The Life and Writings of Henry Fuseli, Volume 1 (of 3)

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Title: The Life and Writings of Henry Fuseli, Volume 1 (of 3)

Author: Henry Fuseli

Editor: John Knowles

Release date: January 16, 2012 [eBook #38591]
Most recently updated: January 8, 2021

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF HENRY FUSELI, VOLUME 1 (OF 3) ***

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Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
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[Illustration: HENRY FUSELI ESQre]

Engraved by Deane from a Painting by Harlow

London, Published by Henry Colburn & Richard Bentley, 1830.

THE LIFE

AND

WRITINGS

HENRY FUSELI, Esq. M.A. R.A.

KEEPER, AND PROFESSOR OF PAINTING TO THE ROYAL ACADEMY IN LONDON;
MEMBER OF THE FIRST CLASS OF THE ACADEMY OF ST. LUKE AT ROME.

THE FORMER WRITTEN, AND THE LATTER EDITED BY

JOHN KNOWLES, F.R.S.

CORRESPONDING MEMBER OF THE PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY AT ROTTERDAM,

HIS EXECUTOR.

"Animo vidit, ingenio complexus est, eloquentiâ illuminavit."
_Velleius Paterculus in Ciceronem._

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

LONDON:

HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY,

NEW BURLINGTON STREET.

MDCCCXXXI.

LONDON:

PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY,

Dorset-street, Fleet-street.

THE RIGHT HONORABLE

SUSAN,

COUNTESS DOWAGER OF GUILFORD,
BARONESS NORTH AND GUILFORD.

MADAM,

I feel a degree of diffidence in dedicating to your Ladyship the Life
and Posthumous Works of Henry Fuseli; because, with regard to the
former, no one is better acquainted with the extent of his talents, or
can form a more accurate opinion of the powers of his conversation, and
the excellent qualities of his head and heart, than yourself. In giving
some account of his life and pursuits, I have endeavoured to speak of
him as he was, and to become his "honest chronicler." How far I have
succeeded, it is for your Ladyship to form a judgment. Had it ever
occurred to me, during his lifetime, that it would be my lot to become
his Biographer, I should have kept a Journal, and thus have been enabled
to present to you, and to the world, a more copious and rich view of his
colloquial powers. But as this is not the case, if the Memoir bring to
your remembrance the general power of his genius, or give an adumbration
of his professional merit; if it convey impressions of his profound
classical attainments and critical knowledge, and recall with them the
simplicity of his domestic habits, my end is fully answered.

It is not for me to make an apology for sending to the public, under the
high support of your Ladyship's name, the posthumous works of my friend;
as these, I know, will be acceptable to you; and many of them have
already received the highest encomiums, when delivered as Lectures
before the Members of the Royal Academy of Arts.

I am fully certain that if the mind which dictated these works, could
now be conscious of the fact, no circumstance would give to it greater
satisfaction, than the knowledge of their appearing under the sanction
of your patronage.

I have the honour to subscribe myself,

Madam,

Your Ladyship's most obedient,

And obliged humble servant,

JOHN KNOWLES.

4, Osnaburgh Street, Regent's Park,

24th March, 1830.

ADVERTISEMENT.

In offering to the public the Life and a complete edition of the
literary Works of Henry Fuseli, I feel myself called upon to state the
sources whence the former has been drawn.

The daily intercourse and sincere friendship which subsisted for many
years between this great artist and myself, afforded me the opportunity
of witnessing his domestic habits, hearing many of the incidents of his
life, and watching his career as an artist; and, being executor to his
will, his professional as well as private papers came into my
possession. Independently of these advantages, I have been in
correspondence with the nearest branches of his family, (at Zurich, in
Switzerland,) and from their kindness have obtained many particulars of
his early life, together with the correction of some previously
inaccurate dates. Whatever estimate, therefore, may be formed of my
work, as a literary production, the particulars have been gathered from
the most authentic and unquestionable sources.

With respect to his works, it may be necessary to state that the first
Six Lectures were published in a quarto volume under Mr. Fuseli's own
superintendence, and were printed in a more extended form than that in
which they were delivered; additional observations having been inserted
for the press, and notes added to indicate the authorities whence his
opinions were derived. They are now reprinted from a copy in my
possession, in which are noted some corrections by the author.

The remaining Six Lectures are published from the manuscripts in his own
hand-writing, without any addition, omission, or alteration.

The Aphorisms were collated, and re-copied fairly some years before the
death of the author: these are printed _verbatim_ as he intended they
should come before the public.

The History of the Italian Schools of Art will be found to contain the
professional lives of Michael Angelo, Raffaelle, Titian, Correggio, and
other great masters, with the author's criticisms on their works. Most
of the observations on Art were made by Fuseli while in Italy and
France, after a close inspection of the frescoes, pictures, or works in
sculpture, which he describes or criticises; and the particulars of the
lives of the artists were deduced from a careful perusal and comparison
of the most elaborate and esteemed works in which they have been
recorded.

The reader will notice, that, in a few instances, the same notions and
expressions are repeated; a circumstance which occasioned from an
eminent artist, (the late Sir Thomas Lawrence,) for whose opinion and
talents I had great respect, a recommendation to "use the
pruning-knife." But it appeared to me, after due consideration, to be
preferable that I should print the manuscripts as they came into my
hands; for to have omitted these passages might have disturbed the
connexion of the reasoning and rendered the author's ideas less apparent
to the reader; I therefore present his works to the world without any
omission, alteration, or addition on my part.

John Knowles.

CONTENTS

THE FIRST VOLUME.

CHAPTER I.

Fuseli's birth and family.--Passion for drawing manifested in his
childhood.--His destination for the Church.--Singular cause of
_ambidexterity_.--Fuseli's early fondness for entomology.--He
enters the Collegium Carolinum at Zurich.--His associates there:
Lavater, Usteri, Tomman, Jacob and Felix Hess.--Professors Bodmer
and Breitinger.--His partiality for Shakspeare, &c.--His turn for
satire called forth at the College.--He courts the Poetic
Muse.--Enters into holy orders at the same time with
Lavater.--State of Pulpit oratory in Zurich.--Fuseli and Lavater
become champions of the public cause against a magistrate of
Zurich.--Quits Zurich Page 1

CHAPTER II.

The friends are accompanied in their journey by Professor
Sulzer.--They visit Augsburgh and Leipsic.--Arrive at
Berlin.--Fuseli furnishes some designs for Bodmer's work.--Baron
Arnheim.--Fuseli visits Barth, in Pomerania, where he pursues his
studies for six months under Professor Spalding.--Motives which
induce him to visit England, where he arrives in 1763, under the
protection of Sir Andrew Mitchell.--Lord Scarsdale: Mr. Coutts: Mr.
Andrew Millar: Mr. Joseph Johnson.--Fuseli receives engagements
from the booksellers.--His first residence in London: becomes
acquainted with Smollet: Falconer: A. Kauffman: Mrs. Lloyd: Mr.
Cadell: Garrick.--Fuseli accepts, and shortly after relinquishes
the charge of travelling tutor to the son of Earl Waldegrave.--His
first interview with Sir Joshua Reynolds.--His earliest production
in oil painting.--He visits Liverpool.--Takes part in Rousseau's
quarrel with Hume and Voltaire, (1767) and exerts his pen in the
cause of his countryman 22

CHAPTER III.

Fuseli leaves England for Italy in the society of Dr.
Armstrong.--They quarrel, and separate at Genoa.--Fuseli arrives at
Rome (1770).--His principle of study there.--He suffers through a
fever, and repairs to Venice for his health.--Visits Naples.--Quits
Rome (1778) for Switzerland.--Letter to Mr. Northcote.--Fuseli
renews his classical studies.--Visits his family at
Zurich.--Engages in an unsuccessful love-affair.--Arrives again in
London 46

CHAPTER IV.

Fuseli settles in London.--Interview with Mr.
Coutts.--Reconciliation with Dr. Armstrong.--Professor
Bonnycastle.--Society at Mr. Lock's.--Mr. James Carrick Moore and
Admiral Sir Graham Moore.--Sir Joshua Reynolds.--Mr.
West.--Anecdote of Fuseli and West.--The popular picture of "The
Nightmare."--Death of Fuseli's Father.--Visit to Mr. Roscoe at
Liverpool.--Fuseli's singular engagement to revise Cowper's
Iliad.--Three Letters from Mr. Cowper.--Anecdotes of Fuseli and Dr.
Geddes 57

CHAPTER V.

Subjects painted by Fuseli for Boydell's "Shakspeare Gallery."--His
assistance towards the splendid Edition of "Lavater's
Physiognomy."--His picture for Macklin's "Poets' Gallery."--His
contributions to the Analytical Review.--His critique on Cowper's
Homer 77

CHAPTER VI.

Fuseli's proficiency in Italian History, Literature, and the Fine
Arts, exemplified in his Criticism on Roscoe's Lorenzo de' Medici
110

CHAPTER VII.

Fuseli's Marriage.--His inducements to associate himself with the
Royal Academy.--He translates Lavater's "Aphorisms on
Man."--Remarks on his own "Aphorisms on Art."--Particulars of
Fuseli's acquaintance with Mrs. Wollstonecraft 158

CHAPTER VIII.

Fuseli undertakes the Illustration of Cowper's Edition of
Milton.--First notion of the "Milton Gallery" hence
suggested.--Letter to Mr. Roscoe from Fuseli and Mr.
Johnson.--Circumstances attending Fuseli's Election as a Royal
Academician.--Sir Joshua Reynolds's temporary secession connected
with that event.--Fuseli's progress in the pictures for the
"Milton Gallery."--Controversy between Fuseli and the Rev. Mr.
Bromley.--Subjects painted for Woodmason's "Illustrations of
Shakspeare."--Subscription towards the completion of the Milton
Gallery.--Letter from Mr. Roscoe.--Fuseli contributes to Seward's
"Anecdotes."--His Visit to Windsor with Opie and
Bonnycastle.--Anecdotes connected with that Visit.--Letter from Mr.
Roscoe.--Mr. Johnson's Imprisonment, and Fuseli's adherence to
him.--Anecdote of Lord Erskine.--Exhibition of the "Milton
Gallery," and List of the Works composing it, with incidental
Comments, &c.--Letter to Fuseli from his brother Rodolph.--Letter
from Fuseli to Mr. Lock 171

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
239

CHAPTER X.

The Biographer's Introduction to Fuseli.--New Edition of
Pilkington's Dictionary of Painters, superintended by
Fuseli.--Establishment of the British Institution, 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 287

CHAPTER XI.

Fuseli's prefatory Address to his resumed Lectures.--His second
Edition of Pilkington.--He suffers from a nervous fever, and visits
Hastings in company with the Biographer.--His Picture of Marcus
Curius, and Letter relative to it.--Letter from Mr.
Roscoe.--Canova's Intercourse with Fuseli.--Anecdotes of Fuseli and
Harlow.--Letters from Fuseli to the Biographer.--Republication of
his Lectures, with additions.--Death of Professor Bonnycastle, and
Anecdote concerning him.--Death of Fuseli's friend and patron Mr.
Coutts.--An agreeable party at Fuseli's house 304

CHAPTER XII.

Decline of Fuseli's Health.--Letter from Mr. James C.
Moore.--Fuseli's Bust by Baily, and Portrait by Sir Thomas
Lawrence.--His last Academical Lectures.--Particulars of his
Illness and Death.--Proceedings relative to his interment, with an
account of the ceremony--Copy of his Will 329

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 classical and in
modern Languages.--Instances of his Powers of Memory.--His intimate
knowledge of English Poetry and Literature.--His admiration of
Dante.--His Passion for Entomology.--His opinions of some
contemporary Artists.--His conversational powers, and
Anecdotes.--His deficient acquaintance with the pure Physical
Sciences 350

CHAPTER XIV.

Fuseli's inherent shyness of disposition.--His opinion of various
noted individuals, viz. Dr. Johnson, Sterne, Sir Joshua Reynolds,
Gibbon, Horne Tooke, and Thomas Paine.--His cultivation of English
notions and habits.--His attachment to civil and religious
Liberty.--His intimacy with theatrical matters.--His adventure at a
Masquerade.--His powers as a Critic, both in Literature and Art,
with various illustrative examples.--His impressions of
Religion.--One of his Letters on Literature 371

CHAPTER XV.

Character of Fuseli as an Artist.--His early style.--His ardent
pursuit of excellence in design.--His neglect of mechanical means,
particularly as regards Colours.--His professional independence,
unmixed with obstinacy.--His pre-eminent faculty of invention, and
success in the portraiture of the ideal.--His deficiencies as to
correctness, and disinclination to laborious finish.--Causes of his
limited popularity as a Painter.--His felicity in Likenesses.--His
colour and chiar-oscuro.--His quality as a Teacher of the Fine
Arts.--His ardent love of Art.--Arrangements as to the disposal of
his Works, &c.--List of his Subjects exhibited at the Royal Academy
from 1774 to 1825 395

APPENDIX.

On the character of Fuseli as an Artist, by W. Y. Ottley,
Esq.--Verses to Fuseli on his series of Pictures from the Poetical
Works of Milton, by W. Roscoe, Esq.--Ode to Fuseli on seeing
Engravings from his Designs, by H. K. White, Esq.--"A
Vision,"--verses in which Fuseli's principal productions are
briefly noticed 419

THE

LIFE

HENRY FUSELI,

M.A. R.A.

CHAPTER I.

Fuseli's birth and family.--Passion for drawing manifested in his
childhood.--His destination for the Church.--Singular cause of
_ambidexterity_.--Fuseli's early fondness for entomology.--He
enters the Collegium Carolinum at Zurich.--His associates there:
Lavater, Usteri, Tomman, Jacob and Felix Hess.--Professors Bodmer
and Breitinger.--His partiality for Shakspeare, &c.--His turn for
satire called forth at the College.--He courts the poetic
Muse.--Enters into holy orders at the same time with
Lavater.--State of pulpit oratory in Zurich.--Fuseli and Lavater
become champions of the public cause against a magistrate of
Zurich.--Quits Zurich.

As there is a natural wish in mankind to be made acquainted with the
history of those men who have distinguished themselves by any
extraordinary exertion of talent, so we always experience regret when
we look to the biography of a celebrated man, if we find the details
scanty, or the particulars respecting him resting for their accuracy
upon the uncertainty of oral communication, made after a lapse of
several years.

Although the mind of an author may, at a remote period, be appreciated
by a perusal of his works, and the capacity and talents of an artist be
judged of by the powers of invention which he has displayed,--by the
harmony of his colour and the style and correctness of his lines; yet
these do not completely satisfy; we wish the more to see him in his
closet, to pursue him into familiar life, and to be made acquainted with
the paths which he trod and the mode of study which he adopted to arrive
at eminence. Who does not feel this impulse when he peruses the meagre
accounts we have received of Shakspeare or Correggio? although the
utmost efforts of industry have been employed to collect facts relating
to these extraordinary men.

It is with such feelings that I attempt to give some particulars of the
life and professional career of Henry Fuseli, while they are fresh on
the memory; for if the biography of any particular man be not written
during his lifetime, or shortly after his decease, we recollect perhaps
only a few circumstances, and fill up the record by guessing at the
rest.

Many of the incidents which I am about to relate respecting Mr. Fuseli
were communicated by himself; for I had the happiness of enjoying his
friendship uninterruptedly for twenty years, and was almost in the daily
habit of seeing and conversing with him until the last period of his
existence. Other particulars I have collected from some of his relations
and friends, and gleaned much from his private papers, which fell into
my possession, as executor to his will. The facts may therefore be
relied upon, and they will, at least, assist some future biographer: for
I feel the difficulties under which I must unavoidably labour, in
attempting to display the powers of a highly gifted man, and an eminent
professor in an art which requires the study of years, nay of a whole
life, to understand in any competent degree.

Henry Füessli (for such is the family name), the second son of John
Caspar Füessli, was born on the 7th February, 1741, N.S. at Zurich, in
Switzerland, which city had been the native place of his family for many
generations.

His father, John Caspar, a painter of portraits and sometimes of
landscapes, was distinguished for his literary attainments; when young,
he had travelled into Germany, and became a pupil of Kupetzky, the most
celebrated portrait painter of his time. He then resided for some time
at Rastadt, as portrait painter to that court; and afterwards went to
Ludswigsbourg, with letters of recommendation to the Prince of
Wirtemberg, and was particularly patronized by him.

In the war of 1733, a French army having entered Germany, threw every
thing there into confusion, on which Füessli withdrew from the scene of
military operations, to Nuremberg, and remained in that city for six
months, in expectation of a termination of hostilities; but hearing of
the fall of his patron, the Prince of Wirtemberg, in the field of
battle, he returned to Zurich, and settled in Switzerland for life.

Shortly after his return to his native city, he married Elizabeth Waser,
an excellent woman, but of retired habits, who confined her attention to
the care of her house and family, and to the perusal of religious books.
By this marriage he had eighteen children, three of whom only arrived at
the age of manhood;--Rodolph, who followed his father's profession as a
painter, and afterwards, settling at Vienna, became librarian to the
Emperor of Germany; Henry, the subject of this Memoir; and Caspar, well
known for his able and discriminative works on entomology.

Although John Caspar Füessli, the father, had travelled much, and was
not unacquainted with the manners of courts, and could practise, when he
thought proper, those of a courtier, yet he had assumed the carriage of
an independent man of the world, and acquired an abrupt and blunt manner
of speaking. Yet, as he was endowed with learning and possessed of
talents, his house was frequented by men the most eminent in literature
and in the arts, in Zurich and its neighbourhood. He was also an author,
and, among other works, published the Lives of the Helvetic Painters, in
which he received considerable assistance, both in its arrangement and
style, from his son Henry. This he was enabled to do, notwithstanding,
to use his own words, "in boyhood, when the mind first becomes capable
of receiving the rudiments of knowledge, he had not the advantage of the
amalgamating tuition of a public school."[1]

Henry Fuseli not only profited in his early years by the instruction of
his parents, but also by the society which his father kept; indeed, he
may be said to have been rocked in his cradle by the Muses,--for Solomon
Gessner was his godfather. This poet and painter was the intimate friend
of the elder Fuseli, and addressed to him an elaborate letter on
landscape-painting, which is published in his works. But it was to his
mother that Henry considered himself chiefly indebted for the rudiments
of his education: she, it appears, was a woman of superior talents, and
possessed, in a high degree, the affection and gratitude of her
children. Even in the latter days of his life, when Fuseli has spoken of
his mother, I have seen tears start into his eyes.

Henry Fuseli showed, very early, a predilection for drawing, and also
for entomology; but the former was checked by his father, who knowing,
from his own pursuits, the difficulty of arriving at any eminence in the
fine arts, except a man's whole mind and attention be given to them; and
having designed his son Henry for the clerical profession, under the
expectation of advantageous preferment for him in the church, he
considered that any pursuit requiring more than ordinary attention would
draw his mind from those studies which appertain to theology, and thus
be injurious to his future prospects. Perhaps, too, his dislike to his
son's being an artist may also have arisen from the notion, that he
would never excel in the mechanical part of painting; for, in youth, he
had so great an awkwardness of hands, that his parents would not permit
him to touch any thing liable to be broken or injured. His father has
often exclaimed, when such things were shown to his visitors, "Take care
of that boy, for he destroys or spoils whatever he touches."

Although the love which Fuseli had for the fine arts might be checked,
yet it was not to be diverted altogether; this pursuit, which was denied
him by parental authority, was secretly indulged,--for he bought with
his small allowance of pocket-money, candles, pencils, paper, &c., in
order to make drawings when his parents believed him to be in bed. These
he sold to his companions; the produce of which enabled him either to
purchase materials for the execution of other drawings, or to add
articles to his wardrobe, such as his parents might withhold, from
prudential motives.

