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WATERLOO, ONTARIO t X t 5! :§ :^ ^redeMtcc:^ by THE LIBRARY University or Toronto :!: Toronto, Ontario The University of Waterloo LIBRARY ..Millais, J,G, The life and letters of Sir'"'JoEi'" Everett M ND^97.M6M5 v.l Date Due a!S«-:> SIR J 4 U' "- H GE( TlIK LIFE AND LETTERS OK SIR JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS I'KESIDKNT OK THK KOVAL ACADKMV ^ BY HIS SON JOHN GUILLE MILLAIS '■.4 ■■^ w IT 11 319 II.I.l STRATIONS ^>^ INCI.L'DINC, M\K Illilllu.U.WUUliS \1^ V' u^r> J M:MC ■. VOL. I. / 35841 1^'" TORONTO GEORGE N. MORANG & COMPANY, LIMITED 1900 ^ROPIRTY OF UNIVERSITY OF WATERLOO i I TO THK MEMORY OF MV DEAR FATIIKk AM) Morn I DEDICATE THESE VOLUMES i:r 1 HI as and iT'Ia that, so I the inter at least. I lani genennis me the Jlessrs. rthiir and the l|l)ert\- to am I iiK for his i the i)ress Mki.wooi PREFACE 1^1 1 1", task of sck-rtinn" from such a vast mass of material as lias hccii Uiiully placed at m\ dispDsal 1)\ iViciuls and relatives has been no easy one. and I venture In hope that, so far as I may have (.'xceed(;(l my chity as a MnMrapher, the interest of the extraneous matter may, in ^oine me.isure at least, atone lor its admission. I camiot ade(|uatel)- thank the man\ triends who have so gener(nisl\- helped m(; with coiUrihutions, or in ailowiu'L;' me the free use ot their pictures for these l)ai4C's. To Messrs. ("ira\'es and Son, Thomas ALjnew and Sons, Arthur Tooth and Sons. 'Ihomas McLean and .Sons, and the hine Art Societv mv special thanks are tlue for lihertN' to a\ail mvself of their copvri«'hts ; hut most of all am I indebted to my father-in-law, Mr. i*. (i. .Sk;j)with, for his iiualuable assistance in preparing this work for the press. y JOHN (iL'ILld': MIL' MS .Ml-.l.WOOli, IIokSHAM, July, 1899 I'RE- First mccti to the 1 4 The bii t Hunt a so-caIlc( D. (;. R Cycloyr i m " Lorenzo ; l)arcnts Millais draw en I niif-gct- '" at the th tells of Coml)e - ; life in I Daiighti Woochn; devotion cause — ] CONTENTS CHAI'TER I. he birtli of Millais His ])arcnts— Kaily clays in St. IIclicrs-A mother wlu) educates and helps him — School a failure — The Lemprieres — First efforts in Art - 'I'he family moxe to Dinan — The Drum-major's ])ortrait~ Return to St. Helicrs — Millais goes to London with his mother- Sir Martin Slice's ad\ ice — Millais enters Mr. Sass's scliool, and j^ains the silver medal of the Society of .Arts — llis love of fishiny — Orii^inal amusement — Me enters the Rayul .Academy — Early successes — .Anecdotes of the poet Ro;-!ers — William Wordsworth — Oxford's attemin on the Queen's life — Millais as an .Academy student — (ieneral .\rthur Lempriere on Millais as a boy — I'oem on students' life— Sergeant Thomas- First \isil to Oxford — Mr. Wyatt .Mr. Drury — '* Cymon and I])higenia" "(irandfather and Child' . . . ... CHAPTER ir. I'RE-RAI'HAELITISM : ITS MEA.NINO ANT) ITS HISTORY First meeting of Hunt and Millais — The Pedantry of .Art — Hunt admitted to the R..\ — They work together in Millais' studio -Rcciiirocal relief — The birtli of Pre-Raphaelitism — The name chosen -The meeting of Hunt and I). O. Rossctti — First gathering of the Brotherhood — The so-called influence of Rossctti — .Millais exjjlains- The critics at sea — I), ("i. Rossctti — Ruskin — Max Xord;' 'Ihc aims of Prc-Ra])haelitism — Cyclographic Club — Madox Brown — "The (lerm "-Millais' story . 43 I CHAPTER HI. "Lorenzo and Isabella"' — .A jirime joke — "Christ in the home of His parents"— The onslaught of the critics- Charles Dickens unfavourable -- Millais at work — The ne\, ipajjcrs send him to .Australia — The P.R.B. draw each other for ^A'oolncr — The bricklayer's o]3inion — The elusive nugget -" Ferdinand lured by .Ariel" — The ultra-cautious dealer — ^Millais at the theatre jjainting |)ortraits — His sale of " Ferdinand"-— Mr. Ste|)hens tells of his sittings for "Ferdinand's" head -Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Combe Their kindness to Millais -.Millais' letter to the Comlies— His life in London — The Collins family- Letters about "The Woodman's v^ Daughter" and "The Flood''— " Mariana" — An obliging mouse- "The Woodman's Daughter" William Millais on the picture— The -rtist's devotion to truth— Ruskin on the Pre-Raphaclites — He champions their £ cause — His unreliability as a critic . . . . . 69 CONTENTS CHAPTER IV. Millais commenccsY' Ophelia" -Hoinian Hunt, Ciiarlcs Collins, William and Jolin Millais paint at \\ orcestcr Park Farm — Knrtlicr letters to the Combes-Millais thinks of going' to the East — Cominenci in'Mit of diary and "The Huguenot "-Hunt at work (m "The Light of the ^A'orld" and "The Hireling Shepherd"— Collins' last picture — Millais' idea for "The Huguenot" He argues it out with Hunt — Meets an old sweetheart — Returns to Gower Street — Miss Siddal's sufferings as model for "Ophelia"- Success of "Ophelia"- Arthur Hughes and Millais Critics of 1852 — Woman in Art — General Lempricre on his sittings for "The Huguenot'' — Miss Ryan — Miller, of Preston — Letters from (lower Street CHAPTER V. 1852-1853 The \'oluntcer movement — Reminiscences of Turner — Meeting with Thackeray — Millais proposes to paint "Romeo and Juliet"— (">oes to "George Inn" at Hayes— Begins |)ainting "The Proscribed Royalist"— Arthur Hughes (m his sittings — Millais in the hunting field — "The Order of Release" — Models for this picture — Funeral of the Duke of Wellington —Amusing letter to Mr. Hodgkinson — Millais' first expedition to Scotland — With the Ruskins to Northumberland and thence to Callander — Their life in the North — Discussion on architecture — Dr. Acland- The Free Kirk in 1852 — Meeting with Gambart and Rosa Bonheur — Millais' comic sketch-book — He is slighted by the Academy — Foreboding on the election day — He is made an A.R.A. . . ... |'A(;e 11; The stru l)ut d Rest ' descn her si Holm to his Iv CHAPTER VI. i«53-i855 End of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood — Walter Dcverell — His illness and death — Holman Hunt in the East — Letters from him — "The Scapegoat" — "The Blind Girl" and " L'Enfam du Regiment" — Winchclsea — Thackeray writes whilst Millais paints — An eccentric vicar — .Success of "The IMind Girl" — Ruskin's description of it. — John Luard — Millais in Scotland with Halliday, Luard, and Charles Collins — Paris Exhibition of 1855 — The English school at last recognised — How "The Rescue" came to be painted — Letters from Dickens — Models for "The Rescue" and criticisms on it — .Appreciation by Thomas Spencer Baynes — Millais loses his temper and speaks out — Beneficial result — Firemen at work — Letters from William Allingham — Frederick Leighton . ... CHAPTER Vn. LEECH, THACKER.VY, WILKIE COLLINS, AND ANTHONY TROLLOPE Millais' affection for Leech — His first top-boots — "Mr. Tom Noddy"— Millais introduces "Mr. Briggs" to the delight of salmon fishing — The Duke of Athol and Leech — Letters from Leech- The ghost of Cowdray Hall — Death of Leech — His funeral — The pension for Leech's family — Letter from Charles Dickens — Thackeray — The littleness of earthly fame — Wilkie Cv>ilins — True origin of T/ie IVoiiiaii in U'/ii/c — Anthony Trollope — Letters from him . . . . . . i \ liolida) surrou I "Pict i — "Es -Lett Sir W Dr. Li with h ■ ^'. Micha Spcnct They t Letter 1 drive i 26; great fi donkey bird — in 1851 must p \ '4 CONTENTS XI IS, William Iters to the nt of diarv lie ^A'ork^" is' idea for s\\ ectheart model for ais Critics s for "The uwer Street CHAPTER VIII. Willais' marriage Life in Scotland-First visitors — A poaching ■ ^cpcr *' I'carc Concluded" — "Autumn Leaves" — Millais' life in chambers — Serious war with the critics — He is attacked on all sides -The Tiiiicx tramples up(m him — The ])ublic supjiort him — • .\L'irochetti — Millais on I'ress criticism- Charles Reade -Hiith of a son — " I'ot-jMHnri " The advantages of being |)unctual — "Sir Isumbras" received with abuse — Sandys' clever skit - Sale of "Sir Isumbras" — Letters from Charles Reade - " Escape of the Heretic" — "The Crusader's Return "- "The \'ale of Rest" — The artist's diftlcultics overcome — Anecdotes of "The \'ale of Rest" and "The Love f)f James L" . ... 287 >eting with " — Ciocs to Royalist "- ' The Order ■ Wellington to Sct)tland iider — Their — The Free illais' comic ling on the illness and ^Scapegoat " linchelsea — niccess of Millais in ixhibition of icue " came iscue" and illais loses k — Letters CHAPTER IX. The struggle of 1859— Millais seriously feels the attacks made u|)on him, l)ut determines to tight— Insulted at every turn — Origin of "The \'aIo of Rest" — The fight for independence — "The Hlack Brunswicker"— Millais describes it — Dickens' daughter sits for the lady — .Mrs. I'erugini describes her sittings— Faint praise from the Press — Cireat success of the ])icture — Holman Hunt likewise successful — Millais' black-and-white work — Letters to his wife — Lady Waterford . . . ... 335 CHAPTER X. 1861-1867 holiday in Sutherlandshire^ "The Eve of St. .Agnes" — ^ Comfortless surroundings — Death of Thackeray — His funeral — "My First .Sermon" — Pictures of 1863 — Paints Tom Taylor's son — Letter from Tom Taylor --"Esth'M" — (jordon's yellow jacket — "The Romans Leaving Britain" -Letter from Anne Thackeray Ritchie — "Waking" — In Scotland with Sir William Harcourt and Mr. Reginald Cholmondeley — Meeting with Dr. Livingstone — Livingstone in pursuit of salmon — Millais goes abroad with his wife, Sir William Harcourt, and Sir Henry Layard — He Ijuys Michael Angelo's " Leda and the Swan" — Memorable evening at "\'illa Spence"^ — .\delina Patti as a dancer — Makes the acquaintt'ince of Liszt — They travel with Mario—" Waking" — The Callander shootings — .-\musing Letter from Sir William Harcourt — Letter to William Fenn — \ deer drive in dlen Artney . . . . ... 367 lXD JXoddy"— jhing — The If Cowdray Is family — jrthiy fame Anthony CHAPTER XL HOLMAN HUNT great friendship, and a spur to noble ambition — Cairo in 1854 — The donkey and the buffalo — A human parallel — The Jewish model, a shy bird — The difficulties and dangers of life in and around Jerusalem in 1854.— Adventure at the Brook Kerith— Reflections on life — Millais must put forth all his strength— .V final tribute . ... 402 CONTENTS CHAPTER XII. 1865 1880 Three historic gatherings — The parties at Strawljerry Hill — Millais' personal friends — Letters from D'Epine, Liider IJarnay, and Jan \an lieers - .Mrs. Jopling — Rowe's recollections of Millais — O'N'eil, painter and poet — Fred Walker — Professor Owen — Robert Browning — Browning on the art of poetry — \'isit to Marochetti . . ... 417 Siu Joii.v the L L'lvMANI TiiK Vai. TllK K.NK Captain I ^^ohii Willi ■^olin Ev.'ui flary iNIill; pli.iUfspea :|i(igarlliia .JJHi'Il-c in a ;'jSL'fne from report rait of ;|Willais, b\- 'Sliinting S( :;;^()vers uiul fketclu's ir 111- Bi'njai lipid Cru\ j^llary Hotlt "latfiuld 1I( ^ew from "over of Al J I 'age froi I'age froi iiotograpl Emily Aliliii .Title-page I : Piz.'ii TO Sei; ;;l'Ir. Diury ; ?|Stiicly of an ';tliikiliooci *||ouih :|l;iniiiM)d .|^ge |f > iiion and Siketcl) for I .1 I f ' personal Beers-- and jjoet Yfi on the 4>7 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS iS PHOTOGRAVURES SiK John IIvkkictt Mii.I,.\is, H.-irt., I'.R.A. (from thf auloj^raph portrait in liic I'llizxi Ciallrrv) ..... Fronth(>ncc L'Knkam in Ria.i.MKNT .... To fnce page -'40 TiiK X'alk (IF Rkst .... ,, .;,v Tin: Kmc.ht Kkuant . . . . ,, yyo ILLUSTRATIONS Caplaiii Edward Millais. 17(10 lolm W'iiiiain Mill;iis loiiii Ev.'iiny . . lary ^Millais (Millais' iiiolhcr) Jli.'dicspeariaii Cli;iraotor swl'itiartliiaii Ciiar.ncttrs in a Witness-box Ii*'li''e in a Hanqiicting'-hall S(<'ne I'roin " Pi'voril of tlic Peak" Portrait of .an Okl Ciontleman allillais, by John Phillip, K.A. . "rliMitiniif Scene „L<)vers under a Tree mketclies made at Lorti's Till- Benj.amites Seizing;' their Mrides C'lpi^l Crowned witli Klovvers Wary Hodtjkinson . Latfieid House Hew from Millais' Home, ne.ar St. Heliers povcr of Millais' Hook on .Armour. 1S45 A Page from .Millais' Hook on .Armoui- . A Page from .Millais' Hook on .Armour . Photograph of the first Cheque received by .Millai Emily Millais (afterwards Mrs. W.illack) .Title-pane of a Hook of Poems Pi/;ii-ro Seizint;- the Inca of Peru %\\\ Drury and .Millais take the .\ir Study of an .Actor Cliiidhood Youth lanhiiod , . . . [Re ... ivmon anil Iphi^euia [ketch for Pre-Raphaelite latching 3 4 5 s 9 10 I I 1,^ i.S '7 "9 -•4 lb -29 30 3> .1-' .vl 3.S ^^ 37 39 4> 4-' 44 44 45 4.T 47 ^1 s XIV LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Mr. Wyatt and liis (Irandcliild Pre-RapIiaeliU- Sketch t'aiiUrbinv Pilj;:rims The Disenloinbmciit of Queen Matildi'i Drawuiff for The Germ Peiuil-ilrawinj; for Ktching, intended to liave Ijccn iist'd in Mead of I). (J. Rossetti Lorenxo and Isabella Orijfinal desivfn for " Ciirist in the House of Mis Parents iJesin'u for "Christ in the House of His Parents Cin'ist in tiie House of His Parents First slietch for " Ferdinand Lured by Ariel " Ferdinand Lured by Ariel Pencil desiji'ii for "The Woodman's Daugiitcr" Design for a picture, "The Delujfe " Sketch lor " Marian.'i " Sketches for " AL'iriana " and "The Return of tiie l)ov< Mariana . , The Woodman's Daughter Opiielia Design for a picture of " Romeo and Juliet " The Last Scene, " Romeo and Juliet " . Tiie Huguenot. F^irst idea The Huguenot. Second idea The Huguenot. Third idea. . The Huguenot. Fourth idea . The Huguenot. Fifth idea The Huguenot The Race-meeting . Study for " The Royalist " Millais on the way to paint " The Royalist." By W. Mill Millais at Dinner. By W. Millais Millais painting the background of " The Royalist " Dinner at " The George Inn," Hayes. By W. .Millai-- "Millais' Oak," Hayes, Kent Tourists at the Inn . Sketch for " The Order of Release " Further sketch for " The Order of Release ' The Royalist Head of a Girl Robert Bruce .'ind the Spider . Black Agnes dusting Dunbar Castle Imitations of X'elasquez The Order of Release Lord James Douglas provides for the Royal Household Bruce at the Siege of Acre Enter Lord and Lady Fiddledidee Accepted The Blind Man Crossing the Border. By W. Millais Close Quarters The Tourist's Highland Reel . Fishing in Loch Achray The Genu I'Ai.E *'7 70 71 77 7'i ^4 «5 >)-' 04 05 0: 2C r Thorn; Wet I);i irsign foi niliam .M 'he Itllc lie Dyiiit ;irk The Bcsl I Tlie Count ¥irlue ;in(l Wayside R ir Tlioni;i' certain I iv;i3-ye-g; i^piiemia Wailing B^tribution Fiince Chai le PrisoiK' le Ghost Ike in Sliii le Sl.-irt t( kind M( tastrophe sv instant w the R(| i\v we tool e \ewly-|i w the Wii w C. C. g, g John ei w Long Jc iw C. C. fo iw on the t l||w we War Agnes iected in Leech, n Leecli [lais Huntii llais Fisliini Tfile Duke of Plirt of a Lett kie Collins hernia Ch; 1 in Winter terton Chi ies for "i ;<• Gray y for Teni y for Tent Rescue i 59 71 ?(> 7" 7'i .S4 «5 0- 05 104 105 10; 1 1; 1 1; \2I IJl '3 J 13; '3' '3" '5' '5' 15: 15' iC 16: i6< 16: i(> '? 17 17- 17 T '; 1^ 1^ u. "'■ , 1" . I'T LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS file Romans F.eavinjif Hritain. I.iiu' and Sijiia (Iiawiiijc |r Tlnmias Arland .... Wit Day's I'asiinu- . , ^fsijjfn for fi ( iot hie Window . . , illiain .Mill.iis at Work . . t ilie Itllf and the Iiuhistrions I'ainti-r . . fhe I>yinj^ Man .... |irk . . . < The Best Day's Skelchini,'- Tflie Countess as Barber firtiK' .'ind \'iee .... ayside Ri-fii'shinent . . . |r Tiionias Aelanil assists .'i certain I.ady certain L;ulv Paint ini;- . . , ijtv.i} -ye-ga . . . ^piiemi.'i Chahiiers Ciray . . . Waitin_tf . Retrihution .... Prince C'liarhe in a Ilijjfhlnnd Farmhouse The Prisoner's Wile Tbe ("liiost . . . . Mike in Shirt plying- his N'eedie The Si.irt to Aytoiin Omi' kind Host enters in his Dressing-gown Catastrophes during Day's Sport How instantly the A.R.A. outwalked his Companion How the Representative of R..\. was embarr.'issed with Straps Hpw we took a Dog-cart Tf'e Xewly-painted Door How the Wind distressed the Two Travellers How C. C. gave out L^ng John enters into Conversation Hpw Long Jchn makes anotlier Lo!\g John partake of " overproof Hpw C. C. forgot himself and Craves for S.ihiKjn-fishint How on the top of the Coach the Weather was unfavourable Hpw we Warmed Ourselves at the Steamer Stove St, Agnes .... Rejected . . . . John Leech. Pencil sketch . . , Jofcu Leech . . . Millais Hunting. By Leech . Millais Fishing. By Leech The Duke of Wellington, By Leech . Part of a Letter from Leech to Millais . Wilkie Collins .... Enpliemia Chalmers Gray (afterwards Lady Millais). Water-colou B<^1 in Winterton Church. By John Luartl M^lerton Church Bells. By John Luard Slattdles for " Edward C-ay " Aj|ct Cray .... Stgdy for Tennyson Illustrations , ly for Tennyson Illustrations . . Rescue . . . . Whisl. e\' XV l'A(il-. iw JOJ .'04 .'0(J 207 JIG Jl I 212 -'.S 2 lb -''7 JI9 -'-'7 -'-'9 •233 -'37 ^38 -'39 24a 241 242 ■243 244 246 -'47 248 -'.so -5-' ^53 ^55 -'5« 26'.' 263 266 267 ^7' ^73 279 286 288 289 292 ^93 298 299 301 i i! XVI LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Skcl
  • - ,v v- .V y ,v .V ,v THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF ^R JOHN EVEIIETT MILLAIS ch.\i'ti;r I. birlh of Millais His parents — K.iily ilavs in St. Ilcliers A motlicr wlio tiliicatcs and lielps him — Srliool a failure Tlie Len)i)ricrcs— First efforts in Ut— I'lie family move to Dinan— The Drinn-majors portrait— Return to it. Ileliers Millais goes to London with his mother — Sir Martin Sliee's idvice Millais enters .Mr. Sass' school, and j^ains the silver medal of the ociety of Arts — His love of fishing — Original amusement — He enters the Royal .\cadcniy Early successes - .Anerdotes of the jjoct Rogers -William 'M'ordsworth Oxford's attenijjt on the (^)ueen"s life .Millais as an Academy "^tudent- -C'icneral Arthur Lemi)riere on .Millais as a boy I'oem on students' Jife Sergeant Thomas— First visit to OxfordMr. WyattMr. Drury — ^'Cymon and Iphigenia'' "(Grandfather and Child." IT was at Southampton on the Sth of June, 1829, that the late Sir J, IL Millais made his first appearance in the Sid as the youngest son of Mr. John William Millais, descendant of an old Norman family resident in Jersey, re for many years he held a commission in the Island Militia. There, according to local tradition, John William . Millais and his ancestors had been settled ever since the time of the Conquest. He was a man of fine presence and undeniable talent, being not only a very fair artist but an CMellent musician, with command of four or five different i^ruments. But with all his gifts he was a man of no . atBjbition save where his children were concerned, and desired lOThing more than the life he led as a quiet country gentle- nSn. My uncle, William Millais, describes him as a typical pM troubadour, who won all hearts by his good looks and (i»rming manners, and was known in his younger days as tWi handsomest man in the island. I. — I i i i JOHN K\'KRKTT MILLAIS f'83 When (|iiil(: H youiii^' man lie clianccd lo incci an I'ini^lisli woman of nentlL* l)irth and i^rcat natural wil and ilcvcrncss, whose maiden name was I^vamy. but who was then thcj widow of a Mr. I lodj^Uinson ; and, fallinLj- in love with each other at llrst si^lit. they soon afterwards married. Mrs. Ilod^isinson had twn sons hv h(.'r first husband llem'y, who hxed a (juiet hfc anil recently left to the nation I two of my father's best works; and Clement, who i^reatly dis tinL;uished himself as an explorer! in the wilds of Australia. liii the oKl days Clement was tli( j)rinci|)al .\.1).C. of Sir Thomas Mitchell, and himself discovered se\'eral t;()ld- fields in Northern j Australia. My _i;rand|)arents, John W'illianil and I'^mily .Mary Millals, at firsij settled at " Le Ouaihouse," jusij out of .St. lleliers, where theii 1 daughter I^lmily Mary was born; but later on they re | moved to Southampton, where iiy uncle William Henry, and afterw irds my father, were added to the family. Thc\ presently, however, returned to Jersey, where, at the ai^i of four years, my father's inborn love of Natural Histor\; — a love that lasted his lifetime — found means of developl ment. At St. Hellers some choice .sand-t^els offered an easyj capture. The rocks too abounded with novelties in the shapel of " slow, .sly thin<>"s with circumspective eyes " ; and at tlK|^ pier-head no end of little fish were waiting- to be caughti Here, then, was Elysium to the young naturalist. To ontj or other of these places he sped away whenever he couldf escape from parental control, regardless of the aclmoniti(»ns of his mother, whose anxiety on these occasions was hardly! compensated by the treasures of the beach with which htj stocked all the baths and basins of the household, or by thcj advance in learning he displayed in naming correctly every thing in his collection. There too. at St. Hellers, his taste for drawing bee* ail to show itself. Encouraged by his mother, who quicklyl CAl'IAIN KliWAKIi MII.I.AIS, 1763 (MlI.l.Als' GnANlJiAllllK) I'loni a iiiiiiialuii-' i3l FIRST i:rF()R'rs in art 3 (iiscerncd the boy's special i^ift, lu* tlcvoit'd imicli of" his time t;) sketching, and was never more liajjpy than wiieii iiis pencil was thus engai^ed. Hirds and hutlcTtlii-s proveil a iMcat attraction, hut it mattered little to him what was the object so loiiL*' as he could express it on pajH-r. Draw he imisi. and did at every spare moment. In his maternal |L;randrath(.'r, John Mvamy a dear old 111 in whom he j^reatly admired, mainly because ol his skill las a fisherman he found a delightful companion ; and one JOHN W II. MAM MIl.l.AIS (.Mii.i.ais' 1'athek) III fancy iliiss. Circ. 1870 »t his earliest sketches, done in pencil at eiy^ht years of a^e, ;ives an excellent idea of this old i^entleman engrossed in n • r • • ** lliis iavourite pursuit. liut Millais' truest and most helpful friend was his mother, ^vll()se love and foresicrht did so much to advance his aims tuul ambition, putting him in the ri^ht path from the very )utset. She herself undertook the greater part of his educa- tion, and, being more gifted than most women, grounded him n liistory, poetry, literature, etc., knowledge of costume and irinour, all of which was of the greatest use to him in his :ar!;er; indeed, my father used often to say to us in after rc'iirs, " I owe everything to my mother." I •- JOHN KVIvRI'/I'T MILLAIS [l83> ( )ik: allciiipl was made lo srnd him lo scliixil, l)ul it ciuIliI in inis('ral)l(' tailiirc. 'riin)iiL;li(»iit liis life rcstriiiioiis of any sort WLTc hatcrul to liiin — what he would not do for love he would not do at all so wiicn. after two days at school, iju master tried to thrash him for disohiidience, the boy tiiniecl and hit his hand severely — a mistlemeanour for which he wasi II W.J h h- ^ ^U^ JOHN KVA.MY (Miilais Maikunai, Incik) l>niHii fniiii life :n tln' a)^v . f eii;!.! -w, "»7 immediately expelled. A happy day this for him, for hi mother then resumed her work of tuition, and her metluK of teaching, in opposition to that of the old dry-as-du>: schools, led the child to love his lessons instead of hatiiij them. My uncle William made an excellent water-colour j)ortia of his mother, which I am enabled to <>ive here. The reacki will see at a fiance her strong- resemblance to her boy Job: Everett, presenting the same clever, determined mouth, m r t Ik i c MAkV Mil. 1.. MS (MII.I.AIS' MnlMKK) I'ViiiM a WMIer-colour li> William Millai-., cxecutL' I alium tin- yuar i36g i the same ol for she had Others \) John Ever( aiT.l one of that he use wo'-ds, that jives." My fathe ill jersey, 1 ithcin. Am cuhi'vation l.cinpriere, I Lciiipriere, j Manor, wa^ i\er\-one w haiulsome ii kindliness o e.^ree of ( ntiniately \> ather, they welcome at ime, and, a o appreciat ' enipriere, ( dd, fiu-ures hat name, j Roselle, ii nd amusem (■ Hked in j: he j)ark wa5 I'eat delio'ht at(,'--repres( reatures tha iiipressed hi fe. aroused far]\- davs ai ■Vly father' ;f eio-hty — w "nally at Wi n ^he door h' also me 1' •! and the I«..j EARLY DAYS Ithi same observant eyes. Xor did the resemblance cud here, for she had also the same j^reat love of paintinL^" and music. Others beside his mother very soon bej^an to see that little I John Everett [)ossessed real ijenius, not mere ordinary talent; aivl one of his uncles was so much impressed with this idea {that he used tre(|uently to say to his children, " Mark my \V()''ds, that boy will be a very oreat man some day, if he lives." My father never forgot the good friends of his early days lin jersey, but cherished a lasting affection and regard for Ithcin. Amongst those most anxious to help in the early ivation of his talent was a charmin<>- family named Lempriere, then resident in the islarid. Philip Raoul Lempriere, the head of the house and Seigneur of Roselle JManor, was a man whose personality made itself felt iiy iveryone with whom he came into contact, his strikingly ttiandsome appearance being enhanced by the dignity and aiidliness of his manner ; and the same might be said in Beuree of everv member of his familv. lo know them intimately was an education in itself; and, happily for my father, they took a great fancy to him, making him ever kvelcome at the house. There, then, he spent much of his lime, and, as I have heard him say, learned unconsciously to appreciate the beauties of Nature and Art. General Lem])riere, one of the grandsons of the Seigneur, I may idd, figures as "the Huguenot" in the famous [)icture of [hat name, painted in 1852. Roselle, in a word, proved an endless source of interest ind amusement to the juvenile artist. He could fish when le liked in ponds well stocked with perch and tench, and in [lie j)ark was a fine herd t)f fallow deer, in which he took • reat delight. A drawing of his — perhaps his best at that ate — represents the tragic end of one of those beautiful IreatLires that he happened to witness. The circumstance iiipressed him deeply and, as he (jften remarked in after |te, aroused in him the sj)irit of the chase, even in those larly days and amidst such calm surroundings. My father's cousin. Miss Benest- a wonderful old lady \i eighty — writes: "When he was only four he was con- iiuiMJly at work with pencil and paper, and generally lay >n 'he floor covering sheets with all sorts of figures." fh'. also mentions, as significant of the frank and open HIV! and the zeal for truth that he retained to the end of r I' '»- *' k u t 8 JOHN p:vkrett millais ['833- his davs. that "when he did anvthinof on a larger scale he used to come to my father, throwing- his arms round hi>l neck in his affectionate manner, sa\int4', ' Uncle, fou do not always praise me as the others do ; you show mc the fimltsy His brother William was exceedinolv clever, but withouti SHAKKSPKAKIAX CHARACTKK Original drawing liy Alillais at the age of 73 years the same application and industry. As a younj^ man li: possessed a remarkably fine tenor voice, and a good tern being as rare in those days as it is now, Mario, after heariiiJ him sing, urged him strongly to go on the stage, saying hi would make his fortune. But this was far from his idea of happy life. He had no ambition to walk the boards, bi| sang because he loved it, and painted for the same reasorf REMOVAL TO DINAN 9 L(;comin!:4 ultimately well known as a water-colour landscape artist. His unselfish admiration for my father Unew no l)()unds; he was always helping" and taking care of his vouncjer and more delicate brother, and did much bv his cheery optimism and consummate tact to alleviate the hard knocks and petty worries that assailed the youn^" painter whilst struooling to make a name. In iS^s the familv removed to Dinan, in l^rittanv, where a new interest awaited the budding' artist, then in his seventh Itefi e •r. t!, P t HOGAKTHIAN CHARACTKKS IN A WITNKSS-I'.OX Ori.Liinal study of expression he wriunu on thu drawnii; is tliMl of tl lu aitisi s niotlRf. [year. The poetry of the place, as expressed in its fine [mediaeval architecture and interpreted b)- a loving mother, [look a great hold upon his imagination, setting his pencil to Iwork at once ; but joy of joys to the juvenile mind were the gorgeous uniforms of the French officers stationed in h(- neighbourhood. (X this period William Millais sends bic some interesting notes. He says : " I well remember the time we spent together at Dinan, where our parents resided r two years. We were little boys and quite in .eparable, Ik six vears old and I two vears his senior. Our t-reatest ght was to watch the entry of regiments as they passed 10 JOHN KVERKTT MILLAIS ['«35 throui^h the town to and from Ikest. and these occasions were of frequent occurrence. The roll-call ^i^enerally took place in the Place aux Chaines, and each soldier on beino disljanded was presentetl with a loaf of black bread, which he stuck on the point of his bayonet and then shouldered his rifle. We usually sat under the tillciils of the Placj; du Guesclin, on a bench overlookinof the soldiers and awav from the crowd. On one occasion we noticed an enormous taniboiU'-iiiaJenr, literal!)- burnished with j^old trappings, wear- in<>- a tall bear-skin and flourishing a huoe irold-headed canf P '^^ as^ } ^^^W n^-^'}^ .#^:^^ p^^''3ll vi-;^>^:,cl ...:.. J MKI.KK IN A l;ANgUKTlM;-HAl,L. 1838. to the delioht of a lot of little oamins. Jack at once pro- 1 duced his sketch-book and pencil, and proceeded to jot down the Lriant into his book. \\'hilst this was Qfoinnr on we wert 1 not aware that two officers were silently creepin<»- towards us. and we were quite awed when they suddenly uttered loudi ejaculations of astonishment at what they had seen, for they had evidently been witnesses of the last touch made upoiil the drum-major. They patted the little artist on the back, I gave him some money, and asked me where we lived. Our| house was only a stones-throw off, so we took them up into the drawing-room, and they talked for some time with riyi father and mother, urging them most seriously to send the] child at once to Paris, to be educated in the Arts. 1^7] RETURN TO ST. HELIERS 1 1 ■' The officers tO(jk the sketch hack to Ixirracks with them. aiiel showed it in the mess to their brothers in arms. N(^ne ot them coukl believe that it was the work of a boy of six, so bets were taken all round ; and one of them went to fetch lilile Millais, to prove their words. In fear and trembling- he came, and soon showed that he really had done the drawing' by making-, then and there, a still more excellent sketch — of the colonel smoking- a cigar. Those who lost had to ^ive the others a dinner." SCKXK TKOM "I'KVKKII, OK THK PKAK. 1341 This is tht must elalior.'ile worl; cif Milliiis' early years Leavino; Dinan in 1S37, the family aoain went back to u. Heliers for two or three years, where Millais received liis tirst instructions in art from a Mr. Bessel, the best lirawino-master in the island. Art was not taught then as t is now, so the boy's originality was curbed for the while n' having to copy Julien's life-sized heads. In a very short inic, however, the drawing-master told his parents that he tould teach their boy nothing more ; the spontaneity of his Ivorl: was so marked that it was a s'n to restrain it, and that |he\ ou<>;ht to take him at once to London and give him the i(-r; best tuition to be had there. To this excellent counsel kai idded that of the Lemprieres and Sir Hillgrove-Turner, I' I •> 12 JOHN KVKRETT MILLAIS [1838 then governor of the island. Next year, therefore, thev started for London armed with an introduction to Sir Martin Archer Shee, i-. r.a., and coachini;- from Southampton they fell in with Mr. Paxton (afterwards Sir J()sej)h Paxton). ol whom William Millais writes: "During the j(jurn(,'y Mr. Paxton fell asleep, and Jack at once went for him and jjjot him into his book, lust as he had fmished the sketch Paxton awoke, and, seeing what had been done, was so astonished that he entered into conversation with my mother, which resulted in a letter of introduction to the Presitlent of the Society of Arts, Adelphi, where my brother afterwards went." Their first visit in London was naturally to Sir Martin Archer Shee, and this is what they heard from him tht moment they explained the object of their call : " Better make him a chimney-sweep than an artist ! " Put Sir Martin had not then seen the bov's drawings. When these werei produced he opened his eyes in astonishment, and could hardly believe that they were the production of so childish a hand. At last his doubts were set at rest by little Millais; sitting down and drawing the P"ight of Hector and Achilles and then with ecjual emphasis he recalled his first remark, and declared that it was the plain duty of the parents to fit| the boy for the vocation for which Nature had evidenth | intended him. That settled the matter. To the lad's great delight leav( was obtained for him to sketch in the British Museum, whertj for several hours a day he diligently drew from the cast ; andf in the winter of 1838-39 a vacancy was found for him inl the best Art academy of the time — ^a preparatory school at | Bloomsbury. kept by an old gentleman named Henry Sass.i a portrait painter of repute, but whose works had failed ti i catch the fancy of the public. Several of Millais' school | fellows there are still living, and remember him as a smalij delicate-looking boy, with a holland blouse and belt and turn-down collar. Here he was in his element, drawing ancil painting most of the day, and spending all the time he coulc spare in outdoor pursuits. At Mr. Sass', as at most of the schools of that day, i| good deal of bullying went on, and one of the students (.