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Document Title: Pre-Raphaelitism and the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood
Author: William Holman Hunt
Date of publication: 1914
Publisher: E. P. Dutton and Company
Printer: Richard Clay and Sons, Limited
Edition: Second

The full Rossetti Archive record for this transcribed document is available.

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PRE-RAPHAELITISM

AND THE

PRE-RAPHAELITE BROTHERHOOD



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W. Holman-Hunt

Sir W. B. Richmond, K.C.]

W. HOLMAN-HUNT





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Pre-Raphaelitism and

the Pre-Raphaelite

Brotherhood



By

W. HOLMAN-HUNT, O.M., D.C.L.

SECOND EDITON

REVISED FROM THE AUTHOR'S NOTES BY M. E. H.-H.



TWO VOLUMES



Vol. II

WITH 208 ILLUSTRATIONS







New York

E. P. Dutton & COMPANY

681 FIFTH AVENUE



1914

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Facsimile of the Initials on Millais “Lorenzo and Isabella,” 1848

Facsimile of the Initials on Millais'

“Lorenzo and Isabella,” 1848



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CONTENTS
Note: The word “Page” appears as a running header over the page numbers.
  • CHAPTER I

    Lord and Lady Napier and Frederick Lockwood—Visit the caverns beneath Jerusalem—

    Letter from D. G. Rossetti—Kaimil Pasha—Sir Moses Montefiore—Duke of Brabant—

    Visit to the mosque—Max and the pistol—Contention with the bishop concerning Arab

    converts—Letter from Millais—Jerusalem ladies come to see my picture—Send “Scape–

    goat” to England—Moonlight over the city. . . . . . . . . 1

  • CHAPTER II

    An honest Jewish convert—Story of the mercer—Visit Levi's house—The retribution—

    “Selection” in Art—Warder Cressen—Water–colour of Gihon—Succumb to fever—

    Visit the mosque—Send pictures to Oxford—Journey to Nazareth, Tiberias, Lake of

    Merom, and Mount Hermon—Syrian landscape—Country between Tabor and Tiberias—

    Guide and Issa converse about my faith—Tents pitched on burial–ground—Cholera

    raging—Moonlight on Tiberias— Mukary refuses to stay—The spring of Capernaum—

    Safid—Graham departs westward. . . . . . . . . . . 16

  • CHAPTER III

    Plain of Merom—Issa is not appreciating the scene, feels his superiority—Cæsarea Philippi—

    Ancient remains—Moslem boy lost—Hasbeya—Dar al Akmar—Damascus—Consul–

    General Sir Henry Wood—Lady Ellenborough—Zebedeen—Baalbec—Temple—A primi–

    tive hotel—Unconscious actor to delighted audience—Ascend Lebanon—Zahle—Reach

    Beyrout and part with Issa—Take ship to Constantinople for the Crimea—Cholera and

    mutiny on board—Arrive at Crimea. . . . . . . . . . 36

  • CHAPTER IV

    Marseilles to Paris—Mike Halliday—February 1856—Halliday and I take house together—

    Disintegration fo the Brotherhood—Rossetti in Oxford—Miss Siddal—Christina

    Rossetti's sonnet on the P.R.B.—Woolner's return from Australia—Several artists

    working on our lines—Madox Brown steadfastly doing so—Annual prizes at Liverpool—

    Arthur Hughes—Millais and Ruskin—Millais' marriage—Visit Oxford—“Pot–boilers”—

    Small “Eve of St. Agnes” sold to Mr. Miller—Gambart treats for copyright of “Light

    of the World”—Copyright in England and France—Ford Madox Brown paints direct

    from Nature—Exhbition in Charlotte Street—Illustrations to Tennyson—Rossetti's

    designs—The volume a commercial failure—Menzel's work—“Scapegoat”—Millais brings

    his picture to London—Ruskin—John Luard's first picture—Millais' “Peace” and

    “Burning Leaves”—Gambart's strictures on the “Scapegoat”—Criticisms on the picture

    in The Times, etc.—Further comments in the Press on P.R.B. picutres. . . 59

  • CHAPTER V

    Leighton—Work at Claredon Press, Oxford—Thackerary stands for Parliament—His visit

    to Mr. Combe—Letters from Millais—Mr. Combe persuades me to become a candidate

    for R.A. Associateship—Enrolled myself for winter election—Watts—Miss Emma

    Brandling—Little Holland House—Woolner—Tennyson at Roehampton—Tennyson

    demurs to my illustrations—Robert and Mrs. Browning—Death of my father—Seddon—

    Take Hook's house on Campden Hill—Lady Goderich's dinner–party—Sir Colin Campbell

    and Carlyle—Woodward and the Oxford Museum—Decoration of the Union, Oxford—

    First meeting with Burne–Jones—Fitting up my house at Kensington—Bachelor parties

    at Henry Vaux's—The Academy rejects me. . . . . . . . 86

    • page: viii
  • CHAPTER VI

    The Hogarth Club—Leighton and a Royal Commission—Mrs. Combe and Mrs. Collins—

    Completion of my “Temple” pictures continually delayed—Arthur Lewis's social

    gatherings—Fred Walker—Mr. and Mrs. George Grove and Mr. and Mrs. Phillips—

    Millais exhibits “Sir Isumbras”—Tom Taylor's imitation of ancient ballad—Ruskin's

