Life of Benjamin Robert Haydon, Historical Painter, from His Autobiography and Journals

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(

- - PROPERTY OF THS

unmpj
Mick'igm

..'7 ^ ^ ^

ABTES SCIENTIA VEKJTAt

k

LIFE

OF

/VT>

5ii,^JAMIN ROBERT HAYDON.

VOL. n.

London.:

SPOTTI8W0ODB8 and Shaw,
New-itreet- Square

LIFE

OF

BENJAMIN ROBERT gAYDON,

FEOM

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND JOURNALS.

EDITED AND COMPILED

BY TOM TAYLOR,

OF THB IKNEB TBMPLB, ESQ.

LATE FBLLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, GAMBBIDOB ;
AND LATE PROFESSOR OF THB ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE

IN UNIVBBSITT COLLEGE, LONDON.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. n.

LONDON:
LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, AND LONGMANS.

1863.

t

MEMOIRS

OF

BEI^JAMIIf ROBERT HAYDON,

FROM HIS JOUBNALS.

A

VOL. II.

MBMOIES

OF

BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON,

FROM HIS JOTJENALS.

At this point Haydon's autobiography breaks offi Hence-
forward his life must be traced by help of his journals.
These journals are curious volumes, twenty-six in num-
ber, bulky, parchment-bound, ledger-like folios. He
has recorded in them the incidents of his days, his de-
ductions from books he has read or pictures he has seen,
and such passing thoughts as seemed to have been worth
arresting and fixing in this way. By their help one may
follow the progress of all his pictures from the first con-
ception, — often the best, — through all the alterations in
composition, the trials of efiPects in light and shade, studies
of groups, single figures, and parts of figures. All these
drawings are dashed in with pen and ink, careless and
hasty, but almost always spirited, and instinct with cha-
racteristic action. Under sketches of the same subject, in
different arrangements, are often written the reasons why
one is better than another ; and so with draperies, hands,
and feet From these may be determined, with tolerable
precision, the time each picture was in hand from first to
last

I find the earliest sketches for Lazarus about June,
1820 ; but it was not till his return from Edinburgh that
he fairly began the work on canvas.

It may be worth remarking that after the first scarcely
intelligible sketch — little more than an arrangement of

B 2

i MEMOIES OF B. R. HATDOS. [l821.

lines — comes a composition almost exactly the same as
that finally adopted fur this picture, which now hangs on
the staircase landing of the Pantheon in Oxford Street.

Long before I knew anything of Haydon or his life, I
have often paused before the awful face of Lazarus in that
picture, wondering how such a worli came to be in such a
place, and how the same mind that conceived the Lazarus
could have fallen into the coarse exaggeration of some of
the other figures of the composition.

I am much mistaken if this picture does not bear an
impress of power which will hardly be found in the work
of any other English historical painter. In spite of ob-
vious blemishes, and the exaggeration of parts, I cannot
but think it worthy of a place of honour in any part of a
future National Gallery which may be appropriated to
the works of British artists.

Haydon had written to his friend William Allen of hia
returning to London and work from his Edinburgh visit.

" I felt as if for a fortnijjht I had been sailing with
a party of fine fellows up a placid and beautiful river, now
putting in and dancing on the shore, now singing, and
laughing and revelling, when suddenly the course of the
river had brought me again to the turbulent sea on which
my destiny was fixed to buSet. I declare to you I
plunged into it witli that sort of feeling a man has when
he takes a dive in a gale of wind, watching each wave as
it mounts, and then darting through it before it has time
to smother him."

At the beginning of 1821 * he saya, " I now see diffi-
culties are my lot in pecuniary matters, and my plan must
be to make up my mind to meet them, and fag as I can,
— to lose no single moment, but seize on time that is free
from disturbance and make the most of it. If I can float

• The journal for tliat year bears the motto, 'Epyn, 'Epyn, 'Epyn, and
this (from Tacitus de Mor, Ger.): "Reges ex nobilitate, duces ax-
virtute sumunt .... et duces exempto potius quam imperioj aipromti, si
coaspictii, Bi anle aciem agaid, admiratioDC prLesunt." The italics are
bis own.

1821.] LAZARUS : WILKIE : SCOTT. 5

and keep alive attention to my situation through another
picture, I will reach the shore. I am now clearly in sight
of it, and I will yet land to the sound of trumpets and
shouts of my friends."

Already by the 3d of January he was settling his Laza-
rus ; balancing his composition so as to make the Christ
the leading figure of the group, while Lazarus should
share attention by his expression. " The author of the
miracle first strikes the eye. He is alone, — as he ought
to be ; standing erect and visible from head to foot : while
the object of his power, on the point of appearing, is suf-
ficiently seen to account for the agitation, without inter-
fering with Christ, the first cause."

Wilkie wrote more eagerly than usual (January 2d)
** that he has a great deal to tell him;" and comes, his
look, his walk important, his form dilated; sits down
]breathing with that consciousness of victory a man has
after a successful argument. Drawing near the fire and
chuckling with inward triumph, out it comes at last. He
has made his maiden speech at the Academy, has carried
his motion, has been praised, and begins to feel his weight.
He tells Haydon his wonder at finding himself listened to ;
and is all eagerness for speech-making. " The next time
he dines with me I am perfectly convinced he will get up
and say, * Mr. President, I propose that the candle be
snufied.' " He is now ofi^," writes Haydon, "for the next
fortnight ; " and actually told me, when I asked how Lord
Wellington's picture (the Chelsea Pensioners) was going
on, that it was too cold to paint! What a character!
Never was such simpUcity, such genius, such prudence,
such steadiness, and such inconsistency united."

Among his correspondents of this date was Sir Walter
Scott, who gave him (December 27, 1820) an outline of
a course of Scottish history, and (January 7) sent him the
story of " the Laird's Jock," as a good subject for a sketch,
in the mode of Salvator, though perhaps better adapted
for sculpture.

Sir George Beaumont (Feb. 14) renewed his judicious

B 3

6 MEMOIES OF B. E. HATDON. [iSBl.

advice to paint down your enemies (if you have any)
rather than attempt to write them down, which will only
multiply ihem. " There is no man so insignificant as not
to stand his chance of having it in his power to do you a
serious injurj' at some time or other," — advice which
Haydon felt the full valne of, but always forgot on the first
provocation.

{March ]0(A.) Haydon spent an evening with Mrs.
Siddons, to hear her read Macbeth. " She acts Macbeth,
herself," he writes, "belter than either Kemble or Kean.
Jt is extraordinary the awe this wonderful woman inspires.
After her first reading the men retired to tea. While we
were all eating toast, and tingling cups and saucers, she
began again. It was like the effect of a mass bell at
Madrid. All noise ceased; we slunk to our seats like
boors, two or three of the most distinguished men of the
day, with the very toast in their mouths, afraid to bite.
It was curious to see Lawrence in this predicament, to
hear him bite by degrees, and then stop for fear of making
too much crackle, his eyes full of water from the con-
straint ; and at the same time to hear Mrs. Siddons' ' eye
of newt and toe of frog!' and then to see Lawrence give
a sly bite, and then look awed, and pretend to be hstening.
I went away highly gratified, and as I stood on the landing-
place to get coo], I overheard my own servant in the hall
say 'Wliat! is that the old lady making such a noise?'
' Yes.' ' Why she makes as much noise as ever ! '
'Yes,' was the answer; 'she tuues her pipes as well as
ever she did.'

On the 15th of February, 1821, John Scott, Haydon'a
old and warm friend, editor of the Champion and of the
Loudon Magazine, was killed iu a duel.* There had been

• The duel took pliice in conseiiuence of the pjUowing circum stances.
Mr. Lockhart, the reputed author of " Peter's Letters to hia Kinsfolk,"
having been violently and personallj attacked in the London Magazine,
caine to London for the purpose of obtaining from Mr. Scott an
explanation, an apology, or a meeting. Mr. Scott declined unless Mr.
Lockhart woald first deny that he nas tlie editor of Blackwood's

18210 JOHN SCOTT'S DEATH AKD FUNEBAL. 7

a coolness between him and Haydon for some time before
the sad event. But this catastrophe broke down the pride
which had kept Haydon aloof from his friend, and he thus
(March 9th) records the impression made upon him by
the funeral.

^^ Poor John Scott ! and thou at last ^ home hast gone,
and ta'en thy wages.'

" For a fortnight before his burial, I exhibited a fine
instance of wounded pride struggling to keep down the
urgings of former affection. I held out to the hour
before his funeral, and then a sudden blaze of light
on my brain, showed me his body, stretched out
dead ! My old affections burst in like a torrent, and bore
down all petty feelings of irritation. I hurried on my
clothes and drove down to his door. As the room began
to fill, I felt my heart heave up and down ; my feelings
were too strong to be restrained. I hung back and suffered
every one to go before me ; my very nature was altered !
I, who was always panting for distinction, even at a funeral,
(for I felt angry at Opie's that I wasn't in the first coach,)
now slunk away from observation with my lips quivering,
my eyes filling, and my mind struggling to subdue its

Magazine. This Mr. Lockhart did not consider it necessary to do, and
the correspondence ended with a note from Mr. Lockhart containing
very strong and unqualified expressions touching Mr. Scott*s personal
character and courage. Scott published his account of the afiair, and
Mr. Lockhart published his, in which he stated that a copy had been
sent to Mr. Scott. The copy circuhited by Mr. Lockhart contained a
denial of his being the editor of Blackwood^s Magazine. The copy
sent to Scott did not contain this denial. Scott on this charged Mr.
Lockhart with falsehood. The discrepancy between the copies arose
from an oversight in printing the statement. But Scott's charge pro-
duced a reply from Mr. Christie, who had acted as Mr. Lockhart*s
friend in the afiair, and Mr. Christie*s reply led to a challenge from
Scott, which was accepted. The parties met at Chalk Farm at nine o*
dock at night, an unusual hour chosen on Mr. Scott*s suggestion.
Two shots were exchanged : Mr. Christie fired wide the first time, in-
tentionally, but on the second fire his ball entered Mr. Scott's side,
and the wound was fatal ; Mr. Scott dying on the 27th. (Abridged
from the Annual Begister for 1821. — Ed.)

B 4

8 MEMOIRS or B. E, HATDON. 1B21.

emotions into a stern feeling of painful sorrow ; nature
would not be commanded ; when I got into tlie coach, 1
iid mj face in my cloak and cried like a child. By the
time we reached the church, I was relieved : happily I was
so, for the world would have regarded any exhibition then
(however genuine) as affectation. As I squeezed by the
coffin that contained the body of my former friend, with
the long pall and black plumes waving and trembling as
the wind moaned up the aisle, I shivered. All our con-
versations on death and Christianity and another world
crowded into my mind.

"As the coffin was carried to the vault, the plumes were
taken off, and as they nodded against the light window,
I thought tliem endowed with human features — fates that
bowed as we walked in submission to their power!

" I descended the steps into a dark chamber and saw at a
distance doors open and piles of black coffins, each with
a trembling light fixed to its side. The mourners crowded
forward: I felt too much to move; I heard the dry scraping
of the cords, and then a dead jerk as the body sunk into its
place. Immediately a voice rose breathing forth the beau-
tiful words of our funeral service. Poor Scott! I took a
last look at the coffin and walked away.

"Daylight was painful; the stir in the streets seemed
disgusting. I went into an obscure alley and so home.

" Poor Scott, peace go with him ! It is a consolation to
think that in those very fields where he was shot, he told
me, last summer (after his boy's death), that he felt life as
a bridge over which he was walking to eternity."

The same month brought news of a heavier loss, (March
29). "Keats too is gone ! He died at Rome, the 23rd
February, aged twenty-five, A genius more purely poetical
never existed!

" In fireside conversation he was weak and inconsistent,
hut he was in his glory in the fields. The humming of a
bee, the sight of a flower, the glitter of the sun, seemed to
make his nature tremble ; then his eyes flashed, his cheek
glowed, his mouth quivered. He was the most unselfish

J

1821.] DEATH OP KEATS. 9

of human creatures: unadapted to this worlds he cared not
for himself^ and put himself to any inconvenience for the
sake of his friends. He was haughty and had a fierce ha-
tred of rank ; but he had a kind gentle heart, and would
have shared his fortune with any man who wanted it. His
classical knowledge was inconsiderable, but he could feel
the beauties of the classical writers. He had an exquisite
sense of humour, and too refined a notion of female purity
to bear the little sweet arts of love with patience. He had
no decision of character, and having no object upon which
to direct his great powers, was at the mercy of every petty
theory—'s'Lgen'uity iht start

" One day he was full of an epic poem ; the next day
epic poems were splendid impositions on the world.
Never for two days did he know his own intentions.

" He began life full of hopes, fiery, impetuous and un-
governable, expecting the world to fall at once beneath
his powers. Poor fellow ! his genius had no sooner begun
to bud) than hatred and malice spat their poison on its
leaves, and sensitive and young it shrivelled beneath their
effusions. Unable to bear the sneers of ignorance or the
attacks of envy, not having strength of mind enough to
buckle himself together like a porcupine, and present no-
thing but his prickles to his enemies, he began to despond,
flew to dissipation as a relief, which after a temporary
elevation of spirits plunged him into deeper despondency
than ever. For six weeks he was scarcely sober, and to
show what a man does to gratify his appetites, when once
they get the better of him, he once covered his tongue and
throat as far as he could reach with Cayenne pepper, in
order to appreciate the ' delicious coldness of claret in all
its glory,'— his own expression.

" The death of his brother wounded him deeply, and it
appeared to me that he began to droop from that hour.
I was much attached to Keats, and he had a fellow-feeling
for me. I was angry because he would not bend his great
powers to some definite object, and always told him so.
Latterly he grew irritated because I would shake my head

10 MEMOIRS OP B. E. HATDON. [l8Sl.

at )iis irregularities, and tell him that he would destroy
himself.

" The last time I ever saw him was at Hampstead, lying
in a white bed with a book, hectic, and on his hack,
irritable at his weakness, and wounded at the way he had
been used. He seemed to be going out of hfe with a
contempt for this world and no hopes of the other. I
told him to be calm, but he muttered that if he did not
soon get better he would destroy himself. I tried to
reason against such violence, but it was no use ; he grew
angry, and I went away deeply affected.

" Poor dear Keats ! Had nature but given you firmness as
well as fineness of nerve, you would have been glorious in
your maturity as great in your promise. May your kind
and gentle spirit be now mingling with those of Shake-
speare and Milton, before whose minds you have so often
bowed. May you be considered worthy of admission to
share their musings in heaven as you were fit to com-
prehend their imaginations on earth !

" Dear Keats, hail and adieu for some six or seven years,
and I shall meet you.

" I have enjoyed Shakespeare more with Keats," he
adds, " than with any other human creature."

"Marchlth. — Sir Walter Scott, Lamb, Wilkie, and
Proctor have been with me all the morning, and a most
dehghtful morning have wc had, Scott operated on us
like champagne and whisky mixed. In the course of
conversation he alluded to Waverley; there was a dead
silence. Wilkie, who was talking to him, stopped, and
looked so agitated, you would have thought that he was
the autlior. I was bursting to have a good round at
him, but as this was his first visit I did not venture. It
is singular how success and the want of it operate on two
extraordinary men, Walter Scott and Wordsworth. Scott
enters a room and sits at table with the coolness and self-
possession of conscious fame ; Wordsworth with a mortified
elevation of head, as if fearful he was not estimated as he
deserved.

1821.] COMPABISON OP SCOTT AND WOEDSWOETH. 11

" Scott is always cool and very amusing. Wordsworth
often egotistical and overwhelming. Scott can ajSbrd to
talk of trifles, because he knows the world will think him
a great man who condescends to trifle ; Wordsworth must
always be eloquent and profound, because he knows that
he is considered childish and puerile. Scott seems to wish
to appear less than he really is, while Wordsworth struggles
to be thought, at the moment, greater than he is suspected
to be.

** This is natural. Scott's disposition is the effect of
success operating on a genial temperament, while Words-
worth's evidently arises from the effect of unjust ridicule
wounding an intense self-esteem.

** I think that Scott's success would have made Words-
worth insufferable ; while Wordsworth's failures would
not have rendered Scott a whit less delightful.

*' Scott is the companion of nature in all her feelings and
freaks ; while Wordsworth follows her like an apostle,
sharing her solemn moods and impressions."

Jpril 20th, — I find a letter from Miss Joanna Baillie,
who, having been unable to attend the private view of
Jerusalem, which she had now seen, writes to congratulate
him " on having produced a most splendid and interesting
work, so honourable for the artist and for the nation."
Here, too, in his journal he has inserted some compli-
mentary and playful Latin verses on that picture sent to
the Examiner under a signature in which the reader will
recognise the name of Charles Lamb. I do not remember
to have seen any other Latin poetry from that pleasant
hand, and certainly this specimen is more monkish than
classical.

•

In tahulam egregii pictoris B. Haydoniy in qud Judcei ante
pedes Christi palmas prostementes mird arte depin^
guntur.

Quid vult Iste Equitans P et qiiid velit ista virorum
Falmifera ingens turba, et vox tremebunda Hosannd ?
Hosann& Christo semper semperque canamus.

MESIOIEB OF B. R. HATDON.

PaJma fuit Senior Pictor celeberrimus olim ;
Atpalinnm cedat, modil ei foret ille euperstes,
Falina, Haydone, tibi i tu palmas omnibus aufere.
" Falmu negata macrum, donataque reddit opimum."
Si simul iDciptat cum famd incrcscere corpus,
Tu citb piuguesccs, fiea et, amicule, obcEua.
Affectant lauros pictorea atque poetie —
Sin laurum invideant (aed quis tibi?) laimgerenteB
Fro lauro palmi viridanti terapora oinge.

About tliia time, too, Le made tlie acquaintance of
Selzoni.

-^pril 21st. — " Belzoni is a glorious instance of what
singleness of aim and energy of intention will accomplish.
He was a man with no single pretension to calculate c
attaching his name to Egypt, but by his indomitable
energy he has attached Egypt to his name for ever : I saw
him to-day and was struck by his appearance, good sense
and unconquerable spirit. He has that union of enthu-
siasm of conception with patient investigation before he
acts, which is so seldom met, and thus what looks like
madness to others is to him clear and practicable. He
seems a man of gi'eat simplicity ; telis all his pai
pleasures, and mortifications, ait his hopes, fears, and anti-
cipations, with the openness of a child. This gives a
value to everything he says or describes. \Vlien a man
tells what the pride of most men would keep from the
world, it may naturally be concluded that he has told the
truth. The people of Europe wilt, periiaps, never com-
pletely enter into Belzoni's raptures at finding the first
tomb. He only can properly estimate his feelings who
has wardered among a savage people, in a bare, sandy
country, amidst shattered tenipies, prostrate figures,
broken columns, and solitary pyramids. He only can
share his delight at plunging into a tomb, twenty feet
below the surface of an arid soil, and discovering it to be
rich in colour, abounding in ornamental pictures, fresh as
when first painted, aud unseen by human eye for pertiaps
three thousand years!

1821.] BELZONI. 13

** The whole thing is like a fairy tale, and you read on
with breathless attention. He took down two priests,
expecting rapturous applause at his success, and his dis-
appointment, when they coolly took snuff without a single
observation, is a true touch of nature. Then came the
Kislar Aga, and the only idea this extraordinary tomb
suggested to him was, that it would make a good place
for a harem, because the women would have something to
look at. In a short time, such is your conviction of
^ Belzoni's truth, you resign yourself completely into his
hands, relish his difficulties, share his successes, hope in
his beginnings, fear in his progress, and clap your hands
when he has succeeded."

There is a characteristic reference to himself in the
following : —

*^ In every sense Belzoni is a grand fellow. He suffered
in his progress, as all suffer who dash at once upon great
undertakings which thousands have feared to touch.
The attempt alone is an insult to the understanding of all
those who have never attempted, and would never attempt
such a bold attack. When a great undertaking is ac-
complished, it is * opportunity ' and Muck.' When it
was undertaken it was * insanity.' They first endeavour
to hinder a man from all attempts beyond the ordinary
course, by asserting the impossibility of success, and when
he proves them in error, they charitably attribute his
success to * happy chance,' to anything in short but a com-
bined action of his own understanding and will.

" How strange it is, that the very people who make a
man celebrated by talking of his name (which they cannot
avoid) revenge themselves by attaching everything to it
that can bring him down to their own level.

" Ajpril 27th. — I saw to-day some heads in chalk, from
Raffaele's School of Athens. What expression ! Eyes,
mouth, nose, all seemed quivering with feeling — each
feature sympathising with its brother feature. O
Raffaele, Raffaele, what futile stuff is my art after thine !

14 MEMOIRS OP B. R. HATDON. [1821.

"But it shall not be in my Lazarus. I see deeper than I
ever did, and have grander notions of my art. O God !
grant me life, liealtli, and memory, to realise iny views.

"28(/*. — As I stood last night in the midst of a con-
versazione of celebrated nieu, I thought of Johnson's
saying 'That there was not one of them but would feel
pain at bis own reflections before midnight.' I first
encountered Soane, smiling and talking to many others, a
man of good heart but with a caustic temper that has
rendered his life a burthen. Then I saw the Duke of
Sussex, with a star on his breast and an asthma inside it,
wheezing out his royal opinions ; and in this way I went
through the greater part of the company, and ended with
myself aching in heart and tortured in mind with pecuniary
difficulties. After a few hours, away we all went to our
respective pillows, delighted with our host's brilliant
conversazione, and he enraptured that we were gratified.

" And must there not be a world of justice, of peace, of
truth hereafter, where souls may show themselves what
they are, without bodies to disguise their real essence?
There must be ? Ah 1 Scott, you know it by this time,
and poor dear Keats too. I strolled the Kilbum meadows
last evening. The influence of my two friends seemed
breathing about me. The endeavour of this present
breath must soon be over. I never felt so strongly the
insignificance of life as I have lately : I see through its
pretences thoroughly. Perhaps my highest days are over.
I have enjoyed the greatest success, all the triumphant
feelings of conquest and glory, and what then? One's
heart sinks inwardly on its own resources and yearns for
something higher, some immaculate virtue unattainable
on earth, some radiant peace beyond the apprehension of
mau — angelic smiles and angelic sympathies— the calm-
ness of a brighter region, and the approbation of a God !

" All these feelings have been generated by that head of
Raffaele. First I felt its beauty, then mused on its expres-
sion, then thought of God who could give such features to

J

1821.] PECUNIARY DimCITLTIES : SUICIDE. 15

express thought^ and then of the being who had the genius
to represent those features with a brush and a little
colour, so as to excite such sensations. One thought
led to another till it ended as I have written."

His pecuniary difficulties were now again pressing on
him. He writes : —

" May 2nd. — There is always a species of disgust in
encountering pecuniary difficulties after having once felt
the blessings of repose. It is a painful sacrifice of pride
to be obliged to call on tradesmen as one did when an un-
known student. As I awoke at two o'clock this morning,
something like inspiration came over me and said " Why
do you not act with your old energy of mind ? why do
you lie here without looking your difficulties in the face ?
why do you leave yourself to the power of your imagi-
nation ? Act ! act ! Plan after plan darted into my head
until I fell asleep, woke, got up, sallied forth for five
hours, satisfied everybody, came home and found a pupil
with 70Z. I ate my dinner with a calm mind.

''I am inclined to imagine that much of the pain and
anxiety of mind I have suffered for the last few days arose
from nothing more or less than indigestion* My stomach
was heated and affected my brain. Suppose in that
humour I had shot myself? Would a superior Being
have destroyed my soul, because, my brain being [irritated
by an indigestion, I had in a state of perturbation put an
end to a painful exitence ? Surely not ! "

It is curious to observe how frequently Haydon recurs
to the thought of suicide in this questioning fashion. <' I
am sorry to say," he writes soon after this, " that I am
not so convinced of the wickedness of suicide as I am of
its folly." All through the journal of this period he seems
harassed and disturbed, mainly I believe from the longing
he had to marry, and his sense of the imprudence of doing
so, in the present condition of his affairs.

*^May 3rd. — Read the whole day and considered deeply
on the head of Christ and on the expression for Lazarus.

16 MEMOIRS OF B. B, HATDON. [1821.

"There are two things which press upon one's mind
dreadfully, viz. the passing of time and the growing of
children !

" If children would hut remain smiling cherubs for ten
I years what delights they would be ! As to ' timcj'
I nothing is such a stimulus or such an eternal haunter of
I my conscience. I have got into such a liahit of thinking
I of thisj that resting a moment makes me start up as if I
I heard time's eternal waterfall tumbling into the gulf below!
T I bustle myself into action and get rid of the roar.

"4(/*. — Went to the private view of the Academy; there is
J evident making out in the portraits now, and a struggle
to do things better, more correctly, than formerly. I think
I can perceive that the influence of Keynolda in his most
vicious habits is on the wane : hands begin to have bone ;
heads to hiive ears ; leg's, shape ; and coats, arms beneath
them. The whole lengths have been lowered a foot;
artists are beginning to show an evident desire that their
works may he lookedinto. This indeed shows an advanced
feeling. The most entertaining thing is the vast strain to
get something in the shape of historical pictures. Unable
to conceive anything new they have been compelled to
violate one of their own laws, and allow an old member to
hang a picture that has been painted for thirty years-
Feeble as it is, it yet shows their disposition. The poor
historical painters ! A historical painter in the Academy
is something hke the log Jupiter sent the frogs for a
king.

"5th. — Called on Jeffrey and found him preparing to have
his face cast. Breakfast was ready and friends began to
drop in. In spite of all efforts to conceal it, he was pleased
at having his face cast before others. Can it be possible
that critics should be hable to the weaknesses of human
nature? Sidney Smith came in, the most playful, impu-
dent, careless cassock I ever met. Mrs. Jeffrey and
another Scotch lady were with us, and Sidney Smith
began playfully to plague them by affecting to agree with
them, giving in to all their little prejudices, sympathizing

1821.] Jeffrey's face cast: belzoni. 17

with all their little grievances^ and bantering all their little
nonsenses in a way the most agreeable and amusing. I
saw that he was drawing them out for materials for a good
story for the evenings and capital materials he had.

." By this time JeflTrey's coat was off, his chin towelled,
his face greased, the plaster ready, and the ladies watching
everything with the most intense interest. Mrs. Jeffrey
began to look anxious ; the preparations for casting a face
are something like those for cutting off a man's head.
Not liking to seem too fond before others, she fidgetted in
her seat, and at last settled on the sofa with her smelling-
bottle barely visible, grasped tightly in her hand. The
plaster was now brought, a spoonful taken up, Jeffrey
ordered to keep his mouth close and his nerve firm, and
the visitors to be quiet. Sidney Smith was dying with
laughter, and kept trying to make Jeffrey laugh, but it
would not do. When his face was completely covered, up
jumped Sidney mock heroically, exclaiming, * There's im-
mortality! but God keep me from such a mode of obtaining
it.' Unfortunately Jeffrey's nostrils were nearly blocked
up, breathing became difficult, his nerve gave way and the
mould was obliged to be jerked off and broken. So much
for this attempt at immortality.

"Sidney Smith took up the cartoon of the Beautiful
Gate, and began reading the fine speech of St. Peter to
the beggar, * Silver and gold have I none.' * Ah ! that
was in the time of the paper currency,' said he !

*'8th. — Belzoni dined with me, and we had a pleasant
evening. Rank and situation are more adapted for the
world than the naked majesty of talent or character. A
man who depends on the esteem of the world, and has
nothing but his talents or his character to keep it up, can
do nothing inconsistent with either without losing that
esteem ; but a man who is fenced with rank or office can
do what is inconsistent with principle, and though in the
world's eye he tarnishes his rank, yet he is held up and
protected by those equally elevated, for the sake of his
position.

VOL. XI, C

18 MEMOIRB OF B. K. HATDON. [l821.

"These (if this be true) are the privileges of rank and
wealth ; the privileges of thought have not yet been defined."

Money straits and love longings together much disturbed
the steadj progress of the painter's work about this time.

" Nine days," he writes, " have passed in May, and I
have not touched a brush. I wish to God I could keep
up that principle of ' nulla dies sine lined.' And if I had
nothing but my art to attend to, I would ; but, alaa !
pecuniary difficulties are sad obstructions to regularity of
study." He seems even to frame excuses out of his work
itself, for dallying with it. The head of Christ makes
him pause before beginning. His mildness of character
is so difficult to reconcile with depth of thought; the
form that gives the one destroys the other. " Idle ! " {he
writes, on the I4th), " 1 have done nothing yet but walk
about with a sort of fury, as if my life depended on it,
when I had nothing in the world to do out of doors."
The Bale of Reynolds' works at Christie's gave him a
tempting excuse for staying out of his painting-room.
He has whole pages full of criticism of Reynolds, to whom,
at this time, he hardly did justice. He complains of his
picture of the Cardinal Virtues as having emptiness for
breadth, plastering for surface, and portrait individuaHty for
general nature. His tone is too much toned. Raffaele is
pure and inartificial in comparison. He compares Reynolds
to a man of strong feeling, labouring to speak in a lan-
guage he does not know, and giving a hint of hia idea by
a dazzling combination of images ; Raffuele to a master of
polished diction, who conveys in exquisite phraseology
certain perceptions of truth. But still he felt the spirited
competition for Sir Joshua's pictures, and the high prices
they brought at this sale, to be the most triumphant thing
for the art of this country. He compares the indiiference
with which a fine Teniers, a respectable Titian, and an
undoubted Corregio, were put up, knocked down, and
carried off, with the enthusiastic eagerness when a picture
of Reynolds was offered. On the principle of seeking in
each master his characteristic excellence, he avows his

1821.] SALE OP SIR JOSHUA'S PICTURES. 19

preference of the Charity to any of his larger productions.
** It may take its place triumphantly," he says, " by any
Corregio on earth." And next to this, he thinks his
Piping Shepherd one of the finest emanations of the
painter's sentiment. (19th May.) He made Mr. Phillips *
buy this picture for 400 guineas, who being a new hand
at buying, looked rather frightened at having -given so
much. " But it was worth 1000 guineas," says Hay don.
'* It is the completest bit of a certain expression in the
world. Eyes and hands, motions and look, all seem
quivering with the remembrance of some melodious tone
of his flageolet. The colour and preservation are perfect
It is a thing I could dwell on for ages."

" 20^A. — Went again to Reynolds' sale. I found the
400 guineas of yesterday had made a great noise in town,
and Phillips was assailed by everybody as he came in. I
soon found it was considered by the artists a sort of honour
to be near him ; and in the midst of the sale up squeezed
Chantrey. I was exceedingly amused; I turned round,
and found on the other side Northcote! I began to
think something was in the wind. Phillips asked him
how he liked tiie Shepherd Boy. At first he did not
recollect it, and then said, * Ah ! indeed ! Ah ! yes ! it
was a very poor thing ! I remember it ! ' Poor Mr.
Phillips whispered to me, * You see people have different
tastes ! * It served him heartily right, and I was very
glad of it ; he does not deserve his prize. The moment
these people heard I was the adviser, they all began to
undervalue it. I knew that Northcote's coming up was
ominous of something. The attempts of this little fellow
to mortify others are quite amusing; he exists on it.
The sparkling delight with which he watches a face, when
he knows something is coming that will change its ex-
pression, is beyond everything. And as soon as he had
said what he thought would make Phillips unhappy for
two hours, he slunk away.

* Afterwards Sir George.
c 2

20 MEMOIKS OP B. H. HATDON. [1821.

" I Lave gained immense knowledge this last week,
examining these pictures."

On the 23iid, Haydon was still lamenting his idleness.
Since he finished Christ's Agony in the Garden (the un-
auecessful picture for Sir George Phillips), on the 26th of
I February, he had done nothing. With common ener^
I he might have done wonders. To the readers of the
Ijouroals there was no need for his adding, as he has done
1 to this confession, a note of 1822. " The reason I was
I 80 idle at this time was, uncertainty about being able to
I marry, and being deeply in love." Still he consoles him-
self by the thought, that the sight of Reynolds's pictures
has done him great good; and he thinks that his next
head (which he is so slow to begin) will be " more solid
and ponderous in power." He was now in that mood
when trifles move a man strongly. Strolling about on the
26th, *' in agony of mind, torture of body, and racking of
conscience," he accidentally fell in with the Georgian
Gazette, and lighted on this passage; " Suffer not your
zeal and activity to end with the occasions that call them
forth ; but let duty stimulate you, and persevere, unshaken
by difficulties, unappalled by danger." This sank into
his aoul, " as if a hand had turned a leaf in it ; " and by
Monday next, in the evening, " he hopes to give a better
account of himself." But the very evening of tliis virtuous
resolution, I find him again strolling in the British
Galleiyj and on the 37th, the entry ia "up late last
night, did nothing to-day ; " and on the 28th, he spends
his day again at the Gallery, but consoles himself by
reflecting " that May is now nearly over, which, from what-
ever cause, is always the idlest month of the year with
him." And on the 3Ist is the triumphant entry, " Began
at last at the head of Christ," For these lazy, strolling,
desponding, and self-condemning days, I find hardly a
sketch in the journals; but with renewed diligence the-
sketching pen was again busy, and the pages are filled aa
usual with studies of heads, logs, arms, figures, groups,
and efiects of light and shadow ; and as the cheering result

1821.] HE IS ABBESTED. 21

of hard work, in this energetic mind, he declares (June 4th)
that since he began to work he has not had one uneasy
moment Wilkie called constantly, and they held grand
consultations about his picture, which, under the combined
effects of Wilkie's advice and his own thinking, improved
amazingly. So he worked diligently at his figure of the
Saviour till (June SSnd), " a remarkable day in my life,"
he writes ; ** I am arrested. After having passed through
every species of want and difficulty, often without a
shilling, and without ever being trusted ; now when I am
flourishing, I become a beacon, and a tradesman, who, if
I had been on a level with himself, would have pitied my
situation, is proud of an opportunity to show me he is as
good a man. Law in England is often made subservient
to gratify the democratic energy of the people, and used
oftener as a means to vent their spite against rank and
talent, and to give bread to attornies, than for the abstract
sake of justice or self-righting. Here was a man, to whom
I had paid 3002., who, because I employed another to fit
up my last room, out of pique arrested me for the balance.
The officer behaved like a man. I told him I must shave,
and begged him to walk into the painting-room. I did
so, and when I came down, I found him perfectly agitated
at Lazarus. * Oh my God ! Sir,' said he, * I won't take
you. Give me your word to meet me at twelve at the
attorney's, and I will take it.' I did so. At the attorney's
we argued the point, and I beat him in the presence of
the officer. 1 proved the gross injustice of the proceeding,
and the officer said ' he'd be damned if he did not see me
through it.' I appointed the evening to arrange finally.
* But you must remain in the officer's custody,' said the
attorney. * Not he,' said the officer, * let him give me
bis word, and I'll take it, though I am liable to pay the
debt.' I did so, and this man, who never saw me in his
life, left me free till night. At night I settled everything.
The expenses were III. The footpad, who risks his life
by braving the gallows, is a noble being, and entitled to
8ympathyj( in comparison with the wretch, who, taking

C 3

22 MKMOinS OF B. R. HATDON. [l821.

advantage of a law framed for the benefit of society, uaea
it as a means of oppressing society, and robs those whofli
he knows can pay him to supply his own wants. Will
not the Great Judge, who will unravel the muffled hypocrite
by a look, will He not see the difference between an
attorney, who robs by law, and a poor starving creature,
who is goaded to break a particular law made to secure
property, probably amassed by legitimately robbing
others? Alas! aias! how things will be one day changed! " ,

The compunction of the bailiff before the great canvass
of Lazarus, I cannot help thinking as striking an incident
in its way, as that of the bravoea aiTested in their
murderous intent by the organ-playing of Stradella. Nor
ought one to be surprized that this arrest embittered the
poor painter into three folio pages of angry comment
on the hollowness of such institutions as laws against
debtors, and the mockery of justice which they secure, in
which he institutes a comparison between actions and
their consequences in Lord Castlereagh, John Hunt (then
undergoing incarceration for an attack on that nobleman
in the Examiner), a poor boy of St. Giles's, and himself.
The same evening brought its striking contrast. "From
the bailiff's house, I walked to Lord Grosvenor's, and
my mind was extremely affected, after the insult I had
just received, on entering a room full of lovely women,
splendid furniture, exquisite pictures ; all was gay, breath-
ing, animated voluptuousness. I strolled about amidst
sparkling eyes, musing in the midst. I met Sir George ;
he asked me to come home and see what he had been
doing; so I walked home with him, and as I wanted to
know where somebody lived, he sent his servant to
accompany me, and so I walked across the square, with
the servant of a man of high rank at my heels, as grandly
as a bashaw, after having been tapped by a bailiff two
hours before! I then went home, where 1 found the son
of an old friend of my father, without a shilling, having
lost a situation from his eccentricity. He had come by the
coach, and left Ids trunk as security for his fare, which he

1821.] ABEE8T, AND EEPLECTIONS THEREON. 23

wanted me to pay. I lent him what I could spare — little
enough^ God knows ! and away he walked as happy as I did
from the sheriff. In the evening I went to the sheriff's
house, and, as I waited in his parlour, saw the tax-
gatherer's paper over the chimney for taxes due, with
a note of a peremptory nature ! Here is a picture of
a human day, of human heings, human delusions, human
absurdities, and human law."

Hay don thus sums up his reasoning on this day of 18^1,
in a note added afterwards : "Is it not more than probable,
that J. Hunt, the poor boy of St Giles's, Lord Castlereagh,
myself, the bailiff, and the attorney, will be equally sub-
jects of commiseration, pardoned, made happy, and all
follies, motives, and weaknesses forgotten, at the same
time ?" Yet he cannot content himself with this sweeping
consolation. " Alas!" he adds, " reflection cannot be borne,
it shakes one to stupor."

" July ifth. — I thank God my mind is now in the right
tone, and not till lately has it been so. My error has been
always expecting every picture I brought out to do every-
thing I hoped, and put me above anxiety. My ambition
is greater than ever, but my dependance on any single
effort moderated. I have made up my mind to do as well
as I can, if free from trouble so much the better ; if not,
to do all I can in spite of trouble. This is the true state
of mind to act in. I thank God for it. Wilkie drank tea
with me. to-night, and brought me news Napoleon was
dead! Good God! I remember in 1806, as we were
walking to the Academy, just after the battle of Jena, we
were both groaning at the slowness of our means of
acquiring fame in comparison with his. He is now dead
in captivity, and we have gone quietly on, ^parviscom-
ponere magna^ rising in daily respect, and have no cause
to lament our silent progress. Ah, Napoleon, what an
opportunity you lost ! His death affects me to deep
musing. I remember his rise in 1796, his glory, and his
fall. Posterity can never estimate the sensations of those
living at the time,"

C 4

24 WEU0IK3 OF C. R. HATDON. [1S21,

July \Qth. — Haydoii was now very happy, for his future

wife had arrived in town.

And now came the coronation, at which Haydon was
present, in "Westminster Hall. His description is an
effective word-painting of the most gorgeous ceremonial of
our lime, the last coronation at which the champion threw
down the glove against all gainsayers of the king's right
and title.

"July 19(A. — lonlygotmj ticket on Wednesday at two,
and dearest Mary and I drove ahout to get all that was
wanted. Sir George Beaumont lent me ruffles and frill,
another friend a blue velvet coat, a third a sword ; I
bought buckles, and the rest I had. I went to bed at ten,
and arose at twelve, not having slept a wink. I dressed,
breakfasted, and was at the Hall door at half-past one.
Three ladies were before me. The doors opened about
four, and I got a front place in the Chamberlain's box,
between the door and the throne, and saw the whole
room disrinctly. Many of the door-keepers were tipsy ;
quarrels took place. The sun began to light up the old
Gothic windows, the peers to stroll in, and other com-
pany of all descriptions to crowd to their places. Some took
seats they had not any right to occupy, and were obliged to
leave them after sturdy disputes. Others lost their tickets.
The Hall occasionally echoed with the hollow roar of
voices at the great door, till at last the galleries were
filled ; the hall began to get crowded below. Every
movement, as the time approached for the King's ap-
pearance, was pregnant with interest. The appearance
of a monarch has something in it like the rising of a sun.
Tliere are indications which announce the luminary's
approach; a streak of light — the tipping of a cloud — the
singing of the lark — the brilliance of the sky, till the
cloud-edges get brighter and brighter, and he rises majes-
tically into the heavens. So with a king's advance. A
whisper of mystery turns all eyes to the throne. Sud-
denly two or three rise ; others fall back ; some talk,
direct, hurry, stand still, or disappear. Then three or four

1821.1 THE CORONATION. 25

of high rank appear from behind the throne ; an interval
is left; the crowds scarce breathe. Something rustles,
and a being buried in satin, feathers, and diamonds rolls
gracefully into his seat. The room rises with a sort of
feathered, silken thunder. Plumes wave, eyes sparkle,
glasses are out, mouths smile, and one man becomes the
prime object of attraction to thousands. The way in
which the king bowed was really royal. As he looked
towards the peeresses and foreign ambassadors, he showed
like some gorgeous bird of the East.

" After all the ceremonies he arose, the procession was
arranged, the music played, and the line began to move.
All this was exceedingly imposing. After two or three
hour's waiting, during which the attempt of the Queen
agitated the Hall, the doors opened, and the flower-girls
entered, strewing flowers. The grace of their action,
their slow movement, their white dresses, were indescrib-
ably touching; their light milky colour contrasted with
the dark shadow of the archway, which, though dark, was
full of rich crimson dresses that gave the shadow a tone
as of deep blood ; the shadow again relieved by a peep of
the crowd, shining in sunlight beyond the gates, and
between the shoulders of the guard that crossed the plat-
form. The distant trumpets and shouts of the people,
the slow march, and at last the appearance of the King
crowned and under a golden canopy, and the universal
burst of the assembly at seeing him, afiected everybody.
As we were all huzzaing, and the King was smiling, I
could not help thinking this would be too much for any
human being if a drop of poison were not dropped into the
cup ere you tasted it. A man would go mad if mortality
did not occasionally hold up the mirror. The Queen
was to him the death's-head at this stately feast.

" After the banquet was over, came the most imposing
scene of all, the championship and bringing in of the first
dishes. Wellington in his coronet walked down the Hall,
cheered by the oflicers of the Guards. He shortly re-
turned, mounted, with Lords Howard and Anglesea. They

2ff MEMOIRS OP B, n. HATDON. [l821.

rode gracefully to the foot of the throne, and then backed
out. Lord Anglesea's horse was restive. Wellington
became impatient, and, I am convinced, thought it a
trick of Lord Anglesea's to attract attention. He never
paused, but backed on, and the rest were obliged to follow
him. This was a touch of character. The Hall doors
opened again, and outside in twilight a man in dark sha-
dowed armour appeared against the shining sky. He then
moved, passed into darkness under the arch, and suddenly
Wellington, Howard, and the Champion stood in full
view with doors closed behind them. Tliis was certainly
the finest sight of the day. The herald read the chal-
lenge ; the glove was thrown down. They all then pro-
ceeded to the throne. My imagination got so intoxicated
that I came out with a great contempt for the plebs; and
as I walked by with my sword, I indulged myself in an
' odi profanum,' I got home quite well, and thought
sacred subjects insipid things. How soon should I be
ruined in luxurious society ! "

On October 10th his marriage took place, and his
journal is full of raptures, with which the reader has no
concern. Still I may give the record of the last day of the
year. We are surely at liberty to pause on one rare
passage of great and true happiness, amidst the harassment
of one who, in all his troubles, found unfailing refuge in
the enjoyment of his art and the love of his wife.

"December S\st. — The last day of 1821. I don't know
how it is, but I get less reflective as I get older. I seem
to take things as they come without much care. In early
life, everything being new excites thought. As nothing
is new when a man is thirty-five, one thinks less. Or
perhaps, being married to my dearest Mary, and having no
longer anything to hope in love, I get more content with
my lot, which, God knows, is rapturous beyond imagin-
ation. Here I sit sketching, with the loveliest face before
me, smiling and laughing, and 'sohtude is not.' Marriage
has increased my happiness beyond expression. In the
intervals of study, a few minutes' conversation with a crea-

1822.] THE HAPPINESS OF MABBIAQE. 27

ture one loves is the greatest of all reliefs. God bless us
both ! My pecuniary difficulties are still great, but my
love is intense, my ambition intense, and my hope in God's
protection cheering ! Bewick, my pupil, has realized my
hopes in his picture of Jacob and Rachel. But it is cold
work talking of pupils, when one's soul is full of a beloved
woman! I am really and truly in love, and, without
affectation, I can talk, write, or think of nothing else."

During the first week of 1822 all went on well. Each
day had its tale of work, — five hours, or six, or seven.
Every part of the central group of his picture was studied,
discussed, arranged, and rearranged; his wife coming in
at intervals to soothe and encourage him. But already by
the 7th of the month, he had to be out whole days to see
and pacify discontented creditors. Yet he worked away
full of glorious anticipations, reading, in the intervals of
painting, the New Testament and the Commentators, and
so strengthening his faith in the incident he was painting.
I observe that the course of Haydon's reading was always
determined by the picture on which he happened to be
engaged. While painting Dentatus, he was busy with
Livy and the Roman historians. During the progress of
Solomon, the history and customs of the Jews occupied
him ; and while at work on the Entry of Christ into Jeru-
salem, and Lazarus, he was deep in study of the New
Testament. Sammons, the ex-lifeguardsman, first his
model and now his servant, sits to him for the nude parts.
But his necessities and his art still crossed. He describes
himself on his way from a lawyer's, (on whom he called
to settle the payment of a debt, but was too early,) looking
in at the Museum to solace himself with the Elgin Mar-
bles. "Oh what a contrast!" he writes; "I saw and
dwelt on them with the agony of rapturous remembrance.
How many hours, days, nights of enchanting abstraction
have you occasioned me, ye divine marbles ! "

On the 25tb, his thirty-sixth birthday, he says, " One
year more and I shall have completed Raffaele's age."
The gentle influence of a wife whom he fondly loved was

28 MEMOIRS OF B. K. HATDON. [1822.

already beginning to tell upon him. Besides, liis own
power had been recognised : the works of his pupils had
shown the soUd results of his teaching. The irritability
his attacks had occasioned was, he thought, wearing away ;
and all parties, he hoped, would be inclined to do more
justice to his next picture than they were to his last.
Still the old fire was not quenched. " If I see cause," he
says, " I will be at them again," But quiet, even this
turbulent spirit owns, was more gratifying than angry
heat ; and his wife's sweetness was taming his fierce nature.
The very expression of his head, lie observes, is changing.
It used to be fierce, determined, and with something ap-
proaching brutality about the jaw. It is now looking
happy and good-natured. His fond wife aided him in
other ways besides thus softening his disposition. She
sat jiatiently to him for his female figures, sometimes for
five hours at a stretch.

With calm wedded happiness came more and more
passionate aspirations for his art. As he grows older he
gets fonder of it, and fonder of life, that he may practise
it. He looks forward to a time when he may paint with
a mind undisturbed by pecuniary wants, as he did the
time he painted the Penitent Girl and the Centurion's
arm in the Jerusalem. Tliis was after Mr. Coutts' nohla
gift; and then he gave up his whole soul to nature and
art. DweUing on this theme he rises, as is usual with
him, into prayer that no difficulty may hinder his com-
pleting his present picture, and that he may make it bis
greatest work, to the honour of God, of his country, and
of the abilities God has given him. So January closed
Letween joy and suffering, hope and fear. But he came
back from all his hattlings with money-lenders, and law-
yers, and creditors, to his wife and his painting-room, as
to a spirit of peace and a harbour of refuge. I

I cannot but think that at this time Haydon was spurred }
on by genuine noble aspiration— dashed, it is true, by I

tthat identification of his own glory with the glory of |

1822.] DIFFICULTIES. 29

his character. To many, this identification will be repul-
sive. They will see in it a self-seeking and ignoble vanity.
It undoubtedly sprung from a belief in his own powers,
the manifestations of which it is difficult to distinguish
from the workings of vanity. But it was at least the
vanity of a powerful mind, bold in conception, vigorous
in execution, impulsive, warped by a suspicion that all the
world of artists were leagued against him, and not seeing
that his perpetual and irritating self-assertion was, in the
eyes of indifferent people, the best justification of the
hostility which he complained of.

Through the next two months he was workinydiligently
at his principal female figures, his wife, as I have saidj
serving often as his model.

On the 18th of March he reviews his position, after 8^
fruitless application for money to his munificent patrouj
Sir G. Phillips. " I left his house," he says, ** braced to an
intensity of feeling I have not experienced for years. I
called immediately on some turbulent creditors, and laid
open the hopeless nature of my situation. Having relieved
my mind, I walked furiously home, borne along by the
wings of my own ardent a^^pirations. I never felt happier,
more elevated, more confident. I walked in to my dear wife,
kissed her, and then to my picture, which looked awful
and grand," ** Good God ! " I thought, " can the painter
of that face tremble ? can he be in difficulty ? It looked
like a delusion. The figures seemed all so busy, and so
interested in their employments. When I look at a figure
that is complete, and remember from what difficulties it
has issued, I am astonished ! But so it is with me. I am
born to be the sport of fortune ; to be put up in one freak
and bowled down in another, to astonish every body by
being put up again. God grant me a spirit that will never
flag — a mind not to be changed by time or place. I shall
yet have a day of glory to which all my other glories shall
be dull!

" I write this," he adds, " without a single shilling in the
world — with a large picture before me not half done, yet

30 aiEHOIES OF B. E. HATDON. [1822.

with a soul aspiring, ardent, confident— trusting on God
for protection and support." Then, after an internal, " I
shall read this again wltii delight — and others will read it
with wonder."

This last paragraph (and the journals contain many like
it) indicate that Haydon expected that these records of his
labours, strnggles, and thoughts would one day he made
public. Indeed there is direct proof enough that he did.
I therefore feel that the rule which forhids a biographer's
prying into and laying open such a depository of the daily
life of his subject does not apply in this case.

The mqg^th goes on with a daily repetition of the same
difficulties, aspirations, upliftings with visions of future
greatness, utterances of happiness in his home, and fierce
protests against his embarrassments. Some of the best parts
of his picture, in Haydon'a own estimation, were painted
during this struggle, and the sketches scattered through
the journals of this date are unusually vigorous ; hia
female heads, in particular, sweeter and tenderer than any
before this, — the wifely influence again.

By April he had arrived at the great difficulty and the
great triumph of his picture, the head of Lazarus. He
mentions in his autobiography, that this, the central con-
ception of the work, flashed upon him when, in looking
over prints in the British Museum, he saw an unfinished
proof of the subject, in which the oval of the face of Lazarus
remained awhite spot. This his imagination at once worked
to fill up. The record of the circumstances under which
this head was painted, and of the model who sat for it, may
give an interest in this picture to those who have not
yet felt one, and will increase the interest of those who,
with me, see in it tlie moat awful representation of death
just awakening into life that has ever been put upon.
canvass.

" Just as I was beginning, I was arrested by Smitli the
colourman in Piccadilly, with whom I had dealt for fifteen
years. The sheriff's officer said, ' I am glad, Mr. Haydon,
you do not deny yourself — Sir Thomas Lawrence makes

1822.] HOW THE HEAD OF LAZARUS WAS PAINTED. 31

a point never to be denied.' I arranged the affair as
rapidly as I could, for no time was to be lost, and wrote
to my old landlord for bail. The officer took it, and ap-
pointed to meet him in the evening, and then I set to
work. For a few minutes my mind, hurt and wounded,
struggled to regain its power. At last, in scrawling about
the brush, I gave an expression to the eye of Lazarus ;
I instantly got interested, and before two I had hit it.
My pupil Bewick sat for it, and as he had not sold his
exquisite picture of Jacob, looked quite thin and anxious
enough for such a head. *1 hope you get your food
regularly,' said I. He did not answer; by degrees his
cheeks reddened, and his eyes filled, but he subdued his
feelings. This is an illustration of the state of historical
painting in England. A master and his pupil — the one
without a pound, the other without bread ! "

Still, mingled with these sorry experiences, there are
entries which show the entire happiness of the painter's
home, when once money troubles could be struggled
through, postponed, or shut out. By the 16th of May,
he began to see his way dimly to the completion of his
picture, and by the end of May it was half finished.

At the close of the half-year, he blesses God that mar-
riage has softened his heart without weakening his energies.
Through June and July he was still advancing his picture,
amidst constant interruptions from impatient creditors—
harassed with letters for money every hour — from time to
time roused from the rapturous lethargy of intense study
by threats of an execution from his landlord ; and keeping
his models six, seven, and even eight hours occasionally,
till they grew faint.

" August 6th. — Lay abed till eleven. My painting-room
finished, and I begin, I hope in God, to-morrow. Spent
two hours in studying my own Solomon and Christ's Agony
in the Garden. Solomon is in a good style certainly, but
there is no part so complete as the Penitent Girl. The
background of the Agony is very well, but Christ wants
working out and strengthening. I question whether I

32 MEMOIRS OF B. E. HATDON. [iSaS.

sliall ever exceed tlie head of the man climbing up the
column in Solomon, and this head I painted the day I
got a letter informing me of my dear fathei-'s death : I waa
EG occupied, the news had no effect; and it was not till the
head was done, and the excitement over, that the loss I had
sustained rushed on my mind."

" August ^th, — Rossi threatened execution. I endeavoured
again to get time, and went to work in rapture. Rossi is
a man with a large family, and I feel for his wants; blithe
ought to have a little sympathy with me, as I was always
regular for the first four years. Finished the sleeve and
hand, and veil of the other, which looks well. To-morrow
the third of the month will he over. Two of the finest
sayings on earth I got from two models— one, an old
woman who used to sell apples under the Duke of Queens-
berry's, and the other my washerwoman. The old woman
said, on my talking of the difficuj ties of life : ' The greater
the trouble, the greater the lion— that's my principle.' And
my washerwoman said (as she was sitting for Lazarus's
mother), ' It is better to hear the difficulties than the
reproaches of this world."

"August 19/A. — At last I have fixed on a seal for life.
The head of my glorious Alexander, with part of a line
from Tasso for a motto, 'Ali al cuor,' wings at the
heart !"

"August S\st, — August is ended, and four months more
will complete the year. I have worked well, but not as-
tonishingly well— June and August are the two most shame-
ful months. My picture is advanced ; it might have been
done; but then I have been ill, afilict«id deeply, and ha-
rassed in money matters, and I have often gone to work
with a mind shattered and disturbed. Oh God 1 how com-
pletely do I see through the futility of all happiness, but
such as depends on virtue, piety, and industry. Fame and
riches, and honour and power and patronage, are nothing,
if the possessor be accustomed to them ; and the possessor
is as Hkely to think them futile as the commonest comforts
of the commonest station, provided his liver refuses to act,

I8SE.] PBOGHESS OF LAZARCS. 33

or his digestiun is out of order, or his brain is diseased.
How comes a mite in a cheese ? A certain combination of
matter in a certain state produces a being with life, blood,
motion and will. Why couM not another combination of
matter produce man ? and when produced and propagating,
why may not the absurdities, inconsistencies, vices, virtues,
and infirmities of life be developed by a fortuitous con-
currence of different dispositions, powers and beings acting
on each other ? Surely sometimes one cannot, for a
moment, admit the interference of a God in some things
without doing him the most blasphemous injustice.
Out of such fortuitous concurrences God may sometimes
regulate, but does he regulate the crushing of a dear
innocent child by a cart-wheel? Alt this is momentary
surmise.

Finished the girl's head in the corner from Mary, the most
lite her beauty. On the whole I have not lost this month
as I feared, but have done two important figures, and am
greatly improved in practice of painting, in leaving and
managing the ground, and all the etceteras of the brush.

" September 5th. ■ — Finished the first background head
on the same principle as I finished the background in
Dentatus fourteen years ago. So little do we improve.
All the time my mind was tortured by harassings, but I
was determined to get on, let what would happen, and
nothing but arrest, or not even that, should have stopped
my proceeding with the picture. I have now only three
beads left. Huzza! Huzza! Huzza! Dearest Mary
is by, and laughing.

"September llh. — Finished the other hand and settled
drapery. Arranged the light in the skelch for background
heads. Seven days gone — worked hard five. Sunday
and Monday unavoidably idle. Gpod week, thank God !
I hope in God I shall be able to say the same thing next
one. I have many threatenJngs of arrests. God grant I
may parry them next Monday, and get the week clear.

■' September 9tk. — Out all day to pacify, put off, and
arrange ; came home nearly clear for the week. By God's

VOL, II. D

34 MEMOIRS OP B, R. HATDON. ' [1822.

blessing at work to-morrow, and then for a liead. O
God! have mercy on me, and bring me gloriously through,
and after that enable me to begin and go more gloriously
througb the Crucifixion. Amen.

" September 1 2/A. — Worked hard — got in the head again
quite right. This comes of carelessness, and suffering the
accidental beauty of an involuntary expression in a model
to draw off your attention from your own conception.

"September 14(/i. — It would be curious to analyse the
reason why the first head would not do. The sentiment
to be expressed was harmonious piety. Air, attitude, all
must be in liarmony to express this. A profile was not in
harmony."

Yet in the midat of labour and anxiety the buoyancy
of the artist's temperament breaks out in such joyous
penniless freaks aa this.

" SepleJiiber IGt/i and \7lh. — Dearest Mary and I were
so set agog by Richmond, that I said, as we awoke, 'let.
us go to Windsor.' She agreed, and away we went with
barely money enough, but full of spirits. We got there,
at six dined at the White Swan, evidently the remains of
an ancient inn, and sallied forth to llio Castle, so full of
spirits that we laughed at an odd-shaped stone or anything
that would excuse a jest. The White Swan became so full
and noisy, we went to the White Hart — a clean, neat inn,
and were in comfort. We walked to Eton, and sat and
lounged in the shade of its classical play-ground. Our
money lasted well, but, unfortunately, a barber who shaved
me, as he was lathering, so praised his Windsor soap,
that T, victim as I was, took six cakes, spent four shillings
out of the regular course, and thus crippled our resources.
The great thing was now whether we should pay the inn
bill, or pay our fare to town, and leave part of the bill to
be sent. Mary was for paying the bill, and part of the
fare, and paying the rest when we arrived. We did this,
and I was reduced to sixpence wlien we took our places
on the top. Before the coach set off I took out the six-
pence, as if I had 50^. in my pocket, and said, 'Porter,
here's sixpence for you ; ' flinging it so that it rang on

less.]

PROGRESS OF LAZARUS.

35

the pavement. The porter, unused to sucli a present for
looking after luggage, bowed and thanked me so much •
that all the passengers saw it, and without sixpence in my
pocket I got as much respect all the way home as if I had '
100/.

" September 25th. — "Worked hard —finished the hand,
arm, and jaw. Introduced the figure of the Portland
vase against all common sense ; but it is picturesque, and
will afford food for critics, who must be fed like other
people.

" September 9,1th — Worked Lard, and got a complete
figure done (the youth looking over the bank). This is
the way, I am convinced, the old masters used to work ;
and the rapidity of their execution is the great reason why
their figures hang together so well. This is the first time
in my life I ever finished a figure in a day,

"September 28iA. — -Worked exceedingly hard till I had
e pain in my side, and finished the last figure. Huzza !

"O God, on my bended knees I bless Thee for Thy
mercies in enabling me to advance this picture so far
through difficulties that were appalling. Amen, with all

my

September SOth. — Out all day to battle with creditors
— some I conquered, and some held out. The month is
over, and I have got through the figures.

"October 10/A.— Our wedding day. Sanimons had a
dinner, and dearest Mary and I went to Richmond, and
spent the day before the winter began. Dined in the
same room at the Star as that in which we dined I2th
July, 1821. We found the initials we cut on the glass
B. K. H.
M. H.

M— A.D. 1821.
"This year has been the happiest year of my life.
God, accept my gratitude for the sweet creature with
whom Thou hast blessed my being, and grant that every
anniversary of our wedding-day may be as delightful in
association as the present Amen.

36 MEMOIRS OF B. E. HATDON. [1822.

" October \ilh, — Out all day on business. The Martha*
is a complete specimen of my own style of art. For once
I have realised my notions as to idea and nature, colour
and expression, surface and handling.

" October 20lh. — After all my anxieties I have always
had, so far, a bed to lie on, a house to cover me, and this
year a sweet wife to lighten my cares, God grant me
always such blessings, with eyes and intellect to make
the proper use of them, as I have this year. Rainy day.
Dearest Mary and I passed the day in reading, tenderness,
and quiet. God protect us. Amen.

" October Silk. — All passed in pecuniary anxieties,
without work, and of course I suifered more. I am in the
hands of a scoundrel. God extricate me !

"October S5tk. — I have got through this time, God he
praised ! My dearest Mary's spirits are unaltered — this
is fl great blessing. Worked yesterday, and finished
Lazarus' feet. If it was not for my divine art I should
certainly go mad; but the moment I touch a brush all
pain vanishes."

During this month Haydon received intelligence of the
death of Canova, and with his life closed the painter's
hopes of a visit to Italy, which Canova had promised to
make a triumphant one. In the midst of his own diffi-
culties Haydon was always ready to help those who sought
his assistance, and we have seen him lending as much money
as he could spare, just after he had been himself arrested.
Godwin was now in distress, turned out of his house and
business, and threatened with the seizure of all he pos-
sessed in the way of stock and furniture. Haydon busied
himself on behalf of the author of Caleb Williams, and
Charles Lamb (as I find from his letters) was active in the
same work. He casts about for a channel through which
to bring the matter within reach of the capacious benevo-
lence of Mrs. Coutts, who seems to have been regularly
resorted to as a sort of Providence in these cases, but 1 do

* Martha is the kneeling figure in Lazarus with the face to the
ipectator.

1B22.] HELPING GODWIN : ANOTHER EXECUTION. 37

not find that Haydon applied to lier. Lamb said in his
letter, " Shelley had engaged to clear liim of all demands,
and now he has gone down to the deep, insolvent."
Haydon applied to Sir Walter Scott, who answers by
enclosing a cheque for 10/. in one of his hearty, cheery,
unaffected letters, not wishing his name to be made pubhc,
he says, as "he dissents from Mr. Godwin's theories of
politics and morality, as sincerely as he admires his genius,
and as it would be indelicate to attempt to draw such a
distinction in the mode of subscribing."

Haydon was now at work on the background of Ma
picture, at which he went (as he did at everything) " like
a tiger," to use his own words. Feeling, however, the
difficulty of putting action into a background without dis-
turbing the action of the foreground, his spirits rise with
every obstacle overcome j and finding that the background
when finished has a great effect, he is satisfied in his
sanguine way that this year is the happiest of his life, and
one cause is, he has left off writing. I imagine that Mrs.
Haydon had a good deal to do both with the happiness
and the abstinence from the pen. But this calm happy
progress does not long continue. He writes : —

" November 12M. — Out the whole day on business and
settled everything. Came home to relieve dear Mary's
anxiety. Just as I was beginning to finish the right hand
corner in came a man with ' Sir, I have an execution
against you,' and in walked another sedate-looking little
fellow and took his seat, I was astonished, for I had
paid part of this very matter in the morning. I told
the man to be civil and quiet, and left him in charge of
old Sainmons, who was frightened as a child, and pale
as death : I then ran up stairs, kissed dearest Mary and
told her the exact truth. With the courage of a heroine
she bade me ' never mind,' and assured me she would not
be uneasy. Tired as I was I sallied forth again, telling
the little Cerberus that I hoped he knew how to behave.
These people are proud of being thought capable of
appreciating gentlemanly behaviour ; I find this is the weak-

38 MEMOIRS OF B. It. HATDON. [lS22.

ness of all sheriffs' officers. I went to my creditor, a
miserable apotliecary, I asked him if this was manly,
when he knew my wife was near her confinement, and told
him to come to the attorney with me. He consented,
evidently ashamed. Away we went to the attorney, who
had assured me in the morning nothing of the sort should
happen, as he had not given the writ to an officer. He
now declared the man had exceeded his instructions, and
wrote a letter to him, which I took. The man declared
he had not, and as I was going away with a release he
said, ' I hope Mr. Haydon you will give me an order to
see your picture when it comes out.' I rushed to dear
Mary, and found my little sedate man with his cheeks rosy
over my painting-room fire, quite lost in contemplating
Lazarus. He congratulated me on getting rid of the
matter, assured me he thought it all a trick of the at-
torney's ; and hoped when the picture came out I would
let him bring his wife. In the interim some ladies and
gentlemen had called to see the picture, and he intimated
to me he knew how to behave. Dearest Mary, quite over-
come with joy at seeing me again, hung about me like an
infant, wept on my shoulder, and pressed lier cheeks to
my face and lips, as if she grew on my form. My heart
heat violently, but pained as I was, I declare to God no
lovers can know the depth of their passion unless they
have such checks and anxieties as these. A difficulty
conquered, an anxiety subdued, doubles love, and the soul
after a temporary suspension of its feelings, from an intense
occupation of a different sort, expands with a fulness no
language can convey. Dearest love, may I live to conquer
these paltry creatures, and see thee in comfort and tran-
quillity. For Thy mercies, God, this day, accept my
gratitude ; my rapid extrication I attribute to Thy good-
ness."

No wonder amidst the constantly renewed harass of
these money troubles, that Haydon's philosophy came to
gumming itself up in such formulfe as " Art long, time
swift, life short, and law despotic." Nor does it surprise

r

1823.] A CHILD BORN. 39

me to find about tliis time many records of daj-s spent "in
fret, fidget, shivering by the fire, cursing the climate,
groaning at the King, the GovenimeDt, the people, and
looking gloomily on everything but the face of dearest
Mary." There at least was sunshine. Interspersed with
such profitless times are others of sudden and successful
energy where a day's work is compressed Into an hour.
Thus by fits and starts the picture advanced, and is finished
by the 7th of December, with a " Laus Deo for this con-
clusion," Already by the 8th a grand picture of the
Crucifixion is projected, and a blessing on it prayed for
with the characteristic supplication that it may be the
grandest crucifixion ever painted.

" December ISlk. — At half-past eleven in the forenoon
was born Frank Haydon, whom I pray God to make
a better man than his father. God bless him ! and grant
him life, and virtue, and dauntless energy and health, and,
above all, genius ! Accept my unbounded gratitude for
the safety of my love, my only rapture in this dim spot, the
sunbeam of my life.

"0 God, this is the greatest mercy of all! On my knees
I pray Thee to preserve her for years to come.

"At night, December I2th. — Never to my dying day
shall I forget the dull, throttled scream of agony that pre-
ceded the birth, and the infant's cry that announced its
completion. Tatham, the architect, a worthy man, was in i
the pain ting- room, and Mrs. Tatham, who had had fourteen
children, was with my dearest Mary. I had been sitting 1
on the stairs listening to the moaning of my dearest .
love, when, all of a sudden, a dreadful dreary outcry, as of,
passionate, dull and throttled agony, and then a dead
silence, as if from exhaustion, and then a peaked cry a
a little helpless being, who felt the air, and anticipated the
anxieties, and bewailed the destiny of inexorable hui
nity! I rushed into the ante-chamber; Mrs. Tatham came
out and said, " It is a boy." I offered to go in, and v
forbidden. I went down into the paintmg-room, and
burst into tears.

40 MEMOIES OF B. H. HATDON. [iBS!.

The painter was now for a time very happy. His wife
and infant are often sketched, and by their side are the
fragments of his vast and growing design for the Crucifix-
ion, which, if completed, would have been the largest
painting of the subject ever executed except Tintorct's.

The crucified Saviour forms the central object, and the
amis of the crosses which bear the thieves are juat visible
on the right and left. Longious on his horse looks up at
the Saviour's face, from the left of the composition ; in
front of him are the soldiers casting lots, halanced by the
group of the fainting mother, with the holy women. On
the right of the cross, but thrown behind its plane, is the
soldier preparing to pierce Christ's side, and a group
of kneeling disciples, soldiers and spectators, fills up the
background. Above the cross the clouds arc opened, and
the angels bow their heads around the central glorj-.

But the painter was never to complete this vast design.

So 1822 draws to its end, between careful tending of
his young wife and passionate abstraction in bis new
eoDception, and the year is closed, as usual, with a prayer.

"The last day of 1822. For Thy mercies, O God, in
bringing me through a year of such difficulties, accept my
gratitude with all my soul. I prayed at the beginning for
health and strength and energy to go through this year,
and bring my picture to a conclusion. I have been blessed
with health and strength and energy to bring it to a con-
clusion, and have concluded it without one shilling of legi-
timate resource. O God, Thou hast guided, protected and
blessed me. From my soul I thank Thee. Amen.

"Matrimony has restored the purity of my mind. I have
no vice to reproach myself with this whole year. The
birth of a son has deepened my feelings, and I hope in
God I do not deceive myself, when I say I can conclude
this year with more comfort of mind than any preceding
one of my life ! May I deserve the mercies I have met.
For the delivery of my dearest Mary from the dangers of
childbirth, O God, I bow to Thy goodness with gra-
titude. Amen."

1823.] UATDON'a PRATERS. 41

I have inserted this and other like utterances of devo-
tion, that my readers may see what Haydon's prayers were,
how compounded of suhmission and confidence, and in
their constant demand fur success and personal distinction,
liow unhke that simple and general form of petition which
Christ has left us as the model of supplication to our
Father who is in heaven. Haydon prays as if he would
take heaven by storm, and though he often asks for
humility, I do not ohserve that the demands for this
gift bear any proportion to those for glories and triumphs.
His very piety had something stormy, arrogant and self-
assertive in it. He went on so praying from his arrival in
Loudon to the very time of his death, and throughout his
prayers are of the same tenour, I shall not therefore
think it necessary to introduce them in future, unless
when they are so interwoven with extracts that I caaaot
honestly separate them.

From the small number of pictures that Haydon had
produced up to this date he was often charged with
idleness. He took careful note of time, at all events, and
was in the habit at short intervals of reckoning up his
hours of work and of idleness. He makes such a calcula-
tion at the opening of 1823, (defending himself to himself,
as it were, against the charge of idleness).

At work, brush in band 159 days. — Idle, that is

not painting ----- 206
Sundays - - - - - 52

154

Two days a week absolutely idle about money
matters, though I always carried paper or my
sketch book, and arranged work for next day - 104

42 MEMOIRS OP B. S. HATDON". [l823.

" Thirty days decidedly idle from pleasure and inclinatioti,
"but even then my art was never ahsent, so that in justice
I do not think I am ever what may be called downright
idle. I do not think it egotistical or absurd to say so.
Before I paint I must think, and when I do not paint, it
is because I have not thought conclusively. When I have
thought conclusively I paint, and am wretched till I do
begin, and when I am not painting, T am always thinking,"

Up to the SOth of January, Haydon had not touched a
brush, immersed he says, " in pecuniary difficulties."
Yet he found something in himself fitted for this struggle.

" January 21af. — The faculties of some men only act in
situations which appal and deaden others. Mine get
clearer in proportion to the danger that stimulates them.
I gather vigour from despair, clearness of conception from
confusion, and elasticity of spirit from despotic usage.
Perhaps independence would ruin me, and enjoyment and
voluptuousness dull my vigour. Thus out of evil good
springs, and want and necessity, which destroy others,
have been perhaps the secret inspirera of my exertions,"

Haydon was a great reader, and a copious commentator
on the books ho read, and these took in a range not often,
embraced by the artist. Besides the great poets. Homer,
Virgil, Dante, Tasso, and Milton, who were his constant
companions, and whom he is fond of comparing and
analysing, and the writers on art ancient and modern, he
was a diligent reader of history. He spends whole days
about this time over Las Casas and Montholon, and com-
plains of the fascination of all reading about Napoleon,
(who was one of hla heroes in spite of himself}, "Read-
ing his memoirs," he says, "is like dram- drinking. To go
to other things aller them is like passing from brandy to
water."

Here is an ejsample of his reading of this date with the
comments on it.

" January 2iind. — Put in the finished sketch of my next
picture, Finished Robertson's America, and felt my head
cleared of a great deal of ignorance, Cortez was perhaps

1823,] PREPAKATI0K8 FOR EXniBITIO:^. 43

as remarkable an iustaiice of decision of character as ever
existed, always relieving himself from apparent ruin by
attempts which would have been more ruinous, if un-
successful, than the situations he got out of hy their
success. This ia the true nerve so essential to the com-
pletion of all schemes where great decision and energy and
aeif-will are requisite.

"Gold when obtained independent of commerce seems to
have operated as a curse instead of a blessing ; in the caso
of the Spaniards it deadened industry, destroyed energy,
and rendered the nation more indolent and voluptuous
than nature had made them : whereas when it can be
obtained as a remuneration fur articles of manufacture or
agriculture it is a stimulus to exertion,

"Thus it is; love and gold, the things which Providence
has given us to sweeten life above all others, when made
objects of undue preference, become the bane of existence.

" In the first settlements of the English at Virginia and
Massachossetts the seeds of the future separation were
planted. The settlers there were the violent, the discon-
tented, the reformers of religion and politics, who as they
gained strength would be sure to assert their indepen-
dence,

"January 25(A. — My birth-day — tbirty-aeven. Icame
to town to try my fortune May, 1804, nineteen years ago.
At my age Rafiaele died. I think this is quite enough to
nerve me for another year.

" Dearest Mary ia sitting with the infant at her breast
like an exquisite Charity and one of her babies, singing
ditties in a melancholy strain. She asked me what I
sighed for, as I put down my ago, and laugiied at my
serious look. Tliank God I have been able so far to keep
my ground. O God, grant I may keep it to the end of
my life ! Amen."

He now took a room at the Egyptian Hall for the
exhibition of hia Lazarus, and the preparations at once
began.

" 28(A. — The men began to colour the room. I perceived

I

4-1 MEMOIRS OF B. H. nATDON. [1S23.

the same unwillingness in tlietn to begin, as I often feel
myself, and the same aliicritj when once they had broken
the ice. We are all alike, and the humble colourer of a
partition has his moments of inspiration, as well as the
man of genius, with this difference, that the inspirations
of the one produce the Prophet of the Capella Sistina,
and those of the other an even surface on a flat wall.

'^February 3rd. — Moved tlie picture with indifference. I
left it to Sammons. Fourteen years ago, when I painted
Dentatus, I walked down with the porters, looked with
anxiety at every corner, dreaded a tile from a chimney, a
lamp-hghter's ladder, or a dray horse's kick, but now,
experienced and hardened by practice, I left it to my
servant, and walked coolly away — a picture, too, on
which more depends than on any I have ever painted.
Such is human nature. The picture was hung at the
west corner of the room, and poor Sammons became
frightened at its look ; it was so black and dingy. This is
always the way when the north and eastern sky is the
source of light. It should always be the southern and
western portion of the sky, and a picture has then the
glory of an evening sun to assist its colour.

"5th. — Moved it to-day, and the colours brightened out
so that the workman exclaimed ' Lazarus made me
tremble ! ' It is now lighted by the south."

By the 7th the picture was finally placed,

"8tk, — Darkened the windows and settled the light
finally. The picture looks admirably, and will have a
great run unless anything political starts up, (like the
Queen's business,) which always in England disturbs public
feeling.

"This moment, as I was looking at my sketch for the
Crucifixion, it darted into my brain to make a group of
sick and afflicted anxiously pressing forward to ask relief
before Christ dies.

" This I will make something of.

" Studied the tones for glazing on Monday. It won't
require much.

1833.] PEEPAEING FOR EXHIBITION. 45

" To-morrow I begin to glaze. God grant I may rival
the rainbow in harmony, and the sound of the Haarlem
organ in depth of tone.

" 10//*. — I began to glaze to-day, and got over St, John,
Martha, the Jews, Pharisees, St. Peter, and Mary's head,
with pitcher. My arm ached.

" lllh. — Glazed the drapery of Christ with crimson
madder. To have seen me do this would have been a
lesson for any pupil. Toned and cooled the background,
black over green, and then asphaltum worked in with tones
of lake and brown-pink ; it makes one's soul utter musical

" Dearest Mary and I have scarcely seen each other these
three days. She has been occupied with the child, and
I with niy picture. The dear boy grows apace, and seems
to be more pleased with colour than anything. He will
lie for hours quietly looking at a variegated shawl ; and
the moment his mother turns him on his face, if he is
crying, he becomes quiet when he sees the colour of
the carpet. God grant that he may have genius for the
art, that he may complete what I leave unfinished. It
requires one life to get a principle acknowledged, and
another to get it acted on. If I get it acknowledged, and
he acted on, we shall accomplish the glory of the country
in art. God grant it ! Amen.

" I worked to-day till I was faint and sick; but half -the
picture is done. There is no delight in art equal to that
of bringing a picture into tone.

" I2lh. — Intensely at work. Glazed father and mother,
sky and rocks, and worked deliciousiy in with cool tints.

" ISik. — Worked till my optic nerve ached. Finished
Lazarns, comer figures, and part of Mary, Sometimes
one fancies one has spoilt a face, or rubbed off something
in the agitation of glazing, I always go to something else
till my perception gets clear, and then I find my former
notion a delusion.

" I4M. — Got through the glazing. The vigour and
light on the father's head contrast famously with the

46 MEMOlnS OF B. E. HATDON. Cl823.

gloom and sepulcliral tone of Lazaius. For this mercy in
"being permitted to paint another great picture, which
must add to my reputation, and go to strengthen the art,
I offer Thee, God, my humblest and most grateful
thanks. Amen.

" I5lh. — I looked at Lazarus again, and found little
things to attend to. Dearest Mary not well. The more T
reflect on the mercies of God, during my last picture, the
more grateful I am, and ought to be. Bless me, God,
through the exhibition of it, for Jesus Chi-ist'a sake.
Grant it triumphant success. I have a sweet wife, and a
lovely infant. Grant that 1 may soon begin the Crucifixion,
and persevere to the conclusion of that, till 1 bring it to a
conclusion equally positive and glorious. Amen.

" 16M— 18M. — Attending to necessary things for private
day. My eyes suffer a little 'from exertion last week.
The time is now approaching. God bless me, and bring
me through. Amt-n.

" ]9ik. — l took the child to Raffaele's Cupid in the
Galatea, and he laughed with ecstasy. If he should be
a painter, this was his first impression. The boy continues
to look at nothing but pictures and basts; and what is
curious, he pays no attention to noises or singing, but
laughs with delight the moment he sees any bust. A
fragment of three horses' heads from the Elgin Marbles
riveted him ; and he kept talking for half an hour in his
way. I hope he has genius.

" USrd—SSth. — All anxiously employed in getting up
my picture, arranging the room, and, thank God, all is
now ready. Grant, O God, that nothing untoward may
happen, and that all may turn out gloriously and tri-
umphantly.

" God, Thou who hast broughtme to the point, bring
me through that point. Grant, during the exhibition,
nothing may happen to dull its success, but that it may
go on in one continual stream of triumphant success, to
the last instant. God, Thou knowest I am in the
clutches of a villain : grant me the power entirely to get

1823.] THE EXHIBITION OF LAZARUS, 47

out of them, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. And subdue
the eVd disposition of that villain, »o that I may extricate
myself from his power, without getting further into it.
Grant this for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen, with all
mj soul.

" March 1st. — The private day was to-day, and the success
complete and glorious. O God, accept my gratitude!
But, owing to the previous private days I have had, I was
less affected. Such is life. When one has exhausted
every species of excitement here, one may perhaps be
willing to try another existence. No picture I have
painted has been so applauded. The approbation was
universal, and Lazarus affected everybody; high, low,
ignorant, and learned.

" 3rd. — The picture opened to-day in rain and wind ;
succeeded very well for such weather,

" 4lh. — The receipts doubled to-day. It has made the
greatest impression.

"5(A.^ The impression continues. No picture I ever
painted lias been so universally approved of. This proceeds
entirely from my regular method of proceeding, so that
everything sliould be as right as possible. It has not
made the sudden burst the other did, but it will grow.
O God ! grant me gratitude and patience !

** March 6lh. — The impression grows, and the receipts
increase. Thank God! I have got my other canvas up,
and shall begin it to-day, in gratitude and elasticity of
spirit."

On the 7th of March, the Crucifixion was begun, the
ground oiled, the perspective settled, and the lines of the
composition decided on ; all with a determination that the
picture should be free from the faults which he admitted
to exist in Lazarus.

"March 3l8t was the crisis of the exhibition. It
succeeded gloriously. I told Sanimons I would give him
a guinea if he had five hundred visitors; and he came
home half tipsy with glee, as the receipts were 311. lis.
Had it failed to-day it would have sunk.

J

48 MEMOine or n. k. haydon. [laaa.

April lat was another glorious day, and brought in
31/. 5s. Gd.; but despite of all the wolf was not to be
kept from the door. There are notes from Wilkie, in-
dicating hill transactions, and letters of Sir George Beau-
mont's touching applications for au advance on his sub-
scription for Jerusalem, and a draft for 30/. sent, though
not without inconvenience, and the old fightings with
creditors and lawyers; and through all, sketches and
fancies, and new arrangements of the picture, executed in
the intervals of struggling. " What a pity it is," he writes,
(April 9th) "that I should be so harassed. But I get
on, and thus a new picture is advanced."

By the 21st, however, he is brought to a standstill.

" Totally unable from continued pressure to proceed
with my picture. I arranged the composition in the
sketch as I rode along. Hutchinson, my solicitor, who
accompanied me, was astonished to see me take out my
sketch-book, and arrange the light and shadow of the
Crucifixion, while he was pondering how to get me saved
from an arrest."

On the same page with this extract are sketched a
pencil and port-crayon saltier-wise, with the motto " Balm
of hurt minds." And then follows page after page of
sketches, sometimes of groups, often of the entire com-
position, with intercalations of lawyer's addresses and
complicated entries of figures, as if he were trying to cal-
culate ways and means, and other records of the like
sadly significant kind. Even benevolent Mr. Harman,
irritated at non-payment, has got snappish at last, —

" Said he would not give a farthing for the Judgment
of Solomon, though he liked it better than any of my
other works. He must value my other works very highly.
On my saying to him that my crime was the refutation
of Payne Knight, he replied, ' It was.' ' It will never be
forgiven,' said I. ' It ought not,' he answered. ' Young
men should not give themselves airs.' So I, because I
was a young man, ought not to have defended the Elgin
Marbles because he was an old man who attacked them.

