to me as construction, is, for pathos and delineation of the “human
’art,” beyond anything he has yet done. No end of kerchiefs might be
wetted over it; but I read it dry, being used to misery in its actual
state. But the _dénouement_ disappointed me, I own. Thackeray seems
to have got them into a mess, and either to lack the skill or the
courage to get them out of it. In my humble opinion, Ethel should
have died just as Clive would have been enabled to marry her; after
which he should have taken to art _seriatim_,[135] and have achieved
a position, and so have learned the value of suffering. Clive should
have wept her, and then turned serious and virtuous, and married some
one just to take care of boy; or his wife should not have died, and
they should at length have loved each other, and been happy in the
end. This would have been far more moral, more probable, and more
satisfactory to me. But he is the great word-artist of now.--I long
to hear about Sveaborg; but oh how hard is the fate of these poor
Russians! and what a horrid thing it is for fleets at a distance to
destroy a town without the loss of a man! How cowardly, one might say.
19th.--To work about twelve, at the man’s head till seven--the woman
is now quite right.
20th.--Breakfast in bed--lazy.--To work about one till half-past
seven, at the woman’s hand, from Emma and baby and my own hand--Emma
holding it in the back yard. Nothing but rain, wind, and sun,
alternately. In despair brought it into front parlour. No good done
to-day at all.
21st.--The same as yesterday, only from feeling--no good at all.
22nd.--The same again to-day, out in the yard, Emma holding my hand;
and my mouth and moustache in glass. No good.
23rd.--To work by two till seven, at filling up places where the
oval of the frame has been enlarged; then at the sea again, and if
anything spoiled it.--The picture looks worth half as much money
again now that the sight of the frame is made larger....
27th.--To work by ten--worked at the man’s head, made it disgustingly
bad; left off about four--quite ill. Shall not work to-morrow,--have
been at it too close. Head bad.
31st.--Began work again to-day; intensely thick about the upper
regions, but felt that I must begin again. Worked till dusk, from
half-past one.--Scraped out the hand, but felt too stupid to venture
to touch it again--did a lot of promiscuous touches. All this week I
have been ill with a tired brain.... I think anxiety as well as work
affects my head. Indeed, to see how things are going on with me is
enough to drive any one mad. This is the last day of August, and the
picture, which was to have been finished and _exploité_ by this time,
is still on the easel. At quarter-day we leave here; and till I know
whether I go to India or not it is no use seeking a fresh abode, and
till the picture is shown to some people I cannot decide upon going:
and, now that the picture is nearly done, all the people will be
out of town. I have as yet had no time to do White’s landscape in.
This confounded picture takes up all the time that I might apply to
more saleable works, and looks worth nothing now that it is done. I
sometimes think it looks most execrable; but this week I am ill, and
in such a state of nerves that everything looks distorted. What a
miserable sad thing it is to be fit for painting _only_, and nothing,
nothing else! no outlet, no hope! I have touched the sky and cliffs
again however to advantage....
2nd September,--Sunday. To-day fortune seemed to favour me. It has
been intensely cold--no sun, no rain, a high wind. But this seemed
the sweetest weather possible, for it was the weather for my picture,
and made my hand look blue with the cold, as I require it in the
work. So I painted all day out in the yard, and made the man’s hand
more what I want than it has looked yet. Afterwards tried to mend
the scoundrel’s fist, but was not so successful at it however. After
work, took a four miles’ walk to warm myself, in the dark. Came back
and set to work; drew-in the mother’s hand holding the baby’s, in the
drawing, which has never been done yet.--Then wrote my name on the
picture.
3rd.--... Into London with Emma. Looked at several houses--not
knowing if we should want one, or I have to seek my fortunes in “a
far countrie.” Took a room at 33 Percy Street for one week, 10s., to
show the picture in.
4th.--My last day at the picture, thank God.--Finished the man’s
head, scoundrel’s hand, and sundries. At four took my moon-piece;
the sky of which had cracked all over, through being painted on zinc
white.--Scraped it and re-painted after five; foolish, for night
caught me. After tea, pasted the drawing of _Last of England_ into
its frame, and nailed the picture into its ditto. Took down the _Baa
Lambs_, the sketch of _Justice_, and drawing of _Beauty_, and by
twelve got them ready for to-morrow.
5th.--Packed my five pictures in a cart, and at 10 a.m. started on
my way to London, down the new Finchley Road--I driving, because it
was too heavy to sit both of us in front, and perched up behind was
anything but comfort. However, the pony, being a mettlesome beast,
had no idea of going unless his own master thrashed him, and seemed
to despise my attempts in that line; so we had to change seats. It
is Barnet fair, and we were taken for return showmen on the road.