    denunciation of the picture—Charles Reade buys it—Frederick Sandy's caricature—

    Mr. and Mrs. Combe visit Brown's studio—Letter from Brown about Carlyle—Oxford

    Museum—O'Shea—Manchester loan exhibition—Conversation with Sir Thomas Fairbairn

    about Woolner—Woolner and his work—Rossetti avoids Millais and myself—Ruskin's

    appreciation of Rossetti's power—Mr. and Mrs. Thoby Princep—Tennyson and

    Thackeray—Remonstrances on my “idleness” from unknown correspondents . . 111

  • CHAPTER VII

    Visit to Tennyson—His page boy—Distress at critics—National support of Art—Millais’

    early genius—George Leslie delivers his father's dying message—G. F. Watts—

    Thornbury's criticism in the Anthenæum on P.R.B.–ism—Mr. and Mrs. Combe at

    Oxford—St. Barnabas Church—University Press—Conference on ways and means—Our

    relations with Dickens—Wilkie Collins—His room—Visit to Charles Dickens in Tavistock

    Square—The Duchess of Argyll—Sir C. Eastlake—Gambart's treatment of my terms for

    the “Temple” picture—It goes to Windsor—Chat with Thackeray at Cosmopolitan

    Club—Introduce Woolner at Oxford. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133

  • CHAPTER VIII

    Breakfast with Gladstone—The Rev. Joseph Wolf—I discuss the merit of Dresden china—

    Walking tour in 1860 with Tennyson, Palgrave, Woolner, and Val Prinsep—Gad's Hill—

    Charles Collins marries Kate Dickens, 1861—His views on the merits of a good tailor—

    Morris's business formed—Poynter's picture “Faithful unto Death”—Injury from fire

    to my “Temple” picture—Portrait of Judge Lushington—His stories—1862 Exhibitition—

    Prince Consort's death—Woolner. . . . . . . . . . . 153

  • CHAPTER IX

    Jacob Omnium controversy in the Times—Death of Augustus Egg—Letter from Charles

    Dickens—Visit to Sir Thomas Fairbairn—Wingrove Cook—Conversation about

    Thackeray—Trelawny—George Meredith—Proposal for George Meredith to live with

    D.G. Rosetti—Marriage of the Prince of Wales—Visit to the Prince and Princess of

    Wales to my exhibition—Garibaldi's visit to England—Baron Lys—Breakfast at the

    Duchess of Argyll's—John Tupper as art master—Royal Academy efforts to pacify

    malcontents—G. F. Watts. . . . . . . . . . . . 176

  • CHAPTER X

    W. Beamont and St. Michael's, Cambridge—Delay in returning to the East—My marriage—

    “The Festival of St. Swithin”—Fred Walker—My bank stop payment—Start for the

    East—Cholera prevailing at Marseilles—Quarantine—Go to Florence—“Isabella and

    the Pot of Basil”—Death of my wife—Return to England—The home of Charles

    Dickens—My election to the Athenæum Club—Return to Florence to complete my wife's

    tomb—Meet Ruskin in Venice—Conversation with Ruskin. . . . . . 196

    • page: ix
  • CHAPTER XI

    I visit Rome—Take ship at Naples for Syria—Commence “Shadow of Death”—Dar Berruk

    Dar—Bethlehem—The Crown Prince of Prussia—Nazareth—Cana—Captain Luard—

    Ride to Jerusalem with news of Franco–German War—Fever—Visit Pasha in Armenian

    church—Libeation of Ezaak—Finish my picture—Visitors in vain—Paris after the

    German War—Picture arrives in London—Millais in vain urges me to put down my

    name again for the Academy—Commission from Queen Victoria—Elizabeth Thompson—

    Briton Rivière. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 219

  • CHAPTER XII

    Tissot—Charles Collin's death—My second marriage—We travel to Jerusalem—Meeting with

    Lieutenant Kitchener—Trouble from non-arrival of cases—“The Ship”—The “Inno–

    cents”—To Ascalon—Go south to paint background—New studio—Visit of the

    Mahomedan ladies—Expedition to Jordan and Dead Sea—Send family to take refuge in

    Greek convent at Jaffa—I remain in Jerusalem—After two and a half years return with

    partly finished painting—The Grosvenor Gallery—R. Browning and Velasquez—Sir R.

    Owen's portrait—“Amaryllis”—“Miss Flamborough”—Robert Browning—His son—

    Browning and D.G. Rossetti—Visit to my old studio in Chelsea—Typhoid fever—

    Sir William Gull—Millais advises me to have the picure relined—I buy a house at

    Fulham—Ruskin's visit there—His Oxford lecture—Abandon Jerusalem “Innocents”—

    Recommence on new canvas—Illness—Finish the picture—Exhibition of my works at

    “Fine Arts” Society. . . . . . . . . . . . . 249

  • CHAPTER XIII

    Lawless—F. Walker—Philip Calderon—Walter Crane—“The Triumph of the Innocents”—

    Acquired by Liverpool—“Christ among the Doctors”—D.G. Rossetti's death—Articles

    in Contemporary—Address at Rossetti's fountain—Madox Brown—Whistler—H.

