Chapter IX

Fuseli's Lectures at the Royal Academy.—Letters respecting them from Mr. Farington.—Letter from Sir Henry Englefield, on the subject of the ancient Vases.—Death of Fuseli's friend, Lavater.—Fuseli's Visit to Paris in 1802.—His Letter from thence to Mr. James Moore.—His acquaintance with the French Painters David and Gerard.—Results of his Visit.—Letter from Mr. Roscoe.—Fuseli's Remarks on some of the Paintings in the Louvre.—Letter from Mr. Smirke.—Fuseli elected Keeper of the Royal Academy.—Incidental Anecdote.—Letter to Mr. Joseph Johnson.

In March 1801, Fuseli delivered three lectures on painting, at the Royal Academy, which were numerously attended, and he gained much applause.

The feelings of the Academicians, the students, and the public, with respect to the lectures, will be shewn by the following letters from Joseph Farington, Esq. R.A. the friend of Fuseli, and a gentleman who at this time took a lead in all the affairs of the Royal Academy.

"Tuesday, March 17, 1801.

"dear sir,

"Though I did not attend your lecture last night, I was not the less interested for you, and, before the evening closed, had the satisfaction to receive, from one who was present, an account that was equal to my wishes. Be assured that you have made a due impression on the minds of the members, and have added to the credit of the Academy, and to your own reputation.

"I shall hope to see you soon. "Believe me to be, dear Sir, "Your's most sincerely, "Jos. Farington."

"To Henry Fuseli, Esq."

"Tuesday, March 24, 1801.

"dear sir,

"I have still more reason to congratulate you on the effect of your last night's discourse, which made a still stronger impression in your favour. Go on, for the honour of the Academy, your own credit, and, I hope, interest.

"Dear Sir, "Your's truly, "Jos. Farington."

"To Henry Fuseli, Esq."

"March 31, 1801.

"dear sir,

"Last night I saw Mr. Daniell, and this morning another person who was at the Academy last night. The room, I am informed, was more crowded; a proof of spreading reputation, and the satisfaction general.

"More encouragement to succeed cannot be required.

"Dear Sir, "Your's very sincerely, "Jos. Farington."

"To Henry Fuseli, Esq."

These lectures Fuseli published in the month of May 1801, in a quarto volume, which was dedicated to his friend, William Lock, Esq. of Norbury Park. As they have been long before the Public, it is unnecessary now to speak of their merit; suffice it to say, that they have been translated into the German, French, and Italian languages.

The publication of Fuseli's lectures having made a great sensation among artists, and that on ancient art in particular having been much canvassed by them as well as by antiquaries, he wished to gain, and, if he saw fit, to embody in future editions, as much information as could be obtained on this subject; he therefore made application to his friend the late Sir Henry Englefield, Bart. for his observations upon the Vases of the ancients, commonly called Etruscan, which that gentleman gave him in the following letter:

"Tilney Street, August 24, 1803.

"dear sir,

"At your desire, I communicate to you such observations on the ancient Vases, commonly called Etruscan, as a minute examination of many of the finest specimens in the magnificent collection of Mr. Thomas Hope, and the select and very beautiful one belonging to Mr. Edwards, have enabled me to make, particularly with respect to the mechanical process used in the decoration of them.

"The material of these vases is clay of a very fine and close quality, extremely light, and of a colour nearly the same in all, a light and agreeable orange red.

"They all, without exception, are covered with a varnish or glazing of a dark colour, but not in all of the same tint; in some, it has a greenish hue, and a lustre of a metallic appearance; this is most striking in those found near Nola. In many, the varnish is of a brown black, like asphaltum.

"The vases may be ranked in four classes.

"1. Those covered with varnish without ornament or painting of any kind.

"2. Those which bear on the natural ground of the ware, figures in black varnish.

"3. Those whose figures are left in red, the vase being covered with varnish.

"4. Vases covered entirely with varnish, on which ornaments are painted in colours.

