PERHAPS there are few men of consummate abilities, who have any anxiety that a knowledge of the petty incidents in their private life should be transmitted, with their works, to posterity; and who would not rather, were it left at their own option, decline being introduced to the notice of that world which is to "live after them," through any other mediuui than that of their own deserts. Exegi monumentum ære perennius!-Exclaims one of this sterling stamp ; "I have carved my own monument, behold it in my deeds! I have written my own epitaph, go read it in my works." And such an epitaph, whether inscribed with the sword, the pencil, or the pen, is as legible a one, as honourable, and full as credible, as any other. But the biographer has a certain duty assigned to him, and all the dignified modesty of true genius will not furnish him with an excuse that future generations would accept for omitting to gratify their curiosity; so laudable as it is, when prompted by a desire to know more good, of one that is thought well of already. It is truethere is another sort of inquisitiveness with regard to the domestic traits of popular characters; an inquisitiveness awakened by the levelling spirit of envy, in minds which unable to follow the soarings of genius, delight in prying about to discover some tie, still connecting it to that earth, on which they themselves grovel without hope of elevation.

Yet the better motive of the two is surely the more common one; and accordingly the enquiry that it suggests ought to be answered: and, though, with respect to the illustrious and venerable subject of this memoir, but few facilities of compiling it have been afforded by those who were most able to lighten the task, yet we trust that the following imperfect sketch will be no unwelcome accompaniment, though scarce a worthy one, to the faithful portrait of H. FUSELI, Esq. with which our present number is embellished.

He was born at Zurich in Switzerland, in the year 1742; and his father, though himself a very eminent portrait and landscape painter, seems to have intended his son for the church. Now John Caspar Fuessli (for that is the true family name) had been singularly successful in his professional efforts, so much so, that, early in life, he was made painter to the court of Rastadt, and obtained no common share of emolument and reputation, by his labours both as an artist, and as a writer on his art; therefore, why it was that he destined his son Henry, (who from childhood had shewn indisputable proofs of a taste for his paternal art,) why he destined him to a way of life so widely removed from his own, which had led him to competence and renown, is not easily accountable. Certain it is, however, that young Fuseli was, for that purpose, educated, in the first

instance, at a school in or near his birth-place, where Lavater was his school fellow; and afterwards at Berlin, under the tuition of professor Sulzer. Here he is said to have imbibed an intense love of poetry, in which he subsequently made some highly approved essays; but never in any other than his country's language. The writings of Klopstock, Wieland, and one or two besides who were basking in the fullest blaze of their glory, just at the time when Germany was honoured with the stay of our hero there, were the first incentives to his "muse's flame." His play-mate and townsman, the celebrated Lavater, accompanied him in a tour he made through the country; but their journeyings appear not to have been of any great duration, for young Fuseli was at least eighteen, when he left home for Berlin; and before he was of age, Sir Robert Smith, then ambassador there, prevailed on him to visit England, as a kind of literary agent for promoting a free exchange

of belles lettres between us and the continent;-a caterer for it, at the then overflowing board of British literature. Not long had he been in London, when he was fortunate enough to become acquainted with Sir Joshua Reynolds, who discerned his kindred spirit, and repeatedly begged from him little unfinished sketches, which Fuseli, without yet having any distinct views as to his future occupation, would occasionally produce. Mr. Coutts (now deceased), the late Mr. Cadell, and Mr. Joseph Johnson, of St. Paul's Church Yard, were among the most intimate of his acquaintances; and, through the interest of these highly respectable connections, he obtained the situation of tutor to a nobleman's son, whom he subsequently attended in an excursion to Paris. At the expiration of three or four years, after his arrival in this metropolis, he quitted it for Italy, in company with the poet Armstrong, whom he had known for some time previously; and now it was that he seriously resolved on devoting his whole time to the study of painting. The vessel in which our two adventurers embarked was bound for Leghorn, but driven ashore at Genoa; and thence they proceeded to Rome. Here it was that he commenced his acquaintance with the inimitable works of Michael Angelo, of whose exquisite skill he has ever since been