    Herkomer—F. Shields—Rev. E. Young—Rossetti's work—E. Burne–Jones—Gilbert

    and Sullivan's Patience and those satirised—E. R. Hughes—Cecil Lawson—John Brett—

    “The Bride of Bethlehem”—“Sorrow”—Millais made a baronet—He talks of the early

    P.R.B. days—Millais and I walk to see Charles Keane—The Bishop's moat—Artist's

    materials. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 285

  • CHAPTER XIV

    Commence “The Lady of Shalott”—“May Morning”—Last meeting with Mrs. Combe—

    Her death—Journey through Italy, Greece, Egypt to the East—Illustrations to Sir Edwin

    Arnold's Light of the World—The Miracle of “Holy Fire”—W. B. Scott's death—

    Banquet at Guildhall—Madox Brown's position—Leigton's death—Millais’ death—

    William Morris' death—Burne–Jones' style—My portrait by W. B. Richmond presented to

    me—Last talk with Watts—The University of Oxford bestows the degree of D.C.L. upon

    me—King Edward VII confers upon me the Order of Merit—Reflections on our course

    —Nationality in art—Foreign art—Millais’ pictures—The sale room no test of merit—

    Educational activity injurious rather than beneficial to the nation's art. . . . 308

  • CHAPTER XV

    Retrospect

    W. Morris and Co.—William de Morgan—Controversy about leadership of the P.R.B.—

    W. Rossetti's sonnets in The Germ —Monsieur Sizeranne's letter—Mr. Cook's hand–

    book—Extracts from William Rossetti—The genesis of D.G. Rossetti's picture “Found”

    —“The Awakened Conscience”—F.M. Brown's diary—The meaning of the word

    Pre-Raphaelite—F. G. Stephens, W. Sharp, W. Bell Scott. . . . 335

    • page: x
  • CHAPTER XVI

    Retrospect ( continued)

    The delusions of our interpreters. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 353

  • CHAPTER XVII

    Retrospect ( concluded)

    Art and its national quality—Journalism—Lord Leighton's warning—Art the handmaid of

    morality—Art is love—Foreign academies—Impressionism—American students in Paris—

    Effect of civil wars on English art—The rise of portrait painting in England—Constable's

    prophecy—“Bacchus and Ariadne”—Copyright laws—What a people is led to admire,

    that it will become—Leonardo da Vinci speaks—Slavish idolatry not reverence—The

    great days of Italian art—Want of undersanding leads to unrestrained utterances—

    The responsibility of the Press—The purpose of the art. . . . . . . . 358

  • Last Notes by the Editor. . . . . . . . . . . . 380

  • Appendix. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 385

  • Index. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 435

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
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ERRATA

Vol. II.
  • p. 89, line 18, “Lister” should read “Leslie.”
  • p. 155, lines 5, 10; p. 399. lines 4, 7, 22, 28; p. 400, lines 7, 19, “Sèvre”

    should read “Sèvres.”
  • p. 342, lines 42, 46, 50, “G. F. Stephens” should read “F. G. Stephens.”
  • p. 343, line 2, “M. Madox Brown” should read “F. Madox Brown.”

    line 31, “F. J. Stephens” should read “F. G. Stephens.”
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PRE-RAPHAELITISM

CHAPTER I

1855

But whosoever chooseth the life to come and directeth his endeavour towards the same, being also a true believer, the endeavour of these shall be acceptable unto God. — Al Koran.

The winter came with its succession of storms of some days’ duration, leaving two or three feet of snow on the ground.
My first hope had been to complete my picture of “The Scapegoat” in time to send it to London for the Royal Academy, but owing to the delay in finding the third suitable goat, this had become impossible and the work was still incomplete at Easter when many English visitors arrived.
While the city was more cheerful than usual, Lord Napier and Ettrick, with Lady Napier and her young sons, arrived, and Frederic Lockwood, whom I had known at Cairo, came over to meet his sister.
I delayed showing them the “Azazel” until it should be nearer completion, and when I had that pleasure, their discriminating and cultivated judgment was of the greater service to me, since I had been for so long removed from the opportunity of hearing artistic opinion. 1
Transcribed Footnote (page [1]):

1While preparing a second edition I have come upon a letter of interest at this time from D. G. Rossetti, even more important than it seemed to be when it was received by me. I regret that the closing lines are missing; I give it not only for its contemporary news, but also for its bearing upon Gabriel's picture of “Found” and my picture of “The Awakened Conscience” —W. H. H.

30 th January, 1855.

Dear Hunt,—

I am quite ashamed in setting-to at this letter after so long a promise-breaking silence; but as I should be still more ashamed at seeing you again, and remembering your friendly letters, as the only ones which had passed between us, I bespeak a little very comparative content with myself by writing even thus late. I am beginning this at Albany Street where Christina, seeing the paper lying on the table and hearing of its destined use, has just charged me with a charge to you to bring home an alligator (an allegory on canvas not to be accounted a fair substitute), in which she proposes that a few of your select friends should be allowed to take shares, after which its sudden presentation to the Zoological Society should make the fortunate Joint Stock Company members for life of that dismayed Institution. This, she thinks, is a project of moderate promise and a great additional incentive to defer writing no longer.