"Of the first sort it will be necessary to say but little. Many of the most exquisitely formed Nolan vases are of this sort. The varnish appears to have been laid on while the vase was on the lathe. The parallel strokes visible on the surface of the varnish, and its extreme equality of tint, prove this. No better mode can be devised for varnishing, except dipping the ware into the liquid varnish; and this was not done in these vases, as the varnish never covers the hollow of the foot, nor descends deep within the neck. I cannot at all say whether the vase was varnished while yet wet, or first suffered to dry, or even baked a first time, as is the process in much of our common modern glazed earthenware.

"The second sort bear in general marks of the most remote antiquity. The figures are universally of a stiff and meagre form, the drapery close, and the folds few and hard. Yet in many the composition is good, and the action of the figures vigorous. They exactly resemble in style the bronzes still remaining of Etruscan work.

"The mode pursued in painting them was this:

"The intended figure was painted without any previous discoverable outline in varnish, and then resembled exactly those figures so common under the name of Silhouettes. When the varnish was quite dry and hard, the features, the limbs, and the folds of the drapery, &c. were scratched through it with a pointed tool, which was applied with such force as to cut some depth into the clay of the vase. This sort of outlining was sometimes carried round parts of the contour, which appeared to the artist not sufficiently distinct without it. The hands and fingers are often thus partially scratched out. Parts of the drapery and ornaments on the heads of the figures were then covered with a coat of coloured paint. Violet occurs most frequently; often a green, and sometimes white. In some vases of the most ancient and rudest appearances, animals, particularly birds, are coloured not only with these colours, but also red and yellow; and the appearance and style of these vases have a great resemblance to the Egyptian paintings on their mummy chests. The vases of this sort are said to be universally found in the deepest graves, so deep indeed, that over them sepulchral chambers of a later date, with vases of a totally different character are often found. That the colours above-mentioned were put on after the outline was scratched in, is ascertained by the circumstance of the colours having in many instances run into, and partially filled up, the strokes engraved in the vases. This species of painting is evidently the first improvement on the simple Skiagrams.

"The vases of the third description, namely those whose figures are left in red, on a ground of dark varnish, are by much the most common of any, and are found of all degrees of excellence, from the most careless and slight finishing, to the most exquisite work; but in all, the style of design is essentially different from those described above, with the figures in black. In the red figures, however negligently executed, there is a fulness of form, and a freedom of drapery perfectly similar to the remains of Greek art which have reached us, whether in sculpture or coins.

"The process also of this execution is entirely different from the second sort, and will be now minutely described from repeated observations of many of the most exquisite of them, made not only with the naked eye, but with glasses of high magnifying power.

"The first thing painted on these vases was an outline of the figures, not only of their contour, but the markings of the features, muscles, folds of the drapery, ornaments, &c. This outline, in those vases which are of fine execution, was made with an instrument which carried a very fine and equal point, and at the same time left a very full body of the colour used on the vase. The colour itself appears to have been of a thick consistence; for if the strokes, even the finest, (which are as fine as could be made by a good pen,) are carefully examined with a magnifier in a side light, it will be distinctly perceived that there is a slight hollow in the middle of each, owing to the colour having flowed round the point which traced it, and met behind it,—just as we see in a road where the mud is of a semi-fluid consistence, that the track of a wheel is filled in with the pasty mire, leaving a depressed line in the centre of the rut.

"It is impossible to say whether the instrument used for these outlines was of the nature of a pen or a brush; yet I am inclined to think from the flowing appearance of the lines, that a firm and finely pointed brush or pencil was used. Whichever it was, the hands which guided it possessed a steadiness and freedom of execution, almost incredible. Lines of a great length and difficult curvatures are carried over the convex surface of the vases, without the least wavering or indecision, or any lifting the point from the vase, or any repetition, or filling up of the stroke. An attentive examination of the outline will ascertain this fact beyond a doubt, and a further proof of it may be drawn from the few instances in which strokes of very great length have been done at twice, particularly in a vase of great size and admirable execution in the collection of Mr. Hope, representing probably the story of Triptolemus, where the long parallel lines marking the feathers of the wing of a Genius have been suspended about half way; and no particular care has been taken to conceal the junction of the lines.