1

1823.] ARRESTED. 49

** The fact is, the connoisseurs, as a body, will never
pardon the man who destroyed the value of their judg-
ment.**

He resolves at last, of all strange expedients, to present
a petition to the House of Commons, backed by the elo-
quence of Brougham.

" April 9th. — Saw Brougham, who took great interest,
and seems to give me more hope than any member ever
did before. He seemed to understand nie, and often an-
ticipated my thoughts. I have had to do with fools
before. Brougham's mind entered intojt like lightning."

But before this forlorn hope could be tried (on the 13th)
an execution was put in on Lazarus.

** And am I to be ruined?" he says passionately (on the
18th), "and all my glorious delusions and visions! O
God ! spare me the agonising disgrace of taking shelter
under the law." And then come the scattered details of a
hurried inventory of armoury, costumes, draperies, lay-
figures, and other painter's gear, jotted down on the eve
of the arrest, which, after long drawing near, did come on
the 21st.

His entry of the 22d is dated " King's Bench.*'

" Well, I am in prison. So were Bacon, Raleigh, and
Cervantes. Vanity ! vanity ! Here's a consolation ! I
started from sleep repeatedly during the night, from the
songs and roarings of the other prisoners. * Their songs
divide the night, and lift our thoughts' — not to heaven.**

His wife soon came to him, and often spent her days
in his prison, cheering the depression which I find abun-
dant traces of in the journal now. But the observing
painter's eye was soon at work here as elsewhere. ** Pri-
soners of all descriptions," he writes, "seem to get a
marked look ; neglect of person is the first characteristic,
and a sly cunning air, as if they were ready to take ad-
vantage of you."

A meeting of his creditors was called for the 28th, and
his letter to them is worth extracting.

VOL. ii» E

5D memoirs of b. r, hatbon. tiBsa.

" King's Bendi Prison, 27th Maj, 18SS.
" CrentlemcD,

" After nine years' intense devotion to historical panting,
known and respected by many of the most celebrated men in
Europe, and acknowledged in my own country to have deserved
encouragement, the Bench is a refuge ! That I have not failed
in the execution of ray pictures the thousands wbo have seen
them in Scotland and England, and paid for seeiog them, give
proof. But in interesting the Government or the patrons, the
Church or the Sovereign, I have failed ; and being unsupported
in the efforts I have made, overwhelmed by the immense ei-
pences.of my undertakings, harassed bylaw, and drained by
law expenses, to be disgraced by a prison is yet comparative
relief.

" The unlimited confidence placed in me by iny tradesmen
and my friends is the great cause why I resisted, till I could
resist no longer, submission to necessity, being always animated
by hope, till I found at last law was an enemy I could not
conquer. My earnest, my eager desire, is that by acceding to
some arrangement, you will prevent the dishonour of my claim-
ing its protection. I am in the prime of my life : my practice,
my talents, and my fame, are in full vigour. I only want se-
curity for my time and my person, to obtain resources by their
exercise, and make gradual liquidation ; but if I am kept locked
np, with no power of putting my art in practice, what will be
the result ? — depression, disquiet, and ruin, I shall infallibly be
destroyed, and how can you be benedted by my death? My
life alone is of consequence to you, and having involved so many
innocent and confiding men, my object is to devote a portion of
it for this reparation, I never wilfully wronged any man, so
help me God! I have been pursuing great schemes for the
honour of my country, and borne along by the ardour of my own
imagination, I never reflected that I had no right to involve the
property of others in my pursuits; misfortune lias turned my
reflections inward, I have had time to reflect on the construc-
tive want of principle that must be put on my conduct, and if
1 am released from this horrid place, my character will be saved
the agony of taking the act, and in two years the produce of
my labour shall be laid before you, and payment made. I have
nothing to offer you now — not a shilling; my property is en-
tirely gone ; those who were the most severe possess it. I find
no fault with any man, but al^er living for years in the silence

1823.] A LETTEB TO HIS CBEDITOBS. 51

and solitude of my study, and lately in the most tender domestic
happiness, it is hard to be torn up by the roots, to have my
books, easels^ prints, and materials of study dragged from their
places ; to see my wife for days distracted, and my child's health
injured from her condition, and that too after devoting the
finest part of my life to the honour of my country, and want
of support being the only failure.

'^ I apologise for this tedious letter : Messrs. Kearsey and
Spur will make a proposition to you. I hope an arrangement
will take place, for I am anxious to put myself by my labours
in a condition to repair the injuries I have made others feel.

« B. R. Hatdon."

It is pleasant to find so many proofs of substantial sym-
pathy in the letters Haydon received during his confine-
ment. Lord Mulgrave, Sir Edward Codrington, Brougham,
Sir Walter Scott, Barnes (of the Times), his fast friend
Miss Mitford, were all prompt and helpful. His active
friend and physician, Dr. Darling, with Sir George Beau-
mont, Wilkie and others as practically benevolent, bought
at the sale many of his casts, prints, and painting materials,
that he might have a nucleus for beginning work upon on
coming out of prison. On opposite pages of his journal
he has preserved a day-rule, with the epigraph " Diploma
of Merit for English Historical Painters," and a letter from
M. Smimove, informing him of his election as a member
of the Imperial Academy of Russia ; which two documents
he very naturally contrasts. His petition to the House
of Commons was now presented by Mr. Brougham, as
follows: —

THE PETITION.

" To the Honourable the Commons of the United Kingdom of
Great Britain and Ireland, in Parliament assembled ;
«' The humble petition of Benjamin Robert Haydon, Historical
Painter, late of Lisson-grove North, now in the King's
Bench prison ;

" Showeth, — That it is now seven years since the Committee
for the purchase of the Elgin Marbles, in dismissing the subject

s 2

fi2 MEMOIES OF B. H. HATDON. Ll823.

of tlieir deliberation, 'submitted to tbe attentive consideration of
the House how liighly the cultivation of the Fine Art3 had
contributed to the reputation, character, and dignity of every
Government by which they had been encouraged, and Iiow
intimately they were connected with the advancement of every
thing valuable in science, literature, or art,

" That though thia recommendation of the honourable Com-
mittee excited the hopes and ambition of all those who were
desirous of seeing their country distinguished by excellence in
the arts, no further notice has been taken of the subject; and
that, under the sanction of this recommendation, your petitioner
presumes to hope that permission will be granted to liim to
bring so interesting a subject before the attention of your
lion curable House.

" That as the said Committee has admitted the importance of
the arts to everything valuable in science and literature^ any
attempt to prove their importance to a country would be super-
fluous ; but that, in addition to the benefits which have always
accrued to every nation by which the arts have been successfully
protected, the improvement of its manufactures cannot be denied
nor overlooked. That there are two ways in which your peti-
tioner presumes to think a successful excitement to the genius
of the country toward^ historical painting could be given, viz.,
the purchase and presentation of pictures to adorn the altars of
churches, or the sides of public halls, and the employment of
artists of distinggished reputation to produce thetn. That were
such an example given by your honourable House, the corporate
authorities of the most distinguished towns would immediately
follow it, OS they are doing and have done with regard to the
encouragement of sculpture.

" That had your honourable House done nothing whatever for
any art or science, historical painting could not complain ; but as
your honourable House has for fifty years bestowed the most
liberal patronage on sculpture, as examples have been purchased
for its improvement, and galleries built for tbeir reception, your
petitioner appeals to the feelings of justice in your honourable
House, whether the English historical painters, who, without one
public act in their favour, have rescued their country from the
stigma of incapacity which ao long hung over it in the opinion
of foreign nations, do not deserve to share some part of the favour
of your honourable House so liberally bestowed on another de-
partment.

1823.] HIS TETITION TO THE COMMOSS. 53

" That were there no pictures in churches, no music, or no
sculpture, painting could not object to share exclusion with her
BBter arts : but that as sculpture, and music, and painting are
admitteil, and as many of the highest autharities in the Church
base expressed their approbation at such admission, your peti-
tioner earoestly hopes that your honourable House will not think
subject over which you ought to have no control. That
most of the historical productions painted in this country, by
which its reputation hoa been raised, have been executed, not as
1 Italy and Greece, in consequence of encouragement, but in
spite of difficulties ; that Barry painted the Adelphi for nothing;
that Hogarth adorned the Foundling for nothing; that Reynolds
ed to grace St Paul's by his pencil, and yet was refused ;
that historical pictures the full size of life being inadmissible
into private houses from the nature of their execution, and such,
pictures being the only ones that have given countries their
fame, where art has flourished ; as the leading authorities of those
countries were always the patrons of such productions, and from

e expense attendant on their execution could alone be so, your
petitioner humbly hopes your honourable House will not think
it beneath its dignity to interfere, and by a regular distribution
of a small part of the public wealth, place historical painting
■and its professors on a level with those of the other departments
«f the arts.

" That your petitioner, (if he may be permitted to allude to

I own misfortunes,) has devoted nineteen years to the study
of historical painting; that his productions have been visited
by thousands in England and in Scotland; that he iias received
! of regard and estimation from many of the moat cele-
brated men iu Europe; that the day after he was imprisoned he
sraa greeted by a distinguished honour from a foreign academy ;
l>ut that historical pictures of the size of life being ill adapted to
private patronage, he has been overwhelmed by the immense ex-
pense of such undertakings. That he ban been torn from hia
home and hia studies ; that all the materials of his art, collected
with the greatest care from all parts of the world, the savings
and accumulation of his life, have been seized. That he is now
in the King's Bench, separated from his family and his habits
of employment, and will have to begin life again, with his pros-
pects blighted, and the means by which alone he could pursue
bis art scattered and destroyed.

" That your petitioner prays you would take the situation of

54 MEM01E8 OF B, B. DATDON. [leaS.

the art into your consideration, more especially at a time when
large sums are expending upon the erection of new churches, a
very inconsiderable fraction of wliicli would improve those sacred
edifices, and effectually rescue hiatorical painting and its profes-
sors from their present state of discouragement. And he humbly
prays you toappoint such a Committee as investigated the subject
of the Elgin Marbles, to inquire into the state of encouragement
of historical painting, and to ascertitin the best method of pre-
venting, by moderate and judicious patronage, those who devota
their lives to such honourable pursuits, so essentiiil (as jour
Committee has affirmed) to science, literature, and art, from
ending their days in prison and in disgrace. And your peti-
tioner will ever pray, &o, &c.

" B. K. HAn>ON."

Sir Charles Long (to wtiom Haydon had made earnest
applications for his support in Parliament, — applications
met witli a most diplomatic chilliness, to judge hy Sir
Charles's notes) insisting on some practical suggestion,
Haydon laid before Mr. Brougham his plan for ornament-
ing the great room at the Admiralty (which, no doubtj
occurred to him as an old guest of Lord Mulgrave's there)
with representations of naval actions, and busts and por-
traits of naval commanders. This is worth noting as a
first step to the result which is getting towards realiaatioH
in the New Houses of Parliament.

Here is Sir Walter Scott's kind and sensible letter : —

" Dear Sir,

" On my return from the country yesterday, I received
with extreme regret and sympathy the letter which apprises
me of your present unhappy situation. They have much to
answer for, who proceed as your creditors have done, not only
in the depreciation of your property, and the interruption nt
once of your domestic happiness and professional career, but in
the deprivation of your personal liberty by means of which
you could in so many ways have been of service to yourself,
and even to them. There is one advantage, however, in your
situation which others cannot experience, and which ought to
give you patience and comfort tmder your severe affliction.

i823.] BIB W. SCOTT'S LETTEB. 55

What real means of eminence and of future success you possess
lie far beyond the power of the sheriff's writ. An official
person is ruined if deprived of the power of attending his duty,
a shop-keeper if deprived of bis shop, a merchant if his stores
and credit are taken from him, but no species of legal distress
can attack the internal resources of genius, though it may for
a time palsy his hand.

''If this misfortune had happened in Scotland, where our
laws in such cases are of a most mild and equitable character,
I could without trouble put you upon a plan of gratification.
But the English laws are different, and I am unacquainted with
them. Still, however, I think there must be an outlet under the
insolvent act, of which you should not hesitate to avail yourself
of it, for in the eye of justice and equity the creditors, who
pushed on a hurried sale of your valuable pictures, must be
considered to be over-paid. But as this may be a work of more
time than I am aware of, perhaps some temporary arrangement
might be made to obtain at least your liberty, for whenever at
freedom I should have no fear that the exertion of your own
talents would soon retrieve the comforts you have lost for the
present An appeal to the public would doubtless raise a con-
siderable sam, but I should be sorry any part of it went into
the pockets of those hard-hearted men of mammon. I should
rather endure a little buffeting, and keep this as a resource
under my lee to run for, as soon as I was my own man again.
But of this those advisers who know the law of England, and
have the affairs fully under their consideration, will be the best
judges. Among the numerous admirers of your genius, you
must have many able and willing to assist you at this moment,
and I need scarce point out to you the prudence of being
entirely frank in your communications with them.

'' I have now to make many apologies for the trifling amount
of an enclosure which may be useful, as a trifling matter will
sometimes stop a leak in a vessel : truth is I have been a little
extravagant lately, and mean this only as a small on accompt,
for which you shall be my debtor in a sketch or drawing when
better spirits and more fortunate circumstances enable you
to use a black-lead pencil or a bit of chalk. Excuse this
trifling communication: I hope to have a better by-and-by.
This has been a severe season for the arts : about a fortnight
since I had a very merry party through Fifeshire, with our
Chief JBaron (Sergeant Shepperd) and the Lord Chief. Commis^

B 4

56 MEMOIRS OF B. B. HATDON. [1823.

sioner, and above n.11. Sir H. Raeburn, our famous portrait
painter. No one could aeem more henltliy than he was, or
more active, and of an athletic spare habit, that seemed made
for a very long life. But this morning I have the melancholy
news of his death after three days' illness, by which painting ia
deprived of a rotary of genius, our city of an ornament, and
society of a most excellent and most innocent member. Sir
Henry about twelve or thirteen years ago had become totally
embarrassed in his affiurs from incautious securities in which be
was engaged fur a near relative, who was in the West India
trade. He met with more considerate and kinder treatment than
you have unfortunately experienced, but, notwithstanding, the
result was his being deprived of the fortune he had honourably
acquired by his profession. He bore this deprivation with the
greatest firmness ; resumed his pencil with increased zeal, and
improved his natural talents by close study, so that he not only
completely re-established his affairs, but has been long in the con-
dition to leave an honest independence to his family. May
you, my dear Mr. Haydon, as you resemble him in his mis-
fortunes, also resemble him in the success with which my poor
friend surmounted them. Above all, 1 Lope your youth and
health will enable you much longer to enjoy returning pros-
perity than it has been his lot to do. I will be very glad to
hear from you when your plans are arranged, and particularly so
if it should be in my power by any exertion to advance them.
I am, with sincere sorrow, and best regards,

" Dear Sir, yours very truly,
" Walter Scott,"
" Edlnlinrgh, 8tli July."

All attempts at arrangement with Lis creditors Ctiling,
on the 22d of July Haydon had to face the Insolvent
Court, In his account of his appearance there is evidently
a kind of self-satisfaction. He would be the great man
even in the Insolvent Court, and attitudinizes a great deal
too consciously on the occasion.

" July 23tf. —Yesterday I went up to court. "What a

day ! That villain T entered his name as an opponent.

The very moment before I went up, he called and relin-
quished it ! I, who had been bo used to see his viWanoua
and serpent face in a state of despotic insolence, felt

1

1823.] IN THE INSOLVENT COURT. 57

deeply affected at the change. Never shall I forget his
withered air. Poor human nature ! There is something
in a court of justice deeply affecting. The grave, good look
of the robed judges, the pertinacious ferreting air of the
counsel, the eager listening faces of the spectators, the
prisoner standing up like a soul in purgatory.

** At last up rose a grave, black-robed man, and said in
a loud voice, * Benjamin Robert Haydon ! Does any one
appear ? Benjamin Robert Haydon ! '

" Nobody came, and I mounted. My heart beat vio-
lently. I put my clenched hand on the platform where
the judges sat, and hung the other over my hat. There
was a dead silence : then I heard pens moving ; then there
was a great buzz. I feared to look about. At last I
turned my head right facing the spectators. First, the
whole row of counsellors were looking like ferrets, knit-
ting their brows, and turning their legal faces up to me
with a half piercing half musing stare. I saw nothing
behind but faces, front and profile, staring with all their
soul. Startled a little I turned, and caught both judges
vrith their glasses off, darting their eyes with a sort of
interest. I felt extremely agitated. My heart swelled.
My chest hove up, and I gave a sigh from my very soul,
I was honourably acquitted, bowed low, and retired.

« July 25^A.— Thanks to Thee, O God, I was this day
released from my imprisonment. I went up to court
again. About half-past eleven my name was mentioned.
I stood up, when the Chief Commissioner said aloud,
* Benjamin Robert Haydon, the Court considers you to
be entitled to your discharge, and you are discharged
forthwith.' I bowed low and retired.

" Out of one hundred and fifty creditors not one opposed
me. One, a villain, entered his name, but lost courage.
I consider this an ordeal that has tried my character, and
I feel grateful for it.

" I am now free to begin life again. God protect me
and grant that I may yet accomplish my great object."

Even while in court he. found opportunity to sketch

58 MEMOIRS OF B. R, H^iTDON. [1813.

judges, and barristers, and a prisoner, a poor fellow who
had not ate meat for two months, and who, harassed b;
counsel, said in his desperation at last, " you counsel go
on making black white, and never think of the other
world " — an allocution which we are glad to hear " actually
stopped the counsel in the middle of his severity."

Haydon was scarcely free before he was again urging
on repellent Sir Charles Long his plan for making a
beginning of public employment for artists by the decora-
tion of the great room of the Admiralty; as the House
is likelier, he thinks, to be brought to the idea of en-
couraging the arts out of the public purse by starting with
a small undertaking, and thence passing on to such large
ones as the decorating of the House of Lords or St. Paul's.
At the same time be pressed on him the feasibility of the
directors of the British Institution carrying out some
similar work at their cost and under iheir auspices. Sir
Charles received bis hot appeals with unvarying official
frigidity. He was always ready to give everything " his
consideration : but Mr. Haydon must be aware that Sir
Charles Long has no means individually of giving effect to
such a proposition" (as if Mr. Haydon ever thought he
had !), and " he conceives that his (Mr. Haydon's) proposal
would be more properly addressed to the Admiralty or the
Treasury." The subject of adorning the halls of our public
buildings with historical pictures has been, it appears, " at
different times under the consideration of the directors of
the British Institution, but they have thought the pecu-
niary means at their disposal too limited to carry into
effect any general plan of that nature," and so they pre-
ferred to give premiums and buy pictures.

It was in this unpromising way that Haydon began that
unbroken series of violent epistolary assaults upon public
men and ministers, in favour of pubbc employment for
artists, which made him, I cannot doubt, a sad "bore" to
his otGcial correspondents, from Sir Charles Long to Sir
Robert Peel, Were it decorous or possible to publish the
whole of this correspondence, it would be a dangerous

1

1823.3 DUNNING MINIST£BS. 59

encouragement to all men possessed by an idea for which
they wish to win access to official minds. One would say^
after reading the correspondence on both sides^ that never
was anything so hopeless as these appeals. But silence,
snub, simple acknowledgment, formal phrase of courtesy
meaning nothing, curt refusal, every variety of turn by
which red-tapeism could trip up and disable an obtrusive
enthusiast, was lost upon Haydon, who, nothing daunted,
kept pouring in page after page of passionate pleading on
Sir Charles Long, on Mr. Vansittart, on Mr. Robinson, on
the Duke of Wellington, on Lord Grey, on Sir Robert
Peel, on Lord Melbourne — on Sir Robert Peel again, and
seemed to be making no way whatever with any of them.
But our new Houses of Parliament are to have their
statues, and their frescoes, and their oil pictures — and
Haydon lived to take a part (though an unsuccessful one)
in the first competition intended to test the capability of
our artists for such work.

It is certainly not clear how much this result has been
contributed to by Haydon's pertinacious drumming of his
darling tune in ministerial ears. But whether the achieve-
ment be ^^ post hoc'^ or "propter hoc,'* it must be owned
that Haydon wrote with the earnestness of a believer, and
maintained, at a time when such a doctrine was alike new
and unpalatable, that the future of art in England de-
pended on the finding public employment for artists. He
saw what the experience of every year is making more
evident to all, that if pictures are to be painted for private
patrons only, they will be apt to tend more and more to
the rank of mere decoration ; they will be bound more and
more to point no moral that is too grand or too stern for
the atmosphere of a drawing-room, and to admit only so
much of the heroic as can be congruously brought into
juxtaposition with the indoor life of the nineteenth cen-
tury. The effect of purely private patronage is to be seen
in that blossoming of prettiness in fancy costumes which
every year comes out to tempt a market at the Academy
exhibitions — holding a divided empire with portraiture,

60 MEMOIRS OF B. E. HAYDON, [lB23,

and employing an amount of skill and a wealtli of technical
resources which, better bestowed, nilglit place the English
school in the van of European art.

Meanwhile the work before Haydon, on coming out of
the Bench, was clear. He must live, first of all — and he
must live, if possible, without repeating that untoward
attempt at living by credit, and borrowing, on no better
security than high hopes and honest intentions, which had
ended in the King's Bench and insolvency. His great
pictures had been sold to creditors at prices very much
under their value ; Lazarus to Binna, his upholsterer, for
300/. ; and Christ's Entry into Jerusalem (which had
brought him 3000/. in receipts of exhibition) for 240/.

September 8M, — -So, curbing his inclination for the
heroic, Haydon began what he calls "his portrait career,"
" by painting a gentleman. Before he came I walked
about the garden in sullen despair. After I had got his
head in, when he was leaving he told me he was sure I
must want money, and slipped a note of considei-able
amount into my hand. He does not come again till
Thursday, and to-morrow with a light and grateful heart
I will begin the sketch for my next picture. This is
advancing steadily. O God, accept my gratitude."

This next picture was a Bacchanalian subject — Silenus,
but it went against the grain. " Humorous subjects" (he
writes September 10th) " do not fill the mind so fully.
You laugh, and there's an end ; but with sublime subjects
you muse and have high thoughts, and think of death and
destiny, of God and resurrection, and retire to rest above
the world — prepared for its restlessness."

And now began the torments of portrait-painting. " I
proceeded with my portrait, irritated by the sitter wanting
to go just as I was beginning to feel it. I submitted, of
course, but he won't have half as good a head — so let it
be. Well, I have been all day at work, and what thoughts
are the consequence, — how to work the tip of a nose, or
the colour of a lip t
, " September 12M. — Proceeded with tlie drapery of the

J823.] POETEAIT-PAINTING. 61

portrait. I learnt to-day what Reynolds meant by saying
' A single figure must be single, and not look like a part
of a composition with other figures, but must be a com-
position of itself.'

"14^A. — Ah, my poor lay figure ! He who bore the
drapery of Christ and the grave-clothes of Lazarus, the
cloak of the centurion, and the gown of Newton, was to-
day disgraced by a black coat and waistcoat. I apostro-
phised him, and he seemed to sympathise, and bowed his
head as if ashamed to look me in the face. Poor fellow !
such are thy changes, O fortune. Such, as Napoleon said,
is human grandeur, *Il ny a qyHun pas du sublime au
ridicule.* '*

He was not without his consolations, however. He had
already been praised in the sonnets of Keats and Words-
worth ; and now staunch Mary Russell Mitford sent him
her tribute, to cheer him in his distasteful labours for
bread.

Sonnet to B. R. Haydon, Esq.

" Haydon I this dull age and this northern clime
Are all unripe for thee I Thou shouldst have been
Bom *midst the Angelos and Raphaels, seen
By the Merchant Prince of Florence, sent to climb
The flowery steep of art, in art's young prime,
By Leo. Of those master spirits thou
Art one : a greater never wreathed his brow
With laurels gather'd in the field of time.
And thine own hour shall come, the joyful hour
Of triumph bravely won through toil and blame.
Courage and constancy and the soaring power
Of genius plumed by love. Then shall thy name
Sound gloriously amid the golden shower
Of fortune, crowned and sanctified by Fame.**

Maby Bu8seij[< Mitfobd.

(September 4th) 1823.

A little practice in portrait-painting taught Haydon that
this had its grave interest too, and awakened a suspicion
of which I find frequent traces, that he had hitherto been
unjust in his depreciation of a field of art, in which the
greatest masters have worked and won honour.

62 MEMOIRS OP B. R. nATDON, [1823.

" September 20<A. — What tliey call 'style' in portrait
painting in England, of which Reynolds is the ostensible
inventor, has its foundation in Kneller and Leiy. They
introduced it, and, in marking, Reynolds has a great deal
of Kneller. Vandyke had nothing whatever of it. The
great object of a portrait painter should be to restore the
solid natural style of Vandyke or Rembrandt.

" Worked hard, but alas, on what ? A hand and drapery
around it I get excited though about portraits. My
devotion to historical painting has plunged me into vast
debts. Portraits and success are my only chance of paying
them.

" 24(A. Proceeded with my portrait. Nearly finished it,

" il5th. Finished it.

"28M. Was lent a capital picture of the Flemish school.
Compared it with my portrait, which it made look flimsy.
The lowest of the old painters had a mode of working
their tints which I verily believe is lost to the world. We
equal or excel them in thinking and propriety and- true
taste, but in handling the brush — since Vandyke there has
been no soul that knew anything about it. Wilkie is not
to be compared to the Flemish school in that. There was
a solidity, a body, a fleshy softness, a skilful purity
which is gone from the art. There is not a soul now in
existence who can paint a half tint. A man's feeling for
colour can always be told by hia half tint. If that be muddy
then there is no eye. t have gained a great deal to-day.
I put my own works face to face with the Flemings, and
I was bitterly disappointed. The result has sunk deeply
into my mind, and in my small picture I will venture to
try my hand.

" Spent the day in Kensington with dearest Mary, sketch-
ing bits for background. There are here some of the
most poetical bits of tree and stump, and sunny brown,
and green glen, and tawny earth. Mary took up the
life of Mary Oueen of Scots, and sat by me as I sketched,
and we passed a delicious four hours.

" September 30th. I have worked pretty well this month,
considering all things, I have now and then musing

1823. j BLACK DATS. 63

glimpses of my former glory, in my large room, striding
about, looking at my large drawings from the Cartoons,
then at the busts of Caesar and Alexander, then at my
own picture, which makes me silent. By degrees it goes
off, but I shall ever look on that part of my life as a dream
of unrivalled heaven. Adieu days of pure unadulterated
enthusiasm ! May your impressions go with me to the
grave, and attend me at the resurrection ! "

All the will in the world, however, will not bring sitters.
Hay don had no reputation as a painter of portraits, and, I
believe, was not happy in those he attempted, though his
chalk heads are vigorous and faithful. The old dij£culties
soon began to gather again.

By November 5, it had come to extremities. " Obliged
to go out,*' he writes, " in the rain. It was a foggy, rainy,
dark November morning. I left my room with no coals
in it, and no money to buy any, with little chance of re-
turning with a shilling. But my case was desperate, and
desperate was my remedy. I went to my sitter, and told
him my situation. He felt deeply for me and assisted me*
As I returned, 'Perhaps,' thought I, * my dear Mary has had
no fire to dress the child by.' Here am I at this moment
ready to do anything, to the portrait of a cat, for the means
of an honest livelihood, without employment, or the notice
of a patron in the country. I am determined I will find
out the impasto mode of the Venetians. I shall proceed
to-morrow, relieved for the time."

All this time, with breaks of three weeks, sometimes,
** spent in apathy, disgust, melancholy, weakness, com-
plaints and folly," he was diligently studying Vasari for
information as to the practice of the Venetian painters,
and trying to succeed in getting an impasto like theirs.

His studies are tinged by his humour. In his better
moods, he takes up Voltaire, and thus describes the effect
upon him.

" When you are melancholy, if you take up Voltaire he
is sure to render you more so, strange as it may seem.
But may not that proceed from his showing you so com-
pletely, as he sometimes does, the absurdity, the fallacyi

64 HEUOIES OF B. H. HATDOS. [1823.

the imposture of human belief in many superstitions?
After reading him I returned to Vasari, and it was curious
to feel the simplicity, the naWete, the piety, the good-
beartedneu, as it were, of such a writer on a delightful
subject, in comparison with Voltaire on a dreadful one.
The cutting satire, the dreadful wit, the sneering chuckle
of Voltaire, seemed diabolical in its contrast. It was as if
a wrinkled fiend had put his grinning and ghastly face into
a summer cloud, aud changed ils silvery sunniness into a
black, heavy, suffocating vapour.

" I hate Voltaire. His design is by cant to give colour
to his indecency. He is charitable from contempt, blas-
phemous from envy, pious from fear, and foul from a
disgust at human nature."

In the intervals of portrait painting, Haydon had
finished a small picture of Puck bringing the asa's head
for Bottom, and had began a Silenus. Full of passionate
regrets for large canvasses and great subjects, he could not
keep from sketching what liis circumstances forbade his
attempting to paint. On one day, December 9th, he
aketched four fine subjects, Macbeth on the Stairs, Mercury
and Argus, Moses and Pharaoh, Venaa and Anchises, till
he was sick of inventing, and more fagged (he says) than
with a hard day's painting.

"lOiA.— No sitters came. Idle to-day, from no other cause
but the curse, the usual curse, — no money. Sketched
Satan alighting, and Cymon hearing off Iphigenia, Filled
up Aristides and Alfred, if I go on in this way, I shall
die from disgust." And the day after, " Arose in an
agony of feeling from want. Driven to desperation, I
seized and packed up all the books I had except my
Vasari, Shakspeare, Tasso, Lanzi, and Milton. Got into a
coach and drove to a pawnbroker's. Books that had cost
me 201. 1 only got 3/. for. But it was better than starvation.
I came home and paid for our leggings." No wonder ha
regretted the old days, the old painting-room. He baa no
high inspiration now, he complains. " I used to kneel
duwn regularly before my picture, and pray God for
Hupport tlirough it, and then retire to rest after striding

1

1823.] REVIEW OF 1823. 65

through my solemn and solitary painting-room, with the
St. Paul of Raffaele gleaming through the dim light at one
end, the Galatea at the other, the Jupiter of the Capitol
over the chimney-piece, and behind all my Lazarus ! What
pleasure have I enjoyed in that study ! In it have talked
Walter Scott, Wordsworth, Keats, Procter, Belzoni,
Campbell, Canova, Cuvier, Lamb, Knowles, Hazlitt,
Wilkie, and other spirits of the time. And above all
thy sweet and sacred face, my Mary, was its chief grace,
its ornament, its sunbeam.'*

And yet with all his pains and troubles and lookings
back, he feels strong in body and mind — approaching the
prime of his powers in execution and conception. " Oh
that I had a dozen pictures on the easel, and two dozen
pupils at work on them," is his prayer.

Upon this mingled web of distresses, retrospects, long-
ings, sketchings, and strivings, 1823 closes. He reviews,
as usual, this year, to him so eventful.

" Last day of 1823. A year of more injury than any I
have endured since my birth. Perhaps that of 1802, when
I was blind, was more acute, but as the sphere of my affec-
tions is extended now, of course my responsibility is more.
My misery or my pleasure by being interesting to others
is doubled to myself.

^* This journal, continued for three years, ends with the
year. It is interesting to turn it over. In the midst of
such troubles as we have been afflicted with, we must feel
gratitude to God for his mercies. Dear Mary, and myself
and our children have had our health, our food, beds,
shelter and firing. These are blessings which I never
knew the full value of till I found myself without a
shilling to procure them. I was enabled, by God's mercy,
to provide my Mary with every comfort in her last lying-
in. God in heaven grant me equal power to do that at her
next.

" For myself, I was never better, in fuller practice, or
happier in my art. Melancholy as my fate seems, my
very ruin and troubles, (my devotion being so thoroughly

VOL. II. F

66 MEMOIRS OF B. R. HATDON. 1824.

known) have given that shock to the feelings of the
higher classes, which no work of art, however exquisite,
could have given. Angerstein's pictures have been bought
as the first foundation of a gallery. English pictures being
amongst them of course will take their station with the
great masters, for no gallery can be national if modem
English pictures do not fill it, as well as the works of old
foreign masters, I consider this is the greatest step since
the Elgin Marbles. If Mr, Brougham can only now
induce the House to grant a committee for the arts, the
thing will be established. He is determined. Indepen-
dently I have prospects of two commissions for large
works, now when I have neither casts, prints, books, or a
room. But so it is. I begin to think of death more than
I used to do. Every wish of my heart, but two, have been
gratified: I have only two left, viz., to be able to pay all I
owe, and to see the Government practically by purchase
encourage painting. God ! on my bended knees grant
these two things before Thou callest me iience."

1824.

The new year opened well.' Haydon passed the first
day of it in hard work, and as he records, with some pride,
paid his butcher — "a good sign." All January he was
working on his picture of Silenus, intoxicated and moral,
reproving Bacchus and Ariadne.

"January 13M. — Very hard at work. I painted the
best feet I ever painted certainly. I could not help
thinking as I looked at them, that there was seventeen
years' continual labour and thinking in those feet, and yet
how it would take seventeen years more to paint them as
they ought to be painted, and that then they would be one
hundred years behind the beauty, and vigour and softness
of life, and tliat even after one hundred years' practice

• The eleventh volume of the Journal opeua with this year, with
tUa motto from Shabspeare —

" Nor stonj tower, nor walls of beaten brass,
Nor airlesB dungeon, nor strong links of iron,
" ~ o the Bfrength of spirit."

1824.] LABGE AND SMALL PICTURES. 67

there would be something to do, and a beauty that colli d
not be done."

But the wolf was always at the door.

" 14fth. — Completed my yesterday's work, and obliged
to sally forth to get money in consequence of the bullying
insolence of a short, wicked-eyed, wrinkled, waddling, gin-
drinking, dirty-ruffled landlady — poor old bit of asthmatic
humanity! As I was finishing the faun's foot, in she
bounced, and demanded the four pounds with the air of
an old demirep duchess. I irritated her by my smile,
and turned her out. I sat down quietly and finished my
feet Fielding should have seen the old devil ! "

He now began to feel that painting small pictures
occasionally has its advantages.

" Large pictures by the immense knowledge required
give you the power of painting small ones better than if
you painted small ones all your life. Because after the
detail required by large works you give the masses only in
small ones, with such decision that this work sends you
back to a large canvas with more love for masses than
when you left off. The parts in large works are so much
larger than nature that you are apt to be too fond of
detailing all you know, and in the small ones they are so
much smaller that you are apt to omit too much. A
painter in large when he paints small compresses his
knowledge, but a painter in small when he enlarges
extends his ignorance. It must be so. This is the reason
Rubens' small works are so exquisite, and indeed all the
small works of great painters."

He this month took a lease of a house in Connaught
Terrace, the same I think which he occupied for the rest
of his life, and had already moved into it such furniture
and painting materials as his friends had contrived to get
together for him after his ruin, when behold on the 24fth
another execution ! " The two old reptiles with whom we
lived, and whom we had saved from starvation, who teased,
enticed, plagued and pestered us to lodge with them, heard
a short time ago that I had been in the Bench. They grew

F 2

68 MEMOIBS OF B. E. HATDON. [IBB4,

irritable and restless, and of course the women in the house
never met but to exchange broadsides. I took my wife's
part, and flew at them like a tiger. I had paid up all my
rent but 4^. 10*., and while Mar; and I were laughing, in
walked a man with a distraint. These two miserable old
people, with more than a foot in the grave, who had not paid
their landlord for two years, put in a distraint for 4i 10*.
after we had paid them 46^. Such is human justice! Dear
Mary was frightened, and being near her time suffered for
an hour or two. I was roused, set to work, and told my
new landlord our situalion. He immediately ordered
men to get the house ready, and there were we without
a plate or a tea-cup, but with a great deal of experience.
To-day (25th) is my birthday, and God protect us from
the misfortunes, the inattention we have endured. God
protect us and save us.

"26tk. — Not yet settled. I do not know but that
this execution will hurt me more than the one which
ruined me. It revived all the tortures of last year, and
agitated my mind with pangs which I thought had passed.
It appeared as if we were fated to aufi'er. Last night I
had a horrid dream. I awoke in a profuse sweat. I
dreamed I was suddenly in a crowd who appeared to be
watching some people, who were looking after a person
they had lost, I asked what the people in robes were
about, and some one in the crowd said, ' Tliey are looking
for Haydon who has escaped from prison.' All of a
sudden a set of voices said, ' There he is, there he is,' and
I was seized like lightning. Instantly 1 felt myself
between two officers in red robes, the one was the Marshal
of the Bench, the other his deputy, behind were twelve in
red jackets with their arms locked lest I should escape.
At last we came at full gallop to the walls of an immense
prison with a moat. The tide was in, and I saw the
saudy shore gradually appear. We crossed and I heard
the buzz of endless prisoners. All my regret I remember
was at being unable to dine with Sir W. Beechey, and
keeping him waiting. My anxiety was so great that I
awoke "

1824.] EFFORTS WITH STATESMEN. 69

By the 6th of February he was settled in his new home,
and on the 7th he mentions his meeting with Wilkie,
whose influence on the art of England Haydon had thought
injurious. " Nothing bold, or masculine, or grand, or
powerful touches an English connoisseur. It must be
small and highly wrought, and vulgar and humorous, and
broad and palpable. I question whether Reynolds would
now make the impression he did, so completely is the taste
ebbing to a Dutch one."

During the early part of this year he renewed his efforts
with public men. Mr. Brougham, Mr. Robinson, and Mr.
Lambton were successively appealed to. Of Brougham
he had great hopes. He had found him ready to move in
his cause when suffering and in prison, but discovered that
his interest was more for the artist than the art. Mr.
Robinson gave him an appointment at the Treasury, but,
alas ! when he called he found a deputation of silk-mercers
in waiting to remonstrate against the removal of the
bounties on silks, and was obliged to leave in writing
what he wished to have urged by word of mouth. His
hopes from honourable gentlemen in office were never of
long continuance, though he renewed his attacks on each
successive First Lord of the Treasury. A letter of inquiry
whether it was Mr. Robinson's intention to bring forward
any measure in Parliament for the encouragement of English
historical painting met with no more encouraging reply
than the information (by the hand of the private secretary)
that Mr. Robinson had already proposed to the House of
Commons all the votes of money for the present year,
which he calculated on bringing forward at the commence-
ment of the session.

Thus repulsed by the Minister, Haydon determined to
try the Opposition, and Mr. Brougham having cooled, had
recourse to Mr. Lambton, whom he found fearless and
independent, and ready to present his petition, " reckless
of any one's opinion."

But by the 27th the prospect was as blank as ever,
even from this quarter. " I had a long conversation with

F 3

■ 70 MEUOIES OF B. B. HATDON, [l8a<.

Mr. Lambton this morniDg, who candidly gave me no
hopes. He spoke to Sir C. Long in the House last night,
and Long said it was no use to raise hopes in me, for uo
one man would be entrusted with employment in the arts.
He said 1 must not think of Italy, for that country was
despotic, and it was the will of a despotic prince to select
an individual, — that practice would not do in England,
where every man conceived himself entitled to recommend
his favourite artist.

" I replied, the government was not despotic in Greece ;
that public opinion at all times would and should influence
the selection; that I had devoted my life exclusively to
qualify myself for a course of practice, which no other
artist in the country had done before ; that I did not want
exclusive selection, but public competition, that the ice
might be broken, and some prospect held out to future
artists, wlio may devote themselves as I had done.

"Mr. Lambton asked, 'in the event of a commission,
who were they to select, who were to judge?' and said
that 'the Government mistrusted themselves.' I said, 'I
was happy to hear this; if they had done so long ago,
St. Paul's would not have been disgraced.' 'In case of
premiums who were to judge ?' I said, ' Let there be six
artists and six connoisseurs.' He said he had no hopes.
' The King is too old; and in the case of the recent com-
mission to Turner for Trafalgar*, the Government were
not satisfied. This had done great injury,' he said. ' Why

select , aprotejreof Sir CbarlesLong!' I asked. 'Ah,

there it is,' said he, 'You object to , and others

would object to you.' ' If you wanted a secretary,' said I,
' would you choose a man who could not spell ! ' ' No,' said

he. ' Well,' said I, ' ■ cannot spell in the art, and the

commonest observation can see it.' ' Yes,' said Lambton,
' but you want to establish a system too early in the art;
we must feel our way first. Your system would be the
end, and not the beginning.' ' Yes, sir,' said I, * if genius
could be raised like lettuces, it would be right to wait.'
• A jtoTcmmcnt commission piunted for Grcenwigh,

1824.] PUBLIC MEN: PORTRAIT PAINTING. 71

Lambton smiled. But he is sincere ; he damps me, — at
least tries to do so. Long always flattered. Hamilton
always predicted he was not sincere.

" I think myself the man, and I would venture to pre-
dict that if the books were open for the public to write
the name of the man they think most capable of conduct-
ing a great system of art, Haydon would preponderate
fifty to one. I can only say that Dentatus in Italy would
have given me employment the rest of my life, and pos-
terity will think so."

There was one set-off against such disappointment.
The Government had at last purchased Mr. Angerstein's
gallery, and so acquired the nucleus of a national collec-
tion. Haydon visited the collection (May 18th).

** Went to Angerstein's. Studied the Gevartius and
Heathfield. I would rather be the painter of Lord Heath-
field than of Gevartius. There is more of what may be
called, or is understood by the word genius in the former.
It is astonishing how its breadth and tone came on me as I
entered the room. It affected me like the explosion of a
bomb. It is an honour to the country.

" It was delightful at last to walk into the gallery just
as you felt inclined without trouble or inconvenience. I
argue great and rapid advance to the art of the country
from the facility of comparison this will afford the public."

He had already executed a crayon head for his warm
fi-iend Mr. Tatham, and a " Portrait of a Gentleman,"
— name unrecorded.

By the end of May he had two more portrait- subjects
in hand. One, a family group— citizens — and the other
a full-length of Mr. Hawkes, a late mayor of Norwich,
painted for St. Andrew's Hall in that city. Distasteful
as the work was, necessities such as these were more in-
tolerable than any work, however against the grain.

'* April 2\st — 2Sd. — Passed in desponding on the future.

Not a shilling in the world. Sold nothing, and not likely

to. Baker called and was insolent. If he were to

stop the supplies God knows, what would become of my

F 4

72 MEMOIRS OF B. E. HATDON. [lB34.

clildrcn! Landlord called, — kind and sorry. Butcher
called, respectful but disappointed. Tailor good-humoured
and w-illing to wait. Silenus' reputation has done this,
as the moment your name is up again common people
fancy your pocket full. Walked about the town. I was
so full of grief I could not have concealed it at honae.
Wrote Miss Mitford a violent letter on my situation.
Called on Brougham, Hobhouse, and Sir Edward Cod-
rington : all out. As Brougham has cooled, I must try
Hobhouse. Dear Mary overcome as well as myself; cried
the whole evening, and we both passed a heated, restless
night. It seems as if a fatality attended us."

To aggravate the painter's troubles his family was in-
creasing. On March 17th his wife had brought him a
daughter, and he had to watch and work by her in her
suffering. He would have been too glad to paint portraits
then.

Wordsworth was in town this year and a frequent
visitor.

"March 3(?.— Wordsworth called and said, 'Well,
Haydon, you found the world too strong.' ' Stop, sir, the
battle is not over;' and down we sat and liad a regular
set-to. I maintained my ruin had advanced the art,
and that the purchase of Angerstein's pictures and Wil-
kie's (a living artiat) among them, was the greatest triumph
since the Elgin Marbles. He acknowledged it, and seemed
angry that Wilkie was admitted. I told him I was con-
vinced the art was advancing. I deny I found the world
too strong, except in their ignorance ; and when a man
is in the prime of his life and still living, I consider the
battle but as half over."

This year too he met Moore for the first time, and
leaves this pleasant impression of him: —

" March 23d. — Met Mooie at dinner, and spent a very
pleasant three hours. He told his stories with a hit-or-
miss air, as if accustomed to people of rapid apprehension,
It being asked at Paris who they would have as a god-
father for Rothschild's child, ' Talleyrand," said a French-

1824.] IMPRESSION OP MOORE. 73

man. ^ Pourquoi, Monsieur?^ ^ ParcequHl est le moins
Chretien possible,^

" Moore is a delightful, gaj, voluptuous, refined, natural
creature ; infinitely more unaffected than Wordsworth ;
not blunt and uncultivated like Chantrey, or bilious and
shivering like Campbell. No affectation, but a true, refined,
delicate, frank poet, with sufficient air of the world to
prove his fashion, sufficient honesty of manner to show
fashion has not corrupted his native taste ; making allow-
ance for prejudices instead of condemning them, by which
he seemed to have none himself: never talking of his own
works, from intense consciousness that everybody else
did ; while Wordsworth is always talking of his own pro-
ductions, from apprehension that they are not enough
matter of conversation. Men must not be judged too
hardly ; success or failure will either destroy or better the
finest natural parts. Unless one had heard Moore tell the
above story of Talleyrand, it would have been impossible
to conceive the air of half-suppressed impudence, the
delicate, light-horse canter of phrase with which the words
floated out of his sparkling Anacreontic mouth.

" One day Wordsworth at a large party leaned forward
at a moment of silence, and said, * Davy, do you know the
reason I published my White Doe in quarto?' *No,'
said Davy, slightly blushing at the attention this awa-
kened. * To express my own opinion of it,' replied Words-
worth.

" Once I was walking with Wordsworth in Pall Mall ;
we ran into Christie's, where there was a very good
copy of the Transfiguration, which he abused through
thick and thin. In the corner stood the group of Cupid
and Psyche kissing. After looking some time he turned
round to me with an expression I shall never forget, and
said, 'TheDev-ils!'

" May I2th. — Here I am waiting for a sitter to begin a
family piece. How different used to be my sensations.
This morning when I awoke I had a nasty taste in my
mouth. I got up in dull foggy disgust. This is very

74 MEMOIRS OP B. H. HATDON. [lS24.

weak, but I cannot help it. Silenus, my last tiop^i has
not sold. My last hope! Lazaius has come back, and
Binns has lost 300/. more by it, poor fellow t My debt
was large enough without this. Some days ago, as my
previous sketch shows, I settled the composition of Moses
and Pharaoh. The background rushed into my head like
an irruption. I tingled to the feet, and passed the day in
a rapture,

" Perhaps portrait-painting may do me good. I know it
may be made subservient to historical purposes, but I,
who paint everything from nature, don't want such a
means. Pity, after twenty years' devotion to my art, and
having just completed my studies, I should not now have
an opportunity to give vent to my power.

' " Portrait the size of life is better practice than
historical pictures in Poussin size, surely !

" A wife and four* children must be fed, so to work I
must go, willy nilly. Ah ! my glorious times. I swam
through life in a dream of love and glory. Passed ! passed t
passed !

" I think J felt yesterday something like a tinge of pain
at my heart. If so, it is the beginning of my family com-
plaint, angina pectoris.

"My sitter will soon he here with his good-hearted,
sunny, city face ; and so adieu speculation and thinking,
of which my head is full.

" UlA. — Hard at work on my picture; did not succeed
of course. Painted the forehead well, and gained from
painting it; but just as I wanted to go on, my sitter was
obliged to go to the city.

" Some men there are love not a gaping pig,
Some that are mad if they behold a uit,

* • ■ for afTeetion,

Miatresi of passion, sways it to the mood
Of what she likes or loathes.

1

1824.] DISGUSTS OF PORTRAIT-PAINTING. 75

As there is no firm reason to be render*d
Why he cannot abide a gaping pigv
Why he a harmless necessary cat,
So I can give no reason, and I will not,
More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing
I bear and ever shall to shortened noses,
Long upper lips, small eyes, and hollow cheeks,
And all the meagre wrinkled accidents
Of booby faces — -."

" I do not despise portrait I only don't like it. I am
adapted for something else.

^^ July 2nd. — Called on Binns, who purchased Lazarus.
It had returned safe after all sorts of adventures. He
unrolled it to show me a part. I saw the head of Lazarus
and the hand of Christ, after a year's absence ; and if God
in His mercy spare that picture, my posthumous reputation
X is secured.

" O God ! Grant it may reach the National Gallery
in a few years, and be placed in fair competition with
Sebastiano del Piombo. I ask no more to obtain justice
from the world.

" July 20th. — I have nothing to write, no thoughts; I
am painting portraits ; voila tout.^*

" July 24th. — * As you leave the atmosphere to complete
the effect, so you ought often to leave the imagination to
complete the expression.' This is the only thought I
have had since I began portraits, and this is not worth
much.

" For these two months, having at last devoted myself
to portraits, I have enjoyed tranquillity, luxury, quiet,
and peace ; and have maintained my family with respect-
ability and credit. But, alas! what an absence of all
original thought.

" These divine faces have been all I have studied,
investigated, ascertained," (and here follows a row of cari-
catured versions of the common-place features of his
sitters).

Wilkie was this year painting his portrait of George

76 MEMOIRS OF B. K. HATDON. tl82*.

IV. at Holyrood. This account of a visit paid to the
picture, with the reflections on it, is characteristic.

'•August I9(A. — Called on Wilkie. The King had sat
to him, which I was very happy to find. I imagined the
awkwardness of his last visit had ruined hia prospects in
that quarter. I asked him why John Bull so immediately
after attacked him. He said he could account for it by no
other reason than that the printer had seen him with
Denman, at some trials, and immediately concluded he
was a radical.

" After a few months Knighton called on him and said,
' The King must sit to you ; I will speak to him to-day.'
Wilkie soon had notice to come to Carlton House at a
certain hour. The King was punctual, and sat to him
two hours alone. Wilkie, finding himself /^(e-a-(^ie with
a monarch, became so nervous he could not talk. After
two hours the King rose ; Wilkie, in an agony of fear
lest he had missed an opportunity that could never oeeui
again, passed ihe evening in a perspiration of anxiety, and
the next day resolved to let the matter have its swing.
The next time he found Blomberg with the King. Hia
majesty felt it awkward to be alone with him.

" What an opportunity to pour into his ear sound views
of art, and high notions of public encouragement ! Wilkie
returned the first day miserable in mind at having missed
an opportunity with royalty. His portrait was not like.
He was dissatisfied with himself, and with his conduct.
The next time he went early, and did a great deal before
the King came in; at the end of his sitting he was much
pleased, and at the end of the third still more pleased by
the King's approbation.

" These little facts are from Wilkie's own mouth this
morning, and knowing, as I do, his love of truth and
simplicity of mind, I will answer for their veracity.

" I think, after all, this is a hit, and the picture a fine
composition, and Holyrood House will be a fine accom-
paniment.

" Wilkie might have made more by this honour. Wilkie

1824.] WILKIE AND GEORGE IV. : ELGIN MABBLES. 77

may have disappointed the King, but he has not offended
him.

" I should probably have exceeded his expectations,
and have never been admitted again. I must own I long
to have an audience with a monarch. I had a specimen
of princes in the Russian Grand Dukes ; but still they
were not kings, I think I could * touch the brink of all
they hate ' without offending them.

" Wilkie said the King seemed to have a great know-
ledge of men and character.

" If I could elicit certain things by conversation I
would not mind being debarred his presence for ever.
' Time and the hour run through the roughest day.' I
wait with patience.

^^ September 3rd» — Called accidentally at the Museum,
after a long absence. There stood the Memnon's head,
the wonder of travellers, and Belzoni, dead, the mover,
transporter, and presenter of this superb fragment. There
stood the Elgin fragments, which Socrates had looked at,
and boys, fresh-coloured English boys, were drawing them
— boys who were just born when first I drew them years
ago. The actions I had studied, the knees I had in-
vestigated, the feet I had adored, were there still, begin-
ing to move, or to swing, or to balance. And yet in that
siiort time empires had passed, and heroes made an in-
glorious end. All the associations connected with these
divine things filled my mind with the delight of re-
membrance.

*^ September iih, — Read through . Aberdeen's Essay on
Greek Architecture in a shop in Holborn. It does credit
to his intellect.

" It is extraordinary that he can bring forth as arguments
against the Iliad being the production of one genius,
such facts as that writing was only known on stone,
leather, or wood, — that the rhapsodists used, like the
bards, to repeat the different portions of the Iliad, as
distinct tales. Will Lord Aberdeen or Payne Knight
place all these reasons against the positive evidence of th^

78 MEMOIES or B. E. HAYDON. [iSSi.

work itself? Could such compoaition, such arrangement,
such art, such exquisite character, such consistency
througSiout, have ever heen attained from the accidental
conceptions of different rhapsodists? Impossihle, I say
of the Iliad, as I say of the Elgin Marbles. The works
themselves are irresistible proofs that they proceeded from
one mind, original, and enlightened. Lord Aberdeen
doubts the Odyssey. Why, the single conception of Ajax
disdaining to answer Ulysses, and Achilles striding with
larger steps at hearing of his son's fame, are proofs of its
being the production of the same mind.

" Men of this nature of mind can surely never have
heen impressed with the real power of a poetical work, or
they could not thus be led astray by plausibiUty, ingenuity,
and antiquarian research."

On September 14tli, he mournfully writes that he has not
had one historical fancy. His mind was, however, con-
stantly reverting to the grand forms it most dehghted in.
Sketches of the Theseus and Ilissus are on almost every
page of his journal ; and below one careful study of a full-
length figure, he has written "a sketch to try if I had
forgotten all." Indeed, on the very next page to that oa
which he has vented the above complaint, is a design for
a subject he ever afterwards had in his mind, Uriel reveal-
ing himself to Satan, from Paradise Lost. He made a fine
fresco of the head of Uriel in ISiS, aa the wall of his
painting-room in Burwood Place.

In his dreams lie was urging those claims of high art
to public encouragement which he never could get ac-
knowledged in his waking assaults on men in power.

" I awoke this morning (Sept. 19th), making a speech
at a large dinner of artists in favour of historical painting,
and a capital speech it appeared to me. I remember one
passage only. ' Why must historical painting be sup-
ported only when it can be made an engine of state or of
religion, and held forth, enchained by superstition or
power, like a beauty by a band, to ensnare and entrap the
unthinking and unwary. These times are passed, and

1824.] THE MISERY OP PORTRAIT-PAINTING. 79

because they are passed, high art is to sink, because it
cannot be employed as a means of seduction. Have we
no heroic actions in the history of our country fit for repre-
sentation ? Are we so bare of great deeds that we must
descend to immortalising the caprices, the humours, and
the absurdities of the day ? What do all English ex-
hibitions show but a body of gigantic powers stooping to
hit the taste, to flatter the passions, or suit the ignorance
of the rich who visit them ?

" All this and more came pouring out as I lay dozing."
There are moments at which, if the entries in the
journal are faithful transcripts of what was passing in the
writer's mind, his sufiferings at the uncongenial work he
was fastened down to at this time, seem to have gone nigh
to shake his intellects. Thus I find : —

Oct 6th, — " I am entirely abroad in mind, occupied
with a continuity of daily trifles : in the evening I have no
abstract idea of expression or character to muse on till
the next day. I leave ofi" wearied and commence in dis-
gust. I candidly confess I find my glorious art a bore. I
cannot with pleasure paint any individual head for the
mere purpose of domestic gratification. I must have a
great subject to excite public feeling. I must be sup-
ported with all sorts of anticipatory hopes, fears and feel-
ings. In portrait I lose that divine feeling of inspiration
which I always had in history. I feel as a common man ;
think as a common man ; execute as the very commonest.
Velasquez used to paint fruit, vegetables, still life and all
life, again and again, to get facility. I would willingly do
this, and have done it, could it end in anything worthy,
but what worthy thing will happen to me ? Alas ! I have
no object in life now but my wife and children, and almost
wish I had not them, that I might sit still and meditate on
human ambition and human grandeur till I died. I really
am heartily weary of life. I have known and tasted all
the glories of fame, and distinction, and triumph ; all the
raptures of love and affection, all the sweet feelings of a
parent. And what then? The heart, as I have said before,

80 lUZMOIRS OF B. E. HATDON. lliSi.

sinks inwardly, and longs for a pleasure calm and eternal,
majestic, unchangeable. I am not yet forty, and can tell
of a destiny melancholy and rapturous, bitter beyond all
bitterness, afflicting beyond all affliction, cursed, heart-
burning, heart-breaking, maddening. Merciful God, that
Thou shouldst permit a being with thought and feeling to
be so racked! But I dare not write now. The melancholy
demon has grappled my heart, and crushed its turbulent
beatings in his black, bony, clammy, clenching fingers. I
stop till an opening of reason dawns again on my blurred

But help was at hand from a quarter where few look
for it.

Haydon's legal adriaet at the time of his arrest, Mr.
Kearsey, was his zealous friend also. Not content with
most judicious and active professional service in that
crisis, this friend bought his picture of Puck. He it was,
too, who gave him a commission for the family picture
which provoked some of his bitterest anathemas upon
portrait painting. And now this rare lawyer came for-
ward (Oct. 25ch) with an ofier of assistance, most kindly
meant, but put in a way which probably chafed the un-
fortunate painter not a little.

At once Mecaenas and man of business — friend in need
and attorney-at-law, — proffering a year's peace, at four
per cent, and sufflcient securities — and even imposing the
dimensions and prices of the pictures to be painted by his
client and protege — wealthy and prudent Mr. Kearsey,
now at Brighton for his health, thus writes to poor and
improvident Mr. Haydon.

" I cannot forget that on your introduction to me (now a year
since or so), you came to me driven by the pitiless storm which
was then about to annihilate you. The storm was doubtless in
no small degree of your own raising. I carried your bark through
it, but miserably despoiled, it's true, of tackle and stores. You
was, however, then pushed off the shore and afloat, but I found
you on ihe crisis of my lale attack in May last (which through
a providence to you as well as to mc I survived), with your bork

1

1824.] A HELPi-CL ATTORNEY. 81

nground, and as helpless, if not more helpleas, than ever. This
latter event was I admit, more your misfortune than juur fault ;
then, and ever since then, I carried and have carried you through
the surge, and you are floating again on the wave. I have reason
to think you are, and have been tolerably industrious since thtf
first great week, and that your state of depression may with a
helping band at the critical moment be dispelled for ever, pro-
vided industry, economy, and every good habit is in exercise by

I. Therefore, although I have actually gone beyond my poor

ins already, yet I am resolved that if it is in my power to
help it, your talents shall not he sacrificed to rapacity, greediness,
r avarice, and if you are not to rise, (which moat depends on
yourself,) those shall not keep you down for at least one year

come. Your necessities must not and shall not compel your
genius to go crippled, or on all fours, seeking for and picking
up crumbs. Ton doubtless from the former class of your studies
have something yet Co attain in portrait painting, more especially

tale portraits, and you must make, as you ought, for some
time, a aacriflce in tlie price of portraits ; but this must not be
dictated to by the extortionate. A whole length at this moment
should not be done by you under seventy-five guineas, a three-
quarter, fifty guineas, a half, thirty to thirty-five guineas; and
I order to prevent your being obliged to take less than these
sums, I have resolved for one year, from 1st January, 1825, to

: January, 1826, to come forward at intervals (provided
there is need, and I have reason to think you deserve it,) with

im of 300?., secured to me as I shall by-and-by state. Thus

I will have a year clear before you, if you do not gain a
farthing, and the year (free and well employed) will give you
the command, I trust, of a better fate. Your mind unembar-
rassed will have a ftiU call and play of its energies. But mark
well, while I do this, the following with others I may think of,
f a similar nature, will be sine qua nons. And I am obliged
he precise, because in what I am thus uncalled for proposing
to do for you, a stranger, I shall (if I am called on to do it)
be doing more than in justice to my own family, as is the

Igar excuse, I ouglit to do for any one not allied by ties of
friendship, blood, or other relation ship.

" You will paint portraits to your best skill at the above
prices when they offer, and you will try to get them.

"You will paint no portrait at less price unless I assent: under
penalty thia.

VOL. II. G

82 MEMOIRS OP B, It. DATDON. [IS2-1.

" While not engaged in painting portraiO, you must be ac-
tively engaged in paioting historic or compositions of fancy, of
a small, and at most not larger than a saleable cabinet size, con-
sulting me. I wish to kaon' what you are doing or about to
do, more for any aid I can give, than any interdict to be pre-
Humed hy me.

" If I advance money, I must be repaid out of the produce of
the first portraits, historic or other paintings, as paid for or sold,
with interest at four per cent. I say this interest, because I
will not have any earthly advantage of the smallest kind. All
I propose or can have is to father on myself more anxieties and
trouble.

" The historic or other paintings must be as security for my
advances till sold.

" If tlie year's advance does not answer my or your expecta-
tions, in giving you a command in portrait painting, your honour
must be pledged not to make any further request to me, so that
I shall have a proper virtue exercised by you, and my feelings
not harrowed. That you may not be tempted to depart from
the prices I state, you shall, if I require, make a statement on
oath of what you have done, and you shall communicate to me
instantly on all works engaged for.

" My advances are to be secured by your bond, and a life in-
Burance. I add this latter, more especially because it will be a
benefit to your family, and what as a professional man you must
do to a considerable extent, as your means will admit by-and-
by, for if you live and have employ, your works will support
your family, but dying your works must close, and your life as-
surance will aid them. Think well on all this."

This offer was accepted. I cannot refer the following
paper to its exact date, though I would assign it to
December of this year.

" I have had two expiring flashes, but two 1 and they
are expired — ' Pharoah dismissing Moses and Aaron at
the dead of night,' on finding the heir to his throne,
with all the other first bora, dead; and 'Satan in like-
ness of a cherub inquiring of Uriel the way to the earth.'
On the ground I would have had Pharaoh's queen in the
agony of maternal hope, placing her hand on the heart of
her boy, and listening for a beat of it in racking anxiety j

1

1824.] TWO FINE SUBJECTS. 83

the sisters, one exclaiming in affliction, the other, while
supporting her dead brother, looking round to Moses with
an inquiring horror. Behind the queen, Pharaoh, the
subdued monarch, bending with majesty, and dismissing
the lawgiver and his brother in waving, disdainful and
yet vanquished pride : Moses right opposite to him point-
ing to the dead child, and to heaven, as if saying, * I do
this by superior direction;' and in the background the
people in rebeUion, dashing up their dead children, and
roaring like the sea for the dismissal of the Jewish leaders
while the guards press them back lest they burst into the
palace. A sphinx or two, a pyramid or so, dark and
awful, with the front groups lighted by torches, would
make this a subject terrific and affecting. It combines
pathos and sublimity.

" The next is Satan like a cherub innocently asking the
way to the earth. Uriel, tall, grand and majestic, as if
roused from deep thought, is looking round in awful
silence. Behind him is an ocean of rolling cloud, on which
his own grand shadow is flickering.

"For a moment all my old raptures of study darted
into my brain. I foresaw the colour, the expression, the
light, shadow, form, and became quite inspired in my
feelings ; when a thundering rap announced a sitter, rich
and good-humoured, and away went all my glorious anti-
cipations, and I sat down to paint my employer just as
you would desire. I must own that the comforts and ease
and tranquillity which attend portraits, and the misery
and insults which have always attended my history paint-
ing, begin to affect me. The very day I painted Ariadne's
head, just in the middle of it, in burst our old landlady
and abused us for four pounds rent, like the bawd in Cla-
rissa Harlowe. The day I painted Lazarus's head I was
arrested. So can you wonder at my thinking of an histo-
rical painting with an absolute shrink ? "

If Mr. Kearsey's terms were accepted, the prospect of

a year free from harass may have had something to do

with this entry.

o 2

84 MEMOIBS OF B. R. HATDON. t;i824.

December \3th, — " I am getting at last interested with
portraits, and began to feel all eagerness for surface, tone,
softness, likeness, effect, and all the rich mockery of a
head, (This was cant — June, 1825.) Reynolds was cer-
tainly too blunt, Vandyke too finished.

" Titian appears to combine them both. From a rapid
feeling I got my Iiistorical heads so soon settled in ex-
pression that I never worked them up. I could not do it,
— when the impression was hit, that was enough."

At the close of the year he reviews it as usual.

"January, February, March, and April, my wants and
necessities were horrible. In May a better fortune seemed
to dawn on me, and at last I felt the sweets of living from
my own gains, without degrading myself by borrowing.

" Kearsey (on the brink of death) bought my Puck, which
was the first symptom of better prospects, though I offered
it for 20/. after having asked 80/. He gave me a family
piece ; other commissions followed, and I have been kept
pretty nearly in constant employment.

" But devoting six months to Silenus after I came from
prison, without resources, involved me in debt, out of
which, notwithstanding all my employment and all my
fortune this season, I am not extricated. The education
of two boys and the expense of two infants are heavy
indeed, but still I hope industry, and trust in God, will
ultimately render me successful and independent.

"With respect to the great object of my former am-
bition, I candidly confess myself cooled. I have little
hope, though my petition was received with something
like enthusiasm in the House. The prejudices against me
individually as the leader of that style are insurmountable
during my life. I have given a shock to prejudice, cer-
tainly created something hke a feelhig that art is not
conducted grandly by the higher powers — but still it is as
yet a dead letter. The Royal Academy, embedded as it
is in the prejudices of the country, and sheltered by royal
patronage, will turn for years the course of the strongest
torrent of good sense, genius, and arguments.

r

leai.] HEviEw or 1824. 85

More intercourse with the world, which portrait-
painting has given me, has opened my eyes to the thorough
ignorance of educated men — to their utter insensibility to
anything like a grand idea. The National Gallery may
do something if they add the Cartoons of Raffaele and
Mantegna to the other works.

" My domestic happiness is doubled : daily and hourly
my sweetest Mary proves the justice of my choice. My
boy Frank gives tokens of being gifted at two years old.
God bless bim ! My ambition would be to make him a
public man. I have better prospects certainly than at the
end of last year, though more in debt. I have not added
much to my knowledge, — I fear I have lost something in
Greek and Latin; in Italian I have gained. The absence
of books of reference and prints is a bitter pang. At first
I was enraged at not being able to get information in a
moment as formerly ; at last I put it off, and now care
nothing about it.

" I have worked less this year than last, and occasionally
have had hitter fits of melancholy and illness.

" 1 am nearer the grave, and I hope more fit to be laid
in it. My mind calmer, my principles of honour firmer,
and those of religion deeper than ever. God spare me
till my loss will be of no consequence to my sweetest
Mary and children. In art I can be of little more utility.
The vigour of my life has only made a cranny in the
heavy wall of ignorance, through which, it may be, a star
of light shines ; whether any other will batter a. breach in
it time only can prove. For the mercies of the year, O
God, accept my gratitude.

" I think on the whole I have sunk into, or am sinking
into, a sluggish apatliy, perhaps despair. The end of the
next year will show."

His last prayer before retiring to rest on the morning
of the new year was that he might live to finish his design
of the Crucifixion. That prayer was not granted.

Thanks in a groat measure to Mr. Kearsey's oddly-offered
but well-timed liberality, this year was, on the whole, a

3

86 MBM0IK8 OP B. H. HATDON. [ISSS.

happy one for Hajdon. He was coinpararively free from
embarrassment ; and, though he had atiil to struggle with his
sore distaste for portrait-painting, he had three commissions
for small historical pictures. The great drawback was the
reception his critics gave his portraits when exhibited.
Their attacks took what Hajdon calls " a new direction."
The painter was assailed through the personal peculiarities
of his sitters. It is natural enough to find the angry artist
expressing an opinion that this is a cruel and deep-laid
plot to injure him, at his starting on this more lucratiTe
branch of his calling ; but we shall perhaps do the critics
more justice if we believe that Hajdon'a portraits had
something about them provokingly open to ridicule. The
heroic style of treatment could hardly have been adapted
to a comfortable citizen family, or a provincial ex-mayor.
Indeed, I am assured that in the latter performance he had
represented the mayor of proportions too heroic ever to
have got through a doorway, out of which he was supposed
to have issued in his civic state.

His first work for this year was a Juliet at the Balcony,
a commission from his good friend Kearsey. By the end
of the month the picture was completed.

On his birthday (the S.'ith January) I find, " My birth-
day — thirty-nine years of age : one year more and I shall
be at the maturity of manhood, from whence to move is
to decline. Peace attend me! May I live to see the
Vatican, finish the Crucifixion, and educate my children.
Amen.

" Received a letter from my first pupil, Eastlake. He is
one of those who acknowledges his obligations, trifling as
tliey are, with gratitude. It did my wounded spirit good,"

The passage which thus gratified Hay don was the
following. " Be assured that your early kindness to me
is among those obligations which I am least likely to
forget. My early impressions in art (which might perhaps
have produced a better result) I owe entirely to you, and
I have always involuntarily connected my idea of many fi£
the perfections of art with your own practice." • • •

1825.] TRUTH FROM A PUBLIC MAN. 87

An assurance, I may say here, the honest sincerity of
which is borne out by every line of the many letters of the
same writer which Haydon has preserved. I regret that the
sanctity of private confidence, though for reasons I have
already given, in no respect violated by the publication of
passages from Hay don's own journal, prevents my drawing
upon the letters of Sir C. Eastlake, in the way their value
and interest as contributions to the criticism of art, would
render me anxious to do.

^^ February 3rd. — Lambton called to see my portraits.
He thought them large. I then showed him my sketches
for a series of national subjects. He approved of them,
but said I might depend on it that the Government were
determined that nothing of the sort should take place.
The last year he sent to Long to know what day would be
convenient for him to have my petition presented, and that
he replied it was immaterial to him, as there was nothing
in my petition he wished to say a word on. That is, there
was nothing in my petition to which he could reply ! This
was the truth.

" From Lambton only have I ever got the truth. He
begged me not to have the least dependence on the pro-
mises of any man connected with Government ; for I might
rely on it the great hobby-horse now was the National
Gallery, where old pictures would be the first object of
consideration."

From a letter to Mr. Boaden, the biographer of John
Kemble, I extract this passage of comparative criticism of
that great actress and her brother. " Mrs. Siddons could
act, as you know. Lady Macbeth twenty nights, and vary
it each night. This was not from previous thinking. Oh
no ! But fired by the part as she proceeded, her native
faculty flashed out in gleams of power which no previous
labour could have given her in her cold study. Kemble
came into a part with a stately dignity, as if he disdained
to listen to nature, however she might whisper, until he had
examined and weighed the value of her counsel. Mrs.
Siddons, on the contrary, seemed always to throw herself

G 4

88 MEMOIRS OP B. E. HATDON. Cl825.

on nature as a guide, and follow instantaneously what she
suggested."

" IGth. — My whole soul and hody raise the gorge at
portrait. My mind becomes restless for want of mental
occupation. When I painted poetry, night and day my
mind and soul were occupied. Now as soon as the sitter
is gone, I turn from his resemblance with disgust. Would
1 could hit on some mode of putting forth sublime ideas
which would provide me the means of existence,"

He at last received a commission for his Pharaoh dis-
missing the Israehtes. And this picture occupied him, in
the intervals of portrait labours, for the rest of the year.
It is impossible not to sympathise with the spring of his
energies, ever and anon, when at work on a subject which
tasked them worthily, — which set him thinking, com-
posing, and recomposing, analysing his own labours, and
going for hints and guidance and inspiration to the great
works of the old painters,

" July 20ih. — Hard at work and arranged my little
picture to my satisfaction. As a proof how an historical
painting restores all my old deh'ghtful habitSj I awoke
in the middle of the night with a pure conception of
Christ sleeping in the Forest. The demons howling at
him, and the storm roaring ! "

On the day after this he had a glimpse of work still
more to his mind. A proposition was made to him to paint
the Crucifixion for the great hall at Liverpool, It even
got so far as estimates and sketches, but no further. The
place it would have filled is, I presume, that now occupied
by Hilton's picture of the same subject

His historical subject and his portraits have many a
battle, in which portrait is certainly beaten, unless when
a sitter happens to be peculiarly clamorous, or Mr. Kearsey
intervenes with the bond — kindliest but most punctiliously
exact of creditors.

On the 24th was one of these battles, with a reflection
appropriate to altered times and duties, " Ought to have
paintedaportrait; looked at my historical picture: thought

1825.] martin's pictures. 89

I might as well set and arrange my drapery. I did so.
There could be no harm in painting that bit ! so I painted
it. Then it looked so well there could be no harm in
painting the other bit, and then the whole would be com-
plete ; so I did it, and dinner was announced before I was
aware. Delightful art !

** To-morrow I must finish my portrait, and then to my
historical picture. This is small, and yet in the height of
my pride I refused a commission of five hundred guineas
from Sir John Broughton to paint a small picture of
Edward the Black Prince distinguishing an ancestor at
the field of Poitiers, for fear it might interrupt my great
plan. I was right, but it was a pity. I certainly would not
refuse one now."

Martin was now startling the town, and puzzling the
critics with his vast perspectives. Haydon pronounced, on
their appearance, a judgment of these singular works, which,
without undervaluing them, it is safe to say that time has
confirmed. ^' Martin has a curious picture of the Creation
— God creating the Sun and the Moon, which is a total
failure from his ignorance of the associations and habits of
the mind.

" No being in a human shape has ever exceeded eight feet.
Therefore to put a human being with a hand extended,
and a large shining circular flat body not much larger
than the thing shaped like a human hand and four fingers,
and call that body the sun, makes one laugh; for no
efibrt can get over the idea that it is not larger than a
hand. And the Creator, so far from being grand, looks no
larger than a human being, and the sun looks like a shil-
ling. It can't be otherwise, and no association can ever get
over the relative proportions of a hand, and what is not
bigger than a hand. It is no use to say that hand is a mile
long. No efibrt of the mind can entertain such a notion :
besides, it is the grossest of all gross ideas to make the
power and essence of the Creator depend on size. His
nature might be comprehended in an ordinary sized brain,
and it is vulgar to make him striding across a horizon, and

DO MEMOIES OP B. H. UATDON. [1825.

say the horizon is fifty miles long. It is contrary to human
experience, and the Creator, so far from looking large,
makes the horizon look little; for this is a natural result
when a being with legs, arms, hands, beard, face is seen
stretching across it. When Martin diminished his buildings
to a point, put specks for human beings, then there was
no improbabihty that bis rooms might be, for aught we
know, forty miles long, his doors six miles high, his
windows a mile across, or bis second floor two miles and
three quarters above his first floor, — tight work for the
servants if they slept in the attics. They must have had
depots of night candles by the way, Martin, in looking at
his Babylon with a friend of mine, said: 'I mean that
tower to be seven miles high,' The association is pre-
posterous. There is nothing grand in a man stepping
from York to Lancaster; but when he makes a great
Creator fifteen inches, paints a sun the size of a bank
token, draws a line for the sea, and makes one leg of
God in it and the other above, and says, " There, that
horizon is twenty miles long, and therefore God's leg
must be sixteen relatively to the horizon,' the artist
really deserves as much pity as the poorest maniac in
Bedlam.

" I carried my picture in to-day, and seeing this picture
was led into meditation on its inconsistency."

In March this year Fuseli died. Few knew him better
than Haydon, or appreciated him, as it seems to me, more
justly, or more kindly.

" Fuseli is dead ! An historical painter dead is an irre-
parable loss ; for, however unsuccessful, if living, he is a
perpetual reproach to the apathy, brutality and insincerity
of the patrons. He keeps alive the complaint that his-
torical painting is neglected — and thus, even in ruin,
indirectly maintains a feeling which must die when he
dies, for it can no longer be a subject of complaint that
history is not supported, when its professors are extinct.

"Notwithstanding the apathy of the public latterly to-
wards his works, Fuseli had had his day. His Nightmare

1

1825.] PUSELl'S DEATH: CRITICISM OP HIM. 91

was decidedly popular all over Europe. Fuseli was paid
30/. for the picture, and the engraver cleared 600L by the
print. His great works were from Milton. His con-
ception of Adam and Eve for pathos, and Uriel contem-
plating Satan for sublimity, have never been excelled by
the greatest painters of the greatest period of art either in
Greece or Italy. With a fancy bordering on frenzy, as
he used to say, the patience, the humility and calmness
necessary for embodying your conceptions in an alt, the
language of which, in spite of all the sophistry and cant
about style and gusto, is undeniably grounded on a just
selection and imitation of beautiful nature — angered and
irritated him. His great delight was conception, not
embodying his conceptions, and as soon as he rendered
a conception intelligible to himself and others by any
means, he flew off to a fresh one, too impatient to endure
the meditation required fully to develope it.

" To such a temperament nature was an annoyance,
because she is an irrefutable reproach to extravagance and
untruth. She put him out likely enough, and unable to
bear the fatigue of investigating her perfections, he left her
in anger because she disdained to bend herself to the
frenzied irregularities of his own spasmodic conceits. The
degeneration of style into which Fuseli latterly fell could
have been predicted from his very first work, and let it be
a warning to all students, who, in their occasional wise-
headed discussions while they eat their tarts on the pe-
destal of the Apollo, or roast their potatoes by the plaster-
room fire, talk of the grand style, when they ought to be
found at the feet of their figures, drawing hard and
correctly from nature, and never venturing a step without
her concurrence. His vigour of conversation continued
to the last. His acquirements were great. He wrote
Latin, spoke Italian, German, French perfectly well, and
read Homer, but his knowledge of Greek was not solid.
He could not argue, but illustrated everything by brilliant
repattee; Home Tooke was the only man who was an
over-match for him.

92 MEMOIE8 OF B. H. HATDON. Cl8S5.

" He was fond of praise, and if you did not praise any
thing he was ahout, he would praise it himself; but if you
praised it beyond truth, he would be severe in censuring
it. It seemed a reflection on his genius if you did not
praise, and a contempt for his understanding if you praised
too much : in either case he resented.

" He was an intense egotist, as all mannerists must be.
If yoii acknowledged the supremacy of his style no man
was more fatherly; if you disputed his infallibility, he
heard you with irritation.

"On the whole Fuseli was a great genius, but not a sound
genius, and failed to interest the nation by having nothing
in his style in common with our natural sympathies.

" About the Elgin Marbles he did not behave so grandly
as West and Canova and Lawrence. I was the first who
took him to see these divine works. Wilkie had taken
me. Tired, I went to Fuseli, set hira in a blaze, and he
put on his great coat directly.

*' Thrown off his guard by their beauty, he strode about
the collection in his fierce way, saying, ' the Greeks were
gods — they were gods.' We went home and looked over
Quintilian and Pliny, and every author who alluded to
the Parthenon, and the Greek artists.

"A day or two afterwards, reflecting what he had written
about the Apollo, &c., he tried to unsay, but it would
not do. One aide of the Ilissuswas too short! I showed
him a cast which was shorter. One arm of the Theseus
was too thick. I proved it right by the different actions.
His belly was too flat. I convinced him it was owing to
the bowels falling in, while the bowels leaned out in the
Ilissus, and then the belly protruded. Tliia was irre-
futable. I had never differed as strongly before. He saw
he was wrong, and had passed life on a wrong scent. A
really great soul like Canova's would have acknowledged
it. I fear Fuseli's self-love was too strong for this. He
flew into a passion, and we were never cordial after.
I regretted it, as no man owed more to Fuseli than
myself.

^

1825.] PUSELI, DEAD AND JUDGED. 93

" When a man of genius is in full fire never contradict
him — give him swing — let him pour forth right or wrong,
and a listener is sure to get a greater quantity of good,
however mixed, than if you thwart or reason: in fact
reasoning is out of the question.

" The Royal Academy may get a Keeper who may be
better in handling the chalk, or improving the regulations
of its councils ; but they will never get another who will
have the power to invigorate the conceptions, enlarge the
views, or inspire the ambition of the students as Fuseli
did.

" How many delightful hours have I passed with him in
one continued stream of quotation, conception, repartee^
and humour. In his temper he was irritable and violent,
but appeased in 'an instant. In his person small, with a
face of independent, unregulated fire. I have heard
he was handsome when young, and with women (when
gratified by their attentions) no man could be more
gentle.

" His loss to the Academy is great, for there is no one
to supply his place as a lecturer, and in a few years so
completely will historical painters be extinct, that no
lectures will be given. This nest of portrait-painters are
thus enjoying the full fruits of their own pernicious supre-
macy — fruits that Reynolds predicted in his latter days.
Their calumnies and perpetual attacks unseated Reynolds,
impoverished West, destroyed Barry, crippled Fuseli, and
for a time involved me. A decided step by Government
would check its decay, but every member of the Govern-
ment, with the King at their head, is so much at the mercy
of portrait-painters, that if His Majesty was to resolve
to-day, a hint from his portrait-painters would shake his
resolution. Such is the condition to which the art is
reduced, and lower still will it sink."

At the exhibition of the Academy in May, the critics
opened on Haydon's portraits. He relieves his irritation
by some vigorous criticism of the critics, which I will not
transfer to these pages, particularly as the angry painter

94 MEMOIRS OF B. K. HATDON. [1825.

himself, by a strong eflbrt of self-command, refrained from
answering Iiia detractors. " It is hard to be quietj" he
says, "hut my friends are right."

" Afai/ 6th. — The exhibition is the hest I ever saw
since I began the art. It is curious in a picture of the
destruction of Pharaoh. The scenery is so preponderating
that all grandeur is lost. There is no idea of force or
power, but in the importance of the objects destroyed.
There is no grandeur in the sea whirliog a bit of cork, and
if human beings are so diminished as to be un distinguish-
able, all idea of destruction vanislies."

The irritation caused by the attacks on his portraits
was somewhat allayed hy an opportunity which was given
of exhibiting this month his Judgment of Solomon, with
other works of the English school, at the gallery of the
British Institution. The canvass had been rolled up two
years, but on unrolling, Haydon was glad to find the
picture safe and fresh. In the Gallery, while himselt
exulting in this opportunity of again showing his work,
" cheek by jowl with the Academicians," he met Wilkie,
" dreadfully broken by his family troubles, unable to
paint, or read, or think without confusion of head."

Two days before Haydon had received from Sir John
Leycester another commission.