| big, hulking, lazy fellow, whose name I suppress for reasoni which will presently appear) took a special delight in makinj the boy's life a burden to him. This state of things reachej i w] A RI\^\L'S REV^ENGE 13 incl got boys wh( Faxton onished , which 1 : of the crvvards > Martin him the " Hcttcr r Martin t ise were id could :hildish a I e Millais Achilles: ¥ remark, \ nts to fiij evideiulyj vht leav( r m, vvherf; ! :ast ; and r him iii^ school au /\ iry Sass.i failed t(| r I ;' school| ', a smallJ dt and a| ': wini^ am;^ he couki a rlimax when, at the ai^e of nine, young Millais gained the silver medal of the Society of Arts, for which this youth had aiso competed. The day following the presentation Millais turned up as usual at Mr. Sass', and after the morning's work was over, \\. (the bully), with the help of two other small boys whom he had comi)elled to remain, hung him head i PORTRAIT or AN OI.D OKNTI. K.MAN Drawn :it tlic age nf liiiie lownwards out of the window, tying his legs up to the iron )t the window-ouards with scarves and strings. There he lun^ over the street in a position which shortly made him iiK onscious, and the end might have been fatal had not [on,- passers-by, seeing the position of the child, rung the p. 1 I •• m. rt 1: ^^5^^ H JOHN KVKKKTT MILL A IS ['«39 d(K)r-l)cll ;iik1 secured his inimcdiatc release. Almost iminc- diately after this II. l(;ft tlie school possibly to avoid e.xpiil- sioi — and failiiiLi' as an artist, hut bein<^ stronj; and of i^nxxl physicjue, he became a prolessional model, and, curiously enough, in after years sat to my father for several of his pictures. Lventually, however, he took to drink and came to a miserable cm\, leavini^" a wife and several children abso- lutely destitute. Of the (occasion on which Millais received his hrst medal, William Millais, who was present, says : " I shall never forget the IVize-dav at the Societv of Arts when my brother had won the silver medal for a l.u'ge drawing of 'The Battle of Bannockburn.' He was then between nine and ten years of age, and the dress the little fellow wore is \'ividly before me as I write. He had on a white plaid tunic, with black belt and buckle ; short white frilled trousers, showing bare legs, with white socks and patent leather shoes; a large white] frilled collar, a bright necktie, and his hair in golden curls. "When the Secretary, Mr. Cocking, called out ' A/f. JohnI P^verett Millais,' the little lad walked up, unseen by hisj Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex, who was living thel prizes, and stood at his raised desk. After a time the IJukei observed that 'the gentleman was a long time coming up,' to which the Secretary replied, 'He is here, your Royalj Highness,' The Duke then stood up and saw the boy, and,i giving him his stool to stand upon, the pretty little goldenj head appeared above the desk. " Unfortunately the Duke, being weak as to his eyesight,! could make nothing of the drawing when it was held up toj him, in spite of trying various glasses ; but he was assured! that it was a marvellous performance. He patted niyl brother's head and wished him every success in his profes- sion, at the same time kindly begging him to remember th.i:, if at any time he could be of service to him he must noij hesitate to write and say so. It so happened that Jack dicj avail himself of this kind offer. We had been in the habitj of fishing every year in the Serpentine and Round Pond byj means of tickets given to us by Sir Frederick Pollock, theiij Chief Baron ; but a day came when this permission waJ withheld from everyone, and then my brother wrote to tlitf Duke's private secretary, and we were again allowed to tisij there. " "In those days the Round Pond at Kensington was MIM.AIS, I!V (OH\ PHII.I.IP, R.A. 1341 ..-')1 .#*^ l,i . (iiirite re ,1 ann^cd ir I- 'lulon la rushes, and I inTc was jii^cnilc; an to do so ii rei'ds. W't Indford Scji in Oxford ; ^ and probabl) the envy of denied. As perch, and n I to us in tho! My uncle j ments in wh I fond of "ph "In 1838- Sqiiare. I 1 I but my brotl delicate as a my mother, a gre;it reader. r. — 2 1^ )1 HOMK LIFI-: «7 ta»<)iirito ri'sori of ours. It was not llicii, as uc sec ii now. ill "anjLjcil in a circK.', and tricked out with all tlic liiuT)' of a L 'niion lal\(j. 'I'hc sliort-s were iViiit^fil with lla^s and riidies, and here and there were little l)ays with water-lilies. Tiicri' was plenty of honest I''nj.?lish nuid too, in which the jiiu'iiile angler could wade to his heart's content, and had to do so in order to ^et his lini; clear of the surrounding" rccils, W'v. us(xl to iranip to and from tht; neiohhourhood of indford Scjuare. l)U\iiist' portrait Sir Charles Eastlake, I'.K.A., painted in ' The Brigand,' and who afterwaid!' married my sister, was the model for ' l^izarro.' My father was the priest, and also sat for other figures in the picture." iS.,;| AI niK ROYAL ACADKMV '9 \. iithfiil )4''nius from wlioni ^rcat tliin,L;s were to Ix' ('Nprrtcd; i.ur, ;is llu' smallest and yoimi^csi iiR'ml)''r of* the commiiiiit) , he had to "Ian.' tor all thai, and was i^ciicrally told oti i<» letch pics and stout lor liis teliow-stiulents wliilst tliey were .It work.'* When he receive«l the '-old medal ol the Roval Academv many famous men took notice of him, ami notai)l\' Rollers. ihe i)oet, whose hrilh.mt breakfast -p.u'ties are now matters of •■ "in. "( '»K>i ' r 4. I.'' M It- I.OVK SC'KNK. \V:ilLr-Dil.Mii iS4er arri\ed he would sav to his servant. " Thomas, bring down that volume of my celebrated poems!' He took an almost parental interest in IVIillais, though occasionally treating him with a severity that bordered on the comic. My father hated sugar in his tea, and on more than one occasion openly expressed his dislike. " Thomas, the poet would say, "put three lumps of sugar in Mr. Millais' tea ; he ought to like sugiir. He is too thin." Rogers had an MS. missal of great value, of which he was vastly proud. One day litde Millais picked it up td show it to a young lady. " Boy," roared Rogers from the other end of the room, almost suffocating himself as he slipped down into his chair, "can't you speak about a book without finoering it? How dare vou touch my missal ! " One day a poor-looking man, apparently a country clergy- man, dressed in a shabbv tail-coat, came to thank Rogers for hospitality before leaving town. As the departing guest vanished through the door, after shaking hands with the little artist, the poet turned to Millais, who was standing near, and said in solemn tones, " Boy, do you know who that was.'* Some day you will be proud to say that you once met! William W^ordsworth." In 1895 Mr. Gladstone and my father were the only sur-| vivors of these famous parties. A singular circumstance was that though my mother, who was then a young girl, used; frequently to breakfast at Rogers' house, yet she and my: father never met there. Referring to these early days, William Millais says : " Wt| were brought up as very loyal subjects, and our chief deligbtj was to o-o to Buckinoham Palace to see the Oueen and thti Prince Consort start off up Constitution Hill for their dailyl drive. On one memorable occasion, when we were the only; people on the footpath, and had just taken off our caps as| the Royal carriage passed, feeling proudly happy that lierj Majesty had actually bowed to us, a sudden explosion was heard, and then another. My father, who had seen what hadl caused them, immediately rushed away from us and sei/.ecl| \ a man who him till sor This man m wards prov atciv to ex, two bullets, imibrellas, i As a boy degrees anc 1 build up th( ill the later creed he lo: less experie sity for a m life, and tha which all th I o him the gun he coul( greatest att could afford and (except he went for the work tht would interf remember, hard work h ing him a s August and size on one privately th; induce him But to tra( the days of he and my u started at da back for a d; a great delig; "Ot lend itse fashion, play( j .yame at Lon I the days wl- I cricket field, I made on the ''^.5] HIS LOVE OF FISHING 21 a man who was just inside the railings of the park, and held him till some of the mounted escort came to his assistance. This man was Oxford, who had fired at the Queen, and after- wards proved to be a lunatic. Of course we went immedi- ately to examine the wall, and there saw the marks of the two bullets, which in a few days, with the aid of sticks and umbrellas, had multiplied considerably." As a boy Millais was extremely delicate, and only by slow decrees and constant attention to the laws of health did he build up the robust constitution it was his privilege to enjoy in the later years of his life. It was part of his creed — a creed he lost no opportunity for impressing upon younger or less experienced artists — that good health is the first neces- sity for a man who would distinguish himself in any walk of life, and that that can only be had by periodical holidays, in which all thought of business affairs is resolutely cast aside. To him the breezy uplands of the North, where with rod and gun he could indulge his love of open-air pursuits, offered the greatest attraction. Every year, therefore, as soon as he could afford it, he took a shooting or a fishing in Scotland, and (except on rare occasions) in the first week of August oft he went for a three months' holiday, no matter how important the work then in hand, or how tempting any commission that would interfere with his plan. One instance of this I well remember. Towards the close of a season of exceptionally hard work he got a letter from an American millionaire offer- ing him a small fortune if he would cross the Atlantic in August and paint the writer, his wife, and three children life- size on one canvas. But he declined at once, remarkino- privately that the subjects were not interesting enough to induce him to give up his holiday. But to trace his history as a sportsman I must go back to the days of his pupilage, when during the summer holidays he and my uncle William (himself an expert fisherman) often started at daybreak and walked all the way to Hornsey and back for a day's fishing in the New River. Cricket too was a great delight, and though the latitude of Gower Street did not lend itself to progress in the art, they practised after a fashion, played when they could, and assiduously studied the game at Lord's every Saturday in the season. That was in the days when the top-hat aftliction permeated even the j cricket field, as shown in a sheet of my father's sketches ma 'e on the ground about this time. Lillywhite is seen J*! *- ' It- i. I 22 JOHN EVKRETT MILLAIS [.839-1X4: I there in all his i^lory as the lirst cricketer of the clay, his aniazino' heacl-^ear jjossihl)' addiiiL;' to the awe and admiration with which he was regarded hv voliit'" and aspiriiiLi" i)lavers. A letter from William Millais is perhaps worth (|ii()tin^" as " showini^- the straits to which he and his brother were put in their determination to master " I^ni^iand's oame," and how they encountered and overcame them. He sa\s : " We used to have fictitious matches under the studio in Ciower .Stre( t 5 :\^C/^, t.^^^1. SKKTCHKS MADK AT LORDS, 1843 Witli portraits i>f tliu famous cricketers, l.illj white aiul Minns where there was a sort of small fives-court, by the light of a feeble <>"as-burner. We imitated the stvle of the ureal bowlers and batters of that dav. If the ball hit certain parts of the wall it was a catch, and certain other part> denoted a ninnber of runs. We kept a perfect score, and alternately batted and bowled. These matches used to l;isi three or four davs; it was ureat fun. Our cricket enthusiasm took us to Lord's two or three times a week, and we knc w the style of every player." ^\\.\ : J ' - / .,.^■^5:^- ■•^ •■ ^ mt. '!)"vi'> t Is :htE- •^^^T"*'"**- 24 JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS [•«3' ; On this period of Millais' life an old fellow-student is good enonu^h to send me the follovvini^ note: "The Sir John 1^. Millais of Presidential days was a very different person from the lad of thirteen whom, in the autumn of 1843, I encountered CUPID CKOWNEU WITH KLOWKRS. Millnis' first picture in oils at the Royal Academy, when, with a host of probationers (th;it is, students of the Academy on trial), I entered the Antiqiie School, and was greeted with shouts of 'Hallo! Millais; here is another fellow in a collar,' These cries came from the older students assembled and drawing from the statues, busts, and what not. Their occasion was myself, then just 1845J iijj )!! fiftec should wej falling coll j Millais' mo ] uicl much ' which, witl made nm cn(;s ceasn ii^ditly and as 1 have cloth belt, crossed the He walked on his hee went on w diligent M Academy, i i scended fro Antique, su like the por qu^jstion, by devil ' and After bt'ing I about that o Jihaii five fe( aaii air of in i he greeted i :: humility as J trankly gav( i that, long be '■■ cal skill in d ' Winner of th J h(.)nours) ha( ])upil in Sas or • Museum to-be. ' Abound impishness, Millais was -of the big n 1S43-44. Jacc Harri [i«39- ■ 1845] AS AN ACADEMY STUDENT 25 e u\:)on fifteen years old, who it was in\' mother's pleasure should wear on the shoulders of his short jacket a white f;iliinL;" collar some four inches wide. It so happened that Millais' mother had a similar fancy, and that bein«'" vouni>er ,uh1 much smaller than I his collar had a goffered edoinij, which, with his boyish features, lij^ht, lon^, and curling hair, made him appear even younger than he was. Upon the cries ceasing, there arose from the semicircle of students a lii^^htly and elegantly -made xouni^ster wearing;' such a collar ;is 1 have described, a jacket leathered at the waist with a cloth belt, and its clasp in front. With an assured air he crossed the room to where 1 was standinsj^ amont>' the arrivals, lie walked round me, inspected me from head to foot, turned on his heel without a word, stepped back to his seat, and went on with his drawino". It so happened that the ever- diligent Millais, though much further advanced in the Academy, and a student in the Life antl Painting, conde- scended from time to time to work among the tyros from the Antique, such as I wis. At that time he was exceedingly I like the portrait which was painted of him about the date in [question, by (I think) Sir E. Landseer ;* but there was more devil' and less sentiment in the expression of his features. After being inspected, I settled to my work, and forgot all [about that ordeal till I found Millais, who was then not more th.in five feet two inches tall, standing at my side, and, with an air of infinite superiority, looking at my drawing, which he greeted in an undertone as ' Not at all bad.' With such humility as became me I asked his advice about it, and he frankly gave me some good counsel. I ought to have said that, long before this, I had heard of his extraordinary techni- Ical skill in drawing and painting, and I reverenced him as the Iwinner of that silver medal which (the first of his Academical jhonours) had fallen to his lot not long before ; but he being a [pupil in Sass's school and I a student in the British Museum, jor * Aluseumite,' so called, I had not come across the P. R.A. |to-be. Abounding in animal spirits and not without a playful jimpishness, being very light and small even for his age, jMillais was the lively comrade — 1 had almost said plaything -ot the bigger and older students, some of whom had, even in 1S43-44, reached full manhood. One of the latter was Jae ; Harris,' a burly and robust personage, a leader in all "■''■ The painter was John Phillip, K..\. 12 0: ■ f *;■ ■ «■ 26 JOHN EVKRETT MILLAIS [««39- thc i'cuts ()( strcni^tli which then ()l)taincd in the schools, aiu! the same who sat to Millais in i(S48-49 for his exact jjortniit | as the elder brother who kicks the doj^- in the picture ol 'Isabella' now at IJverpool. Profoundly contrasted as in every respect their characters were, Millais and 'Jack Harris were comrades and playfellows of the closest order at the yXcademy. I*"or example, 1 remember how, because sonu MARV HOIK'.KIXSON Wifi; of the artist's half-brother. C/rc. 1S43 workmen had left a tall ladder a_i>ainst the wall of the school.! nothing" would do but on one occasion Harris must carryf Millais, clinging" round his neck, to the top of this ladder] It so happened that just at the moment the door of the rooni| slowly opened, while no less a person than the keeper enterec:[ and took up his duties by teaching the student nearest tht entrance. Discipline and respect for Mr. George Jones [tlitj master at that time] forbade Harris to come down the ladderj POKM ON STUDENTS' LIFK 27 and his safety forlxulc Millais from Icttii «'•() liis hoUl. Doubtless the keeper saw the chlemma, for, without noticiii!^ the culprits, he hastened his proj^ress round the room and left it as soon as niij^ht he, but not before Millais was tired of his lofty position." The followin!4" lines (discovered amongst m\ father's papers) affortl an amusinsj^ insight into the ways and doinj^s of Academy students at that period. The writer's name unfortunately does not appear. Mr. Jones, it must l)e observed, deliohted in aping the appearance of the Duke of Wellington as far as he |)()ssil)l) could.* ■; i " Renieml)er you the .\nti(|iie School, And L'kc the Academic SkjoI, Under the tutorship and rule ( )f dear old Jones. Our aged military keeper And medal-distribution weeper, For whom respect could not be deeper In human bones : fakr " Whose great ambition was to look As near as might be like 'the Dook,' With somewhat les'. of nasal hook. And doubtless brains ; Who, I imagine, still delights 'io try and look the ghost, o' niglits. Of him who fought a hundred fights The Duke's remains? ■» 1*1 "But to return — to go on talking Of those young days when we were walking 'I'owards the never-ending chalking From casts, or life — Days of charcoal stumps, and crumbs, ' Double Elephant,' and ' I'lumbs,' Within the sound of barrack drums And shrilly fifes ; * " I may say of Mr. Jones that he was cliicfly known as a painter of military hiictuies, and in dress and pcrs(jn he so much resembled the great Duke of Willmgton that, to his extreme delight, he was ot'ien mistaken for that hero, and salatcd accordingly. On this coming to the ears of the Duke, he said, r Dear me 1 Mistaken for me, is he? That "s strange, for no one ever mistakes jme for Mr. Jones.'" Afy Autobioi^iapliy diid Rcntiuisccnccs, h\ W. I'. FkllH, R.A. 28 JOHN KVERKTT MILLAIS ^],i''i " Now in the circle natliercd round To hear the learned youth expound Anatomy, the most jjrofound- Our Private (irceii ; Xow in the Library's retreat, L'pon a line morocco seat, And in a comfortable heat, A gent, I ween ; "Tracing armour, and trunk hose. Legs in tights, witli pointed toes; Meyrick, Bouner, with set c/iose, I'o l^arleyvoo ; Studying now and tiien a print. An old Sir Joshua Mez/.otint, Or portrait which affords a hint Of soiiiething new. " In silence let us gently sneak Towards the door devoid of creak. Which leads us back to that Antique, Where youth still plods. Lor now, behold, the gas is lit, And nigh a hundred brows are knit, Where miserable heathens sit. Before their gods. "There from the Premier Charley Fox — That party with the greasy locks, Who vainly calls on long-tongued Knox To hold his jawings — Every back is archly bending, For the Silver Prize contending. This the latest night for sending In the drawings. " Another minute— give them ten — To cut these from the boards ; and then, ' Past eight o'clock, please, gentlemen,' Shouts little Bob. And in the Folio (very cheap !) The work of months is in a heap Not worth the wages of a sweep For one small job. " But now to times a little later, When first we drew upstairs from Natur', When we were passing that equator Of days scholastic : When we were nightly stew'd or fried With bald-pates glistening by our side, And felt ourselves, with conscious pride. Beyond the Plastic. I«43] AS A BOY ^9 HATKIKM) HOUSK. 1844 "We saw the graceful Wild recline Exclaiming, 'Oh I by George, how fine,' And with the thumb describe a line In aerial wave — The right and proper thing to do, It mattered not whate'er we drew — Her, or the sad Cymmon Meudoo, As captive slave. " Enough ! I feel I 'm going astray From dear old Mrs. Orundy's way ; And what her followers may say I take to heart. Vet, should these lines provoke a smile A moment of tl e day beguile — I 11 maybe send you, in this style, A second {.art." I C;: With so much work to do the little artist had hardly time to make any new acquaintances outside of those whom he met daily at the Academy ; nevertheless he managed to occasionally see his two Jersey friends, Arthur and Harry Leinpriere, for they were at school at Brighton, and fre- quently visited London during their holidays. To Arthur — now Major-General Arthur Lempriere — I am indebted for I the following note of his recollections of Millais as a boy : — 30 lOlIN KVHRKTT MILLAIS |lSv> IS, 5 " 1 rcincinhcr Sir J. K. Millais ulicii I was (|iiil(; a small boy at schoi)! at lirii^liton, where he used to write to iiic and niv liroihcr Ilarr\ irost Itcaiitiliil Ii'tters, all illiistrati d and the words in dilTerent coloured inks. One; of thoM letters l)e_L;an. ' My litlk* dears' ; hut instead of writini^- tlir word 'dears,' a nuinber of deer were drawn, and so oii throMLih the whole of a Christmas storv. in which he intni- duc(Hi coloured drawini^s of coaches ami horses, travellers, '•ames. etc.* ■» >^i VIKW I'UOM >UI. LAIS' l■■01<.^^<:K HOMK, NKAR St. tU'M.IKKS, JKRSKV Water-colour, exucuted lUirini; :i visit in 1S44 "We always called him 'Johnny,' and he constantly spent | the holidays with us at our home at Ewell, Surrey. My '■ ' S'z^S^^.i ffither and mother and all our family were very fond of him, 'i as well as he of us. " He seemed always, when indoors, to have a pen, pencil, or brush in his hand, rattling off some amusing" caricature or other drawing. He was very active and strong, and blessed with a most pleasing, good-tempered, and gentle- manly manner. During the many years I knew him I ne\ r once recollect his losii'g his temper or saying an unkii d * This letter, illustrated with little water-colours, was exhibited in the Mill i Exhibition, 1898. spent -. Mv )f him, pencil, •icatiirc 0-, and i^entlc- nev'jr unkind ^ « e Milliis 32 JOHN KVKRHTT MILLAIS IK; W (»rd to anyone, and \vc all really looked upon him quitt til as a i)rotner " I have heard my father say that my uncl(!, Mr. IMiilip Lcrmpriere, of Royal Jersey, ;4ave Sir J. \i. Millais his fnsi CO loiir-1 )oX. " it was in 1S47 tiiat 1 remember his drawinj; all tin I.empriere family at I'! well standinj; round a table in tlu A PAGE FROM MII.I.AIS' liOOK Of Ak.MOL'K. 1844 drawinf^-room, and watching* eaij^erly a Twelfth-cake beirnjl cut by my eldest sister. It was all so cleverly grouped, and included my father and mother, my five brothers, seven sisters, myself, and himself. It was a picture we all greatly valued, as, in addition to the clev^er grouping, the likenesses! were so excellent. " Millais' power of observation, even when a boy, wasl marvellous. After walking out with him and meeting peopltj I.S SKKIKANT THOMAS 33 Ik uDulil coiiu- lioinc and draw an exact likcnrss ol almost all. one he hapiu-ncd to liavc met. lie was also well iip in dif anatoni) of a horse, and knew e\ailiy where e\cr\ \(!n and hone should he, and was very lond of drawin}^^ tli'in." in 1S45 Millais ha|>j)ened to hecoine ae(|uainled with a ccriain Serjeaiu Ihonias. a retired lawxcr L;i\'t'n to iradini^ u: if A LKAK I'KOM Mll.l.AIS |1()()K OK AU.MOl'R. 1S44 in works of art. Recoj^nisino- his ^cnius, and knowing that I he was very poor, Thomas offcretl him /, lOO a year to come to his house every Saturday and paint small pictures or macki^rounds as miyht be recjuired. The terms seemed fair enoui^h, and in the end a contract was drawn up by the la\v\(;rand duly siont-d, bindinij: Millais to serve in this wav lor two vears. Little did he know or think of the ijallins^ yok ■ that was now hun^' upon his neck. Thomas, who Uis a picture-dealer " " The (.)ueen of 1562 : 4/.^. Z^ zj^^.rp r \ PHOlOdkAI'H OK TIIK I'lkST t'll I'.IJIK klX Kl VKl ) \\\ Mll.l.AIS I liu y'Jiiiij; artist w;is su ilcliiihtcd at receiving this rewaril that he at nmx- sal ilouii ami made the above sketch of liiniself on tlie hack of the cheque ieauty," and the other " The Victorious Knight." At this Icriod it seems he had fjuite a mania for drawing ; even at Tie dinner table he could not remain idle. When no one fas iookino; he would take out a pencil and begin makinu" ketches on whjitever was nearest to his hand. " Take a lece of paper, Johnny," Mr. Wyatt would say, "take a lece of paper. We cannot have the tablecloth spoiled." ijohnny" was accordingly handed paper to relieve his jiperlluous energy, and the number of sketches done at [ble, and now in the possession of Mr. Standen (who t 36 JOHN KVERKTT MILLAIS [lii4f, married Mr. Wyatt's i^rancklaut^hter), bears witness to his | ceaseless industry. Here, too, ia 1846 he made the ac(|uaintance of ^Mr. I Drury, of Shoiover, a quaint. l)enevolent old ^endemun, p who loved the fine arts and everythin!^ connected with them, ?i He made a ^reat pet of the younj^ ardst, and insisted on ;l his accompanying- him wherever he went in his pony-can, V >■■' v^-..- :.; •\ KMll.V .AHI.I.AIS (Ai-iKi;\VAuns Mhs. Wali.ack). C/n. 1844 for beino- a hui^e man and a martyr to gout he could ii' move without his "trap." Nothing- could exceed his kiii' ness to Millais. He gave him a gun, and allowed hi: to shoot over his property and to make the place his hoiivj whenever he cared to come. There are e'.ev(;ral sketches 1 Millais of old Mr. Drurv and himself taking their toed!' together — done just in a few lines, but (I am told by 1 1"- who saw them at the time) highly characteristic. William Millais tells us somethin<>- of Mr. Drurv aii^ s to lii^ of Mr, ntleman. th them listed on onv-cari, 1846: MR. DRURY P his !)cculiar wavs. He savs, •' Mv brotiier often went to sta\ at Shotover Pari<. and on one occasion I was invited there too for a f >rurv arj TrrLE-PA(;E ok a ISOOK of POKMS. 184s ^vas informed Ky a stately old butler that ' Master Millais Mas en<4"a.^ed just then with the master.' I entered a f-larlvcned room, where the old invalid could just be seen ■^ittiiin- up in bed with a tallow di|) in one hand and a square M !.;lass in the other. He was moving- the fiame of the :^anil!e all oxer the under side of the creased surface of the lias., which was t^^radually becoming' black with smoke ; on this ^heet of !>iass mv brother had drawn fiirures of aneels in * to t .*»■- ■ft?- 3H JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS [i8|6 i I all positions. I had evicltMUly entered at the supreme mome:u, for our host, catching- si^ht of me, cried out, ' Ah, ah! we've i^ot it ; you are just in time to see the New Jerusalem. Upon examination, there really was a certain fascination about the appearance of this extraordinary ' Kalotype.' as he called it, hut which might more appropriately have been called a 'tallow-type.' " I he dear old man was under the morbid imj)ression that all his relatives wished him dead, so as to inherit his fortune, and for this reason he made a large ' Kalotype ' of the sub- ject, which was most ghastly. I cannot describe it exactly but remember that a coffin occupied the centre of the picture, whilst a regular scrimmage was going on all round. This design was carried out by my brother under his directions. I shall never forget Mr. Drury's kindness to us boys. He completely spoilt us. I used to sing a great deal, and he expressed the greatest delight at listening whilst I accom- panied myself on the organ in the large hall, where the gruesome 'Kalotype' occupied a conspicuous place." In 1847, competition being invited for cartoons for the decoration of Westminster Hall, Millais sent in a huge canvas which he called " The Widow's Mite." Flxcept ' Pizarro," it was the only picture that he ever executed on conventional lines, the figures in shadow being piled and grouped up to the culminating point, where Christ stands against a blaze of light, and addressing Himself to St. John, calls his attention to the woman's act of unselfishness. It was, however, voted " intellectually deficient, lacking the true note of grandeur when Millais was left to himself" This big canvas, which monopolised all ihe available space in his studio and occupied the young artist the greater part of the year, had as competitors the works of older and stronger men of the day — G. F. Watts, Cope, Armitage, Sir John Tenniel, and others ; and I am told by a distinguished artist that " because she [the widow] holds by the hand a littk nude child, it set the critics somewhat against the work. a> displaying such ' bad taste.' " For some years it was ex- hibited in the Pantheon in Oxford Street. Ten feet seven by fourteen feet three was not quite the thing for the "show parlours " of the day, so it was cut up and sold in bit> Mr. Spielmann says that one of these sections is now atj Tynemouth and the other in the United States, but I havej since heard that it was distributed in still smaller pieces. [.8;6 lomem. we "vt iScUeni. :i nation ^'pe.' as /e been ion that fortune. :he sLib- exacth-, picture, ,. This -ections. ^s. He I and he accom- lere the I for the I a huge , Elxcept! 'uted onj ed and I stands i 5t. John, ess. h the true] This! e in his 5 •t of thtj stron2[er| ir Joliii' ed artist! a Httlt? A^ork, aj '% was ex- 1 2t seven m : " show ■ in bits. 1 now at H I have 1 eces. 1 o » 12; 3. E H O O Oi a '•'HI Id V • Cvmn I;\ Mr. M it ihat he ami paint was accon sioii of M The pi( .shdwiiiL;- tl ot the pre ami technii says of it (-iraunhtsmc ot re})r()du I)t'(Mi acqui iiionious ef I his portra tVaine-make tnuj and as 111 the roor * An cxccll( nia.io ill 1830 b' and in 1877) M I'VO SOME EARLY PICTURES 4' • Cymoii and Iphioeiiia" (i)aintc'cl in 1S47) was jnirchased In Mr. Wyatt in 184S, and tlic deak-r was so pk-asod with ii ;hat he asked Millais to come down in the followinj^' \ear ami paint a portrait of hiniseH" and his i^randchikl. This was accordinj^ly done, and the portrait is now in the posses- sion of Mr. James Wyatt.