"This vase also furnishes a very rare and instructive instance of what, by artists, are called pentimenti, or changes of design. The wheel of a chariot and part of the arms of a figure, with a patera or cup in the hand, have been considerably varied; and the first outline is still visible like a faint red chalk stroke, but without any appearance of enlargement or smearing, so that it should seem that the false stroke was scraped off by a sharp edge, carefully applied to the surface of the vase when the varnish or paint was nearly dry.

"That the outline was performed with this freedom and celerity, and scarcely ever altered, may be further inferred, from the great inaccuracies of drawing so frequent even in those vases whose design and execution are of the very highest class. Perhaps an absolutely unerring precision of hand has never been the lot of any artist, however excellent. The drawings of the greatest masters prove that they found many things to alter in their most careful first lines; and the union of excellence and defect on the vases can, I think, only be accounted for in the supposition of an unaltered line.

"What has been hitherto said of the mode of outlining this sort of vases is applicable only to the finish of them. In those of inferior finish, the outlines are much thicker, and laid on with a less body of colour; and in many of the coarsest, there is reason to think that no outline at all was made, but that the figures were merely left red in the general wash of the vase, with the dark-coloured varnish, and the outlines of the features, folds of the drapery, &c. were put in with a large brush, and in a very careless manner. Indeed, on the very finest of the vases, the subordinate decorations, such as the honeysuckle (as it is called) ornament so frequent under the handles, were simply left red in the general wash of varnish over the body of the vase; at least no outline of them is now discoverable. To return to the painting of the finest vases. The outline already described being perfectly dry, the artist with a brush or other similar instrument which bore a full body of colour and made a stroke of about a quarter of an inch in breadth, went carefully round the contours of the outlined figures. In this operation, an opportunity was given to make slight alterations in the design, and in some degree to amend the contour. This seems to have been often done; for the original outline is often covered in parts by this wash, and appears projecting from the surface of the vase under it; affording also a proof that the outline was dry and hard before this wash was laid on. Frequently, also, this wash does not come quite up to the original outline; but in general the wash follows the outline in a most steady and masterly manner. Probably at this time the hair of the figures was put in with a thin wash of the same varnish or colour, managed with peculiar freedom and dexterity, and so washed out to nothing at the extremities of the flowing curls of the tresses, as to have the lightest and at the same time the most finished effect. It is to be observed that the hair, which in some parts is as dark as the ground of the vase, is not carried quite to the ground, but that a small space is left red round the hair, in order to relieve it from the ground of the vase.

"The truth of the contour being thus secured by this narrow border of ground carefully laid on the covering, the remaining surface of the vase with its varnish, might be safely entrusted to an inferior hand. That the varnish was laid on at twice, is evident by inspection of any well-finished vase, where the first narrow line of varnish is distinctly visible under the general wash.

"This process finished the greater part of the vases, even the finest; but on some, particularly those of the largest size, when every thing else was quite dry, some parts of the design were coloured with washes of two different tints. The horses and parts of the armour are painted with white, which when dry is opaque, but when wetted becomes nearly transparent. Parts of the drapery and ornaments round the necks and on the heads of the figures, and some of the shields, are painted yellow, and several small flowers and ornaments of foliage, which are interspersed among the figures, are painted in white and yellow. The internal outlines and muscles of the horses are painted with lines of a light orange on the white; and the white shields are ornamented in the same manner. That the white horses were painted after the original black outline of the human figures was dry, is evidently seen in the magnificent vase in the possession of Mr. Edwards. In that vase a leg of one of the horses comes across the thigh and drapery of a figure, and the original outline of that figure is visible under the white colour which forms the horse's leg. All these colours are so fixed on the vases, probably by fire, that they resist the action of aquafortis.

"The vases of the last sort, namely, those which have ornaments in white and other colours painted on a black ground, which covered the whole surface of the vase, are very rarely to be met with. Mr. Hope possesses several, which Sir William Hamilton told me were all found in one sepulchral chamber, in which none of any other sort were placed. The cause of this singularity it were vain to enquire. No figures are represented on these vases, but the ornaments are light wreathes of ivy, or vine-leaves, with masks and other bacchanalian symbols. The execution is careless, but spirited; the paint used seems of the same quality with that above described as covering the horses, &c. in vases of the third sort; and the mode of applying it appears in no wise to differ from what would be now pursued. It is not, therefore, necessary to say any thing further on this subject.

