the party. This shyness gave to many the notion that he was a man of morose disposition, of severity of conduct, and of uncouth manners. But they who enjoyed his friendship, witnessed his domestic habits and happiness, and thus had opportunities of forming an accurate opinion of the good qualities of his heart and mind, know well the erroneousness of these opinions.

Fuseli would often be very amusing by giving anecdotes, and sometimes his opinion, of the merits of several of the literary characters whom he had met in company, or with whom he had associated. A few of his remarks, in addition to those already given, recur to memory. Of Dr. Johnson, whom he sometimes saw at Sir Joshua Reynolds' table, he said, "Johnson had to a physiognomist a good face, but he was singular in all his movements; he was not so uncouth in appearance and manners as has been represented by some; he sat at table in a large bushy wig and brown coat, and behaved decently enough.On one occasion, the conversation turned upon ghosts and witches, in the existence of which he believed, and his only argument was, "that great and good men in all times had believed in them." My fingers itched to be at him, but I knew, if I got the better of the argument, that his celebrity was so great, it would not be credited.—"You know," he continued, "that I hate superstition. When I was in Switzerland, speaking with Lavater upon the appearance of the spirit after death, it was agreed between us, that if it were allowed by the Deity to visit earth, the first who died should appear to the other; my friend was the most scrupulous man in existence, with regard to his word; he is dead, and I have not seen him."—Of Sterne he said, that "he was a good man, knew what was right, and had excellent qualities, but was weak in practice. When I was invited to meet him at Johnson's, I expected to hear from the author of 'The Sentimental Journey,' (which I esteem the most original of books,) either wit, or pathos, or both; when I saw him, he was certainly nearly worn out, and I was miserably disappointed, as nothing then seemed to please him but talking obscenely."—The description which he gave of Sir Joshua Reynolds was, "thathe had an insignificant face, but he possessed quickness of apprehension; he was no scholar, and a bad speaker. In his art, he took infinite pains at first to finish his work; but afterwards, when he had acquired a greater readiness of hand, he dashed on with his brush. "There is a degree of arrogance," said he, "in Sir Joshua's portraits, for all his boys are men, his girls women. Sir Joshua, unassisted with a sitter, had no idea of a face; he copied nature, and yet there is a perfect degree of originality in his paintings; he had the affectation to deny genius." Of Gibbon he remarked, "that he had a good forehead, but a measured way of studying whatever he said." Of Horne Tooke,—"Tooke is undoubtedly a man of talents; but he is the greatest chatterer I ever sat down with; one cannot, in his company, put in a word edgewise; he, however, wishes to be thought a good German scholar, but in this he is very superficial." He sometimes met Thomas Paine in society, and has remarked to me, "that he was far from being energetic in company; to appreciate his powers, you must read his works, and form your opinion from them, and not from his conversation. Paine knew less of the common concerns of life than I do, who know little; for when he has had occasion to remove from lodgings, he hardly knewhow to procure or make an agreement for others, and our friend Johnson[64]latterly managed these concerns for him. When the popular cry was much against Paine, it was thought prudent by his friends, that he should remove from his apartments; and others were taken for him by Johnson, about four miles distant from those which he inhabited. They went there in a hackney-coach, for such a vehicle could contain them, with all the moveables which Paine possessed. On their arrival at the new abode, Paine discovered that half a bottle of brandy was left behind; now brandy being an important thing to Paine, he urged Johnson to drive back to fetch it. 'No, Mr. Paine,' said he, 'it would not be right to spend eight shillings in coach-hire, to regain one shilling's-worth of brandy.' Paine was an excellent mechanic; when Sharpe was about toengrave my picture of 'The Contest of Satan, Sin, and Death,' he employed a carpenter to construct a roller to raise or fall it at pleasure; in this, after several ineffectual attempts, he did not succeed to the expectations of Sharpe, who mentioned the circumstance in the hearing of Paine; he instantly offered his services, and set to work upon it, and soon accomplished all, and indeed more than the engraver had anticipated."

