that man has been labouring at his profession like a horse for the last twelve years; and the judges now are beginning to imagine the possibility of his becoming clever.' I turned towards the artist, and beheld a mean-looking little creature, with a huge pericranium, covered with coarse hair, an immense forehead beetling over a pair of dull, grey, deep-seated eyes, and scarcely a redeeming feature except his mouth, which was strongly expressive of firmness and determination. Perseverance, in this instance, has elicited a great painter he is now a formidable rival in colouring to the Venetian school; in drawing he approaches the chaster Italian; but in design he is deficient; there is a lack of poetry in his soul: yet he is an honour to the British school of art. My attention had been arrested for some time upon the person of a young man, who sat before the mutilated, but beautiful, remains of the Elgin Cupid. There was an intensity of manner about him, a deep abstraction, (as he gazed on the beautiful model,) which marked him distinctly from the rest. His person was tall, and not ill-proportioned; his countenance not so remarkable for its beauty as for an expression of suavity and benevolence of feeling; his features were far from perfect, except his large deep blue eye, with its ring of jet, shadowed by a dark, square, well-marked eye-brow; his hair of a deep brown, thinly scattered over a head of perfect symmetry. All eyes were upon him; his seldom moved from his model; his whole soul seemed wrapped in this god of his idolatry,' the beautiful form of which he essayed more than once to transfer to his paper; but you could only infer, by a slight motion of the head, and a scarcely audible sigh, that his attempt -was not successful; again he fixed his eyes upon the Cupid, for some minutes he was motionless; immediately his face began to brighten, his breathing quickened, a slight quiver crossed his lips, he raised his head but gently, as if afraid to disturb the train of feeling which inspired him; he seemed at once to grasp the whole spirit of his subject, and, with a manner approaching agitation, he hastened to fix its image on the paper. After all the cold indifference I had witnessed, this circumstance delighted me, and I took the first opportunity to get a glimpse of the production. It was really beautiful; there was the spirit of divinity in every limb, and every line which expressed it bore the same tender impression: it was a glorious lesson for me. No sooner had he left the room than all crowded anxiously around his drawing, eager to catch some little portion of the fire which inspired its author. This was H▬▬; the amiable, the great, the unassuming H--; now the Titian of our English school. The door opened, and there was an universal murmur of hush hush!'—and each made his way to his station as quickly as possible. A dead silence prevailed, and my friend whispered 'Fuseli.' The great Fuseli had appeared amongst us! This was the master-spirit of my young mind, whose extravagant masses of the supernatural and horrible had inspired me with almost an adoration of him. Here again my imagination, as usual, was at fault, and instead of a strong, well-formed, wild, and romantic-looking fellow, I beheld a little, diminutive thing, in a suit of dirty black, with an old canvas apron before him, a large head, with a profusion of little white curls, surmounted by an extremely small, oddly-shaped, black straw-hat. With his hands pocketed, he stood for some minutes, as if to bear the broad gaze of my astonished eyes. And this is the great, the giant Fuseli! This is the man who dared to declare that Michael Angelo was a greater person than the Almighty!' Is it possible so much portentous matter can emanate from that diminutive head? This would puzzle Gall and Spurzheim, or any of their supporters; for where, in so small a space, can be demonstrated a bump of sufficient magnitude to correspond with his vast genius, unless we take the whole together, and suppose it to comprise the organ of comprehensiveness. As he moved · amongst the students, I had an opportunity of hearing his remarks, which were as singular as his person. Next myself sat a youth who had chosen a most extraordinary process of drawing in his figure, commencing with the feet, and rising gradually to the super-structure. Fuseli paused a moment.Humph!' said he, you are von architect, I suppose?' 'Yes, sir,' was the reply. I tought so,' said the keeper, in his broad 'foreign accent,' you build your figure as you would von house.' Immediately came up to him a species of popinjay, who shone so bright, smelled so sweet, and talked so like a waiting gentlewoman.' There, Mr. Fuseli,' said he, in a tone which plainly bespoke the easy footing he was on with himself at least, if not with his master, there, sir,' showing his drawing, I do assure you I have not used a morsel of bread over the whole of that figure.' 