As I got to the door in Percy Street, old White was knocking there.
He looked at the picture for about one hour, and was most warm in
his eulogium. I said last figure was £200 with copyright, or £150
without. I think he did not intend to buy when he came, but he seemed
loth to leave it. At last he said: “I want you to give me copyright
in, and will give you a bill at six months, for £150.” So I said,
as it was _him_, I would take it; indeed, I would not have done
so otherwise. Then he took the pencil-drawing for £7. He promises
speedy fortune, and that in two years more I shall no longer sell my
pictures to him, but command the highest prices in the art-market,
and only give him a picture for remembrance of old times. Amen! say I.
9th.--Sunday. On Thursday I “guv a party,” to which Munro, Rossetti,
Cayley, and Seddon came; so we[136] are reviving slightly towards
each other. Time of breaking up, half-past 1 a.m. Friday I worked
a little at altering the seat (on which they are) to green, at the
suggestion of old White. People all speak in high terms of the
product. Last night I ... went for the first time to Munro’s, and saw
Hughes’ picture of the Lover’s Quarrel.[137] It is very beautiful
indeed: the girl is lovely, draperies and all, but the greens of his
foliage were so acid.... I breakfasted with Lowes Dickinson to-day;
and he says that there is a fortune to be made in India, but he
does not think me the man to do it. I shall not go, at present at
any rate. Came home by 2 p.m. Am quite undecided what to do next.
There is _Work_ begun; then _Cromwell_;[138] then subject of the
“Commission” in Hyde Park.[139]
15th.--All this week I have only worked one day, Tuesday; when I
finished the green bench, bought a rope and painted it, put some
rust on the boat and boat’s davit to please old White, touched
and finished the veil, ditto the sky, and put a string to the
man’s hat. Called on Seddon and on Lucy this week. Calotype of
his _Cromwell_[140] looks very well and full of individuality....
Sebastopol gone at last, all the south of it; but the French did it,
not our soldiers. Since last winter, when all our real soldiers were
destroyed by the rascally Government, it seems to me we have done
nothing of note. Our army, I imagine, is disgusted and disorganized,
morally if not physically.--Wednesday,--I packed up the picture
carefully in a sheet, and took it to old White’s in a cab, at his
request; and there got a six months’ bill for £157, I paying for the
stamp. Then to the Bank, and drew £15. 10s. 10d. sent me by good
Madame Casey[141] in payment for my plate, which, being in their
hands at the time of the Revolution ’48 (owing to its having been
left at the _Mont de Piété_ when, bringing poor Liz’s body[142] to
this country, I found myself without the requisite money in Paris), I
requested them to have melted down if in need of money....
Wednesday.--Till yesterday [24th September] I was after houses, and
took one opposite Fortess Terrace; ten rooms, £45, quite new. £50
if I have a glass studio put up in garden. Yesterday I had occasion
to speak to a very rich man, the owner of half Fortess Terrace, and
God knows how much more property. I am quite sure he had been a
shopkeeper; but so bumptious, quite a caricature of the class. This
evening an old gentleman warned us not to go down a certain path
’cross fields; it was all bog, said he, pointing to his boots. I said
to Emma: “That man sure is either a nobleman or a very distinguished
officer.” I don’t know who he was; but we met him afterwards going
into the house Garrick had at Hendon, and three minutes after we had
turned the corner we met him coming out of that property, and he
crossed the road to Lord Annesley’s. I supposed it is he. [N.B.--It
was not, but Mr. Weire.]
22nd October.--This month has passed without entries. After taking
the last-mentioned house I fell out with the builder; so took this
one in Fortess Terrace at £52. 10s. a year. Intended to let the first
floor, but ... I think I must make it my painting-room. On the 8th
I began work again at the Hendon Moon-piece, on Lord Tenterden’s
property (by-the-by, it was he I meant when I said “Lord Annesley”).
The weather has been most trying: however, I have stuck at it,
sometimes walking fourteen miles and only getting two hours’ work:
in all, with to-day, nine days or thirty-six hours. In two more I
think I shall finish what I can do to it there. Thursday I went to
Finchley, and slept two nights at the Queen’s Head, and to-day I took
a cab; vigorous proceeding this. During this month (for notabilia) I
have been to Sadler’s Wells and seen Miss Atkinson, a new actress
whom I pronounce to be admirable and better than Miss Glyn. Then
I called one night at the Howitts’, and saw William ditto, and
Mrs. ditto, and Anna Mary ditto, all professing to believe much in
dreams....