"May Wih. — While I was at the Gallery yesterday,
poor old Northcote, who has some fine pictures there, was
walking about. He nodded to me. I approached. I
congratulated him on his pictures. ' Ah, sir,' said he,
' they want varnisliing, they say.' ' Well,' said I, ' why
don't you varnish ihem?' He shook his head, meaning
he was too feeble. 'Shall I do it?' 'Will 'ee,' said
Northcote, ' I shall be so much obliged.' To the astonish-
ment of the Academicians I mounted the ladder, and
varnished away. The poor old mummy was in raptures.
I felt for the impotence of his age. He told me some
capital stories when I came down. I saw the eyes of the

R, A.'s sparkling as if they thought, ' Now what d d

motive has Haydon got.'

1825.] VANDYKE, BAEFAELE, HEMBBANDT : WILKIE. 95

" May ISth. — Went to Lord Stafford's and studied the
Orleans Raffaele, the little Rembrandt, and Virgin and
Child by Vandyke. The more intelligible an action is, the
less reason is there for the expression to be strong in the
face. Vandyke's character is individual, his effect and
execution perfect Raffaele's effect and execution are hard,
his character high : Rembrandt's characters fine, yet indi-
vidual, his colour, execution, surface, perfect.

" Oh dear Raffaele, I went down with my mind disturbed
by the perpetual attacks lately made on me, and the sight
of thy divine picture calmed, soothed, and sent me home
thinking only of my art and thee and nature. Bless thy
genius for it vnth all my heart, and the God who bestowed
it on thee.

May beautiful thoughts alone possess my soul. But
this is impossible in a Democratic Aristocracy like
England.

^^ May 29th. — Spent two hdurs with Wilkie. Had a
long conversation, I regretted many things and he did the
like. It was affecting. He was ill, and could not think a
moment without being confused : we were both interested.
He said he could not bear my conversation, it made him
ill. We then thought of our mutual escapes from various
things that occur to every man who comes to London very
young. Our conversation was deeply exciting. It shook
him to death."

By the end of June, Haydon had got into his " old
delightful habits of study" again, his mind " calm, happy
and conceiving." The journals bear evidence of it. Instead
of complaint or bitter reproaches of himself and others,
they show nothing for many pages before this brief
cheerful entry, but sketches for his picture of Pharaoh
dismissing the Israelites, as vigorous as in his happiest
days.

So June ended happily, "though not employed as it
ought."

" SOth. — Advanced, got into my habits, — the greatest

delight.

" The mixture of literature and painting I really think

96 1U3IOISS OF B. E. SUTDOS. [iSIS.

the perfectioD of hofflao happiness. I piioi a besd, rerel
in colour, hit an expression, sit donri fatigued, take up a
poet or an historian, write m^- own thoughts, or muse on
the thoughts of others, and hours and troaUes, and die
tortures of disappointed ambition, pass and are Ibrgotteiu
I wake as from a dream to the drowsj, foggj woiU with
■oiTow and disgust. Oh, what would I gire for a compe-
tence, a covering by a inountain stream, a lihraiy and
a painting-room, with dearest Maiy and my children to
educate and love. This will never be mj lot, and nerer
can be, but I have enough to thank God for, and I do
with all mj soul.

"God grant my Frank may be a good and great man,
honourable, upright, religious and diligent."

He went on working cheerfully and successfully to the
end of July, and so to the 5th of August, when his
employer calling, " liked the picture capitally," and gave
him a pleasant proof of bis admiration in an advance of
50/. He had now another cause of delight. His last
portrait was out of hand. How long it might hare
remained unfinished is uncertain, but his sitter, a rich city
man, had hinted his suspicions that the painter was
"going to cheat him," though be had only put the picture
by to let the colours get hard. " So much for his know-
ledge."

" Charles V. did not push Titian for his works.- — ' Magnia
compojiere parva."

Headstrong as Haydon was, he was given to speculate
on the " why and because " of life, and to analyse closely
and frequently the causes of success and failure. Here
is an example: — "What singular apparent injustice ap-
pears in the fate of some men of genius and the fortune
of others.

" Chantrey got a fortune by those two children in
Litchfield Cathedral. One day calling on hira I was
shown into his work-room, and on a table I saw a design
of these very children by Stothard. I could swear to it.

" A friend of mine was at a lock-up house to be bail for

1825,] FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF ARTISTS. 97

another ; while he was sitting there in walked Stothard,
arrested for a coal-bill of Sil. He was going to the Aca-
demy as visitor when it happened. My friend went up
to him and said, * I know you, what can I do ?' He got
him out time enough to attend his duties.

" Thus, here is Chantrey drinking champagne for lunch,
with employment for life, and a fortune for his heirs, in
consequence of old Stothard's genius, while the possessor
of the powers by which Chantrey rises is arrested by his
coal-merchant, and escapes into the Academy as librarian
to eke out a living.

" Homer begged ; Tasso begged in a different way ; Gal-
lileo was racked ; De Witt assassinated, and all for wish-
ing to improve their species. At the same time Raffaele,
Michel Angelo, Zeuxis, Apelles, Rubens, Reynolds,
Titian, Shakspeare were rich and happy. Why? because
with their genius they combined practical prudence. I
believe this is the secret

*' ' What a game you have thrown away ! ' said a friend.

* No,' I replied, * what cards the injustice of others ren-
dered fruitless.' 'Not so,* he answered, *You showed
your hand too exultingly, and provoked them to cheat.'

* So long as you acknowledge they cheated, I am content.'

* But why provoke then ? Why not, conscious of your
hand, play it without a word ? * * I grant you,' I said,

* that would have been prudent, but I doubt if the result
would have been different. The first triumph I gained
would have equally provoked my adversaries.* He shook
his head.

" I find the artists most favoured by the great are those
of no education, or those who conceal what they have.
The love of power and superiority is not trod on if a man
of genius is ignorant when a gentleman is informed.

* Great folks,' said Johnson, * don't like to have their
mouths stopped.' I believe it, and how often have I had
occasion to curse my better information when my love of
truth induced me to prove I knew more than a man of
rank.

VOL. II. H

98 MEMOIRS OF B. E. HATDON. [isas.

"A man of rank came up to me and said, 'Do you
know, Mr. Haydon, I think Titian's grounds were so and
so,' As long as I listened he appeared placid ; but this
was putting a poker into a powder-barrel. I exploded,
and poured forth all I had obtained from experience and
reading. He looked grave, — humined, — talked of the
weather, and took up his hat with a ' Good morning.' I
can't think how Reynolds managed these things. North-
cote says he always appeared ignorant.

"Another time three men of rank and old West were
talking of Milton's genius, of which they knew little
enough. Sir George spoke of his plagiarism. I remarked
there was something singular in his industry, and quoted
two or three authors to prove how he studied. Instead
of being pleased, one looked at his watch, another asked
West how Mrs, West was, a third walked away, and not
a word was said by any of them. In a minute I found
myself alone. Curious !

" I do not think I am liked in company, except by
women. When I know, I talk; when I am ignorant, I
listen. Is not this fair ? When I can talk, I talk better
than others; but I listen to others who talk better than
me. Is not this fair? When I know better than
others, princes or peers, I show it. When they know
better I bow. They would have me bow in both instances,
but I can't, and, what's more, I won't.

" No, no, knowledge is power, genius is power, health
is power; and why should genius, knowledge, and health
bow to imbecility, ignorance, and disease ? Title is power,
fortune is power, birth is power. Why should title,
fortune, and birth bow to genius, knowledge, and health ?
They certainly need not, on a general principle ; but when
title talks ignorantly of what genius knows radically, why
should genius bow to title ?

" Because genius is dependent on title for development,
— at least for employment. Because rank, at any rate, is
entitled to civility, on the principle of rank being a reward
to the possessor or his ancestor for some personal qualifi-
cation or heroic deed. Of course centuries of possession

1

1825.] HOW TO BEHAVE WITH PATRONS. 99

say something for conduct; and because whatever tends
to obstruct genius and deprive it of employment is per-
nicious to its display. Painters should, therefore, not be
talkers except with their brushes, or writers except on
their art ; because the display of too much power when
others know something, is apt to excite envy and injure
a painter's development of his art. Men are content that
you should know more of painting than they do, but they
don't like that you should know as much of any other
thing ; because they feel if this man can paint and yet be
informed as well as we are in other matters, we are no-
body and we won't patronise him. But if this man knows
nothing out of his art, why we are somebody in something.
We can spell and he can't; we know French, and he
does not ; we read Homer, and he knows nothing of him.
In a word, we can talk at dinner and he must be silent,
except when we want to know a matter where it is no
disgrace that he should know more than ourselves, on the
same principle as we tolerate a tailor, a shoemaker, a car-
penter, a butcher or a surgeon.

" Therefore, oh ye artists who can spell, speak French,
and read Homer, never show your patrons they speak bad
French, or read bad Greek, and spell carelessly, but listen
to their French as if it was Racine's, to their Greek as if
old Homer himself were spouting, and read their epistles
as if they had orthography, grammar and common sense.
IW this and you will drink their claret, adorn their rooms,
ride their horses, visit their chateaux and eat their venison.
But if, on the contrary, you answer the French not meant
for you to understand, rectify their quotations which you
are not supposed ever to have heard of, and discuss
opinions only put forth for you to bow to, you will not
eat their venison, you will not adorn their apartments, you
will not ride their horses, you will not drink their claret,
or visit their chateaux, at any rate more than once. And,
so, artists, be humble and discreet

" 31*^ August. — Spoke to a sexton to-day who was dig-
ging a grave. He answered me like Hamlet's. How true

H 2

■• -•

-• -^ J j-'j j--*^

100 MEMOIRS OF B. R. DATDON, USS5.

is Shakspeare ! A grave-digger, a turnpike-man, and a
butcher, from consciousness of power, are all impudent — a
grave-digger especially. He must, and he does feel that
he is digging the lasC habitation of another. The con-
sciousness that he is alive, and the other as it were hia
victim, gives him a surly, healthy, witty independence.

" My dear Frank was with me. * Ah," said I, ' Prank,
that will be your's as well as my last home.' 'But your'a
first, papa,' said he.

"On the 29th of September, Martin called and thought
I wanted more space. That fellow should have wings-
He is an extraordinary genius in his way. He expressed
himself much delighted, but wanted a town ten thousand
feet high, and a hall or two in which a man might take a
bed before he got to the end of the room ; where if a party
was given a man must dispatch a courier with relays for
soup or fish, if they liappoued to be at the bottom of the
table."

All this time the picture was going on rapidly. "On
reviewing the past month it is gratifying to think how
delightfully, rapidly, and conclusively I have painted. I
hope to bring my picture, under God's blessing, to a com-
pletion at the time I hoped.

" I deferred my payments, and on the whole have had a
whole month unembarrassed. My mind sprang, as it were,
at once to the most difficult parts, so soon as I was secure
of not being dunned. •

" October ^8lh. — In the city about cash, the only thing
the city is fit for. Called on Mrs. Belzoni, — found her
full of energy and misery. An execution on Belzoni's pro-
perly — his models, casts, and all seized. The widows of
soldiers and sailors are providifd for, but the widows of men
of science are not. Soldiers and sailors are requisite that
John Bull may guzzle his porter and eat his beef in se-
curity, but poets, painters, and travellers are not. He can
do without them. Therefore their widows and themselves
may go to the devil."

There is little to note during the remainder of this year
but the progress of his picture towards conclusion, and his

1825.] PEOGRESS OF PHARAOH. 101

studies and researches upon the subject of Egypt for the
costume and architecture.

*^ November 8th. — At the Museum all day. Searched
Pocock and everything Egyptian in the Museum, and the
great French work.

"Any one who for a moment doubts that the principles
of Greek architecture, sculpture, and painting had their
origin from Egypt, can never have examined the works of
that country.

** The painting the walls of their palaces in fresco — the
orders of their architecture — the principles of their
temples — are all derived from Egypt evidently. The
story of Callimachus and the acanthus are inventions.

"What a delightful day I have spent! Ah — how
superior to portrait painting. Here I was drinking in
knowledge, and gloating on antiquity and all its delightful
associations.

'^November I3th. — Hard at work, and completed my
principal figure — Moses, the leader of six hundred thou-
sand rebellious Israelites.

^^ November 1 Gth. — In the city for cash — went and studied
the little Rembrandt at the National Gallery for my back-
ground. Red, blue, and yellow in different tones are the
secret of fine colour. Saw a friend, Davis, from Italy. He
said when a set of caricatures came new to the print shop,
the poor Italians would go up and say, * Ahl niente de
bello.' Beautiful expression of the taste and feeling of this
gifted people.

^^ November I9th. — Hard at work on the background, the
most hazardous part of a picture. Mr. Green, the new
professor of anatomy in the Academy, commenced last night.
As usual he affirmed the Greek artists did not know mus-
cular anatomy, because the medical professors were so
ignorant. This is no argument but for the clique: because
the medical men knew little is that any proof that the
artists knew nothing ? Certainly not.

" It is extraordinary how professors established for the
very purpose of instructing youth in the principles of

H 3

102 MEM01B3 OP B, R. niYDON, [1835.

anatomy, should begin to deaden their enthusiasm hy saying
you must know it, because I am established to teach it,
hut yet the greatest artists the world ever saw did not
know it. What is the inference drawn by lazy youngsters?
"Why, if the greatest artists did not know it, what use
can it be to us ?

" Carlisle did the same thing. ' Pliny and Pausanias,'
he said, ' proved it.'

'' I should tike to know where. Cockerell said he was
not aware there was any authority for saying they (the
Greeks) did not dissect. Lord Aberdeen said to me
(1821) tliey certainly did not; hut 1 could get no autho-
rity.

"November SSnd — SA'th, — Intensely absorbed in my
background. To settle the quantity of colour, action, and
light in a background is among the most diiEcult things
in the art. It must keep up the story, and not interfere.
It must be connected and yet distinct.

" November ^1 til. — Very hard at work, and obliged to
leave off, having settled, thank God! the whole of my
picture, background and all, and having little to do but
complete.

" Noveviber 30lh. — The four last days have been useless-
ly (but unavoidably) spent in musing, thinking and strol-
ling. The backs of the balls of my eyes were irritable — ^a
sign I always dread. I left off directly, and am recovered.

" Twenty-two days I have worked very hard, and though
the painting of my picture is not completed, it is all so
settled, that it soon will be with God's blessing.

" December 1st. — My fits continue. I am all fits, — fits
of work, fits of idleness, fits of reading, fits of walking, fits
of Italian, fits of Greek, fits of Latin, fits of French, fits
of Napoleon, fits of the navy, fits of the army, fits of reli-
gion. My dear Mary's lovely face is the only thing that
has escaped — a fit that never varies.

" The finest touch of what may be called the delusion
of Don Quixote is this: —

" He makes a pasteboaid vizor, believing it is strong

leao.j

V leae

H enough for the stroke of a giant. He ffches a blow at it
H that smashes it to pieces. Mortified he fits it up again,
H consoling himself that it is strong enough now, but Cer-
H vaates says he did not give it another blow to prove it.
H " This is a Shakesperian touch, and worthy of him,

W This one willing shirk of evidence, lest he might even
convince himself against his will, and unsettle bis frenzy,
contains the whole history of his character, and is a deep,
deep glance into human weakness."

" I have read in my idle fit Sheridan's life by Moore.
" Upon tlie whole it is a delightful book, but the excuse
of an admirer.

" Notwithstanding his passion for Miss Lindley, and
his grief for the death of his father, (who had illuscd him),
I question Sheridan's having a good heart really.

" His making love to Pamela, (Madame de Genlis'
daughter), so soon after his lovely wife's death, and his
marriage in two years after her loss with a young girl,
renders one mistrustful as to the real depth of his passion.
" No man of wit, to the full extent of the meaning, can
have a good heart, because he has, and must have, less
regard for the feelings or sufferings of others, than for the
brilliancy of bis own sayings, whoever may suffer. There
must be more malice than love in the hearts of all ' wits.'
Sheridan is a complete illustration.

" His treatment of Storace's widow — the widow of one \
who had sacrificed his life to Sheridan's interests, ought I
not to have been omitted by Moore. Sheridan gave the
theatre for a benefit. The house was crowded of course.
Sheridan went to the door-keeper, and manager, and
friend, and swept off all the receipts, and the widow never I
got a shilling. This was told me by Prince Hoare, one of J
Stephen Storace's intimate friends.

" No man with a good heart could have done this bad
his faculties been ever so steeped in intoxication.

* Coleridge points out tbia in his critiuiam on Don Quixote. Per-
haps llayduD got it from Hazlitt. — Ec

104 MUMOmS OF B. H. HATDON. [1825.

" Publicly he acted, once or twice, with grandeur and
principle ; but grandeur of public principle is not incom-
patible with private immorality. The faults of the great
"Whig leaders are of course leniently treated by Moore ;
but the truth is, that neither Burke, Fos, nor Sheridan,
had the caution or prudence requisite for government.

" When Sheridan was Paymaster of the Navy at
Somerset House, the butcher brought a leg of mutton to
the kitchen. The cook took it, and putting it into the
kettle to boil, went up stairs for the money, as the butcher
was not to leave the joint without it. As she stayed rather
long the butcher very coolly went over, took off the cover,
took out the mutton, and walked away. This is a fact.
The cook told it to the porter of the Royal Academy, who
being my model told it to me as he was sitting. A
creditor whom Sheridan had perpetually avoided, met him
at last, plump, coming out of Pall Mail from St. James's
Palace. There was no possibility of avoiding him, but
S. never lost his presence of mind. ' Oh,' said Sheridan,
'that's a beautiful mare you are on.' ' D'ye think so?'
* Yes, indeed. How does she trot ? ' The creditor, flattered,
told him he should see, and immediately put her into full
trotting pace. The instant he trotted off Sheridan turned
into Fall Mall again, and wets out of sight in a moment.

" Moore's life of him wants courage. Society is Moore'a
god. He can't, like Johnson, tell all the truth, and hid
society defiance.

" His burning Byron's manuscript was a sacrifice to liia
fashionable friends, and his concealments in Sheridan's life
are not worthy his native independence.

" December 5th. — 3 o'clock, Sunday morning, December
5th, 1825, Alfred Haydon born." Anxiety about his
wife and child made Haydon now, for a while, relax in his
application to his picture.

" December 9fh. — Still nothing to talk of. Dearest
Mary better, my mind easier, and shortly I begin.

" lOiA.— Read hard Cuvier's Revolutions du Globe
with great interest and delight. What a vast quantity of

1825.] COURT-STORIES: LAWRENCE AND WELLINGTON. 105

knowledge I am ignorant of — Astronomy, Natural History,
Botany, Navigation, &c. I shrink within myself when I
think of all I don't know. Yet there is a deljght when
there is such a source open to one. No painting yet;
but my arrangements quite ready.

" llth, — Called on S , and spent a rich three hours

with him. He is the reflection of the court, the patrons,
and the nobility. He told me several curious things,
absolute matters of history. Afterwards went to Hamilton,
Stanley-Grove House, and spent an hour. Saw La Thiere's
drawings : H. laughed heartily at my family picture, in
which I joined most sincerely. Told them some anecdotes
about my sitters, at which we laughed again — not quite
fair, as they had maintained me for a year.

" I2th, — Impenetrably dark. Could not paint. Went
out. Called on Hazlitt, as being all in character with the
day, and had a regular groan.

" 13th. — Set to work. Thirteen days gone in anxiety
and idleness : finished one side of the background as if in
a fury, successfully and with great enjoyment, from having
thought about it lately very much. I did it in a very few

minutes. S told me Lord Wellington said Lawrence

was a man of no mind. Set the thing before him, and
he can do it : but be has no invention. Lord Wellington
stood for L. three hours with his hands across. After he
had done, he stepped down, and said, * Pshaw ! That is not
like my sword.' * Please your Grace, I'll do it next time.'
* Do it now.' * I must go to the Princess Augusta's.' * Oh
no; you must put my sword right. It is really bad.'
This was done.

" S is a sort of echo of court opinions. He talked

of Canning in a way I could fathom. He (Canning) was
endured because he was useful more than from liking.
It is astonishing how skilful the hangers-on of a court are,

in feeling out the opinions of their superiors. S is a

man of great sagacity and shrewdness, and could gather a
notion how things are going on, by the sound of a word.

'^December 14/A. — Hard at work, and finished the

106 MEMOIRS OF B. R. HAYDON. [l825.

Other architectural parts. Architecture by a painter
should be correct and mathematical ; but it should be a
painter's, made subservient to anhole, and should not look
as if executed by an architect's clerk. This is the way
Titian and Rubens painted architecture, and this is the
way it ought to be painted. Dearest Mary getting
rapidly well.

" I5th. — Hard at work and finished background. Helf
the month gone j and owing to anxieties I have only
worked three days out of fifteen. Twelve lost.

" December 16iA. — Hard at work and finished the sun.
If anything is too hot, put something hotter, and it becomes
cool. If any thing is too yellow, put something by it much
yellower, and it becomes white. So of red, blue, black, &c.
So of everything; lines, colour, expression. This is a
deep principle, and cannot be too often remembered.

"December 17i/i. — At work, but carelessly. At last
got excited, and advanced and improved the picture.
Have little now to do.

" God be thanked, with all my heart and soul, for
having enabled me to realise what I washed. "When I
first conceived this subject, 1 prajed I might complete it.
I have done so. God Almighty accept my thanks.

"December I8th. — Finished the sky and moon. If the
moon be painted equally light, it looks like a shilling in
spite of the greatest genius. It must be varied, like
everything else. Sharp and soft, and dark and light.

"December 3lsL — The last day of the year 1825.
How many last days of years with sage reflections do my
journals contain ! This year has been one of mingled
yarn — good and evil ; but the good, as it generally does,
preponderated. I have to bless God for many great
mercies indeed. After being deprived of my bread by
the abuse of the press, a historical commission started up,
gave me an opportunity again to burst forth, and saved us
from ruin. I have finished it, and hope God will bless it
with success. On it depends really my future subsistence.

1

1826.] END OF THE YEAR: PHARAOH FINISHED. 107

and my power to bring up my boys like gentlemen. I am
now sitting in my parlour with Milton's Christian
Doctrine before me, reading, and quietly awaiting the
new year; in an hour it will be here. 1826! Shall I
live to see 1856? Yes; by temperance, and piety, and
keeping my mind tranquil, and pursuing my enchanting
art. By God's blessing I shall ; but not else. I think I
may say I have conquered several evil feelings. I am
more regular ; not so rash or violent. I have subdued my
hankering after polemical controversy; conduct myself
more as if constantly in the eye of my Maker. All this
I attribute to the purity of feeling generated by marriage.
O God! for Thy infinite blessings throughout accept
my deep gratitude. Pardon the many errors my dear
Mary and myself have been guilty of. We acknowledge
Thy goodness in humbleness and awe. Thou hast blessed
us with another boy. Oh give us life to protect him till
he can protect himself; to educate him in Thy fear and
love, and make him, with our other children, good, virtuous,
and distinguished. Grant these things for Jesus Christ's
sake. Amen, in awe."

By the 14th of January, 1826, his picture was finished
and sent to the British Gallery. ** It is curious," he remarks
(15th) ** the mixture of apathy and anxiety with which I
await the fate of my picture. After all it is very little
better than Dentatus, painted eighteen years ago. The
background has more air, but it is not a bit better painted.
Fuseli said you will never paint better so long as you live :
perhaps the kneeling woman surpasses any other figure in
Dentatus. But on the whole eighteen years have done
little for my talents."

Haydon was much gratified during this month by the
receipt of a long and affectionate letter from Wilkie, de-
scribing his impressions of the great works at Rome. The
close intimacy between Wilkie and Haydon was by this
time at an end, and the hope which Haydon expresses on
receipt of this letter, that the old feelings of their student

108 MEMOIRS OP B. R, HATDON. [1820.

days might be renewed was not destined to be realised,
tliough the two often met and always as friends.

182G was a year of great commercial convulsion, the
effects of which reached artists as well as men in business.
Hajdon, as will be seen, suffered among others. Already
by the 27th he notes; "In the city to get cash. My
creditor looked nervous. This panic has strangely altered
commercial men's looks.

" 28M. — At the Gallery. Disappointment; though I
ought to he satisfied with the look of my picture. Tone
does not do for a modern exhibition. It looked sickly and
fiat : the artists thought not, but there is something which
freshness of colour, I think, would add to a historical picture.
I am never satisfied with my pictures in a modem exhibi-
tion. I will try something new.

"SOih. — Spent three hours with S — ■, and a very
entertaining three hours. Yesterday (Saturday) he was

two hours with the King. S said the King was showing

him the plan for Buckingham House. ' There,' said the
King, ' is a road and door for people who come in a hackney
coach ; that's the road for ministers and ambassadors ;
there's the road for the Royal family, and that's the
road for' — (here he hesitated) — for us,' said he with em-
phasis, " on groat occasions."' S said the King was the

best mimic he ever saw in his life, (from S 's good

sense and taste I am quite sure the King unbends to him,)
but he httle thinks that he, mimic as he is, is mimicked.

S said that he thought the King the shrewdest man he

ever saw. That he knew the world well — deeply.

"The King little thinks that under that impenetrable ex-
terior, that mild, modest, humble, unaffected manner. Ilea
the deepest insight, and that while the King is supposing

he sifts S , S is sifting him with the power and

scrutiny of the devil himself.

" This man turns the nobility round his finger like a play-
thing, and they, good honest souls, fancy they are using
him. Long, who introduced him, did so because he thought
he could supply the place of Long himself in business

1826.] AN APPLICATION TO CANNING. 109

matters of art. Alas! S will very shortly supply

his place in everything. Long is shrewd, but S . is

shrewder. S , in fact, is a match for all of them, and

if he were a little more educated would be invaluable to
any King.

" S told me I might be sure my picture would do

everything I wished."

In February Haydon addressed a letter to Mr. Canning,
who was now Foreign Secretary, asking him for an interview
in which he might urge upon him the claims of historical
art to public patronage. He was not more successful
in this application than he had been with those to Mr.
Robinson and Sir Charles Long. Mr. Canning begged him
(Feb. 4.) to communicate his business in writing. This he
did as follows : —

'* Sir,

" I beg to express my gratitude for the honour you have at-
tached to me, in paying attention to my request.

" My object was to ascertain if you would think it an impro-
priety if I presumed to ask if you would present to the House
of Commons, early this session, a petition in favour of the public
patronage of historical painters, by the annual vote of a moderate
sum, to be laid out as might hereafter be resolved on.

** I hoped by an interview to interest you in the condition
of historical painting, to induce you, sir, to make an effort for
its protection ; to put you in possession of facts, for the exercise
of your judgment. Mr. Burke said long ago that till a minister
interfered for the arts, no further advances could be expected in
the higher branches. The state of taste, and of the other branches
of the arts which depend on private patronage, prove that things
are tending rapidly to the desired conclusion, and only wait the
impulsion of influence and power to bring them at once to their
first elevation.

" Pardon my presumption, sir, in saying, that every admirer
of yours would feel delighted to see you fill the opening which
the greatest statesmen of our country have hitherto left vacant.

" I take the liberty of enclosing you a copy of the petition, and
earnestly hope in God I may be so fortunate as to interest you
in the subject."

110 MEMOIRS OF I!, 11. HAYDON. [l826.

Mr. Canning declined to present tlie petition, first,
because its presentation by a minister would imply
previous consideration and consent by the Government,
and secondly, because, even if such consent had been
given, the business belonged to the First Lord of the
Treasury, and not to the Foreign Secretary. Haydon then
applied to Sir Charles Long, who while declaring hia
willingness to present the petition, adds that "with every
wish to encourage historical painting, lie has never been
of opinion that it would he successfully promoted by the
means suggested in the petition."

An interview followed, (Feb. 14th).

" On the subject of nij petition, Sir Charles behaved
very candidly, and told me he took a very different view
of the subject to that vrhich I did. He said he had been
long in the House of Commons, and that there was
nothing less known than art. That when the Waterloo
Monument was proposed, many different plans were sent
in. That Lord Londonderry said the thing had better he
given up. That all money voted by the House of
Commons would be subject to supervision, and that the
Directors, as independent gentlemen, had delermined,
if the House voted the money, to refuse it, because they
would not be subject to the investigation of Mr. Hume.
When Sir Charles said this, his face had an expression
quite extraordinary. It gave me more notion of Hume's
power, and the dread place-hunters have of him than any-
thing else on earth coiild have given me. He now
stopped. I said, 'Your objections do not apply to the
vote of money, but to the investigation that would
naturally take place as to its expenditure. Do 3'ou not
think that 4000/, a year spent in art would benefit it?'
' Why I don't know,' said he ; 'if 4000?. was voted, and we
were worried as to our expenditure, I would resign my
ofiice as Director.'

" ' Yes, sir, hut why should money here do more harm
llian in Greece and in Italy. It has never been tried, and

1826.] EFFORTS WITH PUBLIC MEN. Ill

though no motion or vote would follow this session, yet
by keeping the subject before the world, something like
attention must be the consequence. Surely if money is
voted for sculpture or the Museum, it may be for painting.
Why not place painting on the same level V

"It was no use talking : he seemed to have a rooted
aversion. ' If not indelicate,' said I, * I still wish that
you, Sir Charles, would present the petition.' He would
do it, if I still wished, but no motion would be made
by him. He then said Lord Liverpool had sent for him.
He put on his glasses, and looked over some papers. I
bowed and took my leave.

" So much for Sir Charles.

** Now the question is whether more good or harm would
accrue from his presentation ? The public is decidedly
against him, and if he slurs the thing over, he will injure
and not benefit the cause. God knows. I shall put Mr.
Brougham in possession of what passed, and beg him to
watch the time of presentation. Long was a complete
courtier. It was curious to me the art with which he
appealed to my prejudices about the Koyal Academy.

*' Here was Long in a palace, and I, who had devoted my
life without a selfish feeling to the honour of my country,
just escaped from a bailiff by getting my landlord to pay
ten guineas, while I walked down to keep my appoint-
ment with him. Such is life, — self-interest, absence of
enthusiasm, and of high feeling, plodding, meanness, and
sleek slavish cringing to power, though despised by the
world, secure a man a palace and fortune, while public
spirit, high feeling for your country's honour, generosity
and independence, though admired by the world, render
a man poor, and leave him the Bench for a refuge."

After much hesitation, by Seguier's advice, Haydon
determined to try Mr. Ridley Colborne, from whom he
met at least with sympathy. Though Mr. Colborne had
no expectation that the petition would lead to anything,
yet he conceived it would keep the subject alive, and

112 JlEMOIKa OF D. E. HATDON. [182B.

presented it accordiugly, (Feb. SSrd), "especially well."
It was as follows : — -

''A petition of Benjamin Robert Haydon, Historical Paioter,
of 58. Connaught Terrace, Portman Square, was presented, and
read ; setting forth, that in all countries where the arts have
flourished, the native artists were the principal objects of national
patronage, and their productions the leading features in the pub-
lic collections ; that no country where thia principle in the
encouragement of the arts was not the leading principle erer
rose to any great eminence or palpable 6uperiority, or ever dis-
played in painting, or sculpture, or architecture, undeniable
evidence of original national genius ; tliat the ancient Greeks,
who are hecome proverbial for superlative excellence, made the
native artists and their works the principal objects of national
employment; that the ancient Romans, on the other hand, never
rose to any distinguished excellence in painting or in sculpture,
and cannot hear comparison with the ancient Greeks ; tliat this
deficiency was not from want of capacity in the people, but from
want of employment by the government, because in architecture,
where employment was bestowed, the ancient Romans liave a
great name ; that in a subsequent period, wlien the lieads of the
Catholic Church felt the necessity of adding the powers of paint-
ing and sculpture to illustrate the doctrines of tl)cir belief, the
descendants of the same people, having then an opportunity for
the displayoftheir native talents, shone forth with such grandeur
of genius as to have been ever since as much objects of reference
and standards of excellence nearly as the ancient Greeks; that
it is therefore evident, bad tlie same opportunity been given ta
their illustrious ancestors, the same results would have followed;
that the petitioner humbly wishes to impress the importance of
this principle of patronage on the attention of the House, ia
consequence of the pmjected intention of a National Gallery,
for no Gallery can strictly be called National, nor will any
Gallery be ever of that advantiige to the native art, if it be
built only to receive foreign productions as examples of in-
struction, without provision being made for the purchase and
reception of native works ; that the public of this country has
been blamed for having no taste for historical painting, but
this assertion appears to the petitioner to be unjust; for the
petitioner is convinced, from his own experience, that soma
plan of public patronage for nativo art is earnestly desired,

1826.] A PETITION TO THE COMMONS. 113

and would be extremely popular, and that the public would be
disappointed if, in the plan of a National Gallery, the purchase
and display of native works did not form a conspicuous ft-ature;
that the petitioner humbly suggests to the House whether there
be another instance in the history of the world of any other
nation, which has obtained a great name in the arts, hawing
advanced so far in poetry, in science, in philosopliy, in naval
and military glory, in commercial greatness, or in political
wisdom, as Great Britain has done, without having established
some system of public encouragement by which the arta might
keep pace with the greatness of the country in other matters ;
that the petitioner therefore submits to the House, if it be unjust
that the English historical painters, after baring effectually
rescued their country from the suspicions of an inherent de-
ficiency of talent, by a continual struggle against prejudices,
domestic and foreign, for more than half a century, should desire
humbly that assistance from the House by which alone tliey can
hope or expect to establish their country's capacity in the face
of the world, as the painters in the other branches of art have
already so triumphantly done, in consequence of the liberality
of private patronage, and the establishment of the British
Gallery, which has done so much, more especially as the sum
required would be very moderate, and scarcely felt or perceived
in the national expenditure j that the petitioner therefore hum-
bly hopes that the House will not think it presumption in him,
as an individual of that class, to mention, for the decision of the
House, if the House should hereafter think fit, that a sum, not
exceeding 4,000/. be annually, or at first every two years, set
aside, principally, but not exclusively, for the encouragement
of historical painting, to be spent either in the purchase of
distinguished works already before the public, or in tlie employ-
ment of artists already established, whose character and talents
would ensure a proper return for such liberality, and according

ly future plan, or under any direction the House may
hereafter approve or decide on ; that the petitioner humbly
hopes the House will not think this subject beneath their
attention, or inconsistent with their duties at this particular
period, and, when the National Gallery comes under their
discussion, that they will deign to give it that notice which in
their wisdom they may deem due, for the greatest statesmen

orld has ever seen have always considered the arts an

vol.. II. 1

114 MEMOIRS OF B, K. HATDON, tl826.

engine not unworthy to be used in advancing the commercial
and political greatness of a people."

I must remark, here, that it is difficult now-a-daj's to
rate too highly the courage of Hay don's persistence,
because we can hardly rate too low tlie conception then
prevalent, even among men who held the first place as
lovers of art, of what worthy patronage of art really was.
The best of them do not seem to have understood by it
anything beyond buying pictures, and thus encouraging
the painters whose works they especially admired. I can-
not find from anything in these journals, that art was by
any of the great patrons ever seriously considered as an
element of national education, or a source of national
glory. It cannot, I think, be denied to Hajdon, that his
perpetual pressing of a nobler estimate of the relations of
artists and people has done something to create the feel-
ing which has at length expressed itself, however im-
perfectly, in the plana for decorating our new Houses of
Parliament.

This matter of the petition off his mind, Haydon set to
work on his new picture, (a commission from Sir John
Leycester) of Venus appearing to Anchises, as described in
the Homeric song. He was at work on this by the 27th
of February.

" Hard at work. Got Ancliises and Venus right.
These commerciai distresses have reached me. My
employer could not pay mc, I could not pay others, and
these last five weeks I have been suffering the tortures of
the Hnferno.' I heard to-day from Sir Walter Scott. What
a picture of life are my journals. Two volumes ago, Scott
sent me 107. for Godwin, then 201. for myself, and now he
writes me he has lost a large fortune, and is in distress,
though with a handsome competence.

"21i( March. — I am dreadfully harassed. My
friends advise me to send Sir John Leycester's picture to
the Academy, but I really cannot. After having said
what I have said, and written what I have written, it
would not, it could not be consistenL

"' But it would do me honour.'

1

1826.] HE EXHIBITS AT THE ACADEMY AGAIN. 115

*' What honour ? The honour of being applauded by six
or seven blockheads. Willingly I could shake hands and
forget all, but I must be met half-way. The Academy is
certainly modified, but still John Bull never pardons an
appearance of renegadeism.

" 24fth. — Hard at work till quite faint. What a
beautiful and glorious delusion art has been to me, with
all its sujffering and all its hollow rewards. Still, neces-
sitous as I am, I would begin again as I begun, and go on
as I have gone on, sure as I might be of the same result.

" 25th. — Out all day in the city on cash matters
n — cursed cash matters."

The question was now should he send his picture to
the Academy or not? Pride rebelled against a step
which he felt would be construed into an act of submission,
but necessity and self-interest were stronger than pride,
and he yielded, sending his picture, after a severe struggle.
** Spent the day in excruciating doubts what to do; with
five children, surrounded by difficulties, and with nothing
ready for individual exhibition, the Royal Academy alone
is open to me. Will it be inconsistent to send ? No.
The greatest part of the men now leading are my old
fellow-students. The Academy is not what it was when
I attacked it. I consider it materially modified, and
why should I keep up a senseless hostility for the
sake of gratifying the malignant and discontented, who
have clapped their hands while I have been the victim ?
The party that expelled Reynolds and brought the
Academy into contempt is dead and powerless. This
party I attacked and successfully. Young men of talent
have been admitted, and its whole state and condition is
improved. So thinking, I resolved to send my pictures
there, which intention I hope will conciliate and destroy
the angry feeling, and the notion that I have kept aloof
from contempt. Really I hope it may lead to harmony
and peace.

" After the pictures were gone came the bitterness of
reflection. Had I not violated a great principle ? Had I

I 2

116 MEMOIRS OF B. E. HAYDON. [1626,

not gone on my knees? Had I not by the move put
myself in the hands of men I had treated with utter con-
tempt, and could I expect anything but contempt in
return? God knows! I found the Academy too strongly
embedded in the aristocracy of the country, headed by the
King, to remodel. I was ruined in the attempt. I never
flinched. As I find it not vanquishable by open attack, I
will now try conciliation.

" Perhaps after all I do this on the same principle on
which Alcibiades cut off liis dog's tail, to make people
talk — and talk they will."

Within a few duys after executing this resolve he waa
at work on "the finest subject on earth" — Alexander
taming Bucephalus. The journal contains the usual
evidences of energetic labour in the way of preparation
and arrangement. Anatomical studies of the horse show
that he began as usual, by laying a sound foundation of
accurate structural knowledge. The numerous sketches
of the composition both for line and chiaroscuro testify aa
unmistakeably to the pains he took in this part of his
labour, as long extracts from the Greek writers, and
memoranda of frequent and extended researches at
the British Museum, show the care with which he got
together his literary materials and authorities.

" April25th. — This last week I have worked hard at the
iiorse, and I hope mastered his anatomical arrangement in
a degree, till I go to nature. Stubbs is useful, but his horses
are not grand enough in light and shadow for a painter.
They may be just as correct without violating the principle
of effect. They are delicate, minute and sweetly drawn,
with great character, but they want substance.

'^ April 30th. — To Stubbs and one dissection of the
fore quarter of an ass, however, I owe my information.
Thanks to him. The last day of the month, — a month in
which I have worked little indeed. The times, the ruin of
friends, the danger of my own prospects, have all had weight
and distracted and disturbed my mind. Poor Wilbie is yet
unable to paint, and really I begin to fear that at his time

1B26.] COMMISSrOM FROM LORD EGREMONT. 117

of life he may never be able lo paint again, if he does not
soon recover. I am now without a single commission
again— I have just lost one of five hundred guineas. The
only people who do not sulTer, and who never do, are the
portrait painters, as usual."

This picture introduced him to Lord Egremont, one of
the kindest and most liberal patrons the art had at this
period.

"May lith. — This day, two-and-twenty years ago, I
left my father's house for London, and it is curious that
on this day Lord Egremont called and gave me a com-
mission for Alexander. God grant me health and eyes,
means and genius, to make this my best work.

" The following conversation passed yesterday with ray
kind friend, Carew ; the only friend I ever met in the art.
I wrote to Lord Egremont, saying I had lost from the
distresses of the times a five hundred guineas commission
which I had depended on.

" Carew was at breakfast with Lord Egremont ' What
bedevilment has Haydon got into now?' 'None, my
Lord. He has lost commissions he relied on, and of
course, having a wife and five children, he is anxious they
sliould not starve.' 'Well, well, I'll call on you to-
morrow, at three, and then go over to him at half past."
Lord Egremont called accordingly at Carew's " : we saw hiin
get out of his carriage, and go into the house. Dear
Mary and I were walking on the leads, and agreed it
would not be quite right to look too happy, being without
sixpence: so we came in, I to the parlour to peep through
the bh'nds, and she to the nursery. In about ten minutes
I saw a bustle with the servants. Lord Egremont came
out of Carew's, buttoned his coat, and crossed over. He
came in, and walked up. ' I hope, ray Lord, I have not
lost your esteem by making my situation known to you? '
' Not at all,' said he, ' I shall be happy to assist you.' He
looked at Alexander, and said, ' I should like this. You

• Ciirew's house waa williin sight of Hajdon's, on the other side of
the way.

118 MEMOIRS OF B. H, HATDON. tl82(i.

must go on with it, and I shall call up occasionally." He
came down, and went away smiling as if pleased with his
own resolution. Carew said before he came over he
talked of me the whole time. 'What mess is this?'
Carew repeated the facts. ' Is he extravagant ? ' ' Not in
the least, my Lord; he is domestic, economical and
indefatigable.' ' Why did he take that house after his
misfortunes?' 'Because the light was good, and he is at
less rent than in a furnished lodging.' ■ Well, I most go
over, and do something. — But why did he write ? ' ' My
Lord, he was a very young man, and I believe he sincerely
repents.' ' He has made himself enemies everywhere by
his writing,' said he. He told Carew he thought Alexander
the very thing, the cleverest picture I had conceived. It
is decidedly so, I know. God only grant me health and
peace to bring it to a grand and triumphant conclusion,
and to make so generous a nobleman my lasting friend."

For his Bucephalus he made many studies at the riding-
school of the Horse Guards* ; nay, occasionally had one of

* This account of some of hia studies for the picture a from i,
letter written aeveral jeara after.

" When Lord Egremont gave me the order, he wrote to Col,
'•****, who then had the command at the riding-school, St. John's
Wood, to allow me to choose the finest model of man and horse for hia
picture ; the colonel gave me immediate leave to moke my choice,
which 1 did — permitted me to have the riding-achool to myself, and
atudj the action and bearing of man and home.

First of all, — the lifeguardsman, a fine young man, stripped hiB
limbs and mounted ; he Ihcn rode Ma horae fiercely round at gallop
till he waa winded ; he then drew him up, as he pBSsed me, and halted
him to a stand, at the aupposed distance the King in the picture would
stand from my position in the riding-achool. By repeating this
several times, and passing me at gallop and trot, I observed narrowly
the agreeing action of hind and fore quarters, and neck, when palled
in, as well as the expression of eara, mouth, eye, and nostrila.

"Colonel" * • • • * then himself galloped agrey mare of hiB own
round, pulled in, and I sketched the nostrils of the tnare, whilst
breathing hard, to get the shape and character. After making one
finished sketch in chalk of man and horae, beside several others, and
the action and expression of tlie horse being approved by competent
judges in the school, I vrss allowed to have both man and horse to my

1«26.] ALEXANDER AND BUCEPHALUS. 119

the chargers in his parlour. By the 11th of June Buce-
phalus was in the picture.

" Obliged to raise money on my property of all descrip-
tions. Lord Egremont must not be spoken to, but I wish
he knew it. I am sure he would wish I should work with
an easy mind ; at least, patience.

" I2tk. — Worked lazily — saw nothing distinctly. The
model was exhausted, and I was dull ; and so, after five
hours' twaddling, I gave up.

^* IStk. — Got Alexander and horse together well. He
must look a youth, or the gist of the thing is lost. At
present he is like a long-forked life-guardsman. How
soon one could finish a picture if one dashed at it like
Rubens, careless of character. Finished Pepys' Memoirs,
a Dutch picture of the times, deeply interesting. O
God, grant me no longer life but while I can read and
paint.

" I8th. — Hard at work to little elBFect. Got in Alex-
ander's head, when a sudden ejffect on the model's head
made me alter my original intention, and now it turns out
it is not the thing. This has not happened to me for
years. Always attend to the first ideas ; I never altered
but to repent. In Lazarus and Pharaoh I never altered,
and succeeded in every head. One head indeed I altered
(as I did this), and was obliged to revert to my original
idea. In Lazarus, the father looking up I put in first
against the sky. Everybody gives it against the alteration
— low and high — and they are right I fear.

" 20th. — Pumiced out my yesterday's head, and I hope
succeeded in my new one. God be praised with all my
soul !

house; and the horse, though mettled, being drilled and obedient,
walked into my house like a dog ; and he and the man stood in my
parlour six hours whilst I made an oil sketch of both. The man
and horse were then taken to a meadow behind my house, and the
horse raced in it till exhausted, and at full speed pulled suddenly up*
Having thus made myself master, from nature only, of the action and
expression wanted, I painted the man and horse into the picture, and
retouched both from life again in the picture."

I 4

1

120 MEMOIRS OF B. E. HATDON. [1836.

"2lst. — At the horse's head — doubtful success — at
it again to-morrow.

" S2nd. — The head this morning looked well. So true
is that which Wilkie has often said to me, ' Never rub out
ill the evening of the day you have worked hard, if your
labour should appear a failure.' Your nature, strained
from over- excitement, is apt to be either disconcerted at
your imagination being so much more noble than your
attempts, or your digestion being deranged by long think-
ing affects the brain, and fills it with gloomy appreliensions.
I was exhausted last night : this morning got up refreshed
and everything looked smiling.

" 23rd, — Obliged to pawn my otlier lay-figure, the
female, for 5^. ; cost me 30/.; obliged. Borrowed a horse's
head to paint the teeth and gums from, and had not Ss.
to pay the man. However, I am not now as during
Solomon. I am high in the world, in a good house, have
my food, a dear wife, a sweet family, and good credit;
but it is hard to part with materials like these. My
studies {Elgin ones), my books {most of them), and now
my lay-figures, are all pawned. I looked at Vasari, at
Lanzi, at Homer, at Tasso, at Shakespeare, but my heart
was firm. The very back of a book containing the works
of a celebrated genius is enough, if you know the contents
well, to fill the mind with crowds of associations. I kept
tliem. I may do without a lay-figure for a time, but not
without old Homer — that great, native, true, immortal,
illustrious, incarnate spirit. Hail to thee, blind and beg-
ging as thou wert! The truth is, I am fonder of books
than of anything else on earth. I consider myself, and
ever shall, a man of great powers excited to an art which
limits their exercise. In poUtics, law, or literature, ■ they
would have had full and glorious swing, and I should have
secured a competence. It is a curious proof of this that I
have pawned my studies, my prints, my lay-figures, but
liave kept my darling authors.

" 27th. — My exhibiting with the Academicians has given
great satisfaction to everybody, and they seem to regard

J

laae.] an advance towards the acadesit. 121

rae now without that gloomy dislike thej used to do. I
heartily wish they may become as they seem, — cordial, and
that in the end all animositiea may be forgotten in our
common desire to advance the art. This is niy desire,
God knows : whether it be their's time only will show.
Westmacott called to-day — yesterday I went to see the
horse for his statue of George III. for the end of the long
walk at Windsor. Why will a man attempt a language
without learning the A, B, C of it ?

" It showed a great want of knowledge of the form of a
horse, but in certain views it was grand and imposing. I
hinted certain deficiencies, hut I question if he was pleased.
Still he thanked rae. He liked Alexander, but agreed he
was not young enough. I'll get the air of youth by
contrast.

" Westmacott has always spoken of me in the highest
terms; he was affected when I told him this. He has a
lind heart, and I hope we parted pleasantly. 'I heartily
wish you were amongst us,' said he. ' So do I,' said I,
' Time and conciliation,' said he, ' That's my present
principle,' I said. He told Carew he was glad I was so
much improved.

" My God, how I have been mistaken !

" It is pleasant to be at peace, and at peace I wish to
be for the rest of my life. Had I never got infected with

, I should have always been so. But, however, time

— time — time. I cannot expect to be received vrith open
arms at once after the severity with which I have treated
these men. But I see they are pleased with my present
frame of mind, and making a httle allowance for what is
due to themselves, the two or three I have spoken to have
evidently behaved with great kindness. I see they have a

high opinion of me. But no concession : d me if I

make any concession. I'll be patient, and give them three
years. If at the end of that time I am trifled with, then
to hostilities again. I should wish to do the good I want
accomplished, backed by the Academy ; but if I cannot, I
must make one attempt to do it again without them, and

122 SIEMOIRS OF B. R. HATDOS. tlSSS.

perliaps perish before I accomplisli it. God only knows.
Time — time — time."

After a long day of research at the British Museiun
among Greek books and Greek coins and sculptures,
" How beautiful," he says, " it must have been to have
entered a Greek Doric temple, at the head of a secluded
river, buried in a grove, and there contemplated the most
divine statues and most exquisite pictures. What a people
they were for the arts !

" These three days have been delightfully spent. This
is the happiness of historical painting. Dentatus ac-
quainted me with the Romans: Solomon, and Jerusalem,
and Lazarus with the Israelites and eastern nations ;
Pharaoh with the Egyptians, and Alexander with the
divine Greeks. Every hour's progress is an accession of
knowledge, of pleasure and happiness. Tlie mind never
flags, but is kept in one delicious tone of meditation and
fancy; whereas in portrait one sitter, stupid as ribs of
beef, goes, another comes, a third follows. "Women screw
up their mouths to make them look pretty, and men suck
tbeir lips to make them look red. The trash that one is
obliged to talk ! The stufT that one is obliged to copy !
The fidgets that are obliged to be borne ! My God ! I
will defy any man of strong imagination to curb it if be
idealises at all, so as to elevate a common head, and yet
keep a likeness. It requires a certain portion, but not
such a portion as carries a man out of himself. This is
the history of a portrait-painter's nature of mind.

" Day after day goes away, and your mind rots for want
of opening some new source of knowledge, unexplored
and promising. I really don't care about the half-lint of
a cheek. I really do not. I would rather devour £lian,
or search Strabo, and blaze with Homer — 1 really would
— and give my imagination the reins for hours, than paint
a cheek like Vandyke. This is the truth."

These investigations suggest a remark which has an
application to pbgiarism in literature as well as in art.
" Tbere is hardly anything new, I never literally stole

1

1826.] HELP IN NEED FROM LORD EGREMONT. 123

but one figure in my life (Aaron) from Raffaele. Yet to-day
I found my Olympias, which I had dashed in in a heat,
exactly a repetition of an Antigone, and the first thing I saw
in the Louvre was Poussin's Judgment of Solomon with
Solomon in nearly the same position as in my picture*
Yet 1 solemnly declare I never saw even the print when
I conceived my Solomon, which was done one night,
before I began to paint, at nineteen, when I lodged in
Carey Street, and was ill in my eyes. I lay back in my
chair, and indulged myself in composing my Solomon.

" I will venture to say no painter but Wilkie will
believe this, though it is as true as that two and two make
four."

By the 7th of July his diflSculties had fairly driven him^
he writes, " up in a corner." At last he determined, though
warned of the danger of such a step, to disclose his
embarrassments and necessities to Lord Egremont. " I
begged him to pardon my laying open my circumstanced
to him. I was warned against applying for money to
him by others. It ruined Rossi with him, but Rossi, I
suppose, applied in the style of a butcher.

*^Oh what anxiety dearest Mary and I sufiered last
night. * It will succeed,' said she, ' or ruin you.' Had
it offended him I should really have had great diffi-
culties, but still I would have got through. Well at
dinner he called : I let him in with a beating heart*
He walked up, liked Alexander very much indeed, and
after looking some time said, * Why what have you
been about all your life ? ' * Painting large pictures
in hopes of the sympathy of the public, my Lord.*
* That was imprudent,' said he. * It was,' I replied, (but
I thought, * 1 wish I could be as imprudent again'). * Well,
I have brought you 100/.' * My Lord, that's salvation.'
He smiled and put five twenties on a chair. He then
walked about my plaster-room; as I followed him —
^ Take up your money,' said he. I did so. * Where are
your large pictures?' I told him. His manner was
altogether mild and benevolent, and he had not to-day

124 MEMOIBS OF B, B, UATDON. tlS26.

that short, sharp tone he has in general, which is not
natural to him, and which he puts on, I am convinced, to
keep people at a distance.

" He seemed full of knowledge of me and my affairs,
and 1 doubt not I shall yet have a regular conversation on
the subject. Well, God be thanked, I am once more lifted
from a pit by a guardian angel.

" Alexander evidently pleased him. ' I wish,' said I,
'to make him an aspiring youth,' at which he nodded.
' Don't make the queen d^ — — d ugly.' ' No, my Lord,
that I won't,' (' I flatter myself I like a handsome woman,
and know as much of them as your Lordship,' thought I),
'The king promises finely — Clytus I like very much. It
is very fine.' He seemed pleased with himself, and with
me, and walked about, and turned round on his heel, as
if now he had a right to be familiar,

"The only reward I wished him— and that would have
been, God knows, sufficient — was to have seen my Mary's
face in the evening.

"Long life to him with all my soul, and from my soul
I offer God my gratitude."

We have seen how Haydon had so far conquered hia
pride as to send his Venus and Anchises to the exhibition
of the Royal Academy. He followed this up by a step,
his account of which in his journal, (July 10th) he has
headed (in 1839), " this is the disgrace of my life." As
my object is to let the painter speak for himself, wherever
I can, and as the incident is an important one in his life,
and the narrative cJiaracteristic, I transfer to my pages
without abridgment his account of the visits he paid to
members of the Academy, with a view to conciliate that
body, and, if possible, pave the way for bis own admission
to it. He was ashamed of this step, when it turned out
unsuccessful. I must confess that it is my o^m impression
that bis shame at this ineifectual act of submission, bke
liis original quarrel with the Academy, was more owing to
personal feeling than to considerations of principle, though
these might be mingled with the less worthy motive.

I8S6.] 0VKGTCRE3 OP ItECONCILIATIOJT. 125

'• A month ago, taking into consideration the kind
reception I had met with in the Royal Academy, bj
the hanging of my pictures, and the great good I had
since derived from sending them there, I called on
Calcott, who called on me after Solomon and its success,
• and then spoke to me in a strain of subdued quiet. Oh,
what an ass I was not to meet him then half-way ! I missed
it, treated him with hauteur. I was victorious, honourably
and openly victorious. But I was not a frank and forgiv-
ing foe, and now it was ray turn to call on him.

" Call I did, with a variety of sensations, and saw Cal-
cott. I recalled his visit to me, told him I now called
on him ; that my feelings had undergone a change in conse-
quence of the way my pictures had been treated ; that
I felt weary of keeping aloof from the profession, and
asked him what chance he thought I should have of bring-
ing things round amicably. He looked grave and im-
portant, hut still I saw it was put on. He was pleased.
•Why, really, Mr. Haydon, 1 won't hurt your feelings by
saying what I think of your former violence.' * Yes, but
Mr. Calcott, remember the cause,' (repeating all my argu-
ments), 'remember I never criticised the works of any living
artist. "What I did was on public grounds.' ' Well, Mr.
Haydon, we won't talk about the matter. If you wish
for reconciHation you will have heavy work.' • Well,' said
I, ' Christian, in Pilgrim's Progress, shook off his load at
last, and so shall I.' He said he wished me success, and
held out his hand, wliich I shook and went away. In spite
of the great irony of his expression, he was pleased, I swear.
To-day I called on Shee : I told him, after sixteen years'
absence, I tvished to recommence our acquaintance. Shee
was much agitated, and asked me to walk in. There we
discussed the whole matter. I maintained I began life
with an enthusiasm for the Academy ; that I offended
my patron by refusing to concede to bis desire of keeping
Dentatus for the Gallery ;• that I sent it to the Academy,
and that they, after hanging it up, then took it down, and
• The British Institution.

126 MEUOIKS OF B. H. HATDOK. [l8a8-

placed it in the dark. (As I knew he was one of the
hangers, I determined to tell this out.) He said he was
used just as badly: but I replied, 'Portraits were paid for;
liistorical pictures were the work of years, and such a
proceeding, in the case of commissions from noblemeD,
whose vanity became alarmed if repute did not follow
employment by them was ruin.' Hesaid, 'Thenit wasyour
own personal disappointment ?' ' Yes; for if a student, a
devoted, enthusiastic young man, as I was, praised by all,
after having given such successful proofs of having studied
soundly, was not considered qualified for election or
honour because he had not taken the trouble to render him-
self personally agreeable to the Academicians, (taking into
consideration the treatment Reynolds too had met with
from the same party,) I was justified in suffering my
personal disappointments to excite me to a general attack on
the system. The personal consequences I was not aware of.
I might have foreseen them if I had hesitated ; but I was
heaped with calumnies, anonymous letters, had everything
put on my shoulders, was accused of envy and hatred, called
a Barry, when I have always preferred clean sheets, a glass
of wine, and a clean house, and am naturally happy
tempered.' So we went on ; he did not make any convincing
reply to this. 1 agreed with everything he said about an
artist writing, because I felt its fatal truth. It embitters
and destroys his mind and his conceptions, turns aside the
tranquil train of his thoughts, and renders his habits of
thinking unpictorial. Making allowance for the severe
things I have said of Shce, I expected and should have
excused occasional hits. ' My dear sir,' (with his brogue),
'a public body is invulnerable; a public body is only amused
at the attacks of individuals.' ' Ah,' thought I, ' were you
amused, ray dear Mr, Shee, when you called a general
meeting of the Academy to take into consideration my
accusation of mean motives for taking away the cartoon of
Ananias ; and though no other step was taken, by Fuseli'a
advice, than entering on your books the fact of the
cartoon being lent to the Gallery, and your right to claim

IB26.] VISITS TO THE ACADEMICIANS. 127

it/ (wbich Wilkie told me of,) ' I believe this was a little
more than amusement," However I said nothing. I
made them all tremble, and ibis tbey remember well.
And, by heavens, my calling makes them tremWe still.
Sliee shook bands heartily, and then said be would call
very soon ; so we parted as I wished.

" Now to old FJaxman. I think if I can get Beechey,
Plaxman and Sbee, to say, ' I wish you well,' the greatest
part of the road is got over.

" In the course of conversation we talked of Cymon and
Iphigenia at the Gallery. ' Portrait painters,' said Shee,
• when they paint history, beat the historical painters.' If
I had put him down, which I could in an instant, away
would have gone our reconciliation. Who beat Raffae!e,
Rubens, Michel Angelo, Titian, Tintoretto, Paul Vero-
nese, Rembrandt, Domenichino, Guido, Guercino, Gior-
gione ?

" Because Reynolds beat West in force, depth and colour,
portrait painters beat historical painters in character, ex-
pression, form, drawing, and composition ! This is a
specimen of the sort of family trash and namby-pamby
that is the circulating medium of the Academy. It
makes me sick. (I'll bet my existence I shall never have
patience to go through.) Portrait painters, from the habit
of imitation, will no doubt beat historical painters who
compose and finish without reference to nature. But
because Reynolds beat West, Fuseli, Singleton, Copley,
and others of that species — does he mean to say that the
great historical painters, who never painted without life,
have left anything for portrait painters to complete ? Ah,
Shee, I could have pointed to Prospero and Miranda over
your chimney-piece as a refutation, but good breeding
rendered it necessary to bow.

" And now for my old friend Chantrey.

"I always admired his simplicity and harmlessness of
nature. Whether wealth and fame have altered him I
must see. Once, when I called on horseback, he held my
stirrup while I mounted, and that too when his Sleeping

128 MEMOIK3 OP B. E. HATDOy. [l828.

Children were before the world, and he was in the full
blaze of repute. I alwajs remember this as a proof of his
unaffectedness. Chantrey agreed with nie in my attack ;
he seceded and left me. We shall see how he wtU take a
visit on my part to pave the way to reconciliation.

" When he set up his carriage he was not to be home.
It was all day, ' John, telJ Richard to desire Betty to order ■
Mrs. Chan trey's maid to tell Mrs. Chantrey to send down
my snuff-box.' He rode about as full of conceit as an egg;
but I believe Chantrey 's heart to be good, and we shall see.

" I shall only call on those whose feelings I have hurt,
and I hurt the feehngs of some of whom I had no right to
complain but as tliey were of the body corporate.

"This was wanton, and gives me pain — great pain.
Surely there can be no degradation in trying to heal up
the wounds one has inflicted, without thought, at thirty.
Old Flaxman, though pompous, is good.

"July ISlk. — To-day I saw Beechey, who is hearty and
sincere. I afterwards called on Flaxman, who received me
most kindly. I saw the Michael he is doing for Lord
Egremont, The head is fine.

" I said, ' Mr. Flaxman, I wish to renew my acquaint-
ance after twenty years' interval.' ' Mr. Haydon,' said the
" intelligent deformity," 'I am happy to see you — walk
in!' ' Mr. Flaxman, sir, you look well.' ' Sir, I am well,
thanks to the Lord ! I am seventy-two, and ready to go
when the Lord pleases.'

" As he said this, there was a look of real unaffected
piety, which I hope and believe was sincere.

'"Ah, Mr.Haydon, Lord Egremont is a noble creature.'
< He is, Mr. Flaxman ; he has behaved very nobly to me.'
'Ah, Mr. Haydon, has he? how?' 'Why, Mr. Flaxman, he
has given me a handsome commission.' ' Has he, Mr.
Haydon? I am most happy to hear it — most happy — very
happy ; ' and then with an elevation of brow, and looking
askance, he said, 'How isyour friend Mr. Wilkie?' 'Why,
Vlaxman, he is ill — so ill I fear he will never again have
tellects in full vigour.' ' Really, Mr. Haydon, why it

1

1826.]

TISJTS TO THE ACADEMICIANS.

129

is miserable. I suppose it is his miniature -pain ting has
strained him, for between you and me, Mr. Haydon, 'tis but
miniature-painting you know : hem — he — m— e- — -e — m.'
• Certainly, Mr. Flaxman, 'tis but miniature-painting.' ' Ab,
Mr. Haydon, the world is easily caught.' Here he touched
my knee familiarly, and leaned forward, and his old, de-
formed, humped shoulder protruded as he leant, and his
sparkling old eye and his apish old mouth grinned on one
side, and he rattled out of his throat, husky with coughing,
a jarry, inward, hesitating hemming sound, which meant
that Wilkie'a reputation was all my eye in comparison
with ours!

"'Poor Fuseli is gone, sir.' 'Yes, sir.' 'Ah, Mr.
Haydon, he was a man of genius, but, I fear, of no prin-
ciple.' ' Yes, sir.' ' He has left, I understand, behind
him some drawings shockingly indelicate.' ' Has he,
sir?' 'Yes, Mr. Haydoii. Poor wretch!' said Flaxman,
looking ineffably modest, ' Mr. Flaxman, good morning.'
' Good morning, Mr. Haydon. I am very, very happy to
see you, and will call in a few days.'

" From him I called on Westall, who was out of town,
ind then on ray old friend Bailey, Bailey had got on
in life, and was now in a large house, and with plenty
[uployment. I broke bread and drank wine with him,
and he told me I might depend on him. I was too tired
to do more, and came home to look at Toy picture with
delight.

■' I have been very kindly received, and my intentions
seem to give decided satisfaction.

;ertainly wish to be at peace for ever.

"July \1th. — To-day I saw Thompson, Ward, Howard,
who is a gentlemanly clever fellow- — Soane, whom I used
dreadfully ill — Stothard, who has an angelic mind. As an
instance of bis calm nature he said, ' I never read the
papers, Mr. Haydon ; they disturb my peace of thinking.'
he sat making a sketch of Kemble's tomb for a
gentleman, from a drawing of a lady's, and his beautiful
pictures unbought about him, — beautiful, that is, as far

TOL. II. K

130 MEMOmS OP B. R. HATDON. [1826.

as sweetness of feeling wont. I felt quite affected. He
has not material enough for modern art. He told me he
remembered Sir Joshua looking at the effect of some
people in a pork-shop near Newport Market, and imitated
his manner, holding his head back, and taking off his
glasses to see the effect. I could not help contrasting
Stothard's simplicity and sincerity with Flaxmaii's frog-
like croaking flattery.

" He has a fine head, with silvery hairs, hanging brows,
and a benignant smile that expresses a happy conception
and a perpetual feasting on sweet thoughts. I left him
highly gratified. He said he complained at the time to
the hangers that Dentatus was not done justice to, and
that they said ' It was a glarmg picture.' Every word
uttered at the time, and which I got hold of one way or
the other, proves the extent of the tacit agreement to stop
my progress, and embarrass me for a time. This single
act only of hanging that picture in the dark changed the
whole current of ray life for a time. So great is the
power of men who arrange the exhibition. I told Stot-
hard that a week before the picture was sent in my room
was filled with people of fashion and beautiful women, and
that after it was so hung I never saw even my particular
friends for a year. It darkened all my prospects. . It was
not a picture dashed together in a hurry for a temporary-
effect, but the labour of a year or longer, deeply studied and
deeply thought on, on which my future fortune depended.
I painted it to prove my sincerity, to prove the value of
the studies I had made in that very Academy, and yet I
was sacrificed to abase intrigue of West, Phillips, Howard,
and Shee, who agreed to undo what Fuseli had induced
them to do. Afier having hung it and voted it a place,
coutd there be a greater cruelty or injustice than to take
it down? I am happy to see, when I speak of this, the
Academicians cannot bear my searching glance, and to all
I have mentioned it as the first cause of my defection.

Howard and I afterwards had a very interesting con-
versation. He gave up the prospects of art in the country,
I did not. He is the beau ideal of modern historical art

1826.] VISITS TO THE ACADEMICIANS. 131

, formed on the Roman antique; — Flaxmanj in fact, in
colours — but an intelligent refined man, a great favourite, I
have heard, with Sir Joshua. He did not see the good
effects in the long run of the school "Wilkie has formed.
It has effectually counterbalanced the slobber of Reynolds,
and will in the end reflect itself back again on history,
and be the means of advancing the whole system of art.
Howard of course complained of its having engendered a
premature art. I agreed ; but still I see the end of that
and the good that must accrue. Of course he was a dis-
appointed man. Now I am not a disappointed man,
though a ruined one.

" I then saw old Bone, the enamel painter, who has got
a nervous twitch and a croaking voice, as if he was always
watching a bit of ivory in a furnace for fear it should crack.
He showed me all the celebrated characters of Elizabeth's
reign. Elizabeth, by Sir A. More, capital — a man's
head on woman's shoulders. Burleigh's was goodness and
integrity personified. Spencer's like the sweetness of his
own stanzas. ' Is it like Shakespeare ?' said I of a por-
trait of Shakespeare. ' Why,' said old Bone, ' they have
talked so much about Shakespeare they begin to know
less than ever."

" Soane was crabbedly good-natured, and happy to see
me. Indeed all received me frankly, and shook hands
heartily. They were cidently pleased. As a specimen
of taste, on Soane's chimney-piece were bits of paper to
light candles with, crumpled architecturally, in his peculiar
style.

'* Thompson and I bad a long conversation. He is a
gentlemanly fellow. He told me goodnaturedly of several
bits of rudeness on my part to him, which I never meant
or thought of.

'• With Ward I entered into a long conversation, and
be was astonished at my declaring I never criticised any
modern works whatever.

" The lies that have been circulated about me, as I find
now I come to see my enemies, are quite extraordinary.

132 MEMOIRS OP B. R. HATDON. ClSae.

" So has passed this day.

"July 25lh. — Out again and saw the rest of the Aca-
demicians. Phillips and I had a long confah. PhiUips is
kind but irritable. His manner of art is heavy — a sort of
exaggeration of Kneller's and Reynolds's Ijreadth. He was
pleased at my coming. He asked me if 1 did not do this,
and I asked him if he had not done this and had not done
that ; by which means we came to an anchor. He is the
only man who has not behaved in the same manly way as
the rest behaved ; but it is temper. This was the reason.
'Do you believe,' said he, ' the ancients according to Pliny
had only four colours — white, ochre, red, and black?
Ochre,' he added, 'is no yellow.' He then mixed white
with it to show me. 'But,' said I, 'I will make ochre
look like gold by contrast and by management ; glaze it
for a half-tint, touch in dark and red reflections, then
heighten by white touches in lights. You will find the
local colour — the real ochre — will look golden.' ' But
they must have had no blue.' ' Well,' said I, ' the finest
pictures in colour, expression, and form, could be painted
without blue, though Titian's richness is principally owing
to blue. Besides, by management, I will make black look
blue.'

" He then said, ' they knew nothing of light and
shadow.' 'Why,' said J, 'do you remember Quintilian?'
'Does Quintilian say any thing?' said Phillips. 'Ah,'
thought I, 'prenez garde, M. Haydan. II faut Sire un
ignorant en presence de M. le Professeur, souvenez-voiis en
bien. Shall I send you an extract,' said I, ' I shall be
obliged,' said he. ' What is your notion of the vehicle of
the ancients ? ' ' Gad, sir, I know so little, really I have
no idea. What is your's, Mr. Phillips ?' 'It was water,*
said he ; ' how could a sponge else be thrown against a
picture*, and produce the effect?' ' Of course,' said I,

• Alluding to the storj of Protogenea having thrown his sponge In
deapair at a picture he was painting of a dag with foam coming out of
hie mouth, and having thus produced the effect he wbb seeking.

rI826.]
though
water,
sponge

VISITS TO THE ACADEMICIANS.

13

though I thought oa that reasoniag it might he soap and
water, for if it was water, hecause a spoDge was used, a
sponge is as often used with soap as with pure water.

It is siirely as likely, at least, that Protogenes liaving
just ohliterated what he had painted with a sponge, the
sponge must have heen covered with the colour and vehicle
taken off, and if he dashed it up against the picture, the
same vehicle and colour must have been again dashed on.
It might be oil, or wax, or spirits, because sponge could
equally clear all." Nothing certain could be obtained
from taking the sponge as a principle of reasoning.

" All this I did not say, but thought and looked pro-
found, so I dare say he fancied I was amazingly struck by
lits remark.

" By this time he got peevish, and so I bid him adieu.
I will certainly attend his first lecture.

"From PhilUps I called on Sir Thomas, and I must say
was amazingly struck by the beauty and force and grace
of the women in his. gallery. 1 think I can venture to
say with truth that he is the only man since Vandyke
who has detailed, without destroying, the beauty of a face.
He is not mannered as he used to be ; and a head of Lady
Sutton's was really beautiful — pure in colour and expres-
sion — his old men and bis women are his forte — his chil-
dren are affected — his young men puppies — hut his women
are fashionable, though, perhaps, a little dollish. That
heavy lumbering breadth without detail he has left off,
and he deserves his employment.

" I did not say all I thought, because it might look like
praising him to ingratiate myself.

" Lawrence and Sir George Beaumont are the two most
perfect gentlemen I ever saw. ■ Both naturally irritable
and waspish, but both controlling every feeling which is
incompatible with breeding.

" At a large party once at an hotel in Jermyn Street, to
breakfast with Sir Walter Scott, Sir George remained a

I. Fhillipa was partly right. — B.R.n. 1837.

k

134 MEMOIRS OF B. R. HATDON, [1926.

long time with his empty cup waiting for tea. The con-
versation being lively, he was forgotten by Sir Walter,
and I sat watching him to observe how he would bear it.
It was quite a study to see bow admirably Sir George
by anecdotes, and laughing, and listening, all of which
was intentional, kept everybody from believing he was
neglected, or thought so. At last his cup caught Sir
Walter's eye; he filled it, with an apology, and Sir George
took it as if he had then only been thirsty, and as if on
the whole his tea was a great deal better than if he had
had it sooner. It was exquisitely done. Lawrence is not
so inherently a gentleman. His air looks like obedience :
in Beaumont it was like delicacy.

" From him I called on Cooper, and after so many com-
mon-place people Cooper, who is really a man of genius,
was a consolation. His walk is English History. His
knowledge is great there, and he talks well and enthusias-
tically. With him I spent an intelligent, argumentative,
and instructive half hour ; so much so that I almost forgot
my object, and at last it came in incidentally, and was again
soon swallowed up in the discussion of matters more im-
portant. I have been used all my life to literary men, or
men of genius. The portrait- painters are really so buried
in self, and so occupied with individuality, that, except
Lawrence, they are abroad on subjects of general interest.
In the houses of Phillips and Shee there was not one
bust of antiquity or work of art, while Lawrence's house
is filled with them.

" The moment Cooper and I met, there was a set-to, and
his manner in talking struck me as like Wilkie's. It was
quite a pleasure, a relief, and an excitement. I left
Cooper with several new subjects of thought, many ori-
ginal ideas, and walked leisurely home, determined not to
disturb myself any more to-day.

" Neither Shee, Phillips, nor any other said one thing I
remembered, except Lawrence.

" Perhaps it may not be a paradox to say the most
waspish men are the best bred.

1826.] FR0GRE8S OP ALEXANDER AND BUCErHALUS. 135

" Tho perpetual consciousness of a defect of temper
wliicli would destroy all affection begets a perpetual effort
at control. Reynolds, Lawrence, and Sir George are ex-
amples. Reynolds was naturally irritable. His good
fortune and success, with the submission he received, kept
Mm amiable ; but the first time he was thwarted he got
into a passion, and resigned.

" August 5th, — Hard at work on the drapery of Olym-
pias, as I knew my lay-figure must go again in the evening
for cash. In the evening it went till the next advance.
I hope to get through now without feeling the want of it.

" August Qth. — In Kent with Mary. Boy to school —
Hayes — delicious place. The scent of woodbine, honey-
suckle, roses and grass, so exquisite that I could have
laid down like a dog and rolled about, enchanted and
snuffing.

" August Wth. — Hard at work. Finished Philip. Now
for Olympiaa — a sort of Lady Macbeth and Clytemnestra.
The king's hands did well to-day.

" August \2th. — Hard at work and succeeded with the
queen — Olympias. Remembering what my old friend
Apelles said (that he knew when to leave off) the moment
I had hit the expression I ceased, congratulating myself
on my forbearance, although the surface was a little too
rough, and the colour not quite the thing yet. Expres-
sion is the prime point, and I never will risk expression
for anything.

" August \Sth. — To-day the queen's head looked exactly
the thing, and I rejoice I left off; though I was agitated
and nervous to go on, and should have spoilt it in five
minutes, had not dearest Mai-y begged me to keep my
resolution.

"August 14iA. — Both yesterday and to-day harassed
to death. When I was employed on portraits I ordered
. several frames ; the attacks of the press destroyed my
portrait-painting, and these frames were left on my bands.
I gave a bill for the amount, 37/. 15*. 0;^., was not
paid for my Pharaoh, could not pay the bill, and have

r

136 MEU0IR3 OF B. R. HATDON. [1826.

lost two precious days in trying to get time to complete
my picture. I hope to go to work to-morrow, as I am
literally hungry to go on.

" Called in at the National Gallery, and forgot ray bill
for two hours with Titian, Raffaele, Vandyke, Rubens,
Keynolds, and, happy am I to add, my old friend Wilkie.
When 1 recollect that Wilkie painted this Blind Tiddler
in the summer of 180fi, No. 10. Sol's Row, top of
Tottenham Court Road, in a paltry first floor, — that he
had but fifty guineas for it, and that now it is one of the
prime ornaments of the English school at the National
Gallery — when I recollect all the models he had, especially
the old grandfather, whom we both painted, and the
circumstances attending each, and the little anecdotes
connected with them, I am deeply gratified.

" August ISM. — Out to meet, persuade, and battle
with a lawyer: we compromised the matter, but it destroyed
my time, and I returned totally unhinged. This is the
way half my precious time is lost. I not only lose my
time, but I pay for losing it, which is a double loss.

" August 20(/i. — Sunday. Spent a heavenly day. No
duns; no lawyers' letters; no disturbance of any sort:
but silent, peaceable, and holy in my feelings. My heart
continually grateful to God. I only ask, if painting on a
Sunday generates such feelings, and going to church and
listening to a stupid parsou generates the contrary, which
is most acceptable to God ?

" August Slst. — Painted the queen's hand. Obliged
to go out just as I felt abstracted and delighted. Obliged.
Law. ' Your money or a writ.' This should be the
lawyer's motto, or ' Your money or a prison.' Either
will suit these amiable, established robbers. Foot-pads
are respectable in comparison. At least I think so, who
am generally a debtor and not a creditor.

" September 1st. — The first thing I began the month
with was a lawyer's letter, threatening proceedings if I
did not settle directly. Away I was obliged to go on the
top of a stage for the city. I talked him over for a month.

1826.] DIFFICULTIES. 1 37

He asked what I was about. I described the subject, and
as I was talking I saw him open his mouth, and follow
me by its motions, ' All right,' thought I, and I soon
brought him to anchor. As I went along I studied as
fine a sky aa I ever remember seeing. The arched vaulted
look and sunny airiness was a perfect lesson which I did
not miss,

" September itnd. — Out again on the usual afl&irs.
' Sir, a warrant will be granted if yon do not pay up
your water-rate.'

" Oh what a pity there should be taxes, water-rates,
poor-rates, tailors' bills, book bills, rents, butchers' and
bakers' bills, for a man of genius. He should be let alone,
and though perhaps he would die in a few years from
over-conception, it would be better for paintiog.

" September 5t}i. — Saw elder Reinagle, a nice old fellow.
He remembered Sir Joshua using so much asphaltum that
it dropped on the floor. Reinagle said he thought me
infamously used, and wondered I had not gone mad or
died. ' Where is your Solomon, Mr. Haydon?' ' Hung
up in a grocer's shop.' ' Where your Jerusalem ? * ' In a
ware-room in Holborn.' • Where your Lazarus ? ' 'In
an upholsterer's shop, in Mount Street,' ' And your Mac-
beth?' ' In Chancery.' ' Your Pharaoh ? ' ' In an attic,
pledged.' 'My God! And your Crucifixion ? ' 'In a hay-
loft.' ' And Silenus ? ' ' Sold for half price,' Such was
the conversation, at which the little man

" ' Sliifted his trumpet, and only took anuff.' "

During September, Haydon, who had not quitted Lon-
don for two years, finding that his mind had "become
rusty," rushed down to Brighton, where, he says, " he rolled
in the sea, shouted like a savage, laved his sides like a
hull in a green meadow, dived, swam, floated and came
out refreshed." Enjoying the effects of the change and
the sea air, he returned to town, and at the beginning of
November brought down his wife and children. In the
interval he mentions meeting with Bannister — once the

138 IKEMOrKS OP B. R. HAYDON. [1826.

most " sympathetic " of actors, on the wimiing effect of
whose voice and manner old playgoers are still eloquent.

"September 30lh. — Met Bannister hy accident in Cheniea
Street, Bedford Square. His face was as fresh, his eye
as keen, and bis voice as musical as ever. I had not seen
him for years. He held out his hand just as he used to,
do on the stage, with the same frank, native truth. As
he spoke, the tones of his favourite Walter* pierced
my heart. It was extraordinary the effect. ' Bannister,"
said I, ' Your voice recalls my early days.' ' Ah,' SMd
he, 'T had some touches, had I not?' He told me a
story of Lord Egremont. B. bought at Sir Joshua's
sale the Virgin and Child. He sent it to a sale at a
room for 250 guineas. Lord E. told the seller he would
give 200. It was agreed to. Lord Egremont afterwards
said to Bailey, ' I have bought Reynolds's Virgin and
Child.' ' Ah,' said Bailey, ' it was Bannister's picture.
You gave 250.' He said nothing, but the same day wrote
to Bannister he was ashamed to have offered less, and sent
him a cheque for the 50 owing.

" I said to Bannister, as Napoleon said to Talma, ' We
are talking history ; I shall put this down.' ' Shall ye
though,' said he, as his face flushed. ' That I will,' said I ;
and he hobbled off with a sort of wriggling enjoyment.
His acting was delightful ; and his tones to-day accounted
for his fame. They were as a man's something like Mrs.
Jordan's as a woman's. Mrs. Jordan when making up a
quarrel with a lover was touching beyond description.

" Here are a brace of stories — se non veri, ben trovati.

' Spent two hours with S . Among other gossip he

told me, a large party at Petworth were dining, among

whom was Lady L , with a page, a boy who holds

her pocket handkerchief, and so forth. The first day
this passed off well. The next, to the astonishment of
the company, Lord Egremont had a great tall fellow
behind him in a smock frock. In the middle of dinner

1 the " Bahes in t!ie

18Ea.] A VISIT TO PETWORTH. 139

Lord E, called out, ' Page, give me some bread.' All
eyes were immediately turned on her Ladyship, and off
went my Lady the morning after. The above is a fact.

" The following is a pendant, and a very good story : —

"Tliis page was one day very impertinent to her

Ladyship, She wrote a note to Lord L , saying,

' Give him a box on the ear.' The page took tlie letter,
and meeting his Lordship's Luge Swiss running footman,
gave him the note to carry. The fellow took the note
to his Lordship. His Lordship opened it, and read, ' Give
the bearer a box on the ear.' The bearer was about
7ft. 2 in. high!"

While at Brighton with his family an invitation to
Petworth arrived. His account of the visit may excite
a smile, from the naivete of enjoyment, and the self-
satisfaction of the writer. But it gives a glimpse of a
hospitality so frank, kindly, and unstinted, and the emo-
tions and impressions it discloses belong so peculiarly to
Haydon, that I insert it without change,

" November \3tk. — Set off for Petworth, where I
arrived at half past three. Lord Egremont's reception
was frank and noble. The party was quite a family one.
All was frank good humour and benevolence. Lord
Egremont presided and helped, laughed and joked, and
let others do the same."

