The life and writings of Henry Fuseli Volume I Part 22

I accepted of his kind offer, and in my letter doing this, gave him a transcript of an epitaph in Latin, inscribed on a bra.s.s plate which is affixed to a pillar in the north aisle of Scarborough Church, and which is not only admired there for the expression of feeling which it contains, but for its Latinity. This epitaph is as follows:--

"Dum te, chara Uxor, gelido sub marmore pono, Ill.u.s.tret vigili lampade funus amor; Heu! periit pietas dulcissima, casta cupido, Teque omnis virtus quae negat esse meam.-- Oh! quam felicem nuperrima Sponsa beasti!

Nunc pariter miserum reddis amata Virum.

Iste dolor levis est charos ubi casus amicos, Mors ubi disjungit, sola tremenda venit."

"In piam Memoriam Annae charissimae Uxoris, haec dedicavit maestissimus Maritus J. North: Obiit die Xmo 4to Augusti, Anno Dom. 1695, aetatis suae 22."

In answer to this letter, he wrote to me as follows:--

"Putney-hill, September 20, 1817.

"MY DEAR SIR,

"You have given me the greatest pleasure in accepting the offer which I took the freedom of making to you; and my wife, the moment she hears of it, will as much be flattered by your kindness as myself,--for, before she went off, she earnestly desired me to make the request.

"Thanks for the epitaph,--but with all possible respect for Mr. J.

North's Latinity and feelings, and notwithstanding the very free, correct, and scholastic manner in which you have transcribed his effusion; bowing likewise to the taste and discrimination of the "Learned" where you are; I must own that the sense of the fourth, and construction of the seventh and eighth lines are not very clear to me.

"I am rambling about here in the charming thickets of this villa, deliciously asleep, if fancy wake me not now and then with the thunder of the wave beneath your feet. You cannot now stay long from

"Yours, ever, "Henry Fuseli."

"John Knowles, Esq."

The month of September 1818, was pa.s.sed by me with Fuseli and Mrs.

Fuseli at Ramsgate; he was then in excellent health and spirits, and although in his seventy-eighth year, had considerable bodily strength and activity. Our constant practice was, to leave the house about five o'clock in the morning, and sometimes earlier, to walk until eight, breakfast, and employ ourselves during the middle of the day in reading or writing. We walked for an hour before dinner, and did the same in the evening before we retired to rest, the usual hour for which was about ten o'clock. It was at this place that I collated his aphorisms in their present form, under his inspection, and then made a fair copy of them for the press.

In the year 1820, he published a quarto volume, containing three additional lectures, reprinted the three which appeared in the year 1801, with some alterations and additions, and wrote an introduction, which he called "A Characteristic Sketch of the Princ.i.p.al Technic Instruction, Ancient and Modern, which we possess." This work was purchased by Mr. Cadell the bookseller, for three hundred pounds.

Mr. Bonnycastle, the Professor of Mathematics to the Royal Military College at Woolwich, died this year (1821), in the seventieth year of his age;[58] he had been for more than forty years the intimate friend, occasional companion, and always a great admirer of the talents of Fuseli. Bonnycastle was a mathematician of celebrity, independently of which he had a fine taste for poetry and English literature in general; his memory was retentive, his knowledge extensive, and he was ever ready to communicate what he knew. His conversational talents were of the first order, and he occasionally enlivened his remarks with apposite anecdotes. As he was the friend of my youth, I feel much satisfaction in recording here my grat.i.tude for instruction and many acts of kindness received from this amiable man.