Many of his early sketches are still preserved, one of which is now in
my possession,--"Orestes pursued by the Furies." The subjects which he
chose were either terrific or ludicrous scenes: in both these, he at all
periods of life excelled: although his early works are incorrect in
point of drawing, yet they generally tell the story which they intend to
represent, with a wonderful felicity, particularly when it is considered
that several of them proceeded from the mind of a mere child, scarcely
eleven years of age.

The work which most engrossed Fuseli's juvenile attention was Tobias
Stimmer's field-sports: these subjects he copied diligently, either with
a pen or in Indian ink, as well as the sketches of Christopher Maurer,
Gotthard Ringgli, Jobst Ammann, and other masters of Zurich. These
artists, it must be acknowledged, possessed great powers of invention,
and had a firm and bold outline, yet their figures are not to be
commended for proportions or elegance, and the mannerism of their works
was a dangerous example for a student to follow. It is not surprising,
therefore, that we find an imitation of their faults in the early
drawings of Fuseli; in which short and clumsy figures are generally
draped in the old Swiss _costume_.

Although the father seldom or ever attended public worship, yet he was
not ignorant of the principles of religion, and knew what would be
expected from his son when he entered upon the clerical profession: in
order, therefore, to initiate him in the doctrines which he intended he
should teach, he employed a clergyman to assist him in these as well as
to instruct him in the classics. From this gentleman he borrowed the
most esteemed religious books, which it was his practice, in the
evenings, to read aloud to Henry. But while the father was reading the
paraphrases of Doddridge, or the sermons of Götz or Saurin, the son was
not unfrequently employed in making drawings; and the better to escape
observation, he used his left hand for that purpose. This practice made
him ambidextrous during his life.

The tutor soon perceived the bent of his pupil's inclination, who,
instead of making his themes, or attending to other studies, was
caricaturing those about him; and he told his father that, although he
had an uncommon capacity for whatever he undertook with ardour, yet he
was so wayward in his disposition, and so bent upon drawing, that it
was doubtful whether he would ever become a scholar.

The health of Mrs. Füessli being in a very delicate state, the family
removed a few miles from the city, for the benefit of the air. Henry was
at this time about twelve years of age. A residence in the country
opened to his active mind a new field for contemplation, in the study of
nature; and he now found great delight in what he had before in a degree
pursued,--entomology. This study his father allowed him to prosecute, as
he considered that the attempt to gain a knowledge of a science

"Which looks through Nature up to Nature's God,"

would be advantageous to his future walk in life; he therefore indulged
his wish, encouraged him to proceed, and furnished him with books by
which he could get information respecting the genera of insects, and
their habits.[2] And in the pursuit of entomology he was usually
accompanied by his younger brother, Caspar, who has written so ably upon
this science; and I have often heard Henry enlarge, in glowing terms,
upon the pleasurable sensations which he experienced, when a boy, from
the freshness of the air, at the dawn of day, when he had been creeping
through hedge-rows in search of the larvæ of insects, or in pursuit of
the disturbed and escaping moth or butterfly.

After a residence of two or three years in the country, Henry had
arrived at that age when he required and was likely to profit by more
profound instructions than he had hitherto received; with the view of
affording these, his family resumed their residence at Zurich, and he
was placed as a student in the _Collegium Carolinum_, in which he was
matriculated, and finally took the degree of Master of Arts.

The secluded life which Fuseli's parents led, particularly while they
resided in the country, had confined his juvenile acquaintances to a M.
Nüscheler,[3] and to those youths who received occasional instructions
from his father in painting. A college was therefore a new and imposing
scene. Although he was then a novice in society, and had from nature a
degree of shyness, which was increased by seclusion; yet his acute and
discerning mind soon discovered those students who possessed the
greatest talents, and with whom he could therefore with the more
pleasure associate. Accordingly, he formed an acquaintance, which
ripened into lasting friendship, with Lavater, Usteri, Tomman, Jacob,
and Felix Hess; names well known in German literature.

At this time, the celebrated Bodmer and Breitinger were professors in
the Caroline College; they were the intimate friends of the elder
Füessli, (who has transmitted their likenesses to posterity,) and in
consequence of this intimacy, they paid more than ordinary attention to
the young student. These learned men were, in addition to their other
studies, actively engaged in reforming the German language, and in this
respect correcting the taste of their countrymen, and they constantly
urged their pupils to pursue the same course; for at this period a pure
and elegant style was very rare, and therefore considered no mean
acquirement.

A naturally strong constitution, with considerable elasticity of mind,
enabled Fuseli to pursue his studies for many hours in each day without
interruption. In fact, he was capable of any mental labour, however
severe. He attended diligently the usual routine of college studies, and
being possessed of a very retentive memory, these were attained or
performed without difficulty. He therefore found time to gain a
considerable knowledge of the English, French, and Italian languages. He
was attracted to these, not only by the desire of travelling at some
future period, but that he might be enabled to read some of the most
celebrated authors in their own tongues.

He was enamoured with the plays of Shakspeare, and attempted a
translation of Macbeth into German. The novels of Richardson,
particularly his Clarissa, made a powerful and lasting impression upon
his mind.[4] The works of Rousseau were eagerly devoured by him. And the
poetic flights of Dante not only aroused his feelings, but afforded
subjects for his daring pencil, which, notwithstanding his numerous
studies, was not laid aside.

Mixing in society naturally gives to an observing mind a knowledge of
men and manners. After Henry Fuseli had attended for some time the
college studies, and acquired some degree of confidence in his own
powers, he discovered and exposed weak points in some of the professors
and tutors who had been held up as examples to the students, and also
brought forward the merit and latent qualities of others, who from their
modesty had remained without notice, and thus drew them from obscurity.
If he could not attain his object by satire, in which he was very
powerful, he sometimes resorted to caricature, a weapon not less
formidable in his hands. The wounded pride of some of the masters
induced them to draw up a formal complaint against him, and he was
threatened with expulsion by the president, which was only a menace to
intimidate him, as the heads of the college admired his talents, and
were pleased with his assiduity.

In reading the Holy Scriptures (which he did diligently), the classics,
or the modern historians or poets, Fuseli's mind was most powerfully
attracted by those incidents or expressions which are out of the
ordinary course, and he frequently embodied them with his pencil. Bodmer
perceiving this bent of his mind, recommended him to try his powers in
poetry, and gave him, as models for imitation, the works of Klopstock
and Weiland. The former were considered by Henry to be master-pieces; he
caught the inspiration, and published, in a weekly journal called the
"Freymüthigen Nachrichten,"[5] an ode to Meta. This was so much in the
spirit, and so near an imitation of Klopstock's style, that the ardent
admirers of this great poet attributed it to him, and which was believed
by all who were not in the secret. He also attempted a tragedy from the
Bible, "The Death of Saul," which was also highly commended.

It is but reasonable to suppose, that Bodmer would endeavour to instil
into the mind of a favourite pupil a love for the abstract sciences, in
the knowledge of which he was himself so eminently skilled: but for
these Fuseli showed an utter distaste, which continued during the whole
of his life. He has more than once exclaimed to me, "Were the angel
Gabriel sent expressly to teach me the mathematics, he would fail in his
mission." And he has frequently dilated upon the annoyance which he
felt, when discovered by any one of the tutors to be engaged in some
favourite pursuit, by his putting, in Latin, an abrupt and unexpected
question in physics, such as, "_Quid est calor, Henrice Füessli?_"

In the year 1761, Fuseli and his intimate friend Lavater entered into
holy orders. The state of pulpit oratory, at this time, in Zurich, is
thus described by a kinsman[6] of the former: "The Dutch method of
analyzing was at this time in vogue in our pulpits. By aiming at
popularity, the language was often reduced to the lowest strain, and to
mere puerilities. The subjects were chiefly dogmatical; and if a moral
theme was introduced, their sermons betrayed no knowledge of mankind:
they were mostly common-place declamation, deficient in precision and
just discrimination. Exaggeration prevented the backslider from applying
the description to himself; and as the way to reformation was neither
intelligibly nor mildly pointed out, he was rather irritated than
corrected.

"Even the most distinguished preachers lost themselves in long
and tiresome discourses, wandering either through the barren
fields of scholastic or academic exercises, of little interest to
a common audience; or else they spun out labyrinthine allegories.

"Others tried to excite the feelings by doctrines that bordered
on mysticism or Moravianism; and there were those who made
simplicity their aim, not the noble but the coarser species,
descending to vulgarity and meanness to flatter the popular
taste, and endeavouring to disguise vacuity and sameness by low
comparisons, little tales, and awkward imagery.

"Some were to be found who, in their zeal for doctrinal faith,
abused morality and philosophy, and bestowed the nickname of
"_Taste-tellers_" on those who took a different course, and aimed
at a better mode of address."

Klopstock, Bodmer, Weiland, Zimmerman, S. Gessner, and some others,
feeling how defective pulpit oratory was at Zurich, had laboured to
bring about a better style of preaching, but without much effect.
Fuseli, upon entering into holy orders, determined to regulate his
efforts, and by the advice of these learned men, he chose Saurin's
sermons as models of manner and arrangement; but with the view of
conveying his sentiments so as to produce the greatest effect upon his
audience, adopted the more inflated language of Klopstock and of Bodmer.

As his reputation stood high at college, and as his society was coveted
for the power which he displayed in conversation, and for his deep
knowledge in the classics and in sacred and profane history; so, a great
degree of curiosity was excited among his friends, as to the success of
his probationary sermon, which he knowing, with characteristic humour,
took his text from the 17th chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, 18th
verse, "What will this babbler say?" and preached against the passion of
curiosity.

The new mode of preaching which Fuseli adopted and carried into many of
the pulpits of Zurich; the novelty of the style, the originality of the
ideas, and the nervous language which he used, pleased "the judicious
few;" but it was "caviare to the general;" and hence the youthful
preacher gained no great degree of popular applause. His friends, and
Bodmer in particular, prompted him to persevere in the course which he
had commenced, assuring him, that, in the end, it would be crowned with
success; but at this time an incident happened, which gave a turn to his
pursuits in life.

The works of Rousseau, Voltaire, and others, who were then endeavouring
by their writings to bring about a reform in the political and moral
conditions of society, warmed his imagination, and he, Lavater, Jacob
and Felix Hess, (who were not less influenced,) were determined to exert
themselves, to benefit those of their native city. An opportunity was
soon presented to their active minds. Rumour had been for some time busy
with the character of a ruling magistrate, the high land-bailiff Grebel,
ascribing to him various acts of tyranny and oppression, and among
others, that of appropriating to himself property, and bidding defiance
to the rightful owners. This he considered he might do with impunity,
not only by the power which he possessed from his high situation, but
also from that which he derived from his father-in-law, who was the
burgomaster of Zurich.

The young friends made diligent inquiries into these charges, and found
that there were ample grounds to justify the reports which were current.
Their indignation was aroused, and they sent an anonymous letter to the
magistrate, threatening him with instant exposure if he did not restore
the property. Grebel, relying too much upon the feeling of security
which power creates, took no notice of this letter. Upon which Fuseli,
and Lavater in particular, excited farther by his contempt, resolved to
make the cause of the injured party their own, and accordingly wrote a
pamphlet, entitled, "The Unjust Magistrate, or the Complaint of a
Patriot," in which they detailed, in forcible and glowing terms, the
acts of oppression which had been committed, and called upon the
Government to examine into the facts, and punish the offender.

This pamphlet they industriously circulated, and took care that it
should fall into the hands of all the principal members of the
government. The manly tone in which it was written, and the facts
adduced in support of the accusation, made such an impression on the
council of Zurich, that it was stated from authority, if the author
would avow himself, all the circumstances should be inquired into, and
the facts carefully examined.

Upon this, Fuseli and Lavater, who were the ostensible persons, boldly
stepped forward, and acknowledged themselves the authors. Evidence was
taken, and the truth of the accusation established to its utmost extent.
An upright judgment was awarded; the property restored; and the guilty
magistrate then absconded, to avoid the personal punishment so justly
due to his crimes.

Of this incident, which perhaps was the most important of Fuseli's life,
as it was the cause of his quitting his native country, and changing his
profession, he very seldom spoke; and during the whole term of our
acquaintance, never mentioned the particulars but once, and then
remarked, "Although I cannot but reflect with some degree of
satisfaction upon the correctness of our feeling, and the courage which
we displayed, yet, situated as we and our families then were, it evinced
precipitation on our part, and a want of knowledge of the world."

This spirited act, on the part of Fuseli and his friends, was for some
time the theme of public conversation at Zurich, and their patriotism
was greatly applauded. But the disgrace which had fallen, by their
means, on the accused, was felt by his powerful family, who considered,
that, from their connexion with him, a part of the ignominy fell upon
themselves. The tendency and natural consequences of such feelings were
properly appreciated by the respective families of the young men, and
they considered it prudent to recommend them to withdraw for a time from
the city.

CHAPTER II.

The friends are accompanied in their journey by Professor Sulzer.--
They visit Augsburgh and Leipsic.--Arrive at Berlin.--Fuseli
furnishes some designs for Bodmer's work.--Baron Arnheim.--Fuseli
visits Barth, in Pomerania, where he pursues his studies for six
months under Professor Spalding.--Motives which induce him to visit
England, where he arrives in 1763, under the protection of Sir Andrew
Mitchell.--Lord Scarsdale: Mr. Coutts: Mr. Andrew Millar: Mr. Joseph
Johnson.--Fuseli receives engagements from the booksellers.--His
first residence in London: becomes acquainted with Smollet: Falconer:
A. Kauffman: Mrs. Lloyd: Mr. Cadell: Garrick.--Fuseli accepts, and
shortly after relinquishes the charge of travelling tutor to the son
of the Earl of Waldegrave.--His first interview with Sir Joshua
Reynolds.--His earliest production in oil painting.--He visits
Liverpool.--Takes part in Rousseau's quarrel with Hume and Voltaire,
(1767) and exerts his pen in the cause of his countryman.

It was fortunate for Fuseli and his friends, that the learned Sulzer,
who held the situation of professor of mathematics in the Joachimsthel
College, at Berlin, was at Zurich at this time, having obtained leave
from the King of Prussia to visit his native country, to endeavour to
dissipate his grief for the loss of a beloved wife. Sulzer, who had
taken a lively interest in the cause which these young men had
advocated, was about to return to Berlin, and offered to take them with
him: this opportunity was not to be neglected; and he, Fuseli, Lavater,
Jacob and Felix Hess, set out on their journey, early in the year 1763,
accompanied by a numerous train of friends and admirers, who attended
them as far as Winterthur, at which place they were welcomed with
fervour, as the enemies of oppression.

Sulzer justly and properly appreciated what would probably be felt by
young men who, for the first time, leave home and those connexions which
make home dear to them; and he therefore, in order to dissipate any
unpleasant feelings, determined to remain for some days at those cities
or towns on the road, where there was any thing to be seen worthy of
attention. The change, however, was less felt by Fuseli than by his
companions; the profession in which he had been employed was not one of
his choice; he had always entertained a strong desire to travel, and he
had lost, a few years previously, an affectionate mother[7] to whom he
was tenderly attached.

The first city of note at which they tarried was Augsburgh: here Fuseli
showed his predilection for art, in giving, by letter to his friends at
Zurich, a florid description of the sensations which he experienced on
seeing the colossal figure of St. Michael over the gateway of the
arsenal, the work of a Bavarian sculptor, Reichel. In the churches and
senate-house of this city, the paintings of Tintoretto, Schönfeld, and
Rothenhamer, attracted his particular attention; and he expressed his
regret at the neglect which appeared to attend the works of the
last-named master, (whom he eulogizes as "one of the most able painters
of Germany,") as his pictures were then falling into rapid decay.

At Leipsic, they were introduced by Sulzer to Ernesti, Gellert, Weisse,
and other literati. From the description which Fuseli gave of the two
former, it is evident that he, as well as Lavater, had paid early in
life a sedulous attention to physiognomy. Of Ernesti, he says, "although
he spoke of the liberality of all classes in Saxony, his countenance did
not agree with his words; on the contrary, he seems to be growing
intolerant from knowledge and from authorship." Of Gellert, he remarks,
"he has an expressive mouth, it turns on one side with a sensible easy
smile; he is so gentle, so accustomed to express simplicity in his very
countenance, and yet so quick-sighted, that he was disturbed by being
looked at, and inquired whether I was displeased with him; he has
certainly a tendency to hypochondria."

On their arrival at Berlin, Sulzer commenced (according to a promise
made at Zurich) arrangements for publishing a splendid and improved
edition of his friend Bodmer's "Noachide," which was to be embellished
with engravings. B. Rhode, of Berlin, was employed to make the designs
for the first four cantos; those for the remaining eight were furnished
by Fuseli, who, not only to raise his own credit, but to show his
gratitude to Bodmer, exerted his utmost ability upon that work.
Comparing these with his former drawings, it is evident that the St.
Michael, at Augsburgh, was the standard for the stupendous forms which
he introduced against a murky sky, in the terrible scenes of the
destruction of the primeval inhabitants of the earth. In these subjects
he succeeded beyond expectation. In the more lovely scenes of the poem
he was not equally happy; for, "instead of repose and cheerfulness, his
female figures had a degree of wantonness bordering somewhat upon
voluptuousness."

The popularity of the cause which induced Fuseli and his companions to
leave Zurich travelled before them, and they were caressed not only by
the friends and acquaintances of Sulzer, at Berlin, but by all those who
were enemies to oppression from whatever quarter it might spring. Among
these, was the then Baron Arnheim, who was so much pleased with the
recital of the transaction, and struck with the appearance and
conversation of Fuseli and Lavater, that he had a picture painted,
representing their first interview, which is still preserved by his
family.

After remaining a short time at Berlin, Sulzer placed his young friends
with Professor Spalding, who resided at Barth, in Hither Pomerania.
Fuseli here pursued his classical studies with eagerness, and did not
neglect the fine arts, for we find that he drew the portrait of the
Professor's daughter, and also added to the decorations of her
summer-house by his pencil.

During a residence of six months at Barth, he gained the highest
estimation for talents with all those who knew him, and the esteem of
Spalding, but he left his friends there, being recalled to Berlin by
Sulzer.

The cause of Fuseli's return to the capital was, that, at this time,
some of the literati of Germany and Switzerland had it in contemplation
to establish a regular channel of literary communication between those
countries and England. Fuseli's tutors and friends, Bodmer, Breitenger,
and Sulzer, felt a lively interest in this project, and took an active
part in carrying the design into execution. These philosophers thought,
that there was no person better qualified than Fuseli to conduct the
business. He was possessed of great mental and bodily activity; they had
the highest opinion of his talents; and they considered that his
extensive knowledge of modern languages would facilitate their project.
In making the proposal, Sulzer represented that it would be
inconvenient, if not dangerous, for him to go back, within a limited
time, to Zurich; for it was well known to the family of Grebel, that he
had taken the most active part in the affair against their relation: and
moreover that, although his companions might, under this circumstance,
from their powerful connexions, return at no distant period with
impunity, yet Fuseli, not so happily situated, would suffer from all the
effects of tyranny which power could exercise. This reasoning had its
due effect upon the mind of Fuseli; he however asked the opinion of his
father, which being in favour of his accepting the offer of Sulzer, made
him determine to visit England.

Sir Andrew Mitchell was at this time the British minister at the court
of Prussia: he was a friend of Sulzer's, who accordingly introduced
Fuseli to him. At his house he improved much in English conversation,
and he met several men of literary note, among whom was Dr. Armstrong,
who was then physician to the British forces in Germany; and with this
gentleman he became intimately acquainted.

Sir Andrew Mitchell was about to return to England; and being pleased
with the society of Fuseli, and wishing to give every facility to the
views of Sulzer, he liberally made the offer to the latter that his
young friend should accompany him to London, and promised that he would
give him his protection when there, and such introductions as should be
useful in effecting the object of his mission. This offer was not to be
refused: Fuseli, therefore, set out with Sir Andrew, and arrived in
England at the close of the year 1763.