an enthusiastic admirer., Nor, yet, did the compositions of painters less renowned, though scarcely inferior in merit, escape his impartial eye; so that, on his return to England in 1778, his connoisseurship was almost without appeal; and, indeed, shortly after that period, his own performances had risen into such repute, that in the historical line he had no rival but West. During his continuance at the "world's great capital," which was for seven or eight years, (in which time he associated much with Canova, and was made a member of St. Luke's Academy,) his "Edipus, his two daughters," saw the light, and was transmitted to this country for exhibition. Moreover, it was at about the same time, that he suggested the original idea of the Shakspeare Gallery. When he again repaired hither, his professional character rose rapidly and unintermittingly, and soon became established beyond fear of declension; for between the years 1790 and 1800, appeared his " Milton Gallery," a series of paintings upon subjects taken exclusively from the works of our divinest bard. They were exhibited collectively; and the applause they received was equally honourable to the taste of the nation, and to the talents of Mr. Fuseli. Not a piece but had its own peculiarly striking merit: though some few were distinguished by a superiority over the rest too evident to escape particular notice. Perhaps, of all the forty-seven that composed the "Gallery," The Lazar House was the most masterly effort. From the poets' appalling, but somewhat sickening description, our judicious artist wisely obliterated all that spoke too grossly of human weaknesses; and retained in the transcript he gave on canvass, those maladies alone, which residing but in the mind, admit of most ethereality in their embodyment, and require not that the human form divine be distorted or curtailed of its fair proportion, in order to convey the desired resemblance. "Spasms," "epilepsis," fierce catarrhs," and "ulcers," are left for the engraver of pathological embellishments to a book of surgery or a dissecting-room; but "demoniac Phrensy" is seen starting from his iron bed, still entangled in the coarse rug, and still cumbered with the chain that failed to secure him there. His wife, wearied out with the long

and thankless toil of watching him.

has nevertheless made a last effort,in the hope of saving him from selfdestruction; but her strength had all been wasted, her courage had been scared away by the scowls of him she loved, and she now sinks at his feet unnerved in mind and body, and with little more spirit or consciousness than yonder child that lies half lifeless just fallen from the sterile breast of its dying mother. This latter scene is a beautiful episode of the painter's introduction. It is, to be sure, an interpolation in the text of Milton ; but it is one of the few amendments, which, (in spite of Dr. Johnson) may be made without any "token of a rent." But who that has once beheld "moon struck Madness" can ever forget the livid glare breaking out from her eyes, each of which seems to concentrate, in its one little spark, all the shower of maddening light we see poured from above, and filtered through her brain? A child is vainly striving to win a glance from her; but she knows not even of its presence; and, yet, the forlorn little innocent has a livid lustre on its upturned forehead, that seems caught from the flashing features of its parent! In the centre of the background is "Despair," tending, or only burdening, the couch of " gaunt Marasmus ;" "moping Melancholy droops, fixed, though fibreless, in the foreground to the right; and over them, like a fly-scene, or proscenium of clouds or black jutting rocks, to complete the dismal spectacle,-over them, the gloom-winged, the bat-like form of "Death," hovers, and "his dart

"Shakes but delays to strike, though oft invoked

With vows, as their chief good and final hope."

"Sight so reform, what heart of rock

could long" dry-eyed behold?" We could no more than be Milton.The imagery is too real. Strange, that no prince has ever won this masterpiece out of its author's hands ! but there it is at present.-The "nursery of Shakspeare" is one of Fuseli's most interesting productions; but, either Shakspeare or Fuseli must himself describe it ;-for among the groupe are Falstaff, and Macbeth's Queen; and they, though one of them is half drunk, and the other sleeping, have words of their own-words, too, has Temble on the canvass as on "the