In his notions and habits, Fuseli was completely an Englishman; and although, when he spoke, no one could take him for such, yet he disliked to be thought a foreigner; and he has sometimes said to me, "When I speak in any of the established languages of Europe, I am every where considered a foreigner, even when I discourse in German, our language at Zurich being aPatois; but I can assure you that this is nervous, and not without its beauties." No man was a greater stickler for civil and religious liberty than Fuseli, and no man had a deeper horror of the slave trade, or a greater dislike to impressing seamen. Paying a visit to his friend Roscoe, at Liverpool, in the year 1804, this gentleman pointed out to him all the improvements which had been made in the town since he was there last, which was withina few years. He observed, "I do not wonder that you look upon these with some degree of self-complacency; for they may be considered as the work of your hands, and as such I view them with interest; but methinks I every where smell the blood of slaves."[65]

Fuseli esteemed the English character more highly than that of any other country, and was much pleased with their amusements. The theatre was a constant source of gratification, and his criticisms on plays and players were usually severe, but generally acute and just. Meeting Macklin at Johnson's table, he shewed such deep knowledge in the art in which that celebrated man was so successful, not only as a writer, but as an actor, that when Fuseli took his leave, Macklin exclaimed, "I could sit all night to discourse with that learned Theban." Of Miss O'Neill he always spoke favourably, and consideredthat her merits as an actress, however highly they were esteemed, had been undervalued rather than overrated. Of Mr. Betty, in 1822, he said, "If his face, on the whole, do not sanction a prophecy of unrivalled excellence, it does not exclude him from attaining eminence. Mrs. Pritchard was the allowed Lady Macbeth of her day, without one tragic feature, or one elegant limb. It is indeed a little provoking, that he who in Dublin inthralled the general female eye, when his golden locks inundated his neck,—he whose kerchief theladiesat Bath of late cut out into a thousand amulets of love, should be less than the theatric sun of London;—but still

'Principibus placuisseFeminisNon ultima laus est.'—

If I have murdered Horace's verse, I have improved the sense. As to former actors, the pupils of Betterton and Booth would probably have turned up their noses at Barry and Garrick—'But to praise the past,' has always been a characteristic of age." He was an admirer of Kean in some characters which he played, particularly in his Shylock. But he considered that this actor took too wide a range. In writing to a friend, he says, "Ihave seen Kean and Mrs. West in Orestes and Hermione, and desire to seethemno more. What could excite the public rapture at his first appearance in this part, I am at a loss to guess: if his figure is not absolutely irreconcileable with the character, his action and expression are balanced between the declamation of Talma, the ravings of a bedlamite, and sometimes the barking of a dog. Mrs. West is something of a slender Grecian figure, tall, not ungraceful, and a face something like Mrs. Madyn's: she was well dressed, and has a good voice, but no rule of it, and tore her part to tatters in one uninterrupted fit of raving." In the Italian opera, and in operas in general, he did not take much delight; for in music his ear was certainly imperfect; but notwithstanding this, some few simple airs affected him strongly. In speaking of music, he said, "All your complicated harmonies of Haydn and Beethoven are fine, I know; because they are esteemed to be so by the best judges; but I am ignorant, and they say nothing to me. They give to me no more pleasure than a fine anatomical foreshortened drawing by Michael Angelo would to an unpractised eye. But the song, 'How imperfect is expression,' is the key to my heart. How could a Frenchman writeit? Lady Guilford once sang it to me so exquisitely, that I only wished to hear it over and over again, and to die when it ceased." He always held an opinion, that the English and French, as nations, possessed no genius or taste for music, and that their apparent attachment to this science was assumed, and not natural. Of masquerades, he considered that Englishmen neither possess the animal spirits nor quickness of repartee requisite for this amusement, but are apt to drop the fictitious character they assume, and take up their real one. He instanced this by the following anecdote:—"At the request of young Lavater, when he was in England, I went to a masquerade at the Opera House: we were accompanied by my wife, Mrs. Wollstonecraft, and some others, and were endeavouring to be amused by the masks, when a devil came howling about us, and tormented some of the party to such a degree, that I exclaimed in a loud voice, 'Go to hell!' but the dull devil, instead of answering in character, 'Then I will drag you down with me,' or making some bitter retort, put himself into a real passion, and began to abuse me roundly. So I, to avoid him, retired from the place, and left the others of the party to battle it out."