Before he quitted Prussia, he took leave of Lavater, his early and
devoted friend, who, at parting, put into his hands a paper, which he
previously had framed and glazed, on which was written, in German, "Thue
den siebenden theil von dem was du thun kannst."[8] "Hang this in your
bed-chamber, my dear friend," said he; "look at it occasionally, and I
foresee the result."

Sir Andrew Mitchell fully performed his promise, for, on their arrival
in London, he was anxious to introduce his _protégé_ to men
distinguished either for rank, property, or talents: among these were
the late Lord Scarsdale and Mr. Coutts, the banker. Sir Andrew, knowing,
however, that booksellers of respectability and probity are the best
patrons of literary characters, strongly recommended him to Mr. Andrew
Millar and Mr. Joseph Johnson. The former was well known as an opulent
man, and an old and established publisher; the latter had but recently
begun business on his own account, but he had already acquired the
character which he retained during life,--that of a man of great
integrity, an encourager of literary men as far as his means extended,
and an excellent judge of their productions. With these persons Fuseli
kept up a friendly intercourse during their lives.

Fuseli took lodgings in the house of a Mrs. Green, in Cranbourn Street,
then called Cranbourn Alley. He lived here from prudential
motives,--those of economy, as well as being near to the house of a
gentleman (Mr. Coutts) to whom he had been introduced, who resided at
this time in St. Martin's Lane. No sooner was he fixed in this place,
than he wrote to his father, to give him an account of his voyage and
journey from Berlin to London, and of the prospects which appeared to be
open to him. Stranger as he was in the great metropolis of England,
separated from his family, and nearly unknown to any of its inhabitants,
his sensitive feelings were aroused, and in a gloomy state of mind he
sallied forth, with the letter in his hand, in search of a post-office.

At this period there was much greater brutality of demeanour exercised
by the lower orders of the English towards foreigners than there is at
present. Meeting with a vulgar fellow, Fuseli inquired his way to the
post-office, in a broad German pronunciation: this produced only a
horse-laugh from the man. The forlorn situation in which he was placed
burst on his mind;--he stamped with his foot, while tears trickled down
his cheeks. A gentleman who saw the transaction, and felt for Fuseli,
apologised for the rudeness which he had received, explained its cause,
and told him that, as a foreigner, he must expect to be so treated by
the lower orders of the people: after this he shewed him where he might
deposit his letter. This kindness from a stranger, in some degree,
restored tranquillity to his agonised feelings.

Finding that his name was difficult of pronunciation to an Englishman,
he shortly after altered the arrangement of the letters, and signed
"Fusseli."

He kept up a constant correspondence with Bodmer and Sulzer. This was
not, however, conducted in those terms of respectful diffidence in which
a pupil generally addresses his tutors; but with that manly independence
of spirit which he inherited from his father, and with that originality
of thought so peculiar to himself; which, although he frequently
differed in opinion with them, and expressed his notions with asperity,
was somewhat pleasing to these eminent men, particularly to Bodmer,
whose constant advice to his pupils was, "Think and act for yourselves."

The independent spirit of Fuseli would not allow him to be under the
pecuniary obligations which his friends offered; he therefore laboured
hard, and fortunately got ample employment from the booksellers, in
translating works from the French, Italian, and German languages into
English; and some popular works from the English into German,--among
others the letters of Lady Mary Wortley Montague.

In 1765, he published (with his name affixed) a translation of the Abbé
Winkelmann's "Reflections on the Painting and Sculpture of the Greeks,"
which was dedicated to his friend and patron, Lord Scarsdale. The
dedication is dated the 10th April, 1765. Much to the credit of Mr.
Millar, he took every opportunity of forwarding the sale of this work,
and gave Fuseli the whole proceeds, after deducting only the expenses of
paper and printing.

At this time he visited very frequently Smollet, and also Falconer, the
author of "the Shipwreck," and other works. The latter then was allowed
to occupy apartments in old Somerset House, and Fuseli always
represented him as a man of mild and inoffensive manners, although far
from being happy, in consequence of the pressure of his pecuniary
circumstances. For Doctor Smollet he made several drawings of scenes in
his novel of Peregrine Pickle, which were engraved and published in an
early edition of that well-known work. This edition is now very scarce.

Mr. Cadell having, in the year 1766, succeeded to the business of Mr.
Millar, as a bookseller and publisher, he also kept up the connexion
with Fuseli, and gave him constant employment.

A taste for the fine arts had been recently awakened in England, and
some of the principal painters, sculptors, and architects, had formed
themselves into a society for promoting them; from which circumstance,
high expectations were raised of the encouragement likely to be afforded
to artists by the public. Fuseli was stimulated by these to fresh
exertions of his pencil, and all his leisure hours were devoted to
drawing or etching historical subjects.

About this period he became acquainted with two artists his countrymen,
Mr. Moser, who on the establishment of the Royal Academy was appointed
Keeper, and Mr. Kauffman, chiefly known, at present, as the father of
the more celebrated Angelica Kauffman, who, considered as a female
artist, even now ranks high as an historical painter.

With Miss Kauffman, it appears, Fuseli was much enamoured; and although
he did not at any time hold her professional talents in high esteem,
yet he always spoke of her in terms of regard, and considered her as a
handsome, lively, and engaging woman.

The youth, fine manly countenance and conversational talents of Fuseli
made a deep impression upon most female hearts and minds: hence, Miss
Mary Moser (now better known as Mrs. Lloyd), the daughter of Mr. Moser,
who was in almost the daily habit of seeing and conversing with him,
also experienced their influence; and she flattered herself that the
feelings which she had were mutual.

If Fuseli ever had any affection for this lady while he was in England,
it was soon dissipated by change of scene and the pleasures which he
pursued when in Italy. The two following letters, which are extracted
from Mr. J. T. Smith's Life of Nollekens, tend to show the disposition
of both parties towards each other.

"If you have not forgotten at Rome those friends whom you
remembered at Florence, write to me from that nursery of arts and
raree-show of the world, which flourishes in ruins: tell me of
pictures, palaces, people, lakes, woods, and rivers; say if Old
Tiber droops with age, or whether his waters flow as clear, his
rushes grow as green, and his swans look as white, as those of
Father Thames; or write me your own thoughts and reflections,
which will be more acceptable than any description of any thing
Greece and Rome have done these two thousand years.

"I suppose there has been a million of letters sent to Italy with
an account of our Exhibition, so it will be only telling you what
you know already, to say that Reynolds was like himself in
pictures which you have seen; Gainsborough beyond himself in a
portrait of a gentleman in a Vandyke habit; and Zoffany superior
to every body, in a portrait of Garrick in the character of Abel
Drugger, with two other figures, Subtle and Face. Sir Joshua
agreed to give a hundred guineas for the picture; Lord Carlisle
half an hour after offered Reynolds twenty to part with it, which
the Knight generously refused, resigned his intended purchase to
the Lord, and the emolument to his brother artist. (He is a
gentleman!) Angelica made a very great addition to the show; and
Mr. Hamilton's picture of Brisëis parting from Achilles, was very
much admired; the Brisëis in taste, _à l'antique_, elegant and
simple. Coates, Dance, Wilson, &c. as usual. Mr. West had no
large picture finished. You will doubtless imagine, that I
derived my epistolary genius from my nurse; but when you are
tired of my gossiping, you may burn the letter, so I shall go on.
Some of the literati of the Royal Academy were very much
disappointed, as they could not obtain diplomas; but the
Secretary, who is above trifles, has since made a very flattering
compliment to the Academy in the Preface to his Travels: the
Professor of History is comforted by the success of his "Deserted
Village," which is a very pretty poem, and has lately put himself
under the conduct of Mrs. Hornick and her fair daughters, and is
gone to France; and Dr. Johnson sips his tea, and cares not for
the vanity of the world. Sir Joshua, a few days ago, entertained
the Council and Visitors with calipash and calipee, except poor
Coates, who last week fell a sacrifice to the corroding power of
soap-lees, which he hoped would have cured him of the stone: many
a tear will drop on his grave, as he is not more lamented as an
artist than a friend to the distressed. (_Ma poca polvere sono
che nulla sente!_) My mamma declares that you are an insufferable
creature, and that she speaks as good English as your mother did
High-German. Mr. Meyer laughed aloud at your letter, and desired
to be remembered. My father and his daughter long to know the
progress you will make, particularly

Mary Moser,

Who remains sincerely your friend, and believes you will exclaim
or mutter to yourself, '_Why did she send this d----d nonsense to
me?_'"

Henry Fuseli, Esq. à Roma.

* * * * *

"Rome, April 27, 1771.

"MADAM,

"I am inexcusable. I know your letter by heart, and have never
answered it; but I am often so very unhappy within, that I hold it
matter of remorse to distress such a friend as Miss Moser with my
own whimsical miseries;--they may be fancied evils, but to him who
has fancy, real evils are unnecessary, though I have them too. All
I can say is, that I am approaching the period which commonly
decides a man's life with regard to fame or infamy; if I am
distracted by the thought, those who have passed the Rubicon will
excuse me, and you are amongst the number.

"Mr. Runciman, who does me the favour to carry these lines, my
friend, and, in my opinion, the best _Painter_ of _us_ in Rome, has
desired me to introduce him to your family; but he wants no other
introduction than his merit. I beg my warmest compliments to papa
and mamma, and am unaltered,

"Madam,

"Your most obliged servant and friend,

"Fuseli."

"To Miss Moser,
Craven Buildings, Drury Lane."

Mrs. Lloyd was a painter of flowers, which she grouped with taste, and
coloured with truth and brilliancy; in this department of the art she
experienced patronage from her late Majesty Queen Charlotte, who
employed her pencil not only on pictures, but also to decorate a room in
the palace at Frogmore. This lady always held the talents of Fuseli in
the highest respect. Being invited by the late Mr. Angerstein to view
the superb collection of pictures in his house in Pall Mall, then
belonging to him, but subsequently sold by his heirs to the Nation, she
left him by expressing her gratitude for the treat which his kindness
had afforded her, but she added, "In my opinion, Sir, your finest
pictures are on the staircase," alluding to those which he purchased of
Fuseli, and which had formed a part of the Milton Gallery.

At this time, Garrick was in the height of his reputation; and as Fuseli
considered the theatre the best school for a foreigner to acquire the
pronunciation of the English language, and Garrick's performance an
excellent imitation of the passions, which would give him a lesson
essential to historical designs; he never missed the opportunity of
seeing him act, and he was generally to be found in the front row of the
pit: to obtain which, he often used much personal exertion, and put
himself in situations of hazard and inconvenience. And he has often
dwelt with delight upon the performances of the man who represented so
well the stormy passions of Richard, or the easy libertinism of Ranger;
and then could descend to the credulous Abel Drugger, and, in the
character of the silly tobacconist, so alter the expression of his
countenance as scarcely to be recognised as the person who had
delineated the higher character in the histrionic art. As a proof of the
strong impression which Garrick's acting made at this period upon
Fuseli, there are now in the possession of the Countess of Guilford, two
drawings, which he presented to the late Alderman Cadell; the one
representing Garrick and Mrs. Pritchard as Macbeth and Lady Macbeth,
from the passage,

"I have done the deed;"

the other, Garrick as Richard the Third, making love to Lady Anne, over
the corse of her father-in-law, Henry the Sixth. These, according to an
inscription on the second, were made in London, in 1766. And although
they have the faults of most of his early productions, yet they are
drawn with characteristic truth and spirit.

At the end of the year (1766) an advantageous offer was made to Fuseli,
to undertake the situation of travelling tutor to Viscount Chewton, the
eldest son of Earl Waldegrave, which, after consulting Professor Sulzer,
he accepted. For this charge, it was considered, his extensive knowledge
of languages and eminent literary talents fully qualified him. His
lordship was young, and, when in France, showed an impatience of control
common to a youth of his age and rank in life, the latter of which he
thought should exempt him from the authority and constraint which his
tutor considered it his duty to exert. This disposition, on the part of
the pupil, naturally excited the irritable feelings of Fuseli, and on a
second refusal to obey, a severe blow was given. Considering that, after
this, his services would be of no avail to a youth by whom they were not
properly appreciated, he, to use his own words, "determining to be a
bear-leader no longer," wrote in nearly those terms to Earl Waldegrave,
and returned to England. He left, however, some written instructions
with Lord Chewton, showing how he might profit by travelling. On his
return to this country, Earl Waldegrave, so far from condemning (as
Fuseli expected) his conduct, told him that he had acted with a proper
degree of spirit; but Fuseli's family, and most of his friends, blamed
him in the strongest terms for his impetuosity, as they considered that
a want of forbearance on his part had ruined those prospects in life
which naturally would arise from forming a connexion with a family of
such consequence as that of Earl Waldegrave. To Bodmer he explained all
the circumstances of the case, with the state of his feelings; and his
venerable tutor wrote him a letter of consolation. In reply to this,
Fuseli spoke in florid terms of the agonies which he had felt while
residing in that noble family, when he considered himself obliged to say
Yes, when No "stuck in the throat;"--and thus showed, that he was not
framed to live with courtiers. In after-life he used to remark jocosely
to his friends, "The noble family of Waldegrave took me for a
bear-leader, but they found me the bear."

On Fuseli's return to England, in 1767, there was every prospect that
the society which had been formed for the promotion of the fine arts
would receive royal protection and patronage, and become a chartered
body.[9] And it was then the general opinion, that great public
encouragement would be given to artists. This still increased his wish
to become a painter. He sought for and obtained an introduction to Mr.
(afterwards Sir Joshua) Reynolds, to whom he showed a portfolio of
drawings, and some small etchings, which he had recently made from
subjects in the Bible, and an etching on a large scale from
Plutarch,--"Dion seeing a female spectre sweep his hall." Sir Joshua,
who was much struck with the style, grandeur, and original conception of
his works, asked him how long he had been from Italy? Fuseli answered,
"he had never seen that favoured country;" at which the former expressed
much surprise; and, to mark how highly he estimated his talents,
requested permission to have some of the drawings copied for himself.
This was readily granted, and he was induced, by the solicitations of
Fuseli, to accept some of the etchings. The interview ended by Reynolds
assuring him, that "were he at his age, and endowed with the ability of
producing such works, if any one were to offer him an estate of a
thousand pounds a-year, on condition of being any thing but a painter,
he would, without the least hesitation, reject the offer."

Having received such encouragement and flattering encomiums from the
greatest painter of the age, Fuseli directed nearly the whole of his
attention to drawing; and at the recommendation of Reynolds, afterwards
tried oil colours. The first picture he produced was "Joseph
interpreting the dreams of the butler and baker of Pharaoh." On showing
this to Reynolds, he encouraged him to proceed, remarking, "that he
might, if he would, be a colourist as well as a draughtsman." This
picture, now in the possession of the Countess of Guilford, fully
justifies the opinion of Sir Joshua, as it is remarkably well coloured,
and, as a first attempt in oil colours, may be considered a surprising
production.

From the time of Fuseli's first arrival in England, he had been a
constant visitor at Mr. Johnson's house, and, in common with all those
who were acquainted with him, was a great admirer of his steady, upright
character. In the summer of 1767, he was prevailed upon to accompany him
to Liverpool, which was Johnson's native town. From this, and subsequent
visits, Fuseli became acquainted with men who, in after-life, were the
greatest patrons of his pencil.

The attention of the public was at this time much engaged by the
constant attacks made by Hume and Voltaire on the works of Rousseau.
Fuseli advocated the cause of his countryman, and published anonymously,
during the year 1767, a thin duodecimo volume, entitled "Remarks on the
Writings and Conduct of J. J. Rousseau." But he never wished it to be
considered that he was the author of this work. To speak of it as a
literary production, it abounds with wit and sarcasm; and although, in
style, it cannot be considered strictly English, yet there is novelty in
the remarks, and great power of language throughout the book. It also
shows him to be well read in the works of Rousseau, whom at this time he
idolized, and to be perfectly acquainted with the nature of the disputes
in all their bearings. Perhaps the reasons for not wishing it to be
considered a work of his, although he never denied it, were, that there
are in several instances coarseness of language and indelicacies of
expression which disfigure the pages of the book, and that in more
advanced life the high opinion which he had formed of Rousseau, was in a
degree abated. Fuseli gave the design for the frontispiece, which
represents in the foreground, Voltaire booted and spurred, riding upon
man, who is crawling upon the earth: in the back of the picture, Justice
and Liberty are gibbeted. Rousseau is witnessing Voltaire's pranks, and
by his attitude seems to threaten disclosure. This work is rarely to be
met with, as the greater part of the impression was destroyed shortly
after it was printed, by an accidental fire which took place in Mr.
Johnson's house, who then resided in Paternoster Row.

CHAPTER III

Fuseli had now determined to relinquish the pen for the pencil, and to
devote his life to painting; his wishes were therefore directed to Rome,
the seat of the fine arts.

Having at Mr. Coutts' table renewed the intimacy with Dr. Armstrong,
which formerly subsisted at Berlin, and as the Doctor considered it
necessary to pass the winter in the milder climate of Italy, to relieve
a catarrhal complaint, under which he was then labouring, Fuseli was
tempted to accompany him thither, and they left London the end of
November 1769, with the intention of going to Leghorn by sea.

Their voyage, from adverse winds and tempestuous weather, was long and
tedious; the monotony of a life at sea, and the qualms which generally
affect landsmen in such a situation, were not fitted to allay the
naturally irritable tempers of Armstrong and his companion: they at
first became dissatisfied with their situation, then with each other,
and finally quarrelled about the pronunciation of an English word;
Fuseli pertinaciously maintaining that a Swiss had as great a right to
judge of the correct pronunciation of English as a Scotsman.

After a tedious passage of twenty-eight days, the ship was driven by a
gale of wind into Genoa, where Fuseli and Armstrong parted in a mood far
from friendly. Armstrong took the direct road to Florence, where he
intended to reside. Fuseli went first to Milan; here he remained a few
days to examine the works of art, and then passed a short time at
Florence, on his way to Rome, where he arrived on the 9th of February
1770.

Shortly after he had taken up his abode in "the eternal city," he again
changed the spelling of his name; this he did to accommodate it to the
Italian pronunciation; and always afterwards signed, "_Fuseli_."

His views now were to see the stores of art, which had been collected
in, or executed at Rome; and subsequently, to examine with care each
particular specimen, for his future improvement. He did not spend his
time in measuring the proportion of the several antique statues, or in
copying the fresco or oil pictures of the great masters of modern times;
but in studying intensely the principles upon which they had worked, in
order to infuse some of their power and spirit into his own productions.

Although he paid minute attention to the works of Raphael, Correggio,
Titian, and the other great men whom Italy has produced, yet, he
considered the antique and Michael Angelo as his masters, and formed his
style upon their principles.

To augment his knowledge, he examined living models, sometimes attended
the schools of anatomy, and used the dissecting knife, in order to trace
the origin and insertion of the outer layer of muscles of the human
body. But he was always averse to dissecting, believing the current
story, that his idol, Michael Angelo, had nearly lost his life from a
fever got by an anatomical examination of a human body in a state of
putrefaction.

By such well-directed studies, and by great exertion, his improvement
was rapid, and he soon acquired a boldness and grandeur of drawing
which surprised the Italian artists, one of whom was so struck with some
of his compositions, that, in reference to their invention, he
immediately exclaimed, "Michael Angelo has come again!"

In the year 1772, his progress was impeded by a fever, which enfeebled
his nervous system. This illness he attributed to the heat of the
climate, and to having, in a degree, departed from those regular and
very abstemious habits which marked the early part of his life. The
fever changed his hair, originally of a flaxen, to a perfectly white
colour, and caused a tremulous motion in the hands, which never left
him, but increased with age. He has more than once told me, that this
indisposition drove his mind into that state, which Armstrong so
forcibly describes in "The Art of preserving Health:"

"Such a dastardly despair
Unmans your soul, as madd'ning Pentheus felt,
When, baited round Cithæron's cruel sides,
He saw two suns, and double Thebes ascend."

