Saturday. 1 / In the train for Rottingdean - but / I can only write when the wretched / hideous thing stops at stations / cannot write when it wobbles - / you wouldnt expect me to write when / it wobbles. / much better today, if that matters to / anyone - a letter in the morning set me / right - such a pity I grow so terribly / anxious - / last evening I dined with Luke at West / end hotel - (ah me, in what different / ?time have I dined there) and / his daughters were with him, ? / blowing ? of the ? ? / kind - not like Lukes daughters / but very much like Mrs Lukes / daughters - must have happened by / immaculate conception or internal / combustion or some such way / 2 / & then they wanted to go / to see Prospero's Love story - & I / didnt want to go, we gave in & / went - but heavy hearted was / I - & I fell to not ?ing or seeing / anything but thinking of the Worcester / time - so long ago - that seems / sweeter & sweeter as I look / back upon it - & heart ? / as all sweet past time. ?- / and shall I confess as I tooted / my way back I had a fit of / crying that exhausted but did / good - & after it slept as I / havent slept for many months / - a long solid deep dreamless / sleep that lasted right through / till William waked me and / 3 / to-day I am much better, & / quietly reprehend - & your letter / should th? at ? you / more no ? / I think the year is not good for / people - the summerless Summer / & the cold, & the many changes / have tried the children of men / & I try to think it is nothing / unusual, but is a part of the / years unhealthiness that you / are so frail - & I so very nervous / Luke! oh that Luke, he / always has to be like me - so / forsooth he is suffering from / nerves & sleeplessness - sometimes / 4 / he comes in at breakfast time to / see how I am - at the very time I / most need to be alone, & am / writing letters - then when in / answer to kind enquiries I / say I havent slept well, & / feel heartbeating, he says / "that's cu'ious (for Luke / could not say R) i am just the / same" / if I broke my leg, he would / limp for weeks - I darent / tell him my heart is enslaved / or he would instantly get into / some incongruous mess - / 5 / so Luke has to be kept in the / dark - only he must ave / all my diseases - / most time we meet he says / "I should have died this Spring / Ned if it hadnt been for you" / and then I always say "not / at all, Luke" / he has never mentioned the / Montreux time though - something / makes him quite dumb about / that - such a gentleman is luke / wish he wasnt so poor, for / he used to like to waste money / & dress superbly - & hurts me / me to see him & little bit shabby / 6 / he is going down to R.Dean with / me - is sitting opposite as I write / - is interested in this note book / - says it is a good idea, & he / will get one - for sometimes ideas / come into his mind & he might / as well jot them down "-yes- / they ought to be jotted down. / he is very respectful while I / write - anxious not to disturb - / because I am putting down / thoughts for pictures - & that is / serious / at Brighton I suppose Olive / will be - and I cant ? ? / to my friends ? ? ? / 7. / I could be yesterday, when / panic had seized me for its / own - / wonder if Georgie will be vexed at / his coming - it can't be helped / he asked to come - and now / we are off - & farewell for / a time - writing impossible / while train going - & not a / moment afterwards till I ? / into bed - & then will write / more little words - do they bore / you? you would tell me if I / bore you with my gabble - / one day when they have perfected / the phonograph I will get one / & talk into it all day long / 8 / & send you the cylinder by post / to read - / perhaps I can write while it / moves - I will try till the first / jerk comes - the Brighton line / ought to jerk, its bad enough / I havent looked at myself / for days in any glass, but / I did before I started - & I / started when I did - I am / hateful, thats the truth, / & I dont wonder you cant like / me more than you do - / no I cant write, good / bye / 9 / and now its Sunday morning / and I in bed just waked, / after another long night of / sleep - and I am as pleased as / if I had done something clever - / for many many months it / hasn't been like this - for / my nights are disgraceful & / fit only to be called vigils / Olive id here goes away to- / morrow - so do I - & Georgie / looks very much better - / and Denis is here and / is a pet - & Phil whose / portrait of Georgie will be / downright good / 10 / but he looks unhappy / & the sun is burning over / the hill top - it is a day / on which I should be happy / but my soul is away in the / north and it will go like / all others, restlessly - / lousy is dreadful work he / likes Fate it cannot be evaded / When he came into my room / & stood by my bed, near / two years ago I knew what / it would be - & I knew / what it will be till the / end / 11 / what suddenly makes that / apathy of life I wonder, that / you are suffering from - when / all things lose interest and / seem in vain - I have had / it in my life at times - not / once since I have known you / though - it is a stranger to / me, mostly, that visitor, / I want it to leave you - / I want the happiest & / sweetest life there is on / earth to be yours / I havent had a talk / with Georgie yet - but before / the day is over I will / 12 / find out about the time of / the visit - how sweet you are / about it - & I am so naughty / still, only in words I abstain / but I am sickened with / disappointment. / he shall try for two days / before she comes - shall try / for it very hard / Luke brought me an elixir / of life - a bottle made up / of strychnine & phosphorus & things / to calm nerves, for he say how / beaten I was on Friday - / shall I send you some? it / 13 / is taken half an hour before / meals - but perhaps it is best / to ask your doctor - it tastes / thick & sweet - & its purpose / is to strengthen all whose / nerves are broken - / it is called / Byno - hypophosphites - sold at Allen & Hanbury's / Vere St. /
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."