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padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.pn { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; right: 2%; + font-size: 75%; + text-align: right; + text-indent: 0em; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + color: silver; background-color: inherit; + font-variant: normal;} /* page numbers in poems */ + + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Life, Letters and Work of Frederic +Leighton, by Mrs. Russell Barrington + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Life, Letters and Work of Frederic Leighton + Volume I + +Author: Mrs. Russell Barrington + +Release Date: May 20, 2011 [EBook #35934] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE, LETTERS OF FREDERICK LEIGHTON *** + + + + +Produced by Jeannie Howse, Jonathan Ingram and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<div class="tr"> +<p class="cen" style="font-weight: bold;">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<br /> +<p class="noin">Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has been preserved.</p> +<p class="noin" style="text-align: left;">Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. +For a complete list, please see the <span style="white-space: nowrap;"><a href="#TN">end of this document</a>.</span></p> +<p class="noin">The Errata on page xxii have been incorporated into this e-book.</p> +<p class="noin">The Illustration list has one image out of sequence.</p> +<p class="noin">Click on the images to see a larger version.</p> +</div> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<div class="img"><a name="cover" id="cover"></a> +<a href="images/cover.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/cover.jpg" width="60%" alt="Reverse of Jubilee Medallion and Crown of Bay Leaves" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">Cover: Design for reverse of the Jubilee Medallion, and Crown of Bay Leaves<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<div class="img"> +<img border="0" src="images/deco.jpg" width="30%" alt="Publisher's Mark" /> +</div> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h2>The Life, Letters and Work of<br /> +Frederic Baron Leighton</h2> +<h4>Of Stretton</h4> +<br /> +<h4>VOL. I</h4> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<div class="block2"><p>"<i>If any man should be constantly penetrated with a gift +bestowed on him, it is the artist who has realised as his +share a genuine love for nature; for his enjoyment, if he +puts his gift to usury, increases with the days of his life.</i>"</p> + + +<p>"<i>Every man who has received a gift, ought to feel and act as +if he was a field in which a seed was planted that others +might gather the harvest.</i>"</p> + +<p class="right"><i>FREDERIC LEIGHTON.</i></p> +<p><i>August 1852.</i></p></div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<h2>The Life, Letters and<br /> +Work of</h2> +<h1>Frederic Leighton</h1> + +<br /> +<br /> + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h3 style="margin-bottom: -.15em;">MRS. RUSSELL BARRINGTON</h3> + +<h5 style="margin-top: -.15em;">AUTHOR OF "REMINISCENCES OF G.F. WATTS," ETC. ETC.</h5> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h4>IN TWO VOLUMES</h4> + +<h3>VOL. I</h3> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h4>LONDON<br /> +GEORGE ALLEN, RUSKIN HOUSE<br /> +1906</h4> + +<h5>[All rights reserved]</h5> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h4>Printed by <span class="sc">Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.</span><br /> +At the Ballantyne Press</h4> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<div class="img"><a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a> +<a href="images/frontis.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/frontis.jpg" width="55%" alt="Early portrait of Lord Leighton" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">EARLY PORTRAIT OF LORD LEIGHTON<br />From the Painting by G.F. Watts (Photogravure)<br /> +By permission of the Hon. Lady Leighton-Warren and Sir Bryan Leighton, +Bart.<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h4> +TO ALL WHO HOLD DEAR THE<br /> +MEMORY OF FREDERIC LEIGHTON<br /> +THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED WITH<br /> +THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGIES FOR<br /> +ITS VERY MANY SHORTCOMINGS</h4> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_vii" id="PageV1_vii">[vii]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>PREFACE</h3> +<br /> + +<p>Ten years and more have passed since Leighton died, yet it is still +difficult to get sufficiently far away, to take in the whole of his +life and being in their just proportion to the world in which he +lived.</p> + +<p>When we are in Rome, hemmed in by narrow streets, St. Peter's is +invisible; once across that wonderful Campagna and mounting the slopes +of Frascati, there, like a huge pearl gleaming in the light, rises the +dome of the Mother Church. As distance gives the true relation between +a lofty building and its suburbs, so time alone can decide the height +of the pedestal on which to place the great.</p> + +<p>The day after Leighton's death Watts wrote to me:—</p> + +<p>"...The loss to the world is so great that I almost feel ashamed to +let my personal grief have so large a place.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you knew him so well. I am glad for any one who knew him. +No one will ever know such another, alas! alas! alas!</p> + +<p>"I am glad you have enjoyed the friendship of one of the greatest men +of any time."</p> + +<p>This is the estimate of a great artist who knew Leighton for forty +years, and for many of those years enjoyed daily intercourse with him.</p> + +<p>A few like Watts required no length of time before forming a right +estimate of Leighton. They not only knew him to be great, but knew why +he was great. Undoubtedly <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_viii" id="PageV1_viii">[viii]</a></span>as a draughtsman Leighton was unrivalled; +but bearing in mind his English contemporaries—Watts, Millais, Holman +Hunt, Rossetti, and Burne-Jones—it is not as a painter that even his +truest friends would claim for him his right to the exceptional +position he undoubtedly occupied.</p> + +<p>What was it that gave Leighton this position? He himself was the very +last to claim it as a right. His creed and his practice were ever to +fight against the weaknesses of his nature rather than to rejoice in +its strength. For assuredly, however strong the intellect, beautiful +the character, brilliant the vitality, and fine the intuitive +instincts, a man may yet have within his nature foibles in common with +the herd. The difference is, that in the truly great the unworthier +side of nature is viewed as unworthy—is fought against and banished +like the plague.</p> + +<p>"A good man is wise, not because all his desires are wise, but because +his reasonable soul masters unwise desires and is itself wise.</p> + +<p>"He is courageous, because he knows when to fight, and does so under +control of reason.</p> + +<p>"He is temperate, because his pluck and his desires unite in giving +the first place to the reasonable soul; and finally, he is just, +because each principle is in its place and stops there."</p> + +<p>In a letter to his mother when he was twenty-three Leighton wrote: "I +feel I have of my nature a very fair share of the hateful worldly +weakness of my country people;" adding, "Still, I have found no +sufficiently great advantage or compensation for the tedium of going +out." Again, three years later, after describing to his sister the +delight he felt in the beauty he found in Algiers, he wrote: "And yet +what I have said of my feelings, though <i>literally true</i>, does not +give you an exactly true notion; for, together <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_ix" id="PageV1_ix">[ix]</a></span>with, and as it were +behind, so much pleasurable emotion, there is always that other +strange second man in me, calm, observant, critical, unmoved, +blasé—odious!</p> + +<p>"He is a shadow that walks with me, a sort of nineteenth-century +canker of doubt and discretion; it's very, very seldom that I forget +his loathsome presence. What cheering things I find to say!"</p> + +<p>Doubtless Leighton had within him the possibilities of becoming a +worldling, and also of becoming a cynic. He overrode and banished the +first as despicable, the second as hideous.</p> + +<p>But it is not in the wisdom that—Socrates-like—steered his life by +reason, that we find the adequate answer to the question, "Why was +Leighton the prominent entity he was?" Diverse as were his natural +gifts and his power of achievement on various lines, he differed +radically from that modern development—the all-round man, who has no +concentrated fire as a centre to illumine his life, but develops all +his capacities so that they shall shine forth equally on certain high +levels. From childhood Leighton had one overriding passion, and from +this sprang the will-force and vitality which throughout his life +succeeded in bringing his intentions to fruition. Whatsoever his hand +found worthy to do at all, he did with the whole might of his great +nature. Still even that would not adequately answer the question. His +greatness truly lay in the fact that the choice he made of what was +worth doing was never limited by personal interests. He impelled the +force of his powers for the welfare of others, and for the causes +beneficial to others, as much or more than to those matters which +concerned himself alone. Hence his true greatness and his great +fame—for Æschylus is right: "The good will prevail."</p> + +<p>A sense of duty—"the keenest possible sense of it," <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_x" id="PageV1_x">[x]</a></span>to use Mr. +Briton Rivière's words—which was the keynote of all Leighton's +actions, was impelled in the first instance by a feeling of gratitude +for the joy with which beauty in nature and art had steeped his being +from a child; a deep well of happiness, a constant companion, ever +springing up in his heart, which he craved that others should share +with him. This happiness gave sweetness to his life, lovableness to +his character, irresistible power to his control. Leighton's was truly +a life of praise and gratitude for the joys nature had bestowed on +him. He had a pleasant way of making the truth prevail. The +description by Marcus Aurelius of his "third man" applies well to the +character of Leighton.</p> + +<p>"One man, when he has done a service to another, is ready to set it +down to his account as a favour conferred. Another is not ready to do +this, but still in his own mind he thinks of the man as his debtor, +and he knows what he has done. A third in a manner does not even know +what he has done, but he is like a vine which has produced grapes, and +seeks for nothing more after it has once produced its proper fruit. As +a horse when he has run, a dog when he has tracked the game, a bee +when it has made the honey, so a man, when he has done a good act, +does not call out for others to come and see, but he goes on to +another act, as a vine goes on to produce again the grapes in season."</p> + +<p>Leighton's work in every direction was complete work, because his mind +grasped completely the proportion and aspect of everything he +undertook. His inborn affection for, and sympathy with, his +fellow-creatures impelled him to feel that the area of self-interest, +however gifted that self might be, was too restricted for him to find +full completeness therein. This could only be attained by working with +and for others. Such feelings and doctrines are common in religious +and philanthropic men; but in the ego of the modern artist there <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_xi" id="PageV1_xi">[xi]</a></span>is +generally something which seems to demand a concentration of attention +on his own ego in order to develop his gifts as an artist. The +attitude of Leighton towards his own work, and towards that of others, +was essentially contrary to this concentration.</p> + +<p>In his letters to his mother, and to his master, Eduard von Steinle, +are found the bases on which the superstructure of his after career +rested, the underpinning of that monumental feature of the Victorian +era—namely, in unflagging industry, in ever striving to make his life +worthy of the beauty and dignity of his vocation as an artist, and in +ever endeavouring to make his work an adequate exponent of "the +mysterious treasure that was laid up in his heart": his passion for +beauty.</p> + +<p>In my attempt to write Leighton's life I have purposely devoted more +space to the earlier than to the later years of his career as an +artist. With an artist more than with others is it specially true that +the boy is father to the man; and if Leighton's example is in any way +to benefit students of art, the early struggles, the failures, more +even than the successes, will teach the lesson that there is no short +cut on the road which has to be travelled even by the most gifted. +From the family letters and those to his master, which are, with a few +exceptions, given in full, it will also be seen that, however high was +the pedestal on which Leighton placed his mistress Art, he felt keenly +likewise the beauty of his family relationships, and a deep, grateful +affection for the master who had given him his start on the road to +fame.</p> + +<p>If this endeavour to present a true picture of Leighton the man has +any value, it is owing mainly to the fact that Mrs. Matthews has +placed at my disposal the family and other letters in her +possession,—an act which demands the thanks of all those who are +interested in the fame of her brother.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_xii" id="PageV1_xii">[xii]</a></span>I also wish to acknowledge with gratitude the considerate kindness of +several of Leighton's friends in contributing "notes" and letters, +which are of true value in bringing before the public a right view of +the man and of the artist. First and foremost among these contributors +must be placed Dr. von Steinle, son of Professor Eduard von Steinle of +Frankfort-on-Main, the beloved master to whom Leighton in 1879 +referred as "<i>the indelible seal</i>," when writing of those who had +influenced him most for good. The first letter of the correspondence +which was carried on between the master and pupil, and preserved +preciously by each, is dated August 31, 1852, the last 1883. Only +second in interest to this correspondence, which discloses Leighton's +intimate feelings and aspirations as an artist, are the notes supplied +by Mr. Briton Rivière, R.A.—notes which could only have been written +by one whose own nature in many ways was closely attuned to that of +Leighton's, and which give the intimate aspect of Leighton as an +official. "It would be difficult for any one," writes Mr. Briton +Rivière, "to give in a short space any adequate account of a character +so full and complex as Leighton's." And indeed it would require a +great deal more than two volumes even to touch on all the events of +this eventful life, which might further illustrate Leighton's +character; but Mr. Briton Rivière has noted certain salient +characteristics of his friend with a sympathy, and a fine touch, which +I think will prove of very rare interest in this record. The tribute +to Leighton of Mr. Hamo Thornycroft, R.A. (from a sculptor's point of +view), carries great weight, and gives also, as does that of another +old comrade in the Artists' Volunteer Corps, an appreciative account of +Leighton as the soldier. To these, to Lady Loch, the Hon. Mrs. Alfred +Sartoris, Sir William Richmond, R.A., Mr. Walter Crane, Mr. Alfred +East, P.R.B.A., <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_xiii" id="PageV1_xiii">[xiii]</a></span>I offer my thanks for so kindly contributing notes +which help to solve the problems presented by "a character so full and +so complex." For courteous permission to publish letters I wish to +express my thanks to Alice, Countess of Strafford, the executor of Mr. +Henry Greville, who was one of, if not the most intimate of the +friends who loved Leighton; the Hon. Mrs. Leigh, Mrs. Fanny Kemble's +daughter and executor; the Right Hon. Sir Charles Dilke, executor of +Mrs. Mark Pattison (afterwards Lady Dilke); the Right Hon. John +Morley, Dr. von Steinle, Mr. John Hanson Walker, Mr. Cartwright, Mr. +Robert Barrett Browning, Professor Church, Mr. T.C. Horsfall, and Mrs. +Street, daughter of the late Mr. Henry Wells, R.A.; the executor of +George Eliot, Mrs. Charles Lewes; and the executors of John Ruskin. +There are many other letters and notes of interest which have been +preserved by Mrs. Matthews, but which cannot be inserted for want of +space. Among these are affectionate notes from Joachim, Burne-Jones, +Hebert, Robert Fleury, Meissonier, Gérome, Tullio Massarani; also +friendly letters from Cardinal Manning, Viscount Wolseley, Sarah +Bernhardt, John Tyndall, Froude, Anthony Trollope, Sir John Gilbert, +Lady Waterford, and Lord Strangford. A number of letters exist from +members of the Royal Family to Leighton, all evincing alike admiration +for the artist and an affectionate appreciation of the man.</p> + +<p>In these pages there will be found a repetition of several sentences. +This is intentional. Watts would often remark, "A really wise and true +saying can't be repeated too often"; and in Leighton's letters are +several tallying with this description, which it would be a pity to +detach from their own context, and yet which are also required +elsewhere to enforce the argument.</p> + +<p>As regards the kindness shown in allowing reproductions <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_xiv" id="PageV1_xiv">[xiv]</a></span>of pictures, +I have to tender my loyal gratitude to the Queen for the gracious loan +of the picture presented to her Majesty by Leighton; also to the +Prince of Wales for allowing the "Head of a Girl," given to his Royal +Highness as a wedding present by the artist, to be reproduced in these +pages.</p> + +<p>Other owners of pictures to whom I proffer also my warm thanks are +Lord Armstrong, Lord Pirrie, the Rt. Hon. Joseph Chamberlain, the Hon. +Lady Leighton-Warren, Sir Bryan Leighton, the Hon. Mrs. Sartoris, Sir +Elliot Lees, Sir Alexander Henderson, Mr. E. and Miss I'Anson, Mr. S. +Pepys Cockerell, Mr. T. Blake Wirgman, Mrs. Stewart Hodgson, Mr. +Hanson Walker, Mrs. Henry Joachim, Mrs. Stephenson Clarke, Mrs. C.E. +Lees, Mrs. James Watney, Mr. Hodges, Mrs. Charles Lewes, Mr. H.S. +Mendelssohn, Mr. Phillipson, and Dr. von Steinle.</p> + +<p>Also to the Fine Art Society, the Berlin Photographic Co., Messrs. +Agnew & Son, Messrs. P. & D. Colnaghi, Messrs. Henry Graves, Messrs. +Lefevre, Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co., and the directors of the +Leicester Galleries.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="toc" id="toc"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_xv" id="PageV1_xv">[xv]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<br /> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="70%" summary="Table of Contents"> + <tr> + <td width="80%"> </td> + <td class="tdrsc" width="20%"><span style="font-size: 80%;">PAGE</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</a></td> + <td class="tdr">1</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdch">CHAPTER I.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">ANTECEDENTS AND SCHOOL DAYS, 1830-1852</a></td> + <td class="tdr">34</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdch">CHAPTER II</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">ROME, 1852-1855</a></td> + <td class="tdr">91</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdch">CHAPTER III</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">PENCIL DRAWINGS OF PLANTS AND FLOWERS, 1850-1860</a></td> + <td class="tdr">197</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdch">CHAPTER IV</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">WATTS—SUCCESS—FAILURE, 1855-1856</a></td> + <td class="tdr">222</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdch">CHAPTER V</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">FRIENDS</a></td> + <td class="tdr">250</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdch">CHAPTER VI</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">STEINLE AND ITALY AGAIN—FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF THE EAST, 1856-1858</a></td> + <td class="tdr">278</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_xvi" id="PageV1_xvi">[xvi]</a></span><br /> +<a name="toi" id="toi"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_xvii" id="PageV1_xvii">[xvii]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> + +<h3>VOLUME I</h3> +<br /> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="75%" summary="List of Illustrations"> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt" width="5%">1.</td> + <td class="tdlsc" width="75%"><a href="#cover">Design for Reverse of the Jubilee Medallion</a></td> + <td class="tdrb" width="20%"><i>Cover</i></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Executed for Her Majesty Queen Victoria's Government, 1887.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">2.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#cover">Crown of Bay Leaves</a></td> + <td class="tdrb"><i>Cover</i></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>From Drawing made by Lord Leighton at the Bagni de Lucca, 1854.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">3.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#frontis">Portrait of Lord Leighton by G.F. Watts, about 1863</a></td> + <td class="tdrb"><i>To face Dedication</i></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By kind permission of the</i> Hon. Lady <span class="sc">Leighton-Warren</span> <i>and</i> Sir <span class="sc">Bryan Leighton</span>, Bart. (<i>Photogravure</i>)</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">4.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep001">Head of Young Girl</a></td> + <td class="tdrb"><i>To face page 1</i></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By the gracious permission of</i> <span class="sc">Her Majesty the Queen.</span></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">5.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep017">Portraits of Lord Leighton's Father and Mother when Young</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">17</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>From Miniatures.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">6.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep019">Early Painting of Boy Saving a Baby from the Clutches of an Eagle</a> (<i>Colour</i>)</td> + <td class="tdrb">19</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">7.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep027">Portrait of Professor Eduard von Steinle</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">27</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By kind permission of his Son</i>, Doctor <span class="sc">von Steinle</span>.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">8.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep028">Portrait of Mrs. Sartoris, 1856</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">28</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">9.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep033">Crypt under St. Paul's Cathedral where Barry, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Turner, and Lord Leighton were Buried</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">33</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">10.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep037">Portraits Of Lord Leighton and his Younger Sister, Mrs. Matthews</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">37</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Drawn by him when a boy.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt"><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_xviii" id="PageV1_xviii">[xviii]</a></span>11.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep043">Early Comic Drawing made in Frankfurt</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">43</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By kind permission of</i> Mr. <span class="sc">John Hanson Walker</span>.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">12.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep048">Portrait of Mr. I'Anson, Lord Leighton's Great-uncle, 1850</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">48</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By kind permission of</i> Mr. E. <i>and</i> Miss <span class="sc">I'Anson</span>.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">13.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep055">The Death of Brunelleschi, 1851</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">55</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By kind permission of</i> Doctor <span class="sc">Von Steinle</span>.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">14.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep056">The Plague in Florence, 1851</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">56</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">15.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep069">Studies of Branches of Fig and Bramble</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">69</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">16.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep081">Study of Byzantine Well Head, Venice, 1852</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">81</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By kind permission of</i> Mr. <span class="sc">S. Pepys Cockerell</span>.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">17.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep098">From Pencil Drawing of Model, Rome, 1853. "Costume di Procida"</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">98</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">18.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep112">Head of Model used for Figure in Cimabue's Madonna, + erroneously stated to have been the Portrait of Lord Leighton, 1853</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">112</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">19.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep116">Sketch of Subiaco, 1853</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">116</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">20.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep152">Head of Vincenzo, 1854</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">152</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">21.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep138">Copy in Pencil of the Portraits of Giotto, Cimabue, Memmi, + and Taddeo Gaddi</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">138</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>From the Capella Spagnola, Sta. Maria Novella, Florence, + 1853. Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">22.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep145">Study of Woman's Head for Figure at the Window—Cimabue's + Madonna, 1854 (<i>Photogravure</i>)</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">145</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">23.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep149">Original Sketch in Pencil and Chinese White for Cimabue's Madonna, 1853</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">149</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt"><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_xix" id="PageV1_xix">[xix]</a></span>24.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep193">Cimabue's Madonna, 1855</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">193</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By kind permission of the</i> <span class="sc">Fine Art Society</span>.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">25.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep194">Facsimile of Letter from Sir Charles Eastlake, announcing + that Queen Victoria had Purchased Cimabue's Madonna, May 3, 1855</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">194</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">26.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep200">Study of Cyclamen, 1856</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">200</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">27.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep201">Wreath of Bay Leaves, 1854</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">201</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">28.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep202a">Study of a Lemon Tree—Capri, 1859</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">202</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp">By kind permission of Mr. <span class="sc">S. Pepys Cockerell</span>.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">29.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep202b">Study of Branches of a Deciduous Tree</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">202</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">30.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep205">Early Studies of Kalmia latifolia, Oleander, and Rhododendron Flowers</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">205</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">31.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep206a">Studies of Pumpkin Flowers</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">206</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">32.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep206c">Study of Vine, 1854—Bagni di Lucca</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">206</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">33.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep207">Studies of Vine Leaves, "Bellosguardo," Sept. 1856</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">207</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">34.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#imagep211a"><span class="sc">"Ariadne Abandoned by Theseus—Death Releases Her."</span> 1868</a> (<i>Photogravure</i>)</td> + <td class="tdrb">211</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By kind permission of</i> <span class="sc">Lord Pirrie</span>.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">35.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep211b">"Elisha Raising the Son of the Shunammite," 1881</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">211</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp">(<i>Photogravure</i>)</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">36.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep211c">"Dædalus and Icarus," 1869</a> (<i>Photogravure</i>)</td> + <td class="tdrb">211</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By kind permission of</i> Sir <span class="sc">Alexander Henderson</span>, Bart.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">37.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#imagep213a"><span class="sc">"Captive Andromache," 1888</span></a> (<i>Photogravure</i>)</td> + <td class="tdrb">213</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By kind permission of the</i> <span class="sc">Berlin Photographic Co.</span></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">38.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#imagep213b"><span class="sc">Study in Oils for "Captive Andromache"</span></a> (<i>Colour</i>)</td> + <td class="tdrb">213</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By kind permission of</i> Mrs. <span class="sc">Stewart Hodgson</span></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">39.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep214a">"Weaving The Wreath," 1873</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">214</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr"><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_xx" id="PageV1_xx">[xx]</a></span>40.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep214b">"Winding the Skein"</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">214</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By kind permission of the</i> <span class="sc">Fine Art Society</span>.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">41.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep214c">"The Music Lesson," 1877</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">214</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By kind permission of the</i> <span class="sc">Fine Art Society</span>.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">42.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep218a">Studies of Sea Thistle, Malinmore</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">218</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>From Sketch Book</i>, 1895.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">43.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep218b">Studies of Sea Thistle, Malinmore</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">218</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>From Sketch Book</i>, 1895.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">44.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#imagep221a"><span class="sc">"Return of Persephone"</span></a> (<i>Photogravure</i>)</td> + <td class="tdrb">221</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Corporation of Leeds.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">45.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#imagep221b"><span class="sc">Study in Oils for "Return of Persephone"</span></a> (<i>Colour</i>)</td> + <td class="tdrb">221</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp">By kind permission of Mrs. <span class="sc">Stewart Hodgson</span>.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">46.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep223">From Decorative Painting on Gold Background of Cupid with Doves</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">223</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">47.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#imagep229a"><span class="sc">"Idyll," 1881</span></a> (<i>Photogravure</i>)</td> + <td class="tdrb">229</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">48.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep229b">Portrait of Miss Mabel Mills, 1877</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">229</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">49.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep230a">"Venus Disrobing for the Bath," 1867</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">230</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By kind permission of</i> Sir <span class="sc">A. Henderson</span>, Bart.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">50.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep230b">Phryne at Eleusis, 1882</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">230</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">51.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep233">Portrait of Mrs. Adelaide Sartoris, drawn for her Friend, Lady Bloomfield, 1867</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">233</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By kind permission of</i> the Hon. Mrs. <span class="sc">Sartoris</span>.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">52.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep234">Study for Portion of Frieze, "Music" (not carried out in final design). 1883</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">234</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">53.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#imagep241"><span class="sc">From Sketch in Water Colour for Tableaux Vivants, "The Echoes of Hellas"</span></a> (<i>Colour</i>)</td> + <td class="tdrb">241</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">54.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep251">Study from Mr. John Hanson Walker, when a boy, for "Lieder Ohne Worte," 1860</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">251</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">55.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#imagep273"><span class="sc">Portrait of Mrs. John Hanson Walker, Painted as a Wedding + Present to her Husband, 1867</span></a> (<i>Colour</i>)</td> + <td class="tdrb">273</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By kind permission of</i> Mr. <span class="sc">Walker</span>.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt"><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_xxi" id="PageV1_xxi">[xxi]</a></span>56.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep276a">Figures for Ceiling for Music Room, previous to the Drapery + being added, 1886</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">276</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">57.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep276b">Original Sketch in Charcoal of Dancing Figures for the same, 1886</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">276</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">58.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#imagep285"><span class="sc">Water Colour Drawing of the Ca' d'Oro, Venice</span></a> (<i>Colour</i>)</td> + <td class="tdrb">285</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">59.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#imagep299"><span class="sc">View in Algiers</span></a> (<i>Colour</i>)</td> + <td class="tdrb">299</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">60.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#imagep301"><span class="sc">View in Algiers</span></a> (<i>Colour</i>)</td> + <td class="tdrb">301</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">61.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#imagep308">Sketch for "Salome, the Daughter of Herodias," 1857</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">308</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>Leighton House Collection.</i></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">62.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">Sixteen Scenes in Florence—Illustrations to "Romola"</td> + <td class="tdrb"><i>Beginning page 310</i></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp"><i>By kind permission of</i> Mrs. <span class="sc">Charles Lewes</span>.</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp sc"> 1. <a href="#imagep310a">Blind Scholar and Daughter.</a></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp sc"> 2. <a href="#imagep310b">"Suppose You let me look at Myself;" Nello's Shop.</a></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp sc"> 5. <a href="#imagep310c">"The First Key."</a></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp sc"> 6. <a href="#imagep310d">Peasants' Fair.</a></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp sc"> 7. <a href="#imagep310e">The Dying Message.</a></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp sc"> 8. <a href="#imagep310f">Florentine Joke.</a></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp sc"> 9. <a href="#imagep310g">The Escaped Prisoner.</a></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp sc">10. <a href="#imagep310h">Niccolo at Work.</a></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp sc">11. <a href="#imagep310i">"You didn't Think."</a></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp sc">13. <a href="#imagep310j">"Father, I Will be Guided."</a></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp sc">15. <a href="#imagep310k">The Visible Madonna.</a></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp sc">16. <a href="#imagep310l">Dangerous Colleagues.</a></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp sc">17. <a href="#imagep310m">"Monna Brigida."</a></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp sc">18. <a href="#imagep310n">"But You will Help."</a></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp sc">20. <a href="#imagep310o">"Drifting."</a></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdlp sc">21. <a href="#imagep310p">"Will his Eyes Open?"</a></td> + <td> </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep001" id="imagep001"></a> +<a href="images/imagep001.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep001.jpg" width="46%" alt="Head presented to the Queen by Lord Leighton" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">HEAD PRESENTED TO THE QUEEN BY LORD LEIGHTON<br /> +By permission of Her Majesty the Queen<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_xxii" id="PageV1_xxii">[xxii]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>ERRATA</h3> +<br /> + +<div class="block3"> +<p>Motto facing Title-page, line 3, <i>for</i> "from," <i>read</i> "for."</p> +<p>Page xx, No. 49, <i>for</i> "Figures for Ceiling, &c.," <i>read</i> "By kind permission of Sir A. Henderson, Bart."</p> +<p>Page 31, line 7, <i>for</i> "at all," <i>read</i> "to all."</p> +<p>Page 60, omit note.</p> +<p>Page 67, line 31, <i>for</i> "unscorched," <i>read</i> "sunscorched."</p> +<p>Page 103, line 31, <i>for</i> "worse that," <i>read</i> "worse than."</p> +<p>Page 127, line 16, <i>for</i> "Wasash," <i>read</i> "Warsash."</p> +<p>Page 169, line 8, <i>for</i> "Pantaleoni," <i>read</i> "Pantaleone."</p> +<p>Page 197, note, <i>for</i> "Vol. I.," <i>read</i> "Vol. II."</p> +<p>Page 213, lines 6,7, <i>for</i> "owing ... from," <i>read</i> "owing ... to."</p> +<p>Page 265, note. The reference number should be to "Edward," instead of to "Adelaide."</p> +<p>Page 296, line 17, <i>for</i> "Couture," <i>read</i> "Conture."</p> +</div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_1" id="PageV1_1">[1]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h2>THE LIFE OF LORD LEIGHTON</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h3>INTRODUCTION<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>In 1860, when Leighton, at the age of thirty, definitely settled in +England, art was alive in two distinctly new directions. Ruskin was +writing, the Pre-Raphaelites were painting, and Prince Albert, besides +encouraging individual painters and sculptors, had, through his fine +taste and the exercise of his patronage in every branch of art, +developed an interest in good design as it can be carried out in +manufactures and various crafts. Leighton followed the Prince +Consort's initiatory lead; and, by showing the same cultured and +catholic zeal in her welfare, was enabled to continue and develop +Prince Albert's important work, thereby widening and elevating the +whole outlook of art in England.</p> + +<p>It has at times been asserted that Leighton was greater as a President +of the Royal Academy than he was as a painter. It would be truer, I +think, to say that it was because he was so great as an artist in the +highest, widest meaning of the word, so sincere a workman, that he +stands unrivalled as a President. In a letter to a friend, dated May +1888, ten years after he had been elected President, he wrote, "I am a +workman first and an official afterwards," and it was, I believe, +because he carried into his official duties the true artist's warmth, +sincerity, and zeal for his special vocation, that his influence as an +official was never deadened by theoretic red-tapeism, nor by secondary +or side issues. Leighton ever <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_2" id="PageV1_2">[2]</a></span>flew straight to the mark, and the mark +he aimed at in his presidential work was ever the highest essential +point from the view he also took as an artist. His official duties, +carried out with so great an amount of scrupulous conscientiousness, +would have gone far to fill the entire life of an ordinary human +being; yet these duties were, to the last, subordinated in his +personal existence to his self-imposed duties as a painter and a +sculptor.</p> + +<p>The words, "I am a workman first and an official afterwards," +epitomise the creed of his life. From earliest childhood art had cast +over Leighton's nature a glamour which made his heart-service to her +the great passion of his life. His "great nature" had in it many +sources of stirring interest and of pure delights, which he enjoyed +keenly; but nothing came in sight, so to speak, which ever for a +moment seriously challenged a rivalry with the salient ruling passion. +His character, as it developed, wound itself round it; his strongest +sense of duty focalised itself in its service; his ambition ever was +more inspired and stimulated by a devotion to the best interests of +art than by any purely personal incentive. Leighton was an artist of +that true type in whom no influence whatsoever can deter or slacken +incessant zeal for work. In the deepest recesses of his nature burnt +the unquenchable fire, the paramount longing to follow in Nature's +footsteps, and to create things of beauty. Among the many loyal +servants who have dutifully worshipped at the shrine of art, never was +there one who more completely devoted the best that was in him to her +service.</p> + +<p>"Va! your human talk and doings are a tame jest; the only passionate +life is in form and colour."<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<p>Leighton's nature may be viewed from three aspects. Though each aspect +is apparently detached from the others, it would be impossible to +record a true portrait were the three not kept in view while +attempting to draw the picture.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_3" id="PageV1_3">[3]</a></span>First, there was Leighton, the great man, the public servant, gifted +with exceptional powers of intellect and character, who attained the +highest social position ever reached by an English artist; the +Leighton the world knew, whose sway was paramount in the many councils +and assemblies to which he belonged no less than when fulfilling his +duties as President of the Royal Academy, and whose helpfulness and +zeal in promoting the extension of a knowledge and appreciation of +English art in foreign countries and in the colonies became +proverbial. Lady Loch tells of his invaluable help in the efforts she +and her husband made to encourage art, while the late Lord Loch was +Governor of the Isle of Man, of Victoria, and of Cape Colony. "I feel +it would be impossible," she writes, "to convey in a few words what a +wonderful friend Frederic Leighton was to my husband from the time he +first knew him,<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> forty years before Leighton's death, and to myself +from the time we married. He was always ready to help us at every +turn. Any deserving artist whom we sent to him would be certain to +find in him a friend. When we arranged the very small Art Exhibition +in the Isle of Man, you could hardly imagine with what energy and +thoughtfulness he entered into the matter, impressing upon us all the +steps that we ought to take in order to secure its success, even to +the details, such as packing and insuring the pictures. He himself +sent us pictures for the Exhibition, and guided our judgment in +admiring and caring for those which were best and most to be valued, +with a paternal care and zeal not describable. Again, when we were in +Australia, and the great International Centennial Exhibition in +Melbourne took place in 1888, Frederic Leighton selected such a good +collection of pictures that they simply were the saving of the +Exhibition financially—they attracted such continuous crowds of +visitors. Subsequently, when an exhibition <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_4" id="PageV1_4">[4]</a></span>of ceramic work was asked +for in Melbourne, and Henry Loch wrote to consult his friend, amidst +all Frederic Leighton's important work and duties, he rushed about and +secured a most interesting collection of all kinds of china and +pottery, which was greatly appreciated by the Australians. Again, in +1892, he formed a Fine Art Committee, consisting of himself, who was +appointed Chairman, Sir Charles Mills, Sir Donald Currie, M.P., Mr. +W.W. Ouless, R.A., Mr. Colin Hunter, A.R.A., Mr. Frank Walton, and Mr. +Prange, to select pictures to send for exhibition at Kimberley. +Besides a picture lent by Queen Victoria, at Leighton's request, of +the portraits of herself and the royal family by Winterhalter, and +four by Leighton, which he lent, the Committee secured 181 pictures, +though not without great difficulty, Leighton told us, because the +artists were afraid their works would be injured by the burning sun, +the sandstorms, and the rough journey up from the Cape. Owing, +however, to Leighton's untiring exertions, a very interesting and +successful exhibition took place in this then little known town of our +English colony in Africa."</p> + +<p>On the day Leighton died, Watts, his near neighbour and +fellow-workman, in a letter to a friend, wrote that he had enjoyed "an +uninterrupted and affectionate friendship of five-and-forty years" +with Leighton. He continues: "No one will ever know such another. A +magnificent intellectual capacity, an unerring and instantaneous +spring upon the point to unravel, a generosity, a sympathy, a tact, a +lovable and sweet reasonableness, yet no weakness. For my own +part—and I tell you, life can never be the same to me again—my own +grief is merged in the sense I have of the appalling loss to the +nation; it seems to me to be no less."<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> Later, Watts wished it +recorded that Leighton's character was the most beautiful he had ever +known. This tribute from the great veteran artist, thirteen years +Leighton's senior, but who <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_5" id="PageV1_5">[5]</a></span>outlived him more than eight years, was +echoed far and wide by many at the time of Leighton's death. To his +powers and influence, exercised in the Royal Academy as a body and to +the members individually, Mr. Briton Rivière, the painter, and Mr. +Hamo Thornycroft, the sculptor, give the following appreciative +tributes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Briton Rivière writes:—</p> + +<p>"To begin with, I never really knew him—though we had met several +times before—until I began to serve upon the Council with him very +soon after his election as President. This at once brought us into +very intimate relations, and a very few meetings convinced me that his +opinions and actions on that body were invariably regulated by a true +spirit of absolute justice and fairness to all, and that if he had his +own particular art beliefs—which he certainly had, for art was to him +almost a religion, and his own particular belief almost a creed—he +never allowed it to bias him in the least. Indeed, I have never worked +with any one who exhibited a broader or more catholic spirit of +tolerance, even sympathy with all schools, however diverse from his +own, only demanding honesty and sincerity should be the basis of each +kind of work.</p> + +<p>"I have always felt that no one, who had heard only his elaborately +prepared speeches, knew his real power as a speaker.</p> + +<p>"He was a master of time. I do not think he ever failed to keep an +appointment almost to the minute. He was seldom much too early, but +never too late.</p> + +<p>"He was an ideal president for any institution, and after serving +under him for many years, I cannot think of any one faculty which a +president should possess, which Leighton wanted."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hamo Thornycroft writes:—</p> + +<p>"My earliest recollection of Leighton was in 1869, when, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_6" id="PageV1_6">[6]</a></span>with several +other young art students, I went to his studio. He had promised to +criticise the designs we had made from Morris' 'Life and Death of +Jason.' This he did most admirably, it seemed to me, and most +sympathetically, devoting considerable time to each; and I came away +encouraged and a sworn devotee of the great man.</p> + +<p>"For the next few years, I had the benefit of his teaching at the +Academy Schools, where he was most energetic as a visitor, and took +the greatest pains to help the students. He was, moreover, an +<i>inspiring</i> master. Besides doing much for the school of sculpture, +till then much neglected, he started a custom of giving a certain time +to the study of drapery on the living model. His knowledge in this +department and his excellent method were a new element in the training +in the schools, and soon had a salutary effect upon the work done by +the students. His influence, through the Academy Schools, upon the +younger generation of sculptors was very great. There can be no doubt +whatever that the rapid advance made in the art of sculpture during +the last thirty years was to a considerable extent due to the sympathy +and the interest which Leighton gave to it.</p> + +<p>"Leighton, as is well known, carefully prepared his important +speeches, like many great speakers; but I never saw him fail, or even +hesitate, when called upon to speak unexpectedly. At meetings of the +Academy Council or at the general assemblies, his summing up and his +weighing of the arguments brought forward by members in course of +discussion was always masterly, just and eloquent. He had such a great +sense of proportion, and detected what was the essence and the +essential part of a speaker's argument."</p> + +<p>At a meeting held in Leighton's studio, after his death in May 1896, +for the purpose of furthering the scheme of preserving the house for +the nation as a memorial to the great <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_7" id="PageV1_7">[7]</a></span>artist, the sculptor, Mr. +Alfred Gilbert, R.A., on rising to speak, said he felt too much on the +occasion to be able to make a speech, adding, "I can only say that all +I know, and all the little I have been able to do as a sculptor, I owe +to Leighton."</p> + +<p>In a letter, dated February 9, 1896, Watts again writes: "I delighted +in shaping a splendid career of incalculable benefit to his +(Leighton's) epoch. His abilities, his persuasiveness, the peculiar +range of his cultivation, would have fitted him to accompany a +delicate embassy, where his efficiency would have been made evident, +establishing a right to be entrusted with the like as its head; I +believe something of this and more, if there could be more, was for +him in the future. You know, I always looked forward to his seat in +the House of Lords. That came about, and I believe the rest was but a +question of time. Feeling this, you can understand that my own grief +seems to me to be selfish. I am glad you enjoyed the friendship of one +of the greatest men of any time."</p> + +<p>In the speech which the King, then Prince of Wales, made at the first +banquet held after Leighton's death, on May 1, 1897, His Majesty +referred to the late President in the following words:—</p> + +<p>"All of us in the room, and I especially, must miss one whose eloquent +voice was so often heard at this banquet—a voice, alas! now hushed +for ever. It is unnecessary, as it would be almost impertinent in me, +to hold forth in praise of the merits and virtues of Lord Leighton. +They are known to you all. He has left a great name behind him, and he +himself will be regretted not only by the great artistic world, but by +the whole nation. I myself had the advantage of knowing him for a +great number of years—ever since I was a boy—and I need hardly say +how deeply I deplore the fact that he can be no more in our midst. But +his name will be cherished and honoured throughout the country."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_8" id="PageV1_8">[8]</a></span>It is not necessary to dwell more lengthily on this salient aspect of +Leighton. During his lifetime it was public property, the great name +he has left is evidence sufficient to coming generations.</p> + +<p>Secondly, as portrayed chiefly by his human qualities, there was the +aspect of Leighton as his family and his friends knew him; the beloved +Leighton, the delightful companion, the charming personality, the +being whose brilliant vitality brought a mental stimulus into all +intercourse with him. The Leighton <i>qui savait vivre</i> perhaps better +than did ever any other conspicuous, overworked servant of the public; +an active, positive influence, radiating strength and sunshine by his +presence; and playing the game—whatever game it was—better than even +the experts in special games. In that which perhaps he played best, +lay his remarkable social power. Leighton had a deep-rooted and +ingenuous sincerity of nature, and never for a moment lost his +self-centre; yet he had the rare gift of unlocking the side most +worthy to be unlocked in the nature of his companion of the moment. He +had the power of evolving out of most people he met something that was +real and of interest. Never giving himself away, he yet managed to +meet other individualities on any ground that existed which could by +any possibility be made a mutual ground. Though generosity itself in +believing the best of every one, and at times entrapped by the wily, +anything like flattery was a vice in his eyes. He neither gave himself +away, nor induced others to give themselves away while in his company, +and would always abstain from obtruding his opinions, modestly +withholding judgment where he saw neither a duty nor a distinct reason +to pronounce.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the strongest mark of Leighton's true distinction lay in the +fact that, notwithstanding his reserve on all matters of deep feeling, +notwithstanding his love of form in the living of life as in the +creating of art, notwithstanding the <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_9" id="PageV1_9">[9]</a></span>perpetually shifting and urgent +claims which, as a public man and a prominent social entity, were +being continually forced upon him, the inner entity, the real +Leighton, remained to the end a child of nature. No need was there for +him to gauge the proportionate merit of the various conflicting +influences that played on his complicated life; his own instinctive +preferences clenched the matter indubitably, asserting that the +noblest grace and the finest taste lay in the spontaneous and the +natural. When Watts wished it recorded that Leighton's nature was the +most beautiful he had ever known, he referred, I think, more specially +to that lovable, kind-hearted ingenuousness and noble simplicity which +were its deepest roots, notwithstanding a life of conflicts, +ambitions, and unparalleled success. There are among those who most +honour and love Leighton's memory, and who felt most keenly his loss, +poor and unsuccessful artists and students, of whom the world has +never heard, but to whom the great President gave of his very best in +advice and sympathy.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> He never posed, though he was an adept in +catching the atmosphere of a situation, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_10" id="PageV1_10">[10]</a></span>however new and foreign to +his usual beat such a situation might be. Scrupulous in his attitude +of reverence towards his vocation as an artist, <i>ever</i> most scrupulous +to render unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's, the inner core of +the nature remained simple and unstained by worldliness.</p> + +<p>Then there was the third aspect of Leighton, the Leighton at times +half-hidden from himself; the yearning, unsatisfied spirit, which, +though subject at times to great elevations of delight, at others was +also the victim of profound depressions and a sense of loneliness—a +state of being born out of that strange, only half-explained region +whence proceed all intuitive faculties. Such states are referred to +occasionally in his letters to his mother, and we find their influence +recorded at intervals in his art. In 1849, on a sketch of Giotto when +a boy, are written in the corner the words "Sehnsucht"; in 1865, there +is the David, "Oh, that I had wings like a dove; for then would I fly +away and be at rest"; in 1894, the "Spirit of the Summit"—these are +all alike expressions of the home-sickness that yearned for an abiding +resting-place not found in the conditions of this world. "Oh, what a +disappointing world it is!" were words he uttered shortly before his +death. In 1894, when at Bayreuth, a friend was congratulating him on +his ever fortunate star having even there easily overcome the +difficulties of the crowd. Leighton, passing over the immediate +question, answered with a striking serious sadness, "I have not <i>ever</i> +got what I most wanted in this world."</p> + +<p>No mind was ever more explicit to itself in its mental working, than +was his with regard to matters which the intellect can investigate and +solve. His judgment could never be warped by reason of an insufficient +brain apparatus with which to judge himself and others impartially. +But Leighton was a great man, beyond being the one who owned "a +magnificent intellectual capacity." The qualities he possessed, which +made <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_11" id="PageV1_11">[11]</a></span>him a prominent entity who influenced the interests of the world +at large, secured for him a footing on that higher level where human +nature breathes a finer, more rarefied atmosphere than that in which +the intellect alone disports itself; a level from which can be viewed +the just proportion existing between the truly great and the truly +little. Selfishness disappears in a nature such as Leighton possessed, +when that level is reached. The necessity for self-sacrifice forces +itself so peremptorily, that there is no struggle to be gone through +in exercising it. For instance—notwithstanding the absorbing nature +of his occupations and the intense devotion he felt towards his +vocation as an artist, when it was a question of the country needing a +reserve force for her army to draw on in case of war—a need which is +at this present moment insisted on by Lord Roberts with such zealous +earnestness—Leighton at once seized the importance of the question, +and, at whatever sacrifice to his own more personal interests, +enlisted as a volunteer, and mastered the art and duties of soldiering +so completely that many officers in the regular army envied his +knowledge and efficiency.</p> + +<p>The following is an appreciation by an old comrade in the Artists' +Volunteer Corps:—</p> + +<p>"The names of those who first enrolled themselves to form the Artists' +Volunteer Corps in 1860 is a record of considerable interest in +itself, and calls back many reminiscences connected with art. Leighton +joined May 10, 1860, and was in a few days given his commission as +ensign.</p> + +<p>"Probably the very character of the first recruits tended to prevent +that expansion and accession of numbers without which no military body +can flourish. Lord Bury, the first commandant, became the Colonel of +the Civil Service Rifles; and whatever attention may have been given +to firing and detailed training, the early appearances of the +'Artists' in <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_12" id="PageV1_12">[12]</a></span>public at reviews was, as a rule, as a company or two +attached to the Civil Service Rifle Corps.</p> + +<p>"Events, however, brought a change in the command, and Leighton +having, not without hesitation, accepted it, set himself at once to +introduce reforms. The Captains, he announced, were to be responsible +each for the command and drill of his company. He, to carry out before +promotion as Major Commanding a duty which the previous laxity had +never required of him, learned the company drill by heart and went +through the whole complicated system then existing, on a single +evening under trying circumstances in very insufficient space. +Reorganisation did not rapidly fill the ranks, and there was much hard +work to be done before the Artists' Corps appeared as a completed +eight-company battalion, and took its place among the best of the +Volunteer Corps of the Metropolis. The personality of the Commander +did very much to achieve this result, and Leighton became +Lieutenant-Colonel Commandant in 1876.</p> + +<p>"Next to his duty to his Art and to the Royal Academy, as he was ever +careful to say, he esteemed his duty in the Corps. Busy man, with his +time mapped out more than most, he was always accessible and ready to +give the necessary time to those who had access to him on the Corps +business. He never appeared on parade without previous study of the +drill to be gone through, while his tact, energy, and personal charm +were brought out and used at those social meetings with officers and +with men which do so much to build up the tone of a volunteer body.</p> + +<p>"Of camps and duties in the tented field he took his part cheerfully. +He shared the hardship of the early experience of the detachment at +the Dartmoor Manœuvres, where, camping on the barren hills above +the lower level of the mist, the extemporised commissariat followed +with difficulty, and the officers consoled themselves for the +roughness of their <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_13" id="PageV1_13">[13]</a></span>fare by the consumption of marmalade, which +happened to be supplied in bulk, and had to clean their knives in the +sand to make some show for the entertainment of the Brigadier at such +dinner as could be had.</p> + +<p>"Regarding volunteering so earnestly as he did, the reports of the +Inspecting Officers would appear of great importance in Leighton's +eyes. On one occasion paragraphs had appeared in the papers about the +Corps which probably gave some umbrage to the authorities. The +Inspecting Officer kept the battalion an unconscionable time at drill, +changed the command, fell out the Staff Sergeants, yet all went well. +At length, with Leighton again in command, and a word imperfectly +heard, the square walked outwards in four directions. The confusion +was put to rights, and the well-prepared speech from the Inspecting +Officer as to the importance of battalion drills, &c., followed. It +was quite a pleasure to point out to the distressed Leighton that the +whole was manifestly a 'put up thing.'</p> + +<p>"The answer he received on another occasion admitted of no +misinterpretation. Riding with the Officer after the inspection, and +anxious to know whether in his opinion he was really doing any good +work by his volunteering, Leighton asked whether the Officer would be +willing to take the battalion he had just inspected under fire, and +received the laconic reply, 'Yes, sir, hell fire.'</p> + +<p>"On Leighton's election as President of the Academy, his twenty-five +years active service in the Corps ceased in 1883. All the time that +the history of the volunteering of the nineteenth century is known, +his name will be associated with the Artists' Corps to the honour of +both."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hamo Thornycroft, R.A., also adds his tribute in the following +lines:—</p> + +<p>"I should think that few Commanding Officers of Volunteer Regiments +could surpass Colonel Leighton in efficiency. <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_14" id="PageV1_14">[14]</a></span>His wonderful knowledge +of infantry drill, and the decision with which he gave the word of +command, made it very easy for the men in the ranks to obey him; and +the quickness of eye with which he detected an error in any movement +frequently saved confusion in the ranks on a field day. The Artists' +Corps soon became one of the smartest in London. I well remember how +efficiently he commanded the Volunteer Battalion in the Army +Manœuvres on Dartmoor in 1876, when for a fortnight of almost +continuous rain on that wild moorland he kept us all happy and full of +respect for him by his fine soldierly example. His thoroughness and +kindness were constant. After a soaking wet night he would come down +the line of tents in the early morning distributing some unheard-of +luxury, such as a couple of new-laid eggs to each man, which he had +managed to have sent from some outlying village."</p> + +<p>Besides the obvious results of a complex and astonishingly +comprehensive nature, there were also phases in Leighton's life which +were the outcome on that side of his being half hidden to himself.</p> + +<p>Most of us have dual natures, not only in the sense that good and bad +reside within us simultaneously, but we have also a less definable +duality of nature; nature's original creature being one thing, and the +creature developed by the conditions it meets with in its journey +through life, another. Each acts and reacts on the other. We meet the +conditions forced upon us in life from the point of our own +individualities. On the other hand, the original creature gets twisted +by circumstances and the influence of other personalities, and becomes +partially altered into a different person. This backwards and forwards +swaying of the influence of nature and circumstances helps to make +life the intricate business it is. In the case of highly gifted human +beings there seem to be further complications, arising chiefly, +perhaps, from the fact that these form so small <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_15" id="PageV1_15">[15]</a></span>a minority. Very +subtle and undefinable is the effect of such gifts on the character +and nature of those possessing them, for nature herself maintains a +kind of secrecy and endows her favoured ones with but a half +consciousness in respect of them. She gives to the artist and to the +poet the something, unshared with the ordinary mortal, which controls +the inner core of his being, and which is another quantity to be +allowed for in his contact with his fellows. It initiates his most +passionate, peremptory conditions of temperament, yet it remains +partially veiled to himself, in so far that he cannot explain it, nor +give it its right place, any more than the lover can explain the +glamour which is spread over life by an overpowering first love. When +Plato classes the souls of the philosopher, the artist, the musician, +and the lover together<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> as having been born to see most of truth, he +recognises the same inspired instinctive quality in the artist as in +the lover. In the artist is linked, as part of its separateness from +the rest of the community, the inseparable shyness of the lover. +Anything is better than to expose the sacred, indescribable treasure +to the indifferent stare of the uninitiated. We find every sort of +ruse adopted by lovers and artists to avoid being forced into +explicitness on so tender, so intimate a passion; so convincing to its +possessor, so impossible of full explanation to those who possess it +not. The necessity to give it a clear outline is only forced when a +danger arises of the lover being robbed of his mistress, the artist of +his vocation; then the will, propelled by <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_16" id="PageV1_16">[16]</a></span>the all-conquering love, +asserts itself, and difficulties have to succumb before it.</p> + +<p>Such was the result of opposition in Leighton's case. From early +childhood he was known to care for nothing so much as for drawing, and +his talent attracted notice and pleased his family, every +encouragement being given him by his parents in his studies. It was +only when, as a boy of twelve, he viewed art as the serious work of +his future life, and when this view was met by the authorities as one +not to be encouraged, that the strong passion of his nature asserted +its rights. Clearly in opposition are planted the firmest roots of +those inevitable developments which make the great of the world great. +In Leighton was nurtured that sense of responsibility towards his +vocation, so salient a characteristic throughout his career, partly by +his father's attitude towards the worship of his nature for beauty and +for her exponent art. To prove that his self-chosen labour was no mere +play work, no mere avoiding the hard work of life and the duller paths +of service generally recognised only as of serious use to mankind, for +a game which was a mere pleasure, was a strong additional incentive to +Leighton's own high aspirations, inspiring him yet more to treat the +development of his gifts as a moral responsibility. He considered it +almost in the light of a debt owing to those to whom he was attached +by strong family affection, that he should prove good his cause. +Though he fought and overcame, having once won his point, he did his +utmost to satisfy his father's ambition for him, and to be "eminent."</p> + +<p>On August 5, 1879, he wrote to Mrs. Mark Pattison, who was compiling +notes for an article on his life: "My father, of his own impulse, sat +down to write a few jottings, which I cannot resist sending you, +because I was touched at the thought in this kind old man of eighty. +<i>He</i>, by the way, <i>is</i> a fine scholar, and was, at his best, a man of +exceptional <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_17" id="PageV1_17">[17]</a></span>intellectual powers. My desire to be an artist dates as +far back as my memory, and was wholly spontaneous, or rather +unprompted. My parents surrounded me with every facility to learn +drawing, but, as I have told you, <i>strongly</i> discountenanced the idea +of my being an artist unless I could be eminent in art."