As a critic, Fuseli's powers can be best estimated by his writings. In art—his "Lectures," "Notes to Pilkington's Dictionary," his "Aphorisms," and "The Fragment of a History of Art," may be instanced. In the classics—but more particularly in Greek,—by the written opinions of Cowper, and the oral testimony given in society, by Porson, Parr, Burney, Symmons, and others. In consequence of his extensive knowledge in the dead languages, the situation of "Professor of Ancient Literature" to the Royal Academy became nearly a sinecure, as he afforded information upon all classical subjects, and furnished the mottoes for the annual catalogues of the exhibition, which were usually in Greek, but sometimes in Latin. He, however, kept up the most friendly intercourse with the Professor of the time, and frequently corresponded with him, particularly so with Dr. Charles Burney, upon disputed points or doubtful passages. I am favoured by Dr. Charles Parr Burney with the following letter, which Fuseli wrote to his father:—

"Somerset House, July 7, 1805.

"my dear sir,

"Youhave so often answered my questions, whether pertinent or idle, that I hope you will do the same now.

"At what period of Greek literature did the wordῬεεθρον, 'fluentum,' change its gender, and from a neuter become a masculine? In Homer, I believe, it is uniformly neuter,καλα, ἐρατεινα ῥεεθρα: what then do you say to the following metamorphosis?

Παρ κελαδοντα ῥεεθρονὁ μελαγχλαινος ανηρ, &c.?

page 250, of an Analytical Inquiry into the Principles of Taste, byRichard Payne, Knight; which is so much the more puzzling, as in a preceding page, 144, he seems to allow, or to know that it is neuter, by talking ofἀγραφικον Ῥεεθρον? I am afraid theῬεεθραof the Scamander were not the only ones to boil an eel in.

"I am, with great sincerity,"My dear Sir,"Devoutly yours,"Henry Fuseli."

Fuseli corrected many editions of Clarke's Homer, for the use of students, as they passed through the press, and gave some notes in Latin, to which the initial letter F. is affixed. An instance may be offered, not only of his knowledge of this language, but of his power in recalling words to his recollection.In a Greek Lexicon which he had, several leaves were wanting, and as an exercise to his memory, he endeavoured to supply these in his own hand-writing, without reference to another work.

In general literature, his critical knowledge may be estimated by the numerous articles which he wrote for the Analytical Review, which are easily to be distinguished by the peculiarity of their style; and they generally have the initials Z. Z. affixed; but if it be necessary to point out any in particular, for the guidance of the reader, the reviews which have been inserted, page 81, of Cowper's Homer, and Roscoe's Lorenzo de' Medici, may be instanced. He was not less powerful invivá vocecriticisms than in his written ones; one or two instances of this, with regard to works of art, will suffice. In Northcote's picture of Hubert and Arthur, painted for the Shakspeare Gallery, Hubert is represented with one hand on his brow, undetermined, and apparently melted with the touching supplications of Arthur, who, kneeling at his feet, is shewn clasping his knees.

Fuseli on seeing this picture, said, "He has taken the wrong moment, for whoever looks at that hesitating Hubert must see that the boy is safe, the danger past, and the interest gone.He should have chosen the moment when Hubert stamps with his foot, and cries, 'Come forth; do as I bid you;' and two ruffians should have appeared rushing in with red-hot irons; then the scene would have been such as it ought to be,—terrible." Condemning in general terms a large historical picture, which a person at table had admired; he was asked for some specific fault: "Why," said he, "the fellow has crammed into his canvass fifteen figures, besides a horse, and, by G—d! he has given only three legs among them." "Why, where has he hidden the others?" was asked. "How should I know?" he answered, "I did not paint the picture; but I wonder how any one can talk of a painter and praise him, who has given fifteen men and a horse only three legs."

Shortly after the first exhibition of the works of Sir Joshua Reynolds, at the British Institution, he wrote the following criticisms,[66]among others, upon his pictures of Ugolino, of Dido, and the Infant Hercules, which mayprobably be perused with interest, as they have not appeared in print.

"Δαιμόνι' οὔτ' ἄρ τι μεγαλίζομαι οὐδ' ἀθεριζωΟὐδὲ λίην ἄγαμαι μάλα δ' ἐῦ οἰδ' οἷος ἔησθα."[67]Od. p. [23.] 174.

"From whatever cause this face became that of Ugolino,—whether its original were that of a noble or a pauper, it is a standard of grief;—but, more habitual than sudden, the grief of one whom "sharp misery had long worn to the bones,"—not of him whom fortune's quick reverse dashed headlong on to despair. The manner in which he is grouped with his infant son, as it increases the contrast, adds to our sympathy,—which is however obtained not only at the expense of the story, but of nature. The whole family were shut up together in the cage; and when the vigorous partners of the father in arms writhe in the agonies of hunger, or, unable to support themselves, droop in languor, is it natural to see a blooming stripling, unaffected by either, at his ease console the petrified father?"

