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• * 

. , ■ ' 




VOL. m. 



London : 

Spottiswoodbs and Shaw, 




f iitontal '^mkc, 









VOL. m. 
















Haydon inaugurated this year with a picture of Achilles 
revealing his Sex at the court of Lycomedes, by his sudden 
forsaking of womanly ornaments for arms. But he was 
soon compelled to quit a large and heroic subject for 
smaller and more saleable works. His necessities this 
whole year through were severe ; and embarrassments^ con- 
tinually accumulating, were met by every expedient that 
urgent wants and sanguine hopes could suggest. The 
year was one of keen political excitement. The Peel 
Ministry resigned, and the Whigs returned to power under 
Lord Melbourne. The burning of the Houses of Par- 
liament the year before had given an opening for hope 
that some arrangement for art-decoration might be made 
in the new building, and provision for this was urgently 
pressed on the Ministry by Haydon in and out of season. 

The appointment of Mr. Ewart's select committee of 
inquiry into the means of extending a knowledge of the 
arts and principles of design, including an inquiry into the 
constitution of the Royal Academy, and the effects pro- 
duced by it, (the appointment of which may be attributed 
in a considerable degree to Haydon,) afforded him au 
opportunity he had long sought of impressing his views 

B 2 



on Parliament and the people. But these prospects and 
hopes were dimmed by the loss of one of his children, and 
his anxieties were not lessened by the hirth of another. 

" January Glli.*—A pupil of David spent the evening 
with me. David said a good thing to hini, 'When you 
cease to struggle, you are done for.' This is more like 
Napoleon. • 

" At the Polish ball the Lord Mayor (who squints) 
said to Lady Douglas, ' Which do you prefer, my Lady, 
Gog or Magog J ' ' Of the three,' she replied, ' your 

" Rubbed in Milton and his daughter selling Paradise 
Lost, and Eloisa and Abelard at their studies. Preparing 
for the year's work. 

" The people are in a dreadful condition, — the excite- 
ineni beyond all belief. I have not stirred from my 
pain ling-room. I hate to have my mind disturbed. The 
Tories say the people must go through a crisis. It is 
their obstinacy which has produced it. 

"7th.- — Rubbed in two new subjects — Milton at his 
Organ, dear Mary at her Glass. Saw Lady Blessington to 
borrow an armlet. 

" lOlh. — Read Mignet's History of the Revolution. 
Extraordinary that all the murders of the French Revo- 
lution were perpetrated according to law, and on an 
abstract principle of virtue, ' La terreitr satis vertu est 
line crime : la vertu sans terreur est une faiblesse,' said 

" \6tL — In the city on business; much harassed in 
money matters. 

" I7ih. — Rubbed in Samson and Dahlah. 

"Raced the town to raise money. Got a commission 

• The 2lBt volume of the journal begins with tbis jear, with the 
motto, " A mnn shall not be estubbshcd by wickedness, but the root 
of the rigbteoua shall not be moved. Thej thai trust in the Lord 
shall be as Mount Sion, which cannot be moved, but abideth for 


to paint the Duke on the field of Waterloo, from Boys 
the printsellen Sentiment with the Duke won't do. 


4. Burwood Place, Janaaiy 19th, 1835. 

** May it please your Grace, 

'* To permit me to intrude a moment, and to inform your 
Grace, with your leave, that I have received a commission to 
paint your Grace musing on the field of Waterloo, to be en- 
graved as a pendant to the picture I had the honour to paint 
for Sir Robert Peel, of Napoleon«musing at St. Helena — con- 
queror and captive. 

" Ist. May I presume to ask your Grade to give me leave to 
make a chalk sketch of your sword and dress, such as you wore 
at Waterloo under your cloak ? 

" 2nd. Would there be any hope of being allowed to attend 
your Grace for half an hour, and make a rapid sketch of your 
Grace's figure, at any time early or late ? 

" I acknowledge to your Grace I approach you with every 
delicacy, and prepared to withdraw with every apology, should 
this intrusion, considering my feelings as a conservative re- 
former and whig, be considered unwarrantable or impertinent. 
But as I never scrupled to express my enthusiasm for your 
genius to any party, I anticipate your pardon, even if your 
Grace refuses consent. 

" With the same respect as dictated my letter to your Grace 
when you relinquished the Government in 1830, 

•* I remain, 
" Your Grace's faithful servant, 

" B. R. Hatdon." 

« To his Grace the Duke of Wellington, &c. 

" The Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr, 
Haydon, and has received his note. 

" The Duke hopes Mr. Haydon will excuse him, but he 
really has not leisure at present to sit for a picture." 

*' London, March 22d, 1835.'* 

" 31st — All of a sudden yesterday a new conception 
of the Duke burst into my head. I took up a canvas 

B 3 

and ill two hours dashed in the best conception by far — 
the one that shall be engraved. Wrote a strong letter to 
The Times on the National Gallery. 

" The month ends, and I have worked well. I have 
had comparative peace. I consider it a good beginning 
to have had an order connected with Wellington. The 
next month begins to-morrow, and dreadful pecuniary 
want I anticipate; but my old fire is revived. I have 
begun again on public encouragement) and again will 
I be in the thick of the fight. I trust for extrication and 
salvation to that Being to whom I have always trustedj 
and feel confident I shall not trust in vain. 

"February \st. — Sunday. Called on Lord Melbourne. 
He was lounging over the Edinburgh Review. He began 
instantly, ' Wliy here are a set of fellows who want public 
money for scientific purposes, as well as you for painting ; 
they are o set of ragamuffins.' 'That's the way,' said I, 
' nobody has any right to public money but those who 
are brought up to politics. Are not painting and science 
as much matter of public benefit as political jobbing? 
You never look upon us as equals; but any scamp who 
trades in politics is looked on as a companion for my 
Lord.' * That is not true,' said he. ' I say it is,' said 
I; and he then roared with laughter, and rubbed his 

" He had been to Woburn, where he had mot Chantrey 
and Landseer ; 1 could not get him to touch on politics. 
' Lord Melbourne, will you make me a promise ? ' ' What 
is that?' ' Pass your word to get a vote of money for 
art, if you are premier again.' Not a word. 

" No old politician ever speaks on polilics so as to 
give you a notion of what is going on. 

"After chatting a good while about everything, I bid 
him good bye. 

" Febniary 3rd, — At the Duke's, and sketched the 
cloak he wore at Waterloo, the coat, plain hat, &c. 
To-morrow they are to be sent to me. The contrast 
tin liouoo witt Loi-d Grcy'a was extraordinary. I 



shown into a waiting parlour full of pistols and muskets. 
All about Lord Grey was anti-military, while everything 
seems to be martial about the Duke. 

*' Mugford, his steward, told me the Duke had given 
him the cloak, and God only knew where the hat was* 
Is this simplicity, absence of vanity, or want of sentiment 
in the Duke ? Napoleon dwelt on, often looked at, and 
left to his son the coat he wore at Marengo, and the 
sword of Austerlitz. 

" 9th. — Worked unsatisfactorily. The Duke lent me 
his hat, belt, and coat." 

Unluckily Haydon wrote to thank him for his kind- 

This, it appears from the next letter, was rather a 

** London, Febrnaiy 7th, 1835. 

" Sir, 

'^ I received last night your letter of the 6th, in which you 
inform me that you had applied to, and obtained from my ser- 
vant one of my coats, and that you had painted a picture of me 
which you wished me to see, and which was ready for the en- 

" You wrote to me on the 19th January to inform me that 
you had received a commission to paint a picture of me. I told 
you in answer that I had not time to sit for a picture. You 
then wrote to desire that I would order my servant to let you 
see my coat, &c., to which letter I gave no answer. 

" You thought proper, however, to go to my servant, and 
procure from him one of my coats, &c., without any order or 
consent on my part, and you now come to me to desire me to 
inspect the picture before it goes to the engraver. 

^' I have no objection to any gentleman painting any picture 
of me that he may think proper ; but if I am to have anything 
to say to the picture, either in the way of sitting or sending a 
dress, or in any other manner, I consider myself, and shall be 
considered by others, as responsible for it. 

" I must say that I by no means approve of the subject of 
the picture which you have undertaken to paint. Paint it if 
you please, but I will have nothing to say to it. 

*^ To paint the Emperor Napoleon on the rock of St. Helena 

B 4 

8 MEMOIRS or B. R. nATDON. [l83S. 

is quite a difftrent thing from painting me on the field of 
battle of Waterloo. The Emperor Nnpoleon did not consent 
to be painted. But I am to be supposed to consent ; and more- 
over, I on the field of battle of Waterloo am not exactly in the 
situation in which Napoleon stood on the rock of St. Helena. 

" But a painter should be a historian, a philosopher, a poli- 
tician, Rs well as a poet and a man of taste. 

" Now if you will consider the subject of the picture to 
which you desire me to be a party in the year 1835, in any one 
of these characters, you will see full reason why you should not 
choose that subject; and why I should not consent to be a party 
to tlie picture. 

" I have the honour to be, sir, 

" Your most obedient, humble servant, 

" Wellington." 

Haydon wrote at once to explain the impression he 
had been under that it was with the Duke's permission 
that the valet had furnished the clothes, and afterwards 
sent this letter in addition. 

" London, February 8th, 1835. 
" My Lord Duke, 

" Having, I hope, exculpated myself from the accusation of 
going to your servant, contrary to your wislies, to obtain, by 
tampering with him, what your Grace objected to grant, though 
I was ignorant of such objection, may I now venture to reply 
to the latter part of your letter ? 

" Your Grace says ' a painter should be a philosopher, a his- 
torian, a politician, a poet and a man of taste.' 

" It really appears to me, your Grace, that imagining a great 
general visiting the field of hia greatest battle after many years 
is both natural and poetical ; that the musings that must occur 
to him there would be philosophical ; and though it would not 
be strictly historical if it had not happened, yet there is surely 
no bad taste in contrasting the conqueror with the vanquished, 
or in showing the one in his deserved desolation, and the other 
in his deserved triumph. 

" ' I on tlie field of Waterloo am not exactly in the same 
situation as Napoleon on the rock of St. Helena,' your Grace 
odds. Certainly, I reply. It is because your Grace is in a dif- 


ferent situation, that I glory in placing you there, and that the 
public and the army will glory in seeing you there. 

** With respect to the subject, it occurred to me at the time I 
painted Sir Robert Peel's picture of Napoleon. I had always 
resolved to do my best to honour, as far as my pencil could 
honour, that man who dared in face of the world to break the 
chain of an imagined invincibility, who returned to his own 
country encircled by a splendour of fame, which will last as long 
as the earth he inhabits, who came back from the command of 
a victorious army a simple citizen, subjecting himself to the 
same laws, and paying allegiance to the same sovereign, as the 
humblest individual in the land he saved. 

" Ah, your Grace, you were wanted, and your genius had 
full scope, because you were necessary ; but it is not impossible 
to imagine a genius in another way, who loves his country with 
equal devotion, and feels equally conscious of being able to 
honour it, but whose talents are not in demand, and who is 
only aware of the extent of his power from the torture of sup- 
pression, who passes his life in vain aspirations for opportuni- 
ties which will never be granted him, and who will go out of 
the world pitied, disappointed, and ruined. 

" With respect to the immediate facts connected with the 
commission alluded to, they are as follows : — 

" It was accidentally proposed by a printseller who had 
purchased the copyright of Napoleon that I should paint your 
Grace at Waterloo. I naturally seized the order with avidity, 
for I was totally without employment. Your Grace cannot 
blame me for this, when I tell you I have six children, one 
a midshipman in the Wolf, Captain Stanley, one a scholar 
at Wadham College, Oxford, and four at home, and that, as 
Johnson said, I have still to provide for the day that is passing 
over me. Your Grace cannot wonder then that I was ready 
to do what I conceived would honour you, as well as provide 
subsistence for my family, at least for a month more. 

" Two-thirds of the purchase-money was paid, so that there 
is no method of stopping publication, but by purchasing the 
picture of them and the copyright, and this it is not worth your 
Grace's while to do. 

" With respect to the large picture which I have begun and 
prepared for completion, the same size as Sir Robert Peel's 
Napoleon, which is entirely my own property, that, now I know 
your feelings, I pass your Grace my word of honour to proceed 

10 HEMOIHS OP B. R. HATDON, [l835. 

with no further without your leave, and to obliterate it without 
delay if you desire it. 

" I trust, therefore, I shall now regain your opinion as a 
gentleman, and rGmuin 

" Your Grace's admirer and servant, 

" B. E. Hatdon," 
" His Grace the Duke of Wellington, &c. 

" London, February 9tli, 1835. 
" Sir, 
" I have had the honour of receiving your letter of the 8th 
inat. In the letter which I wrote to you on Saturday, I stated 
my reason for disapproving of your having applied to my ser- 
vant for my clothes without my previous consent. 

" The same reason slill exists. I am not and cannot be a 
party to or an encourager of the picture which you are paint- 
ing of me. Do as you please with it. But I have nothing to 
say to it. 

" There can be no doubt that your communication with my 
servants, without my previous permission, was not regular. I 
cannot say otherwise. 

" I have the honour to be, sir, 

" Your most obedient, humble servant, 

" Welungtok," 

" I wrote liis Grace, saying, I admitted it was not re- 
gular, but that I certainly had an impression the clothes 
could never have come to me but through his leave ; that 
my thanking him for them was an evidence of my belief, 
and that he never could have known I had them if I had 
not informed him; thai I had destroyed the large picture, 
and should destroy the small one if the purchaser waa 
disposed to accede. To this I received the following 

" London, Febmarj Ilth, 1835. 
" Sir, 
" I have already told you that I have not the smallest objec- 
tion to your painting and engraving a picture of me in any way 
you please, and in any costume. It is impossible for me to 


have any feeling on the subject, provided that it is clearly 
understood that I am no party to the picture. 

" I have the honour to be, sir, 

" Your most obedient, humble servant, 

" Wellington." 

^^ February 12th. — Worked hard. At the first dawn 
of morning had a flash of an Imperial Guard musing at 
Waterloo, as a fitter companion for Napoleon. Finished 
it over the Duke! This is the first time an Imperial 
Guard extinguished the Duke." 

The result of this correspondence, so characteristic on 
both sides, was that the publication of the print was ar- 
rested for the time. 

" 14/A, — Out whole day — very much harassed — sold 
the Imperial Guard to Ackerman for SI I. 10s, Came home 
relieved. To work Monday, but still harassed. Thanks 
to God for this relief ! 

" 21st, — These times are serious indeed. Never were 
political feelings deeper, more determined or more threaten- 
ing. Literature and art will be sacrificed. I can get no- 
body to think of art, and the question, which was becoming 
one of great interest, is going out entirely. Individually 
ray standing in society is decidedly improved. But my 
want of employment is as great as ever. I feel inspired, 
elevated in divine God ! I feel internally in communica- 
tion with the Deity, as if he were near, nearer than ever, 
as if I were sure of support, though in trial. 

*' God. — what can these mysterious struggles mean — 
why, if gifted with high power in my art, is it always to 
be developed by trouble and want ? Even now, I begin 
the day with only one sovereign in the world, and must 
send some sketches to the pawnbroker for existence. I 
wrote to Lord Melbourne, and offered him a study of 
himself* for ten guineas. No reply. 

" 26th. — Began Lord Grey musing. Worked sottishly, 
stupidly, ineflSciently, leadenly. 

^*2Tth, — Went to the city in a state of misery not to 

be expressed. Called on Moon, the printseller. I told 
him of my dreadful situation. He is to call this day. 
I had written to Lord Egerton, offering to paint the fire 
of the Houses of Parliament for 50/. He answered he 
had not room for pictures, and sent twenty guineas. 
Horrid work, this perpetual charitable assistance. This 
is only additional evidence of what I have always said : 
when a house is full of old works there is no room for 
existing talent. Came home in better spirits. Went to 
Lady Elessington's in the evening. 

" Everybody goes to Lady Btessington's. She has the 
first news of everything, and everybody seems delighted 
to tell her. No woman will be more missed. She is the 
centre of more talent and gaiety than any other woman of 
fashion in London. 

" March \st, — Called on Lord Melbourne, and found 
him reading the Acts, with a quarto Greek Testament 
that belonged to Samuel Johnson, given to him by Lady 

" ' Is not the world. Lord Melbourne, an evidence of 
perpetual struggle to remedy a defect?' 'Certainly,' he 
mused out, ' If, as Milton says, we were sufiicient to 
have stood, why did we fall?' Lord Melbourne rose bolt 
up, and replied, ' Ah, that's touching on all our appre- 

" We then swerved to art. He advised me not to peti- 
tion before Ewart's motion. He advised me to see Ewart 
nnd judge of his character. I told him that all the Mi- 
nisters began with enthusiasm and ended by doubt, be- 
cause they first saw the propriety of my propositions, and 
then asked advice of the Academy, who, perfectly con- 
tented with their monopoly and emolument, denied the 
necessity of State support. 

" 4(A, — Nearly finished the Duke of Sutherland's small 

<i 5th. — Idle. Went to Hamilton to consult about this 
Committee for the building of the Lords. Called on 
Hume, who was knocked up a-bed. 


" &th, — Called on dear HamiltoD. Carried him the 
petition *, and we laid our heads together to improve it. 

* The following is the petition addressed by Hajdon to the Com- 
mons* and Lords' Building Committee, which was presented by Lord 

^ The humble petition of B. B. Haydon, historical painter, to the 
Bight Hon. the Chairman and Committee of the House of Conmions' 
and Lords* Building Committee, 

" Showeth, — 1. That it is now nineteen years since, at the period 
of the purchase of the Elgin Marbles, the committee appointed to 
make that arrangement concluded the report upon the subject by re- 
commending to the attention of the Legislature the great advantage 
which had accrued to painting and sculpture in so small a state as 
Attica by the patronage of the government. 

*^ 2. That though indisputable talent has been developed in paint- 
ing by very liberal though private patronage in England, of those 
branches which private patronage can advance, viz., portrait, peasant- 
life, landscape, sea views, animal painting, and still life ; yet in his- 
torical painting enough has not yet been done, either by painters or 
by the state, to establish the character of Great Britain in the opinion 
of foreign nations as an historical school : this cannot be attributed to 
any deficiency of genius, because great excellence has occasionally 
been shown in individual and insulated works, but solely because 
there was no adequate space or existing necessity, it is supposed, to 
justify the state in affording that encouragement, by which alone in 
foreign countries those who attained eminence have been always sup- 

" 3. That it appears to your petitioner that the obligation to re- 
build the two Houses of Parliament will at last give to the Legislature 
or to the Government the most favourable opportunity of developing 
the acknowledged talent now in England, by State employment. 

" 4. That if spaces were assigned in the old House of Lords for 
designs in tapestry to commemorate a great national triumph, no just 
reason can now be given why equal spaces should not be left in the 
new House for the commemoration by painting of other national 
triumphs equally important. 

" 5. That your petitioner has no personal object in thus intruding 
himself on your notice, having for thirty years of an anxious life given 
public evidence of being always more animated by a love for his 
country's honour, than by any desire for gain or emolument; but 
there can be no dereliction of principle in respectfully saying he is 
ready at a moment's notice to lay a series of designs before your right 
honourable Committee, to illustrate the superiority of the British 
Constitution as a fit ornament for a British senate-house : and he is 
equally ready, if others are considered more worthy, to contribute 


He suggested a great improvement, I went to Halket's 
and wrote a fair copy. Drove to the House. The Build- 
ing Committee were sitting. I sent it in to the chairman, 

hiB support In helping to execute their designs; his anxions desire 
lieing principally to get the principle acknowledged and acted on, and 
to direct the sltcntion of the Committee to the value of the great 
opportunity thus placed within their reach, and to urge them to 
consider the vast benefits nhich may accme to the arts and the manu- 
factures of this country, if this favourable moment be seized for 
the encouragement of historical painting, which has been so long, so 
ardentJj, and so belplesaty expected, during the last century, by all 
the greatest men in the nation. 

" 6. That as the House has with the greatest liberality spent a vast 
sum, viz., 153,0001., in procuring the finest examples to guide the 
native artists — as follows: viz., — 

" Townley marbles 

- £20,000 

" Elgin marbles 


" Phygaleian marbles - 



" A Titian, Poussin, and Corrcgio 


" Lord Londonderry's Corregioa 


£ 1S3,000 

surely something might now be done to reward those whose works 
have proved these examples were not afforded in Tain. 

" 7. That the memorials of former times, which a few months ago 
received their last blow, and are now lost for ever, testified, that even 
in the middle ages the Sovereigns of this country gave large and 
liberal encouragement to historical painting; for the walls of St. 
Btephen's Chapel, and the Fainted Chamber, were evi<lences of the 
conviction entertained that it was to the interest and honour of the 
State it should be fostered at that time. 

" 8. That your petitioner begs to conclude by appealing to your 
right honourable Cumraittee, whether it will not be subject of regret 
to the future historian if an age so far advanced in knowledge, and sa 
distinguished in talent, as the present, should prove itself less sensible 
of the great value of history-painting than one so remote and com- 
paratively uncivilised as those of flenry IIL, when the two Houses of 
Parliament would certainly not have been rebuilt without the embel- 
lishment of historical painting. 

" And your pelitioner will ever pray, 

" B. E. Hatdon. 
" London, March G. 

!' 4. Burwocl Place, Counanghi Terrace."' 


Lord Granville Somerset, and prayed for success. God 
grant it ! Thou knowest I have never given in. 

" ItK — Finished the Duke of Sutherland's Napoleon. 
Called on Hamilton, who advised me to send a copy of the 
petition to the Duke of Wellington, which I did. 

*' I am most anxious about this matter, because it really 
is the climax of my eflTorts, to obtain which I have staid 
in England, neglected to go to Italy, and devoted my 
whole life to the accomplishment of this great national 
object. If the Committee, Lords or Commons, if the 
Duke take it up, it will go on. God only knows. The 
misery is, the art is considered but as an embellishment — 
a sort of gilding — nothing more. 

** 9^A. — No answer. Went into the city for money. 
Came back disappointed. 

** Rubbed in a grand subject — Orestes hesitating to 
murder Clytemnestra, — ghost of Agamemnon. 

** Wth. — Advanced Lord Grey musing. It will make 
an interesting thing. Exceedingly distressed in mind on 
money wants. Wrote to the Duke of Devonshire." 

Haydon had painted at this time a small picture of Na- 
poleon at St. Helena for the Duke of Sutherland. Just 
after the picture arrived at the Duke's, who should enter 
the room where it was placed, previously to being hung 
up, but Lucien Buonaparte. The Duke, who was there 
at the time, told Haydon that he had just time to turn 
the picture to the wall. 

" \Sth. — Hard at work and completed my little picture 
of a Statesman musing after a Day's Fag. 

'* Cassandra much liked. One of the papers said the 
* Veteran Haydon.' This is the first step towards the 
grave. By-and-bye, * Old Haydon ;' then * Poor old Hay- 

'* 20th. — Rubbed in Mr. Cowper and Mrs. Leicester 
Stanhope, from a tableau vivant I saw at her house, as a 
Scotch girl and lover ; very pretty. 

" 23rd. — Saw Ewart, and had a long conversation 




previous to tlie motion for a Committee. He is a sensible 
man, and regulated my enthusiasm. The difficulties are 
great, but he will do it. 

" 25lh. — My trials are severe, yet I trust in God with 
all my heart ; and if I had really begun a picture, all 
would be right, for mind in artists preys upon itself. 
Ifom verrons demain matin. 

" 28(A. — Took my dear little Georgy — beautiful little 
creature — to Sir Charles Clarke — was there all the 
morning. Then called on Lord Grey, who was looking 
well. He is going to put the Banquet in the dining-room, 
which will do me good. Then came home and made a 
drawing for the Achilles ; appointed a model for Monday; 
but so many pecuniary anxieties will accrue next week, I 
dread to think of the loss of time. 

" O God ! what 50^. would do — float me entirely in, 
and lay the foundation again of triumph. 

" I was obliged to take out five heads — dear Harry's* 
collection of Napoleons — and pawn them for 71. ; and 
now, Saturday, I am reduced to II. 15s,, with a dear 
infant ill, and bills to meet next week to the amount of 
50/, Good heavens ! But I despair not. Oh, no ! I 
shall he relieved. Began Achilles again, which I wish I 
had never left for trifles. God bless me through It, as He 
has always blessed me through all my works, in spite of 
every misery, 

" 29lh. — Drank wine with ray old friend Billy f, the 
dearest friend I ever had, and went in the evening to 
Lady Blessington's. She described Lord Abercorn's 
conduct at the Pnory. She said it was the most singular 
place on earth. The moment anybody became celebrated 
they were invited. He had a great delight in seeing 
handsome women. Everybody handsome he made Lady 
Abercorn invite; and all the guests shot, hunted, rode, or 
did what they liked, provided tliey never spoke to Lord 

* Hia dead boj. 
't' fiewtOD, hia landlord,- 


Abercorn except at table. If they met him they were to 
take no notice. 

" At this time Thaddeus of Warsaw was making a 
noise. * 'Gad/ said Lord Abercorn, * we must have these 
Porters. Write, my dear Lady Abercorn.' She wrote. 
An answer came from Jane Porter that they could not 
afford the expense of travelling. A cheque was sent. 
They arrived. Lord Abercorn peeped at them as they 
came through the hall, and running by the private stair- 
ease to Lady Abercorn, exclaimed, * Witches, my lady! I 
must be off,' and immediately started post, and remained 
away till they were gone. 

" Jpril 4fth, — At work at the Achilles. I omitted to 
subscribe to Soane's tribute. I wrote to tell him I was 
too poor. He enclosed me directly a cheque for lOL, for 
which I shall give him a share.* He ought not to have 
done so, and I ought not to have accepted it." 

On the 8th of this month the Peel and Wellington 
Cabinet resigned. 

" May IsL — Hard at work, and nearly completed the 
* We are a ruined Nation.' Being obliged to put in a 
couple of portraits spoils it ; but to such hard uses does 
necessity drive one. Lord Grey's help to-day has secured 
me from immediate ruin, and under the blessing of Pro- 
vidence I will get through. On Monday I return to 
Achilles. There, there only is my energy fixed. 

" 7th. — I painted a sirloin yesterday on John Bull's 
table, in style. Finished the Old Tory." 

This refers to a capital humorous picture of a lusty 
John Bull at breakfast, surrounded with every luxury, and 
proclaiming the ruin of the country. 

" June 1st, — Anxious the whole day about my dearest 
Georgy. Sir Charles Clarke came and said she ought to 
do well. She looked like a suffering and prostrate lily. 
We had her baptized in case of the worst. 

" 5th. — Dearest Georgy will die like the last three 

* In his picture of Xenophon. 




from suffusion of the brain — a dreadful disease. As I 
watched lier to-night in her convulsions, her beautiful 
head had a look of power and grief no one could forget. It's 
dreadful work. I tried to sketch her dear head, but could 
not. The look was of another world, as if she saw sights 
we could not see, and heard sounds unfit for our mortality 
— sweet innocent. 

" 1th. — My dearest Goorgy died to-day at ten minutes 
before six. 

" XArlh. ~ I have no employment. My landlord allows 
me to pay off my debt to liim by Achilles, and allows ine 
51. 5s. a week for five months to do it in. 

" 17 th. — Called on Ridley Colbome and had a con- 
versation. It is extraordinary how ingenious men are to 
find excuses for the errors of power, and how very ready 
they are to join the hue and cry against unsupported 
opposers of it. 

" Ridley Colbome put forth all the most common-place 
truisms with the gravest oratorical assumption, in answer 
to my questions. At last I said, '"Will you vote for tlie 
Committee ? ' He drew in and said, ' I make no promise.' 

" The fact is the aristocracy are determined to carry 
the Academy through. The Academy is a necessary ap- 
pendage to the spring fashions, and people of fashion can 
no more do without it than they can do without their 
valets or ladies' maids. 

" 22nd. — Excessively distressed. No employment but 
my landlord's charity. The Session is passing. The 
Academy has advanced in power. They will get into the 
National Gallery and laugh at the country. 

" QSrd. — Visited the tomb of my dear children.* I 
hope I shall be able to leave something to keep it in 

" 2itk. — Opened the Bible in an agony of despairing 
thought. Hit at once on the following passage : — 

" ' I will go before thee, and make the crooked paths 

• In Paddington new diurcliyarJ. 


Straight; I will break in pieces the gates of brass^ and 
cut asunder the bars of iron/ Isaiah, chap, xiv., v. 2. 

*' A passage like this sent me through Macbeth in the 
middle of want, when my father left me. 

'* (Note. October SOth, — It sent me through Achilles, 
then painting, and will support me while I live.) 

" July I4*th. — I tried an experiment in 1830. I wrote to 
Sir Robert Peel I was in prison, and begged his protection 
of my family from the brutal tax-collector. He wrote to 
the Treasury instantly, and orders were issued to the col- 
lector to wait. As soon as I returned to my family I 
kept my word with Sir Robert, and paid up all my 

" Now I am in such necessity I cannot pay up my 
arrears and register myself. I have written Charles Wood, 
and told him about Peel, and asked him to help me with 
17/., and I will repay him it 5/. at a time. We shall see. 
This will be a fair specimen, and I'll bet five to one 
Wood refuses. 

" They may say what they like of Peel, he has a good, 
a tender, and a feeUng heart. 

** I4}th. — Hard at work. Wrote the Duke of Devon- 
shire, Lord Morpeth, and Hume for help to pay my taxes. 
Not a sixpence from either, I'll bet. 

" I5tk, — Lord Morpeth helped me." 

At this time, to Haydon's great triumph, Mr. Ewart 
obtained his Select Committee * to inquire into the best 
means of extending a knowledge of the arts and principles 
of design among the people (especially among the manu- 
facturing population) of the country ; and also to inquire 
into the constitution of the Royal Academy, and the ef- 
fects produced by it." Haydon's unceasing eflTorts had no 
little share in producing this result, and the triumph he 
expresses about it is natural. To aid the promoters of 
the inquiry, he wrote letters to the newspapers, and de- 
termined on giving lectures at the London Mechanics' 

Institute, under the auspices of Dr. Birkbeck. 

c 2 




" 18M. — Hard at work, and finished another little pic- 
ture of We are a ruined Nation. 

" SGth. — I leefure at the Mechanics' Institute. It is 
quite an experiment. God support me. I hope I shall 
get through. As to matter I am quite sure ; hut selfr 
possession in face of a multitude is diderent from self- 
possession in a study. 

" 22nd. — Finished Achilles, thanks to God! Began it 
April lat. Painted three weeks on other things. Two 
weeks idling, i. e. not painting, hut not idleness of mind. 

" At half-past nine my dearest Mary presented me with 
a boy. Shall I call the dog B. R. Haydon? 

" 26M. — Began Christ raising the Widow's Son. God 
bless my commencement, progression, and concluding, and 
the same protection and courage to conquer difficulties as 
He has ever granted, and render this picture as well as 
Acbillea beneficial to my dear landlord, Newton, for whom, 
and to pay off whom, they are painted. Amen with all my 

" 29lh. — Such was my necessity last Saturday, I was 
obliged to take down all my drawings in the parlour while 
Mary was actually in labour-pains, and raise money. 
But I shall carry my great object, and, glorious creature, 
she will suffer anything rather than that I should fail. 

" Made another sketch of another conception, and a 
much finer one. I painted it in one continual agony. I 
was threatened with an execution, and expected at eveiy 
knock to see the man enter. Heart-breaking apprehea- 
Bions seized me at intervals of thought, but I got through, 
sometliing constantly saying, 'Work away and trust in 
God.' I did so, and succeeded. 

" Sept. 8th. — Worked hard, and brought on my picture 
to a res ting-point. This evening, at last, I lectured * at 
tho Mechanics' Institute. After all my humiliations, it 
was nt iirst a rather nervous affair. The audience paid 
me keen and intense attention, and ultimately were en- 

♦ This was tliu Eret of the publislied lectures. 




[I vi 

usiastic. One man said my delivery was perfect ; 
[Other, who was deaf, said my delivery was the only 
ing wanting. Dr. Birkbeck said, as we went out. 
You liave got 'em, it is a liit ; ' and I think it was. I 
laid down principles which must reform English art, and 
I had an audience who gloriously comprehended them. 

'' 26M, — The agony of my necessities is really dreadful. 
For this year 1 have principally supported myself by the 
help of my landlord, and by pawning everything of any 
value I have left, until at last it is come to my clothes, a 
thing in all my wants I never did before. I literally to-day 
sent out my dinner suit, which coat lOL, and got 21. 15s. 
on it for to-niglit's necessities. Oh, it is dreadful beyond 
expression ! I could not go to dearest Mary and ask her 
for her little jewelries ; but I am now, if invited to dinner, 
without a dress to dine in. 

" I finished the feet of the widow's son capitally, and if 
can complete the hand left I shall have done the pic- 
ire; but these wants press hard indeed. ' Great is the 
glory, for the strife is hard.' 

" Painted all day, but in great anxiety, 
" SSth. — Lay awake in misery. Threatened on aU 
sides. Feared the dreadful effect on my dear Mary. 
Doubtful whether to apply to the Insolvent Court to 
protect me, or let ruin come. Wrote to Lord Spencer 
id Mr. Harman in a state not to be understood. Im- 
:oved the picture, and not hadng a shilling sent a pair 
my spectacles, and got os. for the day. 
' g9(A.— Sent the tea-urn off the table, and got \0i. 
the day. Shall call my creditors together. In God 

SOth. — My worthy landlord called, and I told him 
ly horrid condition. He behaved well, but was hurt I 
~ not told him before. Painted after be was gone, but 
a harassed state not to be described. To-morrow is 
le meeting : God enlighten them ! I go to sleep some- 
like a culprit in Newgate, who expects to be 
by the execution bell. God protect us! Let 

22 HEMOIRS OF B. K. HAYDON. [l835. 

me get out of debt this time; if ever I get in again 
punish me, 

" October \st. — Harass, threats, harass. Worked hard 
and finished the drapery, 

"2nd. — Harassed. Awoke at two with heated con- 
aciousoess of approaching ruin. Listened if dear Mary was 
ill J all dead, silent. The children expect something, and 
are nervous. The servants lag. What an instinct there 
is in a house. The creditors met last night. Some got 
up in the midst of examining my statements to look 
at my picture of the Widow's Son. A little, fat, worthy 
fellow said, ' Just returned to life ; yes, indeed, beautiful ! ' 
All that came granted me time. 

" 3j-d, — Out all day to see creditors. One at Margate, 
one in Devonshire, and so forth. Came home, tired and 
irritable. By way of a comfort, served witli a writ in the 
evening by a fellow (who would not come to the meeting) 
for books. Hail Sunday — the solace of the dray-horse 
and the debtor. Hail ! 

"5th. — Out with my dear landlord, and quieted two 
important creditors. As a proof of this man's innate 
goodness of heart, he said as we went along, ' 1 hope I 
shall get you through.' Came home and looked at my 
picture in sorrow. Nothing Saturday or Monday. 

" 6M. — Worked hard, and finished the widow's son. 

"7tA. — Out and got another creditor to sign till June, 
1836. Came home exceedingly tired, and fell asleep 
from sheer want of repose, as if my brain was in a stupor. 

"8lh. — Out uselessly — fatigued to death. Looked at 
my picture. 

" 9th. — Worked delieiously, as I was resolved to paint, 
let what would happen. This ruined me in 1823, 

" Painted the mother's head. 

" lOth. — My wedding-day. Worked hard and finished 
the mother. This week ended so far well — nearly all my 
creditors have agreed to my terms, but still there are 
some who harass. Last Saturday I did not expect to get 
through this week; but I trusted, and have done it. m 


** ISth. — Hard at work, and put in a beautiful head of 
dearest Mary. 

" Called on Lord Melbourne and had an hour's inter- 
view. * Is there any prospect, my Lord, of the House of 
Lords being ornamented by painting ? ' * No,' he thun- 
dered out, and began to laugh. * What is the use of 
painting a room of deliberation ? ' * Ah,' said I, Mf I had 
been your tutor at college, you would not have said that.* 
He rubbed his hands again, looking the picture of mis- 
chief, and laughed heartily. I then said, * Let me honour 
your reign.' He swaggered about the room in his grey 
dressing-gown — his ministerial boxes on the table — his 
neck bare — and a fine antique one it was — looking the 
picture of handsome, good-natured mischief. * Suppose,' 
said he, * we employ Calcott.' ' Calcott, my Lord, a 
landscape painter ! ' said L * Come, my Lord, this is too 
bad.' He then sat down, opened his boxes, and began to 
write. I sat dead quiet, and waited till his majesty spoke. 
* What would you choose ? ' * Maintain me £6r the time, 
and settle a small pension to keep me from the work- 
house.' He looked up with real feeling. ' Let me,' said 
I, * in a week bring you one side as I would do it.' He 
consented, and we parted most amicably. God knows 
what will come of it. 

. '* 16th. — Worked very bard, and delightfully. Made a 
sketch of one side of the House of Lords, as I propose to 
adorn it — with a series of subjects to illustrate the prin- 
ciple of the best government to regulate without cramp- 
ing the liberty of man. 

Anarchy - - - Banditti. 

Democracy - - - Banishment of Aristides. 

Despotism - _ - Burning of Rome. 

Revolution - - - La derniSre charette. 

Moral Right - - - Establishment of Jury. 

Limited Monarchy - - King, Lords and Commons. 

" God grant this victory at last. 

** 20th. — Out again — was so miserable at not being 

c 4 



able to paint, I came home and set to work, come what 
would, and left my dear landlord to attend to it. 

" 2lst. — Worked hard and deHghtfully at Christ's head. 
God only knows if successfully. What a condition mine 
is. No prints — no books — all gone as security for loans 
to support my family, l^et ' Go on ' I ever hear, a^ I 
have ever heard for thifty years. God bless me with 
health and vigour of mind to my last gasp. 

" 28th.— On Sunday I sent down by Lord Melbourne's 
desire the sketch of one side of the House of Lords, con- 
taining pictures to illustrate the best government for man. 
He saw it, and seemed more nettled than pleased I had 
proved its feasibility. He objected to the picture of Re- 
volution being taken from the French. He said the 
French Government would think it an insult ; and said 
the subjects ought all to refer to the House of Lords and 
English history. I replied it should be an abstract idea, 
illustrated from the history of the world. After musing 
some time he said, ' It certainly does express what you 
mean, but I will have nothing to do with it.' He then 
went on bantering me, and I replying in the same strain 
— it was an amusing duel. 

" 30(/i. —- God protect us — Amen. Sold some prints, 
which relieved our actual wants, and nearly finished the 
figure, though being so dark it may want supervision. 
I tliink I may say I am beginning to reap at last, in exe- 
cution, those delights I looked forward to when dissecting. 

" God in heaven grant me twenty years more of meri- 
di.„ powers." 

At this time Lord Brougham's Discourse of Natural 
Theology appearing engrossed Haydon; and, as is usually 
the case, when any book deeply irttercsted'^hiiri, he has 
filled many pages of his journal with arguments and re- 
flexions suggested by it, at the end of which he acknow- 
ledges he should have been painting instead of writing 

"Nov, 4(A. — Lord Brougham's book threw my mind 
entirely off its balance for painting, and 1 have uotH 

1835.] REVIEW OP 1836. 25 

touched my brush till to-day, and then very feebly. Such 
speculations always act thus on me. 

** 6th. — Up to this moment I have not actually painted. 
Why ? Harass, anxiety, want of money, loss of time in 
being obliged to trudge about and sell my own prints, at 
fifty years old nearly, and after thirty-one years' intense 
devotion to the art. It is hard ; but God's will be done. 

" Dec. 5th. — Hard at work, and advanced well. An 
Academician said the sun of art had set in this country. 
The silly creature — it has never risen. The first streak 
of the dawn has but just appeared. The morning star is 
still glittering. The comets Reynolds, Hogarth, Wilson, 
Gainsborough, were blazing but irregular lights. We 
have never had the steady effulgence of the sun. 

" 31st. — The last day of 1835. Another last day. On 
reviewing the year, though I have suffered bitter anxie- 
ties, I have cause for the deepest gratitude to my great 
Creator in raising me up such a friend as my dear land- 
lord, who has helped me when the nobility forsook me, as 
usual ; and employed me to paint the Widow's Son and 
Achilles, paying me five guineas weekly, to the amount 
of 100 guineas, and then striking off 400 guineas for each 
from the gross debt. During the whole of that time I have 
not had a single inquiry as to what I was doing, or if I 
wanted anything to do, though they all know my necessi- 
ties, my large family, and my misfortunes. 

"I close this year, 1835, apprehending an execution; 
but I despair not. A star is always shining in my brain, 
which has ever led me on, and ever will. 

" Though the Melbourne Ministry, in imitation of their 
head, have no feeling for art, a feeling is dawning among 
the mechanics and the middle classes. Day has broke, 
however far off may be the meridian sunshine." 

Through all the sore struggle of this year Haydon had 
seen more of fashionable society than at any period since 
that of his early successes. I find constant mention of 
dinners, and routs, and charade-parties. Entered jpSle 
mile Mrith notes of invitation to such gay and pleasant 



parties are urgent appeals for commiasiona to great 
patrons, lawyers' letters, many notes refusing assistance, 
not a few giving it. No wonder that the constant bat- 
tling with necessity had already begun to tell as well on 
Haydon'a mode of working as on his powers. He was 
now painting pictures for bread, — repeating himself, — ■ 
dispatching a work in a few days that in better times he 
wouid have spent months over, — ready to paint small 
things, as great ones would not sell, — fighting misery at 
the point of his brush, and with all his efforts obliged to 
eke out a livelihood by begging and borrowing, in default 
of worse expedients, such as bills and cognovits. In 
short, the net of embarrassment was now drawn closely 
about him, never more to be struggled clear of while he 
lived. A less elastic temperament and a less vigorous 
constitution would have broken down in one year of such 
a fight. Haydon kept it up for ten. One justice must 
be done him ; if he pleaded hard for himself in hia neces- 
sities, he pleaded as passionately for art. 

183G. M 

"January \st. — Prayed God to bless us through the 
year, and went into the city to beg mercy from a lawyer 
till Monday, though I have no more chance of paying 
then than now. To-day I had another sum due. I must 
beg money to-morrow for that. I came home to attend 
to my sick children, relying on the lawyer's honour. So 
has passed the first day of 1836. 

"2nd. — Harass, harass, harass. Fred ill. 

" 5tk. — Dashed in Adoration of Magi. 

" 7lh. — Not fairly begun yet. The canvas came home 
to-day. God bless it, and what I put on it. 

" 8M. — Rubbed in the Magi. God bless me through it. 
Sketched from naked model the figures for the picture. 

•'9ik. — Completed the rubbing-in of the picture, and 
made two sketches of lion and man, and had a kind 
letter from the Duke of Bedford, with 51., — a real bl 

S o I 

ime I 


ing. I took my dress coat out of pawn with it to lecture 
at the Mechanics' Institution. 

" 10/A. — My house in great anxiety, from so much sick- 
ness. I hope the dear baby will not sufler. Marriage entails 
great interruptions, but I think it prevents a man's mind 
eating him up, which is the case in too much solitude. 

" llth. — * Italy is the place for a painter,' said my 
friend. I say, * No.' In Italy everything has been done. 
England is the place for enterprise, where everything is 
to be done. 

" 13th. — Read my second lecture at the Mechanics' 
Institution on the bones, with great applause^ and intro- 
duced the naked figure. 

'^ I told them all if they did not get rid of every feeling 
of indelicacy in seeing the naked form, and did not relish 
its abstract beauty, taste for grand art would never be 
rooted amongst them. This was received with applause, 
and I broke the ice for ever. I always said the middle 
classes were sound, and I am sure of it. I was obliged 
to take my black coat out of pawn to lecture in ; and this 
morning, when all my friends are congratulating me, in 
walks an execution for 50^. I wrote to Lord Melbourne, 
Peel, and Duke of Bedford. Lord Melbourne sent me 
directly a cheque for 70Z. This was kind-hearted. He 
told me I must not think him hard, but decidedly he 
could not repeat it. I concluded my grateful reply by 
telling him that I should think nothing hard but his 
building the House of Lords without pictures — at which 
he laughed heartily I will be bound. 

"24^A. — What a grand style the artists had got into 
their heads the last century. 

Nothing natural was the - - - grand style. 

Bad colour ----- grand style. 

No light and shadow . _ . grand style. 

Clothing a king and beggar alike - grand style. 

Dislocated knees, hip, wrists, and neck grandest style. 

. '' 25th. — My birthday — fifty years old. Settled the 

28 MEMOIRS OP B. R.nATDOir. [l836. 

subject for Newton, Samson and Dalilah, God bless 
nie tbrough it ! Amen. 

" 26fA. — Another execution for 22/. Wrote Lord 
Lansdowne. No answer yet I shall stand it out ; but 
the expenses are horrible. This is always the way after 
any publicity. 

" 30ih. — Rubbed in Cassandra. (Released from exe- 
cution, after a week's agony.) 

" Slsl. — Passed the day in divine peace after the 
torments of the week. Read prayers to the children) and 
wrote my fourth lecture. How will the academic au- 
thorities of art in Europe stare to hear these rebellious 
doctrines promulgated by a simple Englishman in a 
Mechanics' Institute, No. 37. Southampton Buildings, 
Holborn. Why the cocked hats of all the presidents will 
rise up like Mahomet's coffin, and be suspended in horror 
between earth and heaven, uncertain which to fly to for 
refuge and protection. 

" Hail immortal cocked hats! — the last of an illustrious 
race — hail! but carry with you this consolation in 
adversity, — nothing human is stable. Babylon, in all 
her glory, fell. Why should cocked hats escape the sen- 
tence of all things liuman ? 

" February 3rd — 10(7*. — Being a little clear, I began 
to glaze the Widow's Son, drying oil and mastic, half 
and half. 

" IGtk. — The R. A.'s complain I do not go on in 'a 
quiet gentlemanly way.' Exactly so. When I got into 
a prison nothing would have pleased them more than if I 
had died in a ' quiet gentlemanly way.' 

" I9th. — Glazed and completed, but I can look back 
with little satisfaction on the passing of the last two 
months. So much harass, and thinking for lectures, 
though they were triumphantly received. So much ne- 
cessity and pecuniary want are sad occupiers of time. 
However, I trust in God, as 1 have ever done, and hope 
humbly he will have the mercy to permit my two last 
pictures to be sold for my sake, and for the encour- 


agement of my worthy landlordj to go on helping me to 
finish other works. 

" Called at the Duke's to see Cassandra; was not 
pleased. Her head is too small, and that is the fault of 
all the heads : and the foreground kneeling man is too 
large. One gets flattered so in one's own painting-room, 
and thinks so highly of one's immediate efforts — I was 
abashed at seeing so many faults. They shall not occur 

" 24fth. — I dined with Lord Audley last night* He 
gave me two handsome commissions. I trust in God they 
will turn out satisfactorily ; and that He will bless their 
commencement, progression, and conclusion. 

*' March 2nd. — Hard at work. Lord Audley has 
given me a handsome commission — the Black Prince 
thanking Lord James Audley for his valour after the 
battle of Poictiers. This subject will bring me into 
English history, which I have long wished for. 

" 4fth. — In the City, for what the City is only fit for — 
cash — and disappointed. 

" 5th. — In the City for cash, and, the best of the joke 
is, got it. Lord Audley called and sat while I finished 
his second son. Settled the size and everything. Ail 
now afloat, thanks to God ! What I have gone through 
these pages testify ! Let any man of feeling reflect that 
on the loss of a beautiful infant, we were obliged to pawn 
our winter things to bury her, — that when my dear Mary 
was screaming in labour, I rushed into my parlour, took 
down the drawings of my children, and raised 21. on 
them, after my landlord had advanced me 31, — that on 
the night of my most brilliant success, I took my coat out 
of pawn, and had the torture of being obliged to return it 
the next day, with the thunder of public applause ringing 
in my ears. 

" Lord Audley seems quite aware of all, and says he 
hopes his example will be followed by the nobility in 
recording the deeds of their ancestors. 

* Lord Audley was undoubtedly at this time insane. 

30 MEMoiaa op b. b. hatdon. [ib 

" 1th. — Lord Audley dined with us, an old George IV. 's 
man — the lineal descendant of the Lord Jntiiea Audley 
who fought at Poic tiers. He told us all about his 
poverty, of Lord Grey's getting him 300^. from the King's 
privy purse, and his losing it io a cofl'ee-house ; of his 
going to Lord Dudley at twelve at night, and stating his 
misfortunes, and that Lord Dudley went into the next 
room, and wrote a cheque for 1500/. for him. 

" He said George IV., one day when he dined with the 
King in company with Sir E. Home, said ' Audley, I must 
kiss your forehead,' and did so in honour of Poictiers. 

" He drank freely and fell asleep. I could not help 
heing deeply interested at seeing the descendant of Lord 
James Audley dozing by my fire-side. 

" He said, since he gave me that commission, he had 
been advised not to do so, for fear his picture should 
he seized. He told us, ' he despised the scoundrel.' 

"Lord Audley said, 'Money is at your command.' 
He talked of making my daughter presents, but this I 
shall not allow, and if he does anything out of the way in 
point of liberality for me, I will write to his eldest son, 
for I do think he is eccentric. He made me tell him how 
much I owed, and said, ' Would you not like to be cleared?' 
But it is a large sum. 

" He praised my daughter, (who is beautiful), and said, 
' if Bill likes her, and she will marry him, I will give him 
50,000/.* He told stories capitally well, and laughed 
heartily, and then stopped, and laughed, and looked 
serious. His manners were peculiar, and made me 
melancholy. What seemed to dwell on his mind was his 
former poverty. He told me our meeting was provi- 
dential, and that I should never want. He got excessively 
tipsy with little wine. I went for a coach and sent him 
to the New Hummuras. I feared after, I ought to have 
seen him home. 

" Poor Lord Audley, he means to do us a service if not 
persuaded out of it. 

• Mj simplicity in believing ttie vagabond! — B.R. H. 184S. 


" He was very witty, and concluded always his stories 
of the nohility assisting him, by saying, * You know I 
always brought in Poictiers.' 

" lO^A. — Lord Audley called; was highly pleased, and 
left me 85/. He talked no more of Bill and 50,000/. He 
saw my little dear, who said, * Lord Audley is diflFerent 
to-day.' I did not tell her, but the feet was he was sober — 
all the difference. 

" lUA. — Spent the day at the Museum, and read 
Hollinshed, Stowe, and Froissart. Stowe's is the best ac- 
count. Looked into Stothard's beautiful Monumental 
Effigies, and into Meyrick. 

« 19<A. — The private day at Suffolk Street. Sir Robert 
Peel was there in the morning and admired the Achilles* 
He went to the Falstaff, and said to a member, * I don't 
know if this is not his forte.^ Now this was very mis- 
chievous. It is not more my forte than Napoleon, or the 
head of Lazarus. 

" 2Qth. — Read late last night in Stowe's Chronicles and 
hurt my eyes. Sent the children to church, and read 
prayers to myself with the greatest delight. There is 
nothing like piety. 

** Sir Joshua said no man would be a great painter who 
looked to Sunday as a relief. I say he will never be a 
great painter, the development of whose powers will be 
injured by one day in seven devoted to religion. 

" Rubens arose at four, prayed, and entered his paint- 
ing-room. Here was the most daring spirit in the art — 
a man who had only to use his brush as authors use their 
pens, and do little else but write his conceptions on can- 
vas — not venturing to begin for the day till he had prayed 
for blessing on his effi)rts. 

'^ I always used to remark that the idlest students 
worked hardest on a Sunday. Call on them in the week, 
they were never at their studies : call on a Sunday, and 
you were sure to find them buried in all the grubbiness of 
dressing-gown and dirty slippers. 

** 2Ut. — Hard at work and advanced rapidly. Pictures 




tliat used to take me years I do now in months. Those 
which 7WW take me monthsj I hope soon will only take 
ine days. 

" 30(h, — -Lectured at the Mechanics on CorapoBition ; 
tried them on the Academy, and succeeded. The com- 
mittee were in a funk. 

" In the Committee afterwards they said, 'Your enthu- 
siasm carried them on, or they would not have borne it.' 
No. It was their understandings carried them on. They 
have an instinct against oppression. They know I am 
the victim. 

" jipril Gtk. — Lectured at the Mechanics with great 
applause. Hamilton (' ce cker "William Hamilton,' as Ca- 
nova called him) went, and seemed highly gratified. He 
took his son, Captain Hamilton, a fine sailor-like, manly 
fellow. They seemed astonished at my hearty reception 
from the audience. They are of a different race to the 
audiences at the Royal Institution. 

" I2lh. — In the City and succeeded. Curse the crowded, 
stinking, smoky, golden city, with its iron, money -get ting, 
beastly, under-bred snobs ! 

"May 3rd.- — Finished my lecture. 

" 4-t/t. — Delivered it, and concluded the series trium- 
phantly. Frank and dear Mary were there, and when she 
came in with her beautiful face, they gave her a round of 
applause. Ah, would my dear Harry had been present. 
How his magnificent young soul would have expanded !" 

The picture of Xenophon was raffled for on the 9th of 
this mouth and won by the Duke of Bedford. The 
amount of subscriptions was 840/., and the noble winner 
presented the picture to the Russell Institution, Great 
Coram Street, Russell Square, where it now hangs. 
There is great vigour in the work throughout, and parts 
of it, such as the head of the horse in the centre, the 
back of the rider who is carrying his wife, the wounded 
soldier and the female figure, are admirable. But it re- 
presents rather an episode in the march up Mount 
Theches than the discovery of the sea from its summit ; 


and the distribution of the picture is not pleasing ; the 
foreground figures look too large, owing to the want of a 
group in the middle distance to connect them with Xeno- 
phon and his soldiers on the hill-top in the background. 

On the 16th of the same month death took Haydon's 
youngest child, Newton. Passionately attached to his 
children as Haydon was, this blow fell heavily, and left 
him for many days in a melancholy apathy. " That dear, 
innocent quiet angel of a baby haunts my imagination," 
he wi'ites on the 25th. And it should not be forgotten 
that the sorrow came at a time of grievous straits, when 
everything on which money could be raised was often 
pawned for necessaries. The success of the lectures, it is 
true, was some set-off against want and family griefs. 
Haydon was a most effective lecturer. His confident, 
energetic, and earnest manner carried his audience cheer- 
fully along with him. His delivery was distinct and 
animated, and his style better adapted for hearing than 
reading. The two published volumes of lectures will be 
found to contain much the germ of which is to be found 
in the Autobiography and Journals, and their publica- 
tion renders unnecessary more detailed notice of the lec- 
tures themselves in this book. 

The lecturer's power of rapid and vigorous drawing 
also stood him in good stead, and the masterly effect with 
which he dashed down on his black board a figure or a 
limb, or illustrated the leverage of a bone, or the action 
and mechanics of a muscle, always commanded interest 
and applause. Then he was never afraid of his audience ; 
he ruled them, sternly enough sometimes, and never shrunk 
from a reprimand when he thought they deserved it. A 
friend who attended his lectures at Liverpool has described 
to me how once, when he had got up two wrestlers on the 
platform to demonstrate the laws of muscular action in 
the living subject, the audience having laughed at some 
contortion of the pair, Haydon fiercely addressing the 
laughers as ** you fools," checked the merriment, and 



ordered his hearers to observe and admire, with more re- 
spect for God Ahnighty's handiwork. 

Lecturing, which Haydon had now fairly begun, be- 
came before long one of his main resources, and it must 
be added to the other means he took of inculcating his 
views of art and its relations to government and educa- 

" June S\st. — Out on business. Came home. Dashed 
in the composition of the Heroine of Sarragossii. Did 
little to Poictiers. I have had a great deal of money; 
have paid a great deal away ; have none left, and ara 
harassed out of my life." 

" Mr, Ewart's Committee * commenced its sittings in 

• The Committee consistBd of Mr. Ewart (tlmirman), Mr. Morri- 
son, the Lord Advocate, Mr. Pusey, Mr. John Parker, Sir. Wyse, 
Mr. H. T. Hope, Dr. Bowring, Mr. Heathcoate, Mr. Strutt, Mr. Hutt, 
Mr. Brotherton, Mr. Soholefield, Mr. David Lewis, Mr- DavenporL 

It ei^Bmined manufacturers, connoisseurs, pictnre-cleaners anS 
dealers, Royal Academicians and artists. Its report adverted to the 
little encouragement hitherto given to the arts in this country, to the 
close connexion between arts and manufactures, and the want of 
means for instruction in design in our principal seats of manufac- 
turing industrj ; and suggested, in addition to the Normal School 
of Design, which Government had now taken a vote for establishing, 
local schools to be assisted by grants ; the formation of museums 
and galleries of art, and further, the formation of a cheap and acces- 
sible tribunal for tbg, protection of invention in design. 

With respect to Academies, the Committee inclined to the belief 
that the principle of free competition in art will ultimately triumph 
over all artificial institutions, and pointed out strongly the ambiguous 
half public, half private character of the Academy, without directly 
recommending any modification of its constitution. 

With respect to the National Collections, the Committee recom- 
mended the compiling of a catalogue for the use of visitors, the fixing 
on the frames of the pictures tlie names of the school, the master, the 
date of hia birih and death — the purchase of the works of living 
British artists, after they have stood the test of time and criticism — the 
depoait ill the National Gallery of the Cartoons from Hampton Court 
— the admission of practical and professional critics among the person! 
entrusted with the duty of purchasing works for the National Gallery, 
and an improvement in the constitution of commissions for deciding 
on plans of public works, by subjecting them first to the teat of publJo 
criticism, and afterwards to a tribunal consisting of artists in general. 


June, and, as may be supposed, Haydon followed the pro- 
gress of the inquiry with interest. What particularly 
pleased him was to see the Academicians brought to 
public examination. His personal grudge and his views 
of art, education, and patronage had now become too 
completely intertwined in his mind for him to separate, 
or for us to unravel them. His own examination took 
place on the 28th, and the result, he says, was glorious. 
In entering this fact in his Journal he adds, — " When I 
-think that in 1804 I went into the new church in the 
Strand, and on my knees prayed I might be a reformer of 
the art; that often and often I have had those extra- 
ordinary inspirations of ' go on' supematurally whispered; 
and that now I am permitted to see the beginning of the 
end of this imposture, I must believe myself destined for 
a great purpose. I feel it, I ever felt it, I know it." 

'* The result seems to be," (he says a little later,) 
*' that the artists are disposed to compromise and save 
the Academy. 

, ** If they do, they deserve all that may and will happen 
to them again. After thirty years' fighting, the Govern- 
ment have done all they wished ; they have granted a Com- 
mittee ; if the artists have neither talent, skill or disin- 
terestedness enough to make full use of so vast an advantage, 
then let them no more complain, but bend their necks to 
the chain and the padlock, and submit for another seventy 

assisted by persons professionally acquainted with the subject of the 


' In conclusion they submitted, that in the completion of great public 

buildings, the arts of sculpture and painting might be called in for 

th^ embellishment of architecture, and expressed their opinion that 

the contemplation of noble works in fresco and sculpture is worthy 

of the intelligence of a great and civilised nation. 

It will be obvious to all readers of these Memoirs, that many of the 
most important of these recommendations were the very things which 
Haydon had most vehemently urged on Ministers and the public. 
Haydon in his evidence suggested a constituency of artists who had 
exhibited three years, to elect annually twenty- four directors for a 
central school of art in London, in connexion with branch schools in 
the country. 

D 2 




years to the kicks they have so valorously grumbled 
under for seventy years past." 

His learned and genial friend, Mr. Gwilt, whom Haydon 
often applied to for information on the History and An- 
tiquities of Art, (on which he could hardly find a better 
informed or more accessible authority,) furnished him with 
matter for this examination.* 

Haj'don was not satisfied with the results of this in- 

* Here la Mr. Gwilt's useful Bummarj of facts in the lustorj of 
Academies of the Fine Arts. 

The Academy of St. Luke was foumled by Girolamo Muziano, a 
native of Aquafreddo, in the territnrj of Brescia, who was horn in 
1S28, and died in li59D. Gregory XIII. made him supcrinteudant 
of works to his chapel. Maziano endowed it during his life, and at 
his death lefY all his property to it. Muziano was of Titian's school. 
Louis XIY. having, in lG6d, established a French Academy at Rome, 
with a pension for twelve Bcholars of the three arts, induced the 
Academy of St. Luke to let it he hung on to the original foundation. 

Tlie Royal Academy of Arehitectare at Para was, through the inter- 
cession of M. Colbert, founded by Louis SIV. in 1671, and con- 
firmed by Louia XV. in 1717. It was the practice for lectures to he 
delivered conslanlly by the members, who were twenty-six in number. 

The Royal Academy of Painting awl Sculpture at Paria was founded 
in 1648, and confirmed through the interest of Mazaroni in 1633. 
Colbert procured it an endowment. It consisted of a director, chan- 
cellor, four rectors, a treasurer, twelve professors, &c. by whom daily 
lectures were given, and the model set. Frizes were given every 
three months. It sent the most promising students to Bome. 

The Academy of Si. Luke at Venice was the earliest regular Msooi- 
ation for the study of the arts, and was established about \M5, but 
did not take the name of Academy till 1330. ITte Academy " delle 
heUe arli " at Florence, was founded by the Grand Duke, Feter Leo- 
pold in 1784. Fremiums twice a-year, and a grand competition every 
third year. 

2^e Institute at Bologna was originally founded by Euatachio 
Manfredi in 1690, but did not bear its present name till 1714, when 
it was joined by a sort of College bearing that name. 

The Royal Academy of Sciences at Turin was founded about the 
middle of the eighteenth century. Its memoirs first published in 1759. 

The Academy at Padua, end of Ihe eighteenth century. 

TTte Academy of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture at Vienna, la 

Soyal Academy, London, 1768, 


quiry, nor the conduct of the artists examined. He com- 
plains that they showed no comprehension of a general 
principle, but kept driving away at individual grievances, 
till the patience of the Committee was exhausted. He 
was angry, too, that the anti-academic party among his 
brethren did not formally apply to him to be their leader 
and champion. Thus he complains : — 

** The meanness of the behaviour of the artists to me 
is extraordinary. When I attacked the Academy in 1812, 
they all rushed to the Academy as to a father for pro- 
tection from this madman — predicting my death, my ruin, 
my destruction, &c., but finding I have kept my ground, 
that I proposed and have got a Committee, they now hold 
their meetings secretly and privately ; never give me 
notice, fearful of my taking the lead, as I should instantly 
do, which they know. They are absolutely intriguing to 
do all without me, and so get the honour which I have 
so successfully fought for. It is despicable, and just Kke 
them. They have been so cowed by the despotism that 
has ruled them, that they are like the Portuguese, not fit 
for the liberty we want to give them. 

^* In consequence of disappointment from Lord Audley, 
I am without a guinea ; and now, this day, have not a 
coat in my drawer. Shocking ! 

" 15^A. — This day Thou knowest what is to happen. 

God, I ask only for justice and truth to triumph. 

*' I6tk. — Justice, indeed, triumphed. Shee, the Pre- 
sident, was examined. 

" I came down at one, and found Ewart in the chair — 
the room full — Shee sitting in the bitterest agitation. 

1 placed myself right opposite Shee, which seemed to dis- 
turb him. He arose, bowing, and affecting the strongest 
respect for the Committee, begged to know by what au- 
thority he was summoned, as he considered it was only by 
permission of the King he could be there. The chairman 
ordered the committee clerk to read the authority, which 

D 3 


being conclusive, poor Sir Martin was obliged to bow. He 
then entered on a rambling defence, and was repeatedly 
called to order by Ewart, and told to stick to tlie point. 
He accused the evidence of being personal and partial. 
Rennie jumped up and denied it, and was called to order. 
Shee shaking his hand at me across the table, in the most 
extraordinary manner, said, ' That's the respectable man,' 
alluding, of course, to my misfortunes. Honourable Sir 
Martin ! First to drive me into distresses, and then grossly 
to allude to them before a Committee called for the pur- 
pose of inquiring into the effects of institutions. Mr. 
Pusey proposed the Court should be cleared. Shee begged 
the gentlemen round him might stay. The absurdity was 
so great, that leave was granted for all to stay, on the 
understanding ihat no altercation or personalities took 
place. Shee then dwelt on a mere incorrectness of dictiou 
in my evidence which gave a wrong sense, as if it was an 
intentional or gross ignorance of mine. 

" I said the esprit du corps of portrait-painting be- 
came embodied by the Royal Academy, and killed Hussey, 
and embarrassed Hogarth. This reads as if the Royal 
Academy killed Hussey, who died long before it was 
founded, whereas I meant the esprit du corps killed him. 

" It was too gross to suppose I am so ignorant of Hus- 
sey's period ; but Shee chuckled over this, and Phillips, 
Wilkins, Hiltou, and Howard, laughed inwardly with 
a delight at having caught Haydon napping, which was 
pitiable to see. 

" Conscious I bad all three of the Committee of 1809 
in the vice, I smiled, and was dead silent. It was quite a 
scene. Shee went on, reading the diploma, and verbiuging 
away, Ewart repeatedly begging him to be concise. At 
last began his examination. ' Do you think Acade- 
mies beneficial or no?' 'Extremely beneficial.' 'Do 
you think the Academy is conducted with a feeling for 
justice?' 'Certainly.' 'Do you think it justice that 
600 artists should be kept out on varnishing days?' 
' Certainly, This is one of the privileges of the Academy,' 


" So may say Mahomet Ali when he bowstrings a 

" * Do you think forty enough ? ' ' Certainly. I know 
no man of great genius out of the A cademy.' * Do you not 
think Mr. Martin/ &c. ' Certainly, Mr. Martin is most 
respectable,' &c. And so it went on — blind to all 
genuine principle — seeing only the Academy and its 
bounded circle and including all that was great, illustri* 
ous, or immortal within its walls. He seemed like a man 
who was asleep amidst the stirring activity of mind abroad 
in the people. All he saw was the Academy and its 
members. He then again abused me for saying the 
Academy was founded on the basest intrigue, and men- 
tioned Reynolds, Chambers, West, and Paul Sandby, as 
men whose characters were a security, when four more 
intriguing old rascals never lived. Why, the Academy 
obliged Reynolds to resign because he intrigued, they said, 
to get in Bonomi to please Lord Aylesford. Farrington 
was a thorough-bred intriguer. 

" Shee said the Academy as a body had appealed to 
the King about high art, and no answer was returned. 
Mr. Ewart asked him if he knew Waagen's opinion of 
Academies. Shee imprudently said he did no);, and he 
must have higher authority than Mr. Ewart's for his having 
an opinion against the Academy. This was gross. Mr. 
Ewart ordered the committee clerk to give in Waagen's 
evidence, wherein he read to Shee, with gusto, Waagen's 
opinion — that he considered Academies destructive ; that 
Academicians became portion of the State; that it had 
been known that men of medium talent had obtained 
employment and distinction who were Academicians, while 
men who had not, though of the greatest genius, had 
struggled on in poverty and without employment' There 
was I, a living instance, and was not the whole scene a 
scene of retribution? The very men, the very hangers 
- — Shee, Phillips, and Howard — who, twenty-nine years 
ago, used me so infamously in hanging Dentatus in the 
dark, — by which all my prospects were blasted for ever, 

J> 4 

40 UEMOIKB OF B. B. HAYDON. [1636. 

— at which Lord Mulgrave so complained, — were now 
at the bar before me like culprits under examination. 
How Sir George would have relished this t 

" Ah, little did they think in the despotism of their 
power, that I, a poor student at their mercy, would ever 
have the power to do this, — to bring tliem face to face, 

— to have them examined, — ransacked, — questioned, 

— racked. 

" Ah, they are deservedly punished ! 

"July \%th~ — Idle, and lectured at the Milton, a 
delightful theatre — cool. I felt like a lion and read like 

" 19iA, — Attended the Committee; the impression S bee 
had made was decidedly unfavourable to his cause. Sir 
John Paul was examined, and gave very interesting evi- 
dence as to the state of design in manufacture. 

" Sir John alluded to the fact that he had casts of some 
ancient tombs, and that he had given them to stone- 
masons ; and that the people preferred them, and chose 
them for the tombs of their friends. Here Mr. Hope, 
with his peculiar delicate and dry manner, asked_ Sir 
John Paul if the shares in the Cemetery Company were 
not high. He said they were. Sir John was a director. 

"Old Laudseer was examined; but he was prolix and 
flowery. He quoted Shee against himself as to Academies, 
and made some good hits. 

" The Committee will do immense good. Would any 
man believe that Hussey was living in 1774?* And Shee 
is the man to accuse me of ignorance of dates ! 

"20(A. ^Went to the British Museum, and found 
two interesting pamphlets connected with the Royal 
Academy, by which it appears decidedly that the directors 
who were expelled from the chartered body of artists 
became Academicians, and that not being able to carry 
their exclusive intentions in the constituent body, they 
resorted to the scheme of an Academy of forty, securing a 

• The Royal Academy having been founded in I7G8, 



majority of tbeir own way of thinking, that lliey iiiiglit 
enact their exclusive laws. This is indisputable from 
Strong's pamphlet, 1775, and another in the Museum, 
1771) entitled, 'Considerations of the Behaviour of the 
Academicians who were expelled the Chartered Body for 

"Reynolds promised the chartered body, of which he 
was member, not to exhibit with the expelled directors; 
but finding the King protecting them, he broke hia word 
— did exhibit — and was expelled the incorporated body. 
This is not known, nor did I know it till to-day. Tickled 
iy a knighthood, he joined the directors, and this was the 
Dligin of the Royal Academy — ^founded in intrigue, based 
oa injustice, treachery and meanness. 

" Dalton seems to have been a great scoundrel, and he 
was a prime instrument. 

" Reynolds was properly and very severely punished 
after, but the art has suffered ever since. 

" 2ls(. — Shee objects to a constituency on the grounds 
that it would produce all the evils that it did before. 
"What evils ? What were the evils ? These were the 
evils : — Twenty-four directors got in and kept in. The 
constituency complained, and passed a bye-law to make 
eight go out. The Attorney -General, Grey, gave it as 
his opinion that the bye-law was consistent with the 
charter. The directors had promised to abide by the 
opinion of the Attorney -General, and then refused. 
Sixteen of these worthies were voted out, and became 
Academicians, and eight more joined them, and these 
formed the bulk of the Academy ; so that the evils com- 
plained of were not evils proceeding from a constituency, 
but because the laws of that constituency had been vio- 
lated, nierefore, if the people who were conducting 
were improper people, these people founded the Academy, 
and brought all their improprieties into the Academy, and 
ore the origin of the evils which we complain of, and 
which Sir Martin fears would be revived by a constitu- 
f-ncy, though these very evils were produced in spite of a 




constituency and not in consequence of it. So much for 
Sir Martin. 

" Sir Martin knows well that he, and all of his col- 
leagues, are benefiting by the very evils he affects to 
apprehend, for if ihej were improper people who took the 
lead, he is the produce and offspring. 

" S5th. — Finished the fair copy of my first lecture 
and improved it much, but idle from exceeding harass 
about trifles. Lord Audley has completely deceived me 
about his resources; after telling me he was the richest 
peer, it turns out he is the poorest. I fear his honour and 
his character. 

'* 29M. — The artists do not know the origin of this 
Committee. All are claiming the honour. They all de- 
serve to share it — Foggo, Rennie, and all. But the morning 
Lord Melbourne was sitting to me, he had just sent out 
his circular letters about municipal corporations. I said, 
' Why not give us a committee for the Academy ? ' He 
replied, ' you may have one if you like,' and this is the 
real origin. 

" SOlh. — Out the whole day on bitter pecuniary harass, 
and yet all trifles, il. 10*., 8/. 10s., 13/. 4*., 10/., 31. 10s., 
il. 8s., and suffered all my old agonies of torture as to 
probable ruin, interruption of the education of my dear 
children, loss of my property. If I could stick at my 
pictures I would not care, but Lord Audley has played 
me so shabby a trick that 1 fear, unless protected by my 
Great Creator, in whom I trust, the consequence may be 

" These journals testify that whenever I have been 
free, I have flown to my canvas as a relief and a blessing. 
The Mock Election was the fruits of the peace I enjoyed 
in 1827. The Chairing the result of George IV.'s pur- 
chase. In fact, if I had 5001. a-year regularly, never 
would I cease painting, morning, noon, or night, and 
never have a debt. 

" August SOfh. — Awoke at four with a terrific con- 
ception of Quintus Curtius, after a sublime drc, 

1836.] A DREAM: IN STBAITS. 43 

dreamt I was with the Duke of Wellington near the sea. 
I stripped. It was a grand storm. I plunged in, and 
swam as I used in my youth. I saw an enormous wave 
rising, curling and black. Suddenly I found my Mary 
close to me. We were both looking at the sublime wave 
as it rolled towards us ; at last it came quite close. I told 
her to hold tight. She smiled, rosy red. At the instant 
it was overwhelming us, a terrific flash of lightning broke 
from its top, and it roared in by us to the left without 
even wetting us. We saw it stretch in its gurgling 
sweeping glory on the beach, and break harmless. I 
awoke, and the moment consciousness came over me, 
Quintus Curtius darted into my head. This is a true 
description — exactly as I dreamt it — not added to, nor 
taken from. 

" I know a storm is approaching, but I feel I shall 
weather it, under God. Success ! Amen. 

" September 5th. — Worked, but in an agony ; at two I 
had a promise to keep for SL without a farthing ; at four 
for 5L without a halfpenny. I paid away 8Z. on Saturday. 

" I worked on till one. Lunched. Drove away in an 
omnibus, and got till Saturday for the 8/., and put off 
the 5L till Wednesday. I rushed home and worked. 

'* Qth. — Hard at work, and succeeded in the fore- 
shortened figure. At one time of the day my anxieties 
were hideous. I had not a farthing, and taking down 
some valuable Italian books worth five guineas, I sent 
them by my ^ fidus Achates^ and got 7*. In the interval 
I worked away in great torture and succeeded. There is 
a period in working, when the result is not secure, that is 
excruciating. No wealth or honour would relieve or ease 
you. If it turns out successfully in the end, no torture is 
felt, but if you miss it, no happiness is remembered. 

" September 9th, — At breakfast with the dear children. 

. A timid tingle of the bell made us all look anxiously. A 

whisper in the hall, and then the servant entered with, 

* Mr. Smith, sir, wishes to see you.' I went, and was 

taken in execution. After lingering two days at Davis's 




lock-up house, Red Lion Square, on the ISih I was 
moved again to that blessed refuge of the miserable — 
the Bencli. 

" Newton, my landlord, offered to pay mo out. I 
refused, and proceeded to prepare for the Court directly. 
Rather than go out to endure the horror this journal 
gives evidence of, I'd stay here for ever. 

" My landlord took possession, and moved away my 
brushes and grinding-stone. Took the things at 133/. 10*., 
paid the difference, and took the rest for his rent. 

" What a fight it is ! It is wonderful how my health is 
preserved, and my dear Mary's too. But trusting in God 
and doing our utmost to please Him, I have not the least 
doubt of carrying my great object, — a vote for money 
for art, and perhaps I shall then sink without tasting its 

" From 14th to 30th in prison. 

" Read Wraxall's two works with very great interest. 
Relieved my mind much after the harass of lawyers, 
insults of turnkeys, and torture of suspense. My mind 
in a state of blank npatby. O God, in Thee I trust. 

" October Isl. — I heard from Ewart yesterday, and I 
fear the report. The fact is the Whigs arrest the keen 
edge of the seal ping-knife of reform which the people 
have put into their heads. They will hesitate, and be 
content with pricking the corruption which ought to be 
probed, and the humours let out. 

" 10(A. — The last time I was here I fell in with Dr. 
Mack ay, who negotiated the commercial treaty with 
South America for Canning, and as we used to walk about 
by night in the racket- ground, he detailed to me the in- 
teresting particulars. 

" Now I have got acquainted with , a species the 

Continent alone produces, dissolute and impious, unprin- 
cipled and reckless, full of talent and full of diplomacy, 
speaking seven languages — just such a man as Napoleon 
would have seized, and turned to every purpose on earth. 

" He says he was chef d'escadron in the Garde dJi^ 
Corps, and private secretary to the Due d'Angouleme. H 

1836.] IN THE BENCH AGAIN. 45 

" He is evidently possessed of state papers of great im- 
portance — how, he told me in a moment of drunkenness. 
He is evidently connected with, if not first mover of, the 

" He showed me documents which prove he was ac- 
quainted with Fieschi's attempt. He has shown me a 
deed signed most sacredly by three, two Spaniards and 
one Englishman, Richard Sheridan, whereby 5000/. ster- 
ling is guaranteed to the Spaniards for the invention of a 
shell and machine which was to destroy Don Carlos. He 
has also shown me a letter from the Carlton Club, offering 
30002. for some letters he has. 

" I believe it. And does not this prove how cautious 
Ministers should be ? I believe him to have got by the 
means he told me the whole state papers already pub- 
lished in the Portfolio, and what he showed me (affidavits 
about Fieschi) is coming out in the next number. We 
shall see. 

" 24M. — The faces here are horrid ; last night, all of a 
sudden, just after midnight, a roar as of fiends burst out 
from the racket-ground, and awakened me. Good God, 
on a Sunday ! — swearing, fighting, cursing, drinking, 
gambling, and strumpeting! What an offering to the 
Almighty for the blessings of life ! 

<< King's Bench, Oct 26. 1836. 

" Ah, Sir Robert Peel, I told you I was convinced my absurd* 
conduct about the Napoleon had staggered me, and would be 
the seed of future embarrassment, and here I am again, less in 
debt than ever I was in my life, yet, being unable to meet in 
time the balance due, a victim to that cursed law of imprison- 

"When a man touches my property it is just, and I always 
exert my resources to pay the claim, but when he seizes my 
person, I let the law take its course^ and ever will. 

* After naming lOOL as his price for a whole length in answer to 
Sir Robert Peel's inquiry, he felt discontented that more was not paid 
him, and wrote to ask for an additional sum. Sir Robert paid him 
30^., but naturally was annoyed. 




- " I shall begin the world again with no more propHrty left 
after tliirty-two years' struggle than the clothes on my back. 

" I appeal to you if 1 have been idle since my last troubles. 
I have never incurred in all my life a debt of vice, debauchery, 
or extravagance, and I have been brought to earth by a com- 
bination of circumataocea. 1 assure you I calculated on receiving 
more from you. I eould not keep my engagements, and then 
came, as usual, law costs. 

" Since 1830 I have paid, because I could not keep my word, 
303^ 8s. 6d. in pure cash, or rather imiiure. On one debt of 
71. 10s., Ipaid 8/. 10s, costs — the son being the lawyer, who 
acknowledges tbe father shared all costs. So that, first, there 
■was the father's just profit, and then be received 4/. 5s. as hia 
share of the legal spoliation. 

"While I was in confinement in Red Lion Square I saw 
them go by in their carriages, /was the dishonourable, t/iey 
the respectable. 

" In the never closing and inexorable eye of our Maker who 
was the real dishonourable here ? 

" I am, Sir Robert Peel, 

" Your grateful servant, 

" B. R, Haydon." 

" The Eight Hon. Sir Robert Peel, &c. &c. 

" 27 M. — An accomplished Frenchman came to my 
rooms to see my works. ' I have none.' ' Where are 
they?' ' My Solomon is rotting in a carpenter's shop — 
my LazaruH in a kitchen.' ' When I found you were here, 
I thought it was for your pleasure. It is extraordinary. 
Why does not Palmerston do something?' 'He has 
done something.' 

" ' It is wonderful you are here.' ' Not at all. May I 
asV to whom I have the honour of speaking ?' ' Neavare 
mind : Edmund Burke introduced me to Reynolds.' ' Will 
you tall again ?' ' I will. Have you no work to show 
me?' ' Xenophon at the Russell Institution; and read 
the report on art.' * My friend,' said he, ' You will neavare 
make this trading nation love high art.' * My friend,' said 
I, ' I'll try.' ' You will run your head against h wal 


* Perhaps I may knock the wall down.' He lifted up his 
hands and eyes, and looked at me as if looking through 
the devil. 

" ^th, — One evening while I was sitting by myself 
came a knock. I opened the door, and the head turnkey, 
(who is a worthy man, for I have found him feeding the 
poor prisoners from his own table,) after making sundry 
apologies, begged a few minutes' conversation. He sidled 
in and sat down, big with something. • Perhaps, sir,' said 
he, taking out and putting across his knee a blue cotton 
handkerchief, * you would scarcely suppose that from seven 
years old divinity and medicine have been my passions.' 

* Certainly not, Mr. Colwell.' ' Ah, sir, 'tis true, and I 
know, I assure you, much more than most of the doctors 
or parsons. Why, sir, you would little think I always 
cured the cholera. You may wonder, but it is a fact. 
I never lost a case, and in twenty-four hours they were 
as well as ever. I do it all by harbs^ Mr. Haydon, by 
harbs. You are a public man — a man of genius, as they 
say, and perhaps you will laugh at a man like me knowing 
anything. But, sir,' said he, looking peculiarly sagacious, 
and half knowing, yet trembling lest I should quiz, * I 
gather ray plants under the planets — aye, and it is won- 
derful the cures I perform. Why there is Lord Wynford, 
he is as bent as an old oak, and if he'd listen to me I'd 
make him as straight as a poplar.' * No, Mr. Colwell!' 

* I would though,' he said in a loud voice, reassured on 
finding I did not laugh. 

" By this time he had got courage. He assured me 
that he was blessed in a wife who believed in him, and 
that he had cured her often and often, and here his 
weather-beaten face quivered. ' Ah, Mr. Colwell,' said I, 

* your wife is a good, motherly woman. It's a comfort to 
me to see her face among the others here.' Colwell got 
solemn — assured me he had out-argued Taylor, the 
atheist, before the people; that he had undoubted evi- 
dence Joseph of Arimathea landed at Glastonbury, for 
at that time the sea came all up to the abbey, and what 




was to liinder him ? And,' said he, ' Mr. Haydon, would 
you believe it?' — drawing his chair closer, and wiping his 
mouth with his blue handkerchief, which he spread over 
his short thighs, that poked out, as it were, from under 
his belly, — ' would you believe it, I can prove Abraham 
was circumcised the very day before Sodom and Gomorrah 
were burnt!' 