"It is singular that on vases so profusely adorned with painting, scarcely an instance of any thing like bas-relief or sculpture of any kind occurs; on the handles of Mr. Edwards's great Vase, two full faces in very flat relief are seen; but, con rispetto parlando, is it quite certain that these handles are entirely ancient?

"These are the observations which a very careful examination has enabled me to make on the mechanical process used in adorning the ancient earthern Vases called Etruscan. To your judgment, Dear Sir, I submit them, confident that you will, Si quid novisti rectius istis, Candidus—rectify my errors.

"I am, with sincere regard, "Your obliged and faithful, "H. Englefield."

"To Henry Fuseli, Esq. R. A."

Early in the year (1801) Fuseli was much dejected by the intelligence of the death of his old and esteemed friend and fellow-student, Lavater. This singular man fell a sacrifice to what he considered his clerical duty; for, when Zurich was occupied by the French, in an attempt to afford consolation and alleviation to the sufferings of his townsmen, which usually accompany the presence of an invading army, he was stabbed by the bayonet of a soldier, under which wound he languished for some months, and closed a valuable and useful life on the 2nd of January, 1801.

The treaty of peace which was signed at Amiens in 1802, afforded the English an opportunity of visiting France, and examining those treasures of art which Buonaparte had torn by violence from Italy, Germany, and Holland, when those countries were subjected to him, in consequence of the conquests of the French armies. Fuseli being determined to view them, went to Paris, accompanied by some friends, with the intention also of collecting materials for publishing, for the information of travellers, a critical account of the principal pictures and statues which then adorned the Louvre. The party consisted of Mr. Farington, R.A. Mr. James Carrick Moore, Mr. Halls a young artist, and himself.

Urgent business compelled Mr. Moore to return to London earlier than he had anticipated; but the remainder of the party passed six weeks in Paris, during the months of September and October, whence Fuseli wrote to Mr. Moore the following letter:—

"dear moore,

"I had once a valuable friend in the Rev. Mr. Whalley, who took great pains to improve me by his correspondence; he was able at all times to write faster than he could think; from which you probably might be led to surmise that his epistles would have been fuller of news than observations—you would be mistaken; they were essays crammed with trite observations, such as delight in a magazine;—news I never heard from him. If I except you, I must own that all my correspondents on your side of the water are very like him. Your letter from Dieppe gave me some useful information, such as might preserve my knee from another synovia,[49] or my neck from a crick; and if you took more delight to penetrate my character than to fit me for a trip across the water, in your last, you have at least convinced me that you thought more of me when you wrote, than of yourself,—a phenomenon that at once decides your character in my mind, and furnishes me with a master-key for your heart; in any other way you would have found poor Harry

"I am, I hope, in the last week of my stay in this paradise of mud, and fricandeaus. God! what additional ecstasies you have lost by your precipitate flight! So many pictures, which would have exercised your critical faculty; the Apotheosis of St. Petronilla, by Guercino, in which a colossal dowdy on this side of the grave is transformed to a celestial beauty on the other; the Fontana d' Amore, by Titian, a picture which transports you to the plains of Arcadia, or the vale of Enna; the whole-length of Cardinal Bentivoglio, by Vandyck—a soul personified—a male soul, I mean: for the mirror of all female spirit, soul, mind, and graces, would have been held up to you by Titian again, in the portrait of his Mistress untwining her ringlets, or, as Petrarch would have called them, her

"Madame, dont je baise les mains, will explain this to you: and so much for what you have lost at the Museum.