* The picture, '' Grandfather and Chikl," is interestini; as showing" the artist's transition from the technicpie of ''Cymon" ot the previous ytar to the more distinctly Pre-kaphaelit(; r "^. ^ MR. IiKUKV AND MII.I.AIS TAKK IHK .\l\i 1 84 8 and technically correct "Woodman's Daughter." A critic says of it: "The infinite patience and imitative skill in (inuinhtsmanship, the brilliancyof execution, and the power ot reproducii.o- the brightness of sunlight, have nvnifestly Incn acquired before the lesson had been learned of har- monious effect and of subordinating the parts to the whole. This portrait of Mr. Wyatt, the print and picture dealer and Iniine-maker of Oxford, who died in - 1853, is iniilinchingl\- u-iie and as matter-of-fact, despite its character, as the nowers ill the room and in the oarden. or the family china in the (;■■■ It r: J' ~ .\n excellent cojiy of this work, ik)w in the possession of Mr. St.uulen, was made in 1850 by William Millais. Millais also painted Mrs. Wyatt and her child, and in 1877) M'r. James Wyatt. 42 JOHN KVKRKTT MILLAIS [I8|9 case behind him, It has all been set clown with pitiless and remorseless solicitiuh;. The (jnaint little Dutch doll-like child has received the j)aintei-'s most earnest attention, and the head of Mr. VVyatt has been stippled ii|) as carefiill\- as that of Mr. Combe, at Oxford.' Mr. Spielmann's accoimt of the " Cymon " is not (|iiite cor- rect, either as to its subject or its history. As to its subject, it is certainly not a " riotous dance," and its actual history is as follows: In the sprinj:^ of 1S52, when it was still in Mr, Wyatt's possession, Millais saw it and suogested some improvements, which the owner willin(>lv allowed him to carry out. He took it i)ack. therefore, to Gower Street, and bavins^ (as he says in a letter) "repainted the sky and s:\;'\ touched up the ^rass and foliage, draperies and ef- fects," he returned it to Mr. Wyatt in the follow- in"" December. bor its subsequent history I am indebted to a letter from Mr. Standen, the present owner, who says : " When Mr. Wyatt died in 1853, the best of his pictures and effects vv^ere sold ai Chrisne's on July 4th, 1853, your father's picture of 'Cymon' figuring; largely in the catalogue. Mr. George Wyatt. the second son, bought it for himself, and gave 350 guineas for it. The picture was then taken to Newport, 'sle of Wiglu, where he lived, and it remained there unseen till he died, in 1892. He left it to me by his will, together with many other interestin'ivin_L; at the R.A. in 1S38. 1 JK^re was much speculation amongst the students as to who would oain the yold medal for a series of drawings from the antique, and it was oenerally considered that a man, thirtv vears of aije, named Fox, would be the successful competitor. All \oices were hushed when Mr. Jones mounted *:he steps and read out the name of 43 V I I. 44 JOHN I':VKKiaT MILLAIS 1048- Idlin I'".\cr(Hl Mill;iis. Iininciisc chccrinjL; followctl, an. I little Millais w.is iil'lcd ii|) at the hack of the aiKlitoriuiii and carried on the shoulders ot the stiid(;nts to the recei\in,L; d .k. l"'o.\, who only j^ot the third prize, refiised In ^ct ii|) when his name was called ; hut the CHII.KKOOh. i3^5 ^()l'TII. r845 HUUlents would not allow this : they made him <^o up aiul receive his medal." L.ater on Mr. iiolman Hunt, who. thouj^h he had work* tl very hard, had failed to ^et into the Royal Academy, wis drawini;' one day in the h^ast Room h)- himself. "Suddenh, said he, "the doors opened, and a cLU'ly-headed latl came in and be^an skipping' about the ntom ; by-and-by he IM drawii^L;. Millais, who of course it was, turned round II 'f:^f-,U^-^-^l MWIIOOD. 1845 i: V .\(iK. 1845 ai (I \'ork( li y, w IS Jenh , came bv he sii'IdenK and said, 'Oli, 1 sa\ , you're the chap that was workinir in No. 12 the other day. ^'ou ou^ht to be in the Academy,' ■'I his led to a lon<>" talk, ckrin^' which Millais said that H' was much struck by the d^awinLi- which he had seen 111 working al, and that there was not the least doubt that it a drawing" or two like that were shown for probationer- 46 fonN i-VKRirrr millais [184H ship, I should he iuhniucd at oiuh'. When I asked whai he th()ii_L;lu was die best way of doiiii; the dravviii^s, hi- rt:|)li('d, 'Oh, I always do iiiiiu' in Hue and slum|), altlioui^h it isn't conventional,' " After this the two ln)\s fell into a discussion on the conventi )nalily and pedantry of art as displayed in the painting;; of the da\ . and it was (evident that in both their minds had sprun_n; up a sens(; of dissatisfaction and the idea of rejecting' what they considered to be false and stunted. A year went by. Mr. Ilunt was adniittc^d to the Royal Academy, and then had frecpient opportunitit;s for talking to his fri(MKl Millais. One eveniiijn", some two years later, it came out in the course of conversation that while Millais was paintinj4" tht; " Pi/arro." already referred to, Mr. Himt was enj^a.Lieil at home on a picture for i!\hibition at the liritish Institution — a notable incident as marking;- the first occasion on which either artist painted a picture for exhibition. Another year passed, and the youn_<>- artists were in the full swinj4' of their work, Mr. Hunt |)aintin<4 hprd at his " Por- phyro," and Millais at "Cymon and Iphinenia," a |)icturc in which he seems to have been much intluenced b\ I'^tty, the only man of tht; old school whom he really admired. After one of their many talks on orii^inality in art, or rather the absence of it at that time, Millais said to Mr. Hunt, " It is quite impossible to t^et our pictm^es done in time for the Royal Academy, unless we sit up and work all nij^ht in the last week Let us paint together in my studio, anil then we can encourage each other and talk over our ambitions." This was agreed upon, and from that time the two bo)s bei^an to study side by side. How tremendously in earnest they were may be gathered from the fact that it was no un- common thini4" for them to work on far into the niL»ht, sometimes even till four or five in the mornino- ; this, too, night after night till the sending-in diiy. There are always some parts of a jjicture that an artist hates doing. After a month or two Millais got quite sick of painting the draperies of the girls in his picture ; so one evening he turned to hi.^- companion and said, " If you will do some of these beastly draperies for me, I '11 paint a head or two in your '/icture for you " an offer that was at once accepted. In this way the\' relieved each other upon occasion, and it is curious to notice how alike their work was in those davs ; so much so, that when Hunt examined ^fwlM* yK/ <>-i. ^PPPP!^*Wf* ■ -^ t^iK \/ ■;■■' ■ I8i.] th( nicture distint'Liish 1 1 was f eiiL^endered the determi of art and the idol of altogether f this, and h falsity of 1 times for e rejectinir th his footstep: would o-Q tc that others \ conventionaj term " Pre-j " Each for tl Shall draw " It was 1 Holman Hu a style of a vention : thi; was already in time, wo declared his to be some fact some w such as Will " Meanwh jgot over the our art ' p^lar time after oi term would [I went on t( Raphaelites,' I in frr-quent a jopinions abc jstalv. He t |co-o! deration Ition hy addi I' 1^1" herhood I.-4 i85.] PRE-RAPHAELITISM 49 th( picture in the Millais Exhibition of 1898 he could not disiingLiish the j)cirts he had painted. It was from these evening" SiVi/iccs, and the confidence engendered by the free interchange of thought, that sprang the determination of these youths to leave the beaten track of art and strike out a new line for themselves. Raphael, the idol of the art world, they dared to think, was not altogether free from imperfections. His Cartoons showed this, and his " Transhguration " still further betrayed the falsity of his methods. They must go back to earlier times for examples of sound and satisfactory work, and, rejecting the teaching of the day that blindly followed in his footsteps, must take Nature as their only guide. '1 /ley would go to her, and her alone, for inspiration ; and, hoping that others would be tempted to join in their crusade against conventionality, they selected as thc^ir distinctive title the term " Pre-Raphaelites." " Ivich for the joy of the working, and each in his separate star, Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the Clod of 'I'hings as They Are." "It was in the beginning of the year 1848," says Mr. Holman Hunt, "that your father and 1 determined to adopt a style of absolute independence as to art-dogma and con- vention : this zae called ' Pre-Raphaelitism.' I), (i. Rossetti was already my pupil, and it seemed certain that he also, in liuie, would work on the same [jrinciples. He had declared his intention of doing so, and there was beginning t') be some talk of other artists joining us, although in tact some were only in the most primitive stages of art, such as William Rossetti, who was not even a student. " Meanwhile, D. G, Rossetti, himself a beginner, had not ■^ox. over the habit (acquired from Madox Brown) of calling our art ' Early Christian ' ; so one day, in my studio, some time after our first meeting, I protested, saying that the term would confuse us with the German Ouattro Centists, I v.('nt on to convince him that our real name was ' Pre- Raphaelites,' a name which we had already so far revealed in ti'ciuent argument that we had been taunted as holding "pinM)ns abominable enough to deserve burning; at the stak . He thereupon, with a pet scheme of an extended co-o-cration still in miiul, amended my previous sugges- tion l)v addinu" to our titU; of 'Pre-Raphaelite the word )t' herhood.' " I.- 4 'f"^- ti... V v. 50 JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS [184. Hunt, it should l)c explained, first met Rossetti in the Royal Academy schools, where as fellow-students they occasionally talked together. Rossetti, however, was an intermittent attendant rather than a methodical student, and presently, wearying' of the work, he gave it up and took to literature, hopino' to make a living by his pen. H';re again he was disappointed. His poems, charming as many of them were, did not meet with the wide acceptance he had hoped for. and in a fit of desnondencv he came to Hunt and beci^ied him to take him into his studio. Hut Holman Hunt could not do this — he was far too busy working for a livelihood, with little time to spare for the indulgence of his own taste as an artist ; but he laid down a plan of work to be followed by Rossetti in his own home, and promised to visit him there and give him all the helj) he could. Not satisfied with this, Rossetti betook himself to Madox Brown, whose style of painting he admired, and who, he hoped, would teach him the technicalities of his art, while allowing him free play in all his fancies. Madox Brown, however, had been through the mill himself and knew there was no short cut to success. So, much to the disgust of Rossetti, he set him to paint studies of still-life, such as pots, jugs. etc. I3y-and-b\' this became intolerable to a man of Rossetti's temperament, so he once more returned to Hunt, and begged him to take compassion on him ; and at last, moved by his appeal. Hunt consented. These are Hunt's words on the subject: "When D. G. Rossetti came to me he talked about his hopes and ideals, l| or rather his despair, at ever being able to paint. I, hovv- e\'er, encouraged him, and told him of the compact that Millais and I had made, and the confidence others had in our svstem. Rossetti was a man who enthusiasticallv took up an idea, and he went about disseminating our programme as (^ne to be carried out by numbers. He [1 offered himself first, as he knew that Millais had admired [f his pen-and-ink drawings. He then suggested as converts || Collinson, his own brother William, who intended to take!:| up art, and Woolner, the sculptor Stephens should alsi' be tried, and it struck him that others who had never dom | anything yet to prove their fitness for art reformation, m even for art at all, were to be taken on trust. Your f^uher | then invited us all to spend the evening, in his studio, wlier* I he showed us engraxings from the Campo Santo, and o'ln 1.^;::] PRE-R AP H APXITISM 1 1 sdinewhat archaic designs. These being admired much by the new candidates, we agreed that it might be safe to accept tlic additional four members on probation ; l)ut, in fact, it rc.iilv never came to anything." The first meeting, at which terms of co-operation were seriously discussed, was held on a certain night in 1S48, ;it Millais' home in Gower Street, where the voung artist exhibited, as examples of sound work, some volumes of engravings from the frescoes of Benozzo Gozzoli, Orcagua, and others now in the Campo Santo at Pisa. " Now, look_ here, ' said Millais, speaking for himself and Hunt, who were both jealous of others joining them without a distinct understanding of their object, " this is what the Pre-Raphaelite clique should follow." The idea was eagerly taken up, and then, or shortly afterwards, William Rossetti, Woolner, V. G. Stephens (now an Art critic), and James Collin- son joined the Brotherhood -the P.-R. B., as it was now called. Arthur Hughes, Prederic Sandys, Noel Paton, Charles Collins, and Walter Deverell also sympathised with their aims, and were more or less working on the same lines. Coventry Patmore, the poet, although ill close association with many of the Brotherhood, was not himself a mem- ber, as the association was strictly limited to working artists. Writing on this subject in the Lontemporary Review of May, 1880, Mr. Holman Hunt says : " Outside of the enrolled body [the P.-R. B.] were several artists of real calibre and en- thusiasm, v/ho were workinof diligentlv with our views guiding them. W. H, Deverell, Charles Collins, and Arthur Hughes may be named. It was a question whether an\ of them should be elected. It was already evident thai to have authority to put the mystic monogram upon Pkncii. Design for I'kK-RAI'HAKI.ITK KTC:H1N(; IiUeildcil for The Ciriii, 1^49 iy**! !..f p V: V 52 JOHN EVERETT iVlILLAIS 1 84;- their paintings could confer no benefit on men striving to earn a jx^sition. We (jurselves even determined for a time to discontinue the lloatin<>- of this red ras*^ before the e\ :;s of infuriated John Hull, and vve decided it was better to let our converts be kn;)vvn only by their works, and so nominally Pre-Raphaelitism ceased to be. We agreed to resume the open profession of it later, but the time had not yet come. 1 often read in print that I am now the only Pre-Raphaelite; yet 1 can't use the distinguishing letters, for I have no I^rotherhood." And now perhaps I may as well give my father's version of the matter as gathered from his own lips in 1896, the year when he was elected as President of the Royal Academy. At that time the papers, of course, had much to say iibout his art life ; and, finding that some of them referred pointedly to 1). G, Rossetti's influence on the style and character of his work, I asked him to tc^ll me exactly what were his relations with Rossetti, and how far these comments were correct. "I doubt very much," he said, "whether any man ever gets die credit of being quite square and above-board about his life and work. The public are like sheep. They follow each other in admiring what they don't understand [ Ouine ioiiotuui pro maonijico], and rarely take a man at v.hat hv. is worth. If you affect a mysterious air, and 't clever enough to conceal your ignorance, you stand a fair chance of being taken for a wiser man than you are ; b it if you talk frankly and freely of yourself and your work, as you know I do, the odds are that any silly rumour you may fail to contradict will be accepted as true. That is just what has happened to me. The papers are good enough to speak of me as a typical English artist ; but because in my early days I saw a good deal of Rossetti — the mysterious and — ^ un-English Rossetti -they assume that my Pre-Raphaelite impulses in pursuit of light and truth were due to him. All nonsense! My pictures would have been exactly the same if I had never seen or heard of Rossetti. I liked him very much when we first met, believing him to be (as perhaj)s he was) sincere in his desire to further our aims- Hunt's and mine — but I always liked his brother Willi im much better. D. (i. Rossetti, you must understand, was a queet- fellow, and impossible as a boon companion — so dogmatic and so irritable when opposed. His aims ;nd 'JX/V :Sk ^5s1tS^^.»^-|^'" ■^. .'^, ?** ' .1 itJeals in j iMt long 1 pi'Ciiliar U siibsequen original, a not Natun the vouno; Rossettian ' And this, of the SOI present oi production of their vv "The o siiowing' V ' IsaJjella,' out in accc he was kin - whom I my intimat I am speal composed had to sa\ his suo-_o-es constantly ^ The irk Kossetti la: 1.S52 to 18' came into inj^s came observation U'orh (i8c and the be but it may i c;m be don nicnts of tl- — in many l)ination of His is the Dante Ro.s <»! him, and \V( re on tr <)t Mr. \Vi i;::] PRK-RAPHAELITISM 55 ideals in art were also widely cliffcrtMit from ours, and it was not long before he drifted away from us to fcillow his own peculiar fancies. What they were may be seen from his subsequent works. They were hijuhly imaginative and original, and not without elements of beauty, but they were not Nature. At last, when he presented for our admiration the vounsr women which have since become the tvpe of Rossettianism, the public opened their eyes in amazement. And this,' they said, 'is Pre-Raphaelitism ! ' it was nothing (if the sort. The Pre-Raphaelites had but one idea — to present on canvas what they saw in Nature ; and such productions as these were absolutely foreign to the spirit of their work. "The only one of my pictures that I can think of as ,^ showing what is called the influence of Rossetti is the JTi • Isabella,' in which some of the vestments were worked out in accordance with a book of mediaeval costumes which he was kind enough to lend me. It was Hunt— not Rossetti whom I habituallv consulted in case of duubt. He was my intimate friend and companion ; and though, at the time 1 am speaking of, all my religious subjects were chosen and composed by myself, 1 was always glad to hear what he had to say about them, and not infrequently to act uj)on his suggestions. We were working" together then, and constantly criticised each other's pictures." The friendly intercourse between Millais and D. G. Rossetti lasted but four years, from 1848 to 1852. From 1S52 to 1854 they met occasionally, but alter that they rarely came into contact, and in 1856 even these casual meet- ings came to an end. One reads then with a smile such oljservations as this in Mr. .Spielmann's Millais and his Works (1898) :— "This is no time to examine the principles and the bearings of this olt-discussed missii^n of eclectics ; l)iil it may at least be pointed out how clear a proof of what can be done by co-operation, even in art, arc the achieve- ments of the school. Millais' great pictures of that period — in many qualities really great — are certainly the com- hination of the influence of ct!iers' [)owers besides his own. His is the wonderful execution, the brilliant drawing; but n;uite Rossetti's j)erfervid imagination was on one side ot him, and Holman Hunt's powerful intellect and resolution were on tne other ; whi^e, perhaps, the analytical mind <>l Mr. William Rossetti and the L.erarv outlook of Mr. 4.. 56 JOHN KVHRKTT MILLAIS [184 V. i'l. Stephens were not without inlluciice iijK)n his wor ;. In a few short years these sLijJoorts were \vithch"awn fron Miilais" art. in which we find the execution still, dn/ lulicir at least in the same da^ree —the iutel/eet oi- the iniai^i nation ." The "supports," as Mr. .S|)i(;lmann calls them, never exist ed; and as to " inf-llect ' antl "' imagination." is there nothing; ot these in " I'Crdinand liiretl by Ariel."' "Mariana," "The lilind Girl." " Ll'^-nfant dii i' Oh th. V.ad'n-'v walls. The " Hu''uenol." too. and the "Ophelia we/ seen but once by him when Jic paintini^s were in [)rocess, and that was at Worcester Pari< Farm, when he and Madox Brown called and expressed their approval. Ami now I leave it to my readers to say whether the "Isabella" (the only pure media-val subject) surpasses in point of design, execution, or sentiment such of Milla;;, later works as "The Rescue," " 1 he Order ot Release," " The Proscribed Royalist," or fifty others that could he named. My father hated hmnbuo- ; and if R(jssetti had been the ouidini^- spirit of his works, as certain critics represent, he would have been the first to acknowledge it.* It was tlie poetry of Nature that appealed to him the love, hope, sweetness, and purity that he found there — and it was the passionate desire to express what he felt so deeply that spurretl him on from the beginning to the end of his art life. The distinguishing characteristics of Pre - Raphaelite workers are well set forth bv Mr. Kennedv in a recent article in that excellent magazine 7 he Artist. He says, "The three chief members of the Pre-Raphaelite Brother- hood — Rossetti, Miilais, and Holman Hunt — were men ot personalities and endowments that were striking in the extreme — born makers of epochs, men who, whatever the vocation that thev had elected to follow, would undoubtedly have left shaping traces of their individualities upon it. " And, to set themselves to work in triple harness, they were a tri(^ of a singular diversity of aims and of gifts ; one may add of destinies. Quite extraordinary was the dis- sir.iilarity l:)etween the kinds of success attained by each ot ihem. Miilais trod swiftly and straightly the path of popular * It is a significant fact that in my fathers letters of tliis period (1S49-1853). the name of I), ("i. Rossetti is hardly ever mentioned. i s;2 PRi:-R \PH.\i';iJTisM 57 !|)j)r()buti()n and acaclcinic lioiioiirs, c-iiliniiiatin<4' tliialK in he hiiiliL'St (li"'nitv thai the Roval Acaclc-in\- has to bestow. KossL'tti atul lloh'Mii Iliint at'tcr the first, held theinseU'es comjjleteiy alool from the Academy and all its works. eir tames in all else, rkiii*'' life Knssetti's ,lil vlike in thi low diffe ren were ih )iiring the larger portion o f hi wo ac idvements in |)aiiU ni; w ere absokiteK undreametl of In' the larger ))"Mic, were accessible only s|)ars(l\ ami with (lif.iCLilly to his admirers e\H;n outside of a limited circle of patrons and j)rivate friends. To a j^ooil many. 1 fancy. Mr. Swinl)Lirne's Notes ii scnhim amonu's t oth ers. pon Sand th( \ s" catKMin o Med ea I" iS6s, (1< nd 1 Lilith. contained th( first intimation thai Ros I. the other hand, had at one time a jjopiilar vojli ■ ;'l ;!s L;rt:al as thai of .Millais, and his painted v "k ' > (inoiions and enthusiasms of a more decided de t« pon asl ited ' ilensii)-. memories can i)t; made to cxi' nd back to the period when 'The Finding" of our Sa\ . r in the Temple ' was beini;" exhibited in the provinces, will recall the \'i\'idness of the im[)ression that it made upon the r('liL,n(nis public of its day. . . . The\" found in Holman Fiunts paintings something of a re\elation. Its obvious sincerity, its intensity of conviction, its determined realisa- tion of the scene in e\ery minutest detail of its setting, affected profoundly all who were cai)able of being deeply stirred by the subject depicted. " Millais was gifted with a sense of sight of crystalline clear- ness to which Nature made a perpetual aiul brilliant aj)peal ; iic had a hand that, even in childhood, was singularly skilful to record the impressions of the eye. And his hand had been severely trained, first by the prescribed academic methods, and later l)y the minutely elaborate labour of his Pn-Raphaelite work, until it set down facts almost with the tacilitv with which the eve ijerceived them. What, then, was Millais the Pre-Raphaelite doing in that particular oa/ar ? How came this straightforward depictor of what he saw before him to link himself with idealists and dreamers of dreams.'^ It was probably the earnestness and the devotion to the nature of the movement that attracted the youthful Millais, and also the scoj)e that its conscientious mi'uiteness of finish afforded him for the display of his even tht n astonishing technical powers." If J I, .^ :>^fi-'w 5S JOHN KVKRKTT MILLAIS [l8^« As to k()ss(,'tti. the fact is lit: was ncv(T a Pre-kapliaclii at licarl. Iliinscit" a man of jurcat orii^inalitN'. and a frt-t thinker in matters of Art. he was captixated Ijy the indt |)endent s|)irit of the Hrotlierliood, and reathK' cast in his lot with tliem. Hut it was onlv for a time. \\\ dc'rees their m(;th()ds j)alled njjon his taste-, and not caring' any lonjijer to n|)hold them hefort; the j)iil)h'c, he broke away from his old associates, determined to follow the peculiar hent of his l^enius, which tani^ht him no/ to t;"o to Nature for his inspira- tions, hut to follow rather the Mights of his own fancy. Ills subse{|uent career is sufficient evidence of that. Only two v/4^'Sw PRKRAPHAKMIK SKKTCH. 1850. Prob.iljly the artist's liist idea "f "Apple lilossom.s " I I years after he first joined the Hrotherhood, Mr, Hunt, who taught him all the teciinique he ever knew, got him to come down to Knole to paint a background straight from Nature whilst he overlooked and helped him. After two days, how- ever, Rossetti was heartily sick of Nature, and bolted back to London and its artificial life. In course of time the instruction he had received from Hunt began to bear fruit- one sees this in his picture called " The Girlhood of the Virgin " — and with further practice his art improved rapidly, and continued to do so as years went on. The great mistake that nearly all the critics make is in confounding Rossetti's later work, which is imaginati c. sincere, and entirely of his own conception, with his Pa- dksk; s))ira His who CDllK' Natl Iff how- ack t(t fr( nil called iract'cc years is in nati •(-'. IS P'x- Cr DKSIGN OK A PICTURK OI' "THK CAM KK IIUKV PI l.(a." 1S50 I ipliaclii . II his I V hii'li th( « iiircly (I Ills since l.iluard \ p.irtialK' c Millais.' h, ntiiscd to «»t llieir alj l<'ss of vvhi tlic rij^lit n Ik- had mai Uesidc's liav(j it f'"o was never Mr. Ruskii of the Pn imiltitude .• I»'-()ves no I ■'I 'proved w Probably "II his ow: criticisms w 'aiih in bin" i^letcrniinino own or that ''finished al ^'hance his f f'> Max No 'iiu! movino- •h' indionaiii next dav, b 5-1 PRK-KAIMf M-MTISM 61 I inliaclitc work, ot uliicli he rr;ill\ diil vjtv lilllc. Tlicv 1 . . . . . . / . . • . . . -. lis |tuiiir('s siiiM as La li a inaiin, 1 roscrpiMc w \'ciuis X'crtiiorilia," " I )aiiU' and hcairicc." Prc-Uapliaclitc. hich they arc not in the very least. They hcKniu; l<> an entirely ilifforcni school, whicii he hinisell" lonnded. and which has since had such able exponents as Mr. .Si'-iidwick and .Sir h.d ward W urne |on es. .\ common mistake that critics make is in assinninLj' that the Pre Kaphaelile movement owed its orii^in to .Mr. Ruskin. Amonj^st other writers on the suhject is Max Xordau. and his statenuMits are for th le most part entn't ly wron''. H. allrihutes the orij^in of the IJrolherhood to the teachini^s of Kuskin, hut llolman llunt and .Millais were l*re-Raphaelit(;s hcl ore Ruski was "' ■ood )r had m a picture, whether his own or that of another artist. When his work was done he l)aiiished all thought of it as far as possible, and whi 0, by chance his friend Dr. Urquhart, of Perth, called his attention to Max Nordau's stJitement that Ruskin was the ori-uiator nil! moving spirit of" the Pre-Ra|)haelites in their early davs, lU' 'iKli«j"nan tlv d eniec 1 it iftei th( UKl. alter reading the passages the I day, he wrote to Mrs. Urquhart a letter in which he cl! tj 62 yOHN KVKRKTT MILLAIS [iS4« f>-cive a roiin'h hision- of l^rc-Kaphac^litism. im\ characterised Nortlau's remarks as "• twacklliiiL;' riil)bish on a subject of which he knows absohitely nothinn". " Mr. Riiskin held that Art shoiikl be a i^rt at moral teacher, with religion as its basis and mainspring'; but Millais, while at^reeinL;" with much of tiiat critic's writings,* was n(;ver (juilc at one with liim on this point. He certain!) held that Art should have a j^reat and abiding" purj)Ose. i^ivint;" all its strength to the beautifyinj^^ or ennoblement of whatever subject it touched, either sacred or secular ; but thoui^h himself at heart a trul\- religious man. he could not harp on one strino- alone, nor would his impulsive orit^inalitw absolute!)' untrammelled !)y the opinions of others, allow him to paint pictures in whicli he had no heart at the dictation of an)' man, howexer (Miiinent. Holman Hunt, too, painted his religious pi^-tures on the Ruskin lines really as the outcome of the hit^h ideals he had set up for himself from the outset. " Truth and the free field of unadulterated Nature" was the motto of these oriirinators. As Pope savs, thev "looked throu<>'h Nature up to Nature's (jod,' beinj;' sincere in their art, and reso- lutelv determined to pursue it to its highest ends. In sa\ino' this I bv no means lose bi^ht of the fact that the Pre-Raphaelites one and allowed much to Mr. Ruskin for his cham])ionship of their cause when he came to the know- ledge of what thev were strivini>" to achieve. With an elo- quence to which probably no ecjual can be found in the annals of art criticism, he explained to an unsympathetic public the aim and objects of the IVotherhood, and it ^oes without savinii" that thev were hii^i'hlv 'gratified bv his championship. When too, later on, he turned round and abused some ot Millais' best works as heartily as he had praised some others, the circumstance was regarded by Millais amongst others as merelv (jne of the inconsistencies into which genius is ai;t to fall. No one ever doubted the sinceritv of his motive. He expressed only what he beliexed to be right, and in so far as he was wrong he helped rather than injured the painter's fame. Before the Brotherhood was formally constituted, another association, called ''The Cyclographic Club," came iiuo existence, its object being to establish and circulate amongst * Millais kiK".\ notliiiiL appc^iic'd in llic Times. )f Ruskin's \\ritin>js until 1851, when a k'tter of hi' ^^M 1848 rised :t of chcr, ([uitc t Art II its tever iouL;h harp Kility. allow Lt the III tin- lis he id tlu: these si at Lire , reso- ;t that <.in tor :no\v- Lii clo- anrials )ublic thoui bnshii). Imc ot )thers, others liius is liotive. luui 111 ■tl HH' Inotber irto kioii^si _•!■ of 111- y. H- o ■•? J i ii ■<^ **-.. .852] ■he iiicm member ii this s " In coniiec members ol I'ooms at C ■* Mr. Holm; "I'liiluisiasm" f Some of the di ;>"y nicctiii}^-, aiK seccdud, bccaiis( ^ ^ This, I til '^^53- when the C thinking „f (1,^^^ ^ '•-5 i8;: PRK-RAFHAKLITISM (^5 Aw. members ;i kiiul of portlolio of art and criticism. F.acli mcmher luul to c. ntrilnite once a month a Ijiack-antl-vvhite rlrawini^", on th" hack of which the other meml)ers were lo write critic[iies. This clul). if it ma\' be so called, was toiiiKletl by X. K. (ireeii. iUirchell. antl Deverell, and was afterwards joined b\ Millais, Hunt, Rossetti, and Arthur I lushes. In a contribution to 'f/zc- f.clttrs of /). G. Rossctti lo W'l/liaiu Alliiii^liaiu Mr. Hughes says, ''Millais, who was the only man amouL^st us who had an\' mone\', provided a nice tureen i)ortf()li() with a lock in which to keep the (Irawinj^s. Millais did his drawing", antl on(! or two others (lid theirs. Then the "Folio' came to Rossetti, where it >»►"■»-> l>ki;.k.\l'HAKI,ITK |IRA\VIN(; TOR HIS "OKRM." (Not used) Stuck for ever. It never reached me. According to his wont, he (Rossetti) had at first been most enthusiastic over the scheme, and had so iufcclcd Millais wilh liis cutliusiasiu that he had at once ordered the case."'