to work, we devised to have the drugget up, it being at length too
disgracefully full of holes. Remainder of the evening--nothing.
20th.--Wrote a disagreeable letter, and put down the carpet, and
planned and directed the patching thereof--children assisting in
great delight; and with Ruth we got it done. Last night also glued
sundry chairs, &c.
21st.--Took down the _Christ and Peter_, and scraped it for
repainting, morning and evening....
23rd.--An alarm from Emma.... Started back as far as Islington to
see after the nurse.... Took ’bus myself to the Archway, Highgate,
in distress of mind at not being able to afford a cab in such an
emergency; and so walked home four miles, racked with anxiety about
Emma, the most beautiful duck in existence. With 18s. 9d. in hand,
to last at least three weeks, how _could_ I take a cab? and this was
all that remained me this evening. As I walked down the Grove, and
very tired with a weak foot, I felt that mysterious assurance that
all was right which I have before felt when nearing some dreaded
event that has eventually turned out all right. I got home at eight
p.m., and found dear Emma still in expectation.... I found also
(strange coincidence) a letter from William Bamford asking me to do a
miniature of him. Such a demand I have wished for at other times in
vain, and not for months and months has anything of the kind occurred.
24th.--... This evening Emma found in her drawers two shillings
and three farthings--all in four-penny-pieces, pennies, halfpence,
farthings, &c., left there at different times, and forgotten. What a
boon! Katty appropriated the three farthings. To-night I have worked
about four hours, altering the linen cloth round the loins of Christ,
and correcting the drawing--(seven hours).
25th.--Christmas-day. Up at half-past nine: Emma still pretty well. I
worked about four hours at restoring the erasures I had made in the
Christ. I have begun altering the character of the head to severity;
lengthening the fore-arm; enlarging the hand; shortening the thighs;
enlarging the girdle, to be less indecent; and planning the glory.
Worked comfortably in front parlour--rain pouring down.... Finances
£1. 0s. 6d....
26th.--... The draught from the window increased a cold....
27th.--Very bad--stopped in bed with the fever--got up by 3 p.m.
This cold must have been taken on Saturday, being out so many hours
with shoes unsound in wet weather. Dreary, dreary, very dreary....
29th.--To town to see after William Bamford’s miniature. The ass
wants something for two guineas, yet will not decide even on this; so
back defeated, having spent one bob in buses. Called on Woolner, and
heard how badly the country was governed. Paid to-day the baker two
weeks, lest I should be asked for three next week, and 3s. 6d. for
soling shoes; the net result of which is 4s. 8d. in pocket. O heavens
and little fishes!--No work....
1855--3rd January.--... To work by twelve at the fringe of the
shawl--finished it by one. Triumphantly stripped the lay figure, and
set the place somewhat to rights, and restored poor Emma her shawl,
which she has done without the half of the winter. The shawl is at
length finished, thank the powers above. Dinner--then took the little
picture of _Waiting_, and scraped it preparatory to beginning to
retouch in order to fit it for the Great Paris Exhibition, having
received intimation that the Board of Trade proposes sending it and
the great _Chaucer_ picture. Scraped and pumice-stoned it all over
till it looks quite spoiled. Prepared my box for to-morrow, to go
and work at the _Autumn Afternoon_, which I propose sending to the
British Institution; it is at Charles Seddon’s. This evening worked
at the design of the Hampstead picture, called _Work_. Whenever I
set to at designing I feel in the most ethereal and ecstatic state
possible. I do not hurry with it because it is such enjoyment.
To-night I arranged the chief navvy tossing off the beer, also the
one descending the ladder, and improved other parts.
I must try and fill up the other days omitted. Saturday, 30th
December, I worked out in the open air at the shawl till half-past
three; when, having fully resolved, I took my dress-coat, trousers
and waistcoat, and necktie, with a silk cape and brooch of Emma’s;
and, putting them into a bag, walked into Hampstead, and took ’bus
to New Road, and discovered the abode of old Williams,[98] who used
to wash for me; and told him to pawn them, which he did for 10s.
I gave him one, at which he stared in awe and respect. Came away
8s. 5d. richer.... 31st.--Sunday. Up latish--worked at the shawl;
made up my mind to apply for a Mastership of one of the Government
Art-Schools.... 1st January.--Shawl out of doors, and in evening
at length wrote the long-deferred much-dreaded application to the
humbug Henry Cole, C.B.: it will only be the humiliation for nothing.