"Since your departure, we have been joined by Mr. Robert Smirke, than whom no young man I ever liked more, and only wish and fondly hope he will say the same of me, when he talks of old men. I have been with him to see the house of Madame Ricamier, the ultimate standard of Parisian taste, whose enchanting bedchamber he has not only measured, but drawn with a taste which improves it. As Harriet loves Latin as well as Italian, I will gratify you both with the inscription on the pedestal of a small marble figure of Silence at the head of the bed. 'Tutatur amores et somnos conscia lecti.' Halls, who sees, observes, says little, laughs more, is frequently indisposed, and looks forward to England, requests to be remembered to you, and may be sure of his request. The inquisitive traveller, my other companion and manager, does the same, but has not forgotten that you would not let him stretch his legs on one of the beds at St. Juste.[50] He and I have been presented to the "Section des belles lettres et des beaux arts" of the Institute at the Louvre, where we were equally tired, I by understanding, and he by not understanding, what we heard.—My love to Graham—adieu, till you see me in Grosvenor-street.

"Henry Fuseli."

"10 Vendemiaire, in Christian, 2d October, 1802."

"I have not yet heard from my wife: if you should be led by your calls into the neighbourhood of Queen Anne-street, and would tell them I am coming, you will do a kind thing."

The society of Fuseli, while he was in Paris, was courted by the principal painters of the French school. David, whom he had known at Rome, paid him much attention, and wished to introduce him to the First Consul; this he however declined, as well as many other civilities which this eminent painter offered, for he frequently said, "When he looked at David, he could never divest his mind of the atrocities of the French Revolution, nor separate them from the part which he had then acted, for they were stamped upon his countenance."[51] Gerard also showed Fuseli great respect, and on every occasion expressed a high admiration of his genius.

Every one who visits the galleries of the Louvre to examine its pictures and statues critically and with care, is convinced that much of their effect is lost (particularly that of the pictures) in consequence of its being generally lighted on each side by windows, and only a small proportion of the picture-gallery by sky-lights. Fuseli, who had seen and recollected most, if not all, of the celebrated pictures, of the Italian schools in particular, in the churches or palaces for which they were painted, and to which the artists had accommodated their light and shadow, was particularly struck with the difference in their effect, and deplored their removal. He likewise perceived with great regret, the injury which they had sustained and were sustaining from the hands of the French picture-cleaners, or, as they are generally called, picture-restorers; and that, among others, the celebrated "Transfiguration," by Raphael, although it had suffered less than most, was in some degree impaired.

As the peace between England and France was of short duration, one of the objects of Fuseli's visit was lost, and his observations on the works of art then in the Louvre were not therefore published. The memoranda which he made were afterwards incorporated either in his "Lectures on Painting," in his "Fragment of a History of Art," or in the observations on the works of artists, in his editions of "Pilkington's Dictionary of Painters."

In the year 1803, he gave a picture to "The Union" Society at Liverpool: which he presented to the members, to use his own words, "as a trifling pledge of gratitude to a country which has reared the humble talents which I possess." Mr. Roscoe acknowledged the receipt of this picture by the following letter:—

"my dear friend,

"I have waited, day by day, for the last month, in expectation of either seeing you or hearing from you; and my patience being now quite exhausted, I can no longer refrain from enquiring what can be the reason of this alteration, or, at least, long protraction, of your intended visit to this place.

"In my last, I endeavoured to express the pleasure I felt in the hope of seeing you so soon, and only requested that I might have a line before you left London, that I might arrange matters (being now a man of business) so as to enjoy as much of your company as possible. We are now near the middle of November; the fine weather leaving us, and winter fast approaching; yet I still flatter myself that I may see you, and shall do so, till I hear from you to the contrary. Why not spend your Christmas with us, when days are short, and little professional time can be lost by it? At all events, let me hear from you, that I may either continue to enjoy the hope of seeing you, or reconcile myself as well as I can to my disappointment.

"It is now two or three weeks since the large case of pictures came safe to hand; "The Union" is placed in its proper station, where it has an uncommonly fine light, and looks extremely well. The printer of one of our papers wants to say something fine about it, and has called upon me for a description. Can you suggest what I shall say as to the allegorical part of it, or shall I try to do the best I can, both with respect to that and the execution? which could not have been more suitable, or had a better effect, if you had seen the place. I know no method that would have so direct a tendency to encourage the high style of painting in this country, as the introduction of good pictures into public buildings, and even churches; on which last subject, I hope to show you some remarks, which will appear in my Life of Leo X. now almost ready for the press. I allow this would be little satisfaction to the artist, if he was to give his time, talents, canvass, and paint, as some people do. You and I will, however, settle this point, I doubt not, to our mutual satisfaction.

