Journal Entries
January 25, 1942
Marion came for weekend. She is very, very good. And I? I follow my instincts blindly - almost.
The essential quality of art is rhythm. It is the true quality of life. It can be fast or slow, infinitely varied, the same but always different, like beauty herself.
Rhythm is finish, completeness. That will o' the wisp the good ones follow to the end. Three lines, less, can contain it, and you may spend weeks on a work and yet miss it entirely.
A man's work is himself, no greater, no less; and if he cannot take out more than he puts in at least he knows he will receive in exact proportion to what he has been able to give. I find a real satisfaction in this knowledge although I could not tell you why.
All this I feel in terms of painting, but I feel it must be true of life as well; so maybe I have some nasty jolts coming.
None of us accomplish anything by ourselves. Sometimes others help us knowingly, sometimes unknowingly. And the dead can help us too, when their work lives.
Without this help, inspiration, if you like, we would exist in a kind of mental and spiritual vacuum - in nothingness, begetting nothing.
January 30, 1942
After Sylphides. 'I was marvellous tonight, wasn't I?'
'Yes, you made me very happy, and lots of other people too, I think.'
'When I jumped, I felt the wind rushing past me. My heart seemed to stop, and I thought I would never touch the ground again.'
Blitz
CLIFFORD HALL'S JOURNAL ~ 1939 - 1942 P21
including letters written to his wife Marion and some other correspondence
Journal Entry
February 25, 1942
Marion came for the day. She asked me about Celia and I told her. Useless to have lied, for I knew she had guessed some time ago. My work alone gave me away completely.
I don't know what to do. I cannot visualize being without Marion. I want them both, and there is Julian too. I cannot blame Marion for saying she will not come back.
I remember the night I was talking about Celia with Leo. I had suddenly asked myself about Marion and Julian. I said how appalling it was, hurting other people, the realization that one person's happiness invariably meant someone else's unhappiness. Perhaps I had Leo in mind too, for that night I knew he was unhappy. 'One can't help it,' he said, 'it's impossible to do anything without hurting someone.'
It's not so easy as that, I feel.
Letters to Marion
28 February, 1942
Dearest Mog,
I hope the journey wasn't too bad. I am glad you gave me the photograph of Julian. It is very good.
I think we will be starting the new hours for certain sometime next month and then, if you will let me, I will come and see you both,
Write to me,
Love
Clifford
4 March, 1942
Dearest Mog,
It may be against the rules to start your last letter as you did but I am glad of it.
Even if the 36 hour shift does not commence this month I should be due for some leave in April and I will come then.
I took some drawings to the Leicester Gallery yesterday. They were very nice and liked them and asked me to bring some paintings for them to see as soon as I have about a dozen. I will do that when I have enough really good ones. I will have a show there yet.
I did a very good drawing yesterday morning but a really terrifying one - full of atmosphere and different to all the other. Not exactly well handled but it does say something. I have completed the backcloth for the Pirandello play in two days. Bill is having trouble with the Lord Chamberlain over his play. About a dozen lines will have to be cut. Perfectly stupid because they have left in far more suggestive lines than they have cut.
Also no one likes the play except myself, the producer and the girl who is playing the lead. Which naturally makes us determined to put it across. I will let you know the dates later on because you must come and see it. Bill is not particularly well and is still at home. The doctor says there is a suspicion of TB but don't let Bill know I have told you this. Anyway, I think he should find out about it for certain.
I will be able to send you an extra pound next week as I have started on the little job I have and will finish it by then.
Tell Julian I will send him some more chocolate soon. Love to you both,
Clifford
7 March, 1942
Saturday
Dearest Mog,
Here is the pound extra I promised you. I had hoped to have sent more but a deal didn't come off, however, I expect something else will turn up. I am always trying. The funny thing is that when I don't try, I have more luck, like the couple of quid I made this week. No effort at all.
I have not been able to get any coke, coalite or coal, and it's still bitterly cold. Serves me right I suppose.
Bill is much better. I will send some chocolate next week. Hope to have six bars by then. I can only get two a week.
I have got a good painting in my head and I am going to stretch a canvas and hope to start it next week. There are rumours now that we will be compelled to do munition work on our off days. That will be hell but it hasn't happened yet, so I must hurry.
Please don't say things to me about not sending you money, because I always will when I have it, and I will make it somehow.
Love to you and Julian,
Clifford
On the 9th March, Bill wrote the following letter to Marion:
9 March, 1942
Dearest Marion,
I expect Cliff has told you that I've been ill: bronchial trouble, and I've been rather down and out with it. Temperature, sweats, no energy, depressed and all the rest of it. That is the only reason your letter has not been answered. Dumps stayed with me for a week and was an angel. She went back to Wadhurst on Friday. I'm feeling better but haven't yet ventured out; this winter has really done for me! I expect you've forgotten what you wrote to me, but you do ask me whether I think you're doing the right thing. I do and I don't! Now let me at once say, and I know that you will sympathise, that I'm in a hell of a position. I love you both and whatever I think I cannot take sides. I would hate to think of the marriage being busted, principally because I can see no reason why it should be. If you had ceased to care for each other then it would be different, but neither of you have: that I am quite certain about! I could so easily tell you what I have in mind, it is so difficult to write. So - yes- if your behaviour is part of a plan - excellent, keep it up! But if au fond you are really serious, then -no-decidedly not -you are not doing the best thing for both of you.