* On this subject Mr. Mughes sends n"'.e the following note : "In connection with the circulating folio for designs, a few nicinbers of th(.' Brotherhood met one evening at Rossetti's looms at Chatham Place+ — Rossetti, Deverell, and myself - ^ Mr. Flolniaii Hunt says his "influence"' is purely imaginary. Millais had the "fnilm^iasm " for desij^ns in ])en-an(l-ink, and liked to see what others did. Sdine of the diawings were in colour. He adds, " I don"t think we ever had aiiN nieetinj^-, and after about four perej^rinations we (Millais, Hunt, and Rossctti) ■^t>i(lL'd, becaust' the contributions were so ])oor and the portfolio ne\er arrixed." *• This, I think, is a mistake, as Rossetti did not g" t<> Chatham I'lace till iiSf". when the C^yclograjihic Club had ceased to exist. Perhaps Mr. iluj^hes was thii'kiny of the club which I.a.dy Waterford and K. \'. 15. tried to organise. I.— ^ y- . 66 JOHN KVKRETT MILLAIS [1848 and one other, perhaps, l)iit I cannot remember. When Millais came in he asked if the folio had arrived from him. \'es, there it was. I'hen if Madox Brown had a^rc-ed in join, and Rossetti told him that he resisted all jxtrsiiasion, and would not. ' What a peevish okl chap he is ! ' cricnl Millais. A little later he noticed that Deverell was smokini^ a cij^arette, and earnestly exhorted him to L;i\e it up Don't, Deverell, don't take to smoki nu It IS trifif htfulh injurious, it palls the faculties.' He himself succumbet ater on The Brotherhood, it may be mentioned, neither smoked. drank, nor swore, and that at a period when, as Thackerax has sh'.>wn us. all Bohemia was saturated with tobacco, spirits, and (piaint oaths. Millais, however, after attaining his "artistic puberty,' as he called it. came to rei^ard the pipe of peace as a friend and consoler when (as he some- times was) wijll-niL^h distrauL^ht with his work. Out of the .seven Pre-Raj)haelit(; lirothers five were ocxkI men with their pens, and the i^)rotherhood bein^' ea^er to defend the position they had taken up, were only too i^lad when, in 1849, it wa., proj)osed to start a magazine in support of their common creed. In the autumn of that year they met together in Mr. Hunt's room, in Cleveland .Street, to irran^c preliminaries with a view to early publication, when various plans and names tor the magazine were discus.sed and at last, on the suggestion of .Mr. William Ca\e I homas, it was decided to call it 7Vic Germ. Arrangements were then made with a pul)lisher, pens and j)encils were set agoing, and in 1S49 the first number of t!ie j)eriodical appeared in print. Millais' share in this seems to have been limited to two or three illustrations, which are now in my possession. He took, however, a great interest in the work, and subsequently wrote a complcif story for publication; but, alas I before the time for thi.'- arrived the magazine came to an end for lack of funds to keep it alive. Onl)' four numbers ever appeared, antl these are now so scaicc that at a recent sale by auction a complete set fetched ^100. 1 give here an illustration that was done 1>} Mijiais for (mv of Rossetti's stories in this pa[)er, but it was nevc:!' p Ll bli iieci. In the Idler of March, 1S9S. Mr. I^rnest Radford \ IS :ome interestir.Li" notes on The (icr 111 ih organ < was edi in' a A was ch? place 01 illustrati i)\- the Brown, Woo] net "who n 'tched o Intomleil draui (; respirat( ry ^^as to ha poem ha\- I fanc\ , a He als( a!)peared ■SO long. kiHght is i a moated swears to lovers sigh nu'eting til * It was I ''''■•'11 also tool. I S3: PRK-RAPHAKLITISM 67 ort^'an ot tlu- llrcthrcn,"''^ as he huinoroiislx calls it. It was edited, he tells us. h) Mr. W. M. R'...-,setti, and printed hy a Mr, (i. V. Tiipijer, on whose sui^Lit'stion the title was charii^'ed in the third niimher to the more common- place one of .!/■/ and Poclry ; and, besides main' valuable illustrations, it com])rised contributions in prose anil poetry i)\ the Rossettis (Christina and her two brothers), .Madox l>rown, V. ( "i. .Stephens, Coventrx' I'atmore, Thomas Woollier, antl various smaller li'>hts. .Millais, he savs, "who never practised an art without mastering' it . . . etched one plate in illustration of a poem b\- Rossetti, which UK AW i.\(; IN ri-.NcMi. Intciulc-cl iM illuslnilL- a ^toiy In 1 1. ('■. l\o,^L-lli in tlie liftli iuMnln;r of '/7tc (,, • I'lii diMuini; .\lill:iis aftcrwariK uiclml, and a feu ( opii--, .if tin- |)kilu mi: in t'\i was to have graced the fifth number," but both i ino" and poem have disapjjeared. 'Idle drawing- for the ■ ichinn' '^' I fancy, amongst those in my possession. He also wrote a story for the pajier. which )uld have appeared in the fifth nuirber had the period, al survi\-ed so lono". The followinu" is a brief outline? of tht- tale : A knight is in love with the daughter of ;i kini^- who lived in a moated castle. His affection is returned, but the kinn" swears to kill him if he attemj)ts to see his lady-love. The lovers sii^h for each other, but there is no opportunity for nieetinu" till the winter comes and the moat is lr,i,en over. * It was nut of the " nrctlircn " only, otlicrs who were in syinpatliy witli tluni a!.so took part in the pubMeation. JOHN K\^ERKTr MILLAIS [uS4S-i Vhv 1 WOoliU'i Ariel" lliss.ile IctttTS t( "Tlic W mouse artist's (1( I'iUISC M \\A haled I^ subject storv : — All the iind reiatii hrother) Sc ■''It for th( l^ossetti s ''i'l'lt' ; ant di-iiikino- fi IxK kino- til ar iiitcci ; ; ' snj)po.setl t' watch 1 niAPTHR III. • I.iirc'iizo ;nul Isahilla" A prime joke •'Christ in tlic lionu' of His j)aicnts'' IliL' oiislauglit of tlic critiis Cliailcs Dirkciis unfavoiiiabli' Millais at work TliL' nc'\\si)ap(.Ms send liini to Australia I'lic I'.K.I'i. draw cacli other for \V(X)hier- The bricklayer's opinion I'heekisixe luij^j^et ' l'"i'r(hnand lured by Ariel" The ultra-cautious dcalcrMillais at the theatre painting; portraits His sale of "Ferdinand" Mr. Stephens tells of his sittings for " Ferdinand's" head— Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Combe Tlieir kindness to Millais — Millais' letters to the Combes His life in London The Collins family Fetters aliout "The Woodman's Dauj^hter" and "The Flood ' "Mariana"' .\n obliging mouse -"The Woodman's Daughter" William Millais on the |)ictiMX' The artist's devotion to truth Kuskin on the i're-Kapiiaelite^ He champions their cause- His imreliabilit}' as a critic. <#<•••> •»« \l ILLAI.S' first \)\' an xossetti IS -.ec par n at the vA\d of the table tlrinkino- from a Ioiil;" ,L;lass ; whilst the brother. sj)itefully ^ickino- the dot m tlu-' toreorotim w as Mr. Wright, a n hitect ; and a student named Harris. Mr. \\ (i. .Stephens sLip})osed to have sat for the he.iil which apj)ears between t: e watchiivj br roth er aiut his winc'iass ami a stiidcMit 05 70 JOHN KVKRKir MILLAIS [1S4S named I'lass stood lor the scr\ Ihl; - man. I'oor Walter 1 )('\('r('ll is also there Millais planned this work as late as Xo\cmher, 1S4S, and carried it on, as Mr. llolman llnnt says, "at a i)aee heyond all calenlation," prothicinL; in the enil "the most wonderhil picture in the world foi' a lad ol t\\cnt\-." I. D.'.NTK i..\r.Kii:i. i<()»i-.i n Miuly for " I .oiv-nzo and l-alitlla.' 134S And now let us see what the critics hac' to sa\- about it. Frasej's Maoaziiic of July. 1 849, was, lo say the least, encom'ai^ini^' ; witness the toliowini; criticjue : " Amoni^ the multitude of minor j)ictures ill the Academy, nearly all 'it which, we are hoinul to sa\', exhibit more than an averaie deoTcc of excellence, one stands out distin^^uished from the rest. It is the work of a NoimLl' artist nametl Millais. who^e m,: I :m ui ;i. .- tic ,11 -f .Til'. V 1 tl^C ho- K S o - o ? ^i^w* S4.;| II line we Is taken ' Isahclla. i^ s[K;akii MCSS of (K; lu-r hrotlK <'i the br front, arc .iititiulc () Isahc'lla's [Mcturc is Madox] I Iiil)itin_t4- I' piclcrcncc ill the pict I 'leak thro And Mr ('njsvcnor " l'lv(:r\ d( ilcsh. all tl (■\<|iiisitely sl^ill, and ii <»l jjainters since the ( ciijles of vvi '-!nl not stL •^lillais in tl '^c lar as th^ Hunt's com h(\ond coir tile hands ii l)Ut the ( •'^idcrable di simply silei til'' niajorit rt-'^ardino- i beaten trad. foiiviction, '^y the oe only surpass vvliich was e y^iul their c( .!^r^:eted it w uH4yl LORHNZO AND ISAHHIJ A" 7} name we do not rt-im'inlx'r to have seen hcfon*. Tlic siil)jcct is taken Iroin Keats' ([n.iint, ehariiiin|n' ami pathetic ])()ein, ■ Isabella.' Ihr whole lainiK are sealed at a table ; l.oreii/o is s|)eal\iii|4 with liinid adoration to Isabella, the consi'ions- iiess of dc'ijende-ncy and of the contempt in which he is held by her brothers beinj^ stamped on his countenance. Ihe lii^ures ef the brothers, esj)eciall\' ot him who sits ni-arest to the front, are drawn and coloured with remarkable [jovver. The; attitiuU; of this brother, as his \v.'^ is stretche(l out to kick Isabella's doi^'. is vigorous and orij^inal. The colour ot the picture is ver)' delicate and beautiful. Like Mr. | I''ord Madox I i^rovvn, however, this souiijn" artist, althouj^h ex- hibiting" uiKjuestionable i^cnius. is e\identl\' enslaved b)' preference for a false st\Ie. rh(;re is too much mannerism ill the picture ; but the t.dent of the artist will, W(; doubt not, break throui^h it." .\\\i\ Mr. Ste[)hens was still more complimentary. In the (irosvenor (iailerv catalogue of the vear iS(S6 he wrote:- - " I'>ery detail, tint, surface texture, and substance, all the llesh, all tin; minut'ie of the accessories wex' offered to the c\(|uisitely keen sij^ht, indefatii^able lingers. unchanLi'eable skill, and indomitable patience of one of the most energetic of painters. Such tenacit)' and technical powers were never, since the lierman followers of I )urer adopted Italian j)rin- ciples of working, exercised on a single picture. Van Kyck ciid not studv details of 'the life' more unllinchinLiK than iMillais in this case. The flesh of some of the heads, except so lar as the face of ' Ferdinand ' and some parts of Holman blunts contemporaneous ' Rienzi.' were concerned, remained hcyontl comparison in fmish and solidity until Millais painted i\\v. hands in 'The Return of the Dove to the Ark.'" lUit the critics were not all of this minti ; there was con- siderable diversity of oj)inion amongst them. Some were simply silent ; but of those who noticed the work at all the majorit}' spoke ot it in terms of (pialified approxal, regarding it rather as a tentali\e departure from xhc beaten track of Art than as the tVuit of Ion<>; and earnest coiniction. by the general j)ublic it was looked upon as a prime joke, only surpassing in absurdity Mr. I lolman Hunt's " Rieiui, ' which was exhibited at the same time, and was etiually be- yeiul their comprehension. With a plentiful lack of wit, they greeted it with loud laughter or su[)ercilious smiles, and in IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) F 1.0 1.1 11.25 l^|2|8 |25 Ui lii 12.2 i "^ ||£ •UUU mm '1.4 mil 1.6 VQ yj %. % V' ^i V /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. USSO (716) 872-4S03 \ ^ SJ \\ i\ 74 JOHN KVERETT MILLAIS [184. M9l :l:i ■ •I i 1 some instances v.vcn the proud Press descended to insults of the- nifjst j)ers()n;d Uind. This, however, only stiftened Millais' resolution to i)rocc;(d on his own lines, and to defend aj^ainst all comers the principles on which the Brotherhood was founded. Idle picture was houi^iu of the artist by thret combined amateur dealers, who sold it to Mr. W'indus, of lOttenham. After remainini^ with him some ten or twelver years Gambart boui^iit it, and aj^ain sold it to W Oolner, r..\. it is now in the possession of the Corporation of Liverpool. In the following" year was e.xhibited the |)icture commonK known as "Christ in the Home of His Parents," but with no other title than the followini^- quotation from Zechariah xiii. b: "And one shall say unto Him, What are these wounds in Thine hands.-* Then He shall answer. Those with which 1 was wounded in the house of ]\Iy friends." It was painted on precisely the same principle as was that which had called forth the derision of the multitude, and as both Rossetti and i\lr. Hunt exhibited at the same time important pictures of the same school, there could no longer be any doubt as to the serious meaning' of the movement. Then, with one accord, their opponents fell upcjn Millais as the primer mover in the rebellion against established ])recedent. In the words of a latter-dav critic, " Men who knew nothinLT of Art reviled Millais because he was not of the art, artistic. Dilettanti who could not draw a hnj^er tij) scolded one of the most accomplished draughtsmen of the a^e because he delineated what he saw. Cognoscenti who could not paint rebuked the most brilliant q;old medal student of the Roval Academv on account (»f his technical proceedings. Critics of the most rigid views belaboured and shrieked at an original genius, whose struggles and whose efforts they could not understand. Intolerant and tvrannical commentators condemned the vouth of twenty because he dared to think for himself: and, to sum up the burden of the chorus of shame and false iudgment, there was hardly a whisper of faith or ho{)e, or even of charity nay, not a sound of the commonest and poorest courtesy — vouchsafed to the painter of ' The Carpenter's Shop,' as, in utter scorn, this picture was originally and contumeliously called." What the Academy thought of it may be gathered from the words of the late F. H. Harwell : "I well rememl "T Mulready, r.a., alluding to the picture some two years afier its exhibition. He saiJ that it had few admirers inside t le if his wor Housc/io/ii P>ut per tollovvino". principal pi t" associate c i\()\al Acacleiin' Council, and that he hinistlf and Maclisc ilonc supported its claims to a laxourable consideration.' The picture itself, devotional and symbolic in intent, is loo well known to v^avA any description. The chiUl Christ is seen in His father's workshop with blood llowini^" from Mis iiand, the result of a recent wound, whiK; His mother waits upon Him with loving sympathy. 'I'hat is the main sLibj(;ct. And now let us see how it was treated by the i'ress. BlackiuQods Maoazinc dealt with it in this wise : " We can hardly imagine anything more ugly, graceless, and unpleasant than Mr. Millais' picture of 'Christ in the Carpenter's Shop.' .Such a collection of splay feet, puffed joints, and missha])en limbs was assurediv nev(;r before made within so small a compass. We have great difficulty in believing a report tliat this unpleasing and atrociously affected picture has found a ])urchaser at a high price. Anotlier specimen from the same brush inspires rather laughter than disgust.'" That was pretty strong ; but, not to be left behind in the race to accomplish the j)ainter's ruin, a leading literary journal, whose Art critic, by the wa\ . was a Royal Acatle- mician, delivered itself in the following terms: " Mr. Millais in his picture without a name (51H), which represents a holy famil) in the interior of a carpenter's shop, has been most successful in the least dignilied features ot his presentment, and in giving to the higher forms, characters, and meanings a circumstantial art lan^juaoe from which we recoil with loath- ing and disgust. Idiere are many to whom his work will seem a pictorial blasphemy, (ireat imaginative talents ha\e here been perverted to the use of an eccentricity both lament- able and revolting." .Another critic, bent on displaying his wit at the expense of the; artist, said : " Mr. Millais' picture looks as if it had passed through a mangle." And even Charles Dickens, who in later vears was a firm friend of Millais and a !>Teat admirer oi his works, denounced the picture in a leading article in llonsi-hold Words as "mean, odious, revolting, and repulsi\(.'." but perhaps the most unreasonable notice of all was the tdllowing, which ap[)eared in the liuics : "Mr. Millais' principal picture is, to speak plainly, revolting. The attemj)t to iissociate the hoi) family with the meane.st details of a carpenter's shop, with no conceivable omission of misery, of dill, of even disease, all finished with the same loathsome minuteness, is disgusting : and with a surprising power of S5! mi I, 76 JOHN KV^KRKTT MILLAIS ft 849 imitation, tiiis picture serves to siiovv iiow far mere imitation may fall short, by dryness and conceit, of all dignity aiiil truth." From these extracts it is easy to see .vhat criticism was a t^eneration ai;o. As Mr. Walter .Armstronj^' says. " Not th(; faintest attempt is made to divine the arti.st's standpoini, and to look at th(* themi! from his side. The writer dots not accej)t the Pre-Raphaelite idea even provisionally, and as a means of testinj^ the efficiency of the work it leads to. He merely lays down its creations upon his own procrusteaii bed, and condemns them en bloc because thev cannot be made to fit. And this article in the Jimcs is a fair e.\amj)le ' ^. til OR!!'.IN.\I. DKSKIN KOR "CHKISl' IN I UK HOISK OK HJS PARKMS . (Koiir fi.miiLs only) of the general welcome the picture met with. . . . Such criticism is mere scoldino-. When an artist of abilitv denif.s and contemns your canvas, to call him names is to conft ss their futility." in an interesting note on this [)icture Mr. Fldward Benest {Millais' cousin) says, "During the three years I was working in London I was a frecjuent visitor to the Gower Strut house. . . . From the intellectual point of view this picture may be said to be the outcome of the combined brains of the Millais family. Fvery little portion of the whole canvas was discussed, considered, and settled upon by the father, mother, and Johnnie (the artist) before a touch was placed on the canvas, although sketches had been made. Of cour;e, coming frequently. I used to criticise too ; and if I suggested ^9j MILLAIS AT WORK 11 ;i;iy alUTiitioii. Johnnie used to sa\ in his dL'tcrmincd way. ' \(), Xl'cI ; that has hctii all settled by us. and I shan't a icr it.' " I^\erythin«4 in that house; was characteristic of the i^reat (ii\()ti()n of all to the yoinij^' artist; and yet he was in no \\a\ sj)oilt. Whilst he was at work his father and mother sit Ixside him most of the time, the mother constantly nadinin to him on every imai^inahle subject that interested -i!*"^ I SKKTCH KOK "CHRIST 1\ THK HOISK OF HIS PARI-. NTS' the boy. or stopping" to discuss matters with him. The boy himself, whilst working", joined freelv and cleverlv in anv conversation that was .noinj^' on ; and once when I asked him how he could possibly paint and talk at the same time, ami throw such eneri^y into both, he said, tapping' his fore- head. 'Oh, that's all rii^ht. I have j)ainted ever) touch in my head, as it were, Ioul;' aj.;"o, and have now only to transfer it to canvas.' The father a perfect optimist when unable to help in any other way, w(3uld occupy himself by 7« JOHN HVKRETT MILLAIS 1 84.; pointinn' all Johiinic's pcMicils or phiNJiiL; wholi; ojxras (ni the flute. This instrument he played almost as well as any professional. " Ihc; principal 'point of di.sciission with re<4arcl to the 'Carpenter's .Shoj)' related to the heail of the Virgin Mary. At hrst, as his sketches show, she was represented as bein^^ kissed 1)\ the child Christ ; but this idea was presentiv altered to the pre.sent position of the figures, and the mother is now shown embracing' her Son. These two figures were constantly j)ainted and repainted in various attitudes, and finished only a short time before the picture was exhibited. The figure, too, of .St. John carrying; a bowl of water was inserted at the last moment." The picture, when finished (not before), was sold lor ^150 to a dealer named I'arrer. whose confidence in the yoimo" artist was amusingly displayed by pasting on the back of it all the adverse criticisms that appeared. The models f(;r this picture were as follows : the Virgin Mary, Mrs. Henry Hodgkinson, the Christ, Noel Humphreys (.son of an architect), John the Baptist, Edwin I^verett (an adopted child of the Air. Everett who married Millais' aunt), and the apprentice H. .St. Ledger. In j)aintiiij> it, Millais was so determined to be accurate in every detail, that he used to take the canvas down to a carpenter's shop and i)aint the interior direct from what he saw there. The figure of Joseph he took from the carpenter himself, saying that it was " the only way to get the development of the muscles right"; but the head was painted from Millais" father. His great difficulty was with the sheep, for there were no Hocks within miles of (iower .Street. At last, only a few days before the picture had to be sent in to the Royal Academy, he went to a neighbouring butcher's, where he bought two sheep's heads with the wool on, and from these he painted the flock. There is a good story about these PreT A 'S4yJ uorkt'cl XOnc ( chcrc ii I he coil iiUMit at "t ,n"()lil picasc'cl head \vl AikI old stor observin J'c comj southern bubble ; the o-old at hoiiiL'. elusive i I'-n_^IaiKl, Of on Mr. Artl "While brothers "iL^s out ^v■ere abe •sculptor, < Kaphaelit him, and the dravvii critical ol haj)pened Ia\ers, fre them Mill seized one •stituted th h" ken ess, v in the str aniusino- sc Mr. F. C portraits an Ht* writes ^^53 the V, Brotherhoo( artists pres I. — 6 iS4'j| THK BRICKLAYKR'S OPINION 81 >riuiiLi<> ,l;<>i*i-* I ii^'il; lilies. I) worlsi'd with liis own hands in the l>rniliLi<> n'oM-d \(»ii(.' of us at home had cncii ht-ai'tl of this hc-torc ; l)ut dicrc it was in print, and prcscnll) ever)' tit-l)itty paper in du- coiintr) rc|)(.atfd tile talc with all the rhetorical adorn- MU!nt at the coininand of the writer. "The frenzied energy !L;"oId-seekers " was one of the j)hrases that speeialK pleased us. and we never failed to throw it at my father's head whenever he was in a bit of a hurry. And still th(; tale jToes on. Ouite recently the; familiar old story appeared aj^ain in an Australian pap(.-r. the writer observini^' that no bioi^raphy of the deceased artist would be complete without an account of his e.\|)eri(.'nces in the southern i^oldfields. It seems a j)ity to prick this pretty bubble ; but as a matter of fact my father was never in the i^oldllelds, and through the fifties he was hard at work at home. It was W'oolner alone who went in search of the elusive nui4i4et, but presently returned to his art work in I'jimland, richer rather in experience than in solid iL^old. Of one of the evenini;" meetini^s in Woolner's absence Mr. Arthur Hughes obliges me with the following" note: — "While \\'(M)lner was in Australia his Pre - kaj)haelite Brothers agreed to draw one another and send the draw- ings out to him ; and one day, when two or three of them were about this at Millais' house, Alexander Munro, the sculptor, chanced to call. Milhiis, havini;' finished his Pre- Raphaelite Brotherhood subject. _n"ot Munro to sit, and drew him, and afterwards accompanied him to the door with the dravvinLi' in his hand, to which Munro was makini>; some critical objection that Millais did not a^ree with. There happened to be passing- at the time a couple of rout>h brick- layers, fresh from their work — short pipes and all. To them Millais suddenly reached out from the doorstep and seized one, to his great surprise, and there and then con- stituted them judi^es to decide upon the merits of the likeness, while Munro, rather disconcerted, had to stand in the street with his hat off for identiiication. A most amusino- scene ! " Mr. F. G, Stephens tells us somethintr further about the.se portraits and the final Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood meetings. He writes : " It was in the Gower Street studio that in i>'^53 the variously described meeting" of the Pre-RaphaeHte Brotherhood then in London occurred in order that the ariists present might send as souvenirs to Woolner, then 1—6 i. C I JOHN i:\'i:i-; his i)ath towards fortune; 1). G. Rossetti had retired within himself, and made no sign before the world ; W. M. Rossetti was rising in Her Majesty's service ; and I was being continuedly drawn towards that literary work which brought me bread. None of the six had, however, departed from the essentials of the Pre-Raphaelite faith which was in him." '' P'erdinand lured by Ariel," painted in 1849, was another important picture that warred with the prevailing sentiment of the day, its high finish in every detail and the distinctly original treatment of the subject tending only to kindle anew the animosity of the critics against Millais and the principles he represented. Kvcn the dealer for whom it was painted as a commission for ^100 refused to take it, and when, later on, it was exhibited at the Academy (now the National Gallery), it was ignominiously placed low down in a corner of one of the long rooms. This shameless breach of contract on the part of the dealer was a bitter disappointment to the young artist, for he could ill afford to keep his pictures long in haid. His parents, never well off, had given up everything or •j.ick.' i'ould i :our \( Had sti he did IiouscIk |)re(ari( < arn sn actressc soNereiLj .1 matte himself. But I presente l)rought aiul mat sure he 110 offer fully too place, wh it a chei Slid brook whom M quietly .si rhe picti •Mr. W'yal a little f( pictures), , of Mr. He (necembe alterations ^old to Mi Worked 01 the while ^ As to ii Stephens, the work h and unchai pleted in in pencil < picture. Mi with his si brushes, an S,o| sALi-: OF -1 1':ri)1Nani)" s Th.- ssioii, , S(J1U rtraits is ;i ; stall' This • Pre )!! hatl inother Itimcnt kinctly anew [nciplcs )aintccl when, itional Icorner )f the artist, hand. bg ior •jack." and (k'lcrniiiiccl tlial lu.* should lack tor nolliiiij^ tlial •oiiKl ill aiuwisc tend to liis ads aiKcinLiit, and tor tlic lasl Miir years -t'\cr since he was sixteen )c'ars of as^i' — he nad striven hard to re(|nile their kinchiess. suppiyini;. as he iHd Iroin the i)rolits of his work, the i^^reater part ol tiie lioiiselioKl L'XjxMises at (iower Street. I'o eke out Iiis precarious income he often went to theatres, wliere he could ( .UMi small sums hy makini^ ski-tches of the actors and actresses ; hut as he si^ldom iLjot more than a couj)lc of soNcrci^iis for a finishetl |)()rtrait, this loss of /,ioo was a matter of no small moment to his familv as wi'll as innse Hut now an( )ther chance lor the sale of " i'erdinand ])resented itself Mr. Trankum, an appreciativi; Iriend. l)rou''ht to the studio a stranuer who ailmn'ei I it <>reatl\- and made so manv enc()urai< a new form witli this FlKSI Skiicii kok KKRDINANI) lAKKlt I!V ARn>;i. hrodierl)- aL;reemeiU | ol" llie I're-KaphaeHle Hrollierhooil |. and it was |)roI)ai)l\ in conse(|uen('(' ot liiis that I sal to iiini for the hcail of the Prince in liie httic j)icture of ' l-'enUnand hired l)y Ariel," whirh. lu'inu; painted in 1S4C) 50, was at the Acadenn in 1S50, and is the leadin_n' e\amj)Ie of I're R:i)»haelitism. "Accordinjn" to Millais, each lirother worked accordinin" to his own lijjjhts and the j^iMieral vitnvs of the Brother- hood at that time. .Such l)ein<4' the case, I may describe the manner of the artist in this par- ticular instance, in thj summer and autumn of 1S49 he executed the whole of that wonderful I l)ac Unround, the de- lii^htiul fi inures of the elves and Ariel, and he sketched in the Prince , himself. The whole was done upon a pure white •ground, so as to obtain the j^reatest brilliancy i5" of the piij^ments. Later on my turn came, and in one lenythv sittins^ Millais drew my most un-Ferdinand- like features with a pencil upon white paper, makino-, as it was, a most exquisite drawing of the hii^hest finish and exact fidelity. In these respects nothing could surpass t'lis jewel of its kind. Something like it, but softer and !Mit cjuite so sculpturesque, exists in the similar study Miliiis '^^'^K' fll rr^'--- "'. / I!**:*i -^mi IKKhlNAMt I.IKKK US AKIKI. /'J' /iirmis-ii'ii <>/ M/: IhiDy Makii •349 1 t (cSjO] made It'ii!^" a; ( iallen " U] of fori for the was ex manner \\ent ai and sir nearly •scarcel) clickino the shcl marked worked old fellc and as I; iinchano re(]iM'red upright, hgiire, I dining-n feet aga: of Ferdi " It w, when til surprisin first met hulk, anc in these member outstretci the groui leet six ii loLirteen ;ind eneri. And n( whose kii iii'ide a d( when he * ombe \v Oxford--; 1850] MR. STEPHENS AS ''FERDINAND" 87 made In pencil for the head of Ophelia, which I saw not l(.no- a^o, and which Sir W. I)0\vman lent to the (irosvenor (iailerv in 1888. " My portrait was comj)leteIy modelled in all resj)ects of form and li.^'ht and shade, so as to be a perfeC study for the head thereafter t(j be j)aintetl. The da\- after it was executed Millais repeated the study in a less hnished manner upon the panel, and on the day following that I went a!:^ain to the studio in Gower Street, where 'Isabella' and similar pictures were painted. From ten o'clock to nearly five the sitting- continued without a stop, and with scarcely a word between the painter and his model. The clickino' of his brushes when they were shifted in his palette, the slidinjr of his foot upon the easel, and an occasional sioh marked the hours, while, strained to the utmost, Millais worked this extraordinary fine face. At last he said, ' There, old fellow% it is done!' Thus it remains as perfectly pure and as brilliant as then- fiftv vears auo and it now remains iinchanoed. For me, still leaning on a stick and in the re(]uired posture, I had become (juite unable to move, rise upright, or stir a limb till, much as if I were a stiffened lay- figure, Millais lifted me up and carried me bodily to the dining-room, where some dinner and wine put me on my feet again. Later the till then unpainted parts of the figure of Ferdinand were added from the model and a lay-figure. " It was in the Gower .Street studio that Millais was wont, when time did not allow of outdoor exercises, to perform surprising feats of agility and strength. He had, since we first met at Trafalgar Square, so greatly Jeveloped in tallness, bulk, and manliness that no one was surprised at his progress in these respects. He was great in leaping, and I well re- member how in the studio he was wont to clear mv arm outstretched from the shoulder — that is, about five feet from the ground — at one spring. The studio measures nineteen leet six inches bv twentv feet, thus oivino- him not more than iourteen feet run. Many similar feats attested the strength and energy of the artist," And now I must introduce two old friends of my father, whose kindness and oenerositv to him in his vounger davs made a deep and lasting impression upon his life. In 1S48, when he first became acquainted with them, Mr. Thomas tombe was the Su})erintendent of the Clarendon Press at < )xford — a man of the most cultivated tastes, and highly 88 JOHN KVERETT MILLAIS [1849 .S50I rcsj)ectecl and beloved In- every member of the University with whom he came into contact and his wife was a ver\ counterpart of himself Millais was siayino- at Oxford at the time, engaj^cd in painting the picture of Mr. Wyatt and his granddaughter referred to in an earlier portion of this chapter, and the Combes, who were among the first to recognise and encourage the efforts of the Pre-Raphaelite School, took him under their wing, treating him with almost parental consideration. In ICS49 he returned to Oxford, and stayed with them while painting Mr. Combe's portrait, and from that time they became familiar friends, to whom it was always a pleasure to write. The following letters, kindly placed at my disposal by Mrs. Combe, serve to illustrate his life at this period. Mr. Combe, it must be understood, Millais commonly referred to as "The Pearly Christian"; Mrs. Combe he addres.sed as " Mrs. Pat.' To Airs. Combe. " 17, H.wovKR Terr.mk, Rkcknt's Park, ''November \ith, 1H50. "Mv DKAR Mrs. Pat, — Our departure was so velocitous that I had no time or spirits to express my thanks to you before leaving for your immense kindness and endurance of all whimsicalities attached to my nature. I scribble this at Collins' house, being totally incai)able of remaining at my own residence after the night's rest and morning's ' heavv blow ' of breakfast. 