Being advised to change the air and scene, he went to Venice, and
remained there until he had thoroughly examined the works of art in that
city, and regained sufficient strength of body and mind to resume with
effect his studies and labours at Rome.

Although he got much employment from those Englishmen who resided at or
visited Rome, yet he saved no money, being always negligent of pecuniary
concerns. His friends in England were unacquainted with his progress in
the arts until the year 1774, when he sent a drawing to the exhibition
of the Royal Academy, the subject of which was, "The death of Cardinal
Beaufort," from Shakspeare.

In 1775, he visited Naples, studied the works of art in that city, and
examined the excavations at Herculaneum and Pompeii.

In 1777, he sent from Rome to England a picture in oil, representing a
scene in "Macbeth," for the annual exhibition at the Royal Academy.

In 1778, he took a farewell of Rome, and left his friends there with
regret. As a nation, however, he was not very partial to the modern
Italians, who, he said, "were lively and entertaining, but there was the
slight drawback of never feeling one's life safe in their presence."
This he exemplified by the following fact: "When I was one day preparing
to draw from a woman selected by artists for a model, on account of her
fine figure, on altering the arrangement of her dress, I saw the hilt
of a dagger in her bosom, and on inquiring, with astonishment, what it
meant, she drew it, and quaintly answered, 'Contro gl' impertinenti.'"

On his way to Switzerland, he stayed some time at Bologna, Parma,
Mantua, Milan, Lugano, and Belanzona. At Bologna, he remained with Sir
Robert Smyth, Bart. who, while at Rome, had given him considerable
employment. Thence he proceeded to Lugano, from which place he wrote the
following letter to Mr. Northcote, who was then studying at Rome:--

"Lugano, 29th Sept. 1778.

"DEAR NORTHCOTE,

"You may, and must think it unfriendly for me to have advanced to
the borders of Switzerland without writing to you; but what would
have been friendly to you was death to me; and self-preservation is
the first duty of the eighteenth century. Madness lies on the road
I must think over to come at you; and at the sound of Rome, my
heart swells, my eye kindles, and frenzy seizes me.

"I have lived at Bologna as agreeably and as happily as my
lacerated heart and boiling brains would let me, with Sir Robert
and his lady.

"You, whose eye diverges not, will make the use of Bologna I have
not, or at least but very imperfectly: much more than what is
thought of, may be made of that place. What I admire, and what I
frequented most,--what indeed suited my melancholy best, are the
cloisters of St. Michael, in Bosco, near the city. The fragments of
painting there are by Ludovico Caracci and his school, and, in my
opinion, superior for realities to the Farnese gallery. There is a
figure[10] in one of the pictures which my soul has set her seal
upon: 'tis to no purpose to tell you what figure--if you find it
not, or doubt, it was not painted for you; and if you find it, you
will be obliged for the pleasure to yourself only. Still in that,
and all I have seen since my departure, Hesiod's paradox gains more
and more ground with me,--'that the half is fuller than the whole,'
or, if you will, full of the whole.

"At Mantua I have had emotions which I had not apprehended from
Julio Romano, at Rome: but the post going, I have not time to enter
into so contradictory a character.

"The enclosed[11] I shall re-demand at your hands in England. _Take
need of the mice._ Of Rome, you may tell me what you please. Those
I should wish to know something about, you know not. I have written
to Navina in the Bolognese palace; pray give her my best
compliments _e dille che quando sarò in Inghilterra troverò qualche
opportunità di provare, prima del mio ritorno in Italia, che non
sono capace di scordarmi dell' amicizia sua_. To Mr. Hoare I shall
write next post.

"Love me,

"Fuseli.

"P.S. I have been here (at Lugano) these eight days, at the house
of an old schoolfellow of mine, who is governor of this place.

"À Mons. James Northcote, à Roma."

In Italy he became acquainted with David and other artists of note, as
well as with several Englishmen distinguished either for rank or
talents. With the Hon. George Pitt (the late Lord Rivers,) he there
became very intimate, and he was flattered by his friendship and
patronage, which he enjoyed during the whole of his life.

The necessary employment of his time in painting, and studying works of
art, during several of the first years of his residence in Italy, was
such as to leave little opportunity for other occupations, and he found,
to his regret, that he had either lost a great deal of his knowledge of
the Greek language, or, what is more probable, that he had never
possessed it in that degree which he flattered himself he had attained
while at college. Determined, however, to regain or acquire this, he now
studied sedulously the Grecian poets, made copious extracts of fine
passages from their works, and thus gained, in the opinion of the best
judges, what may be called, at least, a competent knowledge of that
language.

Although Fuseli's professional talents were much admired, and highly
appreciated in Italy, yet, as he did not court it, he never obtained a
diploma, or other honour, from any academy in those cities in which he
resided, or occasionally visited. Indeed, he refused all overtures which
were made to him on this subject; for he considered that the institution
of academies "were symptoms of art in distress."

Having arrived at Zurich the end of October 1778, after an absence of
sixteen years, his father, who had taken great pains, in early life, to
check his love for the fine arts, and to prevent his being an artist,
was now gratified by witnessing the great proficiency he had attained:
and he knew enough of the state of the arts in Europe to feel that his
son did then rank, or would shortly, among the first painters of his
time. During a residence of six months with his family, he painted some
pictures; among them "The Confederacy of the Founders of Helvetian
liberty," which he presented to, and which is still preserved in, the
Senate-house at Zurich. Lavater, however, did not consider this picture
a good specimen of his friend's powers, particularly as to colouring,
and expressed his distaste to this in such strong terms, as were by no
means gratifying to him.

Fuseli was always very susceptible of the passion of love. But when at
Zurich, in the year 1779, his affections were gained in an extraordinary
degree by the attractions of a young lady, then in her twenty-first
year, the daughter of a magistrate, who resided in the "Rech" house of
Zurich. This lady, whom he calls in his correspondence, "Nanna," had a
fine person, lively wit, and great accomplishments, and among the
latter, her proficiency in music was considerable, which is celebrated
in a poem by Göethe. It appears that she was not indifferent to him;
but her father, who was opulent, considered that her marriage with a man
dependent upon the caprice of the public for his support, was not a
suitable connexion for his daughter, and he therefore withheld his
consent to their union. This disappointment drove Fuseli from Zurich
earlier than he intended; and it would appear by his letters, that his
mind, even after his arrival in England, was almost in a state of
phrenzy. He, some time after, however, received the intelligence that
"Nanna" had given her hand to a gentleman who had long solicited it,
Mons. le Consieller Schinz, the son of a brother of Madame Lavater; and
thus his hopes in that quarter terminated.

In April 1779, he took a last farewell of his native country and family,
and returned to settle again in London. On his way to England, in order
to improve his knowledge in art, he travelled leisurely through France,
Holland, and the Low Countries, examining in his route whatever was
worthy of notice.

CHAPTER IV.

When Fuseli arrived in London, he took apartments in the house of an
artist, Mr. Cartwright, whom he had known at Rome. This Gentleman then
resided at No. 100, St. Martin's Lane, and practised chiefly as a
portrait painter; he sometimes attempted historical subjects, in which,
however, he did not excel. The kindness and simplicity of Mr.
Cartwright's disposition and manners were appreciated by Fuseli, who
afforded him many useful hints, and sometimes assistance, in his
professional pursuits. When we look at the historical pictures which he
painted, it is easy to perceive what figures owe their production to
Fuseli's mind; but it must be confessed that they appear to hang to the
subject

"Like a giant's robe upon a dwarfish thief."

When settled in London, his first object was to renew an acquaintance
with those whose friendship he had cultivated, and, as he considered,
secured before he went to Italy. On calling, for this purpose, upon Mr.
Coutts, that gentleman frankly said, he was not pleased with him for the
quarrel which he had with Dr. Armstrong while on board ship. Fuseli
attempted to remove the impression which had been made on Mr. Coutts'
mind; but that gentleman replied, "I consider that the age and talents
of the Doctor should have commanded a sufficient degree of respect from
you, to have prevented any rudeness on your part; and I am very sorry to
tell you, that he is now labouring under a severe, and what is
considered an incurable malady." This account disarmed Fuseli, who had
always entertained a high opinion of the talents of Armstrong, and
considered his poems, particularly that on "The Art of preserving
Health," productions of great merit. He therefore determined to
suppress every hostile feeling, and to call upon the Doctor without
delay.

On sending up his name, he was admitted almost immediately into
Armstrong's bed-chamber. The poet, however, could not restrain his
naturally sarcastic humour, and the following dialogue took
place:--Armstrong: "So, you have come back?" Fuseli: "Yes; I have come
home." Armstrong: "Come, you mean, to London! 'the needy villain's
gen'ral home;' however," (putting out his hand) "I thank you for this
visit: you find me in bad plight; but I am glad to see you again." After
this salutation they conversed amicably; but the Doctor did not long
survive the interview.[12]

About this time, the intimacy between Fuseli and Professor Bonnycastle
commenced, which was kept up during their lives. The introduction took
place at Mr. Johnson's house. Fuseli's voice being heard as he ascended
the staircase, Mr. Johnson said to Bonnycastle, "I will now introduce
you to a most ingenious foreigner, whom I think you will like; but, if
you wish to enjoy his conversation, you will not attempt to stop the
torrent of his words by contradicting him."

The genius and acquirements of Fuseli soon attracted the notice of men
who were distinguished for learning and talents, and more especially
those who possessed also a taste for the fine arts; among whom may be
particularly noticed Lord Orford, and Mr. Lock of Norbury Park, with
whom, and with his eldest son in particular, he kept up a constant
friendly intercourse. Fuseli not only regarded Mr. William Lock junior,
for the amiability of his character and his extensive knowledge, but
also for his taste and critical judgment in the fine arts, as well as
for the power which he displays in historical painting, whenever he
condescends to employ his pencil thereon. In this particular, he
considered that Mr. W. Lock ranked as high, or higher, than any historic
painter in England. The society at the house of Mr. Lock was well chosen
and very select; and here he occasionally met Sir Joshua Reynolds and
Dr. Moore, author of Zeluco and other popular works. Dr. Moore being
highly entertained with his conversation, took an early opportunity of
introducing him to his family, with the whole of whom Fuseli kept up the
most uninterrupted intercourse and friendship during life.

I may, I hope, here be allowed to digress by stating, that after the
marriage of Mr. James Carrick Moore and that of his brother, Admiral
Sir Graham Moore, Fuseli in a manner became domesticated in their
respective families. In their houses he was always a welcome and
highly-favoured guest: there he was unrestrained; and his wit and gibes
were allowed to sally forth sometimes upon contemporary artists, and
often upon popular men, or passing events. The freedom which he enjoyed
in their society, encouraged him to give utterance to the wild and
unpremeditated flights of his fancy. It was with these favoured friends
that he displayed the depth of his learning, his fine taste in poetry,
and critical judgment in painting. By their indulgence, his intemperate
expressions usually passed unnoticed, and the ebullitions of a naturally
impatient temper were soothed.

Gratitude makes me acknowledge the uniform kindness which I have also
experienced from Mr. Carrick Moore and his family; and that I am
indebted to them for much valuable assistance in compiling the
particulars of Fuseli's life, and for some of those characteristic
anecdotes and reminiscences which will be found in the sequel. Fuseli
has more than once said to me, after we had partaken of their
hospitality, "Moore's is the most pleasant house to visit that I know,"
and coupled the observation with such encomiums on the sound sense,
knowledge, and accomplishments of that family, (known certainly to those
who have the pleasure of their acquaintance,) which, if repeated in this
place, might be considered by some as flattery on my part.

When Fuseli returned to England, Sir Joshua Reynolds was in the zenith
of popularity as a portrait painter; but his powers in historical
painting were not then sufficiently appreciated: hence, some of his best
works remained on his hands until his death; for example, the "Dido,"
the series of designs for the painted window at Oxford, the "Cymon and
Iphigenia," and several others. West, as an historical painter, was
held, at this time, in equal, if not in higher esteem by the public,
than Sir Joshua. Fuseli was astonished at this, and accordingly was not
backward in expressing his opinion thereon, both in writing and in
conversation, for he was at no time of his life an admirer of West. He
however always gave to him the merit of much skill in composing;--of a
thorough knowledge of the art which he professed, and a perfect mastery
over the materials which he employed; and he spoke in terms of qualified
praise of his pictures of "Regulus,"--"Death of Wolfe," and "Paul
shaking the viper from his hand."--But he considered that West was
wanting in those qualities of the art which give value to historical
design,--invention, and boldness of drawing; and being determined to
show what he could do in these particulars, in 1780, Fuseli exhibited at
the Royal Academy the following pictures:

"Ezzlin musing over Meduna, slain by him, for disloyalty, during his
absence in the Holy Land."--"Satan starting from the touch of Ithuriel's
lance."--"Jason appearing before Pelias, to whom the sight of a man with
a single sandal had been predicted fatal."

These paintings raised him, in the opinion of the best judges, to the
highest rank in the art; and the President, Sir Joshua Reynolds,
considered that they possessed so much merit, that he had them placed in
prominent situations in the Exhibition.

The following anecdote has been told of Fuseli, with regard to West,
which is certainly characteristic of the man, and if true, shows his
feelings towards that painter in a very pointed manner. At the election
of West to the chair of the Royal Academy, in the year 1803, after a
secession of twelve months, the votes for his return to the office of
President were unanimous, except one, which was in favour of Mrs. Lloyd,
then an academician. Fuseli was taxed by some of the members with
having given this vote, and answered, "Well, suppose I did, she is
eligible to the office--and is not one old woman as good as another?"

The next year, 1781, he painted his most popular picture, "The
Nightmare," which was considered to be unequalled for originality of
conception. The drawing first made, which is now in my possession, had
the words, "St. Martin's Lane, March 1781," written by him in the
margin; it is a masterly performance, chiefly in black chalk, and is
composed without the head of the mare. This subsequent thought is added
in the picture, which, when placed in the annual exhibition of 1782,
excited, as it naturally would, an uncommon degree of interest. This
picture was sold by him for twenty guineas; it was subsequently engraved
by Burke, and published by J. R. Smith; and so popular was the subject,
that the publisher acknowledged to have gained upwards of five hundred
pounds by the sale of the prints, although vended at a small price.

The conception of the subject of "The Nightmare" has been thus
beautifully described by one of the most popular poets of his time,--Dr.
Darwin.

"So on his NIGHTMARE, through the evening fog,
Flits the squab fiend o'er fen, and lake, and bog;
Seeks some love-wilder'd maid with sleep oppress'd
Alights, and grinning sits upon her breast--
Such as of late, amid the murky sky,
Was marked by FUSELI'S poetic eye;
Whose daring tints, with Shakspeare's happiest grace,
Gave to the airy phantom form and place--
Back o'er her pillow sinks her blushing head,
Her snow-white limbs hang helpless from the bed;
While with quick sighs and suffocative breath,
Her interrupted heart-pulse swims in death."

Fuseli painted at different periods several pictures of "the Nightmare:"
but in each of them there are variations from, or additions to, the
first drawing of that subject. His fame was about this time further
raised by two pictures, "The Weird Sisters," and "Lady Macbeth walking
in her sleep," of which excellent prints in mezzotinto were made; these
also became popular, and tended to advance the merit of the artist in
the opinion of connoisseurs.

In 1781, he received intelligence of the death of his father,[13] who
was esteemed both as a writer and a painter, and had not only acquired a
name for his talents, but for the assistance which he was at all times
ready to give in furtherance of literature and the fine arts. At his
decease, he had arrived at the advanced age of seventy-five years.
Fuseli this year painted a picture, representing an interview, which
took place in 1778, between him and his aged tutor, Bodmer. In
this, Fuseli is sitting in an attitude of great attention, and Bodmer
apparently speaking: the subject of the conversation may be supposed to
relate to philosophy or literature, from the bust of a sage which is
placed upon the mantel of the room. This picture he sent to Zurich, as a
present to Solomon Escher, a friend of his, and a near relation of
Bodmer. About this period, in paying a visit to Lord Orford, with whom
he kept up the most familiar intercourse, he had the misfortune to fall
from a horse, and, among other injuries which he received dislocated his
shoulder.

In 1785, he again visited Liverpool, having received an invitation from
Mr. Roscoe,[14] whose acquaintance he had made shortly after his return
to this country from Italy. This visit cemented that friendship which
remained unabated during his life. Of the virtues and talents of this
friend, Fuseli always spoke in the highest terms of praise. Mr. Roscoe,
who saw Fuseli's works with the eye of a poet, as well as with that of a
connoisseur, patronized him, not only by giving him commissions at
different times to paint ten pictures for himself, but by recommending
his works to his numerous friends.

In January 1786, Cowper issued a prospectus for publishing a translation
of Homer into English blank verse. To give the public some notion of his
powers, and ability to execute the task, he sent to Mr. Johnson, his
publisher, a manuscript translation of 107 lines of the 24th book of the
Iliad, being part of the interview of Priam and Achilles, and also
proposals for publishing the work by subscription. This specimen was
shown to Fuseli, who, without hesitation, made several alterations in
it, which appeared to Mr. Johnson to be so judicious, that he sent it
back to Cowper for his opinion before the manuscript was printed,
without, however, mentioning the name of the critic. Cowper immediately
saw that these alterations were improvements, and had been made by a
scholar and a man of taste; and expressed his readiness, not only to
adopt them, but to attend to any suggestions, if the same person would
overlook his translation. Fuseli readily agreed to do this, without the
notion of any reward; and he accordingly made observations on the
translation of the Iliad, and alterations therein, before the several
books passed through the press.

Hayley, in his Life of Cowper, and the latter in the preface to his
translation of Homer, and also in his published letters, have given many
testimonials of their opinion of Fuseli, not only as a Greek scholar,
but for his taste and judgment in English poetry. The former (Hayley)
remarks, "It is a singular spectacle for those who love to contemplate
the progress of social arts, to observe a foreigner, who has raised
himself to high rank in the arduous profession of a painter, correcting,
and thanked for correcting, the chief poet of England, in his English
version of Homer."

The following letters, hitherto unpublished, which I have obtained
through the kindness of Mr. Hunter, one of the executors to the will of
the late Mr. Johnson, are additional evidence how highly Cowper
estimated the assistance which he received from Fuseli.

"Olney, March 5th, 1786.

"SIR,

"I ought sooner to have acknowledged the receipt of Mr. Fuseli's
strictures; and, had I been at leisure to consult my own
gratification, should have done so. The work will be greatly
indebted to him; and I cannot help adding, though I believe I said
it before, that I account myself singularly happy in the advantages
that I shall derive to my translation from his fine taste and
accurate acquaintance with the original.

"I much wish for an answer to my question concerning my
subscribers' payments at Bristol. Have you a correspondent there
who can negotiate it? Again I remind you, though perhaps
unnecessarily, of the second volume for Richard Howard, Esq.

"I have this day sent to Lady Hesketh the remaining half of book 2,
and the whole of books 3, 4, and 5. From her they will pass to
General Cowper, and from him, I suppose, to Mr. Fuseli, in a short
time. In the interview which he had with that gentleman, he was
highly pleased with him.

"I am, Sir,

"Your most humble servant,

"William Cowper."

"Mr. Joseph Johnson."

"Olney, March 8th, 1786.

"SIR,

"You are very happy in being so intimately connected with Mr.
Fuseli, a gentleman of such exquisite taste and learning; and I
also account myself very happy, that by your means my work has
found its way into the hands of a person in all respects so
perfectly well qualified to revise it. I am only sorry, that my
distance from town permits me not (at least for the present) the
pleasure of an introduction to one to whom I am to be so much
indebted. I very sincerely thank you for interesting yourself so
much in my comfort, as to write to me principally with a view to
inform me of his approbation. You may take my word for it, that I
find your intelligence on that head a great and effectual
encouragement. I have had some anxious thoughts upon the matter, as
you may suppose, and they are guests I am always glad to dismiss
when I can; and immediately after reading your letter, accordingly
dismissed them.

