Fuseli, who was honored by her friendship, was a more severe judge. He says, he “has no wish to contradict those who make success the standard of genius, and, as their heroine equals the greatest names in the first, suppose her on a level with them in power. She pleased, and desired to please, the age in which she lived and the race for which she wrought. The Germans, with as much patriotism, at least, as judgment, have styled her the Paintress of Minds (Seelen Mahlerin); nor can this be wondered at for a nation who, in A. R. Mengs, flatter themselves that they possess an artist equal to Raphael.
“The male and female characters of Angelica never vary in form, feature, or expression from the favorite ideal in her own mind. Her heroes are all the man to whom she thought she could have submitted, though him, perhaps, she never found. Her heroines are herself, and, while suavity of countenance and alluring graces shall be able to divert the general eye from the sterner demands of character and expression, can never fail to please.”
The lighter scenes of poetry were painted by her with a grace and taste entirely her own, and happily formed, withal, to meet that of an engraver, whose labors contributed to the growth and perpetuity of her fame. This was Bartolozzi, whose talents were in great part devoted to her.
One feels naturally desirous of knowing something about the personal appearance of one so much admired. Her portrait, painted by herself, the size of life, is in the Pitti Gallery at Florence, with that of two other female artists; and the three attract the attention of every visitor.
The following is the description of one spectator: “The first in feature and expression bears the stamp of a masculine intellect; the touch is vigorous, the coloring has the golden tint of the Venetian school, but it presents no mark of individuality; this is Maria Robusti Tintoretto. The second can not be mistaken; even the most unpracticed eye would discern at a glance that it is a Frenchwoman—piquant, lively, graceful, evidently not so much engrossed with her art as to be insensible to admiration as a woman—this is the well-known Madame Le Brun. Opposite the fair Parisian is a third portrait, a woman still in the bloom of life, but destitute of all brilliancy of coloring, with an expression grave and pensive almost to melancholy. She is seated on a stone, in the midst of a solitary landscape, a portfolio with sketches in one hand, a pencil in the other. The attitude is unstudied almost to negligence. There is no attempt at display; you feel as you look on her that every thought is absorbed in her vocation. This is Angelica Kauffman.”
The quiet tenor of her life was broken up by the death of her husband in 1795. This domestic calamity was followed by political events that shook the world, and our artist suffered amid the universal agitation. She was much disquieted by the invasion of Italy by the French, though she found in her art both relief from care and a protection from the dread of poverty. General L’Espinasse exempted the house in which she lived from lodging soldiers, and offered her his services for her security and protection. But no kindness could restore her lost energy or bring back the cheerfulness that had once sustained her.
In 1802 Angelica was seized with illness, and on recovery was advised to travel for the strengthening of both her bodily and mental faculties, and for relief from the oppression of sadness that paralyzed even her love of art. She visited Florence, Milan, and Como, where she lingered with a melancholy pleasure amid the scenes of her youthful days. In Venice she staid to visit the family of her deceased husband. She then returned to Rome, where she was received by her friends with a jubilant welcome.
Her time passed thenceforward in her accustomed employments, and the society of those who loved her. Her health continued to decline, but her intellect remained bright and vigorous to the period of her death in November, 1807. Not long before she expired she requested her cousin by signs to read to her one of Gellert’s spiritual odes. In the midst of Italian life she was ever true to the German spirit; as, amid her more than masculine labors, she preserved her gentle, womanly nature. The news of her decease caused profound grief throughout Rome. All the members of the Academy of St. Luke assisted at her funeral; and, as at the obsequies of Raphael, her latest pictures were borne after her bier. Her remains were placed in the Church of St. Andrew della Fratte. Her bust was preserved in the Pantheon.
Her works are scattered all over Europe, and are to be found in Vienna, Munich, London, Florence, Rome, Paris, etc.