Henri Fuseli anew

Fuseli and Bodmer

Goethe Girl has been occupied with a couple of literary projects the past couple of months that kept me away from devoting as much time as I would like to Goethe and to this blog. But I have been saving up for a couple of weeks now a review in the New York Review of Books (4/20/23) of a book entitled Dinner with Joseph Johnson: Books and Friendship in a Revolutionary Age in which the Swiss artist Henry Fuseli (Heinrich Füessli) prominently features. Johnson was an English bookseller and befriended Fuseli after the latter's arrival in England in 1763. Considering that Goethe never met Fuseli, there are many posts on this site in which Fuseli and his work are mentioned. There were, after all, many links connecting Goethe and Fuseli. Goethe's first "foreign" travel, after all, was to Switzerland, where he met Bodmer, who had been Fuseli's mentor. If any reader wishes to know more about these connections, please enter "Fuseli" in the "Q" box at the top left, and you will be directed to quite a few posts.

Goethe's closest connection to Fuseli was through Johann Kaspar Lavater, a friend of Fuseli from Zurich. Both Lavater and Fuseli were fellow theology students, and the two were partners in the denunciation of a Swiss magistrate for his misdemeanors. It was a very celebrated affair that caused the magistrate to be condemned and exiled from Zurich, but since such youthful actions might affect their own future in the canton, they both undertook an educational tour of German lands in 1763, accompanied by Johann Georg Sulzer, a friend of Bodmer. In Berlin, Fuseli met the English ambassador at the Prussian court, and headed off to England with him. Lavater, meanwhile, through Sulzer's influence came in contact with individuals who (according to Goethe Handbuch 4/2) represented the leading theological, philosophical, and literary tendencies, among others Klopstock and Mendelssohn, Gellert and Gleim.

Lavater, Goethe, & Basedow

Lavater returned eventually to Switzerland, and by 1772 he was a well-known author outside his homeland with his Aussichten in die Ewigkeit (speculation re eternity), which Goethe reviewed in the Frankfurter Gelehrten Anzeigen that year; skeptically, according to Goethe Handbuch. In the same year, Lavater's small volume on physiognomy was reviewed in FGA by Johann Georg Schlosser. Goethe's own small tract, Briefe des Pastors zu *** an den Pastor zu ***, prompted Lavater to write to Goethe. It was in the summer of 1774 that they met and, for a while, formed a firm friendship and even partnership in connection with the subject of physiognomy. Together with Johann Bernhard Basedow they made a journey down the Rhine and the Lahn. (Richie Robertson has written a nice story of their "unusual friendship.") The friendship, as such, went from hot to cold within a decade or so, but Goethe wrote a wonderful account of the trio and their Rhein-Lahn journey in Book 14 of his autobiography.

This post is supposed to be about Fuseli and has turned out to be about Lavater, about whom there are also plenty of posts on this blog. As I mentioned, both he and Lavater were students of theology in Zurich, but while Lavater remained dedicated to the religious calling, Fuseli was apparently more of a free thinker. By 1779, Fuseli was firmly ensconced in London, but he remained in correspondence with Lavater. As I have discovered from some online research, Fuseli produced not only the first English translation of Winckelmann's history of Greek art, but also a book by Lavater entitled "Aphorisms on Man." The last-named was illustrated by William Blake. The review mentions Fuseli's plan to create a series of thirty huge paintings on the works of John Milton, which would be reduced to book size to illustrate the edition. Fuseli's interest is this English writer must certainly be traced back to his Swiss roots, to Bodmer, whose translation of Paradise Lost  made Milton accessible to Germans. The book did not come to fruition, but Fuseli apparently opened a Milton Gallery in 1799. Fuseli liked to portray literary topics.