2nd December.--... I think I finished at Hendon on the 24th, after
which I did not paint again till the 9th November, when I began a
small _King Lear_ from the drawing I had formerly made (for the
etching which I have never finished) of the picture in John Seddon’s
possession.[143] This I work at till last Thursday, just three weeks,
when I get tired of it; and, as the purple ran, and would not let
me go on with it except in the horizontal position with the dust
descending on it, I gave up, and began working up the foreground
of my Hendon landscape. Yesterday I went to Cumberland Market, and
sketched a hay-cart; afterwards put it in. During the time I did not
work (that is, paint) I did much in the upholstery-line, and saved
thereby (in two weeks) about 10s. It must be said in my excuse,
however, that two men severally saw the sofa and chairs to cover; and
the last, [who] was pale and thin by being out of work, declared that
the things were in such a state that he would _rather not undertake
them_. I have made them look splendid, and the drawing-room all
equally so, although the things would not perhaps pass muster at
Seddon’s or Gillow’s. Nolly has been christened since last entry,
also the prizes at the Paris Exhibition have been disposed of. But
the most important fact appertaining to this history is that White
has at my instigation bought _Chaucer_ (while at Paris) from Robert
Dickinson for £50: this I consider a grand stroke achieved....
5th.--... At Jullien’s[144] last night, where met old White in a half
boozy state. Glad to find that the prize-giving at Paris has not
damped his ardour, but he talks of doing great things with it. Find
Windus has my _Last of England_....
12th.--... To the Olympic. English theatricals dooced slow, however;
place felt headachy. Robson tremendous, but getting spoiled....
15th.--... Read the third volume of Carlyle’s _Miscellanies_. The
glorious kind-hearted old chap! _Boswell_, _Diderot_, _Cagliostro and
the Necklace_, are the best in the book, and among what he has ever
done best. The _Johnson_, _Göthe_, _Edward Irving_, among (to me)
the unsatisfactory ones; overdone, too many immensities, eternities,
and such-like superfluities; sometimes whole pages of mere gilded
wind-bladders, looking something like real nuggets, but not so. Seek
to grasp them, and they bob off in most tantalizing fashion--(this
is Carlylean, I hope). On the other hand, we must allow the great
man his occasional weaknesses and caprices and flatulencies. Real
gold and solid weight and a close-packed wisdom is not wanting in
the general run of it; more indeed than is attainable in any other
writing now published, I opine. As he said himself, Roland of
Ronceval must himself have been constipated at times....
19th.--Worked at the sketch of Hampstead for Woolner:[145] it is
jolly.
20th.--Cuttle-fished the little landscape, and painted “ye moon” from
nature. Called on Woolner, who declares we are more devil-worshipers
than Christians. His reason for the great popularity of Lord
Palmerston is that he is treacherous and pugnacious, which are the
two chief characteristics of us English, and that therefore, being
the most so of any, he by natural force or gravitation is the King
of England. However, Prince Albert _is_ our King--worse luck. John
Cross told him that Monsieur Picot, who was president of the Royal
Commission of Fine Arts at Paris, affirmed that it was entirely owing
to the pressing solicitude of Lord Elcho that the prizes were given
as they were; that the French jurors had awarded the chief medal to
Mulready. McDowell[146] voted for himself nineteen times; so they
gave no medal to the sculpture....
24th.--... Spent the morning putting up holly and evergreens instead
of working. I fear I have much to repent on the score of idleness.
Read Carlyle’s _Miscellanies_....
1856, 1st January.--A dull foggy day. Disgusted with my landscape:
stuck it up against the wall, and worked at it from a distance.
Painted out all the easel, box, etc., in front, that took me so much
time to paint from nature. Made the whole right again....
2nd.--... Seddon again called, with a letter he had just received
from Hunt; who is on his return, I am glad to hear, but ill. I fear,
a nature that works beyond its strength.
5th.--... Worked at the pencil _King Lear_, and finished it; my
destiny being (as Novalis said of Göthe) “to finish whatever I may
have begun.”
6th.--Spent the morning in a sort of luxury of idleness, tidying-up
the painting-rooms, and hanging up two fresh pictures in them,
viz.: the pencil _King Lear_, and a study of Major Freulick’s
horse--painted at Ghent when I was fifteen or sixteen--at the time
I painted my father’s portrait, and the head of the old woman[147]
I still value. At this time, when I first began art seriatim, and
before I fell into any kind of mannerism, many of my studies are
better than I was able to do for many years afterwards. This same
horse, which is the facsimile of the one it portrayed, was the most
unmilitary-looking brute I think I ever beheld, or at any rate ever
saw Major mounted on. It fell under me one day as I was trotting it
over one of the Flemish wooden drawbridges, and peeled the skin off
my chin. However, with the loss of a saddle-girth, we were none the
worse for it much, either of us.
