In order to give some notion of Fuseli's projected work, for which chiefly he went to Paris, the following criticisms upon some of the pictures then in the Gallery of the Louvre may be acceptable: these he was kind enough to offer to me when I was about to visit France in the year 1814.
JULIO ROMANO—THE CIRCUMCISION.
This picture, which is known from the print published in Crozat, deserves rather to be considered as a curiosity than as the work of a great master; its composition bears some resemblance to the cartoon of "Peter and John healing the Lame Man," of Raphael; but the simplicity and dignity of the master are lost in the crowd with which the pupil surrounded the ceremony. Though the columns occupy full as much space, and are as prominent and as full of ornament in the cartoon as in the picture, and although the principal actors are placed in both between them, they are not perceived in the work of Raphael, till we have witnessed the miracle, whilst in that of Julio, they lead us to the ceremony, which eclipses the actors in its turn.
PAOLO VERONESE.
1. The Nuptials of Cana.
2. The Feast of Levi the Publican.
3. The Madonna, St. Jerome, &c.
4. The Martyrdom of St. George.
5. Jupiter launching his Thunder on the Crimes.
6. Christ carrying his Cross.
7. The Crucifixion.
8. The Pilgrims of Emaus.
The two first, the third, and last of these pictures, are perhaps the fullest models of that ornamental style by which a great critic has discriminated the Venetian from the rest of Italian styles,—"monsters to the man of native taste, who looks for the story, for propriety, for national, unartificial costume,—mines of information to the student and the masters of art." The most technic comprehension of a magnificent whole, and supreme command over the infinite variety of its parts, equal suavity, energy, and ease of execution, go hand in hand with the most chaotic caprice in the disposition and the most callous tyranny over the character of the subject. Whatever relates to the theory of colours, of solid, middle, and aërial tints, to the opposition of hues warm or cold, and the contrast of light and dark masses, is poised here with prismatic truth; the whole is a scale of music. It is more by following the order of nature and of light in the disposition of the whole, that Paolo attained that illusion, which approaches to deception, than by the attempt of making fac similes of the parts. He knew that dark, juicy, and absorbent colours come forward, that white recedes, and that the middle parts partake of both, and hence, uniting the two extremes by the intermediate tint, he obtained that superior harmony on which the Venetian school rests its superiority of colour, and which Rubens sought with unequal success in the capricious disposition of a nosegay or a bunch of flowers.
THE MADONNA OF FOLIGNO—RAPHAEL.
None who has seen this picture at Foligno, will recognize it here. Whatever praise the ingenious and complicated process of restoration may deserve, that of having restored to the picture its original and primitive tone makes certainly no part of it: as well might the ingredients of a dish ready-dressed by a restaurateur of the Palais Royal, be said to resemble the unprepared viands of which it is composed. I am far from ascribing the want of resemblance to the restoration; it could only give what remained—the bleak crudity of its aspect. The comparative imbecility of some of its parts accuse another hand that succeeded.[52] Pictures ex voto can claim little merit from composition. "The Madonna" of Foligno, and the "St. Cecilia" of Raphael; the "St. Sebastian" of Titian, &c. are discriminated from each other by little else than by a more or less picturesque conception of the ground on, or before which the figures are placed: it is expression, therefore, which makes their chief merit, and this is the great loss which we have suffered in the "Madonna of Foligno." Neither the "St. John," the "St. Jerome," nor the head of "St. Francis," acknowledge the hand, the eye, or the feelings of Raphael. The "St. John," though perhaps not even in its original state sufficiently dignified, is become a savage, and what is worse, a French one. The "St. Francis," and "St. Jerome," have been tinted into insipidity; but the head of "Sigismond Conti," the "Madonna and Child," appear to have suffered less, and the angelic countenance of "The Cherub with the Tablet," beams with its primitive radiance the impasto of Raphael.