" November 15th. — Sketched and studied all day. I
dine with the finest Vandyke in the world — the Lady
Ann Carr, Countess of Bedford. It is beyond everything.
■ — I really never saw such a character as Lord Egremont,
' Live and let live ' seems to be his motto. He has placed
me in one of the most magnificent bed-rooms I ever saw.
It speaks more for what he thinks of my talents than any-
thing that ever happened to me. On the left of the bed
hangs a portrait of William, Lord Marquis of Hertford,
elected Knight of the Garter 1649, and by act of par-
liament restored Duke of Somerset 1660. Over the
chimney is a nobleman kneeling. A lady of high rank
to the right. Opposite Queen Mary. Over the door a

140 BIKMOIKS OF B. R. HATDON. [1626.

head. On the right of the cabinet, Sir Somehody. And
over the entrance door another head. The bed curtains
are different coloured velvets let in on white satin. The
walls, sofas, easy chairs, carpets, green damask, and a
beautiful view of the park out of the high windows.

" There is something peculiarly interesting in the in-
habiting these apartments, sacred to antiquity, which have
contained a long list of deceased and illustrious ancestors.
As I lay in my magnificent bed, and saw the old portraits
trembling in a sort of twilight, I almost fancied I heard
them breathe, and almost expected they would move out
and shake my curtains. What a destiny is mine ! One
year in the Bench, the companion of gamblers and scoun-
drels, — sleeping in wretchedness and dirt, on a flock bed,
low and filthy, with black worms crawling over my hands,
— another, reposing in down and velvet, in a splendid
apartment, in a splendid house, the guest of rank, and
fashion, and beauty ! As I laid my head on my down
pillow the first night, I was deeply affected, and could
hardly sleep. God in heaven grant ray future may now
be steady. At any rate a nobleman has taken me by the
hand, whose friendship generally increases in proportion
to the necessity of its continuance. Such is Lord Egre-
mont. Literally hkc the gun, The very flies at Petworth
seem to know there is room for their existence j that the
windows are theirs. Dogs, horses, cows, deer and pigs,
])easantry and servants, guests and family, children and
parents, all share alike his bounty and opulence and lux-
uries. At breakfast, after the guests have all breakfasted,
in walks Lord Egremoiit ; first comes a grandchild, whom
he sends away happy. Outside the window moan a dozen
black Spaniels, who are let in, and to them he distributes
cakes and comfits, giving all equal shares. After chatting
with one guest, and proposing some scheme of pleasure to
others, his leathern gaiters are buttoned on, and away he
walks, leaving everybody to take care of themselves, with
all that opulence and generosity can place at their dis-
posal entirely within their reach. At dinner he meets

1836.] A TISIT TO PETWOETH. 141

everybody, and then are recounted the feats of the day.
All principal dishes ho helps, never minding the trouhle
of carving ; he eats heartily and helps iiherally. There is
plenty, but not absurd profusion; good wines, but not
extravagant waste. Everything solid, liberal, rich, and
English. At seventy-four he still shoots daily, comes home
wet through, and is as active and looks as well as many
men of fifty.

" The meanest insect at Petworth feels a ray of his
Lordship's fire in the justice of its distribution.

" I never saw such a character, or such a man, nor
were there ever many.

" I6th and ITlA November. — The politics of Petworth
are interesting. Of course amongst so many dependents
jealousies will arise ; and I soon saw that the old military
heroes who had for years been drinking my Lord's claret

were confoundedly annoyed at the sudden irruption of ,

who, being a keen active fellow, did not conduct himself
with all possible respect to the two old colonels. He left
the dinner-table before they had finished their wine ; he
contradicted their military notions, which Lord Egremont
never took the trouble to do ; and the old heroes, disturbed
in their entrenchments by this young interloper, revenged
themselves by abusing him in all ways.

" ISth November. — I left Petworth to-day, and arrived
safely at Brighton, where I found my dear children and
dearest Mary well.

" Before leaving that princely seat of magnificent hos-
pitality, I wrote, when I retired to my bed-room last
night, the following letter: —

" My Lord,
" I cannot leave Petworth without intruding my gratitude for
the princely manner in which I have been treated during my
stay, and in earnestly hoping your Lordaliip may live ioDg, I
only add my voice to the voices of thousands, who never utter
your Lordship's name without a blessing.
" I am, my Lord,

'* Tour LordaJiip's bumble and grateful servant,
" B. E. Haydon."

142

MEMOIRS OF B. R, HAYDON.

[1836.

Refreshed by rest, and cheered by the hearty hospi-
tality of his noble employer, the painter's fancy " was now
teeming with inventions daily" — and conceptions stream-
ing out like sparks from a furnace. By the end of the
month his Alexander was concluded, and the journal bears
evidence, in its thick-coming designs and sketches, of the
activity that peace, employment, and hope were quick lo
engender. Among these are sketches for Mercury and
Argus — for a Judgment of Paris, and for the picture
which he now began of Eucles, who rushing from Mara-
thon to Athens ivitb the news of victory drops dead at hia
own door. The story is in Plutarch, and the painter had
imposed on himself a difficult achievement — to express
in his principal figure triumph and patriotic joy struggling
with the weakness of imminent death. It occupied him
for the remainder of the year, of which he gives his sum-
mary as usual.

" 3lsi December. — Another last day — so we go on
and on. The sun rises and sets as it has ever done, while
we rise and fall, die and become earth — are buried and
forgotten.

" For want of a vent my mind feels like a steam-boiler
without a valve, boiling, struggling, and suppressing, for
fear of injuring the interests of five children and a lovely
wife.

" Bitterly I have wanted and intensely I have enjoyed
during this year.

January and February

Law and harassed.

March -

Hard work and harassed.

April

Sketched and harassed.

May

Ill and harassed.

June

Began Alexander.

July

Hard at work.

August

Hard at work.

September -

Hard at work.

October

Hard at work.

November -

Brighton and Petworth.

December

Finished Alexander, and

more harassed than ever.

1826.] BEYIEW OF 1826. 143

'' Thus ends this year, and I am harassed to death
for paltry debts. My Mary is well, and dear Frank
quite recovered : all the children are wonderfully better,
and we have all passed a happy Christmas. Last year I
was not harassed in petty money matters, but sickness
had seized the house. I have therefore to thank God
sincerely for the mercy of my dear family's health, and
hope He will grant me strength to conquer and bear up
against my wants. O God, grant it! Grant me the
means this ensuing year to diminish my debts. Grant
this time twelvemonth I may have deserved less pain of
mind in that point, and may have it O God protect
us, and grant us all that is best for our conduct here, and
our salvation hereafter. Amen.

'* Alas ! how unlike the endings of former years ! No
noble scheme animates and inspires me. The coldness of
men in power — the indifference of the people — the want
of taste in the King, and the distressing want of money —
the state of the Academy — all, all, press down hope,
and freeze up the most ardent and enthusiastic imagin-
ation.

" I have tried the people, and was nobly supported. I
have tried the Ministers^ and was coolly sympathised with.
I have tried the Academy, . and was cruelly persecuted.
But the people alone could do nothing. Time — time —
time.

^^ I do not despond, but I do not see how. I have lost
my road, and am floundering in bye-paths. I see no more
the light that led astray. It has sunk, and left me
groping — hoping, but cheerless.

" Still I pray I may not die till the Grand Style is
felt and patronised. Amen, with all my soul."

1827.

The year opened gloomily. On the 12th of January
an execution was in the house, and he was only saved
from arrest by the prompt assistance of his friend. Sir

144 MEMOmS OF B. H. HATDON. [l827.

F. Freeling. Lord Egremont, who had promised him
200/. (the balance of the price of his Alexander) at the
beginniug of the year, did not send it till the 16th, aa I
find from the journal.

" January \Gth. — A happy day indeed for me. Lord
Egremont sent me my cash, which literally saved me from
ruin. The execution on the 12th was the meanest thing*
ever done to me, and I take my leave of giving others
such power.

" I had no less than three warrants of attorney, three
cognovits, and three actions. The perpetual loss of time
and anxiety literally obstructed my thinking. I was
flying from one to the other to get a couple of days to
paint. Oh what would his Lordship have saved me from
if he had sent me this a montli ago. However, it cannot
he helped, and God be thanked it came at last. One
man after 1 had paid him 10/. out of 16/., and paid for
four dozen of wine, ran me to J8^, expenses an the
W. left.

" Another on 76/. to 18/. 6*.

" Another on ML to 4/.

" Another on &\l. to 4/. 5s.

" Another on 8/. 10s. to 2/. 6*.

" Another on 8/. to SL

" Another on 5/. to 1 /. 4s., &c. &c. And this is tlie
way I am served if behind-hand a moment!

" The moment my mind was relieved from these
agonising pressures it began conceiving subjects as I walked
along the streets, with a sort of relishing delight.

" January ZO Ik. — I called on Chantrey at Brighton.
I had not seen him for eight years, and was astonished
and interested. He took snuff in abundance. His nose
at the tip was bottled, large and brown, his cheeks full,
his person corpulent, his air indolent, his tone a little
pompous. Such were the effects of eight years' success.
He sat and talked, easily, lazily, gazing at the sua with
his legs crossed.

" He came to the door and we chatted a long time in

1827.] CHANTREY : DEATH OF SIR G. BEAUMONT. 145

the air. I soon saw that the essence* of the Quarterly
Review which alludes to him came from himself. I asked
him how he got on with Lord Egremont's Satan. He
said he deferred it. " Stop," said Chantrey with a very
profound look, " till I am perfectly independent, and then
you shall see what I will do in poetical subjects."

** To see a man of Chantrey 's genius so impose on him-
self was affecting. Here he was, for that day at least,
quite independent ; gazing at the sun, sure of his din-
ner, his fire, his wine, his bed. Why was he not at that
moment inventing ? Good God ! if I had waited till
I had been perfectly independent, what should I have
done?

" Invention presses on a man like a nightmare. I
composed the Crucifixion in part, while going in a hack-
ney coach to sign a warrant of attorney. I began Solomon
without a candle for the evening. I finished it without
food, at least meat, for the last fortnight. And here is
Chantrey putting off poetical inventions till he is perfectly
independent !

" I smiled to myself to see a man of such genius under
such a delusion."

Su' George Beaumont died this year. Haydon who, in
spite of their quarrel, did justice to the kindly qualities of
Sir George Beaumont and to his real love of art, says of
him, " Sir George was an extraordinary man, one of the
old school formed by Sir Joshua — a link between the
artist and the nobleman, elevating the one by an intimacy
which did not depress the other. Born a painter, his
fortune prevented the necessity of application for sub-
sistence, and of course he did not apply. His taste was
exquisite, not peculiar or classical, but essentially Shake-
spearian, Painting was his great delight. He talked of
nothing else, and would willingly have done nothing else.
His ambition was to connect himself with the art of the
country, and he has done it for ever. For though Anger-
stein's pictures were a great temptation, yet without Sir
George Beaumont's offer of his own collection, it is a

VOL. II. L

146 MEMOIRS OF B. H. HATDON. [lB2r.

question if tliey would have been purchased.* He ia
justly entitled to be considered as the founder of tha
National Gallery. His great defect was a want of moral
courage : what his taste dictated to be right he would
shrink from asserting, if it shocked the prejudices of
others, or put himself to a moment's inconvenience. With
great benevolence he appeared, therefore, often mean;
with exquisite taste he seemed often to judge wrong;
and with a great wish to do good he often did a great deal
of harm. He seemed to think that to bring forth un-
acknowledged talent from obscurity was more meritorious
than to support it when acknowledged. The favourite of
this year was forgotten the next.

" His loss, with all his faults, will not easily be supplied.
He founded the National Gallery. Let him be crowned.
Peace to him."

The remembrance of Sir George naturally brought up
that of Wilkie, to whom he bad been an early patron and
friend. In contrasting himself and Wilkie, " Wilkie's
system," says Haydon, " was Wellington's ; principle
and prudence the groundworks of risk. Mine that
of Napoleon ; audacity, with a defiance of principle, if
principle was in the way. I got into prison. Napoleon
died at St. Helena. Wellington is living and honoured,
and Wilkie has had a public dinner given him at Rome,
the seat of art and genius, and has secured a competence,
while I am as poor and necessitous as ever. Let no man
use evil as a means for the success of any scheme, however
grand. Evil that good may come is the prerogative of
the Deity alone, and should never be ventured on by
mortals."

Dissatisfied with Iiis Alexander, Haydon this month
determined to repaint the hero, observing (February 18th)
on what he wished to realise in the figure, " It is a diflicult
point. He must not look as if at the head of an army.
He must look as if having just accomplished a dashing

1827.] PROGRESS OF ALEXANDER. 147

attempt made in the flush of youth and vigour of reflection,
More of a growing youth in his form.".

Feb. \9th. — Now came political* changes. '* Lord
Liverpool seized on Saturday with apoplexy : what a
break-up there will shortly be amongst ministers and the
royal family. For my part I should like to see the Wel-
lesleys having the sole direction of the country, as they
yrill have.

" Feb, 20th. — There are three things in this world I
hope to see before I die, — the Americans thrashed at sea,
my own debts paid, and historical painting encouraged by
Government.

" 2lst, — Succeeded (I flatter myself) with the head of
Alexander. I have hit the air of ambition, daring, firm-
ness, cruelty, generosity, and reflection which characterised
the noblest human animal that ever lived."

Lord Egremont's letters on the projected alteration
contain passages of good sense and sound criticism, and
the change pleased him. In a letter of March 7th he
says : —

" Alexander now looks like a young hero, and I shall
be very well satisfied with him if he is the same in the
picture as he is in the drawing, I would not give a
farthing for the opinion of all these persons*; but the
object now is to make the best use of this picture to get
other orders and more employment for yourself, and if
you think that consulting all these persons will conduce
to this object, as I think it may, I should advise you to
do so."

By the 10th of March the alteration was completed, and
the picture really finished and ready for exhibition. Yet
he could hardly give up working on it.

^^ March llth, — Still hovering about Alexander. I
altered the tone of colour by Clytus; made it a more
pleasant mixture of hot and cold. I sometimes make my

* Dukes of Bedford and Devonshire, Marquisses Lansdowne ancl
Stafford, Lords Aberdeen and Farnborough. — B. B. H,

148 MEM0IK8 OF It. R. UATDON. [l827.

leds hot by keeping the lights on red drapery not light
enough. The Lazarus was free, quite, from any heat, ao
was the Solomon.

" It Is a very nice question in art— though not if a man
has the courage of Euripides^ — to tell how far to meet the
received impression of the vulgar.

" A wrist in a certain position is like an edge. The
vulgnr, whoknow nothing, all say, ' Is not that svrist narrow,
Mr. Haydon ? ' ' Yes, hut it must be so.' This does not
seem to satisfy them. Ought I to make it broader to
suit the general impression of a wrist? No. The vulgar
ought to reflect and find out the reason of an artist."

Before this time Haydon had conceived two subjects,
both of which he afterwards painted, — Alexander's Combat
with the Lion, and the First Sight of the Sea by the Ten

Thousand, from the Fourth Book of Xenophon's Anabasis.

He was doubtful which of the tliree subjects (Eucles,

Alexander, and Xenophon) to begin with as a picture,

hut, at last, determined on the Eucles.

Haydon's painting- room was now crowded with visitors

to see Alexander before itwent to the Exhibition, whither

it was duly dispatched on the 4tb of April. On that day

he has an entry : —

" 4(A. — Sent Alexander to the Exhibition, I contrasted

as I went down my feelings now and when I followed

Dentatus, 1809, seventeen years ago. Apathy now, then

all nervous anxiety lest a dray-horse should kick a hole ;

now indifferent if a house fell on it, — not quite, but

nearly."

Among his visitors was Charles Lamb, of whom I find

a pleasant letter nientioniiig the fact.

" Dear Raffaele Haydon,
" Did the maid tell you I came to see your picture, not oa
Sunday but the day before? I think iLe face and bearing of
the Bucephalus tamer very noble, his flesh too effeminate or
painty. Tlie skin of the female's back kneeling is much mora
earnoua. I bad small time to pick out praise or blame, for two

M27.] LETTER FROM LAMB: EUCLES, 149

lord-like Bucks * came in, upon whose strictures my presence
seemed to impose restraint : I plebeian'd off therefore.

*• I think I have hit on a subject for you, but can't swear it was
never executed — I never heard of its being — ' Chaucer beating
a Franciscan Friar in Fleet Street.' Think of the old dresses,
houses, &c. ' It seemeth that both these learned men (Grower
and Chaucer) were of the Inner Temple ; for not many years
since Master Buckley did see a record in the same house
where Geoffry Chaucer was fined two shillings for beating a
Franciscan Friar in Fleet Street.'

Chaucer's life by T. Speght^ prefixed to the black letter
folio of Chaucer, 1598.

" Yours in haste (salt fish waiting),

" C. Lamb."

The passage of Plutarch (JDe Gloria Atheniensium), which
records the incident, describes how Eucles Tals Ovpats sfjr'
ireaovra t&p irpwrtov expired with the simple words 'xaipsrs
Kol 'xalpofiev. For an explanation of the t&v tt/jco-
Tcoj/, I find Haydon laying under contribution Gaisford,
Scholefield, Valpy, and other scholars of less note. The
question was, whether the words meant " at the first
houses he came to," or, " at the houses of the chief men?"
A question, as Gaisford pointed out, of no possible im-
portance to the picture ; but probably Haydon was not
sorry to parade his Greek before the professors. He had
at last determined on beginning with this subject, but po-
litical changes affected his application. It was a stirring
time, with the Catholic question agitating all minds.

April 10th, I find, *' This breaking up of the ministry
has disturbed us all. I regret Wellington. "While he
was at the head of the army, I felt safe. He has made
a mistake. This illustrious man is no longer necessary
for the safety of the nation. Napoleon is no longer a
bugbear, and now, with the well-known gratitude of
nations, he is

^ * Ungrateful, and savage, and stdlen, and cold,
The nation's scorn, and army's hate.*

♦ Duke of Devonshire and Agar Ellis. — B. R. H.

L 3

150 MEMOIES OF B. R. HATDOK. [isaf.

" This is Moore in the Times. Think of such a man
being so spoken of, who rescued the world from Napo-
leon's grasp, and raised his own country to the highest
glory. ' The naliou's scorn ; ' that is, the scorn of the
Whigs and Radicals, because he destroyed the hopes of
their hero, Napoleon :

" ' To have done Is to hang
In monumental mockery.'

Lawrence offered a criticism on the Alexander, which
the painter of it dissents from with some reason : — " Saw
Lawrence, who thought my Olympias not animated enough.
He said it ought to be more hke Volumnia. Never were two
beings so opposite as Volumnia and Olympias. Alexander
has merely broken a vicious horse, and it would have been
beneath her, on such an occasion, to have done more than
welcome his success, as if it was a feat scarcely worthy of
her anticipation of his genius.

" Volumnia would have blessed her son even if she had
died the victim of his cruelty : Olympias would have made
no scruple to have sacrificed Alexander, had he roused her
revenge or wounded her pride." •

Haydon had suffered, he thought, from the large si^e
of his pictures. He now determined on adopting smaller
canvasses.

"May \ith. — Rubbed in Eucles in the cabinet size.
Now I will try my hand on the darling size of England.
Success to it. It Is curious that I have at this moment a
positive passion to try my hand at the cabinet size — to
work it up like Rembrandt's small works — gemmy, rich,
find beautiful. 1 hope 1 shall succeed. I will attack
those fellows now in their own way. This is the first
day I have felt my love of art revive for months. I had
been all day in the city, and came home tired to death,

" Ynl. XIY. of Journals begins at this date, with this motto : —
" Haso Bub numine nos nobis feoimus Bapientid duce, fortunS per.

1827-1 EUCLE8 BEGUN SMALL: LORD EGREMONT. 151

fend set to work, and before dark it was in. If I had
begun in tbis size I sbould have made my fortune. I
offended the nobility of England by standing out against
their predilections. I advanced the art — ruined myself
— and when my larger works are again a novelty out I
will bounce.

" I6th. — -Completed the head of Eucles, and bit the
expression — a gasp of exhausted, flasbing triumph, I am
happy I have done so,

" i8(A. — Lord Egremont called; before be called he
was with Carew. * What am I to do with Haydon ?'
Eaid he, ' My Lord, you know best,' said Carew. ' Why
does be not paint portraits?' 'My Lord, his mind has
been habituated to anotbet style.' ' His style is too bold
for this country : has he anything to do ?' ' Nothing, my
Lord.' After a few moments he said, ' He shan't starve.
I'll go over to him.'

" He then came over, and behaved in the kindest
manner. In fact gave me another commission — for Eucles.
Carew said the impression on his mind was, that some
poison had been poured into his mind — that they bad
been endeavouring to push him to employ me on portrait,
where they hoped I would fail.

" As he walked up stairs, he said, ' How do you find
yourself? Have you anything to do?' 'Nothing, my
Lord.' ' Why don't you paint portraits V ' My Lord, I
am willing to paint anything for my family.' ' Only
make 'em handsome,' said Lord Egreipont ; and then he
said of Eucles, ' If you do not make a man catching him,
you can't tell the story.'

" From me Lord Egremont went to young Lough, the
sculptor, who has just burst out, and has produced a great
effect. His Milo is really the most extraordinary thing,
considering all the circumstances, in modern sculpture.
It is another proof of the efficacy of inherent genius.

" Lord Egremont goes about helping everybody who
wants it.

152 MEMOIRS OF B. B. nATDOX. [l827.

"20M. — Hard at work on Eucles — finished the hand
and arm — sorry work. When I was painting Lazarus
I used to wonder at the insignificance of human beings
when I left my painting-room. I wonder now at the

insignificance of my own paltry imitation.

"21i(, — An execution put in for 18^. I hope to get
rid of it. If I do not to-morrow, I will make the fellow
sit for the other hand of Eucles. In looking at the small
pictures to-day at the National Gallery, I was astonished.
The fact is, that having to-day and yesterday turned my
mind to small size, and heing astonished at the quantity
of knowledge I was obliged to leave out, I went to look
at other small pictures, and wondered at the same thing.
It is really extraordinary, after doing the human figure
the full size, to find how much one can conceal on a scale
less than hfe.

" ' Why does he not finish more?' aaid Lord Egremont ;
' his style is too bold for this country, though I am per-
fectly satisfied.' A love of finish argues an early or s
decaying taste; where character, form, expression, colour,
and drawing are not coveted because the mode is not
finished, it argues a sorry fastidiousness and weak un-
derstanding.

" ^2nd. — Westmacott, with the most heartfelt kind-
ness, assisted me to get rid of the execution. I came
home and dashed at and succeeded in the head of Euclea
in my larger picture — the other hurts my eyes."

Amidst his own jlistresses and self-assertions, it cannot
be said that Haydon was insensible either to the wants or
the talents of other artists. He did what he could to
relieve the one and to enforce appreciation of the other.
At this time appeared before the town a young and self-
taught sculptor, — Lough. Though he is still living, I
do not tliink he will consider any confidence violated by
the publication of what follows,

" May 23rd. — Young Lough spent die evening with
me, and a very unaffected, docile, simple, high-feeling
young man he is. His account of himself was peculiarly

r

L

1827.] l.Ot'GU'9 botdood: dis milo. 153

touching; — from his earliest boyhood he was always
making figures in clay with his brother. In his father's
window lay an old Pope's Homer. His brother and he
were so delighted, that they used to make thousands of
models, he taking the Greeks, and his brother the Trojans.
An odd volume of Gibbon gave an account of the Colos-
EKum, He and his brother after reading it, the moment
the family were in bed, built up a ColossEeum of clay
in the kitchen, and by daylight had made hundreds of
fighting gladiators. A gentleman I know was returning
from fox-hunting, and saw in a garden attached to Lough's
father's cottage hundreds of models of legs and arms lying
about. He alighted and walked in, and found the ceiling
of the kitchen drawn all over, and models lying about in
every direction. Lough was sent for, invited to this
friend's house, who showed him Canova's works and Mi-
chel Angelo's. To use his own language to me, Canova
did not prick him, but Michel Angelo affected him
deeply. He used to follow the plough, and shear the
corn; and in this obscure Northumberland spot the only
artist they heard of was Haydon. His Entry into Jeru-
salem they had long read about, and he and his brother
used to sketch Christ and the Ass on the walls, and
wonder how I had placed him. This interested me very
much ; in fact, I was highly delighted. He went on
chatting till past one, and I promised to come down and
go over his figure by candlelight,

"24iA. — I went down, and was perfectly astonished.
The feet and hands are not equal to the rest, but the body,
head, thighs, legs, and whole expression and action, are
grand beyond description. The beautiful mixture of flesh-
iness and muscular action, of high style and individual
truth, is beyond praise. The back is as fine as the The-
seus ; and this, irom me, is no small thing to say.

"It is the most extraordinary effort since the Greeks — •
ith no exception — not of Michel Angelo,

1

I pointed out one defect — in the loins.

154 MEMOIRS OF B. E. flAYlWN. [1827.

80 flattered I could hardly bend him to alter iL The
moment he did it with a piece of wood, he acknowledged
the iiiiproveinent. To see such a splendid effort of innate
power, built up in an obscure first floor (No. 11. Burleigh
Street, over a greengrocer's shop), without the aid of
education, foreign travel, patronage, money, or even food,
ia only another instance of the natural power which no
aid or instruction can supply the want of. If he goes to
Italy he will he ruined ! What becomes of all those who
go and doze in the Vatican ? They come back castrated.
Lough did not, like Chantrey, put off his hour of inspira-
tion till he was independent. Alas, lie could not. His
genius sat on him night and day like an incuh us— goaded,
haunted, pressed, worried, drove him to exertion. I
was a fortnight without meat during Solomon. Lough
never ate meat for three months; and then Peter Coxe,
who deserves to be named, found hira : he was tearing up
his shirts to make wet rags for his figure to keep the clay
moist, and on the point of pulling it down. Mr, Coxe
saved it — aided him, and by this one act has made
amends for a life of folly and his poem of the ' Social
Day.'

" Lough will be a great man. He has all the conscioua'
ness of genius, with great modesty. The only fear is, he
has become so soon ripe, and has so mature a style, that he
may, if not perpetually curbed by nature, get into manner.
I told him this, and he seemed grateful. The more I re-
flect on this extraordinary work, the more delighted I
am. The thigh and back looked like flesh itself."

His Alexander was now at the Exhibition, not hung,
in the painter's opinion, as it deserved. Debt and diffi-
culty were pressing. Lord Egiemont's commission had
not been followed by others. Still, harassed as he was,
Haydon took an active part in helping on a proposed ex-
hibition of Lough's figures.

"June 8ih. — Lazily at work. Interested for Lough
and his exhibition, whom I hope in God I have rescued
from a set of harpies who wanted to make him a tool.

r

:7,3 lough's early struggles. 135

Cockerell got him a room. I Lave set him on the right
road, and his own energy will do the rest.

" This is the only high and sound genius I have ever
knovri". To-night he said to me, as if half afraid he
should he laughed at, ' Mr. Haydon, I fancy myself in
the Acropolis sometimes, and hear a roaring noise like
the tide,' ' My dear fellow,' said I, 'when I was at my
great works, ' I saw with the vividness of reality tlie faces
of Michel Angelo and Rafikelle smiling about my room.
Nurse these feelings, but tell them not — at least in Eng-
land.'

" 9th. — Lough passed the evening with me, and wo
excited each other so much by mutual accounts of what
we had suffered, that we both felt tears in our eyes,

" He declared solemnly to me that he had not ate meat
for tliree montiis, and began the fourth. He said every
day at dinner-time he felt the want, and used to lie down
till it passed. He felt weak — at last famt — giddy conti-
nually, and latterly began to perceive he thought sillily,
and was growing idiotic. He had only one busliel and a
half of coals the whole winter, and used to lie down by
the side of his clay model of this immortal figure, damp as
it was, and shiver for hours till he fell asleep. He is a
most extraordinary being — one of those creatures who
come in a thousand years ; and last night when be said he
went from my conversation always inspired, the gaunt and
lustrous splendour of his dark eyes had a darkened
fire, as if a god was shrined within his body, and for a
moment forced his concealment. He told nie with abso-
lute horror that Hilton said Michel Angelo was a very
clever man, hut that there were many cleverer. Lough ia
the only man I have ever seen who gave me an idea of
what people used to say of me. In short, he is the only
man I have ever seen who appears a genius.

" lOth. — Lough's private day. It was a brilliant one.
I wrote to Mrs. Siddons, and begged her to come. She
came, and I conducted her into the room. Perhaps it will
be the last private day she will ever go to. The room

I

156 MEUOtRS OF B. B. HATDOV. [1S!T.

cleared round her as if Ceres was coming in. She was
highly delighted. Several Academicians were there, and
as I did not wish to injure Lough, by associating him
with the prejudices connected with me, or to appear too
priDcipal in the affair, I gradually left her to herself.
Westmacott sidled up to her. Here came the question.
'Shalt I cut the little good man out, or shall I let him
triumph?' ' Well,' thought I, 'I brought her; he will
be mortified if I put him by.' Mrs, Siddons was going.
She looked to me. I inclined back. She felt it. 'Good
morning, Mr. Haydon,' Westmacott offered his ami, and
I immediately took Miss Siddons. Westmacott thus
sallied forth in triumph. As a young gentleman am-
bitious of academic honour, it became me to be modest.
I followed. Had I led, and left him the daughter, I
should have lost his vote ! Such is human nature, and
such are the secret workings of every bosom in all assem-
blies of men and women who meet to smile, to be sincere
and to be happy.

" The Duke of Wellington entered before Mrs. Sid-
dons and I had gone. I never saw one whose air and
presence were so unlike genius or heroism. He seemed
embarrassed, and as if he felt he was unpopular. Lord
Farnborough with his mean face immediately went up to
him. As Lord Farnborough was looking at Milo with
me, and talking with hollow abstracted insincerity of its
grandeur, looking at the door to every visitor to see if he
had not committed himself by coming — in came the Duke
— and away flew my Lord. I saw easily that Lord Farn-
borough would get off, if he could, without committing
himself for sixpence. The question was how. I watched.
The Duke felt great admiration indeed, and going to the
books opened, wrote with his own illustrious right hand
—which as the means of conveying the conceptions of
his great genius had destroyed Napoleon — an order for
Milo and Sampson. It was done iji a spirited manner.
He then turned round. One of Lough's patrons came
over, and shook his Grrace by the hand, and thanked

1827.] lough's exhibition, 157

him. The Duke said, * He should go abroad/ in his loud,
distinct, and military voice. Silvertop, who had just heard
my opinion, hesitated. The Duke, surprised at his view
not being acceded to, half blushed, and said, * Not to
stay, but to see — eh — the eh — great works, as others have
done.' He then turned, I bowed to thank him : as he
walked out he touched his hat, like a military man, to me
and to all.

" The moment he went out Farnborough made a bust-
ling pretence he had something to say, and hurried after
him.

" To conclude : the day was, I know, a brilliant one. I
saw it would be, and first advised this step. Such attend-
ant circumstances can never concur again in the execu-
tion of any future work of the same man. I therefore
told Lough ' be prompt and decisive — get a friend to
do, I will direct, and promise you a harvest.' He did so.
Lord Egremont approved. A friend, whose modesty for-
bids the disclosure of his name, got all the tickets ready.
I marked the Court Guide — his servant took them round ;
Cockerell and Bigge secured his room, and, God be
thanked ! we have placed this mighty genius on the road
to prosperity. If his health keep strong, which I pray
God it may, he will be the greatest sculptor since Phidias.

" 14^A. — I have been quite ill from excitement about
Lough and my own anxiety to work again. The first day
he took 8/. 3«., the second 10/. 4^. This will do, con-
sidering it is but a single figure."

To Haydon's great delight the young sculptor's exhi-
bition was successful, but the excitement of it com-
pletely overcame the passionate painter, who saw in the
difficulties so nobly overcome by this self-taught artist a
reflex of his own early struggles, and of the spirit in
which they were encountered. I should have hesitated to
introduce these passages, relating as they do to an artist
still living and labouring amongst us, but that they seem
to me to reflect equal credit on the friend and the be*
friended.

158 MEMOIRS OF B. R. nATDON. [|S27.

Ill June of this year came a repetition of the blow which
had already fallen on Haydon in 1823. He was once
more arrested for debt. Once more he appealed to the
public throug;li the newspapers, and to Parliament by
petition. Mr, Brougliam presented his petition, and the
newspapers printed his letters. It was in vain to preach
to one of his sanguine temperament and determined habit
cf self-assertion, as his friend Du Bois did, with great
good sense, at this time : " Rely on yourself and your own
powers, which may yet work wonders ; but pray, as you
would avoid the gall of disappointment, build little on
exciting the active interference of the public. Any battery
opened against their poor pockets in favour of the fine
arts will make as much impression, I fancy (to use a
simile in the Times) as cannon-balls on a mud bank." But
if public appeals were vain, private applications were met
with a promptitude and liberality which show what a large
fund of real benevolence there is lying in the world for the
unfortunate to draw on. Sir W. Scott was here, as ever,
among the readiest with his purse and his sympathy, while
the unaffected, manly kindness of the letters in which both
money and sympathy are conveyed must have doubled
their value. I iind letters from Lawrence and Campbell,
both kind, but alike unable to relieve. Mr. Lockhart,
whose strenuous and practical help on this and other like
occasions calls forth repeated expressions of Haydon's
gratitude, suggested the plan of a subscription for the
purchase of one or more pictures, finished or unfinished.
Joseph Strutt, of Derby, too, one whose heart seems
always to have guided the distribution of his ample means,
sent a draft of 100/. for a picture to be painted at the
artist's convenience. The Duke of Bedford, Lady de
Tabley, and the artist's warm friend Mr. Chauncey Hare
Townshend, were equally active in this crisis,

The result of Mr. Lockhart's suggestion was a public
meeting on the 23rd of July, the following report of which
it is worth while to append, as it contains a summary
■ccoant of the painter's expenditure and embarrassments.

1827.] A SECOND ARREST : STATEMENT OF AFFAIRS, 159

" A Public Meeting was held yesterday at the Crown and
Anchor Tivern, Lord Francis Leveson Gower in the chair,
* For the purpose of raising a subscription to restore Mr. Haydon
to his family and pursuits, he having been imprisoned one month
in consequence of embarrassments arising from an over-eager-
ness to pay off old debts, from which he was exonerated, and
the want of employment for eight months.'

" Lord F. L. Gower said, that the object of the Meeting would
perhaps be best forwarded by the perusal of a statement of Mr,
Haydon*s affairs which had been prepared for the occasion by a
friend.

" Mr. Burn then addressed the Meeting. He would be as brief
in his remarks as possible ; and in order to put the meeting fully
in possession of the state of Mr. Hay don's pecuniary affairs he
would read a debtor and creditor account, which had been made
out. Mr. Haydon's debts amounted to 1,767/. 17 s, ; and the
only assets which he had to meet them were the picture Eucles,
which, when finished, will be worth five hundred guineas, and
whatever might be the produce of the exhibition of that picture.
Since 1823 Mr. Haydon had contracted debts to the amount of
1,131/. 17«., and had received, by cash, for paintings, portraits,
&c., 2,547/. 14«. 2c?. The difference between the sum 1,131/. 17*.
and the 1,767/. 17*. before mentioned, was 636?., which was
made up of debts incurred by Mr. Haydon previous to his em-
barrassments in 1823, and consequently could not be carried
to the profit and loss account since that period. It appeared
then that Mr. Haydon had expended, during the last four years,
the sum of 3,679/. 1 Is. 2c/., and as it was but right that this
meeting should be informed of the manner in which he had done
so, he (Mr. Burn) would read the different items. They were
as follows : —

By house-keeping expenses, for four years, at 220/.

per year ------ £880

By professional expenses, viz.

Colours at - - 3^20 per annum

Models - - 60 „

Drapery - - 10 „

Brushes - -10 „

£100 per year for four years 400
Carried forward £1280

MEUOmS OF B. R. HAYDON.

Brought forward 1280

D , A, (Rent -£121

By rent and taxes J ^^^^ 3^

£151 per year for four jears 604

By casli paid for furniture . - - . igo ig 7

By ditto paid debts owing previous to 1823 - - 337
By wearing apparel for self, Mrs. Hajdon and children,

at GOl. per year for four years ... 240
By schooling for two children, 6W. per annum, equal

120I, a^year for four years - - . . 4go

By servants' wages, 30(. per year for four years ■ - 120

By law e^tpenees, within the same period - - 280

By travelling and incidental expenses, 202. per year - 80 D

£3,871 18 7
" Such was the state of Mr. Haydon's affairs, and the meeting
would not tail to remark, that a conaiderahle portion of Mr.
Haydon's burthen had arisen from his ansiety to discharge debta
from which the law had freed bini. He had seen Air. Haydon
in prison, in distress, in destitution ; he was, in fact, at that
momeat, without the slightest prospect or liope of relief, but
such as might flow from the sympathy of tlie public. Under
such circumstances, it might be natural to inquire, even before
relief was given, how an artist of Mr. Haydon's acknowledged
abilities, had failed to reap that encouragement which had ao
often been bestowed on artists in countries far less civilised
than England. He believed that his friend had fallen a Tietim
to his own too ardent imagination. He had not only aimed
at the highest branch of his art, but he had neglected to re-
member that while be was toiling to reach the first station, be
was making but little provision for the necessities of the passing
day. It was well known that the cultivation of the arts tended
to promote civilisation and happiness : Mr. Haydon had laboured
strenuously to forward that which he professed, and the gene-
rosity of the public could not be better directed than to bia
relief. Painters of his talent had been protected by monarchs
themselves. If Mr. Haydon had enemies who had the slightest
inclination to oppose tlie object of that meeting, he would ask
them to visit the prison, and then proceed with their opposition
if they could. If there wei-e critics who questioned the merits
I of Mr, Haydon's performances, he would call on them in the
■Bame of charity to forget their opinions ; or if Mr. Ilaydoa had

1827.] STATEMENT OF AFFAIRS. 161

friends, ns he saw he had, he would entreat them to seize on the
opportunity which then presented itself, and exert themselvea
to rescue their friend from prison and restore him to his suffer-
ing family. It was proposed to raise a subscription for Mr.
Haydon, but not to place the money in Mr. Haydon's own hands.
Trustees were to be named ; and as he had prepared a. series of
Resolutions which would explain the plan, he would beg leave
to read them, — It would he the duty of the trustees to liberate
Mr. Haydon as soon as possible, in order that he might exert
himself in his profession, which he would do to the utmost, and
then to make such arrangements as might appear best calculated
to do justice to the creditors and rescue Mr. Uitydon and hia
family from distrees. Mr. Haydon had a wife and flye children
and was in the daily expectation of an increase to his family;
he had no hope of relief but in the sympathy and generosity of
the public, and it was hoped that the appeal would not be made

" The resolutions were then put seriatim, and agreed to.

" Lord F, L, Gower said, that after the statement which had
been made, it must be quite unnecessary for him to detain the
meeting by offering any remarks. Mr. Haydon's cose was one
of those in which every one who respected genius, or commise-
rated misfortune, must take a lively interest. His Lordship then
read a letter from the Duke of Bedford, in which his Grace
Baid, that absence from London would prevent him from attend-
ing the raeeling ; but in consideration of Mr. Haydon's merits
and distresses, he begged to enclose a check for 50/.

" Mr. Burn said, that as an impression had gone abroad that
Mr. Haydon had received ParUamentary relief in 1823, he
thought it right to state, that he then held a letter in his hand,
in which Mr, Brougham declared, that fi-om circumstances no
application had been made.

" Lord F. L. Gower having left the chair, together with a
cheque for 20/., the [hanks of the meeting were voted to hb
Lordship and it broke up.

" In the course of a few minutes subscriptions to the amount
of 1201. were received, including 50/. from the Duke of Bedford
and 20/. from Lord F. L. Gower,"

At this meeting it was resolved, That under the cir-
cumstances which liave caused Mr. Haydon's present

VOL. II. M

182 HBHOIR8 OF B. B. HATDOW, [l82T.

miHfortunea, be was entitled to public sympatby and relief.
That an account be opened with Messrs. Coutts & Co.
(who consented to receive subscriptions) in the names of
J. G, Lockhart and S. G. Bum, Esqs., as trustees for
itibicription, with the intention, as soon as the amount
Hubscribed should equal the price of his picture of Eucles
(600 guineas), that lots should be cast for that picture,—
Wl. to give one chance, 201. two, and so on.

The result was Haydon's release at the close of July.

While in the King's Bench he saw the mock election,
n picture of which he afterwards painted. In a letter to
the Duke of Bedford, written just after his release, he
describes that incident,

" In the midst of this dreadful scene of affliction up
sprung the masquerade election, — a scene which, con-
trasted as it was with sorrow and prison walls, beggars all
description.

" Distracted as I was, I was perpetually drawn to the
windows by the boisterous merriment of the unfortunati
happy beneath me. Rabelais or Cervantes alone could do
it justice with their pens. Never was such an exquisite
bui'lesque. Boronets and bankers, — authors and mer-
chants, — young fellows of fashion and elegance, insanity,
idiotism, poverty and bitter affliction, all for a moment
forgetting their sorrows at the humour, the wit, the
absurdity of what was before tbem,

" I saw the whole from beginning to end. I was
resolved to paint it, for I thought it the finest subject for
liumour and pathos on earth."

By the l5th of August the picture was rubbed in.
Among the characters he encountered during his imprison-
ment was one, from whoso information he furnishes this
passage of secret history in illustration of Mr. Canning's
negotiations with the South American republics.

" 16/A. — What a half-year this has been. In the
Bench 1 met Chnmbers, the banker, and a Dr. Mackay,
who was employed by Canning to arrange and negotiate

1827.] A SECRET AGENT. 163

the treaty of commerce and independence with South
America.

** Dr. Mackay had resided many years in Mexico, and
knew all the parties thoroughly. He made a fortune and
had returned to England. He was sent for by Canning,
and after all due preliminary caution sent out to Mexico.

" As he and I paced up and down the racket-ground
by moonlight, he told me every particular, and interesting
it was. I invited him to my room, and, like a true poli-
tician, or employe politique, he began to suspect me.
* Remember,' said he, * before I proceed, you make no
use of this.* I gave him my word and he proceeded.
Vittoria was his old friend. On his way to Mexico,
under pretence of pressing business, he called on Vittoria,
and found him in actual negotiation with Spanish com-
missioners ; that evening a treaty was to be signed and
settled. Vittoria begged him to dine. He refused a long
time, but Mackay making him promise to put off the Com-»
missioners till next day, he agreed. Vittoria sent word he
was ill, and Mackay was received as an English physician
and old friend. That night the ground was broken. Vit-
toria complained they were forsaken by England. Mackay
opened his powers, and it was agreed that Vittoria should
continue ill, Mackay visiting and prescribing every day.
He did so ; and at last Vittoria got better and better, and
received full authority from Mexico, and Mackay and he
used to walk out to take a little air and retire unobserved
into a bye street, to a room hired for the purpose. In this
way the treaty of independence and commerce was finally
settled. One party proposed an article, — after discussion
it was written in a book, each party at liberty to reflect
till next day. When they met again the article proposed
and agreed to was restated and discussed again, and if
nothing had occurred to alter and amend, it was finally
entered into a separate book, whence there was no

appeal.

" In this way Dr. Mackay told me the whole treaty
was settled. As he knew the Spaniards well, and that

M 2

164 MEM0IU3 OF B. H. HATDON. [l827.

pride was their failing, lie got nothiiig by downright op-
position, but carried everytliing by yielding and persuading
them that even he would not have so favoured England by
such a proposition, &c., &c. Mr. Canning was highly
delighted and gave him great praise.

" It was interesting to talk to Dr. Mackay, who bad lost
40,000^, (which he had amassed in Mexico by a long life
of labour) in speculations on the Stock Exchange.

" Here he was planning steam stage-coaches, and talking
of setting off for Mexico as soon as he was free and un-
disturbed. He seemed to have a very great idea of
Canning's genius, and spoke of him with the greatest
respect."

This is the painter's own description of the Mock Elec-
tion, the picture of which was finished by the close of the
year, and exhibited in January, 1838, at the Egyptian
Hall.

" Nothing during the last year excited more curiosity than the
Mock Election, which took place in the King's Bench Prison ;
as much from the circumstances attending its conclusion, as
from the astonishment expressed that men, unfortunate and
confined, could invent any amusement at which they had a right
to be happy.

" At the first thought, it certainly gave one a shock to fancy
a roar of boisterous merriment, in a place where it was hardly
possible to imagine any other feelings to exist than those of
sorrow and anxiety ; but, on a little more reflection, there was
nothing very unprincipled in men, one half of whom had been
the victims of villany, one quarter the victims of malignity, and,
perhaps, not the whole of the remaining fourth justly imprisoned
by angry creditors in hope to obtain their debts ; it was not
absolutely criminal to prefer forgetting their afflictions In the
temporary gaiety of innocent frolic, to the dull, leaden, sottish
oblivion, produced by porter and cigars.

" I was flitting in my own apartment, buried in my own re-
flections, melancholy, but not despairing at the darkness of my
own prospects, and tjie unprotected condition of my wife and
children, when a sudden tumultuous and hearty laugh below

ISa:.] THE MOCK ELECTION IN THE queen's BENCH. 165

brought me to the window. In spite of my own sorrows, I
laughed out heartily myself when I saw the occasion.

" Before me were three men marching in solemn proeeaalon,
the one in the centre a tall, young, reckless, buahy-haired, light-
hearted Irishman, with a rusty cocked-hat under his arm, a
bunch of flowers in his bosom, his curtain rings round his neck
for a gold chain, a mopstick for a white wand, tipped with an
empty strawberry pottle, bows of ribbons on his shoulders, and
a great hole in his elbow, of which he seemed perfectly uncon-
scious ; on his right was another person in burlesque solemnity,
with a sash, and real white wand ; two others, fantastically
dressed, came immediately behind, and the whole followed by
characters of all descriptions, soma with flags, some with stafls,
and all in perfect merriment and mock gravity, adapted to soma
masquerade. I asked what it meant, and was told, it was a
procession,of bui^esses, headed by the Lord High Sheriff, and
Lord Mayor, of the King's Bench Prison, going in state to open
the poll, in order to elect two members to protect their rights
in the House of Commons !

" ' Ah I L' Strange chose que la vie I ' — Molierg.

I returned to my room, and laughed and wept by turns I Here
were a set of creatures who must have known afflictions, who
must have been in want and in sorrow, struggling (with a spiked
wall before their eyes) to bury remembrance in the humour of
a farce ! flying from themselves and their thoughts, to smother
reflection, though, in the interval between one roar of laughter
and another, the busy fiend mould flash upon ' their inward
eye,' their past follies and their present pains! Yet, what is
the world but a prison of larger dimensions? We gaze after
the eagle in his flight, and are bound by gravitation to the earth
we tread on ; we sail forth in pursuit of new worlds, and after
a year or two return to the spot we started from ; we weary
our imaginations with hopes of something new, and find, after
a long life, we can only embellish what we see ; so that while
our hopes are endless, and our imagination unbounded, our
faculties and being are limited, and whether it be sis thousand
feet, or six thousand miles, a limit still marks the prison !

" I bore in pain that day the merriment and noise so uncon-
genial to an aching heart ; but the next, an irresistible desire
induced me to go out, and, as I approached the unfortupate, but
inerry crowd, to the last day of my life I shall ever remember

166 JIEMOIES OF B. R. HATDON. [l82r.

the irapression I received ; — baroneta and bankers ; authors
and merchants; painters and poets; dandies of rank in silk and
velvet, and dandies of no rank in raga and tatters j idiotism and
insanity ; poverty and affliction, all mingled in indiscriminate
merriment, with a spiked wall, twenty feet high, above their
heads 1 I saw in an instant the capacity there existed in this
scene of being made morally instructive and interesting to the

public, by the help of an episode in aasiatance. I told Mr. ,

the banker, wlio stoud by me, I would paint it, and asked him
if he believed there ever were such characters, such expres-
sions, and such heads, on human shoulders, assembled in one
group before ?

" Day by day the subject matured in my mind, and, as soon
as I was restored to my family and pursuits, I returned and
aketched all the heads of the leading actors in this extraordinary
scene : — began the picture directly, and have finished it in
four months.

" I will now explain to the Epectatore the details of the
picture : —

" In the centre is the Lord High Sheriff, with burlesqae
elegance of manner, begging one of the candidates not to break
the peace, or be irritated at the success of Lis rival, towards
whom he is bending his fist; while Harry Holt, the pugilist, in
a striped dressing-gown, is urging on the intended member, and
showing him how he can most effectually hit. The intended
member is dressed in green, with an oil-skin cap and a red bow
(the colours of his party). The gentleman who actually filled
this character is, I have heard, a man of considerable fortune in
Ireland; from the speeches he made, he evidently believed him-
self going to the House of Commons, as much as ever did
Mr. Canning or Mr. Hohhouse. Right opposite, attired in the
quilt of his bed, and in a yellow turban, is the other member, a
gentleman who actually sat in the House two years, and who,
by his experience in the finesse of elections, was the moving
spring in all the proceedings of this. His face expresses sar-
castic mischief — he is pointing, without looking at his opponent
with a sneer! Between the Lord High Sheriff, and the candi-
date in a quilt, is the Lord Mayor, with the solemn gravity
becoming his office ; he holds a white wand with a blue and
yellow bow, and a sasb of the same colours — he was a third
candidate. The colours of the Erst member I have made red.

r

1827.] THE MOCK ELECTION PICTURE. 167

of the one in a quilt blue, and the Lord Mayor's colours blue
and yellow.

" Immediately below, in a white jacket, is the head poll
clerk, with quizzing humour, swearing in the three burgesses
before they are allowed to vote, and holding up his linger, as
xnuch as to say, epeak the truth. The three voters are holdiug
a bit of deal ; the first, a dandy of first fashion just imprisoned,
with a fifty-guinea pipe in his right hand, a diamond ring on
his finger, dressed in a yellow silk dressing-gown, velvet cap,
and red Morocco slippers ; on his left stands an esquisite, who
has been imprisoned three years, smoking a three-penny cigar,
with a hole at his elbow, and his toes on the ground ; and the
third ia one of those characters of middle age and careless dis-
sipation, visible in all scenes of this description, dressed in a
blue jacket and green cap.

" Between the dandy in yellow and the short red-nosed man,
dressed in the red curtain of his bed, with a mace, and wilhin
the hustings, is another poll clerk, entering in a book the names
of the electors- Above the clerk ia the Assessor, suppressing
a laugb, and behifid the member, in a quilt, is a man sticking
in a pipe, as an additional ornament to the member's person.

" These characters form the principal group ; the second
group is on the right, and on the left is the third, while the
prison wall and prison form the background.

" In the right hand group, sipping claret, aita a man of family
and a soldier, who distinguished himself in Spain; he was
imprisoned in early life for running away with a ward in
Chancery ; embarrassment followed, and nine years of confine-
ment have rendered him reckless and melancholy ; he has one
of the most tremendous heada I ever saw in nature, something
between Byron and Buonaparte ; it was affecting to see his pale
determined face and athletic form amongat the laughing afflicted,
without a smile 1 without an emotion I Indifferent to the
humour about him, contemptuously above joining in the bur-
lesque, he seemed, like a fallen angel, meditating on the ab-
surdities of humanity !

Sat on kis faded cheek, bat under brows
Of dauDtleEs courage, and considerate pride
Waiting revenge ; cruel his eye, but cast
Signs of remorse and passion.' — Miltom.

i

168 MEMOIES OF B. B. HAYDON. [182T.

" In tbe picture I hare made Lim sit at ease, with a
companion, wliile champagne bottles, a dice box, dice, cards,
a rncket bat and ball on the ground, announce his present
liabita.

" Leaning on him, and half terrified at the mock threats of
the little red-nosed head constable with a mace, is an interest-
ing girl attached to him in his reverses ; and over his head,
clinging to the top of the pump, is an elector intoxicated and
huizuing !

" The third and last group is composed of a good family in
affliction- Tbe wife, devoted, melting, clinging to her hus-
band ! The eldest boy, with the gaiety of a child, is cheering
the voters; behind is the old nurse sobbing over the baby,
five weeks old ; while the husband, virtuous and in trouble,
is contemplating the merry electors with pity and pain. The
father and mother are in mourning for the loss of their second
boy, for * troubles never come in single flies, but whole bat-
talions J ' in his hand he holds a paper, on it — ' Debt 261. lOa.
paid — costs 157/. H*. unpaid. Treachery, Squeeze and Co.,
Thieves' Inn.'

" Behind this family is a group of electors with flags and
trumpets, and all the bustle of an election. On one flag ia
'The Liberty of the Subject;' on the other, 'No BailiBs;'
%vhile the spiked wall and state house floish this end. The
opposite end ia the commencement of the prison, each window
marking a separate apartment, and under a red striped blind
are a party of electors, listening to a speech before march-
ing up.

" An old fat fellow, between the head constable and the young
girl, is laughing at bis mock severity, while two fellows, arm
in arm behind, and a bill of exchange of the Hon. Henry
Lawless lies on tbe ground, at 999 years' date, to Mc Cabbage,
tailor, of Bond Street, for 1,5621. 14«. 7d., for value receive^
complete the composition, in which I have done my best to
convey, to tbe nobility and the public, a scene that almoat
baffles pencil or pen !

" Many may be inclined to be severe, and disposed to ask,
* how I could be thinking of painting, when I was making the
town ring with my afflictions?' I have only to reply, I could
not help it ; a man, who for years has never looked at a face,
without instinctive reference to its imitatioo, baa absolutely a

W27.] THE CHARACTERS IN THE MOCK ELECTION. 169

sixth sense, and in all probability, even at the stake, would
ptudj the expression of his executioners."

The following entries in the journal in relation to the
characters and circumstances introduced in the Mock
Election seem curious enough for insertion.

*^ August 22nd. — Succeeded in the High Sheriflfs head.
Tt should be a sort of Beggars' Opera — Polly and Mac-
heath affair. I have hit him, and the world will think so.

** 2Srd. — Hard at work, and advanced the High
Sheriff. The careless, Irish, witty look, the abandon de
gaiete of his head and expression was never surpassed by
Hogarth. This is my genuine belief and conviction, and
so will posterity think.

** 2%th. — Went to the King's Bench to make sketches.
I sketched the head of a smuggler who carried the Union-
jack in the election. Never in my life did I see such a
head : — air, — wind, — grog, — risk, — anxiety, — daring,
— and defiance, were cut into his handsome weather beaten
head. * After being at sea,' said I, * does not this life hurt
your health?' *My health, sir? I keep up my health
with grog. Eh, Bob ? ' turning round to a veteran crony,
* How many tumblers d'ye average ? ' * Why, I think,
sir, I may say five-and-twenty ! '

** What a set of heads I shall have in this picture.

** Looked at Staunton's head to-day, and liked it.

" What a set of beings are assembled in that extraor-
dinary place — that temple of idleness and debauchery.
When you walk amongst them, you get amongst faces
that are all marked by some decided expression, quite
different from people you meet in the street."

" 28^A. — Put in the gallant colonel exquisitely, from
the remembrance of the principles of an idiot's head. I
hit his likeness in a minute. Child's cheeks, woman's
nose, age's lips and chin, fool's forehead.

** The calm beauty of Eucles, when 1 looked at it to-
day after the rag-fair subject of the election, was extraor-
dinary. The principles of the one will illustrate the
other.

170 MEMOIRS OP B. R. HATDON. [lB2r.

"31si. — Last day of August The last sixteen days T have
employed myself well I have got the Election well on.
I went to the Bench to-day to sketch, and got bo melan-
choly from stories of want and misery and crime around
me, I was ohliged to return,

" Sept, 3rd. — Put in the gallant colonel. Capital cha-
racter — ^Irish — hot-headed — duelling— idiotic — the only
person serious in the whole scene. The subject grows on
me rapidly.

"4th. — Holt, the t oxer, sat. Finished him and the
colonel's right hand.

"5th. — Hard at work, and finished Holt. If I had
not made a good likeness of Holt, I should have lost my
reputation in the ring. Holt said to-day, ' I have always
heard of you, sir, for these twenty years, but not knowing
any thing of art, I thought you were an old master.

"How true is the antiq^ue. Holt is the only instance
I ever saw of the hair springing up from the forehead like
wire, as the hair of Alexander does on his bust.

" \Qth. — Worked hard, and advanced my puppy.

" Wth. — Worked hard, and improved my puppy.

" \^th. — Worked and finished the velvet cap of the
puppy. I take such delight in this puppy, that on look-
ing at Eucles after, it seemed cold and chaste. I should
not wonder if this picture has awakened a faculty that has
been dormant."

On the 14th of September, the progress of his work
was for a white arrested by the birth of a son — Fre-

" l(j/A, — 'The child is father to the man,' as Words-
worth says. From a hoy I had always an intense desire
for seclusion. I remember then, as now, my delight in a
study of my own. I remember constructing of pasteboard
a little place shutting in a window, where I used to retire
as soon as school was over, to sketch, and draw, and
meditate.

" The other night as I walked into my pain ting- room,
and saw Eucles on the floor, and the sketches and picture^

■__L

J

lea?.] SIB GEORGE BEAUMONT'S HOUSE. 171

about, I felt a delight, an elevation 1 cannot describe.
I remember feeling the same thing thirty years ago
in my pasteboard house. Such is the truth ; and it is
painful to think how little real knowledge one gets after
twenty.

" I'ith. — I took my child Frank to-day to see Macbeth
at Sir George's, Grosvenor Square. As we wandered
through the deserted gallery and drawing-rooms I thought,
here have assembled more men of real genius, and more
pretenders to it, than in any other room perhaps ia
Europe.

" Since he gave his collection to the National Gallery,
there are, of course, few pictures left. The Tondo of
Michel Angelo, with his bust over it, was still in the
Gallery, and the picture from the Colonna Palace. The
walls were covered with his own works, many of which I
had been consulted about ; and on seeing the silent rooms,
half lighted and half dusty, with the furniture covered,
I was exceedingly affected with a sort of sympathy at the
mortality of us all. Poor Sir George. The genius of
the place was gone to his audit, and if we meet hereafter,
as I hope we may, purged of our weaknesses, we shall
find we have each qualities for the enjoyment of the other,
which worldly passi.ou obscured and dulled."

On the very day Frank was bom. Sir George and Lady
Beaumont calied within a few hours. It was interesting
to see his little figure striding about where his father had
so often strode before.

" Macbeth keeps its colour capitally.

" I8th. — Began a portrait to-day, and I felt as if my
hand, and soul, and imagination were numbed, ' e senza
stelle.' How can I succeed under such impressions ?

"I9lh. — Attacked the head-constable to-day with delight
— a Bardolphian dog as ever lived. Succeeded — though
yesterday my model was an interesting, fine fellow, and
the face to-day a red-nosed, ugly pug. I got on to-day
with delight, because, though cramped as to likeness, I
was working with reference to a story. The hatred of

172 MEMOIRS or B, R. HATDOW. tl827.

portrait-painting is, I am sorry to say, a feeling in my
nature, invincible ; at least I fear so.

"23d. — Hard at work and dashed away successfully.
Read Vasari's life of Raifaele till the tears came into my
eyes. I saw my Lazarus to-day, and the further I get
from the grand style, the more I am struck with my
former pictures, and the more bitterly feel my afflictions.

" Ah, what a shame to the patrons of my time ! Truly
might Lord Ashburnham say he wondered liow tliey
could answer to their own consciences for their shameful
neglect of me. What will become of me? Yet this is
cant. I do not despair ; and something whispers me that I
shall yet do greater things than I have ever yet done, and
that my knowledge will not be suffered to leave the world
without a period arriving of full development.

"27th. — Began to work in irritable spirits. The
colours were badly mixed, the brushes were badly cleaned.
I hesitated — trifled — faddled — and idled; but at last,
ashamed of my delays, I plunged at a hand, and getting
interested, soon forgot my troubles. I shall accomplish
the group by the time marked out. From the habit of
running about the town so in pecuniary difficulties, when
they ceased I actually looked to Monday, for at least a
week or two, as a day of walking, squabbling and battle.
Such is habit.

" Oct. \sf. — Went to the Bench and finished all my
BketchcB."

<■ 27id. — Arranged the effect for to-morrow— sky, &c.,
and improved it much : made a drawing for the corner
figure from my old model, Forster.

"3rd. — Putin the foreground head— wants paring —
a terrific character."

"4.;/,. — Was unhinged and unsettled — could not tell
whv. Advanced, but not conclusively, as I was trying
to doctor yesterday's attempt.

ii lOiA. — Hard at work, and nearly completed one of
the corner figures. Third of the month gone- Not bd
much to show as I ought, or intended to have. Anniver-

1827.] PEOGRESS OF THE MOCK ELECTION, 173

sary of my wedding day — six years. Well, we have had
some exquisite happiness, and some bitter agony. God
protect us ! For the mercies, gratitude — for the pains,
gratitude also, if they have contributed to purify our
souls, and fit them for immortality.

" 20th, — Began again to-day, thank God, and got in
the head of the good man.

" 2\8t. — Hard at work — finished the Gambler.

*' 22nd. — Hard at work — coated the good man in
sorrow and affliction.

" 23rd, — Got in nurse and infant. Hard at work, and
finished the good man.

** 24fth, — Obliged to lay by from deranged digestion.
All painters seem to have suffered from this. All thinkers
in fact — painters or not. Rubehs used to take his great
meal at night You get up with a black veil over your
fancy, through which you see all things.

" 28th. — Hard at work on the mother and wife.

** 29th. — Hard at work, and advanced the mother.

"30^A. — Worked at a sitting seven hours — then took
lunch, and set to one hour and a half. Finished the
mother.

** 31*^ — Last day. I worked pretty well up, but
people called, and chatted, and gossiped, and plagued
me.

''Nov. 1st. — Hard at work, and succeeded in com-
pleting the boy. I don't know that I think less ; but I
think less of the thoughts that occur.

** 4fth. — Hard at work. Finished my portrait of Tal-
fourd, and got an order for his wife.

** 5th. — Hard at work, and put in another head.

" 6th. — What a strange thing is the intellectual power,
I awoke between four and five saying to myself, * it may
be laid down as an axiom, that that art which, as a prin-
ciple, renders the inanimate or inferior parts of equal con*'
sequence to the intellectual or superior, is erroneous in
foundation, and contrary to the great principle of our
highest associations. The Greek school, and all the great

174 MEMOIRS OF B. R. HATDON. [ifiSS.

modern scbook of 1500, were conducted on the opposite
principle, the modem French school on the above.'

"This was a mere caprice of my mind in sleep, for I
had not been dreaming, and it was evident from so sound
a remark that my mind bad had rest enough."

By the beginning of December the picture was nearly
finished, (as well as a portrait of his friend, Mr. Talfourd,
painted while the Mock Election was in progress), and
before the close of the year, the Exhibition opened.

r 1828.

" January \st. — I began this new year and ended the
last in apathy and indifference. No prayer, no thanks-
giving, no reflection, no thought I was ill, and fretful,
and callous. My Frank was seized with an attack of the
lungs. He recovered. My Mock Election opened and
succeeded moderately, but it has not sold; and though I
have to thank God for the last five months with all my
heart and all my soul, I am beginning again to apprehend
necessity."

He was now at work on Eucles, when a new subject
suggested itself as adapted to that Hogarthian faculty
which he flattered himself might have developed itself in
the Mock Election. He thus describes the subject and
the circumstances under which it occurred to his mind.

" February \st. — For this last week I thought I should
have gone mad at the prospect of losing dearest Frank — •
a fellow string of the same instrument as myself. O
Frank — dear little intellectual, keen, poetic soul ! One
night as I was sitting by the fire in his room — his still
room — sobbing quietly, in bitter grief, and resolving, if
he died, to glory in letting my faculties rot over my
blasted hopes, when — will it be believed — Punch, as thi
subject for a picture, darted into my thoughts, and I com-
posed it, quite lost to everything else, till dear little
Frank's feeble voice recalled me.

my ]
the I

m- J

J

f IBSa.] DEPRESSION. 175

*' This invoUiiitary power it is which has always saved
me. To God I offer my gratitude for its possession."

"March \st.* — I begin my new volume, not with the
enthusiasm of my former ones. I have ceased to make
great attempts, and have gradually sunk to fit uiy efforts
to the taste of those on whoni I depend : that nohle ele-
vation of soul I feel no longer. The necessities of a large
family, imprisonment, and sorrow, have startled me for
the time out of that glorious dream. I can't pray now to
the Great God to aid and help and foster me in my at-
tempts for the honour of my great country, for I am
making no attempt at all. I am doing that only which
will procure me subsistence, and gratify the love of no-
velty, or pander to the prejudices of my countrymen,
Even that does not succeed. I have not sold the Mock
Election. I have no orders — no commissions. After all
the public sympathy of last year, I am still without em-
ployment. The exhibition of the picture gets me a. bare
subsistence, and that is all.

' Koa sum nualis eram."

" What to do I am at a loss. Brougham is chilled,
and the state of the finances render any expectation of
a government vote for the higher walk of art a vain delu-
sion. My admission into the Academy is out of the
question. It has turned out as I predicted to Lord
Egremont it would, I begin at last to long to go abroad,
family and all. Had I been single, after leaving prison
for the first time, I would have gone hack to my stripped
house and finished the Crucifixion ; but here my wife
shrank, and I loved her too well to pain her,

" To have finished the Crucifixion without a bed to lie
on, or a chair to sit on — without casts or prints, because
the world thought it impossible — was to my mind a cause
of fiery excitement. I would have gloried in doing it,

• The FifteeotU Tolume of lie Journals opens at this date, with
the motto, " For I have eaten ashes like bread and mingled my drink
with weeping." — Ftalmcu.

176 MEMOIRS OP B. R. HAYDON. [l828i

and would have done it. But by painting lately only
paltry things, I have ceased to excite the enthusiasm I
once lived in, because I have ceased to feel it myself.
How ail this will turn out God knows— for though I do
not pray to Him as I used, I trust in His mercy, as I erer
shalL I dread blindness in my old age, but I hope my
God will space me this calamity. His will, not mine be
done.

" March 2nd, — I got up melancholy in the extreme,
and sallied forth to call on Brougham, in order to come to
some conclusion. I saw him in the passage. His carriage
was at the door — a gentleman was eagerly talking —
Brougham had his foot on tlie stall's, and could not get
up for the importunity of this man. Brougham's hand
was full of papers, and his whole appearance was restless,
harassed, eager, spare, keen, sarcastic and nervous. The
servant did not hear me ring, and the coachman called
from his box in a state of irritable fidget — 'Why, George,
don't you see a gentleman here? He has been here these
five minutes.' Up came George, half dressed, and showed
me right in. The moment Brougham saw me, he seemed
to look ' Here's Haydon — at such a moment — to bore me.'
Brougham never shakes hands, but he held out his two
fingers. ' Mr. Haydon, how d'ye do ? I have no appoint-
ment with you. Call on Wednesday at half past five. I
can't spare you two minutes now.' I never saw such a
set out The horses were not groomed. The coachman
not clean. The blinds of the coach were not down, and
gave me the idea as if inside the air was hot, damp, foul
and dusty. There the horses were waiting, half dozy^
the harness not cleaned or polished — their coats rough
as Exmoor ponies ; and inside and outside the house,
the whole appearance told hurry-scurry, harass, fag, late
hours, long speeches, and vast occupation. Since I saw
him last he seems grown ten years older — looks more
nervous and harassed a great deal. He tried to smile, by
way of saying, ' Don't be hurt ; ' but I never am hurt by
such things. When a man calls on another in that way.

' 1898,] CnAIEIKG THE MEMBER. 177

lie must expect the consequences of breaking in. I wisli
any body was as considerate for me,"

Haydon now proceeded to turn to further account liis
King's Bench experiences. The tragi-eomedy of which
he had delineated the first act in his Mock Election, fur-
nished him with a second, under the title of Chairing
the Member, I append the painter's own account of the
picture, at this point, as it wilt render intelligible many
subsequent entries in his journal between the commence-
ment of the work and its conclusion towards the end of
August.

" The scene now painted and represented to the public is
The Mock Chairing, which was acted on a water-butt one
evening, but was to have been again performed in more magni-
ficent costume the next day; just, however, as all the actors in
this eccentric masquerade. High Sheriff, Lord Mayor, Head
Constable, Assessor, Poll Clerks and Members were ready
dressed and preparing to start, the Marshal interfered and
stopped the procession I Such are human hopes !

" The Marshal sent word he wished to speak with those he
named ; they went directly, anticipating admonishment if their
innocent frolic was irregular, and resolving to submit to
Mr. Jones's wishes ; but, after a few words, the whole who had
obeyed his desire were ordered to be closely confined in a room,
to which the Black Hole at Calcutta was a palace.

" Those who were thus treated were gentlemen, one of whom
had been member of the House of Commons for two years.
They had been guilty of nothing hut an innocent and harmless
frolic, that relieved their own anxieties, and contributed very
materially to assuage the anxieties of others ; they had tres-
passed on no privilege of authority, they had shown no disre-
spect to their superiors, there had been no wilful violence, no
riot, no drunkenness; in fact, during the continuance of this
extraordinary scene, there had been less of what was improper
or abandoned ; for the minds of the unhappy had for a time
been excited, and they forgot their troubles, and their usual
methods of burying the recollection of them.

" The Marshal now sent for some others, whom he had for-
gotten in the first instance; but, dreading a similar fate to
their companions, they refused to go ; speeches, expostulations,

VOI-. II. N

178 - MEMOIRS OP B. R. HATDON. [1828.

and messages took place, and the Blarahal waa advised to send
for the Guards I

" About the middle of a sunny day, when nil was quiet, save
the occasional cracking of a racket-ball, while aome were
reading, some smoking, some lounging, some talking, some
occupied with tlieir own sorrows, and some with the sorrows of
their friends, io rushed sis fine grenadiers with & noble fello^tr
of a sergeant at their head, with bayonets fixed, and several
round of ball in their cartouchei, expecting to meet (by their
looks) the most desperate resistance !

" However, those are questions out of my province ; I merely
state what I saw, and that I, as an Englishman, felt bitterly
wounded that the most heroic troops on earth, the Guards of
the Sovereign, should have been sent for to outflank Harry
Holt and cut off the retreat of four gentlemen in dressing-

" The materials thus afforded me by the entrance of the
Guards I have combined in one moment, aa I did those in the
last picture. In that picture, the dandy in yellow and the
dandy in rags, the characters in one corner and the characters
in the other, were not all assembled at the same moment at the
same place. Some of the materials existed, others I invented.
So, in this picture of the Chairing, I have combined in one
moment what happened at different moments. The characters
and soldiers are all portraits. I have only used the poet's and
painter's licence, 'guidlibet audendi,' to make out the second
part of the story, — a part that happens in all elections, viz.,
the chairing the successful candidates.

" In the corner on the left of the spectator are three of the
Guards, drawn up across the door, standing at ease, with all the
self-command of soldiers in sucli situations, hardly suppressing
A laugh at the ridiculous attempts made to oppose them ; in
front of the Guards is the commander of the enemy's forces,
viz., a little boy with a tin sword, on regular guard position,
ready to receive and oppose, with a banner of 'Freedom of
Klection ' hanging on hia sabre ; behind him stands the Lord
High SheriS^ affecting to charge the aoldiers with bis niopstick
and pottle, but not quite easy at the glitter of a bayonet. He
is dressed in a magnificent suit of decayed splendour, n
old court aword, loose elU: stockings, white shoes, and i
buckled knee-bands ; his shoulders are adorned with white I
bows, and liis curtain-ringa for a, chain, hung by a blue ribbon I

' ieS8.] CHAIRING TFIB MEMBER. 179

I from bis neclc. Next to him, adorned with a blanket, is a
I character of voluptuous gaiety, helmeted by a saucepan, holding
up the cover for a shield, and a hottte for a weapon. Then
comes the fool, making grimaces with his painted cheeks, and
bending his fista at the military; while the Lord Mayor, with
his white wand, is placing his hand on his heart with mock
gravity and wounded indignation at this violation of Magna
Charta and civil rights. Behind Itim are different characters,
with a porter pot for a standard, and a watchman's rattle ;
while in the extreme distance, behind the rattle, and under the
wall, is a ragged orator addressing the burgesses on this abomi-
nable violation of the privileges of election.

" Right over the character with a saucepan is a turnkey hold-
ing up a key and pulling down the celebrated Meredith, who,
quite serious, and believing he will really sit in the House, is
endeavouring to strike the turnkey with a champagne glass.
The gallant member is on the shoulders of two men, who are
peeping out and quizzing.

" Close to Meredith is bis fellow member, dressed in Spanish
hat and feather, addressing the sergeant opposite him, with on
arch look, on the illegality of his entrance at elections, while a
turnkey has got hold of the member's robe, and is pulling him
off the water-butt with violence,

" The sergeant, a fine soldier, one of the heroes of Hougou-
mont, is smiling and amused, while a grenadier, one of the
other three under arms, is looking at his sergeant for oi'ders.

" Two of the three soldiers are only seen, the third is sup-
posed to be behind the member.

" In the corner, directly under the sergeant, is a dissipated
young man and his distressed family, addicted to hunting and
sports, without adequate means for the enjoyment. He, half
intoxicated, his only refuge left his bottle, has just drawn a
cork, and is addressing his only comfort, while bis daughter is
delicately putting the bottle aside and looking with entreaty at
her father.

" The harassed wife is putting back the daughter, unwilling
to deprive the man she lovea of what, though a baneful consola-
tion, is still one; while the little shoeless boy, with his hoop,
is regarding his father with that strange wonder with which
children took at the unaccountable alteration in features and
expression which take phice under the effects of intoxication.

180 MEMOIRS OF B. R. HAYDON. 11828,

" Three pawnbrokers' duplicates, one for the child's ehoea,
1«. Gd., one for ihe wedding-ring, 5*., and one for the wife's
necklace, 11., lie at tlie feet of the father, with the Sporting
Magazine; for drunkarda generally part with the little necea-
saries of their wives and children before thej treBpass on their

" At the opposite corner lies curled up the Head Constable,
hid away under his bed-curtain, which he had for a robe, and
Blily looking, as if he hoped nobody would betray him ! By
bia side is placed a table, with the relics of luxurious enjoys
ment, while a washing-tub ae a wine cooler containa, under the
table, a pine, bock, Cliampagne, and Burgundy.

" Directly over the sergeant, on the wall, are written, ' The
JUajesti of the Peepel for ever — huzza I ' 'No military at
Elections r and 'No Marshal!' On the standards to the left
are ' Confusion to Credit, and no Jrawdalent Creditors' In
the window are a party with a lady smoking a hookah ; on thfl
ledge of the window ' Success to the detaining Creditor ! ' At
the opposite window is a portrait of the painter, looking down
ijn the extraordinary scene with great interest; underneath
him, ' Sperat infestis'

" On a board under the lady smoking is written the order of
the Lord Mayor, enjoining Peace, as follows : —

" Banco Regis
" Court House, July 16,
" In the Sixth year of the
" Eeign of George IV-
'' Peremptorily ordered : —

" That the special constables and headboroughs of this
ancient bailwick do take into custody all persons found in
any way committing a breach of the peace during the pro-
cession of chairing the members returned to represent this
borough.

" Sir Robert Birch (Collegian), Lord Mayor.

" ' A New Way to pay old Debts,' is written over the first
turnkey; and below it, 'NB. A rery old way, discovered
3394 years B. C. ; ' and in the extreme distance, over a shop,
is, ' Dealer in everything genuine.'

" While the man beating the long drum, at the opposite end^
another the cymbals, and the third blowing a trumpet, with the

1838.] CHAmtNG THE MEMBER. 181

windows all croi^ed with spectatorB, complete the compoBition,
with tbe exception of the meloncholj' victim behind the High
Sheriff.

" I recommend the contemplation of this miserable creature,
once a gentleman, to all advocatea of imprisonment for debt.
First rendered reckless by imprisonment, — then hopeless, —
then sottish, and, last of all, from utter despair of freedom,
insane! Round bis withered temples is a blue ribbon, with
^ Dulce est pro patria mori' (it is sweet to die for one's
country) ; for he is baring his breast to rush on the bayonets
of the Guards, a wilHng sacrifice, as he believes, poor fellow,
to a great public principle ! In his pocket he has threo
pamphlets. On Water Drinking, On the Blessings of Imprison-
ment for Debt, and Adam Smith's Moral Essay. Ruffles bang
from his wrists, the relics of former days; lags cover his feeble
legs ; one foot is naked, and his appearance is that of a being
decaying, mind and body,"

"March \Gth. — Lough's private day to-day. He had
a brilliant one, but no orders, though the Musidora is
the most beautiful of his productions.

" Lough is delicate, sensitive, and will be short-lived :
but what a mighty genius. He dined with tne to-day.
What a gaunt, fiery eagle he looks. He complained of
palpitations.

" His having no orders affected him, though I told him
it was the consequence of fashion. I propped him up,
and restored his spirits ; but he is still depressed. If he
goes through one quarter of what I have gone through,
he will die,

" God grant him life, for the sake of the art. What
a pure, virginal, shrinking, chaste, delightful creature is
Musidora.

"March 24ih. — I am in a very precarious state of
mind — in apathy. I cannot begin on anything, do what
I will. I feel a lassitude of mind and being ; I hope
it is not the symptom of some disease. I finished the
£lectioD at tbe beginning of December ; then wrote the
catalogue, and fell iU. By the time I was well, Frank was
ill ; and now he is well dearest Mary is ill, so that I have

182 XEVOIBS OF B. B. nAYDOS, tlS2S.

condnnal anxiety. But one must make llje most of oae'ft
ntuation, let the difficoltics be what they may.

" March 25lh. — Lough has not had one order for the
Mnsidora. My God ! to hear on the prirate day people
Baying, ' Very promisiog yonng man,' — at works before
which Michel Angelo would have bowed. ' Why does
he not do busts?' Why does not the slate give him
sufficient emplovment to present the necessity ?

" March fi6eh. — My greatest weakness, I am sorry to
say, is the expectation I form of erery picture. I am
then disappointed — grow angry and foreboding — wander
about, and do not return to my pursuits till drawn by
conscience. Shee (to whom I strolled for comfort, and
who made me worse) said yesterday, ' that an artist was
always miserable in reality or in imagination; — in reality
if he fancies he is perfect, in imagination if he have a
perfect idea he can never realise.' (This was the day
Shee said to me, on my saying to him the Academy was
founded for historical purposes, ' That never entered their
heads. It was most likely founded on intrigue.*) "

Haydon ought now to hare been employed on th*
Eucles, for the purchase of which his friends had subscribed
at the time of his imprisonment, But he hung back from
beginning it for some reason he could not explain to
himself. The cause was probably that depression whict
is apparent in the preceding extracts from the journal,
the result of disappointment and ever-recurring difficulty
from which he at this moment despaired of being able to
extricate himself, and which drove him to apply to his
friends, high and low, for money, — a practice which he
frequently laments that he ever had recourse to, and from
which earlier "condescension" to portrait ptainting and
pictures of the cabinet size might have saved him. Now
that he was willing to do anything for money, patrons
were, naturally, less eager to employ one, who in the
heyday of his reputation had refused to undertake such
commissions as they were ready to give.

On the 8lh of March he writes, " Sent in a study of a

1828.] DEPBESSION AND DIFPICULTT. 183

child's head to the Academy, and worked hard at copying
an old head from a miniature. What an employment !
After painting the head of Lazarus, to think at forty-two
years of age I am compelled to do this for bread, —
pursuing my art as I have pursued it, with all my heart
and all my soul, for the honour of my country. The fact
is England is strictly and decidedly commercial, and tlie
highest gifts of genius are considered more in the light of
curses than blessings, if a man puts forth his powers on
any principle incompatible with the commercial basis of
sale and returns.

" lO^A. — In the city on business. Met my old fellow-
student L last night at Buckingham's conversazione.

He had been in Rome thirteen years. Went out in
enthusiasm, and of course in Rome and Italy had in-
creased it by coming in contact with the works of the
departed great. He has brought his large picture to
exhibit, and was full of all sorts of hopes, and quite
inexperienced in the apathy of the great. I felt for him,
but did not repress his feelings."

There is much probability (admitting his claims to the
title of a man of high genius) in the reasons he gives in
the following extract, for the sympathy shown for him in
his misfortunes and the apathy which followed.

" IQth. — The nobility were touched by my sorrows
last year, not because I was a man of genius in sorrow, but
because I was a husband shut up from my wife at a time
of approaching confinement, and they fell for my dreadful

, situation as men and human beings. If it was from sym-
pathy for talent, why am I not employed ? Why ? Be-
cause they do not care about my talents, and would rather,
conscientiously, if put to the test, not be cursed with any
who have powers in a style of art they do not comprehend,

r and wish not to encourage because they do not com-
prehend it, In short, a man of high genius is an incum-

11 brance on the patrons of this country, a nuisance to the

I portrait-painters, and an object of sympathy to the public.

I " The above is a bitter truth, but it is a truth,"

L

184 MEMOIRS OP B. H. HATDON. [l828.

But a stroke of great and unexpected good fortune was
at hand, which swept away the gloom from his path,' and
quickened into new life tJie sanguine anticipations of a
nature which no experience of adversity ever really
schooled into either prudence or submission to circum-
stances. This piece of unlooked-for happiness occurred
on the 18th of this month, and is thus recorded.

itlth to 31s'. — This morning, to my surprise, the King,
George IV. (whom God preserve !) sent Seguier to say he
would wish to see the Mock Election, For ray part I am
so used to be one day in a prison, and the other in a
palace, that it scarcely moved me. God only have mercy
on the art, and make me a great instrument in advancing
it by any means, suffering or happiness. Oh have mercy,
and grant this lot of fortune, under Thy mercy, may turn
out profitable to my creditors.

" \9th. — This morning I moved the Mock Election to
St James's Palace. I rang the bell, and out came a respect-
able-looking man, dressed in black silk stockings. I was
shown into a back room, and the picture moved in. In
a sliort time livery servants, valets, and the devil knows
who, crowded around it. At eleven, Seguier came : the
picture was moved up into the state apartments. I went
into the city to my old friend Kearsey, one of those who
had supported me during the struggle. He was gone to
a funeral. ' Man groweth up and is cut down like a
flower.' ' Dust to dust, and ashes to ashes,' was a very
proper rap to me in my super-human elevation.