</p> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="80%" summary="Leighton's Parents"> + <tr> + <td width="50%"> + <div class="img"><a name="imagep017" id="imagep017"></a> + <a href="images/imagep017a.jpg"> + <img border="0" src="images/imagep017a.jpg" width="74%" alt="Lord Leighton's Father" /></a><br /> + <p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">LORD LEIGHTON'S FATHER<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> + </div> + </td> + <td width="50%"> + <div class="img"> + <a href="images/imagep017b.jpg"> + <img border="0" src="images/imagep017b.jpg" width="75%" alt="Lord Leighton's Mother" /></a><br /> + <p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">LORD LEIGHTON'S MOTHER</p> + </div> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc">From Miniatures, by permission of Mr. H.S. Mendelssohn</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<br /> + +<p>Still—though to excel was Leighton's aim, in order to satisfy his +father's and also his own ambition—within the hidden recesses of that +aim lay the reverent, more single-hearted worship for his mistress +Art—seldom unveiled, it would seem, when with his father, to whose +purely intellectual and philosophical attitude of mind it would not +have appealed. Those alone possessed the key to that inner sanctuary +who did not need the key; who wanted no introduction, and were not +merely sympathisers, but native inhabitants. There is a freemasonry +between the inmates of these places remote from the world's usual +habitations, and these, naturally, have a horror of vaunting the +possession of a sacred ground to the outsider, the uninitiated. Many +of Leighton's most intimate acquaintances gathered no clue, through +their knowledge of him, of the existence of the secluded spot. Dr. +Leighton's influence, however, non-artistic as was his nature, +stimulated his son's natural mental elasticity, encouraging a +comprehensive and unprejudiced view of life and people, a view which +marked Leighton's undertakings with a stamp of nobility and +distinction throughout his career. Yet further—the intellectual +training he received in youth probably enlarged, in some respects, the +areas of the sacred sanctuary itself, enabling Leighton, when he was +the servant of the public and possessing wide influence and patronage, +not only to exercise power with the qualities which spring from a high +intellectual development, but to mellow with wisdom the guidance of +the yet higher sympathies of the heart, when helping those staggering +along the road which he himself had travelled over with <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_18" id="PageV1_18">[18]</a></span>such success. +To many, however, especially to those possessing the artistic +temperament, it must always remain, to say the least, a questionable +advantage to a student of art that his intellectual faculties should +be forced forward at the expense of the development of his more +emotional and ingenuous instincts, at the age when sensitiveness to +receive impressions is keenest, and when such impressions have the +most lasting power in moulding the future tendencies of his nature. +Certainly the effects of a development of critical and analytical +faculties is apt to prove a damper to those ecstasies of enthusiasm +which inspire the most convincing conceptions in art. When first +starting and facing seriously his independent career alone, Leighton +writes to his mother: "I wish that I had a mind, simple and +unconscious as a child." Again, writing to his elder sister from +Algiers in 1857, after describing the delightful impression produced +by a first visit to an Eastern country, he adds: "And yet what I have +said of my feelings, though <i>literally true</i>, does not give you an +exactly true notion, for together with, and as it were behind, so much +pleasurable emotion, there is always that other strange second man in +me, calm, observant, critical, unmoved, blasé—odious! He is a shadow +that walks with me, a sort of nineteenth-century canker of doubt and +dissection; it's very, very seldom that I forget his loathsome +presence. What cheering things I find to say!"</p> + +<p>Allied to the third, more intimate aspect of his nature were phases in +Leighton's feelings when heart would seem to conquer head. He would at +times indulge in what might almost be designated as a self-imposed +blindness, when he would allow of no criticism by himself or others of +the cause or person in question. An enthusiastic, unselfish devotion, +a sense of chivalry or pity, would override his normally +clear-sighted, intellectual acumen. Having set his belief and +admiration <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_19" id="PageV1_19">[19]</a></span>to one tune, faithful loyalty—and maybe a certain amount +of obstinacy—would bind him fast in an adherence to the same.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep019" id="imagep019"></a> +<a href="images/imagep019.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep019.jpg" width="65%" alt="Boy rescuing sleeping baby from Eagle" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">EARLY PICTURE OF BOY RESCUING SLEEPING BABY FROM EAGLE<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>Belonging also to the intuitive, more emotional side of his nature, +was the curiously strong influence places exercised over him, certain +localities affecting him and exciting his sympathies with a strong +power.</p> + +<p>In 1857 he wrote to his elder sister: "If I am as faithful to my wife +as I am to the places I love, I shall do very well!"</p> + +<p>In order to seize fully Leighton's complete individuality, an +understanding of Italy, his "second home," is perhaps necessary—a +conception of the nature of the unsophisticated Italian life which +fascinated him so greatly when as yet no invasion had been made of +cosmopolitan, so-called civilisation. As a magnet, Italy drew Leighton +to her.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> Under the influence of her radiant beauty, breathing such a +life of charm and colour beneath sunlit skies, he felt the sources of +happiness in his own nature expand and his powers ripen. In the +fertility of her soil, the vitality of her people, the superb quality +of her art—fine and gracious in its perfection, and distributed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_20" id="PageV1_20">[20]</a></span>generously throughout the length and breadth of her land—he +experienced influences which intensified his emotions and vivified his +imagination. The child-like charm of her people, so spontaneously +happy, enjoying the ease and assurance of nature's own aristocracy, +because enjoying nature's generous gifts with unabashed fulness of +sensation, in whom are non-existent those sensibilities which create +self-consciousness, restraint, and an absence of self-confidence, +aroused in Leighton an interest deeper than mere pleasure. It was to +him like the joy of a yearning satisfied, as of those who, having had +their lot cast for years with aliens and foreigners, find themselves +again with their own kith and kin, surrounded by the native atmosphere +which had lent such enchantment to childhood. Again and again he +returned to Italy to be made happy, to be revived, to be strengthened +by her. Her influence became kneaded into his very being, not only +nourishing his sense of beauty and rendering more complete the artist +nature within him, but touching the sources from which his artist +temperament sprang, inspiring his very personality and changing it +into one which was certainly not typically English. His rapid +utterance, his picturesque gesture, his very appearance, were not +emphatically English.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> + +<p>Certain Englishmen who knew Leighton but slightly felt out of sympathy +with him for this reason, experiencing a difficulty in recognising him +as one of themselves. It was, however, only on the surface that a +difference existed. Once intimate with Leighton, he was ever found to +be <i>au fond</i> English of the English. After the age of thirty it was in +England Leighton fought the serious battle of life—Italy was but the +playground, though a playground of such fascination <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_21" id="PageV1_21">[21]</a></span>to him that the +glamour of it was spread over the working hours no less than over the +holidays. In these days we have to go into the smaller towns and +villages to discover the typical Italian characteristics; but when +Leighton, as a child, was taken from the gloom of Bloomsbury to this, +to him a magic world,—syndicates, building-companies, tramways, and +modern things generally, had not as yet invaded either Rome or +Florence. When grown up and master of his own actions, he wandered +into unsophisticated haunts—villages and towns off the beaten tracks, +where with abnormal facility he learned the distinctive <i>pâtois</i> of +every district, listening with delight to local folk-songs, and +watching the peasants and the aborigines of the soil. In early +sketch-books we find records of visits to Albano, Tivoli, Cervaro, +Subiaco, San Giuminiano, and to even smaller and less known villages +in Tuscany and Veneziano, where he enjoyed the unalloyed flavour of +Italy and her people. Those who pay only flying visits to the country +after they are grown up would find a difficulty perhaps in realising +what Italy was to Leighton; but any one visiting for a few weeks even +such a well-known place as Albano, without other preoccupation than to +watch the natives and wander in the beautiful scenery to the sound of +the many flowing fountains, could still catch something of the true +national spirit which fascinated him so greatly. The typical Britisher +might regard the ways of these natives of the <i>Provincia di Roma</i> as +irrational, idle, semi-savage. Doubtless the streets and piazzas +abound in noisy inhabitants, gesticulating with wild dramatic fervour, +who appear to have otherwise little to do in life but to loiter and +"look on"; sociable groups of women sit round the doorways knitting; +but it is the talk, accompanied by excited action, which is engrossing +them. Charmingly pretty children are playing everywhere—idle, +troublesome, but so happy! To the <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_22" id="PageV1_22">[22]</a></span>accompanying sound of running +waters,—night and day,—cries, yells, and songs ring out through the +ancient little town.<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> High up on the side of the mountains it +overlooks the Roman Campagna, the tragic strangeness of those +land-waves rolling away, flattened and stretched out, for miles and +miles, under the dome of light and shadowing cloud, a network of +bright gleams and violet lakelets, to the far-off brilliant shine on +the sea limit.<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> This noise, dramatic action, gesticulation, all +ending apparently in nothing in particular, but filling the little +town with such amazing vitality—what is it all about? The typical +Englishman does not know—does not care to know, despising the whole +thing as beneath his notice. But Leighton knew well what it meant. +From experiences in his own nature he realised that it was but an +innocent outlet, through voice and gesture, of an excitement resulting +from an imperative dramatic instinct, a vital force in the emotional +nature of the Italian. He recognised the necessity for such an outlet +in such temperaments through his sympathy with the glad exuberance of +physical vitality enjoyed in this sunlit land; anti-puritan though it +may be, this exuberance is none the less pure and innocent.</p> + +<p>The holy Saint Francis in his ecstasies of spiritual illumination +would, it is said, break out into song from the natural impulse to +find an outlet and to throw off the excess of excitement, that +thrilled through his being.<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_23" id="PageV1_23">[23]</a></span>Leighton knew that to suppress the vitality which needs such an outlet +was to minimise the forces necessary for life's best work. He himself, +in the working of his mind, was possessed of a magnificent facility—a +facility which left the strength of his emotions fresh and free, to +enjoy the ecstasies of admiration and delight which the choice gifts +of nature and art had given him; but there are many among modern men +and women, taught by much reading, who overweight their physical +vitality in the effort to develop intellect and to forward +self-interest, till all simple physical enjoyment is lost, and the +natural man becomes repressed into a mental machine incapable of any +spontaneous emotions of joy, and blunt to the fine aroma of life's +keen and pure pleasures—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My nature is subdued to what it works in."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>To Leighton the simple joyous child of nature, in the form of the +unsophisticated Italian, was a preferable being. To the end of his +life he retained much of the child in his own nature, and had ever an +inborn sympathy with the love for children so evident everywhere in +unspoilt Italy; for the gracious caressing of them by the poorest of +the poor—old men in the veriest tatters and rags showing a complete +and beautiful submission to the dominating charms of babyhood.</p> + +<p>The memory of the hideous, gruesome stories of baby-farming in England +strikes indeed a contrast with the scenes <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_24" id="PageV1_24">[24]</a></span>that abound at every turn +in any old, dirty, picturesque Italian village, and assuredly settles +the question, Is our English development of civilisation an unalloyed +benefit?</p> + +<p>As a contrast to the definite, explicit German development of his +intellectual machinery, Leighton had special sympathy with the +emotional spontaneity of the Italian race; also as a contrast to the +selective and finely poised conclusions to be worked out in theories +of composition learnt from his beloved master Steinle, arose a special +admiration for the casual, unpremeditated, inevitable grace and charm +in the manners and gestures of this southern people. What laboured +theories so often failed to achieve, nature here was always doing in +her most careless moods.</p> + +<p>In considering the intimate aspect of Leighton's nature, and the +interweaving of the original fabric with the forces developed by the +circumstances he encountered, the influence of Italy must assuredly be +given a very distinct prominence. From her and her people he acquired +courage in the exercise of his intuitive preferences, also a +development of that rapid and direct insight so inborn in her +children. Like the lizards that dart with such lightning speed across +her sun-scorched walls and over the gnarled bark of the weird olive +tree, the perceptions of the typical Italian are swift, and fly +straight to the mark. In the Italian, however, this vividness of +perception is mostly expended in ejaculation and dramatic gesture, +which,—subsiding,—leaves a state of indolence and nonchalance, +untroubled by any mental exertion. In Leighton the rapidity with which +his perceptions seized the core of truth was backed by an intellectual +activity of extraordinary power, by which he worked his intuitive +sensibilities into the interests which guided the solid aims of his +life.</p> + +<p>Probably no Englishman ever approached the Greek of the Periclean +period so nearly as did Leighton, for the reason that he possessed +that combination of intellectual and emotional <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_25" id="PageV1_25">[25]</a></span>power in a like rare +degree. The human beings who achieve most as active workers in the +world, are doubtless those in whom can be traced a capacity for making +apparently incompatible forces pull together towards a desired end. +Leighton succeeded in allying two distinct developments in his nature; +and by, so to say, putting these into double harness and driving them +together, acquired an advantage which few other artists, if any, have +possessed since the time of the Greeks.</p> + +<p>But, being essentially English as well as Greek-like, Leighton pushed +this combination of powers to a moral issue. He held as his creed of +creeds that the mission of Art was to act as a lever in the uplifting +of the human race, not by going beyond her own domain, but by +directing the sense of beauty with which her true priesthood must ever +be endowed, in order to eliminate from man his more brutal tendencies, +to refine and perfect his insight into nature, and to develop his +delight in her perfection. He held that, the stronger the emotional +force in an artist, the stronger the sense of responsibility should +be; the more he should seek to express it in a manner which would +elevate rather than deprave. In his picture of "Cymon and Iphigenia," +Leighton expressed the main dogma of his belief. In sentences towards +the end of his second address to the Royal Academy students in the +year 1881, he eloquently describes the complex and deep nature of +those æsthetic emotions whence spring the Arts:—</p> + +<p>"It is not, it cannot be, the foremost duty of Art to seek to embody +that which it cannot adequately present, and to enter into a +competition in which it is doomed to inevitable defeat.</p> + +<p>"On the other hand, there is a field in which she has no rival. We +have within us the faculty for a range of emotions of vast compass, of +exquisite subtlety, and of irresistible force, to which Art and Art +alone amongst human forms of expression has a key; these then, and no +others, are the chords which it is her appointed duty to strike; and +Form, Colour, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_26" id="PageV1_26">[26]</a></span>and the contrasts of Light and Shade are the agents +through which it is given to her to set them in motion. Her duty is, +therefore, to awaken those sensations directly emotional and +indirectly intellectual, which can be communicated only through the +sense of sight, to the delight of which she has primarily to minister. +And the dignity of these sensations lies in this, that they are +inseparably connected by association of ideas, with a range of +perceptions and feelings of infinite variety and scope. They come +fraught with dim complex memories of all the ever-shifting spectacle +of inanimate creation, and of the more deeply stirring phenomena of +life; of the storm and the lull, the splendour and the darkness of the +outer world; of the storm and the lull, the splendour and the darkness +of the changeful and transitory lives of men. Nay, so closely overlaid +is the simple æsthetic sensation with elements of ethic or +intellectual emotion by these constant and manifold accretions of +associated ideas, that it is difficult to conceive of it independently +of this precious overgrowth.... The most sensitively religious mind +may indeed rest satisfied in the consciousness that it is not on the +wings of abstract thought alone that we rise to the highest moods of +contemplation, or to the most chastened moral temper; and assuredly +Arts which have for their chief task to reveal the inmost springs of +Beauty in the created world, to display all the pomp of the teeming +earth, and all the pageant of those heavens of which we are told that +they declare the Glory of God, are not the least eloquent witnesses to +the might and to the majesty of the mysterious and eternal Fountain of +all good things."</p> + +<p>Not only could no attempt be approximately made at giving a real and +vivid picture of Leighton's remarkable personality were not the three +aspects of his nature taken into account, but also if the influences +which affected him strongly during those years when his genius and +character were being <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_27" id="PageV1_27">[27]</a></span>developed were not also considered. His +conscious nature and feelings, during the first thirty years of his +life, can be best traced in his letters, notably in those to his +mother. It is easy to recognise, in reading his mother's letters to +him, from whom he inherits the warm tender generosity which made his +nature so lovable.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep027" id="imagep027"></a> +<a href="images/imagep027.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep027.jpg" width="50%" alt="Professor Edouard Steinle" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">PORTRAIT OF PROFESSOR EDOUARD STEINLE<br /> +Drawn by Himself<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>When at Frankfort, in 1845, he first became acquainted with the most +"indelible" influence of his life in that inner sanctuary in which he +had hitherto been a lonely inmate. Seven years later, in the Diary he +calls "Pebbles," written for his mother, when, fully fledged, he +leaves the nest to battle alone on the field of life, he pays a +tribute of unqualified affection and gratitude to his master, Steinle, +who first unlocked the door to Leighton's full consciousness of the +depth of his devotion for his calling (see pp. 61 and 62).</p> + +<p>In 1879, the year after Leighton was elected President of the Royal +Academy, in the same letter to Mrs. Mark Pattison already quoted from, +he writes, respecting the influences which affected his art +development: "For <i>bad</i> by Florentine Academy, for good, far beyond +all others, by Steinle, a noble-minded, single-hearted artist, <i>s'il +en fut</i>. Technically, I learnt (later) much from Robert Fleury, but +being very receptive and prone to admire, I have learnt, and still do, +from innumerable artists, big and small. Steinle's is, however, the +<i>indelible seal</i>. The <i>thoroughness</i> of all the great old masters is +so pervading a quality that I look upon them all as forming one +aristocracy."</p> + +<p>During the first year when he settled in Rome, in the beginning of +1853, he made the acquaintance of Mr. and Mrs. Sartoris. Leighton's +friendship with Mrs. Sartoris (Adelaide Kemble), many years his +senior, and one who had ever viewed her art as a singer from the +purest and highest aspect, became a strong and elevating influence in +his life. Professor <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_28" id="PageV1_28">[28]</a></span>Giovanni Costa (the "Nino" of the letters), one +of Leighton's most intimate friends from the year 1853 to the end in +1896, wrote of Mrs. Sartoris, referring to the early days in Rome from +1853 to 1856:<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> "The greatest influence on the life of Frederic +Leighton was exerted by Mr. and Mrs. Sartoris (Miss Adelaide Kemble), +who had the mind of a great artist. Mr. Sartoris was one of the +greatest critics of art, and Mrs. Sartoris had a most elevated and +serene nature."</p> + +<p>This great friendship with Mr. and Mrs. Sartoris brought with it many +others, notably those of Robert Browning and of Mr. Henry Greville. +Some years later, Leighton writes of Mr. Henry Greville, in a letter +to his pupil and friend, Mr. John Walker: "He is indeed one of the +kindest and best men possible, I look on him myself as a second +father"; and Henry Greville in a letter to Leighton writes: "I wish +you were my son, Fay"—Fay being the name given to Leighton by his +inner circle of intimates, and certainly a stroke of genius in the one +who invented it. Writing from Frankfort to his mother, where he +returned to show his works to Steinle after his family had finally +migrated to Bath and he to Rome, he says: "I have had such a letter +from Henry (Henry Greville); there never was anything like the +tenderness of it. You would have been just enchanted."</p> + +<p>The friendship with Mrs. Sartoris only ended with her death in 1879, +the year after Leighton was elected President of the Royal Academy. +Being then close upon fifty, deeply sensible of the grave +responsibilities involved by his new position, Leighton entered on a +fresh phase in his career. As president of the centre of national +living art, this phase involved a serious view being taken of the +interests of art such as could be encouraged by a public body. Also as +one who had been helped and encouraged by personal friendship and +influence to work out the best in him, with his ever eager <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_29" id="PageV1_29">[29]</a></span>and +generous nature he felt anxious to hand on the help he had received by +devoting a like sympathy to the individual interests of other workers. +His field of action had become enlarged, and he rose with consummate +ability to the fulfilment of the duties this larger area entailed on +him. Not only by his biennial addresses to the students of the Royal +Academy, but by the speeches delivered spontaneously at the councils +and elsewhere, when no preparation would have been possible, his fame +as an orator was established. Many there are who have heard the +impromptu speeches he made, who can vouch, as do Mr. Briton Rivière +and Mr. Hamo Thornycroft, that these were just as fine in language and +excellent in the concise form in which the words were made to convey +the intended meaning, as those which Leighton had carefully prepared +beforehand, and possessed, moreover, the charm of an unlaboured +effort.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep028" id="imagep028"></a> +<a href="images/imagep028.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep028.jpg" width="57%" alt="" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">FROM DRAWING OF ADELAIDE SARTORIS<br /> +Paris, 1856<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>The seventeen years, during which Leighton was President of the Royal +Academy, and prominent in every direction as the leader of the art of +his country, were not without saddening influences. His duties +necessitated contact with many varieties of human nature, some far +from sympathetic to him. The contrast between his own disinterested +reverence for beauty, moral and physical, with the indifference +displayed by many of his brother artists towards his own high aims and +aspirations, forced itself more and more on Leighton as the optimistic +fervour and enthusiasm of youth waned with years and failing health. +He had to face the depressing fact that selfish motives are the ruling +factors with most men, even with those who ostensibly follow the +calling of beauty. Much of the joyousness of his spirit was lessened +accordingly, though his "sweet reasonableness," to quote Watts' truly +suggestive words, never deserted him. This prevented any bitterness or +resentment from finding permanent location in his nature. Another +source of distress arose from the fact that his great <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_30" id="PageV1_30">[30]</a></span>position +aroused the jealousy of the envious. However exceptional his tact, +however truly heartfelt his consideration for others, no virtues could +stand against the vice of being so pre-eminently successful in the +eyes of the envious, whose vanity alone placed them in their own +estimation on a level with the great.</p> + +<p>Nothing perhaps excites so rampant a jealousy in unappreciative and +envious natures, as does the unexplainable charm of a delightful +personality. It aggravates the dull and envious beyond measure to see +a being thus endowed galloping over the ground in all directions with +ease, there being in their eyes no sufficient explanation for the +pace. Such success is viewed by the envious as a kind of trick, some +witchery of fascination, which deludes the world into bestowing +unmerited advantages on the conjuror. Those, on the contrary, who can +appreciate a transcendent and delightful personality, recognise it as +the convincing grace of the power of uncommon gifts flashing their +radiance into the intercourse of every-day life, modestly ignored as +conscious possessions but inevitably sparkling out in any human +intercourse, and from a social point of view making the greatest among +us the servants of all.</p> + +<p>Jealousy fights with hidden weapons. What man or woman ever +acknowledged being jealous? The passion is disguised. Hence the +hideous sins that follow in its wake: ingratitude, treachery, +calumnies, are called into the service to blacken the offending +object. Bacon says of envy: "It is also the vilest affection, and the +most depraved; for which cause it is the proper attribute of the +devil, who is called <i>the envious man, that soweth tares amongst the +wheat by night</i>, as it always cometh to pass that envy worketh +subtilly, and in the dark; and to the prejudice of good things, such +as is the wheat."</p> + +<p>Leighton suffered from the jealousy of the envious, though in most +cases the open expression of it was smothered during <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_31" id="PageV1_31">[31]</a></span>his life by +reason of his power and position. Besides being tender-hearted and +easily hurt at any feeling of hostility shown against him, he +cordially hated any phase of the ugly.</p> + +<p>In the spring of 1895 Leighton said to a friend: "My one constant +prayer is that I should not live beyond seventy." His great dread was +to be a burden to any one—to cease to be useful to all. His wish was +more than fulfilled. He passed onward five years before the allotted +three score and ten.</p> + +<p>Many there were who felt with Watts that life was indeed darkened; "a +great light was extinguished," a beloved friend was no longer amongst +them to help, encourage, and brighten the days. To a wide social +circle, a personality, rare in its charm and endowments, differing +from all others, had passed off the stage. It was as if, amid the +sober brown and grey plumage of our quiet-coloured English birds, +through the mists and fogs of our northern clime, there had sped +across the page of our nineteenth century history the flight of some +brilliant-hued flamingo, emitting flashes of light and colour on his +way.</p> + +<p>To the wide public a power and a control, noble and distinguished in +its quality, had ceased to rule over the art interests of the country. +Last, but not least, to his "brothers and sisters," as Leighton called +all earnest students and artists, it was as if a strong support, a +centre of impelling force, an inspiration towards the best and highest +in art, had been suddenly swept away.</p> + +<p>On the day of his funeral, a friend, whose husband had known him from +the commencement to the end of the brilliant career, wrote the +following notes:—<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></p> + +<p>"Lord Leighton's funeral to-day was as brilliant as his life, and we +came home from the majestic ceremony at St. Paul's Cathedral feeling +that his kind and gracious spirit would have rejoiced—for all he +loved and honoured in life were there <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_32" id="PageV1_32">[32]</a></span>mourning for the loss of their +gifted and genial friend. As the procession moved slowly into the +Cathedral the crimson and golden pall was Venetian in its brilliancy, +and the long branch of palm spoke touchingly of pain over and the +conquest won. Music, the sister Art he so devoutly worshipped, lifted +up her voice in pathetic accents to the dome of the vast Cathedral, +striving to re-echo the solemnity and grief around.</p> + +<p>"Dear gracious Leighton, how vividly my husband recalled his earliest +impressions of him, the handsome young artist at Rome. Visions arise +in the mind of joyous days in his second home there, the cultured and +hospitable house of Adelaide Sartoris, which formed the happy +background of Leighton's life. He remembered the departure of his +picture 'The Triumph of Cimabue,' sent with diffidence, and so, +proportionate was the joy when news came of its success, and that the +Queen had bought it. It was the month of May. Rome was at its +loveliest, and Leighton's friends and brother artists gave him a +festal dinner to celebrate his honours. On receiving the news, +Leighton's first act was to fly to three less successful artists and +buy a picture from each of them (George Mason, then still unknown, was +one), and so Leighton reflected his own happiness at once on others. +To-day as we viewed the distinguished (in the best sense of the term) +mourners, it seemed an epitome of all his social and artistic life. He +never forgot an old friend, and not one was absent to-day. The men +around his coffin all looked heartily sad. It was only when those +peaceful words came, 'We give Thee hearty thanks, for that it hath +pleased Thee to deliver this our brother out of the miseries of this +sinful world,' that we remembered the agony of his last three days on +earth, and we could be glad for our dear friend that it was past. We +could give hearty thanks, but it was for him and him alone, for we +turn with heavy hearts to our homes, feeling <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_33" id="PageV1_33">[33]</a></span>that with Frederic +Leighton ever so much kindness, love, and colour has gone out of the +world."</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep033" id="imagep033"></a> +<a href="images/imagep033.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep033.jpg" width="50%" alt="Crypt under St. Paul's Cathedral" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;">CRYPT UNDER ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL, WHERE BARRY, SIR +JOSHUA REYNOLDS, TURNER, AND LORD LEIGHTON WERE BURIED<br /> +From a photo, by permission of Messrs. S.B. Bolas & Co.<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>Attached to the wreath which lay on his coffin were the lines written +by our Queen:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Life's race well run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> Life's work well done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> Life's crown well won,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> Now comes rest."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>In Leighton's own letters, more than is possible in any other written +words, will be traced those qualities of character and feeling which +guided the rare gifts nature had bestowed. These, used with unstinting +generosity for the benefit of others, established for our national art +a position, cosmopolitan in its influence, never previously attained +by English painting and sculpture, and of which it may be fairly +hoped, future generations, no less than the present, may reap the +benefit.</p> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> George Eliot—"Romola."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Lord Loch's cousin, Colonel Sutherland Orr, married +Leighton's elder sister in the year 1857.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Quoted in G.F. Watts' "Reminiscences."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> An incident, one out of many that tell of Leighton's +hearty, eager helpfulness, happened on one of the evenings at the +Academy, after the prizes had been given away. A student was passing +through the first room, on his way to the entrance. He looked the +picture of dejection and disappointed wretchedness, poorly and +shabbily dressed, and slinking away as if he wished to pass out of the +place unnoticed. Millais and Leighton, walking arm in arm, came along, +pictures of prosperity. Leighton caught sight of the poor, downcast +student. Leaving Millais, he darted across the vestibule to him, and, +taking the student's arm, drew him back into the first room, and made +him sit down on the ottoman beside him. Putting his arm on the top of +the ottoman, and resting his head on his hand, Leighton began to talk +as he alone could talk; pouring forth volumes of earnest, rapid +utterances, as if everything in the world depended on his words +conveying what he wanted them to convey. He went on and on. The shabby +figure gradually seemed to pull itself together, and, at last, when +they both rose, he seemed to have become another creature. Leighton +shook hands with him, and the youth went on his way rejoicing. It is +certain that if other help than advice were needed, it was given. But +it was the extraordinary zest and vitality which Leighton put into his +help which made it unlike any other. He fought every one's cause even +better than others fight their own.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> In Plato's "Phædrus," Socrates says: "The soul, which +has seen most of trouble, shall come to the birth as a philosopher, or +artist, or musician, or lover; that which has seen truth in the second +degree, shall be a righteous king, or warrior, or lord; the soul which +is of the third class, shall be a politician, or economist, or trader; +the fourth, shall be a lover of gymnastic toils, or a physician; the +fifth, a prophet, or hierophant; to the sixth, a poet or imitator will +be 'appropriate'; to the seventh, the life of an artisan, or +husbandman; to the eighth, that of a sophist, or demagogue; to the +ninth, that of a tyrant; all these are states of probation, in which +he who lives righteously, improves, and he who lives unrighteously, +deteriorates his lot."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> He wrote to his sister in 1857 from Algiers: "I shall +spend my next winter in my dear, dear old Rome, to which I am attached +beyond measure; indeed, Italy altogether has a hold on my heart that +no other country ever can have (except, of course, my own), and +although, as I just now said, I was most delighted with Africa, and +have not a moment to look back to that was not agreeable, yet there is +an intimate little corner in my affections into which it could never +penetrate." And later he wrote in a letter to his mother: "I have so +often been to Italy, and so often written to you from thence, that it +seems quite a platitude to tell you how much I enjoy it, and what a +keen delight I felt again this time when I once more trod the soil of +this wonderful country; indeed, by the time you get this you will +already yourself be in full enjoyment of its pleasures, and though +naturally you cannot feel one tittle of my attachment and yearning +affection for it, yet you will have all the physical delights of sun +and serene skies and a good share of the wonder and admiration at the +inexhaustible natural beauties of this garden of the world. I came +through Switzerland this time, but as quick as a shot, as I was in a +hurry to get <i>home</i> to Italy."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Du Maurier, who took much interest in tracing indications +of various racial distinctions in the remarkable people of his time, +was troubled on this point. He was convinced that in Leighton existed +indications of foreign or Jewish blood, but was quite unable to +discover any facts in support of this theory.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Leighton wrote in a letter to his sister from Algiers of +the strange sounds which the Moors emit, adding: "Much the same sort +of thing is noticeable in the peasants near Rome, whose songs consist +(within a definite shape) of long-sustained chest notes that are +peculiar in the extreme, and though often harsh, seem to be +wonderfully in harmony with the long unbroken lines of the Campagna."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> On December 1, 1856, Leighton writes to Steinle: "My +Italian journey afforded me in every way the greatest pleasure and +edification, and I seem now for the first time to have grasped the +greatness of the Campagna and the giant loftiness of Michael Angelo."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> "Après de pareilles émotions, il avait besoin d'être +seul, de savourer sa joie, de chanter sa liberté définitivement +conquise, sur tous les sentiers le long desquels il avait tant gémi, +tant lutté.</p> + +<p class="noin">"Il ne voulut donc pas retourner immédiatement à Saint-Damien. Sortant +de la cité par la porte la plus voisine, il s'enfonça dans les +sentiers déserts qui grimpent sur les flancs du Mont Subasio. On était +aux tout premiers jours du printemps. Il y avait encore çà et là de +grandes fondrières de neige, mais sous les ardeurs du soleil de mars +l'hiver semblait s'avouer vaincu. Au sein de cette harmonie, +mystérieuse et troublante, le cœur de François vibrait +délicieusement, tout son être se calmait et s'exaltait; l'âme des +choses le caressait doucement et lui versait l'apaisement. Un bonheur +inconnu l'envahissait; pour célébrer sa victoire et sa liberté, il +remplit bientôt toute la forêt du bruit de ses chants.</p> + +<p class="noin">"Les émotions trop douces ou trop profondes pour pouvoir être +exprimées dans la langue ordinaire, l'homme les chante."—<i>Vie de S. +François d'Assise, par Paul Sabatier.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> "Notes on Lord Leighton," <i>Cornhill Magazine</i>, March +1897.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> The <i>Morning Post</i> of February 4, 1896.</p></div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_34" id="PageV1_34">[34]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER I<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>ANTECEDENTS AND SCHOOL DAYS<br /> +1830-1852</h4> +<br /> + +<p>Some light is thrown on Leighton's ancestry by the following letter, +written by Sir Baldwyn Leighton to Sir Albert Woods, Garter, at the +time when a peerage was bestowed on Frederic Leighton. It deals with +the question of associating the name of Stretton with the Barony.</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right">"<span class="sc">Tabley House, Knutsford,</span><br /> +<i>January 10, 1896.</i></p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Dear Sir</span>,—In answer to yours of January 9, I beg to +say that there are two places called Stretton in the County of +Salop; one, now known as Church Stretton, having become a +small town, was formerly in the possession of my family +through the marriage of John de Leighton, my lineal ancestor, +with the daughter and heiress of William Cambray of Stretton +in the fourteenth century, whose arms we still quarter (see +Herald's Visitation for Shropshire). This no longer belongs to +me, having been mortgaged and sold by Sir Thomas Leighton, Kt. +Banneret, temp. Hen. VIII. But there is another Stretton in +the parish of Alderbury with Cardeston which does still belong +to me, and has always belonged to the family from time +immemorial. I have been in communication with Sir Frederic +Leighton on the subject, and it <i>is</i> my wish that he should +adopt the supplemental title of Stretton. According to a +pedigree made out by a Shropshire antiquarian some thirty +years ago, Sir Frederic's branch descends from the younger son +of the John de Leighton who married the Cambray heiress, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_35" id="PageV1_35">[35]</a></span>who was admitted burgess of Shrewsbury in 1465. Therefore I +am of opinion that it <i>is</i> a very proper supplemental title +for Sir Frederic to assume.—I remain, yours, &c.,</p> + +<p class="right sc">"Baldwyn Leighton.</p> + +<p>"To Sir <span class="sc">Albert Woods</span>, Garter."</p> +</div> + +<p>In 1862, Leighton writes to his mother:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p>"You must know that I received some time back a letter from the <i>Rev. +Wm. Leighton</i> (address, <i>Luciefelde, Shrewsbury</i>) asking me very +politely to give him whatever information I could about our family, as +he was making a pedigree of the Leighton family, and was anxious to +find out something about a branch that had settled and been lost sight +of in London. I answered that I regretted I could give him no definite +information on the subject, beyond our belief that we were of a +younger branch of the Shropshire Leightons, whose arms and crest we +bore, that I knew personally nothing of my family further back than my +grandfather, telling him who and what he was. I ended by referring him +<i>to Papa</i>, to whom I immediately wrote, telling him the nature of Mr. +Leighton's request, and begging him to write to him at once in case he +could give him any clue that might facilitate his researches. I then +received a second, and very interesting, letter from Mr. L. telling me +that he had found in Yorkshire some Leightons (I forget the Christian +names, but not Robert) who claimed to descend from the Shropshire +stock, and whose crest differed from the Leighton crest exactly as +ours does, <i>i.e.</i> in the <i>forward</i> expansion of the right wing of the +Wyvern; a peculiarity, by the by, which did not appear to be of weight +with him. There was more in this letter which I don't clearly +remember, but nothing establishing our claim; this letter I +immediately forwarded to you, and since then both myself and Mr. +Leighton have been waiting to hear from Papa."</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_36" id="PageV1_36">[36]</a></span>The conclusion arrived at from these inquiries was—that, three or +four hundred years ago, the descendants of John de Leighton and the +Cambray heiress migrated from Shropshire to Yorkshire, and that +Leighton's grandfather, Sir James Leighton, court physician to the +Emperor Nicholas of Russia, was a descendant of this branch. Dr. +Leighton, the artist's father, married the daughter of George Augustus +Nash of Edmonton. He and his wife, early in their married life, went +to St. Petersburg, and it was supposed that he would probably succeed +his father as court physician to the Czar, who favoured Sir James +Leighton with his intimacy; but the climate of St. Petersburg not +suiting Mrs. Leighton's health, they remained there but a few years. +It was at St. Petersburg that the two eldest children were born, +Fanny, who died young, and Alexandra, the god-child of the Empress +Alexandra, who became Mrs. Sutherland Orr. From St. Petersburg, the +family moved to Scarborough, and it was at Scarborough, on December 3, +1830, that the most famous member of the Leighton family was born. The +question as to which was the actual house in which the event took +place was satisfactorily settled at the time when Leighton was raised +to the peerage, in letters which appeared in the press,—one +containing the testimony of Mrs. Anne Thorley, who was in Dr. +Leighton's service for three years with the family at Scarborough, and +for two years after they moved to London. She affirms that Leighton +was born in the house in Brunswick Terrace, now numbered 13, but which +at that time consisted only of three houses. Mrs. Thorley adds, +"Fred's mother was a splendid lady—such a good one with her children, +and most affectionate."</p> + +<p>A second son named James, who died in his infancy, was also born at +Scarborough, and five years after the birth of Leighton his younger +sister Augusta, now Mrs. Matthews, was born in London.</p> + +<div class="centered"><a name="imagep037" id="imagep037"></a> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="80%" summary="Leighton's Parents"> + <tr> + <td width="50%"> + <div class="img"> + <a href="images/imagep037a.jpg"> + <img border="0" src="images/imagep037a.jpg" width="85%" alt="Lord Leighton when a Boy" /></a><br /> + <p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">Lord Leighton when a Boy<br /> + From a Portrait by Himself<br /> + By permission of Mr. H.S. Mendelssohn<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> + </div> + </td> + <td width="50%"> + <div class="img"> + <a href="images/imagep037b.jpg"> + <img border="0" src="images/imagep037b.jpg" width="85%" alt="Lord Leighton's younger Sister when a Child" /></a><br /> + <p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">Lord Leighton's younger Sister when a Child<br /> + From a Drawing by Lord Leighton<br /> + By permission of Mr. H.S. Mendelssohn</p> + </div> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_37" id="PageV1_37">[37]</a></span>Dr. Leighton had every prospect of excelling among those most +distinguished in his profession. Deafness, however, by which he was +unfortunately attacked about that time, made it impossible for him to +practise any longer as a physician. Deprived of his active work, he +turned his attention to more abstract lines of study, and to +philosophy.</p> + +<p>In 1840, Mrs. Leighton, after a severe illness, required a drier +climate than that of England, and the family travelled on the +Continent, visiting Germany, Switzerland, and Italy.</p> + +<p>Family annals record the delight with which Leighton, the boy of ten, +enjoyed the beauty of nature in Switzerland, the flowers and +everything he saw in the land of mountains. When he reached Rome, the +buildings, the fountains, the ruins, the models awaiting hire on the +Piazza di Spagna, fascinated him, and he filled many sketch-books with +records of all the picturesque scenes that struck him as so new and +wonderful. From earliest days, drawing was Leighton's greatest +amusement, and he had it always in his own mind that he would be an +artist and nothing else. When in Rome, he was allowed to study drawing +under Signor Meli, but his father insisted on other lessons being +carried on with regularity and industry. We hear of his elder sister +and Leighton learning Latin together from a young priest. Dr. Leighton +had a commanding intelligence, and made his will felt. As with many +fond fathers who centre their chief interest on an only son, and +foster thoughts of a notable future for him, Dr. Leighton seems to +have felt that the greater his interest and affection, the greater +must be the exercise of strict discipline over his boy. Leighton +received, to say the least, a stern upbringing from his father, +mitigated, however, by the greatest tenderness from his mother. The +boy's will respecting his future career proved sufficient for the +occasion, and he had reason to be thankful that the general knowledge, +which Dr. Leighton insisted on his acquiring, was instilled at so +early an age. From the time he was ten years <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_38" id="PageV1_38">[38]</a></span>old he was made to study +the classics, and at twelve he spoke French and Italian as fluently as +English. Dr. Leighton had himself taught the boy anatomy, ever +cherishing the hope that he would, when he came to years of +discretion, renounce the idea of being an artist, and follow in the +footsteps of his father and grandfather by becoming a doctor. In +either case a knowledge of anatomy was thought necessary, and, in +after years, Leighton declared he knew much more anatomy when he was +fourteen than he did when he was President of the Royal Academy. "I +owe," he said, "my knowledge to my father. He would teach me the names +of the bones and the muscles. He would show them to me in action and +in repose; then I would have to draw them from memory; until my memory +drawing was perfect, he would not let it pass."</p> + +<p>The family returned to England for the summer of 1841, spending it at +the paternal grandfather's country house at Greenford; and during the +following winter Leighton studied at the University College School in +London. Mrs. Leighton's health again declined in England, and the +family migrated to Germany, the country chosen by Dr. Leighton as that +in which the education of the children could be best carried forward. +Leighton studied under tutors at Berlin, it being only in his spare +moments that he found time to sketch, or to visit the galleries. Then +followed a move to Frankfort, and thence to Florence. There he was +allowed to enter the studio of Bezzuoli and Servolini, celebrated +artists in Florence, but of whose real greatness Leighton, even at +that early age, entertained his doubts. It was in Florence that the +father's will had finally to submit to the son's passion for his +vocation. Dr. Leighton was too wise to allow prejudice to affect his +serious actions. He could no longer blind himself to the fact, that +this desire to be an artist was a vital matter with his son. He felt +it would be wrong to try and override the boy's desires without +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_39" id="PageV1_39">[39]</a></span>seeking the opinion of an expert on art matters as to whether there +was any probability of Leighton excelling. He therefore took him and +his drawings to Hiram Powers, the sculptor, for the verdict to be +given. The well-known conversation took place after Powers had +examined the work.</p> + +<p>"Shall I make him a painter?" asked Dr. Leighton.</p> + +<p>"Sir, you cannot help yourself; nature has made him one already," +answered the sculptor.</p> + +<p>"What can he hope for, if I let him prepare for this career?"</p> + +<p>"Let him aim at the highest," answered Powers; "he will be certain to +get there."</p> + +<p>Leighton had won: he had now to prove good his cause. Even though +theoretically his father had given in, he yet hoped that, as years +went on, a change in his boy's views might come about; but he was +allowed to work at the Accademia delle belle Arti, under Bezzuoli and +Servolini, and besides continuing his study of anatomy with his +father, Leighton attended classes in the hospital under Zanetti. Of +this time in Florence, one of his life-long friends, Professor Costa, +writes: "I knew, both from himself and from his fellow-students, that +at the age of fourteen Leighton studied at the Academy of Florence +under Bezzuoli and Servolini, who at this time (1842) had a great +reputation. They were celebrated Florentines, excellent good men, but +they could give but little light to this star, which was to become one +of the first magnitude. Leighton, from his innate kindness, loved and +esteemed his old masters much, though not agreeing in the judgment of +his fellow-students that they should be considered on the same level +as the ancient Florentines. 'And who have you,' said Leighton one day +to a certain Bettino (who is still living), 'who resembles your +ancient masters?' And Bettino answered, 'We have still to-day our +great Michael Angelos, and Raffaels, in Bezzuoli, in Servolini, in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_40" id="PageV1_40">[40]</a></span>Ciseri.' But this boy of twelve years old could not believe this, and +one fine day got into the diligence, and left the Academy of Florence +to return to England. Although the diligence went at a great pace, his +fellow-students followed it on foot, running behind it, crying, 'Come +back, Inglesino! come back, Inglesino! come back,' so much was he +loved and respected. He did come back, in fact, many times to Italy, +which he considered as his second fatherland."</p> + +<p>It was, however, at Frankfort, where the family settled in 1843, that +Leighton fell under the real, living art influence of his life, in the +person of Steinle. Leighton described this artist later as "an +intensely fervent Catholic, a man of most striking personality, and of +most courtly manners." In the temperament of this religious Catholic +was united a fervour of feeling with a pure severity in the style of +his art which belonged to the school of the Nazarenes, of which +Steinle was a follower, Overbeck and Pfühler having led the way. A +spiritual ardour and spontaneity placed Steinle on a higher level as +an artist than that on which the rest of the brotherhood stood. +Leighton, boy as he was, at once realised in his master the existence +of that "sincerity of emotion,"—to use his own words when preaching, +nearly forty years later, to the Royal Academy students; a quality +ever considered by him as an essential attribute of the true +artist-nature—of that inner vision of the religious poet, of that +finer fibre of temperament which endowed art in Leighton's eyes with +higher qualities than science or philosophy alone could ever include. +Steinle viewed art with the reverence and nobility of feeling which +accorded with those aspirations that had been hinted to the boy's +nature in his best moments, but which had had no sufficiently clear, +decisive outline to inspire hitherto his actual performances. In +Steinle's work he found the positive expression of those aspirations; +there, in such art, was an absolute confutation of <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_41" id="PageV1_41">[41]</a></span>the creed that art +was but a pleasant recreation, having no backbone in it to influence +the serious work of the world; the creed which meant that, if taken up +as a profession, it led but to the making of money by amusing the +æsthetic sense of the public in a superficial manner. The view taken +by the magnates—the "Barbarians" of the time—was, that unless a +painter were a Raphael, a Titian, or a Reynolds, his position was +little removed from that of the second-rate actor or the dancer. It +was not the profession, but the individual prominence in it which +alone saved the situation. In Steinle, Leighton found an exponent of +art, who reverenced the vocation of art itself as one which should be +sanctified by the purest aims and the highest aspirations.</p> + +<p>In the nature of one who exercises a strong influence over another is +often found the real clue to the nature influenced. Circumstances had +led Leighton to be reserved with regard to his deepest feelings +respecting art, but with Steinle that reserve vanished. Under the +influence of this master he realised an adequate cause for this +deep-rooted, peremptory passion. Steinle's nature explains that of his +pupil; for Leighton was, in an intimate sense, introduced to a full +knowledge of his own self by Steinle. This influence, to use his own +words, written more than thirty years later, was the "indelible seal," +because it made Leighton one with himself. The impress was given which +steadied the whole nature. There was no vagueness of aim, no swaying +to and fro, after he had once made Steinle his master. The religious +nature also of the German artist had thrown a certain spell over him. +Leighton possessed ever the most beautiful of all qualities—the power +of feeling enthusiasm, of loving unselfishly, and generously <i>adoring</i> +what he admired most. Fortunate, it may possibly have been, that his +father's strict training developed his splendid intellectual powers at +an early age; fortunate it certainly was, that, when emancipated from +other trammels, he <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_42" id="PageV1_42">[42]</a></span>entered the service of art under an influence so +pure, so vital in spiritual passion as was that of Steinle.</p> + +<p>However, it was not till Leighton reached the age of seventeen that he +was allowed to give his time uninterruptedly to the study of art. At +that age he had acquired sufficient knowledge of the classics and of +the general lines of knowledge even to satisfy his father. He had also +completely mastered the German, French, and Italian languages. The +vitality of his brain was almost abnormal, otherwise his constitution +was not strong. Constantly such phrases as "I am not ill, but I am +never well" occur in his letters, and he suffered from weakness and +heat, also from "blots" in his eyes, perhaps the result of scarlet +fever, which he had as a child. His school days seem to have had their +<i>mauvais moments</i>. When he was fifteen, his parents and elder sister +went to England, leaving him and his little sister at school during +their holidays. The love for his mother, and his longing to be with +her, is told in the following pathetic appeal:—</p> + +<div class="block1"><p class="right">"<span class="sc">Frankfort a/M.,</span><br /> +<i>Friday, June 26, 1845.</i></p> + +<p>"[<span class="sc">Dear Mamma</span>],—Your letter, which I have just +received, caused me the greatest pleasure, for I have been +anxiously expecting it for three long days. I am very pleased +to hear that Lina is getting stronger, though slowly, and hope +that Hampstead will agree with her and you better than London. +I am very sorry to hear that you are not very well. I hope +that the country will refresh Papa after all his fatigues. I +need not tell you that I was very unhappy when I heard what +you said about my going to England; ever since I have been +here, from the time I wake to the time I go to bed, I think of +London; the other night, indeed, I went in my dream to see the +new British Museum. However, if there is nothing to be +done.... From Hampstead you can see London, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_43" id="PageV1_43">[43]</a></span>there is the +dear old common where I and the Coodes used to play, and the +pretty little lake where I went to slide, and it's such a +pleasant walk to London and the galleries, and ... is there +<i>no</i> little hole left for poor Punch?<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> On the 16th July all +the schoolboys go on a three weeks' journey, whose wing but +yours can take care of me for so long a time? I will ask for +money to buy a clothes-brush, I have none; 2 fl. I spent on +water-colours for the painting lesson, 5 fl. a splendid book, +'Percy's Relics of Old English Poetry,' 1 fl. sundries, my +last florin I lent to Bob, but he was fetched away in a hurry +before his money was given to him, however he said he would +send it me from Mayence, but I have not seen it since. It is a +great bore to have no money; that 1 fl. would have lasted the +second month very well as I only want it for sundries. I have +dismissed Mottes, my <i>new</i> boots have already been <i>re</i>soled, +and he made me wait three weeks for a pair of boots, which of +course I did not take. I wish I had had turning clothes, my +jacket is very shabby, and I cannot afford to put on my best +whilst it goes to the tailor; my black trowsers are ruined, +but I must wear them whilst my blue ones go to be lengthened. +Little Gussy looks very well, she is very well, and has sundry +'zufrieden's' and 'très content's.' On the advice of <i>Pappe</i>, +the master of mathematics and nat. phil., I have got a +'Meierhirsch's Algebraische Aufgaben.' I want a Euclid, mine +is in England, how shall I get at it? I am quite well, but +<i>long</i> to see you all, and to have some <i>wing</i>; pray write +very soon. Give my best love to Papa and Lina, and believe me, +dear Mamma, your affectionate and <i>speckfle</i> son,</p> + +<p class="right sc">F. Leighton."</p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep043" id="imagep043"></a> +<a href="images/imagep043.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep043.jpg" width="50%" alt="Early Comic Drawing, About 1850" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">EARLY COMIC DRAWING, About 1850<br /> +By permission of Mr. Hanson Walker<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>History does not record whether the "little hole for poor Punch" had +been found or not. Together with other studies, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_44" id="PageV1_44">[44]</a></span>Leighton was allowed +to attend the model class at the famous Staedelsches Institut, and, in +1848, when the family went to Brussels, he painted his first picture, +Othello and Desdemona, his elder sister sitting as model for the +Desdemona, and also a portrait of himself. From Brussels he went to +Paris, studying in an <i>atelier</i> in the Rue Richer, among a set of +Bohemian students, and then to Frankfort, to work seriously under his +beloved master Steinle. The following letter to his father shows how +unsatisfactory he considers his studies had been in both Brussels and +Paris, and that now, as he expressed it, he is girding his "loins for +a new race."</p> + +<div class="block1"><p class="right">"<span class="sc">Cronberg</span>, <i>Friday evening</i>.</p> + +<p>"[<span class="sc">Dear Papa</span>],—As I have reason to believe that you +are not indifferent to the fate of the studies which met with +Dielmann's censure, and at the same time opened my eyes to the +fact that I have not yet (to use a German phrase) 'die Natur +mit dem Löffel gefressen,'<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> I now write to tell you that I +have retouched better parts of them, and <i>that</i> to Burger's +satisfaction as well as to mine. Of course some are better +than others. Independently of the intense irritation which bad +sitting (as well you know) occasions to my nerves, they give +me great trouble, and I take it; but this can hardly astonish +me, when I consider that, in point of fact, during the whole +time that has elapsed between my leaving the model class in +the Staedelsches Institut up to my return to Frankfurt, I have +<i>never</i> studied from nature; that I did not in Brussels, I +need not remind you, and you must also remember that +everything I painted in Paris, in the way of portraits, was +done <i>before</i> nature, I grant, but with a certain <i>ideal</i> +colour or tone, the consistency of which might be illustrated +by putting Rubens, Reynolds, Titian, Tom Lawrence, Vandyke, +Velasquez, Correggio, Carracci, Rembrandt, and Rafael into a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_45" id="PageV1_45">[45]</a></span>kaleidoscope, and setting them in a rotatory motion, in a +word—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When taken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well shaken.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">(What's his name—Hem!)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="noin">I am therefore girding my loins for a new race, far from +discouraged, but rather with the persuasion that one with my +innate love for colouring, and, I think I may add, sharp +perception of the merits and demerits of the colouring of +others, has a fair chance of success; nor am I dissatisfied +with my beginning."</p></div> + +<p>In the year 1849, he went to London to paint the portrait of his +great-uncle, Mr. I'Anson, Lady Leighton's brother, and wrote to his +father and mother the following:—</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>"Fleeced at Malines—very fine passage—slept well, why the +deuce had not I a carpet bag? horrid inconvenience! my chest +of drawers twenty feet below the surface of the deck, obliged +to get on friendly terms with a sailor to borrow a comb (which +had got blue with usage)—lovely brown tints about my shirt, +cuffs more picturesque than tidy; two hours stifling in that +confounded hole of a waiting-room in the custom house; arrive +at last at Mr. I'Anson's at about three o'clock; as he was not +at home I dressed and ran half round London before dinner; +crossed Kensington Gardens, saw the outside of the Exhibition, +went down Hyde Park, along Green Park, stared at Buckingham +Palace, rushed down St. James' Park, flew up Waterloo Place, +made a dive at Trafalgar Square, and a lunge at Pall Mall, +gasped all along Regent Street, turned up Oxford Street, bent +round to the Edgware Road, and from there the whole length of +Oxford Terrace, I brought home a very fine appetite!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_46" id="PageV1_46">[46]</a></span>"[<span class="sc">My dearest Mother</span>],—I have resumed my Uncle's +likeness, and as far as it goes (the head is done) very +successfully. Will you tell Papa from me that it is more +'aufgefasst' (as I expected) than 'durchgeführt,' but that I +have seized the <i>twinkle</i> of his mouth to a T.</p> + +<p>"Mr. I'Anson treats me with the utmost kindness, it is of +course superfluous to tell you that I enjoy myself beyond +measure.</p> + +<p>"I am a very slow writer—I am without readiness either of +thought or speech owing to the picturesque confusion which +possesses my brain, and not, God knows, from a phlegmatic +habit of mind."</p></div> + +<p>Letter to his mother from Norfolk Terrace, Hyde Park:—</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>"[<span class="sc">Dearest Mother</span>],—I have received your kind letter, +and conclude from your silence on that point that Lina is now +getting on well. In order to avoid losing time on fluency of +style, I shall follow, strictly as I find them, the heads of +your epistle, and answer them in the same succession. First, I +hasten to thank you and Papa for your kind permission to +prolong my stay, a permission which I value the more that I +know that Papa was desirous I should return as soon as +possible. You tell me, dear Mamma, that I am not to lose time +in seeing the <i>lions</i> of London, and Papa, in his displeasure +at my having done so little as yet towards the real object of +my visit, seems to imply an idea that I <i>have</i> been so doing; +I regret very much that you should entertain that notion, and +assure you that I have neither hitherto dreamt, nor have +ultimate intention, of seeing that long list of wonders, the +Colosseum, the polytechnic, the cosmorama, the diorama, the +panorama, the polyorama, the overland mail, Catlin's +exhibition, the Chinese exhibition, nor even Wild's great +globe, for that, I am told, costs five shillings; this is a +decided case of 'Frappe, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_47" id="PageV1_47">[47]</a></span>mais écoute.' And if Papa did not +think that I had so wasted my time, is it not very certain +that, if I had not thought it a matter of duty, I would not +have tired myself making what I most hate, calls, instead of +seeing works of art?</p> + +<p>"Lady Leighton looked in some respects worse, and in some much +better, than I expected; I was surprised to see her walk with +her back bent, and leaning on a stick; but I was more +surprised still to see a face so free, comparatively, from +wrinkles, and bearing such evident traces of former beauty. +Her reception was of the warmest; in her anxiety lest I should +be lonely and uncomfortable in an inn, she insisted on my +sleeping in her house. She talked much, long, and <i>well</i>, +though slowly and in a suppressed tone; she dwelt tenderly on +Papa's name, and advocated warmly our return to England. I saw +two letters which she wrote to her brother, my uncle, and +which were both most elegantly written; both contained a +paragraph in allusion to me; in the first, written before my +visit (in answer to one in which my uncle had prepared her for +seeing me), she expresses herself most <i>eager to receive and +to love the grandson, of whom all speak so highly</i>; in the +second, written after my return to London, she says that her +<i>dear and fascinating grandson amply realises all her +expectations</i>, and that seeing him has increased that pain +which she feels at being separated from us all.</p> + +<p>"Now, I will give you a <i>catalogue raisonné</i> of whom I have +seen: Cowpers, this you know; Smyths, ditto; Laings, very +kind, though Mr. Laing, like the Cowpers, did not know me till +I mentioned my name; Wests, exceedingly kind, invitation to +dinner; Richardsons, motherly reception, party, given for me; +Moffatt, very <i>prévenant</i>, asked me twice to dinner, both of +which invitations I was unfortunately obliged to refuse, but +wrote a very civil note, and went next morning in person to +apologise; Hall, dreadfully busy, but gave me cards to +Maclise, Goodall, Frith, Ward, Frost; Maclise was not at home, +but <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_48" id="PageV1_48">[48]</a></span>I found Goodall, Ward, and Frith, and was pleased with my +visits. There is a new school in England, and a very promising +one; correctly drawn historical <i>genre</i> seems to me the best +definition of it. They tell me there is a fine opening for an +historical painter of merit, and that talent never fails to +succeed in London. Goodall, a young man about thirty, who +painted 'The Village Festival,' in the Vernon Gallery, and of +which you have an engraving in one of your Art Journal +numbers, sells his pictures direct from the easel; and he does +not stand alone. Sir Ch. Eastlake received me very politely, +but looks a great invalid; Lance, very jolly, and Fripp, +ditto. Bovills and E. I'Ansons, very kind, invitations, of +course; Mackens, you know; I have found no time to call on Dr. +Holland, Mr. Shedden, or Tusons.</p> + +<p>"Having told you <i>whom</i>, I will now tell you rapidly <i>what</i>, I +have seen: Vernon Gallery, very much gratified; Dulwich +Gallery, very much disappointed; British Institution, ditto; +National Gallery, pictures magnificent, locality disgraceful, +I must make another visit there; Royal Academy, on the whole, +satisfactory; British Museum, very fine; Mogford's Collection, +very indifferent; Marquis of Westminster (Mr. Laing), very +fine indeed; private collection (through interest of Mr. +Moffatt), delightful; Windsor, <i>Vandyke</i>, superb; <i>Lawrence</i>, +a wretched quack. Time presses—<i>la suite au prochain +numéro</i>."</p></div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep048" id="imagep048"></a> +<a href="images/imagep048.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep048.jpg" width="55%" alt="Mr. I'Anson, Lord Leighton's Great-Uncle. 1850" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">MR. I'ANSON, LORD LEIGHTON'S GREAT-UNCLE. 1850<br /> +By permission of Mr. E. I'Anson<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>The portrait of his great-uncle, Mr. I'Anson, here reproduced, proves +that the visit to London effected the desired result. On his return to +Frankfort he painted the portraits of Lady Cowley and her three +children. Lady Cowley writes: "I am delighted with the pictures of my +dear little girls, and again return you my most sincere thanks for +having painted them." And in another letter: "I should have called on +Mrs. Leighton all these days, had I not been very unwell with the +grippe, as I wished to express to her, as well as to yourself, how +very grateful I am for the beautiful portrait you have <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_49" id="PageV1_49">[49]</a></span>made of my +little Frederick. I am quite delighted with it, as well as every one +else who has seen it. Besides being extremely like, it is such a good +painting that it must always be appreciated. Ever yours sincerely, +Olive Cecilia Cowley." In the spring of 1852, Leighton, being then +twenty-one, went to Bergheim, to paint the portraits of Count +Bentinck's family. He writes from there:—</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>"[<span class="sc">Dearest Mamma</span>],—Having naturally a reflecting turn +of mind, I am struck with the truth of the following aphorism: +'It's all very well to say I'll be blowed, but where's the +wind?' Circumstances induce me to deliver a sentiment of a +parallel tendency; it's all very well to say 'mind you write'; +but where's the post? A deficiency in that latter commodity is +a leading feature in the economy of the principality of +Waldeck; so much so, that any individual residing in Bergheim, +and desiring to carry on a correspondence 'ins Ausland,' is +obliged to take advantage of the privilege freely granted him +by the liberal constitution of the country of carrying his own +letters to the first frontier town of the next state, and +having posted them, waiting for an answer. I, however, +<i>knowing my privileges</i>, and not being desirous of availing +myself of them in <i>that line</i>, humbly and modestly send these +lines by my hostess's flunkey, who is going to Fritzlar +to-morrow on an errand of a similar description. <i>N.B.</i>—If +you want a person to receive an epistle within a fortnight +(that is allowing you to be a neighbour), you must chalk up +<i>per express</i> on the back of it, in consideration of which he +or she will receive it through the medium of a hot messenger, +much, and naturally, fatigued and excited by a journey +performed at the rate of half a mile an hour, not including +the pauses in which the <i>inner man</i> is refreshed and +invigorated by a cordial gulp of 'branny un worrer.'