including letters written to his wife Marion and some other correspondence
Journal Entry
December 4, 1940
Took some drawings to Leger. Saw the show of oils and drawings by Fireman Hay-something of the AFS at the Leicester Galleries. Poor things. I can only hope that he is a better firefighter than he is an artist. He has not felt a single one of these pictures. Technique, hard, mechanical and amateurishly commercial.
Also went to the National Gallery. Saw a photograph of my panel of Marion that was in the last exhibition there, on sale in the vestibule. Stamped on the back – National Gallery copyright. First I had heard of it, and the copyright happens to be mine. Nevertheless I find myself reasonably flattered. I bought one.
Went to look at the Adamas Gallery in Pall Mall Place, on my way home. Almost completely wrecked by a bomb. I had a good little nude with them, on board. Goodbye to that, I guess.
Letters to Marion
4 December, 1940
My dearest Mog,
I was very glad to get your letter. An “all clear” did go whilst we were in Southampton but it was a quiet journey. It seems strange what you told me about Dorchester, shops shutting and people clearing off the streets just because a warning was sounded. It was like that here for a week or so but pretty soon everything just went on as usual. It’s the only way, otherwise life would be perfectly unbearable.
It has been fairly quiet in Chelsea, with the exception of last Friday night, since I came back.
I saw Bill on Monday and he has promised to ask Dumps about the possibilities of finding a room in Wadhurst but thinks it will be difficult. It worries me very much that you are unhappy and I don’t blame you a bit. I wish we could find somewhere close for you to go. It’s a terribly difficult business.
Do forget about that wretched allowance. I could never quarrel with you over such a stupid thing, and I know you are not a free agent at present; so please forgive me for anything I said. I still mean it – but it was not intended for you. I have not seen Stanley since I got back but I did write to him the other day.
I have hardly done any work, feel flat and tired, although I have been hard at the scene painting. Perhaps I will be able to get on with some more drawings soon as the other job is very nearly done. Also there is a chance of getting the gas going again here. It really has been too cold. There are limits. Let me know if the blankets turned out to be what you wanted.
I hope Julian has quite lost his cold. I think he is a very sweet child and I hope he will like me when we are all together again. And I do wish I could have stayed longer. I should get some more leave in January or February so I will look forward to coming again then.
Tell me what you think of the Chaos book when you have had time to finish it. I am glad you thought there was some good in the bits I showed you about the raids. It gets if off one’s mind to put it down in some way or another.
All my love to you both,
Clifford
PS Tell me what you really thought of the drawings when you write. Do you think there is an advance? I don’t mind what I have to put up with as long as my work does not go off.
6 December, 1940
Friday evening
Dearest Mog,
I got both your letter this morning. Stanley does seem to have been very good to Julian; I hope he won’t drive you crazy when he starts thumping on the piano!
The gas has come on again, you will be glad to hear, and not a moment too soon, for it is really cold now. I have got a fine idea for another drawing and it is amazing how I keep on seeing things that help me with it.
I am so pleased you enjoyed the book. I thought it was really good. Anna was fine – but so is her father, because he is honest with himself.
The lines from the Shakespeare sonnet are magnificent; and true. Yet he has not said everything. Think of what wonderful things Baudelaire, Lautrec and Pascin did largely as a result of the very thing that Shakespeare condemns. I suppose he is really right though, for he is concerned, and justly, with the end, and the end must be as he says. However, I am getting very deep; I could go on for pages on that angle.
Do not think that I am disillusioned. I am not. I have everything in the world to live for and lots of wonderful things to do. And I am going to do at least some of them.
Since last Friday we have had a very quiet time.
I may be seeing Bill and Dumps tomorrow and I will have a talk to her about you.
I do hope that you can manage on this money this week. I will make up the fifteen shillings I now owe you as soon as your cheque comes. I simple had to have a pair of shoes soled and heeled this week, and also had to send some pictures to Manchester where I was invited to a show run by the Whitworth Gallery on the lines of the show of panels at the Leicester last year. Will you ask Sybil if she has taken her (I regard them as mine) pictures to East Meon from Portsmouth? I am very worried about them. Particularly the head we did of you at the Minerva. I should not have let that one go. It’s horrible parting with just the very special things one does.
The Adams Gallery in Pall Mall has been knocked to hell, and there was a very good little nude of mine there. I went to look at the place where the gallery had been and I felt sad as I thought of my little picture buried beneath all the rubble and bits of charred wood, and most certainly scratched and torn and quite ruined.