" ' Will you take a glass of wine, Mr. Colwell?' I re- 
plied. Colwell had no objection, and smacking his lips as 
he rose, said he would look in again, and bring me some 
books which would tell me all ; but now he must go to 14 
in 10 to give the gentleman his chum ticket. I attended 
my guest to my little entrance, and he wished me good 
night, looking an inch taller, perfectly convinced he had 
made an impression, and would certainly have a convert. 

" When he came in he seemed labouring with deep 
thoughts, and he left me as if relieved, and as if he had 
done his duty. He was the first man I saw in 1833 
when I paid my fees. The hideous look of his dark 
globular eyes, one of them awrj', like Irving's, gave me a 
horror. Ho looked a perfect Schidone; but I have 
caught him in perpetual acts of benevolence, where ha 
little thought any eye would find him out. 

" There is not a worthier heart, and never was a rougher 
case for it. Strange to find such sensibilities in a gaol. 

" SOtk, — My dearest love came in nervous dejection, 
and left me to-day affected like herself. This is one of 
those occasional variations in the feelings of those who 
love with all their hearts. 

" November 2nd. — Did not do much, but thought 
deeply. The quiet I have enjoyed here has done my 
brain great good. 

" November Wth. — A poor gentleman, called Phillips, 
a writer to the signet, a prisoner in consequence of Lord 

's irregularity, as much as I am from Lord Audley's, 

dropped dead in his room last night. He had a mild, 
benevolent countenance, and was detained by a rich man 
from mere vindictiveness. 

1330.] SCENES IS THE BE^fCH. 49 

" It might have been thought that such an awful event 
would have stopped the levity of the vicious and thought- 
less: not it. Gambling, swearing, and drinking went on 
as usual, and last night, wheu I was musing (like Byron 
after the assassination of the Austrian commander) on life 
and death, the bloods and blackguards of the place were 
singing duets outside my doors at midnight. 

" A prison is a perfect world compressed into a narrow 

" ' In the midst of life we are in death.' 

" 12(A, — Read Byron's Life by Moore. To-day was 
the last day for opposition, and when the books closed at 
four there was none. God be thanked; and God of his 
mercy restore me to my glorious pursuit, and my dearest 
Mary and children before the week is out — with deep 
gratitude for the unexpected mercies to my dear family 
and myself during my imprisonment. 

" I4M. — Lord came in prisoner, and brought a 

beautiful boy with him. There he was in the coffee- 
l|ouse, sinless and innocent, watching his papa smoking 
and sipping h ran dy-and- water, up at eleven o'clock, when 
the dear ought to have been sleeping in bed. I watched 
him with the feehngs of a father. That child will have 
his horror of a gaol weakened for ever. Yet there was 
something interesting in seeing a fine young man keeping 
his dear boy close to him. He would have him sleep by 
his side. There was something peculiarly innocent in the 
look of the boy with his white collar. 

t" On Saturday, an old man dies and is opened : on 
Monday comes in the son of a nohle Lord with his in- 
nocent boy. 
L " 16iA. — The English are base-minded, where money 
■ wanted or rank concerned. Tliey reverence rank from 
■e belief that wealth is the consequence of it. But 
Wien they have evidence wealth is wanting, away goes at 
once all respect for my Lord. 

" Last night. Lord set all the prisoners agape. 

Ine must go out of his room, for my Lord wanted three 




beds ; another was appKed to for one thing, a third for 
another. This morning the bill was presented as usual, 
for all bills are paid here daily. His Lordship looked 
astonished, said a bill was a nuisance, and as soon as his 
friend came again he would leave 5/. with the landlord, 
and when it was out he must tell him. 

" The evidence that my Lord had no money was pal- 
pable, and immediately my Lord fell 50 per cent. 

" 17lh.—~I went up to Court to-day, and was treated 
with the greatest humanity. Commissioner Law seemed 
by his face to have the greatest sympathy. He looked 
feeling all over. He never asked me a single question, 
and the whole Court hastened my discharge with the 
rapidity of lightning. 

" I trust in God this will be the last time I shall ever 
need such protection again. 

" IStk. — Returned once more to my dear home. I 
opened the Bible, which I found on the chimney-piece, 
and at once came to that wonderful blessuig and cursing 
in tho 28th chapter of Deuteronomy. 

*' 20M.— Went to church, and returned thanks with all 
my heart and all my soul for the great mercies of God to 
me and my family during my imprisonment. 

" 2}st. — Routed out all my plaster figures, to have the 
room cleaned, which has not been done for two years. 
Hope to be ready by to-morrow night. Wrote Law, and 
thanked him for his sympathy and firmness. 

" SSnd. — Got all ready in the plaster-room. Now for 
the painting-room. 

" S3rd. — Cleared out and re-arranged my desert room. 

" 24(A. — My landlord returned my brushes and grind- 
ing-atone. Picked up a second-hand carpet to cover ihe 
room. Ordered a canvas, and sent half the money for it 
to Brown, a worthy fellow, who abused me to my man for 
not settling 4-1. 1 5s. {the last balance). Fitz quieted 
liim, and he promised canvas Saturday night. Poor 
Brown, he shall have his money as soon as I begin to get 
on. Brown and I have been connected for thirty yew^H 


and have had about forty regular quarrels. He is sulky 
and coarse, I am violent and unflinching. It ends by his 
trying to smile through the sulkiness of his honest face. 

*' 28th* — Did a great deal of preparatory business. 
Paid off a scoundrel of a lawyer. 

" 29th, — Set my palette to-day, the first time these 

* The following advertisement refers to his affairs at the time of 
this imprisonment. 

^' Mr. Haydon begs leave to inform his creditors, that, out of the 
1220/. Qs, Qd. correctly stated as the amount of debt incurred since 
1830, 550L must be deducted as renewed liabilities from before 
1830, and, again, 84/. 14». 6d, must be further deducted for the ficti- 
tious debt of law cost: the real balance is thus brought to 586/. 148, 6 J., 
all of which could have been cleared off in another year, as Mr. Hay- 
don had paid off more than that sum during the previous year. It has 
been a matter of astonishment to Mr. Haydon why he should never 
have been persecuted with law from eighteen years of age to thirty- 
four, a period of greater struggle than any since, and he attributes it 
to a suspicion among London tradesmen that he saved and secured a 
large sum of money from the great receipts of his Entry into Jerusa- 
lem. There never was a more absurd belief — the receipts were nearly 
3000/., the expenses of the exhibition were llOO/. ; the picture had 
taken six years, and the painter was supported through it entirely by 
loans ; the balance of receipts was paid away, and did not liquidate 
one-half of them. Mr. Haydon has been told this idea got abroad ; 
there is certainly no other way of accounting for that immediate rush 
of law cost which has brought him four times to the earth, for the first 
proceeding took place at this time. Mr. Hajdon incurred 

From 1820 to 1823, law costs - £377 
From 1823 to 1830, ditto * 450 

From 1830 to 1836, ditto - 303 8 6 

Altogether £1130 8 6 
(An actual independence.) 

*' London tradesmen are generous men if they think they are not 
imposed on. Mr. Haydon appeals to them if they consider it was a 
reasonable way of enabling him to earn the means of paying his debts 
to suddenly lock him up, and keep him useless to himself and 
family for ten weeks, and all for a debt of 30/. 1 5s. 6d, ? after, too, he 
bad paid all of 947/. received this year, but 4«. 6d., the actual sum he 
possessed in the world when arrested. Mr. Haydon is now beginning 
the world again after thirty-two years of struggle, but he does not 
despair of doing all he ought, if treated in future with more common 
«ense and common discretion.** 

s 2 




eleven weeks and three days. I relished tlieoil; could 
have tasted the colour ; rubbed my cheeks with the 
brushes, and kissed the palette. Ah! Could I be let 
loose in the House of Lords ! 

" I hope to return to my pursuits under the blessing 
of my Creator, My conscience will never be clear till I 
have paid all I owe, for though the law protects me, the 
debts are still debts of honour." 

During the beginning of December, he was working 
at the heroine of Saragossa and Falstaff reproving Prince 
Hal, for Mr. Hope. 

I insert the following letter, because I think it 
really throws light on the writer's character. It should 
be remembered, in reading it, that it was addressed by 
Haydon to his landlord, W. Newton, from whom he was 
in the constant receipt of singular kindnesses, who for- 
bore to press him for heavy arrears of rent, who waa 
always ready to advance him money in his worst emer- 
gencies, and who was not to be provoked into harshness 
even by this letter. Nay, he did not even jump at this 
notice to quit ! 

But tlie letter appears to me to be one which could 
not have come from a man with the views usually preva- 
lent about money obligations. Such a tone taken by a 
debtor to his creditor indicates altogether pecuhar notions 
of these relations, and explains to me many passages in 
Haydon's life into which money transactions entered. 

I certainly do not suppose that such a letter was ever 
written by a singularly irregular tenant to a most rarely 
indulgent landlord. 

" London, Stst December, 1896. 
" My dear Newton, 
" Mary came home last night with the usual quantity of 
gossip and scandal, of which you possess so abundant a fund. 

" It seems it is who has told you that falsehood of my 

having given six lectures at the Milton and received 20 
guineas, whereas I only gave three lectures and received 10 
guineas, 10?, of which I brought you next day, explaining I 


had only received half, though given to understand it would be 
all — which 10/. I borrowed of you again, 51. at a time. 

^^ And this is the way to excuse your own abominable cruelty 
in doing your best to add to the weight of degradation and 
misery I have suffered by insinuating to my wife these abo- 
minable lies. 

'^ I am ashamed to use so gross a word, but your forget-i 
fulness, your confusion of memory, your jumbling one thing 
with another, your making me write notes when harassed with 
want, which I forgot to reclaim, and then your bringing them 
forward again when it suits your -convenience, provoke me 
to it. 

" Don't talk to me of your affec^n. Pooh ! To let a friend 
come out of prison after ten weeks locking up— degraded in 
character — calumniated and tortured in mind — to let him come 
to what had hitherto been the solace of all his distresses (his 
painting-room) stripped of all that rendered it delightful, and 
stripped, too, under the smiling pretences of friendship, and 
under the most solemn assurances that everything would be 
returned, and then, on the very morning I came home, when 
one would have thought all beastly feelings of interest would 
have been buried in the pleasure of welcoming me back, at 
such a moment to break your word, and to add to my forlorn 
wretchedness, by refusing to keep it, is a disgrace to your heart 
and understanding, and will be even after you are dead, as well 
as while you are living. Had I known the extent of what you 
had been guilty of, I would have scorned to receive the balance 
of Sampson. It was only when I came home I saw what you 
had done. 

" However, Mrs. Haydon says, if I will only say you shall 
not be a loser, the pictures and sketches shall come back directly. 
I told you so in prison, and still tell you so now. You know 
that : but your delight is the delight of the tiger over his prey, 
not to kill at once, but to play with your victim. I tell you 
again you shall not be a loser. Now keep your word with Mrs. 
Haydon, and send back the things. I did not intend to say a 
word more, but as this proposition to Mrs. Haydon is not un- 
reasonable, to oblige her, I say you shall not be a loser. 

*^ Put this among your collection and bind them up. Now 
you have made a step, and I have made a step. TU be frf^nk; a 
threat is always the last refuge of a coward. I do not threaten, 
•—but if the things (pictures and sketches) .are not all in my 

s 3 




painting-room by Friday niglif, (I allude only to those you 
took away with the last books you returned,} wilhout any aspe- 
rity, or any ungrateful impertinence, or any wish to wound a 
kind-hearted (at bottom) old friend, hut solely on the principle 
of justice to myself and family, with a wish still to retain our 
affection, on Saturday I shall be guilty of the violence to my 
1 heart of giving you notice to quit, according to the terms 


r lease, at Mid: 

" Mr. Ne^on." 

next, but as soon as possible before, 
" I am, dear Newton, 
" Tours truly and affectionately, 

" E. E. Haydon." 

The kind Newton, (though he made show of sending a, 
notice on his part,) did not accept this notice to quit. 
Ha sends two notes in answer, written not with ink but 
with very milk of human kindness. Was ever reminder 
more gently conveyed, passion more effectually disarmed, or 
undeserved reproach more completely turned back upon 
the reproacher, than by these short replies ? 

" Dear Haydon, 
" I shall send the pictures and sketches to you to-day, if pos- 

" Mrs. Haydon spoke of the sketch of the Widow's Son as 
though it had been received with the last things brought away. 
I referred to your note that came with it, and others, to assure 
Mrs. Haydon hoiv it came into my possession, and the only con- 
venience your note can be of to me is to bring them forward to 
rectify any misunderstanding. This, and your promissory notes 
(stamped and unstamped) being unpleasant truths, I suppose 
you call scandal : of them I have an abundant fund. 

" I will write you about the lease. 

" Tours truly, 

" W. F. Newton." 
" 22d Deeemlier, 1836. 

" Dear Haydon, 

" The old fashion compliments of the season, A merry Christ- 
mas and a happy new year and many of them is my sincere 
wish to you and yours, and I hope you are as free froai ill-will 
to any one as I am. 


'^ I have yet to learn what act of mine is considered an insult 
to yourself, but as I am certain I am incapable of offering one, 
I give myself little trouble about it. 

'^ Thanks for your good wishes, and the ticket for the lectures, 
of which I have omitted to acknowledge the receipt. 

" Yours truly, 

" W. F. Newton.'' 

" December 22nd. — Called on "Wilkie after a long ab- 
sence. He seemed much annoyed at my saying in my 
evidence, that he had been frightened at being seen with 
me in the streets after my attack on the Academy, I told 
him it was true, which he did not deny, because it was. 
We had breakfasted on a Sunday with Seguier after the 
attack, and on coming out he said, * It will not be right 
to be seen with you,' and he went away. I explained to 
him^ that I mentioned the fact to illustrate the condition 
of abjectness to which English art had been reduced by 
such a man as he being terrified by my attack. 

" The fact is, he is sore, for since the appearance of my 
evidence he has been quizzed. 

" He was occupied with several interesting subjects- — 
Sir David Baird finding Tippoo, Mary Queen of Scots' 
escape. Cotter's Saturday Night, and an English Bridal 
Morning — all of which he is as fit for as his footman. 
What a pity it is he has left the style for which he is 
eminently qualified. He seemed bitterly to lament my 
attacks on the Academy. He said, * Ah, you would have 
been an old Academician years ago, had all your pictures 
well hung, and there would have been no disputes.' Poor 
dear Wilkie ! 

" I asked him about his knighthood. He said the King 
said to him, * Is your name David ? ' * Yes, your Ma- 
jesty.' * Are you sure it is not Saul ? ' said the King. 
This was very well. 

** Wilkie described his feelings after like a child. We 
had a very interesting conversation. In the middle of all 
sorts of groans at my rebel apostacy suddenly he would 
say, of something in his picture, in the exact tone of 

B 4 

56 MEMonia op b. a hatdon. [isss. 

former days, ' Haydon, I think that oug^ht to be dark.' I 
then would put up my finger, as we used to do, and say, 
' Certainly it wants deepening.' Then at it we would go 
again, and I would say, 'You want blue — as a bit of 
relief.' 'Ah, but wouldn't that destroy candle-light?' 
' No, it would add.' I then told him I was painting Sara- 
gossa, and wanted Spanish dresses. He rang the bell, and 
got me all I wanted. To show the villany of print-aellera, 
— he had never seen the heroine of Saragossa, though 
she was advertised as having sat to him for his picture of 
the same subject. 

" I reproached Wilkie with his utter neglect of me in 
my misfortunes, bis never calling to see me in prison, or 
to cbat with or console my wife. These are unpardonable 
things, but aresult of the same timidity of character. I said, 
in allusion to something, 'Would you bear this?' 'Of 
course,' said he. ' Why,' said I, ' what a deal you must 
bear.' ' To be sure,' said Wilkie. He then lamented I 
had not consulted him before attacking the Academy — 
bitterly — as if he would have stopped me. 

" We parted good friends as ever, and I was much in- 
terested. In his art he is certainly gone back — in colour 
he is yellow and heavy, and Frenchy in his life works. 

" He seemed croaking as to the little prospect of public 
encouragement. But as I know the King approved of 
designs in the House of Lords, I shrewdly suspect master 
David has an eye that way. 

"33rd,24-tfi. — Lectured last night with the greatest 
applause. Was heartily welcomed. My dear landlord 
and I will separate, I fear. Nettled at my perseverance 
in resenting his insult, he has given me notice to quit*, 
which I shall do ; for I had become a slave to his caprice, 
from suifering myself to become too dependent on his 
assistance. I shall feel his want, and he is the last man I 
shall ever allow myself to be attached to. 

" Poor Newton ! I shall miss your kind heart and 

1886.] END OP 1836 AND EEVIBW OP THE TEAE. 57 

honest face. He never would have acted. so if his friends 
had not become jealous. 

'' Dec. 31st — The last day of 1836. A year of bitter 
sorrow— great promise— great mercy— shocking disap- 
pointment — but a glorious victory. 

** I have lost more time in this year than in any before 
during my life from eighteen years old. I began several 
pictures, and have finished none. I have never had so 
many unfinished pictures at once in all my life, 

" In all my troubles I have had reason to be deeply 
grateful. My children are improved and good. My 
eldest boy has undoubted and high genius, and my dear 
Mary is spared to me in health and happiness. In fact I 
can't be low-spirited. I can't complain. I have a ten- 
dency to feel my heart warm towards my good Creator 
under all circumstances, and think life a blessing, even in 
a prison.'* 


There was little in this year of Haydon*s history to call 
for particular remark, if it be not the unusual absence of 
money cares and embarrassments. This was owing to his 
lectures, the delivery of which in London, Liverpool, 
Manchester, Birmingham, Leeds, Hull, and other of our 
large towns, brought him in the means of supporting his 
family, while it gratified his strong craving for personal 
display, and for assertion of his views about art. 

As I have said before, these lectures have been pub- 
lished ; and any elaborate account of them would be out 
of place here. The published ones are twelve in number, 
on the state and prospects of British art, on the skeleton, 
on the muscles, on the standard figure of the Greeks, on 
composition, on colour, on invention in art, on Fuseli, on 
Wilkie, on the effect of societies of literature and art on 
public taste, on a competent tribunal in art, on fresco 
painting, on the Elgin marbles, on the theory of the 

In the course of his lecturings Haydon gained many 


acquaintances and Mends. His strong enthusiasms and 
his passionate and picturesque expression of them had 
commanded attention at all times of his life, and now drew 
ahout him many of the more ardent natures in each town. 
It was thus that he obtained this year at Liverpool, through 
the recommendation of his friend Lowndes, a commission 
to paint a picture of Christ blessing little Children, for 
the church of the Blind Asylum. 

" January 2nd, — Spent yesterday at Hamilton's. Read 
a lecture to-night to some society at 16. Tower Street — 
to my infinite amusement at the intense attention paid to 
me by a set of dirty-faced journeymen, and two servant 
girls. I had promised a young attorney to do so, and 
kept my word. It is extraordinary to think of. 

" When I really made a good hit, I saw all the room 
nodding. It was an eating-house till six, when the 
master (a member) cleared out for a lecture, and lent it 
for nothing. The company filled the boxes, and I was 
placed at the head on two or three boards. 

" 1 was shown up into a library where was a likeness 
of Tom Paine. I saw I was in a scrape. If that had 
been the room, I would have insisted that the fiend should 
be taken down, or I would have left the room. This 
comes of promising young attornies, to soften costs, with- 
out inquiring character. 

" 3rd, 4;A, and 5Ck. — Finished my tenth lecture. To- 
morrow I read it. 

" 6th. — Delivered it with great applause. 

" Met Ewart yesterday in the streets. He told me all 
was going wrong with the School of Design. Poulett 
Thomson had made the Council exclusively academical. 
Chantrey took the lead, and had utterly ruined it. To- 
day I called on Rennie and had all the particulars. 

" The Council has resolved, first, that the figure shall 
not he the basis of the education ; secondly, that every 
student who enters the School of Design shall be obliged 
to sign a declaration not to practise either as historical 
painter, portrait painter, or landscape painter ! 


" 10th. — In very great irritation about this perversion 
of the School of Design, and was going to give Chantrey a 
thorough dressing. But now comes the question. Shall I 
do good ? Will it be right for me to stop, or ought I to 
go on ? If a blow be struck, their proceedings will be 
checked at the beginning. If not checked they'll take 
root. Burke said to Barry, * You will find the same con- 
tests in London and in Paris, and if they have the same 
effect on your temper, they will have the same effect on 
your interests.' 

" It keeps one in such continual hot water. I complain 
that writing my lectures hurts my pictorial mind, and I 
really would give the world never to be disturbed again, 
but to keep myself in tranquillity and peace, pursuing 
my delightful art. 

" 11 ^A. — Worked slightly, but advanced. Wrote Lord 
Melbourne, telling him the whole conduct of Poulett 

*' lifth. — Saw Poulett Thomson to-day. I told him 
that I had heard that a resolution had been passed that 
no student of the School of Design would be admitted 
unless he signed a declaration that he would not practise 
history, portrait, or landscape. He denied it, and said, 

* Who has been telling you these stories ? ' * But has it 
been passed ? ' No reply. I told him I had heard it was 
resolved that the study of the figure was not necessary. 

* And is it,' he said, * to fellows who design screens ? ' 
My God ! what would Aristotle have said to this, after 
declaring the study of design increases the perceptions of 
beauty ? I did not say * You ought to know it is,' as he 

" I then burst out and told him the figure was the 
basis of all design, of which he seemed totally incredulous. 
He said he would consult Eastlake and Cockerell. I 
told him Eastlake and Cockerell were good men and true, 
but timid. I told him he had selected Chantrey, the 
greatest bust-maker on earth, but the most incompetent 
person to judge of principles of art. He had no inven- 





tion, no knowledge of principles; and I understood that 
when Mr. Bellenden Ker said, ' We must first settle the 
principle of the thing,' he said, ' As to principle, I have 
heen thirty years in the art, and have never got hold of a 
principle yet' 

" ' It is very improper,' said Thomson, ' for gentlemen 
to talk thus to you of the Council.' ' I tell you,' said I, 
' no gentlemen has talked to me : I have seen none.' 

" I said, ' Is it consistent with the principles of Lord 
Melbourne's Government to make a Council wholly aca- 
demical ? ' 'I selected the beat artists, — Calcott is the 
best landscape-painter, and Chantrey, surely, at the head 
of his profession.' ' No, he is not,' I replied. ' Who is 
higher ? ' ' Surely Westmacott has done more poetical 
things than CJiantrey, and so has Bailey ; and why are 
not Martin and Rennie on the Council ? ' ' What pre- 
tensions has Rennie ? ' * He does the naked, and is a 
judge of what is necessary for a school of design.' ' Why 
is he against tlie Academy ? ' * On principle.' 'But he 
has no subject of complaint.' ' That is the very reason 
his opinion is valuable, because his objections are on the 
broad principles of things.' 

" ' Depend on it, if the 6gure be not the basis of in- 
struction, it will all end in smoke. The Government will 
be disgusted, and it will be given up.' I said, ' I have 
no ultimate object, I have no wish. There are delicacies 
connected with my misfortunes that make me shy of in- 
truding J but I do think that if you put only Academi- 
cians on the Council, you will become their tool,' Wa 
then parted. 

" I startled, worrited, and plagued him. He flattered 
me, but it would not do; I stuck to my point. 

" He, like all Whigs, seemed inchned to soften and oil, 
in order that they might keep their places. 

" nth. — I made a clear statement to Poulett Thom- 
son, proving that the figure was the basis ; that the same 
principle regulated the milk-jug and the heroic limb ; that 
the ellipsis was the basis of Greek art, and the cirdi 


of the Roman ; that if the figure was not the basis, the 
Government money would be thrown away, and the public 
disappointed. He returned my statements with his com- 
pliments. I'll state the same thing on Saturday to the 
Mechanics, and we shall see. I offered Thomson my 
Lecture * On a Competent Tribunal and the Taste of the 
Upper Classes,* but he did not take the hint, 

*M8M. — Went to the Bench to-day, and saw 's 

brother, who is a complete character, afiecting the diplo- 
matist : he has always ' a letter to write,' and ^ Palmerston 
is a man that must not be hurried.' The facts are, he is 
in debt ; can't pay it ; asserts the Governnlent owes him 
a great deal, and pretends it will pay him. I said to him, 
' I hope you'll soon be at work and with your family.' 
* Yes; said he, with an air of supreme mystery, ' I dare 
say it will be settled this session.' I had a great mind to 
say, * Does it precede the reform of the Lords ? ' I was 
amazingly struck at the squalidness of the place after 
being at home and at work in comfort. It was shocking, 
yet I did not think so when there. After being long 
there, they seem to suffer bitter necessity ; after a certain 
time prisoners are forgotten ; poor fellows, they looked 
like moulting birds. 

** Poor Lord Audley is dead. He was more the dupe 
of villains than a villain himself. He died of apoplexy on 
the i4th inst. I should think the late exposure must 
have shaken him much. 

**20th. — Lectured at the Mechanics — extempore, and 
with complete success. The audience seemed amazingly 
impressed with the description of the eagle in Prome- 

"25^A.— This is my birthday— bom 17S6— fifty-one 
years old to-day. At eighteen I surveyed my state of 
mind for the first time in my life, and have never ceased 
doing so every year since. 

" I find now my judgment matured. A conviction at 
last has arrived that the Deity cannot eradicate evil, and 
that the mortal can only make a compromise with it. 


But this is no reason it should not be opposed or checked ; 
resisted or turned aside, if possible. 

" I find after thirty-tliree years' struggle the state of 
art certainly with a better prospect — the Academy com- 
pletely exposed — the people getting more enlightened — 
a School of Design begun ; — and 1 more than hope the 
House of Lords will be adorned with pictures. 

" God! spare my intellect — my eyes — ray health — 
my life, to see that accomplished; to see my devotion— 
my sincerity — my perseverance rewarded and acknow- 
ledged; to see my honour proved by the payment of my 
debts, and my dear family established in virtue and credit, 
and 1 will yield my breath with cheering. Amen, with all 
my soul. 

"February 15ih. — "Worked hard. At the Mechanics' 
Institute last night to instruct a class. I thought they 
would have smothered me, they crowded round so with 
their drawings; the horrors I have suffered come across 
my mind, when a blaze of anticipated glory swells my 
soul, just as it did when I began Solomon, at twenty-six 
years old, without a guinea. 

" Dear Hamilton called, and seemed much pleased." 

In April this year Haydon visited Edinburgh, where 
he lectured with great success, and received from the 
directors of the Edinburgh Philosophical Association the 
honour of a public dinner on the 22nd of that month. 

The following entries in the journal refer to this visit. 

" April Gth. — I left town in the Clarence steamer. 
Had a furious gale off Flamborough Head ; saw many a 
dandy's dignity prostrated by sickness ; was sick myself, 
but contrived to keep it secret, and was amazingly im- 
pressed by the black and foaming wave — the watery and 
lowering sky — the screaming gulls, and creaking rigging 
. — while the persevering energy of the steam -paddles, 
which nothing stopped, gave me a tremendous idea of the 
power of science contending, as it were, with defying 
contempt, against Che elements of God. 

" The gale lulled about noon, and by sunset we were- 

1837.] IN EDINBURGH. 63 

clear, and making way in style. The old piper came on 
deck, ready to strike up at the first sight of Scotland. 
We just got a view of the Cheviot Hills as the sun 
gleamed out, and up screeched the piper, as if all the 
devils of Hades were trying to sing through their noses, 
while squeezing them with their fingers and thumbs— 
and yet the sound, was original and poetical. 

" I had not been in Edinburgh for seventeen years. 
The town was much altered and improved — Sir Walter 
and many Mends were dead- aU grown older-some 
scattered by disease, and others distressed by poverty. 
Such is life, or rather, such is the road that leads to death. 

" I began my lectures on the 20th, and was very suc-^ 
pessful. I brought forward a naked model, and was 
received with enthusiasm. I have got more hold of the 
upper classes, because they are concentrated here ; and I 
think I have had a very great effect. 

** 13th. — Went to Holyrood, and bargained with the 
housekeeper to let me come back by candle-light, and see, 
and walk up the very staircase which Ruthven and Darnley 
stole up on the night of the murder of Rizzio. It is 
extraordinary this desire to feel a grand and new sen- 

" I5th. — Lectured, and the audience endorsed with 
applause my attack on the Academy, which was severe, 
I brought them to this last assault by degrees. 

" 16th, — Breakfasted with Mr. and Mrs. Ireland, a 
friend of Campbell's (the poet), who knew him in his boy- 
hood — spoke highly of him, and said he supported two 
sisters. He (Campbell) feared he had driven his only son 
mad by too eager desire to advance him — very likely. 
Men of genius are bad teachers — too quick, too eager, 
and too violent, if not comprehended." 

From Scotland Haydon proceeded by sea to Liverpool, 
and thence to Leicester, where he lectured to crowded 
and enthusiastic audiences. 

On these occasions Haydon rushed about with his usual 
impetuosity^ The characters he met, the objects of 

64 MEMOIBB OF B. B. HATDON, [l83r. 

antiquity or historical interest he saw, the manufactories 
ha visited, are always referred to in the journals, and he 
never quitted a place without leaving a strong impression 
behind him. His lectures seem to have been uniformly 
successful, though the fierceness of his attacks on the 
Academy, as might be expected, were not always ap- 
proved, while the tone of his criticism of contemporary 
painters was often complained of as unduly depreciatory. 

After lecturing at Leicester, he returned to town, and 
thence, on the 16th of May, proceeded to Manchester, of 
which he says on the 26th :^ 

*' I find Manchester in a dreadful condition as to art. 
No school of design, The young men drawing without 
instruction. A fine anatomical figure shut up in a box ; 
the housekeeper obliged to hunt for the key. I'll give it 
to them before I go. 

" Before I came up I was threatened with vengeance if 
I alluded to the Academy. I began the first lecture. No 
hisses, I proceeded last night and got applause." 

In Manchester he not only lectured, but agitated for 
the establishment of a School of Design, which was 
founded the year after. 

" June 1st — 5ih. — Lecturing till I am sick. I am not 
happy in Manchester. The associations of tliese hideous 
mill-prisons for children destroy my enjoyment in society. 
The people are quite insensible to it ; but how they can go 
on as they do, in all their luxurious enjoyments, with those 
huge factories overhanging them, is most extraordinary. 

" \7ik, \8tk, — This was imagination. I have since ex- 
amined large factories — 2,000 in one room, and found the 
children heallliy and strong, and the room well aired and 

The month of July he spent quietly at Broadstairs with 
his family, principally for the benefit of his wife's health, 
which was now much shaken. 

" J^uly Gth. — -Not being able to pay up my rales in the 
approaching struggle, and keep my love here too, I wrote 
the Duke of Sutherland, and stated the case. Directly, 


like a fine fellow as he is, he took two more shares in my 
Saragossa^ which will enable me to do it. Huzza ! *' 

This year her present Majesty came to the throne. 
Haydon applied, unsuccessfully, as might have been ex- 
pected, for the appointment of her historical painter. It 
is amusing to see his affected struggles and doubts, after 
he had taken this step. 

" July 9^A. — Felt degraded in my own estimation in 
condescending to ask the Duchess of Sutherland to inter- 
fere with the Queen to appoint me her historical painter, 
with an income like West. If I succeed, what will become 
of my liberty ? I do it for dear Mary's sake, as her health 
is feeble, and any more shocks would endanger her life. 

** If the Queen were to say, * Will he promise to cease 
assaulting the Academy ? ' I would reply, * If Her 
Majesty would offer me the alternative of the block, or to 
cease assaulting, I would choose the block.' Nmis verrons. 
Nothing will come of it, and secretly I hope nothing may. 
I have not played my cards well with the Duchess and 
the Queen. I had a fine moment which I did not press. 

" Went up at one — Sunday — with 800 people. Paid 
my rates and taxes before nine on Monday, and was at 
Broadstairs at seven the same evening. 

" The utter recklessness of the Sabbath by the people 
on board was dreadful — ^betting, drinking, smoking. 

'^ I was known on board, and addressed ; when they 
knew who I was they began to be profound, which was 
interesting, considering they were half drunk." 

On his return to town at the end of July, Haydon got 
a large canvas on his easel, and began a picture on the 
subject of the Maid of .Saragossa cheering on the besieged 
in an attack. Wilkie lent him his Spanish costumes for the 
picture (the subject of which he had himself painted before 
this), but he could not set to work very cheerfully, for his 
resources were well nigh exhausted. Lecturing furnished 
just enough to keep the wolf from the door, and, as we 
have seen, it was only by the kindness of his staunch 
friend the Duke of Sutherland in taking two shares in 

VOL. Ill, P 

66 MEM0IE8 OP B. R. HATBOW. T'S^''. 

this picture tliat lie had been enabled to pay his rates and 
taxes the month before. 

" August 6th. — Called on Hamilton. He seems de- 
sirous I should leave London if I can get advantageous 
offers. Never. I say, as Johnson says, ' Give me the 
full tide of human life at Charing Cross.' 

" 7th. — Made an oil study for my heroine. She must 
be a Spanish beauty, After all my success this year I 
have returned to my winter studies with only three 
sovereigns left, Oue my wife got to-day for the house, 
and thus I started the heroine's head with 2L Is. 6d, 

" This is always tlie way. If the Queen would but 
grant me a pension — something to rest upon — I should 
feel a security of escaping the workhouse. Now I do not. 
I am nearly fifty-two, I can hardly last eighteen years 
more, with all I have gone through. 

" In composition, telling a story, form and expression, 
I know myself equal to the great men. But in individual 
painting of heads I am vastly inferior. 

" This I have yet to accomplish, and accomplish it I 
will by God's bleasiug. 

" 9th. — Never disregard what your enemies say. They 
may be severe, they may be prejudiced, they may be 
determined to see only in one direction, but still in that 
direction they see clearly. Tbey do not speak all the 
truth, but they generally speak the truth from one point 
of view, as far as that goes : attend to them, 

*' Tliey sneer at my success in lecturing, and say, ' it is 
a pity he does not paint more.' Of course it is a great 
pity, considering my deficiencies. That is a sneer I can 
and will profit by, 

" lOM. — Mr. Meek, former secretary to Lord Keith, 
passed the evening with us, and amused us. He went to 
Napoleon with Lord Keith when it was announced to him 
he was to go to Si, Helena. He said Napoleon kept 
them standing. His face had a dead marble look, but 
became interesting when speaking. He said it was true 


a man came from London to summon Napoleon to a trial, 
and chased Lord Keith all day. 

** He said when Napoleon came on board, he kept 
asking everybody whether they were going to St. Helena. 

'* 17 th. — Studied the whole morning at the British 
Gallery — Guercino hung between Titian and Tinto- 
retto. It was curious and interesting to study why Guer- 
cino was not so high as Titian or Tintoretto. Guercino 
was of the second crop of Italian genius. He is in- 
trusive, hard, vulgar, and gross. Nothing could exceed 
Titian's Philip II. It was perfect in drawing, colour, 
and execution ; just real enough, without being hard ; 
just execution enough to save it from high finish, and 
colour enough to prevent its being dull. Nature — nature 
itself. The ground on which he stands might have been 
a little lighter to advantage, but if it have not got darker, 
Titian thought otherwise. 

*' 30th, — In the city to raise money to pay my dear 
Frank's schooling. I succeeded, returned fagged, and 
to work on Mr. Hope's Falstaff and Prince Hal. 

" Thus ends August. Seventeen and a half days I have 
worked. Saragossa settled. Now what shall I proceed 
to finish ? Poictiers or Saragossa ? " 

During this month Haydon was writing letters in the 
Spectator, addressed to Lord John Russell, commenting 
on the evidence given before Mr. Ewart's Committee, 
with especial reference to that of the President of the 
Academy. It appears to me unnecessary to refer more 
particularly to these letters, for they contain little but 
amplifications of topics of attack with which the readers 
of these memoirs must be already familiar, and much 
of the reasoning, even if sound then, has ceased to 
be applicable to the Academy now. Besides there in- 
trudes in all Haydon's attacks a personality so bitter as 
almost to neutralise the truths they contain, and his 
quarrel with Sir Martin A. Shee has now lost such in- 
terest as it may have had at the time. 

In September Haydon had the great gratification of 

F 9 


receiving from the committee of the Asylum for the 
Bliud at Liverpool a commission for a picture on the 
subject of Christ blessing little Children, for 400 guineas, 
as a companion to Hilton's picture already in the cliuich 
of the Asylum. The offer came in a letter from Mr. 
Lowndes, a munificent patron of the arts in Liverpool, and 
it was mainly owing, no doubt, to his exertions and those 
of Mr. Winstanley, that the commission was offered. 

" September I2th, \3th, — Let me survey. I came home 
with my family from Eroadstairs, July 3Ist. In August I 
got 10/. 10s. from the Duke of Devonshire for a share in 
Saragossa, and that is all professional receipts for six 
weeks t Since then I have received a commission for 400 
guineas, but the above is all I have actually received to this 

" The interval between my employments — as I have a 
family that must be fed and educated — generally produces 
debts, and that produces embarrassment. 

" I had to pay 121. 10s. for my boy, and borrowed it at 
Ss. in the pound for two months. I borrowed 51. more 
to that 10/. ; so that I have incurred a debt of 32/. 10s. 
before I begin my commission, and this again is a nucleus 
formed for future embarrassment. Half the month is 
gone. Falstaff is done. The sketch for Liverpool done. 
Saragossa quite ready to do, and Poictiers nearly done. 1 
am waiting for another reply, and then I fly to my canvas." 

On the 23rd the Liverpool picture was begun {with the 
usual prayer for a blessing on it), and on tbe 5th of 
October he visited Liverpool to determine tbe place it 
should occupy in the church, and to see Hilton's work, 
to which it was to serve as companion. He sa3's of 
Hilton's picture that it is " broad, though chilly in colour, 
but a good picture and creditable to his talent." 

Before the end of October the composition of the 
picture was settled.* 

• I regret that in a recent visit to Liverpool (in 1852) I waa nn- 
BuccesBful in ray attempt to Bee tbe pictures, aa tbey were, for tha 
time, rolled up and put away in conaequence of the damp of tl 
new cturcb, where they should be hung. — Ed. 


Haydon was now busy with his Liverpool commission, 
and preparing for a fresh round of the great northern 
manufacturing towns, where he never failed to find warm 
friends and applauding audiences. He took occasion in 
these tours, wherever he could, to urge the formation of 
Schools of Design; and such a school was founded at 
Manchester in this year. Probably no previous attempts 
of Hay don's to disseminate an interest in art were so 
useful or successful as these lectures, and what connected 
itself with them, or followed from them. Most of his 
efibrts in this way, hitherto, had flowed too directly from 
his feud with the Academy, or were too much mixed 
up with his own quarrels, distresses, and disasters, for the 
truths of art which they asserted ever to have full effect. 
But in several of his lectures he got rid of such dis- 
turbing elements, and when he did, his views were sound 
and ennobling. But ** self " with him always so distorted 
judgments and estimates as to provoke in many readers 
and hearers opposition or indifference to the best and 
truest things he could say or write about his art. 

** October 29th.* — Began this day this new journal. 
What after so many years are the prospects of art and the 
country ? The art has decidedly advanced in public 
opinion. Amongst the upper classes the feeling for it has 
decreased. The Court and the nobility are just in the 
same state of infantine passion for portrait, and by 
portrait, and by portrait alone, will any man make his 
way to high places here. 

** SOth. — Worked hard, and at the head of Christ, 
which is the best I have done, in promise. When I 
remember the anxiety about the head of Christ in Jeru- 
salem in the art and in fashionable life, and reflect on the 
utter apathy now, it is shocking. 

" 31st. — Last day, and a very bustling, idle month I 

* The Twenty-second volume of the Journals opens at this date 
with the motto, from Ecclesiastes, xxiii. 24. ^' Fear not to be strong, 
in the Lord that He may confirm you : cleave unto Him, for the Lord 
Almighty is God alone, and beside Him there is no other Saviour.** 

F 3 

70 MEMOIRS OF B. B. HATDON. [l837. 

have passed. I have lectured with great success, aud to 
overwhelming audiences ; especiaJly on Friday, when I had 
two of the Bluesj — wonderful men, — the one a Theseus, 
the other a Gladiator, and they were received con furore. 

" November ith. — Met Rogers in the park. People are 
beginning to peep about, and heave in sight for the season. 
I told him I had just been to the Duke of Sutherland's 
to see De la Roche's picture of Strafford. I said it was a 
fine work, but still a French work. In looking round at the 
Murillos, the difference of what was and whatis raises inter- 
esting questions. There is no life in French pictures. 
The basis of all French art is the theatre and the lay-figure. 
The flesh is smooth and bloodless. Rogers touched me 
in the side and said, ' Give us something better of the 
same sort — you could.' I went to the Velasquez after- 
wards. It was a ripe peach after currier's leather. The 
Duke has given a high price. It is large, and yet such is 
the perversity that, like Thomas Hope, he objects to my 
painting large. Thomas Hope objected to my doing So- 
lomon the size of life, and yet gave a French painter at 
the very same time 800 guineas for Damocles, full size. 

" I ask any impartial person if my Solomon, Jerusalem, 
and Lazarus, are not greater works than De la Roche has 
ever done. Yet where are they all ? Solomon in a 
hayloft, Lazarus in a bazaar, and Jerusalem out of the 

*' 5lh Sat for my portrait-bust to Park. Sent ray 

children to church, but did not read prayers to myself, 
which is wicked and ungrateful. The reason is, I am in 
no danger pecuniarily — feel no want of God's protection, 
and forget his past mercies. This shows what human 
gratitude is, 

" 9tk. — This day the Queen (who will never forgive 
me for sending her a ticket of admission to the raffle of 
Xenophon) goes to dine in the city. The day has opened, 
as all such days do, in nubibus. When Napoleon ap- 
peared the day always brightened, and I sincerely hope 
her young feehngs will not have the chill a bad day always 


gives. God bless her ! As the Committee won't let me 
into the hall, my dignity won't let me stand in the streets, 
so I shall finish my drapery, which looks gloriously this 

" God protect the dear little Queen through all the 
perils of fog and feasting^ and bring her home safely, and 
make her reign over us long and lasting. 

** I4fth. — Lord Egremont is dead, a great loss to all, 
especially artists. He was an extraordinary man, — 
manly, straight-forward, tender-hearted, a noble patron, 
an attached friend, and an affectionate and indulgent 
parent. His great pleasure was in sharing with the highest 
and humblest the advantages and luxuries of his vast 
income. The very animals at Petworth seemed happier 
than in any other spot on earth, :— better fed, and their 
dumbness and helpless dependance on man more humanely 
felt for. He was one of those left of the old school who 
considered a great artist as fit society for any man, how- 
ever high his rank, and at his table, as at Sir George 
Beaumont's, Lord Mulgrave's, or Sir Robert Peel's, 
painter and sculptor, poet and minister and soldier, all 
were as equals. 

" I9th. — At Hamilton's till four. He had been to 
Drayton and saw Napoleon in the dining-room. Sir 
Robert broached the subject about the charge after din- 
ner : Lord de Grey and others present. He said I could 
not expect to keep my friends if I raised my charges in 
that way. This was not fair, as Hamilton said ; he got 
the picture for 100 guineas owing to a mistake. I told 
him it ought at least to have been 200/., and after all the 
fair price was 300/." 

With this explanation it has a very different air. 

" 20th. — Saw the Queen pass the gallery to the Lords. 
Her appearance was singular. Her large eye, open 
nostril, closed mouth, small form, grave demeanour, and 
intellectual look, surrounded by nobles, ministers, ambas- 
sadors, peeresses, statesmen and guards, had something 
awful and peculiar. 

F 4 

72 MEMOIRS OP B. B. HATDOW. [1838. 

" Sl2nd. — At the British Museum all day, writing 
hard for my history of art. 

" SSrd. — At the British Museum again. Copied 
materials for my history," 

And then follow many pages of a summary history of 
art, which need not detain us here, and which occupied 
him to the close of the month. 

In December of this year his pictures of the Black 
Prince and the Lord Audley at Poictiers, and of Falstaff 
and Prince Hal, were sent to the exhibition of the Edin- 
burgh Society of Artists, 


" January HSlh. — Manchester. Up to this very day 
I have neglected my journal. I left town, and arrived 
here after a rapid journey by train from Birmingham, and 
was received with the same enthusiasm as before. To-day 
is my birth-day, when I complete my fifty-second year. 
A meeting took place in the committee room of the Me- 
chanics, to consider the propriety of founding a School 
of Design. I read my proposition, which was received 
with cheers— Mr. James Frazer in the chair. Mr, Hey- 
wood was present. Some one wished an elementary school 
to be added before beginning the figure, but I urged the 
necessity of uniting the artist and the mechanic, as in 
Greece and Italy, and I think I impressed the audience. 
Finaliy an active committee was formed to take the 
matter into consideration, preparatory to calling a public 
meeting. This I consider the first serious move. Thanks 
were voted me, and inwardly I thank God I have lived 
to see this day.* 

" 28lh. — Dined out with a very fine fellow — Darby- 

• It is in favour of the souncJnesa of Hnydon'a viewa as to Schools 
of Design that this very Manchealer school, after Bome years' lan- 
guishins under a Bjstem the opposite to that here indicated, has lately 
seeu and acknowiadged the necessity of coming to Haydon's printljile. 

1838,] AT MANCHESTER. 73 

shire, and Heywood (banker), Fairbairn (engineer), and 
others, with some nice women, one with a fine head, who 
sat opposite me at table. We talked of the School of 
Design. Heywood said, ' It was astonishing how it would 
get on if men had shares bearing interest, — not but what,' 
he added, * I prefer donations.' This was a regular hint 
for starting a * School of Design Company,* and after all, 
perhaps, this must be the way in England. We shall see. 
Bankers are shrewd ones. Liked Fairbairn much — a 
good iron steam-engine head. To see his expression 
when they talked of * Ernest Maltravers ' made me in- 
wardly rejoice. * I cannot get through novels,' said he. 
It showed his good sense. He has risen from a foundry 
labourer to be master of as great a manufactory as any in 

the world. 

" 29th. — Got a Celsus, and was struck more strongly 

than ever with the evidence of the dissection of the Greeks. 
It was lent me by a young surgeon in the house. He re- 
fers to the Greeks about the diaphragm, which the Greeks 
call Sta<l)payfjLa — <l>piy/Ma is * a fence.' How came they to 
call it so, but from internal examination ? 

" Lectured at Royal Institution and Mechanics. Au- 
diences stuffed. Laid the subject of a School of Design 
before them. Enthusiastically received. Committee met 
to-day. All goes right. Monied men must not be bullied. 
Great effort to keep the mechanics temperate. 

" February 3rd. — Dined at Fairbairn's, after passing 
the morning at his vast engine works. Boilers for 400 
horse power engines — iron melting by fire that would 
have astonished the devils — roaring like thunder — dark 
with brightness, red with heat, and liquid like lava. We 
had a pleasant party, but the conversation in all country 
towns is on domestic politics. On any broad question they 
get spitish, and you see the aim is to rival another esta- 
blishment, or mortify a political opponent. Turner, the 
surgeon, Frazer, the connoisseur, and Darbyshire, the 
attorney, see things broadly. 

^^ 5th. — Left Manchester yesterday, Sunday, and ar- 




rived here (Leeds) at five. After tlie spirit of London 
and Manchester, Leeds seems stupid. Noun verrons. 

" 6tk. — Lectured last night. They seem High Church 
and bigoted. I was asked after if I meant to attack the 
Church, because I said the Reformation had ruined high 
art, Hamilton has given me a letter to Theodore Hook's 
relative, Dr. Hook, 

" \Oth. — Dined with Mr. BankeSj and had a very pleasant 
evening. Spent the morning with Miss Bankes in look- 
ing over her collection of shells, according to La Marque. 
I gained immense knowledge, as I went through every 
species from the earliest formation to the last. The 
people here think her cracked. How evident is the cause 
of learned people being thought magicians in an earlier 
state of society. 

" I8th, — Left Leeds, where Ihave met a kind reception 
and great enthusiasm, for Manchester. Attended to-day 
the first considerable meeting for a School of Design, 
There was a decent muster, and everybody sincere. I 
seconded the last resolution, and the debate concluded, 
I then ran to the train, and was at Birmingham in fout 
hours and a half. On Tuesday, 20th, I went to Tam- 
worth, and thence to Drayton, having found Sir Robert 
Peel's servant waiting to conduct mo. My Napoleon 
looked admirably. Sir Robert had placed it in the centre 
of his drawing-room, in the place of honour. Lawrence's 
Lady Peel looked really exquisite as far as bead and neck. 
The Teniers and V^dyke were beautiful. The old 
masters ground their colours purer than modern men. All 
the modern pictures looked coarse and gritty. The house 
is splendidly comfortable, and a noble consequence of in- 
tegrity and trade. 

" 21st. — Set off for town, where I arrived after being 
thirteen hours outside, and after having accomplished all 
I left town to do — the establishment of a School of Design 
at Manchester, and the excitement of the people. If God 
spares my life, I will raise such a commotion about the 


Court that shall make it ashamed of its miniature trash and 
patronage. It is quite disgraceful. 

" 26th, 27th, 28th. — Did business to get clear for de- 
voting myself for finishing Christ Blessing little Children* 
Called in at the School of Design, Somerset House. My 
Heavens — what a scene ! Eight or nine poor boys draw- 
ing paltry patterns — no figures — no beautiful forms. 

" March I8th. — Went to church, but prosperity, though 
it makes me grateful, does not cause me such perpetual 
religious musings as adversity. When on a precipice 
where nothing but God's protection can save me, then I 
delight in religious hope, but I am sorry to say my am- 
bition ever dwindles, unless kept alive by risk of ruin. 
My piety is never so intense as when in a prison, and my 
gratitude never so much alive as when I have just escaped 
from one. 

" 22nd. — Out the whole day. Lectured in the even- 
ing on the School of Design. Wyse and Ewart were 
present. Wyse made a capital speech, carrying out my 
principles, the principles of my early enthusiasm. It was 
a complete victory, and now it will get into the House 
effectually. They both said I stirred up the people in the 
country. It was curious to find Elmes, my old friend, 
the editor of the Annals, Vice-president after so many 
years. God grant us victory. 

" 25th. — My picture is well advanced, and I have been 
blessed throughout so far. God bless me to the end. 
This last year a good deal of money has passed through 
my hands, out of which I cannot save, — my boys are so 
expensive. If I think what is to become of me in my old 
age, something whispers me, ' Trust in God, as usual.' " 

An agitation was about this time started for a monu- 
ment to Nelson. Hay don took a deep interest in the pro* 
posal, and contributed a design to the competition, which 
resulted in the selection of the Trafalgar Square column 
and statue. 

Haydon's original design was a Greek temple, with a 
simple statue of Nelson in the cella, and on the walls^ 

76 MEMOIRS OF B. R. HATDOS". [l83B. 

pictures of foiir of the most remarkable incidents in his 

1. The receiving the sword of the Spanish officers on 
qnarter-deck of the San Josef. 

2. The explosion of L'Orient at the battle of the Nile. 

3. His signing of the letter to the Crown Prince at the 
bombardment of Copenhagen, 

4. The death at Trafalgar. 

This design be communicated on the 9tli of April to 
Sir George Cockburn in a letter, but did not then pro- 
pose apparently to enter regularly into the competition. 

" March 1 1/A. — Out the whole day. Spent two hours 
at Sir Robert Peel's, Studied the magnificent Silenus. 
Good God, what a scale ! Studied the Chapeau de Paille 
— model of painting hands and head — bosom not beauti- 
ful — hat badly put on. Miss Peel was with her French 
governess — a beautiful, domestic and interesting girl. 
She came out into the gallery and received me most kindly, 
so that I hope Sir Robert and I will be reconciled. I 
pursued wrong under the impression of right, and he op- 
posed me, convinced he was right." When I found 
amongst my papers indisputable evidence of my feel- 
ings at the time, which proved I was wrong, I told him so 
at once. I could do no more, and he seems to tliink so, 

" Lady Peel's portrait with her bonnet was very sweet, 
but bordering on manner. Yet it was fender, and suited 
the nature of Lawrence : whenever Lawrence painted the 
Duchess of Sutherland or Lady Peel, he seemed to forget 
all his coquettish expressions." 

By an accident, the committee of his Liverpool em- 
ployers delayed a remittance, and at once the old diffi- 
culties recommenced. 

" 16M. — Advanced by finishing last week, everything 
now being settled, but the Liverpool committee not 
keeping their engagement with me, I begin to be harassed. 

• In alius 

1 the difference touclijng the price of the Napoleon 

1838.] DIFFICULTIES. 77 

They promised me my 50/. on the 8th. I promised land- 
lord and collector of rates and taxes. I have broken my 
word with all of them. I feel lowered again, and after 
ten months of prosperity, I begin to feel the usual bless- 
ings of devoting one's self to a large picture on contin- 
gencies. I raised 51. on my prints. To-day I have got 
9s. in my pocket, and out go my anatomical studies for 
the wants of the week. 

" 18th. — Heard yesterday from Liverpool, but no cash. 
This is careless, and unlike men of business. The con- 
sequence was, I sent out my dinner suit to-day for 
II. lOs. The Manchester men told me that the Liverpool 
people were all show, and at Leeds Dr. Hook said, * we 
give a Liverpool man ten years.' Nous verrons. Hard at 
work, and finished the leg?, but not satisfied. After lunch 
I got into an omnibus and drove down to the National 
Gallery, and studied Corregio's, Rubens's and Reynolds's 
children. Of the three Rubens's were best, Corregio's 
beautiful too. I came back like a lion, kept down the 
off leg, softened both, and greatly improved them. The 
day has been one of real ecstasy. I had a beautiful baby 
in the morning. Studied glorious works, and succeeded. 
Laus deo. Now, if the 50/. comes, I defy mortality. 

** Really, looking at Reynolds, I thought the head of 
the Infant Jesus as finely painted as anything in the 
world, but on coming to him again from Titian and Cor- 
regio, the material was too apparent. But for manly 
breadth, nothing could be finer. 

" Those three ladies,, too *, are exquisite. He was a 
great man, and I think Reynolds, Hogarth, Wilson, 
Gainsborough and Wilkie keep ground. The English 
school will rise, now they are fairly hung. 

«* 26th. — Lectured last night with great success, going 
into the whole Academy question. It was considered I had 
proved my position. Took out my great coat to go to the 

* Eeynolds's Graces. 




lecture, I sent it back again by my old Fidus Achates 
for I9s. this morning, to furnish us for the day. 
■ " 28//i. — Avjourd'kui jai regu cent guinees sterling, 
hier au soir actuellement sans quatre schellings ! Telle est 
ma vie : unjour au sommet, pendant le jour suivant au bout 
He besoin et misSre .' 

" Grace d Dieu pour sa honle de ce matin. Half past 
one. Was there ever any thing like it? This moment 
J'ai requ de Liverpool Fautre 501. Cent cinquante cinq 
livres dans unjour, apres la plus grande necessite ! Grace 

" All this can be traced to human causes. The trea- 
surer was ill and forgot me. He returned and sent the 
money. It was inclosed by post. In the meanwhile a 
young lady wislied to be a pupil. I dine there, the father 
makes me an oifer. I propose another. He accepts and 
appoints. Because the treasurer was ill, because he came 
back, because he sent the money, because it was put in 
the post, because the train met with no accident, because 
the postman did not break his neck, was not a thief, be- 
cause my servant went to the door when he knocked, and 
because I went into the city for similar progressive reasons, 
I got 100/. first, and the 50/. came after." 

But now came a heavy blow — the death of his second 
step-son, Simon Hyman, by the bite of a serpent in 
Madras Roads, thus announced to him by the lad's 

" Htr MajcBtj'H sloop Wolf; 
" Trincomalee, December 3tEt, 1837. 
" My dear air, 

"I regret much indeed the painful task I am about to tak^ 
. — the communication to you of the melancholy demise of your 
son S. Hjman, wiiich took place in consequence of the bite of 
a reptile on board Her Majesty's brig Algerine, at anchor in. 
Madras Roads, when a sea serpent came on board, having been 
hooked by a marine. The late Mr. S. Hyman took it in hia 
hand, and the animal, when irritated, seized hold of his hand 
over the metacarpal bone of the forefinger, and held the doubled- 
np skin firmly between hia jaws until he was forced to let go 
his hold. This occurred at 7 30 a. m. Mr. Hyman held the 


occurrence lightly, went down to his hreakfast, and soon after 
felt some uneasiness in his throat, which quickly began to swell ; 
the patient fell giddy, not long after insensible, and died ex- 
actly at 10 30 A. M., three hours after the accident. A few 
exceedingly small punctures were seen where the animal bit 
the hand. Soon after death the throat was discoloured, the 
body spotted, which in a few hours became offensive, and it 
was found necessary to bury it at 4 p. m. the same evening. 
There were two medical men, who did all they could, and eM 
that was possible on the occasion, but so very rapid and deadly 
was the poison that no good arose from any remedies, and 
the first hour was necessarily lost by the patient himself treat- 
ing the thing lightly, and as of no material consequence. 

" The snake was preserved, and examined by Mr. Bland, 
surgeon of Her Majesty's sloop Wolf, under my command, 
and found to be six feet six inches in length, general colour 
yellow, with forty-three black rings nearly equidistant. Its 
thickness about six inches near the vent^ from which the tail 
projected vertically, flat or compressed. Upper jaw two rows 
of small teeth^ the inner row indented in the intermaxillary 
bones like the common adder, but no fang teeth could be de- 
tected, nor could it be seen whether the snake had hollow or 
tubed teeth from want of a powerful lens. Under jaw had one 
row of teeth, many broken, and worn from age. In the above 
account I have given you every information in my power (at 
present). And as for his effects (according to his verbal wish) 
they are strictly kept, and will be sent to you. His clothes 
(naval) may come in for his brother, as my poor unfortunate 
shipwrecked brother's did for me. 

" In concluding this melancholy detail, I beg, my dear sir, to 
acquaint you that your late son-in-law was very much re- 
spected, and in fact beloved by all. He bid fair for a fine 
officer, and there exists no doubt, had he survived the me- 
lancholy catastrophe, he would have done honour to the British 
navy. We who knew him shall ever feel most deeply im- 
pressed at the loss, and his memory will ever be much respected 
by all. 

" Wishing you will be in time reconciled to the will of one 

who calls the best first to his presence, 

" I remain, my dear sir, 

" Yours much concerned, 

Edward Stanley." 


80 MEMOTW of B. K. HATDOIT. [l83B. 

" ilfoy \3th. — Read prayers, and passed the day in 
doing nothing but moving about, then looking at my 
pictures and studying effect. It is extraordinary the 
indisposition of children for church. Surely I had no 
such indisposition. I remember going to prayers, and 
listening to Gandy with absolute pleasure. I remember 
^Iwajs listening to his sublime reading of the Litany with 
delight. Not one of my children has the least of it. 
They in reality hate going to public worship. Frank says 
he hates to pray with a parcel of fools who come to be 
looked at, Frederic says he likes it, all but the sermon, 
and my little girl says she goes to please me. Thus it is. 
If I read prayers and a Blair's sermon they all join, because 
they know they are released iu an hour, but Church is 
always matter of discontent. 

" SOlh. — My poor Hynian haunts us all. His death 
is afflicting, dreadfully so. To be hurried to the grave in 
full health and spirits in three hours. Poor fellow ! He 
never lived to receive his mother's and sister's letters. 
Thank God he got mine, and his last breath, as it were, 
was a blessing on me. I loved him hke my own boy. 

" 2I*(. — Hard at work and finished the other band. 
Now for the back figure, and then, huzza for the con- 
clusion ! 

" I think I am less satisfied now than ever with mj 
own efforts. Surely I must be on the eve of some grand 
attempt. I am dying for daring fore shortenings and 
desperate actions. 

" 22tid. — Dreadfully anxious and hard at work. I 
rubbed out and rubbed in endlessly, but feeling the 
benefit of admitting all classes while the work is in pro- 
gress, and all classes having pronounced judgment on the 
muscular beggar, I took him out, after engaging a horse- 
guard, and sending for a female model, put in a sweet 
girl looking over an infant. This kept up the feeling, 
and this morning QiSd) I see it will do ; so I shall finish 
it, and this is an immense anxiety eased. 

" 2ith, — Put in the head of a young girl. It is a 




great improvement. My dear Mary stiil continues very 

L^w about poor Hjnian. 

I *' 25th. — Studied tbe effect, and lectured. Ewart pro- 

P posed a petition to bring up the Cartoona to be presented 
by Wyse. Success to it. 

" 27 iA. — Walited and looked at the grand entrance to 
the railway. It is extraordinary how decidedly the public 

lias adopted Greek architecture. Its simplicity, I take it, 
a suitable to English decision. 

■' June ]it, — Called on Ewart, and told him strongly 
:y were hurrying on the art too fast ; that they were 
foing to petition to have the Cartoons when they had no 
^lace to put them in. ' Turn out the Academy,' said 

■ Ewart. ' What is to become of the Cartoons in the mean 
You can't turn them out.' ' The Chancellor of 

Pthe Exchequer said tiiey would he ready to go if the 
public wished.' This is a radical. All they want is move- 
ment ; here is a man who proposes to move the Cartoons, 
and before they can be lodged must get out an Academy, 

I vhich has just got in. I told him false movements ruined 


' " ith. — Went out early on business. Winstanley called 
from Liverpool. Called on Beechey, who was full of a new 
vehicle.* He amused me excessively by reading extracts 
from copies he had made from a memorandum hook of 

1 Reynolds' in the possession of Mr. Gwatkin, who married 

IJlis niece. It was most entertaining. At tlie end of a 

May's work and a new portrait, he put down, ' Sono stabiliio 
in maniere di dipingere,' and would paint the very next 
portrait in a totally different way. In the same work, 
wax, gum copaiva, oil, Venice turpentine, were all used in 
turn. Ofteu first he put ' cerata ; ' that is, waxed the 
ground before he painted. Often prepared with black, 
white, and blue, and glazed with yellow lake, and then 

H-^iuted warm and coaled with ultramarine by glazes. I 
levei saw a man so uncertain; and the beautiful delusion 

• See these extracts In tbe Appendix to this volume. 

82 MBMOIBB OF B. B. HATDON. [1898. 

of fancying his manner of painting was fixed! — juat like a 
man of great genius who has a peculiar weakness. 

" 7M, — Lord and Lady Burghersh called yesterday 
and suggested removing the column, and the improvement 
is enormous. Too much cannot be said to them for their 
thought and taste. To-day I cleared the picture ; threw 
the whole background into sky and landscape, and the 
flatness gave double value to the foreground. Every day 
one learns something from one's self and others. 

" Duke of Sutherland called to-day, and said he was 
much pleased with the character and head of Christ, He 
thought the children not Jewish enough. Tiiis was a 
sound remark, so that if I get the child done to-morrow, 
this week will have been well passed. 

" If a foreground be flat, let a background be com- 
plicated ; if a foreground be complicated let a background 
be flat. 

" 8tk. — Painted in a head. Is it equal to Titian or 
Reynolds, Vandyke or Kubens ? No : disgrace that it is 
not. My mind is teeming with improvement, and something 
will come of it. The first symptom is disgust at what I do. 

"9th, — Much fatigued. Worked hard, and got the boy 
nearly done. This week advanced well, but not enough. 

" lOth. — Read prayers. Sent the children to church, 
and Frank and I walked after. My eyes irritable from 
having had no rest Friday or Saturday. I am convinced 
that on Friday and Saturday, what with reading, writing, 
painting and lecturing, thirty out of the forty-eight hours 
were constantly employed. Sometimes such is the extreme 
activity of my brain, that I fall dead asleep like Napoleon, 
and fi'om the same cause, wake refreshed and at it again. 
"When I come to dinner my dear Mary says I have been 
a great deal alone. Such a sensation never enters my 
head. I never feel alone. With visions of ancient heroes, 
pictures of Christ, principles of ancient art, humorous 
subjects, deductions, sarcasms against the Academy, 
piercing remembrance of my dear children, all crowding 
upon me, I paint, write, conceive, and fall asleep, start up 
refreshed, eat my lonch with the fierceness of Polyphemus, 

1838.] AN IGNOBLE BIDE. 83 

return to my room, go on till near dinner, walk, dine, 
read the paper, return to my study, complete what I have 
been doing, or muse till dusk, then to bed, lamenting my 
mortality at being fatigued. I never rest, I talk all night 
in my sleep, start up : I scarce know whether I did not 
even relish ruin, as a source of increased activity. * Rest, 
rest, perturbed spirit ! * 

" 15tL — Got up so wretched in my eyes from overwork 
that I sallied forth to seek my fortunes, like Cain with his 
family, and got into the Great Western. The instant the 
engine moved I felt something was wrong. It laboured 
and jerked, and, after going at a snail's pace, made a dead 
stop, at four miles. After a great deal of time it pro- 
ceeded, and arrived at West Drayton at one, thirteen miles 
an hour. This was the first hour of an intended day of 
pleasure. Weary of the idea of remaining at a station 
till four, I determined to walk to Hounslow, but rain 
set in, so I hailed a tax-cart, in fact a butcher's, and 
asked him if he would take me to Hounslow. He said he 
would, and as it was all by by-paths, I jumped in. He 
lent me a sack to cover my knees, and by wiping myself 
continually, I kept the rain from soaking in. We got on 
very well. He told me the winter had been 10/. out of 
his way. All his potatoes, turnips, and cabbages had been 
ruined. He said he was married, and had two children. 
He said, * You have a queer coachman, sir, haven't ye ? ' 
* Never mind, my hero, bring me to Hounslow.' After a 
long trot he plunged into the open road — Hounslow two 
miles. I thought it would be rather awkward to meet 
the Duke of Sutherland. Trusting in Providence I should 
escape, I did not get out; and while I was thinking 
if my noble friends should see me what a job it would 
be, suddenly the butcher bawled out, * The Queen ! the 
Queen!' I jerked off my spectacles, pressed my hat over 
my head, hid half my face, and waited. First came the 
Lancers, then outriders, then the Queen, then a carriage 
with Prince George (I think), who looked at me. Th© 
Queen's eye I escaped, and he did not know me, 

o 2 

84 MBMOIHB OP B. R. HATBON. [1858. 

" At Hounalow I fell in with a stage, and got to town 
at five. 

" I8lh. — At the Gallery at night. Sir George, Lord 
Mulgrave, Duke of Sutherland, all gone I and the glory 
of the Gallery gone with them. There was not one beau- 
tiful head in the room. 

" Studied a Bassano till I smelt its colour, and to-day 
dashed into my sketch what I imbibed. Oh, what they 
lose who do not glory in the old painters! What an eye ! 
What a nerve for colour! How I sucked it in, how I 
tasted it on the tip of my tongue — how fiery were the 
crimsons! how delicious the surface! how deep the tone ! 
De la Roche made me sick. His dirty browns, his reds, 
his filthy leathery hricky flesh. Yah ! 

" I am the same man as ever. Thirty years ago I had 
just the same feelings, the same delusions. 

" Last night, as 1 was looking at De la Roche's picture 
of CharleB, which is not equal to the Duke's StraiFord, 

P was standing by me. He said, ' the French are 

approaching us.' I replied, ' The French have decided 
merits we have not,' He turned away in a rage. 

" I could not help admiring the thorough-bred imper- 
tinence of R. A.'s. They are never at a loss to keep up 
their dignity. 'Approaching us,' — 'Us/' The im- 
maculate exquisite ! They are clever fellows. 

" I9lh. — What I find fault with is my tendency to in- 
tellectual deduction. I have as much pleasure in that as 
painting. It comes on in spite of Titian, Nature, and the 
Elgin Marbles. 

" \9th, — Hard at work, and did half the baby, Titian's 
flesh in children is exactly the milky tint — Kubens not 
so. In the Three Ages * at Bridgewater House the 
three little children are perfection. My flesh in my baby 
being near a red cap, the reflections are red. Mary came 
in, and said, ' Children who suck are not red, but milky." 
This was the sound criticism of a mother. 

" By some attributed to Titian, by othera to Giorgioi 




" 2ith. — Dined at Mackenzie's (an old friend), and 

met Lord Paulet, , Matthews (the brother of Lord 

Byron's Matthews), Mr. Coulton, and two others. A 
very delightful evening we had, because we got on the 

Spanish war. O (though one of the Duke's croakers 

evidently) said capital things. He said magistrates, 
priests, people, and nobility were all with the Duke, and 
the French could not move without the Duke immedi- 
ately knowing every movement. He said the French 
never fought much after Salamanca and Albuera. He said 
lie knew that the Duke, before going to Waterloo, when 
ministers asked whom they should send out if any acci- 
dent should happen to him, replied, ' Beresford ; ' but 
like many old officers, he ascribed more to circumstances 
than to Wellington's genius. Absurd. 

" Lord Paulet told some interesting things. Among a 
parcel of aides-de-camp he heard one say, ' They ran away.' 
The Duke, who was near, turned round — ' Ran away ! to 
be sure. I saw a whole regiment, officers and all, run 
like the devil in the Pyrenees till they were up to their 
shoulders in furze.' Lord Paulet said it was one of the 
fifties. The Duke said directly after he saw the same 
regiment distinguishing themselves highly. He was sup- 
posed not to have seen the first scene, but he saw the last, 
and noticed their gallantry in orders. 

" Lord Paulet said, one night in Paris, at the Vari^tes, 
he and the Duke found a dirty-looking fellow marked 
with the smallpox, aud he was going to say the box was 
taken, when, to his astonishment, the Duke spoke freely 
to the stranger, and they got into a deep conversation. 
When the Duke came out he said, ' Do you know who 
that is ? That's Rostopchin, a devilish good fellow.' Mac- 
kenzie then said, in reply to some question, Rostopchin 
did not set fire to Moscow. That he heard him declare after 
dinner, upon his word of honour as a gentleman, that he 
had nothing to do with it. He burned his own villa be- 
fore the city was burnt, thus setting the example, but he 
says it was set fire to by thieves, who hoped to plunder. 


Mackenzie said the question with Russians was, Moscow 
was the head-quarters of the nobility, who were too power- 
ful for Alexander's independence. It was suspected the 
burning was not disagreeable to him. The nobles were 
very angry at the Tilsit scene, and remonatrafed ; in fact, 
little less than ordered Alexander to have nothing to do 
again with the French army, or even to see Napoleon. 

" O then returned to the running away, and said, 

unless keeping the ground was an object, officers and all 
often took shelter. But if the orders were, ' Keep that 
ground while alive,' every man would drop at his post. 

" Mackenzie said he was present when a French officer 
of artillery was taken and brought to Schwartzenburg, 
Among other questions they asked what they were doing 
in the South. ' Don't you know ? We have been fight- 
ing a man, who if he had your army would have been in 
Paris a month ago.' He told us he heard the Duke say 
Massena was equal to 120,000, Ney to 20,000, but that 
Soult combined the talents of both, 

"He said the 11th volume of the Despatches was 
delayed till Soult was gone, lost it might have injured 
Iiim with English people. 

" ■ thought nothing of Vittoria because there was 

no fighting. I asked him if taking 150 pieces of cannon, 
and Lord Hill's flank movement were nothing. He ad- 
mitted, unwillingly, that was something. Vittoria was 

the greatest because there was no fighting. said 

the army was sick of it before the battle. I dare say all 
the croakers were. 

■< O was exactly the sort of man to hit short- 
sighted prejudices between wind and water ; to attribute 
the success of a great genius to circumstances, to inform- 
ation, and second-rate causes, instead of seeing that but 
for the innate power of mind to wield the circumstances 
nothing could have come. 

" "What Wellington must have had to contend with ! I 
Came away with Matthews, to whom, as we came out, I 
complained of the disposition of old military characters 

1838.] WILKIE'S general BAIRD AND CELLINI. 87 

to underrate the Duke. I told O that I heard 

from Colonel Aicheson of the Guards a saying of the 
Duke's, * No man who is not an ass fights, a general 
battle unless he is sure of getting it.' 

" July 2*7 th. — Had a long chat with Wilkie. He had 
a lady on canvas which was very fair, but his large work, 
the Discovery of Tippoo's Body, is beneath notice. He 
has no notion of grace. He has put Baird with his head 
the wrong way for ease, just like his George IV. It is 
dreadful to see such a genius so encumbering himself. 
I suspect from his tone he is suffering from want of com- 
missions. How can he expect otherwise when for ten 
years he has palmed off such trash as he has been painting ? 
I asked him if he had read my treatise on painting. He 
said he had begun it, but it was very learned. 

" I think he is going to get married. Just as I was 
going he showed me a small picture of the Pope and 
Benvenuto Cellini, as exquisite as anything he ever 
painted — superior in fact. It had all the surface Sir 
George used to wish for in him. If he completes it as 
he has begun it, he will hit what he has been floundering 
after for years. 

'^ Slst — I have got through all the figures; painted 
ten this month. I am grateful I have accomplished it. 

" Now for improvements and alterations. About seven 
D'Orsay called, whom I had not seen for long. He was 
much improved, and looking * the glass of fashion and the 
mould of form,* — really a complete Adonis — not made 
up at all. He made some capital remarks, all of which 
must be attended to. They were first impressions and 
sound. He bounded into his cab, and drove off like a 
young Apollo with a fiery Pegasus. I looked after him. 
I like to see such specimens. 

^* August 4fth. — Wilkie called and is looking very old. 
His mind is certainly growing feeble. We had a regular 
discussion about effects, lights, &c., but he was weak and 
fat. He was annoyed at my saying that he refused to 
walk with me in the streets after my attack on the 

G 4 


Academy. It was truth and he knows it. He said, ' My 
object was to bring you right, as it is now.' He actually 
said this to-day, as if he was sounding me. * You have 
iept yourself aloof from all societies,' said he, ' very pro- 
perly.' By heavens, here is an advance ! " 

At this time the subject of a statue to the Duke of 
Wellington was under consideration, and a mode) of 
Wyatt's equestrian figure was erected, without the artist's 
knowledge, on the arch vfhere the statue itself now stands. 
Struck with the ungraceful efi'ect of the whole, Haydon 
wrote to the Duke, enclosing a sketch, in which he showed 
the disproportion between statue and pedestal, and the 
improvement that might he effected by adopting a figure 
of different size placed parallel with the roadway instead 
of athwart it. The Duke acknowledged the note and 
sketch in his usual incisive style. 

"LoDdon, August IllJi, 1B38. 

" The Duke of WelUtigton presents his compliments to Mr. 
Haydon, and returns the drawing enclosed in bis note of the 10th. 

" The Duke is the man of all men in England who has the 
least to do wiih the affair which is the subject of Mr. Haydoa's 
letter to him." 

" IViA. — The session has ended, and nothing has been 
done for high art, or even thought of. But the law which 
enabled a reptile to enter your house without notice, and 
drag you even from your bed, is abolished. This is only a 
step to the final abolishment of arrest, even in execution. 

" I have helped to this desired object. 

" Hume read my Catalogue on the Mock Election at 
the House, which was a feather in the scale. 

" 29if/(. — Hard and anxiously at work. Nothing now 
left to finish but the feet and legs of an alteration, and to 
have three boy models together, so that 1 may make my 
own more separate and solid in light and shadow from 

" Always group up your models. No ideal light and 
shadow is equal to the truth of life. 





" 3lsL — I have fairly got through my piciurc, for 
which mercy I offer God my grateful thanks. I began 
8tli October, went out of town in January, recommenced 
in April, and got through it in August. It has taken me 
six months fair hard work. I faddled two, was absent 
six weeks, altered and rubbed in in March, and began to 
fiuish in April, For the health, for the happiness, for the 
supply of money, for all the blessings I have enjoyed, on 
my knees I bless God, the cause, the fountain of all. 

" September 6th. — When the vehicle which conveys the 
thought is such as not to detract from the full value of the 
thought by its imperfection of resemblance, but not such as 
to attract by its mere splendour of execution, but such as 
solely to convey the thought, so that the thought alone shall 
predominate — that is perfection of art. Subsequent ex- 
amination may bring fresh delight at finding out how this 
has been done. 

" Titian and Apelles, Claude and Vandervelde, Wilkie 
in his Blind Fiddler, and Landseei in his dogs, — why are 
these men not the greatest in their art? Because in- 
vention requires a higher power of mind than imita- 

" I6I/1. — I bless God with all my heart that I have 
paid my rent, rates, taxes, laid in my coals for winter, 
and have enjoyed health, happiness, and freedom from 
debt ever since this commission. If, before I die, I can 
satisfy my old creditors (those who did not put me to law 
costs, though there is something of revenge in this I be- 
lieve and fear) I shall die unloaded. 

" October 9lh. — Worked hard, and finished my sketch, 
and thus I conclude 'my first Liverpool commission,' as 
my friend Lowndes said. 

" I9ih, — Left town in the train, and arrived at Liver- 
pool at half-past seven — nine and a. half hours — 210 
miles, A young American sat with me in the coupee, 
and I was heartily amused. All the characteristics of 
his countrymen came out in perfection. He carelessly 
tumbled about bills to a considerable amount — boasted 

90 MEMOIRS OF B. R. HATDON. [1838. 

of t}ie battle of Platsburgli, wliieh I had furgotteti till I 
was obliged to pull him down a little, tenderly, about the 
Cliesapeake and the Capitol. His face altered instantly. 

" He said he could animal-magnetise. I defied him : he 
began with all his antics, but I looked him sternly in the 
face, and shook him. He pretended he was ill, and find- 
ing me broad awake, he said, ' Mayhap, you are a strong 
mind.' ' So they say,' said I. 

" At lunch he went and found out who I was, and his 
altered tone amused me. He drove up to the same hotel, 
and announced my coming (which was a cursed liberty). 
After that I took care. 

" On Tuesday I met him and said, ' "Well, you did not 
put me to sleep.' ' Ah,' said he, ' I did not do it, I was 
too ill.' I found the picture arrived. 

"21si. — Went to church at the asylum. 

" S2nd, — Put up the picture. 

" S3rd. — It looked capitally, 

" Mih. — Worked at it. 

" 25th. — Finished. Thus it is one year and seventeen 
days since I began the picture. Laus Deo. 

" 27 M, aStk, and SDiA.-— Spent at Liverpool amongst a 
spirited set, but more idle than Manchester men. Dined 
on 27th with Lowndes, who seemed quite happy. I had 
in spite of calumny honoured his election. 

" 30lh. — Set off for Manchester, where I stayed for 
two days arranging with fairbairn about my dear boy, 
Frank, who will be an engineer. 

"November la/.— Arrived safely at Leeds, where I was 
heartily and sincerely welcomed. The Liverpool men 
are speculators and spirited ; the Leeds men steady and 
persevering; the Manchester men industrious and wealthy, 

" 19(A. — Left dear old steady Leeds at eleven. Got 
to Manchester, and dined. Set off by train, and came 
back like mad in the hour to Liverpool. Had a letter 
from my darling Mary, which charmed me. 

" 2I»/. — Went to the Mechanics and got all right. It 
is a magnificent establishment. 


;en I 


" 22nd. — Lectured last night to a large audience. The 
room is too large. You feel pained to fill it. There are 
too many boys belonging to the schools, and the savage 
brutality behind is dreadful. No attention or common 
civility. I was astonished. They are accustomed to so 
many teachers, they look on a lecturer as on a porter. I'll 
teach them differently. I had hard work to get a glass of 

'^ December 5th, — Lowndes came the other night, and 
proposed to me to paint a grand historical picture of 
the Duke. The very thing I have been thinking of 
for two years. How extraordinary. O God, grant me 
life and health to do this thing as the glorious town of 
Liverpool deserves it should be done ! 

" 4}th, 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th. — Sketched. The scheme 
for the Duke goes on capitally. 

" Brought forward a boy at the Mechanics' to-night 
who is a great genius — Huxley. He will, if ever pro- 
perly assisted, be an honour to English art. I offered to 
educate him if they would maintain him. 

" He has sketched a Rape of Proserpine as fine as any- 
thing I ever saw — Ceres demanding her Daughter — 
Three Fates — Three Furies — not a figure more than 
wanted. He is full of invention, and no manner. 

" He sees the principal figure at once* I cannot ex- 
press my pleasure. 

** His father is a cabinet-maker. 

" 14ftk, 15th. — Dined out, and gave my last lecture 
to a crowded and elegant audience. On the Thursday I 
lectured on a fine living model called Hickman, six feet 
two and a half. When I put him like the Theseus and 
Ilissus the whole audience felt his superb look. He 
had been a horse-guardsman. The success of these lec- 
tures at Liverpool, and the success of the Asylum picture, 
and the victory of a public commission, are really so 
glorious, that no gratitude to God can be great enough. 
I prayed sincerely for a successful end of this labour, 
and it has ended successfully. Gratitude to Him, the 


protector of all liis creatures. I now pray to Him to 
bless this new commission of the Duke, that Liverpool 
may possess the best historical picture, and my grandest 
effort of the pencil in portrait. Inspired by history I 
fear not making it the grandest thing." 

This commission for the picture of the Duke musing 
at Waterloo twenty years after the battle, was a great 
triumph for Haydon, who, as has been mentioned, had 
conceived the subject in 1836, and had begun a picture for 
Messrs. Boys, the publishers, which was not proceeded 
with in consequence of the difficulty already recorded 
about the Duke's clothes. 

A commission from a body of gentlemen at Liverpool 
was a very different thing from a publisher's speculation, 
and so the picture was rubbed in, with great exultation, 
before the close of the year, with a prayer (in allusion 
to the picture painted for Sir R. Peel) that the artist 
might beat Napoleon as much as ever the Duke did, 

" 31s(. — The last day of 1838. A year of competence, 
work, and prosperity, comparatively. Blessings and gra- 
titude to that benevolent Creator under whose merciful 
dispensation this has happened. It has not made me 
ungrateful or vicious ; but I have less crime to answer for 
than any other previous year of my past life. 

" Gratitude for ever and ever. Amen. 

" The people are more alive to art than ever. Every- 
where have I been received with enthusiasm, and the 
importance of high art is no longer a matter of doubt 
with them. 

" Thus ends 1838. Could I hope that every year 
would be equally blessed by employment and compe- 
tence, every wish would be gratified. May 1 deserve it. 

This year presented but few vicissitudes. The artist 
was kept above embarrassment throughout, partly by his 


Liverpool commission for the Duke's picture, and partly 
by his lectures. The one great incident of the twelve- 
month was the visit to Walmer, where he had at length 
his long-wished-for opportunity of sittings from the Did^e. 

