In "The Plague of the Philistines," he has again laid too great a stress on objects of aversion;--instead of the effects of infection, he has personified the effluvia of putrefaction; he has indeed discriminated his story from all others of the same species, by the introduction of the mice, the temple of Dagon, the arch, and the fall and fragments of the Idol: and the variegated bustle of the colours is covered by that frowning tone, which ought to preside where "Jove hangs his planetary plague into the murky air."

In "The Death of Saphira" it is unnecessary to treat here what has been observed in another place,[53] that it is neither told with perspicuity nor adequate dignity. We shall only observe, that if the drawing and drapery of his figures be in his best style, the colour is in his worst. It presents to the eye neither light nor shade, and might furnish a definition of tints that never ought to approach each other. That austerity of unbroken colour which has been considered as a characteristic of the Roman school to which Poussin properly belonged, and of which the best specimen is given in the Transfiguration, admits of an euphony unattainable by the dim crudity adopted by Poussin in this picture.

For all the aforegoing defects, the last picture to be noticed, "The Winter, or Deluge," makes up twenty degrees, which, in every requisite of real painting, places Poussin in the first rank of art. It is easier to feel than to describe its powers; it is, compared with the former, the most palpable part of the astonishing difference of effect between the works of the same man when inspired by sentiment or suggested by cold reasoning. What we see before us is the element itself, and not its image; its reign is established, and by calm degrees ingulphs the whole; it "mocks the food it feeds on." Its lucid haze has shorn the sun of his beams; Hope is shut out, and Nature expires.

A. VANDYCK.--LA MeRE DE PITIe.--ST. MARTIN, &c.

"The Mother of Pity" appears to me the most impressive of Vandyck's pictures in point of expression. The face of the mother, though not ideal, has elegance, and grief tempered by dignity. The Christ, extended from her lap, has less of att.i.tude than his other Christs, and a truer colour. The bodies of the dead Christs of Vandyck, in general, appear rather transparent, silver leaf over some dark substance, and sometimes, especially in the legs, resemble some stained marble more than a body: but here we see real substance, a frame of flesh forsaken by circulation: it seems an imitation of the Christ of Caravagio, but handled with greater delicacy. The whole would, in my opinion, have possessed greater pathos, and perhaps produced a stronger effect, had he sacrificed the Angel and St. John to the solitary group of the Mother and Son.

The composition of St. Martin resembles that of Albert Durer. The countenance of St. Martin is not that of a man who will readily part with his own comforts to alleviate the sufferings of others.

That of his companion has more mind, more dignity, and better forms. The paupers are excrescences of deformity; but in colouring, the picture unites every power of Vandyck and of Rubens, in a very high degree.

"Charles the First, &c." This picture may be considered in two different lights; as a picturesque composition, and as a representation of character. In the first, there cannot perhaps be conceived a more happy combination of the different materials, whose concurrence is required to const.i.tute a harmonious whole.

Nothing can surpa.s.s the comprehension which balances its ma.s.ses of light and shade, equally lucid and juicy, deep and aerial, various and united; its colour at once soothes and invigorates our eye; but when we recover from the enamoured trance of technic enjoyment, we look for the character and the sentiment embodied by such art; we find, instead of Charles, a cold, flimsy, shuffling figure, with pretension to importance, but without dignity,--a man absorbed by his garment.

"La Kermesse, ou fete de Village--Kermis, or Village Gambols."--Rubens.

This is rustic mirth personified. Rapidity of conception and equality of execution equally surprise in this composition; variety and unity separate and combine its numerous groups; the canva.s.s reels; the satiated eye might perhaps wish for a little more subordination, for a ma.s.s more eminently distinguished by white or black, to give a zest to the clogging sweetness of the general form. But Rubens worked under influence, and his pencil roamed through the whole without predilection: he was not here a painter; he was the instrument of untameable mirth. There is a group in this picture which seems to have been suggested by the struggling group of two soldiers in the cartoon of the hors.e.m.e.n, by Leonardo da Vinci. This may be judged a cold observation; but artists must judge coldly.