Lady Macbeth Walking in Her Sleep (1784)

In London Fuseli really became "English." He was a member of Joseph Johnson's own "club" (similar to that of the 1760s of Dr. Johnson, memorialized by Boswell), which included such eminences as Joseph Priestly, William Godwin, Tom Paine, Samuel Taylor Coleridge. That guest list indicates the changing times, politically and socially. Moreover, Fuseli's most famous painting, The Nightmare ("unnervingly sexy," according to NYRB reviewer Miranda Seymour) dominated the room in which they convened. Joseph Johnson's table include women as well, e.g., Anna Laetitia Barbauld and Mary Wollstonecraft. Fuseli must have been a very attractive man. The review points out that Wollstonecraft "became close enough to Fuseli to seek even to join the artist's marriage," a "bold suggestion," which Fuseli later claimed "was fiercely rejected by this wife." In 1792 Johnson and the Fuselis and Wollestonecraft terminated their plans to travel to France to observe the revolution after the news of the royal family's failure to escape the country, and Wollstonecraft, "anxious to snap the painful chain of association with Fuseli," traveled on her own to Paris, where she met "a charming but fickle adventurer," with whom she gave birth to her first child.

As per the review in the NYRB review, the encounter of Johnson and Fuseli had the "most enduring effect on Johnson's life." Fuseli took rooms at Johnson's premises already in 1766 and, at Johnson's death in 1809, he was, with his wife, Johnson's "devoted caregiver."

One can't help wondering what Fuseli's status would be today if he had remained in Switzerland. He is something of an in-between figure, despite his role in this important circle of early 19th-century British life as well as a member of the Royal Academy of Arts and a professor there. (Sir Joshua Reynolds was a friend.) The Freies Deutsches Hochstift in Frankfurt has the largest collection of his works in Germany, while Fuseli has featured prominently in various exhibitions in recent decades, e.g., at the Getty.  Even in Germany there has been only one biography in recent decades, and only two in the 20th century in English.

Images: Lavater, Goethe & Basedow; Lady Macbeth (Musée du Louvre, Paris)

Goethe and Wilhelm Tell (Again)

Now that I am no longer chair of the Columbia University Seminar on 18th-Century European Culture, I can really enjoy the meetings. I particularly like the cocktails portion, in the lounge of Faculty House, in the hour before the talk, when I can sit with my scotch and soda without worrying about whether there will be enough chairs for the attendees and so on. Last Thursday was the opening meeting of this academic year, and the speaker was Elizabeth ("Cassie") Mansfield, a professor of art history at New York University. She spoke on a painting by François-André Vincent, who in his time was admired for his historical re-creations. (As in the lovely painting below, from the National Gallery of Australia, of the Roman general Belisarus.) The painting in question was Democritus among the Abderites. Yes, Abderites! In case you didn't know, the Abderites were a pre-Socratic school of philosophy, and Democritus was one of its proponents. Somewhere back in graduate school I actually dipped into Wieland's novel History of the Abderites.

Professor Mansfield was making the point that Vincent, a "liberal" artist, though in favor of the French Revolution, was directing some veiled satire on the growing power of the Paris mob. Professor Mansfield made the interesting point that Vincent was more admired at this time than Jacques-Louis David, who has come to represent the Revolution in art. David was an enthusiast, after all, and perhaps, as Cassie indicated, Vincent's more critical reaction to the Revolution kept him from being straightforward.

A more compelling case for Vincent's attitude toward the Revolution was another example Professor Mansfield showed us, namely, the1795 painting at the top of this post, from the Museé des Augustins in Toulouse. Here, Vincent has portrayed Wilhelm Tell, in the famous scene in which, during a storm on Lake Lucern, he escapes from Gessler and his soldiers. (Click on the image to enlarge.)

Two years later, in 1797, Goethe made his final visit to Switzerland, when he was still thinking about writing his own Tell epic. (See my earlier posts on this subject, here and here.) In preparation for my paper on Bodmer at the German Studies Association next month, I have been reading about Henry Fuseli who was one of Bodmer's disciples in the 1750s. Goethe admired Fuseli's work, and after his visit to Switzerland with Carl August in 1779, he had written to their mutual friend Lavater, asking if Fuseli might help him prepare a "memorial" of this journey as a present for the duke. According to Goethe biographer Nicholas Boyle, Fuseli declined to cooperate. In 1797, Goethe saw Fuseli's painting of the Rütli oath, in which one sees similarities to David's later painting of the oath of the Horatii. What amazing artistic inter-connections.

Picture credit: historywiz