Now that Wellington has passed away, details which 
illustrate his character and habits possess an interest, 
however trivial, apart from the man. I have therefore 
given the journal of this visit in full. But before this 
there had been much correspondence between the Duke 
and the painter, characteristic on both sides, of which I 
have suppressed very little. 

Haydon's admiration of the Duke was unbounded, and 
the pains he took with this commission were in proportion 
to his enthusiasm for the subject of it. The sketches in 
the journal are evidence of the thought he gave to the 
arrangement of the picture, and I have had placed in my 
hands (while this book was in progress) a collection of 
elaborate chalk studies * for all the details, from the head 
and hands of the Duke, down to his spurs and the mi- 
nutest parts of the trappings of Copenhagen, partly from 
Haydon's own hand, and partly from that of his Liverpool 
pupil, Huxley. The picture seems to have been, in every 
sense of the word, a conscientious work. It is well 
known at this time, from the re-appearance of the print 
on the death of the Duke last year. 

** January \st. — I arose at daylight, dressed, and going 
into the parlour as usual opened the Bible almost in the 
dark, turned it on its face, and waited for light. I then, 
getting impatient, lighted a candle, and read, * Let thy 
mercy, O Lord, be upon us, according as we hope in 

** And now to set my palette, and to work. Half past 

Wishing to consult existing portraits, he applied to 
Sir Robert Peel for access to that by Lawrence in his 

* In the possession of Mr. Spiers, of Oxford. 


" DiHjtoD IlaDOT, January ath. 
" Sir, 

" I found your letter on mj return home last night. 

" I shall have great pleasure in acceding to your wish to 
see Lawrence's portrait of the Duke of Wellington, and enclose 
an order to my seirant to admit you. 

" I am glad to hear from you that the main object which 
I had in giving you a commission for the Napoleon, and in 
placing it in a conspicuous and favourable light, viz. to serve 
you, by encouraging other patrons of the art to follow my ex- 
ample, has been answered. 

" The little sketch of your general conception for your in- 
tended picture appears to me very good. The only remark I 
would make is upon the action of the horse. Neither the eye 
nor the thoughts of the spectator should be diverted from the 
main object of the picture by any vehemence in the action of 
the horse, or even any peculiarity in bis position. 

" Tour obedient and bumble servant, 

" Robert Peel." 

" II (A. — Went to Sir Robert's, and saw Lawrence's 
Wellington. Whilst Charles, the porter, was in attend- 
ance, he said, ' The Duke is getting old, sir, but he won't 
allow it. The valet says he thinks he can do as well as 
ever, but he cannot. He says, ' Not at all old ! ' This 
amused me. I hope he wilt sit before he gets too old." 

In the intervals of work on the Duke Haydon painted 
small pictures — one of Milton at the Organ with his 
Daughters, and also made sketches for his design for a 
monument to Nelson. 

"12(A. — Drew the whole day — filled in tlie Nelson 
Eeries with sUght water-colour sketches. How wretchedly 
imperfect is water-colour drawing ! 

" ]ich. — Pat in Milton's head successfully. 

" I5(A. — Put in the daughters. Little pictures tire 
my eyes. Hang them ! Milton's daughter was not hand- 
some ; but I must make her so, 

*' 17M- — Worked very hard at Nelson's monument. 

" l8lL — Worked hard — without breathing almost, and 
got on with the monument. 


" 19^A. — Worked gloriously hard, and finished the 
sketches. Oh, if my mind was always as easy, I should 
always so apply myself. 

" A pupil told me I said to him, * In background 
heads, the leading points and the leading details in the 
lights ; but in the shadows, the leading points only,* which 
is capital, but I had forgot it. 

'^Slst, — Last day of January, 1839, in which I have 
exerted myself well, but not to perfection. 

" I have rubbed in the Duke, advanced two other com- 
missions, and finished the Nelson design. 

*' Feb. 2nd, — The Duchess of Sutherland is dead. In 
her I lose a very old and a very kind friend. To her 
energy and decision I owe the matriculation of Hyman, 
my son-in-law, at Oxford, and my commission of Cassandra. 
Once after trouble she called when I was out. I told her 
if she called again to come in state almost. She drove 
up the next day with all the paraphernalia of servants 
and equipage, on purpose to have a dashing effect on the 
neighbourhood, and be of service. 

"7^A. — "Worked hard, and got in the other Milton's 
daughter. Wilkie called in the afternoon. I was glad 
to see his old wizened face. He looked old and wrinkled. 
I asked if what the present Sir Robert Sinclair told me 
was true — that the print of a Highlander first turned his 
thoughts to painting. Wilkie said the fact was the late 
Sir John Sinclair during the war was intending to raise a 
regiment. He sent a print of a Highlander, by Dighton, 
to several of the clergy, and amongst others to his father. 
"Wilkie regarded it with awe. It was framed, and made 
a deep impression. It increased his love for his art, but 
did not turn his mind to it in the first instance." 

This month Haydon lectured at Bath, of which place 
he remarks, that it is amazingly behind the manufacturing 
towns in knowledge and intelligence. 

*'Up to March 14th occupied in busy stuff about 
the Nelson memoriah Saw Sir George Cockburn. Had 
a long argument. He stuck to the column, but was open 

to conviction. I told bim height alone would not do, 
breadth was essential. He is a fine fellow. I said, ' I 
hope you won't delay it beyond tliis session ; if you do, 
the Government will be afraid of offending France.' 

" I asked him to call. He said he would go in to 
give judgment uninfluenced in any way. 

" One always feels curiously in his presence, I look at 
him and think, ' That's the man that said " General " to 

" I'll ask him some day to lend me his journal. 

" 25;A, — Left town with my dear innocent boy Frank, 
for Manchester, by train, Arrived in little more than 
ten hours. Called next day on Fairbairn, who was going 
to Ireland. Took lodgings at 99. Mill Street, and was 
much interested at Frank's utter ignorance and inexperi- 
ence. Though I have educated him religiously and clas- 
sically, I almost fear the vice of a manufacturing town- 
It is a complete sacrifice, though his passion for engineer- 
ing is invincible ; but it was a pity to leave his handsome 
and refined face, so fit for poetry and abstract thought, 
I suffered so much from the opposition of my parents, I 
resolved he should have none in any pursuit wherein he 
showed direct and positive evidence of talent. 

" ^p«/ 1*/. — Lectured last night at Newcastle, and 
was received with great enthusiasm. The fair was going 

" The Chartists had a meeting and tea party ; but the 
people to see tlie wild beasts and awing beat them hollow 
as to numbers. 

"I visited their room, ornamented with laurel and 
flags, with inscriptions of ' Liberty,' ' The labouring man 
the true nobility,' &c. &c., as if the power of saying that 
was not evidence of independence. 

" I believe in my conscience politics are but a portion 
of the amusements of the time. 

" On leaving Newcastle I came to Hull, and found it 
very far behind Newcastle. The first night the audience, 
though respectable, was scanty. The lecture made a hit 


as usual^ and the attendance at the two latter increased 
prodigiously. All over the country there is a desire for 

** A confederation of the leading towns to join in a 
petition for Schools of Design and state patronage for art 
would make a move. After going through with lectures 
ril try. 

" May 3rd. — The last night at Hull. I never wit- 
nessed more enthusiasm anywhere than at Hull^ the last 
night The people are slow, but feel deeply. A School 
of Design was begun, and I do not doubt its complete 

" 4fth, 5th, 6th, and 7th. — Lectured at Warrington. 
Enthusiasm just the same. 

*' May llth. — Finished with the study of Copenhagen 
(done 1824 by Webb), and sent it home to Lord Fitzroy. 
Worked 7^ hours. 

" The superb rapidity of steam travelling was exquisite. 
On Monday I left Warrington for Liverpool — was there 
in forty minutes — settled my business, received my 
second instalment, heard the resolution of the committee 
about writing to the Duke, and flew off to Manchester. 
Saw my dear boy, paid up his affairs, dined, and was off 
again to Warrington. On Tuesday night I lectured till 
near ten ; and at three on Wednesday morning was off for 
town, where I arrived by half past two. Here I arranged for 
beginning on Thursday, and set to work next day, and to- 
night have accomplished what I said I would. There is no 
higher pleasure than a duty successfully achieved. LausDeoJ** 

The Liverpool committee wrote to the Duke, through 
Mr. Lowndes, stating the subject of the commission they 
had given to Haydon, and asking the Duke to grant him 
sittings for it. 

The Duke replied. 

« gir "London, llthMaj, 1839. 

" I have this day received your letter of the 7th inst. 
^< I am much flattered by the desire of the gentlemen of 
Liverpool to possess a picture of me by Mr. Haydon. 


98 MEMOIBS OP B. K. HATEON. [l830. 

" I will, ivith great pleasure, see Mr. Haydon, and will endea- 
Tour to fix a time at which it will be in my power to give Lira 
sittinga to enable him to finish the picture. 

" It is not in my power at the present moment. 

" I have the honour to be, sir, 
" Tour obedient and humble servant, 

" Wellington." 

- "I wrotCj asking the Duke for an hour and a half. 
THs it his a 

" London, 17tli Uaj, IS39. 

" The Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr. 
Haydon, and has received his letter. 

" Mr. Haydon shall have the Duke's attendance as soon as he 
is ahle to give it. 

" He might as well ask him to sit for ten days at present as 
for a eitliug of an hour and a half." 

" You deceitful Dukey ! At this very time you went 
to Wyatt's, and gave him an hour at his own room, while 
you tell me I may as well ask you for ten days. Wyatt 
called and told me so," 

Not satisfied with carrying on a correspondence with 
the Duke on the subject of his own picture, Haydon (May 
23rd) wrote to him on the subject of the Nelson monu- 
ment, proposing for the committee of selection the plan 
of gradual elimination adopted in Paris on the occasion 
of the competition for a monument to General Foy. Next 
day the Duke answered. 

" London, 21tb Ma;, 1839. 

"The Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr. 
Haydon, The Duke is a member of the committee for the exe- 
cution of the plan for the erecting a monument to the memory 
of the late Lord Ifelson. He is not the committee, nor the 
secretary to the committee; and above all, not the correspond* 
ing secreian/." 

"June Isi. — The Duke's picture is decidedly and well 
advanced this week. In spite of all my troubles I have 
had great happiness in life. I am convinced existence is 


a blessing, and as Parr says, if men were better, would be 
felt as a blessing. 

" 5th. — Worked hard at Copenhagen's head. I hope 
I succeeded. I wrote to the Duke to lend me his accou- 
trements. As yet no answer. 

" &th. — Moved all my books upstairs to a small room 
out of my painting-room, as they seduced me to read 
at wrong times. I felt pain at the separation, but it is 
right I can now retire, read and write after due labour ; 
but I miss my books, and felt melancholy all day. 

** London, June 6th, 1839. 
" The Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr. 
Haydon, and regrets much that it is absolutely impossible for 
him to do what he desires in his note of the 3rd inst. 

" I sallied forth, and calling on Lord Fitzroy Somerset 
(who came out in his morning coat to see me), explained 
to him my position. He told me both his saddle and the 
Duke's — cloth and all — were eaten by moths. He ex- 
plained to me the nature of everything, — authorised me 
to use his name at Whippey's, and away I went. 

" Whippey was a blood saddler, thorough- bred, and 
made all the Duke's saddles from Salamanca to Waterloo, 
and, like a fine fellow, said he would fit up everything as 
the Duke wore it at Waterloo, put it on a horse, and let 
me paint from the real thing. He walked home with 
me to see the picture, abused Lord Melbourne as he 
came along for making a sneaking speech, and contrasted 
it with the Duke's, which, he said, was common-sense 
and honour, in which I most cordially joined. He swore 
the Duke was the greatest man in the world, and that he 
had made all his saddles, which so increased my reverence 
I offered him my arm. He took it, and so we walked 
home. His dress, manners, and behaviour, were those of 
a gentleman tradesman. 

" He found fault with the bit, and gave good reasons. 
He thought the head of Copenhagen capital, and like the 

100 HEMOIBS OF B. B. HATDOM. [1839. 

*' la fact Lord Fitzroy lias made my fortune. 

" Lord Fitzroy said tlie Duke had a daughter of Copen- 
hagen, but not of the same colour. 

" Thus from the depths of misery and despair I am 
again on the top, with a distinct view of my glory. 

" Such great things are in the power of httle men. For 
who would have believed what to the great Wellington 
was impossible has been achieved, or will be, by his 
saddler, Whippey, with the greatest ease ? 

" I do not feci at home in my painting-room without 
my books. I used to look up, and see the books, and 
imagine (as each name came on ray sight) I saw the 
author : Dante, Petrarch, Homer, Shakespeare, Milton, 
Spenser, and Tasso, with Vasari, smiled vividly like 
phantasmagoric visions, and my brain teemed with asso- 
ciations of tbeir sublimity or charm, I look now and see 
a blank waU. 

" I mused first on my picture, and then on my books, 
and each helped the conceptions of the other. 

" Such is habit. By degrees down again they come, but 
I feel ashamed to do it after such an expensive removal. 
What folly to do it at all. 

"June \Oth. — Worked, and certainly with more ab- 
stracted devotion to my art than when my books were 
near ; I have stuck at it all day, and in the evening 
walked up into my book-room. There they were, silent, 
yet teeming witli thoughts, bursting with sublimity. 
Milton — Satan and all his rebel host filled my mind. 
Shakespeare — Hamlet, Lear, Falstaff, Cordelia, Imogen, 
Macbeth, and Puck, crowded my imagination. I walked 
about in ecstasy, but read nothing ; dwelt on what I had 
read, and was content. 

" nth. — Had bridle and saddle sent by Whippey, and 
put them on an old hack. Painted a study in the sun, 
and got the sketch and picture right. Was dreadfully 
fatigued at night. Whilst I was hard at work, just as I 
used to be, who should call, after a long absence, but 
David WUkie, looking old and feeble. 




" His total failure this year seems to have shaken him 

a little, and the neglect of the Court has brought him 

more to the feelings of former times. I persuaded him to 

drink tea, and when David Wilkie stays to tea with B. R. 

Hajdon, B.R. Haydon must be considered on the safe 

side of the question. It is ten years since he did this. 

He was amiable and entertaining, as he always used to be. 

" Ho did not like to be reminded that it was thirty 

years ago since we were in Devonshire. He shrank from 

his age. 1 never do ; and it is not absurdity to say I feel 

I stronger, after nine hours' solid painting yesterday, than I 

I did at twenty-seven years of age. We talked of Meri- 

I infie's work. He knew him, and considered him a man of 

;heory. I said it would set the young men losing their 

time instead of studying the figure. He said young men 

I were too lazy ever to read. We talked of the effect of 

time, and both agreed Titian painted his pictures to look 

I well to bis eye, and never considered how they would look 

^ one hundred years hence. He told me Northeote said ' if 

Joshua had known the effect of time he would have 

painted differently.' I do not think so, nor did he. 

' Sir Joshua could not have painted otherwise. Was not 
his Heathfield as fine when it was done, as now ? Wilkie 
did not know oil was used in England before Van-Eyk. 

" 19M.-^ Notwithstanding the seclusion and quiet of 

my little room, I do not read with such comfort as in my 

painting-room, smelling of paint as it does. I have 

brought down my writing-desk, and shall have about half 

a dozen favourites on the top — Milton, Shakespeare, 

Dante, Tasso, Homer, Vasari, and, above all, the Bible 

and Testament always to refer to, and Wordsworth. 

" 20zA. — Sketched the plan of the ground from the 

I model at the Egj'ptian Hall, and finished the horse's head. 

* Wyatt, who has succeeded in making a capital head of 

the Duke, told the Duke of my picture, and he seemed 


"Lord and Lady Burghersh called on the 18th, and 
I gave me joy of my picture. 

102 HEHOIBB OS" B. H. HATT>OW. ['839. 

" 33/id. — The Nelson monument is decided, and not in 
my favour, though my belief is, had I been able to devote 
myself to make a series of oil sketches of the pictures, 
with a grand external view d la Canaletti, the decision 
would have been in my favour, 

" A man should never contest for anything with half his 
strength ; do it effectually or not at all. I could not afford 
the time to do it well, and the time I did afford was thrown 
to the dogs ; so I did it ill, lost my time, and did not get 
it, — a very proper punishment. 

" Westmacott told Hamilton my design was the only 
reasonable one. The public, when admitted, decidedly 
approved, and had it been left to the public, I think I 
should have had a strong support. It could not be 
done for the estimate, and the Duke warned everybody 
30,000.?. was the extent. My estimate was 70,O00Z. 

" So ends my Nelson affair. What a grand series of 
pictures I could have made I 

"LoniJon, Jane 2-Hli, 1839. 

" The Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr. 

" He begs that Mr. HajdoQ will write hia commands. 

" The Duke will be engaged all to-morrow and next day in 
attendance upon the Naval and Military Commission. 

" Tbe Duke must beg leave to decline to have the honour of 
receiving Mr. Haydon till he will have some leisure." 

(' 28M. — Saw Lady Burghersh's Alcestis. It is really 
beautifully conceived. In looking at a sketch of the 
Duke, she said, ' Whilst that was sketching he took this 
little girl on his lap. He is very fond of children. Don't 
you recollect, my love, when Dukey took you in his lap ? ' 

" The terror of Napoleon — Dukey to his niece ! 

" ' We call him Dukey,' said she, ' here, Mr. Haydon.' 
It was exceedingly interesting. 

" 29(A.— Felt very ill from over-strain, so I only sketched 
Barron, the Irish member, and went to see a fine Guido, 
brought by Buchanan, and a superb Vandyke and Paul 
Veronese. The Vandyke was exquisite. What tone ! 
what colour ! what handling ! Oh, they were divinely 

1889.] THE duke's CLOTHES AGAIN. 103 

inspired men. I know and feel their superb genius. It 
is St. Jerome. 

" In the evening I lectured at the Mechanics', and had 
three fine young models from 2nd Life Guards, who went 
through the sword exercise to perfection. The room was 

" SOthf and last day of the month. — Let me look back. 
I have worked well and got the horse accomplished. 
Now for the Duke, who won't lend me his clothes. I can 
do without them, for I have already drawings of all. He 
has not seen the picture. He knows not if it be good or 
bad. Till he sees his way, he declines. The same man 
in peace or war. But I'll beat him. 

" Completed my horse, but not satisfied with his hind 
quarters ; however, I have got through it, and when dry 
can alter it. 

"London, June 27tli, 1839. 

" The Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr. 
Haydon. He hopes that he will have some cessation of note- 
writing about pictures. 

" The Duke knows nothing about the picture Mr. Haydon 
proposes to paint. 

" At all events, he must decline to lend to anybody his 
clothes, arms, and equipments. 

^^ July 4fth. — Went to Wilkie, and said, * How did 
you noianage with the Duke ? ' * Let him have his ovm 
way,' was the reply. * He is fidgetty about lending his 
things. I never got them but just a day before he came, 
and he preferred coming in the regimentals to lending 
them to be painted.' These were Wilkie's very words, 
without my informing him of what had passed. So here 
is the man. We had a very interesting conversation. He 
advised me to make a drawing of his figure and dress, 
when I had him. 

" He told me the Duke complained of the loss of time 
sitting occasioned. * Yes,' said Wilkie, * but he would 
be mortified if he was not asked to sit. He complains of 
dining out so much and making speeches, but he would 

H 4 

be more inortiSed if he was not asked, and if he did not 
make speeches.' 

" ' Has he promised jour committee?' ' He has.' 
' Then he will keep his word,' said Wilkie. 

" Wilkie said he had always the greatest trouble with 
him. The Duke told Wyatt he had sat a hundred and fifty 
times, and it was almost time to leave oiF. I Lope not 
before he has sat to me. 

" Went into the city to Merchant Tailors' Hall, and 
saw Wilkie's portrait of him with the daughter of Copen- 
hagen. Very fine indeed. It is unlike the common 
English portrait, but it is very fine. 

" 8lh. — Lord Fitzroy called yesterday with his daughter. 
She is a judge of a horse as well. They both thought 
Copenhagen leggy, and too big in the body, which gave 
him a heavy look. 

" They seemed both to understand the Duke. They 
asked me if I had had his clothes. I said, ' No : he won't 
lend them,' at which they looked at each other. 

" I said, ' Wilkie says the only way to manage him is 
to let him have his own way, and that he prefers coming 
in his clothes to sit to lending them.' 

" Lord Fitzroy said, ' The Duke never holds his own 
horse: Copenhagen came out with Lord Londonderry, 
and the Duke bought him for 200 or g50 guineas.' He 
hated other horses, and Lord Fitzroy said he had seen 
him give a horse ' a broadside of kicks.' 

" Lord Fitzroy said the Duke never came into the 
field but with an orderly dragoon, and never with a 
servant. At Waterloo the dragoon was killed, and Major 
Canning said, ' I have got the Duke's little desk. What 
shall I do with it, as the orderly is killed?' ' Keep it 
yourself,' said Lord Fitzroy. Canning was killed, and 
the desk lost, but found next morning with the luck 
broken open.^ 

" This, I pregume, was the rough wooden desk which attracted so 
much notice at Apalej House nhen it was opened to the public at the 
beginning of ihia year. — Ed. 

1859.] A VISIT FBOM d'OBSAT. 105 

" Every time you meet a "Waterloo hero, pump him. 
In a few years they will all be gone — Duke and the rest, 

" 10 th. — Worked irregularly. Saw Hume^ who handed 
me a petition from the Royal Academy to rescind the 
order for a return of the monies received and expended 
in 1836—87—88, 

** So my Academy are come at last to know the power 
of the House, 

" He wants me to petition, 

" D'Orsay called, and pointed out several things to correct 
in the horse, verifying Lord Fitzroy's criticism of Sunday 
last. I did them, and he took my brush in his dandy 
gloves, which made my heart ache, and lowered the hind 
quarters by bringing over a bit of the sky. Such a 
dress ! white great coat, blue satin cravat, hair oiled and 
curling, hat of the primest curve and purest water, gloves 
scented with eau de Cologne^ or eau dejasmin, primrose in 
tint, skin in tightness. In this prime of dandyism he 
took up a nasty, oily, dirty hog-tool, and immortalised 
Copenhagen by touching the sky. 

" I thought, after he was gone, this won't do, — a French- 
man touch Copenhagen ! So out I rubbed all he had 
touched, and modified his hints myself. 

" 11 ^A. — Saw Hume yesterday, who put into my hands 
the most extraordinary petition that ever was presented 
to the House, from the Royal Academy, praying the 
House to rescind an order for the return of their re- 
ceipts for 1836 — 37 — 38. Hume promised to present 
mine if I would write one. I returned home, and have 
written one,— I won't let it drop. 

" At last they feel the voice of the people : do they ? 
This is coming down. 

" Worked hard, and advanced the Duke. 

" 12th. — Ordered a pair of trowsers of the Duke's 
tailor, exactly like his own, but to fit me ; so that I shall 
kill two birds with one stone, — wear *em and paint 'em. 
So, my Duke, I do you in spite of you, 

" One of the artists got his trowsers, I told him he 




had bettor take care ; it turned out he had got them 
from the valet. In a fright he sent them hack. 

" Didn't work. 

" ]5(A. — I wish they would let my mind rest. I have 
no confidence in Hume, or any of them. They want to 
make me a political tool. There is no happiness but with 
a brush and nature before you. I hate petitions and ex- 
citementj and I shall go to work again with a relish. These 
sunny days have been murdered by reviving in my mind 
the hatred of the Academy. 

" 16th. — Why will they do it? After the Committee, 
they messed the question, and now they want me to keep 
them out of the mud. 

" Saw a perfect stallion. Sir Hercules. I thought his 
neck puiFy, hind quarters fine. 

" I have sent the petition, and I have done. T wrote 
to Sir Robert Peel and begged him not to sanction the 
rescinding the order. I wrote to Lord Melbourne, and 
begged him likewise. A week has gone since Hume asked 
me to petition, and my mind has been called off from my 
art ever since. It is shocking. My conscience has deeply 
wounded me. Mr. Miller and my Liverpool friend called 
to-day, in my absence, to look at this stallion. 

" I7l/t. — Wilkie said to me after my first attack, ' Js 
this the way an artist ought to be employed ? ' I reply, 
' Certainly not.' These irritations may suit the radical, 
but do not help to the tranquillity of mind Sir George 
used to talk of. I have made up my mind to interfere no 
more after this. 

*' 1 8tk. — Thank God ! the House granted leave to 
print my petition, though against the standing orders 
regarding single ones, Hume presented it last night," 

Mr, Hume's motion for an order of the House that 
the return which he had moved for of the receipts and 
expenditure of the Royal Academy for 1836-37-38 should 
be made forthwith, was defeated by 38 to 33, — those who 
opposed it, however, admitting that the House had a right to 
require the return, but considering the case one for th^H 
3 of a discretion. |^| 

1839.] A RUN TO WATERLOO. 107 

" Notwithstanding this defeat," says Haydon, " the 
rights of the Academy and the House are defined for ever. 
The Academy has no right of property, legally, in the 
rooms it occupies. The House has a right to call for 
returns, and to turn them out at a moment's notice." 

The pressure of public business rendering the Duke's 
sitting out of the question at this time, Haydon seized 
the opportunity of visiting the field of Waterloo. 

" August 1 6M. — Thirty pounds having unexpectedly 
come in, and Lady Burghersh having told me that at that 
moment I had no hopes of the Duke, I determined to 
start for Waterloo. My dear Mary, who is a heroine, 
agreed to endure the rapidity of my journey, so we packed 
up and got on board the Ostend packet by seven o'clock 
on the 7th inst., and after the usual miseries of a wet, 
stormy passage, got into Ostend at nine. In the bustle 
of landing, to our infinite delight, we heard a voice roaring 
out * Monsieur Haydone, Hotel des Bains ! ' I had 
happened to express a desire to my neighbour for a good 
hotel. He promised, if he could, to secure me a room at 
the Hotel des Bains. He saw the commissioner, told 
him my wants, and this fellow thundered out my name. 
My vanity was tickled ; I landed as if under a salute from 
the batteries. 

" We were delighted with Brussels, and on the 10th 
went to the field of Waterloo. I examined Hougomont, 
recognised the locale of the last charge of the Guards, 
and made my sketch from Picton's position. I then drove 
to La Belle Alliance, and halted at Coste's cottage. He 
was dead, but his sister was living, and had the house. 
She let us- lay our cloth there. We dined; and she gave 
us coflTee. I then returned through Planchenoit, by La 
Belle Alliance, to Mont St. Jean and Waterloo, stopping 
at the church and the tomb of Lord Anglesey's leg, and 
home. I shall go again and spend a week, and indulge 
my poetry of imagination. 

" We went to Antwerp, and were amazingly impressed 
with Rubens's great works — the Elevation of the Cross, 
Descent^ and Crucifixion. 




" Sir Joshua is too laudatory, perhaps, for a safe guide. 
For execution of the brush they are perfect. Nothing 
ever exceeded the touching of Mary Magdalene's yellow 
drapery against the ladder for vast insight into the bear- 
ings of one thing against another. His master, Otto 
Venius, hy his side, though possessing more sense of 
beauty, not having the same understanding of the effect 
of a vrhole, never will or can rank so high. We returned 
the day week after leaving Antwerp, at three, by train for 
Ostend, and arrived in town at a quarter to five next day. 

" I shall make a longer tour. My object now was 
solely a background for the Duke, and I succeeded. 

" QOih. — Worked decently, but I regret to say my 
mind is uneasy about the Academy question, I wish I 
could get rid of it. I fear it will fix itself too deeply, and 
destroy that peace wliich ought to be the state of an artist's 

■ " I could weep at the time which has been wasted over 
this question, which should have been bo much better 

" I was pursuing my studies happily when this motion 
came on. Why did I interfere? Because if I had not, 
it would have been weakly done. But see how many 
sketches I could have done — how many conceptions I 
could have realised — how many pictures I could have 
painted — - how many friends I could have made. 

" The sight of Rubens's abode — the quiet seclusion of 
his summer-house — the silence of Antwerp — the golden 
splendour of its altars — the power of its pictures, affected 
me deeply. I think I will settle there, I begin to feel a 
yearning for the continent, with all its risks of war. 

*' 22w£/. — If I once escape from this subject, catch me 
at it again. I am never let alone. The party, when they 
want me, apply ; and when they think they can do without 
me, I never hear a word. I hate it — hate it — hate it. 
My disgust at this moment is not to be credited; and 
yet I am pointing another attack in my thirteenth lec- 
ture ; — the Devil — nothing but the Devil. 



Pl839.] artists' difficulties WITH THE DnKE. 109 

- WaJmer Castle, Sept. 26. 1839. 

" The Duke of Wellington presents hie complimenta to Mr. 
Haydon. He will, according to what he stated to the com- 
mittee at Liverpool, sit to Mr. Haydon for hie picture. 

" The composition of the picture ia the business of the artist ; 
of the committee of gentlemen who asked its execution; of 
tlie gentlemen for wliom it is intended ; of anybody excepting 
the person who is to sit for it. 

" The Duke bega leave to decline not only being responsible 
for the composition, but even to have a knowledge of the sub- 
ject. When he will be able to receive Mr. Haydon he will 
■write to him, but he begs leave to be clearly understood as 
Laving no knowledge whatever of the composition or subject 
of the picture for which he ia to sit, excepting that it is for the 
committee of gentlemen at Liverpool, who have desired that he 
should sit to Mr. Haydon." 

••Sept. 30ch. — The Duke done, except a little to do 
at one glove hand. Wyatt called, and we revelled in His 
Grace's peculiarities. He never lends his clothes, but 
always comes in them. He promised Wyatt his hat, and 
never sent it. The next time he came Wyatt said, ' Your 
Grace forgot the hat.' He replied, ' I'll come in it, for I 
Lave only got one, and I can't spare it.' 

" Wyatt informed me he always said when people 
tried to persuade him to do what he had made up his 
mind not to do, ' The rat has got into the bottle — the 
rat has got into the bottle.'* 

" I told Wyatt I had got his tailor to make me what I 
wanted in clothes. I had sketched his boots, hat, and 
coat in oil, and was quite ready for him, 

" All the artists who get his clothes get them from his 
valet. If he knew that, there would be the devil to pay. 

• This not very intelligible expression may refer to an anecdote I 
have heard of the Duke's once telling ia his latci days bow the musk 
rata in India got into bottles, which ever after retained the odour of 
innsk. " Either the rats must be very small," said a lady, who heard him, 
"or the bottles very la:^." "On the contrary, madam," was the Duke's 
reply, " very small bottles, aad very large rata." " That is the style of 
logio we have to deal with at the War Office," whispered Lord . 

— Tfln. 

110 MEMOIRS OP B. H. HATDON. Cl899. 

"Walnier Castle, OctuiBjr Blli, 1S39. 
"The Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr. 
Haydon, If Mr. Haydon will be so kind as to come to Walmer 
Caatle, wlienever it may suit him, the Duke will have it in his 
power to sit to him for a picture for certain gentlemen at 

This invitation was eagerly accepted, and the journal 
which follows contains this very full account of it. 

"October llth. — Left town by steam for Ramsgate. 
Got in at half past six, dined, and set off in a chaise for 
Walmer, where I arrived safely in hard rain. A ^eat 
bell was rung on my arrival; and after taking tea and 
dressing, I was ushered into the drawing-room, where sat 
his Grace with Sir Astley Cooper, Mr. Arbutlmot, and 
Mr. Booth, who had served with his Grace in Spain. 
His Grace welcomed me heartily, asked how I came 
down, and fell again into general conversation. They 

talked of , who kept the Ship. He married an 

actress from Astley's. She was a fine lady, and the Duke 
said, ' I soon saw all would go wrong one day, for whilst 
I was there, somebody said he wanted something, and 
madam, with the air of a duchess, replied, 'She would 

send the housemaid. That wouldn't do. ■ became 

bankrupt, and there were trinkets belonging to her; but she 
preferred her trinkets to her honour, and swore she was 
not his wife.' The Duke talked of the sea encroaching at 
Dover, and of the various plans to stop it. 'What! 
there are plans ? ' said Sir Astley, ' Yes, yes, there are 
as many Dover doctors as other doctors,' said he ; and we 
all laughed, 

"The Duke talked of Buonaparte and the Abbe du 
Pradt, and said, ' There was nothing like hearing both 
sides. Du Pradt, in his book, (he was ci fureur de me- 
moires) says, that whilst a certain conversation took place 
at Warsaw between him and Napoleon the Emperor was 
taking notes. At Elba, Napoleon told Douglas, who told 
the Duke, that the note he was taking was a note to Maret 
(Duke of Bassano) as follows: ' Re7ivoyes: ce coqnin Id & 
ton archevSque.' So, said the Duke, 'always hear both sides.' 



" The Duke said, when he came through Paris in 1814, 
Madame de Stael had a grand party to meet him. Du 
Pradt was there. In conversation he said, * Europe owes 
her salvation to one man.' * But before he gave me time to 
look foolish,' added the Duke, * Du Pradt put his hand 
on his own breast, and said, " C^est mou*' ' 

" He then talked of Buonaparte's system. Sir Astley 
used the old cant — * It was selfish.' 'It was,' said the 
Duke, * bullying and driving.' Of France he said, * they 
robbed each other, and then poured out on Europe to fill 
their stomachs and pockets by robbing others.' 

" He spoke of Don Carlos — said he was a poor creature. 
He saw him at Dorchester House two days before he 
escaped. He advised him not to think of it. He told 
him * all we are now saying will be in Downing Street in 
two hours.' * You have no post.' Carlos said * Zumalacar- 
ragui will take me on.' * Before you move,' replied his 
Grace, * be sure he has got one.' (Here was the man.) 
The Duke said Carlos afiected sickness — somebody got 
into his bed, and kept the farce up — that medicine came 
— that the French ambassador behaved like a noodle. 
Instead of telegraphing up to Bayonne, which would have 
carried the news there in two hours, he set off in his post 
carriage and four after Don Carlos, when he must have 
got to Bayonne, or near it. 

" The Duke talked of the want of fuel in Spain — of 
what the troops suffered, and how whole houses, so many 
to a division, were pulled down regularly and paid for to 
serve as fuel. He said every Englishman who has a home 
goes to-bed at night. He found bivouacking was not suit- 
able to the character of the English soldier. He got drunk, 
and lay down under any hedge. Discipline was destroyed. 
But when he introduced tents, every soldier belonged to 
his tent, and, drunk or sober, he got to it before he went 
to sleep. I said, * Your Grace, the French always bi- 
vouac' * Yes,' he replied, ^ because French, Spanish, 
and all other nations lie anywhere. It is their habit. 
They have no homes.' 

" The Duke said the natural state of man was plunder. 




Society was based on security of property alone. It was 
for that object men associated; and he thought we were 
coming to the natural state of society very fast. 

" I studied hia fine head intensely. Arbuthnot had 
begun to doze. I was like a lamp newly trimmed, and 
could have listened all night The Duke gave a tremen- 
dous yawn, and said, ' It is time to go to bed,' Candles 
were rung for. He took two, and lighted them himself. 
The rest lighted their own. The Duke took one and 
gave ine (being the stranger) the other, and led the way. 
At an old view of Dover, in the hall, he stopped and ex- 
plained about the encroachmeuts of the sea. I studied 
him again— we all held up our candies. Sir Astley went 
to Mr. Pitt's bed-room, and said, ' God bless your Grace.' 
They dropped off — his Grace, I, and the valet going 
on. T came to my room, and said, ' God bless your 
Grace.' I saw him go into his. When I got to bed X 
could not sleep. Good God, I thought, here am I tHe' 
a-tete with the greatest man on earth, and the noblest 
— the conqueror of Napoleon — sitting with him, talking 
to him, sleeping near him ! His mind is unimpaired ; 
his conversation powerful, humorous, witty, argumenta- 
tive, sound, moral. Would he throw Ms stories, fresh from 
nature, into hia speeches, the effect would be prodigious. 
He would double their impression. I am deeply interested, 
and passionately affected. God bless his Grace, I repeat. 

" \2th. — At ten we breakfasted — the Duke, Sir 
Astley, Mr. Booth and myself. He put me on his 
right. 'Which will ye have, black tea or green?' 
' Black, your Grace.' ' Bring black.' Black was brought, 
and I ate a hearty breakfast. In the midst six dear 
healthy, noisy children were brought to the windows, 
' Let them in,' said the Duke, and in they came, and 
rushed over to him, saying, 'How d'ye do, Duke? how 
d'ye do, Duke ? ' One boy, young Grey, roared, ' I 
want some tea, Duke.' ' You shall have it, if you pro- 
mise not to slop it over me, as you did yesterday.' Toast 
and tea were then in demand. Three got on one side 
and three on the other, and he hugged 'em all. Tea was 

1839.] AT WALMEB WITH THE DU&E. 113 

poured out, and I saw little Gray try to slop it over the 
Duke's frock coat. Sir Astley said, ' You did not expect 
to see this.' They all then rushed out on the leads, by 
the cannon, and after breakfast I saw the Duke rotnping 
with the whole of them, and one of them gave his Grace 
a devil of a thump. I went round to my bed-room. The 
children came to the window, and a dear little black-eyed 
girl began romping. I put my head out and said, ' I'll 
catch you.' Just as I did this, the Duke, who did not see 
me, put his head out at the door close to my room. No. 10., 
which leads to the leads, and said, ^ I'll catch ye ! — ha, ha, 
I've got ye ! ' at which they all ran away. He looked at 
them and laughed and went in. 

** He then told me to choose my room and get my light 
in order, and after hunting he would sit. I did so, and 
about two he gave me an hour and a half. I hit his grand, 
upright, manly expression. He looked like an eagle of 
the gods who had put on human shape, and had got 
silvery with age and service. At first I was a little 
affected, but I hit his features, and all went off. Riding 
hard made him rosy and dozy. His colour was fresh. 
All the portraits are too pale. I found that to imagine 
he could not go through any duty raised the lion. * Does 
the light hurt your Grace's eyes ? ' * Not at all ; ' and he 
stared at the light as much as to say, ^ I'll see if you shall 
make me give in, Signor Light.' 

" 'Twas a noble head. I saw nothing of that peculiar 
expression of mouth the sculptors give him, bordering on 
simpering. His colour was beautiful and fleshy, his lips 
compressed and energetic. I foolishly said, * Don't let 
me fatigue your Grace.' * Well, sir,' he said, * I'll give 
you an hour and a half. To-morrow is Sunday. Monday 
I'll sit again.' I was delighted to see him pay his duty 
to Sunday. Up he rose. I opened the door, and hold 
this as the highest distinction of my life. He bowed and 
said, ^ We dine at seven.' 

" At seven we dined. His Grace took half a glass of 
sherry and put it in water. I drank three glasses, Mr* 


1 14 HSitbiM i» B. B. HATiwur. f t«A: 

Arbuthiiot one. We then went to the drawing-room, 
where, putting a candle on each side of him, he read the 
Standard whilst I talked to Mr. Arbuthnot, who said it 
was not true Copenhagen ran away on the field. He ran 
to his stahle when the Duke came to Waterloo after the 
battle, and kicked out and gambolled. 

" I (Ud not stay up to-night. I was tired, went to bed, 
and slept heartily. It was most interesting to see him 
reading away. I believe he read every iota. We talked 
of Lord Mulgrave, whom his Grace esteemed. Sir Astley 
had left in the morning, and, in talking of the Duke's 
power of conversation, related that when some one said, 
' Habit ia second nature,' the Duke remarked, ' It is 
ten times nature,' 

" I asked the Duke if Csesar did not land hereabouts. 
He said he believed near RiL-hhorough Castle. 

" Thus ends the second immortal day. 

"Sunday. — I found the Duke on the leads. After 
breakfast Mr. Arbuthnot tnld me to go to the village 
church and ask for the Duke's pew, I walked, and was 
shown into a large pew near the pulpit, 

" A few moments after the service had begun, the 
Duke and Mr. Arbuthnot came up — no pomp, no ser- 
vants in livery with a pile of books. The Duke came 
into the presence of His Maker without cant, without 
aifectation, a simple human being. 

" From the bare wainscot, the absence of curtains, 
the dirty green footstools, and common chairs, I feared I 
was in the wrong pew, and very quietly sat myself down 
in the Duke's place. Mr. Arbuthnot squeezed my arm 
before it was too late, and I crossed in an instant. The 
Duke pulled out his prayer-book, and followed the clergy- 
man in the simplest way. I got deeply affected. Here 
was the greatest hero in the world, who had conquered the 
greatest genius, prostrating his heart and being before his 
God in his venerable age, and praying for his mercy. 
However high his destiny above my own, here we were at 
least equal before our Creator. Here we were stripped. 


of extrinsic distinctions ; and I looked at this wonderful 
man with an interest and feeling that touched my imagin- 
ation beyond belief. The silence and embosomed solitude 
of the village church, the simplicity of its architecture, 
rather deepened than decreased the depth of my sensibilities. 
At the name of Jesus Christ the Duke bowed his silvery 
hairs like the humblest labourer, and yet not more than 
others, but to the same degree. He seemed to wish for 
no distinction. At the epistle he stood upright, like a 
soldier, and when the blessing was pronounced, he buried 
his head in one hand and uttered his prayer as if it came 
from his heart in humbleness. 

" Arthur Wellesley in the village church of "Walmer 
this day was more interesting to me than at the last charge 
of the Guards at Waterloo, or in all the glory and para- 
phernalia of his entry into Paris. I would not have missed 
seeing him, for this will be the germ of some interesting 
work of art — perhaps his youth, his manhood, and his 
age in a series. 

" The Duke after dinner retired, and we all followed 
him. He then took the Spectator, and placing a candle 
on each side of his venerable head read it through. I 
watched him the whole time. Young Lucas had arrived, 
a very nice fellow, and we both watched him. I took 
Lardner's life of him, in one part of which he says, * he 
rode in front of fifty pieces of artillery, but God protected 
his head.' I looked up and studied the venerable white 
head that God still protected. There he was, contented, 
happy, aged, but vigorous, enjoying his leisure in dignity ; 
God knows as he deserves. After reading till his eyes 
were tired, he put down the paper, and said, * There are 
a great many curious things in it, I assure you.' He 
then yawned, as he always did before retiring, and said, 
* I'll give you an early sitting to-morrow, at nine.' I 
wished his Grace a good night, and went to bed. At 
half past five I was up, set my palette, got all ready, and 
went to work to get the head in from the drawing. By 
nine the door opened, and in he walked, looking ei;^ 

I 2 




tremely worn — his skin drawn tight over his face; hia 
eye was watery and aged ; his head nodded a little. I 
put the chair; he mumbled, 'I'd as soon stand.' I 
thought, 'you will get tired,' but I said nothing; down 
he sat, — -bow altered from the fresh old man after Satur- 
day's bunting. It affected me. He looked like an aged 
eagle beginning to totter from his perch. He took out 
his watch three times, and at ten up he got, and said, 
' It's ten ; ' I opened the door, and he went out. He had 
been impatient all the time. At breakfast be brightened 
at the sight of the children, and after distributing toast 
and tea to them, I got him on art. He talked of a pic- 
ture of Copenhagen by Ward, which the Duke of Nor- 
thumberland bought, and which be wanted, and suddenly 
looking up at me, said, 'D'ye want another sitting ?' I 
replied, ' If you please, your Grace.' ' Very well ; after 
hunting, I'll come.' Just as he was going hunting, or 
whilst he was out, came Count Brunow, the locum tenens 
of Pozzo di Borgo, the Russian ambassador. Lady 
Burghersh came in from Lady Marlborough's, and Mr. 
Arbuthnot wanted her to go in and talk to Brunow, but 
she declined. AH of a sudden I heard a great clatter, 
and the servants came in to move the great table for 
lunch. At lunch I was called in. The Duke, Count 
Brunow, and myself lunched. At three he came in, 
having sent Brunow with Axhathnot pour f aire iin tour. 
Lady Burghersh came in also, and again he was fresher, 
but the feebleness of the morning still affected my heart. 
It is evident, at times, be is beginning to sink, though the 
sea air at Walmer keeps him up, and he is better than he 

" Lady Burghersh kept htm talking, but the expression 
I had already hit was much finer than the present, and 
I resolved not to endanger what I had secured. I there- 
fore corrected the figure and shoulders, and told Lady 
Burghersh I had done. ' He has done,' said she, ' and it's 
very fine.' 'Is it though!' said the Duke; ' I'm very 

1839.] WITH TfiE I>UK£ AT WALMEB. 117 

glad.* * And now,' said she, * you must stand.' So up 
he got, and I sketched two views of his back, his hands, 
legs, &c. &c. I did him so instantaneously that his eagle 
eyes looked me right through several times, when he 
thought I was not looking. As it was a point of honour 
with him not to see any sketch connected with my 
picture, he never glanced that way. He looked at the 
designs for the House of Lords on the chimney-piece, 
but said nothing. He then retired, and appeared gay and 
better. He had put on a fine dashing waistcoat for the 
Russian ambassador. 

" At lunch the Duke said in the churches of Russia 
he never heard a single cough in the coldest weather. 

" At dinner there was a party, — Lord and Lady Mahon, 

Colonel D , a captain of horse artillery, Brunow, 

Captain V , and several others. Colonel D had 

the Waterloo medal and Legion of Honour. He was a 
spirited fellow, but had too much of the mess table, 
which is all affected sentiment, boasting justice to the 
enemies of England, and in fact unideaed chatter over 

claret and champagne. Captain V was an honest 

old boy. 

" The Duke looked well, and told some stories. As 
Lady Stuart was coming from the tournament with a 
friend they got into a railway carriage, where sat a man 
who did not move, so they sat down beside him. At last 
in came another, who begged one of the ladies to get up 
because he must sit ' by his convict.' 

" At night, as I took leave of the Duke, he said, * I 
hope you are satisfied. Good-bye.' J heard him go to 
bed after me, laughing, and he roared out to Arbuthnot, 
* Good night' I then heard him slam the door of his 
room, No. 11., next to mine. No. 10., but on the opposite 
side, and a little further on. I soon fell asleep ; was off 
at six for Ramsgate, and dined at home at five : found all 

" My impression is that the Duke has begun to sink, 

though he will hold out for years. His memory is 

I 3 

118 BIEMOIRS OF B. E, HAYDOl^i. [1839. 

Iiealthy ; liis intellect unimpaired ; but his physical 
TJgour, I fear, is breaking now and then. 

" It is curious to have known thus the two great heads 
of the two great parties, the Duke and Lord Grey. I 
prefer the Duke infinitely. He is more manly, has no 
vanity, is not deluded by any Battery or humbug, and is, 
in every way, much as I admire Lord Grey, a grander 
character, lliough Lord Grey is a fine, amiable, yenerable, 
\ain man. 

"22nd. — Improved the Duke's head, and called on 
Wilkie. After a chat we got on the old story, — -Hume, 
the Academy, and God knows what : the end was, that 
we had a long agitated talk, from which it was evident 
the Academicians felt themselves in a stew, I never saw 
Wilkie so much excited. 

" He blamed me for not going abroad, for doing every- 
thing I had done, and not doing anything he wished me 
to do. He grumbled, scolded. I was as cool as a cucum- 
ber, and we parted capital friends. 

" 2-ilh. — The Duke of Bedford is dead — a good, kind 
friend to me, and all artists. It is singular that almost his 
last letter should be to me, and that he should have ex- 
plained to me he was the originator of exhibiting old pic- 
tures at the Gallery. He was one of the old set, and felt 
J'or artists. Hail to his memory ! 

" November 1th. — Wrote hard at my new lectures. 
Colonel Wyndham called, and thought the Duke's head 
beautiful in expression; so do I — simplicity without 
weakness, and energy without caricature. I think it is a 
complete hit. 

" %th. — Lectured with great success at the Mechanics, 

" 2th. — Though not a man of any peculiar modesty of 
character (as Canning said apropos of the House of Com- 
mons), I never begin a lecture without fearing I shall not 
be interesting, 

"\Olk—\Qth. — Worked and wrote at the Museum. 
Colonel Gurwood called to-day, and mentioned two or 


three corrections necessary, but thought it a very fine 

*' I said it was only necessary for the Duke's system to 
come in contact with Napoleon's to split it Colonel 
Gurwood said he saw that a long way off. 

" 22nd. — Rogers called, and was pleased with the 
Duke. He said it was the man. He said he wished I 
would paint Napoleon musing at St. Helena, not so fat as 
he really was; that that was the only thing Tallejrrand 
and the Duchess de Dino objected to in my picture at 
Sir Robert Peel's. I asked him what they thought of the 
picture. He said most highly, but that the fatness always 
pained them, as they never saw him so. He said he saw him 
with Mr. Fox in 180^, and nothing could be handsomer 
than his smile. Rogers is a Whig ; he lingers about Napo- 
leon, and did not seem to think the Duke half so interest- 
ing. He told me I was a great poet, &c. and went away. 

" 23rd. — Hard at work again and improved the Duke, 
as I should go on doing to the last. 

" Wrote the Duke (who has had a severe attack) a frank 
letter expressing my joy at his recovery, and sorrow at 
his illness, but telling his Grace he went too long without 
his food. I said I observed it at Walmer, and that from 
ten to half-past seven was too long without intervening 
sustenance. I begged him to consider the value of his 
life, and that we who had looked on him for forty years as 
the only shield from France would feel wretched and at a 
loss if anything happened to him. 

^'25tk. — Depending on my balance at the conclusion 
of the Duke's picture, at the end of October, and not 
getting it, owing to the pressure of the times, has obliged 
me to incur expense to delay payments, and make ar-^ 
rangements which have embarrassed me. Under the bless- 
ing of God I may escape ruin, but it may lead to it. 

" Twice out of three times this is my fate. Sanguine 
in my wishes, sincere in my intentions, I fling myself at 
a picture with all my heart and soul, and thus I am 

J 4 


" It ia not altogether ray employers' fault, but they 
might have mannged better. 

" 2Qfh, — Lady Burghersh, Mr. Arbuthnot, and Colonel 
Gurwood called and were much delighted. Lady Bur- 
ghersh authorised me to say the likeness of the Duke was 
admirable, and ao said Arbuthnot. Gurwood left word 
he was pleased. So far good, 

" 29(A. — Finished my lecture for Leeds on the his- 
tory of the arts. 

" I think this taste of the Oueen for historical portraits 
in composition is an advance in taste, and will lead to 
sound art in the end. 

" 30lh Last day of November. The Duke is fairly 

done, and I return thanks to God for enabling me to carry 
it through gloriously. I began it, and prayed for its suc- 
cess as I always do, and therefore I am grateful. 

" I have only done two pictures this year, Milton and 
the Duke, but lectured much. I have not worked as I 
ought. Then that cursed Academy business called me 
off. Curse the affair. 

" On the whole I am pleased. At Court there is a ten- 
dency to portrait history, which is an advance upon the 
vulgarity of the Wilkie taste, and though pictures are 
small as yet and petty, yet it is generating a better and 
higher feeling, 

" A feeling of the truth is spreading in the country. 
To-day I have been requested to get casta of the Theseus 
and llissus for Hull. At Leeds a strong feeling is roused. 
All this will gradually fit the next generation for expect- 
ing and being able to relish better things, 

" December 2nd. — It is now twenty-seven years since 
A ordered my Solomon canvas. I was young (twenty-six). 
Sir George had treated me cruelly. I had attacked the 
Academy, The world was against me. I had not a far- 
thing. Yet how I remember the delight with which I 
mounted my deal table and dashed it in, singing and 
trusting in God, as I always do. When one is once imbued 
with that clear, heavenly confidence, there is nothing like 
It has carried me through everything. 

1840.] TRUST IN GOD: AMBITION: END OP 1839. 121 

** I think my dearest Mary has not got it. I do not 
think women have in general. Two years ago, after I 
returned from Broadstairs, I had not a furthing, having 
spent it all to recover her health. She said to me, * What 
are we to do, my dear ? ' I replied, * Trust in God.' 

^' There was something like a smile on her face. The 
very next day or the day after came the order for 400 
guineas from Liverpool, and ever since I have been em- 
ployed. I say so now I have no grand commission— - 
now the Duke is gone. But I trust in God with all my 
heart and all my soul. 

*^ It is extraordinary that with a large canvas in the 
house I always feel as if Satan crossing Chaos was no 
match for me. My heart beats ; my breast broadens ; 
my height rises ; my cheek warms. How I would swell 
in a Vatican or a dome of St. Paul's! O God bless 
me before I die. 

" Why such talents, — why such desires, — such long- 
ings, if to pine in hopeless ambition and endless agonies ? 
In Thee I trust, O God." 


At the beginning of this year Haydon was delivering 
a fresh course of Lectures in the North, and mentions that 
in five weeks so occupied he earned 811. 17*. 

*^ January 27th. — Rubbed in for Rogers a small Na- 
poleon musing. He wishes him thinner than the Em- 
peror, who was fat and broad in his latter days, because 
Talleyrand and the Duchess de Dino did not relish him 
fat, as 1 have made him at Drayton. 

" 29th. — Studied at the National Gallery. I would 
rather be the painter of Lord Heathfield than of Gevar- 
tius. The massy breadth — the deep colour — the bronze 
vigour of his expression and air are glorious. Called on 
. '* Well might the Duke say, * Habit is ten times nature. 




I'm sure the difficulty 1 have to resume my brush is 
laughable; it is ridiculous; it is shameful; it is abomin- 
able ! I march about ; look at all my pictures, sure of 
my commissions ; put my hands in my pockets j talk to 
myself; quote Shakespeare ; read Hamlet, Burke, Vasari; 
make a great fuss about nothing, and curse my being 
obliged to lecture for my family's sake ; change my bed 
till I am sick ; then write an attack on the Whigs ; long 
to be at the Academy ; and then get wretcjied at not 
painting, I shall have a burst, and away will go evil 

"31st. — The last day of January. I called on Wilkie, 
and we had a regular set-to. I asked him who was to 
be Keeper, I told him they were putting men forward 
who were supposed to be likely to stand, whilst the real 
man was concealed, and I said if he were elected I'd be at 
the Academy again. ' Now don't,' said Wilkie, ' interfere 

in the elections.' ' If be elected I will.' * Don't,' 

said he,.with an intreating air. 

" No man is fit for it but E , and he is too timid. 

He is the only man to keep up the high feeling. If you 
elect a mere drawing-master he will keep the boys down; 
if a man of poetic views he will elevate them. The 
feelings in the country are high, and whether the young 
men are fitted to meet the feeling fast growing will depend 
on the instructor chosen. If the Academy do not elect 
a fit and proper person they will betray their trust. I 
alarmed Wilkie. 

" February/ 3rd. — Went to the British Institution, and 
Catlin'a exhibition of Indians. The Institution is become 
the common sewer of the Royal Academy. It is lament- 

" Sth. — Met Leigh Hunt after an interval of many 
years, looking hearty, grey, and a veteran. We hailed 
each other, ' Haydon,' said Hunt, ' when I see you 
hosts of household remembrances crowd my fancy." 
' Hunt,' said I, ' I am going to write my life, and I'll do 
yoM justice. Yoit would have been burnt at the stake 

i«40.] LEIGH hunt: HIS PLAY. 123 

for a principle, and would have feared to put your foot 
in the mud.' Hunt was affected, 

" Hunt. * Will you come and see my play ? ' * 

" Hay don. * I will ; when?* 

'' Hunt. ' Friday.' 

" Hat/don. ^ I'll applaud you to the skies.' 
Hunt. ^ Bring your wife ; I'll put your names down.' 
Hay don. * I will.' 

" * God bless ye.* * Good bye.' We parted. 

" 8th. — W^ent to Leigh Hunt's play, and was highly 
pleased. The audience was enthusiastic. At the con- 
clusion he was brought on the stage — grey, sturdy, worn, 
and timid. I was much affected. Think of poor Hunt 
being ruined for telling mankind what George IV. was 
ashamed they should know, but was not ashamed to do 
before his Maker provided it was unknown to his people. 

** There must be justice hereafter, and to this man 
justice is due." 

. As an example of the political lucubrations of Haydon, 
which occupy a large place in this journal, I insert what 
follows : — 

" 13th. — I wish I had put down everything that had 
passed through my mind, because most extraordinary 
coincidences would have been seen, such as are almost 
incredible to myself, and such musings as one rejects as 
ridiculous at the time they occur. Every Minister of 
England should base his whole proceedings on the in- 
stinctive ambition of France. In dancing and cookery 
they have conquered the world, and they believe, from 
the first moment of perception to the last gasp of exis- 
tence, their conquest of the world in all other matters is 
only delayed and obstructed by England. 

" This was Napoleon's belief, and this is the belief of 
the whole French nation. This is the true key of their 
policy towards us, and after having in vain struggled to 
conquer us as enemies, they have, by the skill of Talley- 

* The Legend of Florence. 




rand, turned their whole attention to compassing the sam« 
end under the guise of friends. 

" In the Mediterranean the affairs of England are so 
complicated by the treachery of France, that there is 
really no seeing the end; and in case of a rupture I will 
bet my existence France would join Mehemet All, and 
then, against the two fleets, what could we do with our 
eight or ten sail of the line ? 

" I have no doubt there may even be a secret under- 
standing with Russia to expel us from the Mediterranean, 
because whilst we are in any power there, spoliation or 
division can never effectually take place as a counterpoise 
to our empire in India. The only chance is from the 
age of Mehemet. He may die, but then his genius would 
die with him. 

" Good Grod! that the affairs of England at such a 
crisis should be in such hands as Lord Melbourne's, with 
his apathy, his belief in the irresponsibility of man, his 
' natural course of things,' his roosting after dinner. 
God knows I should not be astonished at Mehemet making 
a dash at Constantinople. If Nelson met him with the 
Turkish fleet and his own, it may be conjectured what 
he would do, with or without the French. What a period 
of complication for such a genius as Chatham ! 

" After the investigation of the Convention of Cintra, 
and when the Duke liad proved his genius to my mind, 
I lay in bed one morning, and clearly saw in my mind's 
eye his triumph in Spain and his crossing the French 
frontier. I got up, and determined, young as I was, to 
write to him, to tell him my conviction, and to add that 
if it turned out as I said, as my views in art were as 
grand as his in military matters, I hoped he would allow 
me in the hour of victory to remind him of ray prophecy. 

" Subsequent reasoning made me believe this to be 
absurd, and to the regret of my whole after life I gave 
up the notion. 

" This morning I had similar f or eshado wings about the 


affairs of the East^ the complication of which I clearly 

" 13th. — News to-day that twenty-nine Chinese junks 
attacked the Volage and Hyacinth, when our boys beat 
off the whole and sunk and blew up five, sparing the rest. 
This gladdens my heart, and I hope may show master 
Monsieur what he may expect if he is impudent. 

" I6th, — This Volage business has given me a greater 
appetite for my food. This is doing things in the old 
style. I trust I shall live to see the French licked once 
more, and I shall really be happy, — so early, so deeply, and 
so intensely are early associations rooted in me, from 
cheering at battered frigates, and huzzaing at victorious 
crews. God protect the British navy." 

Now, at length, came an opportunity which he had 
long sighed for — of lecturing at Oxford. 

" 23rd. — Returned from Bath yesterday, after a very 
enthusiastic reception, and not numerous. Had great 
pleasure in forming the acquaintance of Mr. Duncan, an 
old Fellow of one of the Colleges at Oxford, who gave 
me valuable letters. 

" 26th. — Started for Oxford — a day-dream of my youth. 

" 29th. — Received by the Vice-Chancellor, Dr. Shuttle- 
worth, and Wardens with every kindness. Leave was 
granted me to lecture in the Radcliffe great room, but this 
could not be done without a meeting of trustees. Dr. 
Shuttleworth then sent me to the Ashmolean, where I 
began on Tuesday. God grant me success. I make no 
charge. My object is the art. I admit all members free. 
If I succeed, what a glorious thing it will be ! My intro- 
duction has been singular. I met Mr. Duncan, a great 
favourite, at Bath. He gave me two important letters, 
which have opened the doors. Success ! 

" 28th. — Met at Parker's * Dr. Wells on adorning 
Churches,' and * The Journal of Dowsing, one of a Com- 
mittee appointed to destroy pictures, 1643 — 44, appointed 
by the Earl of Manchester ; ' by his own account they 


destroyed in Suffolk 4560 pictures id little more tlian 
a jear and a half, 

" 29M, — Got on well, Oxford affects my imagination 
vastly — such silence, and solitude, and poetry- — such 
unquestionable antiquity, such learning, and means of 
acquiring it. 

" Ma7-ch Isi. — Dined with Dr. Shuttleworth enfamille 
at New College, and spent a delightful time. We went 
to chapel, where is Reynolds's picture of The Virtues. 

" We got on the Duke, and he said he had one singular 
trait, — that he was mean in money matters, and that he ac- 
tually suffered himself to he sued for the amount of his silk 
gown before he paid the money. It was near an execu- 
tion. The Duke has some property at Strathfieldsaye con- 
nected with the University. The Warden said the trouble 
they had to get the money was dreadful. It was years 
first. His Grace's agent was so convinced the University 
was right, that he gave it in their favour. Even then it 
could not be got. At last Dr, Shuttleworth wrote a plain 
statement of facts to the Duke himself. He (the Duke) 
sent for Parkinson, and asked if it was correct. Parkinson 
said ' Yes.' ' Then,' said he, ' pay the money.' A cheque 
was sent with interest from the time it ought to have been 
paid. Perhaps this may account for his indisposition to 
lend his clothes to artists. 

" March 3rd. — I began to-day at the Ashmolean 
Museum, and had complete success. All are alive to 
common sense and nature — the refined scholar and the 
humble mechanic alike. It was beautiful and triumphant. 
And, O God ! Iiow grateful ought I to be to be per- 
mitted the distinction of thus being the first to break 
down the barrier which has kept art begging to he heard 
and attended to at the Universities." 

In his delight he wrote to Wordsworth, — 

" My dear Wordsworth, 
*' At last I have accomplished one of the day-dreams of my 
earliest youth, viz., lecturing at the University. 

" I Lave heen received with distinction by the Vice-Chan- 


6ellor and the heads of colleges, granted the Ashmolean Mu- 
seum, and gave my first lecture yesterday, which was positively 

" There are four honours in my life, first, the sonnet of 
Wordsworth, second, the freedom of my native town for So- 
lomon, third the public dinner in Edinburgh, and fourth^ my 
reception at Oxford. 

'^ The first and the last are the greatest. But the first is the 
first, and will ever remain so, whilst a vibration of my heart 
continues to quiver. 

" Who said * High is our calling ' when all the world was 
adverse to desert ? There was the foresight — there the man- 
liness — there the energy and the afiection which have marked 
the poet's career from beginning to conclusion. 

" You are a glorious creature, and is not our calling high ? 
Would all the crowns, and kingdoms and jewels on earth have 
bribed you to say that of a man if you had not felt it ? And 
why did you feel it ? Because you saw it. 

" You have lived to your complete victory on earth — you 
have nothing now to expect but * Well done, thou good and 
faithful servant.' May that hour, for the sake of your friends 
here, be long deferred ; but it will not the less come. 

" After the distinction of yesterday my mind instinctively 
turned to you. Fancy my reception here, and fancy those fel- 
lows at the London University conceiving a man of my mis- 
fortunes would have injured the religious and moral purity of 
their character, if I had lectured there. ^ An ounce and three 
quarters of civet,' or rather a couple of pounds. 

^' If I was to die this moment, my dear friend, I would thank 
God with my last breath for this great opportunity of doing 
my duty. Hurrah, with all my soul. 

** Your afiectionate old friend, 

" B. R. Haydon," 

Wordsworth answered, — 

^ Rydal Mount, Ambleside, March 12th, 1840. 
"My dear Haydon, 
" Though I have nothing to say but merely words of con- 
gratulation, hearty congratulation, I cannot forbear to thank 
you for your letter. You write in high spirits, and I am glad 
of it : it is only fair that^ having had so many difficulties to 
encounter, you should have a large share of triumph. Never- 




tlieless, though I partake most cordially of your pleasure, I 
should have been still more delighted to learn that jour pencil 
(for that, after all, is the tool you were made for) met with the 
encouragement it so well deaerves. 

" I should have liked to have been among your auditors, 
particularly so as I have seen not long ago so many first-rate 
pictures on tbc continent, and to have heard you at Oxford 
would have added largely to my gratification. I love and 
honour that place for abundant reasons, nor can I ever forget 
the distinction bestov^ed upon myself last Bummer by that 
noble-minded University. 

" Allow me to mention one thing on which, if I were qua- 
lified to lecture upon your art, I should dwell with more atten- 
tion than, so far as I know, has been bestowed upon it — 1 mean 
perfection in each kind as far as it is attainable. This in widely 
different minds has been shown by the Italians, hy the Flemings, 
the Dutch, the Spaniards, the Germans, and why should I ex- 
clude the English ? 

"Now as a masterly, a first-rate ode or elegy, or piece of 
humour even, is better than a poorly or feebly executed epic 
poem, so is the picture, though in point of subject the humblest 
that ever came from an easel, belter than a work after Michel 
Angelo or Rafiaele in choice of subject, or aim of style, if 
moderately performed. All styles, down to the humblest, are 
good, if there be thrown into the choosing all that the subject is 
capable of, and this truth applies not only to painting, but in 
degree to every other fine art. Now it is well worth a lecturer's 
while who sees the matter in this light, first to point out through 
the whole scale of art what stands highest, and then to show 
what constitutes the appropriate perfection of all, down to the 

" Ever, my dear Haydon, faithfully yours, 


"March (Mh and lik, — Lectured again to increased 

audiences. I dined last night with Mr. — , Tutor of 

Exeter, and the Fellows. It was pretty to see the hall 
rise at our retiring to the common room, and the Tutor, 
Fellows, and myscU' bow on reaching the door. I spent a 

very delightful evening with Mr. T , of Magdalen, and 

S , at our little table. S is full of Plato. T- 

1840.] AT OXFORD. 129 

had travelled in Greece — a mild, intelligent, and gentle- 
manly man. We talked of the Agamemnon gloriously. 
I knew it well. To-day I dine at Magdalen, to-morrow 

with Mr. S at Exeter. Thank God at last I have 

made my way to society where I am happy. Though evi- 
dently not a classical scholar, the scholars here see I seize 
the thoughts and value the beauties of the great classical 

writers. S said the Athenians were a corrupt and 

vicious people, and that all their great men were great in 
spite of their tyranny and oppression, and devoted their 
lives to elevate and improve them. He said it was curious 
that hardly any boast of the Parthenon or other buildings 
occurs from authors about this time. Thucydides once, 
in alluding to Lacedaemon, says, * They have not build- 
ings like ourselves,' and that's all. This is odd. T ■ 
drank tea with me, and passed the evening in looking over 
my prints. 

" Sunday Sth* — Dined with Professor D at Mag- 
dalen, and spent a very pleasant evening with the Fellows 
— surely they are not the Fellows of Gibbon. I saw * no 
de&p and dark potations,' but a very pleasant quantity, 
neither deep nor dark ; and even if they were so then, it 
was not quite fair in Gibbon, after sharing their darkness, 
to betray their deepness. 

" 10/A. — Lectured. The Vice -Chancellor Gilbert 
came, and gave authority to the audience. 

** Dined with Sir A C , near Oxford, and had 

a great deal of fun. He took me out in a close carriage, 
and telling some young Oxford bucks they must take me 
back, sent the caniage away to Oxford. I did not 
reflect I was then at their mercy, and when I wanted to 
go, the young girls and boys, heated by waltzing, began 
to think it a good joke to keep the painter late. * Never 
mind, my dear Mr. Haydon,' said one young dog, * we'll 
secure you a hreakfasty and we all laughed. As this 
was rebellion against my own will, I determined to bolt 
quietly, and though I did not know an inch of the road 





to walk it, I romembered Sir A — drove along tlie 

great road and turned to the left. So watching my op- 
portunity I bolted out, hurried on my great coat, and 
putting my finger to my lips to a servant, jumped the 
park gate, and was through the village like a race-horse. 

" After walking two miles in dinner shoes I listened, 
but heard no wheels, — so going on I got into the main 
road, and all was safe ; about a mile from Oxford I heard 
distant galloping and wheels. I know the young dogs 
would glory in catching me, so I slipped behind a tree, 
and they passed me at a devil of a pace, laughing ready to 
kill themselves. I entered triumphantly about twelve, 
having had my own waj', the greatest of all blessings. 

"March \$th. — Last lecture of the six — audience 
quadrupled. Dined at Dr. Shut tie worth's, and spent a 
very pleasant evening. 

" Took my leave, and left Oxford with deep gratitude 
for my great success. I came to try a new ground. It 
was neck or nothing, and all classes rushed to hear me 
till the mania became extraordinary. 

" I4rt. — Arrived home full of enthusiasm, and ex- 
pecting to find (like the Vicar of Wakefield) every bles- 
sing — expecting my dear Mary to hang about my neck, 
and welcome me at my victory ; when I found her out, 
not calculating I should be home till dinner. I then 
walked into town after unstripping: when I returned she 
was home, and was hurt I did not wait, so this begat 
mutual allusions which were anything but loving or 
happy. So much for anticipations of human happiness t 

" Perhaps this necessary bit of evil was a proper check 
on my vanity. 

" 17i^. — Went to see my Sampson at the SulTolk- 
street Gallery. Met Colonel Sibthorp: I asked in the 
course of conversation what was the principal cause of 
being successful as a speaker in the House of Commons. 
' Never let your points be deferred till the dinner hour,' 
said he, ' always finish a little before,' 

'' %\st. — Went to church at George Street Hanover 




Square. Afterwards called on Hamilton, and found Che- 
valier Bronstedt. Had a most interesting conversation 
about the Greeks. He agreed with me as to the painting 
of the Greeks, that it was quite equal to their sculpture. 
He seems to have new theories about Theseus being 
Cephalus. He told us by calculation the gold on the 
statue of Minerva was 150,000/. sterling in worth. 

•' I never knew that water was kept as in a well under 
the great ivory statues, and a trench full went round them 
to prevent their cracking. 

" He thought the Minerva might have been moved by 
Constantine. We talked of the French revolution and 
of the bloody horrors of it. Hamilton said a French 
bishop offered some books to him once, and in recom- 
mendation of them said one was bound in a man's skin. 

" S2nd. ~ Called on Wilkie. He kept me so long 
waiting that I rang the bell and asked the servant if he 
was up. She said he was at breakfast. I said, ' Have you 
a fire anywhere? I am cold and will take a walk,' and I 
marched ff. 

" This was nothing but his want of manner. Just as I 
was sitting down to dinner a knock came to the door. 
1 said, ' That's Wilkie.' Mary said, ' No, no.' In came 
the servant, and said • Sir David Wilkie,' I went up, 
and rowed him well for keeping me in the cold. He 
said, ' 1 was breakfasting.' I said, ' That's no matter, 
you should have come out.' 

" He came down and chatted. I asked him before 
Mrs. Haydon, if he remembered my lending him an old 
black coat to go to Barry's lying-in -state, which was too 
short for his long arms. He did, and seemed to relish it. 
I asked him if he recollected dancing round the table with 
Jackson when I read his name for the first time in a 
paper, the News. He said he did. I asked him if he re- 
membered my breakfasting with him the first time in 
Norton Street front parlour. He did. He ^gld some 
capital things. When Sir Walter was a child his mother 
and family were all dressed one evening to go out, Ther^ 

132 HEMOIBS OF B. B. EATBON. [1840. 

was a long discussion. Sir "Walter remembered his mother 
sajitig, ' No, no. Watty canna understand the great 
Mr. Garrick.' Scctt used to tell this, and olwajs was 
indignant at the supposition. 

" He told us in the rebellion of 1745 a lady from the 
Highlands came to his father's house for shelter. She 
brought a herb in paper, which she put in hot water and 
boiled, and gave all the family a little, and they were 
delighted. This was tea — the year it was introduced. 

" 25tk. — finished Rogers's Napoleon. Worked hard. 

" 2Gtk. — Saw Faraday about lecturing at the Royal 
Institution. Found 1dm frank, lively, and kind. 

" 29iA. — Went to church with my dear old landlord, 
Newton. When we were in, I was affected at all the dis- 
putes, kindnesses and fighis we had had. He has been 
to me and my family an everlasting friend, a pivot to work 
on, an auchot to trust to, such as I believe no other 
human being ever had before. 

" I tliank God for it with my heart. He does not 
look so well as he ought. If I lose him I shall lose a 
man indeed. 

" On reviewing this week I have done well. I have 
worked hard — finished Rogers's Napoleon, and advanced 
the picture for Miller of Liverpool, and made the sketch 
for my Leeds commission. 

" SOlk. — Breakfasted with Chevalier Bronstedt at the 
Sabloni^re. He explained to me his views of the pedi- 
ments of the Parthenon, and they appeared to me excel- 
lent. I am not quite sure about the Cephalus, though 
what he said was very just, — that there was a mythological 
chronology and an historical chronology, and that at the 
birth of Minerva Theseus was never in existence, whereas 
Cephalus was, being taken to heaven by Eos, and axade 
keeper of heaven's gates. 

" He told me the creed of the Athenians was different 
from Homer's and from the belief of Asia Minor. He is 
an intelligent and amiable man. He did Napoleon when 
musing on parade for me capitally, — his taking snuff. 


his walk, his looking round, &c. I took him to see my 
Lazarus and Xenophon," 

On the 10th of April Haydon had begun a picture of 
Mary Queen of Scots showing her infant (afterwards our 
James the First) to Sir Ralph Sadleir, the English am- 
bassador, — a subject which had been suggested to him in 
the course of his reading while in Scotland in 1839. 

" 15th. — The King's College Council has appointed a 
professor of Fine Art, — huzza! This is a great point, 
and must be attributed to the influence of my success at 
Oxford. Have I not struggled to attain this ? These 
journals will show it. Worked hard. 

** 16th. — Lectured, at Islington with great success. 
Worked hard. The Scotch picture nearly done. I am 
not satisfied with my mode of painting a head, not at all. 
It has not the system of a practised artist, but I will con- 
quer it. I see character so soon, I dash at it before my 
surface and colour are impastoed enough, and get the ex- 
pression before my preparation is ready to receive it, and 
then don't like to meddle. 

" This is for want of perpetual head-painting, as in 

** 18th. — Hard at work, and finished, except a little to 
a hand, the picture of the Highland Lovers for Miller of 

" Now for Romeo and Juliet, for at Hull. 

" 26th. — I awoke early with a singular bland light on 
the truth of Christianity. It spread over my soul as if 
ready to depart. Had the angel of death appeared, I 
would have hailed him ; but years of struggle are yet to 
come before I shall be called hence. 

" The past week has been well passed. I have worked 
beautifully,*been rewarded well, and bow in gratitude," 

The sale of West's picture of the Annunciation, under 
the circumstances detailed in the note*, produced this 

* " Sale Extraordinary. — On Wednesday last, the grand picture 
of the Annunciation, painted by the late Benjamin West, President of 

K 3 


" It speaks a great deal. Had the picture fetched 800 
guineas, it would have been worthy of the blindness of 
1817. It was a disgrace to Mr. West to have charged 
800. West was a man of no deep genius, no profound 
feeling, no refined drawing, no radical knowledge, no 
colour, no expression. His Wolfe and L^ Hogue are his 

tbe Roj'al Acadecaj, was brought to the hammer, bj Mr. Graves, of 
Mortiuer-atreet. This picture, which is of very large dlmensiotis, 
originiJlj cost SOOi. It oecupieJ, from thu year 1817 to IS26, a large 
space in the centre of the splendid organ in Marylebone nen church. 
It was subsequentlj placed in the Queen's bazaar ; but for nearly 
fourteen jeara past it bas been lying in its case, useless, in a lumber- 
room of St. Marylebone court-house. The auctioneer read the 
following extract from, the vestry minutes of St. Marylebone, in 
reference to the picture, dated Feb. 15tb, 1817 :^' I hare always 
regulated my charge for historical paintings ; and under these regula- 
tions I charge the parish BOO/, for the picture now in the new church, 
of St. Marylebone. Were I a man of independent property, I nonld 
request the vestry to honour me by accepting this picture as a gra< 
tuitous mark of my profound respect for the parish. — Signed, Benj, 
Wesf, Newman-street, Feb. 14th, 1817." Whereupon it was moved 
and seconded that 800/. be paid lo Mr. West, which was done accord- 
ingly. After reading this document, the auctioneer proceeded to 
expatiate on the great merits of the picture, and the fame of the artist 
by whom it was painted. A considerable time elapsed before a 
bidding could be got. At length the sum often guineas was oDered, 
and notwithstanding the auctioneer had promised the receipt with 
the autograph of the late Benjamin West should be given to the pur- 
chaser, not a bidding could be obtained above the first sum o2ered. 
Thus, that picture which cost the sum of 8001. finally sold for tha 
80th part of its original cost. It is understood that during the time 
the picture stood in the Queen's bazaar, the sum of 100/. was olTered 
for it and refused. The purchaser is Mr. John Wilson, of Charles- 
street, Middlesex Hospital, who we believe contempl.ites 'transmitting 
the picture to America, the naUve land of the artist, and where his 
works seem to t>e bettor appreciated than in our own country. 
Surely, while so many new churches are in progress of erection here, 
such a worlc should not be suffered lo be taken from England. It 
speaks but little for the state of the fine arts, that such a chef- 
iTaurre as the Annunciation could be purchased at a sum so ridicu- 
lously beneath its value. 

" We understand the picture was originally removed from the 
church of St. Marylebone, at the instigation of the then rector and 
several of the congregation, as giving the church a Popish appearance." 




'"greatest works. His attempts at high art are without ele- 
vation ; his characters beggarly. He was as incapable of 
conceiving or executing the character of Christ as he was 
of performing his miracles. Exactly as the nation gets 
enlightened will West sink. He could no more conceive 
an angel than he could execute an apostle ; and this is 
the man Shee said was the greatest man since Domeni- 
chino, Rubens and Rembrandt intervening! 

" This is a specimen of what I call the imposture of 
Academies. Had there been no Academicians to en- 
cumber the school of art, Reynolds, Hogarth, Wilson, 
Wilkie, and Landseer would have been as great as ever, 
hut West would never have been considered a great man, 
or Shee a man at all. 

" May Wth. — Little or nothing in painting. Sent off 
the Highland Lovers to Miller of Liverpool by train. 
' On ne fail Men que ce qu'on fait soi mSme.^ I went to see 
it weighed and safe, and lost a morning. 

" 12M. — Worked fairly, but not furiously- — I can't on a 
small picture. Life is really not long enough for art. I feel 
with small pictures aa if I had nothing on my shoulders, 
which I always like to have. I'll soon be at my large 

" 2Isi.— Worked and finished the Juliet, and hope to 
conclude to-morrow. 100 guineas in five weeks is tvcenty 
guineas a week ; not enough to save out of, though I am 

" 2ith. — Sunday. Went to church and prayed very 

" Called on Wilkie, who was much annoyed at the 
press saying he could not paint portraits, in consequence 
of his villanous portrait of the Queen, Wilkie is unfairly 
treated. Surely his Lord Kellie, the Duke of Sussex, 
and George the Fourth, are fine portraits; yet the pubHc 
voice has loudly afiirmed he cannot paint portraits. How 
differently John Bull treats him and me. I have no rank 
or station— he has. I am overwhelmed with abuse — he 





dandled till Iiis feet touch the ground, and then put Aovm 
on velvet. 

" 26lL — Finished my Romeo and Juliet, and now my 
employer (a Hull dealer) won't pay me my balance, 45/., 
till I deliver the work, and I won't deliver it till I get 
the balance. How unlike the nobility. Everything with 
Lords Mulgrave, Eyremont, Sutherland and Grey, with 
Peel and all of that class, was honour and faith. All 
paid me long before the work went home, I fold this 
noodle it must dry hard before I glazed it, or it would 
crack; and for this bit of honesty he won't pay first, A 
hill of 39/. lOjf., due the 28th, I can't pay, and now begin 
again illegal interest and all the distractions of pecuniary 
want. The Liverpool men are twice as liberal, and the 
Leeds men too ; but at Hull they are a fierce democratic 
race, and mistrust their own fathers. 

" Mr. Rogers called, and brought home his Napoleon to 
be glazed. He paid me at once, and waited my time of 
toning, like a man. 

" 29th. — The Queen Dowager has headed my list for 
the Duke. I admire her character, so I feel much 

" Lectured at the Mechanics, and exhibited two pow- 
erful young wrestlers stripped above and below. The 
effect was prodigious — tlie grouping exquisite— the tum- 
bling rapturously applauded — it did immense good. 

" 31s/. — Saw Bewick's (my pupil's) copy of the Sibyls 
and Propliets of Michel Angel o — very finely drawn and 
copied i but it is wonderful bow Hitle a man who copiet 
so well can do for himself. The style of Michel Angelo 
bt>luiig3 to tliu place he painted in, and was necessary to 
render his designs visible or effective^ This seen in rooms 
socuis exaggeration. In the naked he was not as deep as 
the Greeks, and all uiy assertions are confirmed. But the 
Krythnea and Lybica are very fine in expression. 

" Jnnf \st. — Went again to see Bewick's copies from 
M ichel Angelo — the giant barbarian of European art — 
t\w Atlilii. -« 


" And this is the grand style — figures painted to be 
looked at sixty feet off brought into a drawing-room to 
be studied at six, and recommended to the students. 

" 2nd, — Corrected the etching of the Duke. The effect 
of these copies of Michel Angelo is enervating. You sit 
and muse — such a glorious opportunity for size — such a 
patron — such a combination of genius and opportunity 
rarely happens on earth ; and it is altogether so much out 
of the reach of ordinary opportunity, that I think it rather 
overpowers than stimulates. 

" I can account for feeble minds becoming feebler from 
going to Italy. The gap between their humbler notions 
and what they see is so great that the imagination crushes 
their hopes, their energies, their ambition. They become 
copyists, imitators, connoisseurs, dealers, or slaves, and the 
remainder of their days is a nervous chatter about the 
grand style. Such were Otley, Prince Hoare, and hun- 
dreds of others — Wilkie too. God save me from such a 
disease — from such a horror. Italy was Wilkie's ruin. 

