'DEAR RAFFAELE HAYDON,
'Did the maid tell you I came to see your picture? I think the face and bearing of the Bucephalus-tamer very noble, his flesh too effeminate or painty.... I had small time to pick out praise or blame, for two lord-like Bucks came in, upon whose strictures my presence seemed to impose restraint; I plebeian'd off therefore.
'I think I have hit on a subject for you, but can't swear it was never executed--I never heard of its being--"Chaucer beating a Franciscan Friar in Fleet Street." Think of the old dresses, houses, etc. "It seemeth that both these learned men (Gower and Chaucer) were of the Inner Temple; for not many years since Master Buckley did see a record in the same house where Geoffrey Chaucer was fined two shillings for beating a Franciscan Friar in Fleet Street."--Chaucer's Life, by T. Speght.--Yours in haste (salt fish waiting).
'C. LAMB.'
In June Haydon was again arrested, and imprisoned in the King's Bench. Once more he appealed to Parliament by a petition presented by Brougham, and to the public through letters to the newspapers. Parliament and the larger public turned a deaf ear, but private friends rallied to his support. Scott, himself a ruined man, sent a cheque and a charming letter of sympathy, while Lockhart suggested that a subscription should be raised to buy one or more pictures. A public meeting of sympathisers was convened, at which it was stated that Haydon's debts amounted to £1767, while his only available asset was an unfinished picture of the 'Death of Eucles.' Over a hundred pounds was subscribed in the room, and it was decided that the Eucles should be raffled in ten-pound shares. The result of these efforts was the release of the prisoner at the end of July.
During this last term of imprisonment Haydon witnessed the masquerade, or mock election by his fellow-prisoners, and instantly decided that he would paint the scene, which offered unique opportunities for both humour and pathos. This picture, Hogarthian in type, was finished and exhibited before the close of the year. The exhibition was moderately successful, but the picture did not sell, and Haydon was once more sinking into despair, when the king expressed a desire to have the work sent down to Windsor for his inspection. Hopes were raised high once more, and this time were not disappointed. George IV. bought the 'Mock Election,' and promptly paid the price of five hundred guineas. Thus encouraged, Haydon set to work with renewed spirit on a companion picture, 'Chairing the Member,' which was finished and exhibited, with some earlier works, in the course of the summer. The king refused to buy the new work, but it found a purchaser at £300, and the net receipts from the two pictures and their exhibition amounted to close upon £1400, a sum which, observes Haydon, in better circumstances and with less expense, would have afforded a comfortable independence for the year!
The Eucles occupied the artist during the remainder of 1828, and early in 1829 he began a new Hogarthian subject, a Punch and Judy show. He was still painting portraits when he could get sitters, and on April 15, he notes: 'Finished one cursed portrait--have only one more to touch, and then I shall be free. I have an exquisite gratification in painting portraits wretchedly. I love to see the sitters look as if they thought, "Can this be Haydon's--the great Haydon's painting?" I chuckle. I am rascal enough to take their money, and chuckle more.' It must be owned that Haydon thoroughly deserved his ill-success in this branch of his art. When 'Punch' was finished the king sent for it to Windsor, but though he admired, he did not buy, and the picture eventually passed into the possession of Haydon's old friend, Dr. Darling, who had helped him out of more than one difficulty. A large representation of 'Xenophon and the Retreat of the Ten Thousand' was now begun, but before it was finished the painter was once more in desperate straits. In vain he sent up urgent petitions to his Maker that he might be enabled to go through with this great work, explaining in a parenthesis, 'It will be my greatest,' and concluding, 'Bless its commencement, its progress, its conclusion, and its effect, for the sake of the intellectual elevation of my great and glorious country.'
In May 1830, Haydon was back again in the King's Bench, where he had begun to feel quite at home. He presented yet another of his innumerable petitions to Parliament in favour of Government encouragement of historical painting, through Mr. Agar Ellis, but as the ministry showed no desire to encourage this particular historical painter, he passed through the Bankruptcy Court, and returned to his family on the 20th of July. During his period of detention, George IV. had died, and Haydon has the following comment on the event:--'Thus died as thoroughbred an Englishman as ever existed in this country. He admired her sports, gloried in her prejudices, had confidence in her bottom and spirit, and to him alone is the destruction of Napoleon owing. I have lost in him my sincere admirer; and had not his wishes been continually thwarted, he would have given me ample and adequate employment.'
Although Haydon had regained his freedom, his chance of maintaining himself and his rapidly increasing family by his art seemed as far away as ever. By October 15th he is at his wits' end again, and writes in his Journal: 'The harassings of a family are really dreadful. Two of my children are ill, and Mary is nursing. All night she was attending to the sick and hushing the suckling, with a consciousness that our last shilling was going. I got up in the morning bewildered--Xenophon hardly touched--no money--butcher impudent--all tradesmen insulting. I took up my private sketch-book and two prints of Napoleon (from a small picture of 'Napoleon musing at St. Helena') and walked into the city. Hughes advanced me five guineas on the sketch-book; I sold my prints, and returned home happy with £8, 4s. in my pocket.... (25th) Out selling my prints. Sold enough for maintenance for the week. Several people looked hard at me with my roll of prints, but I feel more ashamed in borrowing money than in honestly selling my labours. It is a pity the nobility drive me to this by their neglect.'
In December came another stroke of good-luck. Sir Robert Peel called at the studio, and gave the artist a commission to paint, on a larger scale, a replica of his small sketch of 'Napoleon at St. Helena.' Unluckily, there was a misunderstanding about the price. Peel asked how much Haydon charged for a whole length figure, and was told a hundred pounds, which was the price of an ordinary portrait. Taking this to be the charge for the Napoleon, he paid no more. Haydon, who considered the picture well worth £500, was bitterly disappointed, and took no pains to conceal his feelings. Peel afterwards sent him an extra thirty pounds, but the subject remained a grievance to Haydon for the rest of his life, and Peel, who had intended to do the artist a good turn, was so annoyed by his complaints, that he never gave him another commission. The Napoleon, though its exhibition was not a success, was one of Haydon's most popular pictures, and the engraving is well known. Wordsworth admired it exceedingly, and on June 12, sent the artist the 'Sonnet to B. R. Haydon, composed on seeing his picture of Napoleon in the island of St. Helena,' beginning: