1 / Sunday morning - in bed / April 1894 / perhaps the only quiet moment for / writing this day - / But if I posted to night does it make / any difference I wonder - for I dont / know if there is a second post / in the day to you - 'cos you / wont answer my poor little questions / - dont read my poor little letters / probably. - well, they are not as nice / to get as they were last year I / know. - and perhaps they are not / worth reading - / & by all this merriment you may see / I am better / & it was your telegram made me / better / Oh I am a coward about you - I / am terrified if you are ill - / & I never felt like it before - And / could boast once that nothing scared / me - not now. this is different - / altogether different, & my life is / changing / wonder what time it is - havent / wound my watch up for many / days - no need to know the time / - no promises to keep at half / past five at marble Arch. / So I won't stop to wind my / watch up - and now I have / waked it may be six or it / may be eight or any time between / Last evening Phil was out / & Georgie too - & I dined / alone - it was so nice - I got / a right good book and / 1894 2 / oh what a hunt for / a piece of paper - and I have / got so cold with crawling about / to find some - are you sorry for / me? very cold really - why / wasnt there any paper suddenly? / as a rule there is nothing else / & I can't stir for bits of paper - / and now I forget what I was / saying - but never mind - ? / have lost what I have written - / & it wont turn up - I dare / say the maid will find it & / read it. / Oh the day my pictures are / done I must go to the sea / for indeed I am breaking down / - think, since the day I / came from Beaumont I have / not rested for work one day - & / that is many months ago - / there was a room - the school / room, where I grew so very unhappy - do you remember - & I felt I / couldnt stay another night, & that / it was more unhappiness than I / could bear - & I even thought it / unkind of you not to let me go - / - ah but it wouldnt be like that / now, & much has happened - / but the seat in the garden was a / peaceful time - only twice I suffered / too much & once was in the school / room & once in the long lane. / but now that time has dealt / mercifully with me - it is all / dear / to remember - the grief too has / turned to delight. & I think as often / of the green lane as of happier times - / But at Beaumont you are not so / far off - I could reach you in half a / day - & I can write everyday - it / is when you are on the sea - on / unknown seas that it will be desolate / for me - & when days will go & / no word be possible - ah - I / feel sick to think of it - we wont / talk of it / should you miss me very much now / out of your life? you havent said / it for a long time - you have been / too ill to think of that or / everything - but preferably I shall / want to know if you would / ... a little telegram from you - so kindly sent just / before my heart goes pit-a-pat - at post time. / & so tomorrow there will be a letter - will it / tell me if you are tired of my friendship? / indeed I know it is monotonous & set to one / time - only has one time now - isnt it dull / for you? / Something like a letter from lady Leighton - five / closely written sheets - 20 ? pages, & full / of fancies & fun. but it is ? a little difficult / to make out. / then interruptions & I could write no / more - & now it is Wednesday morning - & fair & blue again. / We were to have gone an expedition to-day / to Winchelsea & Rye, but it is off - & / I am glad - the spirit is past & gone / for expeditions and better it is to me / to bide at work - & yet - if. / I have begun the legend of Good / Women now & finished one. / how perfect the Prologue is - but of the / separate legends some are hastily made / as if he was bored - and then he / likes elbow room when he tells a tale - / & likes to wander off and sit down / & rest a bit & go birds nesting - & / if he has to go straight to school / as in the legends, it is so unhappy / for him poor thing. he got in such / a mess yesterday with Dido as never / was, & I was ashamed of him. / if I got got in such a mess with my design / the very engraver would refuse to cut / the block. if I could only do / them faster - such time it takes / and the days go. / Tell me how you get on with Henrietta / and tell me how the day goes - / & if you are happy & feel young / & look beautiful - please tell me / all these things, so sweet for me to / know. / I think I am getting very stupid / here - the sea air makes me / drowsy & drowns my wits with / damp - but I shall stay over / till Saturday & then go back. / So if I were to deserve a letter / at the weeks end would you / post to The Grange - for I shall / have left before the two o'clock / post on Saturday. / Your devoted true E
