Part 3

On his death-bed, at the direction of his physicians, an engraving of one of his works was shown him to test the state of his faculties; he cast on it his glassy eyes, and muttered, “_Il n’y a que moi qui pouvait concevoir la tête de Léonidas._”

_DANTON’S FEATURES._

David, who regarded as a demi-god Danton, the organizer of the massacre of the prisons during the reign of terror, attempted several times to delineate the horrid countenance of this remarkable man; at last, giving up the attempt as impossible, David exclaimed, “_Il serait plus facile de peindre l’éruption d’un volcan, que les traits de ce grand homme._”

_DAVID AND NAPOLEON._

In his celebrated picture of the distribution of the eagles to Napoleon’s legions, David had represented Victory soaring over them, holding forth crowns of laurel. “What do you mean, sir, by this foolish allegory?” exclaimed the Emperor, “it was perfectly unnecessary. Without borrowing such absurd fictions, the world must know that all my soldiers are conquerors.” On returning some days after this ebullition of temper, the Emperor was delighted at finding David had painted three scrolls, bearing the names of Buonaparte, Hannibal, and Charlemagne.

_DAVID AND THE EMPEROR’S PORTRAIT._

Before painting the Emperor’s portrait, he asked him how he would be represented. “On the field of victory, sire, sword in hand?” “Bah!” replied the Emperor. “Victories are not gained by the sword. Represent me, sir, dashing forward on a fiery steed.”

Again, when requested to sit a little more steadily, to obtain a good resemblance, Napoleon replied: “Pshaw, sir! who cares for a resemblance? What are mere features, sir? The genius of the artist is shown by his success in representing the fire--the inspiration of the face. Think you, sir, Alexander ever sat to Apelles?”

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_DENON (DOMINIQUE VIVANT)._

Dominique Vivant Denon was born in a small town of Burgundy, of a noble family, in the year 1747. He was appointed by the King, at an early age, gentleman-in-ordinary. Soon after, he was made secretary of embassy, and accompanied Baron Talleyrand to Naples. It was in this capacity, during the absence of Talleyrand, that Denon charmed all he had acquaintance with by his rare superiority of talent and depth of conception, which, lying concealed under an inexhaustible fund of wit and humour, was not even suspected to exist till the wit and courtier vanished to make room for the diplomatist. While in Italy, he devoted his mornings to the study of the Fine Arts, of which he was passionately fond. He was selected by Buonaparte to accompany him to Egypt, in which celebrated campaign Denon by turns wielded the sword and handled the pencil. It was remarked by all that his stock of gaiety never deserted him, even when under the severest privations. Many instances are recorded of his humanity and feeling on crossing the desert. His terrific picture of the Arab dying in the desert of hunger and thirst was taken from nature; and such and even worse scenes were daily met with by the artist during this memorable undertaking of the great general. Denon returned with Buonaparte to France, and prepared his immortal travels in Upper and Lower Egypt during the Egyptian campaigns. This work, which has obtained the highest suffrages, and been translated into almost all European languages, was much admired by Buonaparte himself. One day, on looking over the work, Napoleon said, “If I lost Egypt, Denon has conquered it.” As a mark of appreciation of Denon’s talent and attachment, he was appointed by Napoleon director and administrator-general of the museums and medal-mint. This office was just in accordance with Denon’s taste and talents. No medals were allowed to be struck of which the designs and execution had not received the approbation of Denon; and to this cause, say the connoisseurs, is to be attributed the uniform superiority of the Napoleon medals in beauty of execution over every other collection in the world. Denon was specially appointed to superintend the erection of the column in the Place Vendôme in honour of the battle of Austerlitz. The model was to be the column of Trajan at Rome; but, it is generally agreed, Denon greatly surpassed his model. After the fall of Napoleon, Denon lived in retirement, occupying himself with his collection of medals, etc. His cabinet was open several days in the week, and was resorted to by strangers from all parts of the world. For the last seven years before his death, which took place in the year 1825, he employed his spare moments in the composition of a work on the “History of Art,” with about 300 to 400 plates from his own cabinet. The subscription was soon closed after his intention was known. Many of the first French artists, it is said, owe their advancement in life to his interest and influence. He died at the age of seventy-eight.

_NAIVETÉ OF TALLEYRAND’S WIFE._

“Talleyrand invited Denon to dinner. When he went home to his wife, he said, ‘My dear, I have invited Denon to dine. He is a great traveller, and you must say something handsome to him about his travels, as he may be useful to us with the Emperor.’ His wife being extremely ignorant, and probably never having read any other books of travels than that of Robinson Crusoe, concluded that Denon could be nobody else than Robinson. Wishing to be very civil to him, she, before a large company, asked him divers questions about his man Friday! Denon, astonished, did not know what to think at first; but at length discovered by her questions that she really imagined him to be Robinson Crusoe. His astonishment and that of the company cannot be described, nor the peals of laughter which it excited in Paris, as the story flew like wildfire through the city; and even Talleyrand himself was ashamed of it.”--_Gentleman’s Magazine._