''3rd, — Went to the drawings from Michel Angelo ; 
staid an hour, and full of their style went to my own 
Lazarus. The drawing in the Lazarus, and the hands 
and feet, is decidedly more correct. The head of Lazarus 
was equal in its way to the Delphic Sibyl's ; but though 
broad, it had not that overpowering breadth of effect which 
I saw in the one of Jeremiah, full size, at Mr. Thompson's, 
Belgrave Street, who bought it at Lawrence's sale. That 
figure proves Michel Angelo had an eye for colour. 

" But what absurdity to pull things from dark recesses 
sixty feet high -things which were obliged to be painted 
lighter, drawn fuller, and coloured harder than nature 
warrants, to look like life at the distance — and to bring 
them down to the level of the eye in a drawing-room, and 
adore them as the purest examples of form, colour, ex- 
pression and character. They were never meant to be 
seen at that distance, or in that space. 

" Thus the student is perplexed, and seduced, and cor- 
rupted with ridiculous notions of what is truly grand. 

138 HF.MOIR3 OF B. R. HATDON. [l8M. 

The works of this wonderful man ha^e ruined a tliousand 
artists to one they have educated and improved. 

" In drawing they are grossly defective. Daniel's left 
foot and leg would have disgraced Bewick hefore he ran 
from my tuition to the shelter of academical wings. Had 
he, in the position of Dauiel's left arm, made the biceps 
with that contour, he would have been quizzed by the 
Landseers, by Lance, by Harvey, by Chatfield, and by 
Prentice, his brother pupils. Had he put that undulation 
below the supinator in the left fore arm of the Cumsean 
Sibyl two inches higher than it ought to be, he would 
have been laughed at by the public. Had he marked the 
elbow of the Erythrtean so, my old life-guardsman, Sam- 
mons, would have told hi«i he was wrong, and made liiin 
alter it. 

" It was in 1816, now twenty-four years ago, during the 
Elgin Marble controversy, I strolled to Burlington House 
to study the beauty of the marbles for an hour before 
painting, when I found a journeyman drawing amidst the 
fragments with great truth. I asked him if he were an artist. 
He replied he wished to be. I told him to bring me his 
drawings. Next day at breakfast he did. I was so pleased, 
I told him if he would place himself under my tuition I 
would instruct him. He did so. I educated hiin for 
three years witliout payment — superintended his dissec- 
tions at Sir C. Bell's, — gave up my time to him; and when 
he was ready, sent him and the Landseers to the British 
Museum, where they made from the Elgin Marbles those 
celebrated drawings, the size of the originals, which gave 
them so much reputation, that Goethe ordered a set for 
Wejmar, where they are still shown in his house, and to 
which, just before his death, he alluded in a letter to me. 
Finding my pupils, and Bewick especially, doing such 
justice to the Elgin Marbles, I resolved to endeavour to 
get at the Cartoons; and stating my object to a friend, 
he induced Lords Stafford and Farnborough to go to 
George IV., and ask leave to have two at a lime at the 
British Gallery, which they did, and got it. 


" I then sent my whole school to the Gallery, and there 
(hey drew from the Cartoons the size of the originals, and 
J I led the 

When done, the rush t 

3 the 

: copies 

. was BO great the doors were closed for fear of injury. 
!' " I then exhibited the drawings in St. James's Street ; 
here the people of fashion crowded for days. The next 
year I followed up the hit with Jerusalem, but the picture 
not being bought, though the receipts were vast, I began 
to get embarrassed. During Jerusalem Lord de Tabley 
gave me a commission. I begged him to transfer it to 

■ Bewick, as he was a young man of promise. He did so; 
and be was paid sixty guineas for bis first picture. Hia 
second Sir William Cbaytor bought, and during his third, 
his landlord refused to let him proceed unless I became 
security for bis rent. I did so. In the meantime I was 
becoming rapidly involved, and having helped Bewick in 
his difficulties, I thoughtlessly asked him to help me by 
the usual iniquities of a struggling man, namely, accom- 
modation bills. Bewick and Harvey both did so; these were 
not accommodation hills to raise money on, but accommo- 
dation bills to get time extended for money already owing. 
When in the hands of a lawyer, if 1 wanted time, ' Get 
another name ' was the reply. As I wished for secresy I 
asked these young men, into whose hands I had put the 
means of getting a living without charging a farthing. Aa 

I the father of a family I now see the indelicacy and wicked- 
iiess of this conduct. But at that time I was young, a bache- 
lor, at the head of a forlorn hope, and 1 relied on the honour 
and enthusiasm of my pupils. I had reduced Bewick's 
liabilities from 2361. to 136L, and Harvey's from 2S4/. to 
I8il,, and whilst in the act of extricating them I got 
through the Lazarus and was ruined. There is no excuse 
1 for my inducing my pupils to lend their names aa security 

■ for bills, but I was in such a state of desperation that I 
. wonder at nothing. 

" Bewick hoisted the enemies' colour at once — not so 
Lance, Chatfield, Tatham, or the Landseers. Lance's 
friends advanced 1251., Landsser's father 70/., Say 501., 




Chatfield paid up his premium, 210/. T!icy all Tallied, 
but too late. In proportion to the greatness of iny effurt, 
so was my fall, and the boys, who, if I had been em- 
ployed, would have been right hands, branched off into 
different pursuits to got a living. Lance I advised to 
take to fruit; Chatfield painted portraits; Say always 
meant to do so; but they never recovered the shock. 
Chatfield, just before he died, dined with me and talked 
of it as a glorious dream passed by. But had there been 
no Royal Academy to calumniate, oppose, and torment 
us — had the art been as clear in our time as in that of 
Reynolds — our fate would have been different indeed. 
" 4(A. — Worked, and finished the robe of Mary of 

" 5lh. — Put on effectually the second layer of colour, 
Rubens'a method is the best for rapid work ; Titian's for 
slow and progressive. Rubens washed in over a white 

" filh. — Wrote my life all day. No money came, and 
I have bills all next week. 

" Tth. — Went to church, and returned in a better state 
of mind than I went. The prospect of pecuniary trouble 
again harassed me, but I threw myself on the mercy of 
God. I don't deserve it. I have worked hard for it, and 
cannot get my money, on which I depended, but I do not 

" I shall get rid of my paltry little pictures, and then 
at a large canvas, which is always a blessing and a 
support. God bless me. 

" 8M, — Reader, you see I always trusted in God. • 
This day I received 75/. from Miller, the Liverpool mer- 
chant, the balance for the Duke, and tliis has saved me, as 
it is the link between two sums : but for this an execution 
would have entered my house, and the old scenes of 
horror would have come over again. Began the Poie- 
tiers for dear old Billy (Newton). 

" 12M, ISlh. — Exceedingly excited and exhausted. I 
attended the great convention of the Anti-Slavery Society 


at Freemasons Hall. Last Wednesday a deputation called 
on me from the committee, saying they wished a sketch 
of the scene. The meeting was Yerj affecting. Poor old 
Clarkson was present, with delegates from America, and 
other parts of the world. I returned after making various 
sketches, and put in an oil one. 

" 13^A. — I breakfasted with Clarkson, and sketched 
him and his dear grandson, and his daughter, as the most 
beautiful of the group. 

" John Beaumont said, * We will guarantee thee from 
loss for the sketch.' 

^^ I5th, — Breakfasted with Clarkson, and made another 
and a more aged sketch, though a friend said of the other, 
* It had an indignant humanity.* I said, * Mr. Clarkson, 
those who have a great national object should be virtuous, 
and see God daily, " enduring, as seeing one who is in- 
visible." ' * They do, indeed,' said Clarkson, * it sup- 
ported me ; I have worked day and night, and I have 
awoke in convulsions after reading the evidence of the 
horrors of the slave trade.' * Christianity,' said I, ^ is the 
power of God unto salvation. It is of heart and internal 
conviction, not of evidence and external proof.' * Ah,' 
said Clarkson, ' what a blessing is the religious feeling. 
The natural man sees flowers and hears birds, and is 
pleased ; the religious man attributes all to God.' 

*' He looks like a man whose nerves had been strained. 
I said, ^ I have a cause at my heart, though not of so 
much interest to mankind as yours. I hope God will 
bless it.' 

*^ From him I went to the committee, and arranged for 
four sitters to-morrow, and then returned home to receive 
Lord Burghersh. From Poictiers we got on the Duke. 
He told me the Duke says, * They blame me for having a 
defile in my rear, the forest of Soignies. With 10,000 
for a rear-guard in that wood, I would have defied Buona- 
parte or any army on earth. If they blame me, what do 
they say of Buonaparte, who fought a battle with three 
defiles in his rear, which were the ruin of his army ? ' 

Capital sense ! The three defiles were Charleroi, Ge- 
mappes, and Quatre Bras. 

" IGM. — Went to the slavery convention at seven, and 
drew till four — breakfasted with them. 

" nth. — Went to the convention again at seven. Drew 
till four. Made fourteen sketches of heads in one day 
till my brain got dazzled. I have made thirty sketches 
in three days. Whilst I was sketching Mr. Scobell, M. 
Cordier, the French avocat, came to arrange. ' Monsieur, 
est'il necessaire de venir dans mea rigimeniaux de pair de 
France ? ' I ought to have said, ' Out, vous navez ptu 
emancipe les esclaves ; mats lea regimentaux de pair de 
France I'iquivalent.' 

" Good God ! In such a cause to think of his costume 
as a 'pair de France.' I only ask you, reader, if that 
fact ia not enough? 

" The other Frenchman (M. CrSmieux) made an ap- 
pointment at nine, at 44. Piccadilly. I drove up and he 
was out, Down came Madame in her dishabille. She 
assured me, ' Que monsieur etait sorti touchant les affaires 
les plus importantes du monde, — mais a dix heures, mon,- 
sieur,' and I took my leave. 

" 17th to 20lk. — All passed sketching heads at the 
convention. I did fifty-two in five days. 

" 25(A.— Colonel Gurwood sat to me for my Waterloo 
Gallery. He said the Duke never liked solicitation for 
others. He liked every man to speak for himself. Gur- 
wood said he lived two years in the same house with the 
Duke ; and he always slated whatever he wanted in a 

" The Duke complained to Gurwood that liberties 
were taken with him. He said, when he went to Court 
after William IV. 's death, the Duke of Cambridge said, 
'Why, Duke, why d'ye have your hair so short?' Di- 
rectly after, the Duke of Sussex said, 'Why you are not 
in mourning, Duke t ' The Duke said, ' I ordered black, 
your Royal Highness." 'Ah,' said he, 'it is not black. 
It is what the French call iete-de-n^gre.' ' The Duke oL 


Marlborough,' said the Duke to Gurwood, * because he 
was an old man, was treated like an old woman. I won't 
be. And the reason whj I have a right never to have a 
liberty taken with me, is because I never take a liberty 
with any man.' Colonel Gurwood said that the Duke, al- 
though he had known Lord Fitzroy Somerset &om a boy, 
always called him Lord Fitzroy. 

" He told me the Duke keeps the key of the glass of 
his Corregio, and when the glass is foul, dusts it himself 
with his handkerchief. He asked him once for this key, 
and he replied, * No I won't.' 

" He asked him once for a cloak to paint from, and he 
refused, saying he would not lend his clothes — thus con- 
firming Wilkie, Wyatt, and myself. 

** Upon the whole the Duke has been made too much 
of at the wrong period of his life, and too little of at the 
fine time. He fears insult at every breeze. Because he 
knows himself old, he fears people take liberties with him. 
Poor dear old man. 

" Gurwood said he told him he gave 1000/. a year 
away because the Government would not put the de- 
mands relating to his Wardenship of the Cinque Ports on 
the estimates. 

" Gurwood said that in the year when Alexander's 
house failed the Duke gave away at least 6000/. One day 
he found the Duke sealing up bank notes, and sending off 
envelope after envelope, and the Duke said he ought to 
be as rich as Croesus, and have mines without end. 

" 29^A. — Lucretia Mott, the leader of the delegate 
women from America, sat. I found her' out to have infidel 
notions, and resolved at once, narrow-minded or not, not 
to give her the prominent place I first intended. I will 
reserve that for a beautiful believer in the Divinity of 

" 30^A. — Scobell called. I said, * I shall place 
you, Thompson, and the negro tegether.' Now an abo- 
litionist on thorough principle would have gloried in being 
60 placed. This was the touchstone. He sophisticated 




imtnediatelT on .the propriety of placing the negro in tike 
distance, as it would haye mnch greater effect. 

" Now t, who have Dever Iroabled mjself iti tlus caaae, 
gloried in the ioiagitiation of placing the se^ro close by 
bis emancipator. The emancipator stuaok. Ill do it 
though. If I do not, d me. 

" Scobell is a £ne fellow, but he and Tredgold felt a 
little touched at the idea. If he has suffered for the 
cause, why object? 

" Lloj-d Garrison comes to-daj. I'll try him, and this 
ihall be my method of ascertaining the real heart. 

" Garrison sat and I succeeded, and tut him. I asbed 
him, and he met me at ouce directly. George Thompstm 
said he saw no objection. But that was not enough. A 
man who wishes to place the negro on a level must no 
longer regard bim as having been a slave, and feel annoyed 
at sitting by his side. 

" July Srd. — Put in the negro's head, and the head of 
(lelegale from Hayli. Sketched Lady Byron and Lucretia 

"With Lady Byron I was deeply interested. There is 
a lambent sorrow about her, bland and touching, but she 
was no more fit for him than a dove for a volcano. Poor 
Lady Byron, she looks as if she saw an inward sorrow. 
Perhaps his sublime head is always haunting her imaginu- 
lion, like the ' Dira facies' in Virgil. 

" 14/A, — Put in Lady Byron. She brought Mrs. 
1 and wished me to show her the drawings. I was 
a to do the head first, which was thoughtless. Mrs. 
Jameson seemed annoyed, and found fault with the head. 
I thought I saw Lady Byron look knowing at Mrs. Jarae- 
ton. I said, ' Come, don't look criticism,' which annoyed 
licr more. She took her leave, and thus with the moat 
earnest desire to please her, I displeased her. Lady Byron 
wan fidgoty, 1 got fidgety, and the head turned out bad, 
Mttde II drawing of Garrison for the Duchess of Suther- 
land, and skiitched Miss Knight. 

" Wth. — Hard at work and well advanced. The Ame- 


ricans are intruding and inquisitive. I hate great trouble 
to parry them, except Garrison. Garrison sat to-day after 
calling and seeing the Duchess of Sutherland, with whom 
he was delighted. Household and Duchess bewildered his 
republican faculties. 

** lO^A. — Very hard at work. How delightful it is to 
have health, employers, and to work hard. I hope Hume 
won't bother me about the Academy question. If he do, 
I will not be distracted. O God, for Thy mercies accept 
my gratitude from my heart. 

" 11^^. — Hard at work, and succeeded in Gurney's 
head. I perfectly agree that such a number of honest 
heads were never seen before. So said the Duchess of 
Sutherland, and so say I. 

" 14*th. — Hard at work. Birney and Alexander, both 
fine heads, all good hearts. Birney said negro children 
are equal to whites till seven, when, perceiving the de- 
gradation of their parents, they felt degraded and cowed. 
Dreadful. Birney had discharged all his own slaves. 
These delegates are extraordinary men in head, feature, 
and principle. 

" 31 *^ — Worked hard after I began, but did not set 
my palette till after breakfast ; did not begin till twelve. 
Read Rubens's life by Waagen. 

*^ Amelia Opie sat, and a very pleasant hour and a half 
we had. Mr. Burritt, a keen clever fellow, sat too. 
Only one day's rest since the 12th June. 
August 1st. — Battle of the Nile, forty-two years ago. 
Amelia Opie sat, — a delightful creature : — she told 
me she heard Fuseli say of Northcote, * He looks like a 
rat who has seen a cat.' 

*^ 22d. — Excessively and gloriously hard at work. 
Finished a head, hand, and figure in two days. 

" Nothing astonishes me so much as my rapidity with 
this picture ; it is truly the result of all my previous 
fagging for years. 

•' 2Sth, — Saw the three Giustiniani Caracci to-day. 
I was much struck by them, though it is extraordinary 





how Utile they understood the nature of Chiist's cha- 
racter and expression. The idea of giving Christ such a 
skull is dreadful ; none of the Italian painters except 
Raffacle had any notion of the right phrenological de- 
velopement for such a being. But they are carefully 
executed, and very proper examples for young men. 
They ought to be-hought; but I prefer, in my Widow's 
Son, my conception of the mother falling on the neck of 
her boy, and forgetting Christ in her maternal feelings. 

" I am quite convinced the art of painting for great 
distance is curious. 

" Donienichino's St. Cecilia, nearj is preposterous; afar 
off, it is the thing, and the manner of painting is expressly 
like Correggio's ceilings, — lioles for eyes, holes for nostrils, 
holes for all the dark parts of the features. 

" September ilk. — Hard at work, and heard from dear 
"Wordsworth, with a glorious sonnet on the Duke and 
Copenhagen. It is very fine, so I began a new journal 
directly, and put in the sonnet. God bless him, 

" My dear Hay don, 
"We are all charmed with your etching. It is both poetically 
and pictorially conceived and finely executed. I sliould hava 
written immediately to thank you for it and for your letter 
and tlje enclosed one, which ia interesting, but I wished to 
gratify you by writing a sonnet. I now send it, but with an 
earnest request that it may not be put into circulation for some 
little time, as it is warm from the brain, and may require, in 
consequence, some little retouching. It has this, at least, re* 
mnrliable attached to it, — which will add to its value in your 
eyes, — that it was actually composed while I was climbing 
Helvellyn last Monday. My daughter and Mr. Quillinan were 
with me ; and she, which I believe had scarcely ever been done 
before, rode every inch of the way to the summit, and a mag- 
nificent day we had. 

Sonnet suggested by Ha^don's Piclure of the Duke of Welling- 
ton vpon the Field of Waterloo Twenty Years after the Softie, 

" First reading, — 

" ' By art's bold privilege, warrior and vrar-horse stand 

On ground yet strewn with their last battle's wreck. 


Let tlie steed glory, while his master's hand 
Lies, fixed for ages, on his conscious neck. 
But, by the chieftain's look, tho' at his side 
Hangs that day's treasured sword, how firm a check 
Is given to triumph, and all human pride I 
Yon trophied mound shrinks to a shadowy speck 
In his calm presence. Since the mighty deed 
Him years have brought far nearer the grave's rest, 
As shows that face time-worn. But he such seed 
Has sowed that bears, we trust, the fruit of fame 
In heaven ; hence no one blushes for thy name. 
Conqueror ! 'mid some sad thoughts divinely blest,^ 

" Composed while ascending Helvellyn, Monday, August 31st, 1840. 

" Wm. Wordsworth. 

" My dear Mr. Haydon, 
" Correct thus the two last lines towards the close of the 
sonnet — 

" * As shows that time-worn face. But he such seed 
Hath sown, as yields, we trust, the fruit of fame 
In heaven,' &c. 

" You will see the reason of this alteration. It applies now 
to his life in general, and not to that particular act as before. 
You may print the sonnet where and when you will, if you 
think it will serve you, only it may be well that I should hear 
from you first, as you may have something to suggest either as 
to the letter or the lines. 

" Yours in haste, 

" Wm. Wordsworth. 

" Friday, Sept. 4th." 

" I am quite ashamed to trouble you again, but after con- 
sidering and reconsidering, changing, and rechanging, it has 
been resolved that the troublesome passage shall stand thus : — 

" * In his calm presence. Him the mighty deed 
Elates not, brought far nearer the grave's rest. 
As shows that time-worn face. But* he such seed 
Hath sown as yields, we trust,' &c. 

** Faithfully yours, 
** Rydal Mount, " W. WORDSWORTH. 

" Monday, Sept. 7th, 1840." 

♦ " For," in printed version of the sonnet. — Ed.] 

J. 2 


" My dear Hnydon, 
" I could not otherwise get rid of the prosaic declaration of 
the matter of fact that the hero was so much older, Tou will 
recollect that it at first stood, 

" ' Since the miglity deed 
Him years,' &c. 
"I know not what to do with the passage if it be 
corrected, as follows : 

' Him the mighty deed 

Elates not 

Upon that 
Hath sown 

well J 


next j 

" I sent the sonnet as it waa before corrected to Mr. Lowni 
es you desired. "When you print it, if it be in course of n^i 
week, pray send a copy to this house, and another to me at 
Lowtber Castle, whither I am going to-morrow. 

" Very faithfully yours, 

"EydiJ Mount. " Wm, WORDaWORTIX. 

"Sept. 11th. 

" The space for alteration in this troublesome passage, you 
will observe, was very confined, as it was necessary to advert 
to the Duke being much older, which is yet done in the worda 
'time-worn face,' but not so strongly as before. 

" W. W." 

These successive corrections, showing the poet's artist- 
like reverence for his work, suggest to Haydon the re- 
mark that he seems anxious to make the sonnet worthy 
of himself, the Duke, and the painter (this last followed 
by a " hem ! " of mock -humility). 

All this while he was working away at the Anti-Slavery 
Convention picture. I find among the heads painted, those 
of Knibb, Turnbull, Moorsom, Sir Eardly Wilmot, Dr. 
Lushington, and a Mr. Crewdson, who came from Bii^ 
mingham to sit three hours and go back the same day. 

On the 10th of October, the anniversary of his wedding 
day, he writes: — " Nineteen years this day I have been 
married, and I love my dear Mary better than ever. She 
has had great trouble and affliction, and I fear her health 


is now suffering. She has been to me a solace, a blessing, 
a salvation. 

" I hope God will restore her to health, that we may 
both descend to the grave together, — that we may see 
our children married and settled, and that we may keep 
our intellects and eyes to the last moment of life. Amen. 

^^ 22d. — The Theseus and Fates are the true grand 
style. The Moses of Michel Angelo the Gog style. 

" 24fth. — I worked yesterday from half-past seven till ten 
at night : with half an hour at lunch, two hours' reading, 
five to seven, including dinner — fifteen hours ; in reality, 
I had but half an hour's rest, for I never am more than 
ten minutes or a quarter of an hour dining. I then read 
while dear Mary finishes, because it makes her ill to eat 
agpl do, at a gallop. Had my eyes lasted I could have 
gone on all night. 

" November 3rd. — I saw to-day at the Duke of Suther- 
land's the original sketch for the crowning of Mary of 
Medicia — the first thought before the introduction of 
the Genii, and side group above the heads of the princesses. 
This shows the complete progress of the conception. 

" 5th. — A sixth part of the month gone. Two days' 
work ; two idle. Worked hard, and was perpetually in- 
terrupted, but stuck at it Nothing but visitors : M 

called, fresh from Mehemet Ali. He told me Mehemet 
Ali could not get sleep, and would soon go. He said 
the French ships were ill manned, and could not stand 
before ours, which delighted my souL He spoke disre- 
spectfully of Cremieux. M is of that Colonial Office 

class ready to go any where, in any way. What a peculiar 
class they are ! I never go down near the Colonial Office 
but I meet anxious cadaverous faces fresh from the secre- 
tary's writing room — victims preparing for the Cape, 
Sierra Leone, Cuba, — West or East, North or South, — 
not happy at home, not happy abroad, — carrying English 
notions into military governments, — provoking governors, 
— exasperating colonial notions, — sent home, — sent out, 

L 3 





and dying at last to the great relief of Lord John, or 
Lord Dick, or whoever happens to he the bored. 

" 9lh. — Awoke with 39/. to pay, and only eight sove- 
reigns in my snuff-box, where I keep my money, never 
taking snuff, I trusted and prayed. Before twelve I 
received 20/. ; then 15/. I5s. more on a commission from 
Sir John Hanmer, and ^Z. 4s. came by post from Both, 
for a proof after letters, making up the money, 

" lOih. — Had my picture extended on a new frame. 
As I walked along the streets to-day, and saw the general 
effect of objects, I could not help reflecting, how art 
was true art only when tlie leading objects vtere chosen, 

" Supposing all nature open to us instead of the general 
effect only, we should not, and could not bear existence ; 
but Providence has wisely adapted our eyes to see nothing 
but what is necessary for comprehension and the pur- 
poses ofUfe. Could we perceive we breathed nothing but 
animalcule, drank snaky monsters in the purest water, 
and eat living masses in the freshest flesh, life would be 
insufferable : hut see how wisely our powers of vision are 
limited. We see and recognise objects by the leading 
characteristics. The great painter does the same. And 
you recognise the nature of the things he paints on such 
principles better than if he laid open pores, hairs, dim- 
ples, pimples, and wrinkles, 

" IStk. — Rubbed in a Napoleon for Sir John Hanmer, 
and worked at the Anti-Slavery picture. Their bringing 
me thirty-one heads more, after arranging for one hundred 
and three, is rather a joke ; but if they like, they shall 
have heads all over, like a peacock's tail. 

" nth. — Looked at, cleaned, and put in order the 
Solomon. It has now been painted twenty-seven years. 
It has lately been in a warehouse where there was no fire, 
and the damp had seized on the robe and the crown on 
his head. 

" The drapery was painted in oil luckily, but being 
lake, an animal substance, the damp had fixed on and 
mildewed it; soon the crown, painted in Indian yellow, a, 


vegetable. All the rest of the picture being in earths or 
minerals was not in the least affected^ and Solomon's face 
was quite pure in the midst of the mildew. Had the 
drapery been painted in gum or rosin, the whole would 
have run or dissolved. 

" In looking again, after a long absence at this wonder- 
ful picture, painted at twenty-six and twenty-seven, and 
brought out at twenty-eight, I candidly acknowledge I am 
astonished. Turner said to a friend, ^ Tell Haydon I am 
astonished ;' and so he well might be. Taking into account 
all my difficulties, necessities, want of instruction from 
any master, my youth, and the fact that I had only 
painted three pictures before, when I look at the execu- 
tion, the manner and firmness of the touch, I no longer 
wonder at the uproar it made at its appearance. Good 
God ! Ought I to fear comparison of it with the Duke of 
Sutherland's Murillo, or any other picture ? Certainly 
not. But I want humility, and it pleases God to humble 
my mind by neglect and obscurity, and so fit me for 
another world. His will be done. In Him I trust, with 
all my heart and soul, and know it will please Him one 
day, that when I am dead it shall have fair play for the 
honour of my country, I await in patience and submit. 

" 23rd, — Gave my first lecture at Birmingham. — 
Genteelly but not numerously attended, and coldly wel- 
comed. In fact, no welcome at all. I was perfectly cool, 
and at last warmed them up, and made my bow amidst 
hearty applause. 

*^ 24fth. — Dined at dear, honest John Sturge's, and 
spent a very pleasant evening. They were all teetotallers 
except me and John Sturge. We took a glass of Sherry 
together, and after dinner, with fruit as usual, we chatted 
away so pleasantly, and the Quakers seemed to enjoy my 
stories so heartily, that in spite of their gravity they burst 
into roars of laughter. I could not have believed so 
pleasant a dessert could have passed without a glass of 
port At the conclusion I took one glass, and that was 

L 4 

all. How completely it is habit ; but I felt weak on 
arriving bome, and ordered my negus. I have no time to 
feel weak. If I was sure the feeling would go off I 
■would try abstinence, but I fear the weakness of my eyes 
proceeds from scrofula, and alcohol is a necessary stimulus. 

" 25th to 30th. — Lecturing and visiting manufactories. 
If ever any town needed a school of design, and if there 
is one where it would be more useful than another, it is 

From Birmingham he proceeded to Liverpool, where 
bis lectures were again attended by large and enthusiastic 

The diplomatic out-general ling of the French by the 
Foreign Secretary in the Eastern entanglement this year 
delighted Haydon so, that be expressed his satisfaction 
in a long letter to Lord Palmerston, remarking, however, 
" Tlie two great pivots of Whig policy were friendship 
with France and toleration of the Catholics. I disbelieve 
the character of the one and the instinct of the other. 
In tlie friendship vnth France they have been proved 
wrong, and so they will in their reliance on the changed 
character of Catholics," 

At the close of the year he was at Manchester, whence 
he dates his usual summary of the twelvemonth. 

" December 31. — The last day of 1840. A year to 
nie of great blessings, with bitter sorrow, because my 
dearest Mary, with her noble heart, tender nature, and 
devoted love, has been prostrated in health. How grate- 
ful we ought to he that our daughter has been well and 
soundly educated, that our eldest youth is good and inno- 
cent, and our youngest boy unstained and religious, and 
that my step-son, Hyman, has ample provision by his 
classical talents and application at Wadham. In con- 
cluding tlie year I have indeed great mercies to be grate- 
ful for. 

" With respect to the prospects of art, my lectures con- 
tinue to excite as much attention as ever. Fresh engage- 
ments pour in, and wherever I go the same enthusiasm 

■■".- J 

1841.] EEYIEW OP 1840. 153 

" I have lectured on the naked model in London, In 
Edinburgh, and Manchester, and lately had wrestlers to 
struggle before 1 ,500 people at Liverpool, with immense 
approbation. Fifty years ago such a thing would not have 
been possible. It is said Cornelius is coming to adorn the 
Lords. I shall feel it if I am not selected, after what has 
passed with the Duke, and Lord Melbourne, and Mr. 
Canning. But I am become a thorough Christian, and 
if this darling object of a long life be missed, I shall con- 
sider it a proper check to my pride, and bow my head in 
submission. Let the will of my Creator be done. I shall 
not the less continue to do my duty to advance the taste 
of my country. ' 


During this year he brought his picture of the Anti- 
Slavery Convention to an end, and exhibited it without 
much success. His lectures, too, went on, and sufficed, 
with his commissions from Sir John Hanmer and Mr. 
Rogers, to keep him free from any great pecuniary harass. 

This year, too, the Fine Arts Committee for the decora- 
tion of the New Houses of Parliament sat and examined 
witnesses ; but Haydon was not summoned. He felt this 
severely, and it gave him, as it were, a presentiment of 
what was to follow on the appointment of the Fine Arts 
Commission. He set about experiments in fresco, trying 
all the while to make up his mind beforehand that he was 
not to be allowed to reap of the harvest which he had 
certainly done more than any of his brethren to sow. But 
it was hardly in human nature, certainly it was not in 
Haydon's, to console himself for the exclusion he foresaw, 
by the thought that at last the public claims of art were 
recognised. A still severer blow this year was the death 
of David Wilkie, to whom, notwithstanding their com- 
plete antagonism of temperament, Haydon was warmly 
attached. When the year opened he was concluding his 
lectures at Liverpool, 




"January \st. — Lectured at the Royal Institution, 
and took my leave. Congratulated them on the success 
of the School of Design. The advance is extraordinary, 
and yet the prejudices in the manufacturers and society 
are not yet got rid of. Families reject drawing-masters 
because they, to improve themselves, attend the school; 
whereas they ought to employ no drawing-master who 
does not. 

" Snd. — Arrived at Sheffield by coach, and was more 
tired with this paltry forty miles than the thousand I 
have travelled by rail. But I saw the country, which is 
peculiarly Scotch and romantic after Staley Bridge. 

" 4(/i. — Heavy snow. The air is sharp and cutting at 
Sheffield, No wonder they are celebrated for knives. 
Lectured, but the audience the dullest I ever knew. 

" 5th. — Uined at Manchester with Turner, a pupil of 
Sir Astloy Cooper. Cooper told him he had retired; 
hut after two mouths, being miserable, he asked himself, 
'What do I like best in the world?' 'My profession/ 
was the answer. ' Then,' said he, ' why the deuce should 
I leave off that employment which gives me the greatest 
delight?' and so he returned to practice. 

" 6;A. — Lectured again. Audience impressed, but 
dull. I told them I had seen no casts in Sheffield, and 
they looked at each other." 

On his return to town he resumed work on his Anti- 
Slavery picture — ^new heads presenting themselves every 
day, until at last the picture threatened to become nothing 
but heads, without room for bodies. 

" February 2 nii.— Worked fairly, after being out again. 
in the morning on money matters. My dear landlord 
helped me as usual. What should I do without him ? I 
have no right to complain of my employers, hut they 
should prevent my losing my time about trifles when 100^, 
would clear me. 

" Srd. — If Providence always interfered free will would 
be over. But if required, or prayed to. He always inter- 
feres. If asked, He grants ; if you knock. He opens, ao^ 


He punishes. But He lets men act, and often whispers 
to save them. Would men could all believe this as I do. 

" 9th. — Sketched O'Connell. I came at ten and he was 
asleep. I went at eleven and he came out as usual — 
rolling and good natured. I went up to his breakfast 
room ; as he read his letters I sketched him. He then 
sat regularly, and when I said I was sorry to keep him so 
long, he said, * I have used you so ill by lying a-bed, my 
conscience obliges me to give you a good sitting.' We 
talked of the Catholics and Protestants. He said, * If you 
apply to a man's reason, you only apply to half of him, 
and the smallest half.' 

** ' You English,' said he, * don't know what is going 
on in Ireland. Repeal will triumph.' He is grown older, 
considerably, but there is in his look inexpressible good 
nature. He told me he sat to Wilkie for his portrait, at 
the same time as the Duke, and he said such was the 
Duke's determination to be in proper costume, that he 
used to come for the Queen's picture of her First Council, 
to Kensington, in the coldest weather, in white duck 

" Felt unhappy in bed at my approaching difficulties. 
Just like the Jews, mistrusting my good Creator who had 
delivered me so often. I fell asleep, and awoke about 
three. Something whispered me, * How can you despond ? 
Did I not support thee in early life ? Did I not say to 
thee " Fear not, I am with thee ? Be not dismayed, for I 
am thy God ! " I replied, ' Thou didst, I will despond no 
more.' My low spirits went. I arose confiding, and by 
post came a remittance from Sir John Hanmer, which 
prevented my being penniless, after matriculating my 
dear Frank at Caius — Gratitude — gratitude — grati- 
tude ! * Knock and it shall be opened ; ask and ye shall 
have.' Amen." 

The most interesting circumstance in connection with 
the Anti-slavery Convention picture was the visit the 
painter paid to the venerable Thomas Clarkson, at Play- 
ford Hall. 




" April Slk. — Left town on tte 6tli by steam : arrived 
at Ipswich at seven, and found Clarkson's carriage waiting. 
Got to Plajford Hall at eigiit. Found tlie dear old man 
at tea with his niece and wife, looking much better than 
when in town. Plajford is a fine old building : 1593 the 
last date, but must be much older, they say. It is sur- 
rounded by a moat with running water. Clarkson has a 
head like a patriarch, and in his prime must have been a 
noble figure. He was very happy to see me, but there is 
a nervous irritability which is peculiar. He lives too 
much with adorers, especially women. 

" As he seemed impatient at my staying beyond a 
certain time I went to bed, and wished him good night. 
I slept well, and the next morning walked in" the garden 
and fields. He breakfasted on milk and bread (alone), 
and I breakfasted with Mrs. T. Ciarkson up stairs. I 
promised to sketch him at ten, and at ten I was ready. 

" He seemed much pleased by a letter from Guizot, 
wherein he had said Soult and be meant to bring in 
Abolition next year. Dear old man, no praise seemed lost 
on him. He wanted to show me other letters, which I 
Lad not time to read. 

" When all was ready, — the windows fitted, he said, 
' Call in the maids.' In came six servant girls, and washer- 
women (it being washing day). ' I am determined they 
shall see the first stroke.' In they ail crowded, timidly 
wondering. Clarkson said, ' There now, that is the first 
stroke ; come again in an hour, and you shall see the last 1 ' 

" We now began to talk : he said, ' When Christophe's 
wife and daughters, all accomplished women, were brought 
or introduced by him to Wilberforce, and others in high 
life, there was a sort of shrink at admitting them into 
society.' I told him I believed it, because when I resolved 
to place the African in front of the picture on the same 
level as the Europeans there was the same delicacy, but 
I got him and put him in at once. Shame prevented 

' Clarkson showed no envy. He spoke of GrenviUe 


Sharpe and "Wilberforce with affection and respect ; ' but,' 
said the patriarch, * they thought of the slave, I of the 
slave traded I admired this distinction. 

*^ I think Clarkson's intellects are unimpaired, and 
shine through his infirmities. He told the whole story of 
his vision. He said he was sleeping when a voice awoke 
him, and he heard distinctly the words, * You have not 
done all your work. There is America.' Clarkson said, 
it was vivid. He sat upright in his bed ; he listened and 
heard no more. Then the whole subject of his last 
pamphlet came to his mind. Texts without end crowded 
in, and he got up in the morning, and began it, and 
worked eight hours a day till it was done — till he hoped 
he had not left the Americans a leg to stand on. 

" Now come the causes of this belief. There is no 
doubt all men who devote their lives from boyhood to a 
great cause have the impression of being called or led by 
the Deity. Does this impression come from the mere 
physical exercise of the brain in one direction, so that ima- 
gination is excited, or does perpetual solitude engender 
the notion that what is merely imagined is actual ? Clark- 
son says he was sleeping. Might he not have dreamt 
strongly? He heard a voice, and sat upright, neither 
asleep nor awake, and still heard the imagined sounds of 
the dream before his reason returned with his waking. 
This is the physical explanation, and is always more 
gratifying to the world than the supposition that any 
being is so favoured by God as to be called and selected. 
On the other hand, Clarkson has evidently been a great 
instrument for the abolition of a great curse. A whole 
species who have suffered for centuries have by his exer- 
tions, and those of others, been advanced in the scale of 
human beings, to liberty and protection. Is such a cause 
unworthy the interference of the Deity? If not, is it 
improbable he would select for such a benevolent purpose 
a human being as his instrument ? The men who do 
these great things universally have the impression they 
are so impelled. For instance, Columbus believed he 

158 MEM0IB8 OP B. K. HATDOS. [iB^l. 

heard a voice in the atorm, encouraging' him to persevere. 
Socrates believed in his attendant spirit ; and, if it be 
allowed to refer to Christ, the Saviour always talked 
as of an immediate comm unication. I myself have be- 
lieved in such impressions all my life. I believe I have 
been so acted on from seventeen to fifty-five, for the pur- 
pose of reforming and refining my great country in art. 
I believe that my sufferings were meant, first, to correct 
me, and then, by rousing attention, to interest my nation. 
I know that 1 am corrected and a better man, and I know 
there exists a sympathy for me, and, by reflection, for 
my style and object, which, without such causes, would 
not have operated so soon. At seventeen, I could not 
write a word intelligibly : who gave me the power to 
thunder out in one night, as if by inspiration, my thoughts 
on the Academic question ? Who guided me as to the 
only sound system of education in au artist, in opposition 
to all the existing practice of the day in England ? Who 
cheered me when all the world seemed adverse to desert? 
God, my great, my benevolent, my blessed Creator, by 
the influence — and the influence only, of His holy, holy, 
holy Spirit ! 

" Perhaps this is insanity as well as Clarkson's, Co- 
lumbus's, Milton's, and others'. Perhaps we are all 
' drunk with new wine.' No, no. We are all more 
alive to the supernatural and spiritual than the rest of 
our fellow creatures. Where could I see the prototype of 
the head of Lazarus ? I had never seen a man raised from 
the dead. Who was my inspirer f God, my blessed 

" How often in prison, in want, in distress, in blindness, 
have I knelt in agony before Him, my forehead touching 
the ground, and prayed for His mercy. How often have I 
arisen with ' Go on,' so loud in my brain as to make me 
start. How often have I, in despair, opened the Scriptures, 
and Seen, as if in letters of fire, ' Fear tliou not. I am 
with thee.' And have I ever had occasion but once to find 
the result did not answer the promises? And that one 
result will yet be accomplished. 

1841.] THOMAS CLARKSON. 159 

" I believe Clarkson did hear a voice, like other selected 
beings before he was born. 

" After finishing my drawing I started by mail, and 
was in town by eight the next morning. 

" Why was I not so impressed as when* I visited the 
Duke ? Here was a man who in his Christian and peace- 
able object had shown equal perseverance, equal skill, 
equal courage, and yet I was not so afiected. 

** Clarkson has more weaknesses than the Duke. He 
is not so high bred. He makes a pride of his debilities. 
He boasts of his swollen legs, and his pills, as if they were 
so many claims to distinction. The Duke did not let you 
see him in his infirmities. He was deaf, but he would 
not have let you isee it if possible ; he dined like others, 
ate like others, and did every thing like others ; and what 
he did not do like others, he did not do before others. 

" Lord Grey and Clarkson have both that infirmity of 
asking questions about themselves, as if they had forgot 
the answers, that they may elicit again the answers for 
the pleasure of hearing the repetition. The Duke — never. 
He is too much a man. Himself seems the last thing he 
remembers, except when others presume on his modesty. 
He never obtruded Waterloo, unless it was forced on 
him, or arose out of the conversation, nor did he shrink 
if the company seemed to press it. 

** In fact, the Duke was a high-bred man. The want 
of this is never compensated for. Never. 

" Though Clarkson is a gentleman by birth, and was 
educated like one, he is too natural for any artifice. He 
says what he thinks, does what he feels inclined, is 
impatient, childish, simple : hungry, and will eat ; restless, 
and will let you see it ; punctual, and will hurry ; nervous, 
and won't be hurried ; positive, and hates contradiction ; 
charitable ; speaks affectionately of all, even of Wilber- 
force's sons, whose conduct he lamented, more as if it 
cast a shadow over the father's tomb, than as if hc'felt 
wounded from what they had said of himself. 

*' Of the three venerable patriarchs of great causes— 

160 MEMOIB9 OP B. B. HATDOS. [1811. 

tlio Duke, Lord Grey, and Clarkson, — the Duke is the 
greatest character by far. 

" April ^Ith. — There is always something to do, I 
inscribed the names of Wilberforce, Sharpe, and Toussaint 
to-day, and that completes the undertaking. 

" The moment a great canvas goes from my house 1 
dread to look at my painting-room. When a great canvas 
is up I feel sheltered, though I have not one farthing in 
my pocket. How extraordinary is habit! Grant me, 
O God, a long life. The more pictures I paint, the more 
worthy my mind will be of another world. I know and 
feel it. But Thou knowest best. I humbly submit to 
Thy will, and will try to be always ready. 

"27 New Bond Street, 
'■aeih, 1841. 
" Dear Haydon, 
"1 have just received thy note saying that 'Wilberforce, 
Sharpe, and Toussaint' are inscribed on the curtains. I am 
exceedingly »orry to hear it. They had nothing ■whatever to 
do with the Convention, and must come out. I shall be in 
Piccadilly at three o'clock. 

" Thine truly, 

" John Beaumont." 

"The gratitude of posterity! Without Wilberforce, 
Toussaint, or Sharpe, no Convention would have been 
held on the subject. And here is my friend Beaumont 
insisting on their names (introduced merely in allusion to 
their services) being struck out. 

" SQtk, — The last day of April, I have finished my 
great work, and this day ends the month. 

" The delight I had in turning to one of my historical 
compositions after I had got rid of that dreadful collection 
of faces, is not to be described." 

On the 13th of May he records the failure of the 

".25th. — After the bustle of a work of portraits, the lassi- 
tude of mind which seizes one is extraordinary. Johnson, 
after completing his dictionary, passed two years doing 

1841.] DEATH OF WILKIE. 161 

little. Sir Joshua thought his mind would not recover. 
This was nothing but the over-relaxation of the string 
after constant tension. 

** To a man like me, used to solitude, the worry of such 
a picture is dreadful, and nothing could keep an artist 
from being torn to pieces by 188 sitters, but the utmost 
decision, by which they are made to perceive he is not to 
be trifled vrfth. 

" Spent the morning in studying my darling cartoons. 
Oh, what a blessing ! 

" The criticism of this picture has been absurd. Be- 
cause it looks like mere nature, the critics think the art 
has been overlooked ; whereas, there is as much, or more 
art, in this artless look than in many compositions of 
more profundity." 

It was at this time that the news of Wilkie's death 
reached England. Haydon was deeply shaken by the 
loss of his old friend, for, despite rooted differences of 
character, and long estrangements, he had a true and deep 
regard for Wilkie, as I believe Wilkie had for him. The 
thought of this death dwelt in Haydon's mind for months, 
and hardly any entry of his journal for the rest of the 
year but contains some allusion to it. 

'* May 12th, — Read prayers, and prayed for the soul 
of my dear old friend David Wilkie. The last week I 
have been at Dover, and one evening, at Warren's library, 
in The Chronicle, I read an account of the OrientaPs 
arrival. I rapidly ran over the names, and did not see 
Wilkie's ; I read on, my heart literally thumping against 
my side, till I came to ' Sir David Wilkie expired in 
the bay of Gibraltar.' A painful trembling seized me. 
I had begged and entreated him before he went to 
be cautious of such a journey. I begged him to read 
Madden, to understand the nature of the diseases, and 
consider his weakness of constitution. In fact, I all but 
predicted his death. In my mind, privately, I felt con- 
vinced he would not return, and said so to my family. 

" Poor dear Wilkie ! with all thy heartless timidities 




of cliaracter, — with thy shrinking, cowardly want of re- 
solution, looking as if thou hadat sneaked through life 
pursued by the ghosts of forty Academicians,— thy great 
genius, our early friendship, our long attachment through 
thirty-six years, tliy touching death and romantic burial, 
brought thy loss bitterly to my heart. 

"May \5th. — I dreamt I was sleeping in the tombs of the 
Kings at Jerusalem, and awoke in a wild confusion, and 
thought, in the dim twilight of daybreak, the arch of my bed 
was the cold cave. Poor Wilkie I he seemed to look on me 
and to say, ' Did I ever give you cause of offence ? Did I 
not bear and forbear ? Did I not assist you with money ? 
"Was not our friendship unalloyed till you tried to destroy 
the Institute in which you were brought up ? Then did 
I leave you? Did I not enjoy your genius — hear testi- 
mony to your great talents ? My character was different 
from yours. You have no right to reproach me for not 
being willing to go to the extremes of your hatred, and 
involve myself in suspicions which I did not deserve. No, 
my dear Haydon, I loved you as much as, nay more than 
any man ; and while we entertained the same views, saw 
each other daily, and pursued the same objects, nothing 
disturbed our happiness. When you did not fear ill- 
usage as I did; when worse treatment afflicted and nearly 
destroyed me, you ought not to blame me for wisliing for 
that peace so natural to my nature.' 

" Tills passed through my imagination as I lay dozing ; 
and I hugged ray pillow and seemed to wish never again 

" ' But,' I replied, ' you were a slave to the great and the 
world. You feared to show regard for a man the world 
bad deserted. You shrank from an ardent heart, whose 
only fault was its excess of affection. You wore not a, 
Christian when the applause of men was concerned, and 
fell a victim to disappointment at Court, which you pur- 
sued with a mean adulation, till you were driven from its 
precincts. I acknowledge you bore and forbore — not from 
Christian duty, but because it was to your interests the 


less dangerous course of the two. You lent me money, 
but you talked of it with a gross want of delicacy. When 
the world complained, you abused me. You ridiculed 
the school I formed. You envied me in all my great 
successes — Jerusalem, Lazarus, Mock Election, pupils, 
drawings, lectures ; and at all times tried to prove they 
were not successes, with a pale face and quivering lip 
— more pale and more quivering than usuaL There was 
no occasion to join in the cry to prove you had no connec- 
tion with me ; our known friendship would have induced 
my bitterest enemies to pardon in you a delicate and affec- 
tionate silence. 

" * These were frailties. Your virtues were great — your 
love of art a passion — your industry unexampled — your 
decorum deserving imitation ; but you might have had 
virtues ; you might have loved your art ; you might have 
been industrious ; you might have been decorous ; and yet 
not have deserted your sincere and affectionate old friend 
in the time of his sorrow — sorrow brought on by his dis- 
gust at your treatment by men whom you tried to con- 
ciliate, afterwards, by calumniating the man who defended 

" This is the way I went on till daybreak, and sprang 
up to dress, saying, * Poor Wilkie ! ' 

" Yesterday I called on our old friend, Collins. Collins 
was an humble adorer. In his presence Wilkie felt all he 
said was listened to — with me it was contested. Collins 
was affected, and so was I. He came to the Academy in 
1806, we in 1805 ; but he was one of the set who became 
a leader in his department. Collins, and Jackson, and 
Wilkie were all more violent against the Academy than 
I was ; but all deserted me to suit their interest. Perhaps 
they got wiser ; but at any rate I was firm, and suffered. 

*' Collins said, * If it were not for the Academy, depend 
upon it artists would be treated like carpenters.' There 
was some truth in that, but I fear they treat artists like 
carpenters, and keep all the respect paid to themselves. 
Wilkie is a loss indeed to me. His mildness soothed 

X 2 


anger, cliecked violcDce, and rendered sarcasm a cruelty. 
I feel as if a part of my head had fallen from laj 
shoulders ; I miss something intellectual that I used to 
consult. Hail, and farewell ! 

" Poor fellow ! He was coming home with new views, 
and a new stjlo for sacred subjects, for which he waa not 
fit. He could no more have painted Christ than he could 
have raised Lazarus. 

" I offered Murray my own life, with all Wilkie's and 
Sir George's correspondence with me. Wilkie'a life I 
could not write. 

" I6lk.- — Another dear old friend gone — Thomas Kear- 
sey, for whom I painted the first Napoleon. He died 
characteristically. He came to town to attend a meeting 
of directors of the Regent Canal ; blew up the directors ; 
dined with them ; eat twice as much as he could digest, as 
usual; waa seized with a vomiting of blood; died, and was 
buried in the corner of a field on hia own farm, detesting 
the being herded with his own species after death. 

" Poor Wilkie ! I miss the consciousness of his exist- 
ence. Our friendship began in a dispute, continued in 
long arguments, and ended in a sarcasm. Yet we were 
attached to each other. 

" 17(A. — Nothing can compensate me for the loss of 
Wilkie in the art — though latterly, owing to my views 
about the Academy, we were not together so much. We 
never met but we lingered, unwilluig to separate. 

" Old associations crowded on us. While he lived, 
there was always something natural, sound, and solid in 
the art. Now there is nothing — nobody. The loss to 
the Academy is irreparable, 

" It comes over me fifty times a day. 

" I feel as if marriage, children, — all — had interrupted a 
series of feelings on art. I feel as if there was now no 
one to talk to, to consult — he was so pure, though so 
totally different in style. 

"Poor Wilkie! Poor fellow I I looked over my 
prints, and remembered his doing so hundreds of times. 


I remember his remarks on many figures in Raffaele. He 
relished Raffaele as much as any man. I read some of 
his early letters, with his allusions to our pleasant fort- 
night at Sir George's, his remarks on various things ; all 
of which brought crowds of thoughts to my mind. 

"Poor Wilkie — poor fellow! Could one have im- 
agined he would have been flung in the depths of the 
ocean! "When I think of his long illness in 1810; his 
patience — ^his meekness, and submission, — it is impossible 
not to fprgive his frailties. 

'* 18th. — My only regret is the thirty-nine Academi- 
cians were not flung after him, as they ought to have 
been, on the ancient principle of sacrificing to the manes 
of a distinguished man ! 

" Poor Wilkie ! 1 don't feel my heart beat so much 
to-day; I was frightened at its continuance yesterday, 
and last night. But now it's gone. Let me think of his 
virtues, and forget all his abject slavery to the world. 

" Peace to his spirit ! 

*' May we meet hereafter, cleansed of our earthly 
frailties ; never to separate more ! 

'* Wrote to Sir Robert Peel to relieve my thoughts. 

" Every word Wilkie said on composition should be 
treasured up. Young men may study his rustic groups 
with as much certainty as Raffaele's. 

" Poor fellow ! I wonder what the fish think of him, 
with their large glassy eyes, in the gurgling deep. 

** It is extraordinary the impression the man has made 
on njy mind. His presence haunts me. I hear his voice 
fifty times a day. I kept a journal of our voyage into 
Devonshire, 1809, which I shall look out 

" Yet taking him as a man, he was not worthy of such 

" 19tL — Declined signing the Address to Mrs. Wilkie ; 
as coming through the President and Council, it would, on 
my part, be acknowledging an authority I dispute. 

" This was cunning. They thought my feelings would 
hurry me away to sign it without reflection or reading, 

X 3 

166 MEMOIRS OF B. R. DATDON. tiBil. 

and then they would have turned round and said, ' See ! 
he acknowledges our authority.' 

" A well known model came to me, followed me, and 
said, ' Have you signed the paper ? I advise you, sir, 
to make haste, as it will only lie this day.' 

" A whole month have I been squandering my time: 
I could have painted a hundred guinea picture. I could 
have earned five guineas a day. Wilkie's death and 
Mary's illness have fretted me, hut those horrid fits of 
having no sense of duty sometimes lay hold of me. 

" To church to-morrow. To the launch of the Trafal- 
gar, Monday — and then to work. 

" Like Johnson in hypocondria, there I ait, sluggish, 
staring, idle, gaping, with not one idea. Several times do 
these journals record this condition of hrain. 

" Wilkie was as fine an example as I ever witnessed of 
love ol art. Wherever he was it never left him. When 
d Doy, the parishioners complained of Master David 
sketching them in church ; as when I was at Honiton, 
the clerk complained to Haynes of my sketching him. 
When on intimate terms we used to excite each other. 
We used to go to church together for two years to hear 
Sidney Smith at London-street chapeh I used to call on 
him at 72 or 74 Great Portland Street on the way. 

" The want now in the press is of editors independent 
of society. The Hunts on that point were noble charac- 
ters. I should like to know the amount of the bribe 
which could have made them say what they did not think, 
or omit to say what they knew ought to have been said. 

" There is not a journal now existing would have pub- 
lished my attack on the Academy, as first written, for 
fear of society. This was a paltry fear the Hunts dis- 
dained where truth was the object. And this is a tribute 
they deserve most heartily, though it would have been 
better for my worldly interest if I had never met them. 
Noble fellows ! 

" When Wilkie was alive there was always something 
existing stirring, sound, of high repute. 

1841.] ON WILKIE. 167 

" There is now nothing sound or of high repute. He 
was as a guarantee in the Academy. There is now none, 
and every year they will get worse and worse. They must- 

" He kept them right as far as he could. He had all 
the novelty and originality of genius. With a man of 
real genius, you know not what he is going to come out 
with next. He does not know himself. But with a man 
of no genius nothing comes. There is not a man of real 
genius left in the Academy. 

" The perfection of Wilkie's early compositions can only 
be accounted for by his careful study of the Cartoons, or 
some such standard works. The principles of repetition of 
line, of quantity, of groups, of action and repose — light, 
dark, — show deep reflection ; though Graham must have 
been an excellent master to have sent a pupil abroad so 
admirably grounded, 

" I never saw the picture he won the ten guineas prize 
with at Graham's. It was Macduff, I think. I wonder 
who has it. From his own description of it, it must have 
been quite original. He entered his name as student, 
November 1805, twenty-one. I was entered March 9th, 
1805, nineteen. I saw the book yesterday. If twenty- 
one was correct he was in his fifty-eighth year. I have 
written to Cults to know. 

** "Wilfully he would not make such a mistake, and yet 
he told me he was a month older than I." 

Haydon now began his autobiography, in the intervals 
his working at the picture of Mary Queen of Scots show- 
ing her infant son to the English ambassador. 

*' June 24Lth, — Wrote all the morning, and concluded 
the first chapter of my intended memoirs of myself, in- 
terleaving Wilkie's and Jackson's memoirs. Sent it to 
Murray as a specimen, and my messenger lost it in Port- 
man Square. So much for the beginning, — what will be 
the end. Heaven knows. 

" 25th. — My object vrill not be to paint ourselves en 
beau. Of the three, Jackson, Wilkie, and myself, Wilkie's 
conduct is the safest to hold up as an example to the mo- 

M 4 




dest student) mine the noblest to the aspiring, and Jack- 
son's the most waraing to the patronised. 

" I sent Murray the introductory chapter of my life, 
which tlie wife of my poor old Irishman Fitz, lost in 
Portmaa Square. 

" Some fellow picked it up and carried it to Murray. 
This was a romantic beginning. Success! Worted five 
lours and a half, pretty well. Dearest Mary sat. 

" 30lh. — The last day of June, and only to-day have I 
worked aa I ought since the great picture went. It has 
required all my energy to get over a dulness and lassitude 
I can only account for from the reaction after a picture of 
that sort, which has caused eight or ten months' perpetual 

" Put in the Queen's two hands well ; worked nearly 
seven hours heartily, but it ought to be eight. 

" I Lave not recovered Wilkie's death. 

" Julp 2nd. — As I painted all day I thought how ^ 
used to anticipate each seeing the other's work at 
elusion ; how we used to dine, drink tea, and talk togethi 
for hours. Called on Hamilton, who gave me a letter \ 

" He said Eastlake had been examined, and that I had 
no chance of being employed to adorn either House. 

" That if I had gone twenty years ago to Italy, it would 
have made all the difference. 

" Where did Shakspeare go ? Where Raffaele, Phidias, 
Michel Angolo ? What absurdity t 

" These journals show I first proposed in the House 
schools of design. 1 petitioned the Committee to adorn 
the House, Lord Morpeth presented that petition. It 
was seconded by T. Duncombe, and sent up to the Com- 
mittee; and now, at the instigation of the Academy, East- 
lake, my pupil, is to bo chosen, because being my pupil 
it may be more mortifying to my feelings. Good God! 



Such is irritated power. However, they know not the 
resting place of my mind. 

" I have nearly passed three twenties of my life. The 
life of man is but three score and ten, so fifteen years more 
may finish me. I have sacrificed myself always for the 
art, and this is my reward. Thou, O liord, knowest my 
heart, and that rather than the thing should not be done, I 
would grind the colours of others. 

*' But I foresee it will be a job, like the National 

** They are now talking of giving every artist a chance. 
A pretty milee of absurdity it will be, unless one mind has 
the entire lead. Nous verrons. I am prepared for every 
disgrace, and bow humbly to that Creator who seems to 
think I am not yet endowed with humility suflicient. 

" Sth, — Worked and advanced. Called on Napier, and 
was amazingly pleased with him. He put my boy's 
name third on his list, and said, ' You are brmging him 
up to a bad trade.' * Never mind,' said I, * if he be as dis- 
tinguished as you are.' Heard last night from Lord 
Minto. Wrote Lord John, Lord Palmerston, and William 
Cowper. Innes and Barrow are trying too. The deuce is 
in it if we do not get him off. Wrote Sir C. Adam and 
Sir George Cockburn. Sir George's letter was straight- 

" 9th. — It may be laid down that self-destruction is 
the physical mode of relieving a diseased brain, because 
the first impression on a brain diseased, or diseased for a 
time, is the necessity for this horrid crime. There is no 
doubt of it. 

" 10/A. — My eyes strained. Saw Barry on Thursday, 
with a letter from Hamilton. Am to see him to-day, and 
he promised me sections and plans of the Houses of Lords 
and Commons. We talked of it. He said whether any- 
thing were done or no, he would leave the Hall and House 
of Lords so that they would be in a mess if painting was 
not introduced. 

" It seems he travelled with Eastlake. I said, ' I hope 

170 MEMOIBS OF B. E. HATDO^. [i841. 

you won't forget me, Mr. Barry,' ' It 'will be a great 
aliame if they do, Mr. Haydon.' ' I hope you won't forget 
me, Mr, Barry.' He blushed! 

" 27/A. — Called on Macdonald, Wilkie's old friend, and 
got three valuable letters of Wilkie's to him (1804. and 
1805), written just before he came to town. Went to 
church at the New Church* after twenty-seven years. I 
went there when first I came to town, and prayed for all 
that has happened, and now went and thanked God. I felt 
as if I had opened the way for others, and might soon be 
done with : God knows. I was affected ; Wilkie's death 
has broken a link in my life. 

" Called on my dear old pupil Eastlake. He was af- 
fected at seeing me ; he showed me a passage from a 
German author -j-, referring to my brochure twenty years 
ago on the Ilissus and Horse's head, which Goethe al 
luded to, 

" We talked of the Houses of Commons and Lords, 
and of their probable ornament. He spoke of hia evi- 
dence, and I told him that if I was not consulted, I 
should come out as on the Elgin Marble question. The 
evidence is printing. 

" 2SM. — Worked heartily, and nearly finished Agave 
for Sir John Hanmer. I hope I shall be able to keep 
from attacking or writing, though the Exhibition just 
closed, above the line, is a disgrace to the country. 

" My mind is in such a beautiful tone ! I work so de- 
lightfully : colours — ideas — brushes, flow like a river. 
How grateful I am. 

" August ith. — Worked hard; went to the Gallery to 
see Correggio, Reynolds, and Rubens. I studied well, and 
saw my own defects when I came home. No boy of 
eighteen is more eager to attain excellence than I am, or 
more alive to, and desirous of discovering my own errors : 
I trust I shall always be so to the day of my death, I 
want to get that broad style of imitating nature 1 see in 

* In the Strand. 

t Kumolir's ICaliemsche Forechungen, vol, i. p. 29. 


the great masters, — not in Vandyke, but in Titian, Cor- 
reggio, Angelo, * Tintoretto, Rembrandt, and Reynolds. 
Founded as I am I know I could improve on it ; I'll try. 

" 2d. — My boy's head looks little and very bad. How 
inferior to Correggio and Reynolds. God! I'll remedy 

" Saw a Giorgione; deep toned — gorgeous — glitter- 
ing. What a lesson ! 

*' I nauseate my own fresh-complexioned English look. 
Why ? Is not the blooming fraicheur of England as 
beautiful, in its way, as the embruno tint of Italy, or 
Spain, or Egypt? Sir Joshua looked by his side like 
milk and cream, but washy and faint. 

" I had a delightful lesson, and I will try to profit by 
it. I flew at the arrangement of my picture and improved 
it wonderfully. 

" The glazing of Giorgione is rich and gemmy, not liquid, 
and yet not dry. In the head of a man with a helmet, 
the flesh is wonderfully kept down, to give efiect to the 
armour, and yet not overdone. The subject is the Woman 
taken in Adultery. 

llth, — Wrote on adorning the House of Lords. 

" English art never stood higher than at the end of the 
war. Foreigners were astonished at our condition, and 
might well be. The reason was, blockading kept the rich 
from running over the Continent ; our energies were com- 
pressed and devoted to ourselves, and we flourished ac- 
cordingly. Wilkie was in his zenith ; so was Lawrence ; 
so was Flaxman ; so were our water-colour painters ; and 
so was I, for my Solomon was an English triumph, and 
Landseer was beginning to bud. 

** We escaped the contagion of David's brickdust which 
infected the Continent, and the frescoes are but a branch 
of the same Upas root grafted upon Albert Durer's hard- 
ness, Cimabue's Gothicism, and the gilt ground inanity 
of the middle age. All the vast comprehensiveness of 
Velasquez, Rubens, and Titian are to be set aside, and we 
are not to go on where they left off, but to begin where 
their predecessors began 300 years before. 




*' Tile great cause of this probable change is the per- 
nicious popularity of an eminent and victorious painter, 
the exact sort of genius the Academj should have con- 

" It is too late now; the evil is done; but the young 
student should be eternally cautioned to beware. Yet 
what a state the schools are in ! The keeper is so amiable 
in private life, that one dreads to find fault. A keeper 
so totally inadequate to his situation will throw the stu- 
dent back an age, now of all other times, when he ought 
to be advanced. 

" If Government placed me at the head of a school, I 
■would soon produce a race capable of meeting the emer- 
gency ; but then comes the pride of the Academy, and 
the honour of England is not to be compared to that. 
Had I been perfectly supported, would this have been 
the condition of art ? 

" Here are the Patrons, — after having for fifty years suf- 
fered Barry to live in poverty, and allowing me to go to 
prison four times ; who permitted me to be for years with- 
out an order; who deserted me because I told them large 
works ought to be executed for the honour of the country ; 
who have pressed down genius by buying nothing but small 
works; and who allowed my school, which they applauded 
me for founding, to be destroyed, for fear of the Academy 
— now in a great emergency turn round and say, ' We want 
great works, but you can't draw ; we must call in the Ger- 
mans,' who for twenty years have been patronised by the 
King and kept at work, and you wish to bring them at 
once into a contest with us who have never painted fresco, 
and put us in competition with them out of our element, 
instead of employing us in our own. 

" Shame on you, to trample down and desert, and 
calumniate, and ridicule a nature that ' loved not wisely, 
but too well!' Shame on you! And now you will reap 
the reward of your folly. To whom do I owe my salva- 
tion ? To the people, who believed in my truth, sym- 

• I presume from oilier passages the allusion here is to M'Clise. J 

1841.] £XFEBIM£NTS IN FBESCO. 173 

pathised with my sufferings, and gave my genius that fair 
play which you, with mortified pride, refused. 

" We shall all meet hereafter stripped and without dis- 
guise. May you be able in the presence of your God to 
say you have done your duty as I have done mine. 

" What youth did I ever turn away that wanted instruc- 
tion ? When did self-love stand in the way of my duty to 

" Who would like to paint in fresco ? says Eastlake. I 
do not know who would like. I know who would not 

" The fashionable portrait-painter in silk stockings, and 
the president in cocked hat, how would they feel in mortar 
and lime ? How would they like to exchange a cocked 
hat for a paper bonnet, and to stand up like men ? 

" \Sth. — Wrote Mr. Labouchere my report on the re- 
port, in which I pointed out the necessity for a wall being 
devoted to fresco in the school of design at Somerset 

'* 18^A. — Got my first lesson in fresco from Latilla, a 
good-natured fellow. I saw him put in a head, and now 
I fear not. God bless my efforts. 

" \9th. — Prepared for my own attempt. Latilla's 
cracked &om his being in too great a hurry to begin, and 
not giving the lime time to mature. 

" 2Qth. — I began fresco to-day and have succeeded, 
and taken off all apprehension as to the process. I'll take 
to it. God bless me in it. Amen. 

** Latilla painted a head and mixed some cement, — only 
one third sand and two thirds lime. I said, I have painted 
always in the old way — ^in oil, — and it never cracked. I let 
him do as he liked, and it began to crack before he was 
half through, and in the morning was blistered to atoms. 

" To-day I followed. 

*^ Where the other head had been no suction took place, 
and the intonaco remained soft, nor did it set till it was 
scraped off, and renewed with plaster. 

"J21. — Eastlake called, and thought my fresco suc- 



MEsroras OPB. h. ttATDoir. 


" It was interesting. I knelt down yesterday morning 
and prayed God with all my heart to bless my beginning 
and progression in fresco with all tlie ardour with which I 
knelt down on my arrival in London in 1804. 

" 25th. — Sir Robert Inglis called, and was much pleased 
with my fresco. Mr. Bankes called with Lady Spencer, 
his niece, and they were much pleased too. This is an 
advance. This is the genuine fresco on the wet mortar. 

" What I suffered at first, lest some artist might get the 
start of me! My excitement has completely knocked me 
up, — taken away my voice. 

"26th. — Mr. H awes called, and was much pleased. 
He said, ' If they ask about fresco — there it is.' I wrote 
him to-night, and offered to give up my whole time to 
fresco for ten years for a certain income. That I would. 

" 27th. — The fresco is nearly dry ; has got whiter, 
brighter, and more unearthly. Sir John Hanmer called, 
and spent an hour, and I sbowed him the whole system 
of study from dissection onwards. He made many in- 
quiries. He was amazingly pleased with the fresco, and 
begged me to go on. I showed him the system, and 

painted an eye on the wet mortar before him. D- 

called with the air of a master of the practice, saw and 
felt nothing of the poetry, hut pointed out the colour of 
the lips, and said it would not stand, and that I had too 
much impaste, and that the colours ought to be like stained 
drawing, hatched, glazed, and thin. He said it was like 
Michel Angelo's style of fresco, and not like Kaffaele's, and 
that he was a bungler with his tools. I rephed that to he 
like him was at least something in a first attempt. 

" This is the comfort of professional judgment. 

" The upjfer part of the face is improved enormously. 

" 3rd. — Nothing could be better hit than the fresco. 
I took all the Committee before the division, so that every 
member was in town, and up they came, and were con- 
vinced it could be done. And now they are off into the 
country, where they will spread it, 

have been compelled to sell the copyright of the 


Duke to fit out my boys, — one for the navy, and the 
other for Cambridge. To be sure it is hard. I took 
several months about the picture when a portrait-painter 
vrould have taken one. I went to Waterloo to be correct, 
which the portrait man never would have undertaken. It 
has been one year and a half engraving, and I can only 
get 200L for the result. 

" I was engaged to paint the picture for 600 guineas, 
and they only could raise 400. 

*' And the publisher will make thousands. But then is 
it nothing to be able to do it ? Are the repute, the de- 
light, the sonnet of Wordsworth, nothing ? They are an 
equivalent; but still I have thrown away a trump that 
might have been a property for life. 

" 4fth, — Received the first lOOZ., and made up my mind 
to the loss philosophically. At the beginning of this week 
I had hardly a shilling. I end it having received 171/. 
Such is the result of * seeing One who is invisible.' I 
close the week in gratitude. 

** London, Sept. 20tli, 1841. 
« Sir, 

" A great era in art is coming which I always foresaw. 
Pray, pray, Sir Robert Peel, put yourself at the head of it. 
That which I begged Lord Liverpool, Canning, Lord Hipon, 
Lord Grey, Lord Melbourne to begin, is beginning. Let the 
glory be yours. Will you let it escape ? Fear not the people. 
They will back you in everything. When the cartoons were 
moved up, twenty-five years ago, what was the universal insinu- 
ation ? This. ^ The people care nothing for the cartoons ;' and 
yet the people crowded to such excess to see the cartoons, and 
the copies of my pupils, that the doors of the gallery were 
obliged to be closed for fear of injury. 

•* Only do justice to the English people or the House. Their 
taste is in advance of our production. I know it. Was I not 
told if I exhibited the naked figure I should be hooted. I did, 
and was overwhelmed with shouts of applause. 

" I again brought in two wrestlers, stripped above and below, 
and put them to wrestle. ISothing could exceed the enthusiasm 
in London, in Liverpool, in Edinburgh. 

" Do not have any doubt, Sir Robert Peel. Seize this great 

r7S HEMOntS OF B. E. HATDOS. [l84i: 

moment and carry it througb. For my part, all my agitation 
and complainta are over, A great opportunity ia come, and 
complaints must cease. I give all mine to tlie winds lor ever." 

" Oct. SOtk. — Called on Eastlakc, and spent a deliglit- 
ful half hour : lie showed me a report by a pupil of Ma- 
ratti on the state of the frescoes before he cleaned them. 
All the lower part of the school of Athens was invisible 
from scratches and dust. Eastlake saw Cornelius, who 
told him that lime of loss tlian three years' slaking would 
fail, and that the lime for his Last Judgment was twelve 

" He told Eastlake that you should put lime in a bag 
and dip it in water, and if the lime dried instantly to 
dust, that was the lime fit for fresco. 

" 3\st. — Called on Hamilton, who said it is not true 
that the Germans revived fresco. That it was never ex- 
tinct, but always practised in Italy, more or less. He said 
there was no intention of employing the Germans. 

" Cornelius said to Eastlake, ' Titian and Rubens must 
be put aside !' Eastlake showed me the receipt of Michel 
Angelo for 500 gold crowns or ducats, paid to him fur 
beginning the Sistine ceiling that day (oggi) in the June 
(I believe) of 1508. 

" Thus ends October. I finished the Quaker picture in 
April; June and July I finished Infant and Mary Queen 
of Scots; August was passed in fresco; September in 
putting my boy to sea, and my eldest son to Caiua College ; 
and this month in writing Wilkie's life, and lecturing at 

"November lat. — Worked four hours; much inter- 
rupted, but got on. The calls to-day were incessant. 
The letters endless. It is extraordinary what people, of 
all descriptions, come to me for advice and information in 
art. I care for nothing if art is talked of; but when asses 
call, and waste my time, I get despotic. 

" Gth. — Dear Jeremiah Harnian advanced me 1,000/. 
to carry me through Jerusalem and Ijazarus. I was 
ruined and he lost his money. He was angry with me. 


and it was just ; but the moment he heard I was ruined, 
he sent over to Kearsey and Spurr, my soh'citors^ and 
released me from the debt. This is now twenty years 
ago. Eastlake told me he had a fresco. I wrote to him 
to see it, and concluded by saying, * Are we to descend 
into the grave, my dear Mr. Harman, without explanation, 
when I can give it?' He wrote to me immediately to 
come. I went ; and on entering his library he held out 
his hand, and said, * Haydon, I am glad to see you.' I 
was very much affected ; he would not allow anything to 
be said, but remarked, * It is twenty years ago. I believe 
you meant honourably, but you were ruined.* I replied, 
* My dear Mr. Harman, I did, and now you say that, I 
can leave my name to my children with the only question- 
able thing of my whole life cleared up.* 

" He showed me his exquisite collection. I never saw 
such gems. The Correggio, and Perino del Vaga, were 
of the most essential service ; and after lunching, I took 
my leave of this dear and venerable man, so relieved of 
the burthen on my mind as cannot be expressed. 

*^ 25th. — I mixed to-day lime and marble-dust, and 
lime and sand equal parts. The marble-dust and lime 
became beautifully smooth. I then mixed cement and 
marble-dust, and cement alone, and placed all experiments 
on the wall against my next attempt, to see which cracks 
and which does not. 

" 27th. — November is nearly gone. 1 have done a 
good deal. Nearly finished Poictiers, and sketched, and 
invented, and lectured. To-morrow I go to Liverpool, 
and on the 6th to Birmingham. 

" December 3rd. — Went to Liverpool, and was much 
delighted with my reception. Gave the lecture on 

" 4/A. — Selected drawings and papers for Birmingham. 
Charles Eastlake elected Secretary to the Commission. 
No one living so fit. 

" lO^A. — Eastlake's kindness, as can be seen, is great. 
He frankly writes me his continuous knowledge about 






fresco, as lie gains it, as I communicated with him in 
earl^ life about art. Now Wilkie is gone, his mind is 
the only one I think of, 

" 17M. — Walked to see Watt's monument at Wands- 
worth church. Boltou's was close to it. It is Chantrey's 
ckef-d'ceuvre. As I came home, the booming rattle of 
the train seemed like the spirit of Watt still animating 
inert matter. 

" The statue is very fine, and contains the essence of 
Chantrey's peculiar power. 

" 31*(. — Last day of 1841. I have had great pros- 
perity and constant employment. The health of my dear 
love is much improved. I have planted one boy In the 
service, who promises well, and has obtained the approba- 
tion of his officers and captain. I have placed the other 
at Cambridge ; he has got through his first term. I 
have paid for all with my own earnings. For all which 
blessings I thank God. For the watching over the well- 
being of human creatures who depend on you, and have 
been brought into the world by you, is after all the most 
important duty of man. Every hoy I have educated {and 
I have brought out four and educated seven) was brought 
up in the fear of God, the love of truth, and the adoration 
of a stern morality. For all these blessings I thank God 
with all my heart, and I pray Him humbly that by this 
time twelvemonths I may be able to thank Him for a 
continuance of such mercies. Amen. 

" As to the state of art, it is dangerous. A great 
moment is come ; and I do not believe any one so capable 
of wielding it as myself, when, from circumstances, and 
the prejudices of all men, I have the least chance of any. 
Because : 

" Ist. I have loved my art always better than myself. 

" 2nd. I dissected and drew two years before I painted, 

" 3rd. My pictures of Solomon, Jerusalem, and Laza- 
rus are indisputable evidences of genius. 

" 4th, I educated Easllake, the Landseers, Harvey, 
Bewick, Chatfield, Lance j and founded a school, the 

■HT.^ his PROSPEOTS CfP ttTBLtO E^tlbTMENT. 179 

Kfeattered fragments of which have reformed art in Eng- 

B&nd. Therefore I have no claim. 

Bi " Stli. I stood forth and defended the Elgin Marbles 

■ imd demolished Knight. 

I _' " 6th. I have been imprisoned four times for perse- 

I Aring to improve the people. 

I " 7tli. I first proposed to adorn the House of Lords. 

[ " 8th. I have had a plan before every Ministry for 

1 twenty-five years, 

I " 9th, I first petitioned the House by Lord Broughamj 

[ 1823 ; by Lord Durham, 1 824- ; by Lord Colborne, 1826 ; 

I l^ Lord Dover, 1827 ; by Lord Morpeth, 1833 or '34, in 

I favour of high art, and the Building Committee in specific 
favour of this very object — the decoration of the House 
of Lords. 

" 10th. I have lost all my property ; have been refused 
the honours of my country; have had my talents denied, 
lay cliaractor defamed, my property dissipated, my health 
injured, my mind distracted, for my invincible devotion 
to the great object now about to be carried. And there- 
fore 1 cannot be, ought not to be, and have not any right 
to hope to be rewarded by having a share in its emolu- 

' ment, its honour, or its glory. 

' But still I trust my merciful Creator will not let me 

I leave this world without an opportunity to put forth, to 

Itbe full extent of their capability, the talents with whicii 

■ He has blessed me, to promote by art the cause of virtue, 
I morality, patriotism, or religion. In Him I trust, as I 
f have always done, and am sure these journals, which have 

3 often recorded His mercies, will not cease continuance 
I til! I have recorded in them the realisation, under his 
[ jnerciful blessing, of the great object of my being. 

' I feel I shall realise this instinct in gratitude and 
\ Bhouts ! 

' Oh Lord, let not this be the presumption of imbe- 
cility, but the just confidence of anticipating inspiration. 
" Amen with all my soul. 
" This year — 1841 — will be remembered in EnglisU 


art as the year of Wilkie's death. Poor Wilkie ! His 
loss is irreparable. 

" I dose 1841 in gratitude for the mercies bestowed 
during its progress, in hopes for their continuance in 
1842, and in earnest prayer for that national employment 
which I am now again utterly without; so that I may be 
spared from a recurrence to those dreadful distresses which 
liave before so often distracted my mind, harassed my 
spirit, and rendered life a struggle of sorrow, degradation, 
and pain. 

" Oh Lord, I earnestly call on Thee to avert so shocking 
an anticipation. For Jesus Christ's sake. Amen." 


The Fine Arts Commission was sitting tlirougb this 
year, and towards the end of April issued a notice of the 
conditions for the cartoon-competition, intended to test 
the capacity of English artists for the style of art suited 
to the decoration of the New Houses of Parliament. 
The delight with which Haydon welcomed this first step 
towards achievement of the great effort of his life, was 
damped by painful forebodings that he was not destined 
to share the fruits of the victory, after having so bravely 
borne the brunt of the battle. This fear, which had 
been working on him all the last year, seems to grow 
stronger and stronger through this. Still he continued to 
pursue his researches and experiments in fresco painting, 
seeking information in all quHrters, — from students of the 
old frescoes in Italy, and workers in modern ones at 
Munich, — and protesting all the while, with his usual 
vehemence, against any infection of English art with 
Germanism. He also carried on this year a correspond- 
ence, of considerable interest, with Rumohr, the author 
of the Italienische Forschungen, one of the soundest eon- 
temporary German critics of Italian art, from whose 
letters I have extracted freely, as they seem to me to 

1842.] HIS HOPES AND FEARS IN 1842. 181 

convey in their quaint English theories and 'opinions upon 
art in every way deserving of attention. 

During the year he finished his pictures of Mary of 
Guise, and of the battle of Poictiers, both of which he 
sent to the Academy Exhibition, besides painting a picture 
of the Maid of Saragossa, another of Curtius leaping into 
the Gulf, and another of a subject conceived many years 
before, Alexander the Great encountering and killing a 
Lion. He had, also, before the year ended, finished a 
cartoon of the Curse pronounced against Adam and Eve for 
the Westminster Hall competition, and had begun another 
of The Black Prince entering London in triumph with the 
French King prisoner. I think that even those who, up to 
this point, have felt little admiration for either the man or 
the painter Haydon, will hardly refuse him some sympathy 
at this moment of his life," when the goal was appearing, 
just as his failing strength, — which he too felt to be 
failing, in spite of his vehement assertion of unimpaired 
powers, — whispered to him that the race was not to be 
for his winning ; that he would have to stand by, while 
younger and fresher runners passed him to take the 
crown. Already, the anticipation of this fate was working 
in his mind, let him strive as he might to keep it down ; 
and his assurance that he bears a heart made up for either 
fortune will impose as little on those who read his 
journals, as I believe it did on himself. 

'* January 2nd. — Went to Hanover Square. Heard 
Dean of Carlisle, who is always earnest. 

" Evans called, who made distemper copies of the 
Loggie for Nash, and he told me many useful things of 

^^ 1st. Rafiaele*s beads are impastoed like oil. 

'* 2nd. Tints are mixed. 

" 3rd. It is not perpetual glazing. 

" 4th. Raffaele's lights in foreheads are loaded. 

" 5th. Fresco never extinct in Italy. Always prac- 

N 3 




" 6tli. Students given a lunette in the Vatican to paint 
aftef they have got a medal. 

" 7th. Benvenuti mixed pots of tintSj as I do in oil 
on my palette, 

" 4lh. — Went to the Adelphi, and looked at Barry's 
pictures. Miss Corkings, the housekeeper, was a girl of 
twelve years old when Barry painted the work. She told 
me many anecdotes. She said his violence was dreadful, 
his oaths horrid, and his temper like insanity. She said 
lie carried virtue to a vice. His hatred of obligation was 
such he would accept nothing. Wherever he dined he 
left Is. 2d. in the plate, and gentlemen indulged him. 
The servants were afraid to go near him; in summer 
he came to work at five, and worked till dark, when a 
lamp was lighted, and he went on etching till eleven at 

" She said, when coaxed to talk, his conversation was 
sublime. She thought the want of early discipline was 
the cause of his defects. He began his work in 1780, and 
was seven years before he concluded it. She remembered 
Burke and Johnson calling once, but no artist. She really 
believed he would have shot any one who had dared. 
He had tea boiled in a quart pot, and a penny roll for 
breakfast, dined in Porridge island, and had milt for 
supper, which was prepared in the house. 

" There is a grasp of mind there nowhere else to Le 
found, as Johnson said, but no colour, no surface, beauty, 
or correct drawing. Still, as the only work of the kind, it 
is an honour to the country. 

" 6(fi. — The obstructions in fresco do not deserve the 
name of difficulties. They are useless and petty annoy- 
ances. It is a nuisance to have a colour dry one thing 
when you mean it for another. It is a nuisance to have 
a seam in the flesh, and to have no depth in the shadow. 

" It is a bore to copy your own cartoon when the fire 
of invention is over, and can never be recalled; if the 
difficulty be conquered, it is by luck, not by art, or 
science, or skill. 


«*!.] ON FHESCO. 183 

" But I do not see tliey entitle fresco to any superiority 
over oil. 

' " The execution of the great Venetian works iu the 
Louvre was quite equal in power to any freseoj and they 
were a million times superior in tone. 