" When I came back Seguier called me aside. The
room was in a bustle. ' Well,' said he, ' the King is de-
lighted with your picture. When it was brought in he
looked at it and said, '■ this is a very fine thing." To the
figures on the left hand he said, " This is our friend
Wilkie out-and-out." He then turned to Campbell in
the corner. " That's a fine head, it's like Buonaparte."
" Your Majesty, Mr. Haydon thinks it's like Buonaparte
and Byron." " Can I have it left to-day." " Mr. Haydon
will leave it with your Majesty as long as you di

" Seguier declared the King was highly delighted, and

te J

oa M

ad I

f

less.] THE KINO BDTS THE MOCK ELECTION. 185

said, ' Come to me to-morrow.' Seguier said he really waa
astonislied at the taet of the King. He told some stories
about his father so capitally, and laughed ao heartily,
that the pages were obliged to go out of the room. (Ex-
quisite flattery of the pages.)

" Seguier said ' Can the King have it directly ? ' ' Di-
rectly,' said I. ' Meet me at the British Gallery at twelve
on Monday.' 'That I will, my hero,' said I. What des-
tinies hang on twelve on Monday !

" Laclcington (my landlord) said ' D n it, I hope he

will let you have it again, as you will pay your creditors
10«. in the pound !' vrai Jean Bull! As I went down I
dreaded all sorts of disappointments. ' Might not the
King be ill ? Might not the palace catch fire ? Might
not Seguier have overruled his expectations ? '

" Thus it is ; when we are young, from our ignorance of
evil, we dash on expecting flowers to bloom at every step ;
at maturity, from our dread of evil in consequence of
sufiFering, no pleasure is felt unraingled with apprehension.

"20i/i. — I thought in the morning, shall I go to
church and pour forth my gratitude ? Will it not be
cant? Will it not be more in hopes for what is coming,
than in gratitude for what is past ? Yes. But my Creator
is merciful. He knows the weaknesses of human nature.
To give up trying to do our duty because we cannot do it
perfectly, is more criminal than trying to do it sincerely,
however imperfectly. I went. I laboured in prayer to
vanquish vain aspirations. I poured forth my gratitude,
and felt the sweet assurance which prayer only brings.

" Slsi. — To-day has been a bright day in the annals of
my life. The King has purchased my picture, and paid
me my money. I went to the British Gallery at half-
past eleven ; at twelve Seguier came, with a face bursting,
and coming up to me, said, ' Get a seven and sixpenny
stamp. ' ' My dear fellow, I have only got 5s. in my
pocket 1 ' Seguier looked mischievously arch as he took
out 2«. Gd. Away I darted for a stamp. ' Threepence
id the girl. I ran back again, got the Sd., took
the stamp, signed it, and received the money.

1

186 MEMOIES OF B. R. HATDON. [iflas.

" Seguier was really rejoiced, and verily I believe to
him 1 owe this honour."

Elated by his good fortune it required all the cool
good sense of his friend Seguier to restrain Haydon
from writing to the King a letter of gratitude, in which,
we may be sure, he would not have missed the oppor-
tunity of inculcating that duty of encouraging art by
public patronage, which he so perseveringly forced upon
ministers. But though occasional suspicions of his friend's
motives in imploring him to be quiet crossed his mind,
his better judgment bowed to the force of the advice,
and he abstained.

The purchase of his Mock Election by the King sent
him with fresh spirit to the companion picture of the
Chairing.

On the 28th I find in his journal: — " On Friday week
at the palace of my Sovereign : to-day in his prison. I

called on C , and found him much improved. His

face had lost that desperate look. He expected to be
restored to the world. Such was the effect of hope.

" After sketching heads worthy of Shakespeare, I had
a desire to throw the possessors oif their guard. I sent out
for lunch and wine, and ate and drank with tliem. What
a scene ! What expressions ! What fiery, flashing vigour
of diabolism ! It was eight niorfths since I bad seen them,
and the weather-beaten sailor who boasted he drank
twenty-six glasses from sunrise to sunset was completely
altered — flabby,— -nervous, — gouty. The young bearded
Canadian was feeble, — hesitating, — tired, — weak. Mere^
dith's death seemed to have touched them.

" I now, I hope, take my leave of the King's Bench for
ever.

" I completed all my studies, and am ready. To-morrow
the High Sheriff sits. I met him as I was coming home,
loitering about the detestable neighbourhood as if en-
chanted.

■' The Beuch is the temple of idleness, debauchery, and

r

1828.] A VISIT FROM SIR WALTER SCOTT. 187

Sir Walter Scott was now in town and visited Haydon.

" SOtk.— Began the High Sheriff's head, and succeeded.
Sir Walter Scott called. I introduced liim to the High
Sheriff. Sir Walter kissed dear Frank's forehead and
hiessed him, and hoped he would he a clever man. It was
highly interesting to see Sir Walter, with his fine bead,
kissing little Frank, who watched and scrutinised him.
He promised to let me have a sketch of his head before he
went. Sir Walter laughed heartily at the subject of
Chairing the Member. • The Marshal should have let
the poor fellows finish it,' said he.

" Afo!/ 5M. — Sir Walter came to breakfast according
to promise. Talfourd, Eastlake, and a young surgeon,
met him, and we had a very pleasant morning. He sat
to me afterwards for an hour and a half, and a delightful
sitting it was. I hit his expression exactly. Sir Walter
Scott seems depressed. He came up to he happy with
his family, to be among them ; and, said he, ' They are
all scattered like sheep. My daughter expected a fine
season at the Caledonian Ball and Almack's ; packed up
her best gown, and she found her sister so anxious, she
has given it all up ! ' I myself was touched. I had not
seen him so long, and when I saw him last, Lazarus
towered behind us. I had been imprisoned; he had lost
43,000/.; he was getting older; I could not be younger,
In short, the recollections of life crowded on my mind.

" He told some admirable stories, but still was quieter
than before. He is such a native creature. I told him
of an Irishman in St. Giles's, who, coming by where there
was a great row, seized his stick, looked up to heaven,
and saying, ' The Lord grant I may take the right side ! '
plunged in, and began to thump away. ' Ah,' said Sir
Walter, ' he showed more discretion than the rest of
his countrymen ; ' and then he began to look up with an
arch look, and pretending to spit in his hands and seize
a club, like Paddy, told us of an adventure he met with
in Ireland himself; but directly after relapsed into a
musing, heavy sadness.

188 MEMOIRS OF B. H. HATDOW. " [1828,

" I started ghosts, quoting Johnson's assertion in Ras-
selas. He told us some curious things, affecting to con-
sider them natural, but I am convinced he half thought
them supernatural. Sir Walter Scott has certainly the
most penetrating look I ever saw, except in Shakespeare's
portraits.

" C. H, Townshend, the author of The Reigning Vice,
being in an agony of desire to see Sir Walter, I called
with him. Sir Walter came out with his usual sim-
plicity of manner and chatted. Townshend came away
quite happy, and triumphant over a maiden aunt, who
laughed at him for having such a desire.

" ' Mr. Townshend,' said I, ' is a great admirer of your
genius. Sir Walter.' ' Ah, Mr. Haydon, we vron't say a
word about that. At any rate, I have amused the public,
and that is something.' We talked of all sorts of things.
In speaking of the Thames Tunnel, he said, ' Mr. Brunei
should take care of the river, for he has proved he is
capable of bursting in.'

" But there was a heaviness about him of which I
never saw a symptom before."

Time has done something to correct Haydon's judg-
ment of more than one of his contemporaries in art;
and his criticism of one at least of the two painters re-
ferred to in the following entry will scarcely be accepted

" Ma^ 9th. — Worked till two, and then went out to the
private days of Martin and Lane. How completely my
private days and exhibitions have bit them all.

" Martin and Danhy are men of extraordinary imagi-
nations, but infants in painting. These pictures always
seem to artists as if a child of extraordinary fancy bad
taken up a brush to express its inventions. The public,
who are no judges of the art, as an art, overpraise their
inventions, and the artists, who are always professional,
see only the errors of the brush.

" 19/A.— My portrait-day. By devoting a day to por-
traits without interruption, I find my dislike waning. I

r

I then make it a study, and fiiid it useful and delightful,
r and go to my pictures the day after, improved by it.

" Wlh.— Hard at worli on High Sheriff's hands ; finished
' them. How every part in nature is in harmony. These
hands, bony, venous, long and Irish, would suit no other
head ; returned to my picture with delight."

There is truth, which has now a chance of being ad-
mitted, in this criticism of Sir Thomas Lawrence's por-
traits.

"22nd. — Spent a whole morning at the Exhibition.
Lawrence's flesh has certainly no blood : Jackson's is flesh
and blood.

" Lawrence sacrifices all for the head ; and what an
absence of all purity of tint, in comparison with Vandyke
or Reynolds ! His excellence is expression, but it is
conscious expression ; whereas the expression of Rey-
nolds, Vandyke, Titian, Tintoretto, and Raffaele, is un-
conscious nature.

" Lawrence is not a great man : indeed posterity will
think so. Lady Lyndhurst's hands are really a disgrace
in drawing, colour, and everything. He affects to be
careless in subordinate parts, but it is not the carelessness
of conscious power ; it is the carelessness of intention.

" Since he went to Italy his general hue is greatly
improved, but his flesh is as detestably opaque as ever.

" The whole Exhibition was lamentably deficient.
Constable and Jackson are the only colourists left.

" Why are there no historical pictures? Hilton has had
no commissions, Etty has had no commissions, I have
had no commissions. Why are there so many portraits t
Lawrence has had commissions, Jackson has had commis-
sions, Shee has had commissions, and a hundred others
bave had commissions, and that is the reason there are
so many portraits.

" If Lawrence dies, there is nobody to give an air of
fashion and taste to the room. In fact I regret I went.
There was no one single thing I learnt anything from,
, but many thousand things I deeply regret remembering.

1838,3 -*T '^^^ EXHIBITION. 189

190 MEMOIItS OF D. E. HATDON. [lB2a.

group of Joseph and Mary is very fine, and there is really
nothing like Martin's picture (Nineveh) in the world.

" 22nd and 23rd. — Hard at work making pen sketches
of the heads in the Mock Election, and writing a great
many anecdotes in a catalogue handsomely bound, which
I mean to request his Majesty's acceptance of. Left it
with Lord Mountcharles.

" 27th. — Portrait day ; a day of coats, waistcoats,
cheeks, lips and eyes — for themselves alone. The moment
the last sitter went, I turned his head to the wall, pulled
out my historical easel, placed the Chairing on it, and
Boon forgot the turn-up nose.

" June 8jA. — Hard at work. The young man who sat
for the sportsman in the Mock Election had spent two
handsome fortunes; and {as a specimen of the henefit
derived hy a creditor from imprisoning a debtor) swore
his creditor should never get a sixpence, and in a reck-
less feeling of defiance and disgust gave seventy guineas
for a case of pipes, a short time after he was in, I ordered
up a bottle of wine, which excited him, and his face got
that keen relish and fiery flush which is visible in a de-
bauchee when temptation is near. He drank it all, as if
the devil was at his elbow. He had served in Spain, and
was up to everything. He had once, for fun, joined a
strolling company. The actors all boarded with the
manager, and one day, at dinner, he addressed them thus:
' Gentlemen, them as can act Thelley or Argo must eat
taties ! '

I could not help thinking what a pity it was that those
qualities which were so engaging and disinterested gene-
rally led to ruin, whilst the meanest vices realised fortunes.

" June2i:lh, — Worked hard at the wife, and succeeded;
but how superior was nature. Left off depressed at my
own ineffective attempt, when in came some one and ad-
mired my effort at imitation, because he had not seen, as
I had, superior nature.

" 26th.— Hard at work on the fool's head, and succeeded.
Walked in the evening in my old haunts in the Kilburn

r

laaS.] A VISIT FROM WILKIE, 191

meadows, where I have walked so often witli Keata ; went
on to Hampstead to Well- Walk, and home in a state of
musing quiet. The grass, and hay, and setting aun, and
singing birds, and humming bees entered into my soul,
and I lay dozing in luxurious remembrances till the
evening star began to glitter dimly in the distance."

Wilkie had now returned to England, after his three
years' quest of health, and the old friends met again, and
renewed acquaintance ; but with little, I fear, of the cor-
diality of their student days. Their natures, in fact, were
antagonistic, and each secretly distrusted the other for the
qualities in which they differed respectively.

"June 9,1 th. — Worked till two, and then went to Lord
Grosvenor's, where I met Wilkie after an absence of three
years. He was thinner, and seemed more nervous than
ever. His keen and bushy brow looked irritable, eager,
nervous, and full of genius. How interesting it was to
meet him at Lord Grosvenor's, where we have all assem-
bled these twenty years under every variety of fortune !
Poor Sir George is gone, who used to form one of the
group. Wilkie, Seguier, Jackson and I are left. Lord
Mulgrave is ill.

*' As usual, Wilkie started a new theory — about the
pictures in Spain not being varnished. He says he
saw a Titian in a convent that had evidently not been
touched since it was painted. We saw one together at
Malmaison, belonging to Josephine, which was evidently
pure, the blues in harmony, Wilkie said it was now in
Russia.

" I was deeply interested at seeing my old fellow-student
and friend ; but Wilkie chills everybody ; it is his un-
fortunate nature. He told me he never ate animal food
till he came to Edinbro' — his father was too poor. Per-
haps tliis laid the foundation of hia unhappy debility of
constitution. Whether the energy of England will re-
cover him I do not know. I hope so. He looks radically.
shaken.

'■ 39M.— Called on Wilkie — found him better. He

192 MEMOIRS OF B. K. HATDON. [IS2B.

eaid Newton's Vicar of Wakefield looked like Gold-
smith in a dress of Moliere's. It had not got the sim-
plicity of Goldsmith. He was afraid to talk much ; but
he will recover. He seemed more impressed with Spain
ttan either Italy or Germany. The whole world has had
Buch a rattle, that the highest as well as the lowest have
abated of their pretensions.

" SOth. — Completed the group, L dined with me

yesterday : already, poor fellow, cut up, as I predicted
three months ago. He has resolved to relinquish histo-
rical painting, and turn to portraits.

'^ July 9tL — The moment I quit my canvas, I get
into all sorts of messes.

" Whether it is the activity of my mind, or that trifles
press more heavily on me when not occupied, I can't tell :
but the children seem to cry more than usual ; the post-
man knocks harder than his wont; the dustman 'h bell
makes more noise ; and I get restless, yawn, gape at the
clock, stroll into the fields, get weary of my existence.
What a life an idle man of fortune's must be.

" 12(A, 13M. — Better. Worked faintly at the fool.
Every body who called exclaimed, * What a melancholy
sot, with a touch of insanity.' This was the very thing.
13 days gone. Six ill — idle — business.
6

7 at work,
Eighteen days left. Let us see whether, if I work with
prudence and attention to my health, I can keep up the
whole eighteen. The misfortune with me is, I do too
much at particular times. But it can't be helped : im-
pulses must be attended to. My delight in my art is so
intei-woven with my nature, that I envy the very fellow
who grinds my colours, I could be always in my painting-
room when once there. I always leave my work with
difficulty, dwell on it till I return, and recommence in
pleasure. I would not let pupils set my palette, or grind
■mv colours, or aid my designs. 1 love it all too much,

iioess, ODxietiea, and sickness take their turns of retar-

1

ISSe.] OXFORD: STRATFOED-OK-AVON. 193

dation ; but my heart h anchored, and it is only a slack-
ening of the cable for a time. It is never loose, and
when the sea is calm and the winds are high, I haul taut
up, and ride fearless, in delight and triumph.

" 14(A. — At work successfully, but not long. Rather
melancholy from ray state of personal health.

" ISth. — At the moment I opened my window a mag-
nificent wliite cloud was passing, I rushed in for my
palette, and dashed it into my picture before it had
passed. It does exactly.

" Instead of getting better, I got worse, and dear Mary
advised me to go out of town for a few days. I 6ew off
directly, and instead of forming one of the vulgar idlers
at a watering-place, determined to make a pilgrimage to
Stratford-ou-Avon, Happy, indeed, am I, I did so. A
more delightful jaunt I never had in all my life. It will
be a blight spot in my imagination for years and years.

" The first day I went to Oxford. I got in late, and
peeped into some of the colleges. After the bustle,
anxieties, fatigue, and harass of a London life, the peace
and quiet of those secluded, Gothic-windowed, holy
chambers of study, came over one's feelings with a cooling
sensation, as if one had mounted from hell to heaven, and
heen admitted on reprieve from the tortures and fierce
passions of the enraged, the malignant, the ignorant and
the lying, to the beautiful simplicity of angelic feelings,
where all was good, and holy, and pious, and majestic.

"I need not say it was vacation, or very likely my
feelings in peeping in would not have been so very holy.

" I left Oxford next morning outside, and got to Strat-
ford at two, I ordered dinner, and hurried away to Hen-
ley Street. The first thing I saw was a regular sign,
projecting from a low house. ' The immortal Shakespeare
was born in this house.' I darted across, and cursed the
door for keeping me out a moment, when a very decent
and iieat widow-looking woman came from a door that
entered from the other house, and let me in. I marched
through, mounted an ancient staircase, and in a moment
TOL. ir, O

}

194 MEMOIRS OF B. R. HATDOS. [1828.

was in the immortal room where Shakespeare gave the first
puling cry, which announced he was living and healthy.

"It is low and long, and has ercry appearance of having
been in existence long before Shakespeare's time. The
^arge old chimney has a cross-beamed front. There is a
document to the effect that his father bought the house
when Shakespeare was ten years old, and a tradition he
occupied it before : so that there is perhaps little doubt
he was bom in it, and as people generally are horn in bed-
rooms, why this up-stairs room probably gave birth to the
poet.

"The present possessor complains bitterly of the pre-
vious tenant, who after promising not to injure the
names uf all the illustrious visitors for the last eighty
years, in mere spite, because she was obliged to leave,
whitewashed the whole room. His Majesty's name, as
Prince of Wales, can't be found ; Garrick's, and the
whole host of the famous of the last century, are for ever
obliterated: and hundreds on hundreds of immortal ob-
scure who hoped to cut out a little freehold of fame, are
again and for ever sunk to their natural oblivion.

" The name of this old beldame is Hornby, and let her
be damned to eternal fame with her worthy predecessor,
Mr. Gastrell. Illustrious pair, hail and be cursed.
"When she thought she was dying, she confessed she had
imposed on the visitors with her absurd relics, and begged
they might be burnt. Now she is well again, she swears
by them as much as ever. Those who sat up by her told
the present occupant this.

" A squinting cockney came in while I was there, so I
left, and walked to the sequestered and beautiful spot
where the dust of this great genius lies at rest. A more
delightful place could not have been found. It is Shake-
speare in every leaf. It must have been chosen by him-
self as he stood in the chancel musing on the fate of the
dead about him, and listening to the humming murmur
and breezy rustle of the river and trees by which it
stands. The most poetical imagination could not have

1828.] STRATFORD-ON-AVON. 195

imagined a burial-place more worthy, more suitable, more
English, more native for a poet than this, — above all
for Shakespeare. As I stood over his grave and read his
pathetic entreaty and blessing on the reader who revered
his remains, and curses on him who dared to touch ; as I
looked up at his simple unaffected bust, executed while
his favourite daughter was living, and put up by her hus-
band; as I listened to the waving trees and murmuring
Avon, saw the dim light of the large windows, and
thought I was hearing what Shakespeare had often heard,
and was standing where he had stood many times, I was
deeply touched. The church alone, from the seclusion of
its situation, with the river and trees, and sky and tombs,
was enough to call out one's feelings ; but add to this,
that the remains of Shakespeare were near me, prostrate,
decaying, and silent in a grave he had himself pointed out,
in a church where he had often prayed, and with an
epitaph he had himself written while living, and it is impos-
sible to say where on the face of the earth an Englishman
should be more affected, or feel deeper, more poetical, or
more exquisite emotions. I would not barter that simple,
sequestered tomb in Stratford for the .Troad, the Acro-
polis, or the field of Marathon.

" The venerable clerk, whose face looked as if not one
vicious thought had ever crossed his mind, seeing me
abstracted, left me alone after unlocking the door that
leads to the churchyard, as much as to say, * Walk there,
if you please.'

'* I did so, and lounging close to the Avon, turned
back to look at the sacred enclosure. The sun was
setting behind me, and a golden light and shadow che-
quered the ancient Gothic windows, as the trees moved
by the evening wind alternately obscured or admitted
the sun, I was so close that the tower and steeple
shot up into the sky, like some mighty vessel out at
sea, which you pass under for a moment, and which
wdth its gigantic masts seems to reach the vault of

heaven.

o 2

IflC 3IENOTBS OF B. B. HATDOX. [1828.

" I Stood and drank in to enthusiasm all a buman being
could feel — all that the most ardent and devoted lover of
s great genius could hare a sensailon of — all that the
most tender scenery of river, trees and suiisel-skj together
could excite. I was lost, quite lost, and in such moment
should wish my soul to take its Sight, (if it please God)
when m; time is finished. As soon as I recovered from
my trance, I was sorry to walk back to the town, to talk
to waiters and chamber-maids of tea and bread and butter.
To feel ihey were requisite, to think of eating and drink-
ing at all, was a bore and a disgust.

" However, gratified I had lived to enjoy such feelings,
I left this delightful seclusion. I dozed all night in a
dream ; I returned to bed but could not sleep, and early
the next morning got up to set off for Charlecote.

" To Charlecote I walked on foot as fast as my legs
could carry me, and crossing a meadow, entered the im-
mortalised park by a back pathway. Trees, gigantic and
umbrageous, at once announce the growth of centuries :
while I was strolling on I caught a distant view of the old
red-tricked house, in the same style and condition as
when Shakespeare lived, and going close to the river side
came at once on two enormous old willows, with a large
branch aslant the stream, such as Ophelia hung to. Every
blade of grass, every daisy and cowslip, every hedge-
flower and tuft of tawny earth, every rustling, ancient
and enormous tree which curtains the sunny park with
its cool shadows, between which the sheep glittered on
the emerald green in long lines of light, — every ripple of
the river with its placid tinkle,

" ' Giving a genlle kiss to every sedge

It overtaketh in its pilgrimage,'

announced the place where Shakespeare imbibed his
early, deep and native taste for landscape and forest
scenery. Oh, it was delightful indeed ! Shakespeare
seemed to hover and bless all I saw, thought of, or trod on,
" Those great roots of the lime and oak bursting, tu|

1828.] STRATFORD-ON-AVON. 197

it were, above the ground, bent up by the depth they had
struck into it, Shakespeare had seen — Shakespeare had
sat on.

" Wondering I had seen no deer, I looked about, and
saw a rascal, a lineal descendant, may be, of the very buck
Shakespeare shot, lounging on his speckled haunches and
staring at me. This completed the delightful delusion,
and crossing a little old bridge over a branch of the Avon,
of the same age as the hall, I came at once on the
green before the house, and turning to the right under an
arched doorway, reached the front entrance of another
archway with a tower at each angle. In the tower facing
my left was a clock. Here was an iron gate, and inside a
regular garden, the old front of the house showing at the
end of it.

** A young lady and an old one were talking to a parrot,
and a gardener was shaving the grass-plot with a scythe.
He referred me to the housekeeper ; so fearing I had
intruded, I returned to the back entrance, and meeting
a servant, asked to see the house. By this time chamber-
maid, cook, butler, and all the evidences of a full es-
tablishment, peeped at me by turns. I sent the respects
of a gentleman from London, and begged to see the
house. The butler shortly after showed me to the hall,
and afterwards the housekeeper came in.

*' The housekeeper of Washington Irving's time was
married. I saw the same pictures as he saw, and am
convinced the hall is nearly the same as when Shakespeare
was brought to it. I saw the old staircase, and a col-
lection of pictures with a good one or two amongst them —
one a genuine Teniers of his marriage — a fine Honde-
koeter, and heads of Sebastian del Piombo and Hobbima,
all genuine.

" The Lucy family appeared to me shy. They may not
be ambitious of showing themselves as the descendants of
the ' lousy ' Lucy : that satire sticks to them, and ever
must, as long as the earth is undestroyed. They sent

o a

198 MEIIOIRS OF B, R. naTDON. C'SBS,

for my card, but nothiug came of it. Perhaps they never
licard of my name.

" ' This is tile hall,' said the amiable good-humoured
housekeeper, ' where Sir Thomas tried Shakespeare.'
This is evidently the way the family pride alludes to
the fact, and I dare say servants and all think Shake-
speare a profligate, dissolute fellow, who ought to have
heen transported.

" In the great hall window were the Lucy arms — three
luces. I left the ill-bred, inhospitable house, my respect
for the Lucies by no means much higher than Shake-
speare's ; but the park amply compensated me, for a
nobler, more ancient, and more poetical forest I never
saw.

" Fulhrook I could not stay to see ; but if I live I will
spend a week at Stratford, and ransack every hole and
stream, and no doubt shall find the very place where
Jaques soliloquised upon the wounded deer.

"Just as I came again amongst the venerable trees it
began to rain with a jubilee vigour, but the invulnerable
foliage completely secured me. I sat down on the roots
of an ancient lime, and mused on the house before me.
A mis-shapen moss-growu statue of Diana, on a pedestal,
as old as the house, was at the end of the large trees;
and as I sat in thought, a beautiful speckled doe and
her young one, after regarding me for a moment, sprang
off with a light spring, as if their feet were feathered.
Again they stopped, and again stared, and again they were
off, and dashed behind some enclosure. Weary of the
rain I sallied forth, and after crossing the meadow came
into the road ; but disdaining the beaten track I plunged
into a bye-path, which brought me to the river, of
which I caught a long, placid, and willowed stretch, as
lucid as a mirror, reflecting earth and sky in sleepy
splendour. I mounted the hank again, and scrambling
through a damp, soaking path, came out on the road,
drenched.

" I could not help remarking how short a road is when

1828.] STRATFORD-ON-AVOK. 199

in pursuit of any object, and how tedious after the object
is gained.

" Wet to the knees, I passed, as I approached the old
bridge, a humble sign of the Plough and Harrow. In I
walked, and found an old dame blowing a wood fire — the
room and chimney of the same age as Shakespeare. On
a form with a back sat a countryman smoking, and by the
window a decent girl making a gown. On the table by
the door was a bundle of pipes, enclosed in three rings,
the two end rings resting on two feet A clock made by
Sharp (who bought Shakespeare's mulberry tree), a chest
of drawers on three legs, the old furniture, and the whole
room looking clean, humble, and honest. I ordered ale,
which was excellent, and giving the smoker a pint, asked
him if he ever heard of Shakespeare. ' To be sure,'
said he, * but he was not born in Henley Street.^
' Where was he born ? ' ' By the water side, to be
sure.' 'Why,' said I, 'how do you know that?'
* Why John Cooper, in the almshouses.' 'Who's he?'
said I. 'What does he know about it?' said the old
hostess. ' Nonsense ! ' said the young girl. My pot com-
panion, giving a furious smoke at being thus floored at his
first attempt to put forth a new theory of Shakespeare's
birthplace, looked at me very grave, and prepared to over-
whelm me at once. He puffed away, and after taking
a sip said, ' Ah, sir, there's another wonderful fellow.'
' Who ? ' said I, imagining some genius of Stratford who
might contest the palm. ' Why,' said he, with more gra-
vity than ever, ' Why, John Cooper.' ' John Cooper I '
said I; 'Why what has he done?' 'Why, zur, I'll
tell 'ee ; ' and then laying his pipe down, and leaning on
his elbow, and looking right into my eyes under his old
weather-beaten, embrowned hat, ' I '11 tell 'ee. He's lived
ninety years in this here town, man and boy, and has
never had the tooth-ache, and never lost wan.' He then
took up his pipe, letting the smoke ooze from the sides
of his mouth instead of puffing it out horizontally, till it

ascended in curls of conscious victory to the ceiling of

o 4

200 MEU0tB9 OF B. R. HAYDON. [lB28.

the npartnieiit, wliile tiiy companion leaned back his head
and crossed his legs with an air of superior intelligence,
as if this conversation must now conclude. We were no
longer on a level.

" I spoke not another word: retired to my inn, the Red
Horse ; took another sequestered sigh at the grave, another
peep at the house, got into the garden where the mulberry
tree grew, heard the clock strike which Shakespeare had
often heard, and getting into a Shrewsbury stage at nine
the next uiorning, was buried in London smoke and
London anxieties before nine at night.

" Hail and farewell ! Not the Loggie of Raffaele, or
the Chapel of Michel Angelo, will ever give me such
native, unadulterated raiiture as thy silver stream, em-
bosomed church, and enchanting meadow, immortal
Stratford!"

Soon after his return to town Haydon again saw Wilkie.
" Jul// 2i/h. — Called on Wilkie, and saw his ItaUan
pictures, and was much pleased, Wilkie is getting better,
and as he finds I am rising again he was not so cold.
Parts of Washing the Pilgrims' Feet were beautiful. His
two studies of the Sybils from Michel Angelo were
beautiful, but of course his want of knowledge made the
drawing deficient.

" Every feeling and theory of Wilkie centres in self.
His theory now is no detail, because he finds detail too
great an effort for his health. He said, ' When you and
I began the art we found everything splash and dash.
We sot about reforming it, and we did reform it.' I was
astonished at the liberality of this acknowledgment,

" The King, with his usual benevolence, has bought two
of his pictures. I was glad to see Wilkie recovering. We
both talked of our excessive misfortunes; of Sir Walter's
misfortunes, and remarked if we all got through, how
useful they will have been to the whole of us.

.' 27M.— Wilkie called. He said I had no idea of Fra
Burtolomeo. He said some good things and some weak
things, as usual. He said he always stopped when ha

IL_.

r

1828.] WILKIE : CHAIRING THE MEIIBEE FINISHED. 201

found a difficulty, and never painted anything but what
was perfectly easy. This was entirely on account of his
health, and because his health was weak, he laid down as
an axiom in art, that when you come to a difficulty you
should stop. A pretty doctrine to teach a pupil! He
said (which was good) ' that behind any object of interest
there should be repose, and a flat shadow.' I gave him a
catalogue, and he said he must get it read to him, for he
had not strength to read it. He looked gaunt and feeble.
God knows what to make of Wilkie's health.

" But I was happy to see him. The many early and
pleasant associations I have connected with Wilkie always
must make him interesting to me. His selfishness and
Scotch individuality have chilled, without destroying, my
regard,"

By close and hard work Ha3'don, by the end of July,
had finished his picture of Chairing the Member.

" July 30th. — Hard at work and finished the soldiers.
It is done, and God be praised that I have accomplished
this work in precisely the same time as the last, and that
I have been blessed with health and competence and
happiness.

" Slsi.— The Duke of Bedford called; he was infirm.
He said, ' I suppose the King will have this to complete
the suite.' 1 wish lie may. He admired it exceedingly ;
but it is a satire touching so nearly on depravity that
nobody but a king could sanction it. I passed the day
before my picture contemplating improvements, and with
my dear friend Miss Mitford. I prayed gratefully and
sincerely ; and have been quiet, serene, and contented."

The point was now the exhibition of the picture. Where
was the money to be found for a frame and for adver-
tising? " I wrote to two or three friends," he says, — " I
hope successfully. Till 1 am out of debt, I shall be
still obliged to pester ray friends occasionally." His ap-
plication, in one quarter at least, was successful. Joseph
Strutt, of Derby, was ready again in this emergency. It
is hut one instance of assistance so given by this benevo-

202 MEMOIUS OH' U. R. HAVDON. [183S.

lent man, oat of many of which records are preserved in
the journala of Haydon, and in all, the manner of con-
ferring the aid is as noble aa the aid itself is munificent

The exhibition opened, (at the Western Bazaar in
Bond Street) and was moderately successful. Besides the
new picture, it included Solomon, Christ's Entry into
Jerusalem, and ihe drawings for the two prison pictures.
The Mock Election was not there, as it had before this
been removed to Windsor. From many letters of con-
gratulation I select this from Charles Lamb. The half-
profane half-rcvorent allusion towards the end of it seems
intended as a hint that it was questionable taste to intro-
duce into the same exhibition of a single painter's works
subjects of broad humour and of religious solemnity ;
and the motive of this hint, to my mind, excuses the
manner of it.

" Dear Hay don,
" I have been tardy in telling you that your Oiairing the
Member gave me great pleasure — 'tia true broad Hogarlhian
fun, the High Sheriff capitah Considering, too, that you had
the materials imposed upon you, and that you did not select
tbem fram the rude world as U. diJ, I hope to see many more
Huoh from your hand. If the former picture went beyond thia
I have had a loss, and the King a bargain. I longed to rub
the back of my hand acroBS tlie hearty canvas that two senses
might be gratified. Perhaps the subject is a little discordantly
placed opposite to another act of Chairing, where the huzzaa
were Hosannahs ! but I was pleased to see so many of my old
acquaintances brought together notwithstanding.

" Believe me, yours truly,

" C. Laub."

The Chairing of the Member being at length off the
easel, Eucles was fairly begun. Here is the painter's own
description of that picture, (which was exhibited next
year iu an unfinished state,) introduced here to render
more intelligible subsequent references to it while in
Apr ogress.

1828.] THE SUBJECT OF EUCLES. 203

" Eucles was a Greek soldier, who ran from Marathon to
Athens, as soon as tlie victory over the Persians was decided,
and died from fatigue and wounds just as he entered the city.

*^ It is supposed (in the manner of treating the subject) that
after Eucles had announced the victory to the primates, he ran
bleeding and exhausted to his own home, and dropped just as
he reached it.

** His wife and children are rushing out to welcome him,
not knowing his condition : a man is springing from a step to
catch him as he drops, a woman is hiding her face, and her
daughter clinging to her, while a man on horseback is huzzaing
to those behind.

" In the background is the Acropolis ; with the Propy-
Iseum, the Parthenon, and the statue of Minerva Promachus.

" It is wished to express in the figure of Eucles, the condi-
tion of a hero, fresh from a great battle — his crest torn — his
helmet cleft intone greave lost — and the other loose — all
military array disorganised, and the whole figure announcing
struggle, triumph, and approaching death !

" Every caution, criticism, and remark are courted. The
intention, expression, composition, and action are as they are
meant to be ; the colour alone is unfinished, and not a subject
for criticism. To show a picture in this state is an experi-
ment, but it is to let the subscribers see it is advancing, and
that it will soon be done.

^^ As remarks have been made, in consequence of this pic-
ture not being finished before the Mock Election, Mr. Haydon
begs to say, he had leave of the principal subscribers to paint
the Election first.**

During the later months of 1828, Haydon was actively
engaged in writing on the old subject — public patron-
age for art — to influential members both of the Lords
and Commons. The Duke of Wellington being now at
the head of afiairs, Haydon addressed himself to him, as
he had done to Mr. Robinson, Mr. Vansittart and Mr.
Canning, but with no better eflTect.

'« December ISth. — I wrote the Duke, begging his
leave to dedicate a pamphlet to him, on the causes which
have obstructed the advance of high art in England for
the last seventy years.

201 UEM0IK8 OF B. R. nATDON. D828.

" Here is bis answer in his own immortal hand.

" ' London, 12th December, 1828.

" The Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr.
Haydon, and has lo flckuowledge the receipt of hia letter.

" The Duke has long found himself under the necessity of
declining to give his formal permission that any work what-
ever should be dedicated to him.

" The Duke regrets much, therefore, that he cannot comply
with Mr. Ilaydon'a desire."

Nothing daunted, Haydon returns to the charge.

" December ^Ut. — Wrote the Duke and stated the
leading points of a system of public encouragement. God
in heaven grant I may interest him. Ah, if I do 1

On the 23rd came the prompt and decisive answer.

" The Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr,
Haydon, and will readily peruse and attend to his work, but he
is much concerned again to repeat that he must decline to give
permission that any work should be dedicated to hira,"

On the 35th, Haydon again wrote, and thus recapitu-
lates the points of his letter.

" According to the Duke's permission I sent him the leading
points, 1 pointed out how a practical plan could be immediately
put in force by adorning the Admiralty, Cliel:iea Hospital,
House of Lords, &c. I said I have been asked by membera of
both Houses what practical plan I could propose. Encouraged
by such a question I have replied, let the great room at the Ad-
miralty and Chelsea Hospital be adorned with the leading pointa
of naval and military glory, and the House of Lords with four
subjects to illustrate the beat government, the first showing
Horror of Democracy (Banishment of Aristides), the second,
Horror of Despotism (Burning of Rome by Nero), the third,
Blessings of Law (Alfred establishing Trial by Jury), and the
fourth, Limited Monarchy settled (the King returns crowned
to Westminster Hall, welcomed by the shouts of beauty and
rank).

" What finer accompaniment to the graceful magnificence of
His Majesty ?

1828.] CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE DUKE. 205

" Between each, portraits of the great, Alfred, Bacon, Nel-
son, Wellington, &c., and all those who established our great-
ness/'

" I concluded a strong letter by pointing out all the causes
of the failure of historical painting, in the preponderance
portrait got at the Reformation ; and the remedy, the
patronage of the state and the Sovereign. I finished by
saying, * Encumbered by laurel as the Duke is, there is
yet a wreath that would not be the least illustrious of his
crown.'

" As this was an extract and not addressed to him, I
apologised for the allusion.

** But I suspect the Duke is innately modest : he was not
pleased, and sent the following cold ofiicial reply, so dif-
ferent from his other letters.

" The Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr.
Haydon, and begs leave to acknowledge the receipt of his letter
of the 25th inst.

« * London, Dec. 26. 1828."

" I know his character. I questioned the policy of say-
ing it, but still, after my explanation, I trusted he would
have understood the nature of my mind, and my eager
enthusiasm.

" At any rate the truth has gone unto him, and though
he may be angry with my obliging him to see it, he can't
forget it. I have put him in possession of the ground.
Time will develope all."

On the last day of the year a purchaser * was found
for the Chairing at 300/., '' 2251. less than its worth,"
says Haydon, but the oflTer was accepted from sheer
necessity. The net receipts from these two pictures,
including the produce of the exhibition and the sale of
drawings, amounted to 1,396/., a sum, as he observes,
which in better circumstances and with less expense would
have been a comfortable independence for the year.

♦ Mr. Francis, a country gentleman, living near Exeter.

WEMOIKS OP B, E. DATDON.

1829.

Cl8S9. V

H

The first month of this year ushered into tlie wortc
pamphlet, in which Haydon set out for the public the
same reasons which he had so long been vainly urging on
ministers, in favour of the public employment of artists.
The best disposed of hia friendly critics agreed that,
admitting the truth of his reasoninff, it was hopeless to
expect any realisation of what he asked for. The Duke
of Wellington, with his usual punctuality, acknowledged,
with his own hand, the receipt of the pamphlet, immersed
as he was, at the moment, in the growing difficulties of
the Catholic question, which now agitated the country
and engrossed the Cabinet.

Haydon remarks on this striking proof of disciplined
attention at such a moment, " What an extraordinary
man Wellington is. The day I sent my letter his bead
must have been full, morning, noon, and night. Par-
liament opens on Thursday. The Catholic question was
coming on. The Spitalfields weavers came in processioa
with a petition. There was a Council till six. The day
before he was at Windsor. In addition to all this, con-
sider the hundreds of letters, and petitions, and immediate
duties, and yet he found lime to answer himself my re-
quest, with as much caution and presence of mind, as if
lounging in his drawing-room with nothing else to do."

On the 30th he wrote the Duke " to ask with all the
respect due to his illustrious character," whether if his
plan for the encouragement of historical painting by a
grant of a moderate sum of money was brought forward
in the House of Commons, it would meet with any
obstacle on the part of His Grace, or whether if Hia
Grace should be favourably disposed towards his prostrate
style of art, he would rather that any plan of that nature
should emanate entirely from himself?

His Grace's opinion (Haydon assured him) would be
held sacred by him, and he concluded with every apology
for hia presumption.

IS29.] CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE DUKE. 207

The Duke replied : —

" The Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr.
Haydon, and has had the honour of receiving his letters.

" The Duke begs leave to reserve his opinion upon the en-
couragement proposed to be given to historical painting, until
he will see the practical plan for such encouragement.'*

On this Haydon at once submitted his practical plan : —

" 7th February, 1829.

" May it please your Grace,

" I beg respectfully to express my deep sensibility of the high
honour conferred by your Grace's reply, viz., that you reserved
your opinion till you saw the practical plan to be proposed.
May it please your Grace, it must be admitted that historical
painting has never flourished in England as in Italy or France,
solely because it has never been patronised by the State in this
country.

" It will therefore be proposed (not without the sanction of
your Grace), that 4000/, be granted every two years for six
years for the employment of historical painters ; and if, at the
end of that period, the works produced justify the liberality of
the grant,

" That the 4000/. shall be continued annually for ten years
more, to be renewed every ten years, or abolished at the end of
the first ten years, according to the success or failure of the
system pursued.

" It will be proposed that a Committee of the House, as in
the case of the Elgin Marbles, be selected to examine the most
eminent artists as to the best method of disposing of the money
to be distributed, the plan to be regulated according to the re-
port made.

" May it please your Grace,

" The above is the plan to be proposed, provided your Grace
approves of it being brought into the House, but if your Grace
should say 4000/. shall be laid aside to try the effect of com-
missions from the State as in France, and should condescend to
ask me, as an individual, for my opinion as to an immediate
practical plan, I should presume, encouraged by such a distinc-
tion, to say the best and most effectual plan would be at once

208 MEMOmS OF B. B. nAYDON. [lB99.

to give four commissions to four of the most established artists
to piuDt four pictures on an important scak, size of life, viz,,

One military - - for Chelsea Hospital.

One naval - - for great room Admiralty,

One sacred - - for an altar-piece.

One civil - - for hall of justice.

" May it please your Grace,
" I have received a letter from a distinguished member of
the House of Commons wiihin this week, saying historical
painting will never flourish in England, but from grants of
public money aa in France, where the effect of such a Bjrstem
is visible, a large school of history being solely supported by

" I humbly and respectfully hope that the sum proposed will .
be considered by your Grace as so moderate as not (if per-
mitted) to interfere with the system of rigid economy deter-
mined on by Hia Majesty's Government, and that aa the condi-
tion of historical painting is prostrate, and that it will decay
and be extinct without the system pursued in other countries
where it has flourished be odopted, that your Grace will be
pleased to add to the other glories of your ministry, the glory
of establishing a system of national aid to the aria in the
highest style.

" Anxiously awaiting your Grace's reply as my sole guide,
" Ever your Grace's humble servant and
" Ardent admirer,

" B. R. Hatdon."

which eager appeal was met by this brief and conclusive
answer : —

" The Duke of Wellington presents hia compliments to Mp.
Haydon, and has had the honour of receiving hia letter.

" The Duke must again beg leave to decline to give an
answer until the plan shall be brought regularly before him.

" TJie Duke must, however, in the first instance, object to the
grant of any public money for the object."

This left no opening for further correspondence, even
to Haydon's pertinacity, and he applied for advice to
Mr. George Agar Ellis.

' February ^^Ih. — Saw Mr. Agar Ellis by appoint-*

1B2B.] EFFORTS WITH THE DUKE, 209

ment, anil told him all that had passed between the Duke
and myself. Asked him if I had any chance by laying the
plan regularly before him through the secretaries. He
said, ' Not in the least : that last year the Directors of the
Gallery applied to Government for 3000/., offering 3000Z.
of their own money, for a piece of ground to extend the
National Gallery. Lord Wellington would not listen to
it. And when he granted the Museum some money he
told the trustees that next year they must go without.'

" Mr, Agar Ellis said he would be on the alert, and put
in a word occasionaHy whenever an opportunity occurred,
but he gave nae no hope whatever at present. He begged
me to continue my pamphlets every year, and whenever
he s'Sw a prospect he would make the motion requisite,
but unless sanctioned by Government it would be im-
possible to carry it, because there is a strong party in the
House against it, which if backed by Government would
be quite irresistible. Well. The King is my only hope
now; and perhaps he is afraid of the Duke, as everybody
appears to be. I cannot help expressing my astonishment
at the masterly manner in which the Duke has managed
Peel. If he had let him resign, he would have been head
of the opposition to emancipation, and safe to have been
minister. By persuading him to stay he has ruined the
only chance he ever had of being formidable. All my
predictions about Wellington are daily coming true.
He will rescue the country, double its power, and leave
it with its revenue flourishing, feared, respected, and
wondered at."

July S^nd, — This matter settled, Haydon now re-
newed his intercourse with Wilkie. " Had a very pleasant
two hours indeed with Wilkie looking over his Spanish
pictures, and had one of our usual discussions about art.
The worst of it is one never can find out Wilkie's genuine
opinion upon art. He is always influenced by his im-
mediate interests, or convenience, whatever that may be.
Now it is all Spanish and Italian art. He thinks notliing
of his early and beautiful efforts — his Rent Day, his

TOL, II. P

210 MEMOIRS OF B. R. HATDON. [1829.

Fiddler, hi* Politicians. ' They are not carried far enough,'
as if anything on earth, in point of expression and story,
was ever carried further.

" We then of course got on the old subject — my writ-
ing. Wilkie said, ' It is not the most conducive to a man's
interests to he too right.' (I thought this a good touch.)
' It is rather better,' said he, ' to let others imagine they
are right, and you wrong, if you want to gel on in the
world.*

" When an opinion of Wilkie's cannot be traced to any
personal consideration, it may be listened to with safety.
In composition he is perfectly infallible.

" Italian art is to him quite new, and he comes out to
Ilia own astonishment with notions and principles which,
to those who began, as I did, with Italian art, are quite a
settled and old story. At the same time there is great
liberality in Wiikie, for he keeps nothing to himself, and,
right or wrong, always communicates bis thoughts to
others.

" 25th. — Wilkie called, and we had again a long and en-
tertaining conversation. He said when he came to Madrid,
of course English art had never been heard of. He had a
character to make. He began his Council of War, which
the King had bought. The artists called and could make
nothing of his system of art. At last, as it began to be
completed, they began to be interested, and old Gomez
{Ferdinand's painter) said to a friend of Wilkie's, ' Depend
on it the English don't know who they have got in Signior
Vix.' He never could pronounce Wilkie's name.

" Wilkie strenuously advised me to get to Italy, family
and alh One can't depend on his siucerity. T have got a
character, and made a hit in satire ; got ground in a style
which he finds he cannot touch without being considered
an imitator. God knows, — he may be sincere. Would
to God men had lanterns in their breasts, as Socrates said.
By staying so long abroad he has lost ground, I am con-
vinced; and I am also convinced if I went now I should
break up an interest I could never effectually

1B29.] HIS FEELINGS TOWARDS IVILKIE. 211

" By dunning all classes about my misfortunes, I have
got all classes to lament that my style of art js not more
supported ; this is a step. If I go away and break off,
the sympathy will be dissipated.

" March 1st. — Spent an hour with Wilkie very de-
lightfully. Since his return from Italy he seems tending
to me very much. We got mutually kind to-day, and
mutually explained. The only quarrel we ever had was
about that arrest. I was too severe and he too timid.
We ought to have made mutual allowance for our re-
spective peculiarities. He had been my old friend. He
had dined with me the night before. We had drank suc-
cess to my marriage. We parted mutually friendly. The
next morning I was arrested by a printer, to whom I had
paid 120/. that year, for the balance of 60/, It was the
second time in my life. The bailiff said, ' Have you no
friend, sir?' 'Certainly,' said I, and at once drove to
Wilkie's. Where ought I to have driven ? Whom ought
I to have thought of? ' I thought it would come to this,'
said Wilkie, and after a great deal of very bad behaviour
lie became my bail. When roused I am like a furious bard
of ancient days. I poured forth such a dreadful torrent
of sarcasm and truth that I shook him to death. Wilkie
told me to-day it sank deep into his mind, and never left
him for months. His journey to Italy has opened his
mind to the value and importance of my views of art. I
see he thinks higher of me than ever. We agreed to-day
never to allude to our unfortunate quarrel, with a mutual
desire of continuing our friendship, and I hope it is
buried for ever. I should hope it is,

" His temperament is different; but my sister told me
she was convinced he had more regard for me than any
other person. He was affected to-day, and so was I. I
hope we shall end our lives as we began them.

" We both talked of Sir George, and of the happy days

e had passed with him, and bitterly lamented him,
" ' Real art is that which savages feel as well us the

1

212

MEMOIRS OF B, B. HAYDON.

[18

refined,' said Wilbie. ' Of course,' said I, ' and the
greatest artists are tliose whose fame does not depend on
teclinicalities, but on intellect and expression. These
form a universal language.'

" He speaka very highly of Fra Bartolomeo, Michel
Angelo, and Titian. I do not think Raffaele impressed
him so mucli. He is quite altered in his views of art, and
has got a large canvas up, to my infinite delight.

" When I remember the rows we used to have about
my painting large, and to hear him now say, ' Ah, — dear,

— dear, — I wish my pictures were larger,' it is impossible
to help laughing. That is all I fear.

" Wilkie's mind is a mind of extreme simplicity. For
eight years I battled him about his painting to please the
Academicians. He now says they nearly ruined him. In
fact, he finds I am right in attacking the whole system of
British art. What I did publicly, he is now doing pri-
vately. He argued with me that there was not a man
who can colour in the art except Jackson, and He only
occasionally.

" Wilkie said if Lawrence did not paint portraits he
would not get a subsistence. I agreed with him. What
a thing the King's portrait was ! We both agreed. Good
God ! what drawing — perspective — composition! What
will foreign artists think ? Was there ever such a thing
painted ? The head is the only part my eye can bear.

" I never saw any man so ignorant of perspective and
composition as Lawrence. He never puts his feet at the
right angle.

" Wilkie wished me to tiy subjects of more simplicity,
I think he is right. He said, ' Why paint subjects of
humour ? ' ' Ah, my friend, these I have started up in since
you were abroad ! ' I may say to him, ' Why paint
subjects of history ?' He said, ' You belong to a certain
class of art, and you ought to keep there.' No! — no!

— I will carry the principles of a higher class into satire,
and, as Lord Gower said, ' I'll found a new one.'

" Master David, I think I scent the old human nature.

r

9.] WJLKIE : POLITICAL DISTRACTIONS. 213

But with all thy faults I like tiiee still, and can nowhere
find thy equal.

" I believe you think so of me, and the best way is
to forget, and make the remainder of our lives as happy
as possible ; for twenty years will make such a vast
advance towards the grave, and then there will be no time
to forget grievances.

" We have known each other twenty-four years —
since 1805 — the finest time of our lives. Now comes
the mature part, and then the decaying, God grant we
may yet add to our reputation.

" More want of prints. I have little continental reputa-
tion ; but I will have. And if they cried per Baccho for
"Wilkie in Rome, they shall cry per Giove for me, they
may depend on it — when I come."

On the 6th of March Haydon had another child bom
to him, — a daughter, — brought into the world amidst
the excitement of Catholic emancipation and the distresses
of her strugghng and combative father, who could not
be brought to comprehend the indifference with whicli
the great bulk of the Cabinet, the Legislature, and the
public viewed the whole subject of art.

" ' When the country is quiet,' he writes (March 20th),
' something will be done for art.' When the country is
quiet 1 When wilt that be? Was Florence ever quiet?
Was Rome, or Pisa, or Venice, or Athens ? No. Nothing
but turbulence and struggle in them, and yet the arts
advanced and flourished."

With all his devotion to hia pencil, Haydon took a
keen interest in the politics of the day, and wrote many
letters to the newspapers in favour of Catholic emanci-
pation, strenuously urging trust in Wellington. Nay, he
even wrote to the Duke a letter of sympathy and respect-
ful encouragement, which the Duke acknowledges with his
usual promptness. But besides the distraction of public
events, Haydon was harassed at tliis time by the conduct
of the purchaser of his last picture — a young man, who
after buying it became alarmed at his rash act, and it was

214 MEMOIBS OF B. E. nATDOJf, [1829.

not till the painter was on the brink of avrest, (from which
indeed he was only saved by hia friend Dr. Darling),
that he got the price of the picture, 300/., half in money
and half in bills. This saved him from a prison, and he
began his picture of Punch.

"April \5tk.- — Finished one cursed portrait — have
only one more to touch, and then I shall be free. I have
an exquisite gratification in painting portraits wretchedly.
I love to see the sitters look as if they thought, can this
be Haydon's — the great Hay don's— painting ? I chuckle.
I am rascal enougli to take their money, and chuckle more.
When a man says, ' Paint me a historical picture,' my
heart swells towards him. All my powers rush forth.
He seems at once to have turned the key to my cabinet of
invention, for I teem instantly with thoughts. Yesterday
when I rubbed in Punch, my thoughts crowded with de-
light. My children's noise iiurt my brain. At such
moments no silence is great enough, but I am never let
alone. Good God ! what I should have produced had I
been let loose in a great palace, and saved from distracting
embarrassments.

" IGth. — Rubbed in Punch. It should rather be called
Life.

" May 2nd. — Began to-day, — worked and completed
all my portraits. Now to imagination with ali my heart
and all my soul. Sir George Phillips called, and on look-
ing at my portraits and small Eucles, said, ' Ah, you are in
the right way now ! ' i. e., I have come down to what artists
and connoisseurs think so. God help them ! Give me
the dome of St. Paul's, and they should see which I think
the right one.

" Srd, — Called on Wilkie, who was at the levee on
Friday. On the whole he seemed pleased with the effect
of his pictures at the Academy. Wilkie's face expressed
great feeling when I wished him good morning.

" nil. — At the Exhibition, Wilkie's portrait of Lord
Kellie looked dark in flesh, but broad and wonderfully
fine in effect. I agree with Seguier. He spoilt it by the

1839.] MODERN ART AND ANCIENT. 215

caution he put it in with. His other Italian and Spanish
pictures have not made t!ie impression he imagined. In-
deed they are in so altered a style tlie public cannot
make them out. The woman in the Saragossa is not beau-
tiful. I am not pleased they do not look better.

" It is no use to affect what I do not feel. I have little
or no sympathy with the modems. The communion I
feel is with Titian, with Rubens, with Veronese for ex-
ecution and colour, with Raffaele and Michel Angelo,
and the Elgin Marbles for form and expression, and with
nature for all these, with the addition of humour, and
fun and satire. I see nothing in modem exhibitions
from which I can learn, and which I can look at with that
delight and confidence I feel before an ancient work.
It is not from conceit, for I reverence my superiors; but
there is in English art an inherent ignorance of the frame
and stmcture — a vulgar ruddiness of colour — an ignorance
of harmony of action as well as its contrasts — a lack of
repose that leaves the mind in a state of excitement and
fatigue, till one hurries away to a Titian or a Claude for
relief and consolation, as one looks out of a heated ball-
roona at day-break and listens to the lark, and scents the
cool freshness of the dewy grass, and forgets the passions,
disgusts, heats, fatigues, and frivolities within, in the
peace and heavenly repose of renewing nature. And yet
what vast, mistaken, illiterate power is in an English
exhibition, struggling like an untaught giant to give vent
to his ideas in a language be does not scientifically know.

" But why say all this ? Why not keep my mind fixed,
and in blessed quiet do my best without interfering with
others ? This is the best way, and the only way. Paint —
paint — paint !

"6th and 7th. — Went early to the Exhibition, and
fell in accidentally with Lady Beaumont and Mrs. Phipps.
Wilkie's portrait does not preponderate, as I thought it
would ; and except the Cigar picture, the Spanish pictures
do not support his reputation. The Cigar picture is a
beautiful thing, and the best

216 ICEVOIBS OF B. E. HATDOS. [iSM.

« Called on W- , who was half-distant, half-dis-

torbed. He told me I^wrence addressed the Duke at
tlie dinner, and appealed to bim for aid to build an
academy. The DuLe rubbed his face with his hand.

" Here was Lawrence owing the Duke 2000/. nearly,
which be had advanced him for a large picture of all his
general officers in Spain, and which be had never touched,
— to the Duke's great anger, who expresses himself every-
where very strongly,— here was Lawrence addressing the
Duke, both be and the Duke feeling conscious of their
private relation, and Lawrence the merest tool of the
Academicians, who bad set bim on. It is pitiable! I
never saw any man who has so subdued a look as Law-
rence, as if he was worried out of his senses.

" 18/A. — Spent the day at the British Museum in
ecstasy. How the Elgin Marbles looked after a long time !
I bowed bareheaded as I entered, as I always do.

" Sketched from the Capitoline, Clementine, and Flo-
rentine Museums. How thoroughly the ancients under-
stood form, and motion, and grace! Nothing they ever
did was ungraceful,

" 10/A. — Read prayers at home — felt bitter remorse
of conscience at my late neglect. It is extraordinary
infatuation. I go on, day after day, like Johnson, in
hypochondria, looking for hours at my picture, without
the power to do one single thing. With my family it is
dreadful. I am so often thrown off my balance by pe-
cuniary difficulty, that it is a perpetual struggle to get on
the road again. And yet the only chance I have of getting
out of difficulty is by bard work, and now my health is so
much recovered, I ought not thus to dissipate the fine
maturity of my life. Ten days are gone in May ; all
April and all January [ did nothing: oh, it is disgraceful !
O God, assist me to vanquish this bitter delinquency of
infatuation. If I had read, if I had increased my know-
ledge, it would be well. But to have done nothing, but
sic, and muse, and build castles, till I awoke and mused
again ! I can hardly read without sleeping. Nothing

1

i

1829.] THE OLD AND NEW IN PORTRAIT-FAINTING. 217

keeps me alive but painting, and that I think of at this
moment with disgust. Strange creature, man t

" II Ih. — Went first to the National Gallery, and
studied well the Gevartius, the Titian, the Sebastiano.
Then walked to the Royal Academy on purpose to com-
pare modem with ancient art. Wilkie's portrait of Lord
KcUie looked blackish and broad. Clint's Lord Spencer
made the flesh suffer. Tliis portrait has raised my opinion
of Clint very much indeed ; the bead is exceedingly fine.
Wilkie's portrait looks like a common person iu a lord's
dress ; Clint's like a nobleman of literature and taste,
dressed as be ought to be. There is something in the
eminent portrait-painters, from tbeir daily and perpetual
intercourse with nature, that painters of history can
always look at with advantage and learn from, I am
astonished at this portrait of Clint's, for whom I had once
a great contempt. Pickersgill and Clint are instances of
what hard work and diligence will accomplish, without
one atom of invention or genius.

" 12iA.— Partly breakfasted wdtb Wilkie, and spent two
hours pleasantly. The King sitting to him, his being
at the levee, and altogether his intercourse at Court
have afi'ected him, though not much, I dare say he will
be Sir David if he succeed with the King. He advised
me to be patient. God knows I need it. The more one
reflects on Christianity, the more one is convinced Christ's
advice is the best guide,

" 14(A. — Worked hardish, and all my depression va-
nished. I have lost hope for history, and this is a great
hindrance,

" \Tth, — Worked deliciously hard; felt light, happy,
and invincible. Walked in the evening with Talfourd,
Read prayers with dear Frank, and slept tranquilly, as if
angels were fanning me with their wings. Ah, could I
always feel so !

" Sucxieeded in the head of the mother of Eucles.
Talfourd said, before I asked, ' What a distracted and
anxious beauty,' — the very thing I tried for.

218 MEMOIRS OF B. E. nATDON. [1829.

" 18(A. — Made a drawing, but felt feeble in mind, and
lazy in body. Called at the Admiralty, and saw Mr.
Riley, who gave me hopes of placing my boy • in a ship.
I hope he will distinguish himself. One of the critics on
Pharaoh f said, ' [he Oueen and all the family were too
much dressed for the time of night.' I had a great mind
to write, and say ' I had authority for stating that Pharaoh
and the royal family were too anxious that night to take
off their clothes ; and that there is every reason to infer
from a passage in Sanconiathon, Lib. Mccccccxix, chap.
MMMii., that the ladies of the family came out of their
apartments in their tunics only, the elder sister with only
one sandal and one ear-ring, and that Pharaoh had his
night-cap on when he first got up ; but being reminded
by the eunuch in waiting, took it off, and put on his

" What criticism ! If there was time to send for Moses
and Aaron, surely there was time to dress at least
decently.

"9S.nd. — At West's sale. I took Frank, and asked him
how he liked the Christ in Christ rejected, and he said
it was common. He is six years old, and this is a capital
evidence of feeling and taste. Nothing on earth could be

" When first I came to town. West was in the vigour
of his life — tall and upright. He then sunk down, lost
his teeth, and died. His works, and house, and all are
selling ; and shortly not a vestige of his house and gallery
will be left.

" Sketched in a print-shop. Saw a print of Correggio,
which enchanted me. Beauty should predominate in
everything — form, expression, colour, light and shadow,
drawing and drapery. Beauty in means and pleasure
in effect should be the principle. Did not paint.

" 23rd, — Exceedingly bard at work, but after working
eight hours, was obliged to undress my lay figure and

• His second atep-aon, Simon Hyman. — Ed.
t Then exhibiting.

1

1B39.] west's PICTUEES: PUNCH, 219

take her out to raise three pounds for my fumily. Some-
thing might be done to prevent this disgrace.

"25th. — Hardish at work— four hours. Went to the
last daj ofWest's sale. Studied his work. Titian took
eight years to paint tlie Peter Martyr. West would have
painted eight hundred in the time.

" In drawing and form his style was beggarly, skinny
and mean. His light and shadow was scattered) his
colour brick dust, his impression unsympathetical, and his
women without beauty or heart.

" There was not one single picture of a quality to de-
light the taste, the imagination, or the heart. -

"The block-machine at Portsmouth could be taught to
paint as well.

" His Venuses looked as if they never had been naked
before, and were too cold to be impassioned — bis Ado-
nises dolts — his Cupids blocks — uiiamorous. As I left
the room, I went into the dining parlour, and saw two de-
licious sketches of Rubens. My heart jumped."

In July, Haydon set heartily to work on his picture of
Punch, and was occupied with it continuously (with the
interval of a visit to Plymouth, to vote for his friend.
Captain Lockyer) till its completion in November. The
picture is now in the possession of his old and tried friend.
Dr. Darling. Its character is Hogarthian — ^a humorous
satire on life. The scene is near Marylebone Church.
In the left hand corner of the picture is Mr, Punch's
theatre, with the performance in progress; in front of it,
a simple old farmer, hat in hand, and dog at heel, is
gazing with delight at that admirable tragi-comedy, un-
conscious that a pickpocket's hand is upon his pocket-
book, while a flashily-dressed confederate holds the victim
in talk ; near the farmer, a soldier and sailor, a nurse-maid
with a child, and a street-sweeper are looking on in de-
light ; a revel of May-day sweeps, with Jack-in-the-green
and his lady, is in full caper in the right-hand corner of
the composition, while behind the knot of spectators, a
Bow Street officer, truncheoa in hand, is stealing ferret-

220 MEMOIRS OF B, R. HATDON. [1829.

like upon the pickpocket. The extreme left of the
composition is occupied by a charming figure — an orange-
girl sleeping by her stall. A carriage, with a newly mar-
ried pair, is driving past the show^ — in the middle distance
a hearse issues out of a cross-street. Just beyond Mr.
Punch's theatre, a tub-preacher is energetically holding
forth, and in the background is an Italian image-boy,
with casts of the Theseus and Ilissus on his board, ne-
glected for the more potent attractions of Punch.

The picture is remarkable for the force and truth of
expression in the heads throughout, and the execution of
much of it, particularly the old farmer and his dog, and
the sleeping girl, leaves nothing to be desired. The
canvas is about 8 feet by 6, and the figures of course
leas than life size. Wilkie esteemed the picture very
highly. Dr. Darling mentions, in a letter now before me,
that he saw Sir David, " no mean judge and not over-
much given to praise," when this picture was exhibited,
pass his hand over the left-hand portion, exclaiming, " how
fine, how very fine, that part isl" adding, " if that pic-
ture were in Italy, you would see it surrounded by stu-
dents from all parts of Europe engaged in copying it."
The picture altogether impresses me with a high opinion
of the painter's power of conceiving and delineating
character. The old farmer, especially, in dress, attitude,
and character at all points, would do credit to either
Hogarth or Wilkie himself, though it may be doubted if
either could have equalled it on the same scale.

The fault of the picture is a little over-crowding, and a
consequent effect of sometliing like confusion in the lines
of the composition.

While this picture was in progress, Haydon saw Wilkie
from time to time — with something, indeed, like a re-
newal of their old intimacy.

July 30th, I find, " Called on Wilkie, who was finish-
ing Holyrood House picture for the King. This will be
a very curious picture. He began it before he went to
Italy, when detail and finieh were all in all to him. He

1829.] WILKIES CHANGE OP STYLE. 221

is finishing it now, when lie lias entirely changed liis
style. The Duke of Argyle, the King's head, the man
on horseback with the crown, are in his first stjlc : the
trumpeters, the dress of the Duke of Hamilton, the
woman, &c. in his last ; and the mixture is like oil and
water. He was pate and rather depressed. He has not
made the hit this season he imagined he should make. I
sat with him and his sister while they dined, and he had
evidently sunk down into an emaciated old hachelor.
There sat I, rosy, plump, and full of difiiculties, harass, and
trouble, with a large family, and a dear wife. I could
not help thinking in early life of our occasional conversa-
tions on marriage. ' When I marry,' Willde used to
say, ' it will be a matter of interest.' ' When I marry,'
I always said, ' it will be for love, and for nothing else.'
See the result. He has no household anxieties, no
domestic harass, no large family to bring up. But he has
no sweet affections, no tender sympathies. Would I
exchange my situation for David Wilkie's ? No, no. If
I had ten times the trouble, the anxiety, the harass, the
torture.

" August \st. — Moderately at work. Wilkie called
and we bad a long confab. We both lamented the death
of Sir George and Lady Beaumont. She has left the
Michel Angelo to the Academy.

" Wilkie liked the Eucles very much indeed. Now he
is glazing mad, he was advising me what to do, and I
told him to take the palette and do it. He then glazed
and muddled a head, just in the style he is doing now,
which looked rich and filthy, and I rubbed it out. I
cautioned him as to his disposition to manner and excess
from any new idea in his head, which he acknowledged.
His pictures are actually becoming black and wliite
patches, like Raeburn's. Wilkie laughed at Punch. We
thought it odd he should tumble into history, and I into
burlesque.

" 2/id. — Hard at work and finished the sailor, and
then advanced the whole picture.

1

222 MEUOiKS or b. e. uxtdos. [isas.

" Srd. — Moderately at work and advanced the effect
aud light and shadow. Wilkie was full of wax, and lord
knows what — restless thing the human mind. His first
picture will stand for ever, and so will mine, and now he
has almost tempted me to quack as well as himself, with
his wax and magylp, Solomon, Jerusalem, Lazarus,
Macbeth and Denlatus, are painted in pure oil — so are
the Fiddler, Politicians, Card-players, Chelsea Pensioners,
Village Wake ; in fact all his early works.

When I first began to paint I executed a head, glazing
over pure colour. Wilkie was pleased, and horrowed it.
He had then painted nearly all the Blind Fiddler, except
the right hand of the fiddler, which he immediately
hegan, leaving out yellow, and painting in white, red, and
blue purely, and glazing it into tone. Any painter will
see the difierence of colour and texture in the right hand
of the fiddler from all the other fiesh in the picture.

" 6th. — Harassed: fagged about in the heat and filth
of the town to arrange money-matters, and came home
exhausted: after some refreshment, my horseguardsman
being ready, I set to work heartily and finished him
before four, and a capital fellow he is in the picture.

" 7th. — Harassed still. A severe pain in the pit of
my stomach from sheer anxiety. Flew about the town
like an eagle. Got things settled. Talked to this man,
promised t'other, took a cab, and dashed home, and after
a lunch, which I devoured like a hungry tiger, I set to
work at my Punch, and vastly advanced it. Tlius so far
I have not missed a day. I'll try to go through the

month so if possible. I saw E L as I came home

lounging through Bond Street on a blood-horse, with a.
white hat, and all the airs of a man of fashion. There
was I, his instructor and master, trudging on with seven
children at my back, and no money.

" 8fA.— Worked hard till one o'clock : then sallied forth
to stop lawyers, and battle with creditors. The week is
over, and I have to thank God that in the mixture of good
and evil good has preponderated largely.

9.] LIVES OF THE PAINTERB. 223

r" I look for thorough rest to-morrow, hut I fear I must
not take it.
" 9tA, — I took rest and retired to the windmill heyond
Kilbuni, where I lounged on the grass, and read the firat
volume of Allan Cunningham's Lives of the Painters. I
am sorry to see cant rising which I will not demohsh till
it is more ripe, viz., a disdain for all education in art ; an
indifference to the great who are gone ; and a disposition
to trust all to the ' wild Academy of Nature.' Hogarth
is a specimen of the one ; Reynolds, Rubens, Titian,
Riiffaele and Michel Angelo of the otliers, Reynolds
has long settled the question, but Allan Cunningham,
a disciple of Chantrey's, who believes himself to be
nature's own high-priest, has laboured hard to revive this
exploded trash.

" His review in the Quarterly, and his Lives, shall
undergo an investigation as soon as I have time.

" ISih, — Finished the shepherd's dog, {the farmer's).
Met him by accident. 1 am remarkably fortunate in
models. I went out yesterday in a pet because a model
disappointed me. Just as I came into the New Road
down rushed a flock of sheep, and a most thorough-bred
sheep-dog. I hailed the drover, and engaged the dog
instanter, and to-day completed him. All my dissections
of the lion came into play immediately, the construction
being the same.

" 9.%nd. — 111 and fatigued, harassed, exhausted. Nature
will be paid back in repose what she has paid in labour.
Napoleon's plan was a good one, to counteract excessive
labour by excessive repose."

Much of the following criticism Still applies to the
Painted Hall at Greenwich.

" 24M. — Went to Greenwich, and spent the day with

my friend, one of the purchasers of Solomon. Saw the

gallery they are making. The plan originated with me.

Lord Farnborough had the meanness to decline my plan

■ for the Admiralty, and adopt it, without reference to me,

I at Greenwich.

224 U&MOIH3 OP n. R. nAYDON. [1829.

" Never was the ignorance of the power, the public
power of the art, shown so completely as in the arrange-
ment of the gallery. Instead of making history the
leading feature, adorned and assisted by leading portraits
of the great and illustrious only, it is a family collectioa
of portraits with names oue never heard of — men who
got commands through borough-mongeries, and did nothing
to deserve distinction, then or now. Kanged along at the
bottom are a few paltry attempts at incidents of naval
history, cabinet sizL', as if to bring the higher walks of art
into actual contempt No figure in such a gallery ought
to be less than life at least, and as to subjects, let them
be chosen to illustrate the actors, and not the actors to be
buried in the scenes and shipping.

" Lord Farnborough and Mr. Croker have got unlimited.
power to adorn this hall, and now they have the op-
portunity we see the extent of their notions of the
capability of painting. All they have done is to unlock
the garrets of old families who have had a Dick or Jack
in the navy, who once in their lifetime burnt a Terror
bomb or drove off a pirate from a convoy.

" Instead of arranging the whole hall with reference to
one general idea, the glory of the British Navy, their
principal object has been to oblige my lord by hanging up
some fusty old portrait of my lord's great grandl'ather.
In fact, they have reversed the order of the art, and if
they had wished to degrade history, they could not have
done it more successfully than by their present plans,"

The old hankering after the pen instead of the pencil
still occasionally crossed Haydon's mind ; but experience
had taught a lesson even to him.

" September \Qth. — I saw a pompous announcement
in The Times which excited me dreadfully to be at it.
I got up; set my palette, my imagination teeming with
thoughts of sarcasm and humour, I took up my. pen j
laid down my brush, stopped, thought, and inwardly
said, ' The wit, though irresistible, will be temporary ; the
injury lasting ; paint — paint.' After a struggle I conquered

1

1929.] ELECTIONEEHIKO : CAMPAIGMINQ. 223

mj evil genius, and finished the best hand I ever painted,
except the Christ's in the Lazarus.

" \lth. — The safest principle through life, instead of
reforming others, is to set about perfecting yourself. I
triumphed yesterday over my evil passions, and this
thought was the result."

In September Haydon was at Plymouth, as passionately
absorbed (he confesses with shame) in the bustle and
strife of a borough-election, as if electioneering had been
his business instead of painting. This inteiTal of varied
activity, however, improved his health (which during the
whole of this year had been suffering from the harass of
perpetual money difficulties), but threvr him back in his
work.

" October 12(A.— This day month I left town for De-
vonshire, and have not touched a brush till to-day. Borough
squabbles I have nothing to do with, and it will hardly be
believed how deeply this jaunt has cut into my habits,
instead of getting quiet, (to which I was entitled after
work,) I got down among old friends who worried and dis-
tracted me : gossip, chatter, scandal, idleness, dining,
toasting, and speechifying interrupted the chain of my
conceptions, and instead of finisliing my picture, which
I should have accomplished, I came back, and have all
to begin again, just as I was getting into thick-coming
fancies and delightful thoughts. Curse these interruptions,
they may do one's health good, but they destroy one's
thinking.

"SOtk.— Oae should keep all the traits and all the
stories one can collect of the times of Napoleon. Monsieur
D'Embden, an old officer of the Chasseurs de la Garde,
dined with me, and in moments of expansion, by a good
fire, and over a glass of wine, described the deeds of vice,
violence, and iniquity which the soldiers of Napoleon had
done over Europe, No wonder the world arose as if by
instinct against his despotism. Wherever the army came
convents were opened 1 In Bohemia the men under
D'Embden's command escnladed a convent. The first

VOL. II. Q

226 UEMOIRS OF B. R. EATDON. [lSS9.

victim was a poor young creature who had been &om
twelve years of age a nun. The old abbess fell on her
knees, and begged for mercy. The soldiers kicked her
away, said D'Embden, pretending to believe (with true
French refinement of vice) that she was praying for an
embrace. On a march once they were quartered on a
gentleman, who saiil, ' Officiers Franfais, here is my wife,
I trust her to your honour.' His two daughters he con-
cealed. The aoldiera violated the servant girl, and found
out there were daughters. At dinner the next day
D'Embden said, ' I don't dine without your daughters.'
The master of the house brought them, blushing and
confused. D'Embden said, ' You have deceived me ; I
place you under arrest three days.' The officers then
proceeded to seduce wife and daughters, wbich they
accomplished, while they were drinking this man's wine,
and living in his house. 'Mon ami Chauviu,' said D'Emb-
den, 'got into a good thing. In passing through a town
we entered a church as a young bridegroom and bride
just married were coming out. The bridegroom pushed
a French soldier. It was taken as an insult. Chauvin
put him instantly under arrest, and made a conquest of
the bride.'

" Of the Cossacks he seemed to have great horror. He
said they had a way of swinging their spears, and thump-
ing the soldiers between the ribs, which took away their
breath. D'Embden had twelve wounds, and lost four or
five toes in the Moscow retreat, though he did not go
higher than Smolensko. After losing many men, he came
to Davoust with a report of his loss. ' Ne me paries pas
des hommes,' said Davoust. ' Combien de chevaux avez*
vous perdu ? ' "

On the completion of Punch, the subject of the first
sight of the sea on the retreat of the Ten Thousand oc-
curred to him and was sketched in. About this time, too,
I find the first sketch of a subject which he afterwards
painted, and with which the name of Haydon is more
identified than with any other of his works — I mean Na-

1829.] MAXIMS FOB HIS SON GOING TO SEA. 227

poleon at St. Helena contemplating the setting sun. This
first sketch is marred by an allegorical Britannia with her
lion, in the clouds, which luckily he did not carry into the
picture. He now painted, also, a small subject of Lady
Macbeth listening on the stairs while the murder of
Duncan is being perpetrated.

" December 6th. — It is astonishing how unexcited I
am without an important composition. I shall go on with
Xenophon to-morrow, or my mind will rot. Pecuniary
diflSculties bring a train of harassing interruptions which
have been fatal to peace and study this week."

During the last month of 1829 Hay don succeeded in
getting his step-son, Simon Hayman, entered as a mid-
shipman. Here are the maxims for his guidance pasted
by his stepfather inside the lid of the youngster's sea-
chest. It is worth noticing how he presses on his observ-
ance the rule never to borrow. He had felt in his own
case the humiliating and fatal consequences of neglecting
it. Almost the last words he wrote, before his death, were
in solemn reiteration to his children of the same warning.

Maxims for Simon Hayman which I pasted on the cover of

his trunk.

" Remember God is ever present and witness of your actions.
Therefore always act as if in his presence.

" Hold your word as sacred as your oath. He who is ever
ready to promise seldom keeps his promise.

" Never purchase any enjoyment if it cannot be procured
without borrowing of others.

" Never borrow money. It is degrading. Remember Lord
St. Vincent.

" I do not say never lend, but never lend if by lending you
render yourself unable to pay what you owe ; but under any
circumstances never borrow.

228 MEMOIRS OF B. K. HATDON. [1829.

" Make no man your friend who is regardless of his word,

" Nelson said yon must hale a Frenchman. There is no oc-
casion to hate any man, hut never treat with a Frenchman till
fon have beaten him, and then with caution.

" Consider your life as a trifle, where its sacrifice would, ho-
nour your Eing or keep up the character of the nary.

" Be obedient to your superiors, and kind to those below

" Aity Aptanvciv, always excel. Be this your motto.

" Honour, truth, dependence on God, diligence and docihty,
will carry you through all danger and difficulties.

" Never be ashamed of being ignorant, if you wish to gain

knowledge.

" Piety is not cowardice, nor boasting courage.

" Vice is not heroism, nor drunkenness virtue.

" Remember a British officer under all circumstances must
be a gentleman. This comprises all. Remember this.

" Eemenjber also that your father would welcome your dead
body if you died in honour, and spit on you living, if you re-
turned in disgrace.

" Lay these things to thy heart, and God protect thee.

" London, December, 1839."

He closes his journal for the year with a summary as
usual. " January and February I worked little. From
March to November I finished Eucles and Punch, and
since I have three small pictures nearly ready, though I
have not seized all moments of study ; this has often pro-

1829.] DEATH OF LAWBENCE. 229

ceeded from harass, which has thrown me off my balance.
My cliildreii are in health. My dearest Mary as lovely
and as tender as ever. One of my boys has begun life-
God protect him, and make him an honour to the navy.
I have reason to hope for the same mercies for the
year to come, provided I still struggle (as under God's
blessing) to render myself equally deserving.

" O God on my knees I bless Thee for the mercies of
the year past. Still bless mc through the ensuing year."

1830.

In January of this year Sir Thomas Lawrence died. On^
the 9th I find this criticism of the painter and his works,
much of which has already been sanctioned by the soundest
judgments in art,

" Lawrence is dead— to portrait-painting a great loss.
Certainly there is no man left who thinks it worth while,
if he vrere able, to devote his powers to the elevation of
common-place faces,

" He was suited to the age, and the age to him. He
flattered its vanities, pampered its weaknesses, and met its
meretricious taste.

" His men were all gentlemen, with an air of fashion,
and the dandyism of high life ; his women were delicate,
but not modest — beautiful, but not natural. They appear
to look that they may be looked at, and to languish for
the sake of sympathy. They have not that air of virtue
and breeding which ever sat upon the women of Reynolds.

" Reynolds' women seem as unconscious of their beauty
as innocent in thought and pure in expression — as if they
shrank even from being painted. They are beings to be
met with reverence, and addressed with timidity. To
Lawrence's women on the contrary you feel disposed to
march up like a dandy, and offer your services, with a

cock of your hat, and a ' A e will tliat do ! ' Whatever

characteristics of the lovely sex Lawrence perpetuated,
modesty was certainly one he entirely missed.

230 MEMOIRS OF B, R, HATDON. [l830.

" As an artist he will not rank higli in the opinion of
posterity. He was not ignorant of the figure, hut he
drew with great incorrectness, because he drew to suit
the fashion of the season. If necks were to be long,
breasts full, waists small, and toes pointed. Sir Thomas
was too well-bred to hesitate. His necks are therefore
often hideously long, his waists small, his chests puffed,
and his ancles tapered. He had no eye for colour. His
tint was opaque, not livid, his cheeks were rouged, his lips
like the lips of a lay -figure. There was nothing of the red
and white which nature's own sweet and cunning hand
laid on. His bloom was the bloom of the perfumer. Of
composition he knew scarcely anything; and perhaps in
the whole circle of art there never was a more lamentable
proof of these deficiencies than in his last portrait of the
King.

" Twenty years ago his pictures (as Fuseli used to say)
were like the scrapings of a tin-shop, full of little sparkling
bits of light which destroyed all repose. But after his visit
to Italy the improvement which took place was an honour
to his talents. His latter pictures are by far his best. His
great excellence was neither colour, drawing, composi-
tion, light and shade, or perspective, for he was hardly ever
above mediocrity in any of these, but expression, both in
figure and feature. Perhaps no man that ever lived con-
trived to catch the fleeting beauties of a face to the exact
point, though a little affected, better than Lawrence. The
head of Miss Croker is the finest example in the world. He
did not keep his sitters unanimated and lifeless, but, by
interesting their feelings, he brought out the expression
which was excited by the pleasure they felt.

" As a man Sir Thomas Lawrence was amiable, kind,
generous, and forgiving. His manner was elegant, but
not high-bred. He had too much the air of always sub-
mitting. He had smiled so often and so long, that at last
his smile had the appearance of being set in enamel. He
indulged the hope of painting history in his day, but, as
Romney did, and Chantrey will, he died before he began;

1830.] ELECTION OF PRESIDENT OP THE ACADEMY. 231

and he is another proof, if proof were wanting', that creative
genius is not a passive quality tliat can be laid aside or
taken up as it suits the convenience of the possessor.

" How would RafFaele or Michel Angelo have laughed
1 hear C. L. and R. talk of doing great things, but not
they were rich !

He was not educated, and once gave me a long lecture
about the head of Olympias, the mother of Alexander,
calling her Olympia.

" The election of Sir Thomas to the chair of the Royal
Academy was a blow to high art it has never recovered,
and never will, unless, indeed, this opportunity be seized
by the members of the Academy, — unless the historical
painter, the sculptor, the architect, the low life, or land-
scape artist, make a. stand, and bring in, as they ought,
some manof geninsin some one of these walks, to the exclu-
sion of any portrait-painter, whoever he may he. If they
do not, they will sign the death-warrant of the arts in
England.