FOOTNOTES:
[4] There was a painter, then of some repute, named Marshal Claxton:
I presume that he and his family are here referred to.
[5] This refers to the mortal illness of Mrs. Brown, in Rome: she
died soon afterwards.
[6] Lucy Brown had been placed at the boarding school (a very good
one) kept at Gravesend by her aunt by marriage, Mrs. Helen Bromley.
This was a most estimable Scotch lady (Miss Weir): she died in 1886.
[7] The residence of the painter Charles Lucy.
[8] Highgate Cemetery, where Mrs. Madox Brown was buried.
[9] The surgeon who constantly attended Brown and his family; also
Dante Rossetti. He became Professor of Anatomy at the Royal Academy,
President of the Royal College of Physicians, &c.
[10] According to Brown’s original plan, the centre picture of Chaucer
was flanked by two side-pictures, containing figures of Spenser,
Shakespeare, Milton, Pope, Burns, and Byron. This scheme was finally
abandoned in the large painting, but it is to be seen in one or two
minor versions of the work.
[11] Thomas is William Cave Thomas, a painter (still living) who had
distinguished himself in the Cartoon competitions at Westminster
Hall. He is also known as the writer of some very thoughtful books on
the Theory of Fine Art, as co-ordinate with Science and Morals.
[12] The studio was in Clipstone Street, Marylebone; the same in
which Dante Rossetti first visited Madox Brown.
[13] In this instance and others Brown wrote “togam” instead of
“toga.” I suppose he had, at some time, seen the word printed in its
accusative case. In matters of this sort he had a _curiosa felicitas_
for going wrong.
[14] Evidently means Shakespeare’s birth-house. Possibly Mr. Thomas’s
rather summary proposal was founded on his not believing that
building to be the true birth-house.
[15] A blank is left in the MS.
[16] From a very early stage in his professional practice, Brown paid
unusual attention to questions of true lighting, such as this.
[17] So far as I remember, these figures are not included in any
version of the Chaucer subject.
[18] Mr. Richard Madox Bromley (afterwards Sir R. M. Bromley, K.C.B.)
was a brother of Madox Brown’s first wife. He was employed in relief
measures during the Irish famine.
[19] The highly-distinguished landscape painter.
[20] Hurlstone was then President of the Society of British Artists,
Suffolk Street.
[21] There were two brothers named Foggo, historical painters of much
ambition and perhaps some intellect, but deplorably bad executants. I
presume that the jingle “Fogo is no go” (or something of the sort),
was current among artists at this date.
[22] This is the Exhibition (then recently established) to which
Brown contributed some of his early pictures--also Dante Rossetti his
first two. Martin was not the celebrated painter John Martin, but a
different painter, J. F. Martin.
[23] Claxton was a painter, already mentioned; of Dibdin I know
nothing.
[24] This subject was painted, and was well received by the public.
[25] A painter and book-illustrator.
[26] I am sure this project was not carried out.
[27] The Dickinsons, Printsellers in Bond Street, had established a
Drawing Academy in Maddox Street. Foley must be the sculptor of that
name. Paris and Salter were painters: the former is perhaps still
remembered as the inventor of “Paris’s Medium.”
[28] Brown was part owner of Ravensbourne Wharf, Greenwich.
[29] This is probably an oil-study which I possess, and which must
have been made with a view to the figure of an infant in the Wiclif
picture. Lucy Brown was now turned four years old: in the painting
she might pass for still younger.
[30] A cousin of Brown’s.
[31] This was some friend of Elizabeth Brown (Bromley), much of whose
youth was spent abroad. I know nothing further about Miss Ensgrubber.
[32] I don’t know what this project was; should suppose that it aimed
at some pictorial decoration of the University building.
[33] A matter unknown to me; I presume “Capbell” to be a mis-writing
for “Campbell.” It would appear that Brown’s drawing was lithographed.
[34] I suppose Inskip is practically forgotten now. He painted in a
very broad method, with dark full-toned tints of brown &c.--gipsies,
fisherfolk, and the like.
[35] There was some family connection between Bamford and Brown; I
have forgotten what.
[36] Charles Robert Leslie, R.A.; he was now Professor of Painting at
the Academy.
[37] He was a solicitor. The Tan Yard is, I suppose, much the same
thing as Ravensbourne Wharf. Brown did not, towards this date, sell
his shares in it.
[38] He seems rather to mean “French Republic.”