One great reason for my not writing long before this has been the wish to have something worth saying to you of my own doings and plans, and this no doubt you have guessed. It is possible that Sisyphus, for the first few rolls of his stone, may have dwelt on the causes

Sig. VOL. II. B
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An ancient quarry which penetrated under the city had been recently discovered. The Mahomedans were very jealous about it, and forbade
Transcribed Footnote (page 2):

of his failure at some length and vowed to do the trick yet; but one inclines to believe that the occupation soon became and continues chiefly a silent one.

Anxieties and infelicities, this sort among the rest—did not seem the best subjects to write about; but they have not prevented my enjoying the tardy justice done to you last year in your works—that is, in all quarters of any consequence, and remembering how we were together while you strove bitterly towards it, deserving it all the time in days that never come again.

I have no doubt that which you are doing now when seen, will bring to more than completeness the result which was more than begun last time, and feel very desirous to see your new works and have a first chance of learning what the East is really like. I can tell you, on my own side, of only one picture fairly begun—indeed, I may say, all things considered, rather advanced; but it is only a small one. The subject had been sometime designed before you left England and will be thought, by any one who sees it when (and if) finished, to follow in the wake of your “Awakened Conscience,” but not by yourself, as you know I had long had in view subjects taking the same direction as my present one. The picture represents a London street at dawn, with the lamps still lighted along a bridge which forms the distant background. A drover has left his cart standing in the middle of the road (in which, i. e. the cart, stands baa-ing a calf tied on its way to market), and has run a little way after a girl who has passed him, wandering in the streets. He has just come up with her and she, recognising him, has sunk under her shame upon her knees, against the wall of a raised churchyard in the foreground, while he stands holding her hands as he seized them, half in bewilderment and half guarding her from doing herself a hurt. These are the chief things in the picture which is to be called “Found,” and for which my sister Maria has found me a most lovely motto from Jeremiah: “I remember Thee, the kindness of thy youth, the love of thine espousals.” Is not this happily applicable? “Espousal,” I feel confident from knowledge of the two words in two or three languages would most probably be rightlier rendered “betrothal,” which is the word I want and shall substitute as soon as I have consulted some one knowing Hebrew. The calf, a white one, will be a beautiful and suggestive part of the thing, though I am far from having painted him as well as I hoped to do—perhaps through my having performed the feat, necessarily an open-air one, in the time just preceding Christmas, and also through the great difficulty of the net drawn over him; the motion constantly throwing one out—me especially, quite new as I was to any animal painting. I wish that if anything suggests itself to you which you think would advantage this subject, or any objection, you would let me know of it, though otherwise than for such a purpose I cannot expect to hear from you before doing this duty at least once again. I have not spoken of the subject at all to any of our circle except Brown, at whose house at Finchley I stayed while painting on it there, and Hughes, who happened to be painting at my rooms when I began it. Since Christmas I have been prevented from working on this picture by illness first, and since by having other things necessary to be done, but I hope soon to be on it again, though even were it ready in time I should have small thoughts, as yet, of sending it to any exhibition unless compelled. It was originally a commission from that fellow X., a subject which he chose himself from two or three I proposed to him; but he either is or professes himself too nearly ruined now to buy more pictures, so I suppose that chance is up. But it is no use writing about bothers of that kind.

The other day I had a visit from Moxon (at Millais’ kind suggestion I believe), asking me to do some of the woodcuts for the new Tennyson, on which I hear you are at work already. I can find few direct subjects left in the marked copy he has left me, and shall probably do “Vision of Sin,” “Palace of Art,” and things of that sort, if I get into the way of liking the task well enough to do them well; but I think illustrated editions of poets, however good (and this will be far from uniformly so), quite hateful things, and do not feel easy as an aider or abettor. I have just done one for Allingham's forthcoming volume, and know that were I a possessor of the book I should tear out the illustrations the first thing.

By the bye I have long had an idea for illustrating the last verse of “Lady of Shalott,” which I see marked to you. Is that a part you mean to do, and if not and you have only one design in prospect to the poem, could I do another? One of my occupations at present is a class on Monday evenings at the “College for Working Men,” got up by Maurice and others in Red Lion Square. Ruskin kindly came forward to teach drawing, but as his class only comprises foliage, etc., I have added a class for drawing the figure and have begun by setting the pupils—mostly real working-men carpenters, etc.—to draw heads from Nature, one of them sitting to the rest. Even already there are one or two of them doing really well. I draw there myself, and find that by far the most valuable part of my teaching—not only to me, but for them. I have (of course) one or two subjects which I hope to get immediately in hand as pictures. I have always feared to attempt a figure of Our Saviour, but if opportunity serves, hope to paint this year one which I have long wished, on the motto “Whose fan is in His hand.”