</p> + +<p>"Fancy a man getting to a place, by appointment, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_50" id="PageV1_50">[50]</a></span>expecting a +carriage and trimmings to take him to a lovely retirement in +the country, and finding—devil a bit of it! Well that's +precisely what did not happen to me when I got to Waldeck, +because although the carriage was not there, there was a +letter to say it could not come. The road to Bergheim, which +crosses a river of no mean pretensions without the assistance +of a bridge (other advantageous peculiarity of the state of +Waldeck), was, it appeared, rendered impracticable by an +inundation of the torrent alluded to; it was therefore +proposed to me (without an option) to perform the journey on +the top of an <i>oss</i> provided for the purpose and accompanied +by a groom mounted on another; I willingly accept an offer so +much to my taste, and for the first time after a lapse of +nearly three years put a leg on each side of a steed. The +first part of the road was executed at a round trot on a very +nice level <i>chaussée</i>, but I cannot say that I felt altogether +at home on my saddle. An eye to effect is nevertheless kept +open, which is manifested by my catching up two drowsy, +drawling, jingling 'po shays' and sweeping past them with +supreme contempt, but at a great expense of my lumbar muscles. +Presently, however, my continuation-clad members began to thaw +a little, and to adapt themselves to the saddle, which also +lost some of its rigid severity; I began to feel very +comfortable, and, by Jove! it was a good job I did, for on +getting out of Fritzlar, we left the high road (for reasons +above given) and plunged into a rugged, donkey-shay sort of +by-path in which the ruts were without exaggeration a foot +deep. Nothing daunted, however, I make light of this 'terrain +légèrement accidenté,' cross stream and ride along tattered +banks with the nonchalance of the Chinese Mandarin in the +Exhibition of '51; in fact, such is my confidence in myself, +that I at last begin to feel above my stirrups, I scorn them, +fling them over my saddle, and perform without their +assistance the rest of the journey to within <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_51" id="PageV1_51">[51]</a></span>half a mile of +Bergheim, and that on a road the profile of which was about +this:</p> + +<p>(Here was drawn a line representing a hill-side almost +perpendicular.)</p> + +<p>"On my arrival I am of course kindly received by the Countess +(her husband is still at Oldenburg), got my tea, and go to bed +rather stiff after an equestrian performance of about two +hours and a half. The house is large and rambling, fifteen +windows in a row, and yet I cannot get a satisfactory light, +the only available north room looking on a lane, the +white-washed houses of which reflect disagreeably on the +picture, whenever the sun shines. However I must make up my +mind to it and do my best; I am at present painting the +Countess."</p></div> + +<div class="block1"><p class="right">"<span class="sc">Bergheim</span>, <i>Sunday</i>.</p> + +<p>"[<span class="sc">Dear Mamma</span>],—In the midst of my anxious +expectations of a letter from you, it suddenly occurred to me +that I had forgotten to give you my direction; in the full +confidence that <i>late is far preferable to never</i>, I now +hasten to make up for my omission—</p> + +<p class="cen"> +Mons. F. Leighton<br /> +bei<br /> +Ihrer Erlauchten der Gräfin von<br /> +Waldeck und Pyrmont<br /> +zu Bergheim<br /> +bei Fritzlar<br /> +Fürstenthum Waldeck.</p> + +<p>"<i>N.B.</i>—You will not forget to write <i>per express</i> on the top +of the envelope; for reasons, see my letter of last Sunday.</p> + +<p>"Being sorely pressed for time, I now huddle on to the rest of +the paper a few loose remarks, for the incoherency of which I +crave your indulgence.</p> + +<p>"The aspect of affairs is much changed since my last epistle; +then, I was looking forward with anxious though sanguine +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_52" id="PageV1_52">[52]</a></span>expectation to the labour before me; now, I look back on one +portrait (that of the Countess), achieved to the great +satisfaction of those for whom it is intended, and contemplate +with satisfaction the progress which the other is making in +the same direction. I must, however, add that, owing to the +necessary absence of the Countess for two days next week, my +return home will be delayed in proportion, as I have a few +more touches to give to the portrait of my eldest patient, +whose husband is desirous of taking it over to England with +him. (I shall probably be with you Saturday afternoon—at all +events I shall let you know beforehand.)</p> + +<p>"What I said a few lines back will have suggested to you what +I am now going to add; Colonel B. is now returned from +Oldenburg, and will probably be in London in the early part or +middle of June; he is <i>much</i> pleased with the pictures, and in +his kindness has promised me an introduction to his brother in +town, and also to another relation, whose name I have +forgotten; the result of which is to be: access to the +collections of Lord Ellesmere, Duke of Sutherland, and Sir +Robert Peel. I told Colonel B. that if on his road to or from +Toeplitz in the autumn he should pass through Frankfurt, I +should be very glad if he could bring the pictures with him, +as they would both want a varnish, and the children probably a +few glazes and touches; he said that he would make a point of +so doing, that indeed after all the trouble and pains I had +taken for him, it was the least he <i>could</i> do; for these and +other reasons (not unimportant) which I shall communicate when +I see you, you need not regret my having made two journeys to +paint his wife and children.</p> + +<p>"That I spend one of the days of the Countess' absence in +seeing <i>Wilhelmshöhe</i>, a sight reputed unique of its kind, +will, I hope, not seem unreasonable.</p> + +<p>"I have noted down, as they occurred to me, during the <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_53" id="PageV1_53">[53]</a></span>last +few days one or two little arrangements, relative to my +approaching journey, which I would ask you to make during my +absence, trusting at the same time that if in the meanwhile +anything else should occur to your provident mind, and be +transmitted to your <i>many-knotted</i> pocket-handkerchief, you +will kindly carry it into execution, in order to avoid delay +when I return from the country, as <i>my</i> time will be almost +entirely taken up by Lady P.'s [Pollington's] sitting and the +<i>business calls</i> I have to make.</p> + +<p>"Will Papa kindly order a tin case for my compositions; it +should be a plain cylinder, about an inch and a half in +diameter, with a lid at one end; let its length be that of my +'Four Seasons.'</p> + +<p>"To my amazement I have just received a letter from you, dear +Mamma—<i>did</i> I give you my direction? You forgot the <i>per +express</i> on the back of the letter. Pray write soon. Much love +and many kisses to all.—Your dutiful and affectionate son,</p> + +<p class="right sc">F. Leighton."</p> +</div> + +<p>Soon after Leighton's return to Frankfort Lord Cowley was appointed +British Ambassador in Paris, and writes the following letters. The +invitation he gives to Leighton to make his home at the Embassy while +pursuing his studies was not accepted, Steinle's teaching being only +given up later for the charms of Italy.</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>"<span class="sc">My dear Mr. Leighton</span>,—I am more obliged than I can +say by the kindness you have shown in painting portraits of my +children. I never saw anything so like, or in general so +pleasing, as the portrait of Frederic, and I only regret that +it is not in England to be seen and appreciated. Once more +accept my thanks, and believe me to be very truly yours,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Cowley."</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_54" id="PageV1_54">[54]</a></span>"<i>Sunday Afternoon.</i></p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">My dear Mr. Leighton</span>,—It has been quite out of my +power to get to your house, as I had intended, to take leave +of you, and to thank you again for the valuable reminiscence +which through your talent and kindness I carry away with me. +It will give Lady Cowley and myself great pleasure if you will +visit us at Paris. You cannot find a better school of study +than the Louvre, and we shall be most happy to lodge and take +care of you.</p> + +<p>"Pray present my best compliments to the members of your +family.</p> + +<p>"I regret very much not being able to do it in person.—Very +faithfully,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Cowley."</p> +</div> + +<p>On his return from Waldeck, Leighton painted the portrait of Lady +Pollington, one of his Frankfort acquaintances.</p> + +<p>During these years, when Leighton studied under Steinle, his family +lived also at Frankfort, and therefore few other letters written at +that time exist. There was a journey to Holland, made during the early +summer of 1852, from England, where he and his family had returned for +a visit. The journey back to Frankfort, <i>viâ</i> Holland, is the subject +of a long letter to his mother.</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>"There I am at the Hague. Pretty place, the Hague, clean, +quaint, cheerful, <i>and</i> ain't the Dutch just fond of smoking +out of long clay pipes! <i>And</i> the pictures, <i>Oh</i> the pictures, +<i>Ah</i> the pictures! That magnificent Rembrandt! glowing, +flooded with light, clear as amber, and do you twig the <i>grey</i> +canvas? <i>What</i> Vandykes! what dignity, calm, gently breathing, +and a searching thoughtfulness in the gaze, amounting almost +to fascination; and only look at that Velasquez, sparkling, +clear, dashing; Paul Potter, too, only <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_55" id="PageV1_55">[55]</a></span>twenty-two years old +when he painted that bull, and just look at it; Jan Steen, +Terburg, Teniers, <i>Giov. Bellini</i> (splendid), &c. &c. There I +catch myself bearing something in mind: 'And yet, after all' +(with an argumentative hitch of the cravat), 'all that those +fellows had in advance of us was a palette and brushes, and +<i>that</i> we've got too!' I walk down to Scheveningen, and +sentimentalise on the seashore; I find the briny deep in a +very good humour, and offer <i>you</i> mental congratulations.</p> + +<p>"About the Rembrandt at Amsterdam, I say nothing, for it is a +picture not to be described. I can only say that, in it, the +great master surpasses himself; with the exception, however, +of this and the Vanderhelst opposite to it, which is full of +spirit and individuality, the <i>Ryko Museum</i> is tolerably flat. +After a dull afternoon, I hurry off to Arnheim, and to +Mayence, and to Frankfurt, where I arrive on Wednesday +evening. From Cologne to Frankfurt, Janauschek<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> was on the +same conveyance as myself; I made her acquaintance, which was +a great blessing to me on that tedious, cockney-hackneyed +journey. She is lady-like, interesting, amiable, and +<i>severely</i> proper, almost cold; she observed the strictest +incognito. Towards evening, however, when she had ascertained +that I was a resident at Frankfurt, and therefore probably +knew her perfectly well, and that I was an artist, which +excited her sympathy, and that my name was Leighton, a name +with which she was acquainted (through Schroedter and others) +as that of one of the most talented young artists of Frankfurt +(hem!), she relaxed considerably. She has a melancholy and +most interesting look, and talks very despondently of the +state of dramatic art nowadays. I made myself useful to her at +the station, and she was warmly grateful. About my picture<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> +(which I have entrusted to Steinle's care) <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_56" id="PageV1_56">[56]</a></span>I have nothing to +communicate, except that I am confirmed in thinking that it +has been universally well received; even Becker seems to like +it in many respects—of course you know that the leading fault +is that it was painted under his rival; Oppenheim said (when I +talked of it as a daub) that he wished he could daub so, and +that he promised me a great future; Prince Gortschakoff (who, +by the by, preferred the portraits, and judges with all the +<i>aplomb</i> of a Count Briez) introduced himself to me in the +gallery, and told me in the course of conversation that he +regretted very much having no work of mine, adding that he +only bought masters of the first order; <i>that</i> was a +compliment, at all events; Dr. Schlemmer has been very kind to +me, and has given me a letter for Venice; I dined with him on +Sunday, and made the acquaintance of Felix Mendelssohn's +widow, a charming woman."</p></div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep055" id="imagep055"></a> +<a href="images/imagep055.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep055.jpg" width="52%" alt="The Death of Brunelleschi" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"THE DEATH OF BRUNELLESCHI." 1851<br /> +By permission of Dr. Von Steinle<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep056" id="imagep056"></a> +<a href="images/imagep056.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep056.jpg" width="85%" alt="The Plague in Florence" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"THE PLAGUE IN FLORENCE." 1851<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>Between the years 1849 and 1852 Leighton painted, besides the +portraits mentioned, three finished pictures, "Cimabue finding Giotto +in the Fields of Florence," "The Duel between Romeo and Tybalt," and +"The Death of Brunelleschi"; and also made the notable drawing, now in +the Victoria and Albert Museum, of a scene during the plague in +Florence. His master, Steinle, easily discerned that Leighton was +truly enamoured of Italy; the subjects he chose were Italian, and his +memory was full of the charm and fascination of the country which he +ever referred to, to the end of his life, as his second home. It was +decided that he should go to Rome, his father having determined to +leave Frankfort and to reside at Bath, where his mother, Lady +Leighton, was then living. Steinle gave Leighton an introduction to +his friend and fellow "Nazarene," Cornelius, and on the eve of his +departure his mother wrote a farewell letter of "injunctions," +flavoured happily by hints of humour. There is something very quaint +to those who knew Leighton after he was thirty in the admonitions +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_57" id="PageV1_57">[57]</a></span>with regard to manners and politeness, which occur in several of his +mother's letters.</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>"<span class="sc">My dearest Child</span>,—As we are about to part, you may +perhaps think you will be rid of my lectures, but no, I leave +you some injunctions in writing, so that you will not be able +to urge the plea of forgetfulness if you continue your +negligent habits, though you certainly may <i>forget</i> to read +what I write—but I trust to your love and respect for me, +though the latter needs cultivation nearly as much as habits +of refinement in you. I have no new advice to give you, I can +but repeat what I have urged on you many times from your +childhood upwards; I do implore you, let your conscience be +your guide amidst all temptations, they will be such as they +have never yet been to you, as you will henceforward have no +other restraint on your actions than what is self-imposed. I +beseech you, do not suffer your disbelief in the dogmas of the +Protestant Church to weaken the belief I hope you entertain of +the existence of a Supreme Being. Strive to obey the law He +has implanted in us, which approves good and condemns evil, +though the struggle for the mastery between these principles +is sometimes fearful, as every one knows, especially in youth. +My precious child, if one sinful mortal's prayer for another +could avail, how carefully would you be preserved from moral +evil (the greatest of all evil); but I need not tell you there +is no royal road to Heaven any more than to excellence in +inferior objects, every advantage must be obtained by energy +and perseverance. May God help you to keep free of the +greatest of all miseries, an upbraiding conscience; for though +this can be deadened for a time in the hurry of life while +youth lasts, there comes an hour when life loses its +attractions, and <i>then</i> issues the troubled consequence of +merry deeds. I am aware you have heard all this a hundred +times, and better expressed, but it will bear repetition; and +now that it is your <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_58" id="PageV1_58">[58]</a></span>mother who is counselling you, you will +not, I trust, turn a deaf ear.</p> + +<p>"I can but repeat what I have continually told you—to refine +your feelings you must neither utter nor encourage a coarse +thought. It would be an inexpressible pleasure to me to leave +you confirmed in good habits; but wishes are idle. I trust to +your desire to improve in all ways and to please me. The next +sheet I wrote some time ago, intending to rewrite it, but the +trouble is too great for my shaking hands, and I add what I +have written to-day on separate pieces of paper. I have +written enough; I have only now to add an entreaty that you +will not throw these admonitions away, but sometimes read +them, remembering they come warm from your mother's heart.</p> + +<p>"My child, your manners are very faulty, and I am consequently +much disappointed. You take so much after me, and my nearest +relations had such refined manners, that I made sure you must +resemble my father and brothers. There is, however, nothing on +earth to prevent your becoming the gentleman I wish to see +you, and remember to write ineffaceably on the tablets of your +memory, 'Too much familiarity breeds contempt.' You remember +how seriously young ——'s forwardness has been commented on. +Well, it is true, you have never, as far as I know, spoken as +he has done; but as I have seldom seen you in company, nor +your father either, without observing some want of politeness, +is it not probable that other people have their eyes open +also?"</p></div> + +<p>These admonitions received, Leighton started on his journey to Rome. +At Innsbruck, on August 18, 1852, he began to write a Diary, in order +that his mother should hear the details of his travels, and to serve +"as a clue" by which he might one day recall the "impressions and +emotions of the years of his artistic noviciate."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_59" id="PageV1_59">[59]</a></span>Leighton's utterances on paper in these early days display the same +intense exuberance of vitality which, during the whole of his notable +career, served to spur on his mental and emotional powers to perform +with great completeness all the various kinds of work which he +undertook; a vitality which conquered triumphantly the effects of +indifferent health and troubled eyesight. In the diaries and letters +is also to be traced the existence of that Greek-like combination of +qualities so characteristic of Leighton—namely, explicit precision in +his thought and expression, and a subtle power of analysis, united +with great emotional sensitiveness and enthusiastic warmth of +temperament. His feeling for beauty was an intoxicating joy to him. +Heartfelt and genuine joy engendered by beauty in nature and art is +not a very common feeling among the moderns, though so much fuss is +made by many in our day in their endeavours to become "<i>artistic</i>"; +but, as a ruling guide, beauty has gone out of fashion. The accounts +that Leighton gives of his ecstasies in the presence of beautiful +scenes, enforce the belief entertained by those who knew him best, +that it was the power which beauty exercised over him that developed +his exceptional strength in all artistic directions. What force in the +over-riding of difficulties does not passion give to the lover! No +less a force was engendered in Leighton by the inspiration of the +beauty of nature.</p> + +<p>In the letter to his mother, which accompanies the Diary, referring to +the joy he has been experiencing, Leighton adds: "I feel almost a kind +of shame that so much should have been poured down on me. I will put +my talent to usury, and be no slothful steward of what has been +entrusted to me. Every man who has received a gift ought to feel and +act as if he was a field in which a seed was planted, that others +might gather the harvest." The purity of purpose which guided +Leighton's life to the end, generated first by the precepts of his +mother in the fertile soil of his own beautiful <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_60" id="PageV1_60">[60]</a></span>nature, subsequently +developed by the teaching of the high-minded Steinle, and finally +established later by other elevating influences, chastened the +emotional side of Leighton's passion for beauty, and disentangled it +even in the earliest days from lower and purely sensuous +contamination. The puritanical attitude of mind towards beauty +appeared to Leighton absolutely impure and desecrating, in that it +associated influences and feelings which are of the lowest with the +appreciation of God's most beautiful creations, and some of man's +highest aspirations with sensations entirely degraded and unworthy.</p> + +<p>Fun and humour abound in the family letters, and in the Diary. +Leighton was never guilty of being sentimental, and when referring to +the word <i>ideal</i> in one of his letters, he writes he "hates such +stuff." After he died, it was written of him: "He was no idealist; +needless to say, he was no materialist, no one less so; nor does the +term realist seem to recall his nature. He was—if such a word can be +used—an actualist, the actual was to him of primary importance. But +the actual meant a great deal more to Leighton than it does to most of +us. Life and its vivid interests was spread over a much wider area; so +many more of its various ingredients were such very actual entities to +him."<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a></p> + +<p>And when Leighton started, at the age of twenty-one, to begin his +independent life, we feel that it is with the <i>actual</i> that he +grappled—the actual in his sensations, his feelings, his impressions, +his conditions. An unmistakable note of reality rings through his +description of all these. He has no tendency, even unconsciously, when +under the glamour of the most entrancing impressions, to colour the +picture other than he <i>actually</i> saw it. In the strength of his own +real nature he goes forth on the journey of life.</p> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_61" id="PageV1_61">[61]</a></span><br /> + +<h4>DIARY</h4> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Innsbruck</span>, <i>August 18, 1852</i>.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">I contemplate the life and adventures of Mr. Thumb.</div> + +<p>"When Hop o' my Thumb, a nursery hero of European note, first sallied +out into the world with an eye to making a fortune, his first step was +(justly foreseeing what the world would expect of the hero of a future +romance) to lose himself in a large and horrid forest, in which it was +pitch dark all day long, and nothing was heard but ... &c. &c. (Here +see biog. of H.O'M. Thumb, Esq., vol. i.)</p> + +<p>"Now, in those days mile-posts were not yet come in, and maps were +excessively expensive; how, then, was H.O'M.T., after he should have +realised a large independence, to find his way back through this +intricate waste? Here admire the man of parts and sagacity! '<i>He +determined</i>,' says the historian, '<i>to drop pebbles in a row all along +the path</i>'!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">and adopt one of his measures,</div> + +<p>"Admirable Thumb! I, too, purpose, as I stroll along, to drop every +now and then mental pebbles, which shall serve as a connecting link +between the past and the future, and as a clue by which I may one day +recall the emotions and impressions of the years of my artistic +noviciate.</p> + +<p>"Be with me, oh Thumb!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">but make a reservation.</div> + +<p>"<i>N.B.</i>—Quality of pebbles not warranted.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>PEBBLES</h4> + +<div class="sidenote">Pebble I.</div> + +<p>"Kind, affectionate, earnest Steinle!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A tribute of affection and respect for my dear Steinle.</div> + +<p>"In a record of whatever concerns me as an artist, <i>his</i> name should +be at the beginning, in the middle, and at the end. <i>Now</i>, at the +beginning, for our parting is still painfully present to my mind; our +parting, and the last few days we spent together: the sad face and +moistened eye with which he watched the diligence in which I rolled +off from Bregenz; his <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_62" id="PageV1_62">[62]</a></span>fitful way, when we travelled together—one +moment jovial and facetious, another laying his hand affectionately on +my shoulder and remaining silent; his saying to me before I started, +'I shall be all alone to-morrow, here, and yet I shall be with you all +the day.'...</p> + +<p>"<i>In the middle</i>, all through, and to the end—because if ever, +hereafter, my works wear the mark of a pure taste, if ever I succeed +in raising some portion of the public to the level of high art, rather +than obsequiously acquiesce in the judgments of the tasteless and the +ignorant, and if I keep alive, to the end, the active conviction that +an artist, who deserves the name, never ceases to learn, the key of +such success will be in one name: Steinle; in having constantly borne +in mind his precept, and his example.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">I find on reflection that though I started a week ago, I am +only just gone!</div> + +<div class="sidenote">I look forward,</div> + +<p>"Although a week has already elapsed since I left Frankfurt, so long +my home, it is only now that I have parted from Steinle that I really +feel that I have taken the great step, that I have opened the +introductory chapter of the second volume of my life, a volume on the +title-page of which is written "Artist." It seems to me that my +wanderings began at <i>Bregenz</i>, and that in retracing, as I presently +shall, my route until I got there, I am tearing open again leaves that +were closed—to remain so. I seize the opportunity offered by this +first day of repose to take breath, and, as I stand within the +threshold, to look before me and reconnoitre. Italy rises before my +mind. Sunny Italy! the land that I have so long yearned after with +ardent longing, and that has dwelt in my memory since last I saw it as +a never-fading, gentle-beckoning image of loveliness; I am about again +to tread the soil of that beloved country, the day-dream of long years +is to become a reality. I am enraptured!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">but don't feel quite <i>it</i>.</div> + +<p>"And yet—how is it that my pleasure is not unalloyed? that I +involuntarily shrink from grasping the height of my wishes? It is +because I feel a kind of sacred awe at breaking through <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_63" id="PageV1_63">[63]</a></span>the charm +that has been so long gathering around the image that I have carried +in my inward heart, as one who loves, at touching with cold <i>reality</i> +that which has so long been the far removed object of dreamy, sweetly +melancholy longings!</p> + +<p>"I cannot help thinking that an imaginative man must feel something +similar when on the point of changing courtship for marriage.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Get better.</div> + +<p>"Other thoughts, too, assail me, and sometimes make me uneasy. 'Do I +fully feel....' No, 'Shall I <i>continue</i> fully to feel the immense +importance to me of the three or four years now before me? feel that +they will be the corner-stone of my career, for good or for evil? +Shall I have the energy to carry out all my resolutions? Shall I +fulfil what I have promised?'... Then I think of Steinle, and I feel +reassured.</p> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<br /> + +<div class="sidenote">Pebble II.</div> + +<p>"Let me come to the point, to the description of my journey; but +before I begin, let me remember that, whilst of all my friends and +companions only <i>three</i> were present at my departure,—one of them was +there in order to give me a commission, and another to acknowledge a +service,—old General Bentinck did not think it too great an exertion +to see off, at eight in the morning, one, three times younger than +himself.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Middelburgh, August 11.</div> + +<p>"My first day's journey took me to Middelburgh, along the Bergstrasse, +which we all know, and of which I therefore say nothing, and yet I +enjoyed it more than I ever had done before; it was one of those cool, +clear, <i>opalescent</i> mornings, in which all nature looks as if it was +teeming with health and freshness; there was something exhilarating, +too, in the atmosphere, which very much increased my enjoyment; I +looked upon familiar scenes, but I saw them in a new light; it seemed +to me as if I was reading nature in a new book.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Stift Neuburg.</div> + +<p>"On arriving at Heidelberg, I hurried at once, by appointment with +Steinle, to a place in the neighbourhood called <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_64" id="PageV1_64">[64]</a></span>'Stift Neuburg,' the +property and residence of Frau Rath Schlosser, the widow of his old +and intimate friend, Rath Schlosser.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">I enjoy myself.</div> + +<div class="sidenote">Heilbronn, August 12.</div> + +<p>"Picture to yourself, just where the Neckar makes a graceful curve, +about a mile above Heidelberg, half-way up a rich and sunny slope, +chequered with clustering vineyards and luxuriant meadows, an old, +picturesque convent, with its adjoining chapel and appurtenant dairies +and farmhouses, the whole group raised up on a lofty, timeworn, +weather-beaten terrace—and you will form some idea of <i>the Stift</i>. +There I spent the afternoon in the most charming possible manner, +whether in wandering with Steinle along the solitary, shady walks of +the convent garden, or in snuffing about in the vaulted, mildew old +library (which, by the by, contains six or seven thousand valuable and +curious books), or the silent chapel, with its stained-glass windows, +or in looking through Frau Rath's magnificent collection of drawings +by German artists, or, finally, in enjoying the conversation of the +Frau Rath herself, who is a most clever and amiable old lady. The next +morning (for I spent the night there) after all breakfasting together, +we went down by a postern gate to the river-side, and awaited the +arrival of the Heilbronn steamer; general leave-taking, shaking of +hands, gratitude and thanks on the one side, on the other reiterated +invitations for the future, which I sincerely hope I may one day be +able to meet. The valley of the Neckar as far as Heilbronn, where we +arrived on the evening of the same day, is dull enough in all +conscience; indeed, had it not been for the company and always +interesting conversation of Steinle, I really do not know what I +should have done with myself; such a contrast with the preceding day!</p> + +<p>"Between Heilbronn and the Lake of Constance, however, a new scene +opens out; I see Germany under a totally new aspect, I understand at +last what German poets mean when they rave about the lovely +'Schwabenland' and call it the <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_65" id="PageV1_65">[65]</a></span>'Perle deutscher Gauen'; I can now +imagine the existence of <i>landed patriotism</i> (if I may be allowed the +expression) among the Germans coming from that part of the country. It +is, indeed, an enchanting panorama; a never-ceasing variety of rich, +profusely fertile valleys, studded with cheerful, bright-looking, +home-inviting villages, and enclosed by chains of gently undulating +hills. The corn was ripe, and waved in golden stripes across the +variegated plains; the peasants, a picturesque, good-humoured set, +were scattered over the fields, some mowing down the heavy laden +wheat, others binding it into graceful sheaves; in one respect the +scene reminded me of my own dear country: it looked as if a blessing +were on it.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Ulm: its cathedral</div> + +<p>"On our road we passed through Ulm,<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> and visited the cathedral, +some parts of which (especially the portico) are very beautiful and +elegant; the interior contains a magnificent and highly elaborate +tabernacle, and some wood-carving by Syrlin of exquisite workmanship; +the whole, however, left a melancholy impression on both of us, +especially on Steinle, who is an ardent Catholic. It stands neglected +and half-finished, in the midst of a miserable, rambling town-village, +a thing of olden times, for whose presence one can hardly account. It +was built, or rather, begun, as a monument of Catholicism; the country +round it has become Protestant; itself has been protestantized; it has +been disfigured by an incongruous heap of business-like pews; it is no +longer accessible at every hour of the day, from Sunday to Sunday its +walls re-echo no sound but the occasional tread of the pew-opener, as +he dusts the seats of those who pay him for it; the soul has left the +grey old pile; it is a stately corpse. What artist, however uncatholic +in his belief, can contemplate those old Gothic churches, with their +glorious tabernacles and other ornaments equally beautiful and equally +disused, without painfully feeling what <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_66" id="PageV1_66">[66]</a></span>an almost deadly blow the +Reformation was to High Art, what a powerful incentive it removed, +irrecoverably? Who, in his heart of hearts, can but dwell with +melancholy regret on the times when art was coupled with belief, and +so many divine works were virtually expressions of faith? What a +purifying and ennobling influence was thus exercised over the taste of +the artist! an influence which nothing can replace. This influence was +incalculably great; no dwelling was so humble but it owned a crucifix; +no artist so poor in capacity but endeavoured to produce something not +unworthy of his subject; the general <i>tone</i> of taste thus produced +reacted on everything; witness the most insignificant doorlatch or +ornament that remains to us from the Middle Ages. Is it not remarkable +that the first artists of the modern day, in the higher walk of art, I +mean, are <i>Catholics</i>? Cornelius and Steinle were born in the Church +of Rome; Veit and Overbeck went over to it; Pugin, too, our great +architect, was converted by his art to the Catholic faith.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">August 15, Sunday.</div> + +<p>"From Friedrichshafen a delightful sail took us across the emerald +coloured Lake of Constance to Bregenz, where I parted from Steinle.</p> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<br /> + +<div class="sidenote">Pebble III.</div> + +<div class="sidenote">August 21, Saturday.</div> + +<div class="sidenote">I make a reflection,</div> + +<div class="sidenote">and feel grateful.</div> + +<p>"I am sitting at my window in the inn (hôtel, I'll trouble you!) at +Meran. For the first time since I left Innsbruck I have leisure again +to take up my pen. As I look back on my journey through the Tyrol, so +far as it goes, I am forcibly struck with the reflection that my +enjoyment of it has been much keener this time than ever it was +before; this increased enjoyment has not, I feel, arisen from any +external or adventitious circumstances; last time that I was in this +lovely country, I contemplated it with ease and comfort from the +rumble of our own carriage; this time I have jolted through it under +all the disadvantages attendant on an <i>Eilwagen</i> and indifferent +weather; it has arisen in the greater development <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_67" id="PageV1_67">[67]</a></span>of my artistic +sensibilities, in my sharpened perception of the charms of nature, +which discloses to me now a thousand beauties that found no echo in me +when I saw them last. I congratulate myself on this reflection. If any +man should be constantly penetrated with gratitude for a gift bestowed +on him, it is the artist who has realised as his share a genuine love +for nature; for his enjoyment, if he puts his gift to usury, increases +with the days of his life.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">I get drunk with the anticipation of Italy,</div> + +<div class="sidenote">and spout a parable.</div> + +<p>"Another circumstance, which has greatly augmented my relish of the +Tyrol, is that, at every step, it assumes more and more the character +of my darling Italy; I have watched with fond anxiety every little +token that whispered of the south; the gently purpling tints that +steal gradually over the distant hills, as one advances towards the +land of the amaranthine Apennines, the slow but steadily progressive +change of vegetation, the gaunt and ragged fir giving way by degrees +to the encroachment of a richer and more gently rustling shade, the +anxiously watched gradations, the climax at last; the walnut, first, +'few and far between,' but warmly welcome, with its clustering leaves +of juicy green; the chestnut, with its long, graceful, dark-hued +foliage; the vine, again, no longer, as in the north, tied stiffly to +a row of sticks (like a regiment of gooseberry bushes), but luxurious, +wildly spreading, gracefully trained along rows of outward-slanting, +basket-like trellis-work, and wreathed here and there by a pious hand +up a roadside image of the Crucifixion in illustration of the words of +Christ: '<i>I</i> am the true vine.' Now, too, the dark striped, portly +pumpkins, with their gorgeous flame-like flowers, begin to appear, +sometimes drowsily lolling under the tremulous shade of the mantling +vines, sometimes basking with half-closed eyes down the sunscorched +lizard-haunted walls, sometimes trained across from house to house, +hanging like Chinese lamps over the heads of the passers by. +Presently, a <i>fig-tree</i>—two—three—more—plenty! A cypress—and, by +Jove! look at <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_68" id="PageV1_68">[68]</a></span>that terrace of stately, heavy-laden citron and orange +trees! Nothing is wanting now but the olive. How could I pass by such +dear old friends without loitering a little among them? A faithful +lover, I return, after six years of longing absence, to the home of +her of my inward heart; I hurry along, I have already crossed the +garden gate. I breathe the air she breathes, I see from afar the bower +where she dwells; but as I hasten along the well-known path, a +thousand reminiscences of her arise from every object around me, and +cling to me, and throw a gentle net across my faltering step, and +whisper softly to my dream-wrapt brain—I am spellbound—I linger, +even in my impatience.</p> + +<p>"I must not forget the excessively picturesque appearance of all the +towns and villages south of Innsbruck; long, narrow, tortuous streets, +lined on each side with never-ceasing vistas of arcades, and enclosed +by houses of most fancifully artistic irregularity; as one passes +along the vaulted galleries the eye is constantly caught by some +picturesque object; either the peasants, as they stroll along in their +divers costumes, or the many-coloured, richly piled fruit stalls that +every now and then fill the arches, or, through an open door, the +endless depth of vaulted passages and fantastic staircases and +irregular inward courts and yards, offering to the artist's eye a play +of lights and shades and mysterious, dreamy half-tints that might +shame even a Rembrandt or an Ostade. As the exterior of all the houses +is (with the exception, of course, of the ornaments) scrupulously +white, the streets, narrow as they are, reflecting, by the luminous +nature of their local tint, the light of day into the remotest corner, +have a most cheerful aspect.</p> + +<p>"Of the Tyrolese themselves, three qualities seem to me to +characterise them, qualities which go well hand in hand with, and, I +think it is not fanciful to say, are in great measure a key to, their +well-known frankness and open-hearted honesty. I mean Piety, which +shines out amongst them in many little <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_69" id="PageV1_69">[69]</a></span>things, a love for the art, +which with them is, in fact, an outward manifestation of piety, and +which is sufficiently displayed by the numberless scriptural subjects, +painted or in relief, which adorn the cottages of the poorest +peasants, and, last not least, a love for flowers (in other words, for +nature), which is written in the lovely clusters of flowers which +stand in many-hued array on the window-sills of every dwelling. The +works of all the really great artists display that love for flowers. +Raphael did not consider it 'niggling,' as some of our broad-handling +moderns would call it, to group humble daisies round the feet of his +divine representation of the Mother of Christ. I notice that <i>two +plants</i>, especially, produce a beautiful effect, both of form and +colour, against the cool grey walls: the spreading, dropping, graceful +<i>carnation</i>, with its bluish leaves and crimson flowers, and the +slender, anthered, thousand-blossomed <i>oleander</i>.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep069" id="imagep069"></a> +<a href="images/imagep069a.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep069a.jpg" width="52%" alt="Branch of Fig Tree" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDY OF A BRANCH OF FIG TREE, 1856<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"> +<a href="images/imagep069b.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep069b.jpg" width="52%" alt="Study of Bramble" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDY OF BRAMBLE, 1856<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<br /> + +<div class="sidenote">Pebble IV.</div> + +<div class="sidenote">Statues in Innsbruck.</div> + +<div class="sidenote">I take on,</div> + +<div class="sidenote">and lay on,</div> + +<div class="sidenote">but bottle it up again.</div> + +<p>"One of the sights in Innsbruck has left on me a deep and, I hope, a +lasting impression: the bronze statues in the Franciscan church; they +are the finest specimens of German mediæval sculpture that I ever saw, +and grew on me as I gazed at them in a manner which I hardly ever felt +before; their great merit consists in combining in the most astounding +manner the most consummate knowledge of the art with all the +simplicity of nature and the most striking individuality (that first +of artistic qualities), and exhibiting at the same time the most +elaborate finish in the details, with greatest possible breadth and +grandeur of general masses; this quality is particularly conspicuous +amongst the women, three, especially, standing side by side, show, by +three perfect examples, the whole secret of ornamental economy; the +one, whose dress is ornamented with all the richness of which a +luxurious imagination and an unparalleled power of execution were +capable, recovers its simplicity of outline and mass by having a +tightly <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_70" id="PageV1_70">[70]</a></span>fitting body and sleeve and a skirt of moderate amplitude; +the second, whose ornaments, though richly, are more broadly disposed, +retains its balance by a slightly increased amplitude of drapery; +while the third, whose dress is altogether without embroidery, +acquires a corresponding effect by large, loose sleeves and richly +folded skirt, and two large plaits hanging down her back. What an +opportunity this would be, backed by these giants of breathing bronze, +to make an indignant descent on some paltry and muddle-headed moderns, +who don't know how to discriminate between that kind of finish which +proceeds from the love of a smooth surface, and makes the artist +equally careful of his pumps and of his pictures, and that other kind +of minuteness which is the beautiful fruit of a refined love for +nature, and proceeds from a feeling of piety towards the mother of +art, and who complacently call 'niggling,' a quality above the +appreciation of their <i>breadth-mad</i> brains; who, in their +art-made-easy system of 'idealising' (forsooth), look for artistic +'beauty' in a facial angle of so and so much. What with the <i>Greeks</i> +was an <i>abstract of</i> <span class="fakesc">MAN</span>, and very appropriately applicable +in the cases of demi-gods (that the ancients <i>could</i>, and <i>did</i>, 'en +tems et lieu,' individualise, may be sufficiently seen in their +admirable portraits), becomes with <i>them</i> an absurdly misapplied +<i>average of mankind</i>, not <i>a</i> man, or <i>men</i>. <i>The leading feature in +Nature is a</i> <span class="fakesc">MANIFOLD INDIVIDUALITY, AN ENDLESS VARIETY</span>; <i>she +is like a diamond, that glances with a thousand hues</i>. 'Indeed!' I +hear them contemptuously sneering, 'you don't seem to be aware, sir, +that ideal beauty is the great <i>centre</i> of all these <i>extreme</i> +varieties, and the only thing worthy of a great artist's attention.' +'Well, gentlemen,' say <i>I</i>, 'without inconsistency, you can't get out +of the way of the following mouthful: there are (perhaps you will +allow) three elementary colours, which in different combinations +produce every variety of hue; <i>but</i>, the great <i>centre</i> of these +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_71" id="PageV1_71">[71]</a></span>three <i>extremely</i> various colours is <i>grey, non-colour ... the ideal +of a bit of colouring, "the only thing worthy of the attention of a +great colourist" is a picture with no colour in it at all</i>.' However, +Messrs. the Generalisists and <i>Apollinisists</i> 'have every reason to +congratulate themselves on the extensive circulation of their views, +for their <i>ideal</i>' is visible in every haircutter's window. Never +mind, I must contain myself—but the rod is in pickle!</p> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<br /> + +<div class="sidenote">Pebble V.</div> + +<div class="sidenote">Meran.</div> + +<p>"A glorious amphitheatre of lofty mountains! On one side rugged, +sternly rising, crenelated, grey, snow-strewn; on the other, dreamy, +far outspreading, gently vanishing, southward luring, softly glowing, +wrapt in tints of loveliest azure, gradually blending with the +silver-fretted sky. A spreading, fertile gushing valley. Down the +sunny, swelling slopes, across the embosomed plain, an endless, +curling, wreathing flood of gold-green vines, foaming and eddying with +purple grapes. Through the verdant waves, like rushes in a stream, the +Indian corn raises its slender form and feathered head in long array. +Beneath, outstretched at ease, the pumpkin winks and yawns. At the +foot of a steep-fronted, purpling rock, skirting the glowing +vineyards, a foaming mountain stream, emerald and silver. Along the +heights, nestling in verdure, rise thickly scattered, castellated +villas, looking, with their bright, white walls, like smiles on the +face of the earth. An epitome of what is rich and joyous and +unfettered in landscape. The Alpha and Omega of all that is charming +in the Tyrol. <span class="sc">Meran!</span></p> + +<p>"I can say no more for it.</p> + +<p>"To my mind, it is inferior to Italy only in one respect: it is +wanting in that glowing, strongly marked individuality, that earnest +beauty, that 'charm that is in melancholy,' which fascinates so +powerfully in the land of wine and oil.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Pebble VI.</div> + +<div class="sidenote">Italy!</div> + +<div class="sidenote">I "realise," as the Americans say,</div> + +<div class="sidenote">and find reason to think that I am a queer party.</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_72" id="PageV1_72">[72]</a></span>"To be able to say that, on returning after long years to a country +whose image memory has, during the whole of that time, fondled with +all the partiality of ardent attachment, one has found one's best +expectations realised, is, in this world of disappointments and +frustrated expectations, indeed a rare thing; but to find imagination +<i>surpassed</i> by reality is rarer still; yet it is my case now that I +once more breathe the air and tread the soil of Italy. For this, I +feel more grateful than I can say; for to have been disappointed in +<i>these</i> hopes would have been to me the greatest of miseries; as it +is, my enjoyment is a double one: that which is occasioned by the +positive, intrinsic beauty of what I see, and that, not less great, of +recalling at the same time a happy, long-dwelt-on past. This I have +more particularly experienced since my arrival in Verona; and here a +queer feature in my queer idiosyncrasy obtrudes itself to notice, +<i>i.e.</i> the extraordinary dominion exercised over me by the senses of +smell and hearing! That I do labour under these peculiarities I always +knew, but to what a ludicrous extent, I did not find out till, on +arriving here (Verona), I was suddenly seized by a gust of a thousand +smells and a din of a thousand sounds, some always remembered, others +long-forgotten, suddenly rising up again to my memory. I was +spellbound, the veil of the past was torn up, I was fairly carried +back against the stream of time. Ridiculous as it may sound, my +enjoyment of Italy, independently, of course, of the art (which is an +extraordinary tissue of reality and illusion), would be very imperfect +without this combination of trifles. One thing, I think, must affect +every one agreeably; I mean the exquisitely humorous cries of the +vendors in the thoroughfares and market-places; who could hear and not +remember the loud, expostulatory shriek with which the one dwells on +the excellencies of his handkerchiefs, the argumentative and facetious +tone in which another infers that comfort is not possible without a +supply of his matches, that <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_73" id="PageV1_73">[73]</a></span>urgent wail with which a third deplores +that man should have so little appreciation of his baked apples, the +muddy, half-suffocated tenor with which a fourth proclaims his +water-melons, or the rabid, piercing soprano which seems to warn the +public that 'if those violets are not bought pretty quick, there will +soon be none to buy'?"</p> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<br /> + +<div class="sidenote">Pebble VII.</div> + +<div class="sidenote">Verona.</div> + +<p>"I do not think there exists anywhere a more powerfully and +fantastically individual town than Verona; it is to Italy what +Nuremburg is to Germany; but it is a transfiguration of Nuremburg; in +point of wildly picturesque variety it defies description and +surpasses expectation; it is saturated with art; wherever one turns, +the eye is struck by some beautiful remnant of the taste—that was; of +that glowing, sterling feeling for art, which spread itself over +everything, and ennobled whatever it touched. Hardly a house that +cannot boast of a sculptured archway, or some such token of ancient +splendour; not a church, even the most insignificant, but is crowded +with old paintings in oil and fresco, few of which are bad, some very +good, a few excellent, but <i>all</i> in a far higher <i>tone of feeling</i> +than nine-tenths of the shallow, papery daubs with which the +nineteenth century covers its carcase of steam engines. No +wonder—they are all scriptural or apocryphal subjects, and were all +painted with an ardent belief in the faith to which they all owe their +existence; from thence arose, amongst other excellencies, a certain +naïf, ingenuously childlike treatment of the miraculous, which, +combined with the manly dignity of consummate art, gives them an +indescribable charm, which nothing can replace. Now—with us, at +least, of the cold belief—men throw really eminent talents—<i>to the +dogs</i>. But, for us Protestant artists, things are made much worse than +they in any way need be, by the total rejection of pictures and +statuary in our churches. Now, three centuries back, in the first +ebullition of reformatory <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_74" id="PageV1_74">[74]</a></span>fanaticism, such a practice was not only +comprehensible, but even a natural and necessary consequence and token +of their total disavowal of everything approaching to the Romish form +of worship; but its continuance at present amongst us is, not only +contrary to the spirit of the Anglican Church, which after all, when +compared to Lutheranism and Calvinism, is a <i>conservative</i> one, but is +founded on arguments altogether untenable with any degree of +consistency; for if, as we are told, pictures and statues distract the +attention and produce a worldly frame of mind, if it be true indeed +that works of <i>high art</i> (for, of course, no others are here taken +into consideration), than which surely nothing is more calculated to +raise the tone of the mind and prepare it for the reception of +elevated impressions, have indeed so pernicious an effect, then, it is +evident, by the same argument, the beauties of architecture, the +eldest of the sister arts, must be equally rejected; at the sight of a +Gothic church, that offspring of Christianity, we must shrug our +shoulders and say with pious aversion: 'Vanitas vanitatum!' But the +Church of England has not gone as far as that; indeed, great attention +is paid to our Church's architecture; is there no inconsistency here? +Or does the Church, terrified by the example of Romish image-worship, +fear a similar evil amongst us, whose belief is so infinitely more +circumscribed than that of Rome? Or is she so tender of admitting +symbols into her bosom, she, whose corner-stone is a symbol: the Last +Supper?</p> + +<p>"To return to Verona.</p> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<br /> + +<div class="sidenote">Pebble VIII.</div> + +<div class="sidenote">The Veronese love flowers,</div> + +<div class="sidenote">and have good legs.</div> + +<p>"As Gamba, owing to the time which my letter took in reaching him, was +not able to meet me at the time appointed, I remained two days at +Verona, days to which I shall always look back with unmixed pleasure. +I indulged, this time (the more that I knew the town already), in the +luxury of <i>not</i> <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_75" id="PageV1_75">[75]</a></span>'sight-seeing,' but strolled about the whole town in +every direction, dropping into churches, staring at tombs and palaces +and piazzas and pictures, just as if rolled past me in the +ever-varying panorama. I was struck, in the Tyrol, with the profusion +of flowers everywhere displayed; but here I see far more, and those, +too, more artistically distributed; they rise in double and treble +tiers on, in, and about the gracefully curved balconies, and assert +their sway wherever human ingenuity makes it possible to place a +flower-pot, and in a great many other places besides; creepers wreathe +from window to window, and vines actually springing from holes in the +walls, with no visible root or origin at all, spread their graceful +mantle over the walls of crumbling palaces. Of the Veronese +themselves, I cannot say that they are a handsome race; the women +especially, though they have a great deal of character in their +features, are generally far from good-looking. Amongst the peasants I +saw some very fine men; they have, some of them, very good legs, +slender and well shaped as a Donatello or a Ghiberti.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Thursday, August 26.</div> + +<div class="sidenote">Gamba.</div> + +<p>"On Thursday Gamba came, just as I was giving him up in a high state +of despair and mystification. We hurried at once by Padua to Venice, +where I found your letter.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">I look back and feel ashamed,</div> + +<div class="sidenote">and make a clumsy excuse.</div> + +<p>"As I look through what I have written, before sending it off to you, +I feel, painfully, that my style is clumsy, stuttering, incoherent; +that I am wordy, without saying enough; that I am overfree in my use +of fanciful epithets, without giving an adequate idea of the +suggestive beauty of what I see; that I am sometimes almost mawkish, +without saying half I feel; that I am incorrigibly slovenly and +forgetful; that I can't write, that I can't spell. In answer to all +this, I can only answer by referring to a little premonitory +observation at the foot of my first page, <i>i.e. Quality of Pebbles not +warranted</i>.</p> + +<br style="clear: both;" /> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<br /> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_76" id="PageV1_76">[76]</a></span>BATCH No. 2.</h4> + +<p class="cen">(This blank represents three weeks.)</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Sept. 16.</div> + +<p>"<i>September 16.</i>—Many happy returns of the day, dear Gussy! The other +day I took a pair of scales, and put into the one vessel the price you +would have to pay for the postage of a congratulatory letter to be +received by you on your birthday, and into the other a pleasure which +a surprise might afford you; the postage outweighed its rival; so I +wrote no letter. If my directions have been attended to, you will, no +doubt, have received a far more satisfactory outward and visible sign +of my good wishes.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Sept. 18.</div> + +<p>"<i>September 18.</i>—The same to you, Papa!... <i>Can the river offer its +fountain a drink?</i></p> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<br /> + +<div class="sidenote">Pebble I.</div> + +<div class="sidenote">Sept. 19.</div> + +<div class="sidenote">I lucubrate,</div> + +<div class="sidenote">when I consider, &c. &c.,</div> + +<div class="sidenote">whereas, &c. &c.,</div> + +<div class="sidenote">and even then, &c. &c.,</div> + +<p>"Three weeks (apparently months) have elapsed since I last soared on +the descriptive pinion; now, and only now, on the eve of my departure +from Venice, I find time and leisure again to pour on the past a +libation of pen and ink. I resume the quill with a feeling of +disheartenment. With what intentions did I begin to write this +(journal)? Had I not hoped to note down, at once and in all their +freshness, my emotions and impressions just as I should receive them? +and to speak also sometimes of the thousand little incidents that fall +in one's path, and which form the arabesque round the chapter of life? +And how are my hopes fulfilled? Behold me, on the morning of the last +day, the day of parting, packing, paying, and passports, forced to +throw in a hurried and disconnected heap a few general remarks +concerning what I have seen and heard and felt and found, and not +found, during my stay in the home of Titian. And even that, +how difficult! For in this short stay, sight has succeeded sight, +emotion has followed emotion, in one continued merry-go-round; I have +been alternately <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_77" id="PageV1_77">[77]</a></span>grave and gay, melancholy and jocose, dejected and +enraptured; add to this that in my mind, as in the dissolving views, +one picture always effaces its predecessor, and you will at once +perceive that I am in the position of a man trying to see the pebbles +at the bottom of a muddy brook, or his natural face in a basin of +gruel.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">but you know, &c.</div> + +<p>"Now, I again repeat what I made a preliminary condition: that +I send you the pebbles, loose and disjointed, and that I don't +undertake to make a necklace of them.</p> + +<p>"'But whose fault is all this?' (I hear you ask).</p> + +<div class="sidenote">besides, it's not my fault</div> + +<p>"During my stay here (I continue, without attending to your question) +I have been up nearly every day <i>before the sun</i> (about five o'clock), +and after working and tearing about the town all day, towards evening +I was not sorry to....</p> + +<p>"Do you guess how it was I wrote so little?</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A little digression</div> + +<p>"Here a little observation obtrudes itself to my notice. Man (for +there is nothing like throwing your own frailties on mankind in +general) is born with an irresistible tendency to talk <i>at something +or somebody</i>; eighteen pages back I was talking to nobody; or, if I +did address anything, it was that very vague personage, the future; +now I find myself getting more and more personal; <i>you's</i>, I expect, +will soon get up to fifty per cent.</p> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<br /> + +<div class="sidenote">Pebble II.</div> + +<div class="sidenote">A picture.</div> + +<div class="sidenote">(Parenthetic Pebble about Gondolas.)</div> + +<p>"Venice! Mighty word, city of endless associations, image that fills +the mind! What impressions has it left on me? I shrink from answering +a question so difficult to answer <i>fairly</i>, and from dissecting a +point of such intricate anatomy. Whilst I think it over, I will give +you a picture or two to look at; you shall have a peep out of the +window where I sit writing. It is early morning, everything is cool +and calm, in silent, almost breathless expectation of the not yet +risen sun. Before your eyes rises one of the most splendid views in +Europe, that of the Grand Canal from the steps of the Academy; the +stately, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_78" id="PageV1_78">[78]</a></span>dark green street of waters reflects on its wide-spreading +mirror the grey and crumbling palaces, and the lovely form of Sta. +Maria della Salute, with her domes of dazzling white. Not a ripple +mars its glossy surface, except where, at rare intervals, some silent +gondola glides swiftly along, scattering the sparkling drops from its +graceful oar, or where, here and there, the playful 'aura mattutina' +has left too rough a kiss upon its slumbering cheek. No sound is +heard, but the distant, even, measured chimes, that seem to be rocking +on the silence of the morning. Along its marge, singly, or clustering +in close array beneath roofs of vine-covered trellis, lie the +far-famed, ebon-coloured, swiftly gliding gondolas of Venice. +'Gondolas!' Whilst the sun is rising, let me say a word or two on +gondolas. It has always excited my great surprise that these barks, +which are graceful almost beyond imagination, are, in point of fact, +in their present shape the offspring of a period, next to our own, the +most execrable in point of taste which the world has produced. I mean +the end of the seventeenth, or rather the beginning of the eighteenth +century. Yet, so it is. In the time of Carpaccio and the Bellinis they +were queer, tolerably uncouth contrivances, about two-thirds of their +present length, pointed and equally curved at both ends, so as to +resemble as nearly as possible a slice of melon, dead of the cholera. +In Titian's day the shape began to taper out a little, and the iron +points or knobs, <i>at both ends</i>, rose to a greater height, and were +enriched with a serrated ornament; but they did not assume their +present slender proportions and graceful ornament, <i>at the prow only</i>, +till the eighteenth century; as also the mysterious and exquisitely +comfortable little cabins or coffins, which now surmount them, and +which formerly were open <i>behind and before</i>, forcing the passenger to +sit upright! They contained then the rudiment of an idea of grace, +which took its natural growth and development in spite of man. +Meanwhile, for I have been watching him, the sun has <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_79" id="PageV1_79">[79]</a></span>appeared above +the horizon; not that I see his own, real, glorious face, for he is +hidden behind an ancient palace, but I see his reflection glowing in +the eye of nature. First a gentle, tremulous, golden light began to +steal along the dappled morning sky, warning all the little, distant, +fleecy clouds to shake their plumes, for that it was going to begin; +then, of course, the water took up the tune; and then (it was fit the +biggest building should set the example) the 'Salute' assumed a +saffron hue, and gradually one by one all the palaces on one side of +the Canal, right up to our windows, and, did not you notice? your own +face took quite a shine. For a while you yourself and everything round +you seems wrapped in a trance; presently you begin to write. How is +this? The whole picture begins to dance and quiver. Our Lady della +Salute glows with a deeper blush, and trembles. Then, suddenly, her +redness vanishes, her glorious countenance sparkles, and she raises +her stately form in a garment of burnished silver; the gondolas that +nestle round her feet, and hem in the whole length of the Canal, seem +like a fillet of sparkling gems around a web of emerald and gold; the +sky is a sea of light; the sun is in the wide heavens—it's time for +breakfast. Waiter, coffee and rolls!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">I am reminded,</div> + +<p>"'Do you mean,' I hear you urge, 'to come to the point, and tell us +how you like Venice?'</p> + +<div class="sidenote">but take no notice.</div> + +<div class="sidenote">Pebble IV.</div> + +<p>"Another picture! (pretending not to hear). The same scene, but under +a different aspect. How different! Just now it was a scene of dawning +life, a burst of gladness—now it is a mild, a gentle dream, an +Italian moonlight night, a <i>Venetian</i> moonlight night—calm, clear, +soft, fancy stirring. You lean idly out of the window; there are two +of you, or ought to be, but you don't say anything to one another; you +are rocked in silence; you feel the sweet, warm breath of night pass +over your cheek; you think of Shakespeare's exquisite verses on what +he never saw but with the eye of his <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_80" id="PageV1_80">[80]</a></span>boundless fancy; you are sitting +with Jessica and Lorenzo (that is his name, I think) on a bank of +violets; you are anxiously waiting for Portia and her company; your +ear is attentive to every sound; presently a sweet, half-heard strain, +like a distant echo, dawns on your ear; then it is lost again; again +it swells, and seems to glide gently along the shadowy waters towards +you, nearer, still nearer. You see a track of gleaming light along the +water, and at intervals a shower of tiny stars; it's no illusion; they +glide along towards you, the voices that rose from the distant waters; +they are almost beneath your window. Quick, quick, a gondola; a dozen +or more musicians, with every kind of instrument, sit together in a +bark, and alternately play and sing lovely melodies by the musicians +of Italy. As long as the strain lasts the oar is suspended, and the +floating orchestra drifts slowly along with the slowly ebbing tide; +round it, a cluster of gondolas, full of breathless listeners whose +very soul seems to melt with the delicious sounds, and combine with +them—at least, you can answer for yourself, for you are one of them. +Those are moments which you, I am sure, will never forget.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">You interrupt me, but I take no notice.</div> + +<p>"'You are beating about the bush, we want an ans....'</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Pebble V.</div> + +<p>"Another picture! (taking no notice of you)—a bit of Giorgione, +coloured by Veronese. You are in an <i>atelier</i>; pictures and sketches +in different stages of advancement lie about the tables and cover the +easels; at one end of the room you see a large cupboard; its open +doors betray within layers of rich old silks and damasks, some made +up, some in pieces, as they were found at the antiquary's; further, an +old mandoline, that perhaps could tell of the days of Titian. Through +the large, gaping window you look upon a group of the most picturesque +Venetian houses, with their fanciful basket-shaped chimneys and +irregular windows and thousand-fold tints; the foreground is +gracefully supplied by a screen of slender, net-like trees, amongst +which heavy-laden vines wreathe in <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_81" id="PageV1_81">[81]</a></span>fanciful festoons. But where is +Werner? the amiable inmate of this charming snuggery; where his +pupils? Ah, I hear them! Hark! in the garden, a merry laugh, a +clattering of cups, a sound of several voices, a suggestion of +enjoyment; you rush to the scene of action; on your road you nearly +break your neck over a table covered with the remains of a hearty +dinner. A few yards further, you see half-a-dozen young men (of course +artists) stretched, in every variety of ingeniously comfortable +attitude, on a temporary floor of Turkey carpets, in a cool, clear, +shady spot beneath arches of roof-weaving vines; in the middle, at +comfortable arm's length, coffee, and heaps of purple grapes, whilst +the intervals of conversation are filled by affectionate and earnest +appeals to long Turkish pipes. You approach; you are recognised; +seized by the hand, thrown down on the carpet; and presently you +perceive that an entire afternoon is gone by! But that afternoon +becomes a landmark to you. May not such reminiscences well endear a +place to one's memory?</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep081" id="imagep081"></a> +<a href="images/imagep081.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep081.jpg" width="52%" alt="Study of Byzantine Well Head" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDY OF BYZANTINE WELL HEAD. Venice, 1852<br /> +By permission of Mr. S. Pepys Cockerell<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>"'Well, then, I suppose....' (say you).</p> + +<p>"Never mind, let me continue.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">More where the rest came from.</div> + +<p>"Another impression. You are sitting, early in the morning, in a +spacious, picturesque court; you have got your sketch-book, and you +are busily poring over a drawing of a beautiful old Saracenic well; +you are intent on doing it well, on cutting out that friend you have +got with you. Presently you are seized with a peculiar sensation; you +have heard, all of a sudden, the voice of an old, old friend, who +speaks to you of things you don't see round you; a veil falls from +your eyes; you feel that you have missed something for some time past; +a vision rises before your eyes—a sweet vision of wooded hills and +grassy fields, teeming with a thousand wild flowers and sending forth +a sweet smell, and of flowing streams, of <i>fresh</i> waters, of birds +singing merrily as they fly from tree to tree, and swing on the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_82" id="PageV1_82">[82]</a></span>slender branches; and then you remember that you dwell in a +mysterious city, closed in by the salty sea. Who was the friend that +called up these lively images in your mind? It was a poor, solitary, +wandering <i>Bee</i>. But he suggested something else to you, the roaming +honey-gatherer—he reminded you of <i>freedom</i>; reminded you that +Freedom had no home <i>there</i>; and he made you <i>feel</i> how much you had +felt it, how much you had been unconsciously haunted by the breath of +oppression that hovers over poor, browbeaten Venice, and whose +pestilence clings to its rocky shore, as the rankling seaweed to the +skirts of its palaces. Poor Venice! once resounding with joyous +voices, now its walls seem, as you pass them, to mutter mournfully of +arrests, condemnations, executions! Its narrow streets re-echo with +the heavy tread of exulting soldiers, with the watchword of a foreign +tongue. Palaces and convents are become barracks and infirmaries, and +Slavonian troopers loll and spit where the proudest lords and +loveliest ladies of Venice used to assemble to the banquet or the +ball. But I turn away from such sad reflections, lest they may seem to +outweigh all the delight that I have spoken of before.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Pebble VI.</div> + +<div class="sidenote">What I think about it.</div> + +<p>"I have rehearsed to you a few of my impressions for good and for +evil, and I think that was the only way of answering your (imaginary) +questions. I need make no apologies for not <i>describing</i> Venice to +you, as you have all seen it, and it is a place the image of which +does not easily fade. I might say a word or two about the Venetians. +Whatever some people may say (and, if I am not mistaken, Byron amongst +them), the female Venetian type, such as it is transmitted to us by +Titian, Giorgione, Pordenone, &c. (<i>i.e.