[39] Fenton, after receiving an artistic training, took to
photography. At the time of the Crimean war (1854-6) he went to the
scene of action, and acquired some prominence.
[40] A model much employed by artists towards this date.
[41] Brown wrote “Schaff” (not Scharf): I suppose the designer who
became Sir George Scharf, (or else his father, who was also an
artist) is meant. Collingwood Smith and Oliver were water-colour
landscapists.
[42] From this observation it might be inferred that Brown in 1847
was a decided Protestant and Anti-Catholic. He may possibly have been
so, and must, at any rate, have been a votary of freedom of religious
thought. As I knew him (beginning in 1848), he was neither Catholic
nor Protestant.
[43] The handwriting of all this part of the diary confirms the
statement as to weak sight.
[44] I do not recognize the name Elliott; a later entry shows him to
have been a painter. Rossetti, whom we here find for the first time
in Brown’s narrative, is of course Dante Gabriel. No account is given
of the first interview of all, when Brown (as related elsewhere)
called round at Rossetti’s house with a “thick stick.” The letter
from my brother, March 1848, which led to that interview, has been
published.
[45] It will be seen that Brown, having now consigned to the Free
Exhibition the moderate-sized picture of _Wiclif and John of Gaunt_,
resumed work on the large _Chaucer_ and its accessories.
[46] William and Mary Howitt were much connected with this
publication.
[47] Daniel Casey was a painter, of Irish birth or extraction,
settled in Paris. Brown had a good opinion of his abilities, within
certain limits. I own a small oil-picture of his--horsemen abducting
a woman--spirited in action. He died towards 1888.
[48] I do not think that Brown ever applied for a mastership in the
Schools of Design, under their old _régime_. He did so (as shown
further on) under the new _régime_.
[49] Holman Hunt, of course.
[50] I fancy this may have been Brown’s first acquaintance with
Keats. Dante Rossetti may have set him going. Towards this same
time Millais began his first “Præraphaelite” picture, from Keats’s
_Isabella_.
[51] The picture is, I think, the one which was afterwards named _The
Infant’s Repast_ (sometimes here spoken of as _Mother and Child_).
[52] For side-panel of the Chaucer picture.
[53] _The Girlhood of Mary Virgin._
[54] I do not know what the lectures may have been, nor what Brown
wrote about them. See the entry for 10th October.
[55] This may, I suppose, have been a portion of what Brown was
writing regarding Mr. Thomas’s lectures.
[56] I think this means a copy of a head of his daughter Lucy,
painted in her early infancy towards 1843.
[57] The composition for the oil-picture of _Cordelia at the Bedside
of Lear_: not to be confounded with other Lear subjects (at least
two) which Brown executed at later dates.
[58] This seems to relate, not to the _Lear_ picture, but to the
small work named _The Infant’s Repast_.
[59] _i.e._ The jester, or fool (he is immediately afterwards termed
the fool), of King Lear. This head is a very fair likeness (not
exactly a striking one) of Dante Rossetti.
[60] It was the fifth storey if one reckons the sunk basement as
first storey. The house was No. 50 Charlotte Street, Portland Place.
[61] The detached figures of British Poets, which were (according to
the original intention) to serve as wings to the large picture of
_Chaucer at the Court of Edward III._ “The page” is a figure in the
central composition.
[62] The sketch, done some years before, of the _Chaucer_ composition.
[63] Brown must have known Walter Howell Deverell through Dante
Rossetti. Deverell was at this time a painter of some recognized
promise, son of the Secretary to the Schools of Design.
[64] This is, I suppose, a carefully finished little oil portrait,
circular, which I possess.
[65] Mr. Seddon (the father of Thomas and John Seddon) was a
furniture-maker of high repute, carrying on business in Gray’s Inn
Road. The statement that the portraits were done “for a sofa” means
that a sofa was to be assigned to Brown as his remuneration.
[66] I have little if any recollection of this figure of _The Lord
Jesus_. Further on it appears that a lithograph, unsatisfactory to
Brown, was made of the figure.
[67] Mr. Samuel Carter Hall, the Editor of _The Art-Union (Art
Journal)_.
[68] The etching which was published in _The Germ_.
[69] It will be observed that there is a great gap of time before
this resumption of Diary--as referred to immediately afterwards. So
far as I know, Madox Brown did not keep any record in the interim. I
do not possess any, nor seemingly does Mr. Ford Hueffer.
[70] Emma and Katy (or Cathy) are the second Mrs. Brown and her then
infant Daughter, now Mrs. Francis Hueffer.
[71] This centre compartment is the _Chaucer_ above-mentioned.