'Ah, sare, den I vill tell you vat you most doo; go and buy a benny roll, and rub it all out.' Fuseli's remarks were few and short, but pithy. Many a time when a fond father has brought the drawing of a darling son, boy and all, for the keeper's inspection and advice, the reply has been, Go and make a cobbler of him; it would be a great pity to rob the trade of a promising member.' He had an utter contempt for mediocrity, and would rather dishearten than encourage, where there was no strong indication of future excellence. As my probationary period approached its termination, I became anxious to redeem some lost time, and my application was proportionably severe. I had little to fear, when I compared my production with those about me, and I laboured with something approaching delight, in spite of the annoyances of my less industrious compeers; for application on the part of a probationer is too frequently the source of petty warfare to him. Two days now were all that remained for me, and I was labouring, soul and body on the action both,' and flattering myself that I should not only pass muster, but really gain some extra credit for my careful finishing. Alas! the vanity of human a hopes! In one dread night a whole string of miseries and misfortunes broke loose upon my poor devoted head,' and entirely changed the current of my joys. A cold and cheerless day in November had left me in a state of the most inauspicious depression of mind; unwillingly I dragged myself to the Academy, and sat me down, with a wish at least to finish the drawing which had cost me so much labour. My spirits were not relieved by discovering that some wicked wight had greased my chalks, and that my candle had been gently moistened with water; but I was in no humour to resent these comparative trifles. I commenced my work, and scarcely so, when I was shocked by shower of dirty water, which was scattered most impartially over myself and drawing, by a young aspirant to the laurels of sculpture, who stood close beside me, assuming an appearance of deep thought and intentness on his model. Turning to remonstrate, my face received the contents of another brush, with which he was liberally sprinkling his work, reckless of all about him. This seemed to mark me out for the sport of the evening, and lumps of clay and bread came battering about my head, without cessation. The only method I had energy enough to adopt, was to bear it all with patience, and weary out my oppressors; but at last another brushful of the modeller's dirty water found its way to my head, and some portion of it thence down my neck. This was intolerable; and, boiling with indignation, I turned round, determined to resent the outrage, when a huge noise, a sort of squash, recalled my attention to my unfortunate drawing. I dared scarcely turn, for the sound was too indubitable not to excite the most fearful apprehensions. I turned, however, and there was a sorry sight;' a large mass of soft wet clay had found its restingplace right on the highly-finished head of my Jupiter. This was too much for human patience, and I jumped up with the intention of singling out my antagonist, when lo! the measure of my bitter cup was filled; for, through my hurry and extreme agitation, down came my easel, sweeping along in its destructive orbit my drawing, chalks, charcoal, candles, snuffers, and all, in one general ruin and confusion. I stood for some moments petrified; then endeavouring to conceal the irritation and impatience which burned within me, I essayed to gather up the scattered ruins; first, my drawing presented itself, but in such a plight!-had it been intended for Jupiter Pluvius, the resemblance were perfect, for in the effort to save it, I had drawn my handkerchief over its surface, and diffused the chalk in parallel streaks over the whole drawing, leaving it with the precise appearance of a figure seen through a shower of rain, or some misty medium. But my handkerchief itself, unfortunately, retained a considerable quantity of the black chalk. This, in the moment of my confusion, I transferred to my face, in the act of wiping off the perspiration which poured in streams from me. No sooner did I raise my head, than a loud and horrid yell rang through the room; this drove me furious; and towering at least a foot higher with rage, I stood a moment to take my aim with more certainty, and with one blow I brought to the ground the finished model of the sculptor, who had been the first cause of my troubles. Sure of my revenge, I darted for the door, and freed myself at once from this scene of aggravated misery and misfor tune. A. MAN WAS NOT MADE TO MOURN. OCCASIONED BY READING BURNS' BEAUTIFUL DIRGE, 'MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN.' They may rail at this life; from the hour I began it, Moore's Irish Melodies. THOUGH moping misanthropists falsely conceive That the state of mankind is forlorn, Though the Scotch bard affirms it, we will not believe, When he tells us that man's made to mourn.' |