</i> stout, tall, round-faced, +small-mouthed, <i>Roxolane-nosed</i>) has either totally disappeared, or +only manifests itself to a chosen few; one feature only I recognise, +and that is a profusion of fine hair, which they plait in the most +elaborate manner. A thing <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_83" id="PageV1_83">[83]</a></span>that rather puzzles those who go to Venice +with the idea of seeing <i>Titians</i> and <i>Veroneses</i> at the windows and +in the streets, is that the women have altogether left off dyeing +their hair auburn as they used in former times. To show you that +vanity made the fair sex go through the greatest personal discomfort +as far back as the sixteenth century, I will tell you what the process +of dyeing was. On the top of nearly every house in Venice is a kind of +terrace-like scaffold, or scaffold-like terrace ('you pays your money +and takes your choice'), which has the noble vocation of drying linen; +in former days, however, they were built for a different purpose. In +the middle of the day, during the greatest heat of the sun, the party +anxious to impart to her hair a tint between sugar-candy and radishes +repaired to these <i>lofty</i> spots, and there regularly bleached her hair +in the following manner: she put on her head the <i>brim</i> of a large +straw hat, so that the top of the head was exposed to all the power of +the sun, whilst the face and neck were kept in the shade. Through the +hole thus left in the middle of this extraordinary headgear the whole +of the hair was drawn, and spread out as much as possible; which done, +different kinds of waters, made for the express purpose, were passed +over it by means of a little sponge fastened to the top of a reed. +History does not give the exact number of <i>coups-de-soleil</i> caught in +this manner; a few, I should imagine. However, I can warrant the +accuracy of my statement, which is borrowed from a contemporary author +of the highest standing. The men of Venice are neither handsome in the +face nor well made in the body. The Venetian dialect is amusing; in +the mouth of a woman, if well spoken, it is pretty, musical, +childlike, lisping; but in the mouth of a man, for the most part, +muddy, stammering, unintelligible.</p> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<br /> + +<div class="block1"><p>"There, much as still remains to say, and willingly as I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_84" id="PageV1_84">[84]</a></span>dwell on its memory, I must discard Venice, and turn to your +kind letter, for it is now, I am afraid, more than a month +since I last wrote. This delay has, however, been unavoidable, +for when one is travelling, or staying a short time in a +place, one is always hurried and flurried in the day-time, and +in the evening tired or excited—or both. Next time you hear +from me (which will be when I reach Rome) my communication +will openly take the shape that this has imperceptibly been +attaining, that of a letter; when I am once settled for the +winter I shall, I hope, be better able to write <i>au jour le +jour</i>. Before entering into your letter, which will be a +longish job, I must acknowledge the receipt of one from Papa, +containing part of my remittance; it was written in most kind +terms (I tell you this because you can't have seen it, since +he wrote in London), and was, I think, the longest I ever got +from him, at all events it was the first in which he said +anything beyond what was necessary to business. It gave me +sincere pleasure. I was touched, it seemed to me that distance +had brought me nearer to him; pray thank him both for that and +for the consideration with which he has provided for an +emergency which will in fact arise—that of my not reaching +Rome in October; I do not expect to get there until the first +week in November. Of one thing I must remind Papa; he talks of +sending to Rome the <i>remaining eighty</i> pounds of my second +quarter; he has, I am afraid, forgotten that he gave me sixty +for my first; my remittance this time is only <i>forty</i> pounds, +he therefore has only twenty to send to Rome.</p> + +<p>"I now turn to your letter, dear Mamma; I lay it by my side, +and as I read it slowly through, answer it systematically, +head for head, for in my present hurry I have indeed no time +to pick and choose, or to arrange my topics according to their +importance and interest, or even to consult as much as I wish +the little amusement that my letters give you. However, I +console myself a little with the reflection that it certainly +is not the composition of my letters which gratifies you much, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_85" id="PageV1_85">[85]</a></span>for I am painfully aware that my ideas are brought to paper +with about as much order as the footprints of a cock-sparrow +show on a gravel-walk.</p> + +<p>"You say, dear Mamma, that you have a fear of not telling me +all that I wish to hear; and there, indeed, you are right, for +if you were to tell me <i>all</i> that I wish to know about your +doings, you might write for a week; but you are equally right +in supposing that <i>whatever</i> you write concerning yourself +(and selves) is full of interest to your distant Punch. About +my health? Well, I plead guilty, steaks <i>do</i> still continue to +be to me <i>physical consciences</i>; this admonitory part they +took more especially at Venice, where the climate, I must +confess, did not agree with me particularly well. This is +perhaps attributable to the water, which was particularly bad +there, for my diet was of the simplest description. Judge for +yourself: in the morning early, coffee and dry bread (I have +discarded butter to keep company with Gamba, who is not in the +habit of eating any); at eleven or so, fruit and bread; at +four or five, a simple dinner; and in the evening, an ice or a +cup of coffee. Here I live much in the same way.</p> + +<p>"I am truly delighted to hear that you are accommodating +yourself a little to an English climate; if you once get over +that one great obstacle, nothing else need prevent your +establishing yourself in the country which, after all, is +still the dearest to you; with the prospect of pleasant and +desirable society for yourself and the girls, and of other +resources for Papa, there is every reason to hope that you +will find in Bath what you have so long wished for, a home in +<i>England</i>."</p> +</div> + +<p>Speaking of his elder sister's suffering, he continues:—</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>"I feel, almost, a kind of shame that so much should have been +poured down on me, who have deserved it less. To become +deserving of it, must be my great, never-wavering <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_86" id="PageV1_86">[86]</a></span>endeavour; +I will put my talent to usury, and be no slothful steward of +what has been entrusted to me. Every man who has received a +gift, ought to feel and act as if he was a field in which a +seed was planted that others might gather the harvest.</p> + +<p>"I am delighted to hear that Lady Leighton is getting on well, +and as much gratified at having made on her a favourable +impression; pray tell her that her presence and conversation +inspired me with a desire to please her, and that her +affectionate reception has still a lively hold on my memory.</p> + +<p>"You tell me that you were touched at Steinle's kindness to +me, and indeed it was such as might well touch any one; this +time you will be touched at his affliction, poor man, he has +just had a heavy misfortune—the most affectionate of fathers +has lost another child, the second, in a year and a half; I +heard this from André, who has just arrived from Frankfurt, +and who called on the unfortunate man before he started and +found him much dejected. He said in his melancholy but calm +tone of voice: 'Ich habe eine Tochter begraben.' You think it +improbable that I shall find a <i>second</i> Steinle; I delight in +the belief that there <i>is none</i>.</p> + +<p>"I am not surprised at your finding it impossible to imagine +an artist without a genuine love for nature. In any but an age +of perverted taste such a thing could not exist; but it is +only too true that that most essential of qualities has become +obsolete, and is hardly to be found at all. Artists now are +full of <i>breadth</i> and <i>depth</i>; and, between us and the +doorpost, <i>flatness</i>. On this subject I mean to tell you more +in my next letter, when I speak more particularly of my +<i>artistic</i> impressions and opinions, which I have not yet +done.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear what you tell me about the comfort you +enjoy in Bath, from the superior cleanliness and decency of +behaviour of English servants over foreign ones; it is a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_87" id="PageV1_87">[87]</a></span>thing to which I am particularly alive, and which struck me +very much last time I was in England; Gussy too, I am sure, +appreciated it very much. I am sorry that I cannot participate +in your enthusiasm about the beauties of Bath (barring, of +course, the situation, which is charming), but I will say +nothing against it, as I am only too glad that you should be +pleased with it. I quite follow you in your admiration of the +edifices in Westminster; I think that, taking them altogether, +they form one of the finest groups of architecture that I ever +saw; but what particularly pleases me in the Houses of +Parliament is the example they set of building in that style +of architecture which is our own, the growth, as it were, of +our soil, and which therefore best befits our country. Such +feelings, I have reason to believe, are becoming prevalent in +England, and they may have great results; but I reserve all +this for another letter. I am glad to hear of the institution +you tell me of for the cultivation of good principles; I +believe that the greatness of England will not be as ephemeral +as that of the other nations that have had the lead in +succession, because so much is done to consolidate and +increase in strength the basis on which it stands, and which +is the best prop to the enduring prosperity of a nation, +uprightness and morality.</p> + +<p>"I have now followed and answered your letter, from beginning +to end, from point to point, it is time I should close; next +time I write, I shall be in Rome, settled for the +winter.—Believe me, dear Mamma, with very best love to all, +your most affectionate and dutiful son,</p> + +<p class="right sc">"Fred Leighton."</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Venice</span>, <i>31st August</i>.</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Honoured and very dear Herr Steinle</span>,—If I did not, +according to our agreement, write to you directly Rico<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_88" id="PageV1_88">[88]</a></span>arrived, it was because I could not make up my mind to put +you off with two words, whereas I had neither time nor leisure +to write you anything detailed. Now, however, arrived and +established in Venice, I take up my pen to repair the neglect. +It is a lovely, cool, clear summer morning; I sit at my window +on the Grand Canal, and before my eyes rises in glorious +beauty the incomparable outline of Sta. Maria della Salute +with the adjoining Dogano. The newly risen sun (it is five +o'clock in the morning) throws a golden, enchanted light along +one side of the Canal; the gondolas and barges, which nestle +in a numerous array at the steps of the <i>Salute</i>, glitter in +the dusky distance like gleaming jewels on the borders of the +silver mirror of the water, whose clear bosom is gently +ruffled by the soft breath of dawn. All is still, except the +distant church bells. What words can give an idea of such a +sight? I gaze about me in a day-dream and think of you, the +dear friend, the honoured master; all that I owe you for +heartfelt sympathy and wise guidance, and cannot pay, rises +before my grateful soul, and reminds me that I have lost one +whom I shall miss many a time. I hope with all my heart that +your stay in the mountains of Appenzell will have given you +fresh strength, and that in all respects you are +re-established and invigorated according to your expectations.</p> + +<p>"Now, however, as I am to speak of myself, and to give some +account of my impressions on my journey, I note that for me +the potent picture of Italy, of Venice, has pushed all that +went before into the background, almost blotted it out, so +that now it floats before me like a dim remembrance; but with +two exceptions: two pictures have impressed themselves deeply +on my memory, and will certainly not be easily erased—I mean +the <i>Franciscan church at Innsbruck</i> and lovely <i>Meran</i>. You +were indeed right when you said that the cast giants in that +church are the grandest achievement <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_89" id="PageV1_89">[89]</a></span>of German sculpture; they +are colossal, a truly imposing spectacle, brilliant monuments +of an age of noble taste. What eternal truth! What an amazing +impress of individuality! Of marvellous execution that never +borders on the little, full of breadth and strength, and yet +nobly slender, they are the most perfect example of <i>economy +of detail</i>; what a sharp contrast to the superficial +stone-hammering (I might say) of to-day; what an everlasting +shaming to the nineteenth century! I could name many sculptors +who could not look at these things without profit.</p> + +<p>"Meran! What an indelible, fascinating picture floats before +one's eyes at the name; this Alpha and Omega of all that is +lovely in Tyrol; this lovely amphitheatre of mountains, rugged +on one side, and steep and covered with snow on the other, +glowing in the purple gleam of the south—widely extended, +melting away, alluring; this fertile plain; this gold-green +flood of climbing vines, hanging down like waterfalls from the +espaliers on the mountain slopes, with the purple foam of the +vines; these thousand pleasure-houses and castles; the +picturesque costume!</p> + +<p>"But why so many words? You have seen this beauty yourself, +and have no doubt a clearer picture of it than I can paint for +you.</p> + +<p>"In Botzen, to my very great regret, I was unable to see Herr +von Hempel, since he was staying, not in his town house, but +in a castle at a distance of two hours; but I visited Becker's +brother. He received me in a most friendly manner, asked much +after his brother, of whom he had heard <i>nothing</i> for more +than a <i>year</i>, and told me that his mother, who had recently +visited him in Feldkirch, had wept bitterly about it. I must +also inform you that he has recently <i>taken unto himself a +wife</i>—a fact of which our good Jacob (that is his name, is it +not?) also knew nothing.</p> + +<p>"I could still, dear Herr Steinle, write much to you <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_90" id="PageV1_90">[90]</a></span>about +Tyrol and Italy (especially about <i>Verona</i>), for I know no one +with whom I so gladly share my artistic sensations as with +you, but lack of time obliges me to close quickly for the +present; I will only add that after I had been two days in +Verona the worthy Rico arrived, and we are now having a <i>feast +of art</i> in Venice together.</p> + +<p>"Should you be still at the Stift when you receive these +lines, I beg you to kiss the Frau Rath's hand for me, and to +tell her that I remember vividly the day I spent in her house. +Remember me most kindly to your wife—I congratulate her upon +her deliverance from the Cronberg martyrdom; kiss the little +children for me, and remember me to the elder ones; remember +me also to Frau Schöff & Co. and to all my other good friends; +this is perhaps rather a large request, but whom could I omit? +I rely upon your kindness. I close with a plea for forbearance +towards my incorrigible writing and my lame, headlong +style.—Heartfelt greetings from your devoted and grateful +pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">"Fred Leighton.</p> + +<p>"<i>P.S.</i>—Should you have anything to say to me, or any +commission to give me, the address, Poste Restante, Florence, +will find me till the end of September.</p> + +<p>"Gamba wishes to be cordially remembered to you, and promises +himself to be under your wing again in eighteen months.</p> + +<p>"In my next letter I will tell you about Italy."</p></div> + +<br /> +<hr/> +<br /> + +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> In the winter of 1845 Leighton went to a children's +costume ball in Florence as Punch, and for some time after the name +clung to him in his family.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Literally, "devoured nature with a spoon."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> A distinguished actress.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Probably "The Death of Brunelleschi."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> See Appendix, In Memoriam.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> See sketch, "A Monk Dividing Enemies," Leighton House +Collection, "Ulm, 1852."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> Count Gamba.</p></div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_91" id="PageV1_91">[91]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER II<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>ROME<br /> +1852-1855</h4> +<br /> + +<p>The first group of letters from Leighton to his family from Rome tells +of his instalment, his projects, his disappointments, his indifferent +health, and his eye-troubles. But more important are the views he +expresses on his "<i>artistic</i> impressions," and the ideas which force +themselves on his mind, resulting from these impressions; the +increased anxiety with which he regards the task he has set before +him; the "paralysing diffidence" which he feels with regard to +"composing." In the letter he wrote on January 5, 1853, he enters more +intimately into his own feelings in addressing his father than in any +previous letter I have seen. This letter is in answer to one from his +father, which Leighton describes in writing to his mother<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> as "the +longest I ever got from him, at all events it was the first in which +he said anything beyond what was necessary to business; it gave me +sincere pleasure. I was touched; it seemed to me that distance had +brought me nearer to him." Leighton was evidently eager to respond to +any advance from his father towards possible intimacy on the ground of +his art-interests. In "Pebbles" he writes that he opens the +"introductory chapter of the second volume" of his life, "a volume on +the title-page of which is written 'artist'"; in these first letters +from Rome he begins the second volume itself. The letter to his +younger sister, on her "coming out," contains at its close memorable +advice on the subject of the development of her musical taste.<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> +"You must descend into <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_92" id="PageV1_92">[92]</a></span>yourself, and draw at the fountain of your own +natural taste, but mind you go very deep, that you may really get at +your <i>genuine, natural</i> taste, and I think you won't go far wrong. He +who knows how to hear the voice of nature has found the safest guide, +and he only is a good master who opens the mind of his pupil to that +voice." At the age of twenty-one, Leighton had realised, and was +himself pursuing, the only right course in studying any art. By +invariably drawing deeply from the fountain in his own nature, he ever +remained true and sincere as an artist. It is evident that, if there +is no fountain to draw from in a nature, any study of art becomes +useless, and Leighton, when consulted in later years, never encouraged +false hopes in those who possessed no natural endowments. When he +wrote,<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> "being very receptive and prone to admire, I have learnt, +and still do, from innumerable artists, big and small; Steinle's is, +however, the indelible seal," he referred to the fact that in Steinle +he had fortunately found the master who opened his mind to the voice +of his own nature. Leighton felt a great necessity to sift the various +influences which played upon his receptive nature, on account of his +ready sympathy with all that was admirable. He had constantly to seek +for that inner light, that "genuine, natural taste," which his revered +master had led him to search for and find, and to act from the +dictates of that light, and from no other.</p> + +<p>The commencement of the first letter from Rome to his mother is +missing; the date of the post-mark is November 25, 1852, Rome.</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>"...unnoticed, and which now requires to be woven in with the +rest. I mean, of course, my more directly and practically +<i>artistic</i> impressions, and their results. I take them up 'ab +ovo.' To an artist an occasional change of scene <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_93" id="PageV1_93">[93]</a></span>is of the +greatest advantage, if not importance; for, generally +speaking, when he has stayed long in one place, surrounded day +after day by the same objects, his eye becomes, by the +deadening effect of constant habit, indifferent to what he +sees around him, and often even inaccessible to the +impressions which a newcomer might receive from the same +natural beauties; most things that please the eye or the +imagination, do so (in my case, at least) by some peculiar +association; indeed I should imagine it must be so with all +things, for even when one cannot (as one often can) define +precisely the association which creates the echo within of the +impressions received, it seems to me that one is instinctively +aware of a kind of indefinable <i>innate relationship</i> to the +beauties manifested in nature, to which, by-the-bye, I think, +all other associations might ultimately be traced through +different degrees of consanguinity. It is in being +unexpectedly reminded (however indirectly or unwittingly) of +this affinity, that lies all the pleasure that we experience +by the means of sight; indeed, it strikes me, although I am +too ignorant to explain why, that the 'feu sacré' of the +artist is a kind of inward, spontaneous, ever active, +instinctive <i>impulse</i>, blind and involuntary, to manifest and +put forth this his pedigree—as it were a yearning of son to +father, an attraction of a part to the whole, which is, as it +were, the living <i>motive</i> and condition of his existence, and +which sometimes infuses in his works 'un non so chè' that is +felt by others, but for which he would be at a loss to +account, and of which he is perhaps barely aware; it is a +manifestation of a <i>truth</i> which is felt to be <i>fit</i>, and +called <i>beautiful</i>. These reflections, which have often +involuntarily forced themselves on me, suddenly remind me of +an expression I once heard Papa quote from some German +philosopher, I think Hegel: 'Der Mensch ist das Werkzeug der +Natur.' Good gracious, where am I running to? and how <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_94" id="PageV1_94">[94]</a></span>far out +of my depth! and yet one feels the want to empty one's head a +little now and then; latterly, especially, these ideas have +been stirred up in me by the perusal of fragments on the +theory, philosophy, of Art, &c., by Eastlake, which gave rise +in me to some painful feelings. At the first onset I was +amazed and bewildered at the quantity and great versatility of +Eastlake's acquirements, a man who has yet found time to +cultivate his art with success. I was filled with regret and +mortification when I looked at myself and considered how +little I know, and how little, comparatively, my health and +eyes will allow me to add to my meagre store. As I got further +into the subject, my feelings altered; it seemed to me to grow +more and more vast and comprehensive, but not more +<i>intricate</i>, for it appeared by degrees to embrace and involve +in itself (and be involved in) all human knowledge, so that I +felt that there must be only one key to all mystery, the +<i>non</i>-possession of which key is the characteristic, the +condition <i>des Menschseins</i>. Then it struck me as utterly +absurd for anybody to pretend to know anything about anything; +but it also struck me that it is not given to man to be a +neutral spectator, that he must advance or recede; and that +beautiful saying of Lessing's, which Papa read to us, occurred +to my mind: 'Wenn der Allmächtige' (I quote from memory, and +therefore probably not quite correctly) 'vor mich hin träte in +der Rechten die vollkommene Erkenntnis, in der Linken ein +ewiges Streben nach Wahrheit, ich würfe mich flehend in seine +Linke und sagte: Vater, gieb! die reine Wahrheit ist doch nur +Dir allein!'<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> I hardly meant to say all this, especially as +it must seem horridly weak to a philosopher of Papa's calibre, +but I <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_95" id="PageV1_95">[95]</a></span>really could not help it; I wish such thoughts would +never come into my head, for I am painfully aware that I have +not the grasp of mind to investigate any abstract subject +deeply, and I wish that I had a mind, simple and unconscious, +even as a child. I hurry back to the point with my tail +between my legs; I was saying, was not I? that habit deadens +us (read <i>me</i>) to the <i>suggestive</i> qualities of nature, and +that change of scene is sometimes required to make us again +<i>aware</i> of nature; after such change she speaks a more +eloquent language than ever; I have heard her voice, ever +since I left Frankfurt, ring more powerfully than ever before, +and it has been the key to all that I have done, and to all +that I have omitted. But there are some cases in which this +numbing effect of habit has more lasting, almost irrevocable +consequences; when one has been for a long space of time +<i>utterly</i> familiarised with an object (a work of art in +particular) of which one did not, when the acquaintance or +<i>liaison</i> was contracted, appreciate all the beauties, though +in process of time the <i>understanding</i> may become fully aware +of these qualities, the <i>heart of the mind</i>—if I may use such +an expression—can never feel that ingenuous fulness of +admiration which would penetrate a sensitive and cultivated +spectator on seeing it <i>for the first time</i>. This I have felt +more particularly in the case of the 'Transfiguration' here in +the Vatican; I am so utterly familiar with it from a child, +when I could in no way understand it, that I find it +impossible to judge of it <i>objectively</i>; I see colossal merit +in it, and yet, when I have looked at it for a few minutes, I +turn away and walk on; I am deadened to it. Thank God, it is +not so with his (Raphael's) divine frescoes, which are so +maimed and profaned in the engravings that the originals were +<i>new</i> to me. But I am at the end of my paper, and as you do +not wish me to cross, I must this time close by just telling +you what my disappointments have been, that you may not <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_96" id="PageV1_96">[96]</a></span>form +a false idea of them. First, I expected to find an +<i>atmosphere</i> of high art, and every possible 'günstige +Anregung' for its cultivation; in this I have been completely +disappointed; of the numberless artists here, scarcely any can +call themselves historical painters, and Gamba and I, who +hoped for emulation, are thrown completely on ourselves; +Overbeck is the only remains of that much to be regretted +period when he and Cornelius and Veit and Steinle and others +were labouring together in friendly strife; he will, however, +never be to us what Steinle was. The next greatest sore point +was the difficulty of getting a studio. When we arrived in +Rome the first thing we heard was that all the <i>ateliers</i> were +taken; and it was only after some days despondent search that +I got a little bit of one most skimpingly furnished, that I +should have sneered at when I first arrived. I have no +<i>sécrétaire</i>; I am obliged to lock up my papers with my +shirts; I have been obliged to buy a lamp, for the one they +gave me tried my eyes; and if I want any article of furniture +I must buy it, because I understand that at the end of the +year hiring costs as much here as buying. My <i>atelier</i> for +next winter I shall take in the spring, as a good many become +vacant at that time. Rome is twice, nearly three times, dearer +than Florence in some respects; I am in despair; Gamba, who +has just half what I have, absolutely starves himself in his +food, and can hardly keep himself cleanly dressed; yet he has +fewer expenses than I, who have calls to make now and then, +and must dress accordingly. Oakes, too, who had sent me a +charming letter to Florence, saying that he delighted in the +idea of coming to spend the winter with me in Rome, was +suddenly prevented; this was a bitter disappointment; I had +expected a great deal of improvement from his conversation. I +am in the bleak position of one who stands in immediate +contact with <i>no</i> cultivated and superior mind. The Laings +have not come yet; I hope <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_97" id="PageV1_97">[97]</a></span>to goodness they won't disappoint +me also.—I remain, dearest Mamma, your dutiful and +affectionate son,</p> + +<p class="right sc">"Fred Leighton."</p> + +<p class="cen">(<i>La suite à un prochain numéro.</i>)</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right">"1852.</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Dearest Gussy</span>,—As a gallant brother, I can't well +do less than answer separately your postscript to Mamma's +letter. I shall make a point, if I meet with it, of reading +Andersen's 'Dichterleben'; your recommendation is sufficient +to predispose me favourably. I perfectly understand what you +say about St. Paul's, and quite agree with you on that +subject. What suits a salmon-coloured ribbon? By George, +that's a weighty question, and requires mature reflection; it +would look <i>best</i> on a white dress with blue flowers or spots; +a sea-green would not look bad, and on black silk it would be +<i>distingué</i>; a bluish violet would not be bad either. I am +sincerely sorry that I am not able to 'assister' at your +triumphal entry into your eighteenth year; I am afraid the +spell is beginning to fall by degrees from the greatest of +days. If my directions have been attended to, I was present by +proxy on the memorable occasion. Do you fully appreciate the +immense importance of the epoch? Do you sufficiently feel that +you are on the brink of being <i>OUT</i>? You are very much +mistaken in supposing that I hear much good music here; there +is little or none to hear; the theatres, at least, are all +bad. I sincerely hope that you cultivate assiduously the +talent with which you are blessed; especially the vocal part I +am very anxious about; of course you will take lessons in +Bath. I sympathise very much with you on the want of +Rosenhain's guiding influence; I fully appreciate your +difficulty; you must descend into yourself, and draw at the +fountain of your own natural taste, but mind you go very deep, +that you may really get at your <i>genuine, natural</i> taste, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_98" id="PageV1_98">[98]</a></span>and +I think you won't go far wrong. He who knows how to hear the +voice of nature has found the safest guide, and he only is a +good master who opens the mind of his pupil to that +voice.—Believe me, with many kisses, your very affectionate +brother,</p> + +<p class="right sc">"Fred.</p> + +<p>"If Gussy <i>did</i> want to be a charitable Christian, she would +copy in her pretty handwriting five lines a day of my horrid +scrawl, for I am ashamed that my Pebbles should remain in such +a state."</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right">"<span class="sc">Bath</span>, <i>Sunday, November 29, 1852</i>.</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">My beloved Child</span>,—I need not tell you how close an +account I keep of the day of the month, nor how my heart beats +as the foreign post hour approaches, because you know how +tenderly I love you, and what it cost me to part from you, and +consequently how anxiously I look for the consolation for your +absence which your letters afford me, and I had hoped you +would supply this balm liberally. Of course while you were +actually travelling I made every allowance for weariness, &c. +&c., but if you have carried out your intentions, you must +have been in Rome quite ten days, and though I said in my last +I hoped for the future you would leave only three weeks +between each of your letters home, it is now more than a +calendar month since I had last the great happiness of seeing +your handwriting. I would not, my love, be unreasonable, but +you must remember that, in addition to the natural desire to +hear how you manage for yourself, my maternal anxieties have +been awakened by the indisposition you spoke of as not +serious, it is true, but which has started up before me, +explaining your delay in writing, and which, in spite of +reason's suggestion that a slight illness would not hinder +your work, whilst Gamba would prevent the addition of suspense +to the trouble a serious attack would <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_99" id="PageV1_99">[99]</a></span>cause us, has brought +the evil of separation very bitterly before me. The goodness +of your heart, my child, will teach you how you can soften +this to me; it is one of the few occasions remaining to you to +exercise self-denial, as you live alone and have no one to +please but yourself. I now and then wonder a little anxiously +whether you ever think of my exhortations, so much have I +wished that you should be in the retirement of your house as +gentlemanly as you are in company. But then I recollect +sentences in your letter, proving such right views in +important matters, such a clear understanding of your +responsibilities, that I resolve to believe that you will +strive to do right in small matters as well as in great ones; +indeed, my child, I have remarked with deep satisfaction your +appreciation of the blessings that are allotted to you, and +indeed you do right to enjoy them with all humility, for I +cannot flatter you in opposition to the dictates of my +conscience that you are <i>so</i> well deserving of happiness as +your poor sister. She is deserving of the highest respect of +all, bearing all her trials with admirable patience. The +persevering rain, which has caused a great deal of illness in +Bath, has had a very bad effect on her, throwing her back just +as she was beginning to mend, so that she has a great deal of +rough ground to go over again. We revel in literary abundance, +even German and French books are in the circulating libraries, +and <i>I</i> often wish the days longer to read and to work. Gussy +says she hopes you will not think her ill-natured if she +declines copying your letters, for, indeed, were she willing +to undertake this difficult task, I should forbid it, as her +eyes, always delicate, are unusually weak; whether this comes +from too long confinement to the house, or from crying, I +cannot say; the latter is produced by <i>Heimweh</i>! what do you +think of this for an English girl? Thank God, she employs the +best remedy against regretful feelings, as she is occupied +from morning <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_100" id="PageV1_100">[100]</a></span>till night. Are you equally industrious? I read +the other day the following assertion by Southey, which I copy +for you, in case you should <i>still</i> have the habit, so common +amongst young people, of wasting during the day occasional +quarter-hours or ten minutes, because, they ask, only such a +few minutes, how often have I heard that excuse. This is the +portion: 'Ten minutes' daily study, for seven years, will give +the student sufficient knowledge of seven languages to read +them with ease, and even to travel without an interpreter in +the respective countries.' Is not this an encouragement to +industry? We imagine you by this time settled in your lodging +and beginning to feel at home. God grant that you may have +your health there and meet with kind friends; we are curious +to know what your letters will do for you. In the meantime you +will, I doubt not, have met some old acquaintances—the Henry +Walpoles, the Laings, Mr. Petre, the Isembourgs, and Princess +Hohenlohe; to what amount the latter will condescend, I know +not, but remember, I entreat you, my advice. The two former +families you will most likely have first met at church; let me +hope at least that you will not abandon the habit; it may at +last bring a blessing upon you. The intentions of your +Frankfurt acquaintances we learnt in a letter from Mme. +Beving; she had heard from M. Fenzi that he had given you a +general invitation to his villa, and that you had dined with +him, or been asked to do so; I do not know whether he made any +comment on you. Did your organ of <i>veneration</i> do its duty? +Forgive my hints, dear son; all your good qualities are +pictured in lively colours before my eye, but I do not even +try to forget your faults, lest I should neglect my duty to +you; with the best resolutions we all occasionally require a +fillip to our conscience. Next Friday is your birthday. It +will be the first on which you have not received your parents' +blessing in person. We shall not forget you, my darling. <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_101" id="PageV1_101">[101]</a></span>God +bless you, my own dear Freddy; in this prayer your father +joins most fervently; think often of the advice and love of +your devoted mother,</p> + +<p class="right sc">"A. Leighton."</p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep098" id="imagep098"></a> +<a href="images/imagep098.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep098.jpg" width="55%" alt="Costumi di Procida" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">COSTUMI DI PROCIDA. Rome, 1853<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"><p class="right"><span class="sc">1 Brock Street, Bath</span>,<br /> +<i>December 13, 1852</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Frederic</span>,—I need not say that we had all of us +great pleasure in receiving your letter from Rome, though not +before your dear mother had suffered great anxiety from the +delay—the greater, because your former letter did not give a +very encouraging account of your health. It gave us also great +pain to hear of the vexatious disappointments which have +attended your first entrance into the Eternal City, but this +was, perhaps, to be expected, as the sanguine expectations of +youth are seldom realised, and we may hope that by this time +you will have found in other advantages and opportunities for +improvement a sufficient compensation for the loss of those +you had expected. What you say about the weakness of your +eyesight is far more serious, and, indeed, would have +occasioned us alarm if we did not hope and believe that you +meant no more than we already knew at Frankfort, that your +eyes were weak, and not that they had continued to grow +weaker. But when I consider that your only means of acquiring +an honourable independence and gratifying your laudable +ambition depends upon your eyesight, I surely need no +arguments to urge you in the strongest manner to use all those +precautions for its preservation which your own good sense +must suggest—to throw aside your brush or pencil the first +moment that your eyes begin to smart or water, not to draw on +white paper or by candlelight (or lamp or any artificial +light), nor read except large print, nor small print even by +daylight, except for a few minutes occasionally in a book of +reference, and to acquire as much knowledge as you can, +independently of books, by conversation with well-informed +men, if you are so fortunate as to meet with them; when you +cannot paint, talk, or observe, exercise your memory, it will +store and cultivate your mind more and try your eyes less than +reading, which in your case cannot be systematically pursued. +You may perhaps meet some well-informed young men amongst the +German artists. Above all, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_102" id="PageV1_102">[102]</a></span>draw your compositions as large as +possible (or rather as necessary for your eyes) and not such +as your architectural drawings, "Four Seasons," &c., which +contain so many objects minutely drawn. I suppose, likewise, +that chalk and charcoal must be better than pencil, and the +paint-brush better than either. You have no reason to complain +either of want of ideas or of power of expressing them (at all +events with your pen), however deficient you may think +yourself in a command of language for conversation; but the +fact is that, considering the distance that separates us, it +is of much more importance to us to know <i>how</i> you are, what +you do, and what you observe, than what you think. Your +letters remind me of my friend, Dr. Simpson of York, who, when +we sat down for dinner, would enter into some abstract +discussion, say, of the nature and varieties of fish, or, <i>à +propos</i> of the aitch-bone, on the homologies of the skeleton, +while in the meantime fish and beef were growing cold and my +appetite impatiently vivacious; so in your letters, while we +are burning with impatience to know how you are, what progress +you are making, or at all events what are your opportunities +of progress in the art, you indulge us with abstract +reflections on the theory of art in general. Your last letter, +it is true, begins and ends with interesting matter, but with +an interpolation of some three pages of disquisition on the +nature of genius in art, &c., &c., which, however well thought +or expressed, would be more in place in an essay than in your +letter to us who are so much more interested in what +immediately concerns yourself. The consequence is that, +although with a praiseworthy wish to please us you have tried +your eyes with a long letter, you have omitted much we were +anxious to know—whether, for instance, you were conscious of +having made any progress, or derived any advantage from the +many pictures both in art and nature you have had so many +opportunities of seeing; whether you had been making many, and +what sketches or copies, for we are quite convinced that you +have not been losing your time; whether you have been +comparing what you can do with what other artists of about +your age and standing in Italy can do, and whether the result +is satisfactory; whether there are any among them from whom +you can take any useful hints; whether Overbeck or any other +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_103" id="PageV1_103">[103]</a></span>competent artist is willing to assist you; whether, above +all, you saw Power at Florence, and what he thought of your +compositions; whether you find in Rome the material advantages +you expected in the way of models, &c., and whether you will +think it advisable to draw from the antique—the Apollo, +Torso, &c.; in short, I cannot too strongly impress upon you +that one fact is of more value to us than a volume of +reflections. Of course, I would not have you infer that the +progress of your mind, your thoughts and feelings, are by any +means a matter of indifference to us, but after all they can +be only imperfectly shown in occasional letters, and must +necessarily exclude information of a more positive and, for +the present, of a more important nature. Let me caution you, +too, against reading any of the modern German works on +æsthetics; they can be only imperfectly understood without a +knowledge of the philosophies, of which they form a part, and +any advantage you may derive from them will not be at all +commensurate to the time and trouble, especially for you who +have so much positive knowledge to acquire. If, however, any +of your German friends can convey to you in conversation any +clear ideas on the subject (and if they have them themselves +there is no reason why they should not), well and good, but do +not let them impose upon you, as they so often do upon +themselves, with words either without any well-defined +meaning, or one different from, or even the direct contrary, +of the usual one. According to Hegel, for instance, 'das +Schöne, ist das <i>scheinen</i>' (Schöne from scheinen) 'der <i>Idee</i> +durch ein sinnliches Medium.' Now every artist knows without +Hegel that his idea, or, if he prefers to think so, nature's +idea within and through him, appears or manifests itself in +the sensuous material, in colours if he be a painter, or stone +if he be a sculptor, but this would be worse than trite, it +would be intelligible to a plain understanding. <i>Idee</i> has a +far deeper meaning. If you hear a German flourishing away with +the magic word, ask him what he means. He will tell you, +perhaps, that it is das Absolute or der objective Geist as +distinguished from the Begriff or subjectiver Geist, or rather +the indifference of both, and that is neither one nor t'other, +but potentially either, or the <i>an sich</i>, or <i>an und für +sich</i>, or rather the <i>an, für, über sich</i>; at last after <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_104" id="PageV1_104">[104]</a></span>much +<i>hin und herreiten</i> you get some faint glimmering of what is +meant; perhaps what some people call the soul in nature, or in +still plainer English, nature, or the unknown cause of all we +see, not an abstraction but a real entity, impersonal, +however, and therefore not a god, acting according to certain +laws, unconsciously in external nature (in ihrem Anders'sein) +coming to itself—acting consciously in man, but more +reflectively in science, more instructively in art. Well, you +have caught the <i>Idee</i> at last (perhaps!) through its many +Proteus-like changes and recognise an old friend after +all—scratch your head, and ask whether you are any wiser than +before. 'Das scheinen der Idee durch ein sinnliches +Material'—in the Madonna of Raphael, for instance—'ist das +Schöne.' Why then, says Punch, not equally so in the pork-pie +and the mustard-pot, since the <i>Idee</i> manifests itself equally +in both. The German solves the difficulty by "Sie sind ein +practischer Engländer, und haben keinen speculativen Geist." +In the meantime, let us hope that nature will use you as her +tool to carry out in colours and canvas some of her beautiful +ideas, and leave it to the German to find out how the +practical Englishman who has not read Hegel's "Æsthetics" has +set about it. That you may accomplish this to the utmost +extent of your wishes is the sincere wish of, dear Fred, your +affectionate father,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fredc. Leighton.</p> + +<p><i>P.S.</i>—"Werkzeug der Natur" is an idea by no means peculiar +to Hegel.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"><p>"<i>Your</i> birthday—</p> + +<p>"Dearest Mamma, may it be a right happy one—one that may +serve, and be used, as a pattern to cut out others on. Judging +by your accounts, there is one among you who will contribute +mirth to your enjoyment—one who takes as many shapes as +Proteus, and is always the most welcome of guests; his name is +<i>Bettering</i>. In this world confident expectation is a greater +blessing, almost, than fruition. I too, if my directions have +been followed (as I confidingly hope), shall have appeared to +you on the great day <i>as good as gold</i>.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_105" id="PageV1_105">[105]</a></span>"How grieved I was, dearest Mother, to hear that I had given +so much pain to the kindest of hearts! My excuse, such as it +was, you got in my last letter, which reached probably the day +after you posted your epistle to me; I was sincerely sorry; I +had not, I must confess, any idea of anxious suspense on your +part, as you were not in expectation of any <i>particular</i> news; +I shall in future try to be more deserving of your solicitude; +this time, you see, I am punctual.</p> + +<p>"Health Report. Taking all in all, tol. sat., owing, no doubt, +to the unusually magnificent weather which we have had since I +arrived here; rheumatism, average; colds, not more than usual; +eyes?... hum ... might be better; I suppose macaroni 'al +burro' are not unwholesome—I and Gamba and several others eat +it nearly every day.</p> + +<p>"I now turn to your letter. Little Gussy an authoress! dear +child, it gives one unfeigned pleasure to hear of her +successful <i>début</i>. I have myself had no opportunity of +judging of her talent for writing, but feel convinced that +with her warm heart, impressionable soul, sterling +understanding, and quick powers of observation, whatever she +writes will please a healthy taste. She has my very best +wishes. And yet, what slight cloud was that, I felt pass over +my pleasure, casting (I could not help it) an undefined shadow +on my heart? Did not I feel startled at being so palpably +reminded that the <i>child</i> Gussy no longer exists? Did I not +seem to feel, disagreeably, that the bridge was cut down +behind us, that the last tie was broken that, in Gussy's +person, still linked us to childhood, the buoyantly confiding +age, the irresponsible age? Did not I become, through her, +painfully aware that when I took leave of you, you all sealed +with your kiss the first volume of my life, that I am indeed +launched into the second, that the rehearsal is indeed over +and the curtain drawn up?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_106" id="PageV1_106">[106]</a></span>"And do I not feel, even now, a <i>hypocrite</i>, <i>to know</i> my +path, and yet so often to deviate from it? Write often, dear +Mother!</p> + +<p>"The hint you gave me about husbanding my time, I shall take +to heart; it is a thing of which I myself full well feel the +necessity and know the unfailing benefit; but I confess that +when I read your quotation from 'Bob,' I felt irresistibly +reminded of the question once put to sage and wise courtiers +by the facetious monarch 'who never said a foolish thing, and +never did a wise one,' viz. Why is a tub of water with a goose +in it lighter than one without?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'God help thee, Southey, and thy readers too!' (Byron).<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Your next question is: Am I comfortably <i>settled</i> in Rome? +Well, I am happy to say that since the first week or fortnight +my prospects have been slowly but steadily brightening, one +cloud after another has passed away, and though I do not +expect to see the bright sky of fulfilled expectations quite +unveiled, yet I look forward to the enjoyment sooner or later +of contentment. I wrote my last letter in a tone of +considerable disheartenment, which I was indeed labouring +under; perhaps it was the triumph of a selfish feeling that +made me communicate my woes to you when it was not in your +power to mend them; but yet it is such a relief to feel that +there are those who are not indifferent to our grievances, who +rejoice when <i>we</i> rejoice, and weep when <i>we</i> weep; and then, +too, it seemed to me that perhaps a word from you might throw +a new light on my position and give me new reason to be +comforted. Meanwhile, altered circumstances have reassured me +on some points, and my own reason has pacified me on others +which I saw to be irremediable; the prospect of emulation of a +peculiar kind, such as I found in Steinle, and generally +speaking in the German school (I do not mean the emulation <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_107" id="PageV1_107">[107]</a></span>of +industry which I find amply in Gamba, or in the science of the +art which I have lately discovered amongst certain young +Frenchmen, but that which affects the animating <i>spirit</i> of +the art, the <i>spiritual</i> taste, the tendency of one's +thoughts), I have entirely renounced; the visions that I had +(God knows why, for I don't think I ever expected to grasp +them) of a time like that of Steinle's sojourn in Rome, when +so many master-minds were united together in friendly strife, +all inspired by the same spirit, all going hand in hand—have +all faded away, and only linger in my mind as a sweet +regretted image, like the gentle glow of twilight in the +western sky when the cold moon is already in the heavens. But +I have, on the other hand, seen reason to believe that this +will turn out for my good; that it is proper that I should, +once for all, and in all things, accustom myself to the idea +that I am, or should be, a <i>self-dependent</i> and +<i>self-actuated</i> being, accountable to myself for good and for +evil; that I must therefore learn to build and rely on my own +resources, and remember the most important of truths, that if +the growth of my art is to be healthy, lasting, fruit-bearing, +it must, though fostered from without, be rooted deeply in, +and receive its vital sap from the soil of my own mind. Still, +I have thought it good to hang up in my studio a work of +Cornelius and one or two of Steinle, to animate myself by +dwelling constantly on <i>an idea of excellence</i> (not <i>ideal</i>, I +hate such stuff) irrespective of the <i>specific mode</i> in which +it is manifested; and in this I think I have chosen the <i>juste +milieu</i>—so far my reason. Yet I do not deny that I every now +and then feel longings and regrets that make me feel the truth +of those lovely words—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'We look before and after,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pine for what is not;<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> Our sincerest laughter<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With <i>some</i> pain is fraught.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_108" id="PageV1_108">[108]</a></span>"Among the irremediable disappointments on which I have to +put the best face, is that of not seeing Oakes here this +winter. From a man of warm feelings, of tastes congenial to my +own, of a cultivated and liberal mind, I had hoped to derive +much pleasure and especially advantage, and thus to have +supplied in some measure the void which must arise (and, alas! +remain) in my brain from want of time, want of robuster +health, want of eyes. A friendship, too, of mutual seeking is +so agreeable a thing. Matters stand so: when I was in Florence +I received from him a letter full of a kind and friendly +spirit, in which he seized with eagerness at the idea of +spending a winter with me in Rome; he was already in Paris, +where he was in treaty with a travelling servant in order to +continue his journey; he had written to you (did you get the +letter?) to know where he was most likely to catch me up; he +was anticipating the enjoyment we should find together in +Venice, or in Florence, or wherever we should meet; this +letter has been waiting for me a month at the post. I arrive +in Rome, and look anxiously about for Oakes, who, I suppose, +must already have arrived; no Oakes—no +news—suspense—despair; at last a letter: he has been +recalled from Paris; he is obliged, willy nilly, to stand for +his borough (Conservative, Ministerial); he is an M.P.</p> + +<p>"Another disappointment, hitherto, is the non-arrival of the +Laings; I had promised myself great enjoyment in Isabel's +society; the footing on which we stand is such an agreeable +one: enough familiarity (for old friendship's sake) to make +our intercourse easy—a relaxation; enough restraint to refine +it and make it improving; she plays, too. Music! How I yearn +for music, which I never hear in the land best adapted to +foster it; music, that humanises the soul, that calls forth +all that is refined and elevated and glowing and impassioned +in one's breast, and without which the very lake of one's +heart ('il lago del cuore,' Dante) stagnates and is +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_109" id="PageV1_109">[109]</a></span>congealed. I express myself extravagantly, but my words flow +from my heart.</p> + +<p>"Again, the studio, which I at last found, though snug and +cheerful, very (let's give the devil his due), is, in its +professional capacity, bad beyond description; the light is +execrable; I could not dream of painting a picture in it +(thank God, I have only taken it till spring), scarcely even a +portrait, 'which is absurd,' Euclid, hem. What a list of +lucubrations! for goodness' sake, let me look at the gay side +of the picture. It has been a great comfort to me all through +that all the artists resident here, whom I have spoken to on +the subject, felt on first arriving the same kind of +disappointment that I did, and that all by degrees have +acquired the conviction that, after all, it's the best place +in the world for study. I have myself begun to feel what an +incalculable advantage it is always to have models at your +disposition whenever, and <i>however</i>, you want them; I look +forward, too, with the greatest delight to the studies that I +shall make this summer in the exquisitely beautiful spots to +which the artists always take refuge from the heat and malaria +of Rome. I long to find myself again face to face with Nature, +to follow it, to watch it, and to copy it, closely, +faithfully, ingenuously—as Ruskin suggests, 'choosing +nothing, and rejecting nothing.' I have come to the conviction +that the best way for an historical painter to bring himself +home to Nature, in his own branch of the art, is strenuously +to study <i>landscape</i>, in which he has not had the opportunity, +as in his own walk, of being crammed with prejudices, +conventional, flat—academical. But I am getting to the end of +my paper, and I have as yet said but little to the point; I +have not yet answered Papa's question about my sketching, and +therefore that I may not seem to be shirking the point, I +shall just tell you that amongst the sketches that I have made +(mostly architectural) are some by <i>far the best I ever +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_110" id="PageV1_110">[110]</a></span>did</i>.<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> I have also to justify Marryat about not writing; I +got his letters the other day with a kind note to say that he +had been ill; that to the Princess Doria has availed me +nothing, as she is in mourning for her father, Lord +Shrewsbury; that to the Prince Massimo has opened to me at +once two of the first and most exclusive houses in Rome, those +of his two sisters, the Princess Lancelotti and the Duchess +del Drago. Enough for to-day. Good-bye, dearest Mother. Very +best love to all. Think often of your dutiful and affectionate +son,</p> + +<p class="right sc">"Fred Leighton.</p> + +<p>"I am ashamed to think of the time I have taken writing this +letter; not from want of ideas, not from any great difficulty +in expressing them, but from the great difficulty I have in +getting at them, controlling them, holding them fast.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'A saucepan without a handle.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soup without a spoon.'<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p>"<span class="sc">Via di Porta Pinciana, N. 8.</span>"</p> + +<p class="right">"<span class="sc">Roma, Via di Porta Pinciana, N.V.</span><br /> +(<i>Postmark, Jan. 5, 1853.</i>)</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Dear Papa</span>,—When I received, the other day, your +kind and most interesting letter, and felt the appropriateness +of your admonitions—felt, too, how foolish it is for me, who +am ignorance personified (in certain matters, at least) to +waste <i>my</i> time in speculations on subjects beyond my grasp, +and to exhaust <i>your</i> patience by twaddling them out to you, +whilst your own penetrating and comprehensive mind takes, in +preference, a practical view of the subject—a question +suddenly presented itself to me: Bless my soul! what will he +say to the epistle I have just sent off? For, as you, by this +time, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_111" id="PageV1_111">[111]</a></span>know yourself, it is, though perhaps less groggy than +the last, still insufficient in point of practical purport; a +<i>messed-up</i> dish, not a joint. I hasten, if possible, to make +'amende honorable' by communicating to you in language as +concise as possible whatever information you either express or +hint a desire to have.</p> + +<p>"One word only, a farewell one, on the subject of my +<i>ci-devant</i> digressions; no, <i>three</i> words; I must say in my +own justification. 1st. That when I sat down to write, it was +always with an idea of telling all (or nearly), and all in +detail, too, from which I was prevented by invariably getting +to the end of my paper, my time, and my eyes (as it would try +them to cross) before I had accomplished my object; 2nd. That +I have been discursive with an idea of entertaining for a time +the suffering members of the family; 3rd. That all my abstract +drawl, though it in some cases abutted in tenets that I had at +different times heard you let fall, was <i>altogether</i> my own; +indeed it was, perhaps, the consciousness of the instinctive +<i>self-suggestedness</i> of such thoughts that made me turn round +on myself and take an objective view of ditto. A philosopher +is very like a dog trying to catch his own tail.</p> + +<p>"Now to business. You speak of my eyes; I cannot conceal from +you that they are worse than they were at Frankfurt, but I do +not know whether I can say that they are <i>getting gradually</i> +worse; everybody takes some time in getting <i>acclimatisé</i> to +Rome; my sufferings may perhaps be ascribed to that. I intend +for some months to give up the nude in the evening. Your +advice about gathering information from the conversation of +men of cultivated mind I would most gladly follow, but, alas, +I only know <i>two</i> really well-informed people here, and one is +an old man I hardly ever see. There is no fear of my drawing +my compositions too small, for (I shall tell you why +presently) I am drawing <i>none at all</i>, and probably shall draw +none for a considerable time; <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_112" id="PageV1_112">[112]</a></span>but close and minute study of +Nature in its details is, as I now see more plainly than ever, +of paramount importance. I come to another point which it is +difficult to touch with conciseness: have I made any progress? +Perhaps I am not entitled to answer positively in the +affirmative till I shall have painted some portrait or picture +better than anything I have yet produced; this I have not yet +had an opportunity of doing; but if, from superlative +confidence, having fallen to a more beseeming diffidence, if +having improved and chastened my taste, if having become more +anxiously aware of the extent of my task and more deeply +humbled by those who have fulfilled it, may be called +progress, then I can answer: Yes, I have made a step.</p> + +<p>"I was deeply impressed with the glorious works of art I saw +in Venice and Florence, and was particularly struck with the +exquisitely <i>elaborate</i> finish of most of the leading works by +<i>whatever</i> master; the highest possible finish combined with +the greatest possible breadth and grandeur of disposition in +the principal masses; art with the old masters was full of +love, refined, utterly sterling. I had got during my journey +through the Tyrol into a frame of mind that rendered me +particularly accessible to such impressions; I had been +dwelling with unwearied admiration on the exquisite grace and +beauty of the details, as it were, of Nature; every little +flower of the field had become to me a new source of delight; +the very blades of grass appeared to me in a new light. You +will easily understand that, under the influence of such +feelings, I felt the greatest possible reluctance to <i>sketch</i> +in the hasty manner in which one does when travelling; I +shunned the idea of approaching Nature in a manner which +seemed to me disrespectful, and the consequence was that until +I got to Verona I did not touch a pencil. In Venice and +Florence, however, I made several drawings, some of which are +most highly finished, and afforded me, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_113" id="PageV1_113">[113]</a></span>whilst I was occupied +on them, that most desirable kind of contentment, the +consciousness of endeavour. Of course I was obliged to conquer +to a certain extent my aversion to anything but finished +works, and accordingly I made a considerable number of +<i>sketches</i> 'proprement dits.' With regard to composing, +however, I still feel the same paralysing diffidence, I cannot +make up my mind to draw compositions like those I have +hitherto produced, but, at the same time, I feel that I am as +yet incapable of drawing any in the manner I should wish, and +as I see no prospect of such a desirable state of things till +I have spent a summer in the mountains and drawn landscape, +men and animals for several months, it is very unlikely that I +shall put my hand to anything original till next winter; then +I shall pour myself out with a vengeance. When I left +Frankfurt I asked Steinle whether I should compose the first +winter; he answered: '<i>Oh, wenn Sie mögen.</i>' He foresaw how it +would be. It gives me great comfort to feel that I am quietly +settled to study for some years in one place, and that I am +able to make plans for the future without having to reckon on +removals and changes. Meanwhile, this winter I take models, I +have been studying the anatomy of the horse, I shall draw at +the Vatican from Raphael and Michael Angelo (<i>perhaps</i>, too, +from the antique), &c. &c. A digression, whilst I think of it: +I think that the pains in my eyes are in some measure nervous, +for mentioning them invariably brings them on, in broad +daylight. About the little emulation I find here I have spoken +in my last letter. The general tone here (of course with some +exceptions) is one of public toadying mediocrity. There is +here one young Frenchman, remarkable for correctness but +coldly scientific (only in his art), without that warmth and +spontaneity which give such a peculiar charm to works of +genius. Overbeck was endlessly courteous and praised me very +highly, talked of the artists <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_114" id="PageV1_114">[114]</a></span>in Rome acquiring in us 'einen +ächten Zuwachs' ('a real addition'), but the half century +between our respective ages and his pietistical manner make me +sure that we shall derive but little advantage from him; I +neither expected nor wished to find a second Steinle.</p> + +<p>"As for Powers, though he was very polite to me in his own +sort of way, I am pretty certain that he had entirely +forgotten, nor did he ask me to show him anything. You may +console yourself on that score—a sculptor, especially one who +can do little but busts (however pre-eminently good they may +be, and <i>his</i> are), can very seldom judge well of pictures. +Gibson, the great sculptor, whom I know very well, and who +shows me great kindness by-the-bye, has about as little +judgment in painting as a man well can. That I <i>do</i> find +models here, and many other material advantages, I told you in +the letter that you lately received.</p> + +<p>"I have now, dear Papa, answered all your questions; it only +remains for me to thank you for your poignant and admirably +practical remarks on the German philosophers—remarks, I +assure you, which have quite answered their purpose; both they +and the kind wishes you have expressed concerning my future +advancement shall not have been thrown away on your grateful +and affectionate son,</p> + +<p class="right sc">"Fred Leighton."</p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep112" id="imagep112"></a> +<a href="images/imagep112.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep112.jpg" width="55%" alt="Study of Head for "Cimabue's Madonna"" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDY OF HEAD FOR "CIMABUE'S MADONNA." 1853<br /> +Erroneously supposed to be the Portrait of Lord Leighton<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right">(<i>Postmark, Jan. 5, '53.</i>)</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Dearest Mamma</span>,—To your appendix an appendix. Paper +and time force me to laconism.</p> + +<p>"My personal discomforts, for which you show such kind +sympathy, are, I am happy to say, now only very slight; the +only thing I suffer annoyance from is my stove, which makes my +head ache; with regard, however, to beating a retreat, I must +candidly tell you that I see my only chance of coming to +anything is studying here steadily for <i>some <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_115" id="PageV1_115">[115]</a></span>three</i> years; +the more so that it is by all accounts only at the end of the +first year that one feels all the advantages which Rome +affords. My plans seem to be these: this winter, studies; next +summer, ditto, in the mountains, or wherever it is coolest; +next winter, pictures, portraits, compositions; summer after, +Paris, see the large Veronese (which was invisible the last +time I was there); from Paris to Bath to see all you darlings +again, spend two or three weeks in England studying its +character under the ciceroneship of Oakes, that thorough +Briton, and collecting materials for some large (in meaning if +not in size) picture to be painted in Rome during the third +winter, and to be my firstling in an English exhibition; I +feel that one day my painting will have a strongly national +bias. That autumn I should probably return to Rome <i>viâ</i> Spain +to see the Murillos, &c.</p> + +<p>"When you next write to Lady Pollington, pray remember me very +kindly to her; her merry face and facetious ways are still +before me. Lord Walpole, whom you mention as coming to Rome, +and whom I shall know if he does, is indeed, I believe, a very +agreeable and clever man. The Henry Walpoles have been very +civil to me; Mrs. Walpole told me that if I wrote to you I was +to give her best—I think she said, <i>love</i>—for that you were +a great favourite of hers.</p> + +<p>"Here I must absolutely close, though I have plenty more to +say. My very best thanks to Papa and you all for the kind +presents, but I don't see why you won't allow me the pleasure +of giving you anything. As I have written this letter +immediately after the other, I cannot promise to write again +soon. To yourselves, very best love from your dutiful and +affect.</p> + +<p class="right sc">"Fred Leighton."</p> +</div> + +<p>The following letters from Steinle are evidently the first Leighton +received in Rome from his master. No comment <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_116" id="PageV1_116">[116]</a></span>on them is necessary. +Every line is evidence of the affectionate quality and beauty of the +nature that so permanently influenced Leighton's for good.</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right">"<span class="sc">Frankfurt am Main</span>,<br /> +<i>January 6, 1853</i>.</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">My very dear Friend</span>,—Although I do not know your +address, and am uncertain whether this will reach you, yet I +can no longer withstand the urging of my heart; I only know +that you and Gamba are in Rome, that you have visited +Overbeck, as he himself has written me; assuming, however, +that you also visit the Café Greco, I will risk that address. +Your spirited lines from Venice reached me safely, and I can +truly say that since then my thoughts and my good wishes for +you and for Gamba have daily accompanied you. A report which +has been circulated here, that you, Gamba, and André had been +attacked by robbers, made me anxious for a time, and I +expected from day to day that you would yourself write me +something about this adventure—in vain. Overbeck writes me +now that it would give him particular satisfaction to be able +to help or serve you in any way during your stay in Rome, and +cordially wishes that you and Gamba would give him the +opportunity to do so, but unfortunately he knew nothing else +about you to tell me. What Schäffer writes me is also so +extremely scanty, that for all that concerns you and Rico I am +thrown back on my own thoughts and suppositions. That you are +both absent from me is unfortunately a painful truth; as to +whether the ideal life which from old and dear habit I still +live with you, be also true, the future, I hope, may show. I +have an idea that you, dear friend, and perhaps also your +faithful comrade, already suffer from the artistic fever of +Rome, which every one feels in the first year. It is that +glorious old Rome, with her wealth, and the multitude of her +impressions, which works so <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_117" id="PageV1_117">[117]</a></span>powerfully upon the receptive +mind, that it can retain nothing in contradiction, and cannot +escape her influence; this period is one of discomfort, +because we feel ourselves oppressed; but though it is of the +greatest value, and no doubt bears rich fruit, the work of +artists of to-day is neither in a position to offer you +anything important, nor to deceive you in sight of the old +masters; if the multitude of impressions is first gradually +assimilated, if everything is assigned its place, if we take a +wide survey, and can stride forward freely in pursuit of the +goal set before us, then only does that wonderful spirit which +hovers over Rome rise up in us strong and inspiring, and then +we are able to recognise what we have actually won in the +fight with discomfort. Thus, and in similar circumstances, I +fancy that my dear friends are in the same case as the bees, +which swarm, and toil with all the load they collect, but +cannot make honey by perpetual sucking. That is inconvenient +and oppressive, but ah! when this time is past, what wealth +will they unfold, with what comfort will they look upon the +well-filled satchel, how quickly they will recognise that such +wealth pays interest for the whole life! But if it is +otherwise, dear friend, then laugh at the all-wise Steinle, +and resolve finally to free him from such delusions, and to +set the matter before his eyes as it really is, and be you +assured of one thing, that he always wishes that everything +may be good and prosperous for you, that all that you are +longing to attain you may attain, and that Almighty God may +guard you and Rico from all ill! You can have had no idea with +what feelings your friend would read your vigorous, spirited +lines from Venice. I received them, on my return, from Gamba, +a very dear lad, and could not help being sorry that you, who +have become so dear to me, should know absolutely nothing of +what distressed your friend. We are men; hear, then, the news. +Returning from Switzerland, I heard of the illness of my +daughter Anna, in Metz, and I and <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_118" id="PageV1_118">[118]</a></span>my wife hurried to her, and +spent six sorrowful days by the death-bed of my little +sixteen-year-old daughter. After the funeral, I came back +here, and finished 'The Raising of Jairus' Daughter.' The real +pleasure of my art I felt shrink from me day by day in Metz; +and now all my pleasure depends upon the beloved art, for +happiness is more and more confined within the four walls of +my <i>atelier</i>. Do not read any complaint in this; I have learnt +much sadness, but have also found rich cause to thank God from +my heart. What manner of children should we be, if we would +not kiss the rod when we are chastised? And now, dear friend, +with all my heart a greeting to Rome, and to all who remember +me kindly. All friends here send greetings to you and Gamba, +including Casella il Professore; Senator Nay is in Rome. I +hope with all my heart that you have good news of your dear +ones, and remain, always and altogether yours,</p> + +<p class="right sc">"Steinle."