After his recovery, it was evident that this severe illness had made an inroad on his const.i.tution; for, although it had no apparent effect upon his mental energies, yet it was apparent that his bodily exertions were enfeebled; for, when he was enabled to resume his accustomed exercise of walking, it was not performed with that long stride and firm step for which he had been before remarkable.

In the year 1824, Fuseli sat to Mr. Baily for a bust, which was executed in marble: he had always a high opinion of the talents of the sculptor, and on this occasion said to me, "I a.s.sure you, as an artist, that there is much more of truth, expression, and feeling, in Baily's work than in that of his compet.i.tors, however much they may enjoy the public favour." On this bust he had the following line chiselled:--

??????O? ? ??? ????? F????.

Sir Thomas Lawrence also entertained a high opinion of Mr. Baily's talents as a sculptor; and, in addition to the bust of Fuseli, had those of Flaxman, Smirke, and Stothard chiselled by him. These were placed among the exquisite specimens of ancient and modern art which adorned his dining-room.

In the early part of 1825, he sat for a half-length portrait to Sir Thomas Lawrence, which this great artist executed admirably. At this time the Earl of Eldon was also sitting for his likeness, and Fuseli, not recognizing the countenance, asked Sir Thomas who it was? who answered, "It is the Chancellor." Fuseli took a piece of chalk, and immediately wrote on the picture--

----[61]"Quia me vestigia terrent Omnia te adversum spectantia, nulla retrorsum."

When Lord Eldon saw this, he was much amused; and on being told that it was written by Fuseli, laughed heartily.

In the spring of 1824, I persuaded him not to lecture, which it was his intention then to do, being apprehensive that the exertion which he must employ would be too great for his diminished strength; in the early part of 1825, he however delivered his last course of lectures, with certainly less of energy of manner, but without much apparent fatigue: he had also prepared some pictures for the ensuing exhibition at the Royal Academy.

Notwithstanding these proofs of remaining powers, on Sunday, the 10th of April 1825, Fuseli, being then on a visit to the Countess of Guilford at Putney Hill, complained of indisposition, while walking in the pleasure-grounds. He was engaged on that day to dine in St. James's Place, with Mr. Samuel Rogers; and Lady Guilford had ordered her carriage to convey him thither; but as his illness continued, Mrs.

Fuseli prevailed upon him (with difficulty) to remain in the house, and he gave up the engagement. It was an affecting coincidence, that on the evening before, being out on the lawn with the Ladies North, and looking at the stars, which shone with great brightness, he said, (possibly from the consciousness of symptoms which he considered dangerous,) "I shall soon be amongst them." On the Monday, it was evident to all about him that he was much worse, and he expressed a strong desire to see me; being informed of his illness, I immediately went to Putney, and from his altered appearance had great fears of what would be the issue. The opinions of Sir Alexander Crichton and Dr. Holland, who arrived there shortly after, confirmed my apprehensions, for they said, when questioned by me, that "they could not give any specific name to the complaint; for it appeared to them, that all the functions of nature had given way, and, in their opinion, he could not last many days."

The attentions of the Countess of Guilford and her family to Fuseli were unremitting; every thing was done by them to promote his comfort, and even to antic.i.p.ate his wishes; the question constantly asked was, "Can nothing further be done to keep him a little longer with us?" but it was too apparent, notwithstanding these kindnesses, and the skill and attention of his physicians, that life was fast ebbing. I saw him every day, and I have reason to believe that, from the commencement of his illness, he did not expect to recover; for, on the Wednesday, he put his hand into mine, and said, "My friend, I am fast going to that bourne whence no traveller returns." But he neither expressed regret at his state, nor, during his illness, shewed any despondency or impatience. I left him at a late hour on the Friday (the evening before he died); he was then perfectly collected, and his mind apparently not at all impaired, but his articulation was feeble, and the last words which he addressed to his physicians, the death guggles being then in his throat, were in Latin: so perfect was his mind at this time, that he said to me, "What can this mean? when I attempt to speak, I croak like a toad."

On Sat.u.r.day 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, (Sat.u.r.day, the 16th of April, 1825,) at half-past ten o'clock, without much apparent pain, and in complete possession of his faculties; and that, in consequence, my presence, as an intimate friend and executor, being immediately required, both by Mrs. Fuseli and herself, at Putney, she had sent her carriage to enable me to come down without delay.

On my arrival at Putney Hill, I found the Countess of Guilford and the Ladies Susan and Georgina North in deep grief. Fuseli was highly esteemed by these ladies, and reciprocally felt towards them the warmest friendship. He entertained for Lady Susan great regard; but he had for Lady Georgina, that affection which a master usually feels towards an amiable, accomplished, and highly promising pupil. This young lady had devoted much time to the study of the Fine Arts, and, a.s.sisted by the occasional hints and instructions of Fuseli, has arrived at eminence in the highest branch, that of historical design. After some preliminary observations, Lady Guilford observed, that she considered it a duty to act upon this melancholy occasion as she was sure her father (Mr.

Coutts) would have acted were he alive; and she said, "As to arrangements, I give you, Mr. Knowles, a _carte blanche_; but observe, it is my wish, as Mr. Fuseli has died here, that his remains should be so placed as will not disgrace a public funeral; for I feel convinced that the Royal Academy will pay that tribute to his memory." Her Ladyship added, (with her usual feelings of generosity,) "but if they fail to do so, then I request you will order such a funeral as is due to the high merits of the deceased; and any additional expense which may be incurred by my wishes, I will gladly reimburse. Remember, my desire is, to have every respect shewn to his remains." A few hours after I had returned to London, Lady Guilford sent me in writing her instructions to the above effect; and said in her note, that "she was induced to do so, that her wishes and intentions might not be misunderstood."