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entrance, but Cayley, the eccentric traveller, and some young Englishmen were anxious to see it, and Sim and I undertook to conduct them. In the afternoon we left the city by separate gates, and waited at a distance until the last belated wayfarers had re-entered the walls, and the guards had shut the heavy doors upon themselves. The country around was by that time quite abandoned, and we made the necessary circuit to the Damascus gate, cautiously creeping close up to the foundations, beyond sight of the city ramparts, in order to reach the opening to the cave. It was not difficult to remove a stone or two put there to seal up the entrance, and one by one we crept in. After about eight feet of level rock there was a drop of the same extent; inside we lit our candles and waited for the whole party to descend. We proceeded, touching the quarried rock with our hands; following along we came to chambers where the quality of the stone had tempted the ancient masons to extend their operations. In parts water dripped from the roof into pools, where the splashed surface of the rock was glazed and rounded; the blocks lying about had all been worked into measure and form, as the Bible describes the stones of the Temple to have been. Some of these had been discarded and left on the ground, presumably because of a discovered flaw. While most of us were examining a large door nearly finished, which was fresh as if of recent work, we were dismayed by the loud explosion of some firearm in our rear, the noise of which reverberated alarmingly through all the hollows of the cavern. It turned out that a pistol had been fired with extreme thoughtlessness by one of our company, “merely for fun.” How far it could be heard by the inmates of houses above our heads we never knew, but although we could
Transcribed Footnote (page 3):

This letter is unbearably egotistical hitherto. Let me try if I have any news of friends, but I see few, and those seldom. Woolner seems, after all, to be disappointed of that commission, as perhaps you have heard from him. It is a pleasure to have him again here, but I suppose it cannot be for long. He talks of painting with me, so as to be able to portraitise on his return to Australia, both in paint and clay, and so be able to accept a larger number of commissions. This would, I should think, be a wise thing, and I have no doubt he would at once be perfectly successful in painting when he only began rightly. Brown has just added a little boy to his family; but I fear what would and ought to be a cause of congratulation, is only one of anxiety just now.

He is painting again on that picture of “Emigrants,” which is now far advanced, but fortune does not seem to turn yet. You heard perhaps of one result of his discouraged state some time back—his sending two pictures—“King Lear,” and a large landscape just then finished after many months’ work, to a wretched Jew shop-sale, where they fetched nearly the price of their frames. Of course, this injured him in more than one way. You are almost sure to have heard of X's attempt months ago to put up your “Two Gentlemen of Verona,” and a few more of his pictures to sale at Christie's when yours reached in real biddings £300, was run up ostensibly much beyond that by his touters in the room, but finally remained with him, not reaching though apparently approaching if I remember, his reserved price of £500, which was the one he put on it by my advice. I do not know whether he has since sold the picture, but at that time it returned with him to Ireland. Among deaths, you have perhaps heard that of another of our early “patrons,” Cottingham, who was one of the passengers lost in the Arctic last September; and of the end of poor North, at New York, by a quarter of an ounce of prussic-acid, of which there was a long account in the Daily News—you may see it one day, as Woolner has it. It is a subject one cannot talk of, and too hopelessly sad even to dwell much on the mind, however sincerely one regrets and pities him.

Brown talks of obtaining a country mastership in the School of Design, and I believe has lately taken some steps towards it.

D. G. Rosetti

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believe that they would be more afraid than ourselves, we became anxious lest our place of exit should be obstructed. When the quarry had been first entered, on its discovery by a shepherd, the skeleton of some unfortunate explorer had been found, who had evidently sought a means of escape in vain.
The Pashas of Jerusalem appointed from Stamboul were changed very frequently in these days; one came preceded by a reputation for superiority to fanatical prejudices, he arrived not only without a bevy of many wives, but without a single one. He was known as “Kiamil Pasha”; he was, I believe, the same who at the installation of the Young Turkish party became their new Grand Vizier. Stories were told of  