" But, alasl in public bodies the majority are too lazy
to take an active share ; and any chattering, talking person,
who can make a plausible speech, however impotent in
his art, -will in all probability get their suffrages.

" To tliink of Shee occupying the throne of Reynolds !"

The election of Sir M. A. Shee as President of the
Academy was certain to elicit a burst of bitterness from
Haydon, During the preceding year a correspondence
had passed between them in which, if Haydon was coarse.
and offensive, Shee retorted in terms of such contempt as
no man can ever forget or forgive. I give Haydon's
remarks on the election, which contain much truth, — con-
veyed, it is true, in the harsh and irritated tone which
invests truth with some of the worst features of falsehood,
— not for the sake of showing the feeling with which he
regarded the Academy, which is already evident enough,
but rather as an illustration of the way in which prejudice
will colour a man's inferences from fact, and an example
of how little dependence can be placed on predictions in-

1

232 MEJIOIRS OF B. R. IIATDON. [l830-

flucnced by dislike. How astonislied would Haydon have
been could it have been foreshown to hiin that the suc-
cessor of this obnoxious portrait-painter would be that
friend and pupil of his own (as he delighted to call him),
who now fills the President's chair in the Royal Academy !
How he would have stormed against any one who had
maintained that the tendency of English art, even at this
inauspicious moment, was from portraiture towards sub-
jects, if not historical in Haydon 's sense of the word, still
partaking more of the character of history than of por-
traiture. I extract the following passage because its most
acrimonious expressions will, I believe, be read even by
the Academicians of the present day without irritation,
largely altered as the composition of the Academy has been
since the time the passage was written, while there is still
much in it which may profitably be laid to heart by artists.
It cannot be doubted that if artistic claims be those on
which alone should rest the choice of a President of the
Academy, Wilkie was the man rather than Shee ; but the
theory that seemed to Haydon so entirely beyond dispute
may, no doubt, be disputed, and on very strong grounds
too. A president has ceremonial duties to perform; and
erudition, eloquence, and personal acceptahleness, may be
quite as important qualifications for the post as skill and
success in art. I ofi'er no opinion of my own on the
point, but I cannot help seeing that Haydou's view is far
from incontestable. Nor should it be forgotten, in esti-
mating his opinions, that the public encouragement of art,
which he urged so importunately and so long, has at length
been conceded by the Legislature, and that we cannot
measure the fruits of that encouragement by the limits
within which it has hitherto been confined.

With this preface I think there is no reason for with-
holding Haydon's comments on the election of a successor
to Sir Tliomas Lawrence.

" January 29th. — In the private history of the art of
the country the last three weeks have been interesting
beyond all calculation. Lawrence's sudden death threvir

r

1830.] ELECTION OP PRESIDENT OP THE ACADEMY. 233

the Acadeinj into the most bitter puzzle; the intrigue,
the bustle, the vanity, the nervousness, the fidget, and the
fear evident among the whole, were beyond expression
or description.

" I called imnaediately on Wilkie, and found him qui-
escently at breakfast. His affected grief for Lawrence,
and his sorrow for the loss the art had sustained, were
doled forth under an air of conscious power that was
amusing.

" In the midst of other conversation I dashed out at
once, ' I hope they will elect you,' He became agitated,
and affected not to hear me ; but I saw in the expression
of his face enough to convince me that he had no distant
hopes. On going up-stairs to look at the picture of the
King at Holyrood House, I repeated it. He put liis
hand on my shoulder, as much as to say, ' Bo quiet.'
' Very well,' said I, — 'not a word more.'

" AH sorts of reports, all sorts of surmises, every species
of • hum,' and ' ha,' and, ' Who d'ye think ? ' went on in the
gossip of the art till Lawrence was buried, and the awful
time approached.

"On Monday the election took place, and on Monday
morning out came in the Gazette, from the Lord Cham-
berlain's office, the King's appointment of Wilkie as his
sergeant painter. The moment I read it I said, ' This
will destroy Wilkie's chance of success ; ' and in the evening
the Academicians rushed in as the time approached, with
a heat, and fury, and violence, and passion, quite a dis-
grace to the feelings of gentlemen, or even the lowest
members of the lowest clubs. So fearful were they of
some message from the King that it would be pleasing
to his feelings if Wilkie were elected, that without regular
balloting they made every member write down the name
of the man he wished ; and at each successive knock they
ran down, and hurried their friend above stairs, without
allowing him to take off his great coat. Wilkie had one
or two votes, — some tell me oue, some the other — and
Shee eighteen, the announcement of which was received
with B hum !

234 MEMOIRS OF B. R. HATDON". [1830.

" Wiltie is a uiRn of the greatest geniuSj and a hatted
of superiority had no small share in adding to the appre-
hension of the Academicians. Wilkie had just that day
been appointed the first painter to the King, and this
spark was only wanting to explode the magazine.

" Shee is an Irishman of great plausibility — a speechi-
fying, colloquial, well-informed, pleasant fellow, conscious
of no high power in art, and very envious of those who
have.

" Such a man is sure to be popular, and he will be the
most popular president that the artists have ever had ;
but the precedent estabhslied, viz., that high talent is
not necessary to the highest rank in the art, is one of
the most fatal blows ever inflicted on the dignity of the
Academy since it has been established, and will lower it
in English and continental estimation. Here was David
Wilkie — the greatest genius in his walk that ever lived
— the only hving artist who has a picture in our Na-
tional Gallery — the only painter who has a great Eu-
ropean reputation — honoured by his Sovereign, respected
by the nobility, modest, discreet, upright, diligent, and
highly gifted — from whose existence an epoch in British
art must be dated— to whose works our present high
rank is owing in the opinion of Europe — David Wilkie
had two votes! And Martin Archer Shee, the most
impotent painter in the solar system — a man who for
forty years has never painted any human creature without
making bim stand on bis tip-toes from sbeei ignorance —
in short, the great founder of the tip-toe school — had
eighteen !

" The present unhappy mistake in the art was predicted
forty years ago. Reynolds said a party was gaining
ground which would ruin the institution, and he was
obliged to resign, finding himself thwarted in everything.
West, Opie, and Fuseli, said the same thing.

" ' Ah ! but Wilkie is a Scotchman, and we shaE have
nothing but Scotch,'

" Here's an acknowledgment ! What would the world

r

1830.] ELECTION OF PRESIDENT OP THE ACADEMY. 235

say if Sir Walter Scott had contended for the presidency
of literature, and had been denied because he was a
Scotchman?

" The cause is very simple. Portrait-painters have all
their wealth and employment from the domestic sym-i
pathies of one of the most domestic nations on earth.
Against the influence of this important body historical
painters have to struggle without employment, with ut
patronage, and in face of prejudices which portrait-paiC ra
with great art keep up.

" There is only one remedy, viz., a moderate annual
vote from Parliament, distributed by a committee of the
House, which, by placing historical painters on a level
with portrait-painters, will enable them to hold their
ground, and save tlie art."

The concluding passage expresses in brief the doctrine
which Haydon was preaching all his life from 1810. It
may contain some truth, but it certainly does not explain
what it professes to do. Whether portrait-painters on the
whole earn larger incomes than their fellows in the
painters' calling is matter of dispute. And whatever may
have been the case when this was written, it is not true
now that portrait-painters are dominant in the Academy, or
the most highly remunerated class among artists. The
painters of landscape and what are called " genre " pic-
tures stand on a level with them, at least, on these
points. But if Haydon's remark be limited to the paint-
ing of large pictures, it is undoubtedly true that for
these private galleries in England afford no room, and
that public employment alone can provide for high art
on a large scale.

Wilkie was now working on his picture of the King at
Holyrood, and Haydon thus records a visit to the picture
in company with an old courtier and personal friend of
the King in the ' salad days ' of the Regency.

" February 22nd, — Went in the morning with Sir
Thomas Hammond to see Wilkie's portrait of the King.
Sir Thomas Hammond, who had been one of the King's

1

236 MEMOIBS Of B. H. HATDOH. [1830.

most intimate friends, found fault, and justly, with the
legs and feet, which are really wr(3tched, and a disgrace to
the picture. He lilied the head very much, and it is fine.
After we came out Sir Thomas Hammond said to me,
'There is no getting on with a Scotchman- — there really
ia not ! ' I afterwards dined with him, and spent a very
delightful evening; we got into most familiar and confi-
dential conversation about the Court.

" I never knew till last night that the crown at the
Coronation was not bought, but borrowed. Rundell's
price was 70,000/., and Lord Liverpool told the King he
could not sanction such an expenditure. Rundell charged
7000^. for the loan, and as some time elapsed before it
was decided whether the crown should bo bought or not,
Rundell charged $0001. or 4000/. more for the interval.

" Sir Thomas Hammond said, that once after a long
absence, when the King, who had sent for him, received
him before a brilliant assembly, he put his hand to his
mouth sideways, and whispered, 'Weil, damn ye; how
are ye ? ' and then looked grave before the company. Sir
Thomas Hammond complained that the manner of young
men and women of fashion was altered. Everything now
was slang and impudence, and not elegance and grace, as
it was when the Prince was in his prime." Young Lord

C came in, a fine fellow. What fine, high-rainded,

brave, creatures there are amongst the young nobility."
Eueles and Punch were now exhibited, and to the painter's
delight, an order came to send the latter down to Windsor
for the King's inspection. In u flutter of expectation, the
picture was dispatched. Much depended on its sale.
Haydoii'a difRculiies had accumulated afresh, till the
shadow of the King's Bench was again darkening upon
him. On the 6th, the picture was dispatched. On the
8th it came back unbought.

"8ik. — The Punch came back to-day. I called on
Seguier in the morning, but I saw by the girl's face at
the door the King had not bought the picture.

* Taice the aboTe anecdote ai an example I— Ed.

1B30.]

COnET ANECDOTES OP GEORGE IV.

237

" Few men have courage to say they believe in dreams j
last night I dreamt the King told Seguier he did not like
, i]ie picture, and would not have it.

" I got up this morning greatly distressed in mind about
it, and said, ' If this prove true, is there not something in
dreams t '

" It has proved true. The King thought tliere was too
much in Punch. He admired the apple^irl excessively)
but thought the capering chimney-sweeper too much like
an opera dancer! "

Now that the publication of confidential memoirs and
letters has been sanctioned by so many high examples,
I do not feel that the following passage of private history
need be withheld.

" I5lh. — Spent the evening with Hammond — a de-
lightful one. He opens his cabinet of past times to me
with great confidence.

" He said when it was quite uncertain whether Napoleon
would or would not make peace at Chatillon, he dined
with the Prince of Conde, (who was getting quite childish!,
and the Duchess D'Angouleme. Their anxiety was lest
peace should he made. Every horn that blew, the Prince
of Conde sent out for the Gazette. Frightened out of
hia life, he kept saying, ' jik, Monsieur le general, la
paix est faite — la pa'ix est fails/' Hammond said he
tried to keep their spirits up, but the Duchess kept de-
claring, ' Non, noH, nous sovimes des pauvre miserahles —
e'en est fait de nous'

" The next morning he.was with the King privately, and
they were talking about Napoleon, when Sir Thomas
Hammond said, ' If the fellow does not sign the treaty,
it would be no bad time to shove in the Bourbons.'
'Ah,' said the Prince, 'You like them better than I I
do. Little, I fear, can be done.' The next day he saw '
the Prince again, and the Prince said, ' 'Gad, Hammond,
I have been thinking of what you said, and I'll see if
something can't be done for them. Say not a^ word.'
Hammond then went down to M'Mahon, who was writing
in his (Hammond's) room. M'Maliou "Kt^t m.'^ ^.q "^"^

-^ ■ ■' IT -

238 MEMOIRS OP B. H. HATDON. [l830.

Prince, and shortly after came down, and (as he told
Hammond all the stale secrets) said, ' What do you
think? There is the devil to pay up stairs — Lord Liver-
pool will resign. The Prince says he will restore the
Bourhons — Lord Liverpool won't hear of it,' At this
instant Lord Liverpool crossed the yard in the dumps,
and went away. Hammond's window looked into the yard,
and up St. Alban's Street, opposite (before Regent Street
was built). Sir Thomas declared solemnly to me this
was the beginning of the return of the Bourbons, and the
Prince always said ' Hammond was their best friend.' "

Despite of desperate difficulties, Haydon had now once
more got to work on a historical picture.

" March 2Qth. ■ — I shall now date my Xenophon, for
to-day, God be praised ! I begin, having got a breathing
day. I dashed in the effect. My mind teemed with
expressions : the enthusiasm of Xenophon cheering on his
men, with his helmet towering against a sea-sky — a
beautiful woman in her husband's arms exhausted, heai^
ing the shout of ' The sea, the sea,' languidly smiling
and opening her lovely eyes, — (good God! What I
could do if I were encouraged !) — a wounded and sick
soldier raising his pale head, and waving his thin arm and
hand in answer to the cheer of his commander- — horses
snorting and galloping — soldiers cheering and huzzaing,
all struggling to see the welcome sight. I'll read all the
retreats; Napoleon's, Charles XII.'s, Moore's, Antony's,
&c. &c. God spare my life and eyes; I fear the in-
trigues of S have destroyed all prospects with my

King. I'd inspire him if I was near him. They all know
this, and from him they will keep me. In my Protector
I trust.

" SGlh. — Took down a large canvas, and looked with
longing eyes. At last I thought it no harm to draw in
Xenophon with chalk. Then a. little Vandyke brown
would be such a pretty tone, and while I was deliciously
abstracted, in walked my love and said, ' Why do you not
do it tLat size?' 'Shall I.' 'Yes,' said she, * I know

1

Id

1830,] AT WORK ON XENOPHON. 239

you are loBging.' I only wanted this hint ; so I will risk
it at any rate. God bless it, beginning, progression, con-
clusion.

" 21th. — Worked hard these three days : but for what
purpose? To die and leave my children starving, for
that will be the end.

" Sunday Q8tk. — Went into my painting-room, and
felt my heart swell at the look of Xenophon. An over-
whelming whisper of the muse urged me again and again
to go on. I set my palette, put on my jacket, and after
reading prayers to my children, completed the rubbing in,
Oh! I was happy, deliciously happy, I am just come
down from poring over the picture (nine o'clock), with
all my old feelings of glory, I have been impelled to do
this. God knows how. In Him I trust, as Job trusted,
for ever.

" S9fA, — I am this moment (half-past eight) come
into my paJnting-room, and the effect of Xenophon is
absolutely irresistible. Go on I will

" O God, on my knees I humbly, humbly, humbly
pray Thee to enable me to go through it, Let no diffi-
culties obstruct me, no ill health impede me, and let
no sin displease Thee from its commencement to its
conclusion. Oh save me from prison, on the confines
of which I am hovering. I have no employment, no
resources, a large family and no hope. In Thee alone I
always trust. Oh let me not now trust in vain. Grant,

God, that the education of my children, my duties to
my love and to society, may not be sacrificed in proceed-
ing with this great work (it will be my greatest). Bless
its commencement, its progression, its conclusion, and its
effect, for the sake of the intellectual elevation of my great
and glorious country.

" 3\st. — I looked over my picture with longing eyes.
Had a half hour, which I devoted before going to a lawyer
for 10/., and 6/. expenses. I had 31. and wanted time,

1 left my dear picture and saw him. He gave me time,
and away I ran with all the freshness of youth to my

240

MEHOIBS OF B, R. HAYDON.

pain ting- room. I am now returned, and after two letter^ |
to defer, still 1 hope to complete the rubbing in before
dinner.

" Rubbed in the whole picture.

" jlpril ilh. — Made drawings for Xenophon, but I
actually tremble at the thought of concluding it, with my
family, and no encouragement. God guide me ; for 1
hesitate ; let me recollect Xenoplion after the death of
Cyrua, and Cortez in South America.

" AprilGth. — Eucles was raffled for this day. The three
highest numbers were 28 — Duke of Bedford, Mr. Strutt
of Derby, and Mr. Smith of Dulwich. They all three
threw again, when Smith threw 28, the Duke 25, and
Mr. Strutt 17.

" Before the meeting, Lord F. L. Gower promised to
take the chair, but as the time approached he apologised.

" All the people of fashion seemed ashamed to sanction
this raffle, as if the necessity reflected on their patronage.
A great deal of pretty coquetting passed between us."

Xenophon was now progressing, under the usual diffi-
culties, which I sometimes fear will prove as fatiguing to
read of as saddening to record.

j^pril 13(A." — The advertisement in the note f published

* At this date opens the Seventeenth Volume of (he Journals,
with the motto liiya ippavimv.

f " Mr. Haydon'fl Euclee. As tbe pledge given at the public
meeting, 1827, with respect to Eucles, has been kept Entisfactorily to
all parties, Mr. Hajdon takes the liberty of laying before his creditors
the correct amount of Lis receipts and expenses from July 1, 1827, t«
April 1, 1830, as a great many notions, erroneous and unjust, exist,
to his injury, of what he has received and what he must now possess.

ReceiTed from July I, 1827, to
July 1, 1828.

SubBoriptiou forEados i338 17

Exhib. of Mock Election 321 11 6

A conunission - . 100

Thrae portraits - - 7B

Side of Mock Election 625

Sketch - - - B 14

il,37a 2 6

Expenditure io the same time.
]{«3toririg Mr. Hajdon

lohia family - - £137 7
Expenses of Mock

Election cshibition - 270 1 fi

Divds. and clcbta paid 400
Living, profession, Sic. 510 19 10

Advcitising Eucles' sub. 21 4

£1,339 12 4

isao.]

STATEMENT OF AFFAIRS.

241

about this time, refers to these difficulties, and shows
how anxious Haydon was that the pubUc should know his
exact position. This fashion of trumpeting his distresses
did him infinite mischief, but he could not be persuaded
to rehnquish it.

Received from July 1, 1828, to

Expenditure in

[he same time.

July 1, 1829.

Expenses of ciMb

[ion

Balance from last year £32 10

2

of Chairing ■

-£168 6

SubscnpttOQ ofEudes 191 3

Ditto, of Pharaoh

- 83 13 6

Exhib. of Chairing Mem. 167 8

Paid creditor -

Exhibition of Fbumuli Gl 7

Liviog, &c. .

- 500

Studies of Mock Election 60

Bale of Chairing - 300

Sale of Sketches - 62

£374 8

s

£SB5 S G

" Receipts from July 1. 1829, to April 1, 1830. — Sale of Sketch,
251. ; Napoleon and Uriel, 001. ; receipts of Eucles' exhibition,
77/. 7s. :— total 152/. 7*.

"Expenditure.^EucW exhibition, 79/. 2». ; law expenses alone,
on pnltry debts, 67/. Is., independently of maintenance.

" Mr. Hajdon now hopes that those who, placing their own debts
against 500 guineas for Eucles, 500 guineas for Mock Election, 300/.
for Cbairtng, believe money still to be in bis hands will see how the
expenditure is accounted for, and instead of suspecting him of having
Bayed money, will perceive that, from mere want of employment, he
is verging fast again to unavoidable embarrassnient. In short, if
his friends, and those who think he is entitled to protection, do not
instantly support the scheme for the disposal of Punch before the
first day of Term (the 28lli), he will be overwheliued by law, without
the possibility of helping it. He appeals to the Nobility and lo the
public whether, if he deserved to he taken from a prison, he has or
has not proved since be deserves to be kept from one. Ue has bad
his picture of Xenophon nearly a month in fais painting-room, and
has not been able to apply more than four days from sheer harass,
day after day racing the town, assuaging iiTitability, begging mere/,
and praying for time.

Subscription to the Punch.

At Messrs. Coutta and Co.'s. I Lor<i F. L. Gower - 21
J. Codings, Esq. - 10 10 Earl Darnley - - 10 10
Hon. G. A. Eilia - 10 10 | J. P. Bell, Esq. - 2!

" His creditors may depend on it that law proc^ecdings will only
ruin him, and obstruct all hope of his paying them."

TOL. II. K

242 HEXOtBS OF B. B. HATDOX. [iSSO.'.

" Out in the roomiDg on the old story ; called on a-
lawyer, who had orders to proceed ; he promised not to
do so till he wrote : this was for 19/,— my coal merchant.
Came home very tired ; lunched ; set to work. Dearest
Mary sat, and before dinner I finished the female bead
in the Xenophon, and was fairly afloat. I first thought
of making her languid and exhausted, looking up with
feeble joy ; afterwards it came into my head to make her
a spirited, fine creature, with eyes sparkling at the sound
of the trumpet ; in short, such a creature as would follow
her lover through peril of land and water. I think I have
succeeded. Now I have got both my lay figures to take
out of pawn before I can go on,"

To relieve urgent necessity, for what in studio slang is
called " pot -boiling," portraits must occasionally be painted,
with whatever loathing,

" Jpril 22nd. — Finished a rascally portrait, the last I
have got — a poor, pale-faced, skinny creature, who waa
tiling his lips to make them look red, rubbing up his hair,
and asking me if I did not think he had a good eye. My
picture of Xenophon was put out of the way for the time.
I could not help looking at the nape of the heroic neck.
I finished on Sunday with the background and trumpets
and scenery. My breast swelled, my heart beat, and I
nauseated this bit of miserable, feeble humanity ! "

But Haydon was compelled to acknowledge, in an entry
of this year, that this disgust proceeded as much from
dissatisfaction with his own want of success in portraiture
as from the nature of the work itself. " In spite of my
affecting to despise portraits, I am uneasy at my want of
success. I went this morning to look at Pickersgill'
who has more tenderness of execution than any. I wa*
much gratified. He is an old fellow-sludent, and has a
great deal of independence and noble feeling. I respect
him excessively. My own portraits looked hard and stiff.
There is something in the art I know little of, but, I am
resolved to know it, and I think the knowledge will give
double interest to my historical pictures, The fault I

i

J8S0.] ARRESTED AGAIK. 243

find with his heads is the fault I find with all the English
school. They have not the exquisite purity of taste of
Vandyke, Reynolds, or Titian, but still there is a great
deal of knowledge to be gained hy studying good English
portrait.

" May IQtk. — Harassed out of my life. I want to go
through this picture, if possible, without calling my cre-
ditors together, but it will be a desperate struggle. The
background on Sunday was a vast addition.

" May I5l/i. — An execution put in for 10/. \8s. Gd. - I
had paid 6/. I5s. on this 107. before, and now at least 51.,
will be added. Since September I have paid (with my
family expenses too) 031. law costs."

At length comes the catastrophe — he is again arrested !

" \7t/i, 18M, I9th. — Harassed, and at last torn from
my family for 15/, I6s. in execution. Ah ! what a sight.
Mary tried for a long time to encourage me, but at last
tears hurst forth. ' Will you be taken from me ? ' ' Yes,
my love ? ' ' Can't I influence the man ? ' she went on, tears
trickling down her cheeks ; the man was touched, but
could not yield.

" I went to a house which looked into a churchyard.
What a power for one human being to have over another! "

On the next page (on the fly-leaf torn from a volume of
Blair's Sermons) is a sketch of a fellow- prisoner, a young
Uussian merchant, ruined, and sleeping, worn out with
wretchedness.

Amongst other demands on the unhappy painter were
considerable ones for arrears of taxes, for recovery of
which proceedings had already been begun. In his ex-
tremity he wrote to Sir Robert Peel, praying his good
offices to stay these proceedings. The reply was prompt
as kind : —

" Whitehall, 29 th May,

" Sir,
" Immediately on the receipt of joar letter of yesterday, I
wrote to Mr. Dawson, transmitting that letter to him to be laid

244 MEMOIllS OF B. R. HATDON. [l

before tlie Lorda of the Treasury, and expressing a hope that
every indulgence consistent with the public intereet might be
shown to you under the unfortunate circumstances in which
you are placed.

" I send you the letter I have just received, and I shall ba
glad if you are enabled to pursue your professional labours, and
if your wife and children can be allowed to remain unmolested.
I write in great haste, and

" I am, sir, your obedient servant,

" BoBERT Peel.

" I beg you will send the enclosed note for ten pounds to
your wife, as she may be in immediate difficulty."

On the letter itself are Haydon's comments. " Con-
sidering that lie went to Windsor and had a long confer-
ence with the King, considering the enormous quantity of
public business, this haaty snatch of time to alleviate my
family's sorrows is good and feeling. Is this letter a proof
of Peel's frozen heart, as the Radicals call it ? "

This relief brought a ray of hope.

" May S9th. — Sir Robert Peel's kindness has relieved
my mind greatly. My miseries have been great indeed,
but I feel a lightness of heart I cannot get rid of,-^a sort
of breaking in of light on my brain, like the influence of
a superior spirit. I trust in God, who has supported me
so wonderfully, with all my heart.

" O Lord, keep us all in health, and let me be restorefl
to my dear children before their dear mother is con-
fined. Oh, grant me power to accumulate the means of
educating my dear children as I have educated my sons-
in-law, and grant all these afflictions may tend to the
purifying of our natures, and make us worthy Thy protec-
tion and reward. Grant that I may live to see the great
object of my life— public support to art — accomplished. I
care not for living to taste its fruits. I want no reward, no
worldly honours. I want to live to establish a principle;
rant all my sufferings may tend to its success."

Haydon by this time had acquired a sort of home-feel-
ing in the King's Bench. He had old friends, as it were.

f.

1830.] BENCH EXrERIENCES. 245

among tlie iiimfites, and took suet interest in studying
their ways, that after changing his quarters from a ground
floor room to one higher up, he came down again, that he
might be better situated for observation. Here are some
of his prison scenes and characters.

"June 3rd. — Col. L and Major B— — (afterwards

distinguished in Portugal), both Waterloo heroes, and men
of fortune and family, are here. While I was sitting with
Col. L., a thorough-bred old soldier came in, every inch of
whose bead seemed drilled. His nose could belong to no
other than an adjutant. We talked of his major, with
whom he had served in the 10th. ' He is in great dis-
tress, and to be sore how he used to throw money away.
Tlie whole regiment lived on him, and he has spent 150^.
in a day. When I called the other day, Colonel, he
was washing his own handkerchiefs because he could not
afford to pay for them.' Here the old weather-be.iten
veteran stopped, and seemed choking: tears filled his eyes.

Col. L was affected, and so was I. I thought instantly

of going and giving a sovereign, though, God knows, I was

poor enough. I told Col. L I dreaded his getting into

Bench habits. He seemed fast sinking into despair. On

the racket-ground at night he, Coh L and I walked and

talked. I excited them about Waterloo, and I never passed

pleasanter evenings. ' D me,' said Major B , the

other night, ' I should like to have another shy at them,'

Waterloo heroes absolutely abound here, but L and

his friend are high-bred and accomplished men ; his friend
became security for his brother, who went to India, and,
as a curious bit of retributive justice, Davis, the officer, to
whose house I was carried, came to Hounslow to arrest a
private. The soldiers enticed him into a room, tossed
him in a blanket, and afterwards threw him into a pool of
filth from the mess kitchen. Who should arrest Major

B , but this very man, who hurried him at once to tbe

county gaol, and told the keeper he had attempted to run
away, and must be handcuffed.

246 MEMOIRS or B. B. HATDOTT. [l830.

*' Here is still G , tte man with a kettle on his

head in the Chairing, In all his attitudes of ease and
jollity he is a perfect study for Fatsta£ I have watched
him through the blinds for days.

" Alas, how are the jovial of the once famous Mock
Election fallen ! The Lord Mayor is dead, the High
Sheriff turned attorney's clerk, the smu^ler, who car-
ried the union jack, has got the gout, and C is

dying.

" I called on C , and knocked at his door. Nobody

answering, I walked in. There he lay on his bed, sound
asleep — his grand Satanic head grander than ever. His
black matted hair tumbled about his white pillow; his
cheeks hollow ; his mouth firm, as if half dreaming ; while
his teeth grated a little. How altered ! I stood for a mo-
ment too much affected to speak. I folded my arms, and
gazed at this grand heroic fellow fast sinking to the grave
— this victim of passion and pride.

" Would any one believe that in consequence of the
Mock Election, the King sent to him by Sir Edward
Barnes, and begged him to state his services, and his
wishes, and they should be gratified. Too conscious of
his fallen state he never replied. This is just like him.
His wounds have opened afresh, and he is bent, crippled,
and reduced.

" To-day he dressed himself neatly, put on white
gloves, and came over to my side, but did not come in.
As I was walking he joined me, with an evident fear in
his eye that it was a liberty. I did not like it, I acknow-
ledge, but, poor fellow, who knows his own strength ?

" This man was first imprisoned for contempt of court,
then ran into debt, then got exasperated ; and having no
principle of a regulated mind gave way to every passion,
as a species of revenge. Alas ! Like Satan he has brought
on his own head double damnation.

" I have not half done justice to this tremendous scene;
the pencil alone can do it.

" My friends wish me to go into the Rules, but here is

r

1830.] BENCH EXPERIENCES. 247

a perpetual fund of character that will break into roy
mind at after periods of life.

" This man G is quite enough to prepare me for

Falataff. All the positions, all the actions of this fat man
arc one perpetual balancing of one part of his ponderons
body against the other, tbat the whole may stand upright.

" A fine subject would be the inside of the Bench, en-
titled ' Projilable Labourers. Adam Smith.' "

As usual, Haydon found no want of friends in his incar-
ceration. He complains that they were only ready to
relieve him when in prison, but that they would not give
him employment when out. To one who asked him
(^June I8t/i) why he did not leave the country, he answers,
" Why because I love it. I glory in its beef, its bot-
tom and its boxing. It is the duty of every Englishman
of talent to stay and reform, to combat or destroy the
prejudices of his obstinate countrymen. Their very vir-
tues become their vices. The same invincible bottom
which beat the French at Waterloo induces them to
prepare to receive cavalry at every approaching innova-
tion. They look at reform as at a cuirassier. There they
stand and bayonet a genius who ventures to tell them they
may stand with more grace ; and when they have killed
him and he shouts to the last, they begin to admire his
bottom, bet upon his hfe, and then adopt his plans and
reformation.

" Thus it is, and thus it ever will be. Mr. Fox said it
was a long time before truth could sink into the thick
skull of John Bull. It may be, but this is no reason we
should not keep it there soaking, till it does find its way
at last.

" The English have the finest arms and the broadest
chests of any nation in the world, and though by far the
least-looking men in Paris of all the Allies took up more
ground than even the gigantic' Russian guards. This was
entirely owing to the breadth of their shoulders.

Meanwhile he prepared another petition to the House of
Commons. It was presented by Mr. Agar Ellis, who im-

248 UEUOIRS OF B. B. HATDON. [l830.

mediately afterwards presented one from St. MartiD's-in-
the-Fields agaiDst the Bill for removing Vagrants, which
struck Hajdon as " a beautiful combination." This peti-
tion runs : —

" Tliat it 13 now fonrleen years since yonr Honoiirable
House, in the Report on the Elgin Marbles, recommended to
tbe attention of the Government the grejit distinction to which
so small a state as Attica had risen, principally by the public
encouragement bestowed by the authorities on painting, sculp-
ture, and architecture. That, in every country, where tbe arts
bave risen to eminence, the private patronage of the opulent,
and the public patronage of the Government, have gone hand
in band. That in England the arts have risen to their present
excellence by private patronage alone. That in every branch
of art which depends solely on private support, the greatest
excellence has been the result ; and tbe British arlist at pre-
sent, in those branches, stands unrivalled in the world ; but tha^
in that important department, historical painting (to advance
which effectually a monarch or a government alone are able),
there is still the same want of support or established system of
reward, though the Eoyal Academy has been founded sixty-two
years, and the British Gallery twenty-five. That though your
Honourable House has most generously afforded the student
the most distinguished examples for the improvement of bis
taste, in the purchase of the Elgin Marbles and Angerslein
pictures, yet tbe attempt of any British artist to approach, how-
ever humbly, the great works amongst those splendid produc-
tions, is as much an effort of uncertain speculation and probable
ruin as before they were purchased — for no other reason, hut
fvoia a want of a syslem of public encouragement, by an annual
■vote of money, as in France, Germany, Netherlands, Frussia,
Bussia, Sweden, Denmark, and Spain. That, in the late foun-
dation of two Universities in tiiia metropolis, no provision was
made for cultivating the taste in art of tbe student ; while in
France, on the very first plan for establishing a Society for the
Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, in imitation of one founded in
London, tbe fine arts were at once placed with literature and
philosophy; thus affording a most remarkable evidence of the re-
lative estimation of art in the two greatest nations of the world.
That your petitioner presumes to think this proceeded not

1B30.] , ANOTHER PETITION TO THE COMMONS. 249

from superiority of taste, but from the Buperior importance
giTen to the arts in consequence of an annual sura bestowed by
the government for their cultivation, thereby raising their
dignity in the opinion of all classes. That, from his own per-
Bonal experience, your petitioner is entitled to say, that no
moderate vote of money would be more popular, with the edu-
cated middle classes, than such a vole for such purposes. That
your petitioner is even ready with a. plan or plans for such a
system of reward ; and respectfully and humbly begs to assure
your Honourable House, that, till the English historical painter
is placed on a level with the portrait painter, — till he is saved
from the struggles of poverty, and degradation and iuipriaon-
ment are not permitted to he the conclusion of a life of arduous
labour and indefatigable anxiety — till, in fact, the Honourable
the House of Commons, or the Government, cease to think his
wanla not worthy of national consideration — the arts of Britain,
however high and however perfect may be the productions of a
domestic nature, will never rank with those of Italy or Greece,
and this glorious country never by foreign nations be estimated
as capable of producing painters who will take their station by
the side of the poets, the philosophers, the statesmen or the
heroes which she has so prolificaliy produced. And your peti-
tioner humbly trusts your Honourable House will, at no very
distant period, take this beautiful department of art under your
protection ; and, in your wisdom, devise such means for its re-
ward as to your Honourable House may seem fit. And your
petitioner will ever pray.

" B. R. Haydon."
" King's Bench Prison, Jane 2. 1 S30."

In presenting the petition Mr. Ellis remarked, that he
Relieved the petitioner to be a person of great merit in
his profession ; but anxious as he felt to encourage the
fine arts, he could not recommend a grant of money for
the purpose.

" Anxious as he felt ! " says Haydon. " Divine '. This
is something like Pitt's anxiety when Lord Elgin applied
to him for public aid to make busts and drawings in
Athens, Pitt said, anxious as he felt to advance the arts,
he could not authorise such a use of the public money j
and directly after that spent 300,000^, in catamarans to

2.J0 HEHOIB8 OF B. B. HATDOX. [tS30.

blow Up the flotilla at Boulogne. Oh, oar public men !
our public men ! A couple of tuton of painting snd
sculpture at Oxford and Cambridge would send tbem into
ParUament with justcr notions of what waa due to the
arts and the country."

June 19M. — Now came the result of his application to
PeeL

« Sir,

" From a communication 1 hare had from the Treasury I

am induced to hope that your wife and family will not be

troubled on account of the arrears of taxes due, and that time

would he given you to liquidate those arrears by your own

" I am, sir, your obedient Ber?ant,

" RouERT Pekl."

" Kind and good — God bless hira. Nothing could be
Idnder but a good commission, which would put it in mj
power to pay my arrears."

Here is a Sunday in prison. " 30M. — Passed the
day in all the buzz, blasphemy, hum, noise and confu-
sion of a prison. Thoughtless creatures ! My room was
close to theirs. Such language ! Such jokes ! Good
heavens. I had read prayers to myself in the morning,
and prayed with the utmost sincerity for my dearest Mary
and children, and to hear those poor fellows, utterly indif-
ferent as it were, was really distressing to one's feelings.
One of them had mixed up an enormous tumbler of mulled
wine, crusted with nutmeg, and as it passed round, some
one hallooed out, ' Sacrament Sunday, gentlemen 1 ' Some
roared with laughter, some affected to laugh, and he who
was drinking pretended to sneer ; but he was awfully an-
noyed. And then there was a dead silence, as if the
blasphemy had recalled them to their senses. After aa
occasional joke or so, one, with real feeling, began to hum
the 100th psalm, not in joke, but to expiate his previous
conduct, for neither he nor any one laughed then, but
seemed to think it too serious a subject.

r

1830.] DEATH OF GEORGE IV. 231

"June2Gth. — The King died this morning at fifteen
minutes past three.

" Thu3 died as thoroughhred an Englishman as ever
existed in the country. He admired her sports, gloried
in her prejudices, had confidence in her bottom and spirit,
and to him, and him alone, is the destruction of Nupoleon
owing. I have lost in him my sincere admirer ; and had
not his wishes been perpetually thwarted, he would have
given me ample and adequate employment.

"The people the King liked had all a spice of vice in
their nature. This is true. There was a relishing sort of
abandonment about them which marked them as a pecu-
liar class; and one could judge of the King's nature by
the companions he seemed to like. Hammond is an ex-
ception.

" Certainly there is an interest about vice, when joined 1
to beauty and grace. The devil makes bis instrument 1
interesting.

"The account of his death is peculiarly touching.
There must be something terrifically awful in the mo-
ment, physically considered. His lips grew livid, and he
dropped his head on the page's shoulder, and saying ' This
M death/' died.

" July 2nd. — M the gunmaker is in prison too.

I met him. He has all the slang of fashion, without the J
excuse. He said to me, ' My schedule was the most 1
beautiful schedule you ever saw, d — me.' Good God, 1
what a state of mind t A gentleman said to me, ' When |
you are in this place, you must get rid of all the finer I
feelings.' ' Pardon nie,' said I, ' you must struggle hard 1
to keep them. This is your only salvation.' I

" 5ih. — Dear Frank came. His little face seemed I
toned by misfortune, as if he had been prematurely think- J
ing about something he could not make out. SweetJ
fellow ! God protect him, and grant him vixtue andS
genius. 1

" Orlando, for whose schooling I have been imprisoned
twice and arrested once, has won a scholarship at Wadham

252 MEHOIBS OF B. S. HATDOX.

College, Oxford, at nxteen. There is some pleasure in
lufferiag for a bo; like this. He was bom April 14th,
1814.

" 7lh. — There was a report last night that Prince Leo-
pold had shot WeQingtou. It was extraordlnai^ how all
were affected. It was as !f oar shield was taken from as,
I awoke in the morning, and felt inclined to curse Leo-
pold. I never saw anything like the general feeling.
Notwithstanding all the abuse of Wellington, we could
soon see how people would take hb sudden death.

" 10(A. — B ■ dined with me, A fine fellow — a

Waterloo hero in the 10th — the picture of a fine, open,
generous soldier.

" IStfi. — In a state of torpor, hut hoping and trusting
in ni>' protector ; Lord de Dunstanviile sent me assistances

" These young soldiers are fine animals — nothing more.
They talt, act, and think like colts suddenly gifted with
the power of expressing their thoughts.

" IGth. — B- married a daughter of IJord 's,

the lanthe of Byron. Last night I spent an hour with
her. Here's justice ! There sat a Waterloo hero covered
with wounds, who had been arrested by a rascally trades-
man, and had every debt he owed nearly doubled by law
expenses, after having paid 1000/. to that tradesman.
There sat his accomplished and interesting wife. Poor
B has the noblest and most amiable heart. Many pri-
soners he has paid out. They all come to him when they
are in want — some to pay their gate-fees — some for this,
and some for that ; and here he is, neglected by friends
to whom he has lent, and by whom he is now owed, thou-
sands, harassed by lawyers, and each creditor and his soli-
citor (because B has friends) pushing their expenses

to the utmost, for the sake of profiting by bis troubles.

" 19lh. — Again put on my trial, and again honour-
ably acquitted. At the conclusion, the Chief Commis-
sioner said, ' There has nothing passed this dity which can
reflect in the slightest degree on your character.'

1830.] RELEASE FROM PRISON. 253

" Throughout the whole of this affliction God has in-
deed been merciful.

"20th. — Returned to my family, and found all the
children with their dear mother quite well, and happy to
see me, I fell on my knees and thanked God with all
my heart, and all my soul. Now to work like a lion after
a fast, as soon as I am settled.

" 2\st. — Passed the day in a dull stupor, as if recover-
ing from a blow. Studied the Xenophon, but quite
abroad. The same number of the Times contains a pow-
erful attack on the Academy — Kean's farewell — my in-
solvency, and the King's funeral.

" A true picture of life. If the Times takes up the art
the thing will be done,

" 22nd. — Saw the King review the Lancers in the
Green Park. He looked well. Called on Sir Robert
Peel and Lord Stafford, After coming from prison, the
splendour of their residences amazingly impressed my
imagination. The regiment of Lancers was the same of
which ■ was major. He saw Napoleon at St. He-
lena, and had previously known Gourgaud. Gourgaud

wrote his name in 's pocket-book. When at St.

Helena, he showed it to Bertrand, who understood the
hint. Letters were directly got ready. Lowe suspected

it — invited him to dine, and searched his trunks. •

said his shirts had all been tumbled about. gave

the letters to a lady, who sewed them in ber stays. They
succeeded in bringing them over, and ■■■ — went to Paris,
and delivered them. They were of the greatest conse-
quence. "When Lord B , from parliamentary influ-
ence, was promoted to the colonelcy of the Lancers,

• called on the Duke, told him he was covered with

wounds, and had served in the Peninsular War. The
Duke said, 'Well, sir, you did no more than your duty,

I suppose.' ' Perhaps not,' said , ' and I'll take

d — d good care not to do that again,' and the next morn-
ing sent in his resignation, which was refused.

" It affected me to see this gallant regiment to-day,

254 MEMOIB3 OF B. R. HAYDON. llSSO.

which he had disciplined, while he himself was in prison,

disgraced, — at the mercy of tailors and lawyers, villains
without heart, who make use of tie law of arrest as a
means of profit.

" Slth. — My worthy landlord, Newton, gave me a
commission to finish Mercury and Argus for twenty
guineas. So I am set off. Darling gave me a commis-
sion to paint a head for ten guineas. Oh, if I can keep
out of debt and carry my great object !

" 3ist. — Occupied in various ways, but recovered my
spirits and health. My grocer gave me a commission to
paint his portrait. I could be very moralising at the end
of this month, but I am overstrained."

This was the time of the glorious Three Days in Paris,
Haydon was certainly not open to the reproach often
urged against artists of indifference to public events.
Many pages of his journal are filled with reflections on
what was passing across the channel, of which the following
may servS as an example.

" August 3rd. — The great thing will be to take care
that fellow Metternicb does not render nugatory this
glorious popular burst, by tampering, by negotiation, or
by artifice; and let the French depend on it, he will
attempt it.

" With respect to any apprehensions the people of
Europe may entertain that tlie monarchs will assemble to
put the French people down, it is futile. They can't do
it if they would. The very same reason which enabled
the monarchs to put down Napoleon, because the people
were roused to back the monarchs, will enable the French
now to resist the monarchs of Europe ; and if the monarchs
of Europe are led astray by the supposition that the
French people were conquered in 1815, and that they can
be conquered again, they will find their mistake.

" The French people were not conquered. It was
Napoleon and the army who were conquered. The people
never moved. Had they done so, the Allies would have
had a very different result of their efforts. The people

r

1830.] THE GLORIOUS THREE DATS, 255

were utterly indifferent to the fate of tbe army or of
Napoleon. They had suffered so much from both ; and
they submitted with a wary patience to the dictation of
tbe Allies.

" The only thing to apprehend ia, that their inherent
national vanity will lead them astray, and induce them to
attempt to disturb Europe again, for the mere purpose of
recovering' their tarnished military glory.

" If they are too much puffed with tbe result of this
attempt they should recollect that hoth the guards and
the line did not exert themselves to the full extent of
their power. There was something indecisive — something
of feeling for the people they were killing — something of
that doubt which always attends a had cause.

" Politics are not my profession ; but still, in such days,
when there ia evidently a struggle bursting forth for
human rights, no man can be indiiferent; and I conclude
as I began, by affirming, without fear of refutation, that
no nation will ever secure their liberty who do not begin,
as we began, by first shaking off the overwhelming pressure
of superstition. Till they do, the enlightened may lay
down schemes of right and law and justice, but they will
never be permanent — never- — and tbe battle will ever
be to fight, when it will appear to have been long won.

" Stk. — Walked to Hampstead with dear Frank, and
enjoyed the air and sweet-scented meadows. Thought of

tlie poor prisoners in the Bench, B and others, who

would have relished this sweet smell - — what I have seen,
and what I have suffered, always give a touch of melan-
choly to my enjoyments.

" The recollection of these three days haunts me like
Waterloo. The same enthusiasts who would have made
us succumb to Napoleon are beginning again with their
admonitions.

" 10(A.— Thank God, the Trench have settled their
government and the Duke of Orleans is king. What a
great point for liberty over the whole earth !

" How discreet, how active, how judicious are the

256 MEMOIRS OF B. H. HATDON. [1830.

Freiicli become ! How useful is adversity. At their first
revolution tliey acted like a set of monsters just escaped
from a long slavery, who had got hold of razors, and were
exasperated at seeing the marks of chains on their limbs.
Now they have acted like just men, enraged at the pros-
pect of losing their rights, and magnanimously merciful as
soon as they have obtained them.

" Still I fear their character. Nous verrons,

" l\lk. — I hope the fools here won't overdo their joy.
They should remember we can obtain our wiahed-for
reforms by law; and though we may be longer, it is better
to be so. The firmness of the English character is such
that if soldiers and people get to loggerheads, no matter
for what cause, they will fight till both are exterminated.

" I hope Mr. Hobhouse will allow that if his darling
Napoleon had been victorious at Waterloo, the present
happy prospects of France would never have been realised.
Wellington, therefore, contributed, by the destruction of
Napoleon, to this desired event. I pity the Duchess
d'Angouleme. Wilkie and I saw her in 1814 at cliapel —
the picture of crying sorrow, humbleness, absence of mind,
and meekness of appearance. The Duke was the meanest
of the mean. I wondered tlien how such a people as the
French could bear such wretches as the Bourbons looked,
with the exception of Louis, who had a keen black eye,
and appeared intellectual.

" All the old oSicers with crosses of St. Louis were a
diminutive, mean race, in comparison with the produce of
the revolution. While Louis was praying I stood observ-
ing them, when an old bigot of an officer, on his knees,
struck mine twice, and said, 'a bas, a bas, Monsieur.'

" I2tk, — Everything goes on in France as it ought to
do, and 1 hope will end so, But as to attributing it to
the pure love of the French for liberty — nonsense.

" The principal feeling was mortification, increasing
for fifteen years, at having the family forced on them.

" I only hope the French will not exasperate the English
by attributing the EngUsh subscriptions to the widows to

IfiaO.) THE FRENCH: A SON BOHN, 2.37

our apprehension of their power. God knows : such is
their vanity. However, they have heen well bled and
blistered, and are certainly improved."

This month, too, brouglit another mouth to feed.

" 19th. — At half past five in the morning was born a
ine boy, whom I thinlt I shall call Benjamin Robert
Haydon, God protect him and his dear motlier,

" As a proof of Sliakespeare's intense truth, while
dearest Mary was l^ing in agony, Darling sitting quietly
waiting, and I with my head in my hands listening to her
moans, little Frank, who was soundly sleeping just by,
laughed in a dream.

" ' There was one did laugh in his sleep, and one cried
murder,' says Macbeth.

" This has been ridiculed as too violent a contrast —
as if it was unnatural to bring in a dreamer laughing at the
instant a murder was being committed, while here was
a dreamer laughing at the very instant agonies of the
bitterest description were going forward."

He had now on hand an engraving from his small pic-
ture, painted the year before, of Napoleon musing at St,
Helena.

" 28th. — Out the whole day on business connected with
the print of Napoleon. I saw Beauvinet, the publisher,
who had a tricoloured ribbon in his button-hole. There
is a look about the French which is insufferable. While
1 was talking I felt my blood boil up, I could not tell
why. Wait a little — till they get settled — till they
are acknowledged by Europe— and if the great nations
be not forced to divide tiiem before 100 years are over,
I am no politician. Thetf he at peace! Absurd. They
can't be quiet. They never will ; and soon we shall hear
of the Rhine and Belgium being the natural boundaries
of France.

" 30(A. — Out all day about my print. What a bora
business is. I wonder, too, men of business ever come to
a conclusion. The chicanery, the selfishness, the petty,

VOL. II. S

258 MEMOIRS OP B. H. HATDON. [lH30,

paltrj meanness of their mutual attempts to OTerreach
each other, is enough to drive a man out of his senses.

" Think of coming from the sublime conception of my
head of Lazarus to bargain about a print with a French
dealer — 100 ounces of civet !

" September 3rd. — I sent the Duke the first proof of
Napoleon, and though occupied, as he must be, with the
affairs of Europe at this moment, he returned an answer
directly.

" London, September 2. IB30,

" The Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr.
Haydon,

" The Duke begs leave to retiira hia thanks to Mr. Hajdoa
for his letter, and for sending to the Duke a print,"

His friend Dr. Darling was now sitting to him for his
portrait.

" ith. — Hard at work, and made a complete study of
Darling's head, which is a very fine one. I am interested,
and will strug'gle hard to succeed.

" Gth, — At work — painting one coat, one waistcoat,
one cravat, &c,

" 7tk. — A portrait-painter should make out his bill.

To two eyes at 10 guineas each - -^2100

a nose - ■ - - 5 5

two lips (red, &c.) - - - 6 6

two cheeks (fine complexion, &c.) - 5 5

lobe of the ear - - - 110

L

To one cravat - - - - 110

half a coat - - - - 110

one finger - - - - 1 I

To a white cloud, table and back of chair

and curtain ... 550

48 5
To altering mouth to a smile, and brown-
ing grey hair - - - 1 15
£50
'0th. — Began again Xenophon on the saleable size
es. I could not bear to look at the two. If they

1B30.] POKTRAITS : LETTER TO THE DUKE. 259

had not put me in prison, I should nearly have done it the
size of life. April, May, June, July, August, all fine
months for working and light. I have uow September,
October, November, December, January, February,
March.

" IGtk. — At work on my portrait, but alas, I really
lose all inspiration — I can't tell why. A leaden demon
seems to weigh on my pencil; and it is a pang to thinlf
my Xenophon was behind, and would any man believe,
I often scrawled about my brush, and did nothing, while
I was studying Xenophon through the openings of my

" I shall certainly be very eminent as a portrait-painter,
not a doubt of it !

" I yesterday, after a long absence, came in contact with
the Last Judgment of Michel Angelo ; perhaps I was
better qualified to judge than if I had had it constantly
under my eye.

*' The swinging fierceness of action was astonishing, but
I prefer the Theseus, and Ilissus, and fighting Metope.
The style is Florentine — grand, flowing, ponderous, im-
posing, sledge-hammering, blackguard.

" October 2nd. — Out the whole day on business.
Heard from Lady Stafford, who kindly interested herself
in getting Lord Stafford to assist me with 50^. to get my
eldest step-son matriculated at Oxford, ibr which I am to
paint a picture. It is very good and kind of Lord
Stafford.

" ISih. — I wrote the Duke, calling his attention to the
report of Guizot, who had recommended the King to
employ the historical painters to commemorate the late
events. I contrasted the condition of the art here. I
said that my Jerusalem, which his Grace had admired, was
in a cellar; that Etty's picture was in a shop ; and that
Hilton had had no employment two years. I asked his
Grace if he would suffer England to be inferior to France.
I sent my letter at nine in the morning to-day: at two
came the follow

250 MEMOIRS OP B. H. HATDOK. [i830.

"^ "London, October I2lh, 1830.

" Sir,
" I have received your letter.

" It is rertainlj true that the Britiah public give but little
encouragement to the art of historical painting. The reason
is obvious. There are no funds at the disposal of the Crown or
its ministers, that are not voted by parliament upon estimates,
and applied strictly to the purposes for Trbich such funds are
voled.

" " No minister could go to parliament with a proposition for
a vote for a picture to be painted, and there can be therefore
no such encouragement here as there is in other countries for
tbia art.

" I am much concerned that I cannot point out the mode in
which this want of encouragement can be reroedied.
" I have the honour to be,
" Sir, your moat obedient bumble servant,

" Wellington,"

" I cannot say his Grace's reasoning is conclusive. I
siiall answer it. Canning shirked the question. Welling-
ton has grappled with it, but I think it will give him
a squeeze."

Here is a sad letter.

" \4th. — This perpetual pauperism will in the end destroy
my mind. I look round for help with a feeling of despair that
is quite dreadful. At this moment I have a sick house with-
out a shilling for the common necessaries of life. This is no
exaggeration. Indulged by my landlord, indulged by tba
Lords of the Treasury for my taxes, my want of employment
and want of means exhaust the patience of my dearest friends,
and give me a feeling as if I were branded with a curse. For
Giod's sake, for the sake of my family, for the sake of the art I
have struggled to save, permit me, my Lord Duke, to say, em-
ploy me. I will honour your patronage with all my heart and
_ nil my aoul I "

(No an™er.)

And a sad sequel. " \5lh. ~ The harassings of a family

Tire really dreadful. Two of my children are ill. Mary

i nursing. All night she was attending the sick, and

r

1830.] COGEESPONDENCE WITH THE DTTKE. 261

hushing the suckling, with a consciousness that our last
shilling was then going. I got up in the morning be-
wildered — Xenophon hardly touched — no money — butcher
impudent — tradesmen all insulting. I took up my book
of private sketches, and two prints of Napoleon, and
walked into tlie city. Moon and Boys had sold all. This
was good news to begin with. Hughes, Kearsey's partner,
advanced me five guineas on the sketch-book. I sold
my other prints, and returned home happy with 8/. 4*. in
my pocket.

" How different a man feels with money in his pocket !
I bought for sixpence a cast for the children.

" I met a man of 40,000/. at Kearsey's. He talked of
Virgil and art. I was in no spirits to answer him. I
thought of my dear Mary at home, harassed, surrounded
by little children, some ill, all worretting."

In the meantime he had again written to the Duke in
the old strain, on the old subject, urging the proposal of a
grant of public money for the encouragement of art. His
answer came, prompt and decisive as ever.

" The Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr.
Haydon, and has received his letter of tbe 14th.

" The Duke is convinced that Mr. Haydon's own good sense
will point out to him the impossibility of doing what he sug-
gest e."

" Conclusion for the season I

" Impossibility, from Wellington's mouth, must be impos-
sibility indeed. He can't answer my letter. It is evident,
he is worried about finance. At any rate it is a high honour
to hear from him in this way. And his letters this time
show more thinking on the subject than the last. At it
again at a future time.

" S5th. — Out, selling my prints. Sold enough for
maintenance for the week. Several people looked hard at
me with my roll of prints, but I feel more ashamed in
borrowing money than in honestly thus selling my labours.
It is a pity the nobility drive me to this by their neglect.

262 JfCMOiKS OF B. R. HATDOX. tlSSO.

" SGth, — Hard >t work; nibbed in X.ord Sufford's
picliu% — Venus and Ancbisea quarrelling.

*' S7(A. — Hard at work. Gave instructions to a yoang
writing-master in painting at 10<. 6d. a lesson. I painted
in a head in black and wbite for bint. Showed bim bow
to mass bis lights and shadows, and then put in bis
extreme darks and lights, at which he was enrapttired;
■aid ' Scales bad fallen from his eyesJ' He lamented his
incapacity to pay more than 10«. 6d.

" 29ri, — Provided shoes for mj dear Maiy, and s
dinner for mj family. What an extraordinary, invisible
sort of stirring is the impulse of genius. You first feel
uneasy, you cannot tell why. You look at your picture,
and think it will not do. You walk for air — your picture
haunts you. You cannot sleep j up you get in a fever,
when all of a sudden a great flash comes inside your besd,
as if a powder-magazine had exploded without any noise.
Then come ideas by millions — the difficulty is to choose.
Xenophon cheering on the point of a rock came flashing
into my head. It is a hit. Everybody says it will do.
I am sure of it. The world will echo it. It is the finest
conception I ever saw, I speak as my own critic. I know
it is wrong to say so. I care not, O God ! grant me
life and health to complete this grand work !

" How mysteriously I was impelled to begin it — by an
urging when on the brink of ruin. Am I then reserved for
something? I know it — I feel it. O God, my Creator,
Thou knowest it. Thou kuowest I shall not die till I have
accomplished that for which I was born !

" November l»t. — Out selling prints. Bronght home
4>l. 13*. Od.

" 3nd. — Out selling prints. Brought home SL The
whole of the first impression is gone.

" We still have justice here. Everything for which I
used to despise mankind, I have been obliged to do, I
used to despise Wilkie for taking about his prints, as if it
was not honester and infinitely more respectable than
borrowing money without a certainty of paying it again.

r

1830.] WARNING WELLINGTON. 263

" Alas ! I was imperfectly brought up."

All readers will remember the anxiety that prevailed
this year about the Sovereign's visit to the city, and the
speculations that were rife as to the wisdom or unwisdom
of its being put off. The following extract may throw
some light upon the sort of fears that influence ministers.
The information referred to was given on the 8th.

" lOtk. — ^The following is a curious letter. My servant
said her father knew the ringleader of a gang who were
determined to attack the Duke. I wrote the Duke
immediately and received an instant answer. I was not
going to turn informer until I had more positive evidence,
or involve a poor man in {rouble on mere ipse dixit, I
examined the girl, and she denied it, but this would not
do. I sent for her father, and he promised to come,
but he never came, and it turned out her mother had
scolded her for saying anything about it. 1 have no doubt
of it myself. My object was to set his Grace on his
guard, and if anything more palpable had come out, I i
would have remitted the name and address. I am perfectly ]
convinced that had the King gone to the city, most
dreadful scenes would have happened, and then what an
outcry against ministers for not preventing His Majesty.

" A Whig said to me, ' Grey is coming in.' ' Is he ?'
said I. ' When 1 see Wellington out, I'll believe it.'
Ah, little do they think what la hid beneath that simple
face."

" Tlie Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr.
IJaydon and has received his note of this morning, for which
he is very much obliged to him.

" The Duke requests that Mr, Haydon will be so kind as to
call upoQ Mr. Pliillips, the under- Secretary of State at the Homo
Office, and state to him in detail the circumstances to wliich he
adverts in his note to the Duke, the names of the persons who
are determined to attack him," Sec. &c,

■' London, Norember Slh, 1830."

On the 3d Haydon had written to the Directors of the

26-1 SIEMOIES OF B. B. HAYDON. [l8aa

British Gallery. It muBt have been pressing necessity
indeed which wrung this letter from a high-spirited man.

" Mr. Ilajdon presents his respects to the noblemen and
gentlemen who compose the committee at the British Gallery,
and begs to appeal to them in his present struggling condition,
with eight children and nothing on earth left him in property
but what he is clothed with, after twenty-six years of intense
and ardent devotion to painting, after leaving a capital pro-
perty and handsome income from pure devotion to historical
art.

" Mr. Haydon is well aware that more discretion in his early
life would probably have placed him in a very different condi-
tion, and had he borne what he conceiveoximustice on the
part of the Royal Academy with more temper, such bitter ruin
as he has been afflicted with would certainly never have hap-
pened, but still he was never actuated bj any mean motive : his
love of art more than a just regard for his own personal in-
terest he can conscientiously affirm was his great inducement.

" Perhaps the Directors of tlie British Gallery will not think
too severely of his endeavouring by an appeal to their feelings
to avert further calamities from his family.

"The kindness of Lord Stafford in lately giving him a small
commission has saved them from wanting the commonest necea-
saries, and if the committee would aid him by a moderate,
though not unimportant, sum to finish his Xenophon, it would
perhaps enable him to keep out of debt for the rest of his life.
Should the committee feel sufficient interest to receive any
pleasure from seeing the picture, Mr. Haydon need not say
how honoured he should be to sliow it them before they de-
cide whether, for the purpose of considering it, tliey should
think him entitled to assistance. Out of the 14,000/. given by
the Gallery Mr. Haydon has never had but 200/., and out of
the 75,000/. spent in sales only 60/. Mr. Haydon is quite
aivare this is no one's fault but his own, yet he cannot help
asking in conclusion, whether the committee think, should they
even honour him by a commission, he is likely now to fail,
when through life he has ever eserled himself to the utmost
when such a distinction has been conferred.

"Mr. Haydon anxiously apologises for this intrusion, and
hopes he may be so happy as to receive an answer which may
re-animaio his labours."

1830.] BELIEF FROM THE BRITISH INSTITUTION. '.

On the lltb came the answer — such an answer as s
a letter was likeliest to produce.

" Sir,
" I am (ieaired by the Directors of the British Institution to
inform you tliat your letter of the 3d instant has been this day
laid before them, and further to add that the only way in whioli
they can entertain the subject of it is by requesting your ac-
ceptance of 50/,, a draft for which I have now ihe honour to
enclose.

" I beg you to believe me. Sir,

"Most faithfully your obedient servant,

" Charles Beloe,

" Secretary."

The dajs were gone by in which he would have spumed
this alms, and the 50/. was accepted with thanks for the
kindness of the Directors.

" ISlh. — I called on Lord Farnborough. He was
grown old. The interview was interesting. He seemed
ashamed of the 50/. He talked of Lawrence. He said
his family would have nothing hut the 3000/., the result of
his exhibition. He wondered how it was. I told him
the moment I got into trouble, I met Lawrence in all
quarters, at which he drew his hand across his face, as if
shocked at my frankness in talking so of a President.
But I was determined to let him know I was aware of
Sir Thomas's condition, and would not be considered the
only embarrassed gentleman in the art.

Now came what but ten days before seemed so impro-
bable .i— the downfall of the Wellington administration,
and the advent of Lord Grey to power. Haydon remarks
on these great changes : — " 18(A. — Wellington is out I
Thus ends that immortal Tory ministry, whose energy and
true English feeling carried them through the most tre--
mendous contest that ever nation was engaged in. The
military vigour, the despotic feeling engendered by
twenty-five years of furious war, rendered them unfit,
perhaps, to guide the domestic policy of the country, and

266 MEUOIiiS OF B. E. HAYDON. ClB30.

though the Wliigs would have sacrificed the honour and
grandeur of Old England, for the sake of advancing the
abstract principles of the French Revolution, and conse-
quently were very unfit for the war with Napoleon, now
that the danger is over, they are perhaps more adapted to
carry the cotuitry through its present crisis. God grant
they may.

*' 22rid. — The Whigs have come in at a tremendous
crisis. God grant they may be equal to the opportunity.
If they rise in proportion to the tide, they will prove a
blessing to the world. I dread their inexperience in
office.

" 2ith. — But after all inexperience is soon got rid of.
The mighty principle is the thing. The Holy Alliance
is dashed to atoms for ever ■ — that incuhus on independent
impulse.

" 25tk. — Called to congratulate Lord Brougham.

" 1 sent in my card and begged one minute. The
servant came out and said, ' My Lord's compliments; he
can't.' As the door opened, I heard the buzz of a secre-
tary. The servant, who knew me, looked arch as he said
' My Lord.*

" And now Brougham has the power we shall see if
the Whigs do anything for art ! "

In December of this year happened an event which
caused Haydon both pride and satisfaction. Sir Robert
Peel gave him a commission for a picture of Napoleon at
St. Helena — (the subject he had already painted in cabi*
net size the year before) — nay more, called on Haydoa
and received a lecture on art.

" 8ih. — Sir Robert Peel called, and gave me a com-
roiseion to paint Napoleon musing, the size of life.

" He liked the Xenophon much. He seemed greatly-
interested. I asked him to walk into my plaster-room.
He mistook the Ilissus for the Theseus, and asked if the
fragment of the Neptune's breast was the Torso.

" Now had I been lecturer on art at Oxford when he
was a, student, he, Sir Robert, as a minister of England,

1830.] A COMMISSION FROM SIR ROBERT PELL. 267

should not bave mistaken a fragment of liie Elgin
Marbles for the Torso of Apollonius.

" He seemed very desirous of information, and asked it
candidly, but the state of his information was evidence
how Lawrence must have lauglied in his sleeve, and
flattered his ignorance, to get at lus money. I will not
do this.

" It is a great point bis giving me such a commission,
and Iiis calling. He said, ' There is a great opening for a
portrait painter,' ' Yes,' I replied, ' hut I fear Lawrence's
power of seizing and transferring the most beautiful
expressions of people's faces is likely to he unrivalled.'
He replied, 'What do you mean?' I explained, and
added, that Lady Peel and Miss Croker were the finest
instances of female expression in diiferent ways in art.

" I hope this visit will lead to good. So great a friend
as he is of the Academy would hardly take such a step
without some ultimate desire to do me good, or to ascer-
tain whether I merit the obloquy I have met with. My
keeping my word to him to pay up my taxes has had no
had elfect.

" This commission will be an interruption. Sir Robert
Peel asked me what I had for whole lengths : I said what
was true, 100 guineas. I ought to have said 200, but 100
was the truth. (It was wrong* of him to take advantage
of this, and pay me 100 guineas only, as if Napoleon was
a common whole length. Thirty he sent afterwards,)

" 9lk. — The interview yesterday only convinces me of
the necessity of lectures at Oxford, and that such a system
is the only chance for the art and manufactures of the
country. At the same time Peel showed fine natural taste.
He said, ' Do the Elgin Marbles deserve all that has beea

• Haydon was ill-judging enough to make BUtwequent aHusions to
this in letters to Sir Rotiert Peel, and even to make a demand of a
higher price. Sir Robert Peel was naturally annoyed at this after
tlie inquiry and answer given here. And Haydoo bimself, when the
ating of necessity niu not goading him, admitted the folly of hil
conduct in this particular. — Eo,

26B MEMOIHS OF B. E. HAYDON. [1830.

Baid of them ? ' ' More if possible.' ' Why ? ' 'I will tell
you. These t\*'o legs and thighs illustrate all. The foot
of No. I. is turned out, that of No. 2. is turned in. These
two actions of the foot make all the difference of marking
in the respective legs and thighs.'

" I showed him another foot. ' You can see at once,'
said he, ' the decided superiority. What beauty t '

" This was genuine, because on showing him the Venus
he thought the instep fat. I showed him the roll of skin
under Neptune's arm-pit, and proved to him that the
union of the accidents of nature with ideal beauty was
the great principle of Phidias, which all subsequent ages
lost sight of in search of a higher ideal beauty, and made
life no longer visible.

" He saw this at once, and I will venture to say I did.
him more good in ten minutes than ever Lawrence did in
ten years.

" l\lh. — Out the whole day mating studies for Na-
poleon's hat, with as much care as I would for the ana-
tomical construction of a limb. I know it now as well.
The hat fitted me exactly, and my skull is, like Napoleon's,
twenty-two inches in circumference. There was some-
thing terrific about its look, and it excited associations as
powerful as the helmet of Alexander!

" 16(A. — Began Napoleon for Sir Robert Peel. God
bless its commencement, progression, and conclusion.

" llth. — Called on Sir Robert Peel, who introduced
me to Lady Peel, and treated me with the greatest kind-
ness, I do not wonder at Sir George saying to me once,
' What a day we passed yesterday at Peel's ! Such a wife,
Buch children, such a dinner, and such pictures!' Egad, I
agree with him. His collection is quite exquisite — the
rarest specimens of Dutch and Flemish power. He ia a
fine creature, His conduct on the Catholic question was
a Roman sacrifice of feeling,

" 18M.— Moderately at work, Wrote Sir Robert Peel,
BtftUng my wish to devote myself to Napoleon, and saying
it was impossible unless he aided me by some portion in

1830.]. SIB ROBERT PEEL'S COMMISSION. 269

advance. God knows if this may offend him or not. I
hope not, but the sure way to get on with people of
fashion is never to ask them for money. However, as Sir
Robert sent to me in prison, he will not be angry at my
request.

« Whitehall, Dec. IStli.
« Sir,

" I enclose, in pursuance with your request, a draft for thirty
guineas on account of the picture which you are painting for
me. I meant to have offered it to you, and, therefore, need not
assure you that I cannot be in the least degree displeased by
the application.

" I am, sir, your faithful servant,

** EoBEBT Peel."

" I wrote the Duke for leave to sketch some part of
Napoleon's dress from one of his pictures. Here is his
answer.

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

'^ The Duke has four pictures of Napoleon in different cos-
tumes. On his return to town he will desire that they may be
brought together, and prepared for Mr. Haydon's inspection."

" Winchester, Dec. 23rd, 1830.**

** Read Moore's second volume * with such intensity I
forgot the last day of the year, a thing I never did before
in my life.

" The year is ended, but it is too late now to philo-
sophise.

" I am convinced Byron's Italian excesses were not
from love of vice, but experiments for a new sensation, on
which to speculate. After debauchery, he hurried away
in his gondola, and spent the night on the waters.

** On board a Greek, ship, when touching a yataghan,
he was overheard to say, * I should like to know the feel*
ings of a murderer.'

* OfByron's Life and Journals.

270 UEUOIBS OF B. H. HATDOK. tidal.

" This contains the essence of his moral character ; and
his assertion that he relished nothing in poetry not
founded on fact, that of his poetical.

" For the gjeat mercies of the year past, O Lord, accept
my deep gratitude ; for the corrections, deep submission
to Tby sacred will. Amen."

And so ends the Journal for 1830.

1831.

Haydon opened this year in diligent application to
the large picture of Napoleon for Sir Robert Peel, though
with some despondency at first

"January 29lk. — All passed since the 11th in a fit of
ennui and self-reproach, which my misfortunes and the
remembrance of them sometimes generate. I struggle and
vanquish my despondency, but in spite of all, these fits
hold dominion now and then for the time. By God's help
I will get out. The cloud will pass, and a successful day's
hit will soun restore my faculties.

" February 5th. — I am like Wellington's soldiers, who,
after a hard campaign, got ill the moment they moved
into winter-quarters. The moment that from any cause I
leave off hard work my fibres seem to relax, and I get

" Thomas Hope is dead, my early patron, and the pur-
chaser of my first picture; a good but capricious man.
He objected to my painting Solomon the size of life,
though he had .given a French painter 800 guineas juaC
before for Damocles, full size. He got offended, yet
when I was ill he sent me 200/. in the noblest manner, and
insisted I should not consider it as a debt.

" Gtk. — I dreamt Napoleon appeared to me and pre-
sented me with a golden key. This was about a month
since. It is curious. I have lately had singular dreams :
as Achilles says, the shades of our friends must be per-
nitted to visit us.

" Miss Edgeworth called with Mrs. Lockhart. There

1831.] PROGRESS OF NAPOLEON. 271

was great simplicity and sense in Miss Edgeworth. Mrs,
Lockhart is a Miranda in nature.

" 8(A. — Succeeded at last in getting Napoleon firm on
his legs. Strange I did it at once in the small sketch,
and missed it when meaning to be very grand in the large
picture. Dreamt Michel Angelo came to me last night
in my painting-room. I talked to him, and he shook
hands with me. I took him to the small medallion over
my chimney-piece, and said, ' It's very like, but I do not
think your nose so much broken as I had imagined.' I
thought it strange in my dream. I could not make it out
how he came there. He had a brown coat and complexion.
I certainly think something grand in my destiny is coming
on, for all the spirits of the illustrious dead are hovering
about me.

" I dreamt the other night I crept through a window
into the Capella Sistina, and thought the power in the
Prophets terrific. I saw a hand of Jeremiah modelled
with touches which I shall never forget. No man, I
thought, has been worse engraved.

" My eyes and health are recovered. I burn in my
feelings with some undefined anxiousness of expeclation,
' some unborn greatness in the womb of time,' which I
can't describe, but I seem as if 1 was seized with super-
natural communication, and start up in solitude. I ex-
pect a ' Dira facies ' or a smiling angel beckoning and
pointing.

" 9lh, — In my painting-room from a quarter past eight
till four incessantly glazing; it is the most nervous opera-
tion in the art. The sky is not what I imagine it ought
to he. Titian would have gone solidly through it as I did
first i no modern scrambling and tricks, but a manly, fair,
masterly, solid painting, and then skilful, flat, concealed
glazing.

" 10(A. — Strained exceedingly in my feelings. Wound
up the sky and sea. The sea I am proud of, not the sky
yeL

' Sir Robert was to have called, hut did not. One

272 5IEMOIR3 OF B. R. HATDOy. [1S3I.

hundred guineas is all I asked, but it is loo little. I meant
that was my price for a whole length,

" West told me he never know what it was to have a
head or stomach. I should think so from his colour and
expression. They were all by a man who had neither
head, stomach, or heart.

" I4th. — Out all day about money and rooms. I
called on Sir Kohert Peel. I found him sitting in his
magnificent library reading, and very pale. He seemed
harassed. He promised to call to see his picture. In the
afternoon he called, and was much pleased. I showed
him all my studies from the Elgin Marbles. I explained
their principles, and what gave them their superiority. He
listened with great attention. I hope I have done his
mind good. But he had a cowed air. Why I know not.
Politically he is, I dare say, harassed about this Reform
Bill, and his party perhaps wanting him to take the lead,
and he is really unwilling to leave the sweets of private
life for the turbulence and harass of a public situation.

" Whatwould I not give for such a library ! Sir Robert
Peel is a most amiable man, very sincere, diffident and
nervous,"

Haydon, as usual, furnished a description of the picture
when exliibited, from which I extract the passage which
follows.

" Napoleon was peculiarly alive to poetical association as pro-
duced by scenery or sound ; village bells with their echoing
ding, dong, dang, all bursting full on the ear, now dying iu the
wind, affected him as they affect every body alive to natural
impressions, and in the eve of all his great battles, you find him
stealing away in the dead of the night, between the two hosts,
and indulging in every species of poetical reverie.

" It was impoaaihle to think of such a genius in captivity,
without mysterious associations of the sky, the sea, the rock,
and the solitude with which he was enveloped : I never imagined
him but as if musing at dawn, or melancholy at sunset, listen-
ing at midnight to the beating and roaring of the Atlantic, or
meditating as the stars gazed and the moon elione on him : in

1831.] THE PICTURE OF NAPOLEOS AT 8T. HELENA. 273

short Napoleon never appeared to me but at those seasons of
eilerce and iwiiiglit, when nature seems to sympathise with the
faUen, and when if there he momenta in this turbulent earth fit
for celestial intercourse, one roust imagine these would be the
times immortal spirits might select to descend within the sphere
of mortality, to soothe and comfort, to inspire and support the
afflicted.

" Under such impressions the present picture was produced,
— I imagined him standing on the brow of an impending cliff
and musing on his past fortunes, — sea-birds screaming at his
feet, — the sun just down, — the sails of his guard ship glittering
on the horizon, and the Atlantic calm, silent, awfully deep, and
endlessly extensive.

" I tried it in a small sketch, and it was instantly purchased,
— I published a, print and the demand is now and has been in-
cessant ; a commission for a picture the full size of life, from
one well-known as the friend of artists and patron of art fol-
lowed, and thus I have ventured to think a conception so un-
expectedly popular might, on this enlarged scale, not be unin-
teresting to the public.

" No trouble has been spared to render the picture a re-
semblance : its height is Napoleon's exact stature, according
to Constant^ his valet, viz. five feet two inches and three quar-
ters, French, or five feet five inches and a half, English ; the
nniform is that of one of the regiments of Chasseurs ; every
detail has been dictated by an old officer of the regiment ; and
his celebrated hat has been faithfully copied from one of Napo-
leon's own hats now in England.

" The best description I ever saw of Napoleon's appearance
was in the letter of an Irish gentleman, named North, published
in the Dublin Evening Post, and as it is so very characteristic)
it may amuse the visitor. He saw him at Elba in 1814, and
thus paints him : —

" ' He bnt little resembles the notion I had of him, or any
other roan I ever saw. He is the squarest figure I think I ever
remember to have seen, and exceedingly corpulent. His face
is a perfect square, from the effects of fat, and, as he has no
whiskers, his jaw is thrown more into relief; this description,
joined to his odd little three- cornered cocked hat, and very
plain clothes, would certainly give him the appearance of a
vulgar person, if the impression was not counteracted by his
VOL. II. T

274 UEHOIBS OF B. B. HATDOy. [lS31.

soldierly carriage, and the peculiar ninnner of his walking,
which is conMent theatrical and a little ru£Gan-Iike, for he
stamps the ground at every step, and at the same time tmsts
Ilia body a little. He was dressed that day in a green coat,
turned up with a dirty white, &c., &c., fcc. Hia neck ia short,
liis shoulders very broad, and his chest oi>en • • ■

* His features are remarkably masculine, regular and
well formed. His skin is coarse, unwrinkled and weather-besten,
his eyes possess a natural and unaffected fierceness, the moiC
extraordinary I ever beheld : they are full, bright, and of a
brassy colour. He looked directly at me, and bis stare is by
far the most intense I ever beheld. This time, however,
curiosity made me a match, for I vanquished him. It is when
he regards you, that you mark the singular expression of hia
eyes — no frown — no ill-humour — no affectation of appearing
terrible ; but the genuine expression of an iron, inexorable
temper.'"

The exhibition of the picture was opened in April, but
the dissolution of Parliament, and the agitation of the
Reform question, were fatal to its success. The failure
left the painter once more in embarrassment which had
now, indeed, become normal with him. His own powers
of application to his art were diminished by the political
excitement of the times, in which he shared to the full,
writing letters on Reform to The Times, of which he
declares himself very proud, and filling his journals with
political reflections and speculations instead of sketches
and criticism of books or pictures.

Haydon's mind was certainly not limited to the range
of his art. I have already pointed out tbat each successive
picture served him as an introduction to some distinct
branch of knowledge or information which was keenly
and searchingly followed up. This picture of Napoleon
suggests to him long and elaborate reflections on the
conduct and character of the Emperor, with which it does
not appear necessary to trouble the reader.

In April Wordsworth was in town.

" Jpril 12th. — Wordsworth called after an absence of
several years. I was glad to see him. He spoke of my

r

1831.] POLITICAL EXCITEMENT. 275

Napoleon with his usual straightforward intensity of
diction. We shook handa heartily. He spoke of Na-
poleon so highly that I wrote, and asked him to give me
a sonnet. If he would or could, he'd make the fortune
of the picture.

" SOlk to 26(A. — All lost in politics, heat, fury, dis-
cussion, and battling. Never was such a scene seen as in
the House of Lords last Friday. The Marquis of Lon-
donderry bent his fist at the Duke of Richmond, and if it
had not been for the table would certainly have struck him.

"2Ttk,S8tA. — There was an illumination last night.
The mob broke all windows which had no lights. They
began breaking the Duke's, but when the butler came
out and told them the Duchess was lying dead in the
house, they stopped. There is something affecting in the
conqueror of Napoleon appealing for pity to a people he
had saved.

" May Isl, — Since the 10th of March I have done
little. The exhibition in consequence of the dissolution
fell to nothing. I closed it last night, though there never
was a picture so admired, or that made so complete a hit
with the connoisseurs.

" Worked to-day at the Xenophon. I have two com-
niissions for Napoleon, and only wait for a remittance.
God bless my effotts again.

" 21«(. — To-day, after an absence of some years, I
visited Lord Stafford's gallery, now belonging to Lord
Francis.* There I met Wilkie and Collins, with whom I
associated for twenty years in this very place. Since we
last met here, since we last studied here the beautiful
pictures from which I originally gained all I know in
colour, we had lost Sir George, who gave a double relish
to everything.

" Wilkie seemed duller. The pictures did not appear
to be so fine as I used to think them. I strolled about,
devoid of ail enthusiasm, and when Wilkie began to think

• The Ear! of Ellesmere.

276 MEMOrBS OF B. B. DATl>ON, [te31.

about the composition of a bit of Raffaele'a drapery, I
tUougln how unworthy a subject to occupy any man while
the Poles were fighting for existence. The times are too
full of impulse for art.

" S.'-Znd. — Took dear Frank to school. The pang of
separation from a dear child born in trouble, and nurtured
in convulsion, who had shared our sorrows, and reflected
our joys in hia beautiful face, was painful. Mary cried
bitterly. The children were grave, and all night I kept
dreaming he was ill-used by the servants. I pray God
most sincerely he may be able to stand it. This dear
boy's birth is recorded in my journal for 1823. He was
our first child, and I overwhelmed him with an eager in-
terest which broke him down.

"June \at. — Oh dear- — this is sad work ! Nothing but
one day's painting, and the rest sketching — sucking in
fresh air, — basking in sunsets, — rolling with my chil-
dren on the grass, and observing nature. But the last
summer was spent in prison; and there is something to
be said when I find myself with a guinea in my pocket
and no duns before rae. However, to work I must goj
and to-morrow, as an earnest, I am to select my horse at
the Guards for Xenophon. It must be a mottled Sienua
horse, which will set off the light on the fair one.

" Since I last wrote, poor Jackson is gone. A more
amiable, inoffensive man never lived. He had a fine eye
for colour, hut not vast power, and could not paint women.
He is the first of the three to go. God protect him. It
is curious what a set came in together under Fuseli: —
Wilkie, Mulready, Collins, Pickersgill, Jackson, Etty,
Hilton, and myself, I have produced Landseer, Eastlake,
Lance, and Harvey; Wilkie the whole domestic school.

" June 9iA. — Mrs. Siddons died this morning — the
greatest, grandest genius that ever was bom ! Peace to
her immortal shade ! She was good, and pious, and an
afl^ectionate mother. Posterity can never properly estimate
her power, any more than we can estimate Garrick'a.
Hail and farewell t What a splendid Pythoness she

WORDSWOETH S

seemed when reading Macbeth ! And wJien acting Lady-
Macbeth — what a sight ! "

The I9th of June brought Wordsivorth'a promised

t " My dear Haydon,

" I send you the sonnet, and let me have your ' Kingdom ' for
it. What I send you is not warm, but piping-liot from the
brain, whence it came in the wood adjoining my garden not
ten minutes ago, and was scarcely more than twice as long in
coming. You know how much I admired your picture both
for the execution and the conception. The latter is flrst-rate,
and I coutd dwell upon it for a long time in prose, without dis-
paragement to the former, which I admired also, having to it
no objection but the regimentals. They are too spruce, and
remind one of the parade, which the wearer seems to have
just left.