"Mr. Fuseli will assuredly find room for animadversion. There are
some objectionable lines, and others that are improvable, of which
I am myself aware. When I receive the manuscript again, I will give
it a close examination, both that I may avail myself of Mr.
Fuseli's remarks to the utmost, and give to the whole of it the
best finishing that I can.[15]

* * * * *

"I am, Sir,

"Your most humble servant,

"William Cowper."

"Mr. Joseph Johnson."

"Olney, Sept. 2d, 1786.

"SIR,

* * * * *

"Present, Sir, if you please, my compliments to your friend Mr.
Fuseli, and tell him, that I shall be obliged to him if, when he
has finished the revisal of the 8th book, he will be so good as to
send it to General Cowper's, in Charles Street, together with his
strictures. Assure him, likewise, that I will endeavour, by the
closest attention to all the peculiarities of my original, to save
him as much trouble as I can hereafter. I now perfectly understand
what it is that he requires in a translation of Homer; and being
convinced of the justness of his demands, will attempt at least to
conform to them. Some escapes will happen in so long a work, which
he will know how to account for and to pardon.

"I have been employed a considerable time in the correction of the
first seven books, and have not yet begun the ninth; but I shall in
a day or two, and will send it as soon as finished.

"I am, Sir,

"Your most humble servant,

"William Cowper."

"Mr. Joseph Johnson."

Fuseli grew tired of the labour which he had imposed upon himself,
before the Iliad was finished; but yet he went through the task of
correcting the translation of that poem until its conclusion. The
following extract of a letter to Mr. Roscoe, dated 25th November, 1789,
shows his feelings upon the subject:--

"You are not surely serious when you desire to have your remarks
on Cowper's Iliad burnt; whatever they contain upon the specific
turn of language is just; many observations are acute, most
elegant: though, perhaps, I cannot agree to all; for instance, the
word rendered murky is not that which, in other passages,
expresses the negative transparency of water: it means, I believe,
in the text, a misty appearance: this depended on a knowledge of
the Greek.

"I heartily wish with you, that Cowper had trusted to his own
legs, instead of a pair of stilts, to lift him to fame."

When Cowper began the Odyssey, Fuseli pleaded, and, as will be shown,
justly pleaded, that his numerous avocations would not allow him time to
correct the translation; this the poet states, and regrets the
circumstance in his preface. He however saw parts of the poem as it was
passing through the press, and made some observations thereon: these are
given in notes, to which the initial letter F. is affixed.

It is a singular fact that Fuseli never saw Cowper, nor did he ever
write to him or receive a letter from him; all communications being
carried on either through General Cowper, the relation of the poet, or
Mr. Joseph Johnson.

The late Doctor Geddes frequently visited at Mr. Johnson's, and often
met Fuseli there; both, from their natural temperament, were impatient
of contradiction, and each had an opinion of his own powers, and
depreciated those of the other. It was only to meet in order to dispute,
and the ready wit of Fuseli usually raised the irritable temper of the
doctor, who, when provoked, would burst out of the room and walk once or
twice round St. Paul's Churchyard before he returned to the company; to
the great amusement of Fuseli. One day he indulged himself at Johnson's
table, to plague Geddes with uttering a string of truisms: Geddes at
length became impatient, and said, "I wonder that you, Mr. Fuseli, who
have so much ready wit, should be uttering dogmas by the hour together."
Fuseli immediately answered, "You, Doctor, to find fault with
dogmas,--you, who are the son of a dog--ma." The pause between the
syllables instantly raised a tumult in the doctor's mind, and he
replied, "Son of a b----h I suppose you mean;" and, as usual, left the
room to cool himself by his accustomed round.

Dr. Geddes had a great love for horticultural pursuits. Dilating one day
on the evils of fanaticism, Fuseli stopped him, by, "You, Doctor, to
speak against fanaticism, when you are a fanatic."--"In what?" asked
Geddes impatiently.--"In raising cucumbers," said the other.

When Cowper's translation of Homer appeared, Geddes, who was a great
admirer of Pope, was irritated beyond measure at the work, but chiefly
by the praises bestowed in the preface upon Fuseli; and he had not
sufficient prudence even to hide what he felt, but a detail of this will
be given best in the words of his intimate friend, admirer, and
biographer, the late Doctor I. Mason Good.

"Pope was the idol of Geddes, and estimated by him as highly
above Cowper, as Cowper was above his contemporaries: and he
could not but look with a jealous eye upon any one who attempted
to rival the poet of his heart. Geddes was disgusted with Cowper
from the very first page, and in a fit of undue exasperation
declared he would translate Homer himself, and show that it was
possible to make as good versification, while he preserved not
only all the epithets and phraseologies of the original, which
Mr. Cowper has not done, but the very order itself. Yet what
appears principally to have irritated him, was Mr. Cowper's
declaration, towards the close of his preface, of acknowledgments
'to the learned and ingenious Mr. Fuseli,' whom he styles in the
same place 'the best critic in Homer I have ever met with.'

"Accident had frequently thrown Dr. Geddes and Mr. Fuseli into
the same company, and much learned dust had as frequently been
excited between the two critical combatants, not at all times to
the amusement of the rest of the respective parties. Whatever
opinion Mr. Fuseli may have entertained of the powers of his
antagonist, it is certain that Doctor Geddes was not very deeply
impressed with those of Mr. Fuseli, and that he scarcely allowed
him the merit to which he is actually entitled. When, therefore,
he found in Mr. Cowper's preface, that instead of consulting the
profound erudition and sterling authorities of Stephens, Clarke,
Ernesti, and Velloison, he had turned to Mr. Fuseli as his only
oracle, and had gloried in submitting to the whole of his
corrections and emendations: to his disappointment at the
inadequacy of the version, was added a contempt of the quarter to
which he had fled for assistance.

"Geddes resolved to translate Homer, and in the beginning of
1792, published a translation of the first book as a specimen. In
the preface he says, 'I beg leave to assure my readers that
neither _Fuseli nor any other profound critic_ in Homer, has
given me the smallest assistance; the whole merit or demerit of
my version rests solely with myself.' The attempt failed, and he
never succeeded beyond the first book."

CHAPTER V.

In the year 1786, Mr. Alderman Boydell, at the suggestion of Mr. George
Nicol, began to form his splendid collection of modern historical
pictures, the subjects being from Shakspeare's plays, and which was
called "The Shakspeare Gallery." This liberal and well-timed speculation
gave great energy to this branch of the art, as well as employment to
many of our best artists and engravers, and among the former, to Fuseli,
who executed eight large and one small picture for the gallery. The
following were the subjects:

Prospero, Miranda, Caliban, and Ariel--from the Tempest. Titania in
raptures with Bottom, who wears the ass's head, attendant fairies, &c.
Titania awaking, discovers Oberon at her side; Puck is removing the
ass's head from Bottom--Midsummer Night's Dream. Henry the Vth with the
Conspirators--King Henry V. Lear dismissing Cordelia from his
Court--King Lear. Ghost of Hamlet's Father--Hamlet. Falstaff and
Doll--King Henry IV. 2d part. Macbeth meeting the Witches on the
Heath--Macbeth. Robin Goodfellow--Midsummer Night's Dream.--This gallery
gave the public an opportunity of judging of Fuseli's versatile powers.

The stately majesty of the ghost of Hamlet's father, contrasted with the
expressive energy of his son, and the sublimity brought about by the
light, shadow, and general tone, strike the mind with awe. In the
picture of Lear is admirably pourtrayed the stubborn rashness of the
father, the filial piety of the discarded daughter, and the wicked
determination of Regan and Goneril. The fairy scenes in the Midsummer
Night's Dream amuse the fancy, and show the vast inventive powers of the
painter: and Falstaff with Doll is exquisitely ludicrous.

The example set by Boydell was a stimulus to other speculations of a
similar nature, and within a few years appeared the Macklin and
Woodmason galleries; and it may be said with great truth, that Fuseli's
pictures were among the most striking, if not the best in either
collection.

The splendid edition of Lavater's physiognomy was announced this year
(1786) for publication. Fuseli wrote the preface, or, as he modestly
called it, the "advertisement;" corrected the translation by Hunter;
made several drawings to illustrate the work; and superintended the
execution of the engravings. Lavater had prepared many of his drawings,
illustrative of the system, on a folio size, wishing the treatise to be
brought out in that form; and it was his desire, that his lines should
be rather traced than imitated by the engraver. Fuseli entered into an
animated correspondence on this subject; gave him to understand, that
the quarto size best pleased the British public; and expressed his own
decided opinion against "ponderous folios." He at length succeeded in
getting Lavater's slow consent to the work appearing in quarto; but so
particular was the author as to a proper exemplification, that he made
his drawings anew to suit the quarto size.

In 1787, he painted a picture for Macklin's Poet's Gallery, "the Vision
of Prince Arthur."

In May 1788, the Analytical Review was commenced by Mr. Johnson, and he
entered into engagements with most of the authors whose works he
published, to write criticisms for it. Fuseli, of course, was among the
number; and he wrote, during the progress of that work, which continued
until December 1798, upwards of eighty articles, some of which were long
and laboured criticisms, while others were only brief notices of the
contents of the books. As his knowledge was general and extensive, so he
was employed in several departments of literature, and reviewed works on
the classics, history, the _belles lettres_, physiology, geography, and
the fine arts. Fuseli not only took an interest in his own criticisms in
this Review, but frequently defended those of others. When the
authenticity of the Parian Chronicle was doubted by the Rev. Joseph
Robertson, in a work which he published, it was reviewed and confuted by
the Rev. John Hewlett. Robertson replied to this very angrily; and on
Mr. Hewlett's being urged, in the hearing of Fuseli, not to let this
reply pass without observation, he immediately said, "Answer it! no, by
G----d, the subject is as dead as hell: a lion does not feed upon
carrion."

The following criticisms on "Cowper's Homer," and "Roscoe's Lorenzo de'
Medici," will give some idea of his powers in this department of
literature.

COWPER'S HOMER.

Translators of poetry may be arranged into two classes: those who,
without invention, but an ardent ambition for its honours, with
powers of embellishment, harmony of diction, and elegance of taste,
attempt to graft their own scions on a solid stem; and those who,
from real or imagined sympathy with the production of another,
unable to perceive excellence through any other medium but that of
their idol, renounce all individual consequence, swear to his
words, and rank themselves under his banner. The first sacrifice
their model to themselves and their age; the second sacrifice both
to their darling original. Of both kinds of translation, the muses
of this country have produced specimens: Mr. Pope ranks foremost in
the former; whether that of Mr. Cowper claims the same eminence in
the latter class, we are now to inquire.

Though the ultimate end of poetry be to please, and the best
include both instruction and pleasure at once, it will easily be
perceived that the laws which are to rule two species of
translation so different, cannot be the same. The laws which the
first imposes, are of its own creation and choice; the laws of the
second resemble somewhat those which a master prescribes to his
servant;--they have little to gratify vanity, they are related to
resignation,--they are fidelity and simplicity, with as much
harmony and vivacity as is compatible with both; for the translator
of Homer, indeed, the difficulty will not be--how much he shall
sacrifice of these two last requisites, but how much he shall be
able to obtain, or to preserve.

By _fidelity_, some will understand the mere substitution of one
language for another, with the entire sacrifice of idiom and metre,
which belongs only to the literal translation of school-books.
Fidelity, as Mr. C. himself has with equal happiness and precision
defined it in his preface, is that quality which neither omits nor
adds any thing to an author's stock. "I have invented nothing,'
says he; "I have omitted nothing." When we consider the magnificent
end of epic poetry,--to write for all times and all races,--to
treat of what will always exist and always be understood, the puny
laws of local decorum and fluctuating fashions by which the
omission or modification of certain habits and customs, natural but
obsolete, is prescribed, cannot come into consideration. Such laws
may bind the meaner race of writers. He who translates Homer knows,
that when Patroclus administers at table, or Achilles slays the
sheep himself for Priam, a chief and a prince honour the chieftains
and king who visit them, and disdain to leave to meaner hands these
pledges of hospitality; and he translates faithfully and minutely,
nor fears that any will sneer at such a custom, but those who sneer
at the principle that established it. He neither "attempts to
soften or refine away" the energy of passages relative to the
theology of primitive ages, or fraught with allegoric images of
the phenomena of nature, though they might provoke the smile of the
effeminate, and of the sophists of his day. This is the first and
most essential part of the fidelity prescribed to a translator; and
this Mr. C. has so far scrupulously observed, that he must be
allowed to have given us more of Homer, and added less of his own,
than all his predecessors; and this he has done with that
simplicity, that purity of manner, which we consider as the second
requisite of translation.

By _simplicity_, we mean, what flows from the heart; and there is
no instance of any translator known to us, who has so entirely
transfused the primitive spirit of an ancient work into a modern
language; whose own individual habits and bent, if we may be
allowed the expression, seem to be so totally annihilated, or to
have coalesced so imperceptibly with his model. He is so lost in
the contemplation of his author's narrative, that, in reading, we
no more think of _him_ than we do of Homer, when he hurls us along
by the torrent of his plan: no quaintness, no antithesis, no
epigrammatic flourish, beckons our attention from its track, bids
us admire or rather indignantly spurn the intruding dexterity of
the writer. To have leisure to think of the author when we read, or
of the artist when we behold, proves that the work of either is of
an inferior class: we have neither time to inquire after Homer's
birth-place or rank, when Andromache departs from her husband, nor
stoop to look for the inscription of the artist's name, when we
stand before the Apollo.

Considering next the _harmony_ of numbers prescribed to the
translator of a poet, Mr. C. himself allows that he has many a
line 'with an ugly hitch in its gait;' and perhaps to those he
acknowledges as such, and the copious list of others called forth
in battle array against him, no trifling file of equally feeble,
harsh, or halting ones might be added. Still we do not hesitate to
give it as our opinion, founded on a careful perusal of the whole,
that the style and the flow of his numbers are in general
consonance with the spirit of the poem. In particular lines, he may
be inferior to many; we even venture to say, that he has as often
adopted or imitated the discords of Milton, as his flow of verse.
The English Jupiter perhaps shakes his ambrosial curls not with the
full majesty of the Greek; the plaintive tones of Andromache do not
perhaps melt, or the reverberated bursts of Hector's voice break,
on our ear with their native melody or strength; the stone of
modern Sisyphus oppresses not with equal weight, or rebounds with
equal rapidity as that of old; the hoarseness of Northern language
bound in pebbly monosyllables, and almost always destitute of
decided quantities, must frequently baffle the most vigorous
attempt, if even no allowance were made for the terror that invests
a celebrated passage, and dashes the courage of the translator with
anxiety and fear. Still, if Mr. C. be not always equally successful
in the detail, his work possesses that harmony which consists in
the variety of well-poised periods,--periods that may be pursued
without satiety, and dismiss the ear uncloyed by that monotony
which attends the roundest and most fortunate rhyme, the rhyme of
Dryden himself.

The chief trespass of our translator's style,--and it will be found
to imply a trespass against his fidelity and simplicity,--is no
doubt the intemperate use of inversion, ungraceful in itself,
contrary to the idiom of his language, and, what is still worse,
subversive of perspicuity, than which no quality distinguishes
Homer more from all other writers: for Homer, though fraught with
every element of wisdom, even in the opinion of a critic[16] to no
heresy more adverse than that of acknowledging faultless merit,
whether ancient or modern,--Homer, with all this fund of useful
doctrine, remains to this day the most perspicuous of poets, the
writer least perplexed with ambiguity of style. His tale is so
clearly told, that even now, as of yore, he is or may be the
companion of every age, and almost every capacity, at almost every
hour. This perspicuity is perhaps not to be attained by the
scantiness of modern grammar; it is perhaps not to be fully
expected from the inferior powers of the most attentive translator,
wearied with labour, and fancying that to be clear to others which
is luminous to him: but this we cannot allow to be pleaded every
where in excuse of our translator's ambiguities, after the ample
testimony he bore in his preface to the perspicuity of his author.
Such palliation, indeed, will not be offered by him who tells us,
that not one line before us escaped his attention. We decline
entering into particulars on this head, partly because Mr. C.
cannot be ignorant of the passages alluded to, partly because
sufficient, and even exuberant, pains have been taken by others to
point them out to the public.

But if the translator often deviate from his model in so essential
a requisite, he scrupulously adheres to another of much less
consequence,--the observance of those customary epithets with which
Homer distinguishes his gods and heroes from each other. As most of
these are frequently no more than harmonious expletives of the
verse, often serve only as a ceremonious introduction to his
speakers, we are of opinion, that he might at least have sometimes
varied them with advantage to his verse, and for the greater
gratification of his reader. He who thought it a venial licence to
deviate in the first line of his work from the text, who
cries--'woe to the land of dwarfs,'[17]--who makes his hero often
'the swiftest of the swift,' tinges the locks of Menelaus with
'amber,' and varies Eumæus from plain swineherd to 'the illustrious
steward or noble pastor of the sties,' he surely might have saved
us from the 'archer-god,' 'the cloud-assembler Jove,' the
'city-spoiler chief,' the 'cloud-assembler deity,' &c. &c. &c. or,
in mercy to our debauched ears, have meditated combinations more
consonant to verse and language. Their casual omission would not
have proved a greater infidelity than that which made him disregard
names and epithets, expressly repeated in the original, of which
that of Asius the Hyrtacide in the catalogue[18] is a striking
instance.

Homer is ample, and the translator studies to be so, and generally
with success; but Homer is likewise concise, where Mr. C. is often
verbose, and where, by more careful meditation, or more frequent
turning of line and period, he might have approached his master.
Homer finishes; but, like Nature, without losing the whole in the
parts. The observations which the translator offers on this in the
Preface we are tempted to transcribe. Pref. p. xv.

"The passages which will be least noticed, and possibly not at all,
except by those who shall wish to find me at a fault, are those
which have cost me abundantly the most labour. It is difficult to
kill a sheep with dignity in a modern language, to flay and to
prepare it for the table, detailing every circumstance of the
process. Difficult also, without sinking below the level of poetry,
to harness mules to a waggon, particularizing every article of
their furniture, straps, rings, staples, and even the tying of the
knots that kept all together. Homer, who writes always to the eye,
with all his sublimity and grandeur, has the minuteness of a
Flemish painter."

