Harlow proved himself, on many occasions, to be among the vainest of men, and generally wished it to be believed that he possessed information to which he was a stranger. On one occasion he said to me, "It is extraordinary that Fuseli, who is so fine a scholar, should suffer engravers to place translations under the plates taken from the classical subjects painted by him;" and remarked, "I was educated a scholar, having been at Westminster school, and therefore wish to see the subjects given in the original languages," and then imprudently instanced the print taken from his picture of the death of Œdipus. When Fuseli appointed the next sitting, on our way to Harlow's house, I mentioned this conversation to him, and added, I really think he does not understand one word of Greek or Latin, to which he gave his assent, and remarked, "He has made, I think, an unfortunate choice; for, if I recollect rightly, the Greek passage, as well as my translation of it, are scratched in under the mezzotinto. But before we part, I will bring his knowledge to the test." After he had sat the usual time, he asked for a piece of chalk, and wrote in large letters, on the wainscot, the following passage:—
"κτύπησε μὲν ζεὺς χθόνιος, αἱ δὲ παρθένοι
ῥίγησαν ὡς ἤκουσαν· ἐς δε γουνάτα
πατρὸς πεσοῦσαι, κλαῖον."[57]
After having done so, he said to Harlow, "Read that," and finding by his hesitation that he did not understand a letter, he resumed, "On our way hither, Knowles told me you had said that I ought not to permit engravers to put translations under the prints taken from me, and that you had instanced the Œdipus; now that is the Greek quotation whence the subject is taken, and I find you cannot read a letter of it. Let me give you this advice: you are undoubtedly a good portrait painter, and I think in small pictures, such as you are painting of me, stand unrivalled; this is sufficient merit; do not then pretend to be that which you are not, and probably from your avocations never can be—a scholar."
Unfortunately for Harlow, he was very unpopular with the Royal Academicians, and when he offered himself as a candidate for an Associate of the Academy, there was but one vote in his favour. On the evening of the election, Fuseli was taxed by some of his friends with having given it, and he answered, "It is true, I did,—I voted for the talent, and not for the man." This was not a solitary instance in which Fuseli exercised his judgment as to the fitness of men to fill offices in the Academy; and accordingly voted for them, distinct from any private consideration. On a vacancy happening for the Professorship of Anatomy, Mr. Charles Bell was among the candidates: this gentleman was unknown to Fuseli, except by his works: his vote was requested by one of his best and most intimate of friends (Mr. Coutts) for another person: "I cannot," said he, "oblige you; I know of no man in England who is a better demonstrator than Bell; and for a surgeon, he is a good artist; such a man therefore the Academy wants for their Professor, and, as such, I must vote for him."
The month of September 1817, I passed with my relation and friend, Richard Wilson, Esq. of the Cliff-house, at Scarborough; on this occasion, as was always the case when out of London, Fuseli corresponded with me; two of his letters are preserved, and I cannot refrain from giving them to the public, as they shew the kindness of his disposition, and the terms of friendship which subsisted between us. Understanding that my apartments were about to be repainted, he wrote as follows:—
"To any other person an apology might be necessary; to you, whose friendship can neither be heated or cooled by correspondence or silence, I despise offering any: if by remaining mute, I have deprived myself of one source of pleasure, it has reserved to me another, when we meet: your letter made me happy, because you could not have written it, had you not been so yourself.
"Hammond has perhaps told you that I went to Luton with him and Roscoe: I spent some happy hours there; and, of course, but few. Since my return, I have been riding or crawling in a kind of daylight-somnambulism between this place, Brompton, and Putney-hill. Whether I shall continue so to do the remainder of the month, or go to snuff in some sea air, will depend upon my wife's success or disappointment at Cheltenham.
"The chief reason why I send you this scrawl, is to offer you a bed here at your return, on the same floor with myself, and a chamber as pleasant and as well furnished as my own, viz. with demigods and beauties. I earnestly request you to accept of it, and not to persist in the foolhardy resolution of sleeping in a newly painted room. If Hammond is obliged to have his house painted, pray oblige me with your compliance, and, in giving me the preference, you will be at home, and your brother can surely not except against it, considering the distance at which he lives. I will not take a refusal.
"I feel my head so stupid, my hand so disobedient, my pen so execrable, my ink such a mudpond, that I ought in mercy to save you the trouble of deciphering more. Adieu, love me as I do you, neither more nor less, and hasten your return.