</p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep116" id="imagep116"></a> +<a href="images/imagep116.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep116.jpg" width="85%" alt="View of Subiaco" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">VIEW OF SUBIACO, NEAR ROME. 1853<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Most Esteemed Herr Steinle</span>,—When you receive these +lines I shall have already been long in the lovely land +wherein I lack nothing but your presence; I beg you to accept +from me the accompanying translation of the first volume of +the works of the Father of English Poetry as a little +remembrance; whether it is a good rendering of the great +master I cannot judge, as at the moment of writing it has not +arrived; but one thing I can answer for: it is the only volume +of the only translation of Chaucer into the German language in +existence; I only regret that there is also no Italian +version; may it serve you as a souvenir of your devoted and +grateful pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">"Fred Leighton."</p> + +<p class="sc">"Frankfurt a/M."</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_119" id="PageV1_119">[119]</a></span></p> + +<p class="right">"<span class="sc">Rome, Via Della Purificazione</span> No. 11,<br /> +<i>January 11</i>.</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">My Very Dear Friend</span>,—At last I am able to write you +a few words, and (although very late) to send you my very best +good wishes and congratulations for the New Year. I am sure +that you will be kind enough to forgive my long silence, and +will believe me when I tell you that I absolutely could not +help it. I hope with all my heart that in the meantime you +have been well and strong, and that your beautiful works have +progressed in accordance with your wishes. How has the +experiment with the new ground turned out? Have you already +started on the other cartoon? I, for my part, have experienced +the fact that to make plans and to carry them out are two +different things; for nothing has come of the pictures which I +set myself to paint. I have already told you in Frankfurt, +dear Master, how painfully my deficiency pressed upon me, and +how clearly I felt that my works lacked a highly genuine +finish in the form, an intimate knowledge of nature; this +consciousness had so increased when I arrived in Rome that +without more ado I determined to employ myself during the +whole winter exclusively upon school tasks, and by all means +to endeavour to rid my artistic capacity a little of this +defect; so now I continually paint study heads, which I try to +finish as much as possible, and in which I especially have +good modelling in view; that I have achieved this, +unfortunately I cannot yet assert, but I derive great +enjoyment from the attempt, and hope that my efforts will not +remain unrewarded; I shall then next year, if I come to the +painting of pictures again, go to work with greater knowledge +and clearness, and shall be able, I hope, to clothe my ideas +more suitably.</p> + +<p>"I have nothing further to report of myself. I hope, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_120" id="PageV1_120">[120]</a></span>my dear +Friend, to receive a few lines from you, telling me what you +are doing, for you know well how deeply interested I am.</p> + +<p>"Will you be so kind as to tell Mr. Welsch that my trouble to +find the Palazzo Scheiderff was in vain, and I have also +unluckily not seen his brother? If I pass through Florence +again in spring, I will try my luck once more. And now, adieu, +dear Master. Kindest remembrances to your wife and children, +and to you the warmest greeting, from your grateful pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">"Leighton."</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right">"<span class="sc">Frankfurt am Main</span>,<br /> +<i>March 24, 1853</i>.</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">My Very Dear Friend</span>,—My desire for news of you and +Gamba was certainly great, but I possessed my soul in +patience, for I was convinced that it would come at last; you +and Rico have given me so many proofs of your love and +friendship, that I was able to face with perfect calm and +confidence all the numerous and impatient questions for news +of you which came to me. Now, however, I see by your welcome +lines, to my inward regret, that some restrained anxiety about +you is justified, and while on one hand I greatly regret the +weakness of your eyes and in a manner suffer with you, yet I +have also my consoling argument that the Roman climate, at a +better time of year, will certainly be good for your ailment, +and that my Leighton can rise up again, that he will not lose +courage. But whatever joy I had when you and your noble +friends bore such splendid witness of one another, I cannot +express myself as very easily satisfied; that you, in your +efforts, would stand alone in Rome, I knew well, I am sure you +are cut out for it, and it appears to me, even, as if every +good heart that rises to a happy independence nowadays, must +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_121" id="PageV1_121">[121]</a></span>feel his loneliness, I might even say, that it must in order +to give skill and power of conviction. The better you get to +know Rome, the more you will learn to love her, and much will +be freely given, when once the year of struggle is past, that +could never be seized by force. How much I have rejoiced over +all that you write of your and Rico's studies, how I should +like to see them! Cling now to nature, you are quite right, +you will not lose the art of composition, for it is not a +thing that can be acquired: it is a gift, and one that you and +Rico possess. Now, indeed, it always seems to me, when I +consider the highest aims of art, and indeed the greatest +capacities of man, that there should be a certain equalisation +of the various powers, and it strikes me as indispensable, if +we are not to become one-sided, that we should by such +equalisation balance these various powers so as to achieve a +<i>complete harmony</i>. Thus, however great a delicacy goose-liver +may be, it always indicates a diseased goose, the monstrous +enlargement of an organ, &c.; I do not say this by way of +blame, and am thinking perhaps too much only of my own feeble +powers, but merely as a little warning that it may be well to +keep in view. Do not think that it is the Professor asserting +himself, I say this only as a matter of experience and because +you and Rico lie very close to my heart, and are associated +with my own feeling of the sacredness of art. I have, however, +no anxiety; you have good and noble natures, and will not lose +the tracks of truth. Spare and save your eyes, I hope that you +will soon be quite free from this ill, and then—forward! What +you write me of the friends is certainly quite correct, and I +myself thought no otherwise; Overbeck is the purest and +noblest man that I have ever met; moreover a genius—therefore +I rejoice that you and Rico know him; he speaks with feeling +and judgment of his art. Excuse, dear Leighton, my +forgetfulness; I have not thought of the dear and lovely +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_122" id="PageV1_122">[122]</a></span>present which with your note surprised me so pleasantly on my +return—I mean the powerful and rich Chaucer; I find the +prologue splendid, rather knotty, but the Germans of that time +are still knottier. I thank you heartily. Of myself, I can +inform you, that I daily rejoice more over the grey canvas; I +have worked two months on my picture of the 'Whitsun-sermon,' +and now in three weeks have painted half the picture, and am, +even though somewhat exhausted, not altogether discontented +with the result. This picture, which grows daily more like a +fresco, is getting on fast, but much still remains to be done, +and I have the progress of the whole picture in hand. Of the +friends here, I can tell you that all speak of you and Gamba +with love and sympathy, and that you are kindly remembered by +all. Thank Rico cordially for his welcome note; if you and +Rico always call me 'master,' a title which abashes me, we +shall be friends, and I hope that as I grow old in years, at +least I shall remain young in art. Tell Rico that I had a +visit from his grandmother, who loves him dearly; with a few +lines he would give her extreme pleasure. Now, adio, dear +friend; equip yourself with patience and courage, and keep sad +thoughts far from you. Greet all friends from me most +heartily, also I have to send to you and Gamba warmest +greetings from all here, including my wife, Frau Ruth +Schlosser, and Casella. Let me hear sometimes how you get on. +Always and altogether yours,</p> + +<p class="right sc">"Edw. Steinle."</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p>(<i>Postmark, March 28, 1853.</i><br /> + <i>Received April 6.</i>)</p> + +<p class="right">(<i>On cover</i>—Mrs. Leighton,<br /> +1 Brock Street, Bath, England.)<br /> +<span class="sc">"Rome, Via de Porta Pinciana</span> 8.</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Dearest Mamma</span>,—If I did not, as was naturally my +first impulse, answer your letter directly I received it, it +was because Isabel's<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> portrait has of late taken up all the +time, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_123" id="PageV1_123">[123]</a></span>or rather eyes, that I can dispose of; this being, +however, a <i>drying</i> day, I seize the opportunity of making up +for lost time. As I have mentioned the portrait, I may as well +say <i>en passant</i> that I expect it to be a very successful +likeness, and as decent a painting as a thing done in so +desultory a manner can be expected to be; Gamba admires it +very much, and intends to copy some parts. I was much touched +at the affectionate sympathy you show for me in my visitation, +and am as glad for you as for myself to say that there is a +decided improvement in the state of my eyes, so that, although +they are by no means <i>well</i>, it would hardly be worth while to +go to a doctor for a written account of my symptoms; the more +so as Dr. Small, who is a man very well thought of, thinks it +all depends on the weather, and will go away when fine weather +sets in, which God give! Add to this that several people of my +acquaintance, <i>i.e.</i> Mrs. Sartoris and Mrs. Walpole, who never +had anything the matter with their eyes, find them affected +now. About two months ago I went to consult Dr. Small, or +rather, on calling on him one day he <i>had me up</i> +professionally, for I felt a delicacy about going myself, as +he had told me that he would be very happy to be of service to +me <i>without</i> any remuneration. Finding that Dr. Small's +prescription had done me no perceptible good, I determined at +last to go to a homœopathic physician, of whom I heard +great things. He was originally the apothecary of Hahneman (do +I spell the name rightly?) the father of Homœopathy. Under +his hands I certainly improved rapidly; but it so happened +that, just as I went to him, the rains, which had lasted +without interruption for six weeks, ceased, and we had some +days of glorious weather—now, who cured me, Jove or the +apothecary? The weather is now as bad again as ever; but +though less well, I have not <i>relapsed</i> with it. Most days I +can paint three or four hours (I don't think I could draw), +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_124" id="PageV1_124">[124]</a></span>and the other evening I even read half an hour with a lamp +without feeling pain; what a pass things have come to that +that should be a boast! I confess that the little I do, I do +without energy or great enjoyment. I have not yet given my +eyes the fair trial of complete rest which, when the Laings +go, I shall be able, through your kind promise of a piano and +singing lessons, to do for a fortnight or three weeks. My +sincere thanks to Papa for his kindness and liberality. I +shall begin immediately after the holy week, for until the +<i>forestieri</i>, of which there are a fabulous number, have gone +to their respective summer quarters, neither piano nor masters +are in any way come-at-able.</p> + +<p>"Having now spoken of my health, I return to your letter, for +I find that the only way of writing at all to the point, is to +answer sentence for sentence the questions and remarks you ask +and make, and in the same order.</p> + +<p>"I indeed count myself fortunate in having the acquaintance of +Mr. and Mrs. Sartoris; it is a source of the greatest +enjoyment to me; they show me the most marked kindness, which +I value all the more because it is for my own sake, and not +for that of a dinners-demanding letter of introduction. I am +never there less than three times a week, and often more; I +have dined with them <i>en famille</i> four times, and it is only +seven weeks since I made their acquaintance. Although I have a +good many friends here, it is the only house which it is +improving to me to frequent; her conversation is most +agreeable to me, not from any knowledge she displays, but from +her great refinement of feeling and taste; her husband is an +enthusiastic amateur painter. I also meet there a young man of +the name of Cartwright, a very old friend of theirs, who seems +to me to possess an extraordinary amount of information, a +mine which I have already begun to 'exploiter' to my own +profit.</p> + +<p>"I have made a considerable number of acquaintances, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_125" id="PageV1_125">[125]</a></span>and have +had more than enough parties, for people have a habit here of +receiving once a week, so that, especially towards the end of +the season, there never was an evening when I could not have +gone somewhere, and often I had two or three places for one +night; I used often to stay away from them, till I was afraid +of offending people, which one does not wish to do when one +experiences kindness from them. Then came a long series of +arrears, which I found most monotonously tiring, for I am more +lazy about dressing for a party than ever; more than once, +when I have gone to my room to go through that hateful +operation, I have slipped into bed instead of into my glazed +boots; and yet, if I had taken the steps a great many young +men do take, I should have gone to twice the number of places. +Now all this was very well for this winter, as I could do +nothing else on account of my eyes, but next year I shall turn +over quite a new leaf; in the first place, give up dancing +altogether—it is too fatiguing; and in the next, go nowhere +but to my old acquaintances (of this winter, I mean).</p> + +<p>"I have lionised Isabel all over Rome, and devoted to her +nearly all my afternoons since she came; it is the luckiest +thing in the world, her coming here at a time when I am not +able to paint; she is going in a few days; you may easily +imagine that I have not slept in the afternoons since she has +been here.</p> + +<p>"Gamba is, as you rightly suggested, far too straitened to go +into society; however, he no way requires it, he has good +health and untiring industry, and requires no such relaxation. +As my paper is coming to an end, I must pass over the rest of +your letter more rapidly. I fully feel with you that it is +better in many respects that I should not go to Frankfurt, but +I confess that when I saw it was out of the question, I felt +painfully having to wait another year before seeing you; +however, it is for the best. I am <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_126" id="PageV1_126">[126]</a></span>interested in hearing that +you have bought a house in Bath; it looks as if you had at +last found an anchor in your own country; is the society of +Bath really agreeable? I always hear it spoken of in a jocular +tone. What becomes of the Frankfurt house? You won't sell it, +will you? Pray remember me most kindly to Kate Chamberlayne, +and thank her for giving such an unworthy a corner in her +memory.</p> + +<p>"And now, dear Mamma, I must close. Pray write very soon, and +give me a quantity of news about all your doings; tell me how +dear Lina gets on and Gussy's Pegasus."</p></div> + +<p>The preceding letter contains the first mention that I have seen of +Leighton's friends, Mr. and Mrs. Sartoris, who were to be so much to +him during twenty-five years of his life. He had known them seven +weeks when he wrote it, and already Rome had become a happier place. +All that most interested him in social intercourse was satisfied in +their companionship, and in that of the intimate circle of friends who +frequented their house. It soon became a second home, a home doubly +welcome, as Leighton felt keenly being separated from his family. Mr. +Sartoris was a fairly good amateur artist, and was considered by his +friends to be a first-rate critic of painting. To Leighton's reasoning +mind, ever prone to analyse and to give expression to the results of +his analysis, it must have been inspiringly interesting to discuss art +in general and his own in particular with one who had a natural gift +for criticism.</p> + +<p>Again, music was ever a joy to Leighton, a joy only equalled by that +inspired by his own art. Mrs. Sartoris (Adelaide Kemble), imbued with +the noble dramatic instincts and traditions of the Kembles, was not +only a great singer, but a great musician, and had in all matters a +fine taste, bred of true and deep feeling united with keen natural +perceptions. In Miss Thackeray's "Preface to a Preface" to <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_127" id="PageV1_127">[127]</a></span>Mrs. +Sartoris' delightful story, "A Week in a French Country House," she +quotes the description of one who had known the two sisters, Fanny and +Adelaide Kemble, from their youth: "Mrs. Kemble is essentially poetic +and dramatic in her nature; Mrs. Sartoris, so much of an artist, +musical, with a love for exquisite things and all that belongs to form +and colour." (Some of us remember hearing Lord Leighton say that, +though Mrs. Sartoris did not paint, she was a true painter in her +sense of beauty of composition, in her great feeling for art.) Another +old friend, referring to Mrs. Sartoris, with some show of reason +deprecated any attempt to record at all that which was unrecordable: +"Would you give a dried rose-leaf as a sample of a garden of roses to +one who had never seen a rose?" she exclaims, recalling, not without +emotion, the golden hours she had spent, the talks she had once +enjoyed in the Warsash Pergola. "You have only to speak of things as +they are," said a great critic who had known Mrs. Sartoris in her +later years. "Use no conventional epithets: those sisters are beyond +any banalities of praise." Again, take another verdict: "That fine and +original being, so independent and full of tolerance for the young; +sympathising even with <i>misplaced</i> enthusiasm, entering so vividly +into a girl's unformed longings. When I first knew her, she seemed to +me to be a sort of revelation; it was some one taking life from an +altogether new and different point of view from anything I had ever +known before." Such are the descriptions given by those who knew her +intimately of the lady who held out so kind a welcoming hand to +Leighton when, as a youth of twenty-two, he started for the first time +alone on the journey of life. I saw Mrs. Sartoris only two or three +times at the house of our mutual friends, Mrs. Nassau Senior and Mrs. +Brookfield. It was during the last years of Mrs. Sartoris' life, when +illness and sorrow had marked her noble countenance with suffering. A +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_128" id="PageV1_128">[128]</a></span>friend of mine, however, who was greatly attached to Mrs. Sartoris, +would often talk to me of her. My friend had had exceptional +opportunities of coming in contact with the most distinguished minds +in Europe. She told me she had never met with any personality who +naturally, and apparently without effort, so completely dominated all +others who were present. However distinguished the guests might be at +a dinner, Mrs. Sartoris, she said, was invariably the centre of +interest to all present.</p> + +<p>The Sartoris children were another source of delight to Leighton in +this home. No greater child-lover ever existed. He writes, moreover, +that all social pleasures which he enjoyed during the three years he +lived in Rome he owed to these friends.</p> + +<p>With life brightened and inspired by their sympathy, and by all the +sources of interest and culture which their society included, Leighton +began brooding over the work which he meant should embody the best of +his attainments so far as they were then developed. Florence and her +art had cast a spell on his spirit very early in his existence. He had +become especially enamoured of Giotto, the half-Catholic, the +half-Greek Giotto. Pheidias had not yet touched him intimately; but +his loving, spontaneous appreciation of this Florentine master, whose +work in one sense echoes the secret of the noble, serene sense of +beauty to be found in that of the Greeks, proves that in very early +days Leighton's receptive powers were alive to it. The subject which +inspired his first great effort appealed especially to Leighton from +more than one point of view. In the historical incident which he chose +was evinced the great reverence and appreciation with which the early +Florentines regarded art, even when expressed in the archaic form of +Cimabue's painting. The fact of his picture of the Madonna causing so +much public enthusiasm was in itself a glorification of art; a witness +that in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_129" id="PageV1_129">[129]</a></span>integral feelings of these Italians such enthusiasm for +art could be excited in all classes of the people. One of the +doctrines Leighton most firmly believed, and most often expressed, was +that of the necessity of a desire for beauty among the various classes +of a nation, poor and rich alike, before art of the best could become +current coin.<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> In painting the scene of Cimabue's Madonna being +carried in triumph through the streets to the Church of Sta. Maria +Novella, Leighton felt he could record not only his own reverence for +his vocation, but the fact that all who follow art with love and +sincerity find a common ground, whatever the class may be to which +they belong. To Steinle, religion and art were as one, and his pupil +had so far been inoculated with his master's feeling that, as his +friend and brother artist, Mr. Briton Rivière, writes: "Art was to +Leighton almost a religion, and his own particular belief almost a +creed." As no difference of class should be recognised in church, so +neither should any be accentuated between artists, when such are +worthy of their calling, a belief which Leighton carried into practice +all his life in his relations with his brother artists. He makes +Cimabue, the noble, lead by the hand the shepherd boy Giotto, who was +destined to outstrip his patron in the race for fame, and to become so +great an influence in the history of his country's art. The magnates +of the city are represented in Leighton's procession as forming part +of it, while Dante, standing in a shadowed corner, is watching it +pass.</p> + +<p>Again, Leighton was afforded an opportunity, in the accessories of the +design, of painting the things which had entranced him in those days +when he first fell in love with Italy; the mediæval costumes in the +old pictures, the background to the <i>Città dei Fiori</i> of hills, spiked +with cypresses pointing <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_130" id="PageV1_130">[130]</a></span>dark, black-green fingers upwards to the sky, +and the beautiful San Miniato crowning one of their summits, the stone +pines, the carnations, the <i>agaves</i>—all these things that had +appealed to his native sense of beauty as such wonderful revelations, +when, at the age of ten, he was transported to the sunlit land of art +and beauty, after being accustomed to the sights and surroundings of a +dingy region in fog-begrimed London.</p> + +<p>The subject of Leighton's early <i>opus magnum</i> was indeed no bare +historical fact to his mind; it was a symbol of everything to which, +in his enthusiasm for his calling, he attached the most earnest +meaning, and which was also steeped in the radiant glamour cast over +his spirit from childhood by the land that inspires all that is most +ardent in the æsthetic emotions of an artist.</p> + +<p>The subject decided on, in the spring-time of 1853 he began working, +as hard as the trouble in his eyes would permit, at the cartoons for +the design. His intention of remaining in Italy during the summer was +frustrated, partly by the unsatisfactory state of his eyes and health +generally, partly by the decision of his family to return to their +home in Frankfort for the summer, before finally settling in Bath. +This change of plans is first mentioned in a letter to Steinle +received February 23, 1853:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right sc">Rome, Via Di Porta Pinciano 8.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Master and Friend</span>,—How gladly I seize the +opportunity to answer your delightful letter, and to connect +myself again through the post with a man and a time round whom +and which so many dear remembrances cling; that I did not do +this immediately on receipt of your lines, I hope you have not +set down to a possible negligence or to any sort of cooling of +my grateful attachment to you, but that you have +thought,—something has happened, Leighton has not forgotten +me; and so it is; I suffer <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_131" id="PageV1_131">[131]</a></span>with my eyes. How sorry I am to +begin a letter by giving you such news, for you expected only +to hear from me of industrious making of progress; therefore +exculpation of my silence is my first duty. The disorder of my +eyes is not painful; I do not suffer with it; I am only +incapacitated. Oh, that I were again in Frankfurt, then I +should be well! Otherwise I am fairly well, and am intensely +eager to do a great deal—and dare not; I am not altogether +incapacitated, only my wings are clipped; I work for two or +three hours every day, but as I cannot accomplish all that I +desire, the little I can affords me the less pleasure; what, +however, particularly damps my ardour is the lack of +intellectual stimulus, because for <i>nearly six weeks</i> I have +not <i>looked at a book</i>, for in the evening I simply dare not +do <i>anything</i>. I have driven myself out into society, till I +absolutely prefer going to bed. If I could only compose in my +head! but first this was always difficult for my unquiet head, +and secondly I have, in consequence of this moral <i>Sirocco</i>, +been blown upon by such a <i>svoglia-tezza</i> that it is quite +impossible; it only remains for me to think sadly of my, and I +may say to you, most sympathetic friend, of our hopeful +expectation, and to vex myself with the recollection of the +zeal and joy with which I had commenced to put my plans into +execution in Venice and Florence. My optic ailment is partly +of the nerves, but principally rheumatic. You can imagine +whether it has been improved by four weeks of unbroken wet +weather! But enough of these complaints. I will now turn to +your letter and answer the points on which you touch. What a +refreshment your lines were to me! They are a mirror of your +warm, rich soul; I read with unfeigned emotion how +sympathetically you still think of your two pupils; you have +not been out of our minds for a moment; see how it is in my +atelier here: in your portrait you are bodily, in your +writings you are spiritually, present with me daily. That I +did not write to you immediately on my arrival was certainly +wrong of me, for then I had not begun to suffer with my eyes; +but my head was in such a maze that I always put off and +thought, I will wait till I hear if he has received my first +lines, quite forgetting that you did not know my address in +Rome. I am sure you will forgive me. What you imagined about +my impressions, agrees at the first blush with <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_132" id="PageV1_132">[132]</a></span>the facts, but +as regards the "gathered honey" it has unfortunately turned +out quite differently. I feel as if blighted, and until I have +the full use of my eyes it will not be otherwise. Of Rico I +will say nothing, for he will write himself either to-day or +to-morrow; I can only tell you that so far we have travelled +through Italy in perfect concord and friendship; but there is +one thing that he will not tell you himself, he is +indefatigably industrious, and has made marked progress in +both drawing and painting. One word about my own development. +Since I left Frankfurt, my observations on nature and art, in +all beyond what is technical, have produced in me a curious +shyness, a peculiar and uncomfortable distrust of myself. When +on my journey I saw Nature unfold before my eyes in her +teeming summer glory, and saw how each flower is like a +miracle on her richly worked garment, when I saw how golden +threads wound everywhere through the whole fabric of beauty, +then it seemed to me that the artist could not without +sacrilege pass over the least thing that is sealed with the +love of the Creator; when, later on, I noticed in Venice and +Florence with what love and truth the great Masters had +rendered the smallest, then my feelings arose; I knew only too +well that I, until I should have drawn a multitude of studies, +could not possibly complete a composition in the sense that I +should wish, and otherwise I would not; and the consequence of +this knowledge is that I have not attempted a stroke of +composition, and I often anxiously ask myself whether I could; +thus far it has worked to paralyse me, but on the other hand +it has led me to draw some very complete studies which would +certainly not displease you, dear Master. Finally, I touch +upon a point which, on account of its painfulness, I would +gladly pass over. I heard in Florence from André of your +severe loss, and my first impulse was to write to you to +express my sympathy; but when I set about it, I found it so +infinitely difficult to say anything suitable without +irritating your wound, that in the end I forbore. Your +consolation you draw from a higher source than human +friendship.</p> + +<p>We have visited Overbeck several times, and have found him a +dear and estimable old man, but naturally the difference of +age and of aims is too great between us for him to supply +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_133" id="PageV1_133">[133]</a></span>your place with us; besides, I do not wish that he should in +any way supplant Steinle in my memory or affection.</p> + +<p>Flatz and Rhoden have welcomed us both most cordially; your +name is a charm with them; as regards their art, both are +<i>thoroughly able</i>, but unfortunately such <i>literal copyists</i> +of Overbeck's style that absolutely no difference is +perceptible; consequently they are quite insipid to me, for I +consider a real independence indispensably necessary in an +artist. From all three I send you most cordial greetings.</p> + +<p>Much as I could still tell you, my dear friend, I must hasten +to a close on account of my eyes. I beg you not to repay my +silence in kind, but when you have a moment, put a few lines +on paper for the encouragement of your distant pupil. I long +also to know how your works prosper, particularly the large +one on the grey canvas with the light from above.</p> + +<p>Accept the assurance of the unalterable, devoted attachment of +your grateful pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> + +<p>It is not impossible that I might come to Frankfurt for a +short time this summer.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p>A Monsieur Frederic Leighton,<br /> + Frankfort a/M. Poste Restante.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Bath</span>, <i>May 15, 1853</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My beloved Son</span>,—I have hardly the courage to tell +you how intense is our joy at the prospect of meeting you, so +much sooner than we had hoped, knowing that our pleasure is +obtained, or will be, at the expense of a grievous +disappointment to your long cherished and quite reasonable +hopes. Your father was quite depressed the whole evening after +the receipt of your last letter. I am sure I need not tell you +how willingly I would relinquish my expected happiness to +promote yours. I shall write but a short letter, as we hope to +be in Frankfort soon after this reaches its destination. +Surely I told you in my last epistle we mean to spend the +summer at home, for the last time to bear that name, alas! I +fear I shall never, in England, feel as I do in Germany when +tolerably well. The climate makes it impossible for me to feel +that springiness of spirit so nearly <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_134" id="PageV1_134">[134]</a></span>allied to youthful +feelings which I have often enjoyed at Frankfort and for no +particular reason. It was in the air, but never notice these +observations in your father's presence. He is sufficiently +troubled at the thoughts of depriving me of my beloved house +and garden, which, after all, is done by my own desire. I have +just been reading an extract from a letter to Miss Pakenham +from Mrs. Maquay, partly at that lady's request, that we might +know the agreeable impression you made on her and your +acquaintances at Rome. I will not gratify your vanity by +repeating words of praise that have sunk deep into my mother's +heart; "for the matter of that," I think your father and +sisters are equally pleased at the tribute to your attractive +qualities.</p> + +<p>I will no farther fatigue your eyes as we hope so soon to +embrace you. We fervently hope your eyes will be obedient to +the treatment, which shall enable you to return to Rome for +the winter. You cannot doubt that your father desires as much +as you that you may be in a fit state to return.</p> + +<p>God bless you, my dearest, all unite in this wish, if +possible, more than the others.—Your tenderly attached +Mother,</p> + +<p class="right sc">A. Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<p>Leighton went for medical treatment to Bad Gleisweiler, bei Landau, +and writes to Steinle from there on July 25, 1853:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Honoured and Dear Friend</span>,—What can you think of me +for leaving you so long without news of me! It certainly did +not occur through forgetfulness, but because I always deferred +in the hope of being able to announce some marked improvement +in my condition, but that is still impossible, although my +general health (particularly in respect of the hardening +against cold-catching) is much stronger, though unfortunately +the improvement in my eyes is not great; this, however, +requires time, and especially patience. I shall be here +another fortnight, then my medical treatment will proceed in a +so-called after-cure <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_135" id="PageV1_135">[135]</a></span>(Nachkur); I shall be dieted, take many +baths, work in moderation—ouf! But I will conform to it all +willingly, if only I may very soon return to my adored Italy. +How I cherish the beloved image in my heart! how it comforts +me! how many idle hours it beautifies for me! how mightily it +draws me! The remembrance of the beautiful time spent there +will be riches to me throughout all my life; whatever may +later befall me, however darkly the sky may cloud above me, +there will remain on the horizon of the past the beautiful +golden stripe, glowing, indelible, it will smile on me like +the soft blush of even. In the meantime, I impatiently await +the moment when I shall see you again, my dear friend, and +when I shall be permitted to set before your eyes the work +which we have already discussed together; I shall seek so to +deal with my affairs that you shall not be ashamed of your +grateful and devoted pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> + +<p><i>P.S.</i>—I beg to be remembered most kindly to your wife, and +to all my friends.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p>(<i>On envelope</i>—A. Madame Leighton,<br /> + 50 Frankfurt a/M.)</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Bad Gleisweiler, bei Landau.</span><br /> +(<i>Postmark, July 30, 1853.</i>)</p> + +<p>I had the first quarter last year; so that I shall still be +where I started; however, I can say nothing more myself to +Papa, since he has given me to understand that his reason is +want of confidence in me, for, having rejected the obstacle +which I myself suggested—that he could not afford it—he +leaves no other reason possible. I confess I do not feel much +flattered that this feeling should have so penetrated him as +to make him fall back from me on an occasion so momentous as +the painting of my first exhibiting picture, a moment critical +in my career, and on the immense importance of which nobody +can, at other times, dwell with more disheartening eloquence +than himself; how, he says, do I know that your picture will +succeed? Is it this doubt that makes him throw obstacles in my +way? Nobody is better persuaded than myself of the kindness of +Papa's heart, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_136" id="PageV1_136">[136]</a></span>and of the sincerity of his desire for my +welfare, but he does not seem in any way to realise the +importance of the occasion. Now, if I, like so many other +young men, had gone into the army, he would not—for what +father does?—have hesitated for a moment to provide me with +my complete outfit as required by the rules of the regiment, +for he would have felt that I could not canter about on parade +without a coat; but now that I am girding myself for a far +greater struggle, now that I am about, single-handed, to face +the bitter weapons of public criticism, does he withhold the +sword with which he might arm me, for fear I should waste my +blows on the butterflies that pass me as I march into the +field? At two and twenty I am still in his eyes a schoolboy +whose great aim is to squeeze as much "tin out of the +governor" as he can by any ingenuity contrive.</p> + +<p>Will you remember me most kindly to my uncle, aunt, and +cousins, and take for all yourselves the best love of your +dutiful and affectionate son,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<p>Leighton took the cartoons for his picture of Cimabue's Madonna to +Frankfort to discuss the designs with Steinle and obtain from him his +criticism and advice. In the autumn of 1853, the home in Frankfort was +finally given up, and the family returned to Bath. Leighton, on his +journey back to Rome, stopped some weeks at Florence, to steep himself +afresh in her mediæval art, and to gather fresh material for the +details of his picture. During this visit, he drew the group of +figures painted <i>al fresco</i> by Taddeo Gaddi on the walls of the +Capella Spagnola of Sta. Maria Novella, which included the portraits +painted from life of Cimabue and Giotto. In this portrait Leighton +found the costume for the hero of his picture. He also repeated the +dress in painting the cartoon for Cimabue's portrait executed in +mosaic in the Victoria and Albert Museum. The pencil sketch (see List +of Illustrations) is wonderful as a drawing, considering the +conditions under which it was made. It was secured for the Leighton +House <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_137" id="PageV1_137">[137]</a></span>Collection, and in the preface for the catalogue it is +described (see Appendix). While at Florence he wrote the following +letter:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Florence, 386 Via del Fasso</span>,<br /> +<i>November 13, 1853</i>.</p> + +<p>[<span class="sc">My Very Dear Mamma</span>],—How could you for one instant +suppose that I could suspect you of coldness towards me? I was +quite distressed that you should have entertained such an +idea, and had I followed my first impulse should have written +at once to tell you so; but, as it so easily happens when one +is newly arrived in a strange place, first one thing and then +another made me defer writing, till at last I made up my mind +to stay at home all this morning, and not to get up till the +letter should be finished; I am, however, still several days +within my month. With regard to my health, I made no especial +mention of it, probably because, as I have a treatment before +me when I get to Rome, I attached little importance to my +feelings in this state of interim; however, as you mention it, +I am happy to say that my faceache makes its appearance +decidedly less often than it did in Frankfurt, and that my +eyes seem to me, if anything, better since I have got to +Italy. One thing is certain, and that is that my spirits are +very much improved since I have got back to the dear land of +my predilection; I felt it as soon as ever I arrived in +Venice; I felt a heavy cloud roll away from over me, the sun +burst forth and shone on my path, and a thousand little +springs, stifled and half-forgotten fountains of youth and +joyousness, gurgled up in my bosom and buoyed up my heart, and +my heart bathed in them and was glad—happy Fred! that he has +such sources of joy and happiness! Unlucky Fred! for he will +never be able to live but where the heavens always smile—and +where he can economise on umbrellas!</p> + +<p>I have had many happy hours within the last three weeks, but I +think that the happiest time of all was the afternoon of our +descent on to Florence from the mountains of the Romagna; even +the morning of that day was very enjoyable, for although the +sky was murky and cross, and it rained as far as you could +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_138" id="PageV1_138">[138]</a></span>see, yet I knew that that very evening, in that very coach, I +should be rattling along the streets of dear, dear Florence, +and that bore me up, and I made light of the rain, and +whistled out of tune in order to take off the wind, who, in +spite of his fine voice, has certainly no ear for music. Then, +too, we had a most amusing coachman, who did nothing but tell +stories and crack jokes the whole time. One episode is worth +transcribing: "Seen to-day's paper, sir?" (turning sharply +round). "Well, no" (says I); "anything in it?" "Ah!" (says +he), "very interesting correspondence from the moon." The +article seems to have been as follows: "Our correspondent in +the moon tells us of rather a discreditable affair which has +just taken place in a high quarter. It seems that the other +night St. Peter, having spent the evening with a few friends, +by whom he was entertained with the distinguished hospitality +which his high position entitled him to expect, left them in +such a state of excitement and, in short, intoxication, that +he lost his way, and was missing at his post till ten o'clock +the next morning. Unfortunately, too, he had taken the keys +with him. About two o'clock in the morning a batch of souls, +with passports for heaven, came up to the gates and requested +admittance, but finding all knocking in vain, they were +obliged to spend the night behind a cloud in a very exposed +situation, which was made doubly disagreeable by their having +put on in anticipation the very slight costume habitually worn +in the abode of eternal happiness; several severe colds were +caught." "But all this," he added (mysteriously producing a +key from his waistcoat pocket), "does not affect me—letters, +you know, despatches." I have myself subsequently consulted +the papers in question, and find that St. Peter, in the +confusion of his ideas, had taken up his seat at the other +Sublime Porte, and had inadvertently let a lot more Russians +into the Danubian Principalities. So the papers say. However, +I confess that I rather question the whole affair.</p> + +<p>I close with the old, yet ever new refrain. Pray, write very +soon! if at once, to Florence, Poste Restante; if not, to +Rome, Poste Restante.—With very best love to all, I remain, +dearest Mamma, your dutiful and affectionate son,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep138" id="imagep138"></a> +<a href="images/imagep138.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep138.jpg" width="55%" alt="Portraits of Cimabue, Giotto, Simone Memmi, and Taddeo Gaddi" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">Portraits of Cimabue, Giotto, Simone Memmi, and Taddeo +Gaddi, from Fresco in Capella Spagnola, by Taddeo Gaddi. Santa Maria +Novella, Florence, 1853.<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_139" id="PageV1_139">[139]</a></span><span class="sc">Bath</span>, <i>August 13, 1854</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My dearest Freddy</span>,—We are delighted to know you are +out of Rome, for it is possible to have too much of a good +thing; and much as you delight in "seeing the streets flooded +with light and glittering under a metallic sky" (how beautiful +it must be!), the pure air of the country, a less fierce heat, +and a total change of scene, will, I trust, make a new man of +you. How long a holiday shall you take, and did you mean that +you are staying with the Sartoris family as a visitor? under +all circumstances you will be a great deal with them, and as +for the happiness you would so affectionately share with me, I +would not, if I could, deprive you of a morsel of it; you are +enjoying such unusual social advantages that it is a solace to +me to know that you are capable of appreciating them. Thank +God, you have no taste for what so many men of your age call +pleasure, and that in spite of your sociable disposition, you +always show good taste in the choice of your companions. I +wish we could have a little of your society. The —— are +still familiar and dear friends, but their minds are so +different, so conventional, that many sides of your sisters' +minds are closed, even to them.</p></div> + +<p>The next letter from Leighton to his mother was written after he +returned to Rome:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p>(<i>On cover</i>—Mrs. Leighton,<br /> + No. 9 Circus, Bath, England.)</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Rome, Via Felice 123</span>,<br /> +<i>January 19, 1854</i>.<br /> +(<i>On cover—Arrived Jan. 6, '54.</i>)</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Mamma</span>,—When I received your long expected +letter, which, by-the-bye, took sixteen days reaching me, I +was just winding myself up to write and tell you that I was +sorely afraid some letter of yours must have been lost; I need +hardly tell you that I was relieved of a considerable anxiety +when I found that all was right, and that your letter, not +mine, had been detained in that most slovenly of all +institutions, the Roman post.</p> + +<p>And now that I have taken up my pen, what a quantity I have to +make up for in the way of congratulations, and greetings, and +good wishes relative to days often and felicitously to <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_140" id="PageV1_140">[140]</a></span>recur! +what jolly birthdays loom in the imagination, what Christmas +Eves and Christmas Days, and old years going out and new ones +coming, with a punctuality never known to fail! Alas! that I +cannot send you some outward and visible sign of my inward +sympathies and hearty yearnings; here would be a fine +opportunity of enumerating an extensive catalogue of blessings +which I sincerely wish to see showered down upon you, but that +they can all be returned in one compendious, all-embracing +word—Health! I therefore laconically but heartily wish you +all <i>that</i>, positive or relative; and this leads me to <i>mine</i>. +Well, let me confess it (unromantic as it undoubtedly is); I +feel there is no shirking the avowal that, stamping all things +down into an average, and squinting at little annoyances, +I—must I say it?—<i>am about as happy as the day is long</i>: may +my happiness reflect a little of its light on your days, +dearest and best of mothers! I have begun my report of health +by an average of my spirits; I think there is more <i>à propos</i> +in this than one might at first sight imagine. I proceed to +the other details which differ widely from your probable +expectations; you ask me whether I leech myself with +conscientious regularity. Now I don't leech myself at all! My +reason for abstaining when I first came was that I feared so +strong a measure till my spectacles should arrive that I might +therewithal screen and protect my exhausted blinkers. It is +only the other day that the said barnacles arrived, and as I +have meanwhile gone on working day after day without great +inconvenience to my eyes, I really think I might do myself +more harm than good by drawing blood, the more so that I am by +no means a person of full habit that I could spare much of +that article.</p> + +<p>On turning to your letter, I find the next point you touch is +my music. I did indeed try my voice at the Hodnett's as you +anticipated, but unfortunately I never by any chance had +anything like a decent note in my voice during the whole time +that I was in Florence; indeed at the very best of times it is +the merest "fil de voix" that I have, which, however, would +not prevent my cultivating it for my own private enjoyment, +but for a circumstance which will astound you perhaps, but is +nevertheless a great fact—to wit, that I can't afford it! The +expenses of <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_141" id="PageV1_141">[141]</a></span>my pictures are far too considerable to allow of +it this winter; next winter I hope to make up for lost time +and still to be able to chirp some little ditty when I once +more skim by the paternal nest. A piano I have, such a +hurdy-gurdy! I fear, alas! I am an inveterate blockhead; I +daily lament that you did not <i>drub</i> music into me when I was +a child; I should then have broken my fingers in time; my +youngsters shall most assuredly learn it with a stick in their +minds' eye. As we were just talking of the ——s, I must +mention that I founded my opinion less on what they say than +on what <i>I</i> think and see; they could not either of them be +happy if they could not have their bonnets and dresses from +the most fashionable <i>modiste</i>, turn out drag of their own, +and in every way be "the thing"; that they like me, I know, +but I believe they would not have me if they liked me twice as +much; I am not exactly poor, I admit, but I seem something +like it in Florence, where it is the custom for young men to +drive to the Cascine in elegant broughams or phaetons, to find +their riding-horses at the round piazza, to prance and amble +round the ladies, and then to drive home again in the style +they went. But let me speak of more important things; you will +be pleased to hear that my compositions have been highly +approved of by all those whose opinion has weight with me. +Cornelius said, the first time he saw them, "Ich sehe Sie sind +weiter als alle Engländer ausgenommen <i>Dyce</i>;" that is a great +compliment from such a man. I have made one alteration in my +plans, of which Papa, I think, will not disapprove; I found, +on more accurate calculation, that, in order to paint my +Cimabue of such a size as to be admissible to the London +Exhibition, the figures would be far smaller than my eyes +would tolerate; I have therefore reversed the order of things, +and am painting it on a large scale for the great Exhibition +in Paris (spring, '55), in which all nations are to be +represented, and where size is rather a recommendation than an +obstacle. My "Romeo" I shall send to London in the same year; +it will be a foot each way smaller than Lady Cowley's +portrait; thus I also have the advantage of giving the +Florentine picture a size more commensurate to the +art-historical importance of the event it represents. With +regard to the sale of it, I hug myself with no vain delusions. +I paint it for a name; I could not have a <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_142" id="PageV1_142">[142]</a></span>finer field than is +offered by the great International Exhibition in question. I +must come to a close, for I expect a model immediately, and do +not wish to miss to-morrow morning's post. <i>La suite au +prochain numéro.</i></p> + +<p>Pray write soon, dearest mother, and tell me all I long to +know about yourselves, the house, the furniture, your friends, +and your dinner-party; meanwhile, having first largely helped +yourself, pass up to all the dear ones very best love and +kisses from your dutiful and affectionate boy,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p>(<i>On cover</i>—Mrs. Leighton,<br /> + 9 Circus, Bath, England.)</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Rome, Via Felice</span> 123,<br /> +<i>March 22, 1854</i>.<br /> +(<i>Received March 31.</i>)</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Mamma</span>,—As I see no chance of finding time to +write to you in the ordinary course of things by merely +waiting for it, I lay down my brush for this afternoon, and +"set to" regularly pen in hand to answer your last, dated the +fifth (let us be business-like), but which did not reach me +till a few days ago. According to the egotistical practice +which you have wished me to adopt, I begin with an account of +myself: I am very much at a loss to tell you anything of my +eyes that shall convey to you a correct idea of their state; +one thing is certain, which is that their weakness bears no +regular proportion to the work done; sometimes when I do +little or nothing my eyes feel uncomfortable, and at others, +when I do a great deal, I suffer nothing. For instance, +yesterday, having a great deal of work cut out for the day, I +worked eleven hours, with barely half an hour's respite at +twelve, and, <i>pour comble de méfaits</i>, I did what I rarely +venture on—I read at night; and yet I feel little or no +inconvenience. The fact is, my eyes are the humble servants of +my head, which is particularly sensitive; at the same time I +hesitate to adopt leeches (unless, of course, Papa adheres to +his opinion), because I don't feel as if I were over-troubled +with blood; what do you think? My <i>otherwise</i> health is, thank +God, very decent. I am not a robust man, but I jog on very +comfortably, and feel very jolly, and I am sure I have a good +many reasons to be so. About the hours I spend inactive, I +don't feel that so severely as I did last winter, by any +means; in the first place, I work till five or so (from <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_143" id="PageV1_143">[143]</a></span>seven +or eight in the morning), then, you know, I dine at six, which +I make rather a long job; then, in the evening, instead of +tiring my eyes as I did last winter with dancing, <i>which</i> I +have totally forsworn (there are more "whiches" in my letter +than in the whole tea-party on the Blocksberg in "Faust"), I +spend nearly all my time at the house of my dear friends, the +Sartoris, where, I assure you, to pass to another point in +your letter, I neglect no opportunity to cultivate my poor +unlettered mind. It is indeed my <i>only</i> opportunity, for to +study, alas, I have neither time, health, nor eyes, and the +hopes to which you allude, and which I myself once +entertained, must, I fear, be given up. The worst feature in +my mental organisation is my utter want of memory for certain +things, a deficiency of which I am daily and painfully +reminded by the mention in my presence of books which I have +read and enjoyed, and which I have <i>utterly</i> forgotten. My +only consolation I find in the hope that I shall be able to +devote myself with double energy to the art "proprement dit," +and in the reflection that hardly any of the modern artists +(alas, what a standard!), that have possessed extensive +knowledge and varied accomplishments, have had them as a +super-addition to the gift of art, but <i>at the expense</i> of +their properly pictorial faculties; to every man is dealt a +certain amount of <i>calibre</i>—in one man's brain it breaks out +in a cauliflower of variegated bumps, in another's it flows +into one channel and irrigates one mental tree, and "sends +forth fruit in due season"—hem! Thus, whilst <i>I</i> paint, +<i>others</i> shall know all about it; <i>I</i> shall be an artist, let +<i>them</i> be connoisseurs. What did poor Haydon (for I <i>have</i> +read the book) get by his mordant gift of satire and his +devouring thirst for ink? He embittered old enemies, made new +ones, estranged his friends, encouraged the fierce +irascibility of his own temperament, allowed himself to cuddle +the phantoms of undeserved neglect which always haunted him, +distorted his own perceptions, and cut his throat! Without +that pernicious gift, Haydon would not have written, the +Academy would have hung his pictures as they deserved, for his +early works were full of promise, they would have stood by him +in the hour of need; had everything that he saw and heard not +fallen in distorted images on the troubled mirror of his mind, +he would, no doubt, have produced better works. Haydon might +have been <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_144" id="PageV1_144">[144]</a></span>a happy man! With regard to the practical lesson to +be drawn by myself, this painful book undoubtedly shows in a +strong light the absurdity of <i>always</i> painting large +pictures—a practice in which, I assure you, I have not the +remotest idea of indulging. To one thing, however, which you +observe, dear Mamma, I must beg to take exception, as +involving a very important question: you say Haydon persisted +in following the historic style, to the exclusion of pictures +of a saleable size; now this would only avail as precedent +against historical art on the supposition that that walk +necessarily implies colossal proportions, than which idea +(though Haydon seems to have entertained it) nothing can be +more false. Is it necessary to mention Raphael's "Vision of +Ezekiel," "Madonna della Seggiola," or a thousand other +pictures, by him and others, which utterly confute any such +notion? But even were it so, we must also not overlook the +fact that the unsaleability of Haydon's pictures had its cause +as much in their quality as in their quantity, and I will hold +up to you, in contrast to his sad story, the case of Mr. +Watts, who gives a sketch of the artistical character at the +end of the autobiography, and who has as many orders for +<i>fresco</i> as he can execute for a considerable number of years.</p></div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep145" id="imagep145"></a> +<a href="images/imagep145.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep145.jpg" width="60%" alt="Study of Head of Woman" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDY OF HEAD OF WOMAN AT WINDOW IN "CIMABUE'S MADONNA"<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Bath</span>, <i>April 17th</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My very dear Fred</span>,—I have left a longer interval +than usual between this letter and my last, for your +convenience and my advantage; that is to say, that by arriving +close on the time for your writing to me, the contents of this +sheet, or anything in it needing comment, may not have escaped +your memory till no longer wanted, for, with the best possible +wish to be contented with the epistles for which I look +forward so anxiously, I cannot help feeling a little +disappointed when you do not answer inquiries. I do not wish +to be unreasonable, my darling, in my demands on your time, +but I cannot bear that your letters should be mere unavoidable +monthly reports, and not what mine are to you, that is, in +intention; though I make every allowance for natural +infirmity. Could we but have foreseen your weakness of sight, +I should have felt a great inclination to thrash you into +exercising your memory more than you did, though I am not at +all sure that the result would have been satisfactory; and +with respect to music, I am convinced you would not <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_145" id="PageV1_145">[145]</a></span>have +made a satisfactory return for any knowledge acquired by dint +of birch, but—if it were not useless—I would enlarge upon +the imprudence of having neglected your father's admonitions +at a more recent period to store your memory; remember it for +the sake of your own young people when you are the venerable +papa of an obstreperous youth like yourself. I think upon the +whole it is satisfactory that the uneasiness in your eyes +depends on your general health. Papa thinks the sensation you +describe when drinking must be nervous, and connected with the +narrow swallow you inherit from me, a peculiarity which has +shown itself in four generations. We do not feel so certain as +it would be comfortable to do that the climate of Rome is the +one best suited to a nervous person; but of course you will +seek a healthy change of place as soon as the heat makes it +desirable. I must remind you of the unpleasant fact that your +constitution very much resembles mine; remember what I have +come to, and do not trifle with yourself; do not say to +yourself: What a bore Mamma is! I am constantly thinking of my +precious absent son, and long, as only a mother can, to see +you; when I look at your picture, I feel quite wretched +sometimes that I cannot, though you seem alive before me, +stroke your cheek and lean my head on your chest. The other +day we were startled by the appearance in the drawing-room of +Andrew, Lizzy, and the girls; and the first greeting over, +"That's my saucy Fred," burst out of your aunt's mouth; "dear +fellow, what a likeness;" and Lina was equally admired, and we +all agreed in deploring Gussy's absence from the wall. I wish +I could see your studies, for I suppose you have a great many +for your great undertaking. Models are probably cheaper than +in Germany—are you conscious of improvement? This seems an +odd question, but it is suggested by the fact that while Gussy +practises most diligently, she seldom seems conscious of the +improvement I perceive distinctly. Do you see Cornelius from +time to time, and gain anything from him? You never mention if +you have any friends amongst the artists distinguished in any +way.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Rome</span>, <i>April 29, 1854</i>.</p> + +<p>I have of late, since the underpainting of my large picture +(at which I worked like a horse) given myself rest and +recreation in the way of several picnics in the <i>Campagna</i> +under the auspices of <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_146" id="PageV1_146">[146]</a></span>Mesdames Sartoris and Kemble. We are a +most jovial crew; the following are the <i>dramatis personæ</i>: +first, the two above-mentioned ladies; then Mr. Lyons, the +English diplomatist here (whom your friend probably meant); he +is not ambassador, nor is he in any way supposed to represent +the English people here, he is only a sort of negotiator; +however, a most charming man he assuredly is, funny, dry, +jolly, imperturbably good-tempered; then Mr. Ampère, a French +savant, a genial, witty, amusing old gentleman as ever was; +then Browning, the poet, a never-failing fountain of quaint +stories and funny sayings; next Harriet Hosmer, a little +American sculptress of great talent, the queerest, +best-natured little chap possible; another girl, nothing +particular, and your humble servant who, except when art is +touched, plays the part of humble listener, in which capacity +he makes amends for the vehemence with which he starts up when +certain subjects are touched which relate to his own trade; in +other things, silence, alas! becomes him, ignorant as he is, +and having clean forgotten all he ever knew!<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> I shall not +be able to leave Rome more than a month in the summer, as the +work which I have carved out for myself makes it utterly +impossible. You must know, however, that the hot months (July +and August) are not the dangerous ones, but September, when +the rains set in. During that month I shall give myself a +complete rest from work, and shall go to the baths of Lucca, +the healthiest spot in Italy, where I shall enjoy cool air, +country scenery, and, better than all, the society of the +Sartoris, who are going to spend the summer there; meanwhile, +I shall take what precautions I can; I shall live <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_147" id="PageV1_147">[147]</a></span>as the +Italians do, getting up early, and sleeping in the middle of +the day, and shall resume flannel, if you do not advise the +contrary, as I see reason to believe that it is a great +preservative against fever. As for the general climate of +Rome, I don't give it much consideration, as there is not the +least probability of my ever <i>residing</i> here; I think there is +not a worse place for a rising artist to set up his abode in +than Rome, on account of the want of emulation as compared, +for instance, to a place like Paris, where there are hundreds +of clever men, all hard at work, and where an artist is always +exposed to comparisons. It is impossible for me to give you +any decisive answer about my progress, for you know I have +been busy all the winter drawing studies; I shall see when I +come to the picture itself what steps I have made forwards; I +reckon on its being the best thing I shall have done, I can +say no more. I believe Sartoris, whose judgment in all the +arts is excellent, considers me the most promising young man +in Rome; but that does not mean much—we shall see!</p> + +<p>Of my daily life and occupations, I have little or nothing to +say, as they are monotonous to a degree; parties, of course, +have ceased, and I am just about to leave p.p.c.'s everywhere, +as I don't mean to go into the world at all next year. I don't +remember whether I told you that some little time back Mrs. +Sartoris gave some tableaux and charades in which your humble +servant co-operated; the whole thing was, I believe, very +successful. The greatest treat I have had lately has been +hearing Mrs. Kemble read on different occasions Julius Cæsar, +Hamlet, and part of Midsummer Night's Dream; I need not tell +you how delighted I was.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p>(<i>Cover</i>—Mrs. Leighton,<br /> + Circus, Bath, England.)</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Rome</span>, <i>May 25, 1854</i>.<br /> +(<i>Received June 5.</i>)</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Very dearest Mamma</span>,—Your letter (which I received +the day before yesterday, and should have answered the next +day but for an engagement I had made to go into the country) +caused me great pain; if you have known me hitherto for a +dutiful and loving son, believe that in this case nothing has +been further from me than the least umbrage at the advice and +suggestions that you always offer me with kindness and +delicacy, and that I am much distressed at the idea of having +in any way aggravated the discomforts <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_148" id="PageV1_148">[148]</a></span>which an English winter +make you suffer; let me rather attribute, and beg yourself to +refer, to the depressed state of your spirits any +misconstruction you have laid upon a letter in which, if there +was any constraint, it arose only from a desire to answer +satisfactorily and systematically such questions as you asked +me; I will endeavour in future to present my report in a more +ornamental form. The delay, too, of my last letter arose from +a misconception on my part of your expectations, for I was +waiting and eagerly waiting for <i>your</i> answer to intervene, +and, considering the irregularity of Roman posts, you can +hardly have a day on which you particularly expect to receive +news of me. Let me hope, dear Mamma, that on these points, as +on the others that I am going to touch, you will be able in +future to think more cheerfully, in spite of the distorting +medium of British fogs. I fear from the tone of alarm I detect +in your letter that I (myself perhaps, at the time, under the +influence of the <i>scirocco</i>) must have conveyed to you an idea +of greater ill-health than I labour under: my eyes, certainly, +are not strong, so that I avoid using them at nights, and I +am, as I ever was, incorrigibly bed-loving, but this is "the +whole front" of my ailments; meanwhile I work all day with +little or no annoyance. I am of good cheer and contented, and +altogether more free from rheumatism than I have been for a +long time; that, thus deprived of the means of reading, such +little information as I ever had should have effectually made +its escape from a noddle that never had the capacity of fixing +itself on any <i>one</i> thing at a time, is deplorable, but not to +be wondered at; let us hope for a better day. Nor is spending +the hot months of the summer here in Rome so dreadful a thing +as it appears to your tender anxiety; with proper precautions +and a regular life I shall no doubt go through it as well as +so many of my friends that have tried the experiment; the more +so that the worst part of the summer is in September and early +October, at which period I shall be enjoying the particularly +cool and healthy air of Bagni di Lucca. How could you be +surprised, dear Mamma, at my having begun the pictures? did I +not tell you the size of them? do you not know the quantity of +figures in the composition? do you not know that it will be +considered a piece of extraordinary rapidity if I finished +them in time for <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_149" id="PageV1_149">[149]</a></span>the Exhibitions, <i>i.e.</i> by the beginning of +next February? You perceive the necessity of my staying here, +willy nilly. The Sartoris seem to you too prominent a motive +in my desire to stay; alas! and again alas! they are off to +Lucca in a few days, and I shall be left alone. Judge whether +I am eager to get off, and whether anything but necessity of +the most urgent kind will keep me here, for I am warmly +attached to both, and her I dearly love. Be quite at ease +about the amount of advice I can get here, I do not lack that +if I want it; but as it is, the compositions were so +completely sifted by Steinle before I left Frankfurt, that I +have nothing left but the material execution, in which you +know every artist must fumble about for himself. Cornelius +<i>is</i> very kind and amiable to me, has been to see me twice, +and speaks well of me behind my back; he told Mrs. Kemble +(Fanny) that there was not another man in England that could +paint such a picture as my "Cimabue" threatens to be, and the +same was unhesitatingly asserted by Browning, the poet, who is +also a connoisseur. Such details as these from my mouth savour +of intolerable vanity; they are not meant so, and I give you +them simply because I think they will fall pleasantly on the +ear of the mother of the daubster. To show you the <i>revers de +la médaille</i> about advice from influential men, I will just +tell you that I received the other day from Cornelius some +advice which was diametrically opposed to that of Steinle, +<i>arrangez vous!</i> Gamba and I are still capital friends, and he +is making great progress, which is the well-earned fruit of +his talent and assiduity.</p> + +<p>Now, dear Mamma, you see how letters come to be dry; by the +time you have shaken off the responsibility of question +answering, and begin to breathe a little, you have got to the +end of time and paper, and have no margin left for a little +dessert; the fact is, <i>your</i> only chance is this: next time +you write, ask me no questions, and then I'll devote my +epistle to telling you a most thrilling story which, though it +far surpasses in strangeness the common run of works of +fiction, is <i>perfectly and literally true</i>, as I have it +almost from headquarters; them's your prospects!—Meanwhile, +with very best love to all, I remain, your affectionate and +dutiful son,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep149" id="imagep149"></a> +<a href="images/imagep149.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep149th.jpg" width="90%" alt="Complete Design for "Cimabue's Madonna"" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">ORIGINAL SKETCH OF COMPLETE DESIGN FOR "CIMABUE'S MADONNA"<br /> +Drawn in 1853<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Rome, Via Felice 123</span>,<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_150" id="PageV1_150">[150]</a></span><br /> +<i>May 29, 1854</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Friend</span>,—Delightful as it always is to me to +receive any news of you, yet your last letter, along with +pleasure, caused me some pain, for I could not help fearing +that my long silence had annoyed you a little; if this should +be indeed the case I must express my extreme regret, and beg +you to believe that my gratitude and love can only cease when +my memory ceases; how could it possibly be otherwise?</p> + +<p>You paint me a very melancholy picture of the situation in +Frankfurt; it is certainly a most unpleasant state of things, +all this quarrelling and dissension! When I, at this distance, +think of such a regular hermit-like way of going on, I feel +quite disgusted; it is fortunate that you, dear Friend, have +in the ecstasy of creation a resource that can never fail you. +But how comes it that Hommel and Hendschel, formerly your +enthusiastic pupils, have now cooled down? That is very +incomprehensible; they do not know their own interests. I +congratulate you most heartily on the completion of your large +picture, which I am very sorry not to have seen finished, and +I am especially glad to hear what you tell me about the +shield-bearer, for that breathes to me of <i>industrious study +of nature</i>! Believe me, that you, the mature master, who still +consents to play the part of a student, will not be without +your reward.