Kiamil Pasha was Re-Appointed Grand Vazier in 1912

KIAMIL PASHA WAS RE-APPOINTED GRAND VIZIER IN 1912



him as of a Turk of rare enlightenment. He conceived a cordial friendship with Dr. Rosen, the Prussian Consul, and visited him as an intimate so habitually that ceremony was dispensed with, and Madam Rosen (daughter of Moschelles, the musical composer) went about her household duties superintending the servants without consideration that her methods were being studied. The Pasha soon avowed to the Consul that the European system of managing a house was distinctly to be preferred to that of the Oriental, in that dishonesty in the servants was effectually checked; this he declared was truly excellent, but still he added there is one point I cannot understand: your wife guards you from dishonest servants, but what check have you to prevent her from defrauding you herself?
Sir Moses Montefiore came early in the spring on a charitable mission.
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While he was encamped outside the Jaffa Gate I wrote to him concerning the misinterpretation of my innocent object as a painter, by the Jews and their rabbis, and I begged that he would explain my purpose, and induce the rabbis to remove the interdict which prevented the more orderly minded Jews from coming to me. Mr. Sebag Montefiore saw me on the subject, and promised attention to the question. Mr. Frederic D. Mocatta arriving rather later, I urged the point with him also; his knowledge of art and artists enabled him to understand my difficulties the better, so now I had improved prospect for “The Temple” picture, when I could be free again to work on it.
It had been a vexation to me during its progress to have no opportunity of seeing, from the platform of Moriah, the distant slope of the northern Olivet which came into the background of the picture. Since the crusading successors of Godfrey de Bouillon were chased from Jerusalem no Christian, but in disguise or by stratagem, at a risk of very probable death, had entered its precincts.
I had been able only to satisfy my interest in the sanctuary by such view as could be had from the roofs of houses on a height.
Early in April, however, the Duke of Brabant, the heir-apparent of Belgium, arrived in Jerusalem, and it was whispered that the very enlightened and francophile Pasha of the day was making great efforts to gratify the Duke's ambitions to enter the enclosure. The Prince had been provided with a firman to enter the Mosque area, yet it was probable, as with many previous travellers coming from Constantinople, that His Highness would be told it would be fatal to the lives of all who attempted to act on the Sultan's favour; but gossip had not much to indulge in, and soon it was said that the Duke would be privileged to enter the Hareem. I called on the Consul, and urged that if it were so, the English residents might also pass the sacred gates. He told me that this was generally felt, and that he was watching to secure the opportunity. On the Saturday of the Greek Easter, he sent me word to hold myself in readiness that afternoon. Earlier in the day I had witnessed the ceremony of the Miracle of the Sacred Fire in the Church of the Sepulchre.
This year no Russian pilgrims were present, yet the building was crowded with strangers, male and female, from Greece, Armenia, Egypt, and Abyssinia; in fact, in this respect the occasion was like the ancient Feast of Pentecost, bringing strangers from all parts, and such resemblance was undoubtedly in mind when the original form of this ceremony was instituted, for it is on record that an artificial dove descended through the opening of the dome, carrying the fire with it into the sepulchral shrine. Curzon in his Monasteries of the Levant describes his experiences in 1834, when three hundred people were killed in the disorderly crush. Kinglake, who was there the next year, treats of it in his most graphic manner, and Dean Stanley was a witness of the scene in 1854, a year before my own visit.
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At 4 P.M. I presented myself at the appointed place of entrance to the Mosque, and found the secretary nearly alone. The company increased by ones and twos, and the Pasha had just counted twenty-one when our Consul arrived with a train of some thirty English subjects, clergy with their wives, and other ladies connected with mission work. Very obvious was the bewilderment of the Pasha, but his politeness was equal to the need. When he left the apartment time after time, and returned with no show of having advanced matters, I was inclined to suspect that he had as poor an estimate as I had of the interest which the majority of the crowd were likely to take in the features of the Mosque, that he would therefore consider that the risk should not be incurred, and that it might be wise to delay action until advancing darkness should render our entrance into the sacred place impossible.
During this time it transpired that the Pasha was intent upon the success of a summons issued to all the dervishes of the Mosque to assemble in a chamber of the Hareem to discuss a point of great moment, which had to be considered by the holiest authorities. Concluding it was the question of admitting the Belgian prince which had to be debated, they thronged into the building to utter their loudest protests. Delays arose in making certain that all the dervishes were assembled, and then the doors were locked, and a company of soldiers posted outside for an hour to turn the council-chamber into a prison.
After this precaution, the Duke of Brabant and his suite advanced, and we were bidden to follow; passing a few courts belonging to the house, we emerged from a dark passage into the great area which includes the site of the ancient Temple.
It was a moment in life to make one's heart stir as the door was turned on its hinges, and the way into this long-dreamed-of, much-longed-for, yet ever-forbidden sanctum was at last open to us.
On my first arrival in Jerusalem, wandering alone, I had entered the gates by mistake, but before I had realised my position I was set upon by one, then by two blacks, and threatened by an approaching crowd of wild and dark Indians and Africans, from whom I escaped by a hasty retreat. Now the place was empty, and I gazed with boundless delight on the beautiful combination of marble architecture, mellowed by the sun of ages, of mossy-like cypresses, and Persian slabs of jewel hues; but at once I was told that no one must linger. At the foot of the steps we were ordered to take off our boots; wearing Turkish shoes, I had no difficulty, but many were unprepared; and it was one of the grim mockeries of fate that at such a moment ladies and gentlemen should intensify the hideousness of modern costume by hobbling about in lacerated stockings, carrying Wellington boots and fashionable shoes in their hands. Unfortunately the Royal Duke gave no sign of caring for the wonders about him; he sometimes glanced to right or left as the guide referred to different objects, but never once did he pause from his swift march around the Mosque As Sakreh or through Al Aksa to
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dwell on any object, nor did he turn aside to examine anything out of the direct line of the prescribed route; an Arab in Westminster Abbey would not have been more supremely superior. When Sim and I ran off to look at the interior of the Beautiful Gate, we were quickly summoned back by a messenger, with a caution that it would be imprudent to go alone, in the face of possible danger from concealed dervishes. We pleaded that we were armed, and would take the chance, but the Pasha still objected, and we had to abandon our hope. I left with my curiosity only increased. On emerging from the gate to Via Dolorosa we saw a body of Moslems in the street, who glared with hatred such as only religious rancour can inspire, but they allowed us to disperse in peace.
Montefiore, before the close of his charitable work, sought and obtained admittance to the Mosque. His entrance was not so shocking to the sons of Ishmael as to his own brethren. The Rabbis pronounced against the part which he had taken in availing himself of such opportunity, as the exact spot of the Holy of Holies not being known, he might have offended in treading on the ground sacred for the High Priest alone.
If all the Christian visitors to the Mosque that day felt the respect for Mahomedans which the sight of their reverent conservation of the sacred spot awakened in me, and if the sons of Hagar assembled at its doors had thus been able to read our feelings, their attitude towards us could scarcely have been other than that of brotherly pride in such hospitality as all followers of the Prophet are enjoined to exercise. From the day that Abraham met Melchisedek, this site has been the theatre of events which have struck deepest roots in the life of humanity. It has been the sanctuary of Jew, Christian, and Moslem. Had the Jews still possessed it, there would have been signs of bloody sacrifice. Had any sect of Christians possessed it, the place would have been desecrated either by tinselled dolls and tawdry pictures, as is the case in the Church of the Sepulchre, or else by the ugliness, emptiness, and class vulgarity of the Anglican and Prussian worship, as found in the city of Jerusalem. In the case of the Moslem there was not an unsightly nor a shocking object in the whole area, it was guarded, fearingly and lovingly, and it seemed a temple so purified from the pollution of perversity that involuntarily the text, “Here will I take my rest for ever,” rang in my ears. The past, so many pasts, stood about, even the very immediate present was a mystery and a wonder; it was an epoch of the world's history, a summons to reflection, the moving of the index finger. The Osmanli sands were running fast, and the hour-glass might soon be turned; but I felt that Hagar's sons had been appointed to the great purpose, keeping the spot sacred until the sons of Sarah should be enough purified by long-suffering, to take it again into their charge.