"This is one of the few historic compositions any where, and perhaps a solitary one in this collection, of which the principal figure is the best and occupies the most conspicuous place. Riveted to supreme beauty in the jaws of death, we pay little attention to the subordinate parts, and scorn, when recovered from sympathy and anguish, to expatiate in cold criticisms on their unfitness or impotence. He who could conceive this Dido, could not be at a loss for a better Anna, had he had a wish, or given himself time to consult his own heart, rather than to adopt a precedent of clamorous grief from Daniel di Volterra. That Iris was admitted at all, without adequate room to display her, as the arbitress of the moment, may be regretted; for if she could not be contrived to add sublimity to pathos, she could be no more than what she actually became, a tool of mean conception.

"The writer of these observations has seen the progress of this work,—if not daily, weekly,—and knows the throes which it cost its author before it emerged into the beauty, assumed the shape, or was divided into the powerful masses ofchiar' oscurowhich strike us now; of colourit never had, nor wants, more than what it possesses now,—a negative share.

——'Non rem ColoriSed colorem Rei submittere ausus.'

"The painter has proved the success of a great principle, less understood than pertinaciously opposed."

"No eminent work of art that we are acquainted with ever proved with more irresistible evidence, the truth of Hesiod's axiom, that "the half excels the whole," than the infant Demigod before us; whose tremendous superiority of conception and style not only scorns all alliance with the motley mob of whom the painter condemned him to make a part, but cannot, with any degree of justice, be degraded into a comparison with any figure which has reached us, of an Infant Hercules on ancient or modern monuments of art. Whatever homage conjecture may pay to the powers of Xeuxis, whose "Jupiter Enthroned," and "Infant Hercules," tradition joins as works of equal magnificence, it will be difficult for fancy to seek an image of loftier or more appropriate conception than that of the heroic child before us, whose magnitude of form, irresistibility of grasp, indignantdisdain, and sportive ease of action, equally retain his divine origin, and disclose the germ of the future power destined to clear society and rid the earth of monsters.

"This infant, like the infants of Michael Angelo, and of what we possess of the ancients, teems with the man, but without that sacrifice of puerility observable in them. Modern art has allotted the province of children to Fiammingo; it seems to belong, with a less disputable title, to Reynolds, who inspired the pulpy cheeks and milky limbs of the Fleming with the manners, (ἬΘΗ) habits, and the mind of infancy, when first emerging form, instinct to will, sprouts to puerility, displays the dawn of character, and the varied symptoms of imitation; but above all, that unpremeditated grace, the innate gift and privilege of childhood, in countenance, attitude, and action."

Notwithstanding his great acquirements in the classics, acuteness of mind, and knowledge of some of the branches of natural philosophy, Fuseli neither solicited nor was offered any literary or other honours (except those of the Royal Academy) in this country. Expressing one day my surprise at this, he answered, "What are such things worth? for I have known men on whom the honorary degree ofDoctor of Laws has been conferred by the University of Oxford, which prides itself for classical knowledge, who cannot read correctly a line in the classics; and you know those who are Fellows of the Royal Society, who do not possess a philosophical knowledge even of the material on which they work."

Fuseli was seldom induced to speak on religion; but, as he attached himself to no particular form or sect, which is frequently the case with foreigners, it would be difficult to give a precise idea of his tenets. In religion, however, as well as on all other concerns, he thought for himself, unshackled by those restraints which forms, ceremonies, or opinions, often impose on the mind. No man that I have ever conversed with had a higher or more sublime notion of the attributes and benevolence of the Deity, and no one a better knowledge of the Bible. In this book he was deeply read, and recollected, when in conversation, not only those parts which, for historical facts, sublimity, pathos, or poetic beauty, are impressed on most minds, but also the minor circumstances, for he could from memory trace the several tribes, and tell you accurately the genealogy of any particular person. He seldom took up the Bible, which he frequently did, without shedding tears. One evening, when talking in a seriousmood to a young lady, he related to her, in his own peculiar and forcible manner, the story of "Joseph and his Brethren," and with the greatest pathos; and at that part where Joseph falls on Benjamin's neck and wept, he burst out, while tears trembled in his eyes, "How finely that is expressed, there are beautiful things in that book! It's an exquisite book!" He had a perfect reliance on a future state of existence. "If I had not hope in this," he said, "I should hang myself, for I have lived and still live for nothing. I am certain I shall exist hereafter, for I feel that I have had powers given to me by the Deity, which time has not allowed me to exert or even to develope. I am capable of doing ten times more than I have done."

