and meeting Hunt, whom I asked after writing to you. His day of
departure was then fixed for the next day, and now it is to be
to-morrow, but one does not know whether it will be so after all.
Till he is fairly off I will not fix an evening for coming to
Hampstead, as it might possibly interfere with some opportunity
of meeting _him_. My water-colour is still, to MacCrac, “vague
as the watery moon.” I have no news. Lizzy sits by me at work on
her design, which is now coming really admirable. She has also
finished the _Lady of Shalott_ sketch, and made quite another
thing of it. She has followed your suggestion about her portrait,
and done several things which improve it greatly. Hannay is going
to start a penny weekly mag., to be called _The Pen_, and wants
to have my poem about Nineveh for it. I suppose I shall give it
him. I some time back gave _Sister Helen_ to Mrs. Howitt for some
English edition of a German something or other, which will be
coming out now. No more news.
Good-bye.
Your D. G. R.
LETTER XXV.
TO MADOX BROWN, FINCHLEY.
“Emma” was the second Mrs. Madox Brown. The Dr. Wilkinson here
mentioned was Garth Wilkinson, an eminent Homœopathist, Editor of
Blake’s _Songs of Innocence and Experience_, etc.
The picture by Miss Anna Mary Howitt at the Portland Gallery was
_Gretchen at the Fountain_. My brother, in saying that Miss Howitt
had been “kicking up quite a great row” with this picture, only meant
that the work had been much noticed and admired. The statement that
Miller (John Miller of Liverpool) had bought Deverell’s _As You Like
It_ is only one of several references to Walter Howell Deverell, and
his then recent death, occurring in these letters to Madox Brown. The
other references, being more appropriate in another connexion, are
omitted here. The _As You Like It_ was a picture from Shakespeare’s
play--the mock marriage of Orlando and Rosalind.
[Chatham Place, London.
30 March 1854.]
My dear Brown,
What has become of you? You were not well when I last saw you,
nor I believe was Emma. I have been meditating Finchley for a
long while, but have never been able to get there. So would you
write me a word to say that you are both better, and to make,
if possible, some kind of arrangement for us to meet. Lizzy and
I would be very glad if you could both fix an evening to come
here,--_only_ I fear a bed upstairs would not be possible, as
those rooms are taken.
Lizzy has been very unwell lately. I have introduced her to the
Howitts, and we have spent several evenings there. They are quite
fond of her, and most delighted with her productions. I have also
brought her and my sister Christina together, as our family are
now in London again.
The Howitts insisted on Lizzy’s seeing a Dr. Wilkinson, a friend
of theirs, and I believe an eminent man. He finds that the poor
dear has contracted a curvature of the spine, and says she ought
not to paint at present; but this, of course, she must. He says
her case is a very anxious but by no means a hopeless one. You
know, I suppose, that Miss Howitt has been kicking up quite a
great row with her picture at the Portland Gallery. Miller has
bought poor Deverell’s _As You Like It_ for 50 guineas.
Lizzy is sitting by me working at the most poetical of all
possible designs, and sends her love to both Emma and you.
Yours affectionately,
D. G. ROSSETTI.
LETTER XXVI.
TO MADOX BROWN, FINCHLEY.
Miss Barbara Leigh Smith became after a while Mrs. Bodichon--a name
held in high and deserved honour by persons interested in the cause
which she served with lifelong zeal and liberality--the advancement
of women. She was also a landscape-painter of considerable gift.
[Chatham Place, London.]
Wednesday [? 1854.]
Dear Brown,
Dear Lizzy is very unwell indeed, and I think on Saturday I shall
probably be taking her down to Hastings, for her to stay there
some time at a place that Barbara Smith, who has got quite thick
with her, has recommended as cheap and nice. Barbara Smith, the
Howitts, and Dr. Wilkinson, are all enraptured with the dear. I
mean to show her productions to Ruskin, who was here again this
morning, and who I know will worship her.
Will you come on Tuesday? or sooner and better on Friday.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] This was probably Charlotte Polidori--or possibly the
_Grand_-Aunt, Harriet Pierce.
[2] “Sloshy” was a term of disparagement used by the P.R.B.’s in
their early days, to indicate anything lax and scamped in the
processes of painting; and hence it got applied more generally to any
thing or person of a commonplace or conventional cast.
[3] The name, thus written, occurs in _The Carillon_.
MADOX BROWN.
SOME LETTERS FOLLOWED BY A DIARY.
MADOX BROWN TO ELIZABETH BROWN, HASTINGS.
LETTER I.