To this remark, founded on truth, we could have wished Mr. C. had
added the reason why Homer contrived to be minute without being
tedious,--to appear finished without growing languid,--to
accumulate details without losing the whole; defects which have
invariably attended the descriptions of his finished followers,
from Virgil and Apollonius, down to Ariosto, and from him to the
poets of our days, Milton alone excepted. It is, because he never
suffered the descriptions that branched out of his subject to
become too heavy for the trunk that supported them; because he
never admitted any image calculated to reflect more honour on his
knowledge than on his judgment; because he did not seek, but find,
not serve, but rule detail, absorbed by his great end; and chiefly,
because he, and he alone, contrived to create the image he
described, limb by limb, part by part, before our eyes, connecting
it with his plot, and making it the offspring of action and time,
the two great mediums of poetry. The chariot of Juno is to be
described:[19] it is not brought forth as from a repository, tamely
to wait before the celestial portico, and subjected to finical
examination, the action all the while dormant: on the spur of the
moment, Hebe is ordered to put its various parts together before
our eyes; the goddess arranges her coursers, mounts, shakes the
golden reins, and flies off with Minerva, and our anticipating
expectation, to the battle. Agamemnon is to appear in panoply:[20]
we are not introduced to enumerate greaves, helmet, sword, belt,
corslet, spear; they become important by the action only that
applies them to the hero's limbs. We are admitted to the toilet of
Juno:[21] no idle _étalage_ of ornaments ready laid out, of boxes,
capsules, and cosmetics; the ringlets rise under her fingers, the
pendants wave in her ears, the zone embraces her breast, perfumes
rise in clouds round her body, her vest is animated with charms.
Achilles is to be the great object of our attention: his shield a
wonder:[22] heaven, earth, sea, gods, and men, are to occupy its
orb; yet, even here he deviates not from his great rule, we see its
august texture rise beneath the hammer of Vulcan, and the action
proceeds with the strokes of the celestial artist. Where
description must have stagnated or suspended action, it is confined
to a word, 'the sable ship,' 'the hollow ship;' or despatched with
a compound, 'the red-prowed ship,' 'the shadow-stretching spear.'
If the instrument be too important to be passed over lightly, he,
with a dexterity next to miraculous, makes it contribute to raise
the character of the owner. The bow of Pandarus is traced[23] to
the enormous horns of the mountain ram, and its acquisition proves
the sly intrepidity of the archer, who bends it now. The sceptre of
Agamemnon[24] becomes the pedigree of its wearer: it is the
elaborate work of Vulcan for Jupiter, his gift to Hermes, his
present to Pelops, the inheritance of Atreus, the shepherd-staff of
Thyestes, the badge of command for Agamemnon. Thus Homer describes;
this is the mystery, without which the most exquisite description
becomes an excrescence, and only clogs and wearies the indignant
and disappointed reader. Poetic imitation, we repeat it, is
progressive, and less occupied with the _surface_ of the object
than its _action_; hence all comparisons between the poet's and the
painter's manners, ought to be made with an eye to the respective
end and limits of either art: nor can these observations be deemed
superfluous, except by those who are most in want of them, the
descriptive tribe, who imagine they paint what they only perplex,
and fondly dream of enriching the realms of fancy by silly
excursions into the province of the florist, chemist, or painter of
still life.

Proceeding now to lay before the reader specimens of the
translation itself, we shall select passages which, by their
contrast, may enable him to estimate the variety of our author's
powers, to poise his blemishes and beauties, and to form an idea of
what he is to expect from a perusal of the whole. To exhibit only
the splendid, would have been insidious; it would have been unfair
to expose languor alone;--we have pursued a middle course; and when
he has consulted the volumes themselves, the reader, we trust, will
pronounce us equally impartial to the author and himself.

Juno, entering her apartment to array herself for her visit to
Jupiter on Gargarus, is thus described--Iliad, B. XIV. p. 365.

"She sought her chamber; Vulcan, her own son,
That chamber built. He framed the solid doors,
And to the posts fast closed them with a key
Mysterious, which, herself except, in heav'n
None understood. Entering, she secured
The splendid portal. First, she laved all o'er
Her beauteous body with ambrosial lymph,
Then, polish'd it with richest oil divine
Of boundless fragrance; oil that, in the courts
Eternal only shaken, through the skies
Breathed odours, and through all the distant earth.
Her whole fair body with those sweets bedew'd,
She pass'd the comb through her ambrosial hair,
And braided her bright locks, streaming profuse
From her immortal brows; with golden studs
She made her gorgeous mantle fast before,
Ethereal texture, labour of the hands
Of Pallas, beautified with various art,
And braced it with a zone fringed all round
An hundred fold; her pendents triple-gemm'd
Luminous, graceful, in her ears she hung,
And cov'ring all her glories with a veil,
Sun-bright, new-woven, bound to her fair feet
Her sandals elegant. Thus, full attired
In all her ornaments, she issued forth,
And beck'ning Venus from the other pow'rs
Of Heav'n apart, the Goddess thus bespake:
'Daughter, beloved! Shall I obtain my suit?
Or wilt thou thwart me, angry that I aid
The Grecians, while thine aid is given to Troy?'
"To whom Jove's daughter, Venus, thus replied.
'What would majestic Juno, daughter dread
Of Saturn, sire of Jove? I feel a mind
Disposed to gratify thee, if thou ask
Things possible, and possible to me.'
"Then thus, with wiles veiling her deep design,
Imperial Juno. 'Give me those desires,
That love-enkindling power by which thou sway'st
Immortal hearts, and mortal, all alike.
For to the green Earth's utmost bounds I go,
To visit there the parent of the Gods,
Oceanus, and Tethys his espoused,
Mother of all. They kindly from the hands
Of Rhea took, and with parental care
Sustain'd and cherish'd me, what time from heav'n
The Thund'rer howl'd down Saturn, and beneath
The earth fast bound him and the barren Deep.
Them, go I now to visit, and their feuds
Innumerable to compose; for long
They have from conjugal embrace abstain'd
Through mutual wrath; whom by persuasive speech
Might I restore into each other's arms,
They would for ever love me and revere.

"Her, foam-born Venus then, Goddess of smiles,
Thus answer'd. 'Thy request, who in the arms
Of Jove reposest the Omnipotent,
Nor just it were, nor seemly, to refuse.'
"So saying, the cincture from her breast she loos'd
Embroider'd, various, her all-charming zone.
It was an ambush of sweet snares, replete
With love, desire, soft intercourse of hearts,
And music of resistless whisper'd sounds
That from the wisest steal their best resolves;
She placed it in her hands and thus she said.
'Take this--this girdle fraught with ev'ry charm.
Hide this within thy bosom, and return,
Whate'er thy purpose, mistress of it all.'
She spake; imperial Juno smiled, and still
Smiling complacent, bosom'd safe the zone."

Euphorbus falls thus under the spear of Menelaus: Iliad, B. XVII.
p. 452. v. 60.

"Sounding he fell; loud rang his batter'd arms.
His locks, which even the Graces might have own'd,
Blood-sullied, and his ringlets wound about
With twine of gold and silver, swept the dust.
As the luxuriant olive, by a swain
Rear'd in some solitude where rills abound,
Puts forth her buds, and, fann'd by genial airs
On all sides, hangs her boughs with whitest flow'rs,
But by a sudden whirlwind from its trench
Uptorn, it lies extended on the field,
Such, Panthus' warlike son, Euphorbus seem'd,
By Menelaus, son of Atreus, slain
Suddenly, and of all his arms despoil'd.
But as the lion on the mountains bred,
Glorious in strength, when he hath seiz'd the best
And fairest of the herd, with savage fangs
First breaks her neck, then laps the bloody paunch
Torn wide; meantime, around him, but remote,
Dogs stand and swains clamouring, yet by fear
Repress'd, annoy him not or dare approach;
So there, all wanted courage to oppose
The force of Menelaus, glorious chief."

The beauty of this passage will no doubt prompt Mr. C. to revise
the words descriptive of the olive's gender. He cannot possibly
have had an eye to the passage in the XIth B. of the Odyssey,
relating to the spirit of Tiresias; the licence there, and the
beauty obtained by it, are founded on very different principles.

With the following ample scene between Achilles, Lycaon, and
Asteropæus, we conclude our extracts from the Iliad, B. XXI. p.
553. v. 119.

"Such supplication the illustrious son
Of Priam made, but answer harsh received.
'Fool! speak'st of ransom? Name it not to me.
For till my friend his miserable fate
Accomplish'd, I was somewhat giv'n to spare,
And num'rous; whom I seized alive, I sold;
But now, of all the Trojans whom the Gods
Deliver to me, none shall death escape,
'Specially of the house of Priam, none.
Die, therefore, even thou, my friend! What mean
Thy tears, unreasonably shed, and vain?
Died not Patroclus, braver far than thou?
And look on me--see'st not to what an height
My stature tow'rs, and what a bulk I boast?
A king begat me, and a Goddess bore.
What then! A death by violence awaits
Me also, and at morn, or eve, or noon
I perish, whensoe'er the destin'd spear
Shall reach me, or the arrow from the nerve.'
"He ceased, and where the suppliant kneel, he died.
Quitting the spear, with both hands spread abroad
He sat; but swift Achilles with his sword
'Twixt neck and key-bone smote him, and his blade
Of double edge sank all into the wound.
He prone extended on the champion lay,
Bedewing with his sable blood the glebe,
'Till, by the foot, Achilles cast him far
Into the stream, and as he floated down,
Thus in wing'd accents, glorying exclaim'd.
'Lie there, and feed the fishes, which shall lick
Thy blood secure. Thy mother ne'er shall place
Thee on thy bier, nor on thy body weep,
But swift Scamander on his giddy tide
Shall bear thee to the bosom of the sea.
There, many a fish shall through the crystal flood
Ascending to the rippled surface, find
Lycaon's pamper'd flesh delicious fare.
Die Trojans! till we reach your city, you
Fleeing, and slaughtering, I. This pleasant stream
Of dimpling silver, which ye worship oft
With victim bulls, and sate with living steeds
His rapid whirlpools, shall avail you nought,
But ye shall die, die terribly till all
Shall have requited me with just amends
For my Patroclus, and for other Greeks
Slain at the ships, while I declined the war.'
"He ended, at whose words still more incensed
Scamander means devised, thenceforth, to check
Achilles, and avert the doom of Troy.
Meantime the son of Peleus, his huge spear
Grasping, assail'd Asteropæus, son
Of Pelegon, on fire to take his life.
Fair Periboea, daughter eldest-born
Of Acessamenus, his father bore
To broad-stream'd Axius, who had clasp'd the nymph
In his embrace. On him Achilles sprang.
He, newly risen from the river, stood
Arm'd with two lances opposite, for him
Xanthus embolden'd, at the deaths incensed
Of many a youth whom, mercy none vouchsafed,
Achilles had in all his current slain.
And now, small distance interposed, they faced
Each other, when Achilles thus began.
'Who art and whence, who dar'st encounter me?
Hapless, the sires whose sons my force defy.'
"To whom the noble son of Pelegon,
Pelides, mighty chief. 'Why hast thou ask'd
My derivation? From the land I come
Of mellow-soil'd Pæonia, far remote,
Chief-leader of Pæonia's host spear-arm'd;
This day hath also the eleventh ris'n
Since I at Troy arriv'd. For my descent,
It is from Axius' river, wide-diffused,
From Axius, fairest stream that waters earth,
Sire of bold Pelegon, whom men report
My sire. Let this suffice. Now fight, Achilles!'
"So spake he threat'ning, and Achilles rais'd
Dauntless the Pelian ash. At once two spears
The hero bold, Asteropæus threw,
With both hands apt for battle. One his shield
Struck but pierced not, impeded by the gold,
Gift of a God; the other as it flew
Grazed his right elbow; sprang the sable blood;
But, overflying him, the spear in earth
Stood planted deep, still hung'ring for the prey.
Then, full at the Pæonian Peleus' son
Hurl'd forth his weapon with unsparing force,
But vain; he struck the sloping river-bank,
And mid-length deep stood plunged the ashen beam.
Then, with his faulchion drawn, Achilles flew
To smite him; he in vain, meantime, essay'd
To pluck the rooted spear forth from the bank;
Thrice with full force he shook the beam, and thrice,
Although reluctant, left it; at his fourth
Last effort, bending it, he sought to break
The ashen spear-beam of Æacides,
But perish'd by his keen-edg'd faulchion first;
For on the belly, at his navel's side,
He smote him; to the ground effused fell all
His bowels, Death's dim shadows veil'd his eyes,
Achilles ardent on his bosom fix'd
His foot, despoil'd him, and exulting cried.
'Lie there; though river-sprung thou find'st it hard
To cope with sons of Jove omnipotent.
Thou said'st, a mighty river is my sire--
But my descent from mightier Jove I boast;
My father, whom the myrmidons obey,
Is son of Æacus, and he, of Jove.
As Jove all streams excels that seek the sea,
So, Jove's descendants nobler are than theirs.
Behold a River at thy side--Let Him
Afford thee, if he can, some succour--No,
He may not fight against Saturnian Jove.
Therefore, not kingly Achelous,
Nor yet the strength of Ocean's vast profound,
Although from him all rivers and all seas,
All fountains, and all wells proceed, may boast
Comparison with Jove, but even He
Astonish'd trembles at his fiery bolt,
And his dread thunders rattling in the sky."

On opening the Odyssey, we present the reader with the interview of
Ulysses and his mother in the Shades, and the description of Tyro's
amour with Neptune.--Odyss. B. XI. p. 254.

"She said; I ardent wish'd to clasp the shade
Of my departed mother; thrice I sprang
Toward her, by desire impetuous urged,
And thrice she flitted from between my arms,
Light as a passing shadow or a dream.
Then, pierced by keener grief, in accents wing'd
With filial earnestness, I thus replied:--
'My mother, why elud'st thou my attempt
To clasp thee, that ev'n here, in Pluto's realm,
We might to full satiety indulge
Our grief, enfolded in each other's arms?
Hath Proserpine, alas! only dispatch'd
A shadow to me, to augment my woe?'
"Then, instant, thus the venerable form.
'Ah, son! thou most afflicted of mankind!
On thee, Jove's daughter, Proserpine, obtrudes
No airy semblance vain; but such the state
And nature is of mortals once deceased.
For they nor muscle have, nor flesh, nor bone;
All those, (the spirit from the body once
Divorced) the violence of fire consumes,
And, like a dream, the soul flies swift away.
But haste thou back to light, and, taught thyself
These sacred truths, hereafter teach thy spouse.'
"Thus mutual we conferr'd. Then, thither came,
Encouraged forth by royal Proserpine,
Shades female num'rous, all who consorts, erst,
Or daughters were of mighty chiefs renown'd.
About the sable blood frequent they swarm'd,
But I consid'ring sat, how I might each
Interrogate, and thus resolv'd. My sword
Forth drawing from beside my sturdy thigh,
Firm I prohibited the ghosts to drink
The blood together; they successive came;
Each told her own distress; I question'd all.
"There, first, the high-born Tyro I beheld;
She claim'd Salmoneus as her sire, and wife
Was once of Cretheus, son of Æolus,
Enamour'd of Enipeus, stream divine.
Loveliest of all that water earth, beside
His limpid current she was wont to stray,
When Ocean's God (Enipeus' form assumed)
Within the eddy-whirling river's mouth
Embraced her; there, while the o'er-arching flood,
Uplifted mountainous, conceal'd the God
And his fair human bride, her virgin zone
He loos'd, and o'er her eyes sweet sleep diffused.
His am'rous purpose satisfied, he grasp'd
Her hand, affectionate, and thus he said.
'Rejoice in this, my love, and when the year
Shall tend to consummation of its course,
Thou shalt produce illustrious twins, for love
Immortal never is unfruitful love.
Rear them with all a mother's care; meantime,
Hence to thy home. Be silent. Name it not,
For I am Neptune, shaker of the shores.'
"So saying, he plunged into the billowy deep.
She, pregnant grown, Pelias and Neleus bore,
Both valiant ministers of mighty Jove."

The visit of Hermes to Calypso and her abode, are thus
described.--Odyss. B. V. p. 110.

"He ended, nor the Argicide refused,
Messenger of the skies; his sandals fair,
Ambrosial, golden, to his feet he bound,
Which o'er the moist wave, rapid as the wind,
Bear him, and o'er th' illimitable earth,
Then took his rod, with which, at will, all eyes
He closes soft, or opes them wide again.
So arm'd, forth flew the valiant Argicide.
Alighting on Pieria, down he stoop'd
To ocean, and the billows lightly skimm'd
In form a sea-mew, such as in the bays
Tremendous of the barren deep her food
Seeking dips oft in brine her ample wing.
In such disguise, o'er many a wave he rode,
But reaching, now, that isle remote, forsook
The azure deep, and at the spacious grot
Where dwelt the amber-tressed nymph arrived,
Found her within. A fire on all the hearth
Blazed sprightly, and, afar-diffused, the scent
Of smooth split cedar and of cyprus-wood.
Odorous, burning, cheer'd the happy isle.
She, busied at the loom, and plying fast
Her golden shuttle, with melodious voice
Sat chaunting there; a grove on either side,
Alder and poplar, and the redolent branch
Wide-spread of cypress, skirted dark the cave.
There many a bird of broadest pinion built
Secure her nest, the owl, the kite, and daw
Long-tongued, frequenter of the sandy shores.
A garden-vine luxuriant on all sides
Mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung
Profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph
Their sinuous course pursuing side by side,
Stray'd all around, and ev'ry where appear'd
Meadows of softest verdure, purpled o'er
With violets; it was a scene to fill
A God from heav'n with wonder and delight.
Hermes, heav'n's messenger, admiring stood
That sight, and having all survey'd, at length
Enter'd the grotto; nor the lovely nymph
Him knew not soon as seen, for not unknown
Each to the other the immortals are,
How far soever sep'rate their abodes.
Yet found he not within the mighty chief
Ulysses; he sat weeping on the shore,
Forlorn, for there his custom was with groans
Of sad regret t' afflict his breaking heart,
Looking continual o'er the barren deep.
Then thus Calypso, nymph divine, the God
Question'd from her resplendent throne august."

With the subsequent passage of Ulysses' stratagem in the cave of
Polypheme, we shall dismiss the Odyssey, and add a few
observations.--Odyss. B. IX. p. 207.

"'Cyclops! thou hast my noble name inquired,
Which I will tell thee. Give me, in return,
The promised boon, some hospitable pledge.
My name is[25] Outis; Outis I am call'd,
At home, abroad, wherever I am known.'
"So I; to whom he, savage, thus replied:
'Outis, when I have eaten all his friends,
Shall be my last regale. Be that thy boon.'
"He spake, and, downward sway'd, fell resupine,
With his huge neck aslant. All conqu'ring sleep
Soon seized him. From his gullet gush'd the wine
With human morsels mingled, many a blast
Sonorous issuing from his glutted maw.
Then, thrusting far the spike of olive-wood
Into the embers glowing on the hearth,
I heated it, and cheer'd my friends the while,
Lest any should, through fear, shrink from his part.
But when that stake of olive-wood, though green,
Should soon have flamed, for it was glowing hot,
I bore it to his side. Then all my aids
Around me gather'd, and the Gods infused
Heroic fortitude into our hearts.
They, seizing the hot stake rasp'd to a point,
Bored his eye with it, and myself, advanced
To a superior stand, twirl'd it about.
As when a shipwright with his wimble bores
Tough oaken timber, placed on either side
Below, his fellow artists strain the thong
Alternate, and the restless iron spins;
So grasping hard the stake pointed with fire,
We twirl'd it in his eye; the bubbling blood
Boil'd round about the brand; his pupil sent
A scalding vapour forth that singed his brow,
And all his eye-roots crackled in the flame.
As when the smith an hatchet or large axe
Temp'ring with skill, plunges the hissing blade
Deep in cold water, (whence the strength of steel,)
So hiss'd his eye around the olive-wood.
The howling monster with his outcry fill'd
The hollow rock, and I, with all my aids,
Fled terrified. He, plucking forth the spike
From his burnt socket, mad with anguish, cast
The implement, all bloody, far away.
Then, bellowing, he sounded forth the name
Of ev'ry Cyclops dwelling in the caves
Around him, on the wind-swept mountain tops;
They, at his cry flocking from ev'ry part,
Circled his den, and of his ail enquired.
'What grievous hurt hath caused thee, Polypheme!
Thus yelling, to alarm the peaceful ear
Of Night, and break our slumbers? Fear'st thou lest
Some mortal man drive off thy flocks? or fear'st
Thyself to die by cunning or by force?'
"Them answer'd, then, Polypheme from his cave,
'Oh, friends! I die, and Outis gives the blow.'
"To whom with accents wing'd his friends without.
'If no[26] man harm thee, but thou art alone,
And sickness feel'st, it is the stroke of Jove,
And thou must bear it; yet invoke for aid
Thy father Neptune, sov'reign of the floods.'
"So saying, they went, and in my heart I laugh'd;
That by the fiction only of a name,
Slight stratagem! I had deceived them all."