This prevailing impression broke forth on many occasions. He had accompanied Sir Thomas Lawrence to see a collection of fine casts from the antique, which had recently been formed by Jens Wolff, Esq. then Consul to his Danish Majesty, and which were arranged in a gallery built for the purpose by Mr. Smirke, at Sherwood Lodge, Battersea.

In a niche, at the end of the gallery, was placed the colossal statue of the Farnese Hercules, and by a novel arrangement of the lamps (the rest of the gallery being in total darkness),a very powerful effect was given to the statue, which had been turned with its back to the spectator, and thus presented a vast mass of shadow, defined only by its grand outline and the strength of the light beyond it; the source of which was concealed by the pedestal. Its appearance being singularly striking, in the course of the evening, Mr. Fuseli was taken down to see it. Sir Thomas Lawrence attended him, and for a few moments was disappointed by the silence of his friend; but on a servant bringing a light into the entrance-room, he perceived Fuseli excited even to tears, as he exclaimed with deep tremulous energy, "No man shall persuade me, that these emotions which I now feel are not immortal."

In farther corroboration of his opinions on this point, I may give the following conversation which I heard. Fuseli was maintaining the immortality of the soul; a gentleman present said, "I could make you or any man of sense disbelieve this in half an hour's conversation." Fuseli immediately answered, "That I am sure you could not, and I will take care you shan't."

Being pressed one day by his friend, the Reverend John Hewlett; upon his belief in the resurrection of Christ, that gentleman informs me, he answered, "I believe in a resurrection;and the resurrection of Christ is as well authenticated as any other historical fact." Although he was averse to religious controversy, and seldom entered into it, yet, if his forbearance made others press the subject, he soon shewed that he was not ignorant of the respective merits of the polemics in the Christian Church, who have in all times broached and supported contrary opinions upon disputed points. He has more than once said to me, "There are now no real Christians, for the religion of Christ died with its great Author; for where do we witness in those who bear his name, the humility, self abasement, and charity of their master, which qualities he not only taught, but practised?"

A detection of parallel passages in authors, or of similar figures in the pictures of painters, was a favourite amusement of Fuseli's, and he would sometimes indulge in these to the gratification and instruction of the company by the hour together, for no man was more acute in discovering plagiarism. I have been indulged by the kindness of a lady of great literary attainments with the following letter, which will give some notion of his power in this respect, as far as literature is concerned.

"Norbury Park.

"Someone, who had a right to write what he liked, even nonsense;—Tiberius, I believe, began a letter to the Roman senate thus: 'Conscript Fathers, you expect a letter from me; but may all the gods and goddesses confound me, if I know on what to write, how to begin, how to go on, or what to leave out:' his perplexity arose certainly from a cause very different from that which occasions mine, though the result appears to be nearly the same. Had I brought my eyes and mind with me, I might perhaps offer some tolerable observations on the charms that surround me, to one who is all eye and all mind; but she who is really possessed by one great object, is blind to all others; and though Milton could never have been the poet of 'Paradise Lost,' had he been born blind, blindness was of service to him when he composed it.

"When I saw you last, you wished me to point out the passage in Tasso, which appeared to me copied from the Homeric description of the Cestus of Venus, in the Fourteenth Book of the Ilias; I have transcribed it from one which I found here in the library:—

"Teneri sdegni, e placide e tranquilleRepulse, cari vezzi, e liete paci,Sorrisi, parolette, e dolci stilleDi pianto, e sospir tronchi, e molli baci:Fuse tai cose tutte, e poscia unille,Ed al foco temprò di lente faci;E ne formò quel sì mirabil cinto,Di ch' ella aveva il bel fianco succincto.'

"These ingredients have been tried, they have been tasted, they are the fruits of a lover's paradise; yet, here they are nothing but an empty catalogue; and if they have a charm, it lies in the melting genius of the language: compare them with the following lines from the Vision of Arthur, in Spenser.

