Page:Dictionary of National Biography volume 25.djvu/290

H his painting-room, and though he tried to divert his mind from his disappointment by vigorous reading, his health gave way, and he went home for five weeks. Wilkie went with him, and they paid a visit to Sir George Beaumont at Coleorton, where Sir George gave him a commission for a picture of ‘Macbeth.’

Commenced in 1809, ‘Macbeth’ was not finished till 1 Jan. 1812, and during a great part of this time Haydon lived entirely upon credit, his father's supplies having failed altogether before the end of 1810. He had scarcely begun the picture before he had a dispute with Sir George about the size. Sir George agreed to take the picture if he liked it when it was finished, and if not, to give him a commission for a smaller one. Sir George did not like it when it was finished, and Haydon refused the smaller commission, and also the cheque for a hundred guineas which he was offered as compensation. Sir George, whose kindness and patience in the matter were extraordinary, ultimately bought the picture for two hundred guineas. During these years Haydon's name was up for election at the Royal Academy, but he did not receive a vote, and even C. R. Leslie [q. v.], who generally takes the part of the Academy against Haydon, allows that the election of George Dawe [q. v.] in 1809, in preference to the painter of ‘Dentatus’ was disgraceful. In 1810 this ‘Dentatus’ gained the premium of a hundred guineas offered by the directors of the British Gallery for the best historical picture, although the prize was competed for by Howard the academician, but this triumph brought Haydon little pecuniary relief, and embittered his relations with the Academy. He sent a picture of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ to the Academy this year, but withdrew it on hearing it was to be hung in the octagon room. Altogether the years devoted to painting ‘Macbeth’ were almost devoid of encouragement, but Haydon's strength of will never allowed him to swerve from his purpose. ‘Nothing,’ he writes, ‘could exceed my enthusiasm, my devotion, my fury of work—solitary, high-minded, trusting in God, glorying in my country's honour.’

All his life Haydon kept a journal, evidently intended to be published, or at least to form the basis of an autobiography which he commenced, but did not live to complete. In it he entered every event of importance, chronicling day by day his thoughts and feelings, and the progress of his pictures, illustrated by vigorous sketches. It is contained in twenty-six volumes, ‘bulky, parchment-bound, ledger-like folios,’ and is one of the most tragical records extant. Heavily in debt, having quarrelled with the Academy and alienated his most powerful friends, Haydon ill-advisedly published three letters in the ‘Examiner’ (26 Jan. and 2 and 9 Feb. 1812), on the eve of the appearance of his ‘Macbeth.’ In them he ridiculed Payne Knight for his opinions upon Barry and high art, and attacked the Academy with much violence. The letters, written with great vigour, contained too much truth to pass without a storm; they increased the animosity of the Academy, and alienated the directors of the British Gallery, of whom Payne Knight was one of the most influential. ‘Macbeth’ was sent to the Gallery to compete for the prize of three hundred guineas. The directors would not give it to Haydon, and there was none else who deserved it if he did not. They determined not to give any prizes, but with the money purchased a picture by Henry J. Richter of ‘Christ Healing the Blind.’ Haydon returned indignantly 30l. sent by the directors to pay for his frame, which had cost 60l. He was probably right in regarding the action of the directors as a breach of faith.

He had already begun a fresh picture, ‘The Judgment of Solomon,’ on a canvas 12 feet 10 inches by 10 feet 10 inches, which was not finished till 1814, by which time he was 1,100l. in debt. He got credit from his tradespeople, and borrowed from his friends Wilkie, Hilton, the Hunts (Leigh and John), Benjamin West, and others. But nothing damped his ardour, which he describes as ‘enthusiasm stimulated by despair almost to delirium.’ Once he painted for fifteen hours at a stretch, lived for a fortnight on potatoes, and when he received the news of his father's death he went on painting. His health broke down just as he completed the picture, which was sent to the exhibition of the Water-colour Society in Spring Gardens, and created a sensation. The directors of the British Gallery wanted to buy it, but it was already sold to Sir William Elford and Mr. Tingecombe, bankers of Plymouth, for six hundred guineas. Lord Mulgrave and Sir George Beaumont were warm in congratulations. Academicians praised it, and again his table was covered with cards of the nobility and distinguished persons. The money did not pay half his debts, but it restored his credit, and having ordered another enormous canvas, he rubbed in his ‘Christ's Entry into Jerusalem,’ and went over with Wilkie to Paris, then in the occupation of the allied armies. Haydon enjoyed and studied the masterpieces collected in the Louvre, and the soldiers of all nations crowding the streets. In his absence the British Institution had voted him a hundred guineas for his ‘Solomon,’ and the freedom