Afterwards took up the design of _Work_, and enjoyed it--designed
the artist[99] in it again, and sundries--2nd.--Up about nine. At
eleven took the lay figure out in the yard as usual; but this time
laid it down on its side in order to paint the fringe blown by the
wind. Doing so disordered the folds. Then it came on to drizzle--then
the wind was too high, and blew the fringe so that I could not paint
it. After wasting much time I brought the lay figure into my room,
and placed it on the table; and after much arrangement painted for
about one and a half hour, but it was good. To-day I finished it, and
it looks as natural as life. Evening, I worked at the navvies; the
pot-boy a triumph, the mortar-man perfection, and the ragged child
upsetting the barrow and getting cuffed, all creations, and the whole
becoming more and more exciting. Finances reduced again to 6s. 9d.:
so we drag on.
4th.--I went to Charles Seddon, and worked at the _Autumn_ piece,
which is for the British....
6th.--... In the evening copied-in the background from the Study
at Hampstead into the design of _Work_, so as to get all quite
correct.... At it again till twelve to-night. I have been queerish
all day; work and worry begin to try me, 4s. 10d. left in pocket....
Cole, C.B., answered me very short, saying a certificate was
imperative, and referred me to Burchett.[100] I wrote again to Cole,
telling him that, as he knew as much about me as any examiner could,
if he thought I could be of use he had better write and let me know,
and then I would go through all formalities. Will he answer? Waking
up this morning with a bad head, I began to reflect, and at length
a lucid idea came as to my prospects. It struck me I was doing very
foolishly to let myself down in so many ways, instead of raising
money, and going hard at it and conquering. If I do not get a school,
I will do it.
8th.--Up at ten. Felt ill--could eat no breakfast. Set to work at the
part of the little picture of _Waiting_ which I set and began last
night. Sunday began it. Slow work retouching all over, having scraped
within a hair’s-breadth of its existence. Took a long walk at dusk;
and in the evening placed the table-lamp etc., having changed the
subject into one of an officer’s wife thinking of him at Sebastopol;
a miniature effects this....
9th.--Dispirited and heavy about the head--funds 4s....
10th--Have been casting up my accounts. Find that in twenty weeks we
have spent £66. 18s. and owe about £35 besides. The excess is chiefly
in the house-money, about £15 (or 15s. per week): this is Emma’s bad
management. In pleasure and all extras we have exceeded £2. 10s., or
2s. 6d. a week; this is our trip to St. Alban’s, I suppose. I allow
about 5s. a week for these. How are we to go on Heaven only knows.
Rossetti has been here six weeks, and Nurse two, besides the children
and Woolner and William Rossetti....
11th.--Made up my mind to make up a parcel of Emma’s shawl, some
papier-maché ornaments, and two engravings after Claude, with the
large _Shipwreck_ of Turner, to send by the carrier to old Williams
to-morrow, for him to pledge, if we do not have a letter with
Ritchie’s money before the carrier calls. Something must be done, as
there is only 3s. 3d. in hand, and Emma about to be confined.... I
am getting a regular Haydon at pawning. So long as I do not become
one at cheating my creditors, it matters little. God help us. I see
nothing but ruin by progressive stages. No work to-day.
12th.--Up at ten--sent off the things by the carrier. I started
myself about half-past twelve: walked to Anthony’s at Westbourne
Grove. Saw his pictures; very fine in many respects, but all
unfinished, and in a state that will not admit of their being so
save by his taking them back to where he painted them. He has a
habit (of late particularly), of making his skies so heavy that
they quite spoil all the fine qualities other ways evinced in his
works. The picture of _Stratford Church_, however, is magnificent in
every respect--save the sky; which if he can paint, it will be one of
his finest works. It is admirable colour, but his other works look
somewhat opaque. Thence to Dickinson’s to see about the large picture
for Paris; then called on Lowes[101] at his new gorgeous rooms.
Afterwards to St. Pancras Church at 6 p.m. to meet old Williams. A
nice affair. He had just been pawning the _Shipwreck_ after Turner,
given me by Lowes before he left for Italy. Poor old Williams took
them to six places in all, and could only get 13s. 6d. in all: I gave
him one and some copper obtaining.[102] I must reward him better when
he gets them out. I walked with my 12s. 6d. to the Britannia ’bus
to Hampstead. Met a young lady at North End afraid to encounter the
darkness alone; escorted her some way past Golder’s Green. Then by
a cross road regained this Finchley one, and got home very tired,
having only one bun.