Brown and his first wife (his cousin, Elizabeth Bromley) married at a
very early age, and lived for a while in Paris. They left Paris and
settled in England in the summer of 1844. The state of her health
was such as to require her to live out of London, and she went to
Hastings; he occupied a studio in the Regent’s Park or Camden Town
district, in the same house with the painter Charles Lucy and his
family. Another inmate was Frank Howard, an artist of rapid facility
and some cleverness, who engaged in the cartoon-competitions for
the Houses of Parliament. “My coloured sketch” was (I take it) the
same design as Brown’s cartoon, _The Spirit of Justice_, sent to the
second of these competitions. The name of the painter, William Etty,
explains itself. Martin must be the celebrated John Martin.
35 Arlington Street, Camden Town.
[? December 1844.]
My Blessed Lizzy,
You can’t think how I was pleased to receive your long letter....
I am in no mood to write a long letter. I am bothered and
anxious. This is a horrid place: that study is a regular castle
of indolence, and it is catching--indeed, nothing is more so.
The study is continually full of all of them, gabbling, and it
distracts me. That infernal Howard is a pest, and yet he is so
good-natured one can’t feel offended at him. It is a curse to be
in such a place. Nothing would surprise me less than to want time
just at the last. I have got more work than I can get through. I
ought to have done it all before the new year. I have showed my
coloured sketch to Etty and Martin; they were both pleased with
it, which is a rare feeling for Etty to express. God bless you.
I have no time or humour to write more, but believe me, your
husband loves you as the first day. God bless you.--F. M. BROWN.
LETTER II.
The letter from which I here extract appears to be incomplete--there
is no signature to it. The oil-picture of _Parisina_ represents
the jealous rage of the husband consequent upon the words of
love murmured by Parisina in her sleep--a dramatically treated
subject, painted in a dark continental style, not at all hinting
of “Præraphaelitism.” It now belongs to Mr. Henry Boddington, of
Manchester. The last thing on the sheet of letter-paper is the sketch
(a slight affair) of _The Banks and Braes of Bonny Doune_. I am
satisfied that Brown did not ever paint this intended subject. We
see here that he “modelled” a little boy; but I think the process
of modelling was still almost a novelty to him when, after Dante
Rossetti’s death in 1882, he undertook the bas-relief subjects for
his grave-cross, and afterwards the bust-monument in Cheyne Walk,
Chelsea.
35 Arlington Street, Camden Town.
[? February 1845.]
My dearest Lizz,
I write you from the Studio again, as I had no paper this
morning. I have been out and executed all your commissions....
I went to the British Institution yesterday, as it was
varnishing-day, and saw all is a noble-looking man. They have not
hung my sketch, but the _Parisina_ looks very well, as it has got
a good light.
I saw Mr. and Mrs. MacIan, a Scotch artist and his wife, whom I
met at Mr. Etty’s. He was in perfect rapture with _Parisina_,
said the price I asked was perfectly preposterous, fifty guineas.
He said it was worth six times as much. You will be surprised
but not displeased to hear that I have almost begun a picture
for the Royal Academy--_The Banks and Braes of Bonny Doune_--one
full-length figure the size of life. As it will be a very pretty
thing, it might sell; at all events, it will be something to send
there. But after some reflection I have decided not to begin it
till three weeks before the exhibition opens, as I will then be
better able to judge if it will have time. Besides, if I can get
the old Judge Best to sit, I would not have time for both for
certain.
I have made an outline from nature for it. She is bare-foot,
seated on the bank and with the water at her feet, looking round
at the birds at play, which awakes a pang.
I have modelled a little boy, and drawn him from Mrs. Christie’s
little boy....
LETTER III.
Brown was at this time preparing to work on his specimen of fresco,
for the Westminster Hall competition; he was also engaged upon his
cartoon of _The Spirit of Justice_ for the same competition, and upon
a water-colour reproducing the composition of that cartoon. The other
cartoons, which he had been removing from Westminster Hall, were
proper to the competition of the preceding year--namely, _William the
Conqueror gazing on the body of Harold_, and _Adam and Eve after the
Fall_.
All three cartoons remained in his possession up to his death in
1893, and were sold shortly afterwards to public institutions. In
connexion with these cartoons, Brown names “Pickham.” I do not know
who Pickham may have been, and suspect that he meant Pickford (the
carrier), for he was always celebrated for mauling surnames. “The wax
sketch” must have been an encaustic painting from the Harold subject,
exhibited along with it in Westminster Hall. Mrs. Lucy was the wife
of Mr. Charles Lucy, the painter, in whose house Brown then occupied
a studio. Mr. Lucy is now almost forgotten, but was at one time an
artist of some prominence, popular from the engravings after two
of his large works--_Cromwell at the Deathbed of his daughter Mrs.