'Ihe Clarendonian visit, the Bottleyonian privations, and Oxonian martyrdoms have wrought in us (Collins and myself) such a similar feeling that it is quite impracticable to separate. I had to go through the exceedingly difficult task of performing the dramatic traveller's return to his home — embracing fero- ciously and otherwise exulting in the restoration to the bosom of my family. I say 1 had to ' perform ' this part, because the detestation I hold London in surpasses all expression, and prevents the possibility of my being pleased to return to anybody at such a place. Mind, I am not abusing the society, but the filth of the metropolis. " Now for a catalogue of' words to express my thanks to you and Mr. Combe. I have not got Johnson's dictionar\ lear m possibi! elude u " Re Note. lare on cottage paintinij; motherh to by I)i ■ I ha\t Collins, nearly o to Oxfo; fare, so ; left for t said to now, \\h( when I s It was in 'Ah, Mr. your first "Mv r: lor the C the marri shall look " I am Mrs. Coll \vith a mi loN'ingkinc •My p My motht visiting fri to remain i «5ol CORRKSPONDKNCK 89 !k; lear me. so I am at a loss. Your kindness has defeatetl the j)ossii)ility of ever ade(|Liately thanUinj^" you, so I will con- rkide with renderini^" my mother's orateful acknowledgments. " Remember me to all my friends, and believe me, " Yours most sincerely. "John I'^. Mir.i.Ais." Note. — The " I^ottleyonian privations" refer to the hard fare on which Millais anil Charles Collins subsisted at the cottage of Mrs. Kin;*-, at liotlev, whilst the former was painting,' "The Woodman's Dauj^hter."' Mrs. Combe's inotherlv kindness to the two voun<'" artists is thus referred to by Dr. Birkbeck Hill in his book on the Rossetti letters:— ■ 1 have heard Mrs. Combe relate a storv how Millais and Collins, when verv vouncj men, once lodued in a cottaLje nearly opposite the entrance of Lord Abingdon's park close to Oxford. She learnt from them that they _i;ot but poor fare, so soon afterwards she drove over in her carriage, and left for them a large meat-pie. Millais, she added, one day said to Mr Combe, ' People had better buy my pictures now, when I am working for fame, than a few years later, when I shall be married and working for a wife and children.' It was in these later years that old Linnell exclaimed to him, ' .\h, Mr. Millais, you have left your first love, you have left vour first love ! ' " 'l^*' unmg the have deling to go the fero- th( s al To the same. '"'^2). GowKK .Stkkkt, Bkdfori) S<,)Laki;, "• Decemlwr 211 d, 1850. " Mv DKAR Mrs. Pat. — First I thank you most intensely lor the Church Service. The night of its arrival I read the marriage ceremonv for the first time in mv life, and shall look upon every espoused man with awe. " I am delighted to hear that vou are likelv to visit Mrs. Collins during the 1851 Exhibition, as you will meet with a most welcome reception from that lady, who is all lovingkindness. ■' My parents are likely to be out of town at that time. My mother, not having left London for some years, prefers visiting friends in Jersey and in familiar localities in LVance to remaining" in the metropolis during the tumult and excite- 90 JOHN KVKRKTT MILLAIS 1S50 mcnt of 1851. I h()|3('. however. 011 another occasion you will ha\(' th(' opportLinit) of Unowinj; them, in case the) should be '>()n(; i)ef()re vou are here. " Iwery Suncla) since I left Oxford Collins and 1 have spent toi^ether. attendint^ Wells Street Church. I think you will admit (when in town) that the service there is better performed than any other you have ever attended. \\C met there vesterdav mornine- a University man ot our accjuaintance who admittetl its superiority over Oxford or Cambridge I am ashamed to say that late hours at m'i.^ht and ditto in the mornini^" are creeping' a^ain on us. Now and then I make a desperate resolution to pluniL^e out of bed when called, which ends in passively lyini;' down a^aiii. A late breakfast (I won't mention the hour) and my la\ - fi""ure [artist's dummvl stares at me in reprovin*)- astonish ment as I enter mv studv. During" all this time I am so powerlessly cold that 1 am like a moving automaton. I he first impulse is to sit by mv stove, which emits a delicious, genial, unwholesome, feverish heat, and the natural course; of things brings on total incapacity to woik and absolute laziness. In spite of this 1 manage to paint three hairs on the woodman's little girl's head or two freckles on her (ace ; and so laos the dav till dark, bv which time the room is so hot. and the glue in the furniture therein so softened l)y the warmth, that the chairs and tables are in peril of falling to pieces before my face. . . . But I, like the rest of the furniture, am in too delicate a state to be moved when the call for dinner awakens the last effort but one in removing my body to the table, where the last effort of all is recjuin d to eat. "This revives just strength enough to walk to Hanover Terrace in a night so cold that h(3rses should wear great- coats. Upon arriving there I embrace Collins, and z'/'rc versa; Mrs. Collins makes the tea. and we drink it; we then adjourn upstairs to his room and converse till about twelve, when we say good-night, and again poor wretched 'Malay' [he was always called 'Mr. Malay' wherever lie went I risks his lite in the London Polar vovat>e, meeting no human beings but metropolitan jiolicemen, to whom he h is an obscure intention of giving a feast of tea and thicker bread and butter than that given by Mr. Hales, of Oxlord. in acknowledgment of his high esteem of their services. \t one o'clock in the morning it is too severely cold for anythi v^ iSsoJ CORRESPONDENCE 91 l)c out l)iit a lamp-post, an d 1 am one of that body. ifei iW to his sh not hi 11;,^^ Tencc " RcspL'ctint^ my promised visit at Christmas, i hiippcns to prevent me I shall certainly he with you then. Shall probably come the ni_<;ht before, and leave the niyjht after. "I have entirely settled my composition of "The Flocxl." and shall commence it this week. i have also commenced lh(; child's head in the wood scene, " I have, as usual, [)lenty of invitations out, all of which I have declined, caring" no more for such amusements. It is useless to tell you that I am miserable, as this letter ^ives vou my everyday life. " Remember me to Mr. Combe most sincerely, and to all about you, and believe me to remain. " Ever your affectionate friend, "John I'>\i;ri:tt Mii.i,.-\is." In these clays he fre(juently referred to and made fun of his e.\trenie slimness, as to which William jVIillais writes : " My brother, up to the an;e of twenty-four, was very slii^ht in h^ure, and his height of six feet tended to exaggerate the tenuity of his appearance. He took pleasure in weighing himself, and was deliu'hted with anv increase of weii^ht. I remember when he went to Winchelsea in 1854 to paint the background for the ' Hlincl Girl.' whilst waitinir for a Ilv at the railways station we were weighed. I juiJt turned twelve sione. and when my brother went into the scales the porter was quite dumbfoundered when three stone had to be ab- stracted before the proper balance was arrived at. ' Ah ! you mav well look, my man.' said mv brother ; ' I ou'>ht to be going about in a menagerie as a specimen of a living paper- knife.' We all know how that state of things was altered in alter years ; he might have gone back to his menagerie as a specimen of fine manly vigour and physique." 7o Mr. Combe. '"'^'Xf, Cower Strket, Bedford Sc^iare, "-December \Gtli, 1S50. " Dear I'^arlv Christevn,— I was extremely surprised and dilighted at your letter. The kind wish therein that I might s'av a little while at Christmas I am afraid can never be gz JOHN KVKRKTT MILLAIS [t85c ,,S5o| realised, as I can oiiK- come and <••() for that day. Mv familw as you may ima|Liine. were a little astonished on hearint^" my intention to leave them at that time. They are, however, reconciled now, antl I shall (all things permittini;) be with you. I have settled down to London life again for the present, and the quiet, pleasant time at Oxford seems lik(; ;i PKNCII. DKSKIN lOU " IHK WOODMAN'S DAl'C.HTKR ' 1848 dream. I wish the thought of it would take that f(jnn instead of keeping me awake almost every night up to three and four o'clock in the morning, at which time the most dejiressing of all circumstances happens — the performance of 'the Waits.' To hear a bad bcUid play bad music in an empty street at night is the greatest trial I know. I should not like to visit Dr. Leigh's asylum as a patient, so shal !iiilea\' present •• Yo 1 will iinusua inevital the kn( plete m quate tc (juies,' i ])olitan tions. dine wil and afte brother was so c jireachej great di^ •'And blow ' le assuranc Catholic After •' Mv hurried t the static over tho: that we c forgot to your hair Prav senc "'It is ;it vour k i«; "So I CORRKSPONDKNCK 91 !iulc;i\'()ur to lori^ft all byj^onc eiijoyinciits, to.ijcthcr with present ami future; miseries that keep me from sleep. " You will perhaps wonder what these ailments can be. 1 will enumerate them. First, a certainty of passini^^ an iiiuisually turbulent life (which 1 do not like) ; secondly, the inevitable enemies I shall create if fullv successful ; thirdly, the knowledge of the immense application recjuireil to com- plete my works for the coming exhibition, which I feel inade- quate to perform. I think I shall adopt the motto ' in C(elo (juies,' and go over to Cardinal Wiseman, ;is all the metro- ijolitan Hio"h Church clep'vmen are sendin!>; in their resi''na- lions. To-morrow (Sunday) Collins and myself are going to dine with a University man whose brother has just seceded, and afterwards to hear the Cardinal's second discourse. My brother w -nt last .Sunday, but could not hear a word, as it was so crowded he could not <>et near enouuh. The Cardinal preaches in his mitre and full vestments, so there will be a great display of pomp as well as knowledge •'And now, mv deai- Mr. Combe, 1 must end this ' heavv blow' letter with most affectionate remembrances and earnest assurances to Mrs. Pat that I do not mean to turn Roman Catholic just yet Also remember me kindly to the X'icar, " And believe me to remain, " Yours most affectionately, "John Kvkrkit Malay." After his Christmas visit he wrote To Mrs. Conibt\ "83, GowEK Stkkkt, Bedkord Sqi ark, "■December 30///, 1850. " Mv DEAR Mrs. Comhk, — The last return was more hurried than the first. I found my portmant(;au, when at ihe station, unstrapped and undirected. \V(^ however, got ()\er those difficulties, and arrived safeh". I recollect now that we did not say a farewell word to ^Nlr. Hackman ; also forgot to ask you and Mr. Combe to give a small portion of \our hair for the rings, there being a place for that purpcxse. Pray send some for both. " It is needless to say our relatives are somewhat surprised ; t your kind presents. They are universally admired. I am 94 JOHN KVKRKTT MILLAIS [185. dc'cp ill tli(; iiiystcry of j)iiiTliasinn velvets and silk draperies for my picuires [ ' Mariana ' ami ' Tlie Woodman's Dai lighter ' j. The shopman sim|)ers with astonishment at the re(|uesi coming;' from a male l)i|)ed. I hej^in to Ioiil;' for these toil- sonie three months to |)ass over; 1 am sure, except on vSimdays, never to go out in the daylii^ht a^ain for that time. " I have seen Charley Collins every ni^hl since, ami see him ai^ain to-nii^ht. We l;'o tt) a dancing' party to morrow: at least it is his desire, not mine. The davs draw in so early now that ic is insanit) to stay up late at night, antl get up at eleven or twelve the ne.xt morning. 1 wish you were here to reatl to me. None of mv f.unilv will do that. [In thmmission for vou to execute for me. \'ou recollect the lodj^e at Hie entrance of Lord Abini^don's house, where I used to leave my picture of the Wood ['ihe Woodman's Daughter '|. Well, in the first cottage there is a little girl named l^sther ; would you ask the mother to let you have a pair of her old walking-boots? 1 re(|uire them sent on to me, as I wish to paint them in the wood. I do not care how old they are ; they are, of coin'se. no use without having been worn. Will you please supply the child with money to purchase a new pair ? I shall settle with you when I see you in the spring. If you should see a country-child with a l)right lilac j)inafore on, lay strong hands on the same, and send it with the boots. It must be long, that is, covering the whole underdress from the neck. I do not wish it new, but clean, with some little pattern — pink spots, or anything of that kind. If you have not time for this task, do not scruple to tell me so. " ' The Flood ' subject I have given uj) for this \ear, and have substituted a smaller composition a little larger than tht; Wood. The subject is quite new and, I think, fortunate ; it is the dove returning to the Ark with the olive-branch. I shall have three figures — Noah praying, with the olive-branch in his hand, and the dove in the breast of a young girl who is looking at Noah. The other figure will be kissing the bird's breast. The background will be very novel, as I shall paint several birds and animals one of which now forms the prey to the other. " It is quite impossible to explain one's intentions in a letter ; so do not raise objections in your mind till you see it finished. I have a horrible influenza, which however, has '•—7 9H lOlIN KN'KKKT'r MILLAIS ll8ji iKil (Iclcrri'il inc iVoin tin- usual ' lu'a\ y blow' walks wiih I'ra Carlo. ... I th()U_L;lu I hail forLiottcii soiiu'iliiii)^ — ///. s//iW(/s wiiich \()U niosl kiiull\' t)tTi'rccl to do for inc. I \\a. not Jokinj; when I hiiucil to you that I should like to ha\c iJK.'in. If you arc in earnest I shall he oiil\ too i^lad to haii- them round in\ room, for I liki; them so much hetter than an\ papiT, that when I have a house of m\ own you shall sec cvcrv room decorated in that wav. . . . " Yours dcvotedl). "JuIlN I'^VKUKIT MiLI-.MS." "Ihc l''Io()d " sul)jcct (a subject altojucthcr different from that of another picture called "A I*'lood." painted by the artist in iS/O) was never completed as an oil picture, althoULih he made a fmisheci drawint;' of it, which is now in my j)()ssession, havin_n' been juiven to me by my mother, As will be seen from his letter to Mr. Combe, " The Return of the Dove to the Ark" (otherwise known as "The Daughters of Noah," or "The Wives of the Sons of Noah") had the first place in his mind, and eventually he painteil it at the house in Ciower Street, it represents two ^irls (supposed to be inmates of the Ark) clad in simple garments of u^reen and white, and caressinj^' the dove. The picture was shown in the Academy of i(S5i, along with "The Wood- man's Daughter" and " ^Iariana," and was next exhibited in Paris in 1855 with "The Order of Release" and "Ophelia," when, says Mr. Stephens, "the three works attracted much attention and sharp discussion, which greatly extended Millais' reputation." It was again shown in the International Exhibition of 1862, as were also "Apple Blossoms," "The Order of Release," and "The V^ale of Rest"; and by Mr. Combe's will it has now become the property of the University of Oxford. On this subject my uncle, William Millais, writes : "The unbiased critic must be constrained to admit that if there is one thing to criticise in the paintings in these days of his glorious vouth, it is the inelet»ance of one or two of the figures. The girls in 'The Return of the Dove' and • Mariana' are the two most noticeable examples, and I have heard the artist admit as much himself. The head of the little girl in 'The Woodman's DauLihter,' which was altered after many years much for the worse, was in its original stc te ll.Sj. Nvilli J— ///< I w a - > ha\c ) liaii'4 r than I sh.ill \is. t troin bv the )icturi^ is now iiothcr. " Tlu' i "The N'oah") [)aiiU S<,»rAUi:, " I'cbinaty 10///, 1S51. " Mv !)|;au Mus, l'.\r,--'rhe brevity with which my troublesome re(|uest was executed astonished me, and I return you all the thanks tUu; to so kind an attention. The piiiatore will ilo beautifully, as also the boots. The ' Lyra Innocentium" I brou_L;ht from Oxford at Christmas-time. 1 have j^iven Collins the one directed for him. ro-ni_L;"ht 1 commence tor the tirst time this vear eveniim work which lasts till twelve, and which will continue for the next few months. I am now proj^ressin^' rapiilly ; the 'Mariana" is nearly completed, and, as I ex[)ected, the i^entleman to whom 1 promised the first refusal has purchased it. The Wood scene is likewise far advanced, and I hojie to commence the \oah the latter part <>f this week. " I have had lately an order to j)aint St. GeorL^e and the Dratjon for next year. It is a curious subject, but I like it Muich, as it is the bad'^e of this country. " I see Charley every night, and we dine alternate Sundays at each other's houses. To-night he conies to cheer me in my solitude. I give up all invitations, and scarcely ever see anybody. Have still got my cold, and do not expect that tenacious friend will take any notice of the lozen ordered ;i to take a of loaths( they inclii the fumes will leave will be so in Europe ' ' Say al think fit tc ii''! To the same. "83, GowKR Street, ''April 15///, 185 1. " Mv DEAR Mr. Com he, — You must be prepared to S(;e an immense literarv assault on mv works ; but I fancv some papers will give me all the credit the others withhold. To tell you the truth, artists know not what course to follow - whether to acknowledge the truth of our style, or to stand out against it. Many of the most important have already (before me) admitted themselves in the wrong — men whc^se reputation would suft'er at the mention of their names ! "Mv Dl morn i no-, a to see then )'ou have Times, whi however, i: /ry' 9///, 185 1. ■■ Mv DEAR Mr. Comije, — I received the shields this morning, and hasten to thank you most heartily. I hope to see them ranged round my studio next week. No doubt you have seen the violent abuse of my pictures in the IIdu's, which I believe has sold itself 10 destroy us. That, however, is quite an absurd mistake of theirs, for, in spite ot their denouncing my pictures as unworthy to hang on any walls, the famous critic, Mr. Ruskin. has written offering to purchase your picture of ' The Return of the Dove to th'- Ark.' I received his letter this morning, and have this * The picture (''The Dove") was never enyraved, the woodcut only appearing in .''/le Ilhistnited London News. 102 JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS ■|,S;i evcnino; made him aware of the previous sale. I have had more than one apj)lication for it. and you could, I ha\( little doubt, sell it for as much again as I shall ask you. " There are few papers that speak favoural)ly of me. as they principally follow the Tunes. Vnr once in a way that i^reat leader of public opinion will be; slightly out in its conjectures. There are articles in the Spectator and Daily N^ews as Ljreat in praise as the others are in abuse. " Where are you, in London or O.xford ? Mrs. Pat s letter did not specif)' the locality. Remember me aff(;c tionately to her. and believe me. " Ever sincerely yours. "JoiI.N lu KRKTT iMlLL.MS." To the same. '* 83, CJcjwKR Strkkt, '' Mav 10, 1 8 ; I . " My dear Mr. Comim:. — I think if your friend admires Charley's sketch he would be particularly charmed with the picture, and would never regret its purchase, as a work so elaborately studied would always (after the present panic) command its [)rice, ^150. "Most men look back u[)on their early paint inj^s -for which they have received but poor remuneration — as the principal instruments of their after wealth. Eor one j^reat instance, see Wilkie's ' Blind P'iddler,' sold for ^20, now worth more than ^1000! TLarly works are also oenerally the standard specimens of artists, as ^reat success blunts enthusiasm, and little by little men get into carelessness, which is construed by idioti;: critics into a nobler handlini;. Putting aside the good work of purchasing from thos(; who retjuire encouragement, such patrons will be res|)ectecl afterwards as wise and useful men amongst knavish fools. who should be destroyed in their revolting attemi)ts 10 crush us — attempts so obviously malicious as to prove our rapid ascendancy. It is no credit to a man to purchase from those who are opulent antl acknowledged by the world, so your friend has an opportunity for beconiing one of the first-named wise patrons who shall, if we live, !>e extolled as having assisted in our (I hope) final success. "Hunt will, I think, sell his; there is a man about it, >S;i ,-,;i CORRKSPONDKNCK 103 iiid it is a verv tliic picture. Mv somewhat sho\viiiaiilii- to a vounij' ijirl, who will be in the act of plii;htiny^ her troth to a man wholly engrossed in his love, the parents of each uniting in con- liTatulation at the consummation of their own and their cliildren's happiness. A drunkard will be railing boisterousi ; ai another, less intoxicated, f(jr his cowardice in beini;" some- what appalled at the view the open window presents — flats ol oiistenini;- water, revealinj^- but the summits of mountains 104 JOHN KVKRKTT MILLAIS [1851 uS;i and crests of poplars. The rain will he hcatinj^^ in the face- of the terrified attendant who is holdini;- out the shutter, wall-stained and runninLi' down with the wet, but sli'>"htl\ as yet inundating the lloor, 'inhere will also be the ver yours affectionately, "John KvF.kKTr Mili.ais." io6 JOHN KVKRKTT MILLAIS [tS5, " xMariana in the Moated Granite" was exhibited this \ear with the tollovviiii^- (|LU)tation from 'reiiiiyson's well-known poem : — "She only said, ' My life is dreary — He coinelli not,' she said : She said, ' I am aweary, aweary — I would that I were dead.' " The j)ictiii"e re])resents Mariana risinj^" to her full height and bending backwards, with half-closed eyes. She is wear\ of all things, incliidinin' the embroider) -frame which stands before her. Her dress of deep rich blue contrasts with the red-orange colour of the seat beside which she stands. In the front of the fii^ure is a window of stained j^lass, through which may be seen a sunlit i^arden beyond ; and in contrast with this is seen, on the rij^ht of the i)icture, an oratory, in the dark shadow of which a lamp is burninj^-. Spielmann's observations on this work are not cpiite eas\ to understand. He says the subject is a " Rossettian one. without the Rossettian emotion."* If so. the lack of emotion must be due rather to the poet than to the painter, for, referring- lo this picture in the Maoaziiic of Art of September, ICS96, he sj)eaks of Millais' "artistic expression beini^" more keenly sensitive to the hii^hest forms of written poetry than any other painter of his eminence who ever appeared in Ent>land." He thinks, too. that the colour is too stroni^ and ij^ay to be quite in harmony with the subject. thouLjh immediately afterwards he (juotes the particular lines which Millais sought to illustrate : — "... 15ut most she loathed the hour When the thick-moated sunbeam lay Athwart the chambers, and the day Was sloping towards his Western bower." The sun, then, was shinino; in all its splendour, and though poor Mariana loathed the sight, the objects it illuminated were none the less brilliant in colour. And so they appear in the picture. The shadows, too, are there in happy con- trast, and every object is seen in its true atmosphere, without any clashing of values. In the Times of May 13th, 1851, Ruskin noticed th'j picture in his characteristic manner. He was glad to sec that Millais' " Lady in blue is heartily tired of paintci * The critic, too, seems to forget that all Rossctti's emotional siilijccts we^ ■ painted years later. J't '-n Id the lo SC(' liinte'i Its wc 1 85 1 I window I hat sin and dt: achievcM rc't^ards • Icliohtf Miliais instead [)ur|)ose, Tiic ; luindred ihrouoh i )unlop, owns " J Durin one day to the w; beini;" st( he could 1 5 Lit whe who had search ol across tl h'j^htning- it the poc position f The w h"om one chapel Wci iij), and tl outside wj windows. Of all more trul ah-eadv ir painted ir ill 1851. * A similc'i v< ry moment ■'I ' oilic dog SI i«5'l AN OBLKHNG MOUSK 109 windows and idolalrous toik'l-tahU;."' but niaiiilained ■•ciicrallv ihat since the days ot All)crt 1 )urc'i- no sludies ol draperies and d(!tails, nothinj;' so earnest and conij)lete. had been achieved in art -Ji judgment which, says Spiehiiann. "as regards execution, will hardly be rexersetl to-day." With ilelightful inconse{|uence. Ruskin afterwards addetl that, had Millais "j)ainted ^lariana at work in an unmoated grannc instead of idle in a moated one, it had l)een more to the l)ur|)Ose, whether of art or life." The [)icture was sold to Mr. P^irrer, the dealer, for one hundred and fifty j)ounds. and after passing successively liirough the hands of Mr. H. W'indus and Mr. J. M. l)Lmlop. it now rests with Mr. Ilenry Makins, who also owns " I^'erdinand " and "For the Scjuire." During the execution of this work Millais came down one clay and foimd that things were at a standstill owing to the want of a model to [)aint from. He naturall) disliked being stoj)))ed in his work in this way. and the only thing he could think of was to sketch in the mouse that "Behind the mouldering wainscot siirickcd, Or from the crevice peer'd about." l)Ut where was the mouse to paint from? Millais' father, who had just come in. thought of scouring the countrv in st.arch of one, but at that moment an obliging mouse ran across the floor and hid behind a portfolio. Quick as lightning Millais gave the portfolio a kick, and on removing it the poor mouse was found quite dead in the best possible position for drawing it.* The window in the background of "Mariana" was taken from one in Merton Chapel, Oxford. The ceiling of the chapel was being painted, and scaffolding was of course put ii]), and this Millais made use of whilst working. The scene outside was painted in the Combes' garden, just outside their windows. Of all the pictures ever painted, there is probably none more truly PreT'iaphaelite in character than one I have alreadv mentioned — ''The Woodman's Daughter.' It was painted in 1850 in a wood near Oxford, and was exhibited in 185 I. F^very blade of grass, every leaf and branch, and * A similar incident, in which tlie wished-for model actually a])i)earcd at the \ I ly moment when its ]jresence was most desired, occurred some \ears later, w hen a I ollie dog suddenly turned up to ser\e as a model in " Blow, blow, thou Winter \^ind." ' - -. ' :. ■ ♦.. ai I' I IC JOHN i':\'i:Ri:ir millais [I8SI cvcrv shadnw ilial llic\ cast in the simiiy wood is prL'sciUcil hvni with unlliiuhiiiL^ realism and infiiiitc delicacy of detail. N'el the liinures are in no way swamped In their surroimdintrs, every accessory takini^' its propi-r place, in siiljordination tn die ri^urt^s and the tale thev have to tell. TIk; contrast hetween the i)oy the |)ersonirication of aristocratic rethie ment — and the imttitored clild of natiirt; is very striking, as was no doiiht intended hv Mr. Coventrv h'atmore. whose poem. "The Tale of Poor Mand," daughter of (icrald the wootlman, the- picture* was intendeil to illustrate. '• Mlv talc is lliis : In tlic swcft aj^c, When Heaven's our side the lark, She used to ,^0 with (lerald where He work'd hom morn to dark, I'or montlis, to thin tlie crowded groves Of tlie ancient manor park. ''Slie went with him to tiiink sh'.- helptl ; And whilst he hack'd and saw'd The rich .Sciuire's son, a young boy then, Wiiole mornings, as if awed. Stood silent hy, and ga/ed in turn At Gerald and on Maud. "And sometimes, in a sullen .one, He'd offer fruits, and slie Received them always with an air So unreserved and free, 'I'hat shame-faced distance soon became Familiarity." William Millai:; contriluites the followino- note on this paintii\^ .- - '' I think, [)erhaps, the most beautiftil backoroimd ever j)ainted by my brother is to be found in his picture of ' The Woodman's Dauohter' a copse of youno; oaks standino" in a tangle of bracken and untrodden underwood, every plant oraceful in its virgin splendour, " Notice the exquisitely tender greys in the bark of the vouno- oak in the foreground, against which the brilliantly clothed lordling is leaning. T^very touch in the fretwork tracery all about it has been caressed by a true lover of his art, for in these liis glorious early days one can see that not an iota was slurred over, but that every beauty in nature met with its due apprec.'ation at his hands. " Kve cannot follow the mvsterious interlacino- of all tlv wonderful green things that spring up all about, where ever\ kind of woodgrowth seems to be striving to get the uppc I.S5I 1 iiand ;i tendril "'I'll ;ecltidc noble |( .1 niinii "11 ; vo After a lirother The VI \()ti 've • Whv, Millai.s, ihotigh paint al To lj ciittage where h Mr. scribed painting (oventr leather < how he ; and swoi " 'J1ie sen ted I (iarden I'Uir — a have he; afterwarc It was (l(;tence earnest c In the t " that on wholenes lection ot though s Hunt" a: "they ar degree ot dice to c h.Sjl uS;i Tin-: WOODMAN'S DAUCillTKR" in l)l;iiU of the liantly twork of his It not e met 11 th- ever\ up pel' hand aiul to n-aeh the smiHirht first, where every leaf and leiulril stands out in hold relief. "This hackj^rniind was |)ainled near ( ).\f()rd. in a most secluded spot, and \'el my brother hail a dail\' \ isitor 'a nohU-' lord of hit^h decree '- who used to watch him work for .1 miiuite or two, maU(; one remark, ' Well, sou are i^ctlinj^ Mil ; you've plenty of room yet,' and then sileiuK disap|)ear. After a time these visits ceased, and upon their renewal my hrother had in the interim almost linished the hackMroimd. The visitor, on seeing" his work, exclaimed, 'Win. alter all. \()u've not j^ot it in!' My brother asked what it was. "Why, O.vford, of course! You should ha\'e put it in.' Millais, who had his back to the town, explained that al- though Art could do wonders, it had never \et been able to paint all roimd th(; compass." To be near his work on this picture Millais stayed in the cottaLje of a Mrs. Kin^', at liotley. Lord Abin^tlon's park, where he was joined by his friend Charles Collins. Mr. Arthur Hui^hes writes: " I'\ (i. .Stephens has de- scribed to me how he was with Millais in the country whi-n jjaintinj.^ 'The Woodman's l)au!4hter' (the subject from C'oventry Patmore). and how Millais was painting- a small fi ather dropped from a bird in the immetliate forei^round ; how he stamped and cursed over it, and then scraped it out and swore he would ^et it ri^ht and ilitl. " The strawberries which appear in the picture, as pre- sented by the youni;- aristocrat, were boui^ht in Covent (iarden in March. ' 1 had to pay hve-and-si.xpence for the four — a vast sum for me in those davs, but necessarv ' I have heard him say, 'and Charlie Collins and I ate them afterwards with a thankftil heart,' " It was in this year (1851) that Ruskin took up arms in defence of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, and no more earnest or more eloquent advocate could they have desireil. Ill the first volume of Modern Paiiiicj'S he insisted that "that only is a complete picture which has both the general wholeness and eftect of Nature and the inexhaustible per- tection of Nature's details" ; and, pointino- to "the admirable, though strange pictures of Mr, Millais and Mr, Holman Hunt" as examples of progress in this direction, he added, "they are endeavouring to paint, with the highest possible degree of completion, what they see in Nature, without refer- ence to conventional or established rules ; but bv no means I 12 JOHN KVI'RKI r MILLAIS f'«5' to iiiiilalc llic- si\lc of ,iii\ |)asi cjxKh. Ihcir works arc. in linish of (Irawin;..