The following anecdote will afford a proof of the delicacy and feeling of Bonnycastle's mind, and also of his excellent disposition. When his "Introduction to Astronomy" was published, it was reviewed with a considerable degree of asperity in a popular work of the day. Several of his scientific friends, and Reuben Burrow in particular, considered that it had not been fairly dealt with by the reviewer, and they determined to discover the writer: they at length found out that it was Mr. Wales, Mathematical Master of the School of Christ's Church Hospital. Burrow, who was a man of quick sensibility, and an excellent mathematician, was determined to avenge the cause of his friend, and constantly expressed anxiety for the appearance of some new book by Wales; at length one was published, upon "The Method of Finding the Longitude at Sea by Chronometers." Burrow procured a copy of this work, had it interleaved, and wrote numerous remarks on, and confutations of many parts of it, which he carried to Bonnycastle, and said, "As you have a more polished pen than myself, use these observations of mine, and make up a sharp review of this paltry book for the public." Bonnycastle lost no time in doing this, and was on his road to London, with the review in his pocket for publication, when he accidentally met Wales, who was then in so bad a state of health that he appeared to be in the last stage of a consumption. This affected the mind of Bonnycastle so strongly that, on his arrival in London, he immediately burnt the ma.n.u.script review, being determined not to hurt the feelings of a man labouring under disease, and thus perhaps to accelerate his death.

In the year 1822, Fuseli was bereft of another old and valued friend, Mr. Coutts, the opulent banker, with whom he had been acquainted nearly sixty years. This gentleman had on many occasions afforded him valuable proofs of his sincere friends.h.i.+p. With him, and with his family during the latter period of his life, in particular, Fuseli was almost domesticated. By them, his very wishes were antic.i.p.ated, and he received from their hands, such attentions as can arise only from feelings of respect and regard, accompanied by those comforts and elegancies which wealth alone can bestow. And I cannot refrain from expressing my conviction, that these attentions, which were afforded without the least ostentation, not only contributed to make the winter of his life pleasant, but really prolonged the existence of a man to whom the public are so much indebted as an artist, critic, and teacher of the Fine Arts.

It has been often remarked, that old men do not feel so acutely the loss of relations and friends, as those who are of a less advanced age. But this was not the case with Fuseli; for, although now in his eighty-first year, his faculties were unimpaired, and he still possessed a great degree of sensibility. As one friend dropped into the grave after another, he felt the loss of each, and constantly exclaimed, "It is my turn next," advising me at the same time, as I advanced in life, to cultivate the friends.h.i.+p of men younger than myself, that I might not be left without friends in old age. Although when a younger man he appeared to his acquaintances to cling much to life, yet now when he spoke of death, it was without fearful forebodings. "Death," he used to say, "is nothing; it is the pain and feebleness of body under a lingering disease, which often precedes death, that I dread; for, at my time of life, I can look forward but to a day, and that pa.s.ses quickly." The following extract of a letter to the Countess of Guilford, dated the 17th of November 1821, and written on his return to London with Mrs.

Fuseli, after they had pa.s.sed some time at Brighton, will further show his feelings on this subject.

"Taciti, soli, e senza compagnia.

"We jogged on, though at a swifter pace than Dante and his guides, sympathising (one at least,) with autumn's deciduous beauty, and whispering to every leaf the eye caught falling, _Soon_ shall I follow thee!

"Indeed, were it not for those I should leave behind, I would not care _if now_."

Mr. Roscoe this year (1821) visited London. From Fuseli's advanced age, and Mr. Roscoe's weakness of body, the former antic.i.p.ated that it would be the last time they should meet--which antic.i.p.ation, I believe, was realized. A day or two after Mr. Roscoe's arrival, I received the following note from Fuseli.

"Sunday, 11th February, 1821.

"MY DEAR SIR,

"Old Mr. Roscoe is in town for a few days at his son Robert's house, No. 6, Dyer's Buildings, Holborn: I am to dine with them on _Tuesday_, at five: Robert came to invite you to the party, but finding you were out of town to-day, requested me to do it for him.

You cannot do a thing more agreeable to them or me than comply with our request, if disengaged; and as it probably may be the last time you will see Mr. Roscoe in London, I hope you will suffer no trifling engagement to deprive us of you.

"Ever, "Henry Fuseli."

"We may go together."

"To John Knowles, Esq."