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

This wanton conceit is a singular phaenomenon on the Dutch horizon of art. We know no more of Zustris than what the catalogue chooses to inform us; but his work proves, that if he could conceive amorously, or what might be better styled, libidinously, he grew cold in the progress of execution. The face of Venus does not a.s.sist her action. The picture wants shade, and glow, and keeping; but there is an idea of elegance in the lines, and the flesh wants only shade to become Venetian.

t.i.tIAN--PORTRAIT OF t.i.tIAN AND HIS MISTRESS.

The full value of this picture cannot perhaps be appreciated better than when it is considered after the examination of a portrait by Rubens. The unaffected breadth, the modest, unambitious reflexes, an air of suffusion rather than penciling, a certain resignation even in the touch, shew us Nature, rather than its image. This charming female displays a mind superior to the cares of the toilet she is engaged with, sees beyond the mirror which her lover holds, and at which her lover, if it be her lover, a.s.sists. The great merit of t.i.tian, and perhaps his exclusive merit as to execution, is to be totally free from all pretence, from all affectation. His vehicle conveys the idea of the thing, and pa.s.ses un.o.bserved. To Tintoret, to Paolo--the thing in general served to convey the vehicle. The Miracle of St. Marc derives all its merit from that whirlpool of execution, which sweeps undistinguished all individual merit into one mighty ma.s.s. As a whole, of equal comprehension, energy, and suavity, it astonishes the common man of organs, and the artist who enters into the process of this amalgama, equally; but when the first charm is over, and we begin to examine the parts, we shall not find they were drawn forward, distanced, or excluded by propriety and character."

The intimacy which commenced in Paris, in the year 1801, between Fuseli and Mr. Robert Smirke, the celebrated architect, was kept up; and when he left England for Italy, the former gave him letters of introduction for Rome, which he found very useful. This kindness on the part of Fuseli, was acknowledged by Mr. R. Smirke in the following letter:

"Rome, March 20, 1803.

"DEAR SIR,

"I have, you see, a second time availed myself of your permission to write to you; but as it is now above two months since I sent my last letter, you will not find the intrusion, I hope, troublesome.

There is, I always feel, a sort of pleasure in communications of this kind with a distant friend, which is extremely agreeable; when writing, at the moment, I forget the distance of 1500 miles, and am talking with him. You desired I would endeavour to write to you in Italian; I must confess, however, that as yet I feel such a deficiency in my knowledge of that language as to make me afraid of venturing upon so bold a task; and as I have been so neglectful as not to attend regularly to instructions in it, I am afraid it will be yet some time before I can venture. In justification, nevertheless, I have to say that I never avoid the opportunity of being obliged to make use of it; and in the house I live, no language but Italian is spoken.

"It was a considerable time after my arrival in Rome that I succeeded in finding Signor Ven. Gambini, though doubtless only from want of more proper application. I found that his memory of you and your friendship with him had not failed in the slightest degree; he enquired with much kindness after you, and showed me immediately a book, in which he has preserved with care a sketch you made upon one of the leaves; the only memorial, he told me, that he had of your work. He has a bust of you, which he has placed in his princ.i.p.al room, between those of Clio and Melpomene; it gave me really much pleasure to see the remembrance of a friend, absent between twenty and thirty years, so warmly preserved. His reception of me was, as you may suppose, extremely kind and civil; but as I find him surrounded with books, probably in a busy employment, and that so different to mine, I have not seen much of him, nor cannot but be afraid always of being troublesome.

"It is now nearly two months since I arrived in Rome, having scarcely stopt on the road after leaving Pisa, whence my last letter to you was dated, except for two or three days at Sienna.

Florence pleased me very much, from the slight view I had of it. I was there but a day, as I purpose spending a month there, at least, on my return from the southern parts of the country. The Gallery, I suppose, must be much less interesting since the French have taken so much from it; but as it is, it struck me particularly. I was much pleased with the arrangement; for though it has nothing of the astonishing _coup d'il_ of the Louvre, I should think it was better calculated to shew the statues and pictures, and still more, to a.s.sist the artist who studies from them.