"Having read thus far, take up your pen without delay, and let me at least once more see your magnanimous pothooks on the back of a letter, addressed to your ever faithful and affectionate friend,

"W. Roscoe."

"Liverpool, 12th Nov. 1803."

"P.S. The Allegro and Penseroso are safe at Liverpool, but are much too large for any situation I can give them at Allerton."

In order to give some notion of Fuseli's projected work, for which chiefly he went to Paris, the following criticisms upon some of the pictures then in the Gallery of the Louvre may be acceptable: these he was kind enough to offer to me when I was about to visit France in the year 1814.

JULIO ROMANO—THE CIRCUMCISION.

This picture, which is known from the print published in Crozat, deserves rather to be considered as a curiosity than as the work of a great master; its composition bears some resemblance to the cartoon of "Peter and John healing the Lame Man," of Raphael; but the simplicity and dignity of the master are lost in the crowd with which the pupil surrounded the ceremony. Though the columns occupy full as much space, and are as prominent and as full of ornament in the cartoon as in the picture, and although the principal actors are placed in both between them, they are not perceived in the work of Raphael, till we have witnessed the miracle, whilst in that of Julio, they lead us to the ceremony, which eclipses the actors in its turn.

PAOLO VERONESE.

1. The Nuptials of Cana. 2. The Feast of Levi the Publican. 3. The Madonna, St. Jerome, &c. 4. The Martyrdom of St. George. 5. Jupiter launching his Thunder on the Crimes. 6. Christ carrying his Cross. 7. The Crucifixion. 8. The Pilgrims of Emaus.

The two first, the third, and last of these pictures, are perhaps the fullest models of that ornamental style by which a great critic has discriminated the Venetian from the rest of Italian styles,—"monsters to the man of native taste, who looks for the story, for propriety, for national, unartificial costume,—mines of information to the student and the masters of art." The most technic comprehension of a magnificent whole, and supreme command over the infinite variety of its parts, equal suavity, energy, and ease of execution, go hand in hand with the most chaotic caprice in the disposition and the most callous tyranny over the character of the subject. Whatever relates to the theory of colours, of solid, middle, and aërial tints, to the opposition of hues warm or cold, and the contrast of light and dark masses, is poised here with prismatic truth; the whole is a scale of music. It is more by following the order of nature and of light in the disposition of the whole, that Paolo attained that illusion, which approaches to deception, than by the attempt of making fac similes of the parts. He knew that dark, juicy, and absorbent colours come forward, that white recedes, and that the middle parts partake of both, and hence, uniting the two extremes by the intermediate tint, he obtained that superior harmony on which the Venetian school rests its superiority of colour, and which Rubens sought with unequal success in the capricious disposition of a nosegay or a bunch of flowers.

THE MADONNA OF FOLIGNO—RAPHAEL.

None who has seen this picture at Foligno, will recognize it here. Whatever praise the ingenious and complicated process of restoration may deserve, that of having restored to the picture its original and primitive tone makes certainly no part of it: as well might the ingredients of a dish ready-dressed by a restaurateur of the Palais Royal, be said to resemble the unprepared viands of which it is composed. I am far from ascribing the want of resemblance to the restoration; it could only give what remained—the bleak crudity of its aspect. The comparative imbecility of some of its parts accuse another hand that succeeded.[52] Pictures ex voto can claim little merit from composition. "The Madonna" of Foligno, and the "St. Cecilia" of Raphael; the "St. Sebastian" of Titian, &c. are discriminated from each other by little else than by a more or less picturesque conception of the ground on, or before which the figures are placed: it is expression, therefore, which makes their chief merit, and this is the great loss which we have suffered in the "Madonna of Foligno." Neither the "St. John," the "St. Jerome," nor the head of "St. Francis," acknowledge the hand, the eye, or the feelings of Raphael. The "St. John," though perhaps not even in its original state sufficiently dignified, is become a savage, and what is worse, a French one. The "St. Francis," and "St. Jerome," have been tinted into insipidity; but the head of "Sigismond Conti," the "Madonna and Child," appear to have suffered less, and the angelic countenance of "The Cherub with the Tablet," beams with its primitive radiance the impasto of Raphael.