Dear Marion, to me it is a simple problem. Do you still love and want Clifford? Be guided by your answer. But, my dear Marion, you know me so well by now. Most of my actions are guided by sentiment, I am a sentimentalist, I have my own ideas as to how this "crisis" will end. I know I shall be right! And my dear, can't share a person with another. What Cliff has given (and does give) is yours and yours alone. He can't give that to anyone else! This is a bloody letter. I just can't say what I want to say, except that I am rather upset because you seem so serious over this "affair", and I don't believe you have any cause to be. It is like a piece of paper thrown on the fire which makes a great blaze while it burns, and then is gone - a few ashes left, chucked with the cinders into the dust bin the next day. I would not dare tell Clifford this!
Oh, my dear, if only you were here, I could tell you so easily what I think.
Anyhow, burn this letter. Don't be miserable, because you haven't really the slightest cause to be, and always think of me as your most sincere and devoted friend.
Bill
The habit of years broken twice in one letter. Two words underlined!
PS
Did you know that me eldest brother's wife was attacked about a week ago in a Met train by a man who pinched her money, savings bank book, cheque book etc. and that she died the next day. How dramatic to have a murder in the family! As for her, I had no opinion of her at all. I can't see why she existed, but my brother was devoted to her. I am terribly sorry for him, a great blow at his age - he is even older than I am and is past 60. A ghastly business really. I wonder what he will do in the future, saddled with love, furniture etc.
Must stop! Writing this letter has quite exhausted me.
A photo of Celia Franca in full flight. But as Mythra, Queen of the Wilis, in Giselle. Not in Les Sylphides.
Letters to Marion
30 January, 1942
Dearest Mog,
Thanks so much for your letter. I do hope you will be able to come here next week and I think I will be able to send the fare about Tuesday or Wednesday, which will be in time, won't it?
I am afraid I will not have much work to show you this time. On Monday I start to waste the week, learning to tie knots, build bridges and so on. I always refused to join the Boy Scouts when I was a kid. Things have a way of catching up with one!
I did one or two nice drawings this week. I am starting scene painting the week after next. You must come and see the show. I think all three are good, and Bill's would never get by the censor. They are also doing a play by Pirandello. That gets me out of all sorts of stupid work for weeks to come, of course, I will hang the job out - anyway there's lots to do.
Lots of love to you and Julian.
3 February, 1942
Dearest Mog,
I hope the beastly weather won't be stopping you on Friday. Will you go to Bill's about 4/5 and I will be there about that time. It's no good going to the studio, it will be wretchedly cold as this week I am out all day on this lousy course. I'll be glad when it's over.
I tried to get all the money for the fare and I hope to make up the rest when I see you.
I have kept you some of the cake. It is very good. The best I have tasted for a very long time.
Lots of love to you and Julian and hoping to see you on Friday,
Clifford
5 February, 1942
Just had your letter. Hope to see you at Bill's about 5 on Friday.
Love,
Clifford
Journal Entry
February 9, 1942
' Good morning Mr. Hall.'
'Good morning Mr. Leger.'
'Yes, I wish we could sell something for you. We sold fifty Dunlops last year. Now have you something for my next exhibition. An oil painting. Something that will make them sit up. Something startling.'
'I will bring a few paintings for you to look at, but I'm afraid I don't paint startling pictures.'
On the 9th February, Bill wrote the following letter to Marion:
Monday
My dearest Marion,
I feel somehow that I let you down yesterday morning - that on one of the very few occasions that I might have been help to you, I just wasn't. I'm so terribly glad that you came round to say goodbye but annoyed that there was so little time and that while I was listening to you I was also saying to myself: "shall I catch the train?"
I just did. It was 11.15 when I arrived in the King's Road, fortunately a taxi came along and I was just able to scramble into the train at Charring Cross with not a moment to spare. What a journey? I hope you, when you travelled, weren't so cold and freezing as I was! But Dumps was waiting at the other end and we had quite a happy afternoon at the Long Copses and I came back here laden with treacle, butter, matches and jam!
It was bad luck that you came the weekend when I was going to Sevenoaks - only because Dumps was going to be there. I thought of all the other Sundays when I have been alone at no 7. But I hope everything went alright for you and that you caught your train and that you didn't feel too unhappy going back, although there wasn't anyone to see you off. I do hope you will come up soon again and that I shall see you then.
Much love to you and my godson.
Yours very affectionately,
Bill
Letters to Marion
11 February, 1942
Dearest Mog,
I hope you got back safely, but I wish you could have stayed longer. There is still no water but it does not really matter.
I did a good drawing yesterday although my hand felt very funny at first, so clumsy. I hope I will paint this week. I need to cover dozens and dozens of canvases. There is never enough time. We may be going over to different hours - 36 on and 36 off. That will mean two days off at a time and I may able to get more done then. I hope they decide to do it but it's all a muddle, as usual.