13th.--No letter from ... Ritchie, so it is well I pawned the things.
No letter from the scoundrel Cole, C.B., so it’s ill I wrote to him.
But I derived some satisfaction at reading to-day that the Belfast
School of Design has, under his precious care, died a natural death;
not getting fat, it seems, on “self support.”... At dusk walked to
Hendon by a forbidden private foot-path, and bought Katty a pair of
boots. Walked home again by the same--quite dark; found the gate
locked, clambered over; ... was caught for a short time by the seat
of my trousers....
16th.--... A letter from some underling of the scoundrel Cole, C.B.,
enclosing sheets of print again; subterfuge and insolence; no go in
that quarter. A letter from Scott, the poet. Yesterday Seddon[103]
came back, after more than twenty months of absence, looking thinner
and genteeler than ever and in high spirits: I went with him to
Kentish Town, leaving my work just begun. His pictures are cruelly
P.R.B’d.... The high finish is too obtrusive. However, they present
qualities of drawing and truthfulness seldom surpassed; but no
beauty, nothing to make the bosom tingle. Could I but have seen them
in progress! I will do all I can to make him improve them yet, but it
is late. Hunt, he tells me, gave him no advice at all; he has been
prepossessed against him, I fear. It is a great pity. There is not
a better-hearted fellow living nor a truer gentleman. He is to be
married in June, these pictures all his wealth! how strange!... Hunt
used to be in agonies about his joking propensities, and lecture him
and get mighty sulky if things did not go right, and tell him secrets
of great worth for his getting on in the world, and expect him to do
all the housekeeping (which he declined after a time), and indulge
in many whims incompatible with the locality and circumstances. But
Seddon entertains a high opinion of his worth and gallantry. Hunt
knocked an Arab down, and they afterwards stood with pistols cocked
at each other a space of time. Seddon used to camp above the valley
of Jehoshaphat, for three months, alone with his servant, in a place
considered unsafe by the Consul and others of Jerusalem. They used to
sleep each with a revolver at hand, but were never disturbed; this
was plucky. Hunt since is gone to the Dead Sea....
17th.--Out to hunt up Ritchie for his rent; got none. Out from
half-past eleven till eight; walked about eighteen miles in snow.
Ordered liberally of my tailor, who is a brick.... Funds 11s. 3d., no
work, no adventures.
20th.--This morning at half-past 12 a.m. dearest Emma was delivered
of a son, my first. He is very red, a large nose, eyes and shape
of face like a Calmuck Tartar, shape of head like a Bosjesman....
Emma dearest pretty well, feverish. Thank heaven it is over
comfortably.... The surgeon ... turned out a very pleasant clever
fellow, well informed, and this was because he was a Scotchman; knew
all about my grandfather;[104] says his doctrine is every year coming
more into practice.... A cheque from Ritchie come for £9, and I went
and paid the butcher and baker, and got a bottle of whisky. To-day
sent money to get the clothes and pictures back; item to Emma’s
mother in arrears: net result, £1. 16s. in pocket. Shoes leaky....
25th.--Up at near eleven. Got the balance of £16 from Ritchie last
night. Paid away all but £5. 10s.; _my all_ till I raise money.
Worked at my son’s portrait about three hours; then Hendon, and paid
Smart the grocer £10.
28th.--Sunday.... In a state of great despondency and nervousness all
day. An unsuccessful man is a bore to every one. Took a walk, but
could not walk it off. Came back, and penned an advertisement for
_The Times_--“Wanted £300 on mortgage of good freehold property.”