^ and in splciuloiir of colour, llic Ix'si ill llic Koyal Acailciny. and I have i^rcal liopL* thai they mav l)L'ConiL' the foundation ot a more earnest and ahh school of Art than vve have seen for centuries." Mtire was a heav\ blow to the IMiiiistiiies of the Press, for at this time Ruskiii was all but universally acct;|)ted as th(! tinal authoritv in matters of /\rt. Hut a heavier yet was in store for them. In an addendum to one of his published Lcclincs on A rcliili'tinrc aud Painlino; XkicXwxkis delivered at luIinburL^h in November, 185^ he declared that "the ver\- faithfulness of the Pre-Kaplia(;lites arises from thi^ redundance of thtMr imaj^inative |)ower. Not oiiK can all the members of the | Pre-Raphaelite | School conijiosc a thousand times bc-tter than the men who jiretend to look down uj)on them, but I {|uesti()n whether even the sj^reatest men of old times possesseil more exhaustless invention than either Millais or Rossetti. ... As 1 was copyinj^^ this sentence a pamphlet was put into my hand, written by a cleri^yman. denouncing;, ' Woe, woe, woe, to e.Kceedin^ly youiij4" men of stubborn instincts callint;^ themselves Pre- Raphaelites.' I thank Ciocl that the Pre-Raphaelites are youni;", and that strength is still with them, and life, with all the war of it, still in front of them. Yet luerett Millais, in this year, is of the exact a_ue at which Raphael painted the ' I)is))Lita,' his jj^reatest work; Rossetti and Hunt are both of them older still ; nor is there one m( . i/.ier so younji^ as (iiotto when he was chosen from amonj^ the painters to decorate the Vaticum of ital\-. Hut Italy, in her ^reat periotl, knew her s^reat men, and did not despise their youth. It is reserved for I^nj^land to insult the strength of her noblest children, to wither their warm enthusiasm early into the bitterness of patient battle, and to leave to thcjsc whom she should have cherished and aided no hope but in resolution, no refuj^e but in disdain." Thus spoke the oracle in 1S53, nor (as will presendy appear) was his zeal abated in 1H55, when "The Rescue" was exhibited, or in 1856. when "Peace Concluded" ap- l)eared on the Academy walls. Hut, strans^e to say, after that period works of Alillais, executed with ecjual care and with the same fastidious regard for details (the lovely " VaK; of Rest " and " Sir Isumbras " for instance), were condemned by him in unmeasured terms. I.— 8 |iS5' ;irf. llu;v Mi threat ivoiith. f her carlv those »e but Ise ntlv Iscue atter : anil Val.: hnnecl THK WOODMAN'S DAUOHTKR. 1849 I.— 8 .Millais CO Millais thinks -Hiir —Coll with h siiffcrii and .\: sittinj,''!! ( iower 1 not atte " Hamle subject ] strono- 1.1 lines in •singing ] Near 1 Leniprier flows intc side of a CHAPTER IV. Millais commences " 0|)heli;i"— Holman Hunt, Charlcf Collins, William and John Millais paint at Worcester Park P'arm — Further letters to the Combes — Millais thinks of going to the East Commencement of diary and "The Huguenot" — Hunt at work on "The Light of the World" and "The Hireling Shepherd" — Collins' last picture — Millais' idea for "The Huguenot "—He argues it out with Hunt — .NFeetsan old sweetheart — Returns to (lower Street — Miss Siddal's sufferings as model for "Ophelia" — Success of "Ophelia" — Arthur Hughes and Millais — Criiics of 1852 — Woman in art — Oeneral Lcmpriere on his sittings for "The Huguenot" — Miss Ryan — Miller, of i'reston — Letters from (i85> w ly itable for the backs n I' ;!. V , ground of his picture, in the month oi July, vvnen tne river tlovvers and water-weeds were in full bloom. Having- selected his site, the next thin^- was to obtain lod<'in<'S within easv distance, and these he secured in a cottage near Kingston, with his friend Holman Hunt as a companion. They were not there very lonj^, however, for presently came into the neij^hbourhood two other members of the Pre-Ra{)haelite fraternity, bent on working together ; and, uniting with them, the two moved into Worcester Park Farm, where an old garden wall happily served as a background for the " Huguenot," at which Millais could now work alternately with the "Ophelia." It was a jolly bachelor party that now assembled in the farmhouse — Holman Hunt, Charlie Collins, William and John Millais — all determined to work in earnest ; Holman Hunt on his famous " Light of the World" and " The Hire- ling Shepherd," Charlie Collins at a background, William Millais on water-colour landscapes, and mv father on the backgrounds for the two pictures he had then in hand. From ten in the morning till dark the artists saw little of each other, but when the cveninos " broucrht all things home " they assembled to talk deeply on Art, drink strong tea, and discuss and criticise each other's pictures. F^ortunately a record of these interesting days ir. preserved to us in Millais' letters to Mr. and Mrs. Combe, and his di'^ry — the only one he ever kept — which was written at this time, and retained by my un^^^e William, who has kindly placed it at my disposal. Here are some of his letters — the first of which I would commend to the attention of Max Nordau, referring as it does to Ruskin, whom Millais met for the first time in the summer of this year. It was v/ritten from the cottage near Kingston before Millais and Hunt removed to Worcester Park Farm. To Ah's. Combe. " SuRinrox Hill, Kingston, ''July 2mi, 185 L " Mv DEAR Mrs. Comije, — I have dined and taken breakfast with Ruskin, and we are such good friends that he wishes me to accompany him to Switzerland this summer. . . . We are as yet singularly at variance in our opinions upon Art. #'"'\ V ime, 2d it : of lau. first the 1 to cfast shes We Art. < • 3* °^ .5 1851] One ( shall and I "Y I am ! ' Oph( mornii in the than r uncom of pea W^e St changt the ad thincr.' those ( stare, ; potanii "M> experie have a first dil have ai mine, s necessa under a halfpeni satisfy i threater trespass admissic cut ; an water, a wlien th liiraduallv slacken in his admiration. " You will see that I am writing this from KiuL^ston, where I am stopping, it beint^" near to a river that I am painting' for 'Ophelia.' We i^et up (Hunt is with me) at six in the morning, and are at work by eight, returning home at seven in the eveninij". The lodoings we have are somewhat better than Mistress King's at Botley, but are, of course, horribly uncomfortable. We have had for dinner chops and suite of peas, potatoes, and gooseberry tart four days running. We spoke not about it, believing in the certainty of some change taking place ; but in private we protest against the adage that ' you can never have too much of a good thing.' The countrvfolk here are a shade more civil than those of Oxfordshire, but similarly given to that wondering stare, as though we were as strange a sight as the hippo- potamus. * " My martyrdom is more trying than any 1 have hitherto experienced. The Hies of Surrey are more muscular, and have a still greater propensity for probing human flesh. Our first difficulty was ... to acquire rooms. Those we now have are nearly four miles from Hunt's spot and two from mine, so we arrive jaded and slightly above that temperature necessary to make a cool commencement. I sit tailor-fashion under an umbrella throwing a shadow scarcely larger than a halfpenny for eleven hours, with a child's mug within reach to satisfy my thirst from the running stream beside me. 1 am threatened with a notice to appear before a magistrate for trespassing in a field and destroying the hay ; likewise by the admission of a bull in the same field after the said hay be cut ; am also in danger of being blown bv the wind into the water, and becoming intimate with the feelings of Ophelia when that lady sank to muddy death, together with the (less likely) total disappearance, throu^ih the voracity of the Hies. There are two swans who not a little add to my misery by persisting in watching me from the exact spot I wish to paint, occasionally destroying every water-weed within their l!.3 * It was in this year, 1850, that the first specimen of tlie hiijpopotanuis was seen in London. Millais seems to have been of the same opinion as Lord Macaulay, who says : " I have seen the hip|K)potamiis, both asleep and awake ; and I can assure vou that, awake or asleep, he is the ugliest of the works of (led." I 20 JOHN KVKRKTT MILLAIS [185. 1S51] DKSKIN I'OR A I'ICIUKK OK "ROMKO AM) JUI.IKT." 1852 reach. My sudden perilous evolutions on the extreme bank, to persuade them to evacuate their position, have the effect of entirely derangino- my temper, my picture, brushes, and palette ; but, on the other hand, they cause those birds to look most oenignly upon me with an expression that seems to advocate greater patience. Certainly the painting of a picture under such circumstances would be a greater punish- ment to a murderer than hanuino-. " I have read the Sheepfolds, but cannot give an opinion u|ion 1 mv ne; "M friends "My to sheep that I f socks. 1 (readii devourir to write steaks o are out c " We suspicior is occasi ration) ascertain to bear .S5l] CORRKSPONDENCK I 21 upon it yet. I feel it very lonely here. Please write before my next. " Mv love to the Earlv Christian and remembrances to y *'''<^-"<^^^- " Verv affectionatelv vonrs. "John Iukkhtt Mii.lais." I' THK LAST SCKXK, "KO.MKO AND JUMKT." ink. ct of and look s to )f a nish- nion To Airs. Combe. " SuKHiTcjN Hill, Kincstox, ">6'. 1851- " Mv DEAR Mrs. Pat, — 1 have taken such an aversion to sheep, from so frequently having mutton chops for dinner, that I feel my very feet revolt at the proximity of woollen socks. Your letter received to-day was so entertaining- that 1 (reading and eating alternatelv) nearlv forgot what I was devouring. This statement will, I hope, induce Mr. Combe to write to me as a relish to the inevitable chops. The steaks of Surrey are tougher than Brussels carpets, so they are out of the question. " We are getting on very soberly, but have some suspicions that the sudden decrease of our bread and butter is occasioned by the C — — family (under momentary aber- ration) mistaking our fresh butter for their briny. To ascertain the truth, we intend bringing our artistic capacity to bear upon the eatables in question by taking a careful 122 JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS [185, !S;i drawini^ of their outline. I'pon their reappearance; wc; shall refer to tlie portraits, and thereby discover whether the steel of Sheffield has shaven their features. I This thev did and made sk(;tches of the butter.] Hunt is writing' beside nic the description of (his) your picture. He has read Ruskin's pamphlet, and with me is anxious to read Dyce's reply, which I thank you for ordering. In the field where I am paintinir there is hav-makin<>' L!()in<»" on ; .so at times I am surrounded by women and men, the latter of which remark that mine is a tedious job, that theirs is very warm work, that it thundered somewhere yesterday, that it is likely we shall have rain, and that they feci thirsty, very thiisty. An uneasiness immediately comes over me ; my fin<^ers tingle to bestow a British coin upon the honest yoemen to jret rid of them ; but no, I shall not indulijj'e the scoundrels after their rude and ((reedy applications. Findin(( hints move me not, they boldly ask for money for a drop of drink. In the attitude of Napoleon commanding; his troops over the Alps. I desire them to behold the river, the which I drink. Then comes a shout of what some writers would call honest country laughter, and I, coarse brutality. Almost every morning Hunt and I give money to children ; so all the mothers send their offspring (amounting by appearance to twelve each) in the line of our road ; and in rank and file they stand curtsying with flattened palms ready to receive the copper donation. This I like ; but men with arms larger round than my body hinting at money disgusts me so much that I shall paint some day (I hope) a picture laudator} of Free Trade. "Good-night to vourself and Mr. Combe; and believe that I shall ever remain " Most faithfully yours, "John Everktt Millais." grows and I ])lant I There of soft its nai meado "I inciden When ''I apolog. Heggin To Airs. Conibc. " Kingston, ''July 28///, 1 85 1, " Mv DEAR Mrs. Comise, — Many thanks tor Uyce's answer, which I received yesterday, and as yet have read but little, and that little imperfectly understand. " In answer to your botanical inquiries, the flow^ering rusb CORRKSPONDHNCK 12; • 'TOWS most luxuriantlv aloiv'' the hanks of the river hcrt", and I snail j)aint it in the picture |"()))heha'|. 'I'lie other |)lant named I am not sufficiently learned in llowers to know. There is the doi^-rose, river-daisy, forget-me-not, and a kind of soft, straw-coloured hlossom (with the word 'sweet' in its name) also ^rowini^' on the bank ; I think it is called meadow-sweet. " I am nijj['htly working- my brains for a subject. Some incident to illustrate j)atience I ha\e a desire to paint. When I catch one I shall write you the descrii)tion. '• I enclose Hunt's key to the missionary picture, with apologies from him for not having sooner prepared it. Begging you to receive his thanks for your kind invitation, believe me, with affectionate regards to Mr. Combe, " Most trulv vours, "John Evkkhtt Mii.lais." To Mrs. Coiubc, " WoRCKSTEK Park F"arm, near Cheam, Sukkev. '' Scptciiibcr, 185 1. " Mv dear Mrs. Co.Mr.E,--You will see by the direction that we have changed our spot, and much for the better. Nothing can exceed the comfort of this new place. Little to write about except mishaps that have occurred to me. " I have broken the nail of the left-hand little, finger off it the root ; the accident happened In catching a ball at cricket. I thoutjfht at first the bone was broken, so I moved off at once to a doctor, who cut something, and said I should lose the nail. I have been also bedridden three days from a bilious attack, from vhich, through many drugs, I am recovered. " We all three live together as happily as ancient monastic brethren. Charley [Collins] has immensely altered, scarcely indulging in an observation. I believe he inwardlv thinks that carefulness of himself is better for his soul. Outwardlv it goes far to destroy his society, which now, when it happens that I am alone with him, is intolerably unsym- pathetic. I wish you could see this farm, situated on one of the highest hills in this county. In front of the house '.here is one of the finest avenues of elm trees I ever saw. " We live almost entirely on the produce of the farm. "A, 124 JOHN HVKRHTT MILLAIS [1851 which su|)|)lics every Meeessiiry. Colh'iis scarc(!ly ever eats pastry; he ahslains, I taiicx , on rehi^ions ))riiu'i|)les. " KeiiKMnher me alteciionately to the inotlier who |)ann)ers him, aiul Ijclieve me " Most affectionately \ours. ''John Mil, I. .MS." To Mr. L'omhc. " \V()R( r.STKK I'auk l'".\kM. " Octohi'i- \^(/i, 1S51. •' Mv DKAR Mr. CoMiii;, Voii must have felt sometimes (jiiite inculpable of answering;' a letter. .Such has been my state. I have made two fruitless att(Mnpts. and shudder for the end of this. liuni and self are both delij^htecl by your letter, detectin^t;' in it a serious intent to behold us plant the artistic umbrella on the sands of Asia. He has read one of the travels you sent us. 7/ic Camp and the Cara7H7u, and considers the obstacles as trilling' and easy to be overcome by three tieterminetl men. two of whom will have the aspect of ferocity, beini;' bearded like the pard. Hunt can testify to the fertility of my upper lip, which aui»urs well for the under soil. It therefore (under a tropical sun) may arrive at a Druidical excellence. " Two of the children beloni^ini;- to the house have come in and will not be turned out. 1 play with them till dinner and resume work at>ain afterwards. The weather to-day has prevented my painting" out of doors, so I comfortably painted from some flowers in the dinin^-rocmi. Hunt walked to his spot, but returned disconsolate and wet through. Collins worked in his shed and looked most miserable ; he is at this moment cleaning' his palette. Hunt is smoking a vulgar pipe. He will have the better of us in the Holy Land, as a hookah goes with the costume. I like not the prospect of scorpions and snakes, with which I foresee we shall get closely intimate. Painting on the river's bank (Nile or Jordan) as I have done here will be next to throwing oneself Mito the alligators' jaws, so all water sketching is put aside. Forgive this nonsensible scribble. I am only capable of writing my very kindest remembrances to Mrs. Pat. in which Charley and Hunt join. " Most faithfully yours, "John P2verett Millais." S511 At il . ".ast w And hilly on of the man's s ('omm(.' worked tiums ; llj) to It mimickii Succeed( hole anti " l.avi behind promise her seat and fami scream in j my child me chim to me) ' and lool> c[uart(T t( his dinne I'll masse come in. rate stor\ " Ociot roofs anc children Babv scr ot devili.' to me th with slio-j and put I stay ther uncertain from her '85'] KXTR ACTS FROM 1)1 AkV I 2 At this tinu' Millais li;i(l scirious thoiii^lus ol' ,n<>in;4 to llic I'.ast with limit, hut (.'VC'iUiiali) ^avc iif) the idea. And now coiiiiiKMiccs the (liai*\, written closely a' . ., liilly on siieets of note|)a|)er. The sl\Ie savours somewiial of the conversation of .\lr. JiiiL^le; hut. as in that Licnile- man's short and piiln sentences, the suhslance is clear. )rfcsee bank xt to vater iloble. ances i:\'i'R.\(:is IROM i)i.\k\-. " I am ad\ised h\' Coventry Patniore to keep a diar\. ('onim(;ncc one forthwith. -To-dax. October \ht//. 1S51, worked on niv picture ['The I lu^^uenot ' | ; painted nastur- tiums ; saw a stoat run into a hole in the i^arden wall ; went uj) to it and encUiavoured to lure the littU' heasi out by iiiimickino- a rat's or mouse's sc[ueak not particular which. Succeeded, to my astonishment, lie came half out of the hole and looked in my face, within eas\- reach. " Lavinia {little daut^hter of landlad) ) I allowed to sit behind me on the box border and watch me paint, on promise of keeping' excessiveh' (|uiet ; she complain(;d that her seat struck very cold. In the adjoinin_L^ orchanl, boy and family knocking- down apples ; younj^est sister but one screamiui^-. Mother remarked, ' I wish you were in Heaven, niy child; you are always cryinj^'; and a little voice behind me chimed in, 'Heaven! where (iod lives.-*' and (tiM'niiiL;' to me) 'You can't see (iod.' I'^ldest sister, Tanny, came and looked on too. Told me her mother says, about a quartfT to six, 'There's Lonj^-limbs (J, K. M.) whistliuL^ for his dinner; be cjuick and oct it ready.' Played with children cii masse in the parlour before their bedtime. Himt just come in. . . . Sat up till past twelve and discovered tirst- rate story for my present picture. ''October I'jtii. — Beautiful mornin;^ : frost on the barn roofs and the green before the houses. i^layed with the children after breakfast, and bej^an painting;' about nine. Baby screaming — commenced about ten o'clock. Kxhibition ot devilish passion, from which it more particularly occurred to me that we are born in sin. F"amily crying continually, with slight intermission to reco\ er strength. Lavinia beaten and put under the garden clothes-pole for being naughty, to stay there until more composed. Perceiving that to be an uncertain period, I kissed her wet eyes and released her from her position and sat her by me. Quite dumb for some i' I 26 JOHN KVHRKTT MI I.LAIS I1S5, 01 time; siuUlciily trcinciKlnusly talkative. 'I'licsc arc some; her observations; 'We haven't killed little lietsy (the \n'^) yet; she means to ha\(; little pii^s herselt. Ann (the sor\ant) says shi; is ,L;oinM to 1)(; )«)ur servant, antl me your cook, when you yfv.i married.' I'pon askinj^ her whether she could cook, she answt.-red, ' Not like the cooks do.' At fiV(.' jL;av(; up paintini;. Hitter cold. CHiildriMi screamin^^ ii^iun. " ()(/(>/)i/- iH///. I'ine sunny mornin;4. Ate j^rapc^s. IJttle I'anny worked at a doll's calico petticoat on a chair beside me. DrivcMi in bv dri/zlin<>" weather, I work in the narlour ; Fanny, my companion, rather troublesome. Coa.ed h(,'r out. Roars of laughter outside the window- 1*". llattci iiil; her nose against the pane. Mrs. Stapleton called, with n.,'rrie(l .son and daui^bter, and admirinl my picturi^s ecstaticall;, , Collins Lione ; went honu; after dinner. Sat with ilunt in the eveninj;- : peked at a candle outside with little white balls that i>T()w on a shrub. Composed desii^n of " Rei)entant Sinner laviu''' his head in Christ's bosom.'* ""October 19/// {Sniuiay). {'Expected Rossetti, who never came. Ciovernor [his father] spent the day with us, saw llunt's picture and mine, and was cU^liyjhted with them. Went to church. Capital sermon. Poor Mr. Lewis felt very gloomy all the day ; supposed it to be the weather, that beini.? dull and drizzling". . . . I^'ound two servants of Captain Shepherd — both very pretty — one of whom 1 thouj^ht of gettinn- to sit for my picture. Traversing the; same road home, entered into conversation with them, lioth perfectly willing to sit, and evidently expecting it to be an affair of a moment one suggesting a pencil-scratch from which the two heads in our pictures could be painted ! liade them good-night, feeling certain they will come to the farn; to-morrow for eggs or cream. Went out to meet Collins, but found we were too early, so came home juk! had tea. I (too tired to go out again) sit down and write this, whilst Hunt sets out once more with a large horn-lantern. Despair of ever gaining my right position, owing to hearing this da\ that the Committee of Judgment of the Cireat E.xhibitiop have awarded a bronze medal in approbation of the most sickening horror ever {produced, ' The Greek Slave.' Collin.^ returned with his hair cut as close as a man in a House (»' Correction. * This sketcli, now in my possession, was ncxcr transf'.MTod to canvas. -5' I " Oct which wall. is cont;i I'.nghuK work a! ■ ifterwar tlie gate with OIK "Oct deal. ()|)en )\ sniokmj induced what he chin, him, wit iifterwan honey, (if |)ossi "Octo and got l"ann\-, \ I iunt pn beside th permissi( of it sh( two o'cl( "Octo. Was ask nients t< they vvoi " Fain sheddiuii webs be and thei new reii the Stat knowled: \\'ent tc producec painting Of th i8si • <;'l KX'I'RAC IS I'ROM DIARY ? 27 • tluT. vaius )iii I '• tin- Both 3c an fr(Mii Hack' farir, )llins, .1 tea. whilst cspair cla\ )itiop mosi ollin.^ ise ol ''October 2ot/i. I'inislicd lloucrs alter hreaktast, alter uliicli Weill out to hollnin of i^anleii ami loininencecl l)riik A all. Received hotter Iroin James Mieliael — compliiiUMUary, IS coiUai 11 i 111:4 '^ |)re<.licti()ii that I shall he the greatest painter l',iiLrlaii(l (tver produced. I''elt laiiLiuid all dav. I'"iiiishecl work ahoiit live and went out to see ("harley. Walked on atterwards to meet lliiiil, and waited for him. In openin,«j^ the (^ate entering the farm, met the two _i;irls. Spoke further with one on the matter of sitting, ''October 2\st. Painted from the wall and i^ot on a " wet one. None of us had <>one out, and we were at our wits' end to know what to do. Jack, at Hunt's suLiii'estion thouf^ht it would be a u'ood ioke to paint on one of the cupboard doors. There were two one on either side of the fireplace. Mrs. B. had gone to market. On comins^ into the room on her return, and seein^- what had been done — a picture painted on the cupboard door she was furious; the door had onlv lately been 'so beautifully grained and varnished.' Hunt in vain tried to appease her. She bounced out of the room, sayinof she would make them pay for it. " It hap|)ened on the following day that the \'icar and a lady called upon the young painters ; and on being shown i.ito the sitting-room, Mrs. B. apologised for the 'horrid mess ' (as she called it) on the cupboard door. They inquired who had clone it, and on being told that Mr. Millais was the culprit, the lady said she would give Mrs. B. in exchange for the door the lovely Indian shawl she had on ; so when the painters ciune in from their work, Mrs. P). came up cringingly to my brother and said the only thing he could do was to paint the other cupboard ! He didn't paint the other door, but I believe Mrs. B. had the shawl." And now, in continuation of the " Diary, " we read : — " October 2^t/i. Another day, exactly similar to the orevious. Felt disir.clined to work. Walked with Hunt to his place, returned home about eleven, and commenced work myself, but did very little. Read Tennyson and Pat- more. The spot very damp. Walked to see Charlie about four, and part of the way to meet Hunt, feeling very depressed. After dinner had a good nap, after which read Coleridge-some horrible sonnets. In his Life they .speak ironically of ' Christabel,' and highly of rubbish, calling it Pantomime. " October 25//J!, -Much like the preceding day. All went to Town after dinner ; called at Rossetti's and saw Madox Brown's picture ' Pretty Baa-lambs,' which is very beautiful. Rocsetti low-spirited ; sat with him. " October 2btk, 5////th. — My man, Youn^", broui^ht me a rat after breakfast. Bet>an loaintinqf it swimming", when the iiov^ernor made his appearance, brim^inn' money, and sat with me whilst at work. After four hours rat looked exactly like a drowned kitten. T'elt discontented. Walked with parent out to see Collins paintincj;- on the hill, and on. afterwards, to Young's house. He had just shot another rat and brought it up to the house. Again painted upon the head, and much improved. ... My father and m)self walked on to see 1 1 unt, whose picture looks sweet beyond mention. " October 29///.- -Cleaned out the rat, which looked like a lion, and enlarged picture. After breakfast began ivy on the wall ; very cold, and my feet wet through ; at inter- \als came indoors and warmed them at the kitchen fire. Worked till half-past four ; brought all the traps in and read /// Menioriam. " October 30///. Felt uneasy ; could not paint f>ut of doors, so dug up a weed in the garden path and painted it in the corner. . . . Went to bed early, leaving Hunt up reading- Hooker. "' October 31^/.- Splendid morning. . . . Painted ivy or the wall, and got on a great deal. After tea, about half- past ten, went to see powder-mill man (Young's) to com- mission him to fetch Hunt's picture home. Sat in their watch-house with him and his brother, who eulogised a cat, l^'ing before the fire, for its uncommon predilection to fasten on dogs' backs, also great ratting (jualities. Returned home about eleven and read In Mcfiioriani. Left Hunt up reading Hooker. '" November ^t/i. — P"rightfully cold morning; snowing. Determined to build u}) some kind of protection against the weather wherein to paint. After breakfast superintended in person the construction of my hut — made of four hurdles, like a sentry-box, covered outside with straw. P'elt a ' Robinson Crusoe' inside it, and delightfully sheltered from the wind, thf/ugh rather inconvenienced at first bv the straw, dust, and husks Hying about my picture. Landlady came down to see 1.-9 130 JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS [1851 Vl i me, and hroiit^ht some hot wine. Hunt painting obstinate sheep within call. . . . This evening walked out in tht. orchard (beautiful moonlight night, but fearfully cold) with a lantern for Hunt to see eiifect before finishing background, which he intends doin(>- by moonlight. '' N^ovcinbcr ^tli. — Painted in my shed from ivy. Hum at the sheep again. JNIy man \'()ung, who brought another rat causht in the tjin and little .■"> disfigured, was employed b\ Hunt to hold down a wretched sheep, whose head was verj- unsatisfactorily painted, after the most tantalising exhibition of obstinacy. Evening passed off much as others. Reiul Browning's tragedy, Blot on the Scute /icon, and was astonished at its faithfulness to Nature and Shakespearian perfectness. Mr. Le>vis, the clergyman of the adjoining parish, called, and kindly gave us an invitation to his place when we liked. Had met him at dinner at our parish curate's, Mr. Stapleton. ' ' November 6t/i. — Beautiful morning ; much "varmer than yesterday. Was advised by Hunt to paint th'^ rat, but felt disinclined. After much inward argument took the large box containing Ophelia's background out beside Hunt, who again was to paint the sheep. By lunch time had nearly finished rat most successfully. Hunt employed small im- pudent boy to hold down sheep. Boy not being strong enough, required my assistance to make the animal lie down. Imitated Young's manner of doing so, by raising it up off the ground and dropping it suddenly down. Pulled :in awful quantity of wool out in the operation. Also painted ivy in the other picture. '' N^ovember yt/i. — After breakfast examined the rat [in the painting]. From some doubtful feeling as to its perfect portraiture determined to retouch it. Young made his a )- THK HUOUKNOT. First iile;i 1852 1851] pea ran ( canvas I fully everyor a shee| one we Liverp picture award of /50 news ar The m most an surprisir tunate c he had spring ^ fiercely him to hands, other, had a 1 mine I ^ light bat. canvas, this nior cheerfulh from so tree trun phosphor moon — t branches struck de " .Yove to bed til all day. again pai liini. . . . he did. '' Noz'e^ saw F. M a\enue. th ' Roya [1851 stinatc in thr ) with round. Hunt nother d little ed h\ ■etched s very , after libitioii passed Reiul / on the Dnished Nature wetness, man of led, and vitation liked. at oiir oton. autifiil than d by but felt nward ee box who nearly all im- stron.u' down. up off led ;in lintrd 1851] EXTRACTS FROM DIARY 131 tx se )c ni the perfect his a )- pearance apropos, with another rat, and (for Hunt) a new canvas from the carrier at Kingston. Worked very care- fully at the rat, and finally succeeded to my own and everyone's taste. Hunt was paintins^ in a cattle-shed from a sheep. Letters came for him about three. In openini^ one we were most surpri.^ed and delighted to find the Liverpool Academy (where his 'Two Gentlemen of \'erona ' picture is) sensible enough to award him the annual prize of ^50. He read the good news and painted on unruffled. The man Youncr, holdinij- a most amicable sheep, expressed surprising pleasure at the for- tunate circumstance. He said he had seen robins in the spring of the year fight so fiercely that they had allowed him to take them up in his hands, hanging on to each other. During the day Hunt had a straw hut similar to mine 1 ilt, to paint a moon- light baokgroiind to the fresh canvas. Twelve o'clock. Have this moment left him in it, cheerfully working by a lantern from some contorted apple tree trunks, washed with the phosphor light of a perfect moon —the shadows of the branches stained upon the sward. Steady sparks of moon- struck dew. Went to bed at two o'clock. '' Noveniber 2>ih. — Got up before Hunt, who never went to bed till after three. Painted in my hut, from the ivy, all day. After dinner Collins went off to town. Hunt aoain painting out of doors. Very little of moonshine for h'H. . . . Advised H. to rub out part of background, which he did. '" November (^th, Sunday. — Whilst dressing in the morning saw F. M. Brown and William Rossetti comimr to us in the avenue. They spent the day with us. All disgusted with the Royal Academy election. . . . They left us for the train, THK H UC.U KNOT. " 1852 .Second ide;i 132 JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS [1S5. 