Did Julian like the horses? I was glad you came.
Write soon. Lots of love,
Clifford
And thank you for the note you left for me, dear.
PS
I've just had your letter. I will get leave as soon as I can but I am afraid it will be some time yet. The new hours, if they are decided on would give me a chance to come and see you for a day. I hope you will come again soon. Yes, you did leave it is the drawer. Of course it will be all right.
17 February, 1942
Dearest Mog,
Thanks so much for your letter and the cheques, here is the ten shillings you should have had last time. Let me know as soon as you can when you are coming and I will be able to let you know if it is an off day for me. Try to stay overnight.
I wish I could understand life as well as I think I understand my work. That sounds quite wrong but it isn't really Once I had second doubts about myself. After my first plunge I had, for years, slow growing doubts as to my ability to ever produce the work. I thought, if only I can do the work everything else is simple.
Then quite suddenly it seemed to me, although it must have been sleeping there for a long, long, time, I discovered I could do it. I knew how! I am not conceited, but I sand and almost danced, and ever since I get a thrill when I see what I am actually feeling coming into existence under my hands.
Then I made a further discovery, only the other day. I realized I was as far off what we call success as ever. For now I have something far harder to fight - circumstances. I fought to do good work, that was where I was wrong and what held me back, for it doesn't happen that way. But circumstances have to be fought and I am really afraid when I think of the appalling difficulties of the present day. There is no question of turning back.
You say happiness is necessary. I believe it is. I work better when I am happy, but then work makes me happy, yet fine things come out of conflict. It's all very difficult to understand.
When the war is over, perhaps I will be able to straighten things out. How many millions are thinking that, I wonder? And as for the war it is certainly going badly.
Write again soon, my love to you both,
Clifford
21 February, 1942
Saturday
Darling Mog,
Thank you for your letter. I am glad you are coming on Wednesday. I will expect you about 11.15. I would like to meet you but I had better stay and tidy up a but and get the stove going. Coal has been a shocking problem lately but I'll have some for Wednesday.
I did another painting on Thursday and had a job with it. I thought it was bad and nearly took it out and finally stayed up 'til two in the morning working on it. Had my overcoat on and didn't notice the cold somehow and now I like the painting.
Kiss Julian for me. I do wish I saw him more often. And my love to you,
Clifford
Celia Franca as The Daughter of Darkness
Letter to Marion
11 March, 1942
Wednesday
Dearest Mog,
Thank you for your letters - the second one came this morning.
For the first - you praise what little I have done far too much; but you know I will do better. I have a very, very long way to go.
And now the second. Please don't tell your people anything. I do not mind so much what they would think of me. What I do worry about is hurting those who have been so good to me, and who, as you say, have faith in me.
Since I last saw you I have not been happy for a moment. I have forgotten everything for a short while whist I have been working. That's all. You remember what I used to say about happiness. In a way I never quite believed in it. But really, I was afraid because I knew that happiness must always be paid for. That is in my nature, I always knew, even when I was a boy; perhaps it is not so with everyone. I cannot say.
For that I realize you are unhappy too, and most of it is my fault, and I will never be able to forget it. It won't make things any easier for you but it serves me right and I knew it from the start.
Last time you were here you rushed me. I don't blame you. I would have done the same myself. I have little doubt, but I wanted more time to think.
If I did not still think of you; if I had entirely forgotten how you have helped me, as if I could. If again I were indifferent to you or even disliked you, it would be so easy. But you see, or perhaps you won't now believe me, none of those things are true. And because of them I had never realized what it would mean to be cut off from you entirely. For that is now what you seem to feel is the only solution of the problem.
And as for not sending you any money after that cut-throat doctor's bill is paid - well that's balls. I'll send it when I have it, because I want to, and that's all there is to it.
Do you remember suggesting me living at a studio after the war and us having a place not far away? No one need ever know, you said. Far more than I deserved, but last time you had quite forgotten that. I am thinking of Julian. I am terribly worried about him. You ask me to let things go as they are for the present. Yes, of course. It's far better. God knows what may happen before this war is over. I may get killed. Of course, I don't think I will, but lots of them think that and it happens just the same. I saw it happen too often last year. Things have been quiet so long now, and life foes on, that one forgets.
I was looking at my dairy the other day and for November 4th, 1940, I found -
"Last night, Sunday, no raid. Slept abominably. The first raid free night for 57 nights." And it may all start again, although not yet awhile, I think. But how can you plan?
Of course you will stay here when you come to town for a week. I want you to.
Bill's play and the other two are being done on the 8th, 9th and 10th of April*. If you came that week, we could go on one of my nights off. I want you to see them*. Also, I hope it will be warmer by then, for I still can't get any coal. Let me know what you think.
*Clifford designed the scenery for all three plays.
Bill is much better but the doctor says he should have an Xray test at Brompton Hospital. He doesn't want to but I think he should. I hope I will able to make him have it done; I will go with him.
Tell me how you are when you write and if Julian is well. I will send that chocolate at the end of the week. I have collected five bars of Kit Kat and will get one more, I hope, tomorrow.
Love to you both,
Clifford
Julian Hall, aged about three.