Claypole_, and _Nelson in the Cabin of the Victory_.
35 Arlington Street, Camden Town.
6 May 1845.
My blessed Wife,
... I have got my fresco-ground prepared at last, and brought
home. My sand and lime is all mixed, and I am only waiting
for tracing-paper to begin my fresco. In the mean time I have
finished off the top part of the Cartoon, ready to paint from it.
I have also finished the Knight and the Lawyer and the Widow, and
have begun the Father of the Knight. I am getting on, and _so is
the time_,--I hardly know which the faster.
I had to go to the Westminster Hall, [and] roll-up my Cartoons,
as they were clearing the Hall for next exhibition. It took me
a day’s work nearly; but they are now safely packed up, thank
goodness, and hid away by Pickham, as I did not know where to
have them brought to....
I have just been writing to Manchester about sending _Parisina_
there, and the wax sketch....
I will tell you an amusing anecdote. Mrs. Warton, the Model, came
to sit to Mr. Lucy the other morning; she came while I was gone
to breakfast. She is rather a pretty girl. When I was there,
Mr. Lucy left the room a moment, when the girl asked me if Mrs.
Lucy was jealous of her husband. I said I did not think so--but
why?--“Why,” says the woman, “while I was waiting for Mr. Lucy
here this morning, Mrs. Lucy came into the room, and pretended to
look for a book. And says she, ‘Are you come here to sit for Mr.
Lucy?’ Says I, ‘I don’t know, I’m sure, which of the gentlemen
I’m wanted [for],--I believe it is for Mr. Lucy,’ says I. So says
she, ‘Are you going to sit undressed to him?’ And I answered her,
‘I’m sure I don’t know if he wants me to.’ ‘Well,’ says she, ‘I’m
sure I can’t think how ever a woman can be so nasty undelicant as
to take off all her things before a man; it’s a filthy disgusting
thing to do, and I can’t think how they can get any woman to
do [it]. _I_ wouldn’t’, says she--‘No, that I wouldn’t.’”--Mrs.
Warton answered her not a word to increase her choler; “so with
that she flounced out of the room, with her face as red as a
turkey-cock’s.”
Mrs. Warton would have it that she was on the tiles, peeping
down through the skylight; because it rattled with the wind,
and Mr. Lucy looked up once now and then, and told her it was
the wind. But nevertheless the story is sure to go unimpaired
all over London, as Mrs. Warton, being pretty, seemed to derive
satisfaction from the idea of Mrs. Lucy’s being jealous....
Your affectionate _dear_ Husband,
FORD M. BROWN.
LETTER IV.
[35 Arlington Street.
May ? 1845.]
My blessed Lizz,...
I shall have done my fresco to-morrow: I shall then have more
than a fortnight to finish my cartoon and sketch. I can’t say how
it looks till dry, but I think it is better than last year. If
it does not dry well, I shall retouch it a great deal. I lay the
plaster myself over-night, and work all next day from five in the
morning till dark, I shall have done it all in fourteen days. I
have hired an alarum that always wakes me at half-past four. I go
to bed at eleven....
God bless you over and over again. How cruel of you never to say
a word about your health!
Your ever affectionate husband,
FORD M. BROWN.
LETTER V.
The picture mentioned is, I infer, the _Parisina_. The date of the
letter is but obscurely indicated. “Our child,” named at the close of
the letter, was Lucy Brown, born in 1843, who became my wife in 1874.
35 Arlington Street,
Camden Town.
? 18 May 1845.
My dearest Lizz,
I promised you yesterday to finish my letter by this post, as I
had so little time to write you a decent letter yesterday--what
with Mrs. Lucy’s making me eat of the inside of a sheep, and Mr.
Howard’s infernal tongue, which went at such a rate that I was
obliged to leave him and his studio in which we were working (as
the stove is being mended in ours) and go in the middle of his
argument into our cold room to be able to finish the letter at
all; and then I had to run a good way after the bellman, who had
just left the office. Tell me next letter if you have to pay for
it--I mean yesterday’s letter. My own dear Lizzy, I am now in
peace and quiet by mine own fireside, and have time to say all I
wish to you, my dear wife. I must, as you wish, give you all the
news, such as it is: but first and foremost make yourself happy
and quiet. As for myself--but for you, I never was in better
spirits, particularly since I have seen Mr. Solly, and, but for
the wish to see you, I should be quite happy.
