The Life and Writings of Henry Fuseli, Volume 3 (of 3)

In Short

This collection serves as a definitive statement on the principles of Western painting. Combining formal lectures with a systematic survey of the Italian schools—from Florence and Rome to Naples and Venice—it explores the mechanics of "invention" and "style." By examining the masters of the Renaissance alongside the failures of his own era, the author argues that art requires intellectual grounding and a rejection of mere fashion. It remains a vital document for its insight into the high-minded, often demanding standards of 19th-century aesthetic theory.

The Story

The volume opens with a polemical challenge to the prevailing methods of art history. The author argues that historians have mistakenly reduced art to a "diffuse catalogue of individuals," focusing on minor talents rather than the essential systems of thought that define a school. He moves immediately to a close reading of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper, utilizing it as a foundational text for understanding how emotion and character must be prioritized over secondary detail.

From this theoretical launch, the narrative shifts into a broad, sweeping history of the Italian schools. The progression is chronological and regional, tracking the evolution of style from the early, experimental period of Giotto to the height of the Renaissance. The author paints a vivid portrait of Florence, describing the Medici family’s influence as the catalyst that drew talent from across Italy, effectively creating an "Academy of Artists." He does not shy away from the darker side of this history, including the fanatical cultural purges led by Savonarola, where masterpieces were sacrificed to flames in the name of moral reform.

As the history moves through Rome, Venice, and Naples, the story becomes one of shifting technical priorities. The author details the transition from the "design-first" approach of the Tuscans to the color-centered philosophy of the Venetians, particularly highlighting the work of Titian, Tintoretto, and Correggio. Each school is evaluated not just by its output, but by its ability to resolve the tension between nature and style.

The final arc of the volume is a sobering appraisal of the contemporary state of art. After detailing the triumphs of the past, the author turns his gaze to his own time, noting that despite the existence of academies, stipends, and professional instruction, the quality of contemporary output is sinking. He characterizes the modern exhibition as a "gorgeous display of varied powers" that serves only the whims of fashion rather than the dictates of art. The book concludes not with a hopeful promise of restoration, but with a stern call to fix art upon the "solid base of principle," suggesting that if the heights of the past cannot be reached, the least we can do is stem the tide of affectation and insipidity.

How It Unfolds

The critique of historiography The text begins by rejecting the common habit of treating art history as a mere biography of painters. It insists that a true historian must identify the essential systems of composition that elevate a work beyond the reach of the vulgar or the merely fashionable.

The anatomy of the schools The narrative moves into a structured survey of the Italian tradition, analyzing the specific contributions of the Tuscan, Roman, and Venetian schools. It distinguishes between the "sublime" imagination of Michelangelo and the "social imagery" of Raphael, setting the stage for a deep dive into regional techniques.

The cultural context of Florence A central section explores the political and social atmosphere of Renaissance Florence, detailing how the Medici family cultivated a climate that forced art to flourish. It balances this with a historical account of how fanaticism, specifically under Savonarola, sought to undo these gains through the destruction of "lascivious" works.

A descent into the modern malaise The final section shifts from history to evaluation, contrasting the legendary productivity of the 16th century with the shallow, market-driven output of the 19th. It ends with a practical manifesto, urging students and critics to prioritize theory and principle to prevent further decay.

The People

The book is populated by the titans of Italian art, yet they are discussed as much for their philosophies as their brushstrokes. Michelangelo stands as the benchmark for "sublime" and "generic" forms, while Raphael is highlighted for his mastery of social character and "varied propriety." Their differing approaches provide the primary tension of the aesthetic argument. Titian emerges as a transformative figure who learned to see nature in an "ample light," though the author remains critical of his fleshier, more robust human forms compared to the ideal. The painter Giulio Pippi is celebrated for his role in disseminating style, even as the text acknowledges the "barbarous" fate of some of his most significant works. Finally, Bugiardini is presented as a tragic, sympathetic archetype: a man of great moral simplicity and profound passion for art, yet lacking the capacity to ever truly master it—a contrast to the "helpless impotence" noted by other historians of the era.

In Its Own Voice

"History, mindless of its real object, sinking to Biography, has been swelled into a diffuse catalogue of individuals, who, tutored by different schools, or picking something from the real establishers of Art, have done little more than repeat, or imitate through the medium of either, what those had found in Nature."

In the opening lecture, the author critiques how art history is often written, arguing that scholars focus too heavily on minor artists rather than the underlying principles of the craft.

"The coward, driven to despair, leaps back into the face of danger; and the tame, stimulated to exertions and aiming at expression, puffs spirit into flutter; or tears the garb of passion and flourishes the rags."

In a section of aphorisms, the author offers a sharp critique of artists who rely on melodramatic or artificial gestures to simulate emotion when they lack true depth.

What It's Really About

At its core, the volume is a defense of "invention" and "principle" against the forces of mediocrity and fashion. It posits that art is a serious, intellectual pursuit, not a decorative one. The author is obsessed with the question of why art reaches a zenith and then falls, arguing that the decline is caused by an abandonment of structural rigor in favor of "popular amalgama." The argument is essentially a moral one: to create great art, the artist must resist the "vile jelly" of superficiality and the "butcher's dream" of grotesque realism. The text asks whether a society that prioritizes comfort and vanity can ever produce the kind of genius that once defined the schools of Italy.

Why Read It Today

This volume is an essential read for those interested in the history of art criticism and the evolution of aesthetic standards. It is not a light, casual history; the prose is dense, formal, and unapologetically erudite. Readers who appreciate a "no-nonsense" approach to excellence—someone who refuses to flatter the reader or the artist—will find the author’s voice bracing and deeply authentic. You will encounter a man who genuinely believes that the survival of culture depends on the ability to distinguish between "sublime" art and "tame" imitation.

However, the modern reader should be prepared for the author’s intense, period-specific rigidity. His disdain for artists he deems "mediocre" is scathing, and his belief in the superiority of Renaissance ideals over all else is absolute. Furthermore, the text’s organization—moving from dense lectures to historical surveys and lists of aphorisms—requires a patient, methodical reader. It is not a book for someone seeking a quick narrative; it is a book for someone who wants to understand the intellectual machinery that governed the study of art two centuries ago. It stays with you not because of its warmth, but because of its uncompromising demand that art should always strive to be more than just a commodity.