The archive, which has remained with May Gaskell’s descendants, consists of more than 200 letters dating from 1892 up to the year of Burne-Jones’s death: three albums of intimate letters from the artist to Mrs Gaskell; two albums of illustrated letters to Mrs Gaskell and her daughter, Daphne; and other ephemera such as the artist’s brushes which he used when painting his famous portrait of Amy Gaskell. The letters are one of the most endearing records of all Burne-Jones’s friendships. They recount both his innermost thoughts and feelings and feature a cast of humorous characters, fictitious and real. They have been acquired for £200,000 with major support from the National Heritage Memorial Fund (NHMF); the Art Fund; the Arts Council England/Victoria and Albert Museum Purchase Grant Fund; the Friends of the National Libraries; and numerous private donations. Two of the albums are on display in the Museum for its Great British Drawings exhibition where they can be seen until 31 August. They will now enter the Ashmolean’s permanent collection. Following conservation, they will be made available as an invaluable resource to students and scholars of the Pre-Raphaelite movement, and they will be published online. The letters will add to the collection of drawings by Burne-Jones bequeathed to the Ashmolean in 1939 by Mrs Gaskell, forming one of the richest Pre-Raphaelite archives in the country. Many of the letters were published by Josceline Dimbleby, May Gaskell’s great-granddaughter, in her acclaimed book, A Profound Secret (2004), which recounts the author’s research into her family’s history. On the occasion of this major acquisition, Josceline Dimbleby will give a Saturday Talk on 8 August at the Ashmolean, in conversation with the curator of Great British Drawings, Colin Harrison. Josceline Dimbleby says: "My discovery of so many intimate and often witty letters from Burne-Jones to my great grandmother May Gaskell, forgotten for decades in an old chest of drawers, was one of the most exciting moments in my life, together with finding, wrapped in old paper and string at the back of one drawer, the paintbrushes he used for his famous portrait of my doomed great aunt Amy Gaskell, still with paint sticking to them. The letters revealed a passion that made it hard to think of this friendship as platonic and I spent a fascinating and happy three years piecing together and writing the story of what was A Profound Secret, feeling that I was getting to know my ancestors, and a very private side of Burne- Jones." Burne- Jones met May Gaskell in 1892, and she became the last in the succession of women with whom he enjoyed especially close, but platonic, friendships. She was the wife of a dull cavalry officer, and, in an unfulfilling marriage, she corresponded with Burne- Jones up to five times a day. The letters include a series of cartoon-like tales featuring characters such as the ‘fat lady’ and the artist himself, caught in mishap and misadventure. Beneath the surface lies the black humour endemic to Burne-Jones’s frequent moods of depression and insecurity. There is, for example, a superb sequence of caricatures of the artist suffering from flu. In the course of their friendship, Burne-Jones became dependent on May, confessing to her that she ‘reached the well of loneliness that is in me’. He also sent whimsical letters to the infant Daphne Gaskell (1887–1966). She was only six when she met Burne-Jones and he took an affectionate and fatherly interest in her, his own children having grown up. His letters to Daphne, written in phonetic spelling, include birds and animals familiar from his other letters to children, and several fantastic inventions such as the ‘Phlumbudge’ and ‘Flapdabble’. The archive also includes some letters to May’s elder daughter, Amy (1874–1910), whom Burne-Jones painted in 1893 in one of the greatest Pre-Raphaelite portraits (collection of Lord Lloyd-Webber). Colin Harrison, Senior Curator of European Art, Ashmolean Museum, says: "May Gaskell was Burne- Jones’s closest friend in his last years. He gave her a selection of his finest drawings, which she in turn gave to the Ashmolean in 1939. The opportunity to acquire the albums of intimate and humorous letters that he sent to May and to her daughter, Daphne, was unmissable; and we are most grateful for the support from the NHMF, the Art Fund, and other bodies, as well as numerous private donors. Their generosity has ensured that the letters have ended up in their rightful home, and that the Ashmolean now has one of the most representative, as well as distinguished, collections of Burne-Jones’s work in the world." Sir Peter Luff, Chair of NHMF, says: “Sir Edward Burne-Jones was the most prominent of the second generation Pre-Raphaelites and his work had an enormous influence. This exceptional collection of letters, which throws light on the last years of his life, was the most important part of his collection in private hands. I'm delighted that National Heritage Memorial Fund investment will mean they can be available for everyone to explore and enjoy.” Stephen Deuchar, Director of the Art Fund, says: "The Ashmolean owns one of the finest collections of works by Burne-Jones in the world, which will be greatly enriched by this important and delightful collection of letters."