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Like Disraeli； he determined to startle the town as a dandy； and
his beautiful rings； his antique cameo breast…pin； and his pale
lemon…coloured kid gloves； were well known； and indeed were
regarded by Hazlitt as being the signs of a new manner in
literature： while his rich curly hair； fine eyes； and exquisite
white hands gave him the dangerous and delightful distinction of
being different from others。 There was something in him of
Balzac's Lucien de Rubempre。 At times he reminds us of Julien
Sorel。 De Quincey saw him once。 It was at a dinner at Charles
Lamb's。 'Amongst the company； all literary men； sat a murderer；'
he tells us； and he goes on to describe how on that day he had been
ill； and had hated the face of man and woman； and yet found himself
looking with intellectual interest across the table at the young
writer beneath whose affectations of manner there seemed to him to
lie so much unaffected sensibility； and speculates on 'what sudden
growth of another interest' would have changed his mood； had he
known of what terrible sin the guest to whom Lamb paid so much
attention was even then guilty。
His life…work falls naturally under the three heads suggested by
Mr。 Swinburne； and it may be partly admitted that； if we set aside
his achievements in the sphere of poison； what he has actually left
to us hardly justifies his reputation。
But then it is only the Philistine who seeks to estimate a
personality by the vulgar test of production。 This young dandy
sought to be somebody； rather than to do something。 He recognised
that Life itself is in art； and has its modes of style no less than
the arts that seek to express it。 Nor is his work without
interest。 We hear of William Blake stopping in the Royal Academy
before one of his pictures and pronouncing it to be 'very fine。'
His essays are prefiguring of much that has since been realised。
He seems to have anticipated some of those accidents of modern
culture that are regarded by many as true essentials。 He writes
about La Gioconda； and early French poets and the Italian
Renaissance。 He loves Greek gems； and Persian carpets； and
Elizabethan translations of CUPID AND PSYCHE； and the
HYPNEROTOMACHIA； and book…binding and early editions； and wide…
margined proofs。 He is keenly sensitive to the value of beautiful
surroundings； and never wearies of describing to us the rooms in
which he lived； or would have liked to live。 He had that curious
love of green； which in individuals is always the sign of a subtle
artistic temperament； and in nations is said to denote a laxity； if
not a decadence of morals。 Like Baudelaire he was extremely fond
of cats； and with Gautier； he was fascinated by that 'sweet marble
monster' of both sexes that we can still see at Florence and in the
Louvre。
There is of course much in his descriptions； and his suggestions
for decoration； that shows that he did not entirely free himself
from the false taste of his time。 But it is clear that he was one
of the first to recognise what is； indeed； the very keynote of
aesthetic eclecticism； I mean the true harmony of all really
beautiful things irrespective of age or place； of school or manner。
He saw that in decorating a room； which is to be； not a room for
show； but a room to live in； we should never aim at any
archaeological reconstruction of the past； nor burden ourselves
with any fanciful necessity for historical accuracy。 In this
artistic perception he was perfectly right。 All beautiful things
belong to the same age。
And so； in his own library； as he describes it； we find the
delicate fictile vase of the Greek； with its exquisitely painted
figures and the faint ＇Greek text which cannot be reproduced＇
finely traced upon its side； and behind it hangs an engraving of
the 'Delphic Sibyl' of Michael Angelo； or of the 'Pastoral' of
Giorgione。 Here is a bit of Florentine majolica； and here a rude
lamp from some old Roman tomb。 On the table lies a book of Hours；
'cased in a cover of solid silver gilt； wrought with quaint devices
and studded with small brilliants and rubies；' and close by it
'squats a little ugly monster； a Lar； perhaps； dug up in the sunny
fields of corn…bearing Sicily。' Some dark antique bronzes contrast
with the pale gleam of two noble CHRISTI CRUCIFIXI； one carved in
ivory； the other moulded in wax。' He has his trays of Tassie's
gems； his tiny Louis…Quatorze BONBONNIERE with a miniature by
Petitot； his highly prized 'brown…biscuit teapots； filagree…
worked；' his citron morocco letter…case； and his 'pomona…green'
chair。
One can fancy him lying there in the midst of his books and casts
and engravings； a true virtuoso； a subtle connoisseur； turning over
his fine collection of Mare Antonios； and his Turner's 'Liber
Studiorum；' of which he was a warm admirer； or examining with a
magnifier some of his antique gems and cameos； 'the head of
Alexander on an onyx of two strata；' or 'that superb ALTISSIMO
RELIEVO on cornelian； Jupiter AEgiochus。' He was always a great
amateur of engravings； and gives some very useful suggestions as to
the best means of forming a collection。 Indeed； while fully
appreciating modern art； he never lost sight of the importance of
reproductions of the great masterpieces of the past； and all that
he says about the value of plaster casts is quite admirable。
As an art…critic he concerned himself primarily with the complex
impressions produced by a work of art； and certainly the first step
in aesthetic criticism is to realise one's own impressions。 He
cared nothing for abstract discussions on the nature of the
Beautiful； and the historical method； which has since yielded such
rich fruit； did not belong to his day； but he never lost sight of
the great truth that Art's first appeal is neither to the intellect
nor to the emotions； but purely to the artistic temperament； and he
more than once points out that this temperament； this 'taste；' as
he calls it； being unconsciously guided and made perfect by
frequent contact with the best work； becomes in the end a form of
right judgment。 Of course there are fashions in art just as there
are fashions in dress； and perhaps none of us can ever quite free
ourselves from the influence of custom and the influence of
novelty。 He certainly could not； and he frankly acknowledges how
difficult it is to form any fair estimate of contemporary work。
But； on the whole； his taste was good and sound。 He admired Turner
and Constable at a time when they were not so much thought of as
they are now； and saw that for the highest landscape art we require
more than 'mere industry and accurate transcription。' Of Crome's
'Heath Scene near Norwich' he remarks that it shows 'how much a
subtle observation of the elements； in their wild moods； does for a
most uninteresting flat；' and of the popular type of landscape of
his day he says that it is 'simply an enumeration of hill and dale；
stumps of trees； shrubs