</p> + +<p>What you have written me about my work has put me into a most +terrible dilemma, a dilemma which I am still very deep in. It +is a presumption that I should set up <i>my</i> ideas, and a +disobedience that I should take the advice of other friends, +against your judgment; but I have gone so carefully into this +manner of representation, that I beg you, dear Friend, to +reconsider the matter, and see whether I am not right. These +are my reasons: it seems to me that the action in my pictures, +if ostensibly a triumph of the artist, yet, at the same time, +as an historical event, is just as much the consecration of a +Madonna, for which reason I (as you know) have placed the +masterpiece which is being carried upon a small decorated +altar; that such a solemn event probably took place on a +church festival (as was the case with the consecration of the +Chapel) may very well be assumed; would not such a festival in +the <i>thirteenth century</i> be <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_151" id="PageV1_151">[151]</a></span>important enough to justify the +presence of the bishop? But much more important than this +question of historical probability, appears to me the +consideration that the conception of a bishop is only made +tangible to the general mass of spectators by certain symbolic +articles of apparel, which are in some degree inseparable from +it; a bishop's presence in the procession is most probable. +Why should I not put him there? Amongst others, this opinion +was also held by Cornelius, to whom, as an experienced +Catholic, I naturally applied at the outset, and who told me +candidly that he would leave it. I hope you will not accuse me +of being too stiffnecked; in other respects I am certainly +docile.</p> + +<p>Since I last wrote to you I have been fairly industrious on an +average. I have now under-painted "Romeo and Juliet" in grey +(grau untermalt), made both the colour sketches, and have now +fairly got into the over-painting, or rather second +under-painting, of "Cimabue"; but I have not been always +within four walls; on the contrary I have profited by the +beautiful spring weather, and have often gone out into the +divine Campagna with a party of dear friends, male and female, +and I need not tell you that we have enjoyed it. I wish with +all my heart you could be with us, my dear Master. Rico, the +ever-industrious, for he does twice as much as I, sends you +warm greetings. I must now close. I wish I could tell rather +than write to you how you are loved and esteemed by your +devoted pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> + +<p>Please remember me most kindly to your wife.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Frankfurt am Main,</span><br /> +<i>August 6, 1854</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My very dear Friend</span>,—You have heaped coals of fire +upon my head, for I have not answered your last dear note, +brought me by André, and now I have received by Miss Farquhar +the lovely study of Vincenzo's head, which you so kindly wish +to present to me. I am almost dumfounded to find that you +could believe I was angry with you because you have not +written me for so long, and that you believe that the +indignation had been ignored in my last note. That, dear +friend, was a complete delusion, for there is nothing to which +I am more partial than to artists' letters, and nothing to +which I am <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_152" id="PageV1_152">[152]</a></span>more insensible than to such flattering praise as +you lavish upon me, while I know only too well how +unfortunately little I have deserved it. In earnest, dear +friend, call me no more master, but rather regard me as your +true and sincere friend, who only out of friendship for you +and love of art, far removed from despicable dissimulation, +faithfully shares with you his opinions and experience, and +never regards them as the pronouncements of an oracle. I know +very well what a difference there is between the description +of a work of art and the sight of it; the first, at best, only +gives one side, one part, whilst seeing places before our eyes +the whole soul of the artist, from all sides, and then much is +made mutually clear which in the former case appeared either +not understood or misunderstood. Miss Farquhar could not tell +me enough about you and your work, and greatly kindled my +curiosity and desire to be in your <i>atelier</i> for once; I was +only sorry that she had nothing to tell me about Gamba; +indeed, on the whole, she knew nothing about him. If I am to +express my thoughts of the very beautiful head of Vincenzo, it +seems to me that Leighton ought to guard against striving for +excessive fineness, for works of art can only be produced by +quite the contrary method. A certain roughness must bring out +fineness, but if everything is fine, nothing remains fine, &c. +But believe, though this head half displeases me, especially +on account of these theories, I think it beautiful and +masterly in drawing, and am consequently proud to possess it, +as I am of all that I have from your hand. I thank you a +thousand times for this fresh proof of your friendship. About +this place, let me be silent; you are right to say that art is +my refuge, and that I find in it my compensation for much that +goes ill here and everywhere; I must also not allow this +asylum to be profaned by the trifles of the very human things +that surround us in this world.</p> + +<p>Greet from me Rome, Gamba, Cornelius, and all the friends who +remember me; and to yourself, dear friend, heartfelt greetings +from your true and unchanging friend,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Edw. Steinle.</p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep152" id="imagep152"></a> +<a href="images/imagep152.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep152.jpg" width="55%" alt="Vincenzo" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"VINCENZO, THE PRETTIEST AND WICKEDEST BOY IN ROME." 1854<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>Before leaving Rome Leighton received the following characteristic +letter from Mr. Cartwright, one of his truest life-long friends:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_153" id="PageV1_153">[153]</a></span><span class="sc">Carlsbad</span>, <i>July 11, 1854</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My dear Leighton</span>,—You will be astonished to see a +letter from me. I can assure you that I have often thought of +you, and meant to indite you an epistle in the hope of +eliciting a reply full of Roman tale from you, and lately, +when through Papeleu I heard of your great canvass labors, my +yearning got a new twinge which at last has been pinched into +expression by the start at Pollock's resuscitation. I had +heard of his death in Paris and had mourned his fate most +sincerely, when the first man whom I met tramping health out +of the hot water of Carlsbad was Pollock himself. He is +himself again every inch of him; indeed a most wonderful +recovery; and, after deep and valorous potations of hot water, +we take long walks in the hills. He goes from here to +Marienbad and Prague, and means to be back in Rome by the end +of October. And I also mean to return there. Like a true +drunkard, I can't forswear my bottle, and I must have another +pull at it. We shall be there, I hope, in the beginning of +October, and I hope, my dear Leighton, that you will not +grudge me the pleasure of letting me have a few lines, so that +I may know whether you will be there in the winter and what +are the changes in Rome since my time. Are the Sartorises to +be there next winter, and where are they now? Pray answer me +this, as I particularly wish to know where they are. I have +heard that there were such crowds of strangers at Rome last +winter that quarters were not to be had; and for this reason I +wish to be there early. Do you happen to know what is the +price of the floors in the house on the Pincio which was built +by Byström the sculptor? Next to the Trinità, immediately +after the sculptor's studio, there is a small house inhabited +when I was last in Rome by some French officers (at least a +sentinel was at the door) and years ago by Mrs. Sartoris. +Pollock tells me it is now to be let. Would you be kind enough +to give me any information you can about it. It is a house I +have often coveted on account of the view. I beg your pardon +for my coolness; I hope you will bear kindly with it; if I can +do anything for you in Paris, command me: but anyhow pray +write to me, if only a few lines, for in my heart I wish to +have some news about you and old Rome. The other day I saw at +the Louvre our old friend the very questionable <i>Vittoria +Colonna</i> which was at Minardis. It was for Exhibition there in +the Gallerie <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_154" id="PageV1_154">[154]</a></span>d'Apollon: what the picture is I cannot pretend +to pronounce, but I do not like it: it is a picture in which I +have no confidence. I think that if not a made picture, it is +at all events a tame one. This year there was no Salon as it +has been put off till next year's great Exhibition. Robert +Fleury has sold a picture to the Luxembourg which is not so +good as his former ones; but the man who I think is the most +<i>marked</i> one of the day is Conture. Excuse my scrap, and pray +take pity on my longing and write me, were it only <i>a line</i>. I +should be grievously disappointed were you to refuse me the +pleasure. I shall be <i>here till the 7th August</i>; until the +<i>25th August</i>, after that date letters will find me Frankfurt +Poste Restante; and after that in Paris Poste Restante. If you +write here, put Carlsbad—Böhmen—and in a corner, <i>Austria</i>. +And now farewell; with a real ... I am longing for a letter. +The kindest regards to my Caffé Greco and other +friends.—Yours most sincerely,</p> + +<p class="right sc">W.C. Cartwright.<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a><br /></p> +</div> + +<p>After his stay at the Bagni di Lucca, in the summer of 1854, Leighton +went to Frankfort, Venice, and to Florence, returning to Rome in +October.</p> + +<p>In the following letter to Steinle are sentences it might be well to +print in finest gold, for the benefit of students who try to run +before they walk, who aim at the freedom and glorious inevitability of +a Velasquez touch without taking the pains to equip themselves +worthily to enter the lists with the giants; not realising that +skipping over the underpinning, necessary in creating any work of art, +must result in the shakiest of edifices. The sentence refers to the +criticism in Steinle's letter of August 6, 1854, on the drawing of +"Vincenzo" (called by Leighton "the prettiest and wickedest boy in +Rome") which Leighton had sent him.</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Rome, Via Felice 123</span>,<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_155" id="PageV1_155">[155]</a></span><br /> +<i>October 22, 1854</i>.</p> + +<p>As I am making a short pause to-day in my work, I cannot +employ it better than in writing a letter to you, my very dear +Friend. It was a very great comfort to me to see by your last +lines that you had not construed my former long silence as a +cooling of my friendship and gratitude, and I therefore hope +that you will also this time meet me with the same +forbearance. You will certainly be interested to hear, my dear +Friend, that both my pictures are by this time fairly forward, +and I expect to finish them within three months. How much I +wish that you could see them here, and that I could put in the +finishing touches under your supervision! I would give you an +account of my work, but, bless me, what is there to <i>tell</i> +about my picture, except that it has given me a fearful amount +of trouble, and that in the end one perceives how +circumstantially one has gone to work on the whole matter; the +"Cimabue" goes to London and the "Romeo" to Paris. While I am +speaking of my works, I take this opportunity to touch +gratefully upon your kind remarks about the study head of +Vincenzo, and to inform you, however, that my opinion of it +takes rather more the form of a question than that of an +objection. I have often considered the question of the +self-guidance of an artist who is left to his own devices, and +it has often struck me how many wander in evil by-paths +through an unorganised, may I say <i>unprogressive</i>, development +of their gifts; and now it seems to me that most of them are +wrecked because they maturely study <i>the object to be +attained</i>, while the <i>means</i> are not considered which should +lead to such results. For example, a young man sees a Raphael, +a Titian, a Rembrandt, all in their latest manner, and hears +people say: See how broad, how full, how round, how masterly! +And the student naturally conceives the wish that he also +might produce broad and masterly works, and <i>so far</i> he is +right; but from that point he goes aside. He goes home and +<i>strives</i> and <i>strains</i> after masterly breadth; he succeeds +(apparently), and he is lost. The soap-bubble is quickly +blown; he rejoices in its gay colours; it flies up and breaks +in the air. And the cause is simple; the true, genuine +mastership is not an <i>acquired quality</i> <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_156" id="PageV1_156">[156]</a></span>but an <i>organised +result</i>. As with art itself, so is it also with the individual +artist. If we cast an eye over the progress of art-history, we +see how the full, conscious, free, has developed itself out of +the meagre, timorous, scrupulous, dry. Similarly if we compare +the first efforts of the individual with his last, we perceive +the same thing: place M. Angelo's "Pinta" beside the +decorations of the Sixtine, one of Raphael's works at Perugia +beside the "Stanzen," Rembrandt's "Leçon d'anatomie" beside +the "Nightwatch," and it will be evident in the most striking +manner that not one of these men had risen by means of his +talent to full breadth in his youth, or had been in any way +studious to do so, but on the contrary that they have attained +mastery by natural growth. In order, therefore, to reach the +same altitude, the young artist must proceed in the same +manner as his exemplars, and must endeavour so to direct his +studies that he, according to his gifts, may achieve a similar +result. He who would fill his threshing-floor must not +<i>glean</i>, but rather he must <i>sow</i> that he may richly harvest; +he who would have rare fruits all his life must plant and +cherish the tree; even so should the young artist seek to +plant a tree the normal fruit of which is called "artistic +perfection." You will easily understand how by the application +of these maxims my preliminary works go forward rather +<i>timorously</i>. Entire conscientiousness is now the chief thing +to me. I <i>am laying</i> the foundation on which I hope to rely +firmly later on; I am amassing capital and am not yet in +enjoyment of the interest. "How many objections to a couple of +words?" you will laughingly remark; dear Friend, I must feel +myself indeed well equipped before I permit myself to oppose +anything against your judgment.</p> + +<p>Of Gamba I will say nothing, for he is going to enclose a few +lines in this.</p> + +<p>I have made a trip to Florence this summer, and again +thoroughly enjoyed the art-treasures. I think I have spoken to +you of the wall-paintings by Giotto which were discovered two +years ago in Santa Croce; one of them, which represents the +death of St. Francis, is the literal prototype of the +celebrated fresco by Ghirlandajo (on the same subject) in the +Sta. Trinita, and I really prefer it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_157" id="PageV1_157">[157]</a></span>Time, eyes, paper fail me, and I must close. I hope that, if +you write to me again, you will tell me exactly what you are +doing.—Meantime, dear Master, accept the heartfelt greeting +of your grateful pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> + +<p>Please remember me most kindly to your wife and to all my +friends.</p></div> + +<p>Leighton's eye trouble having become a constant anxiety and hindrance +to him, he resolved to consult Graefe, the great German oculist. From +Florence, on his return journey, he writes his impressions of Berlin +to Steinle. In this letter he repeats again the sense of happiness +which he always experienced in Italy.</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Florence, 386 Via Del Posso</span>,<br /> +<i>November 13</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My very dear Friend and Master</span>,—At last I am able to +write to you. In the hurry and bustle of travelling, and even +in the short sojourns that I have made here and there, it has +been impossible for me to sit quietly down and compose a +letter. Even to my parents I have written this morning for the +first time since I left Vienna. But you will readily believe +that during this time I have often travelled in thought to +Frankfurt in loving remembrance of you, my dear Friend.</p> + +<p>Strange things have happened to me since I saw you. I had not +even reached Berlin when I was informed by a "jebildeten" +(cultivated) Prussian that Graefe, on whose account +exclusively I was travelling to the "geistreichen" (clever) +capital, had gone away for an indefinite period; imagine my +dismay! Luckily on my arrival I found an old friend who was +acquainted with the family of Geheimerath von Graefe, and who +found out through them that Graefe must arrive at the Golden +Lamb (Leopoldostadt) in Vienna on such and such a day. I met +him, and had a consultation at which he examined my eyes with +the ophthalmoscope, and told me to be of good cheer, my +trouble was certainly obstinate but in no way dangerous, and I +might hope <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_158" id="PageV1_158">[158]</a></span>for a complete cure. He prescribed me a course for +Rome, which consists principally of local blood-letting and +wearing spectacles, and will be very tedious; but I will +gladly conform to anything in order to get my eyes back again. +One thing is certain, since I have been in Italy they have +been quite markedly better, which I attribute for the most +part to the diminution of my hypochondria. Yes, since I have +been in Italy I have become a new man; I breathe, my breast +throbs higher; heavy clouds have rolled away from me; the sun +shines again on my path, and my heart is once more full of +youth and love of life; if only you were also here, dear +Friend!</p> + +<p>But I must tell you something about my German travels, and I +will begin with Berlin. There is certainly something special +about that town. At the first glance it is somewhat imposing, +and the prodigious quantity of new buildings, which evidently +aim at architecture, gives (one may hold one's own opinion as +to the taste of the buildings) the appearance of great +artistic activity and of a widespread taste for art; but I +have since found reason to regard this apparent love of art as +something feigned or forced. One gets quite sick of +<i>education</i> in Berlin; would you believe that now <i>every girl</i> +has to pass an <i>examination as governess</i>?<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> Kaulbach +understands the Berliners well; in Raeginski's house a study +of a Roman piper hangs in great honour, which he has purchased +from the <i>great master</i> on account of a doggerel verse which +is written on it in large letters, and runs thus:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Upon my travels in Italy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This little boy I found, but he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although my brush may his form repeat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remains to my sorrow incomplete."<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i13 sc">—W. Kaulbach.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="noin"><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_159" id="PageV1_159">[159]</a></span>Divine! eh? I knew a counterpart in the Belgian art-world. +When I visited Gallait in Brussels some years ago, before the +door stood a ragged, most picturesque Hungarian rat-catcher, +who asked me if an artist did not live there. Recently I saw +my Slav again, with a violin under his arm, in a window, very +finely lithographed, I believe even an "artistes +contemporains"; in the corner was "Louis Gallait pinx"; +underneath, "Art et Liberté"! Thus do pictures originate!</p> + +<p>In Berlin everything is valued extrinsically. One sees that +most strikingly in the new Museum. When it is finished, it +will be, in proportion to the means of the town in which it +stands, the most splendid that I know; moreover, it cannot be +denied (unsuitable as a three-quarters Greek building may be +on the banks of the Spree) that much in the architecture is +even very beautiful. But what is the good of it all? With the +exception of some Egyptian antiquities, in all these lavishly +gilded and painted rooms there are only <i>plaster casts</i>! Yes, +and, I must not forget it, the great tea-service of Kaulbach. +A wretched thing, made, moreover, with superfluous +productiveness; simple allegory carried out without any fine +sense of form, with utter denial of all individuality, and +painted—well, of that one would rather say <i>nothing</i>; and yet +"Kaulbach has the Hellenic art," &c. &c., and all the rest +that is in the papers. One would like to exclaim with Cassius: +"Has it come to this, ye gods!"</p> + +<p>Unfortunately I cannot praise the Cornelian things in the +<i>old</i> Museum much either. I must confess they displeased me +greatly; when I consider them from a distance in their +connection with the building, I find them disproportioned; in +a long, very simple colonnade, built on a large scale, I +require of a fresco painting that it shall show in form and +colour large, quiet, plastic masses; instead of that I see +here a gay, unquiet, confused <i>fricassée</i> of thought and +allegory that makes one dizzy; ideas in such profusion that +nothing remains with the spectator; he goes away without +having received anything; nor is the mental impression +plastic. If, however, one goes nearer to see the execution, +again one finds nothing pleasing—a constrained, unlovely +drawing—positions that could only be attained by complete +breaking on the wheel—a general appearance as if the <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_160" id="PageV1_160">[160]</a></span>figures +had no bones, but muscles made of brick instead. The colour is +not much better than Kaulbach's. The end-piece on the right, +an allegorical representation of the death of man (or +something of the kind), gives the most ordinary and at the +same time most awkward sudden impression that I have yet seen. +Cornelius may look at the Vatican in Rome and see if he can +find anything like it there. Altogether the once certainly +great artist seems to have somewhat deteriorated; the Cartoons +at the Campo Santo are not by a long way so good as the design +(which I find charming in parts); they are here and there, +which greatly surprised me, disgracefully <i>out of drawing</i>; +and then the theatrical attitudes, conventional clothes, &c. +&c. In the Museum itself there are few pictures of the first +rank, but so much the more beautiful are those by masters of +the second rank. What a Lippi! what a Basaiti! what a Cos +Rosetti! I was entranced; that is art, character, form, +colour, all in beautiful harmony. The "Daughter of Titian" +does not deserve its celebrity; it is weak and dull.</p> + +<p>But my paper is exhausted, as are also my eyes; I will +therefore defer the rest to another letter, and only mention +that in Vienna Kuppelwiesser, Führich, and Roesner received me +like a son of the house, and all sent hearty greetings to you. +Do write to me very soon, dear Friend, and keep in kind +remembrance your grateful, devoted pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> + +<p>My address is, Poste Restante, Rome.</p> + +<p>Please remember me most kindly to your wife, and generally to +all friends.</p></div> + +<p>When tracing the ever-swaying ebb and flow in the tides of joy and +sorrow in a life, we come to times which seem to accumulate in their +days the whole strength of feeling and vitality of which a nature is +capable; prominent summits that rise triumphant out of the troublous +waves, up to which the past existence has seemed to climb, and the +memory of which retains a dominating influence in the descent of the +future.</p> + +<p>"I—h'm—must I say it?—am just as happy as the day is <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_161" id="PageV1_161">[161]</a></span>long." So +wrote Leighton to his mother when at the age of twenty-three he was +spending his days in and about Rome—that wonderful Rome with her +world of ghosts, her solemn eventful past skimmed over and made faint +by her actual sunlit present. To Leighton that sunlit present became +vividly, excitingly alive. Fountains of joy were springing up in the +artist-nature, catching as they sprang golden rays from all that is +most beautiful in youth's dominions. Leighton writes to Steinle (July +25, 1853): "The remembrance of the beautiful time spent there (Rome) +will be riches to me throughout my life; whatever may later befall me, +however darkly the sky may cloud over me, there will remain on the +horizon of the past the beautiful golden stripe, glowing, indelible; +it will smile on me like the soft blush of even."</p> + +<p>When, in the late autumn of 1852, he first arrived in Rome, he had just +stepped from the position of being one in a family to that of being an +independent unit; and, though accompanied by his brother artist, Count +Gamba, he felt greatly the loss of what he had left behind—the +inspiring companionship of Steinle, compared to which nothing in Rome +was worthy to count as an art influence. Obliged to work in a small, +inconvenient studio, the only one obtainable—expected friends, whose +society he valued, failing him—he felt the want of so much that he +could hardly enjoy what he had. In those first days (as we gather from +his letters) the Eternal City cast no fresh glamour over his spirit.</p> + +<p>Spring came, and the tune changed with the entrancement of +Persephone's release in the balmy warmth of the South. The spring air +twinkles with sunshine, and the fruit-trees are again alive with gay +blossom, of fluttering petal, frail as the soft moth wing; the villa +gardens are again bedecked with grand, more solid petalled +flowers—brilliant-hued camellias—and later,—the noble magnolia's +ivory white goblets; while the ground is carpeted with violets and +varied-hued anemones. <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_162" id="PageV1_162">[162]</a></span>All over the wild spaces of the Campagna spring +up grasses and lovely unchequered growth, spreading a green and golden +fur, bristling in the bright light for miles and miles under a +cloudless sky away to the faint blue line of mountains on the horizon. +On one summit—golden in the sunlight—the old town of Subiaco is +poised; on nearer slopes—summer haunts of the ancient Roman world, +Tivoli, Frascati, Albano: the wastes of budding herbage between +checked only here and there by some spectre of old days, some skeleton +of a broken archway, some remnant of a ruined wall.</p> + +<p>It was on these strange wilds of the Roman Campagna that the life-long +friends, Giovanni Costa and Leighton, first met. Here is the +description of the delightful scene of their meeting, and of +Leighton's previous introduction to Costa's work at the famous Café +Greco, written by Costa after his friend's death:—</p> + +<p>"In the year 1853, the Café Greco at Rome was a world-renowned centre +of art, a rendezvous for artists of all nationalities, who had flocked +to Rome to study the history of art as well as the beauties of nature +surrounding the sacred walls of the Eternal City.</p> + +<p>"At the Café Greco<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> there was a certain waiter, Rafaello, a +favourite with all, who had collected an album of sketches and +water-colours by the most distinguished artists, such as Cornelius, +Overbeck, Français, Bénonville, Brouloff, Böcklin, and others, and I +felt much flattered when I too was asked to contribute, with the +result that I gave him the only water-colour I have ever done in my +life. Leighton was also begged by Rafaello to do something for the +album, and having it in his hands, he saw my work, and asked whose it +was. <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_163" id="PageV1_163">[163]</a></span>On being told, he advised Rafaello to keep it safely, saying +that one day it would be very valuable. When I came later to the Café, +Rafaello told me how a most accomplished young Englishman, who spoke +every language, had seen my water-colour, and all he had said about +it. I was very proud of his criticism, and it gave me courage for the +rest of my life.</p> + +<p>"That same year, in the month of May, the usual artists' picnic took +place at Cervara, a farm in the Roman Campagna. There used to be +donkey races, and the winner of these was always the hero of the day. +We had halted at Tor dé Schiavi, three miles out of Rome, and half the +distance to Cervara,<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> for breakfast. Every one had dismounted and +tied his beast to a paling, and all were eating merrily.</p> + +<p>"Suddenly one of the donkeys kicked over a beehive, and out flew the +bees to revenge themselves on the donkeys. There were about a hundred +of the poor beasts, but they all unloosed themselves and took to +flight, kicking up their heels in the air—all but one little donkey, +who was unable to free himself, and so the whole swarm fell upon him.</p> + +<p>"The picnic party also broke up and fled, with the exception of one +young man, with fair, curly hair, dressed in velvet, who, slipping on +gloves and tying a handkerchief over his face, ran to liberate the +poor little beast. I had started to do the same, but less resolutely, +having no gloves; so I met him as he came back, and congratulated him, +asking him his name. And in this way I first made the acquaintance of +Frederic Leighton, who was then about twenty-two years old; but I was +not then aware that he was the unknown admirer of my drawing in +Rafaello's album. I remember that day I had the great honour of +winning the donkey race, and Leighton won the tilting at the ring with +a flexible cane; therefore we met again when sharing the honour of +drinking <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_164" id="PageV1_164">[164]</a></span>wine from the President's cup, and again we shook hands. +When I heard from Count Gamba, who was a friend and fellow-student of +Leighton's, what great talent he had, I tried to see his work and to +improve our acquaintance; for as I felt I must be somewhat of a donkey +myself, because of the Franciscan education I had received, and +because I was the fourteenth in our family, I thought the +companionship of the spirited youth would give me courage."</p> + +<p>And again it was on the Campagna that that choice and delightful +company picnicked in the spring-time of the year, of which company +Leighton wrote on April 29, 1854 (see p. 146).</p> + +<p>Who knows but that it was at one of these notable picnics that +Browning was inspired to write his wonderful little poem on the +Campagna?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The Champaign, with its endless fleece<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of feathery grasses everywhere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silence and passion, joy and peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">An everlasting wash of air—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rome's ghost since her decease.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such life there, through such lengths of hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Such miracles performed in play,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Such letting nature have her way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Heaven looks from its towers."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Life was full to overflowing in those inspiring days, and Leighton was +indeed "as happy as the day was long." Friendships grew apace. Many +were made which were lasting, notably that with Mr. Henry Greville, +the most intimate man-friend of Leighton's life. His friendships with +Sir John Leslie, Mr. Cartwright, George Mason, Mr. Aitchison, Sir +Edward Poynter, all began in those early happy days in Rome. Artists +living there, who included this gifted brother-painter in their +comradeship, showed more and more sympathy <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_165" id="PageV1_165">[165]</a></span>towards his work as they +became more intimate with the delightful nature. Leighton had arrived +so far forward on the threshold of his success that anxiety about his +pictures was outweighed by hopeful expectancy; but it was while still +standing on the threshold—that really most inspiring of all stages in +the journey, during the two years from 1853 to 1855, before the great +triumph of signal success crowned him—that we catch the happiest +picture in Leighton's life. To use his own words, "In this world +confident expectation is a greater blessing, almost, than fruition."</p> + +<p>In a letter he wrote to Fanny Kemble on February 1, 1880, Leighton +refers to a conversation he had with her at this "outset of his +career"—a conversation which recurred to him, he tells her, when he +first addressed the Royal Academy students from the presidential chair +in 1879. He offers a copy of his discourse for her acceptance, ending +his letter by the words: "If you remember that conversation, you may +perhaps feel some interest in reading the Lecture, of which I ask you +to accept a copy. If you do not remember it, nevertheless accept the +little paper for the sake of old days which were not as to-day."<a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> +How much can a few words say! If gratified ambition could ever make an +artist-nature happy, how transcendently happy Leighton ought to have +been in 1880! But the fibre which strung the highest note in his +nature never vibrated to worldly success. Though his ambition may have +sought success, and his passion for fulfilling to the utmost his duty +towards his fellow-creatures <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_166" id="PageV1_166">[166]</a></span>may have greatly welcomed it, he +remained to the end of his life ever on the threshold of that kingdom, +the possession of which could alone have satisfied what he "<i>cared for +most</i>."</p> + +<p>The following letters mention the progress of the <i>opus magnum</i> to its +completion, also of the "Romeo" picture, and his visits to Florence +and the Bagni di Lucca. The first begins by his expressing his +ever-growing dislike of general society.</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p>[<i>Commencement missing.</i>]</p> + +<p>Miss —— is no less than ever, and no less agreeable, as far +as I can judge; I have only called once as yet, I have an +ungovernable horror of being asked to tea; my aversion to +tea-fights, muffin-scrambles, and crumpet-conflicts, which has +been gathering and festering for a long time, has now become +an open wound. The more I enjoy and appreciate the society and +intercourse of the dozen people that I care to know, the more +tiresome I find the commerce of the others, <i>braves et +excellentes gens du reste</i>; the Lord be merciful to the +overwhelming insipidity of that individual whose name is +Legion—the <i>unexceptionable</i>—the <i>highly respectable!</i> My +great resource is, of course, Mrs. Sartoris, whom I see at +some time or other every day, for it would be a blank day to +me in which I did not see her; God bless her! for my dearest +friend. I warm my very soul in the glow of her sisterly +affection and kindness. Little baby is the same sunbeam that +he always was; did I tell you I painted his likeness in oils +as a surprise for his father? as a picture it is not +unsuccessful, but any attempt at a portrait of that child is a +profanation, and will be till we paint with the down of +peaches and the blood of cherries, and mix our tints with +golden sunlight; still, it pleased <i>them</i>, and that ought to +be enough; but I am an artist as well as a friend. A very +interesting acquaintance I have here in the shape of Rossini, +the great Rossini! Poor Rossini, what a sad fate is his, to +have lived to see the people on whom the glory of his splendid +genius has shone turn away from him in forgetfulness, +neglecting his classical <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_167" id="PageV1_167">[167]</a></span>beauties to listen to the noisy +trivialities of a ——, who has made the Italian name in music +a by-word of ridicule; with the music of course, the singers +have degenerated also; a singer no longer requires to be an +<i>artist</i>, it is no longer necessary that he or she should +study his or her part till every note has a meaning and a +character expressive of the words of the libretto, and +accompanied by musical and impassioned <i>mimica</i>; no, let the +<i>prima donna</i> only squall out her never-ending <i>fioriture</i> +with sufficient disregard for the safety of her lungs, or the +<i>primo tenore</i> shake the stage with a <i>la di petto</i>, and all +is right. This is a digression, but as an artist I can't help +taking it to heart, and wanted to have it out. Amongst Mrs. +Sartoris' few "intimes" at this moment is a Neapolitan lady, +la Duchessa Ravaschieri, daughter of Filangièri the minister, +who has given her himself an education almost unique amongst +Italian noblewomen, who are insipid and ignorant beyond +anything.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Florence, Hôtel Du Nord</span>,<br /> +<i>September 20, 1854</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Mamma</span>,—I was much surprised, as we very +naturally measure time past by the number of events that have +taken place in it, the interval between this your last letter +and the previous one seemed to me doubly long, for I have +changed scene so often during these last four or five weeks, +and have moved so much from place to place, that it seems to +me an age since I last despatched a letter to England; from +which you will naturally and correctly infer that it was a +very great pleasure to me once more to see your handwriting. +Your kind anxiety and advice about the cholera I shall +remember when I get to Rome (which will be in a week or ten +days), where that disease prevails, although mildly, for what +are thirty cases a day in a town of that size? In the +meantime, both at the baths where I have been, and at +Florence, where I am, the cholera has not dared to show its +face; indeed, such a prestige of salubrity attaches to the +name of the baths of Lucca that eight days' sojourn at that +place is considered tantamount to a "<i>quarantaine</i>!" It is a +very strange thing, this exemption from disease, for in a +number of the surrounding villages the number of people +carried off has <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_168" id="PageV1_168">[168]</a></span>been frightful. As for that after +apprehension of yours, dearest Mamma, about my being alone and +uncared for in case of illness, I am happy to say that nothing +can be more unfounded; I have in Mrs. Sartoris that genuine +friend, and, especially, genuine <i>woman friend</i> that in such a +case would leave nothing undone that you, the best of mothers, +and my own dear sisters, would do for me. It is her habit, +when any of her bachelor and homeless friends are poorly, to +go and sit with them and nurse them, and do you think that I, +who have become one of her most intimate circle, should need +to fear neglect? In the friendship of that admirable woman I +am rich for life. Poor thing, she has lately received a great +blow in her own family from the sudden calamity which has +befallen her. This shocking news reached me here, at Florence, +where I had come on from the baths, and ascertaining that her +husband was gone off to England to inquire into the matter, +and that by a chance her boy's tutor was absent at the same +time, I instantaneously went off to Lucca, where I stayed a +week (till the return of the tutor), taking care of her boy, +hearing him his lessons, and especially keeping him out of the +way; in the evening I used to walk or drive with her, and to +my infinite gratification was able to be some little comfort +and distraction to her; my only regret in the whole business +was that I was making no material sacrifice of my own time and +pleasure, so that I had not the satisfaction of comforting her +at my own expense. In adopting the resolution, which I have +communicated to you, of retiring from society, I have taken +into consideration all that you say, dear Mamma, and more too, +for I feel I have of my nature a very fair share of the +hateful worldly weakness of my country-people; still, I have +found no sufficiently great advantage or compensation for the +tedium of going out; the Roman <i>grand monde</i>, a small part of +which I know, and which, had I chosen to push a little, I +might have known all, is of no <i>use</i> whatever in reference to +my future career; added to which I believe I told you that I +never by any chance got introduced to anybody, so that +whomever I know, I know by chance, or by their own wish. For +instance, last winter I met the Duke of Wellington constantly, +both at the Sartoris' (he is a very old friend of hers) and at +the Farquhars', and though he <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_169" id="PageV1_169">[169]</a></span>is the most accessible of men, +I made no attempt to make his acquaintance, and so it is with +everybody. But for the <i>tableaux charades</i> which Mrs. S. gave +last winter, in which I was joint-manager with herself, and +was therefore brought into contact with her numerous +co-operating friends, I should probably have known few or none +of those who were at her house every week; always excepting +our own intimate circle, to wit, Browning, Ampère, Dr. +Pantaleone, Lyons, Count Gozze, Duke Sermoneta, &c. You know, +when I say I shan't go out, it is in so far a <i>façon de +parler</i>, that, as I shall be at least every other day at Mrs. +Sartoris', I shall not be at home, trying my eyes. I quite +agree with you in thinking this business of ——'s a most +awkward thing; I cannot understand a man having once gone into +the army and made his profession to be honourably killed for +his country, should not jump at the idea of going to the scene +of war; I have felt a very strong desire to lend a hand +myself, but one cannot drive two trades. My singing (in +particular, and music in general) I have avoided mentioning, +because, dear Mamma, it is a subject on which I have <i>no</i> +reason to dwell very complacently; my first disappointment was +finding my voice, instead of strengthening in an Italian +climate, getting if possible weaker than it was. It is the +merest "fil de voix." I have therefore as the onset very +insufficient "moyens"; this is owing, not only to the +insufficiency of my "organe," but also to an unpleasant +visitation in the shape of swollen and irritated tonsils, the +very ailment, I believe, under which Gussy labours. This +symptom, which I have carried about some time, is, I fancy, +not likely ever to leave me permanently; add to this that as +soon as I sit down to thump with elephantine touch a most +ordinary accompaniment, the little voice I have vanishes; thus +between two stools ... you know the rest. Still, I am bound to +add that Mrs. Sartoris (who could not flatter) has great +pleasure in hearing me coo a little song or two that I know, +and says I have what is better than voice, which is a musical +"accent," and that (she is pleased to add) to a rather +remarkable degree; my voice is weak and powerless, but true +and facile. I will tell you exactly what to expect when you +see me again. I shall be able to sit down to the piano and +whine some half-dozen pretty little ballads, with a +rum-tum-tum accompaniment <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_170" id="PageV1_170">[170]</a></span>of affecting simplicity. Gussy +dreams of me as "very handsome" and "are my whiskers growing?" +I am <i>not</i> very handsome, none of my features are really +<i>good</i>. My whiskers <i>have</i> grown, they are undeniable, there +is no shirking them, or getting out of the way of them; <i>I +wear whiskers</i> though you were short-sighted; <i>but</i> they are +modest ones; as for moustaches, the seven hairs which I have +(and wear) are not worth mentioning, but still I have none of +that delicacy which you profess on the subject. In my opinion, +<i>if</i> gentlemanhood is a thing dependent on the scraping of +four square inches of your face, and residing only in the +well-shaved purlieus of a (probably) ugly mouth, I feel equal +to going without it, in that shape at all events. A moustache, +and even a beard, if kept short enough to be in keeping with a +not very flowing costume, is both becoming and convenient, and +I fear that the whole prestige of respectability hovering +around Mr. and Mrs. ——, or the withering contempt of the +irreproachable Sir John and Lady ——, would not make me +shave, unless, indeed, I felt too hot about the chin. I have +gone through your letter, and shall wind up with a few words +about my doings, which, by-the-bye, might be compendiously +characterised by one word: <i>nothing</i>. My holidays are drawing +to a close, and I shall be in Rome, working very hard to get +my pictures done for the Exhibitions. Meanwhile I am enjoying +Florentine sunsets, the gorgeousness of which defies +description. The other day, in particular, I was on the +heights near the Miniato, I thought I had never seen anything +like it. I remembered Papa's fondness for that spot, and +wished he had been there to share my enjoyment; the lanes were +cool and pearly grey; over them hung in every fantastic shape +the rich growth of the orchards and gardens that crowned the +lengthened walls; the olives, strangely twisted, flaming with +a thousand tongues of fire; the wreathing vine flinging its +emerald skirts from tree to tree; the purple wine flashing in +the fiery grape; the stately <i>maïs</i> flapping its arms in the +breath of the evening; the solemn cypress; the poetic laurel; +the joyous oleander—all glorified in the ardour of the +setting sun, that flung its rays obliquely along the earth; +you would have been enchanted.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Rome, Via Felice 123</span>,<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_171" id="PageV1_171">[171]</a></span><br /> +<i>February 10, 1855</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Papa</span>,—I hasten to answer your kind letter and +to thank you for the willingness you express to advance such a +sum of money as I shall require to cover the heavy expenses I +am incurring. I forgot to mention in my last letter that my +picture will be directed straight to the frame-maker's who +undertakes the exhibiting of it.</p> + +<p>In approaching the other points which you touch in your +letter, I feel that my letter will unavoidably have a +combative colouring, which I sincerely hope you will not +misconstrue, and beg that you will consider whether the +reasons I advance for not conforming to your suggestions are +not sound ones. If I particularly object to accompanying my +picture, it is because I think that the small advantages that +might accrue from so doing would in no way make up for all I +should lose; whatever can be done to my picture on its arrival +in England will be kindly done for me by my friend, Mr. T. +Gooderson, who is in the habit of receiving and varnishing +Buckner's works on similar occasions; with respect to the +interest to be made amongst the Academicians in behalf of my +op. magn., I have neglected <i>that</i> on the <i>express advice</i> of +Buckner, who has great experience in those matters and is a +most kind and honest man; he says, such is the party spirit of +R.A.'s, that the best chance of securing impartial treatment +(in the case of a work of merit) is to be <i>completely unknown</i> +to all of them, a condition which I am admirably calculated to +fulfil. You are also perhaps not aware that my picture will +reach England <i>five weeks</i> before the opening of the +Exhibition, so that by accompanying it I should completely +lose all the best part of the year here in Rome. There are a +great number of things which I propose doing now that my +pictures are about to be off my hands. There are here several +very remarkable heads of which I wish to make finished +studies, and especially also I am loth to go without having +drawn anything from Michael Angelo and Raphael, which is one +of the chief objects for which one comes to this city of the +past; but, I do not hesitate to say, the principal task which +I <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_172" id="PageV1_172">[172]</a></span>propose to myself is a half-length portrait of Mrs. +Sartoris, to which I wish to devote my every energy that it +may be worthy of perpetuating the features of the last Kemble; +irrespective of the enormous artistic advantage to be derived +from the study of so exceptional a head, you will easily +understand my eagerness to give some tangible form to my +gratitude towards those whose fireside has been my fireside +for so long a time; nothing would grieve me more than missing +so good an opportunity. I confess, too, that I wished to see a +little more leisurely the glorious scenery that lies all round +Rome, and which I have hitherto hardly glanced at, and partly +indeed not seen at all. I had indeed contemplated before +leaving Italy, making a trip to Naples, Capri, Oschia, Amalfi, +and all the spots about which artists rave. This, however, +will I fear be under all circumstances a financial <i>château en +Espagne</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Rome, Via Felice 123</span>,<br /> +<i>February 12</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Honoured and dear Friend</span>,—That you, who know me so +well and are so well aware of how I carry your image in my +heart, could misinterpret my silence I did not fear for a +moment, for rather will you have thought to yourself that the +stress of my occupations in the course of the day, and my +incapacity to do anything at night, have hitherto prevented me +from writing; and so it is; for, be you assured, dear Friend, +that, as long as I pursue art, you will be ever present with +me in the spirit, and that I shall always ascribe every +success which I may possibly attain in the future to your wise +counsel and your inspiriting example, for "as the twig is bent +the tree's inclined."</p> + +<p>First I will tell you about my health; thank Heaven, as +regards my general health, I have nothing to complain of; if +not exactly strong, still I am lively and in good spirits, and +look out upon the world quite contentedly. My eyes—well, yes, +they might be better; otherwise I am always in a condition to +work my seven or eight hours a day without over-exertion, in +return for which I dare not do anything in the evenings. To +tell the truth, my position is not an agreeable one; I am not +bad enough to follow <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_173" id="PageV1_173">[173]</a></span>the course prescribed for me by Graefe, +but on the other hand not well enough to be able to feel quite +tranquil....</p> + +<p>Time has slipped away in stress of work since I commenced this +letter. I throw myself again upon your goodness, dear Master, +and beg you will not measure my love by my readiness in +writing, for then I should certainly come off a loser. I told +you that my affairs have pressed upon me; I have finished my +"Cimabue." I am dreadfully disappointed, dear Friend, that I +cannot, as I hoped, send you a photograph, but it has been +impossible for me to have one taken, since the picture is so +large that it could not be transported to a photographic +loggia without fearful ado and unnecessary risk to the canvas; +I will therefore exert myself to write you what it looks like. +First you must know that I changed my intention as to the +respective sizes of the two pictures, for I perceived that my +eyes could not possibly permit the Florentine composition to +be carried out on the proposed scale. I therefore took a +canvas of 17-½ feet (English measure), in consequence of +which my figures have become half life size (like Raphael's +"Madonna del Cardellino"), and do not look at all ill. The +other picture (which I shall send to London) will be something +over 7 feet long by 5 feet. If I am to get them both finished +by next January, I must set to work in earnest. I have made +the following alterations: first, those prescribed by you, +viz. I have made the picture which is being carried larger, +the chapel smaller, and have suppressed the flower-pots on the +walls. A further alteration I have made by the advice of +Cornelius; he said to me that the foremost group (the women +strewing flowers with children) seemed to him somewhat to +disturb the simplicity of the rest of the composition, and +suggested that I should put in a couple of priests, especially +as the portrait is of a Madonna and is being taken to a +church; he further advised me, in order to prevent the picture +from being too frieze-like, to allow this foremost group to +walk up to the spectator. It now looks something like this:</p> + +<p>(Slight sketch of the design for "Cimabue's Madonna.")</p> + +<p>I hope with all my heart that you will approve these +alterations. I have drawn a quantity of heads and hands, which +are all finished, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_174" id="PageV1_174">[174]</a></span>like the "Chiaruccia" which I gave you; +drapery is not lacking. How I regret, dear Friend, that I +cannot show them to you. Gamba also is very industrious; he +has made endless studies, and has also got his record ready. +He sends you most hearty greetings. Of his diligence there is +always plenty to tell, and you will not be surprised when I +tell you that he has made very gratifying progress.</p> + +<p>I could still tell you a great deal, my dear Master, of what I +have seen and experienced! but time and, alas! especially eyes +compel me to be laconic, or this oft-begun letter will never +be finished. Therefore I will only briefly narrate what +happened to me in the imperial city; my goodness! how long ago +that seems. My first impression, as I alighted from the train, +was very pleasant. A lovely autumn morning, the Prater with +its beautiful trees, the Jägerheil in the sunshine, all +together welcomed me gaily. I alighted in the Leopold suburb, +and set off on foot the same morning in quest of Kuppelwieser, +a cordial, charming man. Through him I became acquainted with +Führich and Roesner, who both received me no less kindly. They +all remembered with warm affection their dear comrade, +Steinle, and sent most hearty messages to him. Of their works +(for to you, best of friends, I write frankly) I cannot, +candidly, speak very highly, but perhaps I might of the +tenacious maintenance of their opinion in spite of the +boundless, oppressive indifference of the Viennese towards +high art. Now, the dear friends are somewhat ascetic +representatives of their mode of thought—a mode of thought +which can be combined, as we have seen in the great days of +art, with the greatest charm of representation; but this +quality is unfortunately too often absent from our friends. Of +the two, Kuppelwieser is the less offensive; he is perhaps +rather antiquated, but not without cleverness; Führich is far +too ornamental for me, and as a painter, God save the mark! +Good gracious! what is nature there for? What can the people +make of all this! how is it possible that one can get so far +in spite of a perverted training! that people do not perceive +their fearful arrogance! They plume themselves upon piety and +humility, and in God's beautiful creation nothing is right for +them; do they then ever admit, these gentlemen, that they do +not want nature any more <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_175" id="PageV1_175">[175]</a></span>because they are aware that they no +longer know how to use her? Would they feel happy if they saw +a Masaccio, a Ghirlandajo, a Carpaccio? But they in their +drawings are pretentious and puffed up, but there is no +learnedness in them, and that which God has made so lovely +with all the brilliancy of colour, they daub with any dirt, +and call it a picture; some even (that was still lacking) +shrug their shoulders spitefully and mock—at the +unattainable. And whence does all that arise? How is it that +even sensible, clever men are so ill equipped? It is due +solely and alone to the topsy-turvy, involved principle of +education, to the fact that the people, while they are still +young, labour and worry day and night at the representation of +unrepresentable ideas, instead of drawing from nature and from +nothing else for ever and ever amen, till they are in close +harmony with her; that would be a soil from which the tree of +their art could grow upwards, fresh, powerful, +ever-herbescent; that they might not stand there in their old +age as high, proud, upward-aspiring trunks without leaves, +without sap. Naturally all this is not aimed at the good +Führich, but in general against all those who in their +infatuation allow themselves, behind the shield of severe +sentiments and high efforts, to throw overboard all the +difficulties of art. How gladly my thoughts turn away from +such unpleasing reflections to you, dearest Friend, who take +nature for your model in every part of your pictures, and with +your high degree of ability are always the devoted pupil of +<i>nature</i>! Keep, I beg you, <i>your</i> grateful pupil in +sympathetic remembrance, and never doubt the devotion of your +loving friend,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> + +<p>Please remember me most kindly to your wife; also to my other +friends. If you see Schalck, will you kindly say to him that I +have received his letter, and will answer it when my eyes +permit. I am longing to hear what pictures and drawings you +are making! Will you forgive my silence, and write to me?</p> + +<p>My picture is under-painted grey-in-grey (<i>grau in grau</i>); I +finished it in a week; it was a great effort.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Rome, Via Felice</span>,<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_176" id="PageV1_176">[176]</a></span><br /> +<i>February 19, 1855</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Mamma</span>,—As the body of the letter I have just +received is written by Papa, I have thought well to address to +<i>him</i> the important part of mine; you will therein see all the +business news that I have to give, and will, I know, be much +pleased to hear that my picture has had great success here; I +hope it may not have less in London. As the picture is of a +jovial aspect and contains pretty faces, male and female, I +think the public will find <i>leur affaire</i>; the "Romeo and +Juliet" (also nearly finished) will, though perhaps a better +picture, probably be less popular from its necessarily serious +and dingy aspect. Dear Mamma, I am much tickled at your +comparison between the Campagna and the environs of Bath; it +is like saying that strawberries and cream are equal and +perhaps superior to a haunch of wild boar! <i>l'un n'empeche pas +l'autre</i>, but they can never be compared, nor can they answer +the same purpose. The Sartoris are well; I am there every +evening of my life.</p> + +<p>The next page is Papa's. Good-bye, dear Mamma. Best love from +your affectionate and dutiful son,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> + +<p><i>P.S.</i>—My resolution not to dance I have kept (excepting in +the case of quadrilles), and have avoided making new +acquaintances, as I intend next winter not to go out at all; +but if I have no longer agitated the fantastic toe, and have +acquired a cordial dislike to balls, I have been all the +oftener to my dearest and best friends, the Sartoris, to whom +I go about four times a week, and of whose sterling worth it +is impossible to speak too warmly; at their house also I have +made several interesting acquaintances; Fanny Kemble (as you +know), Thackeray, Lockhart, Browning, the authors; Marochetti, +the sculptor, and so on; as for Mrs. Sartoris, I look upon her +as an angel, <i>ni plus ni moins</i>, and I feel terrified at the +idea of how much more exacting she has made me for the future +choice of a wife, by showing one what opposite excellencies a +woman may unite in herself.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>To his Father—Part of letter missing.</i>]<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_177" id="PageV1_177">[177]</a></span></p> +<p class="right">1855.</p> + +<p>It is with very great pleasure that I announce to you the +completion of my large picture, which I have exhibited +privately to my English friends and a crowd of artists of all +nations. You will, I am sure, be gratified to hear that it had +a remarkable "succès"; artists of whatever school seem equally +pleased, some admiring the drawing, others the colouring. I +hope that what I say does not savour of vanity; I simply tell +it you from a conviction that it is agreeable to you to hear +what people say of your son, and to anticipate in some measure +the verdict of a larger public. As for the positive <i>value</i> of +it, we all know what to think about <i>that</i>. It amused me to +hear that several people compared my picture to the works of +Maclise, and came to conclusions considerably in my favour. +Swinton paid me the compliment of requesting to be introduced +to me, and seemed very sincerely to admire my picture, as also +a portfolio of leads which I have drawn at different times, +and which are much admired by everybody.</p> + +<p>Of course you did perfectly right in not dreaming of +exhibiting Isabel's likeness. Pray do not think from what I +said about my lengthened stay in Rome, that I undervalue the +delight of seeing you all again, but still I think that if by +a little postponement I can have that pleasure without losing +my spring, it would be better. My idea is to remain in Italy +till the end of May, and then visiting Paris (to see the great +Exhibition) on my road to get home by the middle or end of +June, which will still leave me a long summer's holiday.</p></div> + +<p>This letter from his mother contains the news of Leighton's father's +joy at the success of the picture in Rome:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><i>February 18, 1855.</i></p> + +<p>Now I think of it, you have probably some signs of spring +about you—how enviable! My dear Fred, I did not compare the +artistic resources of Bath with those of Rome, well knowing +that the transparent atmosphere there imparts beauty to the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_178" id="PageV1_178">[178]</a></span>country which, without it, might not be remarked; equally +bright and clear the sky is not in England, but I assure you +that many parts of the country near us and in Devonshire, and +doubtless in many other counties, may for beauty challenge a +comparison with many most admired spots in Italy and +elsewhere, though the character of the landscape is different. +Nevertheless, I shall be very glad to see again Switzerland, +Southern Germany, &c. &c. Pray, dear Fred, if you do go to +sketch in the Campagna, take care not to expose yourself to +any disagreeable adventures with Brigands; I <i>entreat</i> you, be +prudent. Not to tire you with repetition, I have not alluded +to the success of your picture, but I must tell you that your +father was radiant with joy as he read your letter and gave it +into my hands with the words, "That <i>is</i> a satisfactory +letter." I am curious to know <i>when</i> we shall see your Paris +picture, and whether we shall winter in that delightful town; +Papa and I have always wished it. I must just mention, what I +had nearly forgotten, that a great treat is in store for the +inhabitants of Bath, as next week Mrs. Fanny Kemble is to read +some of Shakespeare's plays in public, with appropriate music. +A great treat is expected. God bless you, love, I can no more. +Our united affectionate greetings.—Your attached Mother,</p> + +<p class="right sc">A. Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Rome</span>, <i>January 3, 1855</i>.<br /> +(<i>Recd. January 12.</i>)</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Mamma</span>,—Let me hasten to reassure my poor +dear progenitor on the subject of his anxieties; if I spoke +doubtfully and despondently of my performances, it was owing +to the lively feeling that every artist, whose ideal is beyond +the applause of the many, must entertain of his own +shortcomings; once and for all let me beg him never to feel +any uneasiness on the score of mechanical processes, as in +such cases one always has the resource of cutting the Gordian +knot by painting over again the unsuccessful portions, an +expedient indeed to which I have many a time been forced to +resort; the result of such failures is called experience; +through such failures alone one arrives at success. Nor am I +wanting in the applause of my friends, who all speak in praise +and encouragement of my works, and it is <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_179" id="PageV1_179">[179]</a></span>not a little +gratifying to me to find that those whose opinions I most +value are the first to speak favourably of my endeavours; as +agreeable as is to me this testimony on their part, so +indifferent am I, and must I beg you to be (for better and for +worse) to the scribbling of pamphleteers; the self-complacent +oracularity of these <i>pachidermata</i> is rivalled only by their +gross ignorance of the subjects they bemaul, and the +conventional flatness of all their views; I speak without fear +of being considered partial, as the article which you +communicate to me contains more of praise than of blame; it +is, however, my practice never to accept (inwardly) the praise +of those whose blame I don't acknowledge. I happen to have +seen other articles from the pen of this same Mister ——, and +know <i>à quoi m'en tenir</i>. The notice on myself I had heard of, +but not seen. It may amuse you to hear that my draperies have +been considered (alas!) the most successful part of my +picture, and I am at present labouring hard to bring the +heads, &c., <i>up to them</i>! In about a fortnight, the large work +("Cimabue," the "canvas of many feet") will be, D.V., +finished, with the exception of the ultimate glazes and +retouches; by the end of February, both pictures will start +for their respective destinations. One thing has caused me +some annoyance and anxiety; I wrote a month ago (or more) to +one Mr. Allen, carver and gilder, 31 Ebury Street, Pimlico, +sending a design of my frame, and requesting him to let me +know at once what would be the cost of such a frame, whether +he would undertake it, and asking many questions important to +me to know; I have received no answer; I therefore must take +for granted that either he has not received my letter, or his +answer to me has been lost; now, as there is no longer any +time to correspond on the subject, I must, on the supposition +that my letter has gone astray, send another design together +with an unconditional order to begin at once at whatever cost; +now I grudge the time of writing a duplicate of my old letter, +and especially that of drawing a new diagram for his guidance. +With regard to the price, Fripp, who recommended him to me, +says Allen is a very respectable man, and will no way take +advantage of my awkward position; I calculate the frame can +hardly exceed five and twenty pounds; then there <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_180" id="PageV1_180">[180]</a></span>will be the +bill for exhibiting the picture of which he will take charge; +I expect that the framing, packing, sending, &c., of the two +canvases together will cost about fifty pounds "tant pis pour +moi!"</p></div> + +<p class="cen">(Here the letter breaks off.)</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p>(<i>Cover</i>—Madame Leighton,<br /> + 9 Circus, Bath, England.)</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Rome, Via Felice 123</span>,<br /> +<i>March 2, 1855</i>.<br /> +(<i>On cover—Recd. April 12.</i>)</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Papa</span>,—I received a day or two ago the kind +letter in which you inform me of the disposition you have made +to enable me to get the money I want, and for which I +sincerely thank you; your letter reached me just as I was +driving the last nail into the coffin of my large picture; the +small had been disposed of in like manner the day before. +Delighted as I am to have got them at last off my hands, yet I +felt a kind of strange sorrow at seeing them nailed up in +their narrow boxes; it was so painfully like shrouding and +stowing away a corpse, with the exception, by-the-bye, that my +pictures may possibly return to my bosom long before the Last +Judgment. With regard to the success of my picture with its +little Roman public, nearly all the praise that reached my +ears was bestowed <i>behind my back</i>, so that whether +intelligent or no, I have good reason to believe it was +sincere; indeed, I should not else have said anything about +it; Cornelius, I am sincerely sorry to say, did not see my +daubs in their finished state; he was prevented by ill-health; +however, all the advice he could give me I got out of him in +the beginning, and indeed, as you know, altered about a dozen +figures at his request; in points of material execution he is +utterly incompetent; I am happy to say that he feels very +kindly towards me, as indeed he told me in plain words, and +added on one occasion, "Sie können für England etwas +bedeutendes werden;" I need not tell you that as he is +altogether without apprehension of the peculiar and very great +merits of some of our artists, he considerably overvalues my +(relative) value. You ask for <i>my</i> opinion of my pictures; you +couldn't ask a more embarrassing and unsatisfactory question; +I think, indeed, that they are very creditable works for my +age, but I am anything but satisfied with them, and believe +that I could paint both of them <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_181" id="PageV1_181">[181]</a></span>better now; I am particularly +anxious that persons whom I love or esteem should think +neither more nor less of my artistic capacity than I deserve; +the plain truth; I am therefore very circumspect in passing a +verdict on myself in addressing myself to such persons; I +think, however, you may expect me to become eventually the +best draughtsman in my country; Gibson and Miss Hosmer are, as +you expect, amongst those who praise me, but I warn you that +they are both utterly without an opinion in matters pictorial. +Who is ——? He is, <i>entre nous</i>, the worst painter I ever +saw, but also the greatest toady, in virtue of which quality +he makes £5000 a year by portraying the nobility of Great +Britain and Ireland; however, towards me he has been very +pleasant and nice, and so long as there is no lord in the way +he is a sufficiently companionable person. I certainly feel +very little desire to have my "Cimabue" hung in the little +room you speak of, but I fear that I must take my chance with +the rest; the fact is that although I personally have taken no +steps in the matter, still "ces messieurs" will not be +unprepared for my picture, because I know that old Leitch for +one will speak to them about it and will do everything that is +friendly; he even offered to varnish it, but <i>that</i> another +friend of mine has already undertaken. One thing is certain, +they can't hang it out of sight—it's too large for that. I +must leave myself room to write afterwards to Mamma....</p> + +<p>...I am glad that you have made up your mind to not seeing me +as soon as you expected; indeed I felt sure that when I told +you all the reasons which concurred to make me prolong my +stay, you would feel the force of them; I willingly confess, +too, that I was most strongly biassed on the matter by my +reluctance to part from my friends, but particularly <i>her</i>. I +am horrified at the use you make of the words "indefinite +time"; I shall certainly never live long anywhere without +going to see them, and I trust that our "intimes relations" +will not cease as long as I live. How sorry I am that I should +not have known in time that Mrs. Kemble was to read in Bath; I +should have liked so to introduce you to her; you no doubt +found her reading a rare treat. How beautiful is the +"Midsummer Night's Dream" with Mendelssohn's music! This +reminds me of dear Gussy and <i>her</i> music; I suppose her new +master is a good one, or she <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_182" id="PageV1_182">[182]</a></span>would not have taken him; +generally speaking I have a sovereign dislike for the +<i>engeance</i> of <i>pianistes</i> with their eternal jingle-tingles at +the top of the piano, their drops of dew, their sources, their +fairies, their bells, and the vapid runs and futile conceits +with which they sentimentalise and torture the motive of other +men; we have a specimen here in the shape of the +all-fashionable ——....