HIS OBLIGING DISPOSITION.
The following letter curiously illustrates the kind and obliging nature of the celebrated sculptor. It is addressed to John Bischoff, Esq., Leeds:—
“Buckingham Street, Fitzroy Square,
“19th of Aug. 1814.
“Dear Sir,—Your first respected letter was duly received, concerning the drawing for Dr. Whitaker’s new edition of ‘The History of Leeds;’ the answer to which has been delayed so long because I wished to send by it such information respecting the manner of engraving the monument of Captains Walker and Beckett, with the expense, as might enable Dr. Whitaker and yourself to determine what kind of print will be most likely to answer the purpose of publication—which will consequently determine the kind of drawing from which the copper-plate must be engraved. This information I have just obtained. A highly-finished shadowed engraving, of the proper size for a quarto book, will cost twenty guineas, or more; and in this department of Art there are two engravers of distinguished excellence, Mr. Bromley and Mr. Englehart. For such an engraving a drawing should be made by Mr. Stothard, who is used to draw for engravers; which is an absolute requisite, as this is a distinct branch of Art. A drawing of this kind costs about five or six guineas. If the Rev. Doctor would be satisfied with an outline of the monument—such as those published of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, as well as some in Cowper’s translations of Milton’s Latin poems, which is now a favourite style of decoration in books—I can make the outline myself, and will request the Editor’s acceptance of it. The engraving, including the copper-plate, will cost six guineas if done by Mr. Blake, the best engraver of outlines. When you favour me with Dr. Whitaker’s intentions on this subject, pray send in the letter the size of the intended book. I hope you will excuse the trouble I have occasioned you; and accept my particular thanks for your kindness and attention.
“I have the honour to remain, etc.,
“John Flaxman.”
FUSELI (HENRY), R.A.
HENRY FUSELI was a native of Zurich, and came to England at an early age, being undecided whether to make Literature or Art his study. He happened to take some of his drawings to Sir Joshua Reynolds, and requested the great painter to give his candid opinion upon their execution. The President was so struck with the power of conception displayed in them, that after attentively viewing them, he said, “Young man, were I the author of these drawings, and offered ten thousand a year not to practise as an artist, I would reject it with contempt.” This opinion, so flattering, decided him. In 1798, on the opening of his Milton Gallery, he fully satisfied all who might previously have had misgivings, by a rare display of lofty imagination, blended with extensive intellectual acquirements. All were agreed upon his marvellous genius as displayed in that exhibition. Among his masterly works in the Shakspeare Gallery, his “Ghost of Hamlet’s Father” was, perhaps, the grandest. Mr. Fuseli enjoyed the friendship of the most distinguished literati of the age. His townsman, Lavater, entertained a very high opinion of him before ever he discovered his genius by his after career. On leaving his native town to begin life, Lavater put into his hand a small piece of paper, beautifully framed, on which was written, “Do but the tenth part of what you can do.” “Hang that up in your bed-room,” said Lavater, “and I know what will be the result.” Mr. Fuseli enjoyed excellent health, no doubt the result of his habitual temperance; whether in town or country, summer or winter, he was seldom in bed after five o’clock. He died in the year 1825, at the ripe old age of 84, and his remains were interred in St. Paul’s cathedral.
HIS CAT.
It is related of the famous Fuseli, that he had a very imperfect sympathy for the harmless domestic cat. One day he was heard roaring at the top of his voice, “Same, Same, why the devil don’t you come?” The affectionate Mrs. F., who was in an adjoining room, rushed out, and catching sight of her husband’s agonized features, asked in dismay, “What do you want of Sam, my dear Henry?” The only reply to which was, “Oh! d—— your dear Henry; send up Same.” On hastening to his assistance, the professor was found sprawling on his back, and pointing to the great doors of his painting room. It was found that he had a few minutes before gone there to take out a large picture to paint upon, when a couple of cats that had crawled through the roof rushed out and confronted him, thus causing all the disturbance. The man for whom he had called so vigorously by the name of “Same,” was Samuel Stronger, his model, who found his patron as white as a ghost.