"Caresses sweet, and lovely blandishment,She to me made, and bade me love her dear,For dearly sure her love to me was bent,As when meet time approached, should appear;But whether dreams delude, or true it were,Was never heart so ravished with delight."When I awoke and found her place devoid,And nought but pressed grass, where she had lyen,I sorrowed as much as erst I joyed,And washed all the place with watery eyn;From that day forth I cast in careful mind,To seek her out——"Thus, as he spoke, his visage waxed pale.

"When I awoke and found her place devoid,And nought but pressed grass, where she had lyen,I sorrowed as much as erst I joyed,And washed all the place with watery eyn;From that day forth I cast in careful mind,To seek her out——

"Thus, as he spoke, his visage waxed pale.

Here is soul, action, passion.

"Adieu,"Henry Fuseli."

Character of Fuseli as an Artist.—His early style.—His ardent pursuit of excellence in design.—His neglect of mechanical means, particularly as regards Colours.—His professional independence, unmixed with obstinacy.—His preeminent faculty of invention, and success in the portraiture of the ideal.—His deficiencies as to correctness, and disinclination to laborious finish.—Causes of his limited popularity as a Painter.—His felicity in Likenesses.—His colour andchiar' oscuro.—His qualities as a Teacher of the Fine Arts.—His ardent love of Art.—Arrangements as to the disposal of his Works, &c.—List of his Subjects exhibited at the Royal Academy, from 1774 to 1825.

Itnow remains to speak of Fuseli as an artist, and on this subject it is not necessary to be very diffuse, having been favoured with the able article, to be found in the Appendix, from the pen of William Young Ottley, Esq., a gentleman who was for many years the intimate friend of Fuseli, whose talents as anamateurartist, whose knowledge, taste, and judgment in the Fine Arts are so eminently conspicuous, and whose claims to distinction are so well known to the public by his various works.

It has been shewn throughout this memoir, that the Fine Arts was the ruling passion of Fuseli, but that his father took more than ordinary pains to prevent his becoming an artist, and even checked his wishes to practise in the Fine Arts as an amusement; hence, the benefits which are considered to arise from that early education which artists usually receive, were altogether withheld from him. His style of drawing in early life was formed from those prints, which he could only consult by stealth, in his father's collection, and these were chiefly from the German school. From this circumstance, his early works have figures short in stature, with muscular, but clumsy limbs. But in the invention of the subject, even in his youth, he took the most striking moment, and impressed it with novelty and grandeur; hence some of his early productions tell the stories which they are intended to represent, with a wonderful felicity, and, in this respect, are little inferior to his later works; a circumstance which he himself was not backward to acknowledge. Fuseli always aimed to arrive at the highest point of excellence, particularly in design, and constantly avowed it. When young, he wrote in the Album of a friend, "I do not wish to build a cottage, but to erect a pyramid;" and tothis precept he adhered during life, scorning to be less than the greatest. Until he was twenty-five years of age, he had never used oil colours; and he was so inattentive to these materials, that during life he took no pains in their choice or manipulation. To set a palette, as artists usually do, was with him out of the question; he used many of his colours in a dry, powdered state, and rubbed them up with his pencil only, sometimes in oil alone, which he used largely, at others, with an addition of a little spirit of turpentine, and not unfrequently in gold size; regardless of the quantity of either, or their general smoothness when laid on, and depending, as it would appear to a spectator, more on accident for the effect which they were intended to produce, than on any nice distinction of tints in the admixture or application of the materials. It appears doubtful whether this deficiency in his early education, and his neglect also of mechanical means, will be detrimental to his fame as an artist, particularly in the minds of those who can penetrate beyond the surface; for if he had been subjected to the trammels of a school, his genius would have been fettered; and it is then probable that we should have lost those daring inventions, that boldness and grandeur of drawing, (incorrect, certainly, sometimes in anatomicalprecision,) so fitting to his subjects, and that mysticchiar' oscuro, which create our wonder and raise him to the first rank as an artist. He was always proud of having it believed that, in the Fine Arts in particular, in some of the languages, and in many branches of literature, he had arrived at celebrity and eminence, more by his own unassisted endeavours than from the instructions of others. And, in reference to this, he on one occasion exclaimed, in the words of Glendower, with a considerable degree of self-complacency—

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