So one gradually rides to ruin. This evening I have tried to sleep
off my headache and low spirits, without much success. I have so
managed things that at the age of 34, or nearly, after having worked
vigorously all my youth, after having repeatedly aroused public
attention in more than one country, and been considered a man of
genius, I, far from being able to make a livelihood by my work, have
not even one friend whom I can apply to for advice how to raise
money on the property I have. Some people have rich friends who get
a poor devil occasionally out of a mess. My friends cannot muster
sufficient sympathy to give me advice on such a delicate subject. I
thought I might apply for some information to old Seddon, and get
W. Rossetti to ask his uncle Polydore (who is in the law) something
about Building Societies. Old Seddon takes no notice of what I
write to him; and William has asked his uncle, but without success,
or any very evident pleasure in the matter.[105] An unsuccessful
man is a bore ... Woolner ... says.... Carlyle as well as Ruskin
consider Patmore’s book[106] a glorious one; this after having sent
an insulting note to W. B. Scott about his poetry.[107] So much
for Carlyle’s critical powers. Somehow or another, there is nowhere
common sense to be met with in this world, neither among one’s
friends nor among one’s enemies, nor any known set or sect. Yesterday
I went to town to see about my large picture for Paris. A gallery
Dickinson has found; but the picture must not remain, should it let,
nor in any case after 17th February next. Much bother to ascertain
if the Government packers can take it from thence when required.
Secretary at Marlborough House not able to say till he has consulted
the _Board_--obliged to write a letter. Running backwards and
forwards all day, and the one before. They evidently belong to the
same sort who are starving our unfortunate soldiers in the Crimea.
Captain Fowke R.E. They seem to have nice snug berths of it, and
plenty of coals provided. The same bother to obtain my steps from the
Clerkenwell School. A certain unyielding “pliceman” has no idea of
acting without a written order from the treasurer. I have no hope in
me.
30th.--Up at ten--cold in my head. Deep and still-thickening layers
of snow cover everywhere all round. With this, and a cold in my head,
I decide not to stir out for the day, although it is anxious time
with me now. So I sit in Emma’s bedroom, and, from a cargo of books I
sent her yesterday, I select the _Life of Washington_, and read all
day. A Godlike man--a rare example of an unselfish man. If Cromwell
was a great man, Washington was a God--spotless, passionless. The
book is ill written; passing the pen over many superfluous passages
might improve it. But the matter is eternal, unchangeable.--Yesterday
I walked into town through Hampstead, and put an advertisement in
_The Times_, and sought out Building Societies. Much fatigue--some
snow--and a cold the result. Dearest Emma looking blooming again in a
new cotton wrapper....
Wednesday [31st.]... To Pall Mall. Entered the Winter Exhibition. Saw
my “Studies of Head” there, but not the other two, viz.: _Beauty_,
and _The Brent_. I had no catalogue, and I asked no questions, but I
feel pretty certain they were not there. Slap No. 1. Then I walked in
fast snow to the British Institution, having received an intimation
that it was varnishing-day, which means “Your picture is hung.” I
looked everywhere but could not find it, and pretty sure feel I
it is _not_ hung. Slap No. 2. No answer about the large picture
from Marlborough House. Slap No. 3. Altogether I begin to feel as
though the tide were against me. Told R. Dickinson I did not feel
in spirits to come and work at the large picture; went home with a
determination to work vigorously at the small one. Thursday worked at
it about three hours; scraped out the table-cloth three times, and
at last made it right with a dash. Got very pleased with it. Went to
Hampstead for the answers to advertisement--found eleven. Curious
examination. Found I was right in my conceptions regarding the sort
of people who sent them, but that the difficulties are greater than
I imagined. Walked that day (Friday) at least 20 miles. Went into a
coffee-shop, and wrote five letters; then walked home. Yesterday I
painted about three hours, but felt intensely languid and inert....
Thursday [1st February].--I did the cradle, and painted at the cloth,
but it looked wrong. Dreadfully nervous. Anxiety about immediate
money-wants, and the melancholy prospects of future ruin, I suppose
cause it; but I do not _much_ worry about it neither, only when I
wake up in the morning I feel it rather. Emma is very well, and the
boy getting fat. Funds £3. 2s.--nearly all owing....
7th.--To town; found my picture placed in the gallery--worked on it
till five....
8th.--To town.--Worked at the _Chaucer_, altering bits of the colour
to make more harmonious, giving more colour here and there to the
flesh; making the whole more solid and round. Till quarter to five.
9th.--I had been to the City first, after money, about 30 shillings
being my all.--Worked from one to five at _Chaucer_: White called to
see it.--Came home by seven.--Found Seddon here; consulted him about
my affairs. Money I _must_ have.
10th.--To town, and at the same till five: the fool, the cardinal,
and the woman, giving them colour and substance. Could not manage the
old woman.
18th.--Sunday; a day of rest in reality, after a week of most
harrassing work. I have done nothing to-day except settle the pattern
of two frames for my _Emigrants_, and my little _Turnip-Field_....