immortal page." But, to proceed with our narrative,-about 1798, when Barry seceded from the professorship of painting, at SomersetHouse, Mr. Fuseli was appointed in his room; but, in 1804, being appointed Keeper of the Academy, he,-in consequence of a standing order that no person shall, at the same time hold two different appointments in the Academy, was under the necessity of laying down the Professorship. However, on the death of Opie who had succeeded him, he was unanimously re-elected to the office; and, though the order alluded to remained still in force, the Keepership was still preserved to him, and he holds it at this day. His lectures on painting were delivered in 1801, and published in the course of the same year.They contain many severe strictures upon the productions of men whom not many would have dared to molest in their enjoyment of a long and exalted reputation. But we believe that even the most rigid of his fellowconnoisseurs in the art, will not thoroughly acquit him of fastidiousness. In 1765, he gave to the world his "Reflections on Painting and Sculpture among the Greeks ;" and an Essay on Grace in the Works of Art, translated from Winckelmann." To this, in 1805, he added a new and considerably enlarged edition of Pilkington's Lives of the Painters; and, so lately as in 1817, there appeared in the annual exhibition at Somerset-House, a head of Perseus, which Mr. Fuseli had finished in his 72nd year. Let us conclude this notice of a most excellent artist and worthy man, by reminding those Englishmen who are pursuing the same study, and whom the foregoing relation may kindle into a certain degree of pride that they can number him amongst the ornaments of their own country,-let us remind them, that Mr. Fuseli supplies another of the many instances of foreign talent being fostered by British patronage till it has outstripped all British competition; for West, also,--he of the Pale Horse, -(we did not mean to identify him with Death, yet what else is he now ?) -the great WEST drew his first breath in other air than ours; and the germ of his genius sprang up in another soil, however assisted in developement, and accelerated in growth by having been transplanted to ours.

As You LIKE IT.

I KNOW that some of you, ever excellent readers, will not turn away at seeing Alfred Domicile again; I hope all of you are as willing to peruse his second story as he is to tell it. You will own that I have not, like some garrulous tale bearers, given you no breathing time between the stages of the long journey which I hope the European, you, and I have to travel together; and therefore after a couple of months absence I really expect you will welcome me with acclamation into my study again, and, like honest Sancho upon those of the renowned Quixote, look kindly upon the wonders it will emit. The Lottery has given its last sigh; Charles of France is seated firmly on his throne; Protestants will not find a bill against Mr. O'Connell ; Catholics are defending Sir Harcourt Lees; Miss Foote is gone out of people's heads; Albion has done for Kean, and yet the Coxswain is not likely I hope to get into the shrouds ; Radicalism is in its grave, and there is nothing new under the sun but the stories of Geoffry Crayon, and Alfred Domicile.

It was during the threatened invasion of England about 1805 or 6 that my father's regiment of volunteers— part of the noble 570,860 men-(I am accurate in the number,) that stood forward to assist the regular army in defence of our hearths and our altars -were stationed at Poole, in Dorsetshire. The harbour of this fishing town is difficult to navigate, and if one misses a due calculation of the tides it not unfrequently occurs, that a hammock and a close cabin are the substitutes for a down bed, and the comforts of "sweet home." It was the case with a party of us at the time I mention we were grounded, on our

return from an afternoon sail, at the mouth of the river, and exactly opposite Brownsea, a romantic little island, upon which stands a stately castle bearing the name of the spot, and which was erected by the family of Sturt, a house of some consequence in the west.

Well, here were a ship's crew of merry soldiers, and cheerful ladies, cabined in an ark fixed, firm as adamant, to the shoals of the deep, whilst the bonny bright moon above, and the dancing, shadowy wave around us, seemed by their smiles to deride our imprisonment. But we thought of the old song of the hero of Quebec, and recollecting his

"Why, soldiers, why

Should we be melancholy boys ?" determined upon a very rational re cipe for cheating time of some of its malevolence, namely, the recitation of some tale or legend which had not previously been known to the majority of the party. There was, as may be supposed, some difficulty to get a volunteer, for though the foe, and the innate loyalty of Englishmen, had created so many thousand in the field, there were at that period very few "walking gentlemen" upon the "high ways and by-ways" of the great deeps. However there was a merry lieutenant on board who obviated all difficulties, by offering to stand in the gap between bashfulness, and want of recollection, which many pleaded, and to tell an anecdote in keeping with our present situation, inasmuch as its incidents referred to the very castle of Brownsea before us. We were all delighted with the proposal, and silence soon asserted her empire, only to be broken by