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Jan. 23. 1882.
Little Holland House.
Dear Lord Lytton
I am touched to sadness my [sic] your letter, how can all this
be merited by any efforts of mine? I haunt the footsteps of the
great dead, those who while they enoble [sic] their birth-land
enrich the world and ennoble humanity itself, from my childhood
I have had a longing to be of that band, but I dare not think
it is for me, and praise such as yours and from such as you,
seems somehow more distinctly to show me what is not, by showing
me what your own genius presents to you as mine, it is you who
complete the strain if I strike the chord. The dread of being
a deceiver even without the intention, is more distressing to
me than the want of general sympathy (through which I have hither-to
worked) has ever proved, I would rather be underated than overestimated.
You the Poet and Artist for they are identical, will I know understand
me although I express myself clumsily.
I have got into great disgrace
by declining to accept the dinner, all my instincts recoiled
from the thing, and it is a great satisfaction to me to find
that you approve.
I want to have your sympathy,
I shall want the sympathy of those whom I most admire and respect
for life now is all down-hill with me, and I have my best to
do.
To be accounted a worthy son
of that great England first among the very first in so many things
has ever been my aspiration, and if the aim seemed too high,
it will I am sure not be condemned even by those who may smile
at the presumption, since I claim nothing but sympathy with the
aspiration. I have as I said lived too much with the spirits
of the great to be in error as to the achievement.
I hope you will some day give
me a few sittings, my series of monumental portraits I think
should be carried on. I am afraid I have meandered about a good
deal and not been very clear, but I think you will pick out my
meaning
Yours most sincerely
and gratefully
G.F. Watts.
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