Our prospects seem brighter to me than ever. It may be a kind of
excitement, but I feel sure that in a few years I shall be known,
and begin to be valued, and in the meantime I shall be increasing
reputation daily. The artists seem to be pleased with the picture
now exhibited, as I hear from divers models; and this (as it was
never painted to suit public taste) is as much as I can wish:
all the artists seem to notice it. Don’t mention much about my
artistic affairs to Miss A--, as she is such a friend of the
Claxtons,[4] who seem queer people....
I am colouring the sketch of my cartoon, and will get it all
right, I think, but it is the most difficult part. The figure of
the Knight in brown burnished armour looks splendid now it is
coloured: it is not the sketch for sending in that I am doing.
I have been drawing from the model a great deal also, and will
soon get through all that, but will not have time to paint the
_Banks and Braes of Bonny Doune_. I am altogether pleased with my
work, and am doing it more carefully than I did the last cartoon;
but am not so satisfied with the quantity I have done these few
last days, I seem to have so many things to do.... Mr. Lucy is
very kind and mightily taken with me and you, which is as well as
otherwise. What lies you wrote about their child! I have now told
you pretty near all. God bless you, my dear Wife, and bless our
child....
Your affectionate hubby,
FORD M. BROWN.
* * * * *
MADOX BROWN’S DIARY, 1847 TO 1856.
Brown seems to have first begun keeping a Diary on 4th September
1847. I possess five copy-book sections of this Diary, going on (but
with considerable intervals when the day-by-day work was neglected)
up to 6th January 1856. Later sections are in the possession of Mr.
Ford Hueffer, and have been used in his book entitled _Ford Madox
Brown_. I have said elsewhere that, had I at the proper time been
conscious of housing the earlier sections, I should at once have
placed them at his disposal--but I never knew anything about them
until October 1896, when the above-named Biography was already fully
in type. I am satisfied that the reader, conversant with art-matters,
will find a good deal of interest in my extracts from the Diary,
offhand though they mostly are: these form perhaps hardly a half of
the whole. The footnotes are always mine. When the name Lucy occurs
the reader should be on his guard to remember that it sometimes
means Brown’s daughter Lucy, but more generally the Painter Charles
Lucy. Brown was punctilious in noting down at the end of each day
the number of hours during which he had been occupied in actual
professional work. Taking at random the month of November 1847, I
find the total to be 171¼ hours, or upwards of 5 hours per day. This,
allowing for interruptions, meals, and demands upon him for other
than artistic purposes, is a good tale of diligence: but at some
other periods the numbers of hours was much larger--we read of 10
hours, 12, and even on occasion 15 and 18.
* * * * *
4 September 1847.
As the work I am at present engaged upon is the most extensive,
as well as the most interesting to myself, of any that I have yet
undertaken, I shall begin this book by a short retrospectory glance
at the events which have led to my undertaking it.
In the summer of ’45 I went to the British Museum to read Sir James
Mackintosh’s _History of England_, having heard that it was of a
philosophical nature, with a view to select some subject connected
with the history of this country, of a general and comprehensive
nature. I was already wavering in my mind between two that struck me;
one was “The First Naval Victory,” and the other “The Origin of our
Native Tongue.” The former subject had first engaged my attention;
but the sight of Maclise’s cartoon of _Chivalry_, and the wish to
handle more luxuriant and attractive materials, afterwards changed
the current of my thoughts.
In this mood, glancing over the pages of the above-named history, I
fell upon a passage to this effect as near as I can remember: “And it
is scarcely to be wondered at that English about this period should
have become the judicial language of the country, ennobled as it
had recently been by the genius of Geoffrey Chaucer.” This at once
fixed me; I immediately saw a vision of Chaucer reading his poems to
knights and ladies fair, to the king and court, amid air and sunshine.
When I arrived at Rome, from the library of the English Academy I
procured the works and life of our first poet, and fortunately I
found that the facts known respecting him perfectly admitted of
the idea I had already conceived of the subject,--to wit, Chaucer
reading his poems to Edward III. and his court, bringing-in other
noted characters, such as the Black Prince etc. I immediately set to
work; and, after many alterations and great labour, I brought the
composition to its present state.
At first I had intended calling it “The Seeds of the English
Language,” and putting Wiclif on one side (as a wing) and some one
else on the other; but I could find no one to suit. Gower was too
poor a character; and John of Gaunt, for the harmony of ideas,
would not suit--it being inappropriate to put the patron on one
wing, and his protégés one in the centre and the other on the other
side-compartment. I then changed my idea to that of “The Seeds and
Fruits of the English Language”; but I soon found that in doing so,
after having given a place to our greatest poets, there would be none
left for the prose-writers: and, little liking the trouble of cutting
and contriving for them, I determined on leaving them out and calling
the work the “Seeds and Fruits of English Poetry.”