" Called on D , who is very amiable, and had an 

interesting conversation. 

" He said the early frescoes were stained drawings, 
having the ground for the lights. (Not true. B. R. H.) 

" After Giorgione the impasto of oil was copied in 
fresco, and that began the modern system of Ra^ele. 
Massaccio and Pinturichio stained, 

" I then saw Barry, He laid before me plans and sec- 
tions, and the spaces where pictures could be introduced. 
He said nothing was fixed on, but as soon as the Com- 
mittee met, the first question would be fresco or no fresco, 
and that then he would house lime in two or three vaults. 
He asked which lime 1 liked best, I said, chalk. He 
agreed with me. 

" 1th. — Lectured on the Elgin Marbles at Mechanics. 
Wrote my Memoirs — hard. What a lesson they will be 
to young men ! 

" Barry procured me sections and tracings. I fear the 
Epuces will not be large enough for fresco, the great beauty 
of which is light and space. Oil and fresco should not be 
' mixed. 

" Fresco will make oil look heavy, and oil will make 
fresco look mealy. 

" 9lh. — 1 called on poor little Macdonald, Wilkie's 
early patron and friend, for he first gave him a commission, 
in Edinburghi for the first Village Politicians. I found 
liim ill and iu poverty, with an early picture of Wilkie's 
to sell.' 

" There certainly seems at this moment a general con- 

• This early picture of Willcie's is now in Ihe possession of Dr. 
Darling. Though clumsy in drawing, it is admiralile in eompoaitioa 
and colour — finer, purliaps, indeed, in this kst q^ualiC; than any o** 
Liii later works. — Ej>, 

184 MEMOIRS OF B. R. HATDON. [1843. 

spiracy against British art, at the very time it requires 
all encouragement. I suppose foreigners are at the bottom 
of it, who want a piece of the cake now making. 

" When Englishmen go abroad, thej not only lose 
their heart and feeling for England, but they lose their 
common perception. 

" Hezekiah was dying. He prayed, with tears, to live, 
and fifteen years were added to his life. Therefore, prayer 
is available, and can alter the apparent destiny of a man. 

" \2ik, — Wrote hard at my lecture on Fresco for the 
Royal Institution. 

" 13M. — No young man who is not independent should 
treat his superiors in rank, wealth, and station as if they 
were his equals. 

" Men are all equal in the eye of the law and of God, 
but by the gift of God men are most unequal. Honesty, 
diligence, talent will accumulate wealth. A man's children 
enjoy it. Men of honourable station have a right to de- 
ference, and even if ignoranr, are entitled further to re- 
spectful expostulation, and not sarcastic exposure. Such 
deference to superiors in age and station is not servility, 
but good sense, and proceeds from a just modesty in your 
own pretensions. I might have saved myself much pain 
had this been inculcated on me. 

" I passed an hour and a half with . 

" It is extraordinary the eternal disposition of the Aca- 
demicians to see nothing in my character but what is 
wrong. It amounts to a morbid insanity, and is caused 
by the conscious conviction that all my calamities in life 
have arisen from their injustice. I press upon their im- 
agination and disturb their tranquillity. My name is 
never even spoken in their presence but a sneer follows. 

" People are never charitable enough to think of my 
neglect of my own interests. They dwell only on the re- 
sult ; viz. my incapacity to attend to the interests of others. 
Is there anything worse than not to pay a tradesman? 
Yes. (I did not reply), — to take half price from a Duke, 
and never begin his picture. This is the tone of society 


adopted towards me; and it is never told how many 
tradesmen I have paid off since my troubles, — of the di- 
vidends I have shared on the receipt of any large sum. 
It is shocking ! 

" Whilst the Academy exists as the Royal Institution, — 
whilst the President is by right a Trustee of tho Mueeuiu 
and National Gallery, — their influence will ever be in 
opposition to any plan which will endanger their su- 
premacy ; and no plan, however beneficial, will or can 
ever be adopted which, by giving a chance to the genius 
of the people, will place their portrait iniquity on the 
right ground. Tliis scheme of Fresco will end in air, 
through their insinuations. 

" ' How many wish to paint in fresco?' said . It is 

not what the artists wish. It is what the state wants. That 
is the question. In the press, now, I have hardly a friend, 
except the Chronicle and the Spectator. I have only to 
show a work to set the whole press in an uproar of abuse, 
I attribute this entirely to the students of the last twenty- 
five years having grown up with literary men of their own 
age ; and the general tone the students imbibed at the 
Academy, aa a pupil told me, was to consider me a 
monster. Their literary friends have issued out to their 
duties as reporters or critics, as editors or purveyors, and 
the moment Haydon comes before them, he is denounced 
before the pen is dipped in ink. TJie last picture I ex- 
hibited was the Sampson. Ail the sound principles of 
its composition, its colour, its story, its drawing, its light 
and shadow were utterly unnoticed, and the picture was 
held up as an abortion not to be tolerated. 

" Had the student gone to it with modesty, and tried 
to find out what is good, his mind, his practice, and his 
hand would have been improved. The object was clear, — 
I was beginning to get commissions in the country, and 
the Christians hoped to put a stop to them. They 
boasted, in fact, they would do so. All the principles I 
have advocated for thirty-eight years are now beginning 
to bud. They know I have been the most prominent 




man, and they cannot bear to dwell on the fact that, 
when the plant bursts into flower, the credit of watering 
the germ through frost and snow, and wind and rain, 
belongs to Ilujdoii, 

" Many years ago, on my knees, in an agony of pain, I 
prayed I might live to see the great principles of art ac- 
knowledged, — I cared not for tasting the fruits; — and 
that I might not leave the world with the talents with 
which God had blessed me, cruelly ruined or wasted. 
Perhaps I shall be taken at my word. 

" ' Thy will, not mine, be done.' 

" 15lk. — Half the month gone — wholly occupied in. 
lecturing and writing a new lecture on Fresco, for the 
Royal Institution. 

" \Glh, — After my mind exhausts itself in one direc- 
tion it flies ofl* in another. I seized chalk all of a sudden 
as I was writing, and placed the leg and thigh of the 
angel Gabriel rightly, and immediately my mind teemed 
with thoughts of new subjects. Went to the National 
Gallery, and came hack disgusted with the homy, oily, 
heavy, dull look of the finest works after fresco. 

" 17th. — My soul begins to yearn for something else. 
My attempt in fresco has opened my eyes so completely 
to a power I knew nothing of, that all art here palls on 
my senses. Great and good and merciful Creator, spare 
me till I have realised what I now foresee I can do. 

"20lk. — There is no desire in the English for high art. 
Fresco being immovable, is no property; and the com- 
mercial feeling connected with the aristocratieal renders 
them insensible to any feeling for characters higher than 
themselves. I am very discontented all of a sudden, 
and cannot tell why. It is the agony of ungratified am- 
bition — that is the reason. I could execute now a series 
of fresco foreshortenings with terrific power. Why don't 
you ? No money. 

" 2UL — Set my palette. Then came on darkness 
visible, which lasted all day. E shall be my safety- 
valve. I told him be and Sir Robert would be baffled 




by the portrait influence, and that fresco would be turned 
to the right-about, and that the people, at last, disgusted 
■with being the ridicule of the Continent for want of 
talent, would spontaneously get rid of the nuisance. 

" As the time approached, the cowards shrink from 
fresco. I'll give it to them if they do. I shall make it a 

strong point against them; but for the present, as E 

says, mum. My large canvas is home, and up to-moiTow. 
There is nothing like a large canvas. Let me be penniless, 
helpless, hungry, thirsty, croaking or fierce, the blank, even 
space of a large canvas restores me to happiness, to antici- 
pations of glory, difficultyj danger, ruin, or victory. My 
heart expands, and I stride my room like a Hercules. 

" Three commissions are defeiTed, and 1 am again left 
penniless for the present; but I despair not. He who 
carried me through so many trials will caiTy me gloriously 
through this. I know it, I feel it, and rejoice at the trial. 
I glory in being tried. Amen. 

" SSrd. — Wrote my life all day. Did not go to cliurch. 

E- ^ called. Hall of the Athenreum called. E was 

kind and affectionate, and begged me to be quiet. He 
said all my friends were in alarm, as it was a great 
moment in my life, 1 told him he need not fear, 

" 2Hh. — Oh Almighty God ! It is now thirty years since 
I commenced my picture of Solomon ; though deserted by 
the world, my family, father, friends. Thou knowest well 
that I trusted in Thee ; that Thou didst inspire my spirit 
with a fiery confidence; that Thou didst whisper me to 
endure as seeing One who is invisible ; Thou knowest I 
never doubted, though without money, though in debt, 
though oppressed, 

" I prayed for thy blessing on my commencing labours. 
Thou carriedst me through to victory, and triumph, anij 

" I am this moment going to begin a grand work of 
Alexander and the Lion; bless its commencement, pro- 
gression, and conclusion as thou blessedst Solomon, Grant, 
in spite of whatever obstruction, I may bring it to a grand 





and triumpliant conclusion. Spare my intellect, my eyes, 
my health, my head, my strength. Confirm my piety, and 
grant. Oh Lord, that this work may advance the feeling 
of my great country for high and moral art, and that I 
may not be taken till Art be on a firm foundation, nevs^ 
to recede, and that I may realise all my imagination hoped^ 
in my early youth, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. 

" 26M. — The myaterious influence under which T al- 
ways begin a great work, is hardly to be credited, in my 
circumstances of necessity. Here was I with hardly money 
for the week, — with commissions deferred — with a boy 
at Cambridge in want of money I could not send him, — 

and a boy on board the still owed 3/. of bis quarter 

(lOi.) — seized at daybreak with an irresistible impulse,— 
a whisper audible, loud, startling, — to begin a great work. 
The canvas was lying at tJie colourman's to be kept till 
paid for. I could not pay. I wrote him and offered a 
bill at six months. He consented ; the canvas cornea 
home, and after prayer — ardent and sincere — I fly at it, 
ntid get the ivhole in, capitally arranged, in two days, 
about twelve hours' work, owing to the season of the year. 
Good and merciful God, am I not reserved for great 
things? Surely I am. Surely at fifty-six to be more 
active than at twenty -six is extraordinary. Continue 
Thy blessings, and grant I may finish both Alexander and 
the Curtius. 

"STth. — I rub in Cartiua to-day. Ob God, bless me 
at beginning, progression, and conclusion. 

" February \st. — Sluggish, — always — after lecturing. 
I really am tired of lecturing. Nothing but the wants of 
my boys induce me. When I am in that infernal humour, 
I feel disposed to stand still, think of nothing, do nothing, 
see nothing, speak nothing, hear nothing, and listen to 
nothing for hours. It is a sort of catalepsy of brain. 

" Lord Melbourne was dining where E was present, 

when, after dinner, as Lord Melbourne was roosting, 
tbcy began to discuss fresco. They thought he was asleep, 
when suddenly he said, 'Which is the lightest ?' 'Fresco, 



my Lord.' * Then, damme, I'm for fresco,' said Lord 

" lOth. — Worked hard, and painted hands right 
heartily from nature, better than I ever did. When 
Wilkie and I were young, after such a day of hands we 
sliould have had long discussions ; holding the candle 
close, looking in, talking of touches, surface, tones — how 
to touch in, and take a body at the right time, — and then 
drink tea with all our souls. These were the days of real 
delight. Poor Wilkie ! 

" llth, — My hands look capitally to- day. I declare 
my feelings about art are as fresh as at sixteen. 

" 20th. — Lectured on Invention, at London Institution. 
Painted in the morning with facility a boy's head, and, 
I think, finished the Poictiers. 

'* 24th. — Awoke at four, with two sublime concep- 
tions. One of Nebuchadnezzar walking on the terrace, 
and saying, * Is not this Great Babylon ?' and the other 
of his spirit visiting the Euphrates now, — * Was not this 
Great Babylon ? ' ^ 

*' 28th, — Last day of the month ; not properly occupied, 
so as to make my conscience easy. Lecturing, travelling, 
want of money, losing commissions from manufacturing 
distress, have all in turns harassed and distressed me, and 
kept me running the gauntlet for money. I have worked, 
but how? By snatches as before. The reign of the 
Tories has always been a curse to me. I never get em- 
ployed when they are uppermost. What I have done 
shows improvement and power of hand and mind, which 
will come out yet greater than ever. 

" 6th. — I got tip yesterday, after lying awake for 
several hours with all the old feelings of torture at want 
of money. My boy Frederick was unhappy on board the 

. A bill coming due of 44/. 13^. for my boy Frank, 

at Caius (half of a tutor's bill). Three commissions for 
700/. put off till next year. My Poictiers half glazed. 
My dear Mary's health broken up. Good God ! I 
thought, what are my hopes ? A voice within said, God. 

190 MEH0IB8 OP B. B. HATDON. tlS42. 

I turned round in perfect confidence and fell asleep. I 
awoke and dressed at my usual time. Hushed out, longing 
to paint. Went to a man who held a bill for 11. 10*. I 
could not pay, and got a week. To another for 10/., and 
got another. Called at the Admiralty, and stated mj 
uneasiness at my son's being on board a ship in such a 
State, without schoolmaster, chaplain, and the captain 
a veteran lubber. Young Barrow immediately took par- 
ticulars. Ascertained there were two vacancies in the 
Impregnable. Mr. Innes came in, and both joined, and 
sent up a letter to Sir W. Gage, who before five appointed 
him to the Impregnable, and ordered him to go out in 
the Formidable. So that anxiety was over. I rushed 
home, and nearly glazed Poictiera. Yesterday, Sunday, 
I went to church, (I seem, when I do not, to lose the 
countenance of my Creator), and prayed with all my 
heart and all my soul for relief. I knew if my debt to 
the Tutor of Caius was not paid, the mind of my soil 
Frank would be destroyed, from his sensitiveness to hon- 
our and right. As he was now beating third year men, I 
dreaded any check, and I got up in a state of perfect 
reliance I should not be deserted, 

" Tth. — To-day I went early to John Beaumont the 
Quaker, and laid before him my situation. I offered the 
drawings of the Anti-Slavery meeting for 50^. though 
100/. is less than their value. He gave faint hopes. I 
called on my publisher of the Duke and requested au 
advance, as I bad 200i. coming in as soon as the print 
vas out, which his delay retarded. He looked as pub- 
lishers do when you waut money. I came home without 
despair, hearing and believing the voice ' Trust in God.' 

At home I found 50/. from . 1 had written a rich 

banker, a manufacturer, and a Duke ; — who assisted me ? 
The Duke of course. I'd lay my head on the block if I 
was sure a race of fearless designers would spring up from 
my blood, as the giants from the iron teeth of Cadmus ; 
though, like them, I fear my progeny would cut each 
other's throats directly. 



I,- — ^Out on business, and my dear old landlord 
Newton took tlie Poictiers, and struck off 525/. of debt, 
reducing my balance, so now I hope to get clear, and give 
him equivalents, so that in case of death he might not be a 
loser. What landlords I have had! Why? Because they 
knew my objects were public and honourable. But for 
my landlord Solomon would not have been done. But 
for my landlord I could not have been preserved through 
all my latter troubles. God has indeed blessed me. 

" Painted two hours, finished musket and bayonet. 
The musket fell down. I did not see it, and struck my 
foot against it, and ran the bayonet half an inch into my 
left foot. It bled copiously. As I wanted blood, I painted 
away on the ground of my Saragossa, whilst the surgeon 
was coming. Never lose an opportunity. Lord Lans* 
downe called soon after to see my pictures." 

The following is from Kumohr's first letter of March 
lat: — 

" Too offer to send me your excellent treatise on the two 
horses, whicb, if I remember exactly, embraced likewise an 
analysis of the superior beauties of the statue believed to be the 
River God, IlisEUS. Nothing would or could be more agreeable 
to my wishes, but to read again a book, of which I had lost the 
notes I took in reading it many years ago at Florence. I was in 
quest of it everywhere, but wanting the exact copy of the title, 
nobody, neither the booksellers, neither the bibliothecaries, felt 
inclined to give themselves the trouble of finding it out. Yes, 
my dear sir, as you will give me leave to address you, it was in 
your work I first and perhaps lastly found out a striking like- 
ness of my own way to look at objects of the fine arts, which 
are (wit)i tlie only exception of archltectonical decoration, whose 
principle is the style or geometrical harmony) nothing else but 
the expression of some inspired mind by way of the means and 
types of natural forms and combinations. The artist who 
knows nature the best will show the greatest ability in repre- 
senting every object winch strikes his mind or rises out of its 
depth or abundance. If the more ancient painters of the four- 

L, p. 29. vol. i. of 

102 HEMOIBS 3lf B. B. HATDON. Il842. 

tterilli century plonsi^, it is not for tlieir ignorance of osteology 
luiil anatomy, nor for tlieir want of a profound observation of 
the limba usuully covered in modern limes. They please only 
because their idens were entremely simple — such ns might be 
made perceptible to others by the most simple kind of drawing, 
which, notwithstanding, rose out of a great attention to natural 
attitudes, and to the character and expression of human features. 
But a mind oqually rich and deep like Raffaele's would hsTe 
been at a loss being confined to that simplest kind of study and 
observation of human nature peculiar to the early painters. 

"I admit likewise all inspiration rising out of the beauty 
and interest of wholly natural apparitions, and I doubt if art 
in our times be capable to be inspired by any other way. Evea 
Ibe love of our own country and its olden limes, as far as I see, 
is unable to move the soul of a modem artisL Church picture • 
is equally bad in the southern and Catholic countries as it 
wouh) bo and is in Protestant, where it is occasionally ad- 
mitted. But in imitating natural visions^ modern art, especially 
in drawing, often is excellent and surpasses many of tie best 
paintings of better epochss. Modern {wrtrait-painting I can- 
not ascribe} to the enthusiastic imitations of nature." 

From Rumolir's second letter of March 24tli : — 
" If (here be no misunderstanding on my side there is a great 
deal of real analogy between your principles and mine. In thft 
two tn?atis«. On the Horseheads and Itissos, if you hold nature 
in form was no objection loidealconception, and tasteful .irrange' 
ment or hi}ti> style, then must I conclude you seem to be in my 
way of thinking, and that art is tlie expression of human mind 
through the means which natut* oflers to genius, breathing^ an 
infinity of types wboee signification is clear and open to mo^ 
men, and even to many animals, partly at least, as the temper 
and slate of mind of their masters to dogs. 1 s\icak not here of 
deconlivQ art, which is a mere subddiary to architecture, and 
subiaits lo i(9 laws of tasteful linear dispwitiaD, but of repR= 
Mating art. So I think that the eoaceptioBS may be fnc, or if 
depandeot at all, dependent only on Uto gmeral tmpttlw gitVa? 
to banuLn mud by the stpiiit oT nations and epoAa bat tlMt 
th* fbnKS, vhkk in npneentii:^ th«« are made nae of b^ Qw 

* R«%iiwt painii^. t Appe»nmtxi, nkjeets. 

\ Class aiw i^ il i S In^puiBg? 


^ e — (.= 



positive, and predestined by law of nature, and any 
form beyond oature hideous, and without the least intelligible 
sense or expression. Beauty is not the source but the inevitable 
consequence of true art ; hence ths fine arts have a nobler ob- 
ject than that principle of all mannered and insufferable modern 
•chools, to re6ne and polish the shape and forms of natural 
things. Natural forms well disposed geometrically, and veil 
adapted to the conceptions of a noble and elevated mind, may 
Bppear to be somewhat superior to nature, but tbey are not so 
by themselves. If I was in possession of the whole treasure of 
your lively language, I should propose here many tilings in 
order to have them answered. 

" Since your last I understand your letter as far as your 
hmnoroua disposition against portrait-painting. I like the por- 
traits of the great historical painters, and I believe a portrait 
or two a year to be an excellent exercise for them, especially 
for colour's sake. But that manufactured kind in use is detest- 
able, and as you tell me has become in your country a public 
nuisance. Your perseverance to maintain the right tone of art 
does you great honour. I am of your opinion that local ob- 
structions bare the greatest share in what appears to the com- 
mon observer a want of genius. But between these local ob- 
structions I am disposed to place the political greatness — the 
vast extent of the British Empire, — the eicertions of the British 
nation to obtain its present superiority, which begun so early 
as the reign of Elizabeth. Never so far as historical know- 
ledge reaches Lath the thirst of wealth and power combined 
with the fine arts. Power more than once hath conquered them, 
made use of them, giving in every instance a false declination 
to talent as well as to genius. But to foster them in their 
youthful stale, to give them a proper occupation in their upper 
stages, bath never been the merit of mighty peoples or sove- 
reigns. Look at the Macedonian kings or to imperial Rome, or 
to the Popes, especially Leo X., who absorbed in a few years what 
had been created in two centuries by Florence and Assisi. 

" British art must be public and authoritative, and perhaps 
your New House might produce a new era." 

"■ jipril ith. — To-day I have sent Poietiers and Mary 
of Guise to the Academy. I do it on the principle that at 
such a crisis it is the duty of all to burke local differences, 




to support and stand by each other, or we shall be Invaded 
by foreign troops. How far this is on my part a derelic- 
tion of duly God only knows, I meant it not as such. I 
meant it to help and keep up an historical air in the Exhi- 
bition, and prevent the sneers of foreigners. It will be, 
and may be called succumbing, but my opinion of Aca- 
demies as nuisances is the same." 

From Rumohr's third letter of April Oth : — 

" 1 shall not deny that perfection of shape and form, or as 
you call it nature elevated, can be, and hath been effectually in 
the instance of true Greek art, the very object of representa- 
tion in art. But even in that justly advanced 

opinion perfection of shape ' 
far-spread ideas of a general t 
far distant from ours. Ther 
general admiration of nature': 
bined wiih multiplied occasion 
to notice them. Now, even a 

inevitable consequence of 
irn of mind of morals and habits 
existed in those happy times a 
most accomplished forms com- 
to look on them, to enjoy them, 
luperficial acquaintance with the 
human frame is restricted to artists, and a very few dilettante. 
Men who like yourself combine a natural genius with a scholar- 
like breeding may understand the immense superiority of Greek 
art, and make it an object of general or partial representation, 
or may represent Greek objects to high-bred gentlemen. But 
such an art will never be a popular one — will never be de- 
servedly appreciated by the great mass of the people, so as art 
once hath been in Greece, and Catholic Christian art in Italy, 
and in whole Europe. And bo I beg your leave to conclude 
that perception of shape in our time, and perhaps for ever, hath 
ceased to be the prevalent object of representation. The head, 
the face, hath become more essential than what the Italian 
calls the ' ignudo,' and I feel some tendency to defend Corne- 
lius so far as lie denies that excellence of form in the sense 
of true Greek art ever was to be combined with modem snb- 
jects, but his own forma are perhaps less able than Greek ones 
to express the noble conceptions of his own mind. He knows 
not an iota of nature. He wanted occasion in his youth and 
leisure in his advanced age to acquire a profound knowledge 
of the human frame, and he neglected, perhaps by a false prin- 
ciple, the study and constant observation of heads and cha- 
racters, essential to a painter of Christian subjects. He is my 


frienfl, and I sli.ill nsver cease to admire hU saperior intellect 
nnd the vast capacity of his mind. Overbeck at Rome Lath 
less energy and invention, but far more acquired knowledge 
of the human frame. I saw a number of years past a trans- 
parent picture, poetry with many accessories — the invention 
was Cornelius's, the picture, and the drawing on a larger scale 
executed by Overbeck. It was far the finest production of 
modern art I ever Baw in my life. Tlie energy of the one 
was softened by the sober reflection of the other. 

" Our German painters surely, at least those pretended ad- 
mirers of the middle age, understand not the true merit of the 
old painters. They notice them superficially and have used 
them only to excuse and cover their own deficiencies. I have 
passed great part of my life in Italy, and have known some 
hundreds of that numerous class, but none of them spent much. 
time in observing or studying the older pictures as they might 
have done, and pretend to do. I flatter myself that I know 
them somewhat better, and I have done my best to show their 
merits and their faults to my readers. I cannot help to con- 
tinue an admirer of your nation, and perhaps its last misfor- 
tunes in the East may rouse a new set of feelings, and ctbd a 
stronger feeling of the moral value of art, which in a country 
like yours, will take a political or no turn at all. Your navy, 
your army, part of your statesmen are somewhat beyond the 
line of common merit. I cannot read the clear and intelligent 
speeches of Sir R. Feel in the present difficulties without 
emotion. He feels what he thinks, and thinks what he feels. 
And so did your great patron the Duke of Wellington in his 
glorious mid-career. I hope yet to expose to you what may be 
called my system, but leave it to my next." 

"32nd. — Finally succeeded in composition of Sara- 
gossa, balancing both sides. Good heavens ! when I think 
how my pictures are abused, and know the deep principles 
on which I arrange and paint every iota in them. The 
joung men little know what they might learn if they 
would — as they will bye-and-bye — study them." 

On the 35tb of April appeared the notice of the Fine 
Arts Commission, setting out the conditions of the com- 
petition for cartoons intended as trial works of candidates 
for employment in the decorations of the New Houses of 


Parliament. Haydon naturally exulted in this consum- 
mation of hopes cherished for so many years. 

"25M. — This is indeed a glorious Report for me. Here 
is my pupil, Eastlake, — whom I instructed, whose dissec- 
tions I superintended, whose ambition I excited, whose 
principles of art I formed, — putting forth a code by my 
influence and the influence of his own sound understand- 
ing, which will entirely change tlie whole system of 
British arL 

"The whole of these journals, petitions, and prayers 
and confidences will show how this Report must make my 
heart leap with gratitude and joy to the good and great 
Creator, who has blessed mc through every variety of 
fortune to this first great accomplishment of my ardent 

" O God ! Bless me with life, and health, and intellect, 
and eyes to realise the wishes of the Commissioners. Bless 
my pupil Eastlake also, and grant we may both live to see 
the English school on a basis never to be shaken, and no 
longer liable to the unjust suspicion of some alive, 

" Amen, O Almighty God ; with all my heart, and all 
my soul. Amen. 

"May \st. — Cartoons are a means and not an end, 
and wherever they have become an end instead of a meana, 
they have been the ruin of-the art of a country. 

"The German school at this moment makes them too 
much an end, so does the Italian ; and the art, as an art of 
imitating nature by painting, may be said to be ruined ia 
both countries. 

" The great Italians always treated cartoon dravrin^, 
as a means. The model of all cartoons is the one Sot 
' The School of Athens ' at Milan, which I saw in the 

" From laziness, from want of genius, from incompe- 
tence of colour, lack of power of imitation, or ignorance 
of light and shadow, the modern Italians dwell for days, 
and months, and years over finished cartoons. There is 
nothing so delusive as this sleepy practice, and after all 


this ' trouble, this learned trouble/ said Lawrence, ^ there 

comes a d d bad picture.'" 

From Rumohr's letter of April 23rd : — 

" I looked to art and knew artists from my first youth, and 
I knew in that time many hundreds of fine talents, especially 
among the Germans of every part of that vast country. But 
nobody of them will fix much attention after a fifty years. 
Talent is not enough if not sustained by true enthusiasm and 
of a decided kind. I knew them Grecians in my first days, 
afterwards Michel Angelos, then Romanists and imitators of 
the second, and finally of the first period of the Italian middle- 
age picture, and now-a-days there is a new tendency in vogue, 
very flat, very sentimental. Wherefore there are so many talents 
lost, so many pictures which are merely toys for children — 
fashionable amusements. The only reason to be adduced is, the 
want of a decided tendency in the nation as such. The artists 
in modern Germany are obliged to invent first of all an object 
of representation, and such a one as may impose as new, or as 
in the fashion. Patriotic feelings are but feeble, where a uni- 
versal interest ♦, historical as well as geographical, hath sub- 
dued them more than even persecution. In England it is quite 
the contrary. To love your country is a merit not subject to 
suspicion. Tou may, more than ourselves, avoid that dangerous 
shallow and hidden shoal of the artists — learned distraction. 
And I cannot but applaud your country taking up the most 
memorable points of modern history." 

" Sunday , May Sth. — Read prayers ; but I am not 
content. I feel as if I had been slighted. After so many 
years of devotion as these journals exhibit, never to be 
thought of in the examination, or given any status by 
official consultation, pains my heart. 

" Perhaps it may be a proper punishment for having 
made art so great a god of my idolatry. Perhaps God 
may bring me to a right appreciation of human fame by 
mortifying my pride and ambition. I bow; but I am 

'* The press too— exactly as all my early aspirations are 

* Where an interest in all countries has weakened the feeling for 
Germany in particular. 

o 8 


realising — turna round, and by the grossest abuse, and 
most unjust criticisms, endeavours to deny my pretensions 
and prevent my employment. One would think the press 
would congratulate the man they have supported all their 
lives. No; they are jealous of the very rank to which 
they helped to raise me. Tbey now turn round, and 
blacken my fair repute. 

" I3th. — I begin to feel right. Finish Saragossa, and 
then to fresco and cartoons for the remainder of the year ; 
and God bless me through them. Amen. 

" In truth I have been much hurt that my services have 
not been acknowledged in the evidence, or otherwise. But 
I have recovered the balance of my mind again, and feel 
I am horn for whatever is arduous, and that I must be 
actuated by higher feelings than trust in human gratitude. 

" 17/A. — Worked gloriously at Saragossa, and finished 
the dead chasseur in six hours outi'ight My model 
knocked up. I felt the old divine spark as powerfully as 
in 1832, in Lazarus. God be thanked for this happy 
day. I have 33/. Us. to pay Newton — 15/. for schooling, 
11. 1«. 8d., \0l. and Gl. ; and have only one sovereign. A 
lawyer has offered for 60 percent, to help me! Good God! 

" 18i^.— Borrowed 50/. on 70/. worth of chalk studies, 
framed and glazed, and paid 7L for three months — 60 per 
cent. Was forced to do it. The reptile's mouth watered 
as he drawled over the sketches, longing for mc not to 
pay, that he might keep them. 

" Engaged a model for to-morrow, and at it again. 
Huzza ! 

" After thirty-eight years of bitter suffering, perpetual 
struggle, incessant industry, undaunted perseverance, four 
imprisonments, three ruins, and five petitions to the 
House — never letting tlie subjuct of state support rest, 
night or daj' ; io prison or out ; turniiig everything before 
the public, and hanging it on this necessity — the wants of 
Ilia family, the agonies of his wife, the oppression of the 
Academy, directing all to the great cause, it is curious to 
seu that the man who has got hold of the public lieart — 





who is listened to and hailed by the masses — who has been 
mainly instrumental in founding Schools of Design, and 
whose evidence before the Committee was followed by the 
institution of a head school in London — who fought the 
battle of the necessity of the figure to the mechanics aa 
well as the artist,— it is curious as a bit of human justice, 
to find chairman, committee, witnesses, pupils, avoid 
throughout the whole inquiry any thought, word or deed, 
which could convey to a foreign nation, or a native artist, 
a noble lord or an honourable member, that there was 
such a creature as Haydon on earth ! 

" And do they suppose that their unjust omission of me 
will make the British people forget me? No, no, I defy 
them, I am too deep in the hearts of the public, and the 
very omission will in all reason bring me more ardently to 
their minds. 

" 22iid. — Wordsworth called to-day, and we went to 
churcb together. There waa no seat to be got at the 
chapel near us, belonging to the rectory of Paddington, 
and we sat among publicans and sinners. I detenuined 
to try him, so advised our staying, as we could hear more 
easily. He agreed like a Christian; and I was much in- 
terested in seeing his venerable white head close to a 
servant in livery, and on the same level. The servant in 
livery fell asleep, and so did Wordsworth, 1 jogged him 
at the Gospel, and he opened his eyes and read well. A 
preacher preached when we expected another, so it was a 
diaappointmenL We afterwards walked to Rogers's across 
the park. He had a party to lunch, so I went into the 
pictures, and sucked Rembrandt, Reynolds, Veronese, Raf- 
faele, Bassan, and Tintoretto. Wordsworth said, ' Haydon 
is down stairs.' ' Ah,' said Rogers, ' he is better employed 
than chattering nonsense up stairs.' As Wordsworth and 
I crossed the park, we said ' Scott, Wilkie, Keats, Hazlitt, 
Beaumont, Jackson, Charles Lamb are all gone — we only 
are left.' He said, ' How old are you ? ' ' Fifty-six,' I 
replied. * How old are you 1 ' ' Seventy-three ' he said j 
'in my seventy- third year. I was horn in 1770,' 'And I in 




1786.' 'You have many years before you.' 'I trust Iliave; 
and you, too, I hope. Let us cutout Titian, who was ninety- 
nine.' ' Was he ninety-nine ? ' said Wordsworth. ' Yes,' 
said I, ' and his death was a moral ; for as he lay dying of 
the plague, he was plundered, and could not help himself.' 
We got on Wakley's abuse. We laughed at liini. I 
quoted his own beautiful address to the stock dove. He 
said, once in a wood, Mrs. Wordsworth and a lady were 
walking, when the stock dove was cooing. A farmer's 
wife coming by said to herself, ' Oh, 1 do like stock doves.' 
Mrs. Wordsworth, in all her enthusiasm for Wordsworth's 
poetry, took the old woman to her heart ; ' but,' continued 
the old woman, ' Some like them in a pie ; for my part 
there's nothing like 'em stewed in onions.'" 

Wanting real cannon, shot, shell, &c, for his Saragossa, 
he goes to Woolwich. 

"23rd. — Saw Colonel Cockburn, who gave me a letter 
to Colonel Paterson, at the Rotunda, and thi^re I was pro- 
vided with twenty-four pounders, shells, screws, ramrods, 
matches, and everything. Made most useful sketches, 
and returned ready for to-morrow. I flew about with all 
the vigour of my youth, and much more strength. 

" How the real object clears your head. Some students 
said. Wilkie had no imagination, because he could not do 
a particular thing without seeing it. What stuff! Imagi- 
nation is not shown in a brass pan ■ — a brass pan must be 
seen to be painted; and if painted without being seen, 
cannot be true. An artist may imagine everything, but 
will it be true ? will it be like ? Truth of imitation is the 
basis of all art — imaginative or imitative. How untrue 
was my cannon before I went to Woolwich, and studied 
one, and drew one, and questioned artillery men and 
officers, and got at the anatomy of the tliuig. 

" I could now fire one myself, and direct the men," 

From Ruraohr's letter of May 12th. 

" I am of your opinion in all that concerneth the pictures 
for the great Hall in your Puiliiimeat House. I hope, Low- 






ever, tlie subject3 you indicated will be clioaeo in your c 
history, the richeat in the world in picturesque, striking, and 
decisive facta. Examples and not allegories. Symbolic and 
allegorical figures may be disposed in the acoessoriea and aub- 
orJioated to the general disposition merely of architectonieal 
facts, but fill not large spaces with cold reasoning. Allegories 
would be tedious even to those few able to understand their 
sense, if there be any. Allegory being a kind of writing by 
emblems is an agreeable thing interwoven in the architectonieal 
divisions of large walls or ceilings. But the human mind likea 
not to read mere thought in characters of innaense length or 
breadth ;. what is written to be understood abstractedly can be 
written down with a few tokens and signs sufficient for the in- 
tellect, and is graceful because subordinated. How amiable was 
EafFuele in any thing of that kind. But as the most interest- 
ing and resulting parts of your history are very modern facta, 
with broad and picturesque, not statuesque costumes, so I wish 
to know you free, in the execution, from any kind of middle 
age, or Greek or Roman style. The Fleratsli or the Spanish 
acliool in their large picturesque way should be the models of 
the style. But of the style — not of the cold mannerism of 
Gubens, nor of the extravagancy of Murillo and some pictures 
of Velasquez." 

" May 29tA. — Went to church with dear "Wordsworth, 
who ia dearer than ever and more venerable, to hear a 
sermon by Mr. Boone. He was much pleased. He had 

breakfasted with us. We afterwards called on L . 

L is lively, handsome, malicious, and melancholy. 

He took us to the Zoological Gardens. During the walk 
we talked of some great defects in Cunningham's Lives 
of the Painters. Wordsworth said, ' I could have told 
him of Gainsborough.' He then sat down and looked 
up like an apostle, and said, ' Gainsborough was at the 
house of a friend in Bath who was ill and very fond of 
his daughter; she was going to school. Gainsborough 
said to the child, " Can you keep a secret ?" "I don't 
know," said the little dear, " hut I will try." Said he, 
" You are going to school. Your father loves you ; I will 
paint your portrait." The child sat. When she was gone. 


the portrait was placed at the bottom of the Led of thM 
sick father, who was affected and delighted.' 

" Wordsworth told this iu so beautiful and poetical a 

way that L for a moment forgot his sarcasm and his 

melancholy, his evil and his mischief, and in casting my 
eye T saw him leaning and looking at Wordsworth, and 
smiling at the purity of his nature with something like 

the look of the Devil at Adam and Eve. C N -'s 

eyes, L "s melancholy, Byron's voluptuousness, Na- 
poleon's mouth, Haydon's forehead, and Hazlitt's brows, 
will make a very fine devil. 

" 30M.— L told us Sidney Smith said be had got 

rid of the two great bores of society, invitation and in- 
troduction, and that he literally went to rogts without 

"31«i. — End of May, 1842. The great cause is 
advanced. State support has been decided on. My dear 
pupil has been the manager, following my footsteps with 
more temper and prudence. There can be no doubt that 
my perpetual agitation of the principle kept it alive, but 
these journals bear testimony I have never shrunk, and 
will, if not burned, bear evidence of my tenacity. 

" June \st. — O God, bless me through this month, and 
extricate me from its coming difficulties. Grant by tbe- 
end my Saragossa may be nearly done, in spite of any 
obstruction, and relieve me in mercy from my pressure 
and the miseries which must come if I do not keep my 
pecuniary engagements. O Lord, Amen. 

" Qth. — Painted a Napoleon musing (front), and sold it 
for twenty guineas, — all in six hours. A blessing. How I 
have struggled up under diiEcuIties ! I was out to-day to 
beg mercy of a lawyer for 8^. 2j. 6rf,, who gave me till 
ten to-morrow. I then came home, and touched at 
Napoleon and completed it, ignorant how I was to keep 
the promise. At four I was out again to defer 25/. 
Came home to dine. Dined ; as I was promised peace 
to-morrow till half-past eight in the evening. 

" My friend came in the evening, and paid me 10/., 


half for Napoleon. Thus I clear off 81. 2s. 6d. How I 
am to manage the 251., or 56^. 3*. 8rf., for Frank's College 
bill, I know not. 

** Lord Brougham has helped me for the last with half, 
16^., the balance of 87/. Dear Mary raised 10/. on her 
watch for Frank, and I 10/. more, so we brought him 
clear home, crowned as first prize man in mathematics at 
Jesus, first year, but were drained. 

" 11 th. — Worked well and successfully till one, — four 
hours. I then started on business to a money-lending old 
dog, to get renewals. Succeeded at the cost of 5/. in getting 
peace for three months ; I consider it well spent. Wrote 
Hope and Sir John Hanmer for help. College bills are 
coming in. The Duke of Sutherland helped me with one, 
— Lord Brougham with the other ; and all this is owing 
to putting out both boys relying on three commissions 
which were deferred. In God I trust by hard work and 
good conduct to get through. Saragossa nearly done 
through all of it. 

" 14^A. — Out on business. Saw dear Wordsworth, 
who promised to sit at three. Wordsworth sat and looked 
venerable, but I was tired with the heat and very heavy, 
and he had an inflamed lid and could only sit in one light, 
, — a light I detest, for it hurts my eyes. I made a successful 
sketch. He comes again to-morrow. 

" We talked of our merry dinner with C. Lamb and 
John Keats. He then fell asleep, and so did I nearly, 
it was so hot ; — but I suppose we are getting dozy. 

" I6th. — Wordsworth breakfasted early with me, and 
we had a good sitting. He was remarkably well, and in 
better spirits, and we had a good set-to. 

" I had told him Canova said of Fuseli, * Ve ne sono 
ingli arte due cose, ilfuoco e lafiamma! * He forgot the 
third,' said Wordsworth, * and that is il fumo, of which 
Fuseli had plenty.' 

" His knowledge of art is extraordinary. He detects 
errors in hands like a connoisseur or artist. We spent a 
very pleasant morning. We talked again of our old friends, 

204 MEMOias or b. e. haydon. 

and to ascertain his real height I measured him, and found' 
him, to my wonder, eight heads high, or 5 ft. 9J in., and 
of very fine, heroic proportions. He made me write them 
down, in order, he said, to show Mrs, Wordsworth my 
opinion of his proportions. 

" The time came and he went, wishing me prosperity, 
and blessing me with all his honest heart, 

" Perhaps I may never see him again, God bless him ! 

" Slst. — Longest day; and thus ends the first half of 
1843. I have worked well and advanced, and I think that 
my exhibiting again has not done harm, but good. 

" The Commissioners are a long time making their report. 
I hope it will be a good one. At present all is mystery, 
but I will not be trifled with, and I keep myself quiet to 
be effective at the right time, — only when it amves! — 

" Went to Windsor Castle — a fine, gloomy, old Gothic 
palace, but I was disappointed with the inside. 

" The Waterloo Gallery, from not being arranged as a 
gallery, is a disjointed failure. No one portrait has 
reference to any other; there is no composition as a 
whole; they are separate pictures, painted as separate 
pictures, and it is melancholy to see so total an absence 
in king and painter of all comprehension of mind. 

" The rapidity of railroad communication destroys the 
poetry and mystery of distant places. You went to 
Windsor as an exploit for two days. Now, down you j 
in an hour, see it in another, and home in a third. It 
painfully attainable, and therefore to be despised. 

" The way to visit a palace is to take a Testament, ai 
read the Epistles as you walk about. Never does the^ 
insignificance of all human splendour diminish to such ti^, 
degree as at such a time. 

" The view over Eton is splendid, and the whole Castle 
has a fine gloomy barbarism; but the public rooms dis- 
appointed me. The ceilings by Verrio, the Gobcliu 
Tapestry from Coypel, and the paltry ceilings with gilt 
tridents are ludicrous. The finest portrait is Wilkie's 
William IV., in the Waterloo Room. 




that ( 



" 26lh. — They must not, they cannot, do justice to me. 
I offended, assaulted, and refuted the aristocratical prin- 
ciple in my art, and the aristocracy out of the art feel it 
a duly to withhold all support from me. This is the 
secret of all the neglect and opposition I have met with ; 
added to this, that the aristocracy have no judgment, and 
are always putting off making a selection or coming to a 
judgment. It is all 'prizes next year,' or ' competition 
the year after.' " 

From Rumohr's letter, 8th June : — 

" I am in opposition to the artists of these modem times in 
nd single point that whatever way be tlie taste, 
liniona of the different schools prevailing actually, 
there is no artist in the present world who does not hope to ac- 
quire that divine and priroitiye inspiration, which conduces to 
what you call high art, by imitation of some period of ancient 
and old art. Yourself, yon hope in the true Greek art (your 
pure feeling of its excellence hath been, to my great advantage, 
the origin of our warm and frequent active correspondence) ; 
others in the Dutch or the medieval art. It is all the same : 
artists may form their tastes, clear up their ideas, acquire many 
technical accomplishments by admiring, observing, studying 
excellent works of any kind. But that mental principle, — that 
genuine inspiration not personal, but natural and coeval, — cannot 
be acquired intentionally, and without it there is but one kind 
possible — the imitation of nature's infinite beauties ; and I fear 
that in our times, and in every part of the world, there is (with 
TCry few exceptions) not much inspiration left, besides that 
strong feeling for nature, cliaracte rising our epoch. 

" One of these exceptions may be found in the strong sensa- 
tion of a British heart for political and patriotic subjects." 

"S9th. — Nearly the last day. For the last fortnight 
it is extraordinary how harass, anxieties, and distractions 
have interrupted my studies. Saturday week was the last 
day I put a touch to Saragossa ; since then all has been 
begging friends for help, dwelling in agony (when my 
family thought I was sleeping) on the certainty of ruin at 
the end of my great cartoon, and yet, with that pertinacity, 
which has been the characteristic of my whole life, ordcriug 

208 MEHOIBS OF B. It. HATDOIT. [l84S. 

the paper, canvas, frame 13 feet by lOJ, to begiu as soon 
as possible, though ruin will follow. 

" I confess I feel it cruel, after thirty-eight years of 
devotion, to he tried again before 1 am employed. 

" Burke said, there was hardly a point of pride which 
was not injurious to a man's interests. 

" I say there is no point of pride which is not whis- 
pered by the devil. 

"July \st. — Worked in great anxiety. Three bills 
due this month and no funds. Called on William Wood- 
burn, and, as the subject was comparatively new, he gave 
me a touching account of Wilkie's last journey and death. 
Poor fellow ! Woodburn said he quacked himself to death ; 
his only anxiety wherever be went was, if there were a 
medical man in the town ; and if there were none, he 
bought medicines of his own. 

" At Jerusalem he was delighted like a child, believing 
everj-thing told him. They embarked at Jaifa on board 
a Greek vessel laden with soap, and encountered a ter- 
rific gale. Neither of them spoke to each other the whole 
night : however, they got safe to Damietta and to Alex- 

" Mehemet Ali he spoke of with a sort of pleasure and 
respect: he appointed them at eight in the morning; 
they went and had pipes and coffee. Woodburn told 
him, through his dragoman, it was early for European 
manners. He said, ' I have been an early riser all my 
life, and shall be ever so.' 

" When they embarked on board the Oriental, Wood- 
burn said, ' Now, my dear Wilkie, I consider you safe 
in England; I will go to Cairo.' Wilkie became so 
alarmed at being left alone, and begged so hard, that 
Woodburn agreed to go home with him. Woodburn said 
he often talked of me, and alluded to our journey to 
Paris, 1814. 

" As they entered the bay Woodburn went down to 
call him, and found bim up with his pantaloons on. 
"Woodburn said, ' It is a beautiful morning, join 




breakfast?' He repliedj ' I should wisli to see the doctor 

" The doctor was sent for, and shortly came up to 
Woodburn, and said, ' Your friend is in considerable dan- 
ger.' They then resoWed to call up the medical attendant 
of Sir James Carnac (I think), and after going in he 
came out, and said, ' Has your friend made his will ?' 

" Woodburn said he lost his faculties; he went in and 
found Wilkie stretched on his back, his eyes fixed, his 
hand hanging by his side. The medical mau put a towel on 
his breast, leant down and listened to his heart, and after 
a minute or two said, ' Your friend is gone.' Woodburn 
said he looked at his hand, and thought, 'Good Grod! 
what that band has done ! ' 
"Poor Wilkie! 

" Woodburn then went to the captain, after trying to 
get the body ashore and delaying a few hours, and begged 
a coffin might be made. He replied that one was nearly 
done. The body was stripped and placed in the cofEn in 
a clean sheet ; iron and weights were placed in ; a clergy- 
man read the service, and David Wilkie was lowered to 
his last refuge from worldly anxiety in the depths of 
Trafalgar Bay. 

" 1 envy him his entombment, and I hope I may 
follow him in some way equally extraordinary and ro- 
mantic. Peace to his spirit ! 

" He had endeared himself to the crew, the captain, 
and passengers. 

" 6lh. — Called in to see my dear old pain ting- room, 

at 41. Great Marlborough Street, where I painted my 

Dentatus, Macbeth, Solomon, and a part of Jerusalem. 

Perkins, my dear old landlord (who behaved so nobly 

I through Solomon, and whom I paid oiF after, but who 

I lost in the end) was dead. 

I " The house was bought and undergoing repair — the 
I rooms stripped and desolate ; the cupboard, the little room 
I where I slept, and the plaster room, with all their asso- 
I ciations, crowded on me, Watson Taylor lodged there 


HEUOIBB OF H. fi. 'ftA'TDOlT. 


before me, with his mother. Farquhar lived near. I 
thought once of putting up a brass plate, ' Here Haydon 
painted his Solomon, 1813/ For want of engraving, the 
picture is now forgotten, and the surgeon who has bought 
the house would perhaps have papered it up. So much 
for the brass plate. 

" Just as I bad reaUj brought the whole country to se6 
the value of the figure, come these Gothic ferocities, which 
slop the whole, — but 1 hope not. 

" Olh. ■ — How delightfully time flies when one paints. 
Delicious art — the bane and blessing of my life ! 

" Painted in delicious and exquisite misery, A bill 
due and no money. Went out for it last night, and came 
home wet, weary, and disappointed. Succeeded in the 
head of the Heroine of Saragossa. I made it a splendid 

" The greatest curse that can befall a father in Eng- 
land is to have a son gifted with a passion and a genius 
for high art. Tbank God with all my soul and all my 
nature, my children have witnessed the harassing agonies 
under which I have ever painted; and the very name of 
painting — the very name of high art — the very thought 
of a picture, gives them a hideous and disgusting taste in 
their mouths. Thank God, not one of my boys, nor my 
girl, can draw a straight line, even with a ruler, much 
less without one. And I pray God, on my knees, with 
my forehead bent to the earth, and my lips to the dust, 
that he will, in his mercy, afflict them with every other 
passion, appetite, or misery, with wretchedness, disease, 
insanity, or gabbling idiotism, rather than a longing for 
painting — that scorned, miserable art, — that greater im- 
posture than the human species it imitates. 

" iOih. — At church, and prayed firora my heart. As I 
prayed, I felt uneasy at risking labour on a Cartoon, with 
the uncertainty of reward and with my family, however 
much my duty may involve my executing such a Cartoon ; 
when suddenly a ray of light seemed to pass into my heart, 
uragement to i 

t in express! 

ejoy i 


■ ■M2.] SEGnrmNG his CABTOOWi 209 

Go on I will, and from this instant all doubt has vanished. 
I shall proceed with the certainty of success; reward and 
employment will follow, as surely as if it were announced. 

" I put this impression down to judge of results, 
believing and trusting in God with all my heart. 

" 1 llh. - — I finished the Saragossa as far as figures go 
on Saturday. Tims I have painted it iu four montlis, 
deducting one for my foot and its consequences, leaving 
three for actual work ; and grateful I ought to be, and 
grateful I am. Now for my cartoon. Edward the Black 
Prince entering London with John — Conqueror and 
Captive — or the Curse ; which ? The one is suitable to 
the building, the other is interesting to the world, 

" ISlh. — Huzza — huzza — huzza; and one cheer 

" My cartoon is up, and makes my heart beat, as all 
large bare spaces do, and ever have done. DifiScukies to 
conquer. Victories to win. Enemies to beat. The 
nation to please. The honour of England to be kept up. 

" Huzza — huzza — huzza ; and one cheer more ! 

" 22nd. — Began my cartoon in reality. Tried a bit first, 
ajid steamed at it most successfully, so that the sized part 
is all right. I got the whole in, feeling extreme agony of 
mind at my necessities at intervals, I sent out my 
portrait of Ratfaele and poor dear Wilkie, to raise some- 
thing for the day. It is dreadful ; but it can't be helped. 

After what I have suffered, it is cruel of and Sir 

Robert Peel thus to put me to the test again. Darling 
called (one of my oldest frientis) and k-nt me 51. 

"25th. — Began Adam's head to-day. I hope God 
will bless me through it, and through the week. Amen. 

" I have a 14-1. 8s. 8d. bill I promised on Saturday, and 
could not pay it; and 71. due to-day at four. Can't pay 
it. And these are the agreeable sensations I must abstract 
my mind from before I can invent and execute the 
grandest and weakest of human beings, Yet, under God's 
blessing, I'll succeed. 

" Eight o'clock. Got on capitally, and arranged the 11. 
I VOL. III. p 




by pajing 5*. for a month's renewal, after drawing six 
liours and three quarters, and allowing a quartei for 

" 29(A. — L liked my Adam, and I think It good. 

In how extraordinary a way was it produced. Good 
heavens ! But I conscientiously believe, under the bless- 
ing of God, that all this row about art will be a working 
up of glory for me. I feel it, and know it. In Him 
I trust. 

" August \st. — Worked hard and well advanced. 
Tortured by having only "is. in my pocket, and 4s. of 
that raised on one of my two pair of spectacles. Lord 
Grey says he can't help me. Lord Colhorne won't double 
his raffle money. Leader has not replied. Under all 
these torments my landlord forbears and helps ; but it is 
painful to be in such a situation again. However, let God 
grant me health, intellect, and eyes, and eight hours 
free, and I'll do it. 

" ith. — -My eyes strained dreadfully. In great distress 
of mind, having only 10*. Called on an old friend, and 
told him the truth, — that owing to the quarrel of en- 
graver and publisher I was kept out of my money for the 
Duke's print. He was distressed, but he and his wife 
squeezed out 5^. for a month. His name is Illidge — a 
good, mild creature. I hope I shall be able to repay it. 
My bill of 15/. 8*. 8(/. went back. As 1 came along in 
anxiety, I thought it would improve my composition to 
lower Christ in the design. But for this internal delight 
I should have gone mad long ago. 

" 5lh. — Having finished, steamed, and settled Adam, 
my principal figure, I see my way in cartoons. And I 
now see why Europe has produced no colourist or great 
executor with the brush since the great Flemish eras of 
Rubens and Rembrandt. 

" Cartoon pictures in chalk are the abuse of a noble 
principle — a modern lassitude. 

" Cartoons are a means, and not an end. When they 
become an end they ruin the artist and the art, and the 




-great cartoon drawer becomes a helpless infant with the 

" To-moiTow a romng letter about my bill, 15/. 8s. Sd. 
In the meanwhile I have finished Adam, and placed Eve 
in a better position, and improved the whole thing. I 
Dever answer letters till four, I will work seven hours in. 
delight, and then answer about my bill. Pay it I shall 
Bs a point of honour, as it is my last bill of education (a 
sacred debt) for dear Fred. But I must and will have 
time. All this would make a bill-broker (S. Gurney 
for instance) look grave. It is irregular ; but what is a 
man to do who has 700 guineas deferred till next year, 
and owing to the squabbling of publisher and engraver 
can't touch 125/. due on the Duke's print ? 

" Stk. — Putin the head of Eve; but instead of shutting 
tbe eyes as I first conceived, I opened them to show her 
beauty, and made a common ad captandum vulgus thing. 
Obliged to go out as I put in the eyes to arrange about a 
50/. bill. Come home in the heat, and finished the head. 
My model, a sweet girl, wondering what I was doing, 

" In the midst of the grossest misery my landlord 
called and gave me 3/. 1/. 15s, lOd. I paid ray rates with 
in the evening ; the rest left for necessities. 

"20/A. — Completed Adam and Eve. Now for Satan 
on Monday, with only Is. 6rf. in my pocket. Huzza ! 

" 22nd. — My want of money, and want of means of 
raising money, is dreadful. I have now got Satan's head 
to do. In the middle of the night I saw his large, fiery, 
cruel, rimmed eye, and kept staring at the dark, where 
nothing was, for an hour, 

" Silh. — Worked very hard, and got the Devil's figure 
in. Wrote the IJukes of Devonshire and Richmond about 
jnj necessities. Made an accurate study first from life. 

" 27M. — Very hard run for cash, so I sent out to 
"Woodburn's a frame containing the first sketch in chalk 
of Rent-day, Distraining for Rent, and two more. I 
asked him fifteen guineas, but he would only give me five, 


10 leUered at any rate for a dar, I hnrried away ta 
Wilkie's Exhibition, and spent three hours. This is tfa« 
last time we shail erer see Wilkie'a works together ^aia. 
Hail and farewell, the only friend of mj youth ! A hitter 
and deeper art is breeding in England, but fuH jostice 
has been done to thee t 

" 3I<(. — Woodbum had just receiTcd 700(U. from 
Oxford for Rafiacle'a drawings. I^st day of Augttst. I 
have worked not as I ought, but as well as I could, con- 
sidering my dreadful necessities. I borrowed AI. last 
night of my landlord to pay a servant ; 10/. to-day of my 
butterman, Webb, an old pupil recommended me by Sir 
George Beaiunont twenty-five years ago, but who wisely, 
after drawing hands, set up a butter-shop, and was enabled 
to send his master 10/. in his necessities. 

" ' Webb,' said I, ' when you were a poor youth I 
gave nty time to you for nothing.* ' You did." * I want 
\0V ' You shall have it, Mr. Haydon. I shall ever feel 

" I paid "il. out of the 10/., and borrowed 10/. of the 
man I paid the 7/. to, to meet my son's bill on board 
Impregnable, due at Coutts' to-morrow. Came home, 
took out our Saviour, and tried him walking in the garden. 
He would not do, so put him in again sitting and reposing. 
Better than ever. Satan looked powerfully. It is a 
blessing to get ease for twenty-four hours, which Webb's 
10/. has caused to my mind. 

" Tlius ends August." 

From Rumohr's letter of August 22nd : — 

" I have been Blmck by what you observe on the conse- 
quences of cartoons, oaA find it just, in as far as the last and 
preeent century are concerned in the question; modern cartoons 
wiih few exceptions are licked (smoothed) and polished inten- 
tionally, and modern artists would rather subject themselves to 
some heavy fine than to etray one line of (from) their precious 
and beloved preparations on paper or cartoon. Their teader- 
ness for paper drawings, or rather paper itself, is in great part 
the occasion of certain distortions peculiar to modern art. They 







fear to become unclean, to miss that delicious Chinese neatness, 
by correcting any line of chalk (?)mo8t evidently incorrect, ugly, 
detestable. Wherefore should they swerve in painting from 
such perfectly clean and neat models ? 

" Notwithstanding tbis coincidence, I must needs object to the 
application you made of that remark to objects of the noble period 
of RaSaele, and especially on that celebrated piece of cartoon 
containing the middle group of the school of Athens. You did 
not observe, or forgot after so many years past, that yonder 
admirable piece of masterly hand arrived at Paris in but indif- 
ferent state of preservation, and truly unfit to be exposed to a 
norlhern eye, inasmuch as (insomuch that) the judicious French 
found it convenient to be retouched by some clever academicians, 
who had appropriated lo themselves that wondrously perfect 
kind of drawing with prolonged large parallel stiMkes, imitated 
from the fine metallic-lustre-looking manner of the beat modem 
engravers. To arrive at perfection they chose to recopy some of 
the numerous copies existing at Paris of the original picture at 
Eome, and in that way the cartoon was made to look like the 
picture, and the picture might appear to yourself to be a mere 
copy of the cartoon, viz., in its present adulterated state. 

" I have seen a great deal of ancient studies, drawings, car- 
toons, and sketches of such. The outline and the masses of 
light were everywhere defined with great eiactitude, viz., if 
predestined for the fresco execution j but there was left in the 
spaces between the outlines and masses an infinity of points 
still to decide (open for decision), with exception of such 
cartoons as were worked to guide the hand of scholars and 
manuals (handicraftsmen). The great painters in Rafiaele's 
period chose when drawing everywhere the materials and the 
manner that suited best their ends. They were wild or col- 
lected, rough or delicate. Since a century drawing is become 
ft manner; intelligence, beauty, sense, vivacity of conception 
have been subjected to that idle and tedious neat and soft 
manner. And so no doubt what hath become insipid in the 
cartoon ought to become intolerable in its pictorial copy. 

" The most perfect painter of fresco (though not the best of all 
painters) hath been Domenico Ghirlandajo, a Florentine. He 
used to light up his pictures in the afternoon, when the local 
tints began to dry, being still wet enough to assimilate those 
last pattase (fat) touches, somewhat like to the oil manner of 

r a 


Pflolo Veronege, But Eaffaele, in hia Mass of Bolsena and in 
Bome parts of the Heliodorus, was likenise admirable by the in- 
telligence, hardihcod, and taste of hia colouring in fresco." 

•' September ISth.^CaWed in Lombard Street on 

G , who broke his word after giving me an order. 

I told him I wanted 56/. 2s. lOd., to pay my son's bill 
at Cambridge, I asked hia help. He refused. I asked 
Lord Melbourne. I asked Lords Shrewsbury, Digby, and 
Carlisle to take shares in Saragossa. Lord Carlisle only 
did. I was harassed to death, and came home exhausted. 
I then set my drapery for Christ hy putting up two 
plaster legs, my lay figure being in pawn, and sallied forth 
again to put off 11/, 10*., which I could not pay. Yet I 
will finish Christ this week, and I trust in God pay my 
dear Frank's bill too. The moment a disappointment 
takes place, my mind springs to a new hope. It is this 
elasticity which supports me. In God I know I shall not 
trust in vain, as this week will show. 

" ' Then they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, 
and He saved them out of their distresses,' 

" Most cordially do I believe it. 

" \"th. — Thus I have, by the blessing of God, ac- 
complished my cartoon figures, four in two months. Had 
my mind been at rest I could have done all four in a 
month, or had I wanted them, in less time. When I loot 
back and think under what miseries and distress I began 
the cartoon, without money or employment, I must 
believe nothing but the Almighty blessing me through- 
out, with friends to help and aid me, could have accom- 
plished it. 

" Grateful I am beyond expression, and I trust to go 
on to a triumphant conclusion, and that I may be ulti- 
mately victorious in my great object, which has been so 
long my hope and prayer. 

" Think of my influence with my species to induce 
them to trust me for papers, canvas, chalk, labour, rent, 
models, to get collectors to pay my taxes, and landlords 
to abstain from rent; hut I always show tbeni my work, 



and they acquiesce. I then work away in ecstasy till 
some other dun comes, who is shown in, and equalSy 
vanquished. A woman came, and on seeing the cartoon, 
lifted up her hands and eyes, and said, ' Oh ! What a 
sublime genus.' 

" But it is not my influence. It is not human. 

"23rd. — Worked, steamed, and splashed oil colour 
over Adam's leg. It was evidently too short, and being 
nicely worked, I hesitated, with that lazy apathy which 
comes over one, to alter it as I ought. The splash of oil 
decided it, so I pasted paper over it, and on Monday ^ 
new leg. Now the short one is gone, the figure looks 

" 27M. — Worked hard, and put in the new leg, and 
the whole figure fell into proportion and fitness; but for 
the oil splash I should perhaps have sullenly risked public 
disapprobation of a short leg. It was out of perspective. la 
it not extraordinary a man of my experience should con- 
ceitedly suspect he need not take so much trouble as 
when young, and is it not proper to find he requires it as 
much as ever? Why did I not put my model thirty feet 
off, as I did in Lazarus when I made my first drawing ? 
I did it yesterday, hut why did I not do it at first ? Im- 
pudent conceit. And the oil splash brought me to my 

" October 2nd. — Finished my letter to The Sheffield 
Mercury, on a school of design. It is ray conviction, if 
sound art be not combined with practical science at the 
schools of design, from the facilities given by them both 
to artists and mechanics, the art will be seriously injured 
in the next three years, — which I hope to prevent. 

" 5lk. — The cartoon is laid aside, and now my mind 
begins to fret. I can't sleep for want of another over- 
whelming subject. Which shall I fly at — Alexander 
killing an enormous Lion, or Curtius ? A single head is 
misery to me. I get sick. My imagination aches. 
Worked at a head — a sketch — all trifles. 

" llt/i. — Collins called to-day, and in course of con- 

216 MEMOIHa 01' B. B. HAYDON. [1842. 

versation salt], ' / really think you ought, to join us f I 
guid nothing. 

" The stale of the question is this. AU the objects I 
have fought for are coming. If they are realised without 
the Academy claiming me as a member, I am victorious, 
isolated, unsanctioned by rank or station. If they induce 
me to join them, and tlie victory comes after, they will 
claim a share in the honour of an aciiievement they have 
always tried to oppose. So if I am quiet, and let things 
take their course, whether I benefit or not individually, 
^y character is consistent before llie country. I would 
not lose that character in dear old England for all the 
treasures of the earth. 

" My dear old friend and fellow student Collins is 
anxious for me to join the Academy. But how can I ? 
It is too late. After having brought up my family 
through every species of misery to distinction and honour, 
am I now to show that, after all, their honours were 
necessary? Oh no, no — the compromise of principle 
would be dreadful. Let me die as I have lived, O God, 
and give me strength of mind to resist temptation, for I 
see it's coming. And let me live in the hearts of my 
countrymen, like John Milton and William Shakspeare ! 
Ah ! may I be worthy ! May I be worthy ! Amen." 

His first cartoon being now complete, he next began 
his picture of Curtius leaping into the Gulf, • He sent 
his sketch for the picture, at the request, I presume, of 
Miss Mitford, to her friend Miss E. B. Barrett (now Mrs. 
Browning), together with the portrait of Wordsworth on 
Heivellyn, painted this year. The portrait inspired this 

" Wordsworth upon Heivellyn I Let tbe clouJ 
Ebb ftudibly along the mountain wind, 
Then break againat tie rock, and show behind 
The lowland vallejs floating up to crowd 
ITie sense with beautj. He with forehead bowed 
And humble-lidded ejea, as one intJined 

n the possession of Mr. Barrett, a di 




Before the sovriii tboughts of his own mind. 
And very meek with inspirations prouJ, 
Takes here his rightful place, as poet-prieat^ 
B^ the high altar, singing praise and prajer 
To the yet higher heavens. A vision free 
And noble, Hajdon, hath thine art released. 
N^o portrait this with academic air. 
This is the poet and his poetry." 

" October 25th. — Out to National Gallery. After 
dwelling on the rawness of fresco, the tone of Titian went 
into my soul like the tone of an organ. How I gloried in 
the Bacchus and Ariadne! How I tasted the Ganymede 
with its fleshiness, its black eagle against a clear aky. 
Nothing in fresco can equal these — their juicy richness, 
their delicious harmony. Oh I shall get sick of lime, but 
duty calls." 

From Rumohr's letter of December 4th : — 

" Germany is a terra ijicogntta to you as to most of your 
countrymen. Tou have lived so many centuries in a compact 
political union, you will, even when present, find it difficult to 
think clearly of German things. Here is no centralisation of 
any but an ideal kind, not existing in reality, but merely 
in mind. There are epidemical infections of errors which 
appear to become tolerably universal, but not so much as 
to destroy every particular turn of mind. I have outlived in 
art at least five different periods of that kind. Firstly, the 
passage of (from) Wi nek el man's and Mengs' theory to a deter- 
mined predilection for old Grecian things, which then, in want 
of the Athenian Marbles, not yet known or brought into it 
European place, were chosen amongst the ancient vases and 
potteries. Tlien they went admiring Leonardo and Rai&ele, 
doing their beat to imitate them. After these models a passage 
to the elder Italian, and finally to the Germans, until Durer. 
Artists generally spoke much of ancient painters ; I observed 
mostly a singular aversion from studying and observing them 
with some attention ; all this ended with the superflcialily of 
the new, pleasing Dusseldorf school manner. But neither sculp- 
ture nor landscape nor Genre-painting shared all these passages. 
So that you may find in every corner of Germany individuals 
of great merit in their way who acquired their art and know- 

218 UEMOIES OF B. R. HAYDON. [l842. 

ledge in perfiKt independence of the preTailing epidemic. The^e 
very generally will preserve their credit in a future periwl : 
their studies after natural subjects are truly interesting, and 
superior perhaps to every thing produced with an ideal tea- 

" The reason of that superiority of naturalism is this. There 
hath not been existing in Germany during the last thirty-five 
years, neither a patriotic, nor a religious, nor even an intellec- 
tual want of pictures and statues ; there hath not been, for the 
aame reason, any uninterrupted flow of a rich and irresistible 
inspiration among artists. Your British artists, beginning a 
new era in the new Parliament House, might obtain such a flow 
of inspiration, by their object being a patriotical one, and their 
minda susceptible, so I hope, of an exalted feeling for their 
country, and for its history, for its polish, its importance, and 
avenir. I cannot endure the thought of such a work executed 
by foreigners, even if Raffaeles and Leonardos were to be pro- 
cured. Notwithstanding, I must aclinowledge the modern Ger- 
man painters, and especially Cornelius, to bave had the first 
hand in historical and monumental fresco painting — to have 
acquired a vast deal of experience in conception, disposition, 
and execution of such things, not to be neglected by yottc 
countrymen. You may learn even by their errors." 

" December 15M. — I have this moment completed 
Curtius before I put out and proceed with Alexander. 
1 humbly and gratefully return thanks to Almighty God 
for enabling me to bring another picture to conclusion ; 
that He hath blessed me with eyes, intellect, health, 
strength, and piety to get through with it in spite of 
many pecuniary difficulties deep and harassing. Grant, O 
Lord, it may be purchased and add to the fame of my 
great country, and help me to discharge the debts incurred 
during its progress, and to maintain my dear family in 
respectability and virtue. Amen. 

" 35M. — In the middle of the night I awoke rather 
depressed from the multiplicity of anxieties. I put my 
hand on the Testament I always sleep with, and opened 
a passage in the dark, folded down the leaf, and at day- 
light found this blessed consolation: "and our hope of 

I I«!] 

REVIEW OF 1842. 



you is steadfast, knowiug that as ye arc partakers of 
the sufferings so shall ye be also of the consolation.' 

" 20ih. — My canvas up for my new cartoon. God, 
bless its beginning, progression, and conclusion, God, 
enable me, aided but by Thee, to bring it to a grand and 
triumphant conclusion, that it may elevate the honour of 
the country, and enable me to support my family with 
honour. Grant that no difficulties may daunt or obstruct 
me, but that under Thy blessing, I may vanquish them 
all ; and grant these things, and above all health of body 
and mind, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. 

" Slst. — On reviewing the past year it is wonderful to 
think how I have been assisted by my Creator in the 
most trying situations. January, I wrote my lecture on 
Fresco. Pebruary, I began to prepare to do something, 
having had three commissions deferred amounting to 
700 guineas. I plunged at the Saragossa and got it 
done. I then in July began a cartoon in appalling neces- 
sities, and by His blessing who always blesses me I got 
through that. I flew at Curtius and finished that, and 
this day began to sketch the arrangement of a second 
cartoon; so that I have worked well, happily, and glo- 

" I have finished two great works, one cartoon, one 
BiDall picture of the Duke, half done a humorous picture 
of The First Child, and sketched in The Black Prince. 
• " I have lived to see a vote by the State for high art, 
for which I have laboured. I have lived to find myself, 
though the very cause of the movement, utterly forgotten, 
iis if I had never existed at all. Such is human gratitude. 
The first victim in all revolutions is he who caused them. 
■' " In Him I trust who has always blessed me when I 
deserved it, and who has punished me when I wanted 
torreclion. .._^ 

"■ " For all the mercies of the year past accept my 
Heepest gratitude, O God! and grant in concluding the 
JJ^ar IS+S, I may have less to complain of, more to be 
grateful for, and in every way have proved myself worthy 


of the continuance of thy advice, protection and Lelp. 


In no year of Hajdon's life had he severer distresses to 
encounter than in this of 1843. It brought the con- 
summation of what he had so earnestly fought for, —a 
competition of native artists to prove their capability of 
executing great monumental and decorative works, but 
with tills cume his own bitter disappointment at not being 
among the successful competitors. 

In all his struggles up to this point Kaydon had the con- 
solation of hope that better times were coming. But now 
the good time for art was come, and he was passed over. 
The blow fell heavily, — indeed, I may say, was mortal. 
He tried to cheat himself into the belief that the old 
hostile influences to which he attributed all his mis-. 
fortunes and difficulties had been working here also, and 
that he should yet rise superior to their malice. But the 
anticipation that had led him on thus far was, in truth, 
henceforth impossible. He would not admit to himself 
that his powers were impaired^that he was less fit for 
great achievements in his art now than when he painted 
Solomon and Lazarus. But if he held this opinion him- 
self, he held it alone. It was apparent to all, and to none 
more than to hia warmest and truest friends, that years 
of harass, humiliation, distraction, and conflict bad en- 
feebled his energies, and led him to seek in exaggeration 
(to which even in hia best days he had been prone) the 
efiect he could no longer attain by well-measured force. 
His restless desire to have a hand in all that was projected 
for arc had wearied those in authority, and even his old 
and sincere friend, the secretary of llie commission, waa 
unable to put forward his name without the chance of doing 
him more injury than service. He had shown himself 
too intractable to follow, and he had not inspired that 
confidence which might have given him a right to lead. 




And thus the cloud settled about him, and grew darker 
and denser every month of his few remaining years of life. 
It is so painful to follow day by day his struggles with 
disappointment, despondency, and embarrassment, that I 
feel it due to the reader to be as brief, in my extracts 
from the journals of these last years, as I can be, con- 
sistently mth distinctness. The last two volumes of the 
journals are little more than a record of desperate struggles, 
alternating with despondency and angry protestations — 
all pointing to the sad catastroplie which brought this 
stormy career to a close. 

He began with the year hia second cartoon of The 
Black Prince entering London with the French King 

" January ^th. — Full of anxiety on money. Two- 
thirds of my income diminished. Last year, no com- 
mission. Curtius, Saragossa, and cartoon done without 
order or return, except four or five shares, and now I 

. to begin it to- 
, sliiUing. Fifty- 

', all the time at 

have prepared a fresh cartoon, 

morrow — as I began Solomon, ^ — ^without a 

seven years old on the 25th. 

" In God I trust as before. Amen. 

" 5th. — Got my cartoon in, grumhlin 
what I consider the loss of brush power which must 
accrue, but yet going on, as I always do, trusting in my 

" I had exactly 13s. Qd. — all the ready money I have 
in the world — in my pocket. So I was 13s. 6rf. better 
than when I began Solomon thirty years ago. 

" 9iA. — What I fear is that my thinking always under 
the harrow of pecuniary necessity will at last affect ray 
understanding. I trust in God ; hut to-day I had a dul- 
ness of brain and torpor of thought quite frightful. 

" lOA — What is high art in England but a long 
Khyber Pass, with the misery of a passage in, but no 
passage out ? Thirty-nine years have I struggled to raise 
my country's tastes, and thirty-two have I been utterly 
without employment. 

£23 MEMOIB8 or 9.11. BATDOIT. [IMSL 

Went to the Tower to get armour, which I selected, 
but when (after an order from the Ordnance had been 
issued) 1 was told I must deposit the amount, I refused 
to do so. After having had armour from the Tower for 
thirty-five years, and always returned it, I considered this 
a dirty resolution as applicable to myself. I had no ob- 
jection, had I been informed of it ; but to come down and 
be taken by surprise was disgusting. I told them it was 
worthy of a nation of shopkeepers. I was in a passioa 
and poured forth. 

" Mih. — Got my order from the Ordnance to get my 
armour, and I go down to-morrow and bully the store- 

" \Sth. — Went and got my armour, and brought It 
home in victory. I asked them if it was the last act of 
the Whigs, or the^rst of the Tories. They were as polite 
as before they were insolent, Mr. Eyam of the Ordnance, 
who has known me thirty-five years, brought it before the 
Board, and they accepted me, and granted my wish. Lord 
Colborne took a second share in Saragosaa, and my dear 
Talfourd' sent me effective help; — so 1 return thanks to 
God I have escaped ruin at present. 

" SStA, — Worked very hard, and got on powerfully. 
Worked the whole week gloriously, with all the fury, 
constancy, and vigour of earlier days, and to-morrow must 
pay the penalty of having deferred all pecuniary matters 
till I have not 2s. Gd, in the house. My dearest Mary 
bears it pretty well, — very well, — but it tries her. I 
only hope she will hold out like me." 

He exhibited his Curtius at the British Institution. 

" February 3rd. — Out early in the morning to glaze 
ray picture of Curtius. Pound Etty in the hall waiting like 
myself to go up. Chatted with Etty, who said my example 
and Hilton's, in early life, hud greatly influenced him. 
At the time 1 mounted to go up, and was looking at the 
Curtius, I felt somebody pat my shoulder, saying, 'well 
done.' I turned round and found Etty. I toned the 
picture like lightning. In one hour and a half I had 10/. 
to pay upon my honour, and only 21, 15a. in my pocket 

1843.] STRUGGLE. 223 

I droTe away to Newton, paid him 2L 15&, and borrowed 
10^ I then droTe away to my friend, and paid him the 
10/., and borrowed 5L more, but felt relieved I had not 
broke my honour. Then home, took out all my proofs, 
called on my subscribers, and saw them left. 

** Thus I have done my duty to everybody to-day ; and 
what is life but a struggle of duty to your God, your 
country, and your species, day and night, till death ? 

" March lit* — Bless me, O Lord, through this month, 
in spite of its awful pecuniary necessities. But I trust in 
Thee. Grant I may get through my cartoon, and fit 
Saragossa for the public, and keep my health, and never 
lose my confidence in Thee, Thou great and beneficent 
Creator. Amen. 

" 10/A. — Went out and paid in lOL for Coutts for my 
dear Fred. Came home and flew at the Saragossa. 
Glazed it beautifully. At one flew out and raised 15/. 
of a draper whom I dealt with (taking 4/. in goods). 
Drove home, and by three Saragossa was done. Rushed 
up and paid my rates — a warrant would have been issued 
to-morrow. This is the life of high art in England. 
Refused by my Prince f , to whose income I contribute, 
threatened by a collector, helped by a draper, and two 
judge's orders to pay on Saturday, with only 2s» to meet 
32L Yet do I cheerfully rely it will be done, and this 
book will prove it. 

" From a letter to Eastlake, March 13th : — 

" My dear Eastlake, 
^* I am delighted, because being a permanent plan it has 
broken the ice, and will ultimately end in decoration. I de- 
pend on your's and the commissioners' judgments; it was 

* The Twenty-fifth Yoluino of tlm Journal begins at February 
15th, 1843, with motto from Amkhi U. v. 10., and from tbo 78th 
Psalm : '^ But He being full of tum\tn*nU$h lorgavu tliuir inic^ulty, and 
destroyed them not : yea, umuy n tiitm (ui'MmI Ua h\n anger away, and 
did not stir up all bi« wratli/* 

t Alluding to an umuaumtM t^tiAkt^ilmi Ui li. U. 11. Prince Albert 
just before. 

221 MEMOIRS OF B. B. SATDOK. fl849. 

doing the thing rightly and with energy j no mincing the matter. 
Go on, and God prosper us all. 

" I appeal to the Royal Commission, to the First Lord, to 
yon the secretary, to Barry the architect, if I ought not to be 
indulged in my hereditary right to do this, viz., that when the 
houses are ready, cartoons done, colours mixed, and all at 
their posts, I shall be allowed, employed or not etnployed, to 
take the first brush and dip into the Jint colour, and put the 
first touch on the first intonaco. If that is not granted I'it 
haunt every noble Lord and you, till you join ray disturbed 
spirit on the banks of the Stys. Keep that in view if you 
regard my peace of mind, my ambition, my pride and my 

" Ever yours, 

" B. B. Hayton." 

" 15(A. — Hard at work, and got through nay second 
cartoon. O God, I bless Thee with all my heart and ' 

soul for Thy mercies in thus bringing me through the 
difficulties and troubles which have pursued me up to this 
moment. God, still protect and support me, and carry 
me through to the full realisation of all the consequences 
of these attempts. O God, spare, protect, and bless me 
to the end, and accept ray deepest gratitude. 

" S+M. — Dined at Lupton's with Carew and Clint, and 
had a very pleasant niglit. Carew told us a capital story 
of the Duke. The Duke was at the Marchioness of 
Downshire's, and the ladies plagued him for some of his 
stories. For some time he declared all his stories were in 
print. At last he said, ' Well, I'll tell you one that has 
not been printed.' In the middle of the battle of Water- 
loo he saw a man in plain clothes riding about on a 
cob in the thickest fire. During a temporary lull the 
Duke beckoned him, and he rode over. He asked him 
who he was, and what business he had there. He replied .( 
he was an Englishman accidentally at Brussels, that he 
had never seen a fight and wanted to see one. The 
Duke told him he was in instant danger of his life; he 
said ' not more than your Grace,' and they parted. But 
every now and then he saw the Cob-man riding about in 

1843.] A HEEOIC BAG-MAN. 225 

the smoke, and at last having nobody to send to a regi- 
ment, he again beckoned to this little fellow, and told him 
to go up to that regiment and order them to charge — 
giving him some mark of authority the colonel would re- 
cognise. Away he galloped, and in a few minutes the 
Duke saw his order obeyed. The Duke asked him for 
his card, and found in the evening, when the card fell out 
of his sash, that he lived at Birmingham, and was a button 
manufacturer ! When at Birmingham the Duke inquired 
of the firm, and found he was their traveller, and then in 
Ireland. When he returned, at the Duke's request he 
called on him in London. The Duke was happy to see 
him, and said he had a vacancy in the Mint of 800/. 
a-year, where accounts were wanted. The little Cob-man 
said it would be exactly the thing, and the Duke installed 

** I will ascertain if the facts are correct If true, it 
redounds much to his Grace's honour. 

** 25th. — Two months more would not keep me too 
long from painting, so to-day, under that mysterious in- 
fluence, I took out my cartoon, and before I was aware 
had got in a Virgin and Child. So I have begun ; but I 
was in miserable want of money, as usual. I had money 
to send to my son at Cambridge, and out I went, feeling 
a culprit. Is it not better to paint things of five guineas 
a head than go on in this condition ? It is certainly ; 
and if this stake fail, I'll astonish my friends at the ease 
with which I '11 come to do things for subsistence, and to 
save a competence for old age. 

" 27<A.— The moment I touch a great canvas I think I 
see my Creator smiling on all my efibrts. The moment I 
do mean things for subsistence I feel as if He had turned 
his back, and what's more, I believe it. 

'^ 31st. — Last day of March. I have worked well, 
have suffered great necessity, but here I am by God's 
blessing, with my cartoons both done, and effectually 
done. I am now preparing for a new work, but have not 
yet decided whether it shall be fresco or not. I hanker 




, and 

after lime, and have begun my third cartoon for i 
have to-day been busy preparing lime, 

" If ever artist was fit for fresco, I am. I have always 
done everything at once. For all Tiiy mercies and tiiaU 
this month I bless Thee, O God, with all my soul. Amen, 

"April \A:tJi, Good Friday. — After thirty-one years I 
this day received the Sacrament, sincerely asked pardon, 
and promised a new life. The Dean of Carlisle adminii^ 
tered — an old friend and admirer, — after an admirable, 
nay, beautiful, sermon. It was interesting, because to him 
I wrote, years since, in an agony of doubt and apprefaen- 
eion, I had one sovereign (all in money I possess), aod 
uo silver, when the churchwarden (an old friend, Stanley) 
held out the plate : 1 gave nothing — ought I not to hsrt 
given all, and have trusted in God? Sarely. But in 
the dread of being without any at all, and in the belirf 
that a sovereign was more than my necessitous condition 
warranted, I gave nothing. This tormented me. It proved 
the devil had power yet, I will make amends, I re- 
viewed my life for thirty-one years. I had married an^ 
brought up a family, I had been four times in prison. 
I had injured friends by not paying their loaus. I had 
been swallowed up by ambition, but not on selfish prin- 
ciples. All these things were crimes, and I repented. 