Monday I went to call on my uncle about the money I wish to raise
on mortgage; found it would be attended with great difficulties;
consequent discouragement. Worked (about two hours, I think) in a
state of mental anguish. In despair I called in on old White; he told
me to send him my duplicate of _Waiting_ and my _Saturday Night_
Virgin. Tuesday 13th.--I saw him; told him price £20 each. He abused
both, but would buy neither that day. I told him about Seddon and his
works, and promised to take him there the next day; which I did. Old
White again abused the works, and I promised to alter _his_ little
picture of _Waiting_, as the fire-light is too red. Thence to the
City to see if my tailor would lend me money, which he declined.
Came back dejected, and, as a last trial, sent to fetch my duplicate
of _Waiting_ from old White, to see if he would keep it; he let it
go. Home in despondent state.... Friday, I called on Seddon, and
asked him about money-lenders; he told me his father would lend me
the £50 I wanted, on security. This relieved me. I walked on into
town, and met a man more to be pitied than myself--poor Papworth,
son-in-law and assistant to the old scoundrel Baily,[108] whose fifth
bankruptcy leaves [Papworth] for the time destitute, and with a
family....
19th.--... Saw old Seddon’s lawyer; all right. Saw my Uncle Madox,
who has got the old lady to lend me the £500, which is an immense
relief. I can now go to India, or continue my pictures, as may seem
prudent. So to Maddox Street, and worked till five on the _Chaucer_;
Gallery full of fog. King’s head, Princess’ hair and scarf, little
boy with jelly. Indescribable touches to all, to improve the solidity
and truth of colour....
22nd.--... Got Seddon’s £50.... Heard that Windus[109] had bought
four of my pictures from White: the cunning old rogue never told me
this. I consider this may save me from going to India. I have felt
hopeful again since I heard it. He has the _Wiclif_ and the sketch
of ditto, the _Winandermere_, and the _Cordelia parting with her
Sisters_. We shall see.
23rd.--... Began work about eleven, at changing the cloak of the
female in converse with the page, from grey to reddish brown--did
more than half.... Found the brown-red tint did not suit: so, at much
cost of rag, I wiped it off, and hit, I don’t know how, on a peculiar
kind of blue, which seemed to me to improve the picture much--_nous
verrons demain_. This was a change suggested by Robert Dickinson;
who however proposed black, which would have spoiled the picture.
Worked till dark in excellent spirits, the weather being, however,
much against doing any good. Bought a hood and cloak for my son,
and embroidery for a frock for him. Did not get home till nine in
consequence; and, being tired and dinnerless, I was very sulky, and
abused every one. The cloak was not to my taste; I had proposed to
have one made after my own design. Smoked, filled up my account....
24th.--... To work by twelve at the grey cloak; found the colour
not so good as I thought it; changed it to a greener hue.... Set my
accounts in order; find the little brute Oliver has cost £7. 15s.
for clothes; I am an ass....
27th.--... Called on Seddon, who strongly urged me to call on Windus
of Tottenham....
28th.--... Worked at the pages on each side of Chaucer, etc. etc.;
and determined to do no more, as it must dry; so left the sky all
covered with finger-marks.
1st March.--Wasted the morning writing letters to Windus and others,
and then worked on the _Waiting_ picture, which is now to be _An
English Fireside of 1854-5_: did not much good.
2nd.--Up at nine. I have sold one of the three works I sent to the
Winter Exhibition--the _Studies of Heads_: I think it was £10 I put
on it. This pleased me. Wrote an order for the other two. Walked to
the draper’s, to buy things for Emma, and to see about registering
Oliver. Dined, and did hardly any work, like a most extreme fool;
my time being now exquisitely precious, having only one month to
finish _The Last of England_ for the R.A. Put my accounts to rights.
A letter from Windus that shows favourably; I am to call on him on
Tuesday. Man came and registered “Oliver Madox Brown.”
3rd.--Worked at _English Fireside_; finished all but head. Cough bad.
4th.--Last night I woke with excruciating pain in my chest, and
almost fainted in bed. Slept again, and in the morning ditto, so
lay in bed--got up towards evening. Arranged frames for the second
_Windermere_, which I will cut down like the other Windus has. Took
my first chalk drawing of _Chaucer_ out of my book of sketches,
and settled to send it to be mounted and framed; ditto with the
water-colour of the Fresco which Haydon admired[110]....