A few days afterwards I had again the pleasure to meet Mr. Roscoe at Fuseli's table; there were also present, Sir Thomas Lawrence, Mr. Lock, Mr. Howard, R.A., Mr. J. Symmons, and Mr. Robert Roscoe. The conversation was desultory, sometimes upon literature, at others upon art; and at two more intellectual dinner-parties I have seldom been present. Fuseli was animated and energetic, and shewed that he then possessed a mind of the greatest vigour, with an unimpaired memory.

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.

The intimates of Fuseli had observed, with much concern, that for two or three years, although his general health did not appear to be materially affected by age, yet there was a predisposition to water in the chest, which usually manifested itself when he took cold, by his being occasionally affected with some difficulty in breathing, irregularity of pulse, and also by the swelling, in a slight degree, of his feet and ancles. These symptoms were repeatedly removed, in a few days, by the appropriate remedies, but after intervals they recurred. On the 23d August, 1823, he sent a note to my house, early in the morning, expressing a wish to see me immediately, which summons I promptly obeyed. On my arrival, he said, that although when we parted at ten o'clock the preceding evening, he did not feel at all indisposed; yet, shortly after he had retired to bed, he found a difficulty in breathing, such as he had never before experienced, and that his legs were much swollen, and wished therefore to consult a friend of mine, Dr. Maton. I told him that the Doctor was absent from London, and therefore advised him to send for a physician with whom he and I were well acquainted, (Sir Alexander Crichton,) to meet his friend and usual medical adviser, Mr. Richard Cartwright; to which proposal he a.s.sented. Mrs. Fuseli was at this time at Brighton, for the benefit of her health; and he gave me strict injunctions not to inform her of his indisposition. But as his medical advisers told me the disease was water in the chest, and that the symptoms were alarming, I wrote to Mrs. Fuseli, informing her in some degree of the facts; and, although much indisposed herself, she came immediately to London.

His case, for some time, was considered to be almost hopeless; and Sir Thomas Lawrence, in anxious solicitude for the safety of his friend, advised that Dr. Holland should also be consulted. This gentleman was fully aware of his danger, but coincided in every respect in the propriety of the previous treatment, and said that nothing more could be done. After three weeks of suffering, which Fuseli bore with patience and fort.i.tude, his spirits never having forsaken him, nature made a great effort, and he, contrary to the expectations of his medical attendants, rallied, and in a few weeks more was restored to a state of comparative health.

During this illness, he received the visits of his particular friends in the evening, and conversed with his usual energy; and it must have been highly gratifying to his feelings to see the anxiety which they manifested for his safety; more particularly the Countess of Guilford and her two amiable daughters, the Ladies North, and also Sir Thomas Lawrence,[59] who, with the writer of this account, allowed no engagement to interfere, and were his constant companions every evening. His friends who were absent from London amused him with their letters, one of which is here transcribed.

"Stranraer, Aug. 10, 1823.

"DEAR FUSELI,

"I wrote you a few days ago; but as you've got a new doctor, I'll scribble again. Dr. Holland seems to be Lady Guilford's,[60] and every Lady thinks her's the best. Besides, she may deduce from high authority, 'that when two or three are gathered together,' the curer may be amongst them. Independently of their instructions, communicate to her Ladys.h.i.+p, that, from my knowledge of your const.i.tution, I am sure that a gla.s.s of hock and soda will be both salutary and agreeable. Half a dozen of the best from Hochheim will then be transmitted to you.

"I say nothing of physic, of which plenty will be prescribed: but, however nauseous, swallow it all. Pour out execrations on the d--d drugs, rail with wit and spleen on the ignorance of your doctors, and obey them implicitly; by all which you will obtain all the relief from physic and physicians that is possible.

"Mr. Knowles sends us frequent bulletins, for which we are most grateful. He acts like your warm and constant friend.

"Friends.h.i.+p was a quality you often extolled: the affection of relations you used to hold cheap, as a mere instinctive sensation; whereas friends.h.i.+p is a rational selection. It was that quality which humanised Achilles, who without it would have been a brute.

Bestow some of it, then, upon me, and dictate a few words of comfort; for I have long been, before you knew Knowles, your faithful friend,

"James Carrick Moore."