" I had educated and planted four boys, and will edu- 
cate a dear girl. I had not made an improper use of the 
money borrowed ; but what right had I to borrow at all, 
if not to repay? I had paid 1000^., but there was more 
yet, and one good man had lost some hundreds. 

"All these things came across me, and I felt as if mjl 
soul was blackened ; but a ray of brilliant hope supported 
me, and I went up in quiet self-possession, believing that 
if I believed, the atonement would reconcile me to God^ 
and I trust it may. I never wilfully injured either man 

I remarkable day in my life, and on this 
lay I will, as long as I live, repeat ttti^ 
act. God bless my resolution. Amen." 

" This day is 
:at sacrificial 

1843.] . MISERY AKD RELIEF. 227 

. Wilkie's life by Allan Cunningham appeared about thi^ 

** I6th. — Prayed in private, and arranged papers to 
collect my life, as Wilkie's memoirs have roused me again, 
. ** nth. — Made a study for Alexander's head from life. 
Borne down by necessity — apprehensive of an execution 
for 1/. 11*. 6d, and 5*. 6d. costs. "Wrote ten pages of my 
life, and copied two letters of Wilkie's. 

** I8th, — In the city and deferred a payment, but 
suffered excruciating agony for want of money. 

"20^A. — Went out in great misery to raise 61, 10*., 
the balance of a judge's order — Dre Darling, my old 
friend, helped me. Just as I was going to set my palette 
I was served with a copy of a writ for another debt. I 
came home and corrected my figure, and prepared for the 
model to-morrow. 

** 2lst, — Awoke in the night, my heart beating and my 
head aching from my anxieties ; but in God I trust, as I 
have always done, and always will ; and this Journal will 
again bear testimony I do not trust in vain. 

*' 22nd, — Now reader, whoever thou art — young and 
thoughtless, or old and reflecting — was I not right to 
trust in God ? Was it vanity ? Was it presumption ? 
Was it weakness ? To-day — this very day, — I have sold 
my Curtius, when only yesterday I had no hope ; and my 
heart beat, and my head whirled, and my hand shook at 
my distress. I had taken the butter knife off the table to 
raise Ss, 

" * Then they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and 
he saved them out of their distresses.' — Ps. cvii. v. 17. 

** How often have I occasion to write this ! 

*^ 27th, — Would any man believe that for the thirty- 
five years I was intimate with Wilkie, for twenty of them 
most intimate, I never knew he kept a journal of the 
weaknesses, follies, and habits of his friends ? 

" Mai/ 3rd, — Out the whole day on money. Sold 
Curtius, but got a bill at six months, which in the city is 
awful. Came home, weary, hot, penniless ; lunched and 





fell asleep ; awoke by the servants fighting in the kitchen ; 
went to my painting room and looked at Alexander, and 
remeinhered a beautiful day lost. Brunskil], my model, 
obliged to go, as I could not attend to him. Called on a 
lawyer, and begged for mercy for 27/. till Saturday — re- 
fused. At dinner, Bishop came, and sent in a note. I 
came out, and was sened with a wriL As I came down 
Chancery Lane, a cab wheel came off, and down came 
horse. The horse, in his struggles, put himself in the 
action of Bucephalus. I studied him gloriously. The 
very thing, and shall try it at once. 

" May 8lh. — Monday, Exhibition opened. Went down, 
and found Saragossa placed so disgracefully high, that its 
execution, expression, and tone were utterly losL This 
will he the last mahcious bite of my bitter enemies, early 
and late, even to the grave. Felt great agony at my 
necessities. I have every chance of my cartoons being 
laid hold of, after all my necessities and struggles. 

" lOM. — Called on Leslie to-day, and was much amused 
at his accounts of "Wilkie. Leslie said capitally, ' Wilkie 
was so anxious to do every thing exactly hke other people, 
he made himself odd in trying to be natural.' At Law- 
rence's funeral. Constable was his pendant. Cope, the 
city marshal, stood before them in a splendid cocked hat 
and black scarf Wilkie was fond of painting cocked hats ; 
and while looking down with all the semblance of woe, 
said to Constable, ' Just look at that cocked hat. It's 
grand ' ' 

" 18th, — A young pupil came to-day, and paid me 100/., 
part of 200/. premium. lo Pjean ! was I not right to 
endure, as seeing One who is invisible? 

" Made a capital sketch of Nelson at Copenhagen. 

" 20tk. — Laid up with a burnt foot from steaming the 
cartoons the last time. Another blessing attending on 
100/. Could not stand to paint, so I wrote my memoirs 
— eight hours. 

"22K(t — Laid up — wrote all day. I really am asto- 
nished at my thinking at twenty-six, now I extract from 
m^ journal. 


" June \sL — O God, I thank Thee that this day I 
have safely placed my cartoons in Westminster Hall. 
Prosper them ! It is a great day on my mind and soul. 
I bless thee I have lived to see this day. Spare my life, 
O Lord, until I have shown thy strength unto this gene- 
ration, and thy power unto that which is to come. Am 
in deep gratitude to have lived to such a day, 

'^ I found Eastlake, my pupii^ walking about. He was 
most happy to see me. I said, * Do you recollect drink- 
ing tea with me in 1808, and telling me my conversation 
had made you a painter ? ' * I do,' said he, * and there 
is no doubt of it.' And *Do you remember,' said he, 
* coming with me into "Westminster Hall, and drawing a 
gigantic limb on the wall with the end of the umbrella, 
saying " This is the place for art." ' I did not. He said I 
actually did so, thirty years ago ; and he remembered my 
jumping up to reach high. Now here we were, master 
and pupil, marching about, and the first act of this great 
drama of art just beginning. O God! when I reflect on 
thy leading me on so many years from the beginning, I 
must believe I ever have been, and ever shall be, protected 
by Thee. 

" How interesting that we were both from Devon ; 
both having finished our schooling at Plympton Grammar 
School, where Reynolds was educated. 

" 1th. — Wrote my life — vol. ii. Three weeks of nothing 
but thinking. Dead thinking without the excitement of 
painting fatigues me. I hope soon to get to work, — 
painting is such a delight. Since March 15th, when I 
finished my cartoon, I have advanced and rubbed in Alex- 
ander, and prepared for my fresco, but have not done 
much else. My foot better." 

The day for the opening of the Cartoon Exhibition was 
now approaching. 

" IQth. — Wyse said the exhibition (at Westminster 
Hall) would honour the school. I thank God for it. These 
journals bear testimony to my belief in British genius. I 
have pever spared any instruction or expense to advance 


230 SIEMOIB8 OF B. K. HAYDON. [l643. 

it. Another pupil for a short time paid 25/. to-day. 
God be thanked for it ! Things are looking well, and I 
shall live to see my dear country's glory yet, as I always 

"iSlh, — Six months of the year gone ! I have ioaH 
one cartoon, one sketch of Curtius, one sketch of Nelson, 
advanced Alexander, which ought to have been done ; 
and have finished my first *olurae of memoirs. For three 
months — since March 15th, — I have not exerted my- 
self as I ought, and for the last month I have hecn lame. 
Truly have I been wounded_ in the service. Last year I 
ran a bayonet through my foot while painting Saragoasa; 
and this, I burnt my other foot while steaming my cartoon. 

" 17/A. — Perhaps God may punish me, as he did Na- 
poleon, as an example, for pursuing a great object with 
less regard to moral principle than became a Christian — 
that is, raising raonej- to get through, careless of the 
means of repaying, though I had reason to hope the aris- 
tocracy would have helped me by purchase to keep my 
word. The decision will take place in a few days. "What 
ought I to have done ? Kept my cartoons, and showed 
them alone ? It would have been a wiser plan ; hut it 
would have been shrinking from a contest with my 
brothers, which might have turned to my disadvantage. 
It is my policy to go through without complaint all the 
steps degradation points to, to give them no excuse for 
not employing me,— and what then ? Shall I be employed ? 
No, indeed; but have the door slammed in my face, while 
my enemies will chuckle at my degradation and submis- 

" This is the last time, I think, I will compete. 

" I have made up my mind to a reverse. Though I 
trust in God with confidence, yet I am not sure I am yet 
sufficiently cleansed by adversity, not to need more of it. 
Por the sake of my boys, and only daughter — and, above 
all, for the sake of my dear Mary, — I hope not. To have 
exhibited cartoons alone would have been an act of de- 
fiance to the Royal Commission, and of mistrust. But 

1843.] KOT successful! 231 

would I not have been justified when there were Acade- 
micians amongst the judges, though the Prince has tho 
casting vote ? 

" I8th, — Went to church at St George's, Hanove 
Square, and felt the most refreshing assurance of protec- 
tion and victory. The last time I was there I received 
the Sacrament, and did jjot give my only sovereign in 
charity as I ought, which gave me great pain. To-day, 
when the Dean of Carlisle implored assistance for the 
Church Fund, saying 550,000 persons by it had been pro- 
vided with seats, where none had been erected before, I 
thought I'd give 1*., then 2s. 6d., — 10*. 6d. At last said a 
voice within me, *That sovereign you ought to have 
given.* * I will,' I felt, and took it out and gave it to the 
plate with as pure a feeling as ever animated a human 
breast. O God, prosper it ! Thus have I expiated my 

" 26th. — In great money distress, having paid away all 
my receipts,— -l^SZ. in five weeks. I have now 21L, 11/., 
3^., lOL to pay this week, and not a pound. How I am 
neglected in employment large or small ! " 

The opening of the Cartoon Exhibition was fixed for the 
3rd of July. On the 27th of June Haydon received in- 
telligence from Eastlake that his cartoons were not in- 
cluded among those selected for reward ! 

The next entry in the journal is three days later. 

^^ June 30th. — I went to bed in a decent state of 
anxiety. It has given a great shock to my family, es- 
pecially to my dear boy, Frank, and revived all the old 
horrors of arrest, execution, and debt It is exactly what 
I predicted, and it is, I think, intentional. I called on 
William Hamilton, and found he had adopted, with exqui- 
site tact, the tone of society. He told me Sir Robert felt 
annoyed at my restless activity about the arts ; that I in- 
terfered in everything I had no business to do. I said, I 
had ; that the School of Design had gone to ruin, as I 
predicted, and that they had been obliged to adopt the 
figure, which they never would have done but for my re- 


peated interference. He gaid, ' You wrote about the 
Arabesques ; now we had settled to buy them before, 
audit was intrusion !' Good heavens! — no feeling for 
my enthusiasm for art, — but such is Sir Robert's dignity, 
a natural impulse is an offence. Hamilton said, if be 
mentioned my name, it was an insult. He really gives me 
up. He stuck to me to the last, but this decision has 
proved to him the hopelessness of defending me any longer. 
Hamilton bad no objection to my intruiion on the Elgin 
Marble question, and gave me the motto. He said, ' You 
should write to Sir Robert Peel.' Yes — ' we did not give 
him a prize, but, poor fellow, we relieved him.' That 
won't do. 

" I am wounded, and being ill from conHnement, it 
shook me ; but not more than the decision of the Gallery 
at iwenty-six {in 1812). 

" July \»t. — A day of great misery. I said to my dear 
love, ' I am not included.' Her expression was a study. 
She said, ' We shall be ruined.' I looked up my lectures, 
papers and JoLimals, and sent them to my dear j^chylus 
Barrett, with two jars of oil (1816), twenty-seven years 
old. I burnt loads of private letters, and prepared for 
executions. Lords Alford and Northampton and William 
Hamilton took additional shares in Saragossa. 11. was 
raised on my daughter's and Mary's dresses. 

" On Monday I went down, and was astonished at the 
power displayed. There are cartoons equal to any school. 
My own looked grand, like the effusion of a master, — 
soft and natural, but not hard and definite ; too much 
ahadow for fresco — fit for oil ; but there were dispropor- 
tions. I gained great knowledge. The Death of Lear, 
Alfred in the Danish Camp, Constance, were never ex- 
ceeded. But the great mistake — and it has been a tre- 
mendous one — is the selection of a pupil of De la Roche's 
for the prize," The injury it will do is incalculable, for, 

* This is on error. Mr. Arraitnge, who is here referred to, obtained 
one of the highest preuiiuniB, Mr. Cope and Mr. Watta carrying off 
the oiliera, anj all three being equaL "^J 


instead of destroying the prejudices against British genius, 
it will root them deeper than ever. For' what has the 
Commission done ? It has unjustly preferred a foreign 
production to the splendid productions of natives, and thus 
excited the power of Britain only to mock it, and expose 
it to more ridicule than ever insulted it before. Thus 
this Royal Commission has backed Winkleman and Du 
Bos, and done more injury than was ever done by the 
bitterest enemy. I was introduced to the young artist and 
his father, and had a long and interesting talk. I found 
out the system of De la Roche, and do not wonder at the 
bad drawing of his school. 

" July 13^A. — Worked a little — the only day I have 
been able to stand for two months. Began Nelson Sealing 
the Letter at Copenhagen, and improved Alexander. God 
be thanked ! 

" 15^A. — Worked, but unhappily. I am ashamed to 
own how the attacks of the press wound me. Curious 
that now the press sees all that I fought for is coming to 
pass, they seem to have particular pleasure in preventing 
my tasting any of its fruits. How cruel it is ! What a 
pleasure they seem to take in preventing people from ac- 
complishing the darling object of their existence. 

" 16^A. — Prayed, but felt harassed. One struggles 
still to trust in God, but I am afraid to do so any longer, 
from my own unworthiness. * Ask,' Christ has said, ^ it 
shall be given ; knock and it shall be opened.* 

" * If a child asked a fiither for food, would he give 
him a serpent? How much more would your heavenly 
Father t' 

" I ask from my heart, Thou good Being, to be saved, 
vrith my family, from the fatal ruin which must overwhelm 
me and them without Thy interference, promising re- 
pentance sincere and intense. 

" 22wd. — * I sought the Lord, and He helped me, and 
delivered me from all my fears.* It is indeed cruel of Sir 
Robert Peel to have sanctioned such decisions, and to 
have left out my cartoons^ deserving as they are, after the 

234 MEM01H3 OF B. B. HATDON. Cl8*3. 

battle I have Touglit for so many years. It is a blow at 
me, and a warning to others how they presume to tell 
truth, to fight for truth, or persevere for truth's sake, 

" 23rd.— I knelt down and thanked God for His merciful 
blessing this week. I have got through its difficulties up 
to this instant, eleven o'clock, Saturday, as I prayed. 
Ought I not to be grateful? Indeed I am. 251. I rtjceived 
from a pupil, 15/. was lent me, and 13/. to-day our dear 
Mary had from our sons, — 53/. ; 48/. of which I have paid 
away, and saved myself up to to-night. O God! accept 
my gratitude. Amen. 

" 28(/(. — With my experience of the world, with my 
knowledge of the aristocracy, connoisseurs, and academi- 
cians ; — the aristocracy angry because I told them at 
Oxford they went out knowing as little of art as they 
came in ; — the connoisseurs ajigry because I proved them 
fools on the Elgin Marbles; — the Academicians thirsty 
for revenge because I brought them before a committee, 
— how could I be so weak as to give these three classes 
an opportunity of inflicting a blow, in hopes that my age 
would not be able to bear it so well as at twenty-six ? 
O Haydon, Haydon 1 Your love of art and your willing- 
ness at fifty-seven to think better than you knew of your 
species, got the better of your common sense. I imagined 
at such a bright epoch all hearts would unite, all hearts 
rejoice, all hearts forget and forgive for the sake of the 
great object of advancing the standard taste of the country. 
What was there to forgive ? A too ardent zeal, and over- 
aiix'"'-' ardour for the principles of high art — offensive 
to the authorities who wished lo check it. Shocking, but 
true! Three times did Sir Charles Bell struggle to get 
appointed lecturer to the Academy, and failed; three 
times did I, and failed likewise. Bell said he was con- 
vinced the old members wished to obstruct. 

" Made a sketch of Lord Willoughby's head for ten 
guineas, and got another order for 90/., so that I have 
escaped, so far, the executions I dreaded. I have been 
blessed this week — God be thanked heartily. Amen. 


I have been humiliated by this disappointment, but cor- 
rected. We were all too high. I bow. 

" Aug. 5th. — Finished my lecture, but much harassed 
in money matters. Went out in all the horrors of an 
execution, which I got delayed till Tuesday. Came home 
and finished my lecture. Yet I trust in God. He will 
carry me through. 

" 7^A.— Occupied all day with preparations for lecture — 
God grant it success. Heard of Rumohr's death. 

** 8tk. — Thank God, my lecture was the most brilliant 
success. How mysteriously am I influenced ! O God, 
accept my deepest gratitude. Amen. Many members 
were there and cheered me much. It was the completest 
success in a lecture I ever had. 

" 11th. — Hankered after my divine art, but feel op- 
pressed by my ill treatment. I hope in God I shall re- 
cover my enthusiasm, but at present I am exceedingly 
shocked, though my lecture proved I still stood in the 
public feeling higher than ever. 

" 14<th. — Another day to go through. Stale, flat, and 
unprofitable are days to me. I want change. A fort- 
night by the sea would restore me. My wife and daughter 
want it too ; but we have little hope. I am waiting for 
sitters I detest, and could vomit over. As poor Ingres 
said, * Je vomirais pour trois jours y I say, * Pour toujours.* 
All this is wicked, for I trust in God. My sitters came, 
but I was so nervously disgusted I told them frankly it 
was not ray forte. I presented them with a drawing, and 
begged them to let me oS. They were so kind, they 
saw the propriety. They shook hands ; and when they 
were gone I hurried away throne and chairs, and felt as if 
I had got out of a thunder-cloud that oppressed me. I 
breathed and looked up at Alexander with glory. Huzza I 
huzza ! 

" 15th. — I went to Southwell to-day to get lodgings 
at a farm-house for my daughter, and was so delighted 
with the air and freshness, I sucked it in like nectar. 

" It was a long time before the turbulent ambition of 



J^wIcmI could relish it; but at last I was fairly vanquiskeS 
and ihb day's air has completely revived me. The butU 
Hk sud, the meadows, all have sunk deep into my natin 
vad made me a uew beiog. Thanks to God ! 

" l&A, — 1 felt yesterday exactly as Satan felt when 
he entered Paradise — ' Saw undelighted all delight,' 

" $lst. — Last day of August. Sir George Cockbum 
sat three quarters of an hour at the Admiralty. I was 
determined to bring him out about Napoleon ; so, after a 
little preliminary chat, I said, * Sir George, this is an 
opportunity which may never occur again. May I ask 
you one or two questions ? ' ' You may.' ' "Why did you 
think meanly of Napoleon ? ' ' I'Jl tell you,' said he. 
* When I went to him with Lord Keith, I went prepared 
to admire him. He behaved violently; said I should pass 
over his cadavre, that he would not go to St. Helena, and 
so forth. Not caring for all this, I said, " At what hour 
shall I send tlie boat ? " ' I forget Sir George's continua- 
tion, for the servant came in. After answering the 
servant, rather nettled at the interruption, he went on to 
say, ' I came at the hour next day to take him on hoard 
the Bellerophon, prepared to use force and ready even for 
bloodshed. To my utter wonder he skipped away, and 
went on hoard without a word. After all those threats, 
what do you think of that? At dinner he talked inde- 
cently before women, and burst forth and gave me a 
whole history of his Egyptian campaign, puffing himself 
grossly — in fact, he would talk of nothing hut himself. 
When we got to St. Helena, we rode out to choose a 
situation. He wished to have the house in which a 
family were, imtanlli/. I explained that a week's notice 
was only decent. He said he could sleep under a tent. 
As they rode down the hill I showed him the room I 
meant to occupy. Napoleon said, " That is the very 
room I should like," so it was given up to him. Then he 
complained of the sentries. They were withdrawn, and 
sergeants put instead. Then he complained of them, and 
gave bis honour, if they were removed, he would nei 


violate his limits. I yielded, and that very night he went 
into the town. He then asked for the 4,000 napoleons 
taken from him, which was granted; and he bought up 
all the gold lace and green baize in the town to dress up 
his suite, and spent days in carving and arranging this 
gold lace. Now, these are my reasons for thinking 
meanly of him. He told me lies repeatedly; and after 
granting him my own room at his own request, he wrotcf 
the Government that he had been forced into one room.* 

" September Ist. — Sir George sat again to-day. He 
said, of the three (Nelson, CoUingwood, and St. Vincent) 
Collingwood was the best seaman. He said Nelson's 
Agamemnon was not in the best order. He knew Sir 
Sidney Smith well ; admired him ; but would not have 
entrusted him with a fleet. He said Acre was the very 
place for him. He was not of that high order of mind 
the others were. 

" 4^A. — Went and removed my cartoons. Thus ends 
the cartoon contest ; and as the very first inventor and 
beginner of this mode of rousing the people when they 
were pronounced incapable of relishing refined works of 
art without coloiir, I am deeply wounded at the insult 
inflicted. These journals witness under what trials I 
began them, — how I called on my Creator for His 
blessing, — how I trusted in Him, and how I have been 
degraded, insulted, and harassed. O, Lord I Thou 
knowest best. I submit. Amen. 

" 5th. — Awoke severely pained at the insult. Went 
out of town to see Mary. The air and peace relieved 

•* Qth, — Awoke again physically depressed. I got up, 
saying, * Is this Benjamin Robert Haydon ? I'll see if 
I'll be conquered by cartoons.' I resolved to do some 
violent bodily exercise ; so I moved out all my plasters, 
cleaned the windows myself (I don't wonder servants have 
good appetites), — ^I dusted, and got smothered ; lifted till 
my back creaked, and rowed the servant for not cleaning 
my plate (2 forks, 1 table-spoon, and 6 teaspoons; 1 

pepper-box and 1 salt-spoon). In fact, by perspiration 
and violent effort I cleared out the cobwebs, and felt my 
dignity revive. Now I am safe. 

" I9th, — Perhaps I have presumed too much on the 
goodness of my Creator — appealed to Him too much and 
too freely. 

" People wonder why I have been ao treated; hut a 
moment's reflection vrould explain it. Authority, pro- 
pertj', and law have been so long established in England, 
and such great results have been the consequence of their 
security, that it is considered better to put up with any 
oppressions from authority, however infamous, than to 
endanger its dignity by any resistance, however just. I 
was oppressed by authoritj- ; I revenged it successfully, 
and exposed my oppressors before a Committee of the 
House. It was necessary that I should be punished as a 
warning to others. My oppressors are acute and talented, 
malignant and envious men. They are ever on the watch 
to see that I am not patronised, or employed, or distin- 
guished, because I am as acute and talented as they are, 
without their envy ; and inasmuch as they are determined 
to prevent any appearance of my being sanctioned, however 
indirectly, by commission or reward, I am determined to 
give every reward a tendency, as it were a sanction, 
against them. Though I first planned the decoration of 
the Lords (1812), made sketches (1819), and put them on 
canvas (1835), and laid them before all the Ministries in 
succession, down to Sir Robert Peel, — though in my 
evidence I first planned a central school of design and 
branch schools, and first mentioned the Lords' decoration, 
the Academy, the Government, and the Commission 
thoroughly understand each other. They have all made 
up their minds that I must be sacrificed as a successful 
rebel, because I have succeeded in spite of four ruins, 
and win keep my ground in spite of four more. My 
cartoons, therefore, it was clearly predetermined, were 
not to he rewarded, on the principle of authority being 
supported at all hazards. Every artist of any feelingu. 

J1843.] ON HIS ILL-SUCCESS. 239 

saw, whatever merit there might be in my cartoons, 1st., 
that they were the cartoons of a painter who could 
execute them with the brush ; 2nd. that no principle of 
art had been neglected, as applicable in them ; and 3dly, 
that though there were two or three disproportions, from 
the smallness of the room in which they were executed, 
a day's labour would have remedied them ; and because a 
shoulder might be a trifle too heavy, or a calf a trifle too 
large, to deny reward to works whose character, expres- 
sion, and knowledge of construction were self-evident, 
was unjust, tyrannical ; particularly taking into considera- 
tion that they were known to be by a man who made the 
very first cartoon-display ever made, and who, wherever 
the art was in danger from any cause, has shown fight, 
whatever were or might be the consequences. 

" If among the English nobility there had ever existed a 
desire for high art, why did no commission follow Reynolds's 
Hercules strangling the Serpents, Flaxman's Designs, 
Hilton's Christ Rejected, Etty's Holofernes, my Solomon, 
and Lazarus, and Xenophon, or West's Lear ? * We 
have no houses,' said the Duke to me ; I could have 
said to him, * How comes it your Grace hangs up, in your 
staircase at Strathfieldsaye, Fuseli's conception of Satan 
calling up the Rebel Angels, a picture of gigantic size, 
which you bought for a trifle at his sale ? ' It is not that 
there is no genius. It is not that there is no room. It is 
not that there are no houses. It is that you have no 
desire — no taste — no sensibility to the honour of your 
great country, where art is concerned. Your Lordships 
throw the blame on the artists where you alone are con- 
cerned and to blame. You subscribe to British Galleries, 
to societies, to raffles, and to benevolent funds, as you 
would to Grisi's benefit or Lablache's concert, — because it 
is a part of your duty, as men of fashion, to keep up your 
splendour during the season ; but you have no love of art 
further than as it ministers to your vanities, or transcribes, 
for the admiration of posterity, the grace and beauty of 
your wives and children* 




" The whole effervescence will be allowed to die away 
again, and nothing will do but the people taking art in 
their own hands, and commissioning artists to execute 
great works for great public places. At present, with all 
their enthusiasm, they are not educated enough to prevent 
their becoming the victims of jobbers ; and therefore I fear 
to push such a principle yet (though it is the only plan to 
be effected), from the condition of the aristocracy, who are 
totally unfit to conduct such a scheme. 

" 20ih, — Spent the whole day with a lion, and came 
home with a contempt for the human species. Before the 
day was over we got intimate. He showed me his hideous 
teeth, and affectionately leaned bis bead aside as I patted 
him, suffered me to touch his paw, and smooth his mane. 
The lioness was in heat, and as playful as a kitten, and 
on my stooping down to get my port crayon, gave me an 
affectionate pat on the head like the blow of a sledge 
hammer, but I luckily had my bat on. The lion and 
lioness were kept separate. I made most useful studies, 
and came home rich in knowledge and ready to begin. 

" SOt/t. — Last day of the month. During a few days 
at the latter end I have worked well, but since 15th 
April, I have never done my duty. Two months laid up, 
and the rest harassed, disappointed, and tormented. But 
I have now recovered from the pain and shock of being so 
badly treated, and am fairly at work. Did Bucephalus 
to-day by completing the head. For tlie blessings of this 
month accept my thanks, O God, and may I remedy soon 
the evil. Amen with all my soul." 

From a letter to the Duke of Sutherland (October 2nd). 

" Be assured I have broken a hard shell, and found more 
ashes thfln fruit. 

" Different treatment when I was a diligent and obedient 
student would have made me a difitirent man. 

" My education was imperfect ; I was never taught the pro- 
perties of self-command, and I flung myself from my home ou 
the world ready to revenge insult and keenly alive to opprea- 


^* Oppression is always more likelj to elicit the vices than 
the virtues of the most gentle. 

^' I am now hard at work on Alexander killing a Lion, as the 
only subject likely to make me bear up under a cloud of mental 
tortures which make me wonder mj faculties remain clear. I 
believe I am meant to try the experiment how much a human 
brain can bear without insanity, or a human constitution with- 
out death.** 

"4^A. — Finished my sketch. As I wanted advice, I 
wrote to Collins to come and see the picture, as I always 
considered Collins one of us, — Wilkie, Jackson, and my- 
self, — and sound in imitation. He called, and we talked as 
usual about the Academy. Whenever Wilkie, Jackson, 
and I met, that was the first question. An Academician 
comes to me ; or I ask him to come ; he immediately sup- 
poses I have an ulterior view. 1 may regret and do re- 
gret the loss of early friendships, which my advocacy of 
my principles occasioned ; but I never regret, and never 
will, the impulses which inspired it They always mistake 
my private regrets for public. I would do exactly as I 
did if I had to act over again, but I regret the position 
which obliged me to do it. I should like to have kept my 
position in private friendship, but I would sacrifice it 
again, as I have done, on a principle of public duty, if it 
were required. 

" If, therefore, I say to Collins or to any old friend, * I 
regret our separation,' it is not that I regret the cause, 
but that separation was the consequence of the cause. 

*^nth. — Went to Brighton to sketch Nelson's secre- 
tary, Wallis, who wrote and sealed Lord Nelson's cele- 
brated letter to the Crown Prince .at Copenhagen. I 
sketched him. He has a fine head. I returned to dinner ; 
so much for steam. 

" I9th. — Lectured at Greenwich on the Elgin Marbles, 
The people exceedingly enthusiastic. The people of this 
great country are more fit to receive grand art than the 
aristocracy are to grant it. 





*' 30/A. — Out the whole day on money, as I liave to 
pay Frank's term money, or he loses it. 

" Tbe last day of the month. In Septemher I did the 
Lion. In October I have done Bucephalus, and ought 
to have concluded Alexander, but money distresses have 
hindered me. I conclude the month in gratitude to God 
for still having food, clothing, a bed, a house, a love, and 
a brain. 

" November 6ih. — O God, bless me this day. Amen. 

" A day lost. I went into the city to get time as 
usual, and returned in doubt. Worked at my picture 
in sorrow, set my drapery for to-morrow, and under God's 
blessing will paint, if the Lord Chancellor and all his host 
knock the door down. 

"l/fi. — Worked delightfully hard. Threatened with 
a. writ at one, begged tiil to-morrow, worked away, and 
got Alexander nearly complete. The writ came at eight. 
The delight I had to-day is almost a compensation for 
months of sorrow. At it again to-morrow morning at 
eight, with God's blessing. 

" 18(A. — The Alexander is nearly done. How grate- 
ful I feel to God for all his mercies during its progress. 

"Put in Alexander's head 19th April; worked till 
raiddleofMay; then burnt my foot; laid up and wrote till 
July. The Cartoon decision (being ill from long confine- 
ment) shook me by its injustice; began again September, 
till now, ^ — ■ altogether four months at the picture. July 
and August out of town, now and then. Painted several 
sketches; rubbed in Kelson. 

" aSlh. — Painted a little Napoleon in four hours; 
■wetted a little wax in oil, but I don't Hke it. Alexander 
still laid aside till I fly at the ground in a day or two ; I 
have every prospect of getting through my weekly pay- 
ments. I trust in God witii all my heart. Did He ever 
fail me except when I angered him by sin? Never. I 
got two orders last night, cheap ; but it is better Co work 
for small payment, and to get out of debt, than to stand 


on your pride, and then be obliged to borrow after doing 
the Grand Seigneur. 

** December Gth. — Nearly finished another Napoleon in 
four hours, — nine to one. 

** \Sth. — Worked hard, and finished another Napoleon, 
— ' Haydon, patent for rapid manufacture of Napoleons 
musing.' This is the eighth ; Kearsey's, from which the 
engraving is made, the first ; Sir Robert's, second ; Duke of 
Sutherland's, third ; Rogers' fourth ; Sir John Hanmer's, 
fifth ; Bennoch's, Twentyman's, and Hard3r*s, three city 
friends, sixth, seventh, and eighth. 

" \Qth, — Worked furiously for seven hours, and nearly 
did a repetition in small of Curtius. Sent home two Na- 
poleons, in small, — seventh and eighth. I have resolved 
to paint cheap and small, rather than borrow; so far it 
succeeds, and I hope God will bless it, and that I may 
get out of debt. This week I have been blessed, and 
have worked hard. 

" \9th. — Worked and finished a small Curtius, and 
rubbed in a Napoleon ; the ninth. 

" 22nd. — * How to paint a Historical Picture,' and 
' How to make use of ancient sculpture applied to the 
forms of high art,* would be two capital subjects for new 
lectures. Composed a letter on professors of art at 
Oxford and Cambridge before going to sleep, between 
four and five, and awoke again at seven, brimming. 
Worked and finished Napoleon ; got in another Napoleon. 
Met a friend in Pall Mall who possesses that head of 
Lorenzo di Medici ; I collared him, and said, * Your life 
or a Napoleon ? ' He burst out laughing, and said, * a 
Napoleon of course ; ' so I went home and got it in before 

" SOth. — Finished Alexander to-day at the British 
Institution, by toning down the sky, and the whole looked 
strong and rich ; how Sir George would have relished its 
mode of colour and touch ! I thank God for all his 
mercies during the whole thing. Had I not had a great 
picture to fly to, I could not have stood my ground. I 

B 8 

244 MEM0IB8 OF B. B. HATDOW. na43. 

Iiave Macbeth and Napoleon rubbed in for instant appli- 
cation; I carried my lunch with me, and did what no 
mortal ever did before in that room, broiled it on the 

coals, and with a pint of the coldest pump water, lunched 
heartier than the Queen. It was the south room, where 
all that were illustrious and great have walked on those 
splendid nights we used to have: — Davy, WUkie, Talma, 
Lamb, Hazlitt, Beaumont, Madame de Stael, Talleyrand, 
Canning, Wellington, Lady Jersey, and my own love, 
Mary. Such is human destiny ! — Alexander the Great 
was before me — a mutton chop on the coals. I had just 
written to Wordsworth, full of poetry on my reflections, at 
being alone in a gallery where I had seen such splendid 
scenes, and such illustrious people. My chop was cooked 
to a lee ; I ate it like a Red Indian ; and drank the cool 
translucent with a gusto a wine-connoisseur knows not. 
I then thought the distant cloud was too much advanced, 
so toning it down with black I hit the mark, and pro- 
nounced the work done. — Jo Paan ! — and I fell on my 
knees and thanked God, and bowed my forehead, and 
touched the ground, and sprung up, my heart beating at 
the anticipation of a greater work, and a more terrific 

" This is B. R. Haydon — the real man — may he live 
a thousand years ! and here he sneezed — lucky ! 

" 30/A. — It is past two, and I am retiring to rest. 
In less than sixty minutes 1843 will be swallowed up in 
the gulph of time ; 1823 was my first ruin, — 184^ nearly 
brought me again to prison ; but I never was better, and 
have got through, I liave lived to carry the great principle 
of state support, and, aa Wilkie said, to be convinced I 
shall be the least likely to taste its fruits. Such is the 
gratitude of mankind to those who tell them the truth, 
and devote themselves to their service. My sons are doing 
well i my Mary is as lovely aa ever ; my own health 
stronger than at eighteen ; my faith in God now become 
an instinct, and my want of money the same ; I have got 
through another great work, if not the greatest, Alexander, 

1843.] BEVIEW OF 1843. 245 

and am now fit for others. O God ! bless the beginning, 
progression, and conclusion of 1844; and though I have 
less sin to repent of than ever I had before, let me at its 
conclusion have conquered even that ! 
" Amen, in gratitude and peace, amen. 



January \st. — Worked and nearly did a large Na- 
poleon's head ; had a rough canvass with a delicious tooth. 

** 2nd. — Finished the body of Napoleon; went out on 
business in snow and sleet. The head and hat looked 

" Srd. — Finished the Napoleon figure in three days; 
I could do it in one summer day ; to-morrow for the sea, 
the next for the sky. 

*^ 4^A. — Another day of work; God be thanked! Put 
in the sea — a delicious tint. How exquisite is a bare 
canvas, sized alone, to paint on; how the colour drags 
over ; how the slightest colour, thin as water, tells ; how 
it glitters in body; how the brush fiies — now here — now 
there; it seems as if face, hands, sky, thought, poetry, 
and expression were hid in the handle, and streamed out 
as it touched the canvas. What magic ! what fire ! what 
unerring hand and eye ! what fancy ! what power ! what 
a gift of God ! I bow and am grateful. 

** lO^A. — It is extraordinary what a guard I am obliged 
to keep on myself. The moment the excitement of a 
great work is over, if I do not go at another, I am sure 
to burst out — in writing. My brain seems to require 
constant pressure to be easy, and my body incessant acti- 
vity. In a great public work alone I shall ever find rest, 
which will never be afforded me. 

" Moved the Napoleon to the gallery ; it looked well. 

" 14fA. — Half the month is gone, and I have done my 
duty : carry me through the remainder, O thou most 
merciful Being ! Amen. I have income-tax, and Heaven 

B 3 


knows what to pay; but I trust where I have trusted so 
often before. These first fourteen days I have done my 
duty well ; I have prepared two pictures for completion, 
and I hope to get successfully through them. I am con- 
vinced my mind would have sunk had I not had Solomon 
in early life, and Alexander last June to contend with and 
ily to : a great work under all circumstances is a stimulus 
to exertion." 

The question of Sir Joshua Reynolds's authorship of 
liis Discourses was revived this year by an assertion of The 
Times reviewer of Wilkie's life, that Burke ' had touched 
up and revised, if he did not altogether write, Sir Joshua's 
Discourses.' The subject had before this occupied Haydon's 
attention, but he was now lucky enough to obtain, through 
Sir Joshua's surviving niece, Mrs. Gwatkin, conclusive 
evidence that the Discourses were entirely of Sir Joshua's 
own composition, written indeed, in great part, in bis 
niece's presence, and without any assistance from Burke. 
Mrs. Gwatkin, then living at Plymouth, and in her eighty- 
ninth year, writes (on the 11th of January), 

" Intimately associated as I was with my uncle Sir Joshua 
Beynolds, and conversant as I was both nith hia occupatioas 
and habits, I can take upon myself positively to assert that hs 
was the author, the unassisted autbor, of the Discourses on 
Painting. Tlie numerous HISS, that I havo in my possession 
penned by my uncle on various subjects, and often in my pre- 
sence and that of my sister, the Marcliinness of Tiiomond, when 
it was his habit to walk up and down the room in which wo 
were sitting, and as the thought occurred commit it to paper, 
and the subject of those thoughts, is a convincing proof and 
would furnish such proof to any person of literary talent, that 
Sir Joshua possessed a mind of original conception and con- 
siderable power, needing no assistance from Burke either in 
composition, or ' retouching ' of his discourses ; and as Burke 
and my uncle were men of dissimilar and characteristic talent, 
and Burke had not that conception of idea as to the art of 
painting which must have originated in my uncle's mind, the 
unfair calumny on his fame can have no credible foundation 
witb those who either knew bim or Burke. ' ^J 


^ Northcote in his preface to the life of Sir J. K. sajs, 
' Another motive to my undertaking this subject was that some 
of the circumstances which I had to relate might help to clear 
Sir Joshua in respect to the unwarrantable ideas many persons 
have entertained, that he was not the author of his own Dis- 

^' In regard to Farringdon I know not that he was the im- 
mediate cause of mj uncle's resignation, as Sir J. B. does not 
mention his name in his account of that transaction ; but I will 
give you a little extract I have j ust made from the MS. I have 
relative to it, without being able to throw any light upon who 
the spokesman is meant to be. ' An Academician, who has long 
been considered as the spokesman of the party, demanded who 
ordered those drawings to be sent to the Academy ? President 
answered it was by his order. Asked a second time in a still 
more peremptory tone, and the president said, ' I did.' ' I move 
that they be turned out, or sent out of the room. Does any one 
second my motion ?' I have to apologise for being so long in 
answering your note, and am 

" Yours &C. 
" Theophila Gwatkin." 

" 25/A. — My birthday — fifty-eight. Good heavens! 
Forty years ago I surveyed my acquirements and life, and 
planned a course of study. The course of study I have 
pursued was in French, Italian, Latin, and Greek. I 
think I do not know an atom more than I did at eighteen. 
Worked, but not pleased with the Duke's head. I was 
warming some oil when it caught fire, and roared up the 
chimney ; a good omen on my birthday. I shall yet 
make a blaze in the world more than ever." 

Painting Napoleons, in all manners of musings, had 
now become regular bread and cheese work with Haydon. 

*^ February Ist. — Worked, and finished a sketch of 
Curtius, and began to finish another of Romeo and 
Juliet. Alexander they have not hung up at the Gallery. 
I fear some prejudice. They took Napoleon and Saragossa, 
which are old pictures, but declined hanging Alexander. 
This is the first time such an insult occurred to me. As 
I get older, I fear it will be repeated. 

B 4 

248 hemoibS Of b. b. hatdon. [lea. 

" 15M. — Worked well, and finished a small sketcli of 
Napoleon in his bedroom the night before his abdication, 

" I6l/i. — Thank the Duke of Sutherland who sent me 
25/,, and ordered me to send my cartoon of Edward the 
Black Prince to Stafford House. I hope he means to buy 
it. I felt such agonj at mj want of money, while I had 
legal securities coming due, that in the middle of the 
night I awoke and felt as if the Lord had quite deserted 
me. 1 turned over my late actions, and found as little 
sin as might be expected, perhaps less. I appealed to 
God for mercy. 

" 20tJi. — Worked gloriously, and got in Napoleon in 
Fontainebleau Garden. Three musings — Fontainebleau, 
— Bedroom — Ocean. 

" 21sf.— Went to poor Von Hoist's funeral, — a young 
man of considerable genius, who died from disappointment, 
in the prime of life, who felt his want of nature, and 
candidly told me so, hut said, it was too late, which was a 
mistake. As his sister stood lingering at the brink of the 
grave, I thought what a touching subject it would make — 
' The last look,' — and when the service was reading in the 
dim chapel, the Resurrection and Judgment, on each side 
in fresco, entered into my head. Oh, if I am not let loose 
before I die, what a pity it will be ! 

" One of tbe women said to me, with the greatest 
simpHcity, ' we ore all so delighted at this mark of respect 
to poor Theodore, and he will be delighted too.' 

" 23rd. — Worked hard, and got another Napoleon 
done, musing the night before his abdication, 1814. 

" 29M. — End of February. I thank God for all his 
mercies, and they have been great. I have painted a 
dozen Napoleon sketches, finished Alexander, painted a 
large Napoleon. Surely I have done my duty. I could 
not have done more. 

" March ith. — Worked well, and finished Napoleon 
meditating at Marengo. 

h. — Worked con furore, and finished Napoleon in 


Egypt, musing on the Pyramids at sunrise, Collins 

** 6th. — Got in and sketched the Duke and Copenhagen, 

" 1th. — Nearly finished the Duke and Copenhagen. 
I have painted nineteen Napoleons. Thirteen musings at 
St. Helena, and six other musings, and three Dukes and 
Copenhagens. By heavens ! how many more ? 

** It is impossible to get that equality of gemmy surface 
Reynolds and the old masters got but by impasting the 
whole canvas before you begin, and painting into it. Equal 
quantities of mastic varnish and old raw linseed oil (half 
a pint each), a bit of pure wax as big as your thumb, and 
without spermaceti (be sure), makes a divine vehicle, 
simmered ten minutes over a chafing dish, not over the 
fire in the grate, for I upset the whole and it went roaring 
up the chimney. Engines came, and I was forced to pay 
XL Ws. Sir Joshua paid 5/. 5^. for the same thing. 

" 9th. — Worked at the Duke. Sent home six Na- 
poleons musing, five guineas a-piece. What would Sir 
George, Lord Mulgrave, and Wilkie say to this ? Got 
orders for three more at six guineas. At any rate this is 


" * You will be compelled,' said Burke to Barry, ^ to 
do anything for anybody, and you will go out of the 
world fretted, disappointed, and ruined.' If I do, may I 
bed d. Hem!" 

Mention has often been made in the journals of Hay- 
don's anxiety to see Art professorships at the Universities. 
This idea had found a distinguished supporter in Mr. 
Greswell of Worcester College, Oxford. But the Oxford 
man thought, of course, of working with the aid of the 
established authorities — the Academy and the Minister. 
This would not do, in Haydon's opinion. 

" 20th. — Wrote all day and finished my lecture on 
English High Art. Blazed gloriously at the latter part. 
The simplicity of Oxford professors is delightful. Gres- 
well, at Worcester, read a lecture on Professors of Art, 
which I proposed, 1840. It was received, as my offer 




was, with pleasure: up comes the simple man — never 
comes to me, but goes to the Academy. They invite him 
to dine, pump him of liis iutentions, find he means to write 
Peel. They prepare Peel for the application, and sneer 
at the whole thing. Greswell falls into the snare, writes 
Sir Robert, gets the usual official reply, and is thunder- 
struck at his apathy. Back he goes, finds the dons entirely 
altered now the minister is cool, and the plan is throwA 
back two degrees." 

This month Haydon visited and lectured again at Liver- 
pool and Manchester, painting a brace of Napoleons at 
first, I suppose, to raise funds for his jouruey. 

" 23rd. — Came down to Liverpool by train with a 
young blood, who talked away about the House, till the 
awful and usual question from me, ' Are i/ou a member 1 ' 
quieted him. 

" 2ilk. — Took a hot sea-bath. Awoke this morning 
with that sort of audible whisper Socrates, Columbus, 
and Tasso heard : ' Why do you not paint your own six 
designs for the House on your own foundation, and ex- 
hibit them ? ' I felt as if there was no chance of my ever 
being permitted to do them else, without control also. I 
knelt up in my bed, and prayed heartily to accomplish 
them, whatever might be tlie obstruction, as I bad got 
through my other works. I will begin them as my next 
great works ; I feel as if they will be my last, and I tbiuk 
I shall then have done my duty. O God ! bless the 
beginning, progression, and conclusion of these six great 
designs, to illustrate the best government to regulate 
without cramping the energies of mankind. Grant loe 
health of mind and body, vigour, perseverance, and un- 
daunted courage; let no difficulty or want obstruct me ; 
but let me put forth to their full intensity the powers of 
mind with which Thou hast blessed me, to thy glory, and 
the elevation and innocent pleasure of my country; and 
grant the moral duties due to my dear children and wife 
may not be neglected, whatever may be my ambition, my 
delight, my rapture in my art. Above all, let me dfuijf^ 


implore Thy blessing, and fearlessly believe in Thy aid 
till the great work be accomplished, through Jesus Christ, 
our Lord. 

" One of the most remarkable days and nights of my 
life. I slept at the Adelphi last night, high up, and 
just at break of day I awoke, and felt as if a heavenly 
choir was leaving my slumbers as day dawned, and had 
been hanging over and inspiring me whilst I slept. I had 
not dreamt, but heard the inspiration. When I was 
awake, I saw the creeping light. If this be delusion, 
so was Columbus's voice in the roaring of the Atlantic 
winds, but neither was, and under the blessing of God 
the result shall show it as to myself, — but only under his 

" April 16^A. — I this day lectured at the Royal In- 
stitution, Albemarle Street, where Davy, Coleridge, and 
Campbell had lectured before me. I have been kept from 
this for nine years by the apprehensions the Academicians 
contrived to excite in the minds of the managers. Hamil- 
ton proposed me two years ago, and every one voted 
against me. This year the managers appealed to him to 
apply to me. He said, * No : apply yourselves. You 
refused me, to you belongs the gaucherie of asking him.' 
They did so ; and I, seeing the great advantage of the hit. 
Burked my pride (as Burke advised) and closed. There 
was a stir in fashion about my lectures, as if my style was 
not adapted to this audience ; but I am happy to say it 
was a complete hit. I read them the same lecture I read 
at the Mechanics', at Oxford, and at Liverpool, and thus 
have made a hit amongst all classes of society. 

" 18^A. — Occupied and harassed in a just distribution 
of my gains. Obliged to leave out the good-natured to get 
rid of the ill-natured. Not just." 

The following letter from Haydon's life-long friend 
Seymour Kirkup — a name familiar to all English lovers 
of art who know Florence, and to whom we owe the dis- 
covery of Giotto's portrait of Dante in the hall of the 
Podesta — gives a graceful and interesting detail of the 


I 1844. 

} their I 

fete of the Buonarroti familj) in tlie Palaz: 
great ancestor lived and worked. 

" I thought of you the other night. I received a kind note 
from the Chevalier Cosimo Buonarroti to come to their fete, 
the birthday of M. A. There I met young Michelognolo, the 
painter (very like the Vecchio in the face before be let hia 
beard grow to a. fashionable point), and Faustina the lady you 
formerly heard of, now grown grey, but a very nice English- 
looking gentlewoman. Her daughter is lately married. Ugly 
but atiraciive. Well, There was ike house full of company, 
nobility, arts, sciences, and all the talents — music — a grand 
cantata written for the occasion by a first-rate maestro, and 
8uag by a niece of Cosimo's, a firat-rate private singer, the 
famous Testa, and the famous gallery lighted up and turned 
into a huifet for tea and ices, all brilliant and happy. At the 
top of the gallery, in his niche, sits the hero himself; a fine 
statue with much of the style of Lorenzo in the chapel, onlj 
not so gloomy, I never saw it well before, for it is between 
the windows. It ia yery alive and noble, and he was crowned 
for the occasion with a massive gold wreath, that agreed so 
with the action that he seemed to feel it and exult. I am no 
sniveller, but I should have wept outright with an unaccount- 
able pleasure if I had been alone. I could hardly master as it 
was. The gallery was built by his nephew Leonardo (several 
of whose books I have with his name in them), and he employed 
the best painters of his school. It is about forty feet long and 
fifteen broad. On each side are four large pictures, hfe siee, 
divided by pilasters, and two doors. The subjects are scenes 
in the life of BI, A. in Rome, with different Popes, in 
Florence, at the siege, &c., of course the costumes and like- 
nesses are authentic. At the bottom is one large unfinished 
fresco by his own hand, between two doors. The ceiling ia 
divided inio a number of compartments by richly gilt cross 
beams, and each contains a pointing relating to him. 

" The family are poor, but Cosimo has got on in the law. 
He ia a judge ; a mild, weak sort of man, — and he speaks very 
good English, as bis sister Faustina does likewise. Michelagnolo 
is their first cousin. He ia yonnger, and a painter, and not so 
well off. He possesses a villa with some chalk sketches on 
the wall by the great one. 

"N. B, I have a bas-relief sketch in terracotta which I had 

1844.] A p£tE with THE BUONABBOTI. 253 

from the walls of the Grotti Palace in Venice. (Andrea was his 
friend.) A Jupiter and Antiope^ first-rate. 
- " They (the B.'s) possess quantities of letters and a thick 
volume of inedited MS. in his own hands, which there is no 
mistaking. The most extraordinary of all his successors was 
the father of Cosimo, Filippo^ who died in Paris long ago. 
He wrote an account of the conspiracy of Bahoeuf, of which he 
was himself a magna pars. Tou may see it at any library. The 
title, Conspiration pour rSgalite, dite de Babceufy par Ph. 
Stionarroti. SruxelleSy 1828, 2 vols, in 8vo." 

" 22nd. — Called on Mrs. Stewart Mackenzie at Old 
Palace, Richmond. Breakfasted and had a delightful 
talk. Colonel Fraser, latterly of the Guards, who lost 
his leg at Burgos, was there, and set me down on his 
return. We had a most delightful chat about the Duke. 

" He told me the men always knew when the Duke 
was at headquarters because they got their sleep as well 
as he his. When the Duke was absent the men were 
always harassed, from the anxiety of the officer in com- 

** He said the Duke, as soon as he had foreseen and 
prepared everything, slept like a top, or sat down quietly 
and wrote a long letter about anything but military 

** Colonel Fraser said it was curious to see the security 
of everybody if they knew or saw the Duke was present. 

" 30th. — Lectured at the Royal Institution, and finished 
the introductory lectures — three. It is a great triumph 
indeed to have made people of fashion go through the 
process of an artist, and I hope it will have its effect. 

" Several men of fashion were present, and took an 
interest in the proceedings, and many women of fashion 
and beauty. 

" These principles must sink deeper, and having gone 
through all classes of society, I trust in God I have laid 
the foundation of a thorough reform. 

*' Thus ends April, and I have not painted the whole 
month — but I really wanted repose. 




"May \st. — I this day again (after lecturing till I am 
exhausted, twenty-two lectures in sixteen days, and be- 
ginning again the instant I came to town) have reset lay 
palette. It pains me even to leave it. O God! bless 
my re com meu cement J progression, and conclusion till the 
end of the year, and whilst I live. 

" "th. — Lectured at the Royal Institution. 

" There is a picture at the Academy by Mulready, which 
is as great an epoch in the colour of our domestic school 
as was Wilkie's Blind Fiddler in composition,— The Whis- 
tonian Controversy. 

" lOM.— O God ! bless the conception, execution, and 
conclusion of my new work begun this day. Let me 
bring it to a successful conclusion, and bless it with sale 
and success. Let no necessity or difficulty deter, nor ill- 
health injure or delay me. Amen. 

" Rubbed in Uriel and Satan. 

" Wrote Tite, the architect of the Royal Exchange,' 
pointing out the opportunity which the flats on the 
Royal Exchange offered for a series of designs illustrating 
the rise and progress of our commercial greatness," 

This year the competition in fresco, supplementary to 
that in cartoons, was opened in Westminster Hall, to 
which Haydon, disheartened by his previous ill-succeaa, 
did not send anything. 

"ISM.^At my dear Harman's sale — Sir Joshua'a 
Age of Innocence fetched 1596/. ; Hobbima (Smith'ai 
Catalogue, 118), 1942/. 10s.; Le Bonnet "Vert, 693/.;' 
Jan Stein (No. 43. S. Cat.), 630^. ; (S. Cat. 114.) Ostade, 
1386/. (1320 guineas) ; Vandevelde (S. Cat. 21.), 1399A 
'Le Coup de Canon.' The National Gallery bid 1510 
guineas for the Sir Joshua. I met Sir John Hanmer yester- 
day. He said, ' Do you compete for this fresco ? ' ' No, 
certainly; I've had enough of competition.' ' The for- 
tune of war,' said he. 'No, Sir John,' said I, 'the 
treachery of the enemy.' 

"These sales arc melancholy — Sir George Young's, 


Lord Lansdowne's, Sir Joshua's, Wilkie's, and now Har- 

" 19th. — As I sit looking at my picture, Uriel and 
Satan, I cannot help remembering the friends now gone, 
who used to call in on a Sunday and talk, and criti- 
cise, and cheer up — Lord Mulgrave, Sir George, Wilkie, 
Jackson, General and Augustus Phipps. How all was 
hope, and novelty, and anticipation,— and after forty years 
of most anxious study I am again at it in just as much 
necessity, or more, as when I painted my first picture in 
1806 — thirty-eight years ago. Hardly any one now feels 
an interest in my proceedings ; yet my proceedings always 
do excite an interest, and my fate is not fulfilled. My 
dear old friends are passed, and have led the way. After 
a few years I must follow them. The state of things is 
melancholy. I anticipate nothing from the promised op- 
portunity for fresco. The spaces are contemptibly small. 
The nature of fresco decoration does not seem understood. 

" The sale of small pictures yesterday has made a 
deeper impression on me than all advice. It is only by 
moderate-sized works a reputation gets into possession 
of foreign nations. The size of life, or small canvases, 
will secure reward, and not lose reputation. The gems 
of Sir Joshua are as broad as Michael Angelo's execution. 
They are in the true grand style of execution for any 
size, and yet by the moderation of his canvas he is ad- 
missible anywhere. My object has been to create and 
rouse up a high feeling for art, which full-sized works 
only give ; but I ought not to be accused of shrinking if I 
more frequently now suit the capacities of my purchasers. 
I shall write all this, and then order a canvas 12 by 10. 
I'll combine the two more than I have ever done, and see 
the result. Perhaps it vrill be the same, without the 
same support from conscience which a great work always 
gives, — sale or no sale. 

"23rd, — Raffled Saragossa to-day: J. G. Lockhart, Esq., 
in the chair ; Lord Colborne threw 30, Lord Northampton 
30, Duke of Sutherland 26, and Webb, my old pupil. 

256 MEMOIBS OP B. &- flATtXm. FlSM. 

1), II, 10 (32), winning. He was an old pupil, introduced 
to me by Sir George Beaumont, 1819. He became di»- 
gusted. Set up butter shops — lias tbree in the town — 
has made property, and patronises his old master — poor 
Webb ! There were thirty subscribers ; the Duke had six 
shares. Eucles, Xenophon, and now Saragossa, were all 
raffled. Newman Smith won Eucles, Dnke of Bedford 
Xenophon, and Webb Saragossa. 

"June it/i. — I am tormented with hj-poch on dria and 
melancholy. The thought of the Emperor of Ruseia'a 
arrival, to whom I was presented twenty-eight years ago, 
and the humUiations I have undergone since I saw him, 
is literally shocking. 

" 0th, — Horace Vernet called when I was out. I re- 
gret it much. Since the Emperor has been here, I have. 
not had a quiet thought. He went to-day, and I am glad 
of it, because I was not in the position I was in twenty- 
eight years ago ; and I should have felt pain to have met 
him again. 

" lOth. — Horace Vernet called to-day after I called on 
him, and we had a regular burst. I called him 'Le Paix- 
han de Peintres,' at which he laughed — 'Lesoldatde I'art.' 
I showed him Napoleon musing, and he immediately- 
sketched for me his two uniforms — chasseur's and grena- 
dier's — which I framed and kept, because they are correct. 
He wished a hearty farewell, said my Uriel was ' Michel 
Angelesque,' but found fault with the right knee. He 
asked for my other pictures, and told me on his return 
with the King he would see them, and spend longer time 
with me. 

" \Olh. — I went to the cartoons, and dined with a pupil at 

Richmond, at the Stat and Garter. I met the sculptor 

who told me his rencontre with the Duke of Wellington. 
The Duke had written Storr and Mortimer he would see 
on Wednesday ; they told him nothing of it till Wed- 
nesday afternoon. Off he set on Thursday, and came on 
the Duke when he was deeply studying some papers, and 
details connected with India (I suspect the Affghanistl) 


1844.] THE DUKE IN A PASSION. 257 

affair), and after keeping him waiting a whole day, which 
he had set aside. 

" The Duke came down as soon as was announced, 

and on entering, flew at him in a fury. told me he 

included in the most violent imprecations himself, with 
all other artists, for what he called * tormenting him,' 
adding that his career was over at forty-seven, and asking 
why they could not be content with what they had done 
already. — said he bent his fist to knock the clay 
model to pieces ; but the Duke got up on the horse, and 
— modelled away. 

** When he had done sitting he withdrew, and 

took his bag up to the steward, and was about to retire 
to the inn to dine. The steward said, *Sir, the Duke 
expects you at dinner, and to sleep here.' * Tell the 

Duke,' said , * I'll be hanged if I dine at the table 

of any man who uses me as he has done.' 

" went to the inn, and was drinking his wine, 

when he saw a groom galloping towards the house. He 

inquired for Mr. . He was shown in. — said, 

* Tell the Duke I'll neither dine at his table nor sleep at 
his house.' 

" The next day he went again. The Duke came in, in 
a very bad temper, and said, * I suppose I may read my 
letters.' He sat and read, and tore open his letters in a 
fury ; finished. The Duke began to melt and ex- 
cuse himself, and offered to sit again, but — declined. 
Since then the Duke told Mortimer the silversmith, he 

would sit again. I like this, as it is amiable ; but 

would not accept it. 

" I like this burst of character ; and thank God ! he is 
like ourselves. ■ assured me he had exaggerated 


" 15^^^. — Altered Napoleon's coat according to Horace 
Vernet's correction. My children's French master, who 
directed me in having a coat made for Sir Robert's picture, 
must have been an impostor. 

" 21th. — I spent the morning in the Exhibition, and 

VOL. Ill* s 


narrowly scrutinised every picture. Macready by Bri^s, 
and the Presi<lcnt of tlie Pharmaceutical Society by poor 
William Allen, are fine and powerful. TIjere is not 
besides a really fine picture in the rooms, besides Mul- 
ready's Wliistonian controversy, which is exquisite. Cres- 
wick's scenery and Danby'a Artist's Holiday are exqui^tc 
in their way; but there is not a single picture in the 
whole place which gives evidence of power to manage a 
great public work." 

In July came a gleam of hope of work in which Haydon 
would have gloried. The Commission for building the 
Royal Exchange inquired of Mr. Tite, their architect, as 
to the cost of decorating the panels of the merchants' 
area with frescos. The architect immediately wrote to 
make the inquirj' of Haydon, who at once answered : ^ 

" Dear Sir, J"'? ' '■ 

"I was honoured by yonr question, and I am most hujipy to 
to answer it, as you know I have always entertained a convic- 
tion that Listorieal fresco decoration was essential to the com- 
pletion of the new Royal Exchange. 

" There are twenty-four large spaces and eight small ones. 
The large ones might be filled with a series of beautiful fresco 
illustrations of our rise, from the earliest to the latest period of 
commercial greatness. The small might contain, in chiaroscuro, 
portraits of the greatest men who have contributed to that rise. 
The whole series might be, like the ceiling and the building 
under the direction of one man and his assistants, as abroad ; 
but if other artists have to sliare, they should be constrained in 
their respective sides, to carry out their part only of one great 
consistent object ; and every subject they paint in that side 
should first be approved by Committee and Architect, as part of 
the original plan. 

'.' Unless this be a positive law, confusion and failure will be, 
the result. 

"With respect to the estimate it maybe impossible to be 
quite correct to 100/.; but if one man only has the direction, 
he conld certainly accomplish the whole without loss, for SoOOl. 
— ihe Architect supplying the two first coats of mortar before 
Lis lust intonaco. 

" Perhaps the safest way would be to make an experiment. 


A fine fresco might be painted on the right side of the principal 
entrance, developing the earliest mode of commerce. For one 
only 300/. is not too much. 

" Or two might be painted each side ; the first, commerce at 
its least — ^the second, at its greatest ; the earliest, the one at the 
right, being the beginning; the one at the left, the end. Both 
could be done for 400/. 

" Or the whole west end might be done as an experiment, but 
still to be part of the great whole (when the whole was done), 
for 1000/. 

" To conclude, my Dear Sir, 3500/. would prevent any man 
who undertook the whole from losing ; 4000/. would put 500/. 
in his pocket ; and 5000/. would enable him to lay by in the 
funds for old age and decrepitude. 

"I respectfully, without presuming to suppose your letter 
had any reference to myself, offer to undertake one, or two, or 
a whole end as experiments ; or I respectfully offer myself — 
perfectly delighted to do so — ^to undertake the whole for 3500/. 

" I am, my Dear Sir, yours, &c. 

« B. R. Haydon.*' 

This estimate staggered the Commission, and the idea 
was abandoned. 

Here is a criticism on the frescos exhibited this year in 
Westminster Hall, vnth a justification of his own with- 
drawal from the competition : — 

^' 2l8L — The frescos are by no means what they ought 
to be. Instead of carrying the beauties of oil into fresco, 
they seem delighted to carry the horrors of fresco into oil. 

** All the flesh of their frescos looks as if dipped in a 
tanpit, so utterly are they without cool tones. If they 
can put blue into the sky, surely they can put a due 
mixture of it into the flesh. There are also no reflections, 
and the effect is hot, and offensive, and dirty; black, 
sooty, as if painted with boiled fish-eyes. 

" They say any established artist ought to try again, 
although unjustly dishonoured. Surely not. Were he 
certain of justice, he would try ; but he may have able 
and influential enemies who will seize the chance to give 
him a final gripe. 


" After the cartoon affair of 1843, manj of them, 'i 
meeting me, expressed astoDisbment I had kept my health, 
and concluded, ' \Vliat is the reason of this extraordiiuTj 
■tamina — is it here ? ' (laying their hands on my chest). 
Their air was exactly as if they had been looking oat for 
roy death. 

" I have DO objection to compete, if employed to do so ; 
hut we all know the lucking disposition which exists, to 
lower estabtished repute by pushing forward youthfiil 
promise. la it prudent — would it be wise, even if there 
were no prejudices against me, to risk fame by contact 
with boys who have no fame to lose ? I say, no. Kxcite 
the young by the hopes competition generates ; but do not 
accuse established artists of shrinking, if they refuse to 
enter the lists when all the bad passions are their oppo- 
nents, and when all that is amiable is sure to be enlisted 
on the side of those who have a name to get. 

" On this principle I will not again compete, until 

Six artists were commissioned, in July, to execute 
frescos, — Maclise, Redgrave, Dyce, Cope, Horsley, and 
Thomas. Of these, the second and last did not execute 
frescos. The frescos now in the House of Lords are the 
work of tlie remaining four. 

" 23n/. — In thus again being left out from the artists 
employed to decorate the Lords, I am justified in con- 
cluding there exists a determination to exclude me for ever 
from all employment in that direction, 

" 2G/A. — By the blessing of God, to whose mercy I 
bow, I this day, by an advance of 100/. from a pupil, have 
been saved from ruin. Could I be but employed, I should 
be placed on a footing of security; but in him I trust, 
and doubt not He will protect me. How merciful have 
been my extrications ! I am brimming with gratitude, — 
may I deserve protection ! 

" August \Mt.* — Began a new Journal — God bless mo 

* The Tnentj-sixth and lost Yulumc of the Joumala opens at this 
date nitU tLe mottoes, "Nil magnum absijue lubore;" and "Lore 


at the beginning, in the progression, and to the end, * Let 
thine ear be attentive, and thine eyes open, that Thou 
mayst hear the prayer of thy servant, which I pray before 
Thee nov7, day and night' 

" Wrote my life — second volume. Copied a magnificent 
letter of Keats. 

" I5th. — Worked and finished the head-tackling of the 
Duke's horse, in George the Fourth and the Duke visiting 
Waterloo, but worked lazily. 

" 26th, — Wandering — - misery — thinking — concluding. 
Came home more fatigued than the hardest day's work 
makes me. Impulse is but a quicker perception of reasons 
that prove the truth. Bought the Report on the Decora- 
tion of the House. The two most important papers are 
Hallam's and Mahon's, on the principle of decorating the 
Houses of Parliament. Hallam judiciously maintains the 
subjects should not be confined to England, Mahon the 
reverse. Yet Mahon refutes himself when he very sen- 
sibly says, ^ The English people have known how to com- 
bine the greatest security to property with the greatest 
freedom of action.' Undoubtedly. And in decorating the 
Houses of Parliament, this great doctrine, and this alone, 
ought to be the basis, for the illustration of which all sub- 
jects to be painted ought to be selected. 

" This is but another view of what I have laid down at 
Edinburgh, Oxford, Liverpool^ and London; viz., * The 
best Government to regulate without cramping the en- 
ergies of man,' abstractedly. Lord Mahon applies this to 
England particularly, and wishes it to be illustrated by 
English subjects alone. I maintain it cannot, and so does 
Mr. Hallam ; and Lord Mahon, in this choice of subjects 
to illustrate this great doctrine, brings forward subjects 
which have no reference to it at all, as a principle, and 
shows the insufficiency of English history alone to do it. 

*^ Yet Anarchy — Democracy — Despotism — Revolution 

not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man 
love the world, the love of the Father is not in him.'* — 1 John, ii. 15. 

8 3 

2G2 MEMOIRS OF B, n. HATDON. [1844. 

— Jury and Monarchy- — can be illustrated by English 

" September 2nd. — Made a study of Uiiel from nature. 
Always make an actual study from a head — never mind 
how ugly — to get the look of nature; then adapt, but 
always with actual nature as the basis. 

" 3rd. — I should be happy, if it pleased God, to die in 
nij- painting-room, after the successful completion of some 
grand head. In truth, I have no other real delight; but 
I should be happier if my mind did not overrun in writing 
and deductions, 

" After painting, I always look back at the time I Iiave 
lost in writing, but still I go on writing. 

" 7ik. — Out and superintended the restretcbing of 
Solomon, began 1812, finished 1813, thirty-two years 
ago, I really am astonished at the picture, and so will 
the country be by and by. When one thinks of the 
trash now exhibited, good God ! I bad it put on a new 
frame, and hope to preserve it. I think it is the varnish 
which makes pictures so brittle. This was only varnished 
once. It was painted in oil, glazed in oil, varnished, and 
then I rubbed in oil to prevent chill. I do not wonder 
at the enthusiasm of the people at seeing such a work 
come out from a young man of twenty-six, in the midaE 
of the hootings of the world. 

" 9ih. — My son Frank ill ; very anxious. Rubbed 
in a Napoleon, and settled Uriel. Worked coti furore, 
and with effect. Frank better; he has knocked himself 
up with hard work. All in this house work hard. 

" 10th. — Exceedingly harassed about my son. Set my 
palette. Borod by incessant calls. My Uriel is making 
a sensation already ; I am very proud of it I think the 
head of Uriel the iinest thing I ever did, except the head of 
Lazarus, Now for anxiety, gossip, calls, and young artists. 
I never had a moment's rest, and the day passed in folly. 
Dennys, my employer, called, and was pleased beyond 
expression. I exult at Uriel's head, but I ought to 
humble myself in gratitude to God for such a mercy. 


" 20th. — Out the whole day on money. The Tutor 
having resigned at Jesus', requires the balance of my son's 
college account, 140/. 4«. 6d., at four days' notice. The 
trouble and anxiety are dreadful. Frank is quite re- 
covered from a nervous fever, and I dared not tell him ; 
and the dread of having him degraded, if I were not 
punctual, was agonising. Bennoch and Twentyman ad- 
vanced 100/. on my sketch of George IV. visiting Waterloo, 
so I have got 40/. 4*. 6d. to make up. I trust where I have 
always trusted, and shall never trust in vain. How grate- 
ful I am ! 

" 2lst. — Three whole days have I been racing to raise 
the money to save my dear boy at Cambridge, and suc- 
ceeded. God be thanked ! His mercies have been great 

*' Thus ends the week, in which I ought to fall down on 
my knees, and bow my head to the earth for raising up 
such friends to me as Bennoch and Twentyman." 

A bequest of 500Z. having been left to the trustees of 
St James's Church, Bermondsey, for the purchase of an 
altar-piece, the trustees invited artists to send in sketches, 
the sketch selected to be executed by midsummer 1846, 
to the satisfaction of two persons of competent judgment, 
and the sketches to be sent in by the 4th of December. 

Haydon and Eastlake were ultimately selected as judges, 
and their choice fell on a sketch by Mr. John Wood, who 
afterwards executed the picture, though not to the satis- 
faction of Haydon, who offended the young man mortally 
by the bluntness of his criticism. 

There is little worth extracting in the journals till the 
end of October, during all which time Haydon was hard 
at work on his Uriel and Satan. He notes this lack of 
thought in his Journals himself, and attributes it to his 
having fallen from " the solitary grandeur of high art." 

" Oct. 4fth. — The art with me is becoming a beastly 
vulgarity. The solitary grandeur of historical painting is 
gone. There was something grand, something poetical, 
something touching, something inspiring, something he- 

8 4 

264 MEMOIRS OF B. E. nATDON. [ifl 

roic, something mysterious, sometliing awful, in pa« 
jour quiet painting-room after midiiiglit, with a great 
work lifted up on a gigantic easel, glimmering by the 
trembling light of a solitary candle, ' when the whole 
world seemed adverse to desert.' There was something 
truly poetical in devoting yourself to what the vulgar 
dared not touch, — holding converse with the Great Spirit; 
your heart swelling, your imagination teeming, your being 

On competition I find : — 

" i5ik. — The whole system of competition will be a 
failure. It is not the way. It was not the way great 
men of former days were selected. It may do for young 
men, but selection among the established is the principle, 
and they will then form the youth. One commission to 
an established man is worth all the competition that ever 
was, and ever will be." 

Now appeared the first volume of his Lectures. 

" S&/h. Hard at work, and finished a fourth Curtius. 
How grateful to God I am that I have lived to bring out 
ray first volume of Lectures ! I pray God it may be suc- 
cessful ! " 

The following extract has an interest at this moment, 
in connection with the cleaning of the pictures at the 
National Gallery. 

" Nov, Gth, — Went to the National Gallery, and found 
the Rubens of Moses and Brazen Serpent utterly ruined 
during the vacation, — the whole of the tone and superb 
glazing rubbed off. It is one of his Italian pictures 
painted at Genoa. What would Sir George and Sir 
Joshua say ? 

" Worked. My Journal seems to have lost all its copi- 
ousness and Inspiration. 

" \6ih. — They may talk as they please of the suf- 
ferings of humanity, but there is nothing bo excites my 
sympathy as the helpless sufferings of a fine old oil pic- 
ture of a great genius. Unable to speak or remonstrate, 
touching all hearts by its dumb beauty, appealing to all 


sympathies by its silent splendour, laid on its back in 
spite of its lustrous and pathetic looks, taken out of its 
frame, stripped of its splendid encasement, fixed to its 
rack to be scraped, skinned, burnt, and then vamished in 
mockery of its tortures, its lost purity, its beautiful har- 
mony, and hung up again, castrated and unmanned, for 
living envy to chuckle over, whilst the shade of the mighty 
dead is allowed to visit and rest about his former glory, 
as a pang for sins not yet atoned for. 

** 24fth, — This day another large canvas was put up for 
one of my series of six pictures, my original designs for 
the House of Lords. I see they are resolved that I, the 
originator of the whole scheme, shall have nothing what- 
ever to do with it ; so I will (trusting in the great God 
who has brought me thus far, and through so many 
troubles) begin on my own inventions without employment. 

" It is now thirty-two years ago since I began Solomon ; 
my resources are more abundant, but my wants are 
greater. Still I am a name in the world. I am more 
adequate, more experienced, more versed in my divine 
art ; but I almost knew as much then as now. 

" The very theories I started then, and was considered 
impudent for starting at such an age, the world now 
listens to, on publication. 

" 30th. — Worked, and it was hard work to work, from 
eternal calls. I heard yesterday, from Kendal, the Duke's 
valet, he had a hat ready for me, so down I went, and 
tipping a sovereign, carried off a genuine hat, — the glori- 
ous hat which had encircled the laurelled head of Wel- 
lington. I trusted it to nobody ; I took it in the hat-box, 
called a cab, and gloried in it. I set to work instantly, 
and before Kendal called had finished the hat in the pic- 
ture. Kendal brought a pair of boots ; I told him I must 
have a whole suit, cravat and all, and I am promised. 

" Kendal was present at the Duke's rage with — — in 
the hall at Strathfieldsaye. He said the Duke lifted both 
his hands above his white head, and cursed all sculptors- 
and painters^ declaring he had sat 400,000 times to artists. 

MEMOIRS OF B. B. nATDOV. [l844. 

'* December \sC. — The last month I have not done all 
I ought to have done, or might have done. I have had 
no excuse from had health, for I have never been better. 
January, February, to the end of March, I did well; 
April and May I was interrupted by lecturing, hut ought 
not to have been. June, my daughter's health took us to 
Dover. I liave rubbed in and made studies of Uriel, ad- 
vanced George IV,, and painted Napoleons and Curtiuses 
at so much the dozen, and here I am at the last month. 
My Lectures are published, and have had success ; it is a 
great thing to have lived to witness that. They are con- 
sidered a manual for students, as they are, 

" December ITih.- — Strange the nction of the faculty 
called genius! No circumstances of pecuniary difficulty, 
no depression of animal spirits, no danger, want, ill- 
health, or occupation seem to check it. 

" I sketched Aristides, the populace hooting him. On 
Sunday I looked at it without thought or reflection. In 
flowed a brilliant flash of placing him in the middle; the 
gateways — the Acropolis — the Temple of Theseus — the 
expression of the Democrats, of Themistocles, of Aris- 
tides' wife, of his child;- — for five minutes I was lost to 
external obj ects ; I saw the whole — never clearer — 
never stronger — never finer. Thank God ! Thank God ! 

" 19M. — The year is nearly over. I have painted a 
large Napoleon in four days and a half, six smaller diffe- 
rent ohjects, three Curtiuses, five Napoleons musing, three 
Dukes and Copenhagens, George IV. and the Duke 
at Waterloo (1821)— half done Uriel — published my 
Jjectures — and settled composition of Aristides, I gave 
lectures everyday at Liverpool, sometimes twice a-day; 
lectured at Royal Institution. I have not been idle, hut 
how much more might I liave done! 

" 26lh. — Began Aristides, and prayed for success, for 
health, for intellect, for eyes, for energy, for virtue, for ' 
purity, for success to bring the whole series of six to a 
glorious and triumphant conclusion, for the honour o£ 
my country and the purifying of my species. 

1844.] KEVIEW OP 1844. 267 

" O God ! whom have I in heaven but Thee ? and 
there is none upon earth that I desire be^de Thee ! 

" ^th. — Duke of Devonshire called ; and to help me 
to pay expenses before my dear Frank took his degree, 
gave me an order to paint two sketches for two panels 
for a window at Chatsworth. I said, * Napoleon musing 
at St. Helena, and the Duke at Waterloo.' He replied, 
* Capital idea !' so at it I go. He paid me half by a cheque 
for 20/. 14*. lid. How kind! and I despatched it by 
P. O. to Mortlock's, Cambridge, for Frank's college bill. 
How grateful to God I am ! 

" Got in Aristides gloriously. The Duke admired it 
much, and the Uriel ; Aristides has brought me good 
luck. The Duke looked well, and was very strong and 
hearty, more so than ten years ago. 

" SQth, — Began and finished a Napoleon in two hours 
and a half; the quickest I ever did, and the twenty-fifth." 

At the end of December he thus reviews his circum- 
stances for the year, in his summary of the twelvemonths : 
— " This year, at the beginning, I received a blow by the 
Directors not tiking Alexander and the Lion. I was ob- 
liged to dash it before the public at once at the Pantheon ; 
it did not sell, so the dreadful struggle, through this picture 
not bringing me reward after my being disappointed in a 
prize for the cartoons, was another blow. My landlord's 
forbearance, and the kindness of my friends Bennoch and 
Twentyman, of 78, Wood Street, in getting me several 
orders at ten guineas each (for which in my palmy days 
I got fifty), carried me on. Uriel was prepared ; George 
IV. finished. Dennys, a cotton printer, ordered Uriel for 
200 guineas, 100 of which was paid to Jesus' College ; so 
that with two sons, one at sea the other at Cambridge, 
I continued, by trusting in God, and praying to Him 
day and night, to bear up. Blessed by the energy of 
dear Mary, I worked away, and have come to the end 
of the year, in great difl[iculty, yet alive; for with eye- 
sight, brains, health, love, and reliance on his Maker, 
what need a man fear? If I can only now carry my dear 


Frank through hia degree, finish Uriel, Aristides, and the 
five other great works — my original designs, I will resign 
my spirit into his hands from whom I received it. 

" My position still is solitary and glorious. In me the 
solitary suhlimity of high art ia not gone. 1 still pursue 
my course, neglected, little employed, too happy if the 
approval of my own conscience is the only reward I get 
for my labours, under the blessing of God. 

" Thus then, O most merciful Creator, I conclude this 
year 1844, and approach my fifty-ninth year. I have been 
blessed through twenty -five or thirty years of my life with 
uninterrupted health, and a beautiful wife and family ; 
for all the blessings of this year accept my deep gratitude, 
and may I be more deserving a continuance of such bles- 
sings in 1845 than in 1844 ! 


"January Qnd. — Worked hard, and finished the Dulce 
of Devonshire's sketches of Napoleon and Wellington for 
Chatsworth, I hope he will be pleased. I have painted 
them with great gusto. 

" 4(A. — If any man wishes to learn how to suppress 
his feelings of exultation in success, and of despondency 
in failure; how to he modest in elevation, and peaceful 
in disappointment; bow to exercise power with humanity, 
and resist injustice when power is abused by others ; how 
to command inferiors without pride, and to be obedient, 
without servility, to the commands of others ; let him read 
day and night the Despatches of the Duke of Wellington. 

"4th. — I have cleared dear Frank from all but hia 
Christmas bill, 30/. 17s. llrf. God grant I may accom- 
plish that, or his degree will not be granted; in Him I 

" Gth. — Mackenzie gave me an order for a small repe- 
tition of George IV. and the Duke ; so dear Frank is safe. 
Gratitude indeed ia due. Lord Carlisle sent me 51. ; 

ulce I 


Stanley refused ; Peel declined ; the Queen Dowager de- 
clined ; the Duchess of Kent never replied ; the Duke of 
Devonshire called, and gave me a commission ; and now 
C. A. Mackenzie, an old friend of thirty-six years, hy no 
means a man of fortune, helps me, and thus my dear boy 
is carried through. 

'^ Is it not extraordinary that the enormous conse- 
quences of assisting a talented youth in such a crisis did 
not, in the minds of the nobility, outweigh every other 
feeling ? 

" ll^A. — Heard from the Duke of Devonshire most 
satisfactorily. He is pleased witK the sketches, and sent 
me a cheque, which made out 50/. for the two, 25L a- day, 
— not bad. 

" I4^th to 22nd. — Eight days I have lost. Frank was 
taken ill. I feared for his examination. I rushed down 
and cheered him up, and brought him through* On my 
return I started for Bristol to give two lectures, and am 
come home this day truly fatigued. 

" 24fth. — Returned to my dear painting-room again 
after ten days of anxiety, whirl, lecture, and public en- 

'^ O God, bless my labours this day and throughout 
the year, and carry me through all difficulties. Accept 
my gratitude for enabling my dear son to come through 
with honour. 

" 25th. — My birth-day, fifty-nine. This day forty-one 
years ago I first looked into my prospects in life. I was 
then copying Albinus, and had made up my mind to be 
an artist What a life has passed in forty-one years ! 

*' February 8th. — At the Gallery. Private day. Saw 
young Phipps. He said Lady Mulgrave was living and 
well, — that the other day in looking over several letters 
of Sir George's, he found his great anxiety was about 
Wilkie, Jackson, and myself. 

** lOth. — Very severe day. Went to Rochester to see 
a picture. I was told at dinner Wilkie copied his Blind 
Fiddler from a picture in the ppssession of a Lieutenant 

270 MEMOIRS OF B. R. nATDOy. [lB45. 

Higginson, a very fine fellow, a tliorougli sailor, hearty 
and hospitable. I saw the picture ; it was bad, but there 
was a resemblance to the position and action of the 
fiddler. That was all. Wilkie might have seen it. It 
detracted nothing from his invention, and it may have 
suggested the subject to him. ' ' 

" 21it. — Lieutenant Higginson wrote to me that 
Wilkie knew his father in 1799, and saw this fiddler 
then. In that case I really think there Is something in 
the suspicion. 

" 29M. — The Conservative Club is decorated; but what 
flowers and grifiins have'to do with Conservatism, Heaven 
knows ! 

" To decorate a public building, means to illustrate by 
design the principles for which the building is erected. 

