Again, to Mr. Ottley, he writes:—
"my dear ottley,
"My wife tells me I behaved ill to you last night, and insists upon my making an apology for it: as I suspect she may be right, accept my thanks for your forbearance and good-humour, and grant me the benefit of Hamlet's excuse for his rashness to Laertes.
"Let us see you as soon as possible again. Respects to Mrs. Ottley.
"Ever yours,
"Henry Fuseli."
"Tuesday, July 27th, 1813."
Some anecdotes, in addition to those already given, will illustrate better the nature and force of his conversational talents, than any farther description. Discoursing one day with a gentleman at Mr. Johnson's table upon the powers and merit of Phocion; a stranger, who had apparently listened with attention to the conversation, interrupted him by putting this question, "Pray, Sir, who was Mr. Phocion?" Fuseli immediately answered, "From your dialect, Sir, I presume you are from Yorkshire; and if so, I wonder you do not recollect Mr. Phocion's name, as he was Member for your County in the Long Parliament;" and he then resumed the discourse. Bonnycastle and another mathematician were conversing upon the infinite extension of space, a subject in which Fuseli could take no part, so as to shew his powers: he instantly cut it short, by asking, "Pray, Gentlemen, can either of you tell me how much broad cloth it will take to make Orion a pair of breeches?" Calling one morning upon Mr. Johnson, he found him engaged in bargaining with an author for the copyright of a book; after a time, the gentleman took leave; when he was gone, Mr. Johnson said, "That is Mr. Kett, and his work is to be called the 'Elements of Useful Knowledge.'" "In how many volumes?" said Fuseli. "In two octavos," was the answer. "No, no, Johnson," said he, "you cannot be serious; the Ocean is not to be emptied with a tea-spoon." Meeting with a gentleman in society, who piqued himself upon his knowledge of poetry, and boasted of being thoroughly versed in Shakspeare, he exclaimed, in a sonorous tone,
"O, for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest Heaven of invention!"
"Pray, Sir, do you happen to recollect where these lines are to be found?" He took some time to consider, and then answered, "Somewhere in Pope."—"I find you are well read in the Poets," said Fuseli.—Discoursing with a lady upon sculpture, who, however, was too well read in the classics to be a subject of his mischievous pleasantry, he pretended to inform her of a fine bas-relief which had been received by the Royal Academy from Rome. "What is the subject?" she asked.—"Hector and Andromache," said he, "dashing out against a wall, the little Astyanax's brains." "Poh! why do you tell me such stuff?" said she. "Ay! you may laugh," replied Fuseli, "but it would go down with many a one. I have often said such things in company without detection; only try it yourself at the next lord's house you may visit, and see how many fine ladies and dandies will detect you."