Early on the Sunday morning, I called upon Sir Thomas Lawrence, not only as a friend of the deceased, but in his official capacity as President of the Royal Academy, to inform him of Fuseli's death, and to ask what he considered would be the notions of the Members of the Academy with respect to his funeral. Sir Thomas, who had been for many years the friend and companion of Fuseli, and an admirer of his talents, met this question with feeling and great candour, and remarked that, he knew of no precedent for any public honours being paid to the remains of a Keeper of the Royal Academy. I urged that there could not be a precedent to operate in this case, for, on account of the great talents of the deceased, the Royal Academy had rendered an existing law of theirs nugatory, by allowing him to hold the situation not only of Keeper, but also of Professor of Painting, a compliment which had fallen to the lot of no other man, nor was such an occurrence likely again to take place.

Sir Thomas acknowledged that he had strong claims to some distinguished attention being paid to his remains, and promised, under this view of the case, to convene a meeting of the Council immediately, to take the matter into consideration.

After this interview, I went to Putney Hill, for the purpose of removing the corpse to Somerset House; and in the evening, followed the remains of Fuseli there, where Mr. Balmanno, the other executor named in the will, was ready to receive the body. It was, at our desire, placed in a room, around the walls of which were arranged "The Lazar-house," "The Bridging of Chaos," and other sublime productions of his pencil, the subjects being chiefly from Milton.

The Council of the Royal Academy met, in conformity to the summons of their President, and came to the resolution,--to "recommend to the Academicians, at their general a.s.sembly about to be called for the purpose, that the President, the Secretary, and Council, should be desired to attend the funeral of Mr. Fuseli." The feeling, however, of many of the Academicians at this general meeting is said to have been, that this recommendation was not a sufficient honour to the memory of so distinguished an artist and professor; for "the remembrance of his gibes and his quillets," which had annoyed many while he lived, was now sunk in death. But as the Members did not wish to disturb the resolution of their Council, it was confirmed.

A curious coincidence took place at this meeting, with that convened in the year 1792 for the purpose of considering how the funeral of Sir Joshua Reynolds should be conducted. I allude to an objection of one member only, in each case, to the honours proposed. With respect to the funeral of Sir Joshua, an architect of considerable abilities and great celebrity, (Sir William Chambers) considered it a _matter of duty_ to object to the body lying in state, and a public funeral taking place from Somerset House, without the sanction of the King; for, said he, "My instructions, as surveyor of the building, are, that the Academy cannot let or lend any part thereof, for any other purpose than that for which it is appropriated." This objection, it is well known, was referred to and overruled by the King. In the case of Fuseli, an Academician, a portrait painter, objected both in the council and at the general a.s.sembly 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 HEa.r.s.e,

(Drawn by six horses decorated with velvet and feathers)

Containing the Body enclosed in a leaden coffin; the outer wooden one was covered with black velvet, ornamented with gilt furniture, and bore the following inscription:

HENRY FUSELI, ESQ.

A.M. R.A.

KEEPER AND PROFESSOR OF PAINTING TO THE ROYAL ACADEMY OF LONDON, DIED THE 16TH APRIL, 1825, AGED 86 YEARS.[63]

The hea.r.s.e 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 d.u.c.h.ess 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 const.i.tute and I appoint, John Knowles of the Navy Office, and Robert Balmanno, of Mornington Place, Hampstead Road, Esquires, as Executors to this my last Will and Testament, revoking all other Wills and Testaments. Given under my hand and seal, this twenty-first day of November, in the year of our Lord One thousand eight hundred and twenty-two.

"Henry Fuseli," (L.S.)

"James Jones, } William Church, } Witnesses."

In carrying this Will into execution, a difference of opinion arose between Mr. Balmanno and myself respecting the propriety of disposing of some of the property by private contract; and the matter was accordingly referred to Mrs. Fuseli. As this lady gave her a.s.sent to the view which I had taken of the affair, Mr. Balmanno, in consequence, renounced the trust. The Will was therefore proved by me, solely, in the Prerogative Court of Canterbury, on the 7th September 1825.

CHAPTER XIII.

Fuseli's personal appearance and habits.--Existing Memorials of him in Pictures and Busts.--His method of dividing his time.--Anecdotes exemplifying his irritability.--His attainments in cla.s.sical and in modern Languages.--Instances of his Powers of Memory.--His intimate knowledge of English Poetry and Literature.--His admiration of Dante.--His Pa.s.sion for Entomology.--His opinions of some contemporary Artists.--His conversational powers.--Anecdotes.--His deficient acquaintance with the pure Physical Sciences.

It may now be proper to give some description of Fuseli's person and habits. He was rather short in stature, about five feet two inches in height, his limbs were well proportioned, his shoulders broad, and his chest capacious. His complexion was fair; his forehead broad; his eyes were large, blue, and peculiarly expressive and penetrating; his nose large, and somewhat aquiline; his mouth was rather wide; and although his features were not strictly regular, yet his countenance was, in the highest degree, intelligent and energetic; the expression of his face varied in a remarkable manner with the quick impressions of his mind. He was clean and neat in his person and dress, and very particular with his hair, which was carefully dressed every day with powder.

In youth, Fuseli was exceedingly temperate in all his habits: until the age of twenty-one years he had never tasted fermented liquors; and in more advanced age, his usual beverage was Port wine, in a moderate quant.i.ty, 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 gla.s.ses: 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 cla.s.sic 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 pa.s.sions, 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 pa.s.sion 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."