And yet, on top of all his studio work, Burne-Jones found time for another, "unofficial" artistic activity. His addiction to making humorous drawings is not difficult to explain. It was another recourse for that restless pencil and a means of expressing the puckish side of his personality that found no place in his painting. It was also an outlet not only for all that was extraneous to the paintings of that intense "looking" at life which Henry James had noted but for a particular kind of observation. Graham Robertson is once again perceptive. "I . . . noticed very soon when walking with him," he wrote, that wonderfully quick as he was to observe and note passing events of a sad or comic or quaint character, all such material as would be useful to the novelist or the poet, he saw nothing from the purely pictorial point of view. Albert Moore [under whom Robertson had studied] would come in from a walk flail of almost inarticulate delight at the memory of black winter trees fringing the jade-green Serpentine, or of a couple of open oysters lying on a bit of blue paper or of a flower-girls basket of primroses seen through grey mist on a rainy morning. Burne-Jones would have woven a romance or told an amusing tale about the flower girl, but would not have noticed her primroses, the combination of the silvery oysters and the blue paper would not for a moment have struck him as beautiful; he had not the painter's eye. 84 Many of the drawings were made for children (fig. 10 1) — Philip and Margaret, Katie Lewis (cat. no. 118), Margaret's children Denis and Angela (later the novelist Angela Thirkell), but perhaps above all, as Georgie noted, "the child that was always in himself." 85 There were innocent nursery idylls pop- ulated by babies, pigs, cats, dogs, and birds, as well as such amiable mythical beasts as the "wallypug" and the "phlum- budge." A whole series of drawings, a friend recalled, was devoted to "the life and habits of an animal called 'The 'Spression,'" a creature in itself undistinguished, "but his expression, now joyous, now melting, here deeply tragic, there raffish and rollicking, lent him a charm all his own. One par- ticular drawing, 'Stampede of Wild 'Spressions in the Pampas,' showed him in almost every mood and is a joy to remember." 86 But not all these drawings were so cozy. For strong-minded children like Angela, there was a series enti- tled "The Horrors of Mountainous Lands." "They nearly all had a hint of the nightmare about them, treating of the adven- tures of helpless midgets lost in vast lands of towering mountain peaks, fathomless abysses and trackless forests. One . . . showed an immense valley . . . smooth and polished like a basin into which a tiny insect-like man had slipped and was sliding miserably down the side towards a dark hole which yawned at the foot. Beneath was the cheering inscrip- tion — 'Inside that hole there is a Thing.'" 87
Dear Katie / Do you remember / my pig? / well - what do you / think? / it has had ten little / ones. and i don't / know if they are scarfs / and I don't know what / to call them / and each must have / a name - and i / don't think there are / ten names in the / alphabet / and they all want / winding up like their / Mama - and squeal / if they are not wound / up - and it takes / such a time - their / names will be / 1.Smith. 6 Friday / 2.Jezebel 7 Piccadilly /3 Dinah 8 Patience / 4 Bill 9 You / 5 Winder 10 me / I am your affecte / mr. beak
General note re the album: almost all letters signed variously "Mr. beak", "Beak", "B", or with a sketch of a bird or bird's head with a large beak, or with the artist's initials or name; one drawing signed inscribed (88); a few drawings inscribed, including two of the Rubens parodies: "P.P. Rubens pinxit" (49), and "Peter Paul Rubens pinxit" and "Bartolozzi sculpsit" (51); a few drawings numbered (60, 62 to 65) This first letter in the album is inscribed: "Dear Mrs. Lewis/ I must tell you before I forget a/ precious story of Morris -/ it happened yesterday morning - as he came/here: in pelting rain - he stopped at some/little spikes at Ottos house to tie his boot/string, planting his foot firmly on the spike/ & so far all was well - But essaying/ [verso] to remove his foot, lo! the spike/had caught him, even as he had/ many a time caught gudgeon & the/like/ and the next minute he landed/ (softly I am glad to say) on his/ back - still hooked fast, and to/the shrieking delight of two muffin/ boys - who looked on in a way you/may imagine. - Oh dear I've put/the wrong foot up which is a /judgement on me - but I must stick/ to it now./ then having his powerful mind/free, he thought, and remembering/ the way you disengage a cat/whose claws are fixed in you/ [rectoo] by pushing & not pulling, he/ liberated himself & proceeded / sadly to the Grange - but/ Busch should do it - Busch/ should have seen it - don't/ tell though - for I like my/ Morris a little statuesque - / [?] I must tell you - [?] I. Goodbye. people are/ come & I must end,/ Always Yours EBJ/ now find this a proof then/ I'm better? indeed the last two days home done/more than the three weeks/ before:" Inscription content: General note re the album: almost all letters signed variously "Mr. beak", "Beak", "B", or with a sketch of a bird or bird's head with a large beak, or with the artist's initials or name; one drawing signed inscribed (88); a few drawings inscribed, including two of the Rubens parodies: "P.P. Rubens pinxit" (49), and "Peter Paul Rubens pinxit" and "Bartolozzi sculpsit" (51); a few drawings numbered (60, 62 to 65) This first letter in the album is inscribed: "Dear Mrs. Lewis/ I must tell you before I forget a/ precious story of Morris -/ it happened yesterday morning - as he came/here: in pelting rain - he stopped at some/little spikes at Ottos house to tie his boot/string, planting his foot firmly on the spike/ & so far all was well - But essaying/ [verso] to remove his foot, lo! the spike/had caught him, even as he had/ many a time caught gudgeon & the/like/ and the next minute he landed/ (softly I am glad to say) on his/ back - still hooked fast, and to/the shrieking delight of two muffin/ boys - who looked on in a way you/may imagine. - Oh dear I've put/the wrong foot up which is a /judgement on me - but I must stick/ to it now./ then having his powerful mind/free, he thought, and remembering/ the way you disengage a cat/whose claws are fixed in you/ [rectoo] by pushing & not pulling, he/ liberated himself & proceeded / sadly to the Grange - but/ Busch should do it - Busch/ should have seen it - don't/ tell though - for I like my/ Morris a little statuesque - / [?] I must tell you - [?] I. Goodbye. people are/ come & I must end,/ Always Yours EBJ/ now find this a proof then/ I'm better? indeed the last two days home done/more than the three weeks/ before:" Literature: First published as a book 'Letters to Katie' by W. Graham Robertson in 1925; an abridged facsimile edition, 'Letters to Katie from Edward Burne-Jones', was published in 1988, with an introduction by John Christian who records that some of the drawings (such as the 'fat ladies' and the Rubens parodies) were probably made for George and Elizabeth Lewis rather than for Katie. See also The Arts Council of Great Britain exhibition catalogue, 'Burne-Jones The paintings, graphic and decorative work of Edward Burne-Jones 1833-98', 1975, p.96, no.356. See also the Christie's sale catalogue for 24.11.1998 (no.169) for a description of a similar album of 80 drawings by Burne-Jones including caricatures and humorous drawings and Peter Nahum, 'Pre-Raphaeite, Symbolist, Visionary' at Leicester Galleries, London, 2001, no. 17 (with illustrations), for 'Margaret's Book', 36 pp, made by EBJ for his daughter Margaret and illustrated for his grand-daughter Angela. This album is most recently discussed by John Christian, 'Edward Burne-Jones: the Hidden Humorist', London, 2011, pp. 42-4, figs. 2.12 (Morris falling over)