" In the Vatican, the palace of the Pope is decorated 
with illustrations of the connection of religion with man, 
and the power of the Catholic Church, as the engine of 
God, to lead him by religion to salvation. 

" The Royal Exchange has equally an object. It was 
built for the convenience of commerce. The decoration 
of it, therefore, should have had reference to the origin and 
progress of commerce as the basis not only of wealth, but 
of the intellectual and religious advance of nations. For 
nations are refined by their commerce with a superior 
nation, as much as by their conquests. 

" The Conservative Club should have shown the pro- 
gress of Conservatism — how all young men without a 
shilling are generally Radicals, because they have nothing 
to conserve, and end by being furious Conservatives when - 
they have made their fortunes. 

" March IsL — O God bless me through this month ! 
Amen. Grant I may bring Uriel to a glorious conclusion ! 
Amen. How grateful I am I hare brought it so near, 
beginning it trusting in Thee, as I have always done, and 
always shall do. 

*' Worked well, and got through the Cherub Devil. 

" 2nd. — Read prayers, and thanked God with all my 


soul. Contemplated my week's labour with all the de- 
light, enthusiasm, and criticism of my youth. Is not life 
a blessing with such feelings ? 

" lO^A. — Worked hard, and finished Uriel except 
trifles. When I began this picture whom did I trust in ? 
God. A commission followed. I shall proceed to Ari- 
stides, and in God I trust for that too. Coulton dined 
here. A very clever fellow. 

" 11th. — Got up as full of fire and high calling as in 
the most furious days of my youth. All this will be for a 
final working up of my glory ! 

" 25th. — Worked like old times — like a hero. I had 
got the flesh of my Uriel in that state of all the most try- 
ing, nearly done, and not done, when you may spoil what 
you have done, and have to do it all over again ; however 
I improved it. My heroic model, Brunskill of the Blues, 
had beat all the wrestlers last week in a match; won 
eight pounds, and a belt of glory. He floored two of the 
2nd Regiment of Life Guards. He was in high glee. 

" Thank God for this glorious day's work ! 

" 29th. — Worked and added trifles of completion. 
Lunched with my dear friends Bennoch and Twentyman, 
who advanced me 201. as usual. I lectured last night at 
the Mechanics'; and when I told them I would paint my 
own designs for the Lords, there was a roar of approbation 
and applause. 

" j^pril 3rd. — Moved the Aristides round this day for 
beginning to complete. O God have mercy on me and 
bless me with eyes, piety, health, intellect, and energy to 
get triumphantly through this and the other five of my 
original series for the old House of Lords, so applicable to 
the new ! 

" Let me not die, or become inferior, or crippled, or 
lose my eyes or faculties. O Lord prosper me through 
this great series, as Thou savedst me through my Solo- 
mon, in the midst of much more obscurity, and disease, 
and necessity than I now suffer. 

*' ^ Rejoice always in the Lord.' Thou knowest that I 


do. O Lord, from the first liour of my arrival in London, 
forty-one years ago nearly, to the present hour. Thou 
knowest I never lost sight of my great object — the re- 
form, under Thy blessing, of the taste of the nation. 
Thou knowest, always praying to Tbee, I have devoted 
my life to its accomplishment, and will, under Thy bless- 
ing, devote the remainder. Grant me before I die com^ 
plete success. Thy mercies and protection have not been 
in vain; and, O Lord, if competence for my wife and 
children be not incompatible with the realisation of this 
just ambition, grant I may be able, if I die first, to Ieav6 
them sufficiently protected, tliat they may descend to the 
grave blessing Thy holy name, or submissive to Thy holy 
will, if suffering still be their lot, for Jesus Christ's sake; 
Grant no obstruction on earth, no difficulty, no want, no 
necessity, no opposition, though greater than any buman 
being ever encountered, may render me for one instant 
timid, or delay tlie accomplishment of these six great pic- 
tures for the honour of my great country, and for the 
glory of Thy immortal, innate, and unacquirable gifts. 

"Amen! Amen! Amen! with all my burning soul. 
In awe, confidence, and enthusiasm. Amen ! 

" Dennys, my employer, is boring me to send Uriel to 
the Academy. Why should I hurry a work on for a 
spring season? I love my own silent, studious, midnight 
ways, I hate the glare, the vulgarity, and the herd. 
The solitary majesty of high art is gone, now. There 
was a time when its dangerous glories frightened the 
coward and alarmed the conceitod. Then it was a single 
and a solitary flame. Now — the paltry flicker of farthing 
candles dims its steady fire and obscures its splendour, 

" iM.— Higginson lunched with me. He sailed with 
Napoleon in the Bellerophon. He said his influence on 
the men was fascinating, and he really feared they would 
have let him go if an enemy's ship had hove in sight. 
He used to borrow sixpences of the men, pinch the ears 
of the officers, and bewitch them without the least fa- 
miliarity, in a manner that was unaccountable. Even 


Sir George was affected by the end of the voyage. Hig- 
ginson said, when he was caught watching you, he put 
on an expression of silliness to disguise his thoughts. 
(So too said Madame de Stael.) 

" Higginson said the ^parole d^honneur^ did not seem 
so sacred to Frenchmen as to us, and therefore Sir George 
was too severe in judging Napoleon by the same standard 
as an Englishman. 

" 1th, — Moved in Uriel to the Academy, much against 
the grain. But my employer, Dennys (who must be a 
bye-blow of Lorenzo), seemed anxious, and I agreed, 
though it is an insult to them and a disgrace to me. I 
wash my hands. I regret to lose such a picture ; it was 
a consolation to look at and dwell on. It generated 
higher feelings and nobler thoughts." 

Before beginning a new design of Satan and Uriel, 
from another passage of the Paradise Lost *, he naively 
avers certain touches of remorse about these frequent 
paintings of the Evil One. 

" 14fA. — I have some remorse in painting the Devil. 
I may excite admiration by encasing evil in beauty, but I 
wish to excite pity by showing the fatal consequences of 
the fall on what would have been a cause of delight had 
he kept to his allegiance. 

" O God, if I deserve not to succeed — if danger to 
virtue would accrue from complete success in developing 
such a character, let me fail ; but if I can promote piety 
by exhibiting the fatal consequences of impiety on a face 
and figure almost next to the Creator at one time, let me, 
as Milton has done, succeed. 

'' My object in painting him is not admiration but 
terror, and I have a sublime delight in dwelling on and 
developing such sensations. 

" Got in Satan, covered the canvas, worked furiously. 

♦ V. 736. Book iii. Where Satan, 

** Toward the coast of earth beneath 
Down from th^ ecliptic, sped with hoped success, 
Throws his steep flight in many an airy wheel." 


274 MEMOraS OV B. B. HATDON. liaiB. 

Dined with William Longman, in a splendid house, where 
used to be two hayricks where my dear children played 
twenty-one years ago. Such is the progress of things. 
The liayricks disappear; two young people are married, 
who were then scarce born. i 

*' I8(A. — Worked with such intense abstraction and 
delight for eight hours, with five minutes only for lunc^, 
that though living in the noisiest quarter of all London,, 
I never remember hearing all day a single cart, carriage^ 
knock, cry, bark, of man, woman, dog, or child. ' ' 

" I washed, dressed, and walked, and when I came ouV 
into the sunsliine and the road said to myself, ' Why^ 
what is all this driving about?' though it has always 
been so for the last twenty-two years, — so perfectly, de-' 
lighlfully, and intensely, had I been abstracted. If thai 
be not happiness, what is ? 

" My notion of supreme happiness is a splendid lot of 
drapery splendidly set on your lay figure ; a large picture 
which shuts you in, just close enough to leave room to 
paint it ; a delicious light, and conscious power of imita- 
tion. You go on like a god, spreading your half tint, 
touching in your lights and your darks. There is hardly 
an effort, — no anxiety, no fear, no apprehension. 

" I cannot have many years to live, and, O God, grant 
I may amply employ every hour. 

" This is a sunny day in my life. 

" 2Gth. — Did not begin till one, owing to want of 
money, and being out on business, but set-to with a 
model at one, and by five had finally blocked in Aristides,, 
— left and right. Two pictures are now ready. Mapped ' 
and composed Satan and Aristides; — success to them 

" Alexander, Curtius, Adam and Eve, Duke 
George IV., have not sold; nearly 1000^. I have now. - 
begun the first of my six pictures with hardly 10*. to meet 
other expenses, just as I began Solomon, only with more, 
repute and established fame. 

" What a pity it is that a man of my order — sincerity, 
— perhaps genius ", is not employed. What ' '" 

• In Jouroal marked " private, not perhaps." 


iVhat honouTi^^j 


what distinction, would I not confer on my great country ! 
However, it is my destiny to perform great things, not in 
consequence of encouragement, but in spite of opposition, 
and so let it be. In fact, God knows best, and He knows 
what suits every man He gives. He knows that luxury, 
even competence, would dull my mind. 

"37th, — A man who defers working because be wants 
tranquillity of mind will have lost the habit when tran- 
quillity comes. Work under any circumstances, — all cir- 
cumstances. I used to cany my sketch when arrested, 
and sketch and compose as I sat by the officer's side. 
The consequence was I was always ready, never depressed, 
and returned to my work with a new thought or an addi- 
tional improvement, as if I had been all the time at home. 

" 28ih. — I fear the squabbles in the School of Design 
will destroy it; unless instruction in design for manufac- 
tures be grafted on that for the fine arts, and under its 
control, it will never be effectual. 

" I would propose that the National Gallery be given 
up entirely to the Academy, and that the right wing be a 
school of design for manufacture, attached to the School 
of Art, and under its direction. 

" I would propose a permanent salary of 500/. to the 
president, and a retiring pension after twenty years ; 
400/. to a keeper, and ditto. I would place the Life and 
Antique Schools under one keeper ; abolish visitorships ; 
and I would have a master for manufacturing design sub- 
servient to the keeper of fine art. Every student of de- 
sign for manufacture should be obliged to draw one year 
on the antique before going to manufacture, and no more. 
If at the end he choose to pursue fine art, let him ; if 
manufacture, send him on ; but a genius thus developed 
is an acquisition, and if others mistake their powers by 
pursuing art instead of manufacture, the results will be 
the check. I would keep the acting body still at forty, 
but I would abolish associate ships and establish forty 
more academicians elect, who should have no more privi- 
leges than associates, and from whom the forty acting 


should be filled up. This nould gratify the viiiiity of the 
profession, and not impair the efficiency of the iiistitutioo. 
I would abolish the right of sending eight pictures and 
limit the number to four. 

" This is a rough sketch in consequence of Sastlake 
saying he would ask my advice, and that there was no 
doubt the Academy might be carried further. A pretty 
broad hint from that quarter. 

" Extract from Lorenzo Ghiberti's manuscript (in al- 
lusion to Giotto): — 

" ' Quando la natura vuole concedere alcuna cosa la con* 
cede senza veruna avarizia. Cestui fu copio in tutte le cose, 
lavoro in muro, lavorb in olio, lavoru in tavola, Invorb di mo- 
saico la nave di Sto. Fiero in Roma,' &c. 

" This settles the question as to oil-painting having 
existed in Giotto's lime, though Raspe, and Lanzi, and 
Walpole, and myself, had proved it before. 

" Lord Palmerston took the chair at the Artists' Iii- 
stitute, and made an allusion to the decoration of town 
halls in fresco or oil. 

"May 3rd — Dear old Wordsworth called, looking 
hearty and strong. ' I came up to go to the state ball,' 
said he, ' and the Lord Chancellor {queere Lord Cham- 
berlain?) told me at the ball I ought to go to the levee.' 
' And will you put on a court dress ?' said I. ' Why ? ' 
' Let me see you and I'll write you a sonnet.' Words- 
worth did not like this. 

" When Wilkie and I were at Colchester in 1809, Sir 
George said ' Wordsworth may walk in, but I caution 
you against his democratic principles.' What would 
Hazlitt say now ? The poet of the lakes and mountains 
in bag-wig, sword, and ruffles ! 

" I have never protested against any of these things, 
but I have never submitted to them but once, — jit 
George IV. 's coronation. 

" Ath, — The first day of the forty-first exhibition ttf 
my time. For the first time these forty-one years, I 
did not go myself, though I have two pictures thne. 
Wilkie, Jackson, Geddes. SpEmier (who used always to 

1845.] PBAISE FROM THE " TIMES." 277 

accompany me) are dead. I felt a repugnance to go. I 
couldn't tell why, — but I staid at home, and improved 
and advanced Aristides. 

" Oh ! heartily I prayed to God yesterday to bless me 
through these six pictures." 

To his great delight the Times critic, *' after twenty- 
two years of abuse," noticed his Uriel in the following 
agreeable terms : — 

" There is one picture which makes us depart from our design 
of adhering to the great room exclusively on this occasion ; 
that is, Haydon's large painting of * Uriel and Satan' (605), 
which must arrest even those who are hastening to depart from 
the Exhibition as a most remarkable work. A striking con- 
trast to the gaudy colouring on which the eye has been feasted, 
it appears with a subdued tone, reminding one of a fresco. The 
figure of the angel is drawn with a boldness which some might 
call exaggerated, but with the simplicity and anatomical effect 
of sculpture, every muscle looking hard and unyielding as iron. 
The face is noble and ideal, and a fine effect is produced by 
the golden colour of the hair. This huge commanding figure 
is backed by limitless space, represented by a very dark posi- 
tive blue, and the whole conveys the impression of a simple 
vastness. There is a certain crudity about the picture, but the 
impress of genius is unmistakeable." 

" Tth, — This day, forty-one years ago, I left my home 
for life. Ah ! with what sensations did I enter the great 
arena ! But I have accomplished a name, and may I 
say a great one ? 

*• I have advanced the art. I am still, in spite of all 
my misfortunes, considered the leader, and I believe in my 
conscience I shall die at the head of the art of my glorious 

For the last two months the subject of schools of design 
had much occupied Haydon's mind. The London school 
was now split by the feud both among masters and scholars, 
of those who were for making the study of the figure the 
basis of the designer's training, and those who were for 
drawing the widest distinction between the instruction of 

T s 

278 MEMOIKS OP B. E. HATDON. [1845. 

artist and manufacturing designer. Hajdon ranked him- 
self with the former, and was indefatigable in urging on 
the President of the Board of Trade (with which depart- 
ment the school was connected), and on the public by 
letters in the newspapers, the doctrine of the Lyons school, 
that all decorative art not based on fine art is, and ever 
will be, unworthy the name of art altogether. Here again 
it must, I think, be admitted, that his reasoning was sound, 
and his advice that which facts have best borne out. 

" Alaif \5lh. — Hallam called to-day before going to 
the Committee. He said, Barry had so bescutcheoned and 
encrusted tlie houses, there was little room for fresco. 
What little there was would, he believed, be filled up with 
English history.' 

" I said, ' Oq what principle?' He said, ' In the 
House of Lords, to explain its functions.' I said, ' What 
for the Commons! • 'There would be nothing.' 'Is 
that just? If the House of Lords be illustrated by 
pictures in fresco, why not the House of Commons, 
equally a functional part of the monarchy ? ' I then ex- 
plained to him my principle, to show the best Government 
to regulate the species, man, by exhibiting the con- 
sequences of the worst. He admitted the extension of 
the plan, and said the pictures need not be confined to six. 
Certainly not, only a definite object must be laid down, 
to explain which subjects must be selected, and, as the 
whole development could not be accomplished in our 
lives, at least we might lay down the plan, do as much as 
we can, and let the rest be done by those who succeed us, 

" Hallam seemed to be impressed by the plan. I said, 
' Don't do the whole thing by contract.' He replied, 
' There's the fear ; but I don't think at present they are 
hurrying.' I said, I hope not. 

" I showed him the fresco ebauche, and after I had 
Legged and entreated him to impress on the Commission 
the utility of a definite plan and definite object, to illus- 
trate which all subjects should be selected, he took his 

" 16M. — Very anxious about the future indeed. In 


iiig to the Exhibilioii and listening to the people, I 
don't think they are advanced one jot. Dined with my 
dear friend Serjeant Talfourd. He said Wordsworth 
went to court in Rogers's clothes •, buckles, and atockinga, 
and wore Davy's sword. Moxon had hard work to make 
the dress fit. It was a squeeze, but by pulling and hauling 
they got him in. Fancy the high priest of mountain 
and of flood on his knees in a court, the quiz of courtiers, 
in a dress that did not belong to him, with a sword that 
was not his own, and a coat which he borrowed. 

"Loadon, 22Dd Maj, 184S. 
" My dear Wordsworth, 

" I wish you had not gone to court. Tour climax was the 
shout of the Oxford senate house. Why not rest on that? I 
think of you as Nature's high priest. I can't bear to associate 
a bag-wig, and sword, ruffles, and buckles, with Helvellyn and 
the mountain solitudes. 

" This is my feeling, and I regret if I have rubbed yours the 
wrong way. 

" Talfourd thinks it was a glory to have compelled the court 
to send for you, but would it not have been a greater for you 
to have declined it ? Perhaps he is right, however. I have not 
been able to suppress my feelings, 

" Believe me, ever your old friend, 

" B. R. Haydon." 

" Slsl. — Called on Hallam, and had a long talk. I 
asked him about the old chronicles. He showed me Hall, 
beginning at Henry IV., but I wanted the fabulous 
heroes, and when I mentioned Geoffrey of Monmouth, 
Hallam stared at me with wonder as at a madman. 

" Mr. Hallam said the selection of subjects for the 
Houses, in sculpture and painting, will be more com- 
memorative of facts and persons than poetical or pictorial. 
" ' No naked ? ' said I, * No,' said he ; ' Lord Melbourne 
thinks the only naked subject he knows is Peeping Tom.' 
That's capital. I would select subjects from the fabulous, 
the authenticated, and the modern. 

* The present poet-laureate bas si 
1 ©ccaaion. — Ed. 




" Cominisdons had been given to Bell, Marsball, and 
Foley. They all desen-e them. I then walked down to 
the Palace Summcr-liouse, which ia approaching conclu- 
sion. Dyce had superseded Etty, and most efFeclively. 
His fresco, though in parts ferociously German, is the 
hest. Eastlake's was, but Dyce has fairly beat him. 
E. Landseer's I do not like. The latter ones are painted 
at home, and put in, which is not manly fresco. 

" S5tk. — O God! I am again without any resource 
hut in thy mercy. Enable me to bear up, and vanquish, 
as I have done, all difBculties, Let nothing, howcTer 
desperate or overwhelming, stop me from the comple- 
tion of my six designs. On tliese my country's honour 
rests, and my own fame on earth. Thou knowest how 
for forty-one years I have struggled and resisted. Enable 
me to do so to the last gasp of my life. 

" Wrote my second volume of life and correspondence. 
In reading over my journals of 1818, I glory to see how 
I BufFered, how I prayed, how I pushed, how I vanquished. 
It made me swell with gratitude to God, 

" 28M, — Met Lady Westmorland yesterday at the Ex- 
hibition. She had arrived from Berhn a few days ago. She 
said Lord Westmorland had spoken so highly to the King 
of Hanover of the Napoleon, that he said he could not 
buy it without seeing it, and that Lord Westmorland had 
had it rolled up and sent off, and she had no doubt His 
Majesty would buy it. Heaven bless the wish ! 

" June I2th. — Nothing I do now equals the burning 
impression of my longing imagination. I want to paint a 
picture as if out of Perkin'a steam-gun, as Rubens and 
Tintoretto did, and I will, if I live. In the foot of the 
mother, yesterday, I realised my feeling in a part of a 
great whole. 

" 2ith. — Another day of pecuniary difficulty and 
harass,— lost. Paid 28/. 12*. 6d., and have gU and 30i 
to pay to-morrow, with only 51. to meet it. 

" 1 wish His Majesty of Hanover would buy my 
Napoleon. The King of Prussia would not, nor would 

1845.] HARASS : HETROSrECT. 281 

the Emperor of Russia. The King of Hanover is our 
last hope. Lord Westmorland has done everything a 
kind friend could do, and Lady Westmorland too. 

" 2Gih. — Exceedingly harassed for money. The Uriel 
has not produced a single commission. In great anxiety 
I glazed the drapery of Aristidcs, and. was served vrith 
a writ for 21/. in the midst of doing it, hy a man to 
whom I had given two sketches. 1 told the clerk I must 
finish the glazing if the Lord Chancellor brought a writ, 
and so I did ; then went to the lawyer and arranged it, and 
blew him up; hut what a state of miud to paint in ! The 
reason is clear enough. 1 have never suited my labour to 
the existing tastes. I know what is right and do it. So 
did the early Christians, and so do all great men. Suf- 
fering is the consequence; hut it must be home. Should 
I liave shaken the nation if I had not? 

" 27iA.— Out the whole day on money matters. Got 
a promise of 30/. and came home with 5L All the young 
men have got commissions — Belt, Marshall, Foley, Mac- 
lise, and others. I am totally left out after forty-one years' 
suffering and hard work, with my Lazarus, and Curtius, 
and Uriel, before their eyes ; and being too the whole 
and sole designer for the House of Lords in the first 
instance, and the cause of the thing being done at all. 
Backed by encouragement I have never known, how 
steadily would my powers develope ! 

" I shall never know it. I only trust in God I shall 
get through my six works, under any circumstances, and 
die brush in hand. 

" Had I been employed, the sense of a duty to he 
done would have hanked up my mind and kept it running 
in one channel, deep and constant. Now it has spread 
out into a thousand irritable little rivulets, watering the 
ground, and exhausting the fountain-head. 

" 28i/*.— My visit to the cartoons to-day occupied the 
whole day from ten till four. 

" There are not so many bad things as at first, hut 
there are not so many fine ones. The error is apparent 

282 MEHOIBS OF B. B. HATDON. [lS45. 

— ignorance of what is the essence of a cartoon to be 
adapted for fresco. Instead of large parts, with breadth 
and simplicity, tlie greater proportion are marked by 
no breadth, no simplicity, and so great a number of small 
parts it would be absolutely impossible to execute them 
in fresco at all. 

" Thank God, the week is ended. I have had hard 
work on money matters; but I trusted in God, and never 
in vain. I close it in gratitude, I think my six designs 
hy far better than any at the Hall, and so will the public 
think when they see them. I hope God will bless me 
with life to get through them. 

"July 3rd. — Passed the morning in Westminster Hall. 
The only bit of fresco fit to look at is by Ford Brown. 
It is a figure of Justice, and exquisite, as far as that figure 

" &th. — Eight days have passed, and it is a fact I have 
only worked two. I wonder the earth does not open ! 

" In the city all day. An execution certain, Bennoch 
and Twentyman, as usual, saved nie. But what a con- 
dition to paint in after forty-one years' practice ! 

" 23rrf. — Colonel Leake called to-day. Much older 
than I expected. He admired Aristides very much indeed. 
He said the Hecatorapedon had a pediment, with six 
columns. He did not know the dress of the archons. We 
talked of various things connected with Athens — the 
walls, roads, monuments, hills, climate, the family of 
Aristides, I was much pleased with Colonel Leake. 

" Allegory should be avoided as much as possible. 
Illustrate a principle by facts, but do not personify by 
figures the principle itself, without reference to facts. 

"August 9th. — Worked hard, and painted my blind 
mocking boy from two blind heads I got at the Blind 
School, St. George's Fields. I gave them a good dinner, 
and sent the poor fellows home contented. They both 
lost their eyes from violent inflammation. The blind 
mocker in the corner of my picture is successfuk On 
Friday I failed because I made my son shut his eyes. 




and used liim for my model. But the ball of the eye 
being perfect, he looked not blind, but asleep. In the 
blind the ball is shrunk and the eye fallen in consequence. 

" 18^.— Went with the boys to the old Ship Tavern, 
Greenwich, to eat white bait, and spent the day in the park, 
inhaling the pure air, and enjoying myself immensely. 

" Coming home there was an enormous fire, which I 
studied thoroughly for my next picture in the series. It 
was in Buckiersbury. How a working man like me enjoys 
the far niente once in a lifetime ! Though it was a 
far niente day, yet everything was a study. The sails of 
the barges against the background and sky, — the distant 
view of London, — -the chesnut trees, — the dells and 
bournes, where nymphs and satyrs miglit have toyed and 
loved, — -and, lastly, the fire, so that I returned home a 
better painter than when I weut out. 

" 19M. — Called on , once the favourite portrait- 
painter of royalty and fashion, and now almost deserted, 
except by a stray lord and lady. 

" He said a noble duke whom he is now painting told 
him the aristocracy did not want high art. Nothing 
pleased them hut first-rate specimens, and those they had 
of the old masters. This is exactly what I have always 
said. They do not want it. They don't care about it, 
and laugh at all who do. T do care about it, and the 
public voice will force, at last, justice and reward." 

During the whole of these three months, and ever since 
the third exhibition of cartoons, frescos, and oil sketches, 
in Westminster Hall, which opened this year, Haydon 
had been a constant writer in the Times and Morning 
Chronicle, urging at considerable length and with much 
animation the danger of the Fine Arts' Commission being 
led away in the direction of modern German art. Kaul- 
bach, Cornelius, Hess, and Overbeck are all brought 
under censure, and their minute attention to detail, sharp- 
ness of outline, flatness, and faults of colour, are dwelt on, 
without fair recognition of the purity of their line, the 
carefulness of their drawing, and their frequent dignity 
and sweetness of expression. 




Ha^'doii liad now Biiislicd the first picture of his seru^H 
of §ix — the Ostracism of Aristides, — and was about to 
begin his second — Nero playing on the \yTe, with Rome 
burning in the baclfground. 

"September \Oth. — OGod! whilst I bless Thee with 
deep gratitude that I have nearly brought the first picture 
in my great series to a conclusion, permit me to ask thy 
blessing on the second, the sketch of which I begin this 

" lOih. — This day I took a pupil, a very interesting 
youth. His mother, a woman of great energy, and his 
guardian came witli him ; and the boy was quiet, timid, 
modest, and believing. 

" Good heavens ! the premium was a blessing to me 
after fagging through Aristides, and the boy seemed de- 

" It really has saved me. Was I not right to trust in 
the Lord? The guardian said to me as if half frightened, 
' Will you believe I prayed to the Lord you might en- 
courage him, if he ought to he encouraged ? You did 
encourage him, and it was right.' 

" How curious. Here was I, praying in the depths of 
midnight that no accident might prevent the youth coming 
to me, and here was the guardian praying I might think 
he had talent. Innocent people! How raucli religious 
feeling there is in the world ! If the people did not fear 
the ridicule of scepticism, how much would be known. 

" A remark Johnson would havu relished. 

" ' Do you take him,' says conscience, ' because you 
think he has talent?' 'Yes. Ten thousand pounds 
should not have induced me to take him if he had not.' 
' Would you have taken him if he had been deficient, for 
the sake of the money ? ' Ask my bitterest enemy. 

" ^Srd. — Another day of victory and blessing. ' Trou- 
bles,' Shakspeare says, ' never come in single files,' — nor 
blessings either. 

" The King of Hanover has bought Napoleon musing, 
a repetition of the one belonging to Sir Robert Peel. 


" Thus I have received by the blessing of God, 410Z. 
in five days, after painting the whole of Aristides (except 
60/.) on borrowed money. Good God ! how grateful I 
ought to be I 

" On receiving my dear Lord Westmorland's letter, I 
knelt down and prayed, if it were successful, I might be 
humble and grateful. 

" I once earned 601. in six hours. Now I have earned 
200/. in five days, for I painted this Napoleon in five days 
in the beginning of 1844. 

" I really fear one is not good enough to deserve such 

" I am so surrounded with family matters, — money 
matters, — that I have not touched palette or brush since 
Friday, the day my pupil came, to my daily pain of con- 

" 24/A. — Saw my son Frederic off by train for the flag 
ship, till he goes to South America. In the city all the 
morning before he went. 

** I declare my anxiety to dispose of my money dis- 
turbs me more than my anxiety when I wanted it. 

" 29th. — O Almighty God ! accept my profound gra- 
titude for thy mercies in blessing me with health of mind 
and body to get through the first of my great series, 
Aristides ; and for thy infinite mercy in rewarding me by 
ample means at the conclusion. O God ! I am this day 
about to begin the second (the third in the series) to show 
the horrors of despotism. Bless its commencement, pro- 
gression, and conclusion. Grant me piety, health, and 
energy. Grant I may impress the world with a detesta- 
tion of tyranny, and advance the great character of the 
British nation in high art. Grant these things I humbly 
ask, O Lord ! to whom alone belongs success, either for 
great nations or individuals — humble and confiding. 

" 30th. — Nero rubbed in. As I approached the con- 
clusion, and foresaw the effect coming, it was so terrific, I 
fluttered, trembled, and perspired like a woman, and was 
obliged to sit down. 



" Oct. \3th. — On the 7th I left town by express traiwl 
to visit Mrs. Gwatkin at Plymouth, to examine Sir 
Joshua's private memoranda concerning the Academy 
quarrel. Mrs. Gwatkin was Miss Palmer, sister to the 
Marchioness of Tbomoiid, and niece to Sir Joshua. As 
soon as I arrived, I wrote to her to say I was come, and 
would wait on her next day ; to which note I received the 
following reply from her grandson : — 
" Dear sir, 
" My grandmother has directed me to answer your note, and 
say that she will be happy, should her health permit her, to have 
an interview with you to-morrow, at or about twelve o'clock- 
" Yours truly, 

" J. Reynolds Gwatkik." 

" On the 8th, after calling on many old friends of my 
youth, I waited on this last relic left us of the Johnsonian 
Burkeian period. She is in her eighty-ninth year. At 
twelve I called, Mr. Reynolds Gwatkin came down and 
introduced me. I went up with hira, and found on a 
sofa, leaning on pillows, a venerable aged lady, holding an 
ear-trumpet like Sir Joshua, showing in her face great 
remains of regular beauty, and evidently the model of Sir 
Joshua in his Christian Virtues * (a notion of mine which 
she afterwards confirmed). After a few minutes' chat, we 
entered on the purport of my visit, which was to examine 
Sir Joshua's private papers relating to the Academy dis- 
pute which produced his resignation. 

Mrs. Gwatkin rose to give orders ; her figure was fine 
and elastic, upright as a dart, with nothing of decrepitude; 
certainly extraordinary for a woman in her eighty-ninth 

"Mr, Gwatkin, her grandson, obeyed her directions, 
and brought down a bundle of arranged papers, and on 
the very first bundle was ' Private papers relative to my 
resignation of the presidency.' 

"The first was a letter to Sir W. Chambers, refusing 
to resume the chair. The latter part bearing on my ob- 

• At Oxford. 




ject, I extracted. Mr. Gwatkin, getting interested at my 
anxiety, offered hia services, and giving him part of the 
papers, we worked away. 

" The dear old lady was soon in a bustle, for she did 
not seem to know the value of what she possessed, and 
said she had a trunk full, and ordered it down. Then 
there was no key ; and then her eldest daughter, about 
fifty, was dispatched, and her niece, a little spirited thing, 
hunted ; and Mrs. Gwatkin herself bustled about, stoop- 
ing for this and that, as if she was thirty instead of eighty- 
nine. The key was found, but I turned a deaf ear to 
excursions from the main point. I had got what I wanted, 
and must keep at that. In about two hours I finished. 
Mr. Gwatkin had most to do.* 

" I then joined her, and we had a delightful chat about 
Burke, Johnson, Goldsmith, Garrick, and Reynolds. She 
said she came to Sir Joshua quite a little girl, and at the 
first grand party Dr. Johnson staid, as he always did, after 
all were gone; and that she, being afraid of hurting her 
new frock, went upstairs and put on another, and came 
down to sit with Dr. J. and Sir Josliua. Johnson thun- 
dered out at her, scolded her for her disrespect to him, in 
supposing he was not as worthy of her best frock as fine 
folks. He sent her ci'ying to bed, and took a dislike to 
her ever after. 

" She had a goldfinch which she had left at home. 
Her brother and sister dropped water on it from a great 
height, for fun. The bird died from fright, and turned 

" She told Goldsmith, who was writing his ' Animated 
Nature.' Goldsmith begged her to get the facts, and he 
would allude to it. ' Sir,' roared out Johnson, ' if you do, 
you'll ruin your work, for, depend upon it, it's a lie,' 

" She said thatafter Sir Joseph Banks and Dr. Solander 
came from their voyage, at a grand dinner at Sir Joshua's, 
Solander was relating that in Ireland he had seen a fowl 

_ * See some of itiese papers, Appendix III.— Ed. 


uemoivlS of b. b. hatdon. 


boiled in a few miuutes in the hot springs. Johnson broke 
up t!ie whole party by roaring out, ' Sir, unless [ saw it 
with my own eyes I would not believe it.' Nobody spoke 
after, and Banks aud Solander rose and left the dining- 

" The most delightful man was Goldsmith. She «iw 
him and Garrick keep an immense party laughing till 
they shrieked. Garrick sat on Goldsmith's knee ; a table- 
cloth was pinned under Garrick 'a chin, and brought be- 
hind Goldsmith, hiding both their figures. Garrick then 
spoke, in his finest style, Hamlet's speech to bis father's 
ghost. Goldsmith put out his bands on each side of the 
cloth, and made burlesque actionj — tapping bis heart, and 
putting his band to Garrick's head and nose, all at the 
wrong lime. 

" She said she and her sister always went daily into Sir 
Joshua's painting-room after dinner, whilst he was taking 
his wine, to see bow he got on ; and be generally took 
his nap. ' Ho, ho ! ' said 1, ' did be take his nap ? ' 'To 
be sure," said Mrs. Gwatkin, ' don't you ? After the 
fatigue of his brain he liked quiet, and we always let him 
alone.' ' You are a dear creature,' I told her ; ' so does 
my wife with me ; bul,' I replied, ' he kept a great 
deal of company, and dined out too.' She said, ' Not a. 
great deal — nothing regular. He was at home aud 
with his family oftener than out. Now and then, during 
parhament, he had large parties.' She remembered that 
first party with Fanny Burney. Slie suid she and her 
sister plagued Miss B. in the garden at Streatbam to know 
who was the author of Evelina, never suspecting her. As 
they rode home, Sir Joshua said, ' Now you have dined 
with the author — guess which of the party.' They could 
not guess, when Sir Joshua said, ' Miss Burney.' Sir 
Joshua often walked round the park with her before break- 
fast ; always took her to sales. Everybody in the bouse 
painted,— Lady Thomond and hei-self, the coachman, and 
the man-servant Ralph, aud bis daughter, all painted, 
copied, and talked about pictures, 

' She told me Northcote never in his life dined at Sir 




Joshua's table when there was a grand party. She showed 
me a rough copy of Burke'e character of Reynolds, writtea 
in the drawing-room, witliin a few minutes of his death, 
Mrs. Gwatkin sitting by the side of Burke as he wrote it. 
" Lunch was now announced, and we had all got so 
intimate that they made me promise to stay the day. At 
lunch down came young Mrs. Gwatkin, with a fine dear 
little boy, of the fourth generation. She was the wife of 
the handsome young man, so there were grandmamma and 
her daughter, and Mr. Gwatkin, grandson, and his little 
hoy, great-grandson. It was quite a patriarchal party. I 
dined, and retired at ten to my inn. As I took her 
venerable hand, I kissed it, which brought a tear into her 

" I6lh. — I visited Ide, where I buried my dear mother, 
and was shocked to find a new church, — the aisle paved, 
and uo traces of her grave. I rode away shocked, and 
wrote the vicar, from whom I received a kind answer, 
which is a credit to his heart. 

"November 1st. — Blocked in a small Aris tides, thank 
God, and began my other four sketches. The smell of 
the paint was incense to my nostrils. Why do I ever 
leave my palette? It is my only real source of happiness. 
" 5tA. — Made a study of my daughter Mary. In the 
evening lectured, but very hoarsely. I never feel inspired 
but before a large canvas. Let me want what I will, I 
am then in mj element, nor shall I feel happy till again 
at Nero. My money obligations, to finish small works for 
^ose who nobly advanced the prices to enable me to 

I finish Aristides, must be attended to first 

I * " 8th. — I have always said of Peel he had a tender 
heart. In 1830 he gave credence to me, and now, after 
all our row about Napoleon (and I said bitter things to 
him), my dear son Frank, shrinking from the display of 
the pulpit, after 860/, 10s. expense for a college educa- 

htion, in anguisli of mind I wrote Sir Robert, and told him 

■toy distress. He answered — 

B yoL. lu. u 




" WTiitchnll, 411i Noircnilicr, 1845. 

" Sir Hobert Peel presents his complimenta to Mr. Haydon, 
and must decline making an; application to Lord Haddington 
on the subject of an appointment for Mr, Haydon'g son. 

" Sir Robert Peel will, however, avail liimself of an early 
opportunity of nominating Mr, Haydon's son to a clerkship in 
one of the public departments under the control of the Trea- 
sury, if Huch an appointment would be acceptable to him. 


" nh Novemlrer, 1845. 

D directed by Sir Robert Peel to inform ycu that there 
is a vacancy for a clerk in the Record Office, salary SOI. a year, 
with tlie usual prospects of promotion, to which he will be 
happy to appoint your son if it meets your wishes. 

" Sir Robert Peel was induced to select this clerkship for 
him as from your description of him as a young man of retir- 
ing and literary habits he thinks it will suit him. Kyour son 
■will present himself at the Record Office, Rolla Yard, Chaacery 
Lane, he will he examined as to his q u ah fi cations. 

" Your obedient servant, 

" John Yocng," 

" SOlh. — A very good month upon the whole. Nero, 
my second in the series, advanced, 

" By bringing in such a monster as principal figure, I gain 
the object of exposing despotism more than if I had brought 
the effects forward by showing a family in distress and 
putting the monster in the background. It is offensive 
to endeavour to hit the characteristics of such a wretch, 
but the object is to show, in the most powerful way I can, 
the evil of a sovereign without popular check. It might 
be any other fire with a mere family, even though Nero 
might be perceived, Nero must be the prominent object, 
the fire the secondary. il 

" December 2nd. — Awoke in very great anxiety, yet 
trusting. My city friends, pressed by the times and panie^\ ' 
want payment. I went out, my heart bursting to proceed: •» 
with Nero, but obliged to go, I was ruined in 1823 by 
putting on my jacket to fly at the Crucifixion instead of 
keeping a money appointment in the city; so, rcmei 


1845.] AT WORK ON NERO. 291 

bering this, I sallied forth, and my presence did everything. 
By going I kept things floating on, and returned, losing 
a beautiful day, as light as summer. I looked at Nero and 
his glorious background with sorrow. So it is. It is my 
destiny to thirst for great works without calculating the 
impossibilities, without resources ; but it is also my destiny 
to conquer the impossibilities, and do my great work. 

" It is what I am fit for. An anxiety is a necessary 
sweater, or I should be too buoyant. Danger keeps me 
remembering my irust in Him, whom I might but lan- 
guidly remember in prosperity. I am content if my health 
and eyes last, as I trust in God they will. 

"10th. — Worked hard. Talfourd said, he introduced 
Dickens to Lady Holland. She hated the Americans, 
and did not want Dickens to go. She said, ' Why cannot 
you go down to Bristol and see some of the third or 
fourth class people, and they'll do just as well ? * 

" 27th. — My picture in a glorious state. I hope to 
get it all settled for completing by the 31st. I have 
painted Uriel, Aristides, and nearly done Nero, besides 
a repetition of Aristides, several heads and sketches, &c. 
The year has not been unprofitable ; but Aristides, which 
took four months, and Nero two, have not brought me a 
shilling yet The 2001. from the King of Hanover was 
for the work of 1844, and the premium from a pupil was 
the other 2001. 

" I trust I shall live to get through my six. What pains 
me is the repeated worry such great works entail on my 
tradesmen. I am never ready. This week a respectable 
young tradesman wanted 16/. I could not pay him 
yet, and I know he will be put to the greatest misery 
from my incapacity. 

*^ 29th. — On the 14th instant (I believe) I wrote 
' PeeTs move out is like Lord Grey^s in 183£ — to come hack 
with greater power.* 

** I have a vast notion of my own political sagacity. 
Peel is back again, with double power, and he is the only 

man now for the difficulty. 

u 2 

292 MEM0IE8 OF B. E. HATDOW. riB45. 

" However, my political furor is waning. Next month 
I am sixty years of age, and begin to feel tliere are many 
beauties in art I have yet to mark, and my time of seeing 
and painting must have turned the corner. In God I 
trust. Amen. 

" I hope I may yet last twenty years ; if I do, I'U do 
greater things than 1 have ever done. I feel I ehall. In 
God I trust. Amen, 

"30M.— Last day but one of 1B^5. Well; I liata 
not been perfect, but I have struggled to be so, and I 
have less vice to lament than any previous year since I 
was fourteen. The first step towards fitting the soul to 
stand before its Maker is a conviction of its unworthinesS. 

" I have been deeply touched by St. Augustin's Con- 
fessions ; they are grander than Rousseau's, because founded 
on the religious estimation of Creator and created. Dr. 
Hook gave me an inestimable blessing in presenting them 
tome. They show me the corruption of the greatest saints; 
he shows the same belief in the opening of the Bible at 
hazard and applying the first passage to yourself, as I have 
always done. 

" Good heavens ! Gurwood has cut his throat. The 
man who had headed the forlorn hope at Ciudad Rodrigo 
— the rigid soldier — the iron-nerved hero, had not moralE) 
to resist the relaxation of nerve brought on by his ovep- 
anxiety about the Duke's Dispatches, 

" Where is the responsibility of a man with mind SO 
easily affected by body ? Romilly, Castlereagh, and 
Gurwood ! 

" I ordered the third canvas immediately, as I now 
foresaw the conclusion of Nero, I knelt down and prayed 
God to bless my third in the aeries, as he had blessed my 
two first. 

" Slit. — The end of 1845 is approaching rapidly — '■ 
ten minutes after nine. I prayed at the end of 1844 that 
I miglit get through the groat works in hand, I have 
accomplished (all but) Aristides and Nero, of the six con^ 
templated. O God ! grant that no difficulty, howerer 


apparently insurmountable, may conquer my spirit, or 
prevent me from bringing to a triumphant conclusion my 
six works originally designed for the old House. 

" I prayed in 1844 that my son might be brought 
through his degree. It was by Thy mercy completed, 
and yet at the time I prayed I had not a guinea. 

" I prayed to accomplish Aristides and Nero ; I have 
attaiued, by Thy blessing, my desire. I prayed for health 
— I have had it I prayed for blessings on my family — they 
have been blessed. Can I feel grateful enough ? Never. 

" I now pray, O Almighty, surrounded with difficulties, 
and in great necessity, that I may accomplish two more 
of my six — that I may sell the two I have done, and be 
employed for the remaining four ! 

" O God ! not mine, but Thy will be done ! Give me 
eyes and intellect, and energy and health, till the last 
gush of existence, and I'll bear up, and get through, 
under Thy blessing, my six works to illustrate, the best 
government for mankind ? 

" O Lord ! let not this be presumption, but that just 
confidence inspired by Thee, O God 1 This year is 
closing rapidly. I almost hear the rush and roar of the 
mighty wave from eternity that will overwhelm it for ever ! 
O Lord, accept my deep, deep gratitude for all Thy 
mercies this last year ; and grant I may deserve a con- 
tinuance of such mercies, and conclude by the end of 
1846 two more great works of my series ! Amen^ Amen, 


" January \st, — O God, bless the beginning, pro- 
gression, and conclusion of this year, for Jesus Christ*8 
sake, my dear family, my art, and myself! 

*' The Nero to-day looks well ; but I am very uneasy. 

— I cannot keep my word for want of means. I paid 

away too rapidly, and left myself bare ; and have now to 

struggle — paint — conceive — borrow — promise, and fly 

u 3 


at my picture, — get enchanted, — and awake out of a 
delicious dream, to think of the butclier. But in God I 
trust. At sixty, men are not so bold as at twenty-five; 
but why not? If Napoleon had behaved with the same 
spirit in 1815 as on the 18th Brumaire, he would not 
have died at St. Helena. 

" There is no competition till next year. If I lose 
this moment for sboiving all my works, it can never a 
again. My heart beat~my imagination fired. I thought 
on Him on whom alone I rest ; Lord, bless my decision ! 

" 3rd. — Went out on variouB matters connected with 
my Nero — to get various things to paint from, and suc- 
ceeded. Called in at Christie's by accident, and saw a 
fine copy of the head of the Sybil in the Pace, by Baf- 
faele. Waited, and got it for 19s.; paid for it, and 
marched off with it in a cab, and drove home, glorying. 
Such beads are worth all Vandyke's, Velasquez', or Rey- 
nolds', in style. They keep your eye in trim for great 
public buildings, as to largeness, and breadth, and style. 
As I was walking out Wjatt hailed me, and asked me to 
come and lunch in the belly of Copenhagen, before it i 
put together! I went, and squeezed in with women, Sir 
John Campbell, &c., and a jolly party, and a great deal of 
fun we had. Drank the health of the sculptor, and the 
horse, and his rider. I was invited to dine, Tuesday, but 
could not go. 

" It will be something to say, some time hence, when 
the statue is up, I dined in the horse's belly ! 

"7th. — Called on Hart, who told me that near St. 
Miniato, in Florence, he took shelter in a shower of rain 
under a portico, where in the dark was a fresco by Mas- 
saccio of a figure, the origin of Rafiaele's Christ in the 

" Thus of the Christ in Transfiguration, the Paul in I 
Elymas, and one of the men in Paul at Athens, — Mas- I 
eaccto is the origin. 

"Hart seemed lounging and ovenvhelmed — Italy 1 




gets a lazy bewilderment. In the Vatican, he says, there 
is a whole suite of rooms painted by Pinturicchio, and a 
chapel of Fra Beato never seen, unless asked for. 

" 8th. — Anxious about the next three months. My 
fate hangs on doing as I ought, and seizing moments 
with energy. 

" I shall never have an opportunity again of connecting 
myself with a great public commission by opposition and 
interesting the public by the contrast. If I miss it, it will 
be a tide not taken at its flood. 

" O God, bless me with energy and vigour to seize the 
moment and make the most of it. Amen, Amen. 

** llth, — Read prayers, and rendered thanks with true 

" As there is great anxiety in my family about ex- 
hibiting, the following is curious. 

Profits from various Exhibitions 


on various Exhibitions since 

since 1820. 


£ 8. 





Net Profit of Jeru- 


on Exhibition of 

salem - - 1453 19 






Net Profit of Mock 


on Exhibition of 

Election - - 190 7 

Xenophon - 


Net Profit of Chair- 


on Exhibition of 

ing - - - 9 16 




1654 3 
Loss on others - 629 10 


Loss on Exhibition of 

Loss on Exhibition of 


1024 13 




Profit on Lazarus - 441 8 



on Exhibition of 

Net Profit on Exhi- 

Reform Banquet - ! 




bition smce 1820 £1466 1 





£ 9. d. 

Net Profit on Exhibiti 


- 1466 1 6 

Sale of Agony 



- 525 

Mock Election 


- 525 




- 525 




- 840 




- 136 10 




- 525 




- * 525 b 

Net Profit and Sale 


-£5067 11 6 







" 12i/i. — O God ! bless the beginning, progression, and 
conclusion of my taking my rooms for exhibition of my 
pictures this day. Amen. 

" Took my rooms, so the die is cast! 

" 16(A. — There surely is in human nature an inherent 
propensity to extract all the good out of the evil. 

" One case. Out of what a mass of indigestion, fog, 
debt, discontent, opposition, vice, temptation, and trial, is 
every work of intellect accomplished. 

" Oh, it is a fearful struggle, which nothing but the 
assistance of God could support me through. 

" Worked hard and got well on. 

" 22nd. — I will not continue to record my prayers 
daily. I feel them, but it is too familiar to write them 
down, and bring them in contact with dtuly expression of 
worldly matters. 

" 23rd. — Worked moderately. At the conclusion of a 
picture beware of the freaks of invention. The mind, 
long dwelling on one idea, gets weary and starts altera- 
tions. Immediately that begins fly to a new subject. 

" 2ith. — Sent my opening advertisement," Success! 
O merciful Protector, without Thy blessing who can 
succeed? Thou knowest the purity of my motives. In 
Thee I trust. 

" The absurd principle now set afloat by the Commia- 

' Haydon'3 New Pictures. — On Eaater Monday rent will open 
for e^ihibition, M Ihe Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly (admission Is., 
cataloguea Gd.), two large pictures, viz. — 1. "The Banishment of 
" Aristidea with his Wife and Children," to show the Injustice of 
Democracy. 2. "Nero plajing liis Lyre whilst Rome is burning," to 
prove the Heartleasneas of Despotism. These works are parts of a 
aeries of six designs, made thirty-four jears ago for the old House of 
Lords, and laid before every minister to the present day. The plan 
was to illustrate what was the beat Govemment, hy showing from hia- 
lorio facts what was proved had heen the worst. The third and fturtli 
vrill exhibit the consequences of Anarchy and Cruelties of Bevolution, 
Dtid the fifth and sistb tbe Biasings of Justice and Freedom under 
a limited Monarchy. This exhibition will open in no spirit of opposi- 
tion to tlie Government plan about to be put in force, but with the 
view of letting the public see that works endeavoured to be executed on 




BioD of allegorizing everything is ridiculous. Everything 
is now spiritualised in the art, the basis of which is matter. 
The spirit of this, and spirit of that, when the absolute 
flesh and blood which represents the spirit is so completely 
in opposition to all spiritual notions. 

" Instead of the old thoroughbred English notion of 
domestic happiness in a tea-party, we shall have the 
spirit of domestic felicity pouring out the tea, the spirit 
of benevolence putting in the sugar, while the milk will be 
poured by the genial spirit of agricultural protection, and 
the spirit of manufacture will spread the table-cloth, 
the priociples of tbe great masters of the Britisli sehool, founded on 
those GBtablialied hj the greater men of other schools, are perfectly 
eonaistent with the decoration of auj building, Grecian or Gothic, and 
that there is no necessitj for endangering the practice of the British 
Rchool hy the adoption of the wild theories of a sect of foreigners, who 
have considered the accidental ignorance of an early age as a, principle 
fit to guide an enlightened one. The British school was progreaaing 
to excellence five years ago, and would have attained it had not the 
weak reconunendation of absurd fancies thrown the joung men off 
the right road, and the whole school into confusion. Backgrounds 
are now considered a vulgarity, rotundity of imitation the proofs of a 
debased mind ; nature a nuisance, and the necessity of models evi- 
dence of no poetry of soul ; portraits are beginning to appear with 
coats of armB sticking to their noses ; the 'petty details of decoration 
and patterns of borders take plac4! of expression and features ; and 
all those great doctrioes, which the experience of centuries established, 
are now questioned with the dandy air of infinite superiority to 
Titian, Rubens, Velasquez, Reynolds, Vandyke, Michael Angeto's 
Prophets, or Raffaeie's Cartoons. The end of such a state of things 
inay easily be predicted ; and Mr. Haydon respectfully hopes his 
humble attempt to prove there is no occasion to change the principles 
of the school for the purpose of decoration will be supported by the 
sound aense of the people. He was the first to petition the House for 
State support to high art — he was the first to petition for schools 
of design — he was the first to plan the decoration of the old House of 
Lords, and to keep up the excitement, till it was resolved to decorate 
the new — he has devoted forty-two years, without omission of a day, 
to simplify the principles of the art for the instruction of the people ; 
and having been utterly neglected when all his plans have been 
ttdopled, he appeals to the public to support his exhibition, that he 
may be able to complete the series he has planned. The private day 
will take place on Saturday, April U., and will open at 10 o'clock on 
Easter Monday, April 13., to the public. 




" 25M,— Mj birthday, sixtj years old! O God! con- 
tinue my eyes and faculties to the last hour of my exist- 
ence. Bless me through my ensuing years. Grant I 
may live to accomplish my six great works, and leave my 
family in competence. Accept my gratitude for Thy 
mercies up to this moment, and grant I may so exercise 
the gifts with which Thou hast blessed me, that I may 
merit eternal life, and Thy approbation, through Christ, 
my Lord and Saviour. Amen. 

'■Eydal Monnt, Jan. ZHh, 1848. 
" My dear Haydon, 
" I was sorry that 1 could not give you a more satisfactory 
answer to your request for a motto to the engraving of your 
admirable portrait of my ascent towards the top of HeWellyo, 
My son William, who is here, has just been with me to look at 
the impreHsion of the print in the unfinished state as we have 
it. But from the first he has been exceedingly pleased with it, 
ao much eo that he would be truly happy to be put into posses- 
sion of it as it then was, if an impression could be procured for 
him, and would readily pay for it if purchased. Pray let me 
have a few impressions wlien it is finished sent to Moxon, 
myself think that it is the best likeness, that is, the most cha- 
racteristic, that has been done of me. I wish to send one also 
to America according to directions, which will be hereafti 
^ven. I hope you get on with your labours to your satisfac- 

" Believe me, dear Ilaydon, faithfully, 

" Your obliged friend, 


" 27M. — I went out in misery. There is nothing like 
the forlornness of feeling, of knowing, you have not 
pound to meet the bill of a rascal who is hoping you may 
fail that he may make property of the costs. Coutts & 
Co, had written to say it was against their rules to help 
me — still, personally, I had hopes. I went to-day. The 
bill would be in by twelve {261. 10*.), I saw Mr, Majori- 
banks ; I said, ' Sir, do help me.' He is humane, ' You 
know it is against all rule. I regret to see a man of your 
eminence so hard run. Shall it he the last time ?' Xj 





gave him my honour. He begged me to sit down — 
feeling as if I had been held by a prong over the burning 
pit and saw a reprieve. I signed a promissory note for 
two months, and he placed the amount to my account. 
He was looking much older than I. His head trembled 
a little and his band shook, He said, ' I am fifty to- 
morrow.' 'Why, sir, I am sixty.' 'Sixty,' says he; 
' no.' ' It is twenty-nine years ago since I opened my 
account — Mr. Harman paid me 300/., and I came to your 
house.' ' Time passes,' said he. Sir Edward Antrobus 
was looking old and wrinkled. I declare I feel as young 
as ever. These rich men always look older than we 
struggling men of talent. 

'* 1 fear nothing on earth but my banker, where I have 
not five shillings on account, and have a bill coming due, 
and want help. The awful and steady look of his search- 
ing eyes ; the quiet and investigating point of bis simple 
questions ; the ' hum,' when he holds down his head, as if 
he had Atlas on his shoulders, and the solemn tone when 
he declares it is against the rules of the house ; the 
reprieve one feels as the tones of the voice begin to melt 1 
and give symptoms of an opening to let in light to the I 
heart, are not to be described, and can only be understood I 
by those who have been in such predicaments. Majori- ! 
banks is always kind at last. The clerks seem to he I 
wonder-struck at tlie charm I seem to possess in the | 
bouse amongst the partners. 

" The fact is, Coutts' house have always had a great dealV 
to do with men of genius, and they have a feeling fori 
tliem, and seem to think it is a credit to the firm to I 
have one or two to scold, assist, blow up, and then for- J 
give. This is the way I have gone on with, them fori 
twenty-nine years. 

" Once my trustee overdrew 211. By degrees I repaidfl 
it, — 5/., 8/. at a time, and I always kept my word withf 
them, and once they spoke highly of me in my misfor- '. 
tunes, and once they paid 100/. when I had not a shilling J 
on account. Tliia was in my palmy days. 



" How grateful I am ; God be thanked. ' He whq J 
trustetli ill the Lord shall be even as Mount Sioti ; ' r V 
have fouDd it bo. ' I 

" 29M. — The artists of the world are divided intd I 
Touchers and Polishers. The Touchers — Michel Ann I 
gelo, Radkele in his cartoons, Titian, Bartolomeo, Giop-" I 
gione, Tintoretto, Veronese, Rubens, Velasquez, Davii I 
Teniers, Rembrandt, Reynolds, Wilson, Wilkie, Gains- fl 
borough, Vandyke.^are the great men who had discoveredf | 
the optical principles of imitating nature to convey 
thought. The Polishers are the little men who did not 
see a whole at a time, but only parts of a whole, and thus 
make up the whole by a smooth union of parts. Whereas 
the great men see the whole by the leading points which 
make up the whole, and conscious on optical principles of 
the power of distance to unite the leading points into a, 
whole, leave the intermediate parts to be united Igr.j 

" February itk. — In the greatest anxiety about money ' 
matters; Accommodation in the city out of the gucsticHi;^ 
My friends with faces longer than my arm, croaking axiSi. 

" I have lost three glorious days, painted hardly at all, 
and have not succeeded in getting 51., with 621. to pay. 
I must up with my new canvas, because without a new 
large picture to lean on, I feel as if deserted by the world. 

" The reason of these perpetual failures in matters of 
decoration in England, whether in architecture, sculpture, 
or painting, is, that the management is left to com- 
missioners and committees, which is all very well when 
the subjects to be settled are commercial or political, and 
every member knows something of what he is to discuss, 
but is perfectly ludicrous where art is concerned, and 
nobody but the professional man knows one iota about 
the matter. 

" Committees are composed generally of men of rank 
and station, who have little to do, while each has a crotchet 
if his own. Crotchet after crotchet is proposed, till some 

y, after endless discussion, on a slack attendance, with 





hardly a quorum, up gets a persevering member, proposes ' 
his own crotchet) which is carried by a majority of one 
out of five, and this is called the prevailing sense of the 

" 5th. — 0, 0, ! I sat all day and looked into the 
fire, I must get up my third canvas, or I shall go 
cracked; I have ordered it up on Saturday, and then I'll 
be at it. 

" Perhaps this paralysis vras nature's repose. I stared I 
like a baby, and felt like one. A man who has had so J 
many misfortunes as I have had gets frightened at leaving I 
his family for a day. I 

&tk. — Thus ends the week; by borrowing 10^, of Tal- I 
fourd, 10/. of Tweutyman, 5/, 10«. of my hatter, I con- j 
trived to satisfy claims for 62/., but next week I must be I 
at it again. Though I have Wordsworth's and the Duke's J 
head engraving I can sell neither, and though I have not I 
had a farthing on my lectures yet, I am now revising a I 
second volume. I 

" My two works are done, a third canvas is ready, and, 1 
as if under trial, I have yet to begin, cheerfully trusting I 
in God, and believing my life conducted by Him, so that I 
from trials infiicted my genius is elevated more powerfully I 
than from sunshine and luxury. I 

" 0th. — Jerdan and Bell dined with me yesterday, and' I 
we had a pleasant evening. ■ I 

" Laid up with an inflamed lid ; always get ill in the in- I 
terval of great works. Did nothing. Considered deeply my J 
next subject. They advised me to paint The last Ctiaretta I 
at the Revolution. I prefer now the quiet beauty of I 
Alfred. My heart ia fixed on fine English heads ; I have I 
a great many in my eye, ready models, who will be proud I 
to sit. I 

" \Oth. — My dear mother's birthday. I 

" Twenty-five minutes past eleven, began on the canvas ■! 
of my third picture. O God, I pray Thee, on my knees, I 
bless me through this third picture, as Thou hast blessed J 
me through the last. Amen, i J 


" As I and my pupil, Fisher, were embruning my ^ 
ground with raw umber before sketching in, who should 
call but Sir Robert Inglis. 

" Up he came — saw all my series, I said, 'Now,Sir 
Robert, what chance have I in the House of Lords ? ' 
* Do you wish me to answer as commissioner, or as gentle- 
man to gentleman ? ' 'As both.' ' Then you are too late. * 

" When I took my sketch to Walmer and spoke to the 
Duke, he said ' it was too early.' When I laid it before 
Sir Robert Peel, he replied, ' He left al! to the Com- 
mission.' In fact, they are determined I shall have no- 
thing to do with it. I am always too late, too early, or 
too importunate. 

" Well, I say again, as I said to my wife in 1837, after 
our release from Broadstairs, where for her health I had 
spent all, and we returned without a shilling : ' What 
shall we do, my love ? ' ' Trust in God,' said I, and 
suddenly came the Liverpool commission. So say I now, 
' I trust in Godi' and we shall see who is most powerful, 
He or the Royal Commission. We shall see. 

" A great many extraordinary things have happened 
where I am concerned, and so will a great many more. 

"Xllh. — Settled everything before leaving town for 
dear Auld Reekie. God bless my arrival there, and grant 
success and safe return. God protect my dear family till 
I come back, and my pictures and property. 

"In case of accident I hope my dear friends, Dr, Darling, 
6. Russell Square, and Mr. Serjeant Taifourd, will act as 
executors. In God I trust. Amen. 

" 18/A. — Newcastle. Came in lOJ hours, 303 miles. 
Curious — twenty-six years ago I called on poor Bewick, 
the wood engraver. I have lectured here since ; and now 
I pass to lecture in Edinburgh once more. 

" Tliank God with all my heart I came safe. 

"Old Bewick, who was eighty years old, on dit, was 
very proud of my calling, and used to couple the call of 
the Grand Duke Michael and myself as high honours, and 
'ilk of it in his boozings. 


riB^e.] IN EDHTBUEGH. 303 

" 20th. — Arrived at Edinbro' from Newcastle, after a 
delightful journey by Melrose, glimpsing Abbotsford, 
after wbich the Tweed became classicaL Poor dear Sir 
Walter ! he came into my mind incessantly. 

" aSrd. — Lectured on Fuseli, and waa heroically re- 
ceived by a brilliant audience. Ah, Auld Reekie ! I smile 
then again to my heart, — ^joy ! 

" 25fA. — Lectured on Willde. They listened as if en- 
tranced ; not a breath, or a whisper, or a hum. 

" 26th. — Heard from Jeffrey. To Ms horror, I asked 
him to bead the list for Wordsworth. 

" Dear Mr. Hajdon, 
" 1 shall go on your Eubscription list with pleasure, but do 
not feel that I have any right to be at the head of it ; and 
doubt indeed whether the distinguished poet whom it chiefly 
concerns (and whose genius I love more than I am afraid he 
• believes) would quite like to see me there. I shall be glad to 
be put down for a proof. 

" My health has for some years been a good deal broken, so 
as to prevent me from going out into society, or even to lectures. 
But 1 am still permitted to see a few friends at home, and they 
are kind enough, through the winter, to come and see me on 
Tuesday and Friday evenings, so that if you should be at 
leisure on any of these days, from nine to half-paat eleven, it 
will give me great pleasure to see you. 
" In the meantime, with all good wishes, 

"Believe me always, very faithfully yours, 

" J. Jeffrey." 

" 28iA.— Dined with the worthy president of the Philo- 
sophical Association, Lothian. The lecturer on chemistry, 
Wilson, told me a young artist was so enthusiastic about 
when I washere in 1837, that he stcod for hours close 
to my door to see me, and at last heard me cough, which 

ever after used to relate with enthusiasm. 

■' March 3rd. — Dined with Cadell, and examined all 
Sir Walter's manuscripts of the novels, and was astonished 
at the purity of the writing ; like Shakspeare's, without a 




" Cttdell said he thought the anxieties and harass of 
such eteniiil visitors at Abbotsford during his embarrass- 
ments greatly contributed to his death. He has a capital 
portrait by 'Gordon — the very simple man. 

" Went to Lord Jeffrey's in the evening. Sat by a very 
av^eet and beautiful woman. Jeffrey looks as sharp as 
ever ; but having been a severe critic in early life, is doing 
the amiable now. He must be seventy, but he is a very 
dear friend, and has an affectionate heart. 

" 6t/i. — What is the reason of this early publication of 
the 5th report of the Fine Arts Commission ? It has al- 
ways been published hitherto on the end of a session. 
Why now at the beginning ? Are the secretary and bis 
masters afraid of the probable consequences of Haydon'a 
exhibition, with his two pictures, showing the conse- 
quences of democracy and despotism, part of a series to 
illustrate the best government to regulate, without cramp- 
ing, the energy of man, laid before every minister for 
thirty-six years, and the cause of the present move ? 

" Called on George Combe. We were talking of the 
punctuality of the Duke of Wellington, when he said, a 
Mr. Peale, son of Mr. Peale an American portrait painter, 
told him Washington said to his father he would come 
early, and was seen walking backwards and forwards, look- 
ing at his watch, As the clock began to strike, Washing- 
ton came to the door, and was in the painting-room before 
the clock had done. Whilst sitting, a dispatch was 
brought ; he begged leave to look at it, read it quietly, and 
putting it down, said, ' I am happy to tell you Burgoyne 
has surrendered to the army.' I replied, ' Remember that 
was good news, which made all the difference.' ' Id good 
news,' said Napoleon, ' never hurry ; but in bad newS) 
not a moment is to he lost.* 

" 7iA. — Dined vrith the Philosophical Society. Mac- 
kenzie, Lord Mackenzie's brother, was there, who was also 
at the dinner given in Rome by the Duke of Hamilton 
and the Scotch and English to Wilkie. 



" The wliole evening passed off most agreeably, and all 
were full of heart. 

" I3tk. — Left Edinburgh at seven. Came to Melrose, 
and to Abbotsford (playing at feudal castles). Went to 
Dry burgh — much affected, 

" 14-tfi. — Started from Newcastle, and arrived in London 
by train at eight. Thank God for the safety of my family 
and self! 

" 16M. — Filled up my lecture on Elgin Marbles for 
the press. Recovering my fatigue. 

" 17M. — Recovered. Read Mrs. Merriiield's Fresco. 
Pounced on Fontormo's Journal with delight. From my 
own instinct, I have always practised in oil the habits 
of fresco. My enemies know that, and will give nie no 
opportunity, till a race of young fresco painters are raised. 
Entered my painting-room again. God bless me in it! 

" 18th, and I9th, — Occupied preparing for my exhibi- 
tion ; hut the pain of mind I feel when not painting is 
excruciating. I wish it was over. 

"20;A,— My dear friend Kemp advanced me lOOi on 
tlie anti-slavery drawings, wliich will give me a spring 
towards my exhibition. 

"21st. — Saw Kemp, aod arranged. Corrected the 
sheets of my second volume, and my Catalogue. Exceed- 
ingly fatigued. I shall be glad when my pictm-es are gone. 

" aSrd. — God, Thou hast blessed me, I am sure. 
Accept my gratitude. Everything proceeds so far well. 
Think of my anxiety at Edinburgh how to get the means 
to open my exhibition. All was black, yet I felt trust in 
God. Home I came. The day approaches — my little 
money dwindled away — I was reduced to a few shillings. 
My imagination fired up. I wrote to four men, — Kemp of 
Spitalfields, Miller of Liverpool, Lothian of Edinburgh, 
and James the traveller, — to buy ray drawings. Miller is 
too poor; James and Lothian have not replied. Kemp 
came with his good face, and advanced 100/. on the draw- 
ings. Here am I as ever — as if that condition kept me 
depending on God — again before the wind. Saw carpen- 

306 MEMOIKS or B; *. HJTDOK. UstS. 

ters, &c. and set all in motion. * Now,' as Napoleon said, 
• I can sleep, whilst my employes are getting ready for 
my orders,' 

" 2(Mh. — Directed 224 envelopes for private day, with 
the tickets, and signed in the comer. Kept the men at 
work all day — nearly closed in the place. Pictures framed; 
all alive, as I relish. 

" My dearest love, who has never left me for twenty- 
five years, is going hy herself to Brighton, for her dear 
health. We were touched last night, as I tied up her 
trunk. I hope God will hless her with recovery. 

"29M. — Saw my dearest love off. I hope she arrived 
safely. Got all covered in nearly. In driving along, the 
cab-horse fell. Would any man believe this annoyed me? 
As an omen, the same thing happened before the Cartoon 
contest. Such are human beings. 

"Napoleon's coach broke down on liis return from Elba. 
Weil, it is glorious to he able to fight a last battle — now* 
verrons. In God I trust. Amen. 

" 3 Itt. — Last day of March ; April fool day to-morrow. 
In putting in my letters for the private day, I let three parts 
fall on the pavement — about 300. Another fall ! Now 
for the truth of omens. 

" April \st. — Hung up all my remaining drawings, and 
finally arranged the exhibition. My pictures looked well. 
God hless it with success ! 

" 4M. — It rained the whole day. Nobody came except 
Jerrold, Bowring, Fox Maule, and Hobhouse. Twenty- 
six years ago, the rain would not have prevented them. 
But now it is not so. However, I do not despair. 


" Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly (upstairs to the right). 

" Admit Noodle, Doodle, and their numerous Friends to tha 

private view of Haydoiia Two New Pictures, ' The Banishment 

of Aristides' and ' The Burning of Rome,' part of B Series for 

the Decoration of the old House of Lords. 

" On Saturday the 4th instant, from twelve till six. 

" B. R. Hatdon." 


" Omens of failure in this exhibition. 

*' 1st The cab-horse slipped on the wood, and tumbled. 

" ^nd. I let all the letters tumble for the private day, 
and to-day, in trying to put up Wordsworth, he tumbled, 
knocked down Lord Althorp, broke the frame, and played 
the devil. 

*' After this what success can come ? 

" Do I believe this, or don't I ? Half inclined. 

" 6th, — Receipts 1846, 11. Is. 6d. : Aristides. 
Receipts 1820, 19Z. Ifo. : Jerusalem. 

" In God I trust. Amen. 

« 7^A.— Rain. U. 8s. 6d. 

" 8tfu — Fine. Receipts worse, 11, 6s, 6d. Is it not 
funny, my writing down those omens ? They have turned 
out so correctly forerunners of evil. 

" 9th, — Fine weather. Things begin to turn, I think. 
I dare say I was overstrained with hard work, and my 
mental and intellectual being partook of it. Once more I 
begin to trust in my Merciful Creator, and have no doubt 
He will carry me through. 

" 13^A.— Easter Monday.* O God, bless my receipts 
this day, for the sake of my creditors, my family, and my 
art. Amen. 

'* Receipts, 22 
" Catalogues, 3 

1 3 6 

* Haydon*s new pictures are now open at the Egyptian Hall, up- 
stsurs to the right. Admission Is, ; catalogue 6^. In these two 
magnificent pictures of the Burning of Rome by Nero, and Banish- 
ment of Aristides, ** the drawing is grand, and characters most feli- 
citous, and we hope the artist will reap the reward he merits,** says 
the Timesy April 6th. " These are Haydon's best works,*' says the 
Herald, same day. N.B. Visiters are requested to go up into the 
gallery of the room, in order to see the full effect of the flame of the 
burning city. Nero accused the Christians of this cruel act, covered 
hundreds of them with combustible materials, and burnt them for the 
amusement of the savage Romans. — (See Tacittu.) Hajdon has 

z 2 













" An ndvertiseinent, of a finer description to catcU the 
profanum valgus, could not be written, yet not a sbtlling 
more was added to the receipts. 

" They rush by thousands to see Tom Thumb. They 
push, they fight, tliey scream, they faint, they cry help 
and murder! and oh! and ah! They see my bills, my 
boards, my caravans, and don't read them. Their eyes are 
open, hut their sense is shut. It is an insanity, a rabies, 
a madness, b. furor, a dream. 

" I would not have believed it of the English people. 

" 14'tk, — Receipts doubled to-day. Thank God. Amen. 

" IStli. — Half the month gone. God bless me thia 
day. Amen. Sent dear Mary 21. to keep on her bathing i 
left 4*. 6d, only in my pocket, with a hundred or two to 


" 16(/i. — My situation is now of more extreme peril 

than even when I began Solomon, thirty-three years ago. 
Involved in debt, mortified by the little sympathy the 
public display towards my best pictures, with several 
private engagements yet to fulfil, I awoke this morning 
at four, as usual, filled with the next in my Series — 
Alfred and the Jury, I felt, ' is it the whisper of an evil 
or a good spirit ?' but I believe it to be that of a good 

" I call on my Creator still to support me tbrougli 
trials severer than I have ever gone through, to the ac- 
compiishment of my remaining four. I call on Him 
who has led me through the wilderness for forty-two 
years, under every depression and every excitement, to 
sixty years of age, not to desert me in this the eleventh 
hour. O God, on my knees I ask for Thy blessing on 
this the third of my Series, to grant that I may bring it 
to a glorious and triumphant conclusion, in spite of any 
difficulty, any obstruction, earth can oppose. Grant me 
eyes, intellect, and health ; and under Thy blessing, leave 

devoted forty-two years to improve tlie taste of the people ; and let 
every Briton who has pluck in his boBom, and & Bhilling in hig pocket, 
erowd to his ^orks during the Duster week. 

1846.] AT BAY. 309 

the rest to me. O God, how often have I wearied Thy 
Invisibility with entreaty ! and I have always finished the 
works I began, when I have earnestly prayed for Thy 
blessing. Bless my exertions, O Lord, now. Bless the 
beginning, progression, and conclusion, not only of Alfred, 
but the remaining three ; and grant I may accomplish the 
whole four remaining, with glory to Thy gifts, honour to 
my country, and blessings to my family. 

*•* Grant all these things, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen ! 
Amen! Amen! 

" nth. — Worked hard, and got on with Alfred glo- 
riously ; made a small sketch, in a few minutes, of light, 
colour, and shadow, and then rubbed in the whole picture 
another stage. 

" It had a splendid effect. God be thanked ! How 
mysterious is the whisper which, in such anxieties, impels 
to paint, conceive, and invent ! How mysterious ! 

" But why such anxieties ? Why not allow the gift 
to work without the stumblings of afBiction ? 

" 18th. — God bless me through my daily trouble this 
day, as thou didst bless me yesterday. Amen. 

** By the kindness of my dear friend Kemp, I am able 
to send my dear love 21. to Brighton, and pay my wages 
at the exhibition. Thus far I have got over the troubles 
of the day. God be praised ! 

** Sunday f 19th. — O God ! enable me to do my religious 
duties this day, in tranquillity and faith, filling my mind 
for a successful conquest over the struggles of the coming 
week. Amen. 

''21st. — Tom Thumb had 12,000 people last week. 
B. R. Haydon 133^ (the ^ a little girl). Exquisite taste 
of the English people ! 

" O God ! bless me through the evils of this day. 

" I thank Thee. Thou hast done so. Amen. 

" 22nd. — Bless me, O God, through the evils of this 
day. Amen. 

^' God has blessed me. Thanks. Amen. 

X 3 




" 2ilh. — Advanced Alfred gloriously. Borne down 
lit first in misery. Six hours at work. 

" 25th. — Made a chalk sketch of my dear old friend 
Caroline Innes, a daughter of Beechey'a. 

" 26/A. — Read prayers with all my heart, and then 
went to my friend Dennys, who bought Uriel, and had 
built a gallery for it. It was hung, and looked excellently. 
How grateful I am that, beginning it trusting in God 
alone, He raised me up a patron who bought it and 
valued it ! 

" 30lh. — End of the month. One of variety of fortune. 

" For the blessings — gratitude. For the evils — sub- 
mission. I made this appeal again, despising Napoleon 
for not trying the 18tli Bruinaire after Waterloo. But 
he was right. He showed greater sagacity. You can 
never repeat the cause of a success, without its producing 
a failure. You cannot do anything twice in life with 
the same effect on the world. I find it so; but in my 
ambition — perhaps vanity, pride, conceit — I believed I 
was destined to prove the reverse. — Et void le rhultat. 

" My dangers are great. 

" May \sl. — -Every spring time presses ; money flies; 
the butcher, the baker, the tax-collector, the landlord, 
give louder knocks than before ; away goes the only hope 
to the exhibition ; for artists, like the evil spirits of hell, 
doubt and tremble, and yet abhor and do. 

" 3rd. — I put down in my Journal every thing which 
passes through a human mind, that its weaknesses, its 
follies, its superstitions, may be balanced against its vigour, 
propriety, and sound convictions. 

" 5th. — Came home in excruciating anxiety, not being 
able to raise the money for my rent for the Hall, and 
found a notice from a broker for a quarter's rent from 
Newton, my old landlord for twenty-two years. For a 
moment my brain was confused. I had paid him half; and 
therefore, there was only 10/, left. I went into the 
painting-room in great misery of mind. That so old a 
friend should have chosen such a moment to do such a 


1846.] AT BAT. 311 

thing, is painful. After an hour's dulness, my mind 
suddenly fired up, with a new background for Alfred. I 
dashed at it, and at dinner it was enormously improved. 
I make a sketch to-morrow ; then begin to finish with the 
Saxon noble. 

*' 6th, — I went out yesterday to look for my employer, 
to make him pay me 371, 10s. I had just received a 
lawyer's letter, the first for a long time. I called on the 
lawyer, an amiable man. He promised to try to get me 
time. I came home — my exhibition bringing nothing — 
a lawyer's letter — my landlady's 301, for rent at the 
Hall unpaid — I came home with great pain of mind ; 
yet would any man believe, as I waited in the lawyer's, 
chambers, the whole background of Alfred flashed into 
my head ? I dwelt on it, foresaw its effects, and came 
home in sorrow, delight, anxiety, and anticipation. I 
set my palette with a disgust, and yet under irresistible 
impulse. In coming into the parlour, the cook, whose 
wages I had not been able to pay, handed me a card from 
a broker, saying he called for a quarter's rent from Mr. 
Newton. I felt my heart sink, my brain confused, as I 
foresaw ruin, misery, and a prison ! It was hoisting the 
standard ! 

" This is temper. I went on with my palette in a 
giddy fidget. I brought it out, and looking at my great 
work, rejoiced inwardly at the coming background. 
But my brain, harassed and confused, fell into a deep 
slumber, from which I did not awake for an hour. I 
awoke cold, the fire out ; but I flew at my picture, and 
dashing about like an inspired devil, by three had arranged 
and put in the alteration. 

" I dined, expecting an execution every moment, and 
retired to rest in misery. I awoke continually ; and this 
morning went off to Fairbairn of Leeds to ask him to 
pay me for his brother. He could not I drove back, 
finding his brother was in town. He was out, and I flew 
up to my landlord Newton. He was irritable, and in bad 

X 4 

312 MEUOIES or B. K. HATDON. [l846. 

health. He said I wag in a bad temper. I promised him 
pa\Tiient this day week. He promised to let me alone. 
Home I came, and made a complete sketch ; and this 
moment comes a cheque from my dear friend Kemp, 
which has really saved me for the time. 

" This is historical painting in England ! 

" 16(A, — The unexpected assistance I have received, 
the dangers 1 have escaped, the art I have accomplished) 
the health I enjoy, the objects I have in view, and the 
ruin I may endure with my dear Mary, agitate my brain 
and heart ; but in God's blessing I am firm, I sec ' One 
that is Invisible ' who will bring me through. Amen. I 
certainly feel more than ever the value of minutes, the 
importance of my mission, and the overwhelming duty 
npon my heart of completing my six works. 

" The struggle is severe ; for myself I care not, but for 
her so dear to me I feel. It presses on her mind; and in 
a moment of pain, she wrote the following simple bit of 
feeling to Frederick, who is in South America, on board 
the Grecian — a Middy. It shows the inmost state of Jier 
soul, and what she really feels as to the danger of our 

To an abtent Child. 

This is thy natal day, my cliild ; 

And where art tbou so dear P 
My hearC is aad, and yet 'tis glad 

To know tiou art not here. 

Oh ! tarry thou in sunny jales, 

Where winds and waves have borne thee ; 
And return no more, to thy native shore. 

When the care of years has worn thee. 

There is a pain upon tliy brow, 
And thy face \s pale with care 

Then come no more to thy nativ 
Tor trial awaitE thee there. 

1846.] AT BAY. 313 


There is a carl upon thy lip, 

Which speaks of pride and sorrow ; 
And a weight upon thj gay young heart, 

Which dulls tiie hope of to-morrow. 


Then tarry thou in sunny isles, 

Bright as thy own blue eye ; 
And come no more to thy native shore, 

Where toil and care do vie. 


Oh I could I wail me to those bright isles. 

And dwell with thee, so dear I 
Should I sigh for this land of oppression and toil, 

Where each mom is expected with fear ? 


Then, pray for the day when we may dwell 

In that sunny land together, 
With those on earth we love so well. 

And never again come hither. 

Mabi Hatpon, M^re. 

" 13th. — Captain Waller told Lucas that Alava, who 
acted as the Duke's aid-de-camp at Waterloo, told Waller 
that, as he was joining the Duke early on the field, he 
thought to himself, * I wonder how he feels and looks 
with Napoleon opposite/ The Duke shortly joined, and 
called out in his bluff manner, * Well, how did you like 
the ball, last night ? * Putting up his glass, and sweeping 
the enemy's ground, he then said to Alava, * That fellow 
little thinks what a confounded licking he Ul get, before the 
day is over.' 

" I4fth. — This day forty-two years I left my native 
Plymouth for London and life. O God! bless me through 
the numerous anxieties of this day satisfactorily. 

" 18th. — I closed my exhibition this day, and have 
lost 1111. 8s. lOd. No man can accuse me of showing 
less energy, less spirit, less genius, than I did twentynsix 
years ago. I have not decayed, but the people have been 
corrupted. I am the same, they are not ; and I have suf- 
fered in consequence. 

314 UEHOIB5 OF B. B. HATDOK. Cl846. 

" I used to accuse Napoleon of want of energy in not 
driving out the senate after Waterloo, aa he did on the 
IStli Bnimaire. But lie knew men better than I- — 
It would have been useless ; he was not altered) they were, 

" It becomes me now, in all humility, to pray God jet 
for health to complete my remaining four. Amen. 

" I9th. — Cleared out my exhibition. Removed Ari- 
stides and Thcmiatocles, and all my drawings. Next to 
a victory is a ekilful retreat; and I marched out before 
General Thumb, a beaten but not conquered exhibitor. 

" aSrd, — Awoke at three, in very great agony of laind; 
and lay awake till long after five, aifccted by my position. 
Frayed God, as David did, and fell asleep happier, but 
still fearing. 

" I took the original sketch of Uriel, and went to my 
landlord and asked him to buy it in vain. At last, I 
offered it to him if he would lend me 1 /. to pay an instal- 
ment, where failure would have been certain ruin. He 
assented, and I left a beautiful sketch. I then came home 
and darted at my picture. I have done a great deal this 
week under all circumsta.nces, and advanced the masses of 
drapery for my Jury. There lie Aristides and Nero, un- 
asked for, unfelt for, rolled up — Aristides, a subject Raf- 
faele would have praised and complimented me on! Good 
God! — and 111/. 11*. 5d. loss by showing it! 

" God be praised 1 I have got through this week. Amen. 

"30M. — Worked gloriously hard, and finished tlia 
Saxon lord. If I can manage Alfred and the left corner 
of head by 30th June, that will do. God be thanked for 
his blessings this week and this day ! 