</p></div> + +<p>Referring to a lady of his acquaintance, he continues:—</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>She has acquired by her melancholy and sometimes haughty moods +a character for misanthropy which she has not cared to refute; +but, my good sir, she is DIVORCED! Poor cowards! should they +not rather gather her to them, and "weep with her that weeps," +Bible-wise Pharisees! Your letter is full of thrilling events: +children born among the Australian flocks of Mr. Donaldson; +little ——, too, taking to herself a husband—alas for the +Laird of (probably) Ballyshallynachurighawalymoroo! I must +think of answering dear Gussy's note, and close with a hearty +kiss, from your dutiful and affectionate son,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"><p><span class="sc">Dearest Gussy</span>,—Many thanks to you for your kind note +and for the sympathy and interest which you both offer and +ask. How heartily sorry I am that you should still be +persecuted by the soreness in your throat, and should be +prevented, poor dear, from singing; you who have the rare gift +of that which is unteachable and without which the most +brilliant execution is dumb to the heart; I mean musical +accent. I had hoped that we should sing together, but I fear +that if the air of Bath has such a bad effect on the throat, I +shall be invalided as well as yourself. What is about the +compass of your voice? or (which is more important) in what +<i>tessitura</i> do you sing with least discomfort? that I may see +whether anything I sing will suit us; unfortunately most part +of my limited <i>répertoire</i> consists of the first tenor part in +quintettes and quartettes, which are not available for us two. +I don't know whether I told you that I take a part in Mrs. +Sartoris' musical evenings, in which I officiate as <i>primo +tenore</i>; you may imagine how great an enjoyment this is to me. +Dear Gussy, how I wish you could hear <i>her</i> sing! it would +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_183" id="PageV1_183">[183]</a></span>enlarge your ideas and open out your heart; I am sadly afraid +however, that she won't winter in Paris, so that if you go +there you must make up your mind to not meeting her; but if +you are in England in October she may possibly be there by +that time, and you might make her acquaintance; if I sell +either of my pictures, and am "sur les lieux" at the time, I +will take you and Lina to town at my own expense and introduce +you to the dearest friend I have in the world; I long for you +to know and love one another. You ask me whether she is like +her sister; in <i>expression</i>, sometimes, strikingly like; in +<i>feature</i>, not in the least. She is the image of John Kemble, +with large aquiline nose and the most beautiful mouth in the +world, a most harmonious head, and, like Fanny, the hair low +down on her forehead; artistically speaking, her head and +shoulders are the finest I ever saw with the exception only of +Dante's; in spite of all this, many people think her barely +good-looking, because she has no complexion, very little hair, +and is excessively stout; <i>you</i> will be more discriminating. I +am amused at Mamma's asking me in her letter whether I know +why —— did not know the Sartoris! Pardi! I did not introduce +them,—in the first place I have been obliged to make a rule +to introduce nobody to that house, as I should otherwise +become a nuisance; people have constantly fished for +introductions knowing my intimacy; but the chief reason is +that Mrs. Sartoris has the judgment and courage to ask to her +house nobody but those she <i>likes</i> for some reason or other, +for which reason her house is the most sociable in the world; +her "intimes" are a complete medley, from the Duke of +Wellington down to a poor artist with one change of boots, but +<i>all</i> agreeable for some reason; I know that she would be kind +to <i>any one I</i> brought to her, but I also know that the ——s +would have been in the way and a <i>corvée</i> to her, which fully +accounts, &c. &c.</p> + +<p>I am delighted, dear Guss, that you have a music master to +your heart, and that you have been considered worthy to play +Bach's Fugues, which are indeed monstrous difficult. With +regard to the pianistic style and the dewdrop-warbling school, +you need not fear that <i>I</i> should throw sour grapes in your +teeth about <i>that</i>; <i>franchement</i>, the —— after all is +commonplace enough, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_184" id="PageV1_184">[184]</a></span>and the ——, though pretty, hardly +deserves such an epithet as beautiful; as for the ——, it's +just ludicrous. Did you ever hear —— piano-doodle himself?</p> + +<p>I was rather surprised at the judgment you pass on Fanny +Kemble's reading; if <i>anything</i> seems at all coarse in it, it +is occasional bits in the <i>male</i> part, and that only, after +all, because it is <i>too</i> good and it seems discrepant to hear +male harsh sounds proceeding from the mouth of a woman. With +regard to her women, nothing can be more pathetic and touching +than her Juliet, or indeed all the women I have heard her do; +there is altogether in her style a certain amount of mannerism +belonging to the Kemble school, but in spite of all that, it +is quite unapproachable now and is grand in the extreme; the +Ghost in "Hamlet" is quite a creation. You seem, like Mamma, +to apologise almost for expressing an admiration for my +photograph; do you think, dear, that I don't value your +sympathy irrespectively of your art judgment? I shall send you +soon two photographs of portraits that I am now painting; one +of Mrs. Sartoris, the other of her little daughter May. I must +close.—With very best love to all, I remain, your very +affectionate brother,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<p>The change Leighton made in his picture at the request of Cornelius, +mentioned in his letter to his father, dated March 2, 1855, can be +seen by comparing the pencil sketch of the complete design with the +finished painting (see <a href="#toi">List of Illustrations</a>). It consisted in his +making the Procession turn at the left-hand corner to face spectator, +instead of filling in this space and giving the required grouping of +lines partly by the foreshortened horse and its rider which we find in +the first sketch. In the Leighton House Collection there is a fine +study in pencil of the undraped figure of the man riding which is not +included in the final design. There are those who remembered the +picture when first painted in Rome, also at the Exhibitions in +Trafalgar Square and Burlington House, who were of opinion that it was +never seen so <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_185" id="PageV1_185">[185]</a></span>advantageously as on the occasion when the King lent it +for exhibition in the artist's own studio in Leighton House in the +year 1900, and many seeing it there exclaimed, "Leighton never did a +finer thing;" and, truly, seen, as it was then, placed across the end +of the glass studio under perfect conditions of lighting and +surroundings, the power and originality both in the colouring and +design of the work were very striking and impressive. Leighton's +friends felt specially grateful to the King, for an opportunity having +been afforded for the public to see this early work under such +favourable and appropriate circumstances. During those months when the +picture was shown at Leighton House, it felt as if the very spirit of +the young artist, at the time when he was starting on his notable +career, had returned and was haunting the home of his later years. +From the end of the large studio, looking through the darkened passage +connecting the two rooms, the procession verily looked alive, a +<i>tableau vivant</i>—no mere painting.</p> + +<p>One of the salient virtues in the composition lies in the happy way in +which the two central figures take a separate important position, +without the moving on of the procession being interrupted nor their +attitudes being in any sense forced. On the contrary, it is by their +absorbed, modest demeanour, which contrasts with the rest of the gay +crowd, talking, singing, and playing musical instruments as it moves +along, that the sense of awe and reverence felt by the two artist +spirits becomes accentuated. These recognise in this public ovation +bestowed on the picture of their beloved "Madonna and Child" the union +of a service offered both to Art and to Religion.</p> + +<p>The happiness Leighton enjoyed during the two years when this subject +occupied his thoughts seems to have been reflected in the vigour of +the actual painting. It was evidently finally executed with an +exuberant feeling of satisfaction. <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_186" id="PageV1_186">[186]</a></span>Careful studies having been +previously made for every portion, the under-painting itself was, as +he writes to Steinle, completed in one week, and the canvas once +attacked, there appears to have been no hitch in the process of +completion. The happy balancing of masses, the grouping of the +figures, the beauty of the lines throughout the crowded procession are +admirable. The picture was admitted by competent judges to be a work +marked by a distinct individuality, yet possessing "style," a word +which in recent years had been associated in England with art that +lacked vigour and originality, and which flavoured solely of obsolete +grooves and theories. The colour is richer and purer than in +Leighton's earliest pictures, and arranged cleverly so as to give full +importance and value to the beautiful white costume worn by +Cimabue.<a name="FNanchor_34_34" id="FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> Sir William Richmond, R.A., writes: "Impressions of early +years are not easily removed. As a boy at school I went to the R.A. +Exhibition, and saw for the first time a work of Leighton's, the +procession in honour <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_187" id="PageV1_187">[187]</a></span>of the picture by Cimabue in Florence, 1855. It +stood out among the other pictures to my young eye as a work so +complete, so noble in design, so serious in sentiment and of such +achievement, that perforce it took me by the throat."</p> + +<p>Leighton sent a photograph of the picture to Steinle with a letter +dated March 1.</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Rome, Via Felice</span> 123,<br /> +<i>March 1, 1855</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My very dear Friend</span>,—Although since my last letter I +have had no news of you, I cannot pass by this moment, so +important to me, without giving you intelligence of it. +Yesterday I at last sent off both my pictures, the large one +to London, the small one to Paris, with the consignment of the +Roman Committee. Thank goodness, at last I have got them off +my mind! And how sorry I am, dear Friend, that I could not put +the finishing touches to them in your presence! Of the +"Cimabue," I send you, in two pieces, a very bad photograph, +but it is the <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_188" id="PageV1_188">[188]</a></span>best that could be made within four walls; from +it you will only be able to judge generally of the grouping, +for as regards the colour, which comes out so black in the +photograph, in the picture it is altogether clear and light. +You will certainly be glad to hear that this work has earned +much praise here; I promised that you should not have to be +ashamed of your pupil. The small picture is so dark in effect, +that it would be impossible to photograph it; but as I suppose +you, like all the rest of the world, will visit the great +exhibition in Paris, you can avail yourself of the same +opportunity to see my daub.</p> + +<p>Gamba is, now as ever, industrious, tireless, conscientious; +his picture <i>also</i> will be finished in a few weeks, and will +be a great credit to him; I only wish he had a prospect of +selling it, but at present the sale of pictures is stagnant, +especially in Piedmont, where the art-loving Queen-Mother has +died. He will have to fight hard against the gigantic pedantry +of the Turin Academy and College of Painters (<i>Malfacultät</i>), +for he paints things exactly as he sees them in nature; God be +with him! Of course, he sends you heartfelt greetings. Of +other artistic doings in Rome I cannot tell you much; I think +I have already told you that I look upon Rome as the grave of +art; for a young artist, I mean, for whom actively suggestive +surroundings are necessary. As regards the so-called German +historical art, that is not much of a joke to me; when men, +out of pure impotence, throw themselves under the shield of +noble tendencies, in order to make mistaken efforts to imitate +the work of other painters, they are simply ridiculous; but +when men are endowed with fine natural gifts, and nevertheless +out of sheer queerness and pedantry go altogether astray, then +I only feel angry. God forgive me if I am intolerant, but +according to my view an artist must produce his art out of his +own heart; or he is none.</p> + +<p>Dear Master, I may perhaps pass through Frankfurt on my way +back (in June); I should like beyond all things to see you +again, you and your works that are so dear to me. Have you +painted the "Death of Christ" which pleased me so much? Write +to me if you have time, and tell me how things go with you. +Keep a friendly recollection of your grateful, affectionate +pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred. Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_189" id="PageV1_189">[189]</a></span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Frankfurt am Main</span>,<br /> +<i>March 20, 1855</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Friend</span>,—My best thanks for your dear lines of +the 1st and for the photographs, with which you afforded me +the greatest pleasure. I had an idea that I should receive +this friendly remembrance, and I hope that you have meanwhile +received my letter of the 3rd March. I know the difference in +a photograph of a painting, and the often quite contrary +effect of the yellow and red, too well to be deceived by a +dark impression; the masses, their distribution, alike in the +groups and in the light and shade, the outline of the +background, most of the single figures, all please me very +well, and you could not believe how much I rejoice in every +detail in which I recognise my Leighton, and when I see how +all these have been achieved so thoroughly by industrious +study and artistic culture. You have indeed prepared a real +feast for me, my good wishes in my last letter were quite the +right ones, and the recognition which you have obtained in +Rome was certainly well earned. I am convinced that Overbeck +was heartily pleased with your pictures. It was perhaps my +imagination, dear friend, when I thought from your letter that +there was a slight cloud between us, but I think it will be +torn away when these lines reach you. The fond idea of being +again able to share your life and artistic work, I must +relinquish, for I am an exile, and besides cannot make myself +familiar with your progress as an artist in the Fatherland. +Shall, then, your stay in Italy be ended by the journey which +you led me to hope would bring you to see me again? But I +forget so easily that we live in a world of renunciations, and +that often when we believe we are disposing, we are disposed. +My spirit and my love will always, wherever you may be, be +with you. It occurred to me that probably our excellent Gamba +would not send his great picture to Paris, and yet I seem to +have heard that he intended doing so; it appears to me that +exhibition in Paris would give the picture more importance +than in Turin; that Gamba would triumph over the academic +formalities in Turin, I do not doubt in the least. His +grandmother and all his friends await him here; on a journey +to Paris?—Now, dear <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_190" id="PageV1_190">[190]</a></span>friend, one more request. Ihlée brought +from Rome some photographic views, with which I and the +friends who know Rome are truly delighted; the worthy Frau +Rath Schlosser wishes very much to possess a selection of +twelve, I myself would like to have at least three, will you +be so good as to bring them with you in June, and also +yourself take the trouble to make a really beautiful +selection? You will oblige me thereby very greatly. I shall +rejoice excessively to see you again, and wish much that your +stay in Frankfurt need not be so short. Remember me cordially +to Gamba, and give my kindest regards to Altmeister Cornelius. +My wife thanks you for your kind remembrance, and sends many +greetings. All friends here have bidden me send their best +wishes to you and Gamba. Adieu, dear friend, always and +altogether yours,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Edw. Steinle.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Rome</span>, <i>April 15, 1855</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My very dear Friend</span>,—Only a day or two after I sent +off my letter with the photograph, I received your dear lines, +and now I have also the letter in which you acknowledge +receipt of mine, so that I am well off for news of you. All +the affection and kind sympathy which you express for me has +affected me deeply, and I look forward with sincere pleasure +to the moment when I shall be able personally to express my +gratitude to you; I am also most eager to see the drawings of +the completion of which you tell me; judging by the sketches, +I expect great things from this composition, so rich in +imagination; I saw the first beginnings of it. That you are +pleased with my photograph rejoices me extremely, but I am +sorry that you have not mingled some blame with the praise; +you say that <i>most</i> of my figures please you well; ergo, some +of them do not; which are they? why not tell me all? do you no +longer regard me as your pupil? From one part of your letter I +understand that you think I have had a great deal of +intercourse with good old Overbeck; that is not so; he and his +followers one does not see at all unless one belongs to their +clique; Overbeck has never been within my four walls. +Cornelius I see less seldom, but not very often; he is a very +charming old man, so cheerful and friendly, and is of great +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_191" id="PageV1_191">[191]</a></span>strength; for the rest, he has some little queernesses; he +said to me once, "Yes, Nature has also her style" (!). Does +that not bespeak a curious mental development?</p> + +<p>Gamba will not, as it happens, send his picture to Paris, it +was not ready in time; meantime, it is being exhibited here in +the Piazza del Popolo, and receives the applause it merits; he +sends you most cordial greeting.</p> + +<p>Yes, indeed, the years of my "Italian Journey" are now ended! +It seems but yesterday that we first took leave of one +another, and you encouraged me upon my setting forth; the +remembrance makes me sad at heart; I cannot help asking myself +whether my expectations for these three years have been +fulfilled: and the question remains unanswered.</p> + +<p>My stay in Italy will always remain a charming memory to me; a +beautiful, irrecoverable time; the young, careless, +independent time! I have also made some friends here who will +always be dear to me, and to whom I particularly attribute my +attachment to Rome.</p> + +<p>From an artistic point of view I am quite glad to leave Rome, +which I, <i>for a beginner</i>, regard as the grave of art. A young +man needs before all things the emulation of his +contemporaries; this I lack here in the highest degree; also +here I cannot learn my <i>trade</i>, and, notwithstanding +Cornelius, I am of opinion that the spirit cannot work +effectively until the hand has attained complete pliancy, and +I cannot see what right a painter has to evade the +difficulties of painting; Cornelius always says, "Take care +that the hand does not become master of the spirit," and that +sounds well enough; however, I see that, in consequence of his +scheme of development, he has not once succeeded in painting a +head reasonably, not once in modelling as the <i>form</i> requires; +and that, with all his magnificent talent! Judge the tree by +the fruit. How are the frescoes of Raphael painted and +modelled? and the Sixtine Chapel! the lower part of the "Day +of Judgment" is in a high degree <i>colouristic</i> +(<i>Koloristisch</i>). <i>Those</i> people took nature straight from +God, and were not ashamed; therefore their art was no +galvanised mummy.</p> + +<p>I must close. Please remember me most kindly to your wife, and +to my other friends. For yourself, keep in remembrance, your +grateful and affectionate pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred. Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_192" id="PageV1_192">[192]</a></span>Steinle answers:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Frankfurt am Main</span>, <i>May 6, 1855</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My very dear Friend</span>,—Hearty thanks for your friendly +note of April. The photograph of your picture quite pleases me +as it is, and if I am particularly pleased with the details, +that is to cast no discredit on the whole; for a general +criticism the photograph does not give me sufficient +certainty, and I must content myself, this time, with +expressing the pleasure your always well-composed pictures +give me. You know your picture, and can see more in the +photograph than I. What you say about Overbeck, Cornelius, and +Rome, I understand well, and I am in sympathy with much of it; +but I am almost beginning to fear you, especially as I +particularly feel how much I myself am wanting in ground-work, +how much I myself belong to the same evolution as these two +men. Custom, circumstances, and the tendencies of the times, +are often mitigating facts in our judgment of these painters; +they have fought against things of which we no longer know +anything, and, as participators in their art, we stand, to a +certain extent, shoulder to shoulder with them; their +delicacies are proofs of their struggle, and the +characteristic of youth becomes in old age principally a sign +of weakness. Also experience has taught me not to let myself +be deceived by what is called "cliquiness," I grant you that +this is not an infallible judgment, which is often to be +regretted, but people nowadays are weak, and I have found that +cliques often have a greater tendency for good than those +judgments which make more noise, a greater outcry than the +fact warrants. Overbeck has always withdrawn himself too much; +but now, dear friend, you must attack him on the subject +before you leave Rome. Kindest regards to Gamba, to whom I +wish a happy completion of his picture. My wife sends best +greetings. Always and altogether yours,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Edw. Steinle.</p> +</div> + +<p>We have read in Leighton's letters the effect the "Cimabue's Madonna" +produced on his friends in Rome, and how <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_193" id="PageV1_193">[193]</a></span>it was nailed up as "in a +coffin" and despatched from the Eternal City, where it was destined +never to return.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep193" id="imagep193"></a> +<a href="images/imagep193.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep193th.jpg" width="85%" alt="CIMABUE'S 'MADONNA' CARRIED IN PROCESSION" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"CIMABUE'S 'MADONNA' CARRIED IN PROCESSION THROUGH THE STREETS OF FLORENCE." 1855<br /> +By permission of the Fine Art Society, the owners of the Copyright<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>There exists a small long envelope edged with black, stained horny +yellow by time, the head of Queen Victoria on the postage stamp. It +was despatched from England to Rome over fifty years ago. In the +ardent spirit of the young artist who had been eagerly awaiting +tidings of his first great venture, what a tumult of excitement must +the contents of that small envelope have aroused! They brought with +them a conclusive and triumphal end to all arguments with his father +concerning the career Leighton had chosen; they realised the sanguine +hopes of his beloved master, Steinle, and of his other friends; last +not least, they gave him the means and the great happiness of helping +his fellow-artists. To quote again from the record of one who was with +him in Rome at the time: "My husband<a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> remembers the departure of +his picture 'The Triumph of Cimabue,' sent with diffidence, and so, +proportionate was the joy when news came of its success, and that the +Queen had bought it. It was the month of May. Rome was at its +loveliest, and Leighton's friends and brother-artists gave him a +festal dinner to celebrate his honours. On receiving the news, +Leighton's first act was to fly to three less successful artists and +buy a picture from each of them. (George Mason, then still unknown, +was one.) And so Leighton reflected his own happiness at once on +others."</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Rome, 123 Via Felice</span>,<br /> +<i>May 18, 1855</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear and honoured Friend</span>,—As with everything that I +receive from you, I was delighted to get your dear lines of +the 6th; one thing only in them grieved me a little, <i>i.e.</i> +that what I said about the German historical painters here +seems to have <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_194" id="PageV1_194">[194]</a></span>rather jarred upon you. Was I then so +intolerant in my expressions? I hope not. You say that you are +almost afraid of me. When I spoke to you so freely of the +others, was that not a plain proof of how completely I except +you? You assuredly know, dear Master, how and what I think of +you, and that I ascribe entirely to you my whole æsthetic +culture in art. Your commission to good old Overbeck I have +executed as well as I could. I found him much more cheerful +and less ailing than before. He received me with the greatest +amiability; we spoke, amongst other things, of you, and I +perceived that he had it in his mind to go soon to Germany and +to spend a couple of weeks in Mainz; I should like to be the +first to give you this good news.</p> + +<p>As for myself, dear Friend, my plans are once more quite +upset. My father has hastily recalled me to England, and I am +sorry to say that I must consequently give up going to +Frankfurt. However, I have not neglected your commission. I +have chosen the photographs, and you will receive them in the +beginning of next month, and that by a friend of mine who will +be passing through Frankfurt, and whom I hereby introduce to +you. Mrs. Sartoris is my dearest friend, and the noblest, +cleverest woman I have ever met; I need not say more to secure +her a cordial welcome from you. She is one of the celebrated +theatrical family of Kemble. It is now ten or eleven years +since she left the stage, but she is still the greatest living +cantatrice.<a name="FNanchor_36_36" id="FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_195" id="PageV1_195">[195]</a></span>You will certainly be glad to hear that on the first day of +the Exhibition my picture was bought by the Queen.</p> + +<p>I am at this moment in the thick of packing; you must excuse, +dear Friend, my ending so abruptly. I will write again from +England.—Your grateful pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep194" id="imagep194"></a> +<a href="images/imagep194.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep194.jpg" width="42%" alt="Letter written by Sir Charles Eastlake" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%;">Reproduction of Letter written by Sir Charles Eastlake, +P.R.A., to Lord Leighton, announcing the fact that Queen Victoria had +purchased his picture, "Cimabue's Madonna." 1855.<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_196" id="PageV1_196">[196]</a></span>So ended the first page of Leighton's life as an artist in the Rome of +the fifties—a very different Rome to that of the present. The +atmosphere was still steeped in those days with a flavour belonging to +the Papal temporal dominion, and the visible life still picturesque +with the costumes and grandeur of mediæval customs.</p> + +<br /> +<hr/> +<br /> + +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> See page 83.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> Page 97.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> Page 26, "Introduction."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> "If the Almighty were to come before me, with absolute +knowledge in his right hand, and perpetual striving after truth in his +left, I would fling myself to his left, praying: Father, give! pure +truth is thine alone."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> "The Well-Head" (see <a href="#toi">List of Illustrations</a>), drawn +during Leighton's visit to Venice, and described in "Pebbles," more +than justifies this opinion, for it may be questioned whether any +other drawing he ever made of the kind is as perfectly beautiful.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> Miss Laing, afterwards Lady Nias.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> See Appendix. Presidential Address delivered by Sir F. +Leighton, Bart., P.R.A., at the Art Congress, held at Liverpool, +December 3, 1888.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> This modest attitude Leighton took as listener reminds +me of the last time he saw Browning. One afternoon in the autumn of +1888, we were sitting with Leighton and Browning in the Kensington +studio. Browning showed us photographs of the Palazzo Rezzonico which +he had lately given to his son. The subject turned to a discussion on +Byron and Shelley. Often as I had heard Browning talk well, I never +heard him converse so well as he did on that afternoon. It was no +monologue. It was real conversation, and of the kind that inspires +others to do also their best; but Leighton never uttered, till—when, +after an hour or so, we rose to leave—he exclaimed, "Oh, don't! <i>do</i> +go on," and we had to sit down again. When at last the good thing came +to an end, Leighton conducted us downstairs to his door, where we +parted. Browning waved a farewell from across the road, where he stood +for a moment in front of the little cottages, while Leighton stood in +the porch-way of his house. The next day Browning started on his last +journey to Italy—to die in the Palazzo Rezzonico.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> Another old friend of Leighton's, Mr. Hamilton Aïdé, +writes: "My journal 1854-55-56 contains frequent notices of our +excursions and long days spent on the Campagna, and on the hill-sides +near the Bagni di Lucca, where we took out food for mind and will as +well as for the body, and sketched while one of our party read +aloud—and also of many Tableaux at Rome, devised by him (Leighton) to +suit the colouring, character, and grace of certain noble ladies."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> It appears that Leighton had been misinformed as to +"every girl" having to pass such an examination.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In Italien auf meiner Wanderschaft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hab' ich dies Büblein aufgerafft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hab's mit dem Pinsel so hingeschrieben<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ist mir leider unvollendet geblieben.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> The Café Greco still exists, unaltered since the days +when Leighton and Gamba lunched there every day on <i>macaroni al +burro</i>. I visited it last May (1906), and heard from the present +proprietor that it continues to be frequented by artists of all +countries. He had heard of the book of sketches, and also that +Rafaello had sold it before his death, but to whom the <i>Padrone</i> could +not say.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> Of Cervara there is a pencil drawing by Leighton in the +Leighton House Collection, in his earliest style, dated 1856.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> Fanny Kemble's answer to these words of Leighton's +were:—"Thank you, my dear Sir Frederic, for the address you have been +so good as to give me. You honour me by remembering any conversation +you ever had with me. I remember one I had with you many years ago, +but do not think you refer to that. You say no word, and you do well, +upon the subject that must be uppermost in both our minds when we meet +or hold any intercourse with each other—our thoughts must be of the +same complexion and could hardly find any expression. Thank you again +for your kindness.—I am affectionately, your obliged,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fanny Kemble."</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_34_34" id="Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> Ruskin wrote the following criticism of the picture when +it was first exhibited: "This is a very important and very beautiful +picture. It has both sincerity and grace, and is painted on the purest +principles of Venetian art—that is to say, on the calm acceptance of +the whole of nature, small and great, as, in its place, deserving of +faithful rendering. The great secret of the Venetians was their +simplicity. They were great colourists, not because they had peculiar +secrets about oil and colour, but because when they saw a thing red +they painted it red, and ... when they saw it distinctly they painted +it distinctly. In all Paul Veronese's pictures the lace borders of the +tablecloths or fringes of the dresses are painted with just as much +care as the faces of the principal figures; and the reader may rest +assured that in all great Art it is so. Everything in it is done as +well as it can be done. Thus, in the picture before us, in the +background is the Church of San Miniato, strictly accurate in every +detail; on top of the wall are oleanders and pinks, as carefully +painted as the church; the architecture of the shrine on the wall is +studied from thirteenth-century Gothic, and painted with as much care +as the pinks; the dresses of the figures, very beautifully designed, +are painted with as much care as the faces; that is to say, all things +throughout with as much care as the painter could bestow. It +necessarily follows that what is most difficult (<i>i.e.</i> the faces) +should be comparatively the worst done. But if they are done as well +as the painter could do them, it is all we have to ask, and modern +artists are under a wonderful mistake in thinking that when they have +painted faces ill, they make their pictures more valuable by painting +the dresses worse.</p> + +<p class="noin">"The painting before us has been objected to because it seems broken +up in bits. Precisely the same objection would hold, and in very +nearly the same degree, against the best works of the Venetians. All +faithful colourists' work, in figure-painting, has a look of sharp +separation between part and part.... Although, however, in common with +all other work of its class, it is marked by these sharp divisions, +there is no confusion in its arrangement. The principal figure is +nobly principal, not by extraordinary light, but by its own pure +whiteness; and both the master and the young Giotto attract full +regard by distinction of form and face. The features of the boy are +carefully studied, and are indeed what, from the existing portraits of +him, we know those of Giotto must have been in his youth. The head of +the young girl who wears the garland of blue flowers is also very +sweetly conceived."</p> + +<p class="noin">D.G. Rossetti wrote to his friend, William Allingham, May 11, 1855: +"There is a big picture of Cimabue, one of his works in procession, by +a new man, living abroad, named Leighton—a huge thing, which the +Queen has bought; which every one talks of. The R.A.'s have been +gasping for years for some one to back against Hunt and Millais, and +here they have him, a fact that makes some people do the picture +injustice in return. It was very interesting to me at first sight; but +on looking more at it, I think there is great richness of arrangement, +a quality which, when really existing, as it does in the best old +masters, and perhaps hitherto in no living man—at any rate +English—ranks among the great qualities."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_35_35" id="Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> Sir John Leslie.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_36_36" id="Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> Mrs. Richmond Ritchie gives a very charming account of +her first introduction in the Rome of those days to Leighton's friend, +the great <i>cantatrice</i>, Mrs. Sartoris, in the preface to the edition +of "A Week in a French Country House," published in 1902. Thackeray, +Mrs. Ritchie's father, and Charles Kemble, Mrs. Sartoris' father, had +been old friends. Mrs. Ritchie says: "The writer's first definite +picture of her old friend (Mrs. Sartoris) remains as a sort of +frontispiece to many aspects and remembrances. We were all standing in +a big Roman drawing-room with a great window to the west, and the +colours of the room were not unlike sunset colours. There was a long +piano with a bowl of flowers on it in the centre of the room; there +were soft carpets to tread upon; a beautiful little boy in a white +dress, with yellow locks all a-shine from the light of the window, was +perched upon a low chair looking up at his mother, who with her arm +round him stood by the chair, so that their two heads were on a level. +She was dressed (I can see her still) in a sort of grey satin robe, +and her beautiful proud head was turned towards the child. She seemed +pleased to see my father, who had brought us to be introduced to her, +and she made us welcome, then, and all that winter, to her home. In +that distant, vivid hour (there may be others as vivid now for a new +generation) Rome was still a mediæval city—monks in every shade of +black and grey and brown were in the streets outside with their +sandalled feet flapping on the pavement; cardinals passed in their +great pantomime coaches, rolling on with accompaniment of shabby +cocked-hats and liveries to clear a way; Americans were rare and much +made of; English were paramount; at night oil-lamps swung in the +darkness. Many of the ruins of the present were still in their graves +peacefully hidden away for another generation to unearth; the new +buildings, the streets, the gas lamps, the tramways were not. The +Sartorises had fireplaces with huge logs burning; Mrs. Browning sat by +her smouldering wood fire; but we in our lodging still had to light +brazen pans of charcoal to warm ourselves if we shivered. At my +request an old friend, who for our good fortune has kept a diary, +opens one of his pretty vellum-bound note-books, and evokes an hour of +those old Italian times from the summer following that Roman winter. +He tells of a peaceful Sunday at Lucca, a place of which I have often +heard Mrs. Sartoris speak with pleasure; Leighton and Hatty Hosmer and +Hamilton Aidé himself are there; they are all sitting peacefully +together on some high terrace with a distant view of the spreading +plains, while Mrs. Sartoris reads to them out of one of her favourite +Dr. Channing's sermons. Another page tells of a party at Ostia. 'Very +pleasant we made ourselves in a pine wood,' says the diarist; 'I +walked by A.S.'s <i>chaise-à-porteur</i> up the hills later in the evening. +She talked of her past life and all its trials, and of her early +youth.' Mrs. Ritchie in her preface also tells of this 'past life.'</p> + +<p class="noin">"The Rue de Clichy of which he (Thackeray) speaks was the street in +which Miss Foster lived, under whose care both Fanny and Adelaide +Kemble were placed, when they successively went to Paris. Then each in +turn came out and made her mark, and each in turn married and left the +stage for that world in which real tragedies and real comedies are +still happening, and where men and women play their own parts +instinctively and sing their own songs. Adelaide's short artistic +career lasted from 1835 to 1842, long enough to impress all the +subsequent years of her life. With all the welcoming success which was +hers, there must have been many a moment of disillusion, +discouragement, and suffering for a girl so original, so aristocratic +in instinct, so quick of perception, so individual, '<i>De la bohême +exquise</i>,' as some great lady once described her. The following page +out of one of her early diaries gives a vivid picture of one side of +her artistic life: '...Received an intimation that the company who +are to act with me had arrived at Trieste, and would be here at eleven +to rehearse the music. At twelve came Signor Carcano (the director of +the music), and a dirty-looking little object, who turned out to be +the prompter. After they had sat some time wondering what detained the +rest, a little fusty woman, with a grey-coloured white petticoat +dangling three inches below her gown, holding a thin shivering dog by +a dirty pocket-handkerchief, and followed by a tall slip of a man, +with his hair all down his back, and decorated with whiskers, beard, +and mustachios, made her appearance. I advanced to welcome my +Adalgisa, but without making any attempt at a return of my salutation, +she glanced all round the room and merely said, "Come fa caldo qui! +Non c'è nessuno ancora? Andiamo a prendere un caffé," and taking the +arm of the hairy man retreated forthwith. Then came Signor Gallo, +leader of the band, then the tenor, who could have gained the prize +for unwashedness against 'em all—and after half-an-hour more waiting, +Adalgisa and the hairy one returned, and after about half-an-hour more +arrived my bass, and, God bless him, he came clean!</p> + +<p class="noin">"'We then went to work. Adalgisa could think of nothing but her dog, +who kept up a continuous plaintive howl all the time we sang, which +she assured me was because it liked the band accompaniment better than +the piano, as it never made signs of disapprobation when she took it +to rehearsals with the orchestra. She also informed me that it had +five puppies, all of which it had nursed itself, as if Italian dogs +were in the habit of hiring out wet nurses....'" And again—</p> + +<p class="noin">"I can remember her describing to us one of these performances, and +her enjoyment of the long folds of drapery as she flew across the +stage as Norma and how she added with a sudden flash, half humour, +half enthusiasm: 'I have everything a woman could wish for, my friends +and my home, my husband and my children, and yet sometimes a wild +longing comes over me to be back, if only for one hour, on the stage +again, and living once more as I did in those early adventurous +times.' She was standing in a beautiful room in Park Place when she +said this. There were high carved cabinets, and worked silken +tapestries on the walls, and a great golden carved glass over her +head—she herself in some velvet brocaded dress stood looking not +unlike a picture by Tintoret."</p></div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_197" id="PageV1_197">[197]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER III<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>PENCIL DRAWINGS OF PLANTS AND FLOWERS<br /> +1850-1860</h4> +<br /> + +<p>No attempt at an appreciation of Leighton's art would be complete were +it not to include, and even accentuate, the distinct value of the +exquisite drawings of flowers and leaves which he made in pencil and +silver point between the years 1852 and 1860.<a name="FNanchor_37_37" id="FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> As regards certain +all-important qualities these studies are unrivalled. I was well +acquainted with the drawings Leighton made for his pictures during the +last twenty-five years of his life, and I had oftentimes heard Watts +express an unbounded admiration for these; but when, looking through +the portfolios of early drawings after Leighton's death, I came upon +these exquisite fragments in pencil, it seemed that I had found for +the first time the real key to the inner chamber of his genius. As +reproductions of the beauty in line, form, and structure—the +architecture, so to speak, of vegetation—nothing ever came closer to +Nature revealed by a human touch through a treatment on a flat +surface.</p> + +<p>On December 22, 1852, Leighton writes to his mother from Rome: "I long +to find myself again face to face with Nature, to follow it, to watch +it, and to copy it, closely, faithfully, ingenuously—as Ruskin +suggests, 'choosing nothing and rejecting nothing,'" and it is in this +spirit that he set to work when he filled sketch-books with exquisite +studies of the flowers and plants he loved best. These records of <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_198" id="PageV1_198">[198]</a></span>the +joy with which Nature filled his artistic temperament are to some more +truly sympathetic than his elaborate work, for the reason that, while +enjoying their beauty, we come in contact with the pure spirit of +Leighton's genius unalloyed by any sense of intellectual effort. In +his diary, "Pebbles," on August 21, 1852, Leighton writes: "Of the +Tyrolese themselves, three qualities seem to me to characterise them, +qualities which go well hand in hand with, and, I think it is not +fanciful to say, are in great measure a key to, their well-known +frankness and open-hearted honesty. I mean Piety, which shines out +amongst them in many true things, a love for the art, which with them +is, in fact, an outward manifestation of piety, and which is +sufficiently displayed by the numberless scriptural subjects, painted +or in relief, which adorn the cottages of the poorest peasants ... and +last, not least, a love for flowers (in other words, for Nature), +which is written in the lovely clusters of flowers which stand in +many-hued array on the window-sills of every dwelling. The works of +all the really great artists display that love for flowers. Raphael +did not consider it "niggling," as some of our broad-handling moderns +would call it, to group humble daisies round the feet of his divine +representation of the Mother of Christ. I notice that <i>two plants</i>, +especially, produce a beautiful effect, both of form and colour, +against the cool grey walls; the spreading, dropping, graceful +<i>carnation</i>, with its bluish leaves and crimson flowers, and the +slender, antlered, thousand-blossomed <i>oleander</i>." No exact name has +ever been given to the special creed of the artist's religion; to that +condition of the soul which Socrates in Plato's <i>Phædrus</i> declares has +come to the birth as having seen most of truth together with that of +the Philosopher, the Musician, and the Lover. The artist penetrates +further than others can, into the mysteries of Nature's marvels as +revealed through the eye, and he therefore comes in closer <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_199" id="PageV1_199">[199]</a></span>union +through the sense of sight with the spirit of the artist of the +infinite, and can gauge better the immeasurable distance which exists +between Divine and human creation, and this is felt more distinctly, +more reverently, when the artist simply copies Nature than when his +own dæmon is taking a part in the inspiring of his inventions.</p> + +<p>Leighton writes to his mother when he first reaches Rome in 1852: "I +wish that I had a mind, simple and unconscious, even as a child"; and +we find the evidence in these studies by Leighton of plants and +flowers that his wish, for the time when he was drawing them, was +granted; no intellectual choice nor assumption of scholarly theories +have taken part in their achievement; they are spontaneous echoes of +Divine creations when he was "face to face with Nature," and there is +no reflection of any teaching but hers. Nature and her child have been +alone together. The results are unalloyed expressions of the joy he +felt in pure impersonal revelations of beauty. They are distinguished +because elemental, recording the birth of the ingenuous response of a +human spirit to a superhuman perfection of workmanship. When in such +union of spirit with Nature, the artist-soul enters his most sacred +shrine. An ecstatic joy is kindled by wonder, admiration, adoration, +from which joy is inspired a peremptory impulse to endeavour to +reproduce in his human handicraft the marvels of creation. Such +experiences result from instinctive inevitable conditions, and, coming +from the illumination of genius, belong to a higher level than that on +which the intellect works;<a name="FNanchor_38_38" id="FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_200" id="PageV1_200">[200]</a></span>no temptations of the personal dæmon +simmer behind and distort the pure vision of Nature, provoking +suggestions which are human of the human—the desire to excel, the +ambition to be first, the love to display individuality. That inner +life, the very core and most vital meaning of Leighton's being, the +life that held revelry with all Nature's beauty, had been enraptured +through the pure innocent loveliness in the flowers. Take, for +instance, the page where he has <i>explained</i> the cyclamen he found at +Tivoli in October 1856, and take a cyclamen, the real flower, and +dissect it. What precious work we find: the ribbed calyx spreading out +from the satin sheen of the stalk to clasp the bulbous swelling at the +root of the petals—brilliant like finest blown glass, each calyx +fringed round with emerald green flutings—inside straw colour dashed +with brown speckles, all this triumph of minute finish just to start +the sail-like petals of the flower itself. What reverence and +enthusiasm was excited in Leighton as he pored over such things is +vouched for by this page (and others similar of different flowers), +exquisite portraits of every view of the cyclamen; faint notes in +writing recording the colours which his pencil failed to do.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep200" id="imagep200"></a> +<a href="images/imagep200.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep200.jpg" width="43%" alt="STUDIES OF CYCLAMEN. Tivoli, October 1856" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDIES OF CYCLAMEN. Tivoli, October 1856<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep201" id="imagep201"></a> +<a href="images/imagep201.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep201.jpg" width="65%" alt="WREATH OF BAY LEAVES." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">WREATH OF BAY LEAVES.<br /> +Drawn at the Bagni di Lucca, 1854. Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>Referring to his journey through the Tyrol, in 1852, Leighton writes: +"I had been dwelling with unwearied admiration on the exquisite grace +and beauty of the details, as it were, of Nature; every little flower +of the field had become to me a new source of delight; the very blades +of grass appeared to me in a new light."</p> + +<p>Not only his artistic temperament, but also circumstances, had guided +Leighton's instincts into the worship of beauty—beauty such as can be +conceived alone by the artistic temperament—as the divinest element +in creation and one to be reverenced beyond all others; and when "face +to face" with Nature, having no desire but to record that reverence +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_201" id="PageV1_201">[201]</a></span>and worship "ingenuously," he made these incomparable drawings. They +were done solely for the sake of the joy he felt in doing them, and +Leighton certainly never expected any recognition of their beauty by a +future generation. Stray leaves from a sketch-book have been collected +and preserved in the Leighton House Collection, having been extracted +from a mass of old dusty papers. On these pages are exquisite +pencilled outlines of cyclamen, of a crocus, of oleander flowers, of a +bramble branch, of sprays of bay and of plants of the agaves. They are +dated the year after Leighton's great success, 1856, the year of his +failure. In 1854, when he spent the summer at the Bagni di Lucca, he +drew studies of bay-leaves twined into a wreath and festoons of the +vine (see <a href="#toi">List of Illustrations</a> and design on cover). Three days after +Leighton's death, in a letter to <i>The Times</i> from one who knew him, a +reference was made to this visit to Lucca.<a name="FNanchor_39_39" id="FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> This old acquaintance, +who was then seeing him daily for three months, writes, "He was the +most brilliant man I ever met." It was this brilliant entity, this +attractive personality, who spent hours over drawing the flower of a +pumpkin and of a "<i>faded pumpkin</i>." Professor Aitchison records how he +found Leighton at work over this drawing.<a name="FNanchor_40_40" id="FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> The celebrated "Lemon +Tree," to which Professor Aitchison refers, and of which Ruskin also +writes,<a name="FNanchor_41_41" id="FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> though the most renowned of Leighton's drawings of plants, +and doubtless a <i>tour de force</i>,—a wonderful achievement,—has not, I +think, the same perfection of charm which many of the earlier, less +complete studies possess.<a name="FNanchor_42_42" id="FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> The sketch of a portion of a <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_202" id="PageV1_202">[202]</a></span>deciduous +tree<a name="FNanchor_43_43" id="FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> is perhaps a greater triumph in draughtsmanship than even the +"Lemon Tree," because the foliage has a frailer and less definite +aspect, and is yet reproduced with an absolute certainty of outline. +The "Lemon Tree," drawn at Capri in 1859, was done for a purpose. +Leighton had a feeling that the pre-Raphaelites ought not to have it +all their own way on the score of elaborate finish and perfection in +the drawing of detail. My first introduction to the "Lemon Tree" was +on an occasion when Leighton and I had had an argument respecting the +principles of the pre-Raphaelite school. He fetched the drawing from a +corner in his studio, and, while showing it to me, said words to the +effect that it was not only the pre-Raphaelites who reverenced the +detail in Nature, and who thought it worth the time and labour it took +to record the beauty in the wonderful minutiæ of her structure. If +sufficient pains were taken, any one, he maintained, who could draw at +all ought to be able to draw the complete detail of every object set +before him. But, for the very reason that the "Lemon Tree" was done +with a further purpose than the mere joy the beauty of Nature excited +in Leighton's æsthetic senses, there is not, I think, quite the same +convincing charm in this drawing as in some other more fragmentary +studies.</p> + +<p>In considering this early work by Leighton, it should be borne in +mind, that in those years when it was executed, photography had not +yet given the standard of a finish and perfection in actual +delineation which outrivals every record made by human hand and eye. +Photography has, in these later years, given the proportion and detail +in beautiful architecture, the form of trees, plants, and flowers, +their exquisite delicacy of structure, their grace and intricacy of +line: all this <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_203" id="PageV1_203">[203]</a></span>has been secured and pictured for us by the camera; +and, up to a certain point, very precious and truthful are these +memoranda of the aspects of nature and art. Many of us remember the +days when enthusiastic disciples of the wonderful new art of +photography prophesied that no other would soon be needed, and that +the draughtsman's craft would before long cease to exist. And further, +they maintained it only required the discovery of a means to +photograph colour for the painter's art also to be demolished. +Artists, however, knew better. What was valuable in the records of +photography, and what was of most intrinsic worth in the records +created through means of the human hand and eye, were absolutely +incomparable quantities. The treatment of nature in a photographic +picture, however admirable and complete, must always be lacking in the +evidence of any preference, reverence, or enthusiasm—in the sacred +fire, in fact, which inspires the draughtsman's pencil and the +painter's brush. Photography is indiscriminate; human art is +selective, and is precious as it evinces and secures a choiceness in +selection. However truthfully a photograph may record beauty of line +and form in nature, it inevitably also records in its want of +discrimination any facts which may exist in the view photographed; +these counter-balance the effect of such beauty, and mar the subtle +impression of charm which scenes in nature produce on a mind sensitive +to beauty.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep202a" id="imagep202a"></a> +<a href="images/imagep202a.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep202a.jpg" width="55%" alt="STUDY OF LEMON TREE. Capri, 1859" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDY OF LEMON TREE. Capri, 1859<br /> +By permission of Mr. S. Pepys Cockerell<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep202b" id="imagep202b"></a> +<a href="images/imagep202b.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep202b.jpg" width="48%" alt="STUDY OF DECIDUOUS TREE." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDY OF DECIDUOUS TREE.<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>As the vision of the artist which attracts this feeling for beauty +focalises itself in the sight, he naturally perceives but vaguely any +other objects before him; therefore, the facts inspired by such +preference become accentuated, and all their surroundings subordinated +to it. For this reason, also, what is called, somewhat erroneously, +the sculptor's sense of line and form—the sense applying equally to +the treatment of line and form on a flat surface as in the round—is +not so obvious in a photograph as in a good drawing. The eye of <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_204" id="PageV1_204">[204]</a></span>one +possessing a gift for drawing transmits to the brain the structure of +an object, not only as it is outlined against other objects, but also +as the different planes of which it is formed recede or advance, slant +one way or another, curve or straighten. To a truly gifted +draughtsman, such as Leighton, there is an absorbing interest in +working out the forms of the objects he sees which delight his sense +of beauty,—of guiding his pencil so that it echoes on the paper the +gratification with which his senses are inspired through his artistic +perceptions. The result will be—that the drawing he produces almost +unconsciously accentuates what has delighted him most in the objects +he is depicting, and, explaining further than does even an actual copy +by photography the element of beauty which has inspired him, carries +with it also an inspiring effect on the spectator: the drawing will +have something in it which affects us as a living influence, an +influence which the most perfect of photographs can never possess. The +actual perspective may be absolutely correct in the photograph—so may +be the placing on the paper of every turn and twist in a bough or a +leaf as regards their outlines; but compared to a beautiful drawing we +feel the want of mind behind it: no human sense has revelled in the +intricacies of growth and foreshortening, no human eye has traced the +exquisite grace and sweep of the curve and the happy spring of the +shoot alive with uprising sap. Just that accentuation which +unwittingly creeps into the human touch, denoting that the +construction of the form has been perceived and appreciated with +delight, is lacking. The line of a pathway rising up on the sweep of +an upland, a line which is always so fascinatingly suggestive, does +not lead you farther over the hill in a photograph as it does in a +little woodcut by William Blake. Just that push and movement is +wanting in the sense of the line which in a really fine drawing gives +it a living quality. Another shortcoming is caused by the inevitable +flattening of tone in a photograph. <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_205" id="PageV1_205">[205]</a></span>The brightest light does not +detach itself, the darkest spot, to some degree always, even in the +best print, is merged in the general shadow.</p> + +<div class="centered"><a name="imagep205" id="imagep205"></a> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="EARLY STUDIES OF KALMIA, OLEANDER, AND RHODODENDRON FLOWERS"> + <tr> + <td class="tdc" width="33%" style="vertical-align: bottom;"><a href="images/imagep205c.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep205c.jpg" width="95%" alt="EARLY STUDIES OF KALMIA" /></a><br /></td> + <td class="tdc" width="34%" style="vertical-align: bottom;"><a href="images/imagep205b.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep205b.jpg" width="100%" alt="EARLY STUDIES OF KALMIA" /></a><br /></td> + <td class="tdc" width="33%" style="vertical-align: bottom;"><a href="images/imagep205a.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep205a.jpg" width="95%" alt="EARLY STUDIES OF KALMIA" /></a><br /></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdc" colspan="3"><p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">EARLY STUDIES OF KALMIA, OLEANDER, AND RHODODENDRON FLOWERS<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p></td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p>The idea that photography could supersede the art of the draughtsman +soon exploded. Artists have used photography—some intelligently, as +did Watts—many unintelligently. The illegitimate use of photography, +the endeavour to make the lens do the work which alone the human eye +and hand can effect, was seen in lifeless portraits, painted partly +from the sitter, partly from a photograph. It is natural that any +genuine artist should rebel against such cheapening of his art; and +the deadening effects of relying on photography "to help you out" have +brought about the result that the qualities in art which are furthest +removed from those which it has in common with photography have been +forced to the front, and the grammar of drawing, the groundwork of +nature's structures which the human hand and the photographic lens can +both record, has ceased to be considered as all-important. In +Leighton's work this grammar was in itself developed into a fine art. +By comparing any sketch he made of a leaf or of a flower with a +photograph of the same, this will be evident to any eye that can +appreciate grace and quality in drawing.</p> + +<p>The latest phase of using photography to help out the drawing is found +in some modern illustrations where the lens has found the outline, the +right placing of the scene on the paper, the right proportion and +perspective in buildings, and the general light and shade of the scene +for the illustrator—the human hand only coming in to give breadth of +effect, to undo the tell-tale finish of the photograph, and to make it +into what is called "a picture" on the lines of a Turner or a +Whistler.</p> + +<p>All these were unknown ways in Leighton's youth, and to the end of his +life he could make no use whatever of photography in his work. He took +a kodak with him once on his <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_206" id="PageV1_206">[206]</a></span>travels, but the results were amusingly +negative. "From the moment an artist relies on photography he does no +good," was a statement I heard him make. Leighton believed in no short +cuts. Enthusiasm, labour, sacrifice, renouncement,—these, and these +alone, he maintained, can secure for the artist a worthy success.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep206a" id="imagep206a"></a> +<a href="images/imagep206a.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep206a.jpg" width="43%" alt="STUDY OF A FADED FLOWER OF PUMPKIN." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDY OF A FADED FLOWER OF PUMPKIN. Rome, 1854 <br /> +Leighton House Collection</p> + +<a href="images/imagep206b.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep206b.jpg" width="43%" alt="STUDY OF FLOWER OF A PUMPKIN." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDY OF FLOWER OF A PUMPKIN. Meran, 1856<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep206c" id="imagep206c"></a> +<a href="images/imagep206c.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep206c.jpg" width="55%" alt="STUDIES OF BRANCHES OF VINE." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDIES OF BRANCHES OF VINE. Bagni di Lucca, 1854<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep207" id="imagep207"></a> +<a href="images/imagep207.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep207.jpg" width="45%" alt="BRANCH OF VINE." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">BRANCH OF VINE. Bellosquardo, Florence, 1856<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>There are those who would define genius by describing it as the +faculty for taking infinite pains. But obviously genius is in itself a +power, born of inspiration, which so completely overmasters all other +conditions in a nature, that no labour nor time is taken into account +so long as the impelling force obtains utterance. The inborn +conviction in a nature that it has the power to create, demolishes all +impediments which come in the way to hinder this power from stamping +itself into a form. The necessity of taking infinite pains is but the +natural and inevitable consequence of the burning desire born, who +knows how? in the spirit of those who are blessed with genius, and the +faculty to discern how best to develop it. Leighton, by reason, +perhaps, of the very spontaneity of his own gifts, and also of his +extreme natural modesty, allied to the conscientiousness with which he +carried out his feeling of duty towards his vocation, was apt to lay +more stress on the necessity for taking pains than on the necessity of +possessing the real source of his power of industry. He saw too often +the fatal results of artists depending on talent to achieve what only +talent allied to industry can perform, for him not to accentuate the +all-importance of unceasing labour. He wrote to his elder sister with +reference to one of these fatal results: "I have not seen that young +man's recent work, neither do I hunger and thirst thereafter; +twenty-one years ago, or more, his parents brought me a composition of +his—it justified the highest hopes—it was very ambitious in its +scope (though the work of a child), and the ambition was <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_207" id="PageV1_207">[207]</a></span>justified +in the ability it displayed. Nothing that I could have done at his age +approached it. I told his parents so. He ought now to have been a very +considerable artist, to say the least—he no longer even <i>aims</i>! He +told me a year or two ago that he had <i>ceased to design</i>! He paints +portraits, and twists a little moustache under an eyeglass. He is +<i>nothing</i>, as far as the world knows, and I doubt whether he is hiding +himself under a bushel. I fear vanity and idleness have rotted out his +talents. It is a strange and a sad case. I often quote it (without +names) to those who show precocious gifts." His attached friend and +fellow-Academician, Mr. Briton Rivière, writes of Leighton:—</p> + +<p>"I have always believed that his ruling passion was Duty—the keenest +possible sense of it; to do anything he had to do as perfectly as +possible, and to be always at his best. He was evidently a believer in +Goethe's maxim that 'an artist who does anything, does all.' In his +own work, in what concerned his colleagues and the outside body of +artists, in fact in everything he did. Nothing easily or passively +done satisfied him; but in every case the decision and action were +brought by care and work—if possible, executed by himself; and no +pressure of time or labour ever made him escape such personal trouble, +or caused him to transfer it to the shoulders of another. This temper +of mind was shown even in small matters, which so busy a man might +well have left for others to do. I think it sometimes injured his own +work as an artist, because, though a great artist can never be evolved +except by years of patient work and strenuous effort to do his very +best always, yet, on the other hand, it is often the happy, easy work +and absolutely spontaneous effort at the moment by such a hand which +is his very best. Such happy, easy work probably Leighton would seldom +allow himself to do, and never would leave at the right moment, but +would still strive to make better and more <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_208" id="PageV1_208">[208]</a></span>complete. He must still +elaborate it and try to make it more perfect; and this it was which +made his old friend and enthusiastic admirer, Watts, sometimes say +"how much finer Leighton's work would be if he would admit the +accidental into it."</p> + +<p>I remember once casually remarking to Leighton how much easier writing +was than painting. He answered quickly but seriously—quite +impressively: "Believe me, nothing is easy if it is done as well as +you can possibly do it." This was Leighton's creed of creeds. Whatever +genius or facilities an artist may possess, he must ignore them as +factors in the fight. He must possess them unconsciously—the whole +conscious effort being concentrated on surmounting difficulties, not +on encouraging facilities.</p> + +<p>To return to the subject of this chapter. It would be obviously +unreasonable to attempt to compare slight studies of plants and +flowers, however precious, with finished important works of art such +as "Cimabue's Madonna," "A Syracusan Bride," "Daphnephoria," "Captive +Andromache," "The Return of Persephone," or, in fact, with any of +Leighton's well-known paintings—or indeed with those masterly studies +of the figure and draperies in black and white chalk, drawn for his +pictures, or when he was seized with the beauty of an attitude while +his model was resting. These, though executed in a few seconds, are +true and subtle records of the perfection in the form and structure of +the human figure, proving the existence of a knowledge and of a sense +of beauty which Watts declared were unrivalled since the days of +Pheidias. The later masterly studies of landscape in oil-colour which +formerly lined the walls of his Kensington studio, in which can be so +truly discerned the distinctive colouring and atmosphere of the +various countries where they were painted, also are greater as +achievements than the pencil drawings. Nevertheless, when studying +Leighton's <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_209" id="PageV1_209">[209]</a></span>genius with a view to gauge rightly its power and also its +limitations, it is, I maintain, essential to take into account these +direct studies from Nature, made with the object solely of following, +watching, and copying her faithfully, ingenuously, "choosing nothing +and rejecting nothing," but into which crept unconsciously the +undeniable evidence of his native gifts. As proofs of spontaneous +power in the quality of his genius, they refute much unjust criticism +which has been hurled at Leighton's art since his death. Sir William +Richmond wrote<a name="FNanchor_44_44" id="FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a>:—</p> + +<p>"That term of abuse and of contempt, trite now, on account of the +mannerism of its constant adoption by ephemeral critics, and sometimes +adopted by poorly equipped artists, 'academic,' has been most +unjustly, in its derogatory sense, applied to Leighton's art.</p> + +<p>"In point of fact, it is academic, but only in the good sense of being +highly educated, very scientific, and restrained. And in that sense it +is a pity that there is not more of such academic art. The bad sense, +wherein such criticism is applicable, being justly advanced towards +work that displays no inspiration, no originality, that is correct and +commonplace, balanced without enthusiasm, adequate without reason, and +accurate without good taste in the choice of beautiful and expressive +gestures, forms, and colours, and is preoccupied and narrow."</p> + +<p>It is probably the restraint, the science, the high education in +Leighton's finished pictures which have provoked unsympathetic critics +to endeavour to demolish Leighton's reputation as a great artist. To +these, such qualities would seem to deny the existence of any +sensitiveness, any spontaneity in his art. They have asserted that it +is cold, dry—academic. For the reason that science, calculated +effects, style, and high education—qualities rarely found in modern +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_210" id="PageV1_210">[210]</a></span>English art—are evident in Leighton's pictures, they conclude that +the painter is possessed of no intuitive genius. They take essentially +a British, a non-cosmopolitan standpoint from which to preach. They do +not take into account the standard towards which Leighton was ever +aiming. He may not have attained the goal towards which he worked, but +the nature of that goal should be understood and recognised before any +criticism on his work can pass as intelligent and just; and these +exquisite drawings of flowers and plants come to our aid in confuting +sterile estimates of Leighton's art, which deny any other elements but +those which can be acquired by painstaking and teachable qualities. +Here are records of Nature complicated by no intellectual choice, no +academic learning, no results of high education; and what is the +result? an undeniable evidence of the finest, most tender +sensitiveness for beauty, resulting in a complete and perfect +rendering of the subtlest forms of growth. When "face to face" with +Nature, Leighton's æsthetic emotions were keen enough and +all-sufficient to create these perfect records, as later in his life +he created unrivalled drawings of the human figure in even more +spontaneous and certainly more rapid strokes of his pencil, and +landscape sketches which prove undeniably his gifts as a colourist; +but it may be questioned whether his æsthetic emotions had as great a +<i>staying</i> power as those qualities of heart and brain which made +Leighton a great man, independent of the position he held as a great +artist. His sensibilities were of the keenest; the agility and +vitality of his brain power were quite abnormal. As Watts wrote, a +"magnificent intellectual capacity, and an unerring and instantaneous +spring upon the point to unravel." It seemed, however, that this +vitality and agility did at times run away with that more abiding +strength of æsthetic emotion which impregnates the very greatest art +with a serenity, a sublime atmosphere,—<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_211" id="PageV1_211">[211]</a></span>an emotion which denotes a +mood in which the artist has been steeped throughout the creation of a +work, from the first moment he conceives it to the moment when he puts +the last touch to the canvas, and affects the actual manipulation of +the pigment. The above criticism applies only justly to certain of +Leighton's works. In many of his paintings the poetic motive which +inspired their invention,—their mental atmosphere,—governs the +achievements throughout, though doubtless these works also would have +had a more convincing effect as art had the surface possessed a more +vibrating quality. Among those pictures in which form, colour, tone, +and expression are completely dominated by their poetic meaning are +"Lieder ohne Worte," a lovely, though youthful, work; "David;" +"Ariadne," a picture little known, but in some respects perhaps the +most poetic Leighton ever painted; "Summer Moon" (Watts' favourite +Leighton), "Elisha Raising the Son of the Shunammite," "Winding the +Skein," "Music Lesson," "Antique Juggling Girl," "Dædalus and Icarus," +"Helios and Rhodos," "Golden Hours," "Cymon and Iphigenia," "The +Spirit of the Summit," "Flaming June," "Clytie" (unfinished).