Angelica found both pleasure and profit in Winkelmann’s society, always in the company of her friend, the wife of Raphael Mengs. A portrait of him, painted by her at this time, and afterward engraved by her, amply proved, by its excellent likeness, vivid coloring, and vigorous touch, and, above all, by its spiritual expression, how thoroughly she had comprehended the spirit of the greatest disciples of art. Winkelmann announced to his friends, not without evident satisfaction, that his portrait had been painted “by a young and beautiful woman.”
Ere long, a command to copy some paintings in the royal gallery at Naples called her to that city, so favored by the beauty of its situation and the charm of its climate. Here she gained new ideas in the contemplation of numerous master-pieces of old time, as well as a rich reward for her labors in executing orders from many persons of rank. Her abode in that soft, luxurious clime, surrounded by nature’s loveliness, did not, however, enervate her character, nor impair the freshness and naiveté of her style.
In 1764 we find her again in Rome. Here she passed a year in the prosecution of her studies, including architecture and perspective, continuing her friendship with Winkelmann. Her observations of Italian art were completed by studies of the works of the Caracci in Bologna, and Titian, Tintoretto, and Paul Veronese in Venice. In the last-mentioned city Angelica made the acquaintance of an English lady—the accomplished Lady Wentworth, wife of the British resident—who afterward took her to London.
During her stay in Naples she had been received into relations of intimacy with several noble English families, and had taken their orders for paintings. It was thought that in London a more distinguished and more lucrative success would be commanded than she could hope for in a country so rich in artistic achievements as Italy. This was in truth the case; and after Angelica had passed through Paris, availing herself of its advantages, to London, she found open to her a career of brilliant success, productive of much pecuniary gain. Her talents and winning manners raised her up patrons and friends among the aristocracy. Persons attached to the court engaged her professional services; and the most renowned painter in England, Sir Joshua Reynolds, was of the circle of her friends. It is said he offered her his hand, and I have been told by Mr. Robert Balmanno, who knew Fuseli personally, that he was one of her suitors. She was numbered among the painters of the Royal Society, and received the rare honor, for a woman, of an appointment to a professorship in the Academy of Arts in London, being, meanwhile, universally acknowledged to occupy a brilliant position in the best circles of fashionable society.
A writer in the Westminster Review gives a romantic account of an incident that led to the greatest misfortune of Angelica’s life:
“It was in early girlhood, while traveling with her father through Switzerland to their native land, that she first beheld the man who was to exercise so fatal an influence on her destiny. Angelica was then only in her seventeenth year, her dawning talents had already attracted considerable attention, but as both father and daughter were poor, they were compelled to travel on foot, resting at night at the little inns by the wayside. One evening, when, wearied with the long day’s journey, they entered a humble house of entertainment, they were informed by the landlord that they must go farther, for a couple of “grand seigneurs,” just arrived, had engaged all the rooms for themselves and their suite. The weary travelers insisted on their right to remain, and the debate was growing warm, when one of the gentlemen for whose accommodation they were rejected made his appearance, and with great politeness begged them to enter the dining-room and share their repast. The good Kauffman, whose frank, confiding nature was always a stranger to suspicion, at once consented, despite the whispered entreaties of his daughter, who, with the intuitive perception of her sex, had discerned something offensive beneath the polished courtesy of their inviter. She was not mistaken; at the table Lord E—— soon forgot the respect due to youth and innocence, and attempted some liberty. Angelica indignantly repulsed it, and on its repetition, rising hastily from the table, drew her father with her, and instantly left the house.”
Years afterward, while Angelica was living in England—“welcomed with enthusiasm, sought by the noblest and most gifted in the land, when all seemed to smile upon her path, in a fatal hour she again lighted on the man whose undisguised libertinism had so deeply wounded her modesty ten years before. It was in the midst of a brilliant circle, where all the beaux esprits of London were assembled, that they again met. Lord E—— had long since lost every trace of her, and great was his amazement to recognize in the elegant woman and celebrated artist the humble little pedestrian of the Swiss mountains. If he had thought her charming then, how much more lovely did she seem to him now; his heart and fancy were alike inflamed, and he resolved that this time, at least, she should not escape him. Feigned repentance for the past, assurances of unselfish devotion which sought for nothing in return save the friendship and esteem of its object, flattery, insinuation, all were employed. Angelica, trusting and guileless, believed him; nor was it till, fancying himself secure of triumph, he threw off the mask, that she even suspected his baseness. Equally shocked and indignant, she would no longer admit him to her society.
“This only stimulated his passions. Perhaps he thought it a pretext to lure him to more honorable offers; at all events, despairing of winning the prize by any other means, he laid his rank and title at her feet. But Angelica was no Pamela to receive with humble gratitude the hand of him who had insulted her virtue. Her mild but resolute refusal stung him to madness. If what some of her biographers assert be true, he forced himself into her presence, and sought by violence that which no entreaties could win; but here, too, he failed. The rumor of his worthless conduct got abroad, and he found it most convenient to leave England for a time, vowing revenge. The subsequent portion of the story is well known.”
Others say it was an English painter, who, out of jealousy of the talents of Angelica, instigated to his base plot the man who deceived her. Be that as it may, she was undoubtedly the victim of a conspiracy arranged with no less malignity than art. It was a counterpart to the story of the Lady of Lyons; a rejected suitor vowing revenge, and using as his instrument to obtain it a man very different in character from the noble Claude.
A low-born adventurer, who assumed the name of a gentleman of rank and character—that of his master, Count Frederic de Horn—played a conspicuous part at that time in London society, and was skillful enough to deceive those with whom he associated. He approached our artist, who was then about twenty-six, and in the bloom of her existence. He paid his respects as one who rendered the deepest homage to her genius; then he passed into the character of an unassuming and sympathizing friend. Finally, he appealed to her romantic generosity by representing himself as threatened with a terrible misfortune, from which she only could save him by accepting him as her husband. A sudden and secret marriage he averred was necessary.