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

The numerous remains of excellent Roman art, both in sculpture and architecture; the magnificent appearance of many of the modern buildings; the splendour of the churches, and many collections of paintings, cannot fail to make it always a most interesting place even to those who at other times have felt but slightly the excellencies of art. It has, I imagine, suffered a good deal during the last eight years. What the French have taken, (though perhaps the finest works,) is not the only loss, for the distress and poverty attending the confusions of the country have caused the sale of the best pictures in many of the collections, and a sad neglect in general of their palaces. St. Peter's did not quite equal my expectations. I never antic.i.p.ated _much_ from the architecture; but it was in the general appearance to the eye that I was in some degree disappointed. The grandeur of the approach (the circular portico, fountains, and vestibule) is certainly most striking; but in the interior particularly, there appears to me a great want of proportion, and from the colossal boys and decorations crowding about it, the just scale much destroyed; neither do I think the richness of the finishings, or the strong glare of light admitted into the building, quite appropriate to the solemnity of its character. In the Vatican adjoining, I believe but little alteration has taken place since you were here, except in the rooms containing the statues. They are chiefly small, but have been fitted up with much elegance. The wonderful picture of Michael Angelo in the Capella Sistina is quite uninjured. Those in the ceiling will not, I am afraid, (as they ought,) resist for ever the injuries of weather. One small piece affected by damp on the outside has fallen. What a pity it is they did not observe the precaution made use of by the ancients, by which many of their fresco works remain as perfect as when first painted! A s.p.a.ce of two or three inches was left between the wall and tile on which the stucco was laid, so that it was completely defended from all exterior damps. I was disappointed in the Arabesque paintings of Raphael in the Galleries; of course not in the design, but in the present condition; they are so injured by being exposed to the open air, as to be much obliterated. His fresco paintings in the same palace are in good preservation. Of Michael Angelo and Raphael, though I had seen but very few of their works, and certainly among the least able to appreciate their merits till I came here; I had no idea of what painters they were, nor how they could so represent Nature in all its actions.

"I have seen most of the modern artists of Rome--they are chiefly young. They have many large, bold undertakings in hand; several subjects I have seen, twenty-five feet long, either for churches, or for the Earl of Bristol, an old n.o.bleman here of singular character, who gives sometimes much encouragement, and often beyond, I believe, even his power. The manner of painting is very like what I think I have observed among the French: much attention and minuteness in detail, while the great princ.i.p.al object of the story is perhaps failed in. There is not however, I think, so much extravagance in the representation of action, as I often observed in the modern French pictures. Among the best historical painters here are Camuccini, Landi, and Benvenuti. Of the sculptors, Canova, of course, holds by far the highest rank; many of his works are certainly very beautifully designed and executed. Next to him, one of the name of Maximilian is placed as the best. With respect to the modern architecture, both in its churches and palaces, I must confess myself somewhat surprised that the excellent models of ancient art constantly before them have not been more successfully studied. In general, I think the taste is of rather a heavy, disagreeable kind, but often a sort of magnificence in the whole effect which is imposing. I purpose now leaving Rome for a time, intending on my return to devote some time to more attentive and diligent study. My time hitherto has been employed, for a great part, in seeing all the different antiquities and buildings contained within the extensive walls of the city and in its suburbs. You may not perhaps have heard of my intention of spending two or three months in Greece, as it is within so short a time that I have determined upon it, and consequently since I communicated it to my family at home. I have been making many inquiries here, and find it a journey practicable, and as little subject to difficulties as one can expect; I think too that one may derive more advantage from a study of the ancient works there, which are less known, and which have perhaps been the models of the finest here, than from any in this country. When writing my last letter home, in which I mentioned my intention, I thought of going by way of Ancona, where I should embark in a vessel that went to any part of Greece; since then, I have somewhat changed my plan, purposing now to go by way of Naples and Otranto, and there embarking for Corfu. It may still be nearly a fortnight before I set out, as some preparation is necessary. Greece, it appears, does not afford the little conveniences found in this country for travellers. I am very well provided with letters there from the kindness of some English I have met with here. There is one family from whom I have received much kindness, (the Earl of Mount Cash.e.l.l's,) with whom I believe you are acquainted, as I have often heard you spoken of in it.

"My paper leaves me no more room than to say, if you should ever have leisure to write me a few lines, they will be received with the greatest pleasure; and wishing you the best health,

"Believe me, your very sincere friend,

"Robert Smirke."