_DENON’S CURIOSITIES._

The following are a few of the many curiosities sold by auction in Paris in 1846. Various instruments which belonged to the tribunal of the Inquisition at Valladolid. The ring of John-without-Fear, Duke of Burgundy, who was assassinated on the bridge of Monterau; the ring being found in his grave in 1792. Plaster casts of the heads of Cromwell, Charles XII., and Robespierre. Fragments of bones found in the burial place of the Cid and Ximena at Burgos. Bones from the grave of Abelard and Heloise at Paraclete. Hair of Agnes Sorel, who was burned at Loches, and of Ines de Castro, at Alkaboga. Part of the moustaches of Henry IV., found in excellent preservation when the royal tombs at St. Denis were emptied in 1793. A piece of Turenne’s shroud. Bones of Molière and La Fontaine. Some hair of General Desaix. A tooth of Voltaire. A piece of the shirt stained with blood worn by Napoleon at the time of his death. A lock of his hair, and a leaf of the weeping willow which overshadows his grave at St. Helena.

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_FLAXMAN (JOHN), R.A._

Flaxman held the distinguished position of Professor of Sculpture to the Royal Academy. He was an excellent Greek and Latin scholar, and his mind seems to have been early imbued with that classic feeling and taste which it is essential for an historical sculptor to possess, and which laid the foundation of his future celebrity. He was admitted a Student of the Royal Academy, in 1770. In 1787, Mr. Flaxman went to Italy, where he pursued his studies for seven years. While resident at Rome, he made about eighty designs from the Iliad and Odyssey. These were so highly approved that he was afterwards engaged to illustrate, in the same manner, the works of Dante for Mr. Thomas Hope, and Æschylus for the late Countess Spencer. All these designs were made at Rome, and engraved there by Thomas Piroli. The Homer was published in quarto, in 1793, and again, with additional plates, in 1805; the Æschylus, in 1795; the Dante, in 1807. His illustrations of Hesiod were made after his return to England; they were engraved by W. Blake, and published in 1816. Mr. Flaxman returned from Rome in 1794, and was elected on his way a Member of the Academies of Florence and Carrara. His first work after his arrival in England, and for which he received the commission before he left Rome, was the monument to Lord Mansfield, in Westminster Abbey. He designed and executed many other sepulchral monuments, the most notable being those of Earl Howe, Lord Nelson, and Sir Joshua Reynolds, in St. Paul’s cathedral; while Westminster Abbey, and various other cathedrals and churches, are enriched with exquisite productions of his genius. Flaxman died, 3rd December, 1826, at the age of seventy-one.

_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.”

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_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.

_HIS GAITERS._

It was not unusual for Fuseli to walk into the students’ room, with his gaiters in his hand. He would put them on just before the Academy closed for the night. One night, in his hurry to begin, he forgot the gaiters, or rather mislaid them. A long-continued grumbling announced to the students present that something was wrong. One of the students, less careful than the others, began to titter; this caught the professor’s ears, who bounced out of the room, exclaiming, “Oh! you are all a set of teeves; you have stolen my gaiters!” The merriment had not subsided, when, reappearing with the missing articles in his hand, and assuming as bland a smile as he could command, he apologetically added, “Oh, no! I was the teef myself. It was I who stole the gaiters!”

_THE DRAMA._

Fuseli was a profound scholar in the works of Shakspeare, so much so that he had the various passages of the plays at his fingers’ ends. As an illustration, the following incident occurred at a dinner table, at which many were present. Sitting beside Fuseli was a very garrulous, shallow young man, who several times misquoted the great dramatist. After receiving blunder upon blunder with an audible growl, he addressed the young gentleman with, “Where’s that to be found?”

“In Titus Andronicus, where the black, as you recollect, says--”

“No, saar, I do not recollect; I do not think it is in Taitus Andronicus at all.”

“Macbeth, perhaps,” ventured the quoter.

“No, no; it is not in Maac-beath.”

“In Hamlet.”

“No, nor in Haamlet, saar.”

“Well, then, I do not recollect where it is,” admitted the speaker. To which Fuseli added, “Perhaps you do not know, but it is in Otello, saar,” much to the diversion of the assembled guests.

_NOISY STUDENTS._

Hearing a violent noise in the studio, and inquiring the cause, he was answered by one of the porters, “It’s only those fellows, the students, sir.” “Fellows!” exclaimed Fuseli; “I would have you to know, sir, those _fellows_ may one day become Academicians.” The noise increasing, he opened the door with, “You are a den of wild beasts.” Munro, who was one of the students, bowed, and said, “And Fuseli is our keeper.”

_THE YORKSHIREMAN._

Discoursing one day upon the merits of Phocion, the Athenian, a gentleman gravely put the question, “Pray, sir, who was Mr. Phocion?” Fuseli as gravely 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!”

_RICHARDSON’S NOVELS._

A gentleman speaking one day in the presence of Fuseli, of books, remarked, “No one now reads the works of Richardson.” “Do they not?” said the painter, “then by G-- they ought. If people are tired of old novels, I should be glad to know your criterion of books. If Richardson is old, Homer is obsolete. _Clarissa_ to me is pathetic; I never read it without crying like a child.”