I had not attained my object, not having been able to make even the slightest scribble of the landscape for my picture. I had, however, gained the distinct knowledge that the only point from which it could be obtained was the roof of the “Mosque of the Rock.” That I should
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ever be able to mount upon this, unless it might be in the guise of a workman, seemed quite out of hope, because only Moslems were employed in the reparation of the roof.
Photographs and exhaustive discussions have now made familiar the variations in the character of the outside and the inside of the Mosque As Sakreh. Remarking upon the evidence pointing to its having once been a Christian church, which its interior suggested to me, my companion said, “I see you are a convert to Fergusson's theory.” I had not then heard of the architectural critic's conclusions, drawn from examination of drawings made under extraordinary circumstances by Catherwood and Bonomi.
In May all the pleasant English company went away together, for the Consul had the opportunity of visiting Gerash, which was not always open to travellers, and the chance was eagerly seized by those who made that place a fresh stage on their journey. The temptation was great for me to join them, but the time for my work was too precious to spare, and a discovery I had made did much to decide the question for me. The gun which I had carried on my saddle, and which had often served me in good stead, had a crack in the stock; it was not yet in danger of causing disruption, but when it was fired the strain dipped the barrel enough to make it hit low. A much more serious and troubling discovery was, that the revolver, on the efficacy of which my life had more than once depended, had reverted to its old fault of getting fixed in the lock; I therefore called my landlord and said: “I want you to go to ‘Frederic’ and deliver my pistol; explain to him yourself that it is loaded and cannot be fired off because of the defect for which I first sent it to him; he returned it repaired, but it is still untrustworthy, he must now put it into proper working condition at any cost, for a pistol that cannot be trusted is worse than useless. Say that I know he is clever, and quite capable of curing the fault.”
My landlord was a philosopher who at all times strove to enforce consideration for the weaknesses of others. “Vell, vell, yas! ve most ’ave patience. Frederic, poor fellaw! he unhappy. I go to Frederic, I say, ‘Vy for you not marry, plenty nice gals ‘ere now, you are von ov us, you av goot busness, vy not take vife?’ Vot—” and here he shrugged his shoulders commiseratingly—“ ’e say, ‘I stay ’ere only to die like my vrent die, an' den wot my vife do?’ He tocht in ’ed, poor fellaw!” “I know, I know, Max, but mind you give him my message, and take care that no one touches the pistol but yourself, till you deliver it into his hands with the caution that it is loaded,” said I.
The next morning Max, who was as conscientious as he was proud of his proficiency in English, assured me he had acquitted himself of his commission scrupulously. He said Frederic had listened attentively, and pleaded that the pistol needed a new spring. He was too busy for a day or two to attend to it, however, and would not take it in hand until he could finish it properly.
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“Ah,” said Max, “he quite mad, poor fellaw! ’e ’ang id op, bak shob”; by which I understood that he had put it safely by for the present.
On a previous Sunday there had been an overflow of water at Beir Yoab, and the people of Jerusalem had gone out to see it, some with keen enthusiasm because it seemed like the return of the promised early rain, which they said had been withheld since the destruction of the Temple. I walked with Dr. Sim in the midst of the throng, and we met Frederic all alone at St. Stephen's Gate; he smiled pleasantly but sadly to our salutation. We knew no German and he knew no English, so we exchanged a few words in Arabic and separated.
The evening after my message to Frederic, I called on Sim to choose the wild goat's skull for my “Scapegoat” picture; he had a large collection of such things. He told me that he had just come back from seeing poor Frederic, who had been shot by his apprentice in his own shop! He had extracted the bullet, and hoped from its small size that it had not pierced the body, but travelled round as bullets partly spent occasionally do. It was desirable to leave the patient undisturbed, he said. Frederic, it seemed, had been working at an anvil in the front of the shop, the apprentice came in, while the master, who was steadily filing, became apprehensive that the fool was at some mischief, and turning quickly, said, “You are not touching that loaded pistol?” The boy in his fright nervously pulled the trigger, and the bullet struck the master in the side. He fell on the floor, the noise attracted a crowd, who came in and surrounded him. He groaned, “Ah, I am paid now. I knew it would come to this.” Waving the people aside, he said, “I am going away to die,” and jumped up to run through the street up a steep lane into the door of the German Hospice, where he threw himself on to a bed, and there the doctor had seen him.
From Sim's favourable opinion I encouraged the idea that the man was not wounded to death; but on the morrow—fourteen months after the death of his friend—the lot had fallen upon him also.
It was my accursed revolver that had brought about this dire tragedy. I tell such stories not in support of any theory, but because they claim record as strange personal experience. There are people in Jerusalem now who remember Frederic with sorrow, and who wonder what became of the loved maiden in Germany who was to have been his wife.
Although the Exhibition date was past, I was working hard to finish “The Scapegoat” and send it away to Mr. Combe. I trusted that possibly among the patrons of art who had expressed a wish to have some picture of mine one might be found to purchase it, and so make me more at ease and free to prolong my stay; in any case, it would relieve the dejection I often felt at having brought none of my works to completion. My time was, however, seriously taxed in consequence of a contention I was drawn into with the bishop about the character of one of the Arab converts. I will say no more on this
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subject, but should any wish to know of the business, they may learn all particulars from a pamphlet which I published after my return to England. Yet, lest the story should be taken as a proof that I look with a feeling of disrespect upon English Missions, let me say that the circumstances were exceptional.
Early in the summer of this year two regiments of soldiers were sent up to quell disturbances caused by the fellahin. It was not alone the outbreak against the government near Hebron, of which, at the request of the Consul, I had made a report, but in the western hills in the neighbourhood of Betir the sheiks were fighting for the mere pleasure of fighting and delight in bloodshed, and one indeed deservedly acquired for his cruelty the name of “butcher.” The newly arrived soldiers were encamped upon the slopes of the Pool of Gihon, and thus it seemed as though indirect pressure alone was to be used against the fellahin; travellers were, under this military influence, enabled to use the roads in greater safety; perhaps it was this that brought the Prussian Quarantine doctor from Hebron to Jerusalem. Seeing him riding with the Prussian Consul as I was going out of the Jaffa Gate to enjoy the evening air after a fatiguing day's painting, it seemed to me that he had not seen me, so I deferred accosting him. It was a mistake which I often regretted later, for on the morrow he had returned home, and in a few weeks he committed suicide.
The soldiers after a month's encampment moved for a few weeks to the Pools of Solomon; and, when the fellahin were quite off their guard one night, they surprised the insurgent villages about Hebron, slaughtering and burning to the content of the Ottoman heart.
I had no contribution at the Academy Exhibition, and I had told my English correspondents that I might suddenly give up further attempts in Syria and return, but I had a great desire to know of the treatment of our School this year, thinking that the election of Millais might be a mark of more favourable feeling. A letter from him enlightened me painfully on this point; a few extracts will explain the disillusion; it also gives some reference to his approaching marriage—
Langham Chambers, Langham Place,

