I was very glad to get your last letter—the one dated 7th October—and
to know that all goes on so well with you and the bridge. You took
exactly the course I should have advised myself in the matter of the man
Matthews. In such a case, consideration is out of place. Your duty to
the firm (to say nothing of the thousands who will use the bridge) must
come before any sympathy for the man and his special circumstances. Far
too much laxity is shown nowadays to outbreaks of so-called
“temperament,” with most disastrous consequences, and there is far too
much talk about “not being able to help one’s self.” I should not let
the matter prey on your mind in the least. I quite understand that the
man has brilliant powers and an attractive personality, and that you are
sorry to lose him, but it is fatally easy for a man like that to imagine
that the ordinary rules of morality do not apply to him, and to indulge
him in such ideas is bad for him, and may easily be ruinous to other
people and to his work. I entirely approve your decision, and so, I am
sure, must Sir Maurice, if the matter comes to his notice.
I am feeling greatly benefited by my little holiday, and am glad to be
back to work again. I found all well at home on my return. Margaret was
in very good spirits over a little surprise that she and Lathom had
prepared for me. She has been sitting to him for her portrait, and he
has made a very striking piece of work of it. While I cannot say I think
it does her justice, there is no doubt that it is a handsome piece of
_coloratura_, and the kind of thing to attract attention at the present
time. Lathom belongs, of course, to the modern school. He paints, I
feel, in too much of a hurry, and his pictures have not the beautiful
smooth finish of a Millais, or, among living artists, of a Lavery—but
no doubt he will grow out of this slapdash method when he is older. It
is a kind of affectation which besets the young painters of to-day, and,
while I cannot help but see the defects of his method, I am not blind to
the merits of the work and to the kind thought which prompted the
execution. He is anxious to show it at the Academy next year, and
Margaret is (naturally, I suppose) delighted with the idea. I was
obliged, however, to say that I did not care about the project. It is
the kind of picture to attract a good deal of comment of one sort and
another, and these young people do not quite see the amount of
undesirable publicity it might involve. I fear they are both rather
disappointed, but later on, when I was able to speak quietly about it to
Lathom alone, he saw the matter in the right light, and was very nice
about it. We are hanging it in a good light in the drawing-room, where
it will look very well.
There has been a very amusing sequel to this. Your old friend (or should
I say enemy?) Miss Milsom has taken it into her head that _her_ fair
features ought to be immortalised, too! Lathom, with his usual
extraordinary good nature, has actually consented to make a picture of
her—but only on the understanding that this time, if it turns out well,
he shall have the right to do as he likes with it! Miss Milsom is only
too enchanted at the idea of being hung at Burlington House. I did not
feel called upon to interfere, since he is obviously only “pulling her
leg,” and there is not the remotest chance of the portrait’s being
exhibited; for, as you know, the lady is scarcely the Venus of Milo! She
is very much excited about it, and has produced the most incredible
garment to be painted in—very tight as to the bust and voluminous as to
the skirt. I understand that a quattrocento effect is aimed at.
I am very hard at work of an evening now—with a number of sketches to
work up and my little _opus_ to prepare. I am illustrating it with
water-colours of various plants and fungi in their natural habitat, and
it should turn out a very pretty and useful volume.