"Henry Fuseli, Esq. R.A."

"My direction will be at Mr. f.a.gan's, Piazza Colonna, Rome."

In the year 1803, Fuseli left Queen-Anne-Street, and took the lease of a commodious house, No. 13, Berners' Street, which had been built by Sir William Chambers for his own residence; here he remained until December 1804, when he was elected Keeper of the Royal Academy, Mr. Rigaud being then his compet.i.tor. The salary and commodious apartments allotted to this office placed him in such circ.u.mstances as to render him, in a degree, independent of fortuitous commissions. Although now in his sixty-fourth year, he retained great mental and bodily activity, and from his taste and extensive knowledge in the higher branches of the fine arts, a more judicious choice could not have been made by the Members of the Royal Academy; this opinion was expressed by his late Majesty, George the Third, when the President, Mr. West, laid before him the resolution of the Academicians for his approval.

The following anecdote connected with his election has been told, but not correctly. When Fuseli tendered himself for the office of Keeper of the Royal Academy, Northcote and Opie voted against him; but being conscience-stricken, not only on account of his abilities, but from having received favours at his hands, they considered it right to call upon him the day after the election to explain their motives. After having heard them, and in their explanation they in some degree blamed each other; he answered, in his usual sarcastic manner, "I am sorry you have taken this trouble, because I shall lose my character in the neighbourhood. When you entered my house, the one must have been taken for a little Jew creditor, the other for a b.u.m-bailiff; so, good morning."

This year (1804) Fuseli visited Liverpool for the last time, and pa.s.sed a great deal of his time while there with Mr. Roscoe: on his return to London, he wrote the following letter to Mr. Joseph Johnson, the nephew of his much respected friend of that name:--

"London, June 21, 1804.

"DEAR SIR,

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

Though my circ.u.mstances did not permit me to spend as many hours as I could have wished under your hospitable roof, every moment I pa.s.sed with you and Mrs. Johnson, added some new obligation to those which you had already heaped on me and mine, and it will be one of my warmest wishes to be able to shew, at some time or other, that my grat.i.tude lies deeper than my lips.

"I have spent a day or two at Purser's Cross, which is the name of your Uncle's place; though in the neighbourhood of London, it is a sweet retired and healthful spot, and if he could be persuaded to spend more of his time at it, must be eminently conducive to his health. I hope Mrs. Johnson has not forgot her promise, to come and reside and nurse him there, as soon as it is in her power.

"Please to present my best compliments to all the friends I saw at your house, or in your company.

"I am, dear sir,

"Your obedient friend and servant,

"Henry Fuseli."

"Joseph Johnson, Esq."

CHAPTER X.

The Biographer's Introduction to Fuseli.--New Edition of Pilkington's Dictionary of Painters, superintended by Fuseli.--Establishment of the British Inst.i.tution, and Fuseli's limited Contributions to the Exhibition there.--Subject from Dante.--Fuseli's Remarks on Blake's Designs.--His Lectures on Painting renewed.--Tribute of esteem from the Students of the Academy.--Letter.--Death of Mr. Johnson, and Fuseli's sympathy on the occasion.--Fuseli re-elected to the Professorship of Painting at the Royal Academy.

In June 1825, Mr. Bonnycastle, late Professor of Mathematics to the Royal Military College at Woolwich, who had then been the intimate friend of Fuseli for twenty-five years, introduced me to him, having observed previously to this introduction, that I should find him a man of the most extensive knowledge, quickness of perception, ready wit, and acuteness of remark, that I had ever met with. This introduction was soon followed by daily intercourse between Fuseli and myself, which ripened into the sincerest friendship, and was the cause of my pa.s.sing with him many of the happiest hours of my life.

In the year 1805, some of the booksellers wishing to publish an improved edition of Pilkington's Dictionary of Painters, applied to Fuseli, through Mr. Johnson, to be the editor. In consequence of the solicitation of this friend, he accepted the task, but with reluctance, as he had a mean opinion of the work, and constantly designated its author a driveller. To the original he added a great number of names, and either re-wrote the lives, or inserted in notes the characters of most of the princ.i.p.al painters of the several schools.