_CLASSICAL ATTAINMENTS._

Haydon, in his lectures on painting, observes: “In general literature, what is called polite literature, Fuseli was highly accomplished. He perhaps knew as much of Homer as any man; but he was not a deep classic; he could puzzle Dr. Burney by a question, but he was more puzzled if Dr. Burney questioned him. Porson spoke lightly of his knowledge of Greek, but in comparison with Porson, a man might know little and yet know a great deal; a friend once asked him to construe a difficult passage in the chorus in the Agamemnon of Æschylus--he cursed all choruses, and said he never read them! But his power of acquiring, idiomatically, a living language was certainly extraordinary; six weeks, he said, was enough for him to speak any language; yet though his tendency to literature gave him in society the power of being very amusing, I think it my duty to caution the young men present; he, for an artist, allowed literature to take too predominant a part in his practice, and sunk too much the painter in the critic.”

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_GAINSBOROUGH (THOMAS), R.A._

This eminent landscape painter was born at Sudbury, in Suffolk, in 1727. His father was a clothier by trade, and of very peculiar habits. It was to his mother, an accomplished woman, that he owed so much affectionate encouragement during his boyhood. He often absented himself from school, and spent the time sketching the picturesque dwellings with overhanging storeys in his neighbourhood. It has been said of him, “Nature was his teacher, and the woods of Suffolk were his Academy.” His affection for his birthplace was very great throughout his career, and there was not a tree of any beauty there that was not treasured in his memory. At the age of fifteen he left for London, and returned disappointed to Sudbury after four years’ absence. On his return to his native town he devoted himself to the study of landscape, and soon after married the handsome Margaret Burr, who brought an annuity of £200. Still he studied hard, and his fame extended. It was in 1774, after thirty-three years, he returned to the metropolis, his fame having long preceded him. With a splendid income, he occupied Schomberg House, Pall Mall, at a rental of £300 a year. Here there was much demand upon his industry by royalty, peers, and commoners. He died in August, 1788, in the sixty-second year of his age.

_THE CONCEITED ALDERMAN._

Gainsborough was one day painting the portrait of a rich citizen, who told the painter that he had come in his new five-guinea wig. His manner and his attempts to look pretty had such an effect upon the artist, it was with the greatest difficulty he was prevented laughing in his face. At length, when the worthy alderman begged he would not overlook the dimple in his chin, his manner was so simpering that no power of his face could withstand it; Gainsborough burst into an immoderate fit of laughter, threw his pencils on the floor, and d--ning the dimple, declared he could not paint that or the alderman either, and never touched the picture more.

_THE ARTIST’S INDEPENDENCE._

A gentleman being disappointed at not receiving his picture, called upon the painter, and inquired of the porter in a loud voice, “Has that fellow, Gainsborough, finished my portrait?” He was shown into the studio, where he beheld his portrait, and was much pleased with it. After ordering the artist to send it home forthwith, he added, “I may as well give you a cheque for the other fifty guineas.” “Stay a minute,” said Gainsborough, “it just wants a finishing stroke;” and snatching up a background brush, he dashed it across the smiling features, indignantly exclaiming, “Sir, where is my fellow now?”

_HIS LETTER TO THE DUKE OF BEDFORD._

“MY LORD DUKE,--A most worthy, honest man, and one of the greatest geniuses for musical compositions England ever produced, is now in London, and has got two or three members of parliament along with him out of Devonshire, to make application for one of the receivers of the land-tax of that county, now resigned by a very old man, one Mr. Haddy. His name is William Jackson; lives at Exeter; and for his plainness, truth, and ingenuity, at the same time, is beloved as no man ever was. Your grace has doubtless heard his compositions; but he is no fiddler, your grace may take my word for it. He is extremely clever and good, is a married man with a young family, and is qualified over and over for the place; has got friends of fortune who will be bound for him in any sum; and they are all making application to His Grace the Duke of Grafton to get him the place. But, my Lord Duke, I told him they could not do it without me; that I must write to your grace about it. He is at Mr. Arnold’s, in Norfolk Street, in the Strand; and if your grace would be pleased to think of it, I should be ever bound to pray for your grace. Your grace knows that I am an _original_, and therefore, I hope, will be the more ready to pardon this monstrous freedom from your grace’s, etc.,

THOMAS GAINSBOROUGH.”

_MRS. SIDDONS’S NOSE._

Mrs. Siddons sat for her portrait to Mr. Scott, of North Britain, who observed, the nose gave him great trouble. “Ah!” said the great actress, “Gainsborough was a good deal troubled the same way. He had altered and varied the shape a long while, when at last he threw down the pencil, exclaiming, ‘D--n the nose! there is no end to it.’” The pun was applicable, as that lady had a long nose.

_CONCLUSIVE EVIDENCE._

A neighbour, having his garden robbed on several occasions, could never hit upon the thief. It happened one morning early, the painter, then a mere boy, walked in the garden sketching, when he observed a man pop his head over the garden wall. Being unobserved, the young artist had sufficient time to sketch the robber’s head, and from its accuracy, on showing it to a neighbour, the fellow was immediately recognised as living in the neighbourhood, and was accordingly apprehended.

_THE GERMAN PROFESSOR._