If translation be chiefly written for those who cannot read the
original, it is, we apprehend, self-evident, that Polypheme's
charging _Outis_ with an attempt on his life, and the departure of
his associates in consequence of this information, must remain a
problem to those who do not understand the Greek. To them, _Outis_
is the name of somebody, and why that should pacify the giants who
came to assist the Cyclops, appears unsatisfactory, if not
inconceivable. Clarke, when he adduces the passage from the Acta
Eruditorum, which censures Gyphanius for having translated _Outis_,
_nemo_, would have done well if he had adduced other reasons in
support of his opinion (if indeed he coincided in opinion with that
passage) than grammatical futilities. The separation of ou-de can
be no reason why the brethren of Polypheme should depart; his
destruction remained a call equally urgent for their assistance,
whether it was carrying on by fraud or force. In Homer, whenever a
man is asked after his name, he replies, they call me so, or my
mother has given me such a name; and this is always in the
accusative. Ulysses, to deceive Polypheme, consults probability,
and the customary reply to a question after a name, and therefore
calls him _Outin_, not _Outina_, to escape the suspicion of the
Cyclops; but well surmised, or Homer at least for him, that his
enemy would pronounce his name in the nominative, if he should be
asked who was his destroyer. If the deception be puerile, it is to
be considered, that no sense can be obtained without it; and on
whom is it practised? on something worse than a solitary barbarian
not trained up in social craft; it is exerted on a monster of mixed
nature, unacquainted with other ideas than the immediate ones of
self-preservation, brutal force, and greedy appetite. The whole
fiction is indeed one of those which Longinus calls dreams, but the
dreams of Jupiter; and the improbabilities of the component parts
vanish in the pathos, and the restless anguish of curiosity which
overwhelms us in the conduct of the tale.[27]

That the translation of the word Krataus, in the celebrated passage
of Sisyphus, should have met with indulgence from those who insist
on the preservation of _Outis_, may not be matter of surprise,
because, as Mr. C. observes, 'it is now perhaps impossible to
ascertain with precision what Homer meant by the word krataus,
which he only uses here and in the next book, where it is the name
of Scylla's dam.' We give it up too, though not willingly, because
the ancients appear to have been as ignorant of the being so called
as ourselves; some of whom, by cutting the word into two, attempted
to make it rather an attribute of the stone itself, than the effect
of some external power: but from _him_, we are more surprised at
the observation on the word anaidês,' in the same passage, as
'also of very doubtful explication.' Is it not the constant
practice of Homer to diffuse energy by animating the inanimate? has
he forgotten the maddening lances, the greedy arrows, the roaring
shores, the groaning earth, the winged words, the cruel brass, and
a thousand other metaphors from life? and if these occurred not to
his memory, the observation of _Aristotle_ on the passage in
question, as quoted by Clarke, might have removed all doubts about
the true sense of the word anaidês, when applied to a rock.

Mr. Cowper, in his interpretation of many words and expressions of
dubious explication, has generally chosen that sense which seemed
most to contribute to the perspicuity of the passage: thus in
Iliad, iv. v. 306, seq. when Nestor instructs his troops before the
battle, he has, in our opinion, adopted the best and only sense,
though rejected by Clarke, with more subtilty than reason. Thus he
has substituted the word 'monster' for the epithet amaimaketos,
Iliad, xvi. 329, with sufficient propriety, whether that word be
expressive of enormity of dimension, or untameableness of
disposition; in both which senses it occurs in Pindar.[28] We might
enlarge on the terms amêtrochitônas; tropai Êelioio; orsothyrê, and a
variety of others equally disputed or obscure; but as they will be
sufficiently recognized by the scholar, whilst the unlearned reader
is enabled to pass smoothly over them, we shall just observe, that
the interpretation of the proverbial passage in Odyss. viii. v.
351,

Deilai toi deilôn ge kai engyai engyaasthai
'Lame suitor, lame security,'

is the happiest instance of the superiority of plain sense over
learning merely intricate.

When, in Odyss. iv. v. 73, Telemachus describes the mansion of
Menelaus, Mr. C., with all the translators, renders Êlektron
'amber,' contrary to the explanation of Pliny, who defines electrum
to be gold, containing a fifth part of silver, and quotes the
Homeric passage.[29] Amber ornaments, we believe, are not mentioned
by Homer in the singular. Thus, in Odyss. xviii. 294-5, the golden
necklace presented by Eurymachus, is called Êlektroisin eermenon,
inlaid with amber drops.

Homer, Odyss. xi. v. 579, seq., places two vultures by the sides of
Tityus, who entered his entrails, and tore his liver by turns, and
adds, to enhance the terror of the image,

ho d' ouk apamyneto chersi,

'he had not hands to rescue him;' entranced, no doubt, or chained
to the ground. This Mr. C. translates--

"----Two vultures on his liver prey'd,
Scooping his entrails; nor suffic'd his hands
To fray them thence."----

Why not, if he had a hand for each vulture, unless we suppose him
chained or entranced?

Odyss. xix. 389, Ulysses removes from the light of the hearth into
the shade, lest the nurse, who had already discovered a striking
resemblance in his shape, voice, and limbs, to those of her lost
master, by handling his thigh, and seeing all at once the scar on
it, should be convinced that he could be no other, and betray him.
This Mr. C. translates thus: p. 453.

"Ulysses (for beside the hearth he sat)
Turn'd quick _his face_ into the shade, alarm'd
Lest, handling him, she should at once
remark His scar, and all his stratagem unveil."

He who, unacquainted with the rest, should read these lines, would
either conclude that the nurse had not looked at the face before,
or that the scar was in the face. Minerva had taken care that
Ulysses should not be discovered by his countenance, making
identity vanish into mere resemblance; but as the scar in such a
place, without a miracle, could belong only to Ulysses, he
attempted to elude the farther guesses of the nurse, by having his
thigh washed in the dark.

Odyss. viii. 400, Euryalus, eager to appease Ulysses for the
affront offered to him, addressed Alcinous his chief--

Ton d' aut' Euryalos apameibeto, phônêsen te
Alkinoe kreioi.----

But Mr. C. turns Alcinous into his father;

"When thus Euryalus his _sire_ addressed."

The sons of Alcinous were Laodamus, Halius, and Clytoneus.

When Mr. C., Odyss. xi. v. 317, seq. tells us that Alcmena bore
Megara to Creon, he says surely what Homer has not said,[30] who
mentions Megara as the daughter of Creon, and one of the women
Ulysses _saw_, and not as the sister and wife of Hercules together.

But enough. Of similar observations, perhaps more might be added.
These at least will show the attention with which we have compared
copy and original. If, among the emendations of a future edition,
they be not passed over as cavils, or treated as nugatory, our
purpose will be fully answered. It would be difficult to determine
in which of the two poems Mr. C. has succeeded best. We however
incline to decide in favour of the Odyssey. The prevalent mixture
of social intercourse, domestic manners, and rural images, with the
scenes of terror and sublimity, as upon the whole it renders that
poem more pleasing, though not more interesting than the Iliad, and
what we would call a poem for all hours, appears to us to have been
more adapted to the mild tones of our translator, than the
uninterrupted sublimity and pathos of the Iliad. In parting from
both, we congratulate the author on the production, and the public
on the acquisition of so much excellence. We contemplate the whole
in its mass as an immense fabric reared for some noble purpose: on
too near an approach, not perhaps of equal beauty, with parts left
rough that might have been smoothed to neatness, and others only
neat that might have been polished into elegance; blemishes that
vanish at a proper distance: by uniform grandeur of style, the
whole strikes with awe and delight, attracts now the eyes of the
race who saw it rise, and, secure of duration from the firmness of
its base and the solidity of its materials, will command the
admiration of posterity.

CHAPTER VI.

Fuseli's proficiency in Italian History, Literature, and the Fine
Arts, exemplified in his Criticism on Roscoe's Lorenzo de' Medici.

The following review of Roscoe's Lorenzo de' Medici, will shew Fuseli's
critical knowledge of Italian history.

ROSCOE'S LORENZO DE MEDICI.

"The close of the fifteenth, (says Mr. R. Pref. p. i.) and the
beginning of the sixteenth century, comprehend one of those periods
of history which are entitled to our minutest study and enquiry.
Almost all the great events from which Europe derives its present
advantages are to be traced up to those times. The invention of the
art of printing, the discovery of the great Western Continent, the
schism from the Church of Rome, which ended in the reformation of
many of its abuses, and established the precedent of reform; the
degree of perfection attained in the fine arts, compose such an
illustrious assemblage of luminous points, as cannot fail of
attracting for ages the curiosity and admiration of mankind.

"A complete history of these times has long been a great
desideratum in literature; and whoever considers the magnitude of
the undertaking will not think it likely to be soon supplied.
Indeed, from the nature of the transactions that then took place,
they can only be exhibited in detail, and under separate and
particular views. That the author of the following pages has
frequently turned his eye towards this interesting period is true;
but he has felt himself rather dazzled than informed by the survey.
A mind of greater compass, and the possession of uninterrupted
leisure, would be requisite to comprehend, to select, and to
arrange the immense varieties of circumstances which a full
narrative of those times would involve, when almost every city of
Italy was a new Athens, and that favoured country could boast its
historians, its poets, its orators, and its artists, who may
contend with the great names of antiquity for the palm of mental
excellence: when Venice, Milan, Rome, Florence, Bologna, Ferrara,
and several other places, vied with each other, not in arms, but in
science and in genius, and the splendour of a court was estimated
by the number and talents of learned men, who illustrated it by
their presence, each of whose lives and productions would, in a
work of this nature, merit a full and separate discussion.

"From this full blaze of talents, the author has turned towards a
period when its first faint gleams afford a subject, if not more
interesting, at least more suitable to his powers; when, after a
night of unexpected darkness, Florence again saw the sun break
forth with a lustre more permanent, though perhaps not so bright.
The days of Dante, Boccaccio, and of Petrarch, were indeed past;
but under the auspices of the House of Medici, and particularly
through the ardour and example of Lorenzo, the empire of science
and taste was again restored."

Having thus, with great modesty, stated the motives for his choice
of subject, the author presents us with a rapid sketch of the
Medician family, the literary and political character of Lorenzo,
and his undeserved fate as statesman and writer in the succeeding
century: he then proceeds to a critical enumeration of the
narratives composed of his life, from the contemporary one of
Niccolo Valori to the recent volumes of Fabroni, the mass of whose
valuable documents, together with the communications of a learned
friend, admitted to the printed and manuscript treasure of the
Laurentian library, and the acquisition of a number of scarce
tracts, procured from the sales of the Crevenna and Pinelli books,
arranged and concentrated by indefatigable assiduity, he considers
as the basis on which he was enabled to erect his own system, and
to fill up the chasm that had hitherto separated from legitimate
history, the period elapsed between the last stage of decay and
final dissolution of the Byzantine empire by Mahommed II. and the
brilliant epoch that rose with the accession of Charles the Fifth
to the German throne.

The first chapter opens with Florence, its origin, its tempestuous
though not improsperous liberty during the political schism of its
citizens into the two factions of Ghibelines and Guelphs, or
Bianchi and Neri, subsiding at length under the levelling
preponderance of the Medicean family, whose annals our author
traces from the real or romantic date of Charlemagne to the
accession of Cosmo, emphatically decorated with the appellation of
_Pater Patriæ_, and the height of its commercial and political
influence.

'The authority,' observes our author, p. 13, 'which Cosmo and his
descendants exercised in Florence during the fifteenth century, was
of a very peculiar nature; and consisted rather in a tacit
influence on their part, and a voluntary acquiescence on that of
the people, than in any prescribed or definite compact between
them. The form of government was ostensibly a republic, and was
directed by a counsel of ten citizens, and a chief executive
officer, called the _Gonfaloniere_, or standard-bearer, who was
chosen every two months. Under this establishment, the citizens
imagined they enjoyed the full exercise of their liberties; but
such was the power of the Medici, that they generally either
assumed to themselves the first offices of the state, or nominated
such persons as they thought proper to those employments. In this,
however, they paid great respect to popular opinion. That
opposition of interests so generally apparent between the people
and their rulers, was, at this time, scarcely perceived at
Florence, where superior qualifications and industry were the
surest recommendations to public authority and favour. Convinced of
the benefits constantly received from this family, and satisfied
that they could, at any time, withdraw themselves from a connexion
that exacted no engagements, and required only a temporary
acquiescence, the Florentines considered the Medici as the fathers,
and not as the rulers of the republic. On the other hand, the
chiefs of this house, by appearing rather to decline than to court
the honours bestowed on them, and by a singular moderation of the
use of them when obtained, were careful to maintain the character
of simple citizens of Florence, and servants of the state. An
interchange of reciprocal good offices was the only tie by which
the Florentines and the Medici were bound; and, perhaps, the long
continuance of this connexion may be attributed to the very
circumstance, of its being in the power of either of the parties,
at any time, to have dissolved it.'

The temporary interruption of Cosmo's power by the successful
struggle of an opposite party, headed by families eclipsed in his
blaze, his exile, and his banishment to the Venetian state, tended
only, from the resignation and magnanimity of his conduct, to
rivet, at his recall, the voluntary chains of his
fellow-citizens;--and he continued the unrivalled arbiter of
Florence and it's dependencies, the primary restorer of Greek and
Latin literature, and the most enlightened patron of the arts, to
the advanced age of seventy-five, and the hour of his death,
gratified with the prospect of the continuation of family power,
from the character of his son Piero, and that of his two grandsons,
Lorenzo and Juliano. The ample and varied detail of this assemblage
of important subjects we leave, as preliminary, to the curiosity of
our readers, and hasten to the second chapter, and the appearance
of Lorenzo.

'Lorenzo de' Medici,' says, Mr. R., p. 69, 'was about sixteen years
of age when Cosmo died, and had at that time given striking
indications of extraordinary talents. From his earliest years he
had exhibited proofs of a retentive and vigorous mind, which was
cultivated not only by all the attention which his father's
infirmities would permit him to bestow, but by a frequent
intercourse with his venerable grandfather. He owed also great
obligations, in this respect, to his mother, Lucretia, who was one
of the most accomplished women of the age, and distinguished
herself not only as a patroness of learning, but by her own
writings. Of these some specimens yet remain, which are the more
entitled to approbation, as they were produced at a time when
poetry was at its lowest ebb in Italy. The disposition of Lorenzo,
which afterwards gave him a peculiar claim to the title of
_magnificent_, was apparent in his childhood. Having received as a
present a horse from Sicily, he sent the donor, in return, a gift
of much greater value, and on being reproved for his profuseness,
he remarked that there was nothing more glorious than to overcome
others in acts of generosity. Of his proficiency in classical
learning, and the different branches of that philosophy which was
then in repute, he has left indisputable proofs. Born to restore
the lustre of his native tongue, he had rendered himself
conspicuous by his poetical talents, before he arrived at manhood.
To these accomplishments he united a considerable share of strong,
natural penetration and good sense, which enabled him, amidst the
many difficulties that he was involved in, to act with a
promptitude and decision which surprised those who were witnesses
of his conduct; whilst the endowments which entitled him to
admiration and respect, were accompanied by others that
conciliated, in an eminent degree, the esteem and affections of his
fellow-citizens.

'In his person, Lorenzo was tall and athletic, and had more the
appearance of strength than of elegance. From his birth, he
laboured under some peculiar disadvantages--his sight was weak, his
voice harsh and unpleasing, and he was totally deprived of the
sense of smell. With all these defects his countenance was
dignified, and gave an idea of the magnanimity of his character;
and the effects of his eloquence were conspicuous on many important
occasions. In his youth, he was much addicted to active and
laborious exercises, to hawking, horsemanship, and country sports.
Though not born to support a military character, he gave sufficient
proofs of his courage, not only in public tournaments, which were
then not unfrequent in Italy, but also upon more trying occasions.
Such was the versatility of his talents, that it is difficult to
discover any department of business, or of amusement, of art, or of
science, to which they were not at some time applied; and in
whatever he undertook, he arrived at a proficiency which would seem
to have required the labour of a life much longer than that which
he was permitted to enjoy.

'The native energy and versatility of his character were
invigorated by a suitable education: to the notions of piety,
imbibed from Gentile d'Urbino, and perhaps from his mother, he
added the accomplishments of a scholar, under the tuition of
Landino, and received the elements of the Aristotelian and Platonic
philosophy from Argyropylus and Ficino; but that exquisite taste in
poetry, in music, and in every department of the fine arts, which
enabled him to contribute so powerfully towards their restoration,
was an endowment of nature, the want of which no education could
have supplied.'

Such were the qualifications with which Lorenzo entered on the
stage of public life, and which enabled him, with the political
experience he had acquired on his travels through the most powerful
states of Italy, and the connexions he had then formed, to defeat,
at his return, the conspiracy framed by Luca Pitti against his
father Piero, and probably to frustrate the war raised against
Florence by its exiles, without the loss of much blood or treasure.

Delivered by these successes from external and domestic strife, the
Medici were at leisure again to attend to their darling object, the
promotion of learning. Several literary characters are here
delineated; principally those of Cristoforo Landino, and Leo
Battista Alberti, the Crichton of Italy, of whose unlimited powers
the greatest was perhaps that, which he, if we believe Vasari,
possessed over his horse; and our author proceeds to the giostra,
or tournament, celebrated by Luca Pulci and Agnolo of Monte
Pulciano, in which Lorenzo and Juliano appear to have been the
principal actors, though the candidates were eighteen in number.

'The steed upon which Lorenzo made his first appearance,' says our
historian, p. 96, 'was presented to him by Ferdinand King of
Naples. That on which he relied in the combat, by Borso Marquis of
Ferrara. The Duke of Milan had furnished him with his suit of
armour. His motto was, _Le tems revient_; his device, the _fleurs
de lys_; the privilege of using the arms of France having shortly
before been conceded to the Medici by Louis XI., by a solemn act.
His first conflict was with Carlo Borromei; his next with Braccio
de' Medici, who attacked him with such strength and courage, that
if the stroke had taken place, Orlando himself, as the poet assures
us, could not have withstood the shock. Lorenzo took speedy
vengeance, but his spear breaking into a hundred pieces, his
adversary was preserved from total overthrow. He then assailed
Carlo de Forme, whose helmet he split, and whom he nearly unhorsed;
Lorenzo then changing his steed, made a violent attack upon
Benedetto Salutati, who had just couched his lance ready for the
combat.'

Some specimens of the two panegyrics, with the plan of that
composed by Politiano, are annexed, and translated with our
author's own felicity.

The philosophical amusements of the two brothers follow next, in a
pertinent descant on the _disputationes Camaldulenses_ of Landino;
and after these, Lorenzo is presented to us as a lover. The
materials are furnished by his own sonnets, and the comment he
composed on them, and, though the dead and the surviving beauties
he celebrates are left nameless, there is reason to suppose, that
they were Simonetta, the deceased mistress of his brother, and
Lucretia Donati.

'The sonnets of Lorenzo,' says Mr. R., p. 116, 'rise and fall
through every degree of the thermometer of love; he exults and he
despairs; he freezes and he burns; he sings of raptures too great
for mortal sense, and he applauds a severity of virtue that no
solicitations can move. From such contradictory testimony, what are
we to conclude? Lorenzo has himself presented us with the key that
unlocks this mystery. From the relation which he has before given,
we find that Lucretia was the mistress of the poet, and not of the
man. Lorenzo sought for an object to concentrate his ideas, to give
them strength, and effect, and he found in Lucretia a subject that
suited his purpose and deserved his praise. But having so far
realized his mistress, he has dressed and ornamented her according
to his own imagination. Every action of her person, every emotion
of her mind, is subject to his control. She smiles or she frowns;
she refuses or relents; she is absent or present; she intrudes upon
his solitude by day, or visits him in his nightly dreams, just as
his presiding fancy directs.