" One of the beat caricatures I have lately seen is that of
Brougham, a single figure upon one knee, stretching out his
arms by the sea-shore towards the rising sun (William the
Fourth), which, as in duty bound, he is worshipping. Do not
think your excellent picture degraded if I remark that the force
of the same principle, simplicity, is seen in the burlesque com-
position, as in your work, with infinitely less effect, no doubt,
from the inferiority of style and subject, yet still it is pleasing
to note the under-currents of affinity in opposite styles of art.
I think of Napoleon pretty much as you do, but with more dis-
like, probably because my thoughts have turned less upon the
flesh and blood man than your's, and therefore have been more
at liberty to dwell with unqualified scorn upon his various
liberticide projects, and the miserable selfishness of his spirit.
Few men of any time have been at the head of greater events,
yet they seem to have had no power to create in him the least
tendency towards magnanimity. How, then, with this impres-
sion, can I help despising him? So much for the idol of

r thousands. As to the Reformers, the folly of the ministerial
leaders is only to be surpassed by the wickedness of those who
will speedily supplant them. God of Mercy have mercy upon
poor England ! To think of this glorious country lacqueying

I the heels of France in religion (that is no religion), in morals,

I government, and social order 1 It cannot come to good, at

278 MEM0IE8 OP B. R. HAYDON. [1831.

least for the present generation. They hare began it in
shamei and it will lead them to misery. God bless jou.

" Wm. Wordsworth.

" You are at liberty to print tbe sonnet with my name,
when and where you think proper. If it does you the least
service the end for which it is written will be answered. Call
Qt Moxon's, Bond Street, and let him gire you from me, for
your children, a copy of the selections he has just published
from my poem a.

" Would it not be taken as a compliment to Sir Robert Peel,
who you told me has purchased your picture, if you were to
send him a copy of the sonnet before you publish it ?

Sonnet to S. B. Haydan, Esq., composed on seeing his Pictut
of Buonaparte on the Island of St. Helena,

" Hajdon ! let worthier judges praise the skill
Here by thy pencil shown in truth of lines.
And charm of colours ; / applaud those sij^na
Of thought, that give the true poetic thrill, —
That unincumber'd whole of blank and still —
Sky without cloud — ocean without a wave —
And the one Man, that lahour'd to enslave
The world, sole standing high on the bare bill.
Back turn'd— amw folded, the unapparent face
Ting'd (we raaj fancy) in this dreary place
With light reflected from the invisible sun.
Set — like his forlunes I but not set for aye
Like them — the unguilty Power pursues his way,
And before Him doth dawn perpetual sun."

" June 12th. — I received to-day the news of my son's
being rated, and another great pleasure, Wordsworth'
sonnet, and fancied myself the greatest of men when I
was returning from my walk after indulging in anticipa-
tion of a certain posthumous fame. As 1 entered my
hall I found a man sitting and writing. He told me what
he wanted, and because I refused to consent he abused

me excessively, and called me ' a shabby fellow, a d d

shabby fellow.'

1831.] A VISIT TO HIS STEP-SON AT OXFORD. 279

" This is life : — a sonnet in the morning, and damned
as a shabby fellow in the evening.

" One does not like to be called shabby, and it made
me uneasy all the evening.

'* * A mingled yarn — a mingled yam I '

" June 18th. — Went to Oxford about my son, veho
had suffered great privations, and lived on bread and veater
for breakfast, when not invited out. This astonished the
opulent warden and proctors. Perhaps there never before
was a scholar who did this. All my boys are brought up
to think knowledge, virtue, and fame, can only be got by
privations. I called on the warden, who gave him the
highest character. The very porter at the gate looked
mild when he spoke of him, and while I was talking, in
he walked, looking good, pure, and intellectual.

*' Hyman will be distinguished, I am convinced. Col-
lege life, properly taken advantage of, is a delightful life.
Wadham is the most scholastic-looking place of all the
colleges.

" The warden looked horror-struck when he said, * I
fear he does not always eat meat,' as if not eating meat
was the ne plus ultra of college privations. I never saw
a place that has so much the air of opulence and ease as
Oxford.

*' Orlando has behaved like a hero. I told him he
must go as the son of a poor man to make knowledge and
virtue his great objects, and to consider all privations as
the price. He has done so. He will be an example to
all the rest of the children. No boy of mine can go to
college but such as earn the means, as Orlando has done,
by getting a scholarship at sixteen.

" His brother is rated on board the Prince Regent for
his good behaviour, and Frank, my own dear son, has
begun his career at school. I have now his sister, seven
years old, to think about starting. Frederic is a fine boy,
and swears he will be a soldier. Alfred, in bc^d health,
handsome, peevish, and fretful, says he will be a painter.

T 4

280 ME3IOIBS OF B. B. HATDOIf. ClBSl.

(He is qualified now for an K. A.) Hanj ia a baby ;
and Fanny iU. God spare my life to see aU educated,
refined, and honourable. For happiness in life they must
not follow my example. I am of the Napoleon species.
Wilkie is the man I shall ever hold up in point of caution
and integrity — though not of heart : but heart is not
incompatible with prudence. God spare my life and
health! I have plenty to occupy it — a large family and
a large picture.

" I told the warden I was for a fortnight without eat-
ing meat in concluding Solomon.

"But for these scholarships, no poor man would have
a chance for Oxford.

"2lst. — Thus ends half the year. Finished one Na-
poleon — half finished another — four sketches — and ad-
vanced Xenophon. I have kept no regular account of
how I liave passed my time. I must begin again, or my
mind will be injured. Saturday, Sunday, Monday and
to-day, worked hard and advanced. Horse nearly done.
Instead of that detestable cart-horse breed of Rajfaele
and others, I have tried the blood Arab. It seems to
give great satisfaction.

"27 (/(. — I have, God be thanked! advanced Xenophon
this week by a mighty stride. Worked hard and late, and
had what I used to call the glorious faint feel. I re-
member once in 1812 making a jorum of tea, putting it
all into a wash-hand basin, and dipping it out in tea-cups
full — drinking in ecstasy. Nothing like your tea to stu-
dious men. Nectar is nothing to it. This was after
painting the wicked mother in Solomon.

" Jul// 20th. — A quarter to nine. This moment I have
conceived my background stronger than ever. I strode
about the room imitating the blast of a trumpet — my
cheeks full of blood, and my heart beating with a glorious
heat. Oh, who would exchange these moments for a
throne ?

" ' Here is mj throne — let king* bow down to it 1'

•' Now for my palette— and then canvaa look sharp.

r

1831.] AT THE SEA-SIDE: RETROSPECT. 231

" August ^%ih. — Out of town to Margate and Rams-
gate the whole week. Never did human creatures suck
in sea air with such rapture as I and my dear Mary and
children. The heach at Ramsgate is superb. The steady
blue sea, the glittering sail, the expansive and canopied
skj-, were treats that literally overpowered one's eyes and
faculties, after being pent up in brick walls.

"It is five years since we were at the sea — some of the
children never saw it. Twice I have been imprisoned ;
and I thought it was a little at the expense of principle
to go without settling all my bills ; yet as my income is
current, and all depends on my talents, and the developing
of them in health, it may be excused.

" What a scene a steam-hoat is ! My next comic picture
shall be ' A Margate steamer after a gale — Land —
Land ! ' I engaged all the musicians to sit, and go next
week to sketch the locale of the vessel,

"Slst. — Thus ends August, and thus end the eight
months — as unsatisfactorily passed as any eight since I
began the art. Peel's picture, from anxiety to do better
than well, was a dead loss ; and though he gave me 130
guineas, 200 would hardly have paid me. I am melan-
choly — can I be otherwise? After twenty-eight years'
work, and sincere devotion, not to have saved one guinea,
or to know where to go for one in case of sudden illness,
broken limbs, or fever. Not only not to have any pro-
perty left, hut to have lost all that I had ever saved — all
the school hooks of my youth ; all the accumulations of
boyhood, youth and manhood — to lose impressions of
language, for want of means of reference — to forget
poets — to have Tasso slide from ray mind, and almost
dear Shakespeare fade on my memorj*. "When I contrast
my present unhappy condition, and remember myself
in my father's shop devouring all the new books, sur-
rounded with all great works — my father's shop was a
distinguished library — when I recollect it was at ray
service, and the happy, happy hours I have spent poring
over astronomy, geography, and acquiring knowledge in

em; n^, and t^en fam* ts bj nnd &e pennrj of bj
preamt condttkn, it foms lean to i^ ejes, I have
BOtUng 1^ on earth I cm call a^ ova, bat mj braina.

"Tet Hjr landkcd is beaerakstf and good — n^ wife
kmag — Bj- c Mdi CT beaMlfBL U; two ddest Im^ an
doing wcB — mj owa *>***'*■, dMogli mt onshaken, jet
good — WEj finae iDcveanf^ ; bat alas! debt and mia have
toodud tbe boBoaT of mj name^ Tet I am not tmbappj,
I nerer lose tbe mjstenoas «hi^>cT, * Go en,' and I feel
tbat in spite of cahniitj and present appearances, if I
TirtaoDB and good, 1 dudl, before I die, can; my great
object.

" Washington Irving says, ' Columbus imagined the
Toice of the Dehj spoke to him, to comfort him ia his
troobles at Hispaniola.' Xo — he did not imagine it — he
did hear it, and it did speak. Iiring calls him s risionaiy.
Oh, no. Ir»ing has no such object — he has no such com-
munications.

" Well, adieu August. I never concluded any month
more calmly melanchoi;, or more prepared when it pleases
God.

"Sept. \5th. — Orting to the plague of exhibition, to
the worrit of a subscription, the harass of a large family,
my interruptions have been terrific It is impossible to
goon.

" Two hundred and fifty-eight days have passed, and I
liave only worked legitimately sixty-one, leaving 197
days, valuable days, unprofitable and useless. This is so
dreadful my brain almost maddens. A picture might have
been done, hut necessity is half the cause. And the treat-
ment of Peel, which, to tell the truth, has sunk deep into
me; hut it was my own fault, though he might have be-
haved more nobly. Only 130 guineas for such a picture
as Napoleon ! I expected from his fortune an ample re-
ward. It is no use to despair. Oh that I should ever
speak the word^ hut my feelings are very acute. He did
not behave as became him ; and I conducted myself with
folly. These 197 days will rise up to my mind at my last

r

1831.J DEPRESSION: BTROn'S MEMOIRS. 283

hour. It is a serious crime. Never since I began the
art have I been bo guilty. It would be better policy
to say nothing ; but this is a journal of my mind and
habils, and in conscience I can't conceal it, Tlie state I
have lately been in is shocking. My mind fatuous — im-
potently drawling over Petrarch — dawdling over Pausa-
nias — dipping into Plutarch. Voyages and travels no
longer exciting- — all dull, dreary, iiat and disgusting. I
seem as if I never should paint again. I look at my own
Xenophon, and wonder how I did it— read the Bible-
gloat over Job — doubt religion to rouse my faculties, and
wonder if the wind be East or S. S. W. — look out of
window and gape at the streets — shut up the shutters,
and lean my cheek on my hand — get irritable for dinner,
two hours before it can be ready — eat too much — drink
too much, and go to bed at nine lo forget existence. I
dream horrors — start up — lie down again, and toss and
tumble and listen to the caterwauling of cats, and just
doze away as light is dawning in.

"Delightful life — fit attendants on idleness. With
my ambition ! my talents ! my energy ! Shameful.

" i8(A. — Worked hard. Called on Leslie in the morn-
ing. Talked of Byron. Rogers said Moore had scarcely
read his (Byron's) manuscripts, that he was occupied, and
lent it about ; that the women read the worst parts, and
told them with exaggeration ; that Moore got frightened
at hearing it abused, and burnt it without ever having
read it through. Irving told Leslie he had read a part,
and there was exquisite humour, though it cnuld not all
have been published.

" Belgrave Hopner told me that be had read it, and it
ought to have been burnt. i

" But it would have been but justice to have heard ,
what Byron could say about his marriage, and now my
Lady has it all her own way.

" Leslie said, Coleridge and Madame de Stael met—
each furious talkers ; Coleridge would talk. The next
day she was asked bow she liked Coleridge. ' For a.

284 XrHOIBS OF B. B. HATDOX.

moaotogae,' >aid she, ' exceHeot ; bat as to a dialogue — -
good faesTen* ! '

" She would have been better pleased if Coleridge could
have Baid this of her. For that evening nerer were two
people to \ikely to hate each other."

The feelings of depression which at this time beset
Haydon translate themselfes in the pages of uneasj ques-
tioning about " fate, free will, fore-knowledge absolute,
which fill the journals of these mooths. Besides pecu-
niary difBculties, the political agitation of the time hsd
probably much to do with this mood, as it distracted the
painter from his work, and as with him interruptioD in
hti painting was always a source of disconaforl and dis-
satisfaction with himself and things about him. In this
month the picture of Christ's Entry into Jerusalem waa
sold by its possessor, for Messrs. Cbilds and Inman, of
Philadelphia. Its departure from Ungland was a heavy
blow to the painter.

" September 2'Jrd. — My Jerusalem is purchased, and
is going to America. Went to see it before it was em-
barked. In the room was a very fine head of a Pope, by
Velasquez. As this opportunity for a lesson was not to
be lost, I placed it immediately in the centre of my pic-
ture, and compared them closely. The head by Velasquez
was fresher, and there was evidently no yellow in it.
In many of my heads the yellow predominates a little ;
but the penitent girl, and the centurion and the Sama-
ritan woman, kept their ground triumphantly. After
this I will fear no competition with any other work.

" It was melancholy thus to look at a work for the last
time which had excited so great a sensation in England
and Scotland ; the progress of which had been watched by
all the nobility, foreign ministers, and people of fashion,
and on the success of which all prospect for the historical
art of the country at that time appeared to hang. It was
leaving ray native country for ever, where I had
I hoped to have seen it placed triumphantly in some public
1 building,

r

1831.] CHKIST'3 entry INTO JERDSALEM BOUGHT. 285

" However I trust in God it will be preserved from fire
and ruin, and as it was a work painted with the moat fer-
vent prayers to Him, the author of all things, for health
and strength to go through it, that He will he pleased to
grant that it may cross the seas in safety, and do that
good in America it has failed to do here.

" Out the whole day about this picture. Its condition
is admirable. It was painted in pure linseed oil, and not
a single atom of gum in it, or on it since. God bless it,
and the result of its mission. What a disgrace to the
aristocracy !

" 2ith. — Out the whole day on money matters, I
should have returned without a guinea, but for the kind-
ness of my dear friend, Talfourd, who lent me five sove-
reigns. I wrote the Bukes of Bedford and Devonshire
to take another share — to no purpose yet. I am nearly
through Xenophon, but with not a shilling for the winter,
and my children literally in want of stockings for the cold.
Triumph I shall. It is the dowry of Englishmen to con-
test and vanquish impossibilities. If this Reform Bill
passes, whose breast will not broaden, and heart swell,
who will not go down on his knees and thank God he was
born in England ?

"28(A. — Out trying to arrange and defer the payment
of my taxes and rates till Xenophon was done, and to en-
deavour to get the next month entirely clear for work.
Succeeded ; but what time is lost.

" October 3rd. — Hard at work on the First Child for
my friend, Kearsey, one of the most infernal self-willed
devils (except myself) that ever lived. This engagement
is of long standing. It was my duty, but I could not get
over a certain disgust. This morning, Xenophon being
comparatively off my mind, the whole of this last subject
darted into my mind. I flew at it like a Turk, and
to-nigbt (the 4th) have got through it, except a trifle
or two.

" ilk. — Worked from eight till four, with only ten

28G MEMOIRS OF B. R. HATDON. [l831.

itiiautes iaterval, and got through the First Child. I neveT
painted a picture bo quick in all my life.

" 5th. ~ Out to get money to pay the governess of my
children. Succeeded by the kindness of my friend, Clarke,
one of my trustees. I did not get home till past twelve.
One called and the other called, and I then worked till
half-past four, three hours and a half, and wound up my
small picture of the First Child, though I painted it all
yesterday. I shall paint some more small pictures,

" Gth. — After working with intense anxiety to keep
my engagement with Kearsey, and having succeeded, to
my conviction, in producing a rapid and finished sketch
with character, colour, handling, and chiaroscuro, I took it
down, expecting praise. "When he saw it, with that air of
insolence money gives city people, he said, ' I suppose
this was done in three quarters of au hour?' What was
that to the purpose ? Were there not all tlie requisites of
art, and all the experience of my life ? There were.

" I took my leave, and went to see Jerusalem packed
up, which was carefully and excellently done. I sighed
at the thoughts of its leaving old England, but it is better
in America than in a cellar in London. God grant it may
have a safe passage.

" As I was near the Bench I walked over, and called

on poor D , the victim of the commissioners for ten

years. He was altered, and spoke in a voice sinking from
exhaustion. He said he was starving. He said he had
nothing alt day yesterday. All his clothes were gone. I
gave him a trifle, all I could afford, for really I had not
10*. I felt it a duty, and small as the sum was it gave me
a glow of confidence in God. (The widow's mite.) Wei],
I thought, my prospects of getting on are uncertain, but
I'll trust where I have never trusted in vain. In coming
home I took shelter from rain, where I found a poor Irish

t:ch-woman, and a sick boy under her cloak, crouching.

f her a penny. It was contemptible, hut it caused

"ure. I came home in very low spirits. Kearsey

'ed like an ignorant brute about the sketch of

1831.] rOLITICAL LUCUBRATIONS. 287

the First Child. D had made me low, and I did not

know where to get a guinea myself, when on the chimney-
piece I found a letter from the Duke of Bedford enclosing
ten guineas, and begging another share. It may be said,
whether you had been charitable or not the ten guineas
would have been there. Perhaps not. I like to consider
it more than a happy coincidence ! "

Here is an example of the painter's political utterances
in the shape of a letter to the Times, on the rejection of
the Reform Bill by the Lords in this month.

To the Editor of The Times.

e of teaching nations how

" Sir,

" The Bill ia rejected ; but let the nation remember it has
been legally rejected. The Lords are a component part of the
legislature, and have as great a right to decide as they please,
as any other body of Britons.

" Patience, sound sense, and, above all, perseverance, have
ever been considered by the world as the great leading points
in the character of Englishmen. Earnestly do I hope it may
now be proved. The Bill is lost, but only for the time. From
the habits of the Lords, from their separated society, their
ignorance of the power of the press, and their affectation of
despising it, no man vrho knew them expected at first another
conclusion. But yet, sir, let us hope that all classes will re-
member, that riot, confusion, fire, murder, robbery, and exas-
peration will not advance reform, but impede it — embarrass
the Government, and confirm the assertion of the Lords that
people are not fit for greater influence. Let them not give
their enemies such a handle.

" As an Englishman who glories in his country, who would
rather die on a dunghill in it, than be possessed of affluence in any
other, I earnestly appeal to the people to do nothing illegal, — not
to hamper the King or the ministers by distracting their atten-
tion, but to be quite certain that Lords Grey and Brougham,
and His Majesty, will do all that can be done to obtain the
nation's great determination by another regular, legal attempt.

iSS MEMOIKS O? B. S. BATnoy. [1831.

** Let emj' ■■■, tbcn&K, mttend lo Ua duties, ftnulj sr
|«ofaiwonri. I>t CToy naa id his cpbve exert himself te
nsfloeace it, hj adrimg peaoe^ pitieiice, and Gnnaea, Tor
■otlung would kffiird raeh ylf iirc to the enemies of refbnn i^
ioatt, tx the enemica of &ighBd abroad, u to see the eoontiy
rinking in ptditie*] and domeEtie iafloeDce, a prey to qtSi
bnil* and fierce and senseless blood; >traggks.

" In a coontrj so r^ubied bj the habit of a long establisb*
ment of law sod gorenunent, there is no eense in proTing oor
lore of libertj bj catting the tlmmts of oar neighbonra ; or
becaiue a noble Lord ma; have differed with the advanced
notiona of the people on moral right, there is no evidence of
eaperior kooirledge in dcMrOTing his house, burning his li-
brary and pictnrea, — in short, giving way to all the feelings,
more fit for a savage than a rational being.

" Reform must pas^ but what a triumph it will be tat
England if it pass, as it will, bj law, and reason, and con--
stilDtional means.

" Thns will England prove the assertion of Slilton t thm
will she give a lesson to the world, and not forget, sir, the
precedence of teaching nations how to live.

" If reform be passed by any other means we may rejoice,
but our joy would have been purer, and England would hava
Blood higher, if it had passed, as I trost in God it will yet
pass, and as it mu~t, if the people conduct themselves with
temperance and firmness.

" A Ke FORMER."

" October 8lh. — Very moderately at work. Never so
excited since Waterloo as now about politics. I hope the
people will be sensible.

" 9lh. — At work and improved the Xenophon still,
but much excited about reform."

It was while under the influence of this political fever
that Hajdon painted his picture of Waiting for the Times,
which, with its bearing on the feeling of the times, had
a great success, as might have been expected. The
original picture was painted for Lord Stafford, to whose
mely aid Kaydon owed the means of matriculating his
. Step-son Orlando at Oxford, but he painted more than

r

1S31.] TUE P.EFOESI BILL EXCITEMENT. 289

one duplicate of the subject, which is well known from
the engraving.

" Wih. — Rubbed in Reading the Times, a capital
subject.

" I2th. — Completed the rubbing in of Reading the
Times. About the middle of tlie day became very un-
easy from the state of the town, and went to Pall-Mail.
In a bookseller's shop I met Watson Taylor. He under-
valued the exasperation of the people, aud said it would
he over iu a week. I beg his pardon. It is a much
deeper feeling than he or any other of the borough-
mongers imagine. How the borough- monger ing has
corrupted the country. There is a chuckling sneer, a
supercilious air, a knowing blinking of eye in a real
borough-monger quite extraordinary ; — at the same time
a manner of fashion, and as if he knew more than meets
the eye, as if he was a criminal by right, and did wrong by
superior education.

" If we had not got the means of renovating our-
selves, we should sink into slavery and corruption; but
what I fear is, that the people have been so tri6ed with
that mere reform will not satisfy them — that they look
beyond. The success of American independence has been
the torch which has lighted the world for the last fifty
years. It will now never cease blazing till cheap govern-
ments are established. The Coronation of George IV.
may be considered the setting-sun of that splendid impo-
sition — monarchy.

" I wrote Lord Londonderry, and begged him to take
care of his Corregios. God knows what the mob might do.

" Now Xenophon is done, I feel the want of a great
work to keep my mind excited. A number of small things
does not do so ; it is not enough,

" lith. — I think I shall begin the Crucifixion. I called
on Lord Londonderry, who was cut in the face by three
pickpockets. He was more shaken than hurt, the porter
said.

Sir Hussey Vivian last night reproached Lord John

VOL, II.

290 MEMOIRS OF B, K. HAYDON. [l831.

Russell with corresponding witli the Birmingham Asso-
ciation, and said it ought to be put down, as in 1793. It
requires a very different capacity to discover resemblances
and to detect differences. The minister vrho guided him-
self by the example of Mr. Pitt in 1793 has passed forty
years in his own country to very little purpose.

" The state of public knowledge now and then is quite
different. The knowledge of the result of violent revolu-
tionary proceedings was not then acquired. And it was
Tight and proper to take stern measures that a constitu-
tion of 100 years should not be overturned by the adop-
tion of thoughtless maxims of theoretic perfection. But
now the people cry out, not for revolution, but for restor-
ation. They wish for their rights, and their rights they
will have."

Sir Walter Scott was in London this month, previous
to his sailing for Italy. Haydon paid him a last visit.

" IGlk. — Called on dear Sir Walter yesterday, and was
affected at the alteration in him. Though he was much
heartier than I expected to find him, his mind seemed
shaken. He said ho feared he had occasionally done too
much at a time, as we all do. We talked of politics, of
course. Though grateful to the King, he was ' too old a dog,'
he said, ' to forget George IV.' His son was on duty at
ShefReld. I lamented that a poor fellow perfectly innocent
had been shot on duty. 'Ah,' said Sir Walter, 'soldiers
should be careful how they fire, because bullets are gen-
tlemen not. much given to reflection.' Here was a touch
of the old humour. We chatted about Shee having the
presidency. ' An accomplished gentleman,' said Sir Walter,
' whom nacbody ever haird on,' affecting more Scotch ac-
cent than he has. This was d — d fine.

" We then talked of the late King. Sir Walter said

he never saw anybody so pleased with a picture as he

vith the Mock Election. After a quarter of an hour

[ took my leave, and as I arose, he got up, took his stick,

"vith that sideling look of his, and then burst forth that

beautiful smile of heart and feeling, geniality of soul.

1831,] SIE WALTEE'a LAST VISIT, 291

manly courage and tenderness of mien, whicli neitlier
painter nor sculptor has ever touched. It was the smile of
a superior creature who would have gathered humanity
under the shelter of his wings, and while he was amused
at its follies, would have saved it from sorrow, and shel-
tered it from pain. Perhaps it may he the last time I am
ever to see him, as he sails in a day or two ; and if it be,
I shall rejoice that this was the last impression.

" Ocl. 22nd. — I must this day conclude this journal,
and a curious record it is of my mind and sufferings.
Strange and extraordinary events are recorded of the fate
of nations, and many singular sufferings of myself as an
individual. But I have got through the Xenophon, aa I
prayed at the commencement; and for this great mercy I
offer my deepest gratitude to the Almighty Disposer of
events. Something extraordinary will happen with rela-
tion to Xenophon. I began it in the midst of anxieties
and afflictions, under the most extraordinary impulses of
such a nature that I felt as if some influence was in the
room.

"God bless my family, and grant that I may live to see
the reform of art I have ever prayed for.

"Oct, 32d.' — This day I begin a new journal. My
Xenophon is done, except a trifle. The prospects of art
at this time are precarious; but if the Bill passes, I think
corporate bodies (the great nuisance) will be shaken, and
native art will then have a better chance. I saw Wilkie
to-day. He was almost as much horrified at reform aa
when Ottley, and poor Scott and I made him drink suc-
cess to it in my large painting-room in Lisson Grove.

" He was looking old, and complained of his head. He
will never again be what he was.

" SGth. — I called at the palace to-day ; but what a
difference in the attendants. All George IV.'s seiTants
were gentlemen, to the very porters, — well-fed, gorgeous,

• ITie Eighteenth Volume of the Journals oommBncea at this date,
with the motto, " Continao culpam ferro eompesce."

292 MEMOISS OF B. E. OATDOS. [1831.

gold-Iaced rascals. Monarclij is settiog. In 100 years
more, I don't think there will be a king in Europe. It ii
a pity. I like the splendid delusion ; but why make it so
expensive? Voting now 100,000/. a-year for the Queea
— as if 5000/. was not enough for any woman's splendour!
These things won't be home much longer.

" 2Slh. — ^"A glorious day. King William IV. lias
consented to place his name at the head of my list fov
XcnophoQ. Huzza ! God bless bim.

" Upon reflection I shall certainly vote for her Majesty
haying 100,000/. a year after this. What can a queen do
with less ! It is impossible. How short-sighted we are^
I thought I felt peculiarly dull all day yesterday. Thif
comes of grinding colours.

" Drank His Majesty's health in a bumper, and sue
to reform : I think kings ought not to set. They wil]
keep in the meridian yet.

"29lk. — Kearsey bought my Waiting for the Time*
— a blessing. Exchanged several of H. B.'s admirable
caricatures for my Napoleons. Whoever H. B. is, hi
a man of great genius. He has an instinct for expres-
sion, and power of drawing, without academical cant, I
never saw before ; but evidently an amateur from the
delicacy of his touch, or timidity rather.

"31st. — I wrote Lord Grey I thought it would b*
honourable to genius if those who had their freedoms.
voted to them either for their talent or bravery should
be still allowed to retain their rights, notwithstanding they
were non-resident. He is of opinion it cannot be done;.
I still retain my opinion. It would be a tribute to
genius a Greek or Roman would not have hesitated to
pay.

" November 1st. — Worked hard, and half did Writing
for the Times. Horrid news from Bristol. In the
midst of a mass of people roaring vengeance. Sir Charles
Wetherell threatened to commit. Think of a man threaten-
ing to commit the sea at the deluge! These people,
accustomed to authority, are like poor George III., who

r

1831.] POLITICAL EXCITEMENT. 293

continued to make peers and baronets long after his senses
had gone from him.

" I2lh. — As time approaches for the meeting of Par-
liament, people apprehend the decision of the Wliigs.
The bill will be thrown out, I have no doubt. God knows
what will be the consequence. I will bet five to one the
Duke comes in after all, and carries the measure. If he
do I shall laugh. I have never taken his bust away, but
keep it on my chimney-piece, in spite of the devil, and
will do so. Though a reformer, I am yet a John Bull to
the marrow. I am not going to forget him who raised
the nation from disgrace.

*' What I complain of is the inflammation of mind this
Reform Bill has generated. I can fix on no reading but
reform meetings, I am sick of it, and wish for any con-
clusion that will be a conclusion — but the fact is, it will
never conclude.

" lilh. — I dreamt last night of dear Keats. I thought
he appeared to me, and said, ' Haydon, yon promised to
make a drawing of ray head before I died, and you did
not do it. Paint me now.' I awoke and saw him as dis-
tinctly as if it was his spirit. I am convinced such an
impression on common minds would have been mistaken
for a ghost. I lay awake for hours dwelling on the re-
membrance of him. Dear Keats, I will paint thee,
worthily, poetically.

" \8th, — This day my dear little child Fanny died, at
half past one in the forenoon, aged two years, nine months
and twelve days. The life of this child has been one con-
tinued torture : she was weaned at three months from her
mother's weakness, and attempted to be brought up by
hand. This failed, and she was reduced to a perfect
skeleton ; one day when I was kissing her, she sucked
my cheek violently. I said, this child wants the bosom
even now. Our medical friend said it was an experiment,
but we might try it. I got a wet nurse instantly, and she
seized the bosom like a tigress ; in a few months she ro-

1

1

294 MEMOIRS OF B. E. DATDOS. Ll93I.

coTercd, but the woman who came to suckle her weaned
her own child.

" I called on the nurse hefore she came, and found a
fine baby, her husband and herself in great poverty. I
said, 'What do you do with this child »' She replied,
' Wean it, sir. We must do so, we are poor.' I went
away, ' Is this just,' thought I, ' to risk the life of anothei
child to save my own ? ' I went home tortured about
what I should do, but a desire to save my own pre-
dominated.

" The nurse came, Fanny was saved, but the fine ba.by
of tlie poor nurse paid the penalty. I was never easy,
Fanny never can, and never will prosper, thought I.
What right had I to take advantage of the poverty of this
poor woman to save my own child, when I found out she

had an infant of her own ? When the nurse's time was

up,

Fanny withered, the bosom was again offered, and refused.
From that moment she daily sank in spite of all medical
advice, and to-day, after two convulsive fits, expired with-
out a gasp,

" 23rd. — Dearest Fanny was buried lo-day, close to-
Mrs, Siddons, in a most retired and sweet spot, where I
hope to have a vault for all of ua. Two trees weep over
the grave. No place could have been more romantic and
secluded.*

" Peace to her — little soul — bom weakly, hut her weak-
ness aggravated by improper treatment ; always ill, in a
large family, wanting repose and rest and never getting it.
What a weakly child suffers from the healthy children !
Good God ! the teazing, the quizzing, the tyranny, the
injustice.

" S4:lh. — Began my family picture with dear AMredV
head, who is dying too. 1 went on painting and crying.
There he sat, drooping like a surcharged flower ; as I
looked at him, I thought what an exquisite subject a dying
child would make. There he dozed, beautiful and sickly,
his feet, his dear bauds, his head, all drooping, and dying,
• In Pftddington bow churehysrd.

r

183!,] LOSS OF A DAnCHTER: STRDGGLE. 295

" S5lk. — Rubbed in the dying boy to-day. It wiU
make a most piercing subject.

"S6lh. — Hard at work on my family picture. They
shall see if I can paint portraits, now my heart is in it.

" 30lh. — A month of occupation, but not such occu-
pation as equals my intentions. When shall I ever do
that?

" My sweet Fanny died this month. There is now such
an intimate connection with me and the grave that I shall
never break the chain. I pierce through the earth, the
coffin and the lid, and see her lying still and awful. At
breakfast, at dinner, at tea, I see lier. I look forward to
my own death with placid resignation, and only hope God,
in His mercy, will not let me suffer much.

" I should like to finish my life, clear up my own cha-
racter, and leave my n*me free from the spots misfortune
has implanted there. Bless my intentions, O Lord.

" December 2nd. — ■ To-day I have done nothing on earth
but muse, ponder, wonder, blunder, and mope. I want
50^. : how to get it, where to get it, and when to get it,
God knows. In Him I trust, and shall not trust in vain.

"3rd. — After a harassing day, calling on the com-
missioners of taxes, and trying to defer the payment of a.
cognovit, I came home fagged to death. I found a letter
from Francis of Exeter, a proof of his good heart, offering
me 50^. If I get this blessing next week it will save me.
Dies sine lined. Not a touch yet.

" S9tk. — There is in the English people a fierce re-
solution to make every man live according to the means
he possesses. The principle is fine, but they do not
sufficiently draw the line between the actual possession
and the justifiable hope of possessing.

" Slst. — The following letter of Goethe's is an immortal
honour. Think of this great man saying his soul is
elevated by the contemplation of the drawings of my
pupils from the Elgin Marbles — drawings which were
the ridicule and quiz of the whole body of Academicians.

^^— lue SCO
^^^k^qf the

296 WEMOIKS OF B. H. UAYDON. [l831,

" My dear sir,

" The letter which you have had the kindness to address to
me hos aObrded me the greatest pleasure, for as my eoul has
been elevated for many years by the contemplation of the im-
portant pictures formerly sent to me, which occupy an honour-
able station in my bouse, it cannot but be highly gratifying to
me to learn that you still remember me, and embrace this op-
portunity of convincing me that you do so.

" Alost gladly will I add my name to the list of subscribers
to your very valuable painting *, and I shall give directions to
my banker here to forward to you the amount of my ticket^
through the hands of his correspondents in Loudon, MeBSre.
Coutts & Co.

" Reserving to myself the liberty at a future period for
further information as well about the matter in question, and
the picture that is to bo raffled for, as concerning other objects
of art, I beg to conclude the present letter by recommending
myself to your friendly remembrance.

" H. Goethe."

" Weimar, December 1. 1831.

. " I2lh. — Hard at work; indeed, racing the town;
succeeded in selling the copyright of Napoleon to pay off
my temporary embarrassments, and send my son mooey,
I hope to go to work to-morrow.

" I wrote Peel, offering to send him my picture.
Waiting for the Times, to look at, as if he liked and
purchased it, it would have saved me from all the em-
barrassment Napoleon brought me into. His answer is
cold.

" More than a third of this month has gone in dark
days and anxiety. I see my way now better, and trust in
God for my guide. I am come to that point now at which
I feel the inspiration of the Bible, and its superiority over
all the authors in the world. Go from Homer, Shake-
speare, Tasso, Ariosto, Plutarch, Csesar, Tacitus, or any
genius, however great, to the Bible, and you see at once
the scope of the Bible's object, viz., the eternal salvation
lOf the soul of man.

• Xenophon

1831.] BBVIEW OF 1831. 297

" ^Snd. — Laid up in my eyes from studying Suetonius'
life of CiGsar the greater part of the night— very intereat-
ing, but his Latin is not so delightful to me as Sallust's,
My classical knowledge is so shallow I really ought not
to give an opinion, but it appears far-fetched and harsh
in comparison.

*' The lives of ambitious men are the lives that really
delight me. The biographies of Csesar, Alexander, Na-
poleon, give me naore real pleasure than those of all the
philosophers and moralists in Christendom.

" 23rd. — Rubbed in two subjects, David and Goliath,
and Falstaff and Doli Tearsheet.

" Now for it. The vein is opened again. It is curious
that nobody has remarked (at least, not that I know of)
that Petrarch's Trionfo della Fama, IIL certainly assisted
or suggested Raffaele'a School of Athens.*

" December S\st. — Another last day of auother last
year.

" What have I to say ? Nothing, but that after forty-
five years I have been more irresolute, more idle, more
doting, more unworthy of my name, than any preceding
year of my life.

" Lord Stafford enabled me to matriculate my eldest
step-son. I was to paint him a picture for the amount,
50/., I have done it, and sent him Waiting for the Times.
He is pleased, and I am highly gratified. I have thus
kept my word, and I am gratified for the power.

" January — February. — Worked hard.

" March* — April, — Occupied with exhibition.

" May. — Worked hard.

" June. — Mad about Paganini.

" July, August, September. — Worked hard.

" October, November, December. — Faddled.
" Thus endeth 1831.

" I own I cannot see better reaaons for the opinion than Flu-
ellen'a for thu comparison between Maccdon and Monmouth. — Ed.

18SSL

This year was memorable in Haydon's life. It brought
him into relation with the leaders of the Trades Unions
at Birmingham, and with the Minister who carried the
Reform Bill. In it he made an unsuccessful attempt to
raise a subscription for a picture of the Trades Union
Meeting at Newhall Hill, and was actually commissioned
by Earl Grey to paint a picture of the Reform banquet
ill Guildhall. For this commission the leading men of
the Liberal party sat to him, and the occasion awakened
in his mind, (still sanguine in spite of the many proofs
of self-deception which the struggles of the last years
must have carried with them,} hopes which were not
destined to be realised. This work was further grate-
ful to the painter, as it gave him opportunities of im-
pressing on his distinguished sitters those views upon
the public encouragement of art which, to do him justice,
he maintained energetically and consistently from the
beginning to the end of his career. His vanity too was
flattered by access to ministers and noblemen, and in the
journals of this period there is abundant and undisguised
expression of satisfaction at these relations, which will be
offensive to many, but which in any honest exhibition of
the man can in no way be suppressed or softened. Be-
sides what concerns the Reform picture the journals con-
tain the usual record of difficulties, borrowings, battlings,
indignant protests against the "horrid necessities" of
his position, alternated with passionate demands for help,
which, as they weary the reader of them, may well have
irritated the persons to whom they were addressed. But
the mischief was done now, and the habit of resorting to
this easy source of relief had deadened, though it never
destroyed, the sense of humiliation which must accompany
[ begging. Interspersed with these unlovely portions of
■ the life are passages of good feeling and noble aspiratioa

I lasa.] STILL AT xesophon: the dying BOr. 299 I

which plead for a more lenient judgment of the man than
I ought, perhaps, to hope for him.

" January \st. — How much have I to thank God for.
I passed the first day in peace and happiness. We had a
good dinner, a good fire: we crowded round it, and chatted
innocently and happily. The children all well. The last
the image of me, large, restless, flying from one thing to
the other, and delighted with pictures.

" The only pain I felt was at the thought of the many
poor souls in cold and hunger. In the morning I read
prayers, and impressed on my children all that we owed to
God. I find it a good method of correction to pray
pointedly in the prayers against any particular vice of the
week. Thus, if a child screams, the next Sunday I pray
against it, looking sternly at the child; so of lying,
quarrelling, &c. It has cured them. They dread a
falsehood, and correct each other.

" 13(A. — Hard at work : attacked the sketch of Xeno-
phon; heightened the ornaments of the horse. It enriched
the horse, but took off its naked majesty. Now here is a
fair struggle between the ornamental and essential. The
ornaments hide the form, but add to the splendour;
Michel Angelo and the Greeks would have kept the
form, and rejected the ornament ; Titian would have kept
the ornament to hide the form. What shall I do ? (Re-
ject the ornaments of course. B. R. H. 1835.)

" 19(A. — Completed the brother. To give an idea of
my situation, on the morning of the ITth, I was setting
my palette, wondering how I should meet a bill of 12Z.,
my butcher's, in came two friends, one, my dear Edward
Smith. He looked over my small pictures, and seemed
afiected at the dying boy. ' I should like that,' said he.
' Take it at twenty-five guineas, half down.' He agreed,
and paid the money into Coutts' to meet the bill. I went
to work and finished the boy's head before three, happy
and grateful.

" 25iA, — My birth-day, aged forty-six. Twenty-eight
years ago exactly I xeviewed my life, and resolved on

L

300 UEMOIBS OP B. E. HATDON. tl832^

various corrections, and am now as much in need of them
as ever. Got another Email com mission to-daj from

Smith.

" February 26th. — The worse a man is used in this
world, the more likely he is to lean on, and love, and hope
in his Creator.

'* Prosperity, except in the most virtuous characters,
would be apt to render man forgetful of God,

" I do not think prosperity would have so affected me.
But God knows best, I bow, I adore, I hope. I only know
adversity has thrown me more on God's mercy than in
my days of comparative fortune and ease. I see Him
more distinctly in trouble. I am almost afraid to say bow
distinctly.

" Oh, I look forward to death as a blessed, blessed,
blessed opening to scenes of splendid peace and majestic
intellectuality. When will it come, Thou All-good, Thou
All-wise, Thou All-merciful God? (February 26th, 1833.
In my painting-room, happy, and solitary, and glorying.)

" March 2Tlh. — Well. Here I begin again. My private
day was the 24th. I opened yesterday, but the novelty ia
over, I felt less interest. So it seemed with Dtber§,
though all was praises.

" It was affecting to see my oldest patron, Sir George
Phillips, come tottering in, decrepid, and many of those
who were babies when I began exhibiting grown fine
dashing girls of fashion. My private days are really
epochs in fashionable life, and I have had the honour of
receiving at my * at homes' two generations of the beau-
ties of England,

" I was painting when a note came from Sir H.
"Wheatley, saying the King would lend me the Mock
Election for my exhibition. Down went brushes, and
away I marched. I got the order, went straight to 104s
Pall Mall, saw Mr. Jutsum, and had the picture taken
down.

" I spent an hour last week with my old friend Sir
Thomas Hammond, who amused me as usual. He sai4

1832,] COURT GOSSIP : A BENCH CHABACTEE. 301

he knew the late King sent a messenger to Charles X.,
ind told him if he insisted on forcing religion down the
throats of the people, his government would he over-
turned. Charles replied that no government could sub-
is t without religion.

" He told me an anecdote of the late King which
illustrates the ' asides ' of a coronation. When the bishops
were kissing the King, and doing homage, and the music
was roaring, the Bishop of Oxford (whom they used to
call mother somebody) approached and kissed the King.
The King said, ' Thankee, my dear.' This is exactly
like him.

" There sat Hammond breakfasting, the complete pic-
ture of an old man of fashion, — with a muslin night-cap,
wrapped in a dressing-gown, tea-things on a silver waiter,
toilet full of unguents, &c. &c. Sec, making himself up.

" Said I, ' Sir Thomas, I was affected at my private
day to see all my old friends become decrepid.' ' And so
was I at the levee/ said he, ' I never saw such a set of
old rips in my life — their breeches all about their bellies.
The Court is not the same ; no politeness in the servants ;
all the people looked old. I am an old horse officer, and
know how to make myself up, so I cut them all out, but
such a set God defend me from.'

" Jpril 5M.— Dined with C * at Children's Hotel,

from desire to get into his history. He told me the
whole story of his committal. He ran away with a ward
in Chancery. Lord Eldon said, ' It was a shame meu
of low family should thus entrap ladies of birth.'

" ' My Lord,' said C , ' my family are ancient and

opulent, and were neither coalheavers nor coalheavera'
nephews,' in allusion to Lord Eldon's origin, for which i
Eldon committed him. Every apology was offered, hut
Eldon never forgave it. On Lord Brougham's accession
he petitioned, and by a special order was discharged.

" As he got wai'm, (1 declined taking much wine iti

• The original of the broken man of fiisliion id the Mock Election,

1

302 MEMOIHS OF B. E. HAYDON. 1.1832.

order to observe hiin,) I got him on religion in this
world and the next, women, &c. He then begaa to
confess, and it affected me deeply. He said he never
loved any woman but his first wife. He married her at
fifteen. He had one child by her. When Eldon com-
mitted him, she went to his mother's in Scotland. They
allowed him on his mere word to see her to Gravesend.
She cried incessantly, and died in Scotland from sheer
broken heart.

" He was at the storming of Ciudad Rodrigo, Burgos,
Badajoz, and St. Sebastian : there he was crippled.

" At the coffee-house were two or three young apes of
fortune who hovered about him like moths about a candle,
and came occasionally over to listen. I fear long habits
of a prison have rendered him what he ought not to be.

" I thought I saw something like a tear fill his tre-
mendous, globular, demoniacal eye, when he said his wife
was a splendid creature, but he clenched Ms mouth, and it
passed.

" How can Lord Lldon die in peace with the conscious-
ness of having imprisoned a human creature tliirteen years,
merely because he had the spirit to reply to an insult ?

" His form was like Belzoni's, small hand, small head,
large limbs, short body. As he leaned he rolled like the
Theseus, bending from the navel, the sure characteristic
of a fine form in the highest style.

" What a destiny ! He sat by Meredith, and saw him
die. He told me tliis, as if he felt pleasure and triumph
at seeing a human creature prostrated. • By G — , Hay-
don,' he said, ' I have seen all the real pleasures, all the
humiliations, all the miseries. Death will come. I know
it. I never curl myself up in bed, but I pray never
to wake again.'

" As early remembrances of liis campaigns, his loves,
his vices, his disgraces, and his triumphs crowded his
imagination, his face heated by wine shone out, his eye
seemed black with fire, his mouth got long with revenge-
fill feehngs. He looked like a spirit who had escapi

1832.] A HISTORY OUT OP THE BEhXH. 303

from hell, and was wandering till his destiny was over.
Mephistophiles and Faust in Auerbach's cellar came into
my mind.

" The wicked mother in Solomon, and C in the

Mock Election, are both from nature. Two of the most
tremendous characters in life — such people as appear
once in a century.

" Some years ago an attorney called R was enticed

into the Bench, and nearly murdered by pumping.

C to-night told me he was in bed at the time, but

hearing the noise he slipped on his dressing-gown, and
went down. In the crowd and confusion he lost a red
slipper, and this slipper being found the next morning, he
was taken to the Marshal as one of the rioters, and
imprisoned in the condemned cell at Hui-semonger Lane.
Two men in it when he came were bung the next raorn-
jng. As he told me this he said with a terrific sneer,
' There was I, sir, in bed when it begun, innocent of
the crime alleged, hurried oif like a culprit to the con-
demned cell of felons and murderers, on suspicion. I
was imprisoned at first for telling an old tyrant who
insulted my origin the truth, and now herded with rep-
tiles for a crime I never committed. By G — I never
show my teeth till I can bite, but I'll bite yet.' I
shrank at this recital. He seemed changing his skin as he
told it He sits to me on Tuesday, and dines with me at
a coffee-house afterwards. I fear to let my family see
him.

" I'll make three studies of his bead for Satan. Such
a head. It haunts me.

" How much the most vicious human creature can set
forth in extenuation, and will not a Great God listen ? Yes,
yes, yes ! "

In April of this year 30,000?. was voted for a buildmg
to receive the national collection of pictures, augmented
now by the munificent bequests of Sir George Beaumont
and Mr. Holwell Carr. In the debate (April IStb), refer-
ence was made by Sir R, Peel to the necessity of giving

3fH MEXOnS OF B. B. HATDOS. [isss, '

cncmnagenKBt to ^enpt, wlnck mm adnitteJ hj Vr.
Hnne. B^doo, appljiag das to utktic design gmersllj,
and not, as it was infant, to design lor naDO&ctara (utlj'i
tfaoBgjbt this " an tatfiwr pcHnt.* He seized the o|ipoi^
tmo^ to RDCW bis efliirts on the subject of pubUc at-
cntmgement for art — writing to Sir Robert Peel, and
obtaining an inteiriew with iir. Home — on whlcfa be
enters with the remark, " Well, Joseph, — Vansittart,
Canning, Goderich, Wellington, have all taken up this
sabject at n^ suggestion, feeblv. Let os see on Thursdav
what tboo wilt do with tfa^ sagacity and shrewdness."

He found, however, at this interriew that, as usual, he
had inferred tcx> much.

" Just returned, and had a long and interesting conver-
sation. It seems I overrated the meaning of Peel and
Hume. There is a committee on the silk trade, and their
talk of de»ign had no reference to high art. I said * That
waa the mistake. There cogid be no design if there was
no connection with the foundation of all design.' " |

Here is a confession which throws light on many chinos ■
in Haydon's life.

" 23d. — I am perfectly convinced that if I could bring
my mind for one whole year to a proper study of portiait,
it would be of essential use to my work in history as long
as I live. Then why do I not do it ? It is a weakness
and a disgrace to me. Shall I put up with this imputation
on my own character, or shall I make a resolute slrugolg
to vanquish the difficulties which have hitherto vanquished
me?

" ni make no vows, but set quietly to work, and daily
report progress. My attacks on the Academy do not do
the good to me they do to the art, because they give an
idea of my being sore, as I certainly am — most dreadfully
so, for that is the truth — sore at their perversion of art

— sore at my humiliations, my loss of property, my ruin

— sore at being supposed to be unable to paint portraits.
" I have now an opportunity. A very pretty Spanish

girl is going to ait. Lady Gower says she ought to he

r

1832.] A DETERMINED EFFORT AT POBTRAIT. 305

painted as a nun. I will make a regular ti'ial, and this
head shall be my test.

" If I fail here, I'll at it again. I am new in portrait
after all, and 1 will have a regular touch at it with all my
energy. God in heaven grant me success, because it will
benefit my high art — it will benefit my family, and secure
me from those harassings which disturb all the claims of
nature.

" S8th. — Since my last misfortunes, I have lost more
time than ever I did in all my life before. Occasional
disgust gets such hold of my feelings as to bewilder ray
faculties. I fear it will permanently affect my habits. I
tave been again writing in newspapers, which is wrong —
it distracts and disturbs the invention. Yet I hardly see
how I could avoid it — God knows what will become of
me. Xenophon is not failing, but it is not succeeding.
The times are so exciting they call off attention. A due
reward for my labour would save me from want j but I
am not diligent enough to remedy the deficiency of en-
couragement. If I were more diligent, attended more
to painting, and did not suffer my mind to take such dis-
cursive flights, I could surely keep from this continual
necessity and pecuniary obligation.

"29M. — Called on my dear old fnend "Wilkie, and
spent two hours with him. He had had a monk's dress
made, and made me put it on. I took off my cravat, and
Wilkie exclaimed at my grand bald head and bare neck.

" As usual we had a brilliant interchange of thought,
and talked of old times. He looked remarRably well.
We talked of Lady Mulgrave, who is younger than ever.
He said he met Constable the other day, who alluded to
our dining together at the back of Slaughter's coffee-house
twenty-six years ago, where we used to meet regularly.

" May ilh. — When I was just beginning the Spanish
nun, I was arrested for 14i balance of my insolvent at-
torney. I gave him 6/. more to wait till Xenophon was
He did so, and drew on me. As I relied on the half-
price of a commission which I have lost, the bill went

vol,. II. X

306 MKIIOIBS OP B. R, HATDON.

back. I called on the holder, who promised to wait till
the next day. At the very time a writ had been issued,
and though last night he begged me to keep my mind
easy, I was arrested tliia morning.

" It serves me entirely right. Would any man living
have trusted attornies after my experience ? — and to make
it 20/. myself — an arrestable sum ! The fact is, when I
have done a great picture, I care for nothing. I agree to
anything — do anything — promise anything — only to
clear the way for its opening — noise, uproar, attack and
fame.

" Then come the bitter results. Wiser I shall never
get. All I hope is, that my whole life being hke a wheel
in constant succession of up and down, I may die in a
moment of glory and success. O God ! on my kuee,
grant it.

" 8th. — Moderately at work on the nun. Went to the
Royal Academy. The portraits are worse than ever.

"Wilkie's portrait of the King is fine. The flesh
wants breadth and clearness. John Knox is fine. The
group with Murray, &c. exceedingly fine.

" All the portraits are on their toes except Wilkie's.
The style of some of them is absolutely disgusting."

Earl Grey resigned on the 9th of this month, to return
again to office on the 18th, after a fruitless negotiation
of the King with Sir Robert Peel.

The agony of public excitement about the Reform
Bill was fiercer than ever, and Haydon, as I have said
before, shared in it to the full.

" I2tk. — I lay awake from one till four in the morning,
my heart beating violently about this Reform Bill.

*' While these rotten boroughs exist, no Englishman
can call himself theoretically, as well as practically, free.
We have nothing personally pressing on our liberty but
the consciousness of this excrescence,

" Saw Wilkie yesterday, who of course was in ecstaciea.
Wait a little — they will pass the bill yet.

" The great misfortune will be, that if the people do not

I

1832.] Lawrence's empty house. 307

succeed, they will for ever have proved their impotence
' — a tremendous exposure.

" 25ih. — I passed Lawrence's bouse. Nothing could
be more melancholy or desolate. I knocked and was
shown in. The passages were dusty — the paper torn —
the parlours dark — the pain ting- room, where so much
beauty had once glittered, forlorn, and the whole appear-
ance desolate and wretched — the very plate on the door
green with mildew.

" I went into the parlour which used to be instinct
with life ! ' Poor Sir Thomas, — always in trouble,' said the
woman who had the care of the house. ' Always some-
thing to worrit him,' I saw his bed-room, small, only a
little bed ; the mark of it was against the wall. Close to
his bed-room was an immense room (where was carried on
all his manufactory of draperies, &c.}, divided, yet open
over the partitions. It must have been five or six small
rooms turned into one large workshop. Here his assist-
ants worked. His painting-room was a large back draw-
ing-room : his show-room a large front one. He occu-
pied a parlour and a bed-room ; all the rest of the bouse
was turned to business. Any one would think that people
of fashion would visit from remembrance the house where
they had spent so many happy hours. Not they, they shun
a disagreeable sensation. They have no feeling, no poetry.
It is shocking. It is dirty."

As an example of the rebuffs Haydon's pertinacity
often drew upon him, I insert this letter from one who
always sbowcd a disposition to aid bim. He had been
pressing Sir Robert Peel for a commission.

" Sir,

" I beg leave to decline acceding to the proposition which
you have made to me.

" I think it rather hard that because I manifested a desire to
assist jou in your former difficulties, I alioiild be exposed to the
incessant applications I have siuce received from you. As I
see no difference in your case from that of other artiata, as, in
trutli, I am obliged constantly to decline the applications of

308 MEUOIES OF B. E. IIATDO.V. [1833.

olh«r9i wbo are saflering from the present state of political ex-
dl«meot, I cannot gire you commis^ona for pictures I do not
require.

" I have the honour to be,

" Sir, your obedient servant,
- litli May, 1832." " Robert Pkel."

When the great Reform meeting of the Trade Unions
took place at Xevrhall HiU, near Birmingham, it occurred
to Haydon that the moment the vast concourse joined in
the sudden prayer offered up by Hugh Hutton nould make
a fine subject for a picture.

" 28tfi. — Occupied all day in harassing about the copy-
right of Waiting for the Times. Sold it.

" I wrote Mr. Attwood, saying the meeting at Newhall
Hill was imposing b<.-yond expression. I wished to make
sketches, I wrote Hugh Hutton and proposed a picture.
If I can get Birmingham to vote a grand historical picture
commemorating the scene at Newhall Hill, it will give an
immense impulse to the art. I shall be off."

The Birmingham leaders were pleased with the idea.
Haydon with characteristic audacity wrote to Lord Grey
to ask bis patronage for the picture. This was of course
at once refused, but the refusal (which approved itself, on
reflection, to the painter's better judgment) was softened
by a profession of Earl Grey's readiness to give any assist-
ance in his power to a painting of any subject connected
with the Reform Bill to which the same objections would
not apply. On receiving promises of support from the
leaders at Birmingham, Haydon at once set about finding
trustees to take charge of subscriptions. His visit to Bir-
mingham brought bim in contact with the leaders of the
movement there, and the account of it contains some
rather curious disclosures, showing how near, in the opi-
nion of those leaders, matters then were to revolution.

The Reform Bill was read a third time in the Lords on
the 4tb, and carried by 106 to 29.

"June 2nd. — Out all day on business. Saw Mr. Parke«
in the morning, who consented to be trustee. He waa

I

1832.] PICTUEE OF THE NEW HALL HILL MEETING, 309

not up, and sent for me, and begged me to come in. I
went in, and there was this Birmingliam man, half dozing,
and telling me all about the energy of the Union, and what
they meant to do.

" He said warrants were made out against the whole of
them, and that if Wellington had succeeded they would
all have been taken up, and then the people would have
fought it out. I went on talking to him of the sublimity
of the scene at Newhall Hill. He said, ' You are the same
man in prison as out. I'll be your trustee.' So having a
pivot to go on, I advertised directly.

" My dear sir,

" Accept my gratitude. I will exert every nerve, and do
my best. I eliall come down this week, and begin sketches
directly. You must all tell me, as nearly as possible, how you
stood, wliat you wore, even to gloves and hats.

" For God's sake nt the next meeting of the Union let this
proposal issue from that heroic body, that on the day of jubilee
all reformers in all parts of the United Kingdom should as-
semble on one day, and at one hour, and return thanks to God.
It will be done if you propose it, and do not hesitate. It will
be the grandest thing ever done on earth.
" T. Attwood, Esq."

" lOlh. — Birmingham. Here I am after a day's journey,
in which I was alternately baked, drenched, squeezed,
cramped, and broiled, Attwood-sat to-day for his head,
which is fine. As I sketched him we had a very interest-
ing conversation. He told me the whole history of the
Union. In one of bis first speeches he said to the people,
' Suppose, my friends, we had two millions of threads ;
suppose we wound these two millions of threads into a
good strong cord ; suppose we twisted that cord into a
good strong rope ; suppose we twisted that rope into a ,
mighty cable, with a hook at the end of it, and put it into
the nose of the borough-mongers, d'ye think we should not
drag the Leviathan to shore V (Immense shouts.)

" Attwood said some very strong things. ' After poverty,

SIO SIEMOnifl OF B. R. HAYDON. [l832.

sir, there is nothing ao mucli hated as independence. We
are become a nation of petty, paltry corporations, and love
of wealth. The five pounder adores the ten, and the ten
the twenty.' He told Lord Melbourne, ' If the people
do not get their belly full after this, I shall be torn to
pieces.' ' And so much the better. You deserve it,' said
Lord Melbourne. ' Yes, my Lord,' said Attwood, ' but
they will begin with you. I do not despond of seeing you
all tried for your conduct, Commons and all.'

" Attwood is a wonderful man, with a strong natural
understanding. His features are well cut, and vigorous.
His forehead high, white and shining. His hair grows out
up, and elasticatly like Alexander's. His features play as
he talks. His mouth expresses great decision, and when
be spoke on his favourite subject, the blood rushed into
his face, as if he were possessed by a spirit.

" ' At one time,' said he, ' I used to question whether
it was best for us or the United States to sink. I thought
it would be better for us. But now I do not think so.
"We have redeemed ourselves,'

" He said Lord Grey asked him what he thought would
be the end of these unions. He replied, as people got
prosperous and satisfied, they would die away. ' 1 am
much inclined to be of your opinion,' said Lord Grey.

" He said one of the Ministers • told him they owed
their places to the Birmingham Union,

" Attwood is an extraordinary man, and really a leader.
The other members seem to have an awe of him. In
conversation I found the influence of the leaders of this
Union was not from temporary causes, but connected with
their predictions on finance — that they had predicted all
the ruin which had taken place to Ministers, and thus
gained the confidence of the people, and led the way to
the establishment of a body which should take the lead.

"Sunday. — Went to Mr, Button's meeting. He

made a very powerful sermon, and afterwards I dined

with him at his beautiful cottage, and found him a highly

* Lord Durham.— B.R.H.

1832.] THE BIRMINCHASI tkades-unionists. 311

powerful and intellectual young man. The more I see of
these Birmingham gentlemen the less am I astonished at
their late energy. Hutton had in his study portraits of
the great reformers. Hutton is a high -principled person,
ripe to do all that he has done. He told me he paced liis
garden, and made up his mind to fight. His dinner was
simple, and showed narrow circumstances.

" They had been so excited lately they are absolutely
languid in conversation. But they are high in feeling —
Roman quite - — and will be immortal in their great
struggle. I shall be proud to commemorate it.

" Spent the evening with Jones, a leader. When the
tax-gatherer called during the three days he said to him,
' If you dare, sir, to call again, I will have you nailed by
the ear at my door, with a placard on your breast saying
who you are.'

" \2th. — Dined with Mr. Scholeaeld, — the othet
leader of the Union, — and a very pleasant day I had
after hard work.

" The cause of* the strong republican feeling at Bir-
mingham is their connection with Amei-ica.

" Hadley, the secretary of the Union, sat to-day.
He told many interesting anecdotes of the interview with
Lord Grey."

Here is his account of his first visit to Lord Grey,
and his commission for the Reform Banquet Picture.

" 26th, 2Tlh, 28th. — Hard at work, and finally did the
sketcli, I called at Lord Grey's to-day to see Mr, Wood,
After waiting in the waiting-room some time in came two
Lords, one after the other — one with all the obsequious
humbleness of a place-hunter. As I had nothing to do,
I sketched the whole scene,* changing the position of
Hutton to the end, which increased the value and effect
wonderfully. After waiting some time Mr. Wood came
in and said, ' Mr. Haydon, if you can wait a quarter of an
hour. Lord Grey will gee you himself.' I arose and
said, ' Of course.'

• OftbeNewhall Hill Meeting,-

312 URMOIBS OF B. R. BATDON. [1832.

" One Lord was called out first. Then, after an
interval, the other Lord went, and a message followed for
me. In I walked. Lord Grey was sitting wilh the
window to the left. He received me in his usual amicable
manner. I congratulated Mm on his good looks, which,
after all the fag and labour, were extraordinary. He then
said, ' I wish to explain to you that it would not be
delicate for me, as a Cabinet Minister, to head any sub-
scription connected with the unions," to which I replied,
' Perhaps it was indelicate in me to expect it.' ' But I
should be happy to subscribe to any other subject con-
nected with reform.' ' My Lord,' said I, ' I should be
proud to paint the great leaders^ the Ministry.' ' Sup-
pose,' said Lord Grey, 'you paint the grand dinner in the
city, where we shall all be on the lllh.' 1 replied, 'I
should be delighted.' He seemed much pleased, I said,
' Of course you'll sit to me,' ' Certainly,' he said.

" I then went up stairs with him to see a portrait by a
young man I taught to draw.

" Lord Grey did not speak of the ilnions as he ought.
He seemed to think of them as subjects beneath my pencil ;
and when I put into his hands the sketch I had made,
while I waited, he merely replaced it in my own without
a word.

"Is this not a subject of the finest moral nature?
Does it not show the value of the religious feeling operat-
ing in m^ accustomed to give vent to their feelings?
Does it not show the vast utility of the industrious
classes obeying the men of property in the neighbourhood
as leaders, instead of wildly wreaking their vengeance on
property from ignorance and passion? Surely this is a
subject kings and lords ought to protect,"

The Birmingham pictm:e was begun on the SOth, and
several subscriptions to it obtained, both in London and
Birmingham. But the hardy hammermen had no real
heart in the matter, and, without minutely recording the
nps and downs of the work, I may dismiss the subject
by saying that it came to nothing.

1892.] PAINTING THE REFORM BANQUET. 313

The banquet was fixed for the Uth, and the painter,
on Lord Grey's recommendation, had every facihty given
to him by the committee. Here is his entry on the evening
of the llthr —

" I spent the day at Guildliall, and the evening was,
as Paddy would say, the most splendid day of my life.

" I breakfasted and dined with the committee, who
treated me with the greatest distinction, and assigned me
the place I had chosen to paint from (under Lord
Chatham's monument). The confusion of the day is not
to be described; hut what was that to the roar of the
night ?

*' I painted all the morning, and got in the room and
window, amidst gasmen and waiters, and by night, the
instant the room filled, I dashed away. It was a lesson
in colour I shall never forget. The nobility treated me
with great distinction. The Duke of Argyll sent to take
wine, and so did others. I was obliged to sip, or I should
have been more inspired than was requisite. It was a
splendid sight — a glorious triumph ; and a curious fact
in my curious life that I should have been employed to
paint it in the hall.

" I saw Lord Grey the next morning, who was shaken ;
and ou Tuesday I took him down my sketches, which I
trust in God will end in two grand commissions.

" What a day ! As I passed to go there, I saw a man
just hanging at Newgate.

" In the evening the servants down stairs were drunk,
while Lord Gtey was considering it a high honour up-
stairs!

" I was an object of great attention without 5s, in my
pocket — and this is life.

" The Ministers all seem afraid of the people. Ah !
had concessions been made before, no danger would have
come.

" Juiff llth. — Called on Lord Grey to-day with all
my sketches. He was highly gratified. Lord AJthorp
v/a» with him. Lord Grey gave me a commission for the

314 MEMOIRS OF B. It. nAYDO:!. [1932.

Banquet at 500 guineas. He was taking up the sketch
to show Lady Grey, when she met him. He introduced
me. He said, ' I mean this for Howick.' I said, ' I am
delighted to paint it for your Lordship, where it will be
kept for ever in your family. 1 glory in it,' said I. Lord
Grey was pleased, and added, 'You like your subject, I
am sure.' ' Indeed, I do."

"Slst. — I went by appointment this morning. Lord
Grey received me kindly, He wanted to set off, but I
stuck to him. ' How long will you he V ' Half an hour,
my Lord.' ' May I read ? ' 'If your Lordship will hold
3-our head high.' ' Where must I sit?' ' Opposite the
window.' ' Ah ! ' said he, as if he thought it a great bore,
took up his ministerial hox and came over. I sketched
away like fire. Some one called, and he went out, leaving
me alone with the ministerial boxes. I thought to myself,
now if I chose to be a villain, I might learn somethii
hut 1 kept my post and went on chalking in the back-
ground. He darted in, but finding all right, sat down
quietly. It was a very interesting hour.

" It was a high honour. He treated me with perfect
confidence, and I was highly pleased. I made an energetic
sketch."

Here is a contrast.

" 24lh. — Faddled — specimens of the ' mingled yarn '

Nos. 1. and 2. I owed 251. I left him out in

my schedule on a principle of honour and affection. Six
months ago I wrote him to say my prospects were better,
and offered to arrange to pay him, I got no answer ; but
to-day, without notice, got a lawyer's letter.

" He is beginning to feel wealthy, and to love accumu-
lation. There is nothing wrong, hut it is little.

" 26lk. — Painted only an hour, obliged to go out,

and try to arrange about 's debt and my water-rate.

When I consider what I have lent artists and never got
again, and never thought of proceeding, I am shocked at

. 's conduct. Never mind. For him who has known

necessity to embarrass me at this critical moment is shock-

1832.] CONTEASTS. 313

ing. However, peace to him. The fact is, I never would
proceed against any human creature.

" 2Tth. — Painted hard six hours, and advanced rapidly.
Dear Lord Grey sent half. God be thanked. It has
saved me — - quite.

" g8(A. — Painted a head in the morning, and out after
business, received my money, and paid right and left.

Arranged 's debt of ^51. by paying his lawyer

3/. 3s. Amicable robbery !

" 31j(. — June and July, I have worked satisfactorily.
My Birmingham picture is advanced, Lord Grey's also
prepared, and to-morrow I begin his. God grant me suc-
cess also. Amen.

" To-moiTow the anniversary of the Victory of the Nile.
I'll begin seriously nay Reform Picture — success !

" September 3rd. — Out all day in the city about busi-
ness of various descriptions. Delightful difference, that
instead of being tortured by the want of money, it waa
to be delightfully deceived by the receipt of it.

More contrasts. "8th- — In the evening I was sitting
and luxuriating by anticipation in all the delights of colour
in my jncture, when a note came from an officer's widow,
starving. I went out, and called immediately. It was a
room on the ground, two little children were sleeping in
dirt and blankets, without any cleanly comfort on earth,
beside them was a press-bed, and a respectable mother,
pale, hollow-cheeked, and Irish. ' What regiment,' said
I, ' did your husband belong to?' 'The 8th or King's
Own,' said she, with a brogue one could have known at the
Straits of Magellan. 'Poor creature! why did he leave
the regiment ? ' ' He quarrelled with his superior officer.'
' Why did you send to me ? ' 'I heard you were humane.'
Of course I gave her all I had in my pocket, 5s. I went
away bitterly affected. The night was clear, poetical,
and heavenly. What a contrast to the wretchedness I had
left. ' Oh Sir,' said she, ' it's a fortune, it's a fortune.' In
the morning I see a Prime Minister who thinks the levee
a bore : in the evening the widow of an officer iu the

3IG MEMOIES OP B, R. HAYDON. [1832,

King's Own, (who perhaps would not put up with an in-
sult from a superior officer and lost his commission,) sends
to me for 5s. Such is life 1 She had the appearance of
having seen better days.

" 9tk, — Lord Grey called to-day, and it did one's
heart good to see him look so well. He was full dressed
at half-past twelve. He was much pleased with the pic-
ture, and agreed with me that the moat able supporters of
the hill ought to be introduced, without regard to their
real places.

" In coming in he tripped on the step, and as lie was
going out Frank came in with all his books, and ran
against him. But he was quite amiable, and said to
Frederick, ' How d'ye do, sir,' at which he turned from
his play, and stared at him like a Newfoundland puppy.
He seemed used to children.

" lOth, — Oh, oh, I've found out the reason Lord
Grey looked so young and gay. Lord Howick was to be
married. He went from me to the ceremony. Old as he
was, lie really looked more like a bridegroom than a
minister of state. Lord Grey was enough yesterday to
make any man begin with champagne the moment he
was gone. He looked like the firet glass, after the burst-
ing pop. Seeing him thus will influence my treatment of
his head.

" IIM. — Sick of pictures, town, nobility, King, Lords
and Commons, I set off by a steamer to Broadstairs.
Came in stewed by steam and broiled by sun. I fagged
about till sick, and got lodgings for my dears for a short
breathe of sea air,

" Slept at an inn in a small room, fried till morning,
got up at half-past five, took a delicious dip and swam
exulting like a bull in June, ate a breakfast worthy of
an elephant; put oflT and joined the Ramsgate steamer,
and was in town again by half-past four. To-day I am
fatigued, and to-morrow I take all my dears down. It is
six years since tliey have changed air but for a day or two.
I hope it will do them all good.

1832,] CLOSE OF THE EXHIBITION OF XENOPHON. 317

" 13th. — Ought I to spend 201. owing it as I do ? If I
do not my children suffer. They want sea-air. I struggle
between the feelings of the father and the citizen.

" 23rd, — We have all been down to Broadstairs. The
children vastly benefited. Dear little Alfred, after the
warm bath, said he had not had pains in his knees for two
days. What ought to be my feelings to dear Lord Grey
for advancing me half, and enabling me to do this good to
my dear children ?

" 29th, — Closed my exhibition, and moved all my
pictures : —

Receipts £167 6 3

Expences 170 10 3 Loss onh/ £3 3 3

*' Such are the times. A blessing not to lose more.

" 30^^. — Out all day. Rolled up Xenophon, which,
as I removed it into a stronger light, really shone with
colour. If it comes out again it will astonish.

*' Would any man believe that the whole body of the
Academicians have declared Xenophon a failure ?

*' Wilkie came in to-day while Dr. Elmore was there,
and after looking at it some time, he said, ' It's a great
work, let 'em say what they will.'

** He knows it as well as L

« B. R. Haydon,
'^ I have been put off so often by thee, that if thy acceptance
is not taken up on the I7th inst. when I call (say about nine
o'clock in the morning), I intend putting the law in force with-
out delay.

BiU . . - £28 8 5

Noting - - . 2 6

Postage - - - 10

£28 6 9

** He called, and I persuaded this worthy man to take
lOt, and the balance in a fortnight. The following con*
versation ensued.

'* H. * Why thee ought with thy splendid talents to
make 1000/. a-year, Haydon.' * So I do, sir, but irre*

318 MEMOIRS OF B. R. HATDON. [l632.

gularlj.' H. ' Then thee should live on 500;.' Hay. • So
I do not. I can't.' H. ' Then thou art imprudent,'
Hay. ' No, Sir, I am not. I have eight childreu.' H.
'Eight children! That is a proof of thy imprudence.'
Hay. 'Come, come, that's hard; I consider 20 i. of this
bill I need not have paid but on a principle of honour !'
H. ' 1 have nothing to do vtitli that, though I commend
thee. Well, well, thou hast great talents, and I'll try
thee once more,' There was something about this so
sincere I was affected. He walked about the room with
his hat on, his coat buttoned up to his chin, healthy-
looking, keen, firm, honourable, and good, though severe
in his expression. When I saw him out, his horse and
gig had the appearance of wealth without being fashion-
able. It was peculiar, and all in character.

" This debt was for my baker's bill, whom I had
always promised to pay in my troubles out of the first
sum of any amount I received. Does he thank me ?
Not he. He is just as likely, now he is safej to behave ill
as a stranger.

"26th, — Breakfasted with Lord Nugent.* Sketched
him. Passed a very delightful morning. He took down,
with the grace of high birth, a print of Hampden which
hung in an old English frame, and presented it to me,
writing his name on the back. He said some capital
things.

" Talking of the Greeks, he said, ' I acknowledge they
are liars. But why ? It is the arm of slavery against
tyranny.' He said, ' I have as delightful associations
about the enclosed county of the civil wars as about
Greece or the Troad. I have as much pleasure in
standing and thinking I see the whole hedge lined with
cuirassiers, as if they were ancient Greeks in the Acropolis.'
' Yes,' said I, ' my Lord, and I never think of the civil
wars but I associate the terrific face of Cromwell gleam-

• Who was on the point of starting as Governor for the Ionian

]832.j "SKETCHING LORD NUGENT, 319

ing — dira fades — above the field. He was a grand
fellow, my Lord. He died in power.' ' Yea, he did j
but recollect Napoleon,' said Lord Nugent, immediately
grasping my meaning, ' what he suffered, with a thief-
catcher ferreting his dirty linen, harassed by a hideous
complaint, and tortured by insults.' He went on. ' Do
you know who H. B. is ? ' ' No.' ' I think I do.' ' "Who,
my Lord ?' ' I think it is Hari-j Burrard, of the Guards.
We went to school together, and he drew capitally.' We
then went into a long discussion about arms, tried rapiers,
looked at black jacks. He ordered up a bloodhound,
and a Scotch greyhound that would honour Abbotsford,
and after forty visits, twenty letters, after Joe, and Bill,
and Dick, and Harry had had their orders, in came the
groom, ' Where's the little mare ?' ' At Stowe, ray Lord.'
'How came she there?' 'My Lord, your own orders.'
' Get her directly, in time to embark. Who covered
her?' 'I don't know, my Lord.' In came Joe. 'My
Lord, the captain of the steamer.' ' Show him in. Mr.
Haydon, we had better begin.' I began, wanting hia
head to the left ; but the captain sat on the right, and
every instant Lord Nugent jerked his head to the right,
to discuss the various probabilities of embarkation, and
there I sat catching bis features as I could, and getting
them in rapidly.

'* After seeing the drawing, he said, ' I shall be happy
to see you at Corfu. You can be out in three weeks in
a steamer. We'll take a trip to the Troad and Con-
stantinople. Don't forget it. Joe?' ' My Lord.' 'Tell
Mr. What's-his-name, Hookham will settle it.' • Yes, my
Lord. My Lord, here's the silversmith.' ' Who ? ' ' The
silversmith.' ' Send him to Hookham's too. Then, cap-
tain, we must be on board by three ? Can the horses, eh,
what do you call it — can the horses— the horses get on
board easily ?' ' As easy as a glove, my Lord.' ' Well,
captain, you had better see Lady Nugent, and talk to
her about the baggage,' 'Yes, my Lord.' 'Joe,' 'Yes,

320 HEUOIBS OF B. B. HATDON. [1S32.

my Lord.' ' Ask Lady Nugent for that old painting.*
' Ves, my Lord.' ' Michel ?' ' Out, milord.'

" In the tnidst of all this I finished my sketch, and was
off. I like Lord Nugent very much. He is of race, and
looks like a noble. His manners are graceful and com-
manding. He is cultivated and entertaining, and I dare
say will honour his station.

"2'ith, — Finished the head of the chairman. Lord
Nugent and Sir Matthew Wood called, and liked the
picture. Lord Nugent made some capital remarks, which
I adopted. He embarked at three,

" October \3tk. — Lord Melbourne came, and a very
pleasant morning we had. He relished my stories, and
was extremely affable and amiable. He has a fine head,
and looked refined and handsome. As he was leaving he
saw the Birmiugham sketch. I question if he exactly
relished it — it might be my fancy. I bit his expression,*
and he will come in well and elegantly.

" \3lh. — Lord Melbourne sat again to-day, with great
amiability. I asked him point blank several things. I
was very much delighted with bis exceeding good-humour,
and I hope I have hit bis expression. He asked about
Hazlitt, Leigh Hunt, Keats, and Shelley, and seemed
much amused at my anecdotes, I never bad a pleaaanter
sitter — a delightful, frank, easy, unaffected man of fashion.

" There is nothing like 'em when they add intelligence
to breeding.

" I spoke of Lord Durham's return. Dead silence. I
talked of Birmingham. A sort of hint as to Scholefield
and Attwood- — a passing opinion, yet confidential.

" The whole sitting was entertaining ; and now, if he
is only pleased with his own head, it will do.

" lilh, — Saw Sir Hudson Lowe to-day in the streets.
Micheli and an Italian had stopped me. Micheli's friend
had sailed with, and knew him. "We all walked by, and

then turned, and had a d d good stare. He turned

and looked fiercely at us, and gave us a good opportunity

1832.] LORD MELBOUKNE: LORD ALTDORP. 321

by crossing. A meaner face no assassin ever had. H
answered Napoleon's description to a T.

" 16^A. — ^Lord Melbourne sat again to-day — a deliglit-
ful two hours. He liked the head in the picture liie best
of the three. This will be a complete course of study
in portrait-painting. I made a chalk drawing, an oil
sketch, and then put it into the picture by myself,
imagining his expression. It is extraordinary that the
head I painted by myself is the best; I can do an ex-
pression I imagine better than one I see.

" Lord Melbourne, iu the course of talk, said he knew
that Lord North often endeavoured to persuade the King
not to continue the American war, but that the virulence
of the old King's feelings obliged him. Lord Melbouroe
added, that he (the King) patronised West against Rey-
nolds because the latter was too intimate with Fox and
Burke.

" We had a long confab about art. He seemed to be
afraid history would never have that patronage portrait
had. I replied the Government could alone do it. He
asked, how. I said, first by a committee of the House,
and then by a vote. He said he was afraid selections
might be invidious. Of course, I replied, he that was
selected was more likely to be envied than otherwise, but
the same might be said of all commissions. He said,
' had not the sculptors had every opportunity, and had
they done as they ought ? ' ' Certainly not. But it was
no argument,' I replied, 'because one class of artists had
acted as manufacturers, we should." Lord Melbourne
said, ' we shall see what a popular parliament will do.
Hume is not against it. It seems feasible.'

" I8th, — Lord Altborp sat to me in Downing Streets
He is not so conversational as Lord Melbourne, but the
essence of good nature. I said, ' My Lord, for the first
time in my life I scarcely slept, when Lord Grey was out
dui'ing the Bill — were you not deeply anxious?' 'I
don't know,* said Lord Altborp, ' I am never very
anxious.' Lord Althorp seems heavy. I tried to excite

VOL. IL T

322 MEMOIRS OP B. B. HAYDON. [1888,

tim into conversation. He said Sir Joshua painted hiiq
when a boy. He said nothing remarkable. He has
air of rank, like all of them. I hit his expression-
said his secretary! hut I saw he evidently thought it not
young enough. He brought me down Hayter's miniature
painted nineteen years ago. As a work of art detestablen
but he thought highly of it.

" I afterwards called on Lord Palmerston, and waa
amazingly impressed by his good-humoured elegance.
Col. Walpole had made a. mistake. He did not mean to
sit — he only thought I wanted to tee him. He said ha
could no more sit than he could fly ; but the first leii
hour he would not forget me.

" I9th, — Visited Lord Althorp again. He told me the
day before that I might come again any morning I liked.
So anxious was I to get on, that I went down again tho
next day, was admitted, made the servant fit up the win-
dows, and block up the light. Rubbed in the head by-
way of preparation, and was expecting his I/ordship. Jjord
Althorp had made an appointment with an engraver at
the same hour, and had not had time to tell me ; so in
walked his Lordship, half laughing, saying he had done so,
and begging to know if it would interrupt me. I said
' No.' By his side stood his secretary with papers. The
door opened, and in toddled ' ■ — ■, with his clump foot,
and a large portfolio. Lord Althorp roared with laughter,
and so did I. The whole thing was dramatic. All this
so disturbed me — so perplexed my thoughts — was so
like the solitude of my own study, where I can indulgi
visions, that I only thought how to get out of it in peace,

" Lord Althorp, who is a heavy man, stood up for th(
head, that the engraver might touch it. The graceless
way in which he stood was irresistible. I could paint
picture of such humour as would ruin me.

" The fact is, one should never forget what is due to
s self. The moment I found Lord Althorp made no
gentlemanly appeal to me, as the whole rencontre was bii
fault, I should very quietly have daubed out the whol^'

1832.] LORD LAN8D0WNE : LORD JOHN HUSSELL. 323

head, and merely made generalities. The truth was, he
seemed to think it a devilish good joke — not knowing I
have no intercourse with artists ; and that though I could
not help laughing, it was little hetter than an insult.
What had I in common with an engraver, let him he ever
so eminent? I was there by Lord Grey's desire, and as
his representative; and I ought to have heen treated with
marked distinction. However, I have a scale : —
Those noblemen who come to me.
Those who oblige me to come to them.
And those who do not sit at all,
shall all be represented according to their respective
amiabilities.

" 22nd. — Lord Lansdowne sat, and I was much inter-
ested. His face is amiable in the extreme. We had a
long confabulation about the Academy, &c. &c., in which
he asked several meaning questions of me.

"2>k/i.— Lord John Russell sat to-day. He did not
say much. There is a marked inflexibility of purpose
about his head. He was pleased with the picture, and
thought I ought to place the more prominent characters
conspicuously. Lord Lansdowne differed. He thought,
however improperly placed the company were, I ought to
be strictly correct as to the first line, since the picture was
to be an historical record. I was much gratified by the
honour of his visit.