RAPHAEL WITH HIS MAITRE D'ARMES.

Tradition has persevered to give this admirable picture, known from the print in Crozat, to Raphael. It does not, however, require more than a comparison with his other portraits, from the first to that of Leo the Tenth, to see that the donation is gratuitous; if it were to be given to any other master, Giorgione has undoubtedly the first claim upon it, and there is no known work of his which can dispute its precedence, though it agrees with them in style. That conscious purity of touch which, exclusively, scorns all repetition, visible chiefly in the nose and nostrils of the Maitre d'Armes, the unity of tone in the whole of the colour, and that breadth, which, without impairing the peculiarity of character or the detail, presents the whole at once,—dualities never attained by the dry and punctiliory Roman principles, speak a Venetian pencil. The forefinger of the right arm is perhaps not designed, or foreshortened, with the energy or correctness which might be expected from the boldness of the conception, or from the power of either Raphael or Giorgione: but the character of the hand as well as its colour, is in unison with the head. Why the principal figure should be called a Maitre d'Armes is not easily conceived; it is certainly the most important of the two, and the leading figure of the picture. The second, although full-faced, is subordinate, and can by no courtesy of physiognomy be construed into the head of Raphael, unless the heads in the Tribuna at Florence, in this gallery, in Vasari, in the school of Athens, &c.; as well as the head of the figure wrapped in a Ferrajuolo, and sitting in a painter's study, as meditating, by M. Antonio, be spurious. It bears indeed some resemblance to a head etched by W. Hollar, and subscribed with his name; but the authority on which that appellation rests, is too futile to be admitted.

JOHN AB EYCK.

If these be the works of John ab Eyck, there is not only an additional proof, that he could not be the inventor of oil-painting, but likewise that, for near a century after him, the colour of the Flemings continued in the same retrograde taste which checked the Italian design, from the time of Lorenzo Ghiberti to that of Leonardo da Vinci. The pictures here exhibited as the works of Hemelinck, Metsis, Lucas of Holland, Albert Durer, and even Holbein, are inferior to those which are ascribed to Eyck, in colour, execution, and taste. Compared with their composition, the pictures of Andrea Mantegna are nearly reduced to apposition; and the draperies of the three figures on a gold ground, especially that of the middle figure, could not be improved in simplicity or elegance by the taste of Raphael himself. These three figures, indeed, are in a style far superior to the rest; but even these, whether we consider each figure individually, or relatively with each other, their masses, depth, and relief, cannot be surpassed by those which are ascribed to the German, Dutch, and Flemish masters of the succeeding century. The three heads of God the Father, the Virgin, and St. John the Baptist, are not inferior in roundness, force, or sweetness, to the heads of Leonardo da Vinci, and possess a more positive principle of colour; the harmony of chiar' oscuro, at which Leonardo aimed, admitted of no variety of tints than what might be obtained by the gradation of two colours. His carnations appear to have been added by glazing; such is the head of Mona Lisa.

PHILIPP DE CAMPAGNE—THE VISION OF ST. AMBROSE.

The title of this picture is not accurate. It is an intermediate figure of Apostolic gait, and in garments of legendary colours, that shews the saints arrayed in white, who themselves seem less occupied by the errand for which they came, than by the place which they had left. Whatever in this picture is not vision is admirably toned, solemn, dim, and yet rich, the colours of a sacred place, and cloistered, devout meditation. Of these, St. Ambrose himself partakes; but the Apostle who addresses the Bishop, and the two Saints themselves, are by far too ponderous, and their outlines far too much defined for celestial beings, and for the clouds on which they are placed: their drapery, although admirably folded, recalls in the saints too strongly marble, and in the Apostle too palpably reality.