1S51] r. lor which they were too late, and returned to sleep here. Further chatted and went to bed. " November i \tk. — Lay thinkinf^ in bed until eleven o'clock. Painted ivy. Worked well ; Hunt painting in the same field ; sheep held down by Young. " November \6tk, Sunday. — To church with Collins ; Hunt, having sat up all night painting out of doors, in bed. After church found him still in his room ; awoke him and had breakfast with him, having gone without mine almost entirely, feeling obliged to leave it for church. Hunt and self went out to meet brother William, whom we expected to dinner. Met him in the park. He saw Hunt's picture for the first ti le, and was boundless in admiration ; also equally eulogised my ivy-covered wall. All three walked out before dinner. . . . In what thev called the Round-house saw a chicken clogged in a small tank of oil. Young extricated it, and, together with engine-driver's daughter, endeavoured (fruit- lessly) to get the oil off. Left them washing fowl, and strolled home. '' N^ovembcr 17th. — Small stray cat found by one of the men, starved and almost frozen to death. Saw Mrs. Barnes nursing it and a consumptive chicken ; feeding the cat with milk. Painted at the ivy. PLvening same as usual." Some further details are supplied in the following letter :- To Mr. Combe. " Worcester Park Farm, ''November 17///, 185 1. '' Mv DEAii CoMHE,^ — Doubtless you have been wondering whether it is my intention ever to let you have your own property [' The Dove ' picture]. We hope to return almost immediately, when I shall touch that which requires a little addition, and directly send it on to you, a letter preceding it to let you know. Hunt has gained the prize at Liverpool for the best picture in the exhibition there. The cold has become so intense that we fear it is impossible to further paint in the open air. We have had little straw huts built, which })rotect us somewhat from the wind, and therein till to-day have courageously braved the weather. "Carlo is still daily labouring at the shed, Hunt night'y working out of doors in an orchard painting moonlight (emplo engage wall), powers to beh sum me t At ground settled an old sunliiLrhi in t week w ultimate legend and stai minister finished, drifted i Hunt, w much tc strainers tragedy But I '' A^ov chicken, to procL found it " Noz'i my wind that pail my back apples in Articles. ''Novc warmer. * Charle known by h ir own almost a little :ding it /erpool )ld has further built, ein till night'y onlig'it 1851] COLLINS' LAST PICTURE I3.> (employed also in the daytime on another picture), and myself engaged in finishing another background (an ivy-covered wall). There is one consolation which strengthens our powers of endurance — necessary for the next week. It is to behold the array of cases, which arc the barns of our summer harvest, standing in our entrance hall. . . . " Very iaith fully yours, ' "John Everett Millaes." At this time Charles Collins was enraued on the back- ground for a picture, the subject of which he had not yet settled upon. He got as far as placing upon the canvas an old shed with broken roof and sides, through which the sunlight streamed ; with a peep outside at leaves glittering in the summer breeze ; and at this he worked week after week with ever varying ideas as to the subject he should ultimately select. At last he found a beautiful one in the legend of a Erench peasant, who, with his family, outcast and starving, had taken refuge in the ruined hut and were ministered to by a saint. The picture, however, was never finished. Poor Collins gave up painting in despair and drifted into literature ; * and when the end came, Holman Hunt, who was called in to make a sketch of his friend, was much touched to find this very canvas (then taken off the strainers) lying on the bed beside the dead man. The tragedy of vanished hopes ! But I must now return to the " Diary." '' N^ovember i^l/i. — Little cat died in the night, also chicken. Painted ivy. In the afternoon walked to Ewell to procure writing-paper ; chopped wood for our fire, and found it warminix exercise. ''November igth. — Fearfully cold. Landscape trees upon my window-panes. After breakfast chopped wood, and after that painted ivy. . . . See symptoms of a speedy finish to my background. After lunch pelted down some remaining apples in the orchard. Read Tennyson and the Thirty-nine Articles. Discoursed on religion. '' N'oveniber loth. — Worked at the wall; weather rather warmer. Evenintr much as usual. * Charles Collins was a regular contributor to House/told ll'oras, hut is chiefly known by his Cruise ott IVhce/s, a work which met with success. 134 JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS ['85' 1851] n '' iVoz'aiibcr 21s/. — Chani^e in the weather cloudy and drizzlinir. All three bej^an work after breakfast. Brother William came about one o'clock. After lunch found some- thino- for him to paint. Left him tn bei^in, and painted till four, very satisfactorily. '' N^ovcnibcr 22nd. — All four beo^nn work early. William left at five, promisini^ to come ai^ain on Monda}', . . . After dinner Hunt and Collins left for London, the former about some inquiries respectino- an appointment to draw for Layard, the Nineveh discoverer. After they were gone, I wrote a very long letter to Mrs. Combe." The letter is perhaps worth insertion here, as showing the writer's attitude towards Romanism, which at that time he was supposed to favour, and as an indication of the general design of his picture, "The Huguenot.' It ran thus : — To Mrs. Combe. " WoRCESTKR Park Farm, '' November 22nd, x'^ix. " Mv DEAR Mrs. Comhe, — My two friends have just gone to town, leaving me here all alone. I dine to-morrow (Sunday) with a very old friend of mine — Colonel Lempriere — resident in the neighbourhood, or else should sio with them. Mr. Combe's letter reached me as mine left for Oxford. Assure him our conversation as often reverts to him as his thoughts turn to us in pacing the quad. The associates he derides have but little more capacity for painting than as many policemen taken promiscuously out of a division. " I have no Academy news to tell him, and but little for you from home. Layard, the winged-bull discoverer, requires an artist with him (salary two hundred a year) and has applied for one at the School of Design, Somerset House. Hunt is ooinij to-nitiht to see about it, as, shoukl there be intervals of time at his disposal for painting pictures, he would not dislike the notion. One inducement to him would be that there, as at Jerusalem, he could illustrate Biblical history. Should the appointment require immediate, filling, he could not take it, as the work he is now about cannot be finished till March. " My brother was with us to-day, and told me that Dr Hesse, Catholi ' The of the constru thev w advanti less it c i)a". womnn vvor'r scarf (31 murder tie the but he, will be the sub highest the hori a secret "Hui John, c and knc 1 will c( Me.' I Saviour a light , of the all oven how ran from th( and he treat met " Nov clergy nij Oriel, ai liave me preacher "I C£ as 1 ha the famil is from J not r-Ten [1851 irone, 1851] "THK PIUGUKNOT" US priere with ft for erts to The y for y out little Dverer, year) merset should ctures. o him jstratc ■lediatt: about Hesse, of Leyton Collei^e, uiulerstood that I was a Roman Catholic (havin}4" been told so), and that my picture of 'The Return of the Dove to the Ark' was emblematical of the return of all of us to that relis>ion — a very convenient construction to put upon it ! I have no doubt that likewise they will turn the subject I am at present about to their advantage. It is a scene supposed to take place (as doubt- less it did) on the eve of the massacre of St. Bartholomew's i)ay. I shall have two lovers in the act of partinii', the womnn a Papist and the man a Protestant. The badoe vvopi to distinguish the former from the latter was a white scarf on the left arm. Many were base enough to escape murder bv wearint>' it. The trirl will be endeavourin*'' to tie the handkerchief round the man's arm, so to save him ; but he, holding his faith above his greatest worldly love, will be softly preventing her. I am in high spirits about the subject, as it is entirely my own, and I think contains the highest moral. It will be very quiet, and but sligiitly suggest the horror of a massacre. The figures will be talkincr against a secret-looking garden wall, which I have painted here. " Hunt's moonliirht desiun is from the Revelation of St. John, chapter iii., 20th verse, ' Behold, I stand at the door and knock : if any man hear My voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me.' It is entirely typical, as the above. A figure of our Saviour in an orchard abundant in fruit, holding in one hand a light (further to illustrate the passage ' I am the Light of the world '), and the other hand knocking at a door all overgrown by vine branches and briars, which will show- how rarely it has been opened. I intend painting a pendant from the latter part of the same, 'And will sup with him, and he with Me.' It is quite impossible to describe the treatment I purpose, so will leave you to surmise. " Now to other topics. We are occasionally visited by the clergyman of the adjoining parish, a Mr. Lewis. He was at Oriel, and knows Mr. Church, Marriot, and others that I have met. He is a most delightful man and a really sound preacher, and a great admirer and deplorer of Newman. ''I cannot accompany 'The Dove' to the 'Clarendon,' as I have un-get-off-ably promised to spend Xmas with the family I feast with to-morrow. Captain Lempriere's. He is from Jersey, and knew me when living there, and I would not (^Tend him. 136 JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS [1851 "Our avciuiL" trees snow down leaves all (la\ lono-, aiul l)(!!^in to show plainly the branches. Collins still fa^s at th( shed, llunt at the orchard, and I at the wall. Rii^lu i^lad we shall all be when we are havir.i^- our harvest home ai Hanover Terrace, which we hope to do next Tuesdax week. " \'ours nicjst faithfully " (at twelve o'clock), "John I '^ v i-; r i.t r M . 1 . i. .\ i s. " Please send nie a letter, (.)r else I shall be jealous." iMiilais having- in this letter stated his conception of " The Hui^uenot," it may be as well. perhaps, to describe here its actua i^enesis. After finishing- the back !.rround for "Ophelia," he bei^an makiiT'' sketches of i\ '>air of O 1 lovers whispering" by a wall, and having" announced his in- tention of utilisino- them in a picture, he at once commenced paintin'^^ the background, mere ly leaving spaces for the figures. As may be gathered from what has been alreadv said, both he and Hunt discussed together every picture which either of them had in contemplation ; and, discoursing or the new subject one evening in Septem- ber, ?vli]lais shov r;cl his pencil- drawings to Hunt, who strono'lv obiected to bis choice-, saying that a simple pair ol' lovers without any powerful story, dramatic or historical, attaching to the meeting was not sufficiently important. It was hackneyed and wantin;; in general interest. "Besides," he quietly added, "it has always struck me as being the lovers' own private affair, and I feel as if we were intruding on so delicate an occasion In- even looking at the picture. I protest against that kind ef Art." Millais, however, was unconvinced, and stuck to h s point, saying the subject would do quite well, at any rat-, he should go on working at "hi' wall." "THK Hna-KNOT." 1852 Third ic'ea 185,] In t logeth( than hi blacklx knowin " morti It was conse(|i Collins lations. treated turning (juietly saiJ, " me up } healthy \er\' ba lr\ and ■' I intei replied " there ': to C()p\' " Wei ha\'e y( time wh into Ch< Hunt rough s making- the first uicture. World." Alillai some otl ;isk(?d w " Wei now wh. l)icture t Tliis inc Wars of !s within scaled th i •. to be 1 8; I COLLINS' ASCETICISM L^7 me ii|) - -,i In the ('VcniiiL;". when the three tVieiuls were j^athered l()L,a'ther, poor Charhe ColHiis canK; in for more "ehatl" than his s(Misitiv(; nature could stand. lie; had refused some hlackberr)' tart which had been served at dinner, and Millais, knowinti" that he was verv tond of this tlish. ridiculed his '■mortifying' the tlesh " and becominn" so much of an ascetic. It was bad for him. he said, and his health was sufferinLi hi conse(|uence ; to which he humorousK addc-d. that Ik; thoui^ht Collins ke|)t a whip uj)stairs and indulL^ctl in private (la^cl- lations. At last Collins re- treated to his room, and Millais, uirninj^' to Hunt, who had been (ILiietly sketching; the while. Why didn't you back ? You know these un- healthy views of religion are very bad for him. We must tr\ and j^et him out of them." ■' I intend to leave them alone," replied the peaceful Hunt; "there's no necessity for us to co])\ him." A pause. "Well," said Millais. "what have you been doin^" all this time while I have been pitching- , into Charlie ? " it Himt showed him some \| roui^h sketches he had been ! making- — some of them beinn' ! the first ideas for his iamous nicture. "The Lit^ht of the World." Millais was delighted with the subject, and lookino at some other loose sheets on which sketches had been made, risked what they were for. "Well," replied Hunt, producing- a drawing, "you will see now what I mean with reofard to the lack of interest in a picture that tells only of the meeting or parting of two lovers. Iiiis incident is supposed to have taken place during the Wars of the Roses. The lady, belonging to the Red Roses. is within her castle ; the lover, from the opposite camp, has scaled the walls, and is persuading her to tly with him. She- is to be represented as hesitating between love and duty. "THK mciKNor.' Kourili idc.'i i.^S JOHN KVKRETT MILLAIS [1851 N'oii li;i\c ihcii ^ot ,m intcrrsiiiiM- suhjcct, and I would |)aint it with an cvcninji;' sky as a hackLiroiiiul." "Oh," cxc-lainicd Mil'ais, dcii^^hted. " tliat 's tlic \v\\ ihini;;, lor nu- ! I have not the wall already |)aintcd, ami need only put in the lii^ures.' "' liut." said Hunt, "this is a castle wall. \'our haek- j^round wont do. " "That doesn't matter," replied Millais, " I shall make one of the lovers helont^inn' to the ' Red and the other to the White Rose taction ; or one must he a suj)|)orter of Kin^ Charles and the other a Puritan." After much discussion Millais suddenly remembered the opera of V/ie Hiti^itenots, and be- thouL,dit him that a most dramatic scene could be made Irom the |)artinn- of the two lovers. He immediatelv beLiaii to make; smah sketches for the ^roujjinj.^ of the fi<;ures, and wrote to his motlier to IH"o at once to th(; IJritish Mu seum to look uj) the costumes. Probablv' more ski (ches were made for this picture and for the "Black Hrunswicker" than f(jr any others of his works. I have now a number of them in my possession, and there must have been many more. They show that his first idea was to place other finures in the picture — two j)riests holding" up the crucifix to the Hui^uenot, whose sweetheart likewise adds her persuasions. Again, other drawin<,s show a priest on either side of the lovers, holding up one of the great candles of the Roman Catholic Church, and the Protestant waving them back with a gesture of disapproxal. These ideas, however, were happily discarded — probably as savour ing too much of the wholly obvious -and the; artist wisel trusted to the simi-^licity of the pathos which marked th character of his final decision. "THK HClU'KXOT." 1852 1 iftli and fiiKil Lomposltinii foi llic picture for 'S, tr to Mu mes. were il for than orks. iheni there more, idea )ldin,L; (•wise priesi grea* estant I hese ivoiir visel d th 'Mil-. IIU(;UKNOT.' 1852 /\; fiiin/issitui 0/ H. G'r.Trs itni Sini ' I "«ll '85I1 It wil |)iil)Iicly of The he and COStllllKj Aiul I " No: (lis^iistc Ljoiiio- t'a ihe (lay Sir Johi most kii our way inwsclf ; the i^irl 'John,' inarrJL'cl look the over his new chii most CO all \valk( Mr. H- hoLise — J perfectly make a she mal- at havin (Evvell), I lad a q the even .miardsm and son- ni^ht be Ciot the sorrovvfii Reached •' Noz\ and his ;irmy, an L^ot doLit i'ictures, '^ith coc iSSil EXTRACTS I'ROM DIARY 141 It will be seen tlit-n that the picture was not (as lias hcfii piihlicly staictl) the oiilcninc of a visit to McvitIu'it's (t|u'ra of 7/ic J/iii^in'iioL< ; ihoiii^h some tinu' after Millais' ilccision lie ami lliiiit went to the opera to study the pose and costumes of the Tinures. And now for some fmal extracts from tht; " Piary." '' jVoi't'/fi/HJ- 23/7/, Siiiih to be her father; he, trvinsj- to look the y()un»»' man, with a lij.;ht cane in his hand. W'alkeil over his j^rounds (which are very beautiful) and on to the new church, wherein th(; cai)tain joined us, and shook hands most cordially with me. A most melancholy service over, all walked home.'. Mrs. H distant, and with her mother. Mr. \^ did not accompany us; found him at the captain's house — an apparently stupid man. plain and baUl. Was perfectly stupefied by surprise at Mrs. B^ — asking- me to make a little sketch of her U''lv old husband. TheN' left, she makinj^, at parting", a buni^iinn" expression of gladness at having' met me. Walked over the house and oardens (Ewell), where 1 had spent so many happy months. . . . Had a quiet dinner the captain, Mrs., Miss and Harry. In the evenini^- drew Lifeguard on horseback [ ' Shaw, the Life- Huardsman,' shown at the 189S b'xhibition | for little Herbert, and somethin,tr for Emily. Left them with a lantern (the nii^ht beino- dark) to meet Jiiy companions at the station. Ciot there too early, and paced the platform, ruminating- sorrowfully on the changes since I was there last. . . . Reached home wet through. Oood fire, dry shoes, and bed. "' November 24///.- -Painted on brick wall. Mr. Taylor and his son (au old acquaintance of mine at Evvell), in the army, and six feet, came to see me. Both he and his father ,m)t double barrels ; pheasant in son's pocket. They saw my pictures, expressed pleasure, and in leavin<»" presented me with cock bird. Lemprieres came. The parents and Miss 142 JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS [1851 I thou'^ht my pictures beautiful. I walked with them to tht ,L!^ate kinson walking with us to station. ''December isf. — All worked ; bitter coM. William left us after dinner. Hunt read a letter from purchaser of his picture ; some money in advance enclosed in the same, ami an abusive fragment of a note upon our abilities. Fell stupidly ruffled and bad-tempered. . . . "December ^^rd. — Hunt . . . painted indoors, and fron the window worked at some sheep driven opposite ; I stili Kitten most playful about me at dandelions and groundsel [I85I '85'] EXTRACTS FROM DIARY H3 le, and Fell fron I stil" It me laid in m lap whilst painting', but was aroused by a little field-mouse rustling near the box. Made a pounce upon, l)ut failed in catching- it. A drizzlino- rain part of the day. Cut a great deal of wood, to get warm. . . . Returned, and found a clerk from Chancery Fane lawyers in waiting upon me, who c une to induce me to attend chambers and swear 10 my own signature upon Mr. Drury's will. Told him I could not attend earlier than next week '' Decc7ndcr 4///. -Painted the ground. Hunt expected Sir (ieorge Glynn (to see th(^ pictures), who came, accompanied by his curate and another gentleman, about the middle of the day, and admired them much. Suggested curious altera- tions to both Collins' and Hunt's ; that C. shoul'.'. make the 'Two Women Grinding at the Mill' in an Arabuui tent, evidently supposing that the subject was biblical instead of in futurity. After they were gone Hunt's uncle and aunt came, both of whom understood most gratifyingly every object except my water-rat, which the male relation (when inx'ited to guess at it) eagerly pronounced to be a hare. Perceiving by our smile that he had made a mistake, a rabbit was next hazarded, after which I have a faint recollection of a dog or cat being mentioned by the spouse, who had bnjught with her a sponge-cake and bottle of sherry, of which we partook at luncheon. Mutual success and unl)lemished happiness was whispered over the wine, soon after which they departed in a pony-chaise. Faughed greatly over the day, H. and self . . . " December $t/i. — This day hope to entirely finish my ivy background. Went down to the wall to give a last look. The day mild as summer ; raining began about twelve. Young came with a present of a bottle of catsup. W^illiam made his appearance about the same time, and told us of the brutal murdering going on again in Paris. He did not paint. Young brought a dead mole that was ploughed up in the field I paint in. Though somewhat acquainted with the form of the animal, was much surprised at the size and strength of its fore-hands. P'inished. and chopped wood. . . . Fi ilie evening Will slept, H. wrote letters, C. read the bible, and self Shakespeare ; and, later, walked out wirh IF in the garden, it being such a calm, warm night. Requested landlady to send in bill, intending to leav(i to- morrow. Had much consultation about the amount neces- s iry for her, in consideration of the many friends entertained 144 JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS [1852 iS;i ap- by us. Felt, with Collins, a desire to sink into the earth and come up with pictures in our respective London studios." On the following day Millais returned to Gower Street, his backgrounds being now completed ; set to work at once on the figures in the two pictures. Miss Siddal (afterwards Mrs. D. O. Rossetti) posing as the model for "Ophelia." Mr. Arthur Hu<>hes has an interestini)" note about this ladv in The Letters of D. G. Rossetti to Willicwi Alliui^hani. He says : — " Deverell accompanied his mother one day to a milliner's. Through an open door he saw a girl working with her needle : he got his mother to ask her to sit to him. She was the future Mrs. Rossetti. Millais painted her for his 'Ophelia' — wonderfully like her. She was tall and slender, with red, coppery hair and bright consumptive complexion, though in these early years she had no striking signs of ill-health. She had read Tennyson, having first come to know something about him by finding one or two of his poems on a piece of paper which she brought home to her mother wrapped round a pat of butter. Rossetti taught her to draw; she used to be drawing while sitting to him. Her drawings were beautiful, but without force. They were feminine likenesses of his own." Miss Siddal had a trying experience whilst acting as a model for "Ophelia." In order that the artist might get the proper set of the garments in water and the right atmosphere and aqueous effects, she had to lie in a large bath filled with water, which was kept at an even temperature by lamps placed beneath. One day, just as the picture was nearly finished, the lamps went out unnoticed by the artist, who was so intenselv absorbed in his work that he thou<>ht of nothing else, and the poor lady was kept floating in the cold water till she was quite benumbed. She herself never complained of this, but the result was that she contracted a severe cold, and her father (an auctioneer at Oxford) wrote to Millais, threatening him with an action for ^50 damages for his carelessness. F^ventually the matter was satisfactorily compromised. Millais paid the doctor's bill; and Miss Siddal, quickly recovering, was none the worse for her c old bath. 1). Ci. Rossetti had alre^ady fallen in love with her, struck with her " unworldly simplicity and purity of aspect " — {]ualities which, as those who knew her bear witness, Millais succeeded in conveying to the canvas- -but it was .lot until i860 that they married. t Abo Kensin it, \vA\( in 185 water- V lie th a short brillian great substan perfect .Art. I Harmon P)lind ( Proscril wom.'n' man's d ■' Maria ever att Perhc as reu'ar Profess( country to the ( cliscours which w Mr. 5 He spe; tions, as accurate hand of the distt sinks b( of the c greatnes worthv colour, handlint. his atter The I I'arrer, i' came lenerosi i85.] SUCCESS OF "OPHELIA" 145 About the year 1H73 "Ophelia" was exhibited at South Kensington; and Millais, .^'oii'-;^' one day to have a look at it, noticed nt once that several of the colours he had used in 1 85 1 had j^one wrong- -notably the vivid oreen in the water-weed and the colourinj^- of the face of the figure. He therefore had the picture back in his studio, and in a short time made it bloom attain, as we see it to-day, as brilliant and fresh as when first j)ainted. This is one of the threat triumphs of his Pre-Raphaelite days. The colour, substance, and surface of his pictures have remained as perfect as the day they were put on. Nothinj^" in recent .Art, I venture to say, exceeds the richness, yet perfect harmony, of the colours of Nature in "(){)helia" and "'The Blind Ciirl"; and the same thin"- mav be s;iid of "The Proscribed Royalist," "The Black Brunswicker, " and the wonivMi's skirts in "The Order of Release"; whilst the man's doublet in "The Huguenot" and the woman's dress in "Mariana" are perhaps the most daring" things of the kind ever attempted. Perhaps the greatest compliment ever paid to " Ophelia, " as regards its truthfulness to Nature, is the fact that a certain Professor of Botany, being unable to take his class into the country and lecture from the objects before him, took them to the Guildhall, where this work was being exhibited, and discoursed to them upon the flowers and plants before them, which were, he said, as instructive as Nature herself. Mr. Spielmann is enthusiastic in his praise of the jjicture. He speaks of it as "one of the greatest of Millais' concep- tions, as well as one of the most marvellously and completely accurate and elaborate studies of Nature ever made by the hand of man. . . . The robin whistles on the branch, while the distraught Ophelia sings her own death-dirge, just as she sinks beneath the water with eyes wide open, imconscious of the danger and all else. It is one of the proofs of the greatness of this picture that, despite all elaboration, less worthy though still superb of execution, the brilliancy of colour, diligence of microscopic research, and masterly handling, it is Ophelia's face that holds the spectator, rivets his attention, and stirs his emotion." Ihe picture passed sUi^cessively through the hands of Mr. h'arrer, Mr. B. Windus, and Mr. Fuller Maitland. before ii came into the possession of Mr. Henry Tate, to whose t^enerosity the public are indebted for its addition to the I. — 10 146 JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS [1851 5 •*4m Xational Gallery of British Art. It was exceedingly well engraved by Mr. i. Stevenson in 1866. in the 1852 r^xhibition, when both the "Ophelia" and 'The Huguenot" were exhibited, there was another beautiful '"Ophelia" by Millais' friend, Arthur Fiughes, who is good enough to send me the followino- note about the two pictures :— "One of the nicest things that I remember is connected with an 'Ophelia' I painted, that was exhibited in the Academy at the same time as his |Millais'| ow:: most beautiful and wonderful picture of that subject. Mine met its fate high up in the little octagon room ;'* but on the nKjrning of the varnishing, as I was going through the first room, before I knew where I was, Millais met me, saying, 'Aren't vou he thev call Cherrv?' (mv name in the school). I said I was. Then he said he had just been up a ladder looking at my picture, and that it gave him more pleasure than any ])icture there, but adding also very truly that I hat! not painted the right kind of stream. He had just passed out of the .Schools when I began in them, and I had a most enormous admiration lor him, and he always looked so beautiful tall, slender, but strong, crowned with an ideal head, and (as Rossetti said) 'with the face of an angel,' He could not have done a kinder thing, for he knew 1 should be disappointed at the place my picture had." "The Huguenot" was exhibited with the following title and (]uotation in the catalogue : " A Huguenot, on k. l^artholomew's Day, refusing to shield himself from danger bv we.'vring the Roman Catholic bad^e. (See T/ic Protestant ReforDi'ition in France, \g\. ii., j). 