"25th. — Went to the Duke of Richmond's, and made
a successful sketch of him. He baa a fine head. We had
a talk of art. I put in 'public vote of money.' Hia
Grace admitted it — that was all,

" 2Glfi. — Went again to the Duke of Richmond's.
The Duchess came in to have a peep. I think she did
not consider it handsome enough. They expect in an
historical picture I am to perfume them like Lawrence.
My object is nature and truth for reference hereafter, and
not domestic portrait to gratify papa and mamma, by
smothering nature and giving them something else, which
no one can reduce to principle.

324 UXMOtSS OF B. B. OATDOS. [IBSS.

" I know well nij sketches wQl not please tbem.

" They want a peculiar expression in the eye — an arcbed
brow, a red Up, a smirk, and so oo. 1 can't do tliu. I
won't do this. The eje is a component part of a face,
and is liable to the same Tariations of Uglit and shadow
«s the nose or mouth. Sometimes it is lost in balf tint
or shadow — sometimes glitters in light ; but under alt
circumstances to make it tight is absurd. Lawrence al-
ways did i and I am convinced from what I see again of
people of fashion, Sir Joshua never could bare been a
favourite at heart. Heard from Lord Godericb. Called
on Wilkie, and found he had been painting the Duke of
Sussex. Here's a pretty radical ! He is ratting. It waa
something like Lawrence and Raebum, and not like him-
self ; and yet fine, but not original.

" 2"th.- — In thus coming to portrait in a spirit of in-
vestigation, I have arrived at the following conclusion^
that Vandyke even is a£'ectcd, Reynolds and Titian un-
afiected in tlie most delightful degree.

" In Reynolds and Titian there is nothing forced : in
Vandyke the character is often forced. Vandyke pUced
the eyes often for the purpose of showing them to the
best advantage ; the eye seems conscious of liow to look,
so as to get the bit of light to come exactly in the same
pretty place. But in Titian, eyes look like eyes without
these ridiculous absurd trickeries. So in all the great
masters. Reynolds often made a striking likeness with
the eye hardly seen.

" This picture will bu of great use. It will compel me
to study portrait, which I detested, as this picture has a
national object as well.

" Had Lawrence never existed, it would have been
better for the art. In spite of all, I must think so. Yea,
he had a mischievous fascination. There is nothing in
him sound — nothing to which you can devote your whole
soul, without fear of contaiuinatioii, as iu Reynolds,
. Titian, Rafiitele, Corregio.

" 28/A. — Called on L . He gave me a poor account

1832.] AN ABSUBD EDITOR: LORD GODERICH. 325

of Gait, and censured him for his follies. He said Gait
had thrown away three opportunities of fortune, by quar-

relling with his superiors. L 's account rather in-

terested me. , when Secretary for the Treasury,

told him they wanted an editor for the Courier, who
would come every morning to the Treasury, and take his

tone from them. L mentioned Gait. He was sent,

and accepted. When the King was ill, — ^ said, ^ Mr.
Gait, the King reads the Courier, and nothing whatever
must be said of His Majesty's danger. Sir H. Halford
will inform you daily what to say.'

" All the papers went on swearing the King must die.
Gait maintained the contrary; but it was so ridiculous,
that his honesty of mind could not brook it, and he

boldly spoke out. sent for him, remonstrated on

his folly. Gait stood up for his independence. ■■
said he must retire. Gait threw up his employment,
and is now prostrated with paralysis, without a guinea,
and with ten children.

" ^th* — Got in Lord John's head ; but my conscience
would not allow me to keep him by the side ; I therefore
put him on the line of honour.

" 31*^. — In the city, and arranged my necessities.

" The last day of the month, and a very triumphant
month it has been to me. God be thanked, with all my
heart.

^^ November Srd.* — Lord Goderich sat, and afterwards
I went to Sir James Graham's. Lord Goderich began
the instant he sat down, * Well, we are to have a new
Academy.' * Yes, my Lord.' * How do you like the
plan ? ' ' It is an honour to the art certainly, but I
fear its ultimate influence.' * Fear ! why?' * Because,
by bringing the annual efforts of British artists in com-
parison with the choicest works of the choicest ages, the

* The Nineteenth Yolume of the Journals begins at this date, with
the mottoes, ''Who best can suffer, best can do** (Milton), and
" Behold, I have refined thee, but not with silver. I have chosen
thee in the furnace of affliction.** — Ptalm xlviii.

T 8

320 MliMOIES OF B. E. HATDOX. [l832.

inference will be too obvious, and the opinion of Britisb
art must sink. There is no hope for British art but by
H moderate and regular vote to support history.' ' But
how ? ' said he ; ' we have no houses.' ' My Lord, there is
the mistake. We do not want houses. We want public
support, for public objects, in public buildings ; and your
Lordship may depend on it the art of the country will
sink. No young men will devote themselves to acquire
the power, if ruin and a prison are to be the result of
studying the art as a science, instead of making it what
it is, — a trade, and a means of getting money and sitters.'
" We went over the old ground. I found him a
staunch friend of the powers that be in art. He said the
anuual exhibition gratified a number of people. They
saw views of places they knew, likenesses of people they
beard of, &c. ; and he did not think that ancient art,
however eminent, would be likely to interfere in such a
case. He said, ' The dinner gratified him always.' I
said, ' I dare say. It must be a gratifying thing ; but,
my Lord, an English exhibition puts me in mind of a
giant with great genius, and great powers of mind, strug-
gling to speak a language he does not understand.' He
laughed, and said, ' What would you have ?' ' A better
and more systematic education. The French are more
regularly prepared.' ' I would not give sixpence for
French art,' said he. * You value it too highly,' said I.
' But a little French regularity would correct, without
destroying, the exuberance of English excess. The French
are wliat Sir George Beaumont used to call them, the
upholsterers of the art.' ' Suppose a grant of money given,
how would you begin?' said he. 'At once, at the great
room at the Admiralty, Take two great pictures of two
of the most important epochs of English marine glory.
Adorn the other parts of the room with smaller designs.
Take two portraits of two of the greatest heroes, and two
busts.' He shrugged his shoulders, and said, ' Well,
fcI<orcIs Grey and AUhorp hold the purse-strings, propose
t to them.' Here was an acknowledgment he had nothing
Vsay.

1832.] EFFORTS WITH PUBLIC HEX. 327

"What ■will lie do? Go away — and perhaps abuse
me for proving my plan feasible.

" He retired, and I drove down to an attorney to
prevent an execution for 9^. 14s, Od. ; paid 5L, 4/. to his
client, and IL to him for waiting a fortnight for the
balance, and then to Sir James Graham, at the Admiralty.
I sketched him.

" 7th. — Sir John Hobhouse sat, and a very interesting
hour I had.

" 14iA. — Lord Goderich sat again to-day, and we went
into the wliole question of the Academy. He asked
innumerable questions. I gave him the whole history of
Reynolds' resignation, my ill- treatment, Shee's conduct,
&c. &c. ' Upon my honour,' said he, ' if they do not
take care, the public will be against them.' ' They are
already,' said I ; ' and my apprehensions are, that this
money voted for them will only serve to give additional
weight to their unjust pretensions.' He alluded to my
former applications to him about art, and added, ' I fear I
have neglected you.' ' Yes, my Lord,' said I ; ' once when
I was waiting to see you a deputation of silk-mercers from
Coventry came in, and I gave up hope.' He laughed, but
half-displeased.

" On the whole, public men shrink from discussion.
They are so occupied with the fate of nations, and their
political relations, that truth even on other points seems
unworthy investigation, Metaphysical inquiry they de-
test Matters of taste they skim. Religion they con-
sider only as an engine of state ^ and I do not tliink
much extension of knowledge on general principles is to
be acquired by intercourse with them. They are inter-
esting from their rank and occupation; but a habit of
having snch mighty interests hanging on their decisions
generates a contempt for abstract deduction, and an in-
disposition to enter into matters of literature, art, and
morals. Men bke Lord Grey — old politicians — are
too wary to give you a clue by any hint or look as to
what is going on.

328 MEM0IH9 OF B. H. HATDON. [l832,

" nth. — Made anotlier sfeetcli of Sir James Graham
to-day — a better view of his fine head. Dr. Litshington
came in, and I staid with Lady Graham for nearly two
hours, and spent a delightful time.

" i9th. — Saw Lord Grey, who was sitting quietly by
the fire reading papers. When I came to the door Col.
Grey was talking to Lord Essex. Lord Essex saw me,
and said, ' I have nearly persuaded Lord Holland to ait.'

" It would be a pity if such a strenuous advocate of
reform should be out.

" I aent in my name and was admitted. Lord Grey
was looking the essence of mildness. He seemed dis-
posed for a chat. In my eagerness to tell him all he
wanted to know, I sprung up oif my chair, and began to
explain, bending my fist to enforce my argument. Lord
Grey looked at me with a mild peacefulness of expres-
sion, as if regarding a bit of gunpowder he had ad-
mitted to disturb his thoughts. Now I should have sat
still, and chatted quietly, for that is what he wanted — to
be relieved by gentle talk. But he began to talk to me
about the picture, and touched a sensitive spring. I
blazed away, made arrangements for his sitting next
week, and took my leave.

" I came in like a shot, talked like a Congreve-rocket,
and was off like an arrow, leaving Lord Grey for five
minutes not quite sure if it was all a dream. How de-
lightfully he looked by the fire. What a fine subject he
would make in his ofiicial occupation.

" 20lh. — Hard at work on Sir James Graham. I never,
I think, passed a more interesting month ; to be admitted,
as I have been, on the most friendly terms to the secret
recesses of Cabinet Ministers, left alone, as I have been,
with letters, dispatches, boxes, and trusted with perfect
confidence, chatting with them on art, and having the
full command of them for an hour at a time, with no dis-
turbance or interruption, is a very high distinction.

"25th, — At Lord Althorp's again, and spent a very
interesting hour. By degrees 1 got him on art and the

1832.] LORD ALTHOEP ON ART AND THE ACADEMY. 329

Natiooal Gallery, and the necessity of encouraging history
by au annual vote.

" He said an annual vote would be injurious, because it
implied a necessity of always buying, when there might
be nothing to buy. He said Government did nothing, be-
cause it was not the habit. I instanced sculpture, and he
acknowledged. We discussed the junction of the National
Gallery and Academy. He agreed it would either ruin
them, or make them. If properly taken it would be the
making of the art. He said, ' You are at war with the
Academy.' * I am, my Lord. I disapprove of them on
principle. They are the borough-mongers of the art.' I
said, ' Chantrey had agreed with me in my opinion on the
Academy, yet had joined them.' I said, ' They are a set
of interested men who are fearful of their supremacy being
shaken by the foundation of legitimate art. They obliged
Reynolds to resign. They persecuted Opie, West, Wilkie,
and myself, and being portrait-painters, and engrossing
the power, they can do so with effect.' I begged to assure
his Lordship I had no paltry view in recommending com-
missions to the most eminent, but asked either for that,
or some other plan, that the consequence of pursuing
art from feeling, and not for gain, might not be ruin to
all who attempted it. I pressed on his attention the po-
pularity of the measure. He said, ' D'ye think so ?' ' My
Lord, I am sure of it. And the junction of the Royal
Academy with the National Gallery is not popular, because
it is feared additional power will be put into the hands of
those who already have wielded what tbey have to the
oppression of the art.' I said, ' Sooner or later. Lord
Althorp, it must be done, and I should be happy to see
the glory secured by the present administration. It is
difficult for me to speak of the Royal Academy without
passion, but be assured the art is the last thing thought of
there.' He said, ' Would premiums be a good plan?'
'No, my Lord. Commissions are best.' 'Sometimes,'

i he, 'pictures make a great dash and are forgotten.
Government might commit itself. Fifty years, I tl

330 MEMOIRS OF B, R. HAYDON. tl832.

ought to pass before a picture is bought.' ' And the
painter starves in the meantime,' said I. ' My Jerusalem
is ill America. Lazarus is going, and Solomon is in a dust-
loft. After thousands are spent in the Gallery, the art
will be in the same condition. Why not give painters a
chance as in other countries V

" He seemed impressed with a notion that something
was wanting. This is the first step. I see Lord Grey
this week, and I will be at him. God knows if anything
will come of it. They shall not be ignorant; and then
all excuse is taken away. At my calling the Academy
' The borough-mongers of the art,' he laughed. He said
of all professions lawyers were the most jealous. This to
me was new,

" I think I shook his convictions in the infallibility of
the Academy. I said, I feared if the art was injured by
the National Gallery, the dealers would get a-head again.
He said he did not fear that.

" He seemed quite ignorant and quite astonished that
anything could be said against the plan, or in favour of
anything else.

" He said, ' Who is to judge ? Patrons in matters of
taste and persons of technical knowledge ?' I said, ' No,
my Lord, all the world can judge if an expression he true,
or a story told. All the world would be impressed with
a national series of pictures to illustrate a principle : but
all the world are not judges of technicalities. This is
exclusively professional.'

" Lord Althorp said, if he had not affected to be
against the National Gallery, fifty people would have
sprung up in the House, and have opposed, but by appear-
ing to disapprove, he secured success.

" When I took my leave, I begged he would not forget
the art.

" S9th. — Lord Althorp called and was much pleased.
Began Lord Grey musing by the fire.

' 3(XA. —Rubbed in the great picture of the above
Mubject, and very interesting it will be, I had Brown's

r

1833.] LORD GEEY MnSING ; D0KE OJT SUSSEX. 331

men down instantly, and, as I had a canvas ready, it was
mounted, and begun in iia!f-an-hour. Success to it. If
done as it ought, it will give posterity a complete idea of
this illustrious man in his hahitual attitude. i

" December \st. — Out all day, and exceedingly ha- '
russed for want of money. This picture causes such con-
tinual loss of time it is dreadful. In grievous difficulty I
ran in to nij dear old friend Cockerell, and though he has
great reason to complain of my irregularity, he lent me
5L I wanted him to buy my sketch of Sir Walter. He
could not, hut advised me to ask Lord Francis. To him

I wrote, and if he does, it will rescue me from M

fangs, and enable me to get on. I cannot appeal to .
Lord Grey till next moatli,

" 2nd. — Called on the Duke of Sussex, and saw him. ,
It was quite a picture. There he sat in a little room,
richly furnished, smoking, with a red Turkish cap, like
Ali Pasha — his hands covered with rings — his voice
loud, royal and asthmatic. ' Sit down, Mr. Haydon.'
Down I sat. He began about the Academy instantly as
if to flatter me.

" 5th. — Lord Melbourne sat again to-day. His last
sitting, and a very pleasant morning I had.

" Lord Melbourne is the most delightful sitter of any,
and I am always brilliant with him. He seems equally
pleased with me, I feel at my ease. He is a shrewd
man, and is not satisfied with random reasons. I was
talking about art, and he brought me to an anchor for a
minute, by asking me a question that required reflexion
to refute, and set me thinking when he was gone.

" l\th. — Lord Auckland sat, and I congratulated him
on the success of the elections. He said, ' Truly it justifies
all that has been done for the middle clas'ies.' It did
most gloriously. I wrote Hobhouse I would carry him
round myself, if a chair was wanting.

" 2\ri, — Lord Headfort concluded to-day, and in the
morning I passed an hour with Lord Melbourne, iu which
art and all its interests, great pictures iu churches, public

332 ICOtOIRg OF B. B. HATDOX. [isaL

enooursgenient, &c. were discussed, but with little effect.
There is no hope from any minister the other side of forty,
A man at forty has proved the hollowness of life, and
ftmilea at zeal with a consciousness of its uselessnesa.
Lord Melbourne seemed to have a notion that I was a
disappointed enthusiast, whom he found it amusing to
listen to, however absurd it might be to adopt my plans.

" 3\tl. — The last day of a year, perhaps the most
celebrated of my life.

" The immortality conferred on me by Lord Grey in
giving me a picture connected with reform — the glory
of that night at Guildhall — the return of fortune, and
the peace, happiness, and study i have enjoyed in con-
sequence, are all causes of my feeling deep gratitude to
my merciful Creator.

" My health never was so good, but I regret to say the
materials I have to work with for art — King, nobility,
and people — are materials from which little good can be
expected. I am at this moment in abeyance, and feel
more happiness in pursuing my studies without battling
or struggling for an abstract principle. I regret it, for
it is not high-minded. I shall try the rest of my life to
do my best, and let that take its chance.

" I have worked very hard to-day from nine to four, and
seven to half-past ten — ten and a half hours — my eyes
like iron.

" There are two things I once hated — portrait and
perspective. This picture has forced me to study them,
and I will conclude by being capable of both.

" It is now half-past eleven. The conclusion is ap-
proaching of the most wonderful year in the history of
England. Oh ! how I glory that I contributed to the
great result, however humbly, by my three letters * to
The Times, When my colours have faded, my canvas
decayed, and my body mingled with the earth, these

• Tlu'ee anonjmous letters under tbe signature of " AEefonoer;"
K very creditable contributions to a newspaper, but in no waj, as tax U
Z can see, justifjing this jubilation. — Eo.

1683.] THE CLOSE OF 1832. 333

glorious letters, the best things I ever wrote, will awaken

the enthusiasm of my countrymen. I thank God I

lived in such a time, and that He gifted me with talent

to serve the great cause. I did serve it. Gratitude to

Him!

" Twelve has struck !

" Adieu for ever 1832."

1833.

This burst of exultation at the share Haydon attributed
to himself in bringing about the triumph of Reform by his
three letters in The Times is not the least curious illus-
tration of the gigantic proportions which trifles assumed
in the strangely distorting mirror of his mind, the moment
they related to himself or his doings. Brought into
familiar, and in one sense confidential, relations with
ministers and leaders of parties, at this stirring time, it is
not to be wondered at that the painter imagined himself
for the moment lifted up again to his early days of Ad-
miralty dinners and Coleorton hospitalities. These re-
lations continued through the whole of 1833, and the
records of the sittings given him successively by all the
conspicuous guests at the Guildhall Banquet fill the rest
of this volume of his journals. Ministers and Peers,
Whig notabilities, and Radical leaders, figure in it at full
length, with their conversations and remarks entered in
great detail. There is much in these transcripts of
opinions, judgments, impressions, scandals, and on-dits^
which might figure very effectively either in a chronique
galante, or a secret history of the time. But the period
is too recent to admit free use of such confidences, even
if it were fair to make public what was certainly never
meant to meet the public eye. I hope that in the
few extracts taken from the journal for these years I have
confined myself to passages which, while they illustrate
character, and occasionally contain matter of political
interest, are free from anything that can wound personal
susceptibilities.

334 MEMOIHS or B. R. HATDON. ClS33.

" January \it. — Hume sat, and a very interesting con-
versation we had. It seems it was he who proposed the
junction of the National Gallery aud Royal Academy.

" Hume seems excessively disposed to act liberally
about art, and I am convinced he is more likely, at last,
to do what is wanted than any man.

" 25;A. — My birthday — forty-seven years old; passed
the day in hard work and peace ; with my dear children
in the evening.

"26(fi. — Out all day. Had worked till I had not a
guinea left. Called on Lord Grey. Found him happy,
healthy-looking, and in good spirits, thank God. We are
pretty much on a level. Antwerp plagued him as pecu-
niary matters plague me, and reform plagued the King.
We all have our plagues.

" He agreed to let me dedicate the work to him, and I
went away without his alluding to my affairs. I then
went to Colonel Grey, and left with him a short note I
had written at a bookseller's shop, I was in great agita-
tion for fear of oifending him. I drove into the city, and
went to Fletcher, the chairman (a fine, manly fellow), to
tell him my wants, and to ask him for 5/, to get through
the night. As I had not paid him the 12/., he said he
ought not, I returned home in a state not to be described.
When I came home the children had been all fighting-,
and no water had come to th ■ cistern. Mary was scolding ;
and I went to my painting-room, and d— — d all large
pictures, which always bring this evil on me. The evening
passed on, as it always does in a family where the father
has no money. The children smoke it; the servants
suspect it. There is either an over-kindness, an over-
irritability, or an aSected unconcern, which opens at once
their lynx eyes. Tea passed off. I went to my picture ;
apostrophised my art ; complained of Lord Grey, and sat
down with a pain in my lumbar vertebra;. As I had
appointed a great many people for small sums, I marched
off to my landlord, Newton. Knowing he would relieve
me, and anticipating success, I knocked. I heard the

1833.]

IN STRAITS : LORD STANLEY.

335

light steps of a girl ; down went the candlestick, and the
door opened. ' Mr. Newton at home ? ' said I, marching
in, praying to God it might be so, but half fearing it
might not, when I was suddenly stopped by, ' No, sir, he

is gone to the play.' ' D n the play ! ' thought I —

* this is the way. What business had he to be giggling
at some stuff in the pit, while I am in danger of having
no money?' Away I marched again, tired, croaking,
grumbling, and muddy, and came home in a slate of
harass. ' Sir, the man won't send the wood without
the money!' was the first salutation. 'Sir, there is no
water in the cistern, and has not been all day ! ' ' Why,'
thought I, ' the very lead pipes begin to perceive their
masters won't be paid for their trouble.' I sat down in
a rage, and, pulling off my great-coat, sallied up to my
dear. ' At least,' thought I, ' this is left me, and woe to
any mortal who stops me here.'

" Mary, like an angel, consoled me in my affliction,
and I came down in high glee, bidding defiance to aU
obstructions, and swearing I would again apply to my
work on Monday at light.

" Just as I had made up my mind in came the servant
with a letter from Lord Grey, marked ' Private.' My
heart jumped. It contained a cheque — I read it, and
vowed vengeance against all rascally tradesmen on earth.
This was wrong. By degrees I recovered my good feel-
ings, and went to bed thanking God, grateful to Lord
Grey, and at peace with my family and the world.

" 27th, — Hard at work. I made a capital drawing of
Lord Stanley.

^'February 3rd. — The Chancellor sat to-day. Hia
eye is as #ne as any eye I ever saw. It is like a lion's,
watching for prey. It is a clear grey, the light vibrating
at the bottom of the iris, and the cornea shining, silvery,
and tense. I never before had the opportunity of exa-
mining Brougham's face with the scrutiny of a painter,
and I am astonished at that extraordinary eye.

336 MEMOIRS OF B. U. BAYDOK. [1633.

" Tth. — Lord Ebrington came, and a very delightful
ettting we had. I asked him about Napoleon.* He said
he acknowledged the massacre at Jaffa without ihe least
compunction, though he did not think him blood-thirstj.
We talked about the fag of the House of Commons. He
said t!ie old scliool during Mr. Fox's time neglected their
food during debate. He remembered when he was first
ill Parliament, in 1804, Mr. Fox used to take him to
Brooks's, and have hot suppers at whatever lime the debate
ended. I remarked on the danger of the House of Com-
mons from the heat and draughts of air. He said, by
prudence iu diet, and taking a light dinner only, he felt
no inconvenience, but that if he lived as he did at other
times, he would not be able to bear it.

II (A. — Duke of Richmond sat, and Lord Ebrington.
I asked the Duke if there was ever a moment when he
desponded at Waterloo. He said, ' Never. For an
instant some young officers might fear, when the cavalry
were on tlie liill, that they had got possession of the ar-
tillery; but all old ones knew that cavalry getting pos-
session of artillery was nonsense'

" 12(A. — Lord Westminster sat to-day. After Lord
W. was gone came the Lord Advocate (Jeffrey). He
amused me delightfully, and talked incessantly ; but there
is a sharp, critical discovery of what is defective in nature
which is not agreeable. He described Lord Althorp's
reception of him last May, when he called to ask what he
should do about his resignation, which was quite graphic
Lord Althorp's secretary could not give him any informa-
tion, and Lord Althorp desired he would walk up stairs.
Up Jeffrey walked. Lord Althorp had just done washing,
and one arm was bare above the elbow, and richer hairy.
His razor was in the other, and he was about to shave.
* Well, Mr. Advocate,' said his Lordship, ' I have the
pleasure to inform you tliat we are no longer His Majesty'*
Ministers. We sent in our rtsignations, and they ars

« With whom Lord Ebrington had several conversations at Elba.

1833.] LOKD ALTHOBP AFTER RESIGNATIOK. 337

accepted.' When they returned Jeffrey called again. He
was looking over his fowling-pieces, and said to Jeffrey,
^ Confound these political affairs ; all my locks are got out
of order/ in his usual grumbling, lazy way.

" Jeffrey said he thought him a fine specimen of what
an English gentleman ought to be. There was not a single
head in the picture Jeffrey recognised. He sees nothing
in nature but what is a subject of criticism.

" 16th. — This week I have finished Duke of Cleve-
land, Lord Ebrington, put in Lord Westminster, Duke
of Richmond, and Lord Advocate — fair work — and
rubbed in Falstaff for my dear friend, W. Newton. If
that fellow was to die I should break my heart — though,
God knows, I have often broken his by worrit. For him
and Ed. Smith I would lay my head on the block, though
I have tried their patience severely. Peace to 'em.

" 24fth. — This week I have finished Lord Westminster,
Hume, and Lord Ebrington, and Lord Morpeth I am
advancing. Next week Lord Cavendish, Burdett, and
Lord Howick, sit.

" Jeffrey told me a capital story of Talleyrand at a
public dinner. His health was drank. Before the noise
was over he got up, made a mumbling, as if speaking —
spoke nothing — made a bow, and sat down; at which
the applause redoubled, though all those immediately
about him knew he never said a word.

" 26th, — Lord Cavendish sat, and was ready to let
me make any use of his face — three parts of it, or half of
it — and put him anywhere. Now, when I contrast this
with some of the city committee, who march up to the
picture and say, * Put me there,' close to Lord Grey, it is
really exquisite.

" The beauty of high breeding is delightful. No people
are better trained. The Duke of Richmond said he
approved of fagging. It made a boy know himself. Lord
March was at Westminster. He was educated there
himself. Every Saturday he came home, which the Duke
thought advantageous. From our public schools have

VOL. II. z

Bonv'
tfucl

338 WEMOIES OF B, H. HATDON. [1893.

proceeded certainly as manly a race of nobility as tbere
is in any country in the world, and greater statesmen.
There is something bard in their training.

" March Srd. — Sketched Sir Francis Burdett at
Brookes's, in the little parlour as you enter the door, on
the right. He was reading Cobbett, and it was interesting
to watch the expression of his face. He seemed satisfied
that the great grievance had been got rid of, and thought
after a little noise all would be quiet. I hope it may.

" I asked him if O'Connell had been cut. He said he
did not know; but that he certainly would never notice
him again.

" Sir Francis was the picture of health. His hands
were strong and coarse, like a horseman's. 1 asked him
how he preserved such good health, and if he lived in
any particular manner. He said, never. He used the
hath, not regularly, but often; drank no wine, except
when he dined out, and was always better without it.
He did not live by rule, and conformed to society; but
frequent baths, no wine, and hunting, agreed with him.

"9th. — Lord Advocate came in for half-an-hour ;
amusing as usual, £x cathedrA. You must not take the
lead, or my Lord looks at his watch. We talked of
O'Connell. * 1,' said I, ' never saw such a head — cut up
by deep passions.' ' Deep sears of thunder' — his cheeks
entrenched,' said my Lord, taking the quotation out of
my mouth, and I could not get in again. He repeated
the passage with fine emphasis, as finely as I ever heard
it. ' There are parts,' said I, ' in the Paradise Regained,
as fine as anything.' He would not listen, but kept
mumbling to himself, I said in a loud voice, for I was
determined to have a touch too, —

" And here and there was room
For barren deserl, fountuiiiless ond drj."

He stopped, and said, * very fine.' I tried to turn the
inversation, that I might leave off witli Milton, but he
ick to the first passage like a little gamecock.

1833.] LORD PLUNKETT: A STURDY REFORMER. 339

thought I had better he quiet. He has a fine melodious
voice.

" 20th. —Lord Plunkett sat patiently and sensibly. He
is very arch, amusing, and witty. He asked me what I
thought of Barry's picture in the Adelphi. I told liim
Dr. Johnson had said, ' There was a grasp of mind there
you found nowhere else.' And he was right. I said
' Barry was ignorant of colour, could not draw, and had
no refined ideas of heauty ;' he agreed with me. He said
he had visited him in 1786 — that he talked with great
fluency and power, and called Sir Joshua ' That man in
Leicester Fields.'

" I pointed out to him the fatal consequences of not
having professors at the universities. He agreed with
me. I told him West had had Pitt's and Fox's promise.
I had corresponded with Lord Liverpool, Canning, Go-
derich, and Wellington, without effect.

"I said, 'It will be done at last, my Lord, It rauat
be done, or the manufactures will decay, and the art
itself go out.'

" Lady Howick and Miss Eden called afterwards.
Just as I was preparing to put in Lord Plunkett, up came
an odd, hurly-looking man, full of colour, with great
energy. He began, ' I have been a staunch reformer
twenty-eight or thirty years. I dined there that day.
Ought I not to be here ? I am a magistrate.' ' Sir,' said
I, ' you have a head worthy of any dinner ; but I fear my
places are taken.' ' I hope not, Mr. Haydon. I brought
in Col. Grey. I did, sir. I am true to the bone,' &c. &c.
Seeing there was no getting rid of him, I said, ' Come, '
sir, sit down. I'll make a sketch, and see if I can't
squeeze you in.' He sat down, and amused me amazingly,
with all sorts of anecdotes about elections, and D'Israeli'a
failure, &c. He had a head like a vulgar eagle — a com-
plete specimen of a species nowhere to be seen but in an
English country town. There sat a fellow before me, as
Lord Brougham said, who cared for nothing, — shilt, shells,
bayonets, or prisons — bottom to the bone — blood to tha

340 MEMOIRS OP B, H. nATDON. [1893.-

vitalsj — as if a gamecocb, a race stallion, a bull-dog, a
mastiJF and a lion had been concerned in his propaga-
tion. There he sat, as if defying the devil. I thought
to myself, 'is there such another specimen on earth?'
' They said to me,' said he, ' who is Col. Grey V ' Who
is he ?' said I. ' When you buy a cock you ask who his
father is. Well, if he is of a good hrccd you buv hinii
Never mind who Col. Grey is, wc know his sire.'

" I finished him. He took his leave. ' I hope to know
more of 'ee, sir.' 'I hope so, sir;' and he went off, giving
his name and address, — a genuine country squire,

" 23rd. — Duke of Sussex sat smiahly. I never saw
anything like it. He exceeds all my sitters for patience
and quiet. There he sat smoking and talking. I felt
quite easy, and sketched with more ease than I ever did
before. He talked on all subjects. I hit him, and he
was pleased. No interruption whatever took place.

" I found him regarding the National Gallery now with
a very different feeling to what he held before, and I
plainly see I have had effect in high life.

" 25M. — Finished the Duke of Sussex till he comes.
There is literally as much difference between a royal
person and a mere nobleman as between a nobleman and
a mere plebeian. Such is the effect of breeding and habit.

" 2Tlk. — Lord Plunkett sat, very amiably and quietly.
He has an arch humour. 'When do you sketch O'Con-
nell ? ' said one of his daughters. ' There is one thing,'
said Lord Plunkett, ' If you could take liis head entirely
off, you would do great good to society.'

" Lord Plunkett said, ' You have put - — between the ■
candles. Pll lay my hfe be would be thinking of the
expense of so much wax,' I thought I should have died

with laughing, because actually said, as he looked at

the candles, 'That's bad wax.' 'Why, sir?' said 1.
' Because there is too much snuff j no good wax has any.'

"April 18M. — Was at the House of Commons last

, night, under the gallery. I was much amused. As I was

waiting at the door of the entrance, an old wliite-headed

1833.] DIVISION ON THE JEW BILL: MR. COKE. 341

man, of the Pitt and Fox days, said, lifting up the whites
of his eyes, * They are at the Jews to-night : my God ! *
as if the world was coming to an end at such an innova-
tion. O'Connell, in the midst of great confusion, thundered
out, ' I know I shall get no attention about Ireland ; go
on, gentlemen, make as much noise as you like. It is
only a bit of fresh despotism for lerrlan^! The House
was dead quiet. Hobhouse, Hume, and Campbell made
effective replies. When the question wa^ put about the
Jews, the burst of ' Ayes' was sublime,— like a heavy
volley of musketry, — while the scattering of the * Noes *
was absolutely ridiculous.

" May 16^A. — Mr. Coke and Sir Ronald Ferguson sat.
Mr. Coke's head is the finest I ever saw — the only one I
ever saw which I would choose for Aristides. This is a
genuine unsophisticated opinion. He told some beautiful
anecdotes of Fox. He said the first time he came into
power he dined with him. He went on talking before the
servants. After they were gone some one said, * Fox, how
can you go on so before the servants ? ' * Why the devil,'
said Fox, * should they not know as much as myself ? '

" Mr. Coke said he remembered a fox killed in Caven-
dish Square, and that where Berkeley Square now stands
was an excellent place for snipes."

On the 17th Haydon sustained a bereavement in the
death of one of his children, Alfred, a sickly but inter-
esting boy between seven and eight years old.

" August 20th. — Alfred was buried. Dear Fanny's
co£S.n was taken out quite uninjured, and Alfred put
under. I cried when I saw them both put together, who
had been together in life, and were now in death insepar-
able.

*^ 2lst. — I expect Mr. Pendarves, and ought to be
preparing for him ; but I am sitting still, staring at my
picture, and musing on my boy's expression when he
died.

" Mr. Tom Duncombe sat yesterday, but I was very

languid in the drawing. It is a painful struggle.

z 3

342 MEMOIRS OP B. E. HAYDON. [l833.

" Put in Mr, Pendarvea well. Yesterday visited the
grave of my children, close to Mrs. Siddons', whose name
is almost obliterated." The birds were singing — thrush,
blackbird, and linnet It is tiie prettiest burial-ground in
England, except Shakespeare's.

" Mr. Coke came late, and a most delightful sitting he
gave me. He ia full of reminiscences. He told me a
story of Charles Fox. One night at Brookes's, he made
some remark on government powder, in aDusion to some-
thing that happened. Adams considered it a reflection
and sent Fox a challenge. Fox went out, and took his
station, giving a full front. Fitzgerald said, ' You must
stand sideways.' Fox said, ' Wliy I am as thick one way
as the other.' ' Fire,' was given— Adams fired, Fox did
not ; and when they said he must, he said, ' I'll he damned
if I do. I have no quarrel,' They then advanced to
shake hands. Fox said, ' Adams, you'd have killed rae if
it had not been government powder.' The ball hit him
in the groin, and fell into his breeches.

" I asked him a question which interested him very
much. I had heard Lord Mnlgrave say at table it was a
fact that Charles Fox would have agreed to come in under
Mr. Pitt latterly, as Secretary for Foreign Affairs. Mr.
Coke said there was sucli a report, and he wrote Fox,
saying if it were so they must separate. Fox assured hira
on his honour it was not so, and he has the letter now.

" Mr. Coke said Fox was as fond of shooting as a
school-boy. He went out one morning. It came on to
rain. Fox stood under some firs with a gamekeeper, who
was a great talker. All the day it rained incessantly.
As the ladies were all waiting dinner in came Fox.
' "Where have you been, Charles ?' said Mr. Coke. ' Why
talking to that fellow all day. There is hardly a man I
can't get something from if he talks,' said Mr. Fox.

" Mr, Coke said George IV. swore he would knight
him once, when a very violent petition was coming up,
fc brought by Mr. Coke. Mr. Coke said he had made up
■ ' In Foddington new cliiirclt-;ard.

1833.] ME. coke: AT THE BENCH: SIR JOSHUA. 343

liis mind that if the King attempted it he would have
knocked ofF the sword.

"June 13th. — Oat. Went to the King's Bench. Called

on poor D . I found hira just the same. While

he was talking to me about hia prospects of getting out
again, a little girl behind took up a pipe, and began to
blow bubbles. I never saw such a moral. It aifected
me. The bubble rose, glittering and trembling, hit

against poor D "s head, and biurst. I gave Lini a

little, and as I went down my old messenger was standing
to receive me. He called out, ' God bless ye, Mr. Haydon;
I was in hopes when I saw you, you had come in again.'
' Thank you, my hero, you are very good.' ' How d'ye
do, sir," said the turnkey, ' God bless you. You've quite
deserted us.' ' Ah, Mr. Haydon,' said Joe Ward (one of
the figures in Chairing the Member), ' You are looking
quite fat and jolly.' I went away musing.

" nth. — Being exceedingly exhausted I went out to
take air, and look at Sir Joshua. Sir Joshua always de-
lights and improves me. Lawrence looks by his side like
a miniature-painter in large, and West like a skilful sign-
painter. Sir Joshua had the true feeling. Ottley, who
remembered him, said the first time be saw Sir Joshua he
showed him a picture of the Continence of Scipio. Ottley
said it put him in mind of Farmigiano. Sir Joshua seemed
angry, for it was stolen from that painter.

" While I was out the Duke of Sussex called. This is
always the way. He sat quietly by himself looking at the
picture. Lady Duncannon called. The Duke left word
he would come in two or three days, and give me a
sitting. Now I have hardly been out at that time of day
for several weeks, and the first day I do in cornea H. II.
Highness,

" Lord Melbourne said the other night, ' I remember
Reynolds. He was a hardworking old dog. When I sat
to him, he worked too hard to be happy.'

" This is exactly Lord Melbourne ! He is one of those
three boj-s who are standing up in the picture,

344 MEMOIRS OF B. R. HAYDON. [lB33.

"20(A. — Mr. Coke sat with his two boys. He said
when Burke was dying Fox went down to see liim : but
Burke would not see Fox. When he came back Mr. Coke
was lamenting Burke's obstinacy. ' Ah,' said Fox, ' Never
mind, Tom, I always find every Irishman has got a piece
of potatoe in his head,'

" July 2nd. — Went to Lord Spencer's, by I^ord Lyt-
tleton's desire, to see first editions, vellum copies, rare
Boccacios, unaccountable Dantes, impossible to be found
Virgils, and not to be understood first editions of Homer!

" Met Sir C. Bagot, whom I remember Canning's pri- ,
vate secretary for foreign correspondence (1807).

" Sir Charles Bagot said Michel Angelo's own copy of
Dante, with a large margin and his designs, fell into the
hands of the Bishop of Derry, and was lost going across
to Marseilles.

" Juli/ Glh. — Captain Spencer and Lord Althorp called.
I had a remarkable evidence of Lord Althorp's goodness
of heart.

" The Whigs bad been d g Attwood for a radical

and a fool, and begging me not to put him in.

" Lord Althorp said, ' Ob yes, he was prominent in the
cause. He ought to be in.' This was noble ; all party
feelings vanished in his honest heart.

" Lord Althorp was much pleased.

" In reviewing my account of my sitters, they all seem
to be amiable and delightful, and they really have been
so. They came on terms of equality. I received and
painted them like a gentleman ; they did not pay me, so
there was no disagreeable feeling of employer and em-
ployed. A more delightful time never artist had.

" 18tJi — \9lh. — Attended Irish Church debate in the
Lords closely, and with great advantage to the picture.

" The Duke spoke well and without hesitation. There
was a manly honour about his air, and when he read a
quotation, to see bim deliberately take out his glasses and
put tliem on was extremely interesting. He enforces
what he says with a bend of his head, striking his band

1833.] IBISn CHURCH DEBATE IN THE LORDS, 345

forcibly, and as if convincedj on the papers. He fiiiislied,
and, to my utter astonishment, up started Lord Melbourne
like an artillery rocket. He began in a fury. His
hmguage flowed out like fire. Ho made such palpable
hits that he floored the Duke of Wellington as if he had
shot him. But the moment the stimulus was over his
habitual apathy got a-head. He stammered, hemmed,
and hawed. But it was the most pictorial exhibition of
the night. He waved liis white hand ivith the natural
grace of Talma; expanded his broad chest, looked right
at his adversary like a handsom.e lion, and grappled him
with the grace of Paris.

" August \Qtk. — Hard at work, Duke of Cleveland
sat. On the 29th ult, I was just beginning to work,
when in rushed two sherifis' officers, saying they had
an execution against my person. This was an aSair of
three years standing. 1 had been secui'ity — paid half —
the rascal had neglected to pay the other half, and they
8ued me. Away I was hurried, almost bewildered. All
my former agonies returned. I spent a day and a night
of torture, absent from my family and children; I reco-
vered my faculties, after very nearly putting an end to
myself during the night. I wrote Mr. Ellice, who had
expressed great sympathy. He sent Mrs. Haydon 50Z,,
which released me at once. He wrote to the Duke of
Cleveland, 50/. more came from him, and in a few hours I
was as happy and as hard at work again as ever.

" \Oth. — The picture is much advanced. Mr. Mac-
kenzie, Mr. Ellice, and Mr. Geo. Lamb sat to-day. Mr.
Ellice told a story of old Lady Rosslyn. Mrs, ■ was

announced. When the women were bundling off, ' Sit
still, sit still,' said old Lady R,, ' It is na' catching.'

" \2tk. — Hard at work. Put in Charles Grey, and
finished Mr. Poyntz. He said he lived formerly with
Sheridan a great deal. Once when he was dining with him
at Somerset- Ho use, and they were all in high feather, in
rushed the servant, and said, ' Sir, the house is on fire ! '

346 MEMOIRS OP B, K. HATDON. [l833.

' Bring another bottle of claret,' said Sheridan. ' It is
not my house.'

" I really begin to get sick of sitters,' and long to be at
the general effect. The work ia beginning to tire me;
ninety-sGvcn heads, all portraits ; I have not had a moment's
rest for nine months. Lord Grey seems half-wom out,
but not so much so as last year.

" September 26tk. —Lord Melbourne sat, and I began
a sketch of him. We got on art, I said, ' Why do you
leave out the Academy in this Commission on Corpora-
tions ?' He replied, ' You may have it in, if you please.'
Hous verrons. ' What would have been the state of art,'
be asked, ' if no Academy bad been founded ?' Ireplied,
' When Reynolds, Hogarth, Wilson, and Gainsborough
had started up without an Academy, did you found
one to raise them? When Michel Angelo, Raffaele,
Leonardo da Vinci, Titian, and Tintoretto bad flowered,
they did the same in Florence and in Rome.' ' It was a
great mistake,' Lord Melbourne replied.

" S7th. — Lord Melbourne sat again to-day. I spoke to
him about a scries of national subjects. He said, ' Nothing
but abuse would follow the selection of any individual.'
And supposing it did? What moral cowardice! I
showed him the subjects. He approved of ail, but said,
' If we subscribed 100/. a-piece, every man has bis
favourite artist,' Of course : but the same complaints
were made of Raffaele's selection. San Gallo and all the
old boys complained that a young man had been employed.
Would I had been born under a despot of taste I The
will is wanting here.

" October I Ith. — Lord Palmerston sat. We had a
delightful conversation. I stuck it into liim well about
the Elgin Marbles. I showed bim from his own wrist
their truth in hands. I proved to him their science in
the action of two feet and legs, and he acknowledged he
now saw the cause of my enthusiasm. Lord Palmerstoa

a sincere in this.

' IS'M. — Lord Palmerston sat finally. I bored bim on

1833.] LORD PALMERSTON : LORD MILL. 347

Greek art, which he listened to with the most amiahle
patience. I showed him drawings from dissections — ex-
plained to him principles of form, which he entered into.
It varied the monotony of sitting, but I fear he thought
me a nuisance.

" I'll/I. — Dined at Lord Palmerston'a. Met Baron
Bulow, Baron Wesseoburg, the American Minister, Lord
Hill, and a distinguished party.

" I sat next to Lord Hill. I said, ' My Lord, I feel
great interest in seeing your Lordship after reading so
much about you.' ' Ah,' said Lord Hill, ' those days are
past.' ' But,' said I, ' not forgotten.' He seemed pleased
at my allusion, and came home with me to see tha
picture.

" While in the carriage I said, ' My Lord, was there
ever any time of the day at Waterloo when you desponded ?'
' Certainly not,' he replied, ' There never was any panic ?'
' No, There was no time of the day.' I said, ' I apologise ;
but Sir Walter Scott asked the Duke the same thing, and
he made the same reply.' Lord Hill said, in the simplest
way, ' I dare say,'

" He went into my parlour, and saw the portrait of
Lord Durham, with his own writing under. On the left
Napoleon's bed ; on the right, his column.

" He was pleased at Lord Grey's picture.

" 2lst, — Out the whole precious day in the city to
beg time, and sign a cognovit, to get time for the balance
of another. My sympathies involve me,

*' ' Why do you give bills ? ' because I want time.
' Wliy cognovits?' because people will not wait, first
without bills, then without security ; but tliis is the way
I have been always ruined. Time never stops, A man
should never rest in his labours, especially with a family.
On rolls the wheel till its movement is too strong to be
stopped.

" November Wlh. — The scene at the Lord Mayor's
dinner at Guildhall last night was exquisite — the mis-
chievous air of orer-politeness with which Locd .B — ■--

I

348 aiEU0IB3 OF B. K. HATDON. tlSS

handed in the Lady Mayoress, — the arch looks of TjoI

Melbourne, — the supercilious sneer of Lord S i

citj affair,' as he called it.

" In the ball-room I said to Lord S , * Loi

Melbourne enjoys it,' ' There is nothing Lord Melbourt;
does not enjoy,' said he.

" Can there be a finer epitaph on a man ? It is true i
Lord Melbourne, who is all amiability, good-humour, an
simplicity of mind.

" ilth. — Lord Althorp sat, and a very pleasant chi
we had. He said, ' Do you paint portraits ? ' ' Ye
my Lord.' ' I thought you were above it.' In the coun
of sitting', he said, ' Do you think you could paint
goodish portrait?' He has been tampered with.

" I sketched him successfully. We talked of Cannini
I said, ' Do you think Canning would have stopped n
form?' ' No,' said Lord Althorp, ' he might have post
poned it. He could not have stopped it." I said, ' Wlia
do you think of Canning ? ' 'A man of splendid taleni
who would have been steady when he had realised hi
ambition by getting to the top,' said Lord Althorp.
remarked, ' He was not to be depended on.' He assente<
I then said, ' He was haughty to his inferiors,' ' He wi
silent in general company,' said Lord Althorp. • Hoi
Attwood has fallen,' said I. ' I always expected it,' sai
Lord Althorp. ' What would have been the result.
Lord,' said I, 'had his paper system been adopted?
' A crash,' said Lord Althorp,

1834..

" January Gth. — Improved Lord Grey, Lady Gres
(lid not call, as I expected, Faddled, and made a capitt
drawing from tlie naked modeh My heart yearned wii
delight at seeing the naked figure again— its beautiill
varieties, its unaffected grace,

" IIM. — Lord Grey sat very pleasantly indeed, and
.iinade, \a my own opinion, and that of Lord Lansdowne,

1834.] LORD grey's AMIABILITY. 349

successful drawing. Sir W. Gordon came in, and suggested
one or two things of great use. He said the basis of Lord
Grey's character was excessive amiability, and it was this
which attached others to him. He wished me to soften
one or two things : ' for instance, the brow,' said he ;
* if a man was dressed it would not be up.' Lord Grey
smoothed it down. Sir Willoughby little thought what
a principle of art was here concealed, — dressed ! nature
dressed !

" Velasquez would have gone 500 miles for such a brow
and nostril as Lord Grey's, and to suit the weakness of
modern effeminacy, I will not emasculate the one, or dress
the other.

" I have often wondered at the reason of the power and
vigour I see in the heads of Vandyke. The age was less
fastidious and dandy. Perhaps the manners were grosser,
but they were more native. There was at least none of
that meretricious mania for softening and polishing down
all expression and character into one universal smoothness,
void alike of truth and strength.

" I4fth, — While we were talking on Saturday to Sir
Willoughby Gordon, Lord Grey said, with the greatest
simplicity of expression, ' What in God's name do you
do with so many sentries ? What is the use of a sentry in
Downing Street? Why at the end of the passage there's
one, and two by the Duke of York's column, — what is the
use of that ? When tl>e east winds come you'll have all
the men laid up. That place is like a funnel.'

" Lord Grey was quite right. It was fine to see his
love of civil liberty playing in. Sir W. Gordon smiled
excuses.

" 24^A.-^I now close this book full of interesting
matter. I have had opportunities of impressing the highest
classes with the value of high design. But I found them,
from Lord Grey downwards. Ministers and all, perfectly
unimpressible.

" Lord Grey said to me the other day he did not see
much the value of drawing, ' Look at Reynplds and

350 MExoiBs or B. E. hatdott.

Corrcgto,' Baid be. Thii was not his own, bot Shee's.
looked lierj, bat did not speak, because I could not
without making him ridiculous.

" Doign is tbe basIi of art, and a basis of sucb
that manufactures, as well as art, rest in its excellence.

" He does not see the atilitj of bringing the
into London, He does not see the utility of leaving nxm
for future beque&ts of old works, or future purchases of
fine national works. He does not see tbe danger of i
junction of the Academy and National Gallery under i
roof. In fact, he likes the Academy, its dinner, its p
traits, its inefficiency.

" I have now put down my name for the Professorsl
of Design at the London University. Shall I get
No — though I am certainly the most fit man in Englai
And here, as in art, I shall be driven to fling myself a
my principles on public sympathy, and instead of i
fluencing the people through tbe nobility, compel t]
nobility through the better taste and knowledge of d
people. I await the result only, when I ivill do it.* Di
pressed 1 am not. It is not in my nature. I trust
Cod. He who inspired me for a great purpose, wl
has carried me through bo many shocks, will not 1
me live in vain, but will render my life, death, or fcno"
ledge, available to a great reform in my country's art.

" February \&lh.^ — Called on Lord Alchorp and fou:
him as good-humoured as usual. Amidst all this «
went in to Lord Grey, and found him on the point
setting off for Wohurn. He looked capitally well ; andj
could not help thinking, as I looked at him, what a ve
interesting head he had got, — peaceable, delicate, ai
touching in expression. He agreed to come at the end
the week.

• How prophetic of my Lectures (Ifl3S). — B. R. H,
f Here begins the 20th volume of the jouroals (marked on \
bsi'k " Whig Journnl "), with the motto from Job, " Behold, bap
i» tbe man whom God correcteth, therefore despise not thon \
chantenini; of the Almighty."

JSai.] O'CONNELL AT HOME, 351

' " He objected to my putting Lord Durham's name on
the standards. Lord Durham objects to be placed on the
steps because he was Minister and at Petersburgh ; and
so, between the two, Lord Durham will be out where he
ought to be most specifically in,

•' Put in Lord Durham's name concealed on a standard.
Lord Grey won't find it out till it is too late.

" One hundred years hence, when the picture is taken
down to be cleaned, they'll soy, ' Bless me, here's Lord
Durham's name — and Bentham's.'

*' 22nd. — A very interesting day. At twelve I went
to O'Connell's, and certainly his appearance was very
different from what it is in the House of Commons. It
was on the whole hilarious and good-natured. But there
was a cunning look. He has an eye like a weasel. Light
seemed hanging at the bottom, and be looked out with
a searching ken, like Brougham, something, but not with
his depth of insight.

" I was first shown into bis private room. A shirt
hanging by the fire, a hand-glass tied to the window-bolt,
papers, hats, brushes, wet towels, and dirty shoes, gave
intimation of * Dear Ireland.' After a few moments
O'Connell rolled in in a morning gown, a loose black
handkerchief tied round his neck, God knows how, a wig,
and a foraging cap bordered with gold lace. As a specimen
of character, he began, ' Mr. Haydon, you and I must
understand each other about this picture. They say I
must pay for this likeness.' ' Not at all, sir.' This is
the only thing of the sort that has happened to me.

" He sat down and I sketched him. We talked of
repeal. ' What did ye think of me when X first started
the question ! ' ' That you were mad,' said I. ' Do you
not think, sir,' I said, ' that Ireland, being the smaller,
must always be subject to England, the larger island ? '
' No,' said O'Connell. ' Is not Portugal a smaller country
than Spain ? ' ' Yes, but she is a separate country.'
" ' One great mistake of the Liberals,' said he, ' is their

352 ICOCOISS OV B. X. trATIX)!E. (1«

infidelitj. Now, tliere are do infidds to Ireland.' * tl
(■id 1, ' they are too poetical.' 0*Connel] looked at a
t» if tlie tliotight waa new and true. I succeeded in 1
head. It is a head of hiLirit3r and good-huntonr, wlu
his Do«e and ejea denote fceen cunniDg. His voice
meiodioiu and penuasire, and there is a natural poetc
about his mind that renders him interesting. There \
DO Ie» than lire papers in the room, in which O'Coniie
read altenxately. He said, ' I got a scolding from Pt
last night. I told him I spared him this once — but t
next time — '

" 24(A. — A drawing-room. The Duke of !
being excused on account of his eyes, sent word he i
ML Lord Saye and Seie sat first, and the Duke came 1
half-past two. I made the room comfortable for him —
lighted a candle for his cigars — pot a thick rug for 1
feet, and the Duke said he felt quite comfortable. H
Bcetned so, and we got into a regular political talk,
for as the Catholic question for Ireland went, I go,' sai
the Duke, ' but no further. Directly they got this the
talked of Repeal. Then I hesitate. So with the di"
scnters. The Test and Corporation acts were unjust:
was right to repeal them. But when the dissenters begil
to make this repeal only a ground for encroachment, thei
I stop also.'

" We talked of royalty. He said he did not think i
was quite fair, after giving up the Royal domains, thU
the Royal family should be obliged to sue in Jbrnti
pauperis for subsistence. He said, ' We begin in debt,
did not get an establishment till 1 was thirty.'

" 26/A, — Lady Grey called, but she was not satisfied
You can never please a lady in the portrait of her husband
unless you give him a spice of that expression which woi
her heart. Then she says it is exactly like him.

" March \sf, — O'Connell sat. Just before he sat Lor(
Spencer's secretary called. While he was yet with i
O'Connell came in hia best wig, and looking in greal
health and vigour. O'Connell has a head of great 3ent{><

1831.] o'coN^ELL. 353

nient and power, but yet cunning. The instant he came
in be looked at the picture, and said, ' Ah, there's Stanley ,'
wilh a smite I never yet saw on his countenance ; — Mel-
bourne, Graham, Russell, — Grey, but too handsome ; —
AUIiorp, the bitterest enemy of Ireland, — but he shall
never legislate for her.'

" O'Connell was in great good-humour, and I begged
him to give me a Iiistory of his early life. He did so
immediately — explained their first meeting to consider
the grievances of Catholics — their being interrupted by a
company of soldiers, &c., &c. The poetical way in which
he described the crashing of the muskets on the stones at
' Order arms ' was characteristic. I said, ' It is somewhat
ungrateful, after getting emancipation, to turn round and
demand repeah' ' Not in me^ said O'Connell, ' I always
said repeal would be the consequence of emancipation, and
I always avowed such to be my object.' ' Do you think
you will carry it?' 'Not a doubt of it,' said O'Connell.
* If you get repeal, what will you do ? ' ' Have an Irish
Parliament directly.' ' But an Irish Parliament,' said I,
' was always corrupt.' ' Yes,' said he, ' in borougb-mon-
gering times; but now there is a constituency. Besides,
corrupt as it was, it carried important measures.'

" I then varied ibc conversation, and told him some
Irish stories, which he laughed at and retorted. I told
him the highest compliment which was ever paid me was
by an Irishman : — ' It is a pity that the hand which painted
that picture should be ever under the turf.' O'Connell
was amazingly pleased. He told me some capital stories.
Some great big Irish counseller said to Curran, 'If you go
on so I'll put you in my pocket.' ' By God, if you do,'
said Curran, 'you'll have more law in your pocket than
r you had in your head.'

' ' Upon my word,' I said, ' you take up more time

J in the House than you ought.' ' We can't help it,' said

O'Connell. ' Don't you think the Irish people bar-

[ baious?" said I. O'Connell was shaken, and he tried to

I explaiu why they were not, but did not succeed. O'Con-

TOL. II. A 4.

354 MEMOIRS OF B. E. DATDON. [l834,

nell spoke of himself with great candour. He said,
' How could the Government expect, after the character
and publicity I gained by emancipation, I could relapse
into a poor barriBter? Human vanity would not per-
mit it.'

" He was pleased with my portrait, and said if I wished
to paint him the size of life, he would give me an hour
every Saturday. I shall begin him the size of life. I
said, 'My room is a curious scene. I paint everybody

from Lord Grey to ' ' The poor radical like me,'

said O'Connell, I was going to say, ' Humble committee-
man,'

" 'How they hore you,' said I, 'in the House about
Barrett.' 'All,' said O'Connell, witli one of his wicked arch
smiles, ' Barrett and I understand each other. He makes
1500^. or 2000i a-year by being my organ,'

" April \4tk. — Five minutes before two, dear Harry
died. God bless him.

" This boy was my favourite child. His character was
noble, his talents great, he was as quick as lightning.

" His passion foe the memory of Napoleon was extra-
ordinary. He had a collection of Napoleon prints — two
hundred — which every day after dinner he looked over.
He used to stand for hours looking at'my Napoleon musing.

" His organ of destructiveness was large, firmness great^
aud combativeness very large.

" He talked of a charge of cavalry with rapture.

" 18M. — The death of this beautiful boy has given my
mind a blow I shall never eifectually recover. I saw him
buried to-day, after passing four days sketching his dear
head in the coffin — his,beautiful head '. What a creature !
"With a brow like an ancient god ! His heart was noble,
his intellect extraordinary, and his sensibility deep and
touching, with a figure and form as fiue as his beautiful
head : —

" Hia day witboDt a cloud wbb passed.
And he was lovely to tbe last."

1831.] PAILUBB OF EXHIBITION OF THE B.VXQUET. 355

" ^Srd. — Began Cassandra. God bless me through it.
Amen.

" Siih. — Advanced, Saw Lord Grey, and had a very
interesting interview. I showed him my sketches to
adorn the House of Lords, of a series of subjects to illus-
trate the best government for mankind. He replied,
• They are a fine series, but there is no intention I know
of to take down the tapestry, and the House of Commons
is in such a temper about expenditure, that I could not
propose such a thing. For myself I have done as much as
I can afford.' ' My Lord, I have no personal object with
you individually. Do you think there is any prospect of
Buch a mode of employment for me ? Could you under-
take to sanction it?' Lord Grey replied, 'I could not.'
He then said, ' I have no doubt you would get through
them, and do the country honour.'

" He said, ' How does your exhibition go on ?' ' Badly,
my Lord, I am losing money every day.' ' I am very sorry
for it,' he said. I said, 'My Lord, the middle classes do
not come.' Lord Grey mused with an air of anxiety, and
then said, ' The picture is not liked.' I said, ' My Lord,
it is not so : I have never painted a picture more liked by
the artists or the visitors.'

" Lord Melbourne told me it was generally approved.

" The fact is, the Government is not popular, and the
middle classes give this exhibition a poUtical feeling.

" A respectable tradesman at Charing Cross told me so,
as I returned.

" Here am I again, after nineteen months' fashion and
prosperity, in necessity, with the chance of poverty and
mini"

This refers to the picture of the Reform Banquet,
which was exhibited towards thiti end of the month. But
the agitation of the public mind was too great to allow
them to feel interest in pictures — or at least this was the
cause to which Haydon himself attributed a failure which
]eft him once more in his usual straits.

" Mtiff 2nd, 3rd, ilh. — Hard at work, very much em-

356 MEJIOIES OF B. K. HATDON, [183-1.

barrassed about my exhibition. Lord Grey is anxious
because it has failed. I am on the borders of ruin.

" ISlh. — Out the whole day on harassing pecuniary
matters.

" It is really lamentable to see the effect of success and
failure on people of fashion.

" Last year all was hope, exultation, and promise with
me. My doer was beset: my house besieged : my room
inundated. It was an absolute fight to get in to see rae
paint. Ah, that was the curiosity. Well, out came the
work, — the public felt no curiosity, — it failed, and my door
is deserted, no horses, no carriages, I said to Edward
Ellice, ' I hope they won't let me sink.' 'You may de-
pend," said he, ' you will not he let sink.' ' We shall see,'
said I.

" The morning he and Lord Durham set out for Paris,
he came to my exhibition, said Lord Grey was not a
little pleased, and wished me a good month of it. I wrote
to him to say it had failed. He says, ' I can give you no
advice.' J remind him of our conversation. No reply. I
tell him I am sinking. No answer.

" \5tfi. — Hill, member for Hull, called on me, and
begged I would be in the lobby of the House at five, as
Ewart, member for Liverpool, was to bring on his motion
for a committee of inquiry at the Academy, and he would
get me under the gallery. I went down. Out came Hill
with Ewart. Mr. Spring Rice had been spoken to, and
had assured him in all probability the Academy would
never get into the National Gallery at all. At any rate
they would be tenants-at-will. So he liad deferred Ms
motion till next session."

Haydoo had by this time begun a new picture, froin
the Agamemnon of ^schylus, of Cassandra, who, at the:
entrance of the palace of Mycenie, meets Agamemni
returning victorious from Troy, and prophesies his im-
pending fate.

" Ju}ie iih. — Began again at Cassandra, after it had
dried a month.

" Now for executions, misery, insult, and wretchednesa.

1831.] AT WORK ON CASSANDRA : IN STRAITS. 357

" I worked under continual depressions hardly to be
borne. Mary is exasperated, what with nursing and
harass, till her mind will certainly give in. My dear little
infant Georgiana will be the sacrifice. In fact with such
alternations of success and misfortune, first a palace, then
a prison, a family can hardly be brought through. God
only knows. I have sent a long letter to the Duke of
Devonshire. No answer yet. Perhaps it will bo thrown
among the begging letters. Improved Cassandra.

" 1th. — Mary and I in agony of mind. All my Italian
books, and some of my best historical designs, are gone to
a pawnbroker's. She packed up her best gown and the
children's, and I drove away with what cost me 40/. and
got 4:1. The state of degradation, humiliation, and pain
of mind in which I sat in the dingy hell of a back-room
is not to be described. The Duke of Bedford had sal in
the morning. I was in the House of Lords last night,
the companion of princes, to-day in a pawnbroker's
parlour.

" Came home in exhausted spirits, and found 50/. from
the Duke of Sutlierland, for a small commission. Such is
life ! "

Haydon had, some time before this, (as has been re-
corded,) offered himself as a candidate for the Professor-
ship of Design, which it was the design of the Council of
the London University to establish. He was informed
that his application would be unsuccessful, and withdrew
hia name from the list of candidates. The design of
founding such a Professorship was afterwards abandoned.
As usual, Haydon attributed hia want of success to the
secret influence of the Academy. Meanwhile Cassandra
'was advancing, and to his great joy, on the 3d of July, he
received a commission to paint it from the Duke of
Sutherland, whose timely aid he had not now to acknow-
ledge for the first time.

" July 5th. — Began the Cassandra for the Duke of
Sutherland. God bless me through it. Amen."

In this month Lord Grey resigned. Haydon had con-

358 MliMOlKS OF B. K. UAYBON. lltM.

ceived a stroDg feeliiig of regard for him during iHe
progress of tlie Banquet, and he was neither slow nor cold
in his expression of it, on Lord Grey's retirement from
office. I do not conceive, however, that I should be
acting judiciously iik inserting here any of Haydon's
political disquisitions or letters, which at this time are
both numerous and long. He was an ardent reformer, in
spite of his old high Tory predilections, and the favours he
had received from the leaders of the Reform Ministry had
strengthened the influences originally derived frona the
spirit of the time. His political speculations sorely
interfered with his painting, and the journals of last year
and this show it in the diminished number of theii
sketches.

'* Jufy I9ih. — Advanced Cassandra beautifully. Tlie
difficulty I have had to fall back into my old habits
of study is scarcely to be believed. I was in a perpetual
fever for nineteen months, excited by politics, mingling
with political characters, regularly attending the House
of Lords. I got so mixed up with public affairs that my
art was almost forgotten ; though all this gave me an
insight into the state of the nobility as to art, not to be
obtained otherwise.

" August 8tk. — Out in the morning in great pecuniary
anxiety. Advanced in the evening the Cassandra. Wrote
Lord F, L. Gower offering him the Birmingham drawing

" 9lh. — Heard from Lord F. L. Gower, who declined.
Worked hard and finished Falstaff and Hal.

" lOih. — Called on Wilkie; found him at work od.
Columbus. Wilkie'a thin paintings are too apparent.
We had an interesting conversation as usual,

" 13/A. — Worked hard. Wilkie called, looked in-
teresting and kind. We had a grand consultation about
Cassandra. I disapproved of the kneeling figure as too
common, I showed the sketch where I had tried the
horses alone. He suggested the altar, which I think may
I'll try to-morrow. We were both pleased to see

icb other again consulting. It is a pity we ever separated

4.] A LAST LOOK IN AT DOWNING STREET.

359

on academical politics. Perhaps we can never be so
intimate as we were ; though we both seem hankering.
He admired my dear eldest daughter, baby, and dear
Mary, and went away with great amiability.

" IGtk, — I awoke early. As I lay musing I thought
' Lord Grey leaves Downing Street to-day. It is my
duty to go, and take a last look.' Lord Grey was at
breakfast with Lady Georgina and some one else. Lord
Grey shook my hand heartily. I was affected, and as I
shook his I thanked him for all his goodness to me. He
looked at me, and was touched also, for my voice began
to break. I never saw him looking better, fresher or
stronger — no longer that horrid, gasping anxiety. I
took my leave, and wished him health and happiness.
Lord Grey was receiving my adieu as an official thing,
but the moment my voice gave evidence of my sensibility,
I shall never forget t!io look of his keen eye as he
examined my face. I am sure it must have convinced
him of my sincere feelings. I shall never see him again i
there as First Lord.^ — 'Hail and farewell. I

" He has done little for art. Let us see what I can do I
now with Lord Melbourne. Lord Grey, with the greatest
simplicity, thought he was advancing the art by housing I
the National Gallery and Royal Academy under one !
roof. I first shook his belief, but it was too late for any I
good. Tliey dine together, speechify, cajole, and gossip |
over their wine, and the art is jobbed and ruined. I

" 29M. — Closed my unfortunate exhibition. Lost 2301.
ty it. God knows if I shall recover this. God protect
my dear children. If they should be stopped in theiE
education it will be their ruin. J

" Tlie latter part of this month has been passed in I
harass and disappointment. To-morrow I am threatened J
with an execution for 18/. 6s. ; 5/. of which is sheer law!
expenses. I have written the Duke, but if no answee'l
comes to-morrow, my ruin will be certain. I

I undertook the picture of the Reform Banquet for 5251. I

1 have lost . . - . _ 330?. I

360 MEMOIRS OP B, R. HATDON. [ISSt

" ThoB the price Is reduced to 295?. The citj was to
have had a copy, which it has not commissioned me to
paint, and never wilL But for the conuniasion of the
Duke of Sutherland, I should have been crushed. And
hut for the protection of my Great Protector in all things,
I shall be crushed yet.

" 30/A. — Went into the city in great misery, havinif
raised II. lOs. by pledging valuable studies. Fletcher,
the chairman of the city committee, gave me 10?. for some
sketch he is to call and select. This relieved my mind. I
called on my creditor, and begged to pay this 181, 6s. at
5/. a week. He referred me to his attorney. I saw the
attorney, a humane and worthy young man, who seemed
shocked at a man of my fame begging mercy for my
family. He promised no execution till he heard, and I
came home comparatively happy for this promise, but
alas it will be the same over again on Monday. Time lost,
mind jaded, spirit irritated.

" September Sad. — In the city all the morning, and
after some trouble got a severe creditor to wait till the
15th. While I was waiting for a friend who went to him
for me, the New Post Office flashed in ray mind as
adapted for Agamemnon's palace. I bought a sixpenny
book and borrowed a pencil of the shopman, and made a
sketch : when I came home I rubbed in a new back-
ground, which 1 had been conceiving, and it is a great
addition.

" September 3rd. — The background that the Post
Office suggested yesterday is an immense improvement.
To-day, after a week of misery, came 100?. from the Duke,
and 10?. from Hill, M. P. for Hull, so that here I am
up in key again. I drew for four hours with delight, and
got all my figures nearly ready from the naked."

Lord Melbourne being now at the head of the adminis-
tration, Haydon availed himself of his easy good-humour
and accessible habits to urge on him, as he had done on

i predecessors for twenty years, the duty of providing
public employment for artists. But the charming insoucy-

1834.] EFFOETa Wnii LORD MELBODESE. 361

ance of Lord Melbourne waa worse than the most frigid
formality of any of his predecessors. He was always ready
to listen when Haydon talked, but as to impressing him
with any sense of the importance of the subject ! Here is
one example, out of many, of these conversations between
the pleasant Minister and the passionate painter.

" Silk. — Called on Lord Melbourne; was very glad to
see him and he me. We had a regnlar set-to about art.
I went on purpose. I said for twenty-five years I have
been at all the Lords of the Treasury without effect.
The First Lord who has courage to establish a system for
the public encouragement of high art will be remembered
with gratitude by the English people. He said, ' What
d'ye want?' ' 2000/. a year.' ' Ah," said Lord Melbourne,
shaking his head and looking with his arch eyes, ' God help
the Minister that meddles with art' 'Why, my Lord?'
' He will get the whole Academy on hia back.' ' I have
had them on mine, who am not a minister and a noble-
man, and here I am. You say the Government ia poor :
you voted 10,000/. for the Poles, and 20,000/. for the
Euphrates.' ' I waa against 10,000/. for the Poles. These
things only bring over more rei'ugees,' said Lord Mel-
bourne. ' What about the Euphrates ? ' ' Why, my Lord,
to try if it be navigable, and all the world knows it is
not.' Then Lord Melbourne turned round, full of fun,
and said, ' Drawing is no use, it is an obstruction to
genius. Corregio could not draw, Reynolds could not
draw.' ' Ah, my Lord, I see where you have been lately.'
Then he rubbed his hands, and laughed again. ' Now,
Lord Melbourne,' said I, ' at the bottom of that love of
fun, you know you have a mine of solid sense. You know
the beautiful letter you wrote me. Do let us have a re-
gular conversation. The art will go out.' ' Who is there
to paint pictures ?' said he. 'Myself, Hilton, and Etty.'

' Etty ! why he paints old ,' said Lord Melbourne.

' Well, come on Sunday at eleven.' ' I am going out of |
town and will put my ideas clearly on paper.' ' Well,
Sunday week. Will that do?' 'Tea, my Lord. Now,

362 KEMOIBS OF B. B. OATDOS.

my dear Lotd, do be scrioiu aboat it. ' I will,* said li%
looking archly grave, with his handsome face, aod 1
naJfcd neck, for he was just out of his bed, id his d
gonn. 'Gad, it is something to get him to say he will
really listen : he has more sagacity than any of them.

" I said, ' Do you occupy Downing Street ? ' He said*
' Xo,' with hesitation. I fancy he fears his lease ; but he
is a man fond of his leisure, and by keeping his hou»e ha
is out of the way of bore till business hours. Lord Gr^
was always in iL

" aOth. — Altered and improved the composition of C
Sandra. My mind has recovered its tone, though thai
dear boy Harry haunts me, and my harassings are really
dreadful ; yet the lawyers are more disposed to be quie^
and to use me well."

A sorry comment on this occurs four pages later, wherfl
he has amused himself bitterly, by wafering on the leaved
a half-dozen of lawyers' letters, in various moods of p&
remptoriness.

" Oct. 6th. — I am convinced long suffering from peco^
niary necessity affects the imagination. It magnifies diSi
ficulties.

" 8th. — Worked hard — advanced Cassandra betteri
Paid away right and left. Directly after the Duke'i
letter came with its enclosed cheque, an executioa wM
put in for the taxes. I made the man sit for Cassandra'i
hand, and put on a Persian bracelet. When the broke]
came for his money, he burst out a-laughing. There v
the fellow, an old soldier, pointing in the attitude of Ca»
Sandra— upright and steady, as if on guard. Lazarus'
liead was painted just after an arrest; Eucles finished froii^
a man in possession ; the beautiful face in Xenophon iif
the afternoon after a morning spent in begging mercy ol
lawyers ; and now Cassandra's head was finished in agon^
not to be described, and her hand completed from \
broker's man.

' \Glh. — Good God ! I am just returned from the tei
rific burning of the Houses of Parliament. Mary and !

1834.] BURNING OP THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT. 363

went in a cab, and drove over the bridge. From the
bridge it was sublime. We alighted, and went into a
room of a public-house, which was full. The feeling
among the people was ex.traordinary — jokes and radical-
ism universal. If Ministers had heard the shrewd sense
and intelligence of these drunken remarks ! I hurried
Mary away. Good God, and are that throne and tapestry
gone with all their associations !

" The comfort is there is now a better prospect of
painting a House of Lords. Lord Grey said there was no
intention of taking the tapestry down — little did he think
how soon it would go."

Here is another of those hopeless struggles with the
elasticity of Lord Melbourne.

" I9th. — Called on Lord Melbourne, and after a little
while was admitted. He looked round with his arch face,
and said, * What now ?' as much as to say, * What the devil
are you come about — art I suppose.' * Now, my Lord,'
said I, ' I am going to be discreet for the rest of my life,
and take you for an example.* I got up, and was eagerly
talking away, when he said, * Sit down.' Down I sat, and
continued, * Do you admit the necessity of state sup-
port ? ' * I do not,' said he ; * there is private patronage
enough to do all that is requisite.' * That I deny,' I re-
plied, at which he rubbed his hands and said, * Ha, ha.'
He then went to the glass, and began to comb his hair.
I went on : * My Lord, that's a false view ; private pa-
tronage has raised the school in all the departments where
it could do service, but high art cannot be advanced by
private patronage.' * But it is not the policy of this
country to interfere,' said he. * Why ? ' * Because it is
not necessary,' said he. * You say so, but I'll prove the
contrary.' * Well, let us hear,' said Lord Melbourne :
* where has art ever flourished ? In Greece, Egypt, Italy.
How ? by individual patronage. *.No, my Lord, by the
support of the state alone. Has it flourished in any
country without it ? No. How can your Lordship ex-
pect it in this.* He did not reply. * Ergo/ said I, * if it

364 MEMOIHS OP B. R. HATDOIT. [1834,

lias ilourislied in every country where state patronage ac-
companied it, and if it has never flourished here, where
there has been no atate patronage, what is the inference !
High ai't does not end with itsel/. It presupposes great
knowledge, which influences manufactures, as in France.
Wliy is she superior in manufactures at Lyons ? Because
by state support she educates youth to design. It came
out in committee, and Peel and Hume both acknowledged
our general ignorance iu design was the reason of our
inferiority.'

" ' You aay you can't aflbrd it. In Lord Bexley's
time the same thing was said, and yet 30,000^. was
spent to build an ophthalmic hospital — it failed— 50007.
was fetched by the sale of the materials, and 4000^.
voted to Adams, for putting out the remaining eyes of
the old veterans,' ' No doubt,' said Lord Melbourne,
* a great deal of money has been uselessly spent.' ' I
take the excuse of poverty as a nonentity,' I said. He
did not reply.

" ' Now, my Lord, Lord Gtey said there was no inten-
tion of taking down the tapestry. It's down. A new
House must be built. Painting, sculpture, and architec-
ture must he combined. Here's an opportunity that
never can occur again. Burke said it would ultimately
rest on a Minister. Have you no ambition to be that
man ? ' He mused, but did not reply. ' For God's sake.
Lord Melbourne, do not let this slip — for the sake of
art — for your own sake — only say you won't forget
art. I'll undertake it for support during the time I am
engaged, because it has been the great object of my life.
I have qualified myself for it, and be assured, if high art
sinks, as it is sinking, all art will go with it.' No reply.
' Depend on ray discretion. Not a word shall pass from
me ; only assure me it is not hopeless,' Lord Melbourne
glanced up with his fine eye, and looked into me, and said,
' It is not.'

" There will be only a temporary building till Parlia-
ment meets, There's lime enough."

1834.] WITH LORD MELBOnHNEj ON ART. 365

"20M. — Out to battle with lawyers; pawned all myj
Birmingham studies for 5/., and my lay-figures for 41 1
This was a great help. I was able to pay off balances. I j
received 120/. a week ago, and it's all gone.

" If tlie Duke had not been so kind, God only knows
what I should have done.

'* November "th. — All day at the background. Back-
grounds are very serious affairs. The old masters put
as little interest as possible into the background.
Nothing but what would set-off and never interfere with
the foreground. Now in the Agamemnon, victory and
welcome from his people should be apparent, contrasted
with the evil impending, and the inspired threatenings of
Cassandra ; and yet any mark of triumph in the streets,
Buch as tapestry, people huzzaing, &c. &c., seems to
overpower the interest in front instead of adding to it.

" 9th. — Sent down in the morning to know if Lord
Melbourne could see me. He sent me back word he
would receive me at one. At one I called, and saw hira.
The following dialogue ensued, ' Well, my Lord, have
you seen my petition to you ?' 'I have.' ' Have you read
it ?' ' Yes.' ' Well, what do you say to it ? ' He affected
to be occupied, and to read a letter. I said, ' What
answer does your Lordship give? What argument or
refutation have you?' 'Why, we do not mean to have
pictures. We mean to have a building with all the sim-
plicity of the ancients.' ' Well, my Lord, what public
building of the aucieuts will you point out without pic-
tures ? I fear. Lord Melbourne, since I first saw you,
you are corrupted. You meet Academicians at Holland
House. I am sure you do,' He looked archly at me,
and rubbed bis hands. ' I do. I meet Calcott. He is a
good fellow.' ' Good enough : but an Academician.'
' Ha, ha,' said Lord Melbourne. ' Now, my Lord, do bo
serious,' ' Well, I am : Calcott says he disapproves of the I
system of patrons taking up young men to the injury of ■■
the old ones ; giving them two or three commissions,

ing tbem die in a workhouse.' ' But if young i

346 UEMOISS OF B. B. DATDOK. ClS84*

ate Dtrei to be taken op, how are lliey to become known !
But to return. Look at Guizot. He ordered four gieat
pictures to com mein orate the barricades for the govern'
nc-Dt. Why will not the Governmeut do that here?
What is the reason. Lord Melbourne, that no £nglidl
minister is anare of the importance of art to the manufac^
tures and wcahh of the country? I will tell you, my
Lord, you want tutors at the Universities' — I was goinf[
on talking eagerly with my hand up. At that moment th^
door opened, and in stalked Lord Brougham, He held out
his two fingers and said, ' How dy'e do, Mr. Haydon t *
While I stood looking sta^ered. Lord Melbourne glaiicei
at me and said, * I wish you good morning.' I bowed b
both and took my leave.

" I cannot make out Lord Melbourne, but I fear he i
as insincere as the rest. The influence behind the curtail]
is always at work, and if he meets Academicians at HoU
land House, their art playing on his comparative igno*
ranee chills him.

" The first great opportunity was the million voted fat
the new churches. I appealed to Vansittart. It came to
nothing, though Lord Farnhorough really exerted himself.
This is the next, — the new Houses of Parliament, and yet
this will end in smoke too. The soil is bad, uncultivated.

" llih. — Hardish at work; but no letter from the
Duke to-day. Obliged to go out, in the middle of my
dear delightful work, to see, argue and battle with lawyers.
Came home in misery, and put in the drapery of Electra.

" \2lh. — Harassed; threatened with executions ; Mary-
rushed away to an old friend and got 6/. I was obliged
to take down my five best engravings, rubbed out all the
names, and got 5/. more. Mary packed up everything-
she could spare, and we raised 31, 10*. on 40/. worth of
things.

" I5th. — Let this day stand blessed in the calendar;
the ' dear Duke ' • (as the ladies call Wellington) has be-

• The Duke of Sulheriand, wlio boil advanced the balance o:
ce ofCasB^adra.

2 of the ■

1834.] LORD MELBOURNE OUT, 367

haved like a hero. I have tried his patience, but it was
for his sake. God bless him and the Duchess, not for-
getting me and Mary."

This month Lord Melbourne followed Lord Grey, and
with him, for the present, went Hay don's hopes of state
encouragement for high art.

*^ I8th. — Spent the whole day in Lord Grey's room,
Downing Street, sketching every article for the picture of
A Statesman's Fireside. Lord Melbourne returned no
more. Lord Grey's furniture was moving. I mused about
the room with deep feeling. There he sat the morning
after the banquet. There I shook hands with him and
Lord Althorp. I recalled conversations I shall never forget,
and feelings I am proud of. The Duke takes possession
to-morrow. How exactly it has turned out as I prophe-
sied in letters during the Reform contest, — * Let the
Whigs beware an eagle on the watch does not pounce in,
and carry off the laurel due to them.'

*' I think I had now better conclude my political career,
and for the remainder of my life stick to my art.

" 2Sih. — Called on Lord Melbourne and found him as
hearty as ever. We had a set-to about art. He advised
me to try Peel, which I shall do. He would not open
his lips about politics. Lord Melbourne said he had
talked to several artists about a vote of money, and they
all said, it had better be let alone. * Who ? ' said L
* Portrait-painters in opulence. Why do you not give
me an opportunity to meet these fellows ? The fact is,*
said I, * you are corrupted, you know you are, since I
first talked to you. Calcott after dinner at Lord Hol-
land's has corrupted you, sneered you out of your right
feelings over your wine.' He acknowledged there was a
great deal of truth in this, and laughed heartily.

" He advised me to attack Peel, and told me how to
proceed to get a sum in the estimates. This is exactly
Lord Melbourne. He has no nerve himself; he seemed
ashamed, and now, willing not to lose some of the credit,
pushes me off on Peel. We shall see.

368 MEMOIBS OF B. B. HAYDON.

'' 3l5#.— Last day of 1834. Thank God I have ^..t i;
to it, and Cassandra is done except two trifles^ \' I i m^
hope to accomplish before night. I shall review th. ,
before twelve at night, and pray in, as I always t''(., i
new year 1835. Now to work.

" Worked and completed Cassandra.

*^ Mary and I have endured this year great anx ■ i .
The failure of Lord Grey's picture, and the rapid di ..
sion of the 400 guineas from the Duke of Suthorl. »
commission, to save ourselves from the bitter failure .r
loss, shook us horribly. I applied myself vigoroi»s>
finished Cassandra, trusted in God for subsistenc.\, •:.
up to this hour, this last hour of 1834, have had it ; :'
miraculously.

END OP THE SECOND TOLjDME.

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