" 31s(. — Alfred is well on, in spite of dreadful need. 
O Lord! carry me through the next, and the dangerous 
month. Amen. 

" June 1st. — O God, I begin tliis month, June, in fear 
and submission. Thy will, not mine, be done. Carry me 
through, in spite of all appearances and realities of danger, 
for Jesus Christ's sake ; and enable me to keep my health, 
in eyes and mind, and to bear up and get through my six 

1846.] AT BAT, 315 

great works in spite of all the diiRculties, calamities, or 
obstructions, which ever afflicted humanity. 

" 3rd. — Bless me, O Lord I * Some trust in chariots, 
and some in horses; but we trust in the name of the Lord 
our God.' 

" In proportion as you refine the virtues, so you do the 
vices of mankind. 

" Worked very hard. Went to Christie's to see the Salt- 
marsh Collection. 

** The Rubens I recollect, thirty years ago, at De la 
Hant's. I remember it used to be a wonder to me, but I 
saw through it at once now. 

** 4^A. — I felt every touch from experience. I know 
what feelings he must have had when he touched so and so. 

" 5th, — Called on my dear friend Kemp, who helped 
me to get over the difficulties which harassed me. Thank 

" By the time the six are done, they will all be mort- 
gaged; but never mind, so long as I get them done. — The 
great thing is to get them done. 

*^ 6th, — Worked hard till half-past two. Then went to 
Saltmarsh Collection. Finished Alfred. Something to do 
to the head, and Saxon lord. If I can but finish the left 
hand corner and Alfred by 30th June, I'll do. If I had 
no pecuniary wants, I could. It is that which occupies 
my time. 

^^ Sunday, 7th, — Read prayers, and poured out thanks- 
givings, and then went to see my Uriel at Dennys's, Ad- 
dison Terrace. Dennys was dressed in black velvet, with 
slashed sleeves ; and his fine head, fine gallery, and fine 
pictures, really carried me back to the cinque cento, 
Uriel looked well, and I said it would be honoured in 

" ll^A. — I have 15/. to pay to-morrow, without a shil- 
ling. How I shall manage to get seven hours' peace for 
work, and yet satisfy my creditors. Heaven only knows. 

" 30/. Newton, on the 25th. 31/. 17*. 6d, Newman, 
same day. 261. lOs. Coutts, on the 24th. 291. 16s. 9d. 

316 MEMOIRS OF B. K. HATDON. [1846. 

Gillotts, on the 29th. 17/. \0s. Gd. to baker, —in all 
136/. 14*. lOA this month, with only 18». in the house ; 
nothing coming in, all received; one large picture paint- 
ing and three more getting ready, and Alfred's head to 
do. In God alone I trust, in humility. 

" 12M. — O God! carry me through the evils of this 
day. Amen. 

" 13th. — -Picture much advanced; hut my necessities 
are dreadful, owing to my failure at the Hall. In God 
alone I trust, to bring me through, and extricate me safe 
and capable of paying my way. O God ! It is hard, this 
struggle of forty-two years ; but Thy will, and not mine, 
be done, if it save the art in the end. O God, bless me 
through all my pictures, the four remaining, and grant 
nothing on earth miiy stop the completion of the six. 

" Sunday, lllA.- — O God ! Let it not be presumption 
in calling for Thy blessing on my six works. Let no 
difficulty on earth stop or impede their progression, for 
one moment. Out of nothing Thou couldst create worlds. 
O God ! bless me this week with Thy Divine aid. From 
sources invisible to us raise up friends, save me from 
the embarrassments want of money must bring on, O 
Godt grant this day week 1 may be able to thank Thee 
from my soul for extrication, and preserve my health and 
head, and spirit and piety to bear up and vanquish all 
obstructions. Amen. Amen. 

*' \5th. — Passed in great anxiety ; finally painted the 
background in the sketch, after harassing about to do 
purpose in the heat. 

" IGtk. — I sat from two till five staring at my picture 
like an idiot. My brain pressed down by anxiety and 
anxious looks of my dear Mary and children, whom I was 
compelled to inform. I dined, after having raised money on 
all our silver, to keep us from want in case of accidents ; 
and Rochfort, the respectable old man in Brewer Street, 
having expressed great sympathy for my misfortunes, 
as I saw white locks under his cap, I said, ' Rochfort, take 
off your cap,' He took it off, and showed a fine head of 

1846.] AT BAT. 317 

silvery hair. * This is the very thing I want, come and 
sit.' He smiled, and looked through me. * When ? * 
^ Saturday, at nine.* * I will. Sir;' and would any man 
believe, I went home with a lighter heart at having found 
a model for the hair of the kneeling figure in Alfred ? 
This is as good as any thing I remember of Wilkie in my 
early days. I came home, and sat as I describe. I had 
written to Sir R. Peel, Duke of Beaufort, and Lord 
Brougham, saying I had a heavy sum to pay. I offered 
the Duke's Study to the Duke of Beaufort for SOL 

** Who answered first ? Tormented by Disraeli, ha- 
rassed by public business, up came the following letter: — 

" ' Sir, 
^ I am sorry to hear of your continual embarrassments. From 
a limited fund which is at my disposal, I send as a contribution 
towards your relief from those embarrassments the sum of 50/. 

* I am, Sir, 
* Your obedient servant, 

* Robert Peel. 
* Be so good as to sign and return the accompanying re- 

" And this Peel is the man who has no heart ! 

" nth. — Dearest Mary, with a woman's passion, wishes 
me at once to stop pajvnent, and close the whole thing. I 
will not. I will finish my six, under the blessing of God; 
reduce my expenses ; and hope His mercy will not desert 
me, but bring me through in health and vigour, gratitude 
and grandeur of soul, to the end. In Him alone I trust. 
Let my imagination keep Columbus before my mind for 
ever. O God, bless my efibrts with success, through every 
variety of fortune, and support my dear Mary and family. 

" In the morning, fearing I should be involved, I took 
down books I had not paid for to a young bookseller with 
a family, to return them. As I drove along, I thought I 
might get money on them. I felt disgusted at such a 
thought, and stopped and told him I feared I was in 
danger ; and as he might lose, I begged him to keep them 

318 MKirores of & s. haydon. Ci846. 

for a few days. He was grateful, and in the evening came 
this 50/. / know what I believe. 

" ISth. — O God, bless me through the evils of this 
day. Great anxiety. My landlord, Newton, called. I said, 
' I see a quarter's rent in thy face, but none from me.' I 
appointed to-morrow night to see him, and lay before Mm 
every iota of my position. Good hearted Newton ! I said, 
' Don't put in an execution.' ' Nothing of the sort,' he 
replied, half hurt. 

" I sent the Duke, Wordsworth, dear Fred, and Mary's 
heads to Miss Barrett to protect. I have the Duke's 
boots and hat, and Lord Grey's coat, and some more 

" QQth. — O God, bless us all through the evils of this 
day. Ameu. 

" Zlii. — Slept horribly. Prayed in sorrow, and got 
up in agitation. 

" Q2nd. — God forfjive me. Amen. 

B. R. Haydon. 

' ' Stretch rae no longer on tiiia rough world.' — Lear. 
End of Twenty-sixth A' olume." 


This closing entry was made between half-past ten and 
a quarter to eleven o'clock, on the morning of Monday the 
22nd of June. Before eleven, the hand that wrote it was 
stiff and cold in self-inflicted death. On the morning of 
that Monday, Haydon rose early, and went out, returning, 
apparently fatigued, at nine. He then wrote. At ten he 
entered his painting-room, and soon after saw his wife, 
then dressing to visit a friend at Brixton, by her husband's 
special desire. He embraced her fervently, and returned 
to his painting-room. About a quarter to eleven, his wife 
and daughter heard the report of fire-arms ; but took little 
jQotice of it, as they supposed it to proceed from the troops 

1846.] THE END. 319 

then exercising in the Park. Mrs. Haydon went out. 
About an hour after, Miss Haydon enteredi the painting- 
room, and found her father stretched out dead, before 
the easel on which stood his unfinished picture of Alfred 
and the first British Jury — his white hairs dabbled in 
blood, a half-open razor smeared with blood, at his side, 
near it, a small pistol recently discharged, in his throat a 
frightful gash, and a bullet-wound in his skull. A portrait 
of his wife stood on a smaller easel facing his large picture. 
On a table near was his Diary open at the page of that 
last entry, his watch, a Prayer-book open at the Gospel for 
the Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany, letters addressed to 
his wife and children, and this paper, headed " Last 
thoughts of B. R. Haydon, half-past ten." 

"No man should use certain evil for probable good, 
however great the object. Evil is the prerogative of the 

** I create good, — I create, — I the Lord do these things. 

" Wellington never used evil if the good was not cer- 
tain. Napoleon had no such scruples, and I fear the 
glitter of his genius rather dazzled me ; but had I been 
encouraged, nothing but good would have come firom me, 
because when encouraged I paid every body. God forgive 
the evil for the sake of the good. Amen." 

Beside this paper was another, his will, as follows : — 

" In the name of Jesus Christ our Saviour, in the 
eiBcacy of whose atonement I firmly and conscientiously 
believe, I make my last will this day, June 22nd, 1846, 
being clear in my intellect, and decided in my resolution 
of purpose. 

" I request that my dear friends, Seqeant Talfourd, Dr. 
Darling, both of Russell Square, and David Trevenon Coul- 
ton, of No. 1. Claremont Place, Brixton, will undertake 
the duties of executors, see a fair and just distribution 
of my assets, and protect, and assist by their advice my 
dearest Mary, and my daughter and sons, Frank and 

" My dearest wife, Mary Haydon, has been a good, dear. 


and aSectionate wife to me — a heroine in adversity a nd 
an angel in peace. -"^ 

" The property available is as follows : — 
" 1st, My Curtius at the Pantheon, on which th^ev 
a lien of 80/. to my landlord, Newton ; 300 guineas. 

" 2d. My picture of Alexander and a Lion is free, (at 
the Pantheon) ; 300 guineas. 

" 3rd. My picture of ArisLides (Pantheon), on which 
there is a lien of SOOl, to Messrs, Bennoch and Twenty- 
man of 78, Wood Street, Cheapside; 800 guuieas. 

" 4[h. My picture of Nero, on which there is a lien 
of 30/. for rent due to Mrs. Lackington of Egyptian Hall 
— (Pantheon); 400 guineas. 

"5 th. Lupton has a portrait of Wordsworth, my pro- 
perty, engraved. He is to be paid 80 guineas, 

•' 6. Wagstaff has a print of the Duke in profile, my 
property. Due to him 100 guineas, 

" 7. I owe a great sum to my landlord, William 
Newton, of 13, Cavendish Road, Regent's Park. He 
holds pictures and hooks and prints, and (lie Judgment of 
Solomon, which is the property of the assignees of the 
late Mr. Prideaux of Plymouth, bankrupt ; he took pos- 
session of the picture at the Western Exchange, and paid 
the rent due, on my insolvency in 1830. His claim is 
for warehouse-room, for which he paid. He has been a 
good landlord to me. 

" 8th. The furniture in my house was three times seized 
by him, and released, and I gave him a power to enter 
again in 1836 for the same claims. Great additions have 
been made since. 

" 9th. I am nearly 3000/. in debt from renewed claims, 
and from my resolution to carry on high art to the last 
gasp, till felt and acknowledged by the nation. 

" lOtb. I have pressed heavily on all friends ; but I have 
been ^generously supported. Jeremiah Harman, Thomas 
Coutts, Ed. Majoribanks, Thomas Hope, Watson Taylor, 
Lord Mulgrave, Honourable Augustus Phipps, Sir George 
Phillips, William Newton, Henry Perkins, J. P. Bell, 



Bennoch and Twentymaii, G. J. Kemp, the Misses Ro- 
binson and Poyntz advanced money to help me through 
my works. 

" 11, The Duke of Sutherland, Lord Egremont, Lord 
Mulgrave, Sir George Beaumont, Sir Robert Peel, &c. 
&c., late Thomas Kearsey employed and helped me, 
and "William Hamilton. God reward them ! 

" 12. Morally I fear it was wrong to incur debts on the 
risk of payment; but when one considers the precarious 
nature of the profession, pardon may be granted. 

" 13. I have manuscripts and my memoirs in the posses- 
sion of Miss Barrett, 50. Wimpole Street, iu a cheat, 
wliich I wish Longman to be consulted about. My 
memoirs are to 1890, my journals will supply the rest. 
The style, the individuality of Richardson, which I wish 
not curtailed by an editor. Correspondence and journals 
for the rest. 

" 14. I return my gratitude to Sir Robert Peel, always 
a kind friend in emergencies. I hope he will consider 
the talents and virtues of my son, Frank, and Sir George 
Cockburn will not forget my son Frederick. 

" 15. I have done my duty to ray children — educated 
them thoroughly. They are good members of society, 
and I hope will remain so, if, for no purpose of ambition, 
they never become borrowers or lenders. 

" 16. I have done ray duty to the art — educated the 
greatest artists of the day, — Eastlake, the Landseers, 
and Lance, and I hope advanced the whole feeling of the 
country. I hope my dear friend Sir Robert Peel will not 
forget my widow and family. 

" 17. In the name of my God I hope for forgiveness for 
the step I am about to take— a crime, no doubt; but if I am 
judged immediately hereafter, I have done nothing all my 
life that will render me fearful of appearing before the 
awful consciousness of my invisible God, or hesitate to 
explain my .actions. 

"18. I know my innate sin, — my innate tendencies to 
evil as a human being ; but I have tried hard to subdue 

TOL. in. T 



it, and I am sure He will be just, however awfully dis- 
pleased, at the wickedness of my conclusion. 

" 19. I forgive my enemies and slanderers from my 
heart, and hope my worthy and unworthy creditors will 
forgive me. I meant all in honour. God knows I have 
paid off vast sums of former troubles ; and all the money 
advanced has been properly used in virtuous purposea, 
and not in vanity and vice. 

" God Almighty forgive us all. I die in peace with all 
men, and pray Him not to punish, for the sake of the 
father, the innocent widow and children he leaves behind. 

" I ask her pardon and my children's for the additional 
pang, but it will be the last, and released from the burthen 
of my ambition, they will be happier and suffer less. 

" Hoping through the merits of Christ forgiveness. 

" B. R. Haydom. 
" To my Executors." 

The coroner's jury found that the suicide was in. an 
unsound state of mind when he committed the act. ' 

Hoydon's debts at his death amounted to about 3,000i 
The assets were inconsiderable. 

Sir Robert Peel's kindness did not close with the 
painter's life. Liberal and immediate assistance was 
extended to the bereaved widow and family, and such 
comfort as the sympathy and help of friends could give 
was not wanting to those whom this unhappy and unfor- 
tunate man left behind him. 

Thus died Haydon, by his own hand, in the sixty-first 
year of liis age, after forty-two years of studies, strivings, 
conflicts, successes, imprisonments, appeals to ministers, to 
Parliament, to patrons, to the public, self- illusions, and 

His life carries its moral and lesson with it, or these 
memoirs are now given to the world to little purpose. 

My object, up to this point, has been to give Haydon's 
own portraiture of himself. This is the aim which I have 
kept in view in selecting from and compressing his journals, 
I have not tried either to raise him into a hero or to 


depress him below the level at which, on a review of all the 
circumstances of his life, he seems fairly entitled to stand. 
In the preceding part of my work, having this concep- 
tion of my duty as editor of his autobiography and 
memoirs, I have refrained, as far as possible, from the 
expression of my own judgment of the man and his 
conduct, and from any general estimate of his merits as a 
painter. I have done this advisedly, and at the cost of 
considerable self-restraint. But my work might, I think, 
properly be regarded as incomplete, if I did not, now that 
the editorial part of my duty is completed, give the 
reader, as briefly as may be, my own conclusions as to 
the man and painter, founded on the records of him 
which have passed^through my hands, and on such of his 
pictures as I have been able to find access to. 


There can be little difficulty in decyphering this, if 
ever record of thoughts and acts can be trusted for 
indicia of character. 

Haydon was self-willed to obstinacy. He rarely asked 
advice, and never took it unless it approved itself to him, 
without reference to the sagacity or information of the 
adviser. He was indefatigable in labour during his 
periods of application, but he was often diverted from his 
art by professional polemics, by fits of reading, and by moods 
of discomfort and disgust, and other distractions which are 
explained by his circumstances. What he undertook he 
generally mastered, and he shows a rare " thoroughness " 
in the manner of his inquiries and studies, and a perti- 
nacity not often associated with so much vehemence and 
passion as belonged to him. 

His judgment was essentially unsound in all matters 
where he was personally interested. His inordinate vanity 
(which is sometimes ludicrously exhibited) blinded him 
throughout to the quality of his own works, the amount 

T 2 



of influence he could wieldj and the extent of sympathy 
he excited. 

He was unscrupulous in conduct, but not unprincipled, 
and, I believe, though many will question it, that he 
seldom contracted obligations without the intention and 
expectation of meeting them. But when a man once 
becomes embarrassed, it is hardly possible to estimate the 
value, or no-value rather, of such intentions. His^conduct 
in inducing his pupils to accept bills for his accommoda- 
tion admits of no defence, and I cannot offer any palliation 
for his habits of begging and borrowing beyond those 
which these memoirs must suggest to all fairly-judging 
readers, — I mean his necessities, his sanguine temperament, 
his occasional extraordinary succes3es,*and his pervading 
conviction that he was the apostle and martyr of high art, 
and, as such, had a sort of right to support from those 
who would not find him the employment he was always 
craving. His constant demand was for work and wages, 
and in default of these, he asked for subsistence wiiile 
he worked, in the hope that sooner or later the wages 
must come. 

His religiousness is puzzling. Few men have lived in 
a more continuous practice of prayer; and though his are 
little more than requests for what he moat desired, ad- 
dressed to the Being in whose power he believed it to be to 
grant them, — begging-letters, in fact, dispatched to the Al- 
mighty, — it must not be forgotten that the prayers of many 
" eminently pious" people, and indeed of whole churches 
and sects, are little more than this. His faith in an over- 
ruling power was not strong enough to induce a calm and 
steadfast waiting upon God's will, but neither, as it seems to 
me, is the faith of the most prayerful persons of this cha- 
racter. One thing I may say, that he seems to have lived 
in the habitual belief of a personal, overruling, and merta- 
ful Deity, and that this belief influenced his inward life, 
his relations with his family, and, so far as his necessities 
did not interfere, with the world. 

His love of his art is, to my mind, inextricable from h» 


belief in himself ; aiid his struggle to advance the art was 
never without reference to the glorification of himself as 
the artist 

In taste he was as deficient as in judgment — if in- 
deed the two be not different phases of the same element 
in character. TUs want of taste shows itself in the tone 
of his letters to men of rank^ in which an unbecoming 
familiarity alternates with a gross servility of expression. 
The style of his appeals to the public, in his advertisements 
and catalogues, is equally offensive in a different way, — 
from the turgid and undisguised expression of his own 
exaggerated estimate of himself and his works. But he 
seems really to have believed that the public eye was fixed 
on him, and struggled against facts to maintain this de- 
lusion to the last. I may regret, but I cannot wonder 
that he did not meet with more sympathy. Considering 
how very boisterous and combative a martyr he was, I am 
rather astonished that he found so much. I believe that 
he died a victim to disappointment; that his exclusion 
from all share in the decoration of the New Houses of 
Parliament broke his heart; and that all his subsequent 
efforts to reassert his claims, through the Public, instead 
of the Fine Arts Commission, were void of true hope ; a 
frantic " lashing the sides of his intent " to approve him- 
self a great artist, when he had really more than begun to 
doubt it. 

As a husband and a father I have nothing for him but 
praise. His love for his wife was unabated to the last, 
and he did his duty manfully by his children. 


In judging a man, one is bound to consider the times 
he lived in with reference to the nature of his work. 

All evil, it has been said, results from the non- adapta- 
tion of constitution to conditions.* When we say that 

♦ Spencer, " Social Statics." 
T 3 



Haydon's failure and Bufferings were his own fault, we only'^ 
state half the truth. In different times his faults would \ 
not have wrought the same effects, and his better qualities ' 
would have had fairer play. The conditions in which he '| 
was placed were unfavourable, not only to turbulent natures | 
like his, but to every artist with a high conception of hia 
art Things are so much altered for the better in thiaj' 
particular, however unsatisfactory they still may be, that-i 
it is difBcult for us to appreciate the obstaclea and 
stumbling-blocks which an artist, bent on employing his 
skill in public edifices, and for national or municipal pur- 
poses, must have found in his way forty years ago. It is.' 
very much to Haydon's pertinacity that we owe such im- 
provement as there is, in this respect, iiow-a-days. At. 
that time the dominant form of art was, undoubtedly, por-i 
traiture. West and Fuseli, Northcote and Opie, did, it' 
is true, paint historical pictures ; but the first owed his 
position mainly to a royal employer ; Fuseli lived more by 
the printsellers and publishers tlian by his patrons, and' 
Northcote and Opie combined portrait-painting witJi his- 
tory, and were supported mainly by that. 

The class of pictures which now employs the largest- 
number of artists, and is most sought after and best paidy 
combining some of the qualities of historical painting with 
still-hfe, — what is called 17 en re-pain ting — may almost be-. 
said to have been founded by Wilkie, and to have grown, 
up since Haydon first exhibited. This style affords a loop- ■ 
hole through which to escape from the sole dominion of 
the port rait- painter, in a time when the public functions 
of art are still little appreciated. In works of this kind 
may be exhibited the highest qualities of invention and 
expression, though tbey give no scope for that largeness o£ 
treatment, that force and sweep of hand, for which great 
spaces and wide distances are essential. 

Failing this, there was very little resource forty years 
ago for the painter who did not feel inclined to paint 
portraits. Hilton lived in narrow circumstances, which 
would have been indigent but for some private fortune 



.B Keeper of the Royal Academy. The 
encouragement he found may give us a measure of what 
was to bo hoped for by even the moat gentle and inof- 
fensive being who took to the higher range of art. Etty 
amassed a foitiuie after he abandoned sucli lai^e canvases 
as his Judith and Holofernea aeries, and his other pictures 
of that size and time, for attractive nudities and rich scraps 
of colour, of cabinet size. If ever art was lowered by the 
conditions of a time, surely Etty'a was. Haydon would 
not pine in neglect and silence like Hilton, nor condescend, 
to small and sensual nudities or luscious bits of mere 
colour-painting like Etty. 

He would paint large pictures with a high aim. The 
patrons did not want such pictures, the Academy did not 
favour them, the public could not buy them. They flocked 
to see them exhibited, but that was all. 

The private patronage of that day was petty and mean, 
though there was no lack of rich and very kind friends of 
artists. Never did a painter receive more help than Hayd-iii 
in all ways but the right one. Whether he was (jualifieo. 
to have done justice to any public employment that might 
have offered itself, especially in the latter half of his artistic 
life, may be doubtful; but between 1812 and 1823 I be- 
lieve he was capable of producing works which, displayed 
lender proper conditions, would have been nobly decora- 
tive or commemorative. But this chance he never had, 
for no single statesman or influential patron of his times 
seems to have admitted his doctrine that art has a public 
function ; and that if it is ever to be great in our day, it 
roust be by being employed nationally and politically — 
the collective nation, through its public bodies, replacing 
the princes and popes of the great eras of Italian renown. 
, What private patronage can do to found a style and 
schools of art has been best shown in Holland and 

I Flanders. It is not to it that we can ever owe a Campo 

I ^anto, a Ducal Palace, a Sistine Chapel, or the Stanze of 

I tlie Vatican. 

I Without at all shutting my eyes to Haydon's deficiencies 



in both the conceptual and tecliiiical parts of Lis art? 
cannot but sympathise in his prayers for a great national 
Council Hall, or a dome of St, l-'aul's, wherein to show 
the grasp of his mind and the mastery of his hand. 

The New Houses of Parliament are as yet {after the 
great room at the Society of Arts) the only arena that 
England has opened for any of her painters who i 
indulge in aspirations like Haydon's. 


No part of my work, in connection with Haydon, has 
cost me more pains, with less profit, than this of settling 
and putting into words my judgment of him as a painter. 

Yet I am, in many respects, favourably placed for 
forming a fair estimate, as being free from partisanship 
and a stranger to the heats which gathered about Haydon 
and his works in his lifetime and among his contemporaries. 
The difficulty I have felt arises from the works themselves, 
considered without reference to the feuds and struggles of 
their autlior. 

I have taken advantage of all opportunities within my 
reach for acquiring a knowledge of Haydon's pictures. 
The Dentatus I only know from Harvey's masterly wood- 
cut. The Macbeth, and Christ's Entry into Jerusalem, 
I have not seen. But I Jiave been able to examine, at 
leisure, the Solomon, Lazarus, Xenophon, May-day or 
Punch, the Mock Election, the Englishman's Breakfast, 
Christ's Agony in the Garden, the Poictiers, and the 
Curtius, some portraits, the Spanish Nun, and a small 
head of the Gipsey Model. The Waiting for the Times, 
the Statesman Musing, the Napoleon at St. Helena, and 
the Duke at Waterloo, I am acquainted with only from 
engravings. I find in all these pictures, in varying degrees, 
the same beauties and the same defects. In the earliest 
the defects are least visible and the beauties greatest. , 



n whole. 


The Judgment of Solomon" seems to 
beyond dispute the finest work Hajdon ever executed, 
though there is nothing in it equal, in power of conceptioa 
and execution, to the head of Lazarus. 

I was fortunate enough, in some of my examinations of 
Haydon's pictures, to be accompanied by a friend,f who 
combines the artist's knowledge of technical means and 
eye for imitative detail, with that large appreciation of 
aims and intentions in which the criticism of artists ia 
often deficient. His judgment, moreover, is that of one 
sympathising in many respects with Haydon, and cheerfully 
recognising his services as an earnest and eloquent advocate 
of the claims of high art on the Government and the 
public. I claim, therefore, all respect for the opinions 
of one whom I know to be conscientious, as I believe 
him to be competent, and to whom I wish here to ex- 
press my thanks for the use lie has allowed me to make 
of his communication, which expresses, in the main, what I 
myself feel on the subject. " I am afraid," Mr. Watts 
writes, "you will think I have forgotten the promise I 
made to give you my opinion on the characteristics of 
Haydon's art. But the fact is, I find it very difficult to 
arrive at a definite conclusion. Sympathising sincerely 
with liim in his views upon art, to their utmost extent, 
naturally inclined to appreciate the qualities he aims at, 
and doing full justice to the power and amount of know- 
ledge displayed, I am surprised to find how little I am 
really affected at his works, and how difficult it is to 
retain any very distinct impression of them. This cor- 
roboration of public opinion in my own feelings I have 
been endeavouring to account for. When any qualities 
beyond common experience and knowledge, and above 
tlie most ordinary comprehension, are aimed at, the public 

• Now exhibiting at the British Institution (June, 1853). 

t Mr. G. F. WattB, the designer of the Cartoon of Coractacus, and 
the painter of Alfred Encouraging the Sasons to pursue the Danes, 
which respectively gained preiniuma of the first class in the West- 
miastcr Hall competitions of 1843 and 1847. 


estimate can only be valuable when it bas received t 
fiat of time; but when the first difficulty has been j 
over, and the public interested, it is lare that what i 
really good has failed to maintain its place. 

" I tliiok we shall find, upon examioation, that all s 
which has been really and permanently successful 'has he* 
the exponent of some great principle of mind or matter^ 
— the illustration of some great truth,— the translattona 
of some paragraph out of the book of nature. If Haydon 
read therein and strove to expound the lesson, he read 
too hastily to understand fully, and did not, like Demo- 
sthenes, take pains to perfect a defective utterance. His 
art is defective in principle and wanting in attractiveness, 
— not sufficiently beautiful to please, — not possessing those 
qualities of exact imitation which attract, amuse, give 
confidence, and even flatter, because they, in a manner, 
take the spectator into partnership, and make him feel as 
if they were almost suggestions of his own.-— 'This is 
what I have seen, and what I would do, if I had time to 
paint; anch' io son piltore.' 

" The characteristics of Haydon's art appear to me to be 
great determination and power, knowledge and effrontery. 
I cannot find that he strikes upon any chord that is the 
basis of a true harmony. The art of Phidias translated 
and expressed perfection of form in its full dignity and 
beauty ; that of Angelico, Perugino, Francia and RaiTaele, 
religion ; that of Michel Angelo the might of imagina- 
tion ; the greater of the Venetians were the exponents 
of the power of nature in its rich harmony of colour ;. 
Correggio is all sweetness ; Tintoretto is the Michel 
Angelo of colour and effect; Rubens is profuse and 
generous as autumn ; and, if he is sometimes slovenly, he 
is so jovial and high-spirited that one forgives everything. 

" All these, and many others, worked with earnestness 
and conscientiousness. Absolute truth, in combination 
with abstract qualities, or without them, will always suc- 
cessfully appeal to the spectator's intelligence. Haydon 
seems to me to have succeeded as often as he displays any 


real anxiety to do so ; but one is struck with the extra- 
ordinary discrepancy of different parts of his work, as 
though, bored by a fixed attention that had taken him 
out of himself, yet highly applauding the result, he had 
daubed and scrawled his brush about in a sort of intoxica- 
tion of self-glory, 

*' Indeed his pictures are himself, and fail as he failed. 
Whatever a man may suffer or lose in a cause, he will 
never arrive at the dignity of martyrdom unless he can" 
persuade people that he has embraced the cause with 
views and aspirations unconnected with his personal grati- 
fication and advancement. In Haydon's work there is 
not sufficient forge tfuln ess of self to disarm criticism of 
personality. His pictures are themselves autobiographical 
notes of the most interesting kind ; but their want of 
beauty repels, and their want of modesty exasperates. 
Perhaps their principal characteristic is want of delicacy 
of perception and refinement of execution. In these 
respects I have seen no work of his that is not more than 
incomplete. Pathos also is lacking. The good man, with 
his family, in the Mock Election, is in many respects an 
admirable bit of composition and painting ; yet it appears 
to me that he is too much identified with the crowd, and 
almost looks as if he were following the fop to take an 
oath at the same table. In Punch the apple-woman is too 
rosy and too clean to sleep from any reason but health and 
enjoyment. He could give an idea of foolish pleasure and 
coarse delight; but while there is bitter satire there is 
no touch of feeling. Hogarth would have given you 
some wretched child, made indifferent to the humour of 
Punch by sickness and hunger, made old by misery. 

" In the Retreat of the Ten Thousand he has missed 
making the principal incident the most affecting; iu 
Lazarus he has lost all by the general vulgarity of the 

" To particularise — I should say that his touch is gene- 
rally woolly, and his surface disagreeable; that the dabs 
of white on the lights and the dabs of red in the shadows 



are antroe and onpleasing; that his draperies aredefiddl^l 
in richness and dignity, and bia general eSect mucli less 
good than one would expect from the goodness of parts, 
which I tliink arises principallj &om the coarseness of the 
handling; that his expressions of anatomy and general 
perception of form are the best bj far that can be found 
in the English school ; and I feel eren a direction towards 
something that is only to be found in Phidias. But this 
is not troe invariably : his proportion is very often defec- 
tive, especially in the arms of his figures, and his bands 
and feci, though well understood, are often dandified and 

" I have pointed out all the things that strike me as 
errors, because I know that you fully appreciate the 
greater qualities as I do, and because many of these defects 
you will fairly ascribe to the unfavourable conditions o£ 
his life. His first great work, llie Solomon, appears to 
me to bej beyond all comparison, his best. It is far more 
equal than anything else I have seen, very powerful in 
execution, and fine in colour. I think he lias lowered the 
character of Solomon by making him a half joker, but the 
whole has, at least, the dignity of power. Too much 
praise cannot, I tliink, be bestowed on the head of 
Lazarus ; and in the absence of such important evidence 
as the Entry into Jerusalem would afford, it is hardly 
fair to pass judgment, 

" It is somewhat remarkable that the only man who 
can be said to have formed a school in England aStet the 
manner of the Italian artists, is perhaps the only artist of 
any eminence who has had no imitators." 

I believe that this criticism points out, honestly and 
accurately, the defects of Haydon's art, taking for granted, 
rather than expressing, its countervailing beauties. These 
appear to me, besides the general power in drawing and 
actionj to he a fine feeling for colour in draperies and 
backgrounds, vigorous and pregnant conception, both of 
single heads, figures and groups, great occasional truth of 
expression, such as I have noticed in the Punch, oilj^B 


such as is strikingly exhibited in particular parts of 
the Mock Election, (as in the head of the nurse behind 
the good man), and, in the earlier pictures at least, a large 
and noble arrangement of the composition. Besides these 
merits, there is a lower one even more distinctly shown, 
— that of great power of truthful imitation. The still life 
of Haydon's pictures is admirable, wherever he gave 
himself the trouble to elaborate it, — so excellent, indeed, 
as to make even more apparent his unaccountable care- 
lessness in parts of greater importance. This carelessness 
I attribute to the joint intoxication of an impetuous con- 
ception and an inordinate vanity. 

Throughout his pictures, as in his autobiographical 
painting of himself, I see the want of that delicacy which 
is equally required for the refined appreciation of the 
chastened and tender in form and expression, as of the 
self-denying, unobtrusive, and retiring in character. The 
absence of the former qualities I feel as painfully in 
Haydon's art, as the lack of the latter in his conduct. 
The want of calm is alike apparent in his pictures and in 
his life, and both, while they contain much to command 
admiration and sympathy, fail of that true dignity before 
which the mind bows, so to speak, involuntarily, and to 
which calm is essential. 

Haydon will be remembered less as a painter than as a 
theorist and lecturer about his calling. He was the first 
artist who got a hearing in his insisting to the Government 
and public of England that art is a matter of national 
concern. Before his time no one had urged this truth 
except the passionate and cynical Barry. 

I have said elsewhere that it is difficult to assign the 
exact effect due to the constant and energetic pressing of 
this doctrine by Haydon. The doctrine itself is now 
admitted in theory, and a beginning has even been made 
of realising it in practice. It is undeniable that Haydon 
preached it for forty years; that he lived to see it triumph, 
and to die, by his own hand, under the heart-break of 



disappointment, when the triumph of his cherii>hed prin- 
ciple brought no employment for him. 

By his assertion of the real value of the Elgin Marbles, 
in the teeth of dilettantism, Haydon has earned a title to 
the gratitude of artists and lovers of art which is less 
likely to be contested. No one had so thoroughly 
mastered the secret of these great fragments as Haydon, 
and no artist of his day was so well qualified to do so, or 
so gifted with the power of making their beauties passable 
by description, 

In doing the world this service, he used many channels 
— his letters to the newspapers, — his pamphlets, — his con- 
versations, — the training and drawings of his pupils, — and 
above all, his lectures. In all these ways he poured upon 
the public ear a vast amount of sound theory touching 
painting and sculpture. And as a populariser of art his 
name stands without a rival among his brethren. 

This merit, which I fearlessly claim for Haydon, is no 
mean one. Let the admission of it close gently and com- 
passionately this record of a life, begun in high aspiration, 
urged through great varieties of fortune, reduced often to 
the deepest humiliation, and not always contained within 
the metes and bounds of right, embittered by perpetual 
conflict, cheered by the most buoyant self-confidence, 
misled in most points by a ludicrous vanity, and closed by 
a catastrophe, to which inveterate self-assertion and the 
love of effect concurred strangely with the distraction of 
pecuniary troubles and the sickening of hope deferred. 






Extracts from Sir Joshua Reynolds^ s Private Memorandum 
Book, copied hy Beechey, and by Haydon from him, \st 
April, 1840, unth Notes of Beechey^s and HaydorCs.^ 

Mr. Pelham. — Painted in lake and white, and black and 

Varnished with gum mastich dissolved in oil, with sal. satur* 
nin. and rock alum. Col. (colour) yellow, lake, and Naples and 
black, mixed with varnish. July 7, 1766. 

Miss Kitty Fishe7\ — ^Face cerata (I suppose varnished. — ^Bee- 
chey.) (Of course not : rubbed with wax first. — B. R. H.) Dra- 
pery painted con cera e poi v — (varnished). 

Lord Villiers. — Given to Dr. Barnard. Fainted with ver- 
nice, fatto di cera and Venice turpentine — mesticato con gli 
colori, macerato in olio ; carmine in lieu de lacca. 

1767. — Count Lippe. Senza olio in finishing. 

(Exhibited at the British Institution since : had stood welL 
— B. R. H.) 

My owHy Do. Mrs, Goddard, Do. • 

Miss Cholmondeley, — Con olio e vemice. Con Yeo's lake 
and magilp. 

(Note of Beeche/s — * Yeo's lake.' Mr. Yeo was one of the 
original members of the Hoyal Academy, and made colours for 
his amusement.) 

1767. — Lord Townsend. Prima con magylp, poi olio, poi 
mag. (magylp) senza olio ; lacca ; poi verniciato con vermilion. 

Doctor Armstrong. — Painted first in olio poi verniciato poi 
cera solo, poi cera e vemice. 

* These memoranda of Reynolds have been already published, 
some of them in Northcote's Life, and others by Sir C. L. Eastlake, 
in his Materials for a EUstory of Oil-painting. I thought it best, 
however, to reprint them here, for the sake of Beechey's and Hay- 
don's remarks, and also as this copy seems more literal and fuller than 
that given by Sir C. L. Eastlake. — ^Ed. 


Speaker. — The {ace colori in olio mesticato con macgylp 
poi verniciato; cielo* macgylp e poi per tutto Tcrniciato con 
colori in pulvere senza olio o magilp (• cielo — the background). 
(In fact, a dry scramble.— B. R. H.) 

(Some soot fell on a picture of Sir Joshua's drying by the 
fire. Sir Joslina took it up and said, ' A fine cool tint, and 
actually scumbled it beantifuUy into the flesh. From Jackson, 
who had it from Sir George Beaumont. — B. E. H.J 

Master Burke finito con ver (vu'nice) senza olio o cera ; 

Ducheu of Ancaiter. — Prima magylp — secunda olio — terza 

Lady Almeria Carpenter. — Mrs. Cholmondeley. Mag. eennt 

Mio propria — given to Mr. Burke. Con cera finito quasi, 
poi con raaat ver, finito interamente, poi cerata senza coloi-i, 

"Offe's* picture painted with ceraet cop. (copal?) solo; cin- 
abro. (Varnished with a little vermilion used as a atain over all. 
— Note by Beechey.) 

Glazing. — Senza olio; varnish of mastic aolo, Yeo'a yellow, 
verm, and blue. 

Sir Charles and Master Bunbttry, 1768, July 29 In veee 

dl nero si puo servirse di turehino e cinabro e lacca giallo 
(probatum est, Nov. 20tli, 1768) (t. e. It has stood.— B. R, H.) 
Second sitting too yellow. 

The glazing di cinabro e turchino. 

Senza cera. — (Note. Instead of black, he made use of Pr, 
blue and vermilion,— Beechey.) 

April 3rd, 1769. — Per gli colori cinabro, lacca, ultramarin 
e nero, senza giallo. 

Prima in olio, ultimo con vernice solo e giallo. 

May nth, 1769. On a grey ground. 

First sitting vermilion, lake, white, black. 

Second do., 3rd do., ultramarine — last senza olio, yellow 
oker', black, lake, verm, touched upon with white. (• Here 
ia evidence Sir Joshua used yellow in flesh, in opposition to 
Northcote'a assertion.— E. R. II. 1st April, 1840.) 

Mrs. Bouverie. — The face senza olio and the boy's liead; 
the rest painted con olio, and ofierwards glazed with vamitili 
and colour, except the green, which was glazed with oil and 

• See subsequent note of Beechej's, 1S32. ^^J 


tlien varnished. The vail and white linnen finished senza — 
(without oil ?) 

Jufy lOthy 1769. — Mt/ own picture painted ^rst with oil ; 
painted with lake, yellow oker, hlue and hlack, cop. e cera 

Doctor Johnson and Goldsmith, First olio, after with co- 
paiva with colour, but without white. The head of Goldsmith 
with cop. and with white. 

Mrs, Horton, — Con copaiva senza giallo : giallo quando era 
finito de pingere, con lacca, e giallo quasi solo, e poi glaze with 

June 22nd, 1770. — Sono stabilito in maniera di dipingere. 
Primo e secundo o con olio o copivi, gli colori solo nero, ultram. 
et biacca (Pbianca). Secondo medesimo. Ultimo con giallo 
okero e lacca e nero e ultramarine e senza biacca (Pbianca) ri- 
toccato con poca biacca (? bianca) e gli altri colori. My own 
given to Mrs, Burke — (fine proceeding. — B. R. H.) 

(This it seems was " his most approved method " — ^no yellow 
till the last colouring. — W. Beechey.) 

Olio — primo biacca (bianca) e nero. 

2nd. — Biacca (bianca) e lacca — ^terzo lacca e giallo e nero 
senza biacca (bianca) in copivi or copaiva. 

(These are all glazing colours. — Beechey.) 

Beechej/'s note, 1832. 

" Offe,^^ — Theophila Palmer, his niece, sister of the Mar- 
chioness of Thomond, who was (so *i) called by Sir Joshua and 
Dr. Johnson. She is now Mrs. Gwatkin. 

" Sono stabilito, &c &c." 

His vehicle was oil or balsam of copaiva. His colours were 
only black, ultramarine, and white, so that he finished his 
picture entirely in black and white, all but glazing — no red or 
yellow till the last, which was used in glazing, and that was 
mixed with Venice turp. and wax as a varnish. Take off that, 
and his pictures return to black and white. (Excellent. 
^B. R. H.) 

Mai/, 1770. — Ml/ own picture. Canvas imprimed ; cera finito 
con vemicio. 

June I2th, 1770. — Faese* senza rosso, con giallo nero e 
turchino e biacca. Cera. 

* (Note. — This is a landscape of his in possession of Sir 



GwrgePliillips, which appears to be paJnIed without red 
suppose from Richmond Ilill, a laiidscape withoat red, with 
yellow, black, blue, and while lead. — Beecbey.) (Turchiro is 
Prussian blue. I remember Sir George Phillips buying the 
landscape in ibe last great sale of Sir Joshua's works, &t 
Christie's, where he also bought the Piping Boy for 430 guineaa 
— I pulling his coat to go on, at which Lady Phillips was veiy 
angry, because she thought it too much. — B. R. II.) 

-Principialo con cer« 
1 it cracked. Do. Si. 

Tie Xicean Nymph with Baechui 
sola, finito con cera e copaiva, per ci 
John. (Of course— B. R. H.) 

" Q^e" fatto (fatta) interaraente con copaiva e cera. IiS 
testa sopra un fondo preparato con olio e biacca. 

Ladi/ Melbourne. — Do. sopra una • Tela di fondo. (Note. 
— Balsam of copaiva and wax upon an oil ground; it must 

crack, and peel 
R. H. 1840.) 

{*Tela di /on 
cloth ?— B.) (N. 

Hicky Verni : i 

-Beechey, 1832.) (Of course & 

—Prepared cloth to paint on, or a raw 
' A raw cloth.'— B. E. H.) 

irro, Venice turp. e eera ; BtabiUto 
di servirsi di Jews pitch. Lake, verm, carmine 
azurro e nero ( Vernice, Ven. turp. e cera.*) 

("Note. — 'Varnish, Venice turp. and wax,' a comical varnish. 
■ — Beechey.) 

Mff own, April2'7, 1772. — First acqua and gom ma dragon.* 
verm, (vermilion), lake, black, without yellow, varnished with 
egg after Venice turpentine. 

(Heavens — murder 1 murder! It must have cracked under 
the brush B. R. H.) 

(• Note. I rather think gu 
which mixes well with water, 
and powdered mastic dry hard. 

This wax was thus prepared : — pure white wax scraped into 
very thin slices, and covered with spirit of turpentine, cold. 
In twelve houm it becomes a paste. With this and sugar of 
lead he mixed Venice turpentine or copaiva, or any baleain. Hib 
egg varnish alofie would in a short time tear any picture to 
pieces painted with such materials as he made use of. — Beechey ,^ 
(Indisputably frue. — B. E. H.) 

29th April, me.— Mrs. Basset. 

n tragaeanth, for that is a gum 
md makes a mucilage. 'That 

APPENDIX !• 341 

Crossed out 
by Reynolds. 

Asphaltum and verm.-, 
solo, glazed and re- 
May Zrd. Naples cinnabar, red lead, 

Cologne earth and black. ^ 
Juney 1776. — ^Blue, light red, verm., white, perhaps black. 
Duke of Dorset — Finito con cera Qolamente, poi vernicata 
con cera e turp. Venetia. 
Hope (for New College, Oxon). — Cera solamente. 
October, 1788. — La meglia maniera con cera mesticato (a) 
con turp. de Venetia. {Justitia *) ma di panni, cera soL 
Strawberry GirL — Cera sol. 
Doctor Barnard. — Ist. Black and whiteu 

2nd. Verm, and white dry. 
3rd. Varnished and retouched. 
October^ 1772. — Miss Kirk. — Gum Dr. (gum tragacanth?) 
and whiting : poi cerata, poi ovata, poi verniciata e ritoccata. 

(Beechey says, " This manner is the most extraordinary.'* 
It is insanity. He had at his elbow a mocking fiend ! — gum 
ai^d whiting ! then waxed, then egged, then varnished, and then 
retouched I 

In November, 1844, Mrs. Gwatkin sent me up a leaf from 
Sir Joshua's book as a document to refute Sir Martin Shee's 
assertion that no such book existed, and on the leaf was this 
very part. — ^B. R. H.) 

August 1 5th, 1774. — White, blue, asphaltum, verm, senza 
nero. Miss -Foley, Sir R. Fletcher, Mr, Hare. 

August 2Qth. — White, asphaltum, verm., minio (red lead), 
principalmente giallo di Napoli, ni nero, ni turchino. Ragazzo 
con sorella. Glaze con asphaltum and lake. 

Sir M. Fletcher. — Biacca, nero, ultramarine, verm, sed 
principalmente minio f, senza giallo I'ultima volta; oiled out 
and painted all over. 

(f Red lead won't stand. It becomes green. — ^Beechey.) 

Dr. Hare. — ^Except glazed with varnish e giallo di Napoli, 
finito quasi con asphaltum, minio, verm. ; poi in poco di ultra- 
marine qua e la, senza giallo. 

Mr. Whiteford. — ^Asphal. verm., minio, principalmente, senza 

♦ One of his Chrbtian Virtues at New College, Oxon.— Ed. 

z 3 


Blackguard {}) Mercury and Cupid. — Black and verm., 
afterwards glased . 

Sir John Pringle. — Verm, minio, giallo di Napoli e nero. 

MrM. Joddrel. — Head oil, cerata, varnislit with ovo poi varn 
eon wolf, panni cera eenza olio, vernicialo coq oto poi con 

Prima. — Umbra e biacea, poco de olio. 

Secvndo. — Umbra, verm, e biacca, tliick, occasionally 
thinned with turpentine, 

Nero, cinnabro, minio, e ozzuro, tliick. My owtt Florence ' 
upon a raw clotli, cera solamente. 

(• Perhaps liia own head in Florence Gallery.— B. E. H.) 

The children of Mrs. Sheridan. — Poi cerata. 

Mrs. Sheridan. — The face in olio, poi cerata; panni ia olio, 
poi con cera genza olio, poi olio e cera. 

(0 Reynolds— Reynolds I The drapery first with oil, then 
wax without oil, then oil and wax. 

Beechey says the colours in this picture leave the canvas in 
masses, except the head, which is perfect.) 

Mrs. Montague. — Olio e cera, asphaltum, nero e cinnabro. 

Lady Dysarl. — Primo olio, poi cera solaraente pour il vise. 

My own picture marked F behinJ. 

Finished con vernicio de Berraing. (copal varnish from 
Birmingham) senza olio. 

Lord Altkorp. — Minio e nero sol. } poi giallo e verra. senza 
biacca, olio. 

Mrs. Montague. — Olio, poi cerata ; ritoccalo con biacca. 

Samuel. — Flesh glazed with gamb. (gamboge) and verm. 
Drap. gamb. and lake. Sky retouched with orpim. 

(All faders except verm.— B. R. H.) 

Appresso Perino del Vaga. — Saint Joseph dipintocon verm, e 
nero, velato (glazed) eon gambog. e lacca e asphaltum, poco de 
torchino nella barba ; panni turchino e lacca. 

My own picture sent to Plympton. — Cera poi vernlssata 
senzu olio. Colori, Cologne earth, verm., and white, and blue, 
on a common colourman's cloth, Jirst varnished over with copal 

My own, painted at the same time on a raw cloth, do, 

(Beechey has written, " Good heavens 1 " ) 

(Wilkie in 1809 saw this picture at Plympton. It was io 
perfect preservation. The corporation have since sold it. It 
was offered to the National Gallery, and ignorantly refused. 
Who has it now I know not.— B. R. H.) 

A^^ENDIX I. 343 

Miss Molesworth, — Drapery painted with oil colour first, 
after, cera alone. 

Miss Ridge. Do. 

Lady Grar^y. Do, 

Preesepe. — (Nativity or birth of Christ. — ^Beechey.) (Burnt 
at Belvoir Castle.) 

A raw cloth senza olio ; Venice turp. and cera. 

(Sir George Beaumont wrote me he saw it the summer 
before it was burnt, and it was perfect. — B. R. H.) 

Hop€y Augtbsty 1779. — My own copy. First oil, then Venice 
turp. e cera ; verm., white and black, poi varnisht with 
Venice e cera ; light red and black, varnisht. 

1781.— i>e«fo, oil. 

Manner. Colours to be used. — Indian red, light red, do. 
blue and black, finisht with varnish without oil, poi ritocc. con 

(Bought by Lord Farnhorough for George IV. at the great 
sale — 900 guineas — perfect preservation. — B. R. H.) 

(Finis of extracts from Reynolds, 
which I, B. R. Haydon, have copied faithfully, correctly, and 
without addition or alteration. 

So help me God, 

this day, April 1st, 1840.) 

Beechey^s Notes on Reynolds^ Practice, 

First and second time of painting in oil or copaiva; the 
colours only black and white and ultramarine; lastly, with 
yellow oker, lake, black, and blue without white lead, but re- 
touched with a little white. This it seems was his most ap- 
proved method. . , 

No yellow till the last colouring. 

drd. These were all glazing colours. 

" Offe " * painted entirely with balsam of copaiva and wax 
upon an oil ground. It must crack and peel off in time. 

Lady M on the same kind of ground, and I imagine 

treated in the same kind of way. 

* The portrait of his niece Theophila. 
. . z 4 


On Hkhey'a Varninh. 

I am settled in my manner of using asphaUnm. Hia 
(Sickej'fl) \arnish, — Venice turpentine and wax, — a etnainl 
vamish. It must be remoyed the first time of cleaning, ind 
the glazing with it, Venice turp. only. It was, I suppov 
thinned with spirit of turp. 

I once painted a picture on wood primed with wax, wbioli 
cracked all over before it wus flnisLed, 

Tlie oil softens the ground in drying, so the ground becomes 
softer every day, whilst the surface gcla harder. It must CHK^ 

Sir Joshua (Beechey adds) never studied chemistry madi. 

(Not much chemistry was wanted here.) 

I dissolved mastic in alcohol, then raised it with sugar of 
lead water, and sfrained it through a linen cloth, then mixed 
it in clear drying oil. It dried dead and liard, very like 
Eembrandt ; by adding more oil it became a butter without 

One drop of copaiva made it better. 

FrankincenBe and elame are the best gums for mixtures of 
every kind, and n-ill not deceive you like resin, who ie a de- 
ceitful fellow, and cannot be depended on. 

They both dry without a skin. 

Neither Eembrandt or Cuyp can be imitated with our com- 
mon materials. (This is prejudice. — B. R. H.) 

There ie no Venice turpentine in this country. They make 
a substitute with common white resin dissolved in spirit of 

I have now got some real Venice turpentine, and have made 
many mixtures with it. It is what Wilson always used, but 
how he made his vehicle he would never say. When it drie^ 
it docs not dry with a skin, but dries from the bottom, 

I shall mention some of the best. 

Dissolve sugar of lead in as much alcohol as will just c 
it, over a gentle fire, or place your bottle near the fire, and it 
will soon melt and become a perfect fluid. While it is hot 
pour some of it on a small quantity of the Venice turpentine^ 
and mix ihem well together with a knife, and then thin H 
with oil or spirit as you want it. 

The same solution of lead with mastic varnish, and thinned 
'•th ft single drop of balsam of copaiva and oW, is beautiful. 

It dne^ 

oil) jri 


To make a drying Oil. 

1 lb. of alum. Heat it in a shovel till white ; powder it, with 
1 lb. of sugar of lead well powdered. Add a gallon of oil, lin- 
seed. Stir them together three or four times a-daj for a week; 
pour for use into a jar, large mouth. Covered with cloth, and 
expose it to sun. 

(Better boil the materials together. B. B. H.) 

Most excellent. 

Very fat linseed oil thinned with great deal of turp., 

Mixt with paste, and sal. sat., 

Made thinner with raw linseed, llien add mastic varnish. 

It makes a more manageable vehicle then any I ever used. 

(This is excellent, and true. 

The first coat must be hard before another is put on, or it 
cracks ; the atmosphere hardening the last coat, and the under 
coat struggling for light and air splits the covering. — B.B.H.) 

Wilson told me his varnish was white of egg, which he 
lamented he had ever made use of; nothing could be worse 
for a fresh-painted picture. 

The background of Sir Joshua's pictures, the furniture and 
accompaniments, &c., were often painted by Northcote or 
Marchi in oil, and do not crack or peel off; but Sir Joshua's 
vehicle being composed of wax and varnish (generally copal 
from Birmingham) dried very hard, and whenever he had oc- 
casion to pass over their work, which he frequently did before 
it dried hard, it is always found to crack more than those parts 
which he painted himself, L e, which he painted entirely from 
beginning. But his canvas was generally primed in oil : 
however his colours might adhere to it at first, as soon as they 
became hard and dry they cracked and left the canvas. 

Serves Varnish, 

Put in an earthen pipkin glazed on inside sixteen ounces of 
rectified spirits of wine ; one ounce of picked gum mastich in 
its natural state ; four drachms (?) of gum sandarach, and half 
an ounce of gum elame. 

When these gums are dissolved and incorporated, add to 
them two ounces of genuine Yenice turpentine. 

Tbe gam ehme girea m consi^teoce to the Tunish, and pre- 
▼entB it fran duUing. 

(Beecbej «dd«, tlwt this is m literal receipt from Mr. Sems,bat 
I suppose it b made bj a slow lieat like other wine rarni^es, 
aad should be ottea ehook up. — B. R. H-) 

Qnerj whether aay spirit of wine Tami^ h a safe oae (or cH 
pictures, as it may dissolve the colours ia using. 

Sttcc sat dissolred ia alcohol 

Cera diss, in turpentine 

And Venice tarpentine dissolved in aicobol, mixed cold. 

Ditto, in drj-iog oil instead of turpentine. Both excellent. 

Yenice torpentine creeps in dryii^g — so do all resins with 
too much oil. 

Faste ihinned with drying oil, or linseed oil mixed vrith 
Ashburner's Tarnish and turps dries hard and dead, and woAa 

Paste is common brown turpentine soap sliced very thin in 
a jug or any other open vessel, covered with water, and placed 
either in a cool oven, or near a fire till it is perfectly dissolved, 
making a tender jelly when cold. March 30th, 1S30. 

Dissolve sugar of lead in warm water, very strong ; add tiis 
to the Hoap cold, Etir them well together, then add spirit of 
turpentine, and separate the paste by squeezing it together 
with a knife, and adding more turpentine. 

Dissolve saccharnm sat in alcohol over the fire, and let it 
cool, (quantity immaterial) pour it on linseed oil, about twic« 
the quantity of spirit, stirred well together. Then add mastic 
varnish, about equal quantities, half the quantity or Less with 
tbe mixture. 

An excellent vehicle, dries well, the best I ever had, to be 
kept under water. 

Used to pour oil on it while hot; it appeared to do well. 

Mastic, eacc. sat and spirit of nine dries hard. 

Excellent vehicles and dryer. 

Discovered by me by an accident. — W. B. March, 1832. 

Dissolve sugar of lead in spirits of wine, as much as will 
cover it. When dissolved mix it with linseed oil. Then add 
mastic v. If wanted more coHgulated, add mastic vorniah. 

Ohio turpentine dissolved in alcohol ; then add sacc. ground 
in oil and turpentine — no oil — mixed with oil it makes a 
tender, melting kind of vehicle and dries solid. June 24tb, 


Experiment on the back of an old canvas'rubbed out por- 
trait. Gum sandrac, ground with sacc. sat in spirits of wine, 
turpentine, and then mixed with a little oil. 

It mixes with mastic varnish or resin, ground with sugar of 
lead in oil. 

This resembles the Venetian more than anything I ever 
tried. It dries solid, and not sticky. 

The frankincense is the best of all resins. You may always 
depend on it. It is beautiful; first dissolved in alcohol, &c. 
It mixes with oil and turpentine like the pulp of a grape. 

(This is the climax. — B. R. H.) 

Lime newly burnt, slaked with warm water till it becomes as 
thick as dough. Then take the curds of milk of the same 
quantity as the dough of lime, and mix them together. This 
makes a vehicle in which you may mix oil. 

Green colour. Whiting put in a pipkin over a fire, and oil 
of blue vitriol poured on it till it is absorbed. Then grind it 
in oil." 

(Finis of Beechey's notes. — B. R. H.) 

Having thus gone through the experiments of Reynolds, and 
the notes of my dear, old, goodhearted friend Beechey, I con- 
clude with my astonishment at the childishness of many of 

Reynolds was always pursuing a surface — was willing to get 
at once what the old masters did with the simplest materialsi 
and left time and drying to enamel. That enamelled look, the 
result of thorough drying hard, and time, must not be at- 
tempted at once. It can only be done, as Reynolds did it, by 
artificial mixtures, which the old masters never thought of. 
And, therefore, the great part of Reynolds's works are split to 
pieces from their inconsistent unions. 

To wax a head, then egg a head, then paint in oil on these 
two contracting substances, then varnish it, then wax, oil, 
then paint again all and each still half dry beneath, could end 
only in ruin, however exquisite at the time. 

Whilst West's detestable surface has stood from the sim- 
plicity of his vehicle, half of Sir Joshua's heads are gone, 
though what remain are so exquisite, one is willing to sacrifice 
them for the works we see. 

Reynolds said once, ** Northcote, you don't clean my brushes 
well." " How can I?" said Northcote, " they are so sticky 
and gummy. 


348 APPEiTDlX I. 

This is confirmed by these receipta. They must have been so. 

A gentlemnn told Wilkic he eat to Sir Joshua. Sir Joshua 
dabbled in a quantity of stuff, laid the picture on its back, 
shoolc it about till it settled lilce a batter pudding, and then 
painted away. 

Addenda (Beeehey). 

8ir Joshua having made use of Yen. turp. and wax as a 
Tarnish accounts, in a great measure, for the pale and raw ap- 
pearance of his pictures after cleaning. 

Rubbed ever so lightly with spirits of turpentine the glazing 
colours Diuet iuevitabty be removed. 

Venetian turpentine and wax must in time also become 
opaque, and if it dries hard (which I doubt) it must crack and 
turn yellow, if not leave the canvas altogether. 

A moat extraordinary a practice for so sensible a man. 
Every one could have told him carmine would not stand in oil, 
or his varnish be permanent. 

Those pictures which he painted on unprimed wood, or un- 
primed cloth, remain fixed, because his first colouring is partly 
absorbed, but painted on a ground prepared in oil, the wax and 
varnish separate as soon as it becomes dry and hard, having 
nothing for these materials to adhere to, and the paste used in 
lining cannot penetrate through the oil priming, so as to come 
in contact with ttie painting in order to secure it. The picture 
cleaners take off what Sir Joshua thought the moat precious 
part of his colouring, i. e, what he finished with, which pro- 
duced what he called " a deep-toned brightness." The practice 
was good, but the means deplorable. 

Hoppner used wax and mastic varnish with his oil coloors, 
in a moderate degree, and his pictures stand well.* But Sir 
Joshua loaded bis pictures with that mixture without oil, and 
Beamed delighted to dabble in it without considering the con- 
sequences. It is, however, a most delicious vehicle to use, and 
gives the power of doing such things and producing fluoh effects 
as cannot be approached by anything else, wAiVe Ike pictures 
are fresh, but time seems to have envied bis fame, and to de- 
light in the destruction of his most beautiful works. 

Bembrandt followed the same mode of practice, but em* 

' Thej do not stand. To wit. Lord Hastings (Moira) and anothec 
k AtWmdaor.— B. E. H. 

APPENDIX !• 349 

ployed other materials — materials which were permanent* 
Rembrandt only painted his lights with a full body of colour, 
his shadows were always smooth and thin, but very soft. 

Sir Joshua loaded his shadows as much as his lights. There 
is a binding quality in white, which always dries hard like 
cement. Dark colours the reverse, and if thickly painted, crack 
with any vehicle except oil. 

Vandyke's vehicle was principally oil mixed with a little 
varnish. The head of Gevartius seems to have been painted 
with it only, and that is bright enough for anything. 

I think Rembrandt seduced Sir Joshua, for he seems to have 
used something of the consistence of butter, which is a most 
bewitching vehicle certainly. 

He also produced his extraordinary effects by glazing, which 
the picture restorer easily removes, and which, in many in- 
stances, has been removed, and the possessor thought his pic- 
ture the better for it. 

Sir Joshua, in his notes, has remarked, he saw one picture 
by Vandyke which had not suffered by cleaning, in Flanders. 

My Lord Cowper has a family picture which is perfect. The 
finest I ever saw. 



The following documents throw a light on the amount 
of Hajdon*s professional income at various periods. 

Extract from Balance- Sheet filed in Insolvency in the 

Year 1830. 

£ s. d. 
1810. Received premium voted by the British 

Gallery for the picture of Den tatus - 105 O 

1814. Sold Judgment of Solomon for - - 735 
Received premium for same from British 

GaUery - - - - 105 

Sold picture of Romeo and Juliet for - 52 10 
Received for sketch of the Entry into Je- 
rusalem - - - - 30 

1815. Received by anticipation of Mr. Phillips 

for picture of Christ's Agony in the 

Garden - - - - 300 

Received for picture of Macbeth - - 50 

1816. Do. do. do. - - 60 
From friends - - - - 350 
Premium with pupil, Mr. Robertson - 210 

1820. Receipts for Entry into Jerusalem, 1800 
Expenses ... 664 

1136 O 
Received premium with pupil, Mr. Pren- 
tice - - - - - 181 13 
Received from friends - - - 200 
Received for Entry into Jerusalem 956 8 6 
Expenses of same - - 521 6 8 

435 1 10 

Received premium with Mr. Major, a pupil - 210 

Ditto Mr. Jones - - 210 O 



£ s. d. 

1828. Receipts from Lazarus - 
Expenses of same 

- 651 10 6 
-210 2 

July to }■ Subscriptions for Eucles 

Eeceived from friends 

By cash received for Portrait 

Do. Silenus 

Do. Portraits 

1825. Do. Pharaoh 

1826 and"! 

to July f Do. Alexander 

1827. J 

to \ 
May. J 
1830. Exhibition of Mock Election 

A commission - . . - 

Three portraits - - - . 

Purchase of Mock Election by his Majesty 
Sketch - - - - - 

July 1 Remainder of subscription to Eucles 

1828 I Exhibition of Pharaoh - 

to July I Do. Chairing Members 

1829. J Sale of studies for Mock Election 

Do. Chairing 

July 1 Do. of sketches 

1829 I Two small pictures - - . 
to Jan. I Do. of sketch 

1830. J The Eucles Exhibition up to 29th May - 

Subscriptions to Punch received 
19th *! Received of Mr. Kearsey for a small 
Jan., I painting - . . . 

23rd j Received of Mr. Strutt for sketch 
Feb. J Parties unknown 

Feb., 'I For exhibition of Punch and Eucles at 
"Western Exchange - 
Subscription for the purchase of Punch 
Subscription of Mr, Clark 

Parties Unknown 
Mr. Bowden (loan) 
Mr. Carlon to take up 

bill - 
Mr. Wilkie (loan) 

— 441 8 6 

. 50 

- 50 

- 150 

- 614 

- 525 

- 525 



May. - 




338 17 

321 11 6 




8 14 
191 3 

61 7 


168 8 
















28 10 6 





£ 8. d 

Since my marriage I kave beenln the receipt of 
52L 10«. per annum, the interest of 1000/. settled 
upon her by the will of her first husband, Mr. Hy- 
man, of Plymouth. He became bankrupt, and his 
assignees paid the 1000/. to Mr. Boyer, a solicitor, 
then of Devonport, for the trustees of my wife, and 
the money is lost by their permitting him to re- 
tain it until his insolvency - - , 420 O ( 

£10,746 4 ( 

Causes of Insolvency. 

Heavy rent ; want of adequate employment ; law expenses 
and a large family. 

Extract from Balance- Sheet filed on Insolvency in 1836. 

£ s. d, 
183 1 . Received from profits of profession in this 

year - - - - 

the like „ 

the like „ 

the like „ 

the like „ 

the like, including subscrip- 
tions at various times to the picture of 
Xenophon - - - 

Insolvency attributed to heavy law costs, to the loss sustained 
by the exhibition of Earl Grey's picture, and to having been 
attacked by Eraser's Magazine. 

















. 927 








Account by Sir Joshua Reynolds of his Resignatio7i of the 
Presidency of the Royal Academy. 

(The following was among the extracts copied for Haydon 
from Sir Joshua's original memoranda, in the possession 
of Mrs. Gwatkin. There are other papers among Haydon's 
MSS. which have formed part of the same collection, but 
they are so fragmentary that I have been unable to give 
them a coherent form. The style of this statement rather 
gives colour to the notion that Sir Joshua had some literary 
aid in his discourses. — Ed.) 

The consequence which every man is to himself, and the 
imaginary interest he vainly supposes the public take in what 
concerns him or his private affairs, may reasonably be supposed 
to be the origin of the various apologies for the life and con- 
duct of very insignificant individuals. However I wish to 
avoid the ridicule that attends such appeals to the public, yet it 
has been suggested to me by my friends, that as the public 
appear to have already interested themselves from the daily 
account in the newspapers, and the statement of the dissensions 
in the Academy in those papers, and other publications not 
very advantageous to the President, it is proper that a fair 
account ought to be laid before the public, that the ridicule that 
might otherwise attend it was obviated by having presided in 
a public office, of however comparative inferior rank that office 
was — it is still such as the world has thought proper to in- 
terest themselves about its success or miscan*iage. That if 
you can show that the opposition you met with in the Academy 
was in the prosecution of your duty, and the insult which you 
lately received was unprovoked and unmerited, it is a duty you 



owe yourself and your character so to do, and at once clear 
yourself from the clandestine, as well as public iDsiauatioae 
that are now circulating in the world. To do this it is 
necessary to go back a few years, to get at the original canse 
of this dissension amongst the Academicians. 

Tears ago tlic Academy lost its Professor of Perspective, 
Mr. Wale. To fill this office no candidate voluntarily ap- 
pearing, tlie President personally applied to those Acade- 
micians whom he thought qualified, and particularly to Mr. 
P. Sandby and Mr. Richards, begging them to accept the 
place, and save the Academy from the disgraceful appear- 
ance of there not being a member in it capable of filling tbia 
office, or that they wore too indolent to undertake ita duty. 
My solicitations were in vain. A Council was then called to 
deliberate what was to be done. Sir William Chambers pro- 
posed that as from the orders in our institution the Professor 
must be an Academician, he recommended that wo should 
endeavour to find out some person, out of the Academy, pro- 
perly qualified, and elect him an Academician expressly for 
that purpose, and I remember his adding that it was the 
custom so to do in the French Academy. This method of pro- 
ceeding was adopted, but no person so qualified occurring to the 
Council, nothing more was done for the present. At a 8U0- 
cecding Council I proposed Mr. Bonomi. Mr. Edwards, an 
Associate, was likewise proposed. 

It was then hinted with great propriety by our late Secre- 
tary, Mr. Newton, that he apprehended we should think it 
necessary that the candidates should produce specimens of 
their abilities. We all acquiesced in this opinion. I acquiunted 
Mr. Bonomi what the Council required, and Mr. Edwards'a 
friend gave the same information to him. The President soon 
after received a letter from Mr. Edwards, in which he proposes 
himself as a candidate, but that if specimens are required, he is 
past being a boy and shall produce none. Mr. Bonomi sent 
his specimen to the Exhibition, which was a perspective draw- 
ing of his own invention of Lord Lanadowne's library. At 
the following general meeting for the election of an Associate, 
the President reminded the Academy that the Professorship of 
Perspective was still vacant, and that Mr. Bonomi was on the 
list of candidates to be an Assoi^iate, with a tiew pai'ticularly to 
fill that office ; that as they had seen his specimen at the Elxhl- 
bition, they were lo judge whether or not he was quallBed for 


the place he solicited, he carefully avoiding to utter a single 
word in his commendation. When the President sat down 
Mr. T. Sandby, the Professor of Architecture, without being 
called upon by the President or any one else, rose and said he 
did not know Mr. Bonomi^ having never seen him in his life, 
but judging from the drawing at the Exhibition, he thought him 
eminently qualified to be Professor of Perspective to the 

Notwithstanding this high authority in his favour Mr. Bon- 
omi was not elected an Academician. At a succeeding election 
of Associates Mr. Bonomi wished to decline being any longer a 
candidate. I pressed him to continue his name on the list, that 
I would speak more fully upon the business at the next election 
than I had hitherto done, and that if I failed I never would 
ask him again. Accordingly, at the next election following, 
the President, after mentioning that Mr. Bonomi was again a 
candidate, complained of the little attention that had been 
hitherto paid to filling the chair of Professor of Perspective. 
That it was full as disagreeable to him to drop counsel in un- 
willing ears, as it was irksome to them to hear it. That 
nothing but a sense of duty could make him persevere as he 
had done for these five years past at every election, continually 
recommending them to fill this place, that it would continue to 
be his duty at every future election, and begged them to relieve 
him from this disagreable task, and for once to set aside their 
friends, or even candidates of the greatest merit in other 
respects, and give their vote to the general interest and honour 
of the Academy : in short, to make the Academy itself whole 
and complete before they thought of its ornaments. That 
it could not be questiotied that it was as much his duty as 
President and general superintendent to preserve and keep the 
Academy in repair, as it would be the duty of Sir William 
Chambers when a pillar of the Academy was decayed, to supply 
the deficiency with a new one. Sir William, he acknowledged, had 
one great advantage; by his^t the business was done at once, 
whereas the President had been five years ineffectually recom- 
mending the Academy to do what was certainly as much their 
duty to support, as it was the duty of the President to propose. 
He concluded this part of his discourse by exhorting them 
to save an infant Academy from the disgraceful appearance of 
expiring with the decrepitude of neglected old age. It is 
necessary here to mention that the President having been in- 

▲ ▲2 


356 APPEifDix rn. 

formed Ihat lliere was a party in the Academy who had re- 
Bolred tiiat llr. l-ldnarda, who was already an Associate, should 
be the Profeasor, whether he did or did not produce a speci- 
men, and tbol they were resolved to uDite in their votes in 
favour of any one of the candidates, to prevent Bonomi from 
standing upon the same gronnd with Mr. Edwards ; for this 
end tliey fixed their eyes on Mr. Gilpin, an artist of acknow- 
ledged merit and certainly deserving their sutTrages, but it 
may be suspected that it waa not to his merit at present but to 
a faction (in which he most certainly had no concern) be WM 
indebted to an equal number of votes with Mr. Bonomi. It 
became then a, very irksoate task for the President to be 
obliged to give the easting vote against him, whom he would 
be glad to have favoured upon any other occasion. 

The President therefore took this opportunity of expatiating 
on the propriety and even the necessity of the candidates, who- 
ever they were, producing specimens of their abilities, and 
when those were before them that they would give their vote 
in favour of the most able artist, uninfluenced by fricudship, 
country, or any other motive, but merit; that the honour of 
the Academy depended upon the reputation of its members for 
genius and abilities, and reprobated the idea, which had been 
adopted, as he had been informed, by many Academicinns, 
that great abilities or being able to produce splendid drawings 
were not necessary. Such sentiments, he said, might be excused 
if we were electing a person to teach perspective in one of 
those boarding-schools about London, which are dignified with 
the name of Academies, but to be able to do well enough was 
not the character of a Profeasor to a Royal Academy, which 
required its ornaraenta and decorations as well as what was 
merely necessary ; that the highly ornamented ceiiing of the 
room ill which we were then assembled sufficiently ahowa that 
Sir William Chambers thought, (and he thought justly,) that 
something more than merely what was necessary was required 
to a Royal Academy. 

Having now finished my relation of the causes that induced 
me to take this step, I cannot conclude without obviating a 
suspicion that I think will naturally arise in every reader's 
mind, that something is still concealed, and that an implicit con- 
fidence ought not to bo granted to him, who tells his own story. 

1 shall only state what I have heoi-d myself openly given or 
informed by loiters as reasons against Bonomi ; if there lire 


other causes, let the person whom the party have chosen for 
their leader and spokesman stand forth and convince the world 
that his insulting the President in his chair was reasonable 
and proper, and no more than what his conduct deserved, as 
appears from the great support that motion received. 

The whole appearance was new to me. Instead of the mem- 
bers as usual straggling about the room, they were already seated 
in perfect order and with the most profound silence. I went 
directly to the chair, and looking round for the candidates' 
drawings, I at last spied those of Mr, Bonomi thrust in the 
darkest corner at the farthest end of the room. I then desired 
the Secretary to place them on the side table, where they 
might be seen. He at first appeared not to hear me : I repeated 
my request ; he then rose, and in a sluggish manner walked to 
the other end of the room (passing the drawings), rung the bell, 
and then stood with his folded arms, in the middle of the room. 
Observing this extraordinary conduct of the Secretary, I took 
one of the drawings in my hand, and ■ took the other and 

placed them on the tables ; the Secretary, who has thought 
proper to join the party, which in reality may be called in 
regard to him rebellion, not deigning to touch them ; he only 
said he had rung the bell for the servant, which servant it is 
curious to remark (as it shows the rude spirit and gross man- 
ner of this Cabal) was to mount that long flight of steps in 
order to move two drawings from one side of the room to the 

The drawings were now placed where they could be seen, 
though no Academician but Mr. P. Sandby deigned to rise 
from the seat to look at them. 

The President having resumed his seat opened the business 
of their meeting — that it was to choose an Academician in the 
room of Mr. Meyers ; that he should not now take up their 
time by repeating what he had so often recommended, that 
they would put aside every candidate and turn their eyes on 
him who was qualified and willing to accept of the office of 
Professor of Perspective, which had been vacant so many 
years to the great disgrace of the Academy; that as Mr. 
Bonomi's rival, by not sending to the Academy a specimen of 
his abilities, appeared to have declined the contest, he hoped, 
— hoped he confessed rather than expected, — that the votes 
for the honour of the Academy would be unanimous on this 
occasion ; that they would consider the question^ before them 

OS aj, or no, is the author of those Jrawiogs wliicU are oo tlie 
tabic qualified or not qualilicd for the ofiiec he solicits. 

As soon as the President sat down, an Academiciaii who is 
and has been long considered as the spokesman of the party, de- 
manded who ordered those drawings to be sent to the Aca- 
demy, President answered, it was by his order. He asked a 
second time in a more peremptory tone. The President said, 
" I did." '* I move that they be sent over or turned out of the 
room. Does any one second this motion ? " Mr. Barry rose 
with great indignation. " No," aays lie, " nobody can be found 
so lost to shame as to dure to second so infamous a motion — 
drawings that would do honour to the greatest Academy that 
ever existed in the world!" Mr. Danka with great quietness 
seconded the motion. On the show of liatida a great majority 
appeared for their expulsion. The President then rose to 
explain to them the propriety of Mr, Bonomi's drawings being 
there to oppose with Mr. Edwards's, which were expected 
and ordered hy the Council) but he was interrupted from 
various quarters, that the business was over : they would hear 
no explanation ; that it was irregular, (Mr. Copley said, ) to talk 
upon business that was past and determined. The President 
acquiesced, and they proceeded in the election, when Mr. Fuseli, 
a very ingenious artist, but no candidate for the Profesaor'a 
chair, was elected an Academician by a majority of twen^- 
two against eight. 

The next morning the President resigned by letter to the 
Secretary both his Presidency and his seat as Academician. 

(Copied for me by Joshua Reynolds Gwatkin, by leave 
of Hts, Gwatkin, Sir Joshua's niece, aged eighty- 
nine, at Plymouth, October 8. 1845, from Sir 
Joshua's original manuscript. 

B, E. Hatix>n,)J 














Ai^onltnre and Sural 

BaTldonon ValuingrRentt^etc. • - 6 
Curd's Letters on Aifricultare - - • 8 
Cecil's Stud Farm - .... 8 
Loudon's Encyclopadia of Agrricalture - 17 
, , Self-Instruction for Farmers,etc. 17 
,, (Mrs.)Lad]r'sCountr7Companionl7 
Low's Elements of Agriculture . • 18 

ArtSt BCanafaotiiresy and 

Addison's KniflrhU Templars - • . - 
Bourne's Catechism of the Steam Engine 

,, On the Screw Propeller - 
Brande's Dictionary of Science, etc. - 
Cresy's Encyclo. of CItU Engineering . 
Eastlalce on Oil Painting ... 

Gwilt's RncyclopKdia of Architecture • 
Jameson's Sacred and Legendary Art - 
London's Rural Architecture ... 
Moselev's Engineering and Architecture 
Steam Engine (The), by the Artisan Club 
Tate on Strength of Materials ■ • - 
Ure's Dictionary of Arts, etc. 


Balnea's Life of Baines - - - 
Bun sen's Hippolytas . - - 
Foss's Judges of England 
Freeman's Life of KlrbT • - 

Haydon's Autobiography, by Taylor 
Holcroft's Memoirs . - - » 
HolUnd's (Lord) Memoirs 
Lardner's Cabinet Cvclopsdia 
Maunder's Biographical Treasury - 
Memoir of the Dulce of Wellington 

„ Lord Peterborough 

Russell's Memoirs of Moore • - 
Souther's Life of Wesley ... 

., LAfe and Correspondence 
Stephen's Ecclesiastical Biography 
Taylor's Loyola _ . . - 

„ Wesley . . . - 
Townsend's TweWe eminent Judges 
Waterton's Autobiography and Essays 

















Books of Oeneral VtUitj*. 

Acton's (Elixa) Cookery Book > - i 

Black's Treatise on Brewing • . . 6 

Cabinet Gazetteer (The) ... 7 

„ lawyer (The) - - - - 8 

Hints on Etiquette IS 

Hudson's Executor's Guide • • • 13 

„ On Making WIUs ... 13 


Lardner's Cabinet CyelopHdla - • 16 

Loudon's Self Instruction > > - 17 

,• (Mrs.) Amateur Gardener > 17 

Maunder'sTreasury of Knowledge ' - 20 

ScientificandUteraryTreasury 20 

Treasury of History - - 20 

Biographical Treasury . - 20 

Natural History - « - » 

Pocket and the Stud - - - - 13 

Pycroft's Course of English Reading • 34 



Recce's Medical Guide - 


Rich's Companion to the Latin Dictionary 34 
Riddle's Latin Dictionaries and Lexicon 34 
Rogers's VegeUble Cultirator - > 25 
Roget's English Thesaurus . > > 36 
Rowton's Debater ... - . 36 

Short Whist 
Stud (The) for Practical Purposes - 
Thomson'slnterestTables r 
Trareller's Library . - - - 
Webster's Domestic Economy 

Wilmot's Abridgment 

of Blackstone's 



Botany and Oardeninff. 

Conrersatlons on Botany ... 8 

Hooker's British Flora .... 13 
„ Guide to Kew Gardens . - 13 
Llndley's Introduction to Botany - * 17 
Loudon's HortusBritannicus • > .18 
,, EncycloptsdlaotTrees&Shrubg 17 
,, Gardening • 17 

„ Plants ' • 18 

Self-Instruction for Gardeners 17 
„ (Mrs.) Amateur Gardener > 17 
RiTers's Rose Amateur's Guide . .36 
Rogers's Vegettble CultiTator . .26 



Blair's Chronological Tables . 
Bunsen's Ancient Egypt 
Haydn's Book of Dii{UitieB 
Nlcolai's Chronology of History 



Commerce and Mereantile 



Franda's Bank of England • 

H English Railway 

„ Stock Esehanve 
Lorimer's I.rttrrii tu a Master Mariner 
M*Cnlloch's Dictionary of Commerce 
Steel's Shipmaster's Assistant 
Srmons* Merchant Seamen's Law > 
Toomson's Tables of Interest • 

Loodont Printed by M. Masom, Ivy Lane, Feternoeter Bow. 

Orltlalam< Blstorr, and 

TarHl'lEDAid riurinithiHIdllDAll* I 

OeoKrapbr »>' Atl&aei. 

•I'LHd u4 V^klK Be 
St ufi BHCUh GuMleer 

Ki^"uu«kM.m«^.*' ." . . H 


ftna Oeaeral Uteratnr*. 

Lv dsrr'i CiUhi Cnlaralb • r H 
Lu.iau..'. IM».)l..d,>.d»al>TCawUl« U 
ll.m.L.>'i CrlHcl ml Hlicoiti ■ T lCiiB r . B 
H>ck bl«1l 'I laii 1.) HUllUoHaWSa 11 


Katorol Hlatorjr in 

Kai«p^ITiitDnIMI>lArr DfCmdH Z- ■' 

: •.',aii.-~ 

Wi;S;"w"" '■*'''' 


Beligrlona and lK«r*l 



CLAsalFikD Ih'bEX. 

Knral BportM 

Rpl,™.rt .=^=^l^JJ^^ ^-^^^^ 

Wud'l Alirrbrh, bjr Land - - -J 

TeterlnBTT VeOlcilne. 

ToTKtea ">A TraTBla. 

Hsri'i Briltnr »' "' BIbl 

^Torka of ncttOB. 







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for CarvinKi and other Additions. Foolscap Sro. with Plates and WoodcuU, 7«« 6d. cloth. 

MENT. By C. Warren Adams, £sq. With Five Illustrations. Post 8to. price 5«.M. cloth. 


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and improred s with Foot LHhugraphie and Three Woodcut lUnsUations. bquare crown 
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