London, May 22, 1855.

My dear old friend,

All the hurry and excitement of the R.A. is over, and yet I find myself delaying until it is absolutely necessary that I should tell you first that next month, please God, I shall be a married man. What think you of this? You must have partly expected this, and will not be knocked down by this sudden announcement. I have let the time slip by me so fast that I am at a loss what to tell you first....I have gone so far as to take a place near her family at Perth for the autumn, and I leave this in a fortnight's time, when to return I don’t know....Lear has been here just this moment telling me of your letter he has received. Collins also received one. When you come back, you must come and see me. I am afraid I shall not be in London to receive you when you arrive.... Apropos of work, my picture (“The Fireman”) this year has been blackguarded more than ever;

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altogether the cabal is stronger than ever against every good thing—such injustice and felonious abomination has never been known before. Fancy A——, B——, and old Satyr C—— as hangers. Collins above the line is the Octagon, Martineau at the top of the Architectural...my picture against the door of the middle room. The very mentioning of these disgraceful facts incenses me so that I begin to tremble. I almost dropped down in a fit from rage in a row I had with the three hangers, in which I forgot all restraint and shook my fist in their faces, calling them every conceivable name of abuse. It is too long a story to relate now, but they wanted to lift my picture up, after I had got permission to have it lowered three inches, and tilted forward so that it might be seen, which was hardly the case as it was first hung. Oh! they are felons—no better than many a tethered convict—so let them pass. The Exhibition you will see, so there is no need of any mention of it. William I never see scarcely, as he lives down at Kingston. I am going to be married so quietly that none of my family come to the wedding. Good gracious, fancy me married, my old boy!...It is quite impossible to foresee the end of anything we undertake. Every day I see greater reason to be tolerant in judging others. We cannot reckon upon ourselves for the safe guidance of a single project. But I must not fill this letter with truisms....If I omit to tell you anything of interest you may afterwards find out, it will be from forgetfulness....Wilkie Collins is here and sends greeting. To-morrow is the Derby Day. Last Epsom I went too, we went together with Mike—you remember....My dear old friend, I feel the want of you more than ever, and art wants you home; it is impossible to fight single-handed, and the R.A. is too great a consideration to lose sight of, with all its position, and the public wealth and ability to help good art. When Lady Chantrey dies, the Academy will have funds at its disposal for the purchase yearly of the best living works, and all this should be in our hands. In my cont