I have begun to get Nicholson interested in the drawings I brought to you and it may be possible to do something with them when things get a bit better. The Leicester Gallery have a show of paintings and drawings by a bloke in the AFS. They are rotten and quite cheered me up.
There is a photo of the painting of you on sale at the National Gallery. Very flattering, only it still happens to be my copyright; of course it would be silly to say anything about that. All the same they should have asked me. I will try to get one and send it to you.
Glad the blankets were the right ones. I told them that you only expected to pay 31/9 as that was their price when the order was first given – so it appears to have turned out well in spite of the muddle they must have made.
I heard from Charles this morning. He has got a job at last, only he does not say what sort. He came down some weeks ago and looked half-starved but fairly cheerful.
I am writing this at Putney. There is a real gale blowing and it looks like being another quiet night.
All my lover to you and Julian,
Clifford
Journal Entries
December 9, 1940
After a remarkably quiet week we had a very intense raid last night. I was at Putney.
December 11, 1940
Mattresses have been supplied at last. Like thin slices of rock, but better than nothing.
First Aid lecture by Dr Seymour Price. Enjoyed it immensely. It is always exhilarating to listen to someone who really loves his job.
From today’s Daily Mirror:
Here is General Sir Archibald Wavell, Commander-In-Chief of the British Forces in the Middle East as revealed by some of his sayings:-
The ideal infantryman has the qualities of a successful poacher, cat burglar and gunman.
Precisely. He must possess those very qualities for which he would be imprisoned in peace time, as an enemy of the society.
Letters to Marion
12 December, 1940
Thursday
Dearest Mog,
I got both your letters today. I was so happy to hear what you thought about the drawings. I have only done one more since I saw you – of a ruined street with three people standing in the roadway – a good one; but I had to work hard at the scene painting* and I have also been getting on with the monochrome for my Seaton Street picture.
*The Chelsea Stretcher Party put on a production of “The Ghost Train” by Arnold Ridley as their Christmas play. Clifford was roped in to paint the scenery. Editor
On December 9, 1940, the Daily Sketch reported:
Bomb Inspiration
A Chelsea stretcher party includes four West End actors, an actress of note and a famous artist. These have produced an all A.R.P. Christmas production of the “Ghost Train”.
Black-bearded Clifford Hall, who has painted the scenery showing a derelict railway station waiting-room, told me it was inspired by his own Chelsea bombed studio where he made war sketches.
Two days later, the same newspaper published a second report of the production with a photo of an “impromptu rehearsal” showing Clifford Hall busy working on the scenery in the background.
Letter to Marion, 12 December, 1940 (cont.)
The play went very well and everyone seemed very pleased with the set. When they first asked me to do it and showed me a photo of the original design, I was appalled, however, I got a free hand and began to enjoy myself. Do you remember we saw the play years ago? Well right at the start one of the passengers enters the waiting room, looks round and exclaims “Good Lord, what a hole!” I built it all up on that, I painted weird damp patches on the walls. In parts I stuck on real wallpaper, painted to match the general colour and then pulled it down and tore the edges in fantastic shapes. I made a lovely spider’s web with wool, seccotine and cotton which I fixed in one corner. I got some posters from the G.W. Railway and stuck two on the walls, partly covering the damp patches. Then I painted over the posters, toning and dirtying them and so incorporating them in the design.
The day before the show opened there was trouble about the ceiling. The producer said it would be too much trouble. But I had designed for a ceiling to produce the effect of the play taking place shut in a damp, miserable box-like room, and I was determined to have it. So I turned temperamental and said I would not be associated with the scenery and they must take my name off the programme if the ceiling was not put up. It was put up, and then I painted more damp patches on it and cracks and also a part in which the plaster had fallen away showing the laths. All as the enclosed cutting says, inspired by the now deplorable state of our Trafalgar Studios! Although for journalistic effect my shell cap has been transformed into a bomb! So don’t let the cutting disturb you. I will send you a photo of the stage, if possible.
I have just heard that my friend in Rugby has sold two sketches for me. He says he is writing this week and so as soon as possible I will send you the fifteen shillings and also a bit extra.
This morning I had to go to Fabers who wrote asking if I had any pictures of Montmartre or Montparnasse suitable to illustrate Charles’s book. I took some, and they will, I think, use one or two of them. They will only pay a small reproduction fee, but it’s worth having, anyway.