Such is the exposal of the train of ideas which led to the
composition of the work in its present state. Whether it may ever
deserve the pains I am now taking about it remains to be seen; very
likely it may only add one more to the many kicks I have already
received from Fortune. If so, I am quite able to bear it and despise
her. Of one thing she cannot rob me--the pleasure I have already
extracted--distilled, I may say--from the very work itself. Warned
by bitter experience, I have learned not to trust only to hope
for my reward, nor consider my toil as a sacrifice, but to value
the _present_, the pleasure that I have received and daily yet
receive from the working out of a subject after mine own heart, a
love-offering to my favourite poets, to my never-faithless Burns,
Byron, Spenser, and Shakespeare. Never can I forget the pleasure
with which I could muse over my work in Rome, at a time when visited
by the most bitter afflictions and apprehensions for the future,[5]
at a time when all other satisfaction was impossible; never can I
forget that _she_ gave it her unqualified approbation, prophesied
that it would ensure me ultimate success, regretted that she would
never live to see it, and _ordered_ me to complete it after her
death. In fulfilling her behest I am breaking one of her strongest
recommendations--I have parted from Lucy.[6] O God! ought not that
thought to make me strive and struggle against indolence? Oh the hell
of poverty!
[Illustration: (Gravestone of Elizabeth Brown, designed by Madox Brown)]
To-day I have done little or nothing but sketched-in the figure
of Chaucer in white chalk, and have been to the Strand about some
costumes, after writing out a list of them.
I must not omit to say that in Rome I painted a sketch of it in oil,
afterwards made a drawing of it in chalk, and then an outline of the
whole as it now is; since which I began first to fill it up in colour
at Southend, afterwards went on a little with it at Hampstead, and
since touched it and marred it at Tudor Lodge.[7]
I have long intended beginning this journal; praise be God it is
begun at last.
5th September.--Got up late, got to work late, did little,
scratched-in three figures in white chalk; left off at half-past
two, dressed and went out to dinner. Then went to the Cemetery:[8]
found it full of cockneys: walked over to Hampstead, saw a glorious
sunset....
6th.--Have not worked to-day--tried to do so but could not, having
been out all the morning to the costume-shop and other places.... Got
a lay figure from Barbe’s at last, bought ten yards of flannel for
draperies, engaged a model for to-morrow. Lost myself in Somerstown;
got into a place where there was no gas; thought I should get my
throat cut. Persevered, and after almost breaking my neck got into
the King’s Road at last.... Went to Cooper’s, and ordered a moveable
seat for my painting-steps....
7th.--Got up at seven, model came, worked well all day--drew some
legs....
8th--... John Marshall[9] came in; went out with him, and then called
to see my aunt Brown. Lost a day like Titus, but dined (like Lord
Byron on his birthday) on eggs and bacon and ale. Am very sulky with
myself.
9th.--... Bought some plaid draperies, and set about arranging the
draperies for Robert Burns[10] on the lay figure--sweated over it till
dark, but got it to do at last. Went out till bed-time....
11th.--... Painted-in part of a study for Robert Burns’ tartan with
copal varnish; worked till quarter to six.
13th.--Went to Gravesend to see Lucy dear.
14th.--Got up later, at eight. Finished the plaid, and began a
drawing for the robe of Robert Burns. Mr. and Mrs. Lucy came in:
afterwards Thomas interrupted,[11] and I didn’t do much. Have bought
a rat-trap: studio[12] swarms with them....
16th.--Got up at half-past seven. Cut out a fresh mantle for Milton.
Set it and began drawing it. Went out in the evening. Set about
preparing a togam;[13] bought more flannel for it.
17th.--Got up at quarter to eight: worked all day at the cloak for
Milton, and all the evening till twelve at the togam....
18th.--... Cut out the togam, and arranged it on the lay figure for
Lord Byron....
20th.--Got up very early for a wonder: got to work at quarter past
seven. Worked very hard all day; finished the drapery for Lord Byron.
Dined, and walked round Regent’s Park with Thomas. Left him about
to go and tell them, at a Shakespeare meeting of the Church Mason
Society, that he thought it all humbug, and that the old House[14]
had better be pulled down, and monument put in its place. Afterwards
I came home, and had the energy to arrange the lay figure for
Shakespeare before going to bed. _I_ am honouring him in the right
way.