'In the midst of these delightful visions, Lorenzo was called upon
to attend to the dull realities of life. He had now attained his
twenty-first year, and his father conceived that it was time for
him to enter into the conjugal state. To this end, he had
negotiated a marriage between Lorenzo and Clarice, the daughter of
Giacopo Orsini, of the noble and powerful Roman family of that
name, which had so long contended for superiority with that of the
Colonna. Whether Lorenzo despaired of success in his youthful
passion, or whether he subdued his feelings at the voice of
paternal authority, is left to conjecture only. Certain, however,
it is, that in the month of December 1468, he was betrothed to a
person whom, it is probable, he had never seen, and the marriage
ceremony was performed on the 4th day of June, 1469.[31] That the
heart of Lorenzo had little share in this engagement, is marked by
a striking circumstance. In adverting to his marriage in his
Ricordi, he bluntly remarks, that he took this lady to wife; _or
rather_, says he, _she was given to me_, on the day
before-mentioned. Notwithstanding this apparent indifference, it
appears, from indisputable documents, that a real affection
subsisted between them; and there is reason to presume that Lorenzo
always treated her with particular respect and kindness. Their
nuptials were celebrated with great splendour. Two military
spectacles were exhibited, one of which represented a field battle
of horsemen, and the other the attack and storming of a fortified
citadel.'

Lorenzo's second journey to Milan, and the death of his father,
Piero, take up the remainder of this chapter.

The variety of the materials that compose the third chapter, which
opens with the political state of Italy at the time of Lorenzo's
succession to the direction of the republic, is too great, perhaps
the incidents too minute, and the transition from event to event
too rapid, to admit of extracts. The riches of the Medici, their
commercial concerns, and other sources of revenue--the character of
Giuliano de' Medici, that of Angelo Politiano--the league between
the Duke of Milan, the Venetians, and the Florentines--the
establishment of the academy of Pisa--an account of Lorenzo's Poem,
entitled _Altercatione_, with specimens and translations,
constitute the most prominent features of the chapter.

The fourth chapter, whether we consider the importance of the
events related, or the perspicuity and energy with which they are
developed and told, contains, in our opinion, the most interesting
period in the life of Lorenzo, the annals of Florence, and the
general history of that time. 'The conspiracy of the Pazzi,' says
our author, p. 176, was 'a transaction in which a pope, a cardinal,
an archbishop, and several other ecclesiastics, associated
themselves with a band of ruffians, to destroy two men who were an
honour to their age and country; and purposed to perpetrate their
crime at a season of hospitality, in the sanctuary of a Christian
church, and at the very moment of the elevation of the host, when
the audience bowed down before it, and the assassins were presumed
to be in the immediate presence of their God.'

Having traced the origin of the conspiracy to Rome, and the
ambition and inveterate enmity of Sixtus the Fourth, and his
nephew, Count Girolamo Riario, to Lorenzo, Mr. R. proceeds to their
Florentine accomplices, the family of the Pazzi, whom, though
allied by intermarriages to that of the Medici, envy, intolerance
of superiority, penury, and profligacy, had rendered their
irreconcilable enemies. The young Cardinal Riario our author
considers more as an instrument in the hands of his uncle Girolamo,
than as an accomplice in the scheme; and proceeds:

P. 180. 'This conspiracy, of which Sixtus and his nephew were the
real instigators, was first agitated at Rome, where the intercourse
between the Count Girolamo Riario and Francesco de' Pazzi, in
consequence of the office held by the latter, afforded them an
opportunity of communicating to each other their mutual jealousy of
the power of the Medici, and their desire of depriving them of
their influence in Florence; in which event it is highly probable
that the Pazzi were to have exercised the chief authority in the
city, under the patronage, if not under the avowed dominion, of the
papal see. The principal agent engaged in the undertaking was
Francesco Salviati, archbishop of Pisa, to which rank he had lately
been promoted by Sixtus, in opposition to the Medici, who had for
some time endeavoured to prevent him from exercising his episcopal
functions. If it be allowed that the unfavourable character given
of him by Politiano is exaggerated, it is generally agreed that his
qualities were the reverse of those which ought to have been the
recommendations to such high preferment. The other conspirators
were, Giacopo Salviati, brother of the archbishop; Giacopo Poggio,
one of the sons of the celebrated Poggio Bracciolini, and who, like
all the other sons of that eminent scholar, had obtained no small
share of literary reputation; Bernardo Bandini, a daring libertine,
rendered desperate by the consequences of his excesses; Giovan
Battista Montesicco, who had distinguished himself by his military
talents, as one of the _condottieri_ of the armies of the pope;
Antonio Maffei, a priest of Volterra; and Stephano da Bagnone, one
of the apostolic scribes, with several others of inferior note.

'In the arrangement of their plan, which appears to have been
concerted with great precaution and secrecy, the conspirators soon
discovered, that the dangers which they had to encounter were not
so likely to arise from the difficulty of the attempt, as from the
subsequent resentment of the Florentines, a great majority of whom
were strongly attached to the Medici. Hence it became necessary to
provide a military force, the assistance of which might be equally
requisite, whether the enterprise proved abortive or successful. By
the influence of the Pope, the King of Naples, who was then in
alliance with him, and on one of whose sons he had recently
bestowed a cardinal's hat, was also induced to countenance the
attempt.

'These preliminaries being adjusted, Girolamo wrote to his nephew,
Cardinal Riario, then at Pisa, ordering him to obey whatever
directions he might receive from the Archbishop. A body of two
thousand men were destined to approach by different routes towards
Florence, so as to be in readiness at the time appointed for
striking the blow.

'Shortly afterwards the Archbishop requested the presence of the
Cardinal at Florence, where he immediately repaired, and took up
his residence at a seat of the Pazzi, about a mile from the city.
It seems to have been the intention of the conspirators to have
effected their purpose at Fiesole, where Lorenzo then had his
country residence, to which they supposed he would invite the
Cardinal and his attendants. Nor were they deceived in this
conjecture, for Lorenzo prepared a magnificent entertainment on
this occasion; but the absence of Giuliano, on account of
indisposition, obliged the conspirators to postpone the attempt.
Disappointed in their hopes, another plan was now to be adopted;
and, on further deliberation, it was resolved, that the
assassination should take place on the succeeding Sunday, in the
Church of the Reparata, since called Santa Maria del Fiore, and
that the signal for execution should be the elevation of the host.
At the same moment, the Archbishop and others of the conspirators
were to seize upon the palace or residence of the magistrates,
whilst the office of Giacopo de Pazzi was to endeavour, by the cry
of liberty, to incite the citizens to revolt.

'The immediate assassination of Giuliano was committed to Francesco
de' Pazzi and Bernardo Bandini, and that of Lorenzo had been
entrusted to the sole hand of Montesicco. This office he had
willingly undertaken, whilst he understood it was to be executed in
a private dwelling, but he shrunk from the idea of polluting the
House of God with so heinous a crime. Two ecclesiastics were,
therefore, selected for the commission of a deed, from which the
soldier was deterred by conscientious motives. These were, Stefano
da Bagnone, the apostolic scribe, and Antonio Maffei.

'The young Cardinal having expressed a desire to attend divine
service in the church of the Reparata, on the ensuing Sunday, being
the 26th day of April, 1478, Lorenzo invited him and his suite to
his house in Florence. He accordingly came with a large retinue,
supporting the united characters of cardinal and apostolic legate,
and was received by Lorenzo with that splendour and hospitality
with which he was always accustomed to entertain men of high rank
and consequence. Giuliano did not appear, a circumstance that
alarmed the conspirators, whose arrangements would not admit of
longer delay. They soon, however, learnt that he intended to be
present at the church.--The service was already begun, and the
cardinal had taken his seat, when Francesco de' Pazzi and Bandini,
observing that Giuliano was not yet arrived, left the church and
went to his house, in order to insure and hasten his attendance.
Giuliano accompanied them, and as he walked between them, they
threw their arms round him with the familiarity of intimate
friends, but in fact to discover whether he had any armour under
his dress; possibly conjecturing from his long delay, that he had
suspected their purpose. At the same time, by their freedom and
jocularity, they endeavoured to obviate any apprehensions which he
might entertain from such a proceeding. The conspirators having
taken their stations near their intended victims, waited with
impatience for the appointed signal. The bell rang--the priest
raised the consecrated wafer--the people bowed before it,--and, at
the same instant, Bandini plunged a short dagger into the breast of
Giuliano.--On receiving the wound, he took a few hasty steps and
fell, when Francesco de' Pazzi rushed upon him with incredible
fury, and stabbed him in different parts of his body, continuing to
repeat his strokes even after he was apparently dead. Such was the
violence of his rage, that he wounded himself deeply in the thigh.
The priests who had undertaken the murder of Lorenzo were not
equally successful. An ill-directed blow from Maffei, which was
aimed at the throat, but took place behind the neck, rather roused
him to his defence than disabled him. He immediately threw off his
cloak, and holding it up as a shield in his left hand, with his
right he drew his sword and repelled his assailants. Perceiving
that their purpose was defeated, the two ecclesiastics, after
having wounded one of Lorenzo's attendants, who had interposed to
defend him, endeavoured to save themselves by flight. At the same
moment Bandini, with his dagger streaming with the blood of
Giuliano, rushed towards Lorenzo; but meeting in his way with
Francesco Nori, a person in the service of the Medici, and in whom
they placed great confidence, he stabbed him with a wound
instantaneously mortal. At the approach of Bandini, the friends of
Lorenzo encircled him and hurried him into the sacristy, where
Politiano and others closed the doors, which were of brass.
Apprehensions being entertained that the weapon which had wounded
him was poisoned, a young man attached to Lorenzo sucked the wound.
A general alarm and consternation took place in the church; and
such was the tumult which ensued, that it was at first believed by
the audience that the building was falling in; but no sooner was it
understood that Lorenzo was in danger, than several of the youth of
Florence formed themselves into a body, and receiving him into the
midst of them, conducted him to his house, making a circuitous turn
from the church, lest he should meet with the dead body of his
brother.'

Through the subsequent scenes of this atrocious drama as our limits
forbid to follow the author, and an abbreviated account would do
little justice to his copiousness or pathos, let it suffice to say,
that the immediate punishment inflicted on the conspirators, was
such as might be expected from the revenge of an infuriate people.
Even the Archbishop was hung from the windows of the palace,
without being suffered to divest himself from his prelatical robes;
nor ought it to be considered as a small aggravation of their
punishment, to have after death been gibbeted for lasting infamy,
by the pencil of such a villain as Andrea dal Castagno. Happy
Julian! happier Lorenzo, whom the contemporary genius of Politiano
has rescued from the equivocal memorial of Pollajuoli.

It is with regret, we must refer the reader to the work itself for
the consequences that attended the defeat of this execrable
attempt--the storm raised by the enraged Pontiff, who now launched
excommunication on the quondam treasurer of the Holy See, as a son
of iniquity and nursling of perdition;--the war which, at his
instigation, the court of Naples commenced against the Republic, on
their refusal to deliver up Lorenzo;--it's various success; with
the result of that bold expedient by which Lorenzo at once put an
end to the miseries of his country, and completely triumphed over
all his enemies, we mean his visit to Ferdinand himself! At that
moment his genius had attained the summit of his powers.

The fifth chapter treats of the studies of Lorenzo, and is executed
with a degree of _amore_ which developes to us the favourite
studies of his historian, though from the penetration displayed in
the management of all the other topics of his hero's character, it
would be unjust to apply to him the motto of '_tractant fabrilia
fabri_,' or as Johnson has since expressed it, on talking of the
political disputes of Milton with Salmasius and More, 'that let the
subject of dispute be the rights of princes and of nations, it
will, if treated by grammarians, end in grammatic squabbles.' The
author is perfectly in place and time: if we be to consider Lorenzo
as a poet, his right to that title was to be examined and
established, and the chapter became, with great propriety, part of
a treatise on poetry. After noticing the rise of Italian literature
in the fourteenth century, it's subsequent degradation, it's
revival in the fifteenth, and the rude attempts at restoring it, by
Burchiello, Matteo Franco, and the three Pulci, that honour is
conferred on Lorenzo: he is shown to have first, among his
contemporaries, discriminated the true object, and expressed the
real characteristics of poetry, in description, poetic comparison,
and personification of material objects, of passions and
affections; to have treated with success the prosopopoeia. The
sonnet, that favourite of Italy, is next discussed, and his claims
to it's honours compared with those of Dante and Petrarca; his
"Selve d'Amore," a poem in ottava rima; his new discovered poem of
"Ambra;" of the Caccia col Falcone, his moral pieces, his sacred
poems or orations, and Laude, or Lodi, are reviewed, and specimens
admirably translated, or, to speak with more propriety, excelled,
are annexed. We then proceed to his "Beoni," a piece of jocose
satire in terza rima on drunkenness, of which the fragment produced
and translated does at least as much honour to our author's vein of
humour, as to his hero's; and after expatiating on the expedition
with which he wrote, and many pertinent remarks on the
"Improvisatori" of Italy, its drama, opera, and carnival songs, the
chapter concludes with the opinion of the best contemporary
critics, on the poetic powers of Lorenzo.

As the mutual limits of poetry and painting are so frequently
confounded, it may not be improper to extract what our author says
on the objects and characteristics of poetry. Vol. 1. p. 255.

'The great end and object of poetry, and consequently, the proper
aim of the poet, is to communicate to us a clear and perfect idea
of his proposed subject. What the painter exhibits by variety of
colour, by light and shade, the poet expresses in appropriate
language. The former seizes only the external form, and that only
in a given attitude. The other surrounds his object, pierces it,
and discloses its most hidden qualities. With the former, it is
inert and motionless; with the latter, it lives and moves; it is
expanded or compressed; it glares upon the imagination, or vanishes
into air, and is as various as Nature herself.

'The simple description of natural objects is perhaps to a young
mind the most delightful species of poetry, and was probably the
first employment of the poet. It may be compared to melody in
music, which is relished even by the most uncultivated ear. In
this department Virgil is an exquisite master.[32] Still more
lively are the conceptions of Dante, still more precise the
language in which they are expressed. As we follow him, his wildest
excursions take the appearance of reality. Compared with his vivid
hues, how faint, how delicate, is the colouring of Petrarca! yet
the harmony of the tints almost compensate for their want of force.
With accurate descriptions of the face of Nature the works of
Lorenzo abound; and these are often heightened by those minute but
striking characteristics, which though open to all observers, the
eye of the poet can alone select. Thus the description of an
Italian winter, with which he opens his poem of _Ambra_[33], is
marked by several appropriate and striking images.

'The foliage of the olive appears of a dark green, but is nearly
white beneath.

"L'uliva in qualche dolce piaggia aprica
Secondo il vento par or verde or bianca."

"On some sweet sunny slope the olive grows,
Its hues still changing as the zephyr blows."

'The flight of the cranes, though frequently noticed in poetry,
was perhaps never described in language more picturesque than the
following, from the same poem.

"Stridendo in ciel, i gru veggonsi a lunge
L'aere stampar di varie e belle forme;
E l'ultima col collo steso aggiunge
Ov' è quella dinanzi alle vane orme."

"Marking the tracks of air, the clamorous cranes
Wheel their due flight, in varied lines descried;
And each with outstretched neck his rank maintains,
In marshal'd order, through th' ethereal void."

The following picture from his _Selve d'amore_ is also drawn with
great truth and simplicity.

"Al dolce tempo il bon pastore informa
Lasciar le mandre, ove nel verno giacque:
E 'l lieto gregge, che ballando in torma,
Torna all'alte montagne, alle fresche acque.
L'agnel, trottando pur la materna orma
Segue; ed alcun, che pur or ora nacque
L' amorevol pastore in braccio porta:
Il fido cane a tutti fa la scorta."

"Sweet Spring returns; the shepherd from the fold
Brings forth his flock, nor dreads the wintry cold;
Delighted once again their steps to lead
To the green hill, clear spring, and flow'ry mead.
True to their mother's track the sportive young
Trip light. The careful hind slow moves along,
Pleased in his arms the new-dropt lamb to bear:
His dog, a faithful guard, brings up the rear."

'In the same poem is a description of the golden age, in which the
author seems to have exerted all his powers, in selecting such
images as are supposed to have been peculiar to that happy state of
life.'

Mr. R., with great propriety, places the essence of poetic
diction,--not of poesy itself, for that consists in invention,--in
representing its object in motion, to impress us with it's variety
of action and attitudes; in short, in following _time_, avoiding a
minute anatomy of motionless surfaces, to which words, it's
vehicle, are totally inadequate. Surface can only be distinctly
discriminated by line and colour. Hence it is evident that poetry
cannot in this respect be either put in comparison with, or be
elevated above painting; the province of their expression, and
effect, must be for ever separate, though they perfectly coincide
in their aim, which is to charm and convince the senses. Thus, when
poetry attempts to describe an object, it must confine itself to
one, or a very few words, in whatever merely relates to the shape
or surface of that object, and it's more profuse description is
_only then_ in it's place, when that object begins to move. Such is
the rule of Nature and of Homer, from which no ancient or modern
poet has deviated with impunity; and _Ariosto_, who has described
the shape, figure, and colour of Alcina, in five stanzas, has
laboured as much in vain to acquaint us with the ingredients of his
witch-beauty, as _Constantinus Manasses_ to give us a clear idea of
Helen by his agglomeration of epithets, or as Haller of the
Genziana, by a description of nineteen lines. The images which Mr.
R. adduces from Lorenzo confirm this; they attain their effect
merely by hastening from the body of the object to it's motion.
Not the most expressive words of the most expressive language ever
given to man, arranged by Homer or Milton, or a power still
superior to their's, could produce a sensation equal to that which
is instantaneously received by one glance on the face of the Venus
de' Medici, or in that of the Apollo in Belvedere; and if the
spark, which Phidias caught from the Zeus of Homer, were shot by
his _waving_ locks and the _nod_ of his brow, will it be denied
that _Ctesilas_ in his expiring warrior, from whose expression
might be collected how much remained of life, or _Aristides_ in the
wounded mother, who, in the pangs of death, struggled to remove her
child from her palsied nipple, 'surrounded, pierced, and disclosed
the most hidden qualities of their objects?'

From what Mr. R. with great acuteness remarks on poetic comparison,
we have extracted the following sonnet of Lorenzo, with the
translation, 'not only,' as he adds, 'as an instance of the
illustration of one sensible object by another, but of the
comparison of an abstract sentiment with a beautiful natural
image.' P. 260.

SONETTO.

"Oimè, che belle lagrime fur quelle
Che 'l nembo di disio stillando mosse!
Quando il giusto dolor che'l cor percosse,
Salì poi su nell' amorose stelle!
Rigavon per la delicata pelle
Le bianche guancie dolcemente rosse,
Come chiar rio faria, che'n prato fosse,
Fier bianchi, e rossi, le lagrime belle;
Lieto amor stava in l' amorosa pioggia,
Com' uccel dopo il sol, bramate tanto,
Lieto riceve rugiadose stille.
Poi piangendo in quelli occhi ov'egli alloggia,
Facea del bello e doloroso pianto,
Visibilmente uscir dolce faville."

"Ah! pearly drops, that pouring from those eyes,
Spoke the dissolving cloud of soft desire!
What time cold sorrow chill'd the genial fire,
'Struck the fair urns, and bade the waters rise.'
Soft down those cheeks, where native crimson vies
With ivory whiteness, see the crystals throng;
As some clear river winds its stream along,
Bathing the flowers of pale and purple dyes,
Whilst Love rejoicing in the amorous shower,
Stands like some bird, that, after sultry heats,
Enjoys the drops, and shakes his glittering wings:
Then grasps his bolt, and, conscious of his power,
Midst those bright orbs assumes his wonted seat,
And thro' the lucid shower his living lightning flings."

The wing, the harp, the hatchet, the altar of _Simmias_, were the
dregs of a degraded nation's worn-out taste; but it is matter of
surprise, that a race celebrated for susceptibility of sentiment
should have submitted to lisp their first accents, and continued to
breathe their full raptures of love, in the trammels of a sonnet.
If, as may reasonably be supposed, the first twister of a sonn

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