I am rather worried that your leg is still bad and I hope the ointment the Doctor gave you makes it better soon. What did he say about it? Tell me when you write next. Don’t forget, please.
I sent a parcel off to you a couple of days ago. A little toy house and a book for Julian and also a book each for Michael and Richard. I wish I could be with you – but never mind, there will be lots more times. And I will certainly get some more leave fairly early in the new year. I have not heard anything from Dumps yet. I saw her and Bill last Saturday, and she promised she would make enquiries for me.
I hope my money from Rugby comes soon because I want to send you some quickly.
I did write to you, I think with the parcel, that I was all right after last Sunday. I expect you will have had the letter by now.
One can never get anywhere with a point of view like Cecily’s. I want to express all the bad and the good, all the ugly and the wicked, and all the beautiful. Only in that way is it possible to get anywhere or to do anything. I am tempted to quote – “he descended into Hell, and on the third day he ascended into Heaven”. Do you understand? You must have your star always in view to steer by, it would be boring if things went easily all the time.
Write soon. All my love to you both,
Clifford
The Ghost Train set, designed by Clifford Hall for the Chelsea A.R.P.’s Christmas 1940 production. Photograph by Paul Tanqueray.
14 December, 1940
Saturday
Dearest Mog,
Your letter with the cheque came this afternoon. I am glad the parcel arrived so quickly. I am sending you a cheque for £1 with this so as to waste no time as I know you must want it. As soon as I hear from Rugby, with some money, I will send you something towards the cot blankets.
I also sent the photo of the painting of you, and Paul Tanqueray has done a photo of the stage set which I hope will turn out well. If it does I will send you one of them too. I would like you to get some idea of what it is like.
I hope your leg gets better soon. What it really needs, I suppose, the very thing it is impossible for you to get – that is plenty of rest. At least, try to get what you can.Very nice of Winifred to send you the present for Julian.
All my love to you both,
Clifford
Journal Entry
December 19, 1940
Still quiet. Very few raids. Making up sleep. Drawing. Finished first stage of oil, Seaton Street last Monday.
Gas on again – after more than six weeks.
Letters to Marion
20 December, 1940
Chelsea, Friday
My dearest Mog,
I was so pleased to hear yesterday that my letter and the photo of the picture arrived safely. I wish you would tell me what the doctor thinks about your leg; if you may have bruised the bone slightly. It worries me, so do let me know.
I am sending two pounds with this and 5 shillings also, and will get something you want with the postal order, only please do spend it on yourself.
I will send you ten bob towards the Peter Jones bill as soon as I get the money from Rugby. It’s only 2 guineas for a couple of small unmounted watercolours bought by the librarian. He wants to pay the expenses of a show there in the Spring and I am to go and give a lecture. They will, I think, pay my fare so it may be worth trying. I have suggested March as I want to come and see you for my next leave at the end of January. I am going to try and be with you for my birthday to make up for not being with you at Christmas. My butler friend has invited me to dinner on Christmas Eve, the master will be away and the butler has all the keys!
I hope to get a photo of the stage set sometime next week and will certainly send one to you. We are giving the play for the troops tomorrow and Sunday which means another day off for me -touching up the scenery and so on.
The last couple of weeks have been very quiet and I have made up a lot of sleep, finished a 30″x25″ monochrome and done two more towards my series of drawings.
Give Julian a kiss and remember I will be thinking of you both – as always.
All my love,
Clifford
23 December, 1940
Dearest,
Thank you so much for the gloves. I am very pleased with them and they fit perfectly. Here is ten shillings towards the blankets. I will send you some more when I can. I wish it was more but I must buy some coal.
I was really delighted when I saw the cards you painted and sent to mother, particularly the one with the little figures of children. Seeing it meant more to me, perhaps, than anything you could have said or written. I know the difficulties you must have had to work under, but apart from that which is really neither here nor there, it is beautifully done. I feel that consciously or subconsciously you have put into them a sense of drawing that you can only have got from seeing our own baby. You really must go on with that work, always. I think that perhaps in the past I may have discouraged you with a sense of accuracy which I am at last beginning to realize is not a millionth as important as feeling. That feeling you always did have. I think you have more now. Go on. Don’t worry about anything else. The feeling will get you somewhere. Leave facts alone. They are not for everyone. The world is too full of them, and ideas matter more. We both know that the real world beaters have full command of both facts and ideas – but they still put the ideas first. Vandyke is certainly a finer painter and draughtsman than our Gainsborough, who never in his life managed to get the construction of a neck quite right, but could we spare him?