A DEAD CHRIST.

This figure, which has much of the genuine stern Italian colour, resembles the Dead Christ, as he is called, in the library at Basle by Holbein, in attitude perhaps,—is inferior to it in truth, but certainly much superior in style: it has much of Carravaggio; the head in shade has a mysterious effect, but the fore-part of the arm with the hand wants the rigid truth of the Italian master whom he seems to have imitated.

LE BRUN—THE DEATH OF CATO.

The countenance of this figure is as unlike Cato, as the style of colour is to all other works of Le Brun: it is a common man with a beard, powerfully drawn, and painted in an austere Italian tone.

NICHOLAS POUSSIN.

From the extensive list exhibited, we shall select four to make a few characteristic observations—"The Martyrdom of St. Erasmus," formerly an altar-piece at St. Peter's in Rome; "The Philistines struck by the Plague;" "The Death of Saphira;" and "Winter, or the Deluge."

The actual martyrdom of St. Erasmus is one of those subjects which ought not to be told to the eye—because it is equally loathsome and horrible; we can neither pity nor shudder; we are seized by qualms, and detest. Poussin and Pietro Testa are here more or less objects of aversion, in proportion to the greater or less energy they exerted. This is the only picture of Poussin in which he has attempted to rival his Italian competitors on a scale of equal magnitude in figures of the size of life; and here he was no longer in his sphere; his drawing has no longer its usual precision of form, it is loose and Cortonesque; his colour on this scale has neither the breadth of fresco, nor the glow, finish, or impasto of oil.

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

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

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

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

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

The composition of St. Martin resembles that of Albert Durer. The countenance of St. Martin is not that of a man who will readily part with his own comforts to alleviate the sufferings of others. That of his companion has more mind, more dignity, and better forms. The paupers are excrescences of deformity; but in colouring, the picture unites every power of Vandyck and of Rubens, in a very high degree.

"Charles the First, &c." This picture may be considered in two different lights; as a picturesque composition, and as a representation of character. In the first, there cannot perhaps be conceived a more happy combination of the different materials, whose concurrence is required to constitute a harmonious whole. Nothing can surpass the comprehension which balances its masses of light and shade, equally lucid and juicy, deep and aërial, various and united; its colour at once soothes and invigorates our eye; but when we recover from the enamoured trance of technic enjoyment, we look for the character and the sentiment embodied by such art; we find, instead of Charles, a cold, flimsy, shuffling figure, with pretension to importance, but without dignity,—a man absorbed by his garment.

"La Kermesse, ou fête de Village—Kermis, or Village Gambols."—Rubens.

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

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

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

TITIAN—PORTRAIT OF TITIAN AND HIS MISTRESS.

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

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

"Rome, March 20, 1803.

"dear sir,

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

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

"It is now nearly two months since I arrived in Rome, having scarcely stopt on the road after leaving Pisa, whence my last letter to you was dated, except for two or three days at Sienna. Florence pleased me very much, from the slight view I had of it. I was there but a day, as I purpose spending a month there, at least, on my return from the southern parts of the country. The Gallery, I suppose, must be much less interesting since the French have taken so much from it; but as it is, it struck me particularly. I was much pleased with the arrangement; for though it has nothing of the astonishing coup d'œil of the Louvre, I should think it was better calculated to shew the statues and pictures, and still more, to assist the artist who studies from them.

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

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

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

"Believe me, your very sincere friend, "Robert Smirke."

"Henry Fuseli, Esq. R.A."

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

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

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

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

"London, June 21, 1804.

"dear sir,

"Give me leave to return you my warmest thanks for your kindness. Though my circumstances did not permit me to spend as many hours as I could have wished under your hospitable roof, every moment I passed with you and Mrs. Johnson, added some new obligation to those which you had already heaped on me and mine, and it will be one of my warmest wishes to be able to shew, at some time or other, that my gratitude lies deeper than my lips.

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

* * * * *

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

"I am, dear sir, "Your obedient friend and servant, "Henry Fuseli."

"Joseph Johnson, Esq."