352.) When the clock of the Palais tie Justice shall sound upon the great liell at daybreak, then each good Catholic must bind a strip of white linen round his arm :uk1 place a fair white cross in his cap. " (The Order of the Due de Guise.) Mr. Stephens .says: — "When 'A Huguenot' was exhibited at the Royal Academy, crowds stood before it all day long. Men lingered there for hours, and went away but to return. It had clothed the old feelings of men in a new garment, and its })athos found almost universal acceptance. Thw was the picture which brought MiPais to the height of his reputation. Nevertheless, even 'A Huguenot' did not silence all challen' 'ers. There were critics who said th; t * Commonly known to artists of the pL'iiod as The Condennicd Cell. i85i] WOMAN IN ART H7 ihoul title oil 5t. iiij^er itestant clock It bell I strip cross libiteil lonj^\ return, rmeiit., This of h's d lit t cl thiit the man's arm could not reach so far round the lady's neck, and there were others, knowini^' little of the South, who carped at the presence of nasturtiums in Aui^ust. It was on the whole, however, admitted thrt the artist had at last conquered his jjublic. and must henceforth educate them." The picture is said to have been i)ainted under a com- mission from a Mr. White (a dealer) for ^,150; but, as a fact, Millais received ^250 for it, which was paid to him in instalments, and in course of time the buver ''ave him /■50 more, because he had profited much by the sale of rhe ilealers no tloubt made immense sums e \ . U'>uenot, Th e the en^ravniL;. out of the copyrii^hts alone of ''Th Black Hrunswicker," and "The Order of Release"; while as to "The Huguenot" at least the j)oor artist hatl to wait manv months for his nionev and to listen meanwhile to a chorus of fault-finding- from the i)ens of car|)inL; scribblers, whose criticism, as is now patent to all the world, proxe^.l only their ignorance of the su!)ject on which they were writing", In turn, every detail of the picture was objected to on one score or another, even the lady herself being remarked upon as "very plain." No pa})er, e\ce|)t Punch ii'^d the Spectator [Willia'n Rossetti |, showed the slightest I'limmering of comprehension as to its pathos and beauty, or foresaw the hold that it eventually obtained on the heart of the people. But Tom Taylor, the Art critic of" Pniick at that time, had something more than an inkling of this, as may be seen in his boldly-expressed criti(|ue in Punch, vol. i. of 1852, pp. 216, 217. The women in "Ophelia" and "The Huguenot" were essentially characteristic of Millais' Art, showing his ideal of woir.:mkind as gentle, lovable creatures ; and, whatever Art critics may say to the contrary, this aim — the portrayal of woman at ner best — is one distinctly of our own national school. As Millais himself once said, "It is only since W'atteau and (iainsborough that woman has won her right place in Art. The Dutch had no love for W(jmen, and the Italians were as bad. The women's pictures by Titian, Raphael, Rembrandt, Van Dyck, and \'elasquez are maLinihcent as works of Art; but who would care to k.ss sucn wom en ? W'atteau, ( iainsborouuh, and Revnolds were needed to show us how to do justice to wo rjtlect her sweetness." man an cl t o A sweeniuLi' statement like this is, ot course o pe n to hh JOHN KVKRKTT MILLAIS [iS;, 1851] , ! M ■in exceptions — there are many notable e\amj)les in b(jtli French and Italian Art in which v> oman receives her due — but in the main it is undoubtedly true. "The Huguenot" was the first of a series of four pictures embracing- "The Proscribed Royalist," "The Order of Release," and "The Black l^runswicker." each of which rej)resents a 'iiore or less unfinished story of unselfish love, in which the sweetness of woman shines conspicuous. The figure of the Huguenot (as I have said before) was painted for the most part from Mr. Arthur (now General) Lempriere an old friend of the family and afterwards completed with the aid of a model. Of his sittings to AHllais during 1S53, Major-General Lempriere kindlv sends me the following:—" It was a short time before I got my commission in the Royal l^ngineers in the year ICS53 (when I was about eighteen years old) that I had the honour of sitting for his famous picture of ' The Huguenot.' If I remember right, he was then living with his father and mother in Bloomsbury Square. I used to go up there pretty often and occasionally stopped there. His father and mother were alwavs most kind. " After several sittings I remember he was not satisfied with what he had put on the canvas, and he took a knife and scraped my head out of the picture, and did it all again. He always talked in the most cheery way all the time he was painting, and made it impossible for one to feel dull or tired. I little thought what an honour was being con- ferred on me, and at the time did not appreciate it, as I have always since. " I remember, however, so well his kindness in giving me, for having sat, a canary-bird and cage, and also a water-colour drawing from his portfolio ('Attack on Kenil- worth Castle '), which, with several others of his early sketches which I have, were exhibited at the Royal Academy of Arts after his death. " I was abroad, off and on, for some thirty years after I got my commission, and almost lost sight of my dear old friend. He, in the meantime, had risen so high in his profession that I felt almost afraid of calling on him. One morning, however, being near Palace Gate, I plucked uo courage, and went to the house and gave mv card to the butler, and asked him to take it in to Sir John, which he did ; and vou can imagine mv delight when Sir job 1 IS51 A PATRON OF ART 149 almost immediately came out of his studio in his shirt- sleeves, straight to the front door, and j^reetetl me most heartily. " I was most deeply touched, about a fortnight before he died, at his asking to see me, and when I went to his bed- side at his putting his arms round my neck and kissing me." A lovely woman (Miss Ryan) sat for the lady in "The Huguenot," Mrs. Cieorge Hoilgkinson, the artist's cousin, taking her place upon occasion as a model for the left arm of the fiii^ure. Alas for Miss Rvan ! her beautv t)roved a fatal (>"ift : she married an ostler, and her later historv is a sad one. My father was always reluctant to speak of it, feeling perhaps that the [)ublicity he had given to her beauty might in some small measure have helped (as the saying is) to tnrn her head. i he picture was the first of many engraved by his old friend, Mr. T. O. Harlow, k.a., and exceedingly well it was done. It eventually became the property of Mr. Miller, of Preston, and now belongs to his son. As t lis gentleman bought several of my father's wcjrks, and is so fre(|uently mentioned hereafter, the description of him by Kladox Brown in I). G. Rossetti's Letters mav be of interest : — "This Miller is a jolly, kind old man, with streaming white hair, fine features, and a beautiful keen eye like Mulready's. A rich brogue (he was Scotch, not Irish), a pipe of Cavendish, and a smart rejoinder, with a pleasant word for every man, woman, and child he met, are characteristic of him. His house is full of pictures, even to the kitchen. Many pictures he has at all his friends' houses, and his house at Bute is also filled with his inferior ones. His hospitality is some- what peculiar of its kind. His dinner, which is at six, is of one joint and vegetables, without pudding. liottlecl beer f(jr drink. I never saw any wine. After dinner he instantly hurries you off to tea, and then back again to smoke. He calls it meat-tea, and boasts that few j)eople who have ever dined with him come back again." Mr. W. M. Rossetti describes him as " one of the most cordial, large-hearted and lovable men I ever knew. He w.to so strong in belief as to be a sceptic as regards the absence of belief. I once heard him sav, in his strong' Scotch accent, 'An atheist, if such an animal ever really existed.' What the supposititious animal would do, I forget." Amongst other work of Millais this yeai was the retouch- L'jo JOHN EVKRHTT MILLAIS r.85, ■^;i 'lit f "C I '1 ymon aiul Iphinciiia, " a piclurc done b\ him in his sevciUetmth year, and now vastly iniproNcd by a fresh of col( d a further l're-Ra|)haelite hnish of niij)ression the flowers in the foreground. " Memory," a little head of the Marchioness of R'pon, was also i)ainted this winter. A more important work, how- ever, is "The Hritlesmaid," for the head of which Mrs. Nassau Senior sat. "The finished and scMit tc its > letter : — Return of the Dove ' ne alouLi' with the was also folio will rt 8 o» 'J'o Mr. Combe. GoWKR StREJ ;, BkDKORD SoiAUK, " Deceinhcr ()t/i, i .S5 1 . " Mv DEAR Mr. Comisk, I ha\e touched your picture, 'The Return of the Dove," at last; and hope it will arri\e safely. " \\^e came home on Saturday nij^ht. My brother brou_L,dit the pictures on Monday evening, one of them not having dried completely. We have all fortunately escaped colds, which (considering- the j^reat exposure we have undergone) is something to be thankful for. My first two days of London have again occasioned that hatred for the place I had upon returning to it last year. I had a headache yesterday, and another about to come now. " You will perceive in some lights a little dulness on the surface of 'The Dove's' background. It will all disappear when it is varnished, which must not be for some little time. It is almost impossible to paint a picture without some bloom coming on the face of it. "You recollect it was arranged between Charley and myself that it should hang nearest the window, beside Hunt's. Please let it be a Httle leaned forward. " My mother is talking with Hunt approvingly of the works I have just had home, and I cannot write more without jumbling what they are saying in this. "In great haste, " Most sincerely yours. " John Everett Millais. " 'The Uove ' will be sent off to you to-morrow (Wednes- day) bj' rail. The reason for hanging the picture nearer the lioh.. is that it is much darker than Collins' ' Nun.'" Anot the sal a gre "Mv by Mi while w I not ha\ that acquam "Mr for threi a pirch me. I it, when "\Vi 1 have " Hui at Belfj winter, ever — S( taken m has din nothing " Let ^il CORRKSPONDKNCi: li^ Anotlicr letter addressed to Mrs. (^!^1l)e, and rcferriii^i to the sa' ' of '• Ophelia," carri' s us lo the viu\ ot this \car. V'o Mrs. Conibc. " S;, CiOWER SikKKi, " Ihccinher \2tli, 1S5 i. " M\ i)i;.\R Mrs. Comui:, I enclose a little book written l)y Miss Rossctti. I promised to send it to you a loni^ while a<'o, but have onlv recollected it now. I think nou will (greatly admire it. My remembrance of it is but slii-ht, not hav'n<4' reatl it for several years. I was i;lad to hea: that 'The Dove' arrived safely, and that it i^ains upon acquaintance. "Mr. Farrer bought the 'Ophelia' the da)' before )estei'^ is for three hundred ouineas. 'I'he day previous, a Mr. \\ lutv a purchaser, was so delighted with 't that he half closed -vith me. I expect he will call to-morrow to say that he will a'e it, when he will be much disappointed to hear of its sale. " W'ilkie Collins is writing- a Christmas book for which 1 have undertaken to make a small etching'. " Munt's prize picture of' Proteus' is sold to a j^entleman at Belfast — which .sets him (H.) uj) in opulence for the winter. I saw Charley last night. lie is just the .same as ever — ^so provokingiy quiet. I fancy you have rather mis- taken my feelings towards him ; not a whit of our friendshij) has diminished. I was with him last night, but little or nothing he said. I played backgammon with the matron. " Let me know what vou think of the ' Rivulets.' ... "In haste, vours sincerelv, "JoH.x Everett Mili.ais." ClIAI'Il-k V. 'I'lic \'nluntfcr inovcnu'iit— Kcminisccnccs of 'rurntT — Mci'liiij^ will) TIiih kciay— Milliiis |)i()|)()S(.'s to paint " Koiul'o and Jiilift "— (iocs to " ( icoi^^c Inn" at Hayes— licgins ])aintinx " I'lii' I'loscrilu'd Royalist" Artluu- Iln^ln's on In^ sittinj^s — Millais in tin; lumtin^ ticld -'■'rhc ( )i(l('i- of Rolcasi' " Models for ilii> picture— Finifial of tlic Duke of Wellington— Anuisinj^ letter to Mr. liodj^kin- son -Millais' first ex])edition to Scotland — With the Kiiskins to Nortluimber land and thence to Callander— Their life in the North— Discussion on architecture— Dr. Acland -The Free Kirk in 1852— Meeting with (lanibart and Rosa lionhcur — Millais' comic sketch-book — He i;. slighted by the .Academy — Foreboding on the election day- He is made an .\.R..\. F*R()M the first day of 1S52 down to the opening- of the Royal Academy Millais continued to work away at the fii^ures in "The Huguenot" and "Ophelia." devotin_L( all his spare time to j)ictures of smaller importance. His life at this period may be gathered from the Allowing letters, in which some reference to historical evmts invites a word of explanation. A series of revolutions in France, commencing in 1848, culminated in the famous coup ifc'tat of December, 1851, when for the first time universal suffraue was established, and as the result. Prince Louis Napoleon was re-elected President of the Republic for ten years certain. He .soon let them know what that meant. No sooner was he installed in office than he banished into exile the distinguished general Oct officers who were opposed to him, disbanded the National Guard and appointed others in their place, dismissed eighty- three members of the late legislative assembly, and finally put an end to the liberty of the Press. These high-handed proceedings threw all P>ngland into a ferment. The news- papers raised a howl of execration against the tyrant ; antl the Government, taking alarm, established the Channel Fleet and called into existence a nimiber of volunteer rifie corps to aid in the national defence. A glimpse at what followed will be found in the correspondence. 152 r^ 1848. 1851. ished. ccted soon tailed leneral tional ohtv- nally mded news- and Fleet corps oweci 'THK RACK >rKKTIX(;." ig I«S2| "Di stru<^;i4l lei I sill pen. I imist Ix •' I h l)Ut (fill so I cai of j)ro]n " Nc: wind. v\ whole ( creature "In 1 inclined \\'est(Ti Ibrnotte; went in I after in have be( regard l upon his complete most ela of visitii "The it at doll ti'oni <4o .i^oino- toi creditabl daubers c;ipable Turner ^ must be "I ho v.hen I i and belie iS52| CORRKSl^ONDHNeK >55 To Mr. Conibc. " S ;, (iowik S rki:Ki', " /(iiiiiifiy ()///, I S3 2. " PrAK Mk. CoMlii;, Believe me, I liave inacU' inaiiv siriii^i^les to write to yon, but soineliow or oilier I lia\(' leli slu|)iil atul iiu-oin|)(i('m direetly my hand ilenched ilic pen. I fear it is m\ normal stale now. but Iccl something' mnst be written. " I have bc'«;n working most determinetlly since ("hrisimas, bnt (curiously) with little effect. I have j^iven up all \isi1in14. so I cannot be accused on that score of |L^i\in_!^' little e\idcncc of progress. " Ne.\t wt!eU 1 hope to sail into a kind of artistic tracK- wind. which will carry me on to the I'^xhibilion. . . . The whole of this dav 1 have been drawini>' from two livin-'" creatures embracing each other. " In looking' over this, 1 see so many ' I haves' that 1 feel inclined to throw it into the tire and cab off to the (Ireal Western rail and on to O.xford. to show vou that 1 hav(; not forgotten you. Mv Christmas was a verv leisurelv time. 1 went into the country the day before, and returned the day after in a state of great depression. lioth Hunt and Charle\ have been, I fancy, much in the same condition as myself in rt'^ard to workinu'. The latter has not even vet determincxl ii|)on his composition. I doul)t whether he will ha\e time to complete it for the Academy. Hunt came back from Oxford most elaborately delii^hted. I was astonished at the (juantity of visitinii" he manatied in the time. "They say that Turner has left ;/^20o,ooo — st)me estimate it at double that amount which I very much doubt. 1 hear from u'ood authoritx that a irreat pnrtion of this monev is tjoinu" towards some Ik* ises for deca\ed limners, which is verv creditable to Mr. T. Probablv some of the worst liviniJ" daubers are lookinof foruard to the time when thev are in- c;ipable of spoiling" more canvases, and are lodged in the Turner Almshouses. C — — has no chance, for they must must be oil- painters. " I hope my garrulous capacity will return to me soon, V. Ikmi I intend writint;' to Mrs. Pat. Remember me to her. and believe me " Most sincerely yours, "John E. Millais." 156 JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS [185: 185: ^Z '<> My father hud but a slight acquaintance with lurner, though my mother was amon^' the few of her sex who were ever permitted to enter the great landscape painter's house. She ki'.jw him well, and from her I obtainei.1 some interesting notes, which I give in her own words : " I used frequently to go and see Turner and his pictures, and though very few ladies were ever allowed to enter his doors, he was very kind to voun'j' artists. He lived like a hermit in a great lonely house in Oueen Anne Street ; his walls hung with many of his own pictures, which he re- fused to part with. He would not sell these on anv account whatever, and one clay he showed me a blank cheque which had been sent to him to till in to any amount he chose if he would sell one of his pictures, but he laugl id at the idea and sent back the cheque immediately. " The glass over many of his works was broken, and largepiecesof brown paper were pasted over the cracks, for he would not bs at the expense oi new ones. Mr. Prith rightly described the studio when he said 'the walls were almost paperless, the roof far from weatherproof, and the whole place desolate in the extreme'; whilst Munro'* used to say that the \ery look of the place was enough to give a man ;\ cold. " Withal he had a gi'^-at sense of humour, and when telling a story would puc his hnger to the side of his nose, and look exactly like ' Punch.' "Apropos of his physiognomy, he alwa)s resisted any STUDU'lS I'OK "THK KOVAl.IS I .- 1S53 attempt to make a likeness ot nun ; Init one day alter clmner * Munro of Novar, who li\ccl in Hamilton I'lacc, possessed scxcral 1 t 'I'lnncr's l)est works, tor whicli he liad paid sums not exccechnj^ .^-oo. Anions: tliem \\as one of the artist's masterpieces, "The (Irand Canal at \'enic:e," whii ' • after Mr. Munro's death, was purchased by Lord Dudley for nearly ^8oco. [1852 1852] REMINISCKNCES OF TURNER 157 at the house of a iViend, Count d'Orsay, a clever artist made an excellent drawing' of him drinking' his coffee ; but this Avas done without Turner's kno\vledj4"e, and is, I believe, one of the few portraits of him now extant. " He disliked society, and was intimate with very few people, his principal friends being Mr. Bicknell, of Denmark Hill, and Munro, of Novar, though at times he fre(|uented the Athenaeum Club. " After a while he took an intense dislike to his home in Queen Anne Street, and only Munro knew where he removed •vcral ' t 1 >nLI,AIS ON TJK WAV TO PAINT "THK KOVAMST Sketch hy William Millais to. Before this, however, he spent much time with Mr. Fawkes, of Farnley Hall, near Leeds, for whom he painted many pictures. I have stayed there, and examined the e\- (juisite water-colour landscapes he did there, as well as a lari4"e portfolio of birds' eL5>)S and feathers, also in water- colours, most beautifullv finished. "Turner had a fancy for architecture, but the lodges which he planned at Farnley are of a sort of heavy Greek desi- Oueen Anne Street, Turner seems to have taken a fancy to a little old-fashioned inn near Cheyne Walk, Chelsea. It was kept by a widow, and he asked if he might be allowed to live there. On her inquiring as to who he was, he said to her, ' What is yo?er name ? to which she replied, ' Mrs. Brown.' ' Well,' said Turner, ' I 'm Mr, Brown,' In this house he remained for some vears, visiting onlv his friend Munro and the Athenzeum Club, " At last, one dav he became seriouslv ill. and it was onlv ^ ' ' - by his constantly calling out for Lady I*lastlake (the wife ot the President of the Royal Academy), and on her being sent for, that his identilv became known, ' ni,l,Al.S AT DIN'NKK. By William Millais S53 Tlic M;irc|uis of Lansdowne was a man of .^rcat 1)L'ne\olcnct' and culluitv At liis table Millais and liis wife constantly dined, anc 1 tliere tliev met all tlu iterarv and artistic celebrities of tlie d; I e exqmsite entertamments, urn, ifter dessert always called in the Italian cook to compliment him on the feast. 'H5-] CORRESPONDENCE '59 Returning- now to the correspondence, I find the follovvini;>" letter To Mr Coiubc, "8 3, GowKR Strp:kt, " Fcbniaiy ^th, ICS5: " Mv DKAR Mr. Co.Mr.K, Don't be cilarmed at this mighty circular, and think that the TVench have alreadv^ landed. Thev have not come here vet ; Ijut, to <>uard acjainst such an awful event, the gentlemen of London are arming them- selves and forming rifle clubs ; and those who cannot give their personal assistance are aiding us by subscriptions for the purpose of furnishing rifles to those who cannot afford them, yet are willing to join in the service of their country — clerks and the like. My governor is on the Committee, and my brother and self have joined. Several very in- fluential men are at the head of it. A number of ladies are getting; up subscriptions, and ' the smallest contributions will be most thankfully received.' In the City there ^ a thousand double-barrelled riflemen, composed of the gentle- men of the Stock Kxchang;-. I am sure you will see that such measures are stringent upon all Englishmen, and excuse \w\ troubling you on such a subject. " Faithfully yours, "JOHX MiLLAIS. " P.S. The advertisement of our club has appeared three times in The Trues, and we already muster upwards of two hundred gentlemen." Amongst those whom he saw much of at this period, and lo whom he was greatlv attached, were his cousins George Hodgkinson and his wife Emily. He frequently paid them Saturdav-to-Mondav visits, when he was workini'- in London. (luring the years 1851-54. He also corresponded pretty gularly with Mrs. Hodgkinson, who has most kindly placed To Mrs., Couibc. ''"^il, GowER Strkkt, March Gth, 1852. Co.Mr.K, ^ — I promised some time back to Pardon me, for I am a wretched corres- \\ only her letters at my di ife ot ;• sent CllltUlC all tin " Mv DKAR AL" walk we took together on Sunday, to Mr. W'indus, the owner of all the celebrated pictures of the late William Turner, r.a. He has some thing ■aitnig DINNKk AT IHK -CKORdK INN,' MAVKS. 1S53. SkLlclicil liy William Mill,ii> of the most valuable works in the world -u[)wards of fiftx of Turner's most excellent paintings, some of which are 'alued at fifteen hundred pounds, and amongst his collect!*'-. hr has several of mine one large and some small —besides dr.wvings. Some day, when you are in town, I must 1 ke you there. It is really > commence painting again, for I cannot stand entire laziness. ' Romeo and Juliet' is to be my next subject not so large as either ot this year's. It is an order from a Mr. Pocock. one of the secretaries of the Art Union. 'The Huguenot,' which 164 JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS [i8s.> '■*m was sold to Mr. White, a dealer, has since been sold by him to Mr. Wiiidiis, the man who has all the celebrated 'J'urners, and has already one of my j)aintin_L;s — ' Isabella,' from Keats" poem. I am j^lad that it is in so r^ood a C(jl- lection, but cannot understand a man payint;' j)erhaps double the mono)' I should have asked him. " With love to Mrs. Pat, believe me, " Most truly yours. "John Everett Millais." lYoic. — NothinL;" was done towards the paintinj^' of " Romeo and Juliet" beyond the sketch which the artist made for it in 1S48, and which was shown by Mr. John Clayton at the Millais b^xhibition in 1898, and an additional design of the balcony scene [ 1852 |. After discussini;" various subjects with Mr. Pococl- Millais' sufruestion of the "The Proscribed Royalist " was approved, and shortly :ifter\vards the picture was painted, and passed into the possession of Mr. Pocock. Mr. G, D. Leslie, r.a., tells me that at this date Millais ^i)t to his father for the head of Lord Petre, in a picture of "The Rape of the Lock," "My father," he says, " paintee^ Sir John on a small panel, just as Ixj was, in a black frock coat, and a black cravat, with a little golden s^oose for a pin. The portra I was a very yood likeness of him at that time, and was sold at the sale of my father's pictures in i860. 1 don't know who purchased it." "The Rape of the Lock" was bought by the late John Gibbons, of Hanover Terrace, who had a fine collection (jf pictures, and it is now in the possession of his son. To Mrs. Combe. ^"^2)^ Cower Street, '\luuc gt/i, 1852. " Mv DEAR AL' to London in rainv weather. My brother is .Lfoin;^' to live with me part of the time, so 1 shall not be entirely a hermit. . . . "The immense success 1 have met with this year has i^iven me a new sensation of pleasure in j)aintini4'. I have letters almost every day for one or other of the pictm'es, and onlv wish vour oucst was as lucky, that he mi<>ht '>o off to the HoK Land as soon as possible with me. I shall never ^ljo l)y myself. When I get to my ccumtry residence 1 will keep lip a proper correspondence with both of you. Lately 1 have hated the sinht of a pen, and h.ive scarcely answeretl letters recjuirint;- an immediate reply. ... I have been paying- a lono -standing;" visit at a relation's near Croydon, and have become ac(niainted with the cK^'ri^A man of the adjoining parish — a Mr. Hamilton, rtx^tor of Heddington one of the most delightful men 1 t-ver met. He is a great friend of Mr. Marriott and t>thers whose names I have heard you mention. His church and village are cjuite beaux ideals . . . ■' Wxirs very sincereiy, "John Evkrkit Mii.i.ais." This is the first letter in which Millais mentions "The Proscribed Royalist" and his intention to paint the subject. Having foymd a suitable background in a little wood near Hayes, in Kent, he commenced the picture in June, 1852, and from this date till the end of the year his home seems to have been alternately at Waddon, Gower .Street, and the little "Cieorge Inn" at Bromley, kept by a Mr. X'idler. Most of this time seems to have been spent at the inn, which was within easy reach of the scene he had selected ; near rilso to the h'^y trees on Conev Hall Hill, where still stands the giant oak that he painted in the foreground of the picture, and is now known as the *' Millais (3ak." Touching this painting Williaan Millais writes: — "An amusing incident -.curred whilst we were at the "George Inn," jjromley, my brother Ixiing engaged on the Ixickground t'T 'The Proscribed Royalist' in the old oak wood, and I (close by) on a large oil landscape. ''Old Mr. V'idler, the landlord, was xery [)r.)ud of his 1 66 JOHN liVKKin r MILLAIS [.85.; y.. signliDard. r(j)rcsciilin|^ Si. (jcdi'i^c killiiiL; the I )ra;4()n, ami was inorlalK' (tffciuU'cl at our tiiniiii'' it iiiio ridicule. One ilav duriiv' our stay a violcMil storm carried the; si'iihoanl off its hinges and siiiaslK-d it to hits. The owner was onl\' I arlly consoled on our otfer'ni^ to paint him a new one, and add(Hl ungracious]), ' Hut there, now, it will never he tlie same thing.' " I lowc\ er, he thought (liff(;rentl\ when he saw the gorgeous thing we i)roduce(l. iMy brother painted one side and 1 the other. Many |)eople at this tiuK; came to j)icnic in the neighbour hood, and it soon got abroad that the new sign- board was painted by a great artist, 'I'he old inn- keeper was flattered ])y the numbers who came to see it, and made a practice of taking the sign in at night and in rough weather." To Mrs. Hodokiuson. "George Inn, Haves, near Bro.mlev, " Tuesday Niii'/it, June, 1S52. " Mv ]JE.\K IC.Mii.v, — Accorchng to promise, I give you immediate information about our arrival. Upon arriving at Croydon we first drove to your mansion at W^addon, where we t(jok in the remaining luggage and trotted on here. We ordered a repast, and in the interim of prepara- tion walked to the oak trees and down to the farm, where 1 again encountered JVlrs. Rutley, and expounded my views to her upon the necessity of having cover close at hand for my paintings, and how her farm exactly suited me for that purpose. She very graciously undertook to afford shelter for my box or myself in case of rain, storm, etc., and after the collo(iuy was ended I joined Will (who wrs THK ".\ni,l.\IS OAK, II.WK.S, KKNT. i8gg. loo tin here Ik " Th just Stl wilhin nighlm am wr |)osed gracefu ing res nosticai |)articul of our from 01 "Ou called i from th She br very go /Uo tht jugal b( the ma; " Ye.s tensive of Port! ten foo The le' (jvertur( s[)rat [1 condesc strawbe (;vil spi all-surpi Park, a my rea( that be^ the aj)p " Dur with th the pro snoring- ;it prese to you 1 [iSj.; .«53| CORRKSPONDKNCK 167 1)11, aivl ■. Ollr ;nl)<)ar(l niashc(l KT was nn our 1 a iu;\v iciousK , ill IU'\'(|- tlioii^ln saw the •(k1uc(j(I. )iic side Many L'aiiK- lo nhl)oiir )n L,f()l w sIl;!! I by a )1(1 imi- by llie to see cticc ol 1852. ve you irriviiiL;" addon, tted on )repara- here I views It hand me for afford n, etc., ho wrs A loo timid to make; a request to a straiiL;'er') and walked on here home;, where we found the tea waitin;^' us. " 'ldi(; clock of the churi:h which ailjoins our |)rrmises has just struck eleven, and signals me to bed. Another bell within me foreti-lls an animal considerably larger than the nightmare* visitiiiL;- me — pei'haps an evening mammoth. I am writini^' this by the li.niit of (omposiiion candl(!s, sup- posed not to refpn're snuflinL;. lln; wick of one han^s LjTacefull) o\cr like a hairpin, and tlu; other has an astonish- wv^ resemblance to a ju\ciiiK; c(jdar-tree, the latter pro^-- nosticatini^ 1 beliex'e the reception of letters, which will be particularly acceptable in the |L,d<)<»min(;ss of our present retreat, more especialK' from our blessed little co/, \'.. P. II. "( )ur landlady (Mrs. Vidler) has just called into action a spark of animation from the heir apparent of (iower Street. She broke in upon us to w i: h us a very j^'ood-ni'^hi, and is _L;^on(; with Xidk^r ,'Uo the inntM'most recesses of the coii- jui^^al boudoir, probably to dilate upon the magnitude of our appetites. " Yesterdax I harpooned a most ex- tensive wdiale I a patron] off the coast of Portland Place, havinj;" no less than ten footmen in attendance at ilinner. The leviathan made most honourable overtures for an increase of accjuaintance with the limner sprat [himself], who conducted himself with appro[)riate condescension and becomin<^ self-denial, in defiance of the strawberries and cream. Somehow or other, I believe my evil spirit takes his residence more particularly in th.it all-surpassini^- luxury, cream. It was my ruin at Worcester Park, and directh I came here it invitingly stands within my reach. I wish I had courage enough to dash away that beverage, as Macbeth throws the ooblet from him on the appearance of Banquo. " During- the journey to this place we diverted ourselves with the cup and ball, catching it upon the j)oint during the progress of cab, train, ancl Croydon lly. William is snoring so loudlv that you must excuse mv writinsj' more iit present, I am sure he would send affectionate greetings to you had he recovered from his lethargy. 'I'lil lilsis AT TIIK I> >S5.). IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I I^|2j8 |25 ■^ K^ 122 L° 12.0 ■IS I' i — 1 — 1-'^ < 6" ► VI ^"^J^ /: y /^ PhotDgraphic Sciences Corporation <^ ; over is in " Take my advice, don't t>o out at Hastint^s with that nev parasol, otherwise you will come back with it like this — [Here follows a sketch of Mrs. Hod^kinson heino- blown off a cliff out to sea, still clinLjinii^ to the new parasol, J " I remain, your affectionate "J. E. MlI.LAIS." A reminiscence of this period will be found in the followinKK OI- UKI.KASK," 170 JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS [185: .852] III it 9* 1; I* at Hayes, and was j^ettinin" on vvcl). when, to his g'-eat chagrin, he was called a\va\- from his work to attend at Oxford as witness in a lawsuit witn rej^ard to the will of Mr. Drury, of Shotover, the testator's sanity at the date of the will bein ; questioned, and he heinin' one of the attestin^i;" witnesses. He happened to he with Mr. Drury in 1849, when the will was made, and, having" s[)ent two or three months under his roof, he could speak with the y jiyh / , / /; >^ , utmost confidence as to the state of his mind. On the conclusion of Millais' evidence, ^Nlr. Justice Williams, before whom the case was tried, complimented him in the followini^ terms : "Well, Mr. Millais, if you can paint as well as you can oive your evidence, you will be a very successful man some day." In the end the validity of the will was established. To Mrs. Hodgkinson. " Hayes, ''August ^th, 1852. " Mv DEAR Coz, — We have just concluded our customary game of skit- tles, and I hasten, with a shaky hand, to fulfil my promise of writing you a letter. To-day we were both obliged to leave off painting early, as every two minutes a shower of rain came down, so since one o'clock we have had strong exercise in archery and the knock-'em-downs. Yesterday we also took a holiday, as it was wet ; so we ar > not getting on precisely as we could wish. . . . " Poor Mrs. Vidler has been bedridden for some time, owing, I am told, to an encounter with some drunken fellow who insulted her. They say she doubled her mawleys in the Ski-tcm rou "THI-: ORDKR 01" KKI.KASK, " 1852 [1852 i852j CORRESPONDENCE 171 haL;rin, ford as Driir) , I bein ; s. He /ill was lis roof, ^•ith the :c as to mind, jsion of :e, Mr. I, before as tried, him in rms : Millais, ; as well /e your all be a 1 man the end the will kinson. 1852. ,— We led our of skit- n, with letter. arly, as since md the y, as it could e time, 1 fellow n the true puoilistiv' style, and knocked over the inebriate vagabond, to his infinite astonishment and discomfort, so injuring his leg in the fall that he has since been at the hospital. . . . " I wish I was in a vein for describing a club feast that came off here a day or two ago. Upwards of eighty agricul- tural labourers sat down to table, the stewards wearini/ blue and white rosettes in their buttonholes. Of course almost all of them were drunk in the evening, and some of the drollest scenes took place outside the house. About one a.m. a fight was raging, which kept me awake for some time ; and last night I never slept till four in the morning — I suppose from having drunk some rather strong tea at the Hasseys' — ■ so to-day 1 feel sleepy and stu[)id. " The Royal Academy conversazione I attended alone, William being upset with rheumatics. The first people I met were, of course, the Leslies, with whom I kept the greater part of the evening. The Duke of Wellington made his appearance about ten, and walked through the rooms with the President, Sir Charles Eastlake. All went off as those and most things do. I saw Mrs. Leslie (not Miss) down to her carriage, and walked home with Hunt. " With a i>entle smoothin": down of Georofe's ambrosian locks, believe me, " Most sincerely yours, "John Evekett Millais." To Air. Combe. "GicoRdE Inn, Haves, Bromley, " Tuesday Xight, October, 1852. " Mv DEAR Comhe, — Do not be astonished, or imagine me forgetful, in allowing so long a time to elapse without writing. " I have but just returned to this place, after spending a week (bedridden) at Gower Street, where I went to be nursed in a tremendous rheumatic cold I caught painting out of doors. I am well again now, and worked away to- day as usual at my background, which I hope to finish in two or three days at most, when I shall return to Town for good. ... I am waiting here for one more sunny day, to .