When Whistler had an idea, a sensation to be put into paint, he said he would not let that great clumsy Nature step in and spoil it! Too brilliant to be true for the sensation came, in the first place from Nature, but I know what he meant. Every true artist does.
Lots of love and remember I will see you in January – so make a birthday cake for me and let it get nice and stale, how I like it.
Clifford
Journal Entry
December 27, 1940
Lots of incendiaries. Depot roof alight, St Mark’s, a number in the grounds. All put out quickly. We expected the bombs to follow, but nothing happened. Raid was over just before 11 pm.
Letter to Marion
27 December, 1940
Friday
My dearest Mog,
The book arrived yesterday and I am so pleased to have it – only the gloves were really quite enough. Also your card, which I am very pleased with. It really is good. I hope Christmas went off well and that the children were not too wearing – although I expect they were. I cannot say I enjoyed myself particularly, however, I appeared to: which, in the circumstances was what mattered most. Everyone, with one or two exceptions, was far too sober. We were given a pint of bear, loathsome on a cold day, with dinner. and in the evening a few of us went to the Wheatsheaf for half an hour and had a couple of sherries each. But one cannot get very gay on that.
On the whole I was heartily glad when it was time to go to bed. The day before, dinner with the butler, was far better and I spent yesterday at Putney. Quite cheerful – so I should not really grumble. I do hope though that we can be together next time and we will get Julian a tree and make it look very pretty.
I am hoping to come and see you in January. I have to register sometime that month although it seems very likely that I will be able to stay on here if I wish. I feel very unsettled. I have just about exhausted the possibilities of this job and the time it compels me to waste is literally terrifying.
I have now got sixteen drawings done and I am going to have another go at a war artists job via Kenneth Clark if Lily Browse can fix it for me.
I know I could do good work in that way. The truth is that this is just becoming dull and I hate wasting time. Up till now I thought a lot, and with some results, now I want to do something and I feel just shut-in. In the end I suppose I will just have to stick it out until this ridiculous war is over.
Then I have again such a longing to do only beautiful things. I can never paint the river now because I can only do it when I see it late at night, sleep with my senses free of it, and then paint it the following morning. It is such an elusive thing, all the wonderful things are, and it can so easily slip out of one’s fingers.
But there your world, my world, has almost gone.
That is not a bit frightening because we can find it again quite easily, only just now we have no time in which to find it and that is the depressing fact.
I know the time will come. But it does get dull waiting, doesn’t it?
I reckon to get away round about the 22nd of next month but I will be able to tell you for certain when I write next.
The arrangements for the exhibition at Rugby are going well, but one raid could ruin the whole idea. They want me to give two lectures and will pay for them, so I am bound to hook in a bit – also my fare will be paid and someone in the local Art Society will put me up. I hope it comes off.
All my love to you and Julian,
Clifford
Journal Entries
December 29, 1940
Another raid, this time extremely heavy. A huge orange blaze in the sky over London. Expecting to be called out any moment.
December 31, 1940
No raid on London last night. A good thing for us they didn’t follow up their success on Sunday.
The damage in the City appalling. Madness. And yet this is normality as the world has always known it. Build, destroy, build again, and so on backwards and forwards. I can’t think it out properly. There must be a reason somewhere.
I am not working well.
Letter to Marion
31 December, 1940
Dearest Mog,
Thank you for your last letter. I will be coming to see you in about three weeks’ time, round about the 22nd or 23rd and will let you know for certain a little later on.
Here it is, New Year’s Eve and I am on duty. Last Friday was lively here and they tried to set alight to us but it didn’t come off. On Sunday the fires in the city must have been terrific. From Chelsea it seemed as if half London was blazing. The extraordinary thing is that they didn’t follow it up last night – there was no raid at all.
You must certainly try to do some cards for next Christmas, only it would be better to try to sell the original designs rather than hand painted ones. There would be more money in the former. Only you must let me have them by April or May at the latest; or send them out yourself if you prefer. But don’t leave it any later than May.
I am in the way of selling two watercolours at a guinea each unmounted. It is terrible, such small prices but what can I do?
I would not let the very best go for so little.
I have not heard a word from Manchester and I am wondering if the gallery has been bombed.
I hope your leg is getting better. Don’t forget to let me know when you write next.
Love to you both,
Clifford