</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep211a" id="imagep211a"></a> +<a href="images/imagep211a.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep211a.jpg" width="85%" alt="ARIADNE ABANDONED BY THESEUS" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"ARIADNE ABANDONED BY THESEUS; WATCHES FOR HIS RETURN. +ARTEMIS RELEASES HER BY DEATH." 1868 <br />By permission of Lord Pirrie<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep211b" id="imagep211b"></a> +<a href="images/imagep211b.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep211b.jpg" width="85%" alt="ELISHA RAISING THE SON OF THE SHUNAMMITE. 1881" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">ELISHA RAISING THE SON OF THE SHUNAMMITE." 1881<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep211c" id="imagep211c"></a> +<a href="images/imagep211c.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep211c.jpg" width="52%" alt="DÆDALUS AND ICARUS." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"DÆDALUS AND ICARUS." 1869<br /> +By permission of Sir Alexander Henderson<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>No aspect of his own work was a secret from Leighton. No one knew +better than he did his own limitations, or why it was necessary to +keep himself in hand by methods of procedure in his painting which he +could guide by his ever present intellectual acumen. He wrote to his +father on March 2, 1855, having just completed the two pictures, +"Cimabue's Madonna" and "Romeo": "You ask for <i>my</i> opinion of my +pictures; you couldn't ask a more embarrassing and unsatisfactory +question; I think, indeed, that they are very creditable works for my +age, but I am anything but satisfied with them, and believe that I +could paint both of them better now. I am particularly anxious that +persons whom I love or esteem should think neither <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_212" id="PageV1_212">[212]</a></span>more nor less of +my artistic capacity than I deserve—<i>the plain truth</i>; I am therefore +very circumspect in passing a verdict on myself in addressing myself +to such persons; I think, however, you may expect me to become +eventually the best draughtsman in my country."</p> + +<p>A biographer's obvious moral duty is to aim at presenting impartially +"the plain truth," following Leighton's lead in not desiring to give +either a more or less favourable view of his capacities as an artist +than they deserve. On May 7, 1864, Leighton writes in a letter to his +father and mother: "I had a kind note this morning from Ruskin in +which, after criticising two or three things, he speaks very warmly of +other points in my work and of the development of what he calls +'enormous power and sense of beauty.' I quote this for what it is +worth, because I know it will give you pleasure, but I have <i>not</i> and +<i>never shall have</i> 'enormous power,' though I have some 'sense of +beauty.'" Leighton remained ever far from being contented with his own +work. "I alone know how far I have fallen short of my ideal," he says, +many years later, to the old acquaintance of the Lucca days. He had +studied under the shadow of the great masters; and though never an +imitator even of the greatest,<a name="FNanchor_45_45" id="FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a> he had set himself a standard of +supreme excellence, more easily approached under the conditions in +which artists worked in the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth +centuries than it possibly could be in those of the nineteenth. With +respect to his power of draughtsmanship and his natural sense of +beauty, Leighton knew his place was among the greatest. His +appreciation and love of colour were also far keener than those +possessed by the average artist. He felt nevertheless that he lacked +the inevitable and <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_213" id="PageV1_213">[213]</a></span>continuous force which alone gives "<i>enormous +power</i>" and ease to the craftsman, when he deals with work on a large +scale, and which carries with it the absolutely convincing effect of +the world-renowned art of the past. Realising that the "enormous +power" was not there because the ever conclusively propelling force +was lacking, perhaps owing partly to the want of robust health, and +also doubtless from the scattering of his powers in many directions to +which he was drawn by a sense of duty, Leighton, in working out the +designs of his large pictures, clung all the more resolutely to the +exercise of that system which he had adopted, and which many of his +friends—Watts and Briton Rivière among the number—thought tended to +cramp his genius. He was not sufficiently sure of himself to admit the +"accidental" into his work.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep213a" id="imagep213a"></a> +<a href="images/imagep213a.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep213ath.jpg" width="90%" alt="CAPTIVE ANDROMACHE" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"CAPTIVE ANDROMACHE." 1888<br /> +The Corporation of Manchester<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep213b" id="imagep213b"></a> +<a href="images/imagep213b.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep213bth.jpg" width="90%" alt="STUDY IN COLOUR FOR "CAPTIVE ANDROMACHE"" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDY IN COLOUR FOR "CAPTIVE ANDROMACHE." 1888<br /> +By permission of Mrs. Stewart Hodgson<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep214a" id="imagep214a"></a> +<a href="images/imagep214a.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep214a.jpg" width="63%" alt="WEAVING THE WREATH." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"WEAVING THE WREATH." 1873<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep214b" id="imagep214b"></a> +<a href="images/imagep214b.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep214b.jpg" width="85%" alt="WINDING THE SKEIN." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"WINDING THE SKEIN." 1880<br /> +By permission of the Fine Art Society, the owners of the Copyright<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep214c" id="imagep214c"></a> +<a href="images/imagep214c.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep214c.jpg" width="70%" alt="MUSIC LESSON." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"MUSIC LESSON." 1877<br /> +By permission of the Fine Art Society, the owners of the Copyright<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>Some critics have, however, gone beyond the mark in emphasising this +characteristic of Leighton's methods. One writes: "Deliberateness of +workmanship and calculation of effect, into which inspiration of the +moment is never allowed to enter, are the chief characteristics of the +painter's craftsmanship. The inspiration stage was practically passed +when he took the crayon in his hand; and to this circumstance probably +is to be assigned the absence of realism which arrests the attention." +This statement is contrary to many which I have heard fall from +Leighton's own lips. He constantly drew my attention to the fact—a +fact on which he laid great stress, and of which many models were +witnesses—that he <i>invariably</i> recurred to Nature in the later stages +of his pictures, in order to imbibe renewed inspiration from the +source of all his æsthetic emotions—Nature. Any one who carefully +studies Leighton's pictures will find evidence of this in the works +themselves, in the accessories no less than in the principal figures. +During the exhibition of some thirty of Leighton's finest paintings at +Leighton House in 1900, I <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_214" id="PageV1_214">[214]</a></span>was daily more and more impressed by the +fact that the final touches in those pictures had been inspired by the +actual subtlety of Nature's aspects, and transmitted to the canvas by +the artist direct from the objects before him without conscious +calculation. Very obviously was this the case not only in the +principal features of the design—the countenances and the hands and +feet of the figures—but in such details as the flowers, fabrics of +draperies, carpets, mother-of-pearl inlaying, found (for instance) in +"A Noble Venetian Lady," "Summer Moon," "Sister's Kiss," "Weaving the +Wreath," "Winding the Skein," "The Music Lesson," "Atalanta." In all +these pictures exists the internal convincing evidence contradicting +the statement that "the inspiration stage was practically past when he +took the crayon in his hand." This, however, did not obscure in some +of Leighton's large finished pictures undoubted evidences of +arrangements and calculated effects, which are not over-ruled by an +art which conceals them, by the art which disguises art,—the +clenching force of the inevitable. The beauty of line, the grouping of +masses, the "composition" evident in the posing of the +figures—admirable and unlaboured as all these arrangements are—not +infrequently lack this convincing sign of the inevitable. It is too +obvious that they have been chosen by the intellectual taste of their +maker. When Goethe was expatiating on Shakespeare and comparing his +genius with his own, he said, as a proof of his own inferiority, that +he knew well how every word was made to come in its place, but with +Shakespeare they came without Shakespeare knowing.<a name="FNanchor_46_46" id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> Leighton, like +Goethe, was conscious that his genius could <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_215" id="PageV1_215">[215]</a></span>not vie with the +greatest in the world—the genius he was able to appreciate as Goethe +did Shakespeare's; but he also knew, as did Goethe, exactly the place +his own art ought to take; he knew that in his sense of style—which, +in its true meaning, is the echo of Nature in her choicest, noblest +moods,—in his sense of the beauty of the human structure, in his +power of draughtsmanship, his work was superior to that of any of his +contemporaries in England. The fact of the greatness of Leighton's +powers in some directions challenges a comparison between his work and +that of the giants of old who possess enormous power in all +directions. No one knew so well as did Leighton the place he must take +when he entered the lists with the giants: "I have <i>not</i> and <i>never +shall have</i> 'enormous power.'" He writes in 1856 from Paris to his +Master, Steinle:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right sc">Paris, Rue Pigalle 21.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My good and dear Friend</span>,—Accidentally I had an idle +morning when I received your dear letter, and therefore answer +it immediately. With your usual modesty you put aside all that +I say of goodness and love, but I repeat it unweariedly. +Steinle, my good Master, if in this insincere world I have an +unfeigned, pure feeling, it is my warm gratitude and love for +you; and the time when I bloomed, gay and full of hope, in +your garden will light me through life like a sunny spot in +the past; and I yield myself to this feeling the more +confidently, since I <i>know</i> that I am under no delusion in it. +I have fairly strong insight, and know exactly what I owe to +you, and for what I have to thank nature; I can already +appraise my moderate natural gifts; but I know also that these +gifts received <i>through you alone</i> the impression of <i>taste</i> +that can alone make them effective, and that in your hands +they were refined as in a furnace. An English painter seldom +lacks fancy and invention, but <i>taste</i>, that which forms and +embellishes the raw material, <i>that</i> is almost always wanting +with us—and it is you I must thank for the <i>little</i> I +possess.</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_216" id="PageV1_216">[216]</a></span>To flatter was an impossibility with Leighton. He paid every artist +the respect of believing he desired the same sincerity shown in the +criticism of his work that he,—Leighton,—wished when his own was +judged, and with which he judged it himself. A remarkable feature in +his character was the power he had of retaining so secure a hold on +his own standards of excellence without for a moment losing his +individual self-centre, yet at the same time possessing that of +entering sympathetically into the view of other artists—a view often +quite contrary to his own—and generously acknowledging every merit +that could by any possibility be extracted from their work. Mr. Briton +Rivière writes: "The intensity of his own personal belief was well +known to himself. He once said to me, in reference to a clever picture +which he greatly admired for some of its qualities, that he could not +really enjoy it, owing to its careless drawing. On another occasion, +when at Mr. Russell's sale I had bought a very vigorous study by Etty, +and Leighton was quite enthusiastic about its colour and painting, he +said, 'But I could not bear it on my wall, with that drawing,' and he +laughed at himself for this strictness, and said, 'I know that I am a +prig about drawing.' However, not only did this never blind him to the +claims of another kind of art, but I think he was even more keen to +recommend for approval the work of any school of painting for which, +personally, he had no particular liking or sympathy. 'It is not +whether you or I like it, but what it is on its own merits,' was a +favourite warning of his to any rapid opinion expressed on a picture. +To any one intimately acquainted with his own real views and opinions +it was sometimes surprising to find how well he realised the +intentions, and put himself in the place, of some artist who had +produced something very foreign to his own point of view, and quite +repugnant to his beliefs. This is not a <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_217" id="PageV1_217">[217]</a></span>common quality among artists, +whose critical tolerance is often in an inverse ratio to the firmness +of their own particular creed of art faith; and it was one of the many +qualities which marked Leighton out as so admirably fitted for the +Presidency."</p> + +<p>Leighton was, undoubtedly, an absolutely competent critic of his own +art; and the fact that his principles had been inspired by a +spontaneous and sincere reverence and admiration for the creations of +artists whom time has crowned as the greatest in the world, and that +with his critical faculty he perceived in what measure he had +succeeded in following in their steps, enabled him to gauge with +absolute justice the merits and shortcomings of his own work, compared +with that of his contemporaries. Whatever those shortcomings were, +certain it is that they did not arise from an absence of those natural +gifts which are the outcome of emotional sensitiveness, nor from a +want of intense feeling for the beauty of Nature, nor from a poverty +of invention. The theory that his art was solely the result of his +having an abnormal power of industry and of taking pains—a theory +which has been advanced many times since Leighton's death—cannot hold +good for a moment with those who impartially study his work from the +beginning of his career. The spontaneity of the impulse to produce in +every born artist is described in the following passage from +Leighton's first discourse, when President, to the students of the +Royal Academy, December 10, 1879, and the description is obviously +drawn from his own personal experience: "The gift of artistic +production manifests itself in the young in an impulse so spontaneous +and so imperative, and is in its origin so wholly emotional and +independent of the action of the intellect, that it at first and for +some time entirely absorbs their energies. The student's first steps +on the bright paths of his working life are obscured by no shadows +save those cast by the difficulties <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_218" id="PageV1_218">[218]</a></span>of a technical nature which lie +before him, and these difficulties, which indeed he only half +discerns, serve rather to whet his appetite than to hamper or +discourage him; for his heart whispers that, when he shall have +brushed them aside, the road will be clear before him, and the +utterance of what he feels stirring within him will be from +thenceforward one long unchecked delight. This spirit of spontaneous, +unquestioning rejoicing in production, which is still the privilege of +youth, and which, even now, the very strong sometimes carry with them +through their lives, was indeed, when Art herself was in her prime, +the normal and constant condition of the artistic temper, and shone +out in all artistic work. It is this spirit which gave a perennial +freshness to Athenian Art—the serenest and most spontaneous men have +ever seen. And when again, after many centuries, another Art was born +out of the night of the Dark Ages, and shed its gentle light over the +chaos of society, this spirit once more burst through it into flame. +All forms of Art are alike fired with it. Architecture first, exulting +in new flights of vigorous and bold creation; then Sculpture; last, +Painting, virtually a new Art, looked out on to the world with the +wondering delight of a child, timidly at first, but soon to fill it +with the bright expression of its joy. Those were halcyon days; the +questions, 'Why do I paint?' 'Why do I model?' 'Why should I build +beautifully?' 'What—how—shall I build, model, paint?' had no +existence in the mind of the artist. 'Why,' he might have answered, +'does the lark soar and sing?'"</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep218a" id="imagep218a"></a> +<a href="images/imagep218a.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep218a.jpg" width="60%" alt="STUDY OF SEA THISTLE." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDY OF SEA THISTLE. Malinmore, Ireland, 1895<br /> +From Sketch-book<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep218b" id="imagep218b"></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_220" id="PageV1_220">[220]</a></span> +<a href="images/imagep218b.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep218b.jpg" width="50%" alt="STUDY OF SEA THISTLE." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDY OF SEA THISTLE. Malinmore, Ireland, 1895<br /> +From Sketch-book<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>Though his direct study from Nature mostly took the form, in later +years, of sketching in oil colour views in the different countries in +which he travelled, Leighton showed to the end of his life his great +delight in flowers by continuing to make sketches from them. In 1895, +at Malinmore, he was fascinated by the sea-thistle, and there are four +pages in a sketch-book devoted to rapid sketches of the plant, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_219" id="PageV1_219">[219]</a></span><i>callantra</i>, which he made there. Notes are written on the first +sketch indicating the colours. It is interesting to compare the early +pencil work executed between 1850 and 1860 with that of forty years +later. Though the handling may be different, there is the same +complete sense and enjoyment of the wonderful architecture of plants +and flowers obvious in both.<a name="FNanchor_47_47" id="FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a></p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep221a" id="imagep221a"></a> +<a href="images/imagep221a.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep221a.jpg" width="55%" alt="RETURN OF PERSEPHONE." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"RETURN OF PERSEPHONE." 1891<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep221b" id="imagep221b"></a> +<a href="images/imagep221b.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep221b.jpg" width="52%" alt="STUDY IN COLOUR FOR RETURN OF PERSEPHONE." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDY IN COLOUR FOR "RETURN OF PERSEPHONE." 1891<br /> +By permission of Mrs. Stewart Hodgson<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + + +<br /> +<hr/> +<br /> + +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_37_37" id="Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> See Appendix, Vol. II., description in Preface to +"Catalogue of the Leighton House Collection."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_38_38" id="Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> An artist who was a great flower lover, when relating +her experiences, maintained that it was in the revelation, to her +perceptions, of the infinite perfection of the structure and form of +one flower, that she had realised in her own nature a more intimate +recognition and response to that of the Creator of the Infinite than +had ever been elicited by any church services or creeds, or even, in +fact, by the most sublime scenery. In one small flower she had found +an epitome of the wonders and beauties of all creation, so focussed as +to be grasped closely, and responded to, from the innermost intimate +recesses of her nature with a joy unspeakable.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_39_39" id="Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> See Appendix, Vol. II., Preface to "Catalogue of the +Leighton House Collection."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_40_40" id="Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> See Appendix, Vol. II., "Lord Leighton, P.R.A., Some +Reminiscences."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_41_41" id="Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> Appendix, Vol. II.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_42_42" id="Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> Ruskin was mistaken in thinking that the "Lemon Tree" +and the "Byzantine Well" are of the same date. The former drawing was +made in 1859, the latter seven years earlier in 1852 (reproduced +facing page 80), and is referred to in his diary, "Pebbles." I think +this is the most beautiful drawing of the kind I have ever seen.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_43_43" id="Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> See <a href="#toi">List of Illustrations</a>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_44_44" id="Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> See Appendix, Vol. II.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_45_45" id="Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> See letter to Steinle, page 188: "...God forgive me if +I am intolerant; but according to my view an artist must produce his +art out of his own heart, or he is none."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_46_46" id="Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> "I remember hearing him (Wordsworth) say that 'Goethe's +poetry was not inevitable enough.' The remark is striking and true; no +line in Goethe, as Goethe said himself, but its maker knew well how it +came there. Wordsworth is right; Goethe's poetry is not inevitable; +not inevitable enough."—Preface to "Poems of Wordsworth," chosen and +edited by Matthew Arnold.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_47_47" id="Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> Knowing that Leighton was a frequenter of the Kew +Gardens, I asked Sir W. Thiselton Dyer to write me his recollections +of him, which he most kindly did in the following letter:—</p> + +<div class="block3"><p class="right"><span class="sc">Kew</span>, <i>January 11, 1906</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Mrs. Barrington</span>,—My acquaintance with Lord +Leighton was only beginning to ripen into intimacy when he +unhappily died. His somewhat grand seigneur manner at first a +little alarmed me; but when I had broken through his reserve, +I became, like every one else, much attached to him.</p> + +<p>He used often to dine in evening dress at a small table behind +a screen at the door of the coffee-room at the Athenæum. In +the corner adjoining this is a round table known as Abraham's +Bosom, as it was once frequented by Abraham Hayward. Here, on +Royal Society days, we often had a lively scientific party. +Leighton often found it impossible to keep aloof, and joined +in the fun.</p> + +<p>I found Sir Frederic, as he was called, was well known to our +men as a visitor to Kew. He used to drive down in his victoria +in the afternoon and take a solitary walk. I only myself came +across him once. I had taken some trouble to get a fine show +of the old-fashioned Dutch tulips known as Bizards and +Byblomen. I found Leighton one day absorbed in the +enthusiastic contemplation of them. There were certain +combinations of colour which completely fascinated him. I +remember that he particularly admired a purplish brown with +yellow and a reddish purple with cream-colour. Both were, I +think, in the "key" that particularly appealed to him. He was +very anxious to have them in his garden in London, and we gave +him a little collection, with directions how to grow them. +What was the result I never heard.</p> + +<p>I then suggested that, as it was a lovely spring day, I should +take him a walk. He assented, and we sent his carriage round +to the Lion Gate, nearest to Richmond. I took him through the +Queen's Cottage grounds to show him the sheets of wild +hyacinth. He admitted their beauty, but remarked that the +effect was not pictorial.</p> + +<p>That, I think, was Leighton's point of view. With an intense +feeling for beauty, he had little or none for Nature pure and +simple. His art was essentially selective, and I think he took +most pleasure at Kew in the more or less artificial products +of the gardener's art. What he sought was subtle effects of +form and colour. Personally, I appreciate both ways of +treating plants. I am always at war with artists for their +undisciplined and mostly incompetent treatment of vegetation: +drawing and anatomy are usually defective to an instructed +eye, such faults would be intolerable in the figure. Their +presence robs me of much pleasure in looking at Burne-Jones' +pictures. I imagine he mostly made his plants up out of his +head. Ruskin, with all his talk, was both unobservant and +careless. Millais, on the other hand, though I am not aware +that he ever had any botanical training, by sheer force of +insight paints plants in a way to which the most fastidious +botanist can take no exception. One can actually botanise in +his foreground of "Over the Hills and Far Away," yet there is +no loss of general pictorial effect. The plant drawing of +Albert Dürer, Holman Hunt, and Alma Tadema, though more +studied, is absolutely satisfying to the botanist. Sir Joseph +Hooker has always complained that the Royal Academy has never +given any encouragement to accurate plant drawing. Yet I have +heard Sir William Richmond say that, as a student, he made +hundreds of careful studies of plant-form, and that he knew no +discipline more profitable. I remember remarking to an +Academician that I thought that in this respect the +competition pictures of the students reached a higher standard +than that of the average May Exhibition, and he admitted that +that was a possible criticism.</p> + +<p>Leighton aimed at beauty by selection and discipline. Millais +in his later work looked only to general effect and balance, +but as to detail was content to faithfully reproduce, and did +not select at all. This explains the admiration which I +believe Millais had for Miss North's work. Both produced +admirable results, but they were of an essentially different +kind, though equally admirable.</p> + +<p>But whenever Leighton introduced plant-forms, it was +penetrated by his characteristic thoroughness and perfect +mastery of what he was about. I am myself a passionate admirer +of the Gloire-de-Dijon rose. I remember telling Leighton that +I did not think that any one had ever painted it with such +consummate skill as he had. I am told, and quite believe it, +that his pencil studies from plants are as fine as anything +that has ever been done.</p> + +<p>Leighton rendered us a very great service on one occasion. +Miss North's pictures were painted on paper, roughly framed, +and simply hung by her on the brick walls of her gallery. They +soon began to rapidly deteriorate. I appealed to L. for +advice. I was, I confess, astonished to receive from him a +full, precise, and business-like report, pointing out exactly +what should be done, and who was the proper person to do it. +The gallery was to be lined with boarding, the pictures were +to be properly framed, cleaned, lightly varnished, and glazed. +The report was at once accepted by the office of works, the +work was successfully carried out, and no trouble has been +experienced since.</p> + +<p>In his turn, Leighton sometimes appealed to me. This was +notably the case when he was painting his "Persephone," which +I frankly told him I thought was the most beautiful picture he +had ever painted. He had been in Capri, and had seen on the +rocks a blue flower which he wished to introduce into the +foreground. We made out what it was, and sent him tracings +from plates and sketches from herbarium specimens. These did +not satisfy him, and he ultimately sent to Capri for the +living plant. He worked hard at it, and, I do not doubt, +produced a very beautiful piece of colour.</p> + +<p>That year I dined at the Academy. "Persephone" hung over +Leighton's chair, and was the subject of one of the few really +witty remarks I ever heard in an after-dinner speech. But then +the speaker was Lord Justice Bowen.</p> + +<p>But his beautiful foreground was all gone. Leighton, and I +think he was right, thought it destroyed the balance of his +colour scheme, and painted it out. But I have always felt sad +to think of the beautiful work that lay buried there.</p> + +<p>When he died, we felt very sad at Kew. He had always been so +lovable and disinterested. We decided to send some tribute to +his funeral, but to avoid what was commonplace. So we sent a +large wreath of bay, introducing, in the place of the +conventional berries, single snowdrop flowers. The result was +dignified and, I think, adequate. At any rate, the +Academicians thought so, if, as I have been told, they placed +the wreath by the coffin on the hearse on its way to St. +Paul's.</p> + +<p>I walked back with Lord Redesdale, one of Leighton's most +intimate friends, who had come up from Batsford to attend. +There was a great gathering at the Athenæum. I sat next +Millais, already himself stricken with death, and whom I never +saw again.</p> + +<p>I am afraid all this will not be very helpful to you, but my +pen ran on to tell you all I could of a good, great, and brave +man, whom it was an honour to have known.—Yours always +sincerely,</p> + +<p class="right sc">W.C. Thiselton Dyer.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_221" id="PageV1_221">[221]</a></span><br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_222" id="PageV1_222">[222]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>WATTS—SUCCESS—FAILURE<br /> +1855-1856</h4> +<br /> + +<p>It was in the summer of 1855, in consequence of his father having +summoned him suddenly back to England, that Leighton first became +known as a notable person to the London world. His picture of +"Cimabue's Madonna" had preceded him, and gave him an introduction to +the art magnates; while the fact that the Queen had bought it of the +young and, till then, unknown artist, raised the curiosity of those to +whom the intrinsic value of the work was insignificant, compared to +its having received this mark of Royal approval. Hanging on the walls +of the Academy throughout the season and being much talked about, the +picture, combined with the painter's charming personality, won for him +at once a prominent position. His friends of the happy Roman days, +however, remained the nucleus of his real intimacies. As can be +gathered from his letters, he had already in Rome felt general society +to be fatiguing and unremunerative, the interest in it never having +compensated him for the physical exertion and weariness it entailed. +Health—and a more or less stolid temperament—are requisite in order +to combat, with any satisfaction, the wear and tear of late hours, and +contact with mere acquaintances and strangers whose personalities +carry with them no special interest. Leighton found no pleasure in +such intercourse sufficient to overbalance its sterility, for he +possessed neither robust health nor much equanimity of temperament. +He <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_223" id="PageV1_223">[223]</a></span>could enjoy with ecstasy those things which delighted him, but +had little of that even current of patient contentment, the normal +condition of those who can tolerate cheerfully—and even with +pleasure—the herding in crowds with mere acquaintances. Circumstances +combined in making Leighton's disinclination to indiscriminate +visiting often misunderstood. His extreme vitality when in company, +his notable gifts as a talker and as a linguist, the high social +standing of many of his most intimate friends, naturally gave the +impression that he was made for the sort of success which is the aim +of many living in the London world. That he never availed himself of +all the opportunities that offered themselves was considered by many +as a sign of conceit and superciliousness. Nothing could have been +farther from the truth. That he was ambitious for Art to take her +legitimate position on the platform of the world's highest interests +is certain, and that he resented the position which was but too often +accorded in England to her earnest votaries, and had a keen +discernment in tracing evidences of self-interest and snobbish +proclivities in those who would have patronised him, is no less +certain; but that Leighton himself was ever personally otherwise than +the most modest of men, all who really knew him can attest. To +whatever class in society a man or woman might belong, whether a Royal +or a quite humble friend—once a friend, Leighton gave of his very +best and worthiest. No time or trouble would he spare in such service; +though he was too eager a worker, and felt too keenly a responsibility +towards his calling for him to allow any moment of his life to be +frittered away by claims which were not in his eyes real or of any +serious advantage to others.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep223" id="imagep223"></a> +<a href="images/imagep223.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep223.jpg" width="85%" alt="CUPID WITH DOVES." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"CUPID WITH DOVES"<br /> +Decorative work with gold background. About 1880<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>It was during this summer that he made the personal acquaintance of +Ruskin, Holman Hunt, Millais, and Watts. While in London he found a +home with his mother's <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_224" id="PageV1_224">[224]</a></span>relations, Mr. and Mrs. Nash, in Montagu +Square, for whose affectionate kindness he was ever grateful. It was +while staying there that Watts and he first met, or rather on the +pavement outside the house. Watts recounted how he had ridden one +afternoon to Montagu Square, and having asked for Leighton, the artist +himself came out to greet him. Watts was much impressed at the time, +he said, by the extraordinary amount of vitality and nervous energy +which Leighton seemed to possess. This acquaintance thus begun was +continued for forty years.<a name="FNanchor_48_48" id="FNanchor_48_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a></p> + +<p>As regarded Art, the supreme interest in the lives of these two famous +painters, their relations remained intimate to the end of Leighton's +life. Before Leighton definitely settled in London, Watts invited him +to show his work in the studios of Little Holland House, which +invitation he gratefully accepted. In a letter to his mother Leighton +writes: "Watts has been exceedingly amiable to me; the studio is at my +disposal if I want to paint there. I am still of opinion that Watts is +a most marvellous fellow, and if he had but decent health would whip +us all, if he does not already."</p> + +<p>It is interesting to trace the influences which developed alike in +Leighton and Watts, the feeling for form which in both artists is +analogous to that of the Greek. Before going to Italy, Watts had +studied the perfection in the work of Pheidias in the Elgin Marbles, a +perfection rediscovered by Haydon; and a visit to Greece later only +confirmed his conviction that the Pheidian school of sculpture made a +higher appeal to his artistic sense than did any other. That was "<i>the +indelible seal</i>" which, in the case of <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_225" id="PageV1_225">[225]</a></span>his brother artist, had been +stamped on Leighton's artistic nature through the guidance of his +master, Steinle. When Watts lived in Italy, from the year 1843 to +1847, he found that it was the work of Orcagna and Titian that +appealed most to his imagination, and to his sense of form and +colour—Orcagna's great conceptions, which struck notes stranger and +more widely suggestive than those dictated and restricted by special +religious creeds; Titian, the glorious Titian of the Renaissance, +whose sense and modelling had the breadth and bloom of Pheidian art, +and whose colour was triumphant in qualities of richness and subtlety +combined. The pure beauty in the early religious painters made a much +slighter and less personal appeal to Watts during those four years he +lived in Italy.</p> + +<p>It was in Italy, when a child of twelve, that Leighton drank a deep +draught from the fountain-head of mediæval and modern art; and this +established once and for all the high standard towards which he ever +aimed. But though his true artistic preferences were aroused at this +early age, the full and complete passion for his calling was not +developed till he met his master some years later in Frankfort. +Belonging to the brotherhood of Nazarenes, the early religious Italian +art appealed more strongly than any other to Steinle; and, doubtless, +the earnest study Leighton devoted to Duccio, Cimabue, Giotto, +Buonfigli, Perugino, and Pinturicchio, and the delight he took in +their work, was originally started by Steinle. The following list, +which exists in Steinle's handwriting, of the paintings which he +wished Leighton specially to study in Florence is evidence of this.</p> + +<div class="block4"><p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="cen">FLORENCE</p> + +<p class="hang"><i>St. Croce.</i>—The choir by Angiolo Gaddi, pupil of Giotto. The +chapel on the right by his uncle, Taddeo Gaddi. The altar +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_226" id="PageV1_226">[226]</a></span>by Giotto himself, in the sacristy the Taddeo Gaddi, in the +refectory the Last Supper, all by Giotto.</p> + +<p class="hang"><i>St. Marco.</i>—Outside Fiesole, where particularly should be seen +in the cloister-cell and choir-stalls a Last Supper by +Ghirlandajo.</p> + +<p class="hang"><i>St. Maria Novella.</i>—The choir by Domenico Ghirlandajo, chapel +by Giovanni and Filippo Lippi, a Madonna in marble by +Benedetto da Majano, the great Madonna of Cimabue. The Hell +and Paradise of Andreas Orcagna. Opposite the court of this +chapel grey in grey by Dello and Paul Ucello; from the court +into the Capello dei Spagnolli, to the left the picture by +Taddeo Gaddi; all the rest by Simon Memmi.</p> + +<p class="hang"><i>Capella di St. Francesco</i>, by Dom. Ghirlandajo.</p> + +<p class="hang"><i>St. Ambrogio.</i>—Fresco by Cosimo Rosetti.</p> + +<p class="hang"><i>St. Spirito.</i>—Built by Brunelleschi; altar-pieces by Filippo +Lippi and Botticelli.</p> + +<p class="hang"><i>Al Carmine</i>, dei Massacio's.</p> + +<p class="hang"><i>St. Miniato.</i>—Chapel by Aretino Spinello.</p> + +<p class="hang"><i>Palazzo Riccardi.</i>—The lovely chapel by Benozzo Gozzoli.</p> + +<p class="hang"><i>In the Chapel of the Foundling Hospital.</i>—Beautiful +altar-piece by Ghirlandajo.</p></div> + +<p>After visiting Padua, Siena, Perugia, Assisi, however, the pupil +became a keen admirer of this early art, independently of any +influence other than the inherent beauty, dignity, and purity of the +feeling in the works themselves.<a name="FNanchor_49_49" id="FNanchor_49_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a> Moreover, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_227" id="PageV1_227">[227]</a></span>the natural sympathy +which Leighton felt for the art of Greece, discovered in this early +Italian work records of her influence, and that, in a very striking +manner, it was allied to that of the great ancients. In his Academy +address of 1887 we find this alluded to in the following passage:—</p> + +<div class="block3"><p>"The production, both in sculpture and painting, of the middle +period of the thirteenth century has a character of +transition. In painting, the works, for instance, of Cimabue +and of Duccio are still impregnated with the Byzantine spirit, +and occasionally reveal startling reminiscences of classic +dignity and power, to which justice is not, I think, +sufficiently rendered. In sculpture, the handiwork of Nicolo +Pisano is full of the amplitude, the rhythm, and virility of +classic Art. I see in it, indeed, the tokens of a new life in +Art, but little sign of a new artistic form—it is not a dawn; +it is an after-glow, strange, belated, and solemn. <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_228" id="PageV1_228">[228]</a></span>In the Art +of Giotto and the Giottosques, the transformation is +fulfilled. It is an art lit up with the spirit of St. Francis, +warm with Christian love, pure with Christian purity, simple +with Christian humility; it is the fit language of a pious +race endowed with an exquisite instinct of the expressiveness +of form, as form, but untrained as yet in the knowledge of the +concrete facts of the outer world; an art fresh with the dew +and tenderness of youth, and yet showing, together with this +virginal quality of young life, a simple forcefulness +prophetic of the power of its riper day. Within the outline of +these general characteristics individuality found sufficient +scope."</p></div> + +<p>Even when this transformation is fulfilled in the frescoes of Giotto, +any intelligent study of his art at Padua and Assisi, while keeping in +mind the manner in which Pheidias felt and treated the human form in +his sculpture, would prove to the student how distinctly visible is +the link between the ancient and this mediæval art; though the fact of +the latter being fired with an ecstasy of spiritual emotion of which +the Greek had no experience, may disguise the link where feeling in +art is of more interest than form. There is the same detachment of one +form from another, each being given its full expression and +intention—which induces a feeling of simplicity and serenity in the +greatest work. The form of the head is not smudged into the throat, +nor the throat into the chest, nor the chest into the arms. Even in +the smallest Greek coin or <i>intaglio</i> of the best period this separate +individuality of form in each part of the human frame is accentuated, +and with it a sense of size and breadth. The same fundamental +principles also, adhered to by the great Greek workmen in their +treatment of drapery, is to be traced in the work of Giotto.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep229a" id="imagep229a"></a> +<a href="images/imagep229a.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep229atn.jpg" width="90%" alt="IDYLL." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"IDYLL." 1881<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep229b" id="imagep229b"></a> +<a href="images/imagep229b.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep229b.jpg" width="58%" alt="PORTRAIT OF MISS MABEL MILLS." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">PORTRAIT OF MISS MABEL MILLS (THE HON. MRS. GRENFELL). +1877<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>But the great Greeks did not invent the beauty they immortalised, any +more than did Leighton and Watts; the Pheidian school intuitively +chose the noblest form it found <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_229" id="PageV1_229">[229]</a></span>in nature.<a name="FNanchor_50_50" id="FNanchor_50_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a> The notable gift +with which nature endowed the artists of the Periclean epoch consisted +of eyes to perceive, and taste to <i>prefer</i>, the form which, +intrinsically and most convincingly, inspires admiration in those +imbued with the finest sense of beauty—not a gift to invent something +new and different from nature. In like manner the gift nature bestowed +on Leighton and Watts was the same, a perception and a preference for +noble form; and in this choice they had been educated by legacies from +Pheidias and his school, but only so far as these legacies induced +them to seek and perceive in nature herself the elements of such +nobility. In painting the magnificent head and shoulders entitled +"Atalanta,"<a name="FNanchor_51_51" id="FNanchor_51_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a> or the reclining figures in "Idyll,"<a name="FNanchor_52_52" id="FNanchor_52_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> Leighton +copied as directly from nature as when he painted the portrait of +"Miss Mabel Mills,"<a name="FNanchor_53_53" id="FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a> where a similar beauty of form in the throat +existed as in Miss Jones, who sat for "Atalanta" and "Idyll." When +Watts painted his superb "Lady with the Mirror," one of his really +great achievements, it was the model before him whose beauty he was +recording, though his own sense in recognising it had been further +inspired by his study of Pheidias. We need not go out of England to +find types which are as completely noble as are those in the most +inspiring art ever created, but the sense as a <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_230" id="PageV1_230">[230]</a></span>rule is wanting in +English artists to select and to prefer such nobility.</p> + +<p>Leighton writes to a friend in 1879:—</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>"I have just remembered a circumstance which might be worth +mentioning: I painted pictures in <i>an out-of-door top light</i> +and with realistic aims (of course, subordinate to style) in +the old Frankfurt days before I came over here, and long +before I heard of 'modern' ideas in painting. In this, +perhaps, more than in anything, the boy was the father of the +man, for it is still the corner-stone of my faith that Art is +not a corpse, but a living thing, and that the highest respect +for the old masters, who are and will remain supreme, does not +lie in doing as they did, but as men of their strength would +do if they were now (oh, <i>derisim</i>!) amongst us."</p></div> + +<p>Leighton taught Watts to appreciate the Greek inheritance to be found +in early Italian art; and I have frequently heard Watts comment on the +evidence of this legacy in Giotto's work. Watts, by ventilating the +results of his studies of Pheidian art with Leighton, and analysing +the elemental principles on which it was grounded, aided his brother +artist in securing a faster hold on the sources of his individual +preferences.</p> + +<p>No two characters could have been more dissimilar than those of Watts +and Leighton, no two men could have led more different external lives; +Leighton's great and varied gifts requiring for their full exercise +the whole area of life's stage, Watts' genius demanding seclusion, and +days undisturbed by friction with the outer world. Watts' first and +great object in life was to preserve his work, and to bequeath it to +his country, which he, happily for his country, was enabled to do; +Leighton's object was to complete a work as far as industry and his +gifts would enable him to complete it, then—as he would say—"to get +rid of it and never see it again; but try to do better next time"! The +one was frank, free, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_231" id="PageV1_231">[231]</a></span>courageous; the other almost morbidly +self-depreciative, sensitive, and timid. All the same, no two workmen +could have had more sympathy with one another in their true aims and +aspirations, or more mutual admiration for each other's artistic +gifts.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep230a" id="imagep230a"></a> +<a href="images/imagep230a.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep230a.jpg" width="32%" alt="VENUS DISROBING FOR THE BATH." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"VENUS DISROBING FOR THE BATH." 1867<br /> +By permission of Sir A. Henderson, Bart.<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep230b" id="imagep230b"></a> +<a href="images/imagep230b.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep230b.jpg" width="39%" alt="PHRYNE AT ELEUSIS." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"PHRYNE AT ELEUSIS." 1882<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>Watts, to his credit, had from his first acquaintance with Leighton +discerned that "the unusual position" which Leighton undoubtedly held +from his first appearance in the London world to the day of his death, +was due to the possession of unusual gifts, exercised in a very +unusually generous and public-spirited manner, and not to reasons +invented by those who were envious of this prominent position.</p> + +<p>Watts wrote to Leighton after they became neighbours in Kensington:—</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>"I have been worrying myself by fancying you rather +misunderstood the drift of my observations respecting the +value of social consideration to a professional man, that I +meant to imply you sold your pictures in consequence of the +unusual position you undoubtedly hold; knowing me and my +opinions as you do, you could hardly think so, yet poets and +artists are proverbially sensitive beings. I know I am myself +to a degree that could hardly be imagined, though not with +regard to opinion of my work; I am resigned, if not contented, +to preserve what I can do for posterity, conscious that no +other judgment can really be worth anything; I am very often +unhappy, thinking that after all the best I can do may not be +worthy of being brought before the great tribunal at all; but +I do not allow myself to brood over the subject more than I +can help. However, I do not attempt to deaden the keen dread I +have of giving pain or offence, and am really miserable when I +think I have done so, or been unjust; I don't think I am often +the latter, but I may by clumsiness fall into the former +regrettable position. I should grieve indeed if any word or +deed of mine should ever be offensive to you, for you know me +to be always yours most sincerely,</p> + +<p class="right sc">"Signor."</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_232" id="PageV1_232">[232]</a></span>Immediately on his arrival from Italy Leighton paid a visit to his +family at Bath, arriving on May 24. He returned to London shortly +after, where his family joined him on June 15, and the introduction so +long desired by Leighton took place between his parents and sisters +and his great friends, Mr. and Mrs. Sartoris. In December 1854 +Leighton's mother had written: "How delightful to see you again, and +perhaps we may spend the next winter together, but of that I am +uncertain. In England we shall not be, and both Papa and I incline to +Paris, but Gussy has an anxious desire to go to Berlin. The Sartoris' +being in Paris would be a strong inducement to us to go there, as we +very much wish to make your friends' acquaintance, and we should most +likely meet at their house agreeable people. I am exceedingly sorry I +overlooked Mrs. Sartoris' friendly message, which I have since +discovered in your former letter. Pray offer her my best compliments, +and assure her I consider her great kindness to you gives her a claim +upon my sympathy, and I shall rejoice to have an opportunity of giving +her this assurance in person."</p> + +<p>In February his mother wrote: "I hope you will not long be separated +from your friends the Sartoris when you leave Rome. We all sincerely +desire to become acquainted with the valued friends of whom we hear so +much."</p> + +<p>Later his father wrote: "With regard to your reasons for remaining at +Rome during the spring, you have this time at least the best of the +argument. If there were no other than your wish to give more tangible +form to your gratitude to your kind friends, the Sartoris, it would be +sufficient, to say nothing of the drawings from M. Angelo and +Raphael."</p> + +<p>And in the same cover his mother says: "I feel, with your father, +great satisfaction at your undertaking a likeness of Mrs. Sartoris—I +hope it may prove a satisfactory one. <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_233" id="PageV1_233">[233]</a></span>Give our love to Mrs. +Sartoris." Leighton's younger sister kept a diary in those days. +Written in this are notes which describe the keen appreciation which +she and her family felt for her brother's friends. "In fact she is, as +Fred says, an angel. She seems very fond of him, as she might be of a +younger brother.... She is very stout, high coloured, and has little +hair. But the shape of her mouth is very fine, the modulations of her +voice in speaking are exquisite. She is a creature who can never age, +and before whose attractions those of younger and prettier women must +always pale." "August 1855.—Fred returned to Bath to stay with us a +little while. Beautiful drives together. So generous in giving me +several volumes of poetry." "Sept.—Left us to go to Paris."</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep233" id="imagep233"></a> +<a href="images/imagep233.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep233.jpg" width="42%" alt="PORTRAIT OF MRS. ADELAIDE SARTORIS." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">PORTRAIT OF MRS. ADELAIDE SARTORIS<br /> +Drawn by Lord Leighton for her friend Lady Bloomfield, 1867<br /> +By permission of the Hon. Mrs. Sartoris<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>While in London Leighton wrote the following to his master, Steinle:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right sc">10 Maddox Street, Bond Street,<br /> +London, 1855.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My very dear Friend</span>,—At last I am able to write to +you again. When I sent off my last letter to you I was busily +packing for my journey; now I have been already six weeks in +England, and it seems a year since I left Rome. I scarcely +need tell you, dearest Friend, that at first, in this London +hurly-burly, I hardly knew whether I was standing on my head +or my heels: I will not say that this condition has not had a +certain charm. I have made several acquaintances, have been +cordially received, and have had considerably more praise for +my picture than it deserves. However, I have already set +seriously to work again, and expect shortly to commence upon a +new composition. It is a real grief to me, dear Master, to +have to work without your guidance.</p> + +<p>My <i>succès</i>, here in London, which, for a beginner, has been +extraordinarily great, fills me with anxiety and apprehension; +I am always thinking, "What can you exhibit next year that +will <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_234" id="PageV1_234">[234]</a></span>fulfil the expectations of the public?" When I have +settled anything definitely, I shall report to my master in +Frankfurt.</p> + +<p>Now, however, as regards the photographs. Owing to unforeseen +circumstances, Mrs. Sartoris (whom I introduced to you in my +last letter) was obliged to alter the plans of her journey, +and will not leave this for Germany until the middle of +September. What now? Will you wait so long, or shall I seek an +opportunity to send you your seven things?</p> + +<p>And now, my Friend, how are you occupied? Do you still sparkle +with beautiful inventions? Tell me all that you are doing. I +had a delightful surprise recently when I saw your long +expected "Court Scene" in Paris; it is a charming composition. +I tell you nothing of the great Paris Exhibition, for you +naturally will not neglect to see a thing so excessively +interesting; it throws light upon a great many things. If only +you could come in September! then we could meet again and +renew old times a little; it would be very delightful. I +should like extremely to arrange something of the kind with +you; we should certainly agree very well.</p> + +<p>Remember me most kindly to your wife and my old friends in +Frankfurt, and keep in mind your loving pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<p>In a letter to his mother, before she arrived in London, Leighton +refers to Ruskin's criticism when comparing his "Cimabue's Madonna" to +Millais' "Rescue":—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right sc">London.</p> + +<p>I do wonder at the critics: will they never let "the cat die"? +What Ruskin means by Millais' picture being "greater" than +mine, is that the joy of a mother over her rescued children is +a higher order of emotion than any expressed in my picture. I +wish people would remember St. Paul on the subject of hateful +comparisons: "There is one glory of the sun, and another glory +of the moon, and another glory of the stars, for one star +differeth from another star in glory."</p> + +<p>I spent last night an evening that Gussy would have envied me. +We (I and the Sartoris and one or two others) were at Hallé's, +who is the most charming fellow in the world.</p></div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep234" id="imagep234"></a> +<a href="images/imagep234.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep234.jpg" width="85%" alt="STUDY FOR PORTION OF FRIEZE, "MUSIC"" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDY FOR PORTION OF FRIEZE, "MUSIC"<br /> +(not carried out in final design). 1883<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_235" id="PageV1_235">[235]</a></span>Having sent his "Romeo" picture to Paris, Leighton was not quite +unknown to the art world when he arrived there in September 1855. The +"Cimabue's Madonna," hanging on the walls of the Royal Academy in +London, and this picture being shown at the great International +Exhibition in France, he can fairly be said to have entered at the age +of twenty-four the arena where he competed with the first artists in +Europe. By a mistake the "Romeo" picture was hung in the Roman instead +of the English section in the International Exhibition. The following +extract appeared in a publication at the time, and gives the unbiassed +criticism of one who was unknown to Leighton:—</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>"Strange it may seem, but such is the fact, that of the +thirteen canvasses she (Rome) has sent on this occasion to +sustain her credit, that which for intrinsic merit takes the +lead—in which soul for expression and true artistic feeling +are conspicuous, is due to the pencil of an +Englishman—Frederic Leighton, <i>né à Scarborough, élève de +Mons. Edouard Steinle de Frankfort</i>. The subject of this +picture—and it is a fine one—is the reconciliation of the +Houses of Montagu and Capulet over the bodies of Romeo and +Juliet. Let us hope that his native country may hear and see +more of so promising an artist as Mr. Leighton."</p></div> + +<p>And again:—</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>"When these lines were written on the other side of the +Channel, Mr. Leighton had already sent his 'pencil's' first +representation to the Royal Academy, causing therein not a +little surprise, fluttering the dovecots in Corioli. We beg he +will construe our sincere anticipations into a hearty +welcome."</p></div> + +<p>In the early days of September 1855, Leighton was in Paris preparing +to settle in for a winter's hard work. The following letters to his +mother and father and to Steinle were written soon after his arrival. +In that to Steinle, Leighton <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_236" id="PageV1_236">[236]</a></span>alludes to the serious work he has +before him, in painting "The Triumph of Music":—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Hôtel Canterbury, Rue de la Paix</span>,<br /> +<i>Sunday, 1855.</i></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Mamma</span>,—Though I have, of course, nothing to +tell you yet, still, as it is Sunday morning, I send you a few +lines as a token of continued vegetation. Paris is bright and +warm and sunny, and contrasts incredibly with the murkiness of +London. I have already set to work to look for a studio, but +shall have great difficulty in finding one, and shall have to +pay about 1500 francs per annum <i>unfurnished</i>; my furniture I +shall of course hire, not buy—<i>ci vuol pazienza</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Hôtel Canterbury</span>,<br /> +<i>Saturday, 1855</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Papa</span>,—When one has bad news to swallow, there +is nothing like taking the bull by the horns and engulphing +the dose at once: this is the bull to be swallowed, horns and +all. I have, after great trouble and manifold inquiries, taken +<i>the only</i> studio that at all suited me, and for that I give +<i>unfurnished</i> 150 francs a month. It is enormous, but +unavoidable; nor have I been at a disadvantage from being an +Englishman, for two artists of my acquaintance, one a +<i>Parisian</i> just returning from Rome, the other a Frankfurter, +have seen precisely the <i>same</i>, and only the same, studios as +I did. It is the dearth of studios and the great demand for +them that makes the price so high. Those who have had studios +some time of course pay very much less, others put up with +little holes far too small to paint a picture of any size. +Carlo Perugini is painting in the studio of a friend, and that +is a strip not large enough for one person. There was only +<i>one</i> studio which I could for a moment think of besides this +one I have taken, and that costs infinitely less; but not only +was it too small—it had been built <i>this</i> summer, and is not +yet finished painting, feels cold and damp, and would no doubt +have laid me up with the rheumatism.</p> + +<p>I have been advised and actually assisted in everything by +Hébert, who is a friend as well as an old acquaintance, and +than whom nobody knows the resources of Paris better. He <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_237" id="PageV1_237">[237]</a></span>took +me about to get my furniture, &c., and I am happy to say that +I have bought everything, including ample bedroom and table +linen, crockery, and knives, spoons, &c., all under £30. I +have quite a little <i>fond de ménage</i>; this is the only cheap +thing I have done in Paris, everything is exactly as dear as +London. It certainly <i>is</i> lucky I sold my picture.</p> + +<p>My frame cost, with time and trouble of exhibition, 320 +francs.</p></div> + +<p class="cen">[Portion of letter to his father.]</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">21 Rue Pigalle</span>, <i>Tuesday</i>.</p> + +<p>I have nothing whatever to tell you, except that I have just +finished a head of Carlo Perugini (for myself), which is the +best thing of the kind I ever did. It has not interfered with +my picture, but has stopped up unavoidable gaps. I have got H. +Wilson<a name="FNanchor_54_54" id="FNanchor_54_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a> to teach me the Conture Method—<i>à fin d'avoir taté +à tout</i>. Conture paints well in spite of his method, which +might easily lead to superficial mannerism. The best <i>dodge</i> +is to be a devil of a clever fellow.</p> + +<p>Will you do me a <i>great</i> favour—for my friend Hébert, to whom +I am under great obligations? If you can get me for him <i>any</i> +Greek classic (if Homer, all the better) in the <i>same edition</i> +as my <i>Brumek's Anacreon</i> with <i>Latin notes</i>, I shall be much +obliged. Hébert wants very much to have any such work.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">21 Rue Pigalle, Paris</span>,<br /> +<i>Saturday, September 29, 1855</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My very dear Friend</span>,—At last I find the long-desired +opportunity to send you the photographs; our old Gamba has +undertaken to convey them to you. How I envy him the pleasure +of seeing you again, dear Master! You, on your side, will +certainly have great pleasure in seeing your old pupil again. +He is just the same as ever; rather more of a beard, and +broader shouldered, but still quite the old Gamba. He will be +able to tell you that we have cherished your memory with love +and reverence, and are always proud to call ourselves your +pupils.</p> + +<p>I should like to describe to you what I am painting now, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_238" id="PageV1_238">[238]</a></span>but +the subject I have chosen is such an absolute matter of +sentiment, that your imagination might well paint something +quite different, in comparison with which my picture might +subsequently suffer; I would rather wait until I can send you +a photograph. It is a picture with only four figures, but +life-size. I stand in alarm before the blank canvas. One +learns gradually to understand that one really can do nothing.</p> + +<p>The photographs in the portofolio with my writing on them are +yours; I hope they will please you. You must accept them as a +little memento of my Italian hobbledehoy-hood.</p> + +<p>Remember me respectfully to Madame Steinle, to my other +friends "tante cose."</p> + +<p>Keep me in remembrance.—Your grateful pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<p>Again to Steinle he writes:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right sc">Paris, Rue Pigalle 21.</p> + +<p>No one could sympathise better than I with your melancholy +loneliness in the hermitage of Frankfurt; in that air an +artist breathes with difficulty; I confess I should be +entirely paralysed by the lack of models and other resources +in Frankfurt; one all too easily loses sight of the infinite +importance of a complete material representation, which is +always the special mark of the <i>artist</i>; I often see with +amazement how even quite clever people behave in this respect. +It has quite a plausible sound if one says (such a fellow as +Strauch, for example), "Away with materialism! Pfui! The great +artist is he who has the most ideas!" Stop, my little man! do +you not feel what a store of artistic cowardice lies behind +your words? Ah, behind so broad a shield you can elude all the +difficulties of your work! He who has the most <i>ideas</i> is +first only as the greatest <i>poet</i> or even <i>philosopher</i>! He +only is an <i>artist</i> who can <i>set</i> his ideas <i>forth</i>. <i>Art</i> +means the power to do; undoubtedly the idea is the source, the +achieved is art; but an <i>idea</i> completely <i>embodied</i> can no +more exist without the <i>artist</i> power than a thousand ideas +that are only muddled away by agitated incapacity!</p> + +<p>I gladly let myself go on such matters to you, for I know that +we are of one mind regarding them, and it does one good to +pour out one's heart a little for once.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_239" id="PageV1_239">[239]</a></span>I hear, with particular interest, that you are painting the +little picture of the Madonna that you composed twenty-three +years ago in the diligence when you were travelling to Italy; +it is a very good thing. I imagine a lovely landscape in the +background; an oleander, rich in starry bloom; grey olives and +stately cypresses wave in the distance; soft violets nestle on +the bank of the cool water, and gaze with earnest eyes out of +the whispering grass. On the still bosom of the stream sleep +white blossoms, which have flown down when the winds breathed +on the limes, and see, in a secret nook in the shade of the +lovely <i>Himmelsglocken</i>, the strawberry bed from which the +black-eyed John will peep at the treasures. Above, in the +branches, many-coloured birds frolic, and chase one another, +and flit through the grove, in harmonious, song-rich flight. +And the Madonna! how tenderly and lovingly she looks down upon +the two playing children! Have I described your picture?</p> + +<p>In order to send it to England (and how delighted I should be +to see it) you should, so much I know from personal +experience, cause your picture to reach the Royal Academy +(without fail) on the first of April; I believe that influence +is no use at all, for the Academicians are very autocratic; I +will, however, obtain all the information in good time. I, who +was even more totally unknown in England than you, have +refrained, by the advice of my friends, from applying to <i>any</i> +person, and have left my pictures entirely to themselves.</p> + +<p>Now I must close this immoderately long letter. It seems not +impossible to me that I may pass through Frankfurt next +spring, then we will have a good long gossip together, won't +we?</p> + +<p>Till then, keep in warm remembrance your English pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<p>It is clear that Paris lacked the charm which Italy had for Leighton. +Parisians have been compared to the Greeks with respect to the +peculiarly <i>fin</i> and agile manner in which they can exercise their +intellects; and so far Leighton might have been expected to fit in +happily and with enjoyment to himself into their life. But though he +felt a great respect <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_240" id="PageV1_240">[240]</a></span>and admiration for the genuine artistic sense +which the French undoubtedly possess as a nation, Leighton, no less as +a man than as an artist, was more Greek than is any typical Parisian. +He viewed the beauty of nature from a less circumscribed standpoint, +his emotions were excited with a more ingenuous spontaneity and less +from a <i>parti-pris</i> attitude than, as a rule, are those of the French +artist. Paris was too artificial to appeal strongly to Leighton's +taste. As with the Greeks, grace and charm in the form of living as in +Art was a necessity to his well-being; but he found more natural +expression of such grace and charm in the unsophisticated Italian than +among the artificial and more highly finished manners of the +Parisians. We never read of the eager longing to be in France that +Leighton's letters show when it was a question of a return to Italy. +Also Paris does not appear to have suited his health. He writes to his +mother after living there some weeks:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">21 Rue Pigalle</span>, <i>Sunday, 21</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Mamma</span>,—I observe in a general way that the +climate of Paris is very exciting to my nerves—infinitely +more than Rome. The life I lead is one of unprecedented +regularity and absence of any kind of excess, yet sometimes in +the evening, when I have lit my lamp and my fire and sit down +to work, I can neither play, nor read, nor draw, nor do +anything for five minutes together for sheer restlessness and +fidgets. That sleep, too, that used to be the corner-stone of +my accomplishments and the pillar of my strength, is not by +any means what it was—<i>non sum qualis eram!</i></p> + +<p>The Sartoris have not changed their plans more than five or +six dozen times since you saw them. They are now staying in +the country with the Marquise de l'Aigle, Edward's sister. +They will be here at the beginning of November and stay +<i>three</i> months—ooray! Lady Cowley is, I believe, not yet come +back. I see a great deal of Herbert Wilson here. He has with +him, too, an arch-brick of a friend, a naval captain whom I +like most particularly. I am painting his head for practice +and for him—he is a fine specimen of an English sailor. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_241" id="PageV1_241">[241]</a></span>About learning by heart, don't you think it will be a great +waste of my very little eyesight to read the same thing over +and over again until I know it?</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">21 Rue Pigalle</span>, <i>October 26</i>.</p> + +<p>My health, to return to the eternal refrain, is just what it +was. I shall find very little difficulty in giving up coffee +or tea after dinner, as I never take either; indeed, of late I +have given up wine, beer, gin, and other spirituous liquors as +utterly exciting and damnable. Nothing makes me sleep as I +used except going to bed late, and as I am always either +sleepy, tired, or fidgety in the evening, I very seldom get +beyond ten o'clock.</p> + +<p>Carlo Perugini, whom I saw to-day, sends "tante cose" to his +cousin. He is a charming boy, most gentlemanlike, and has that +peculiar childlike simplicity which belongs to none but +Italians.</p></div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep241" id="imagep241"></a> +<a href="images/imagep241.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep241tn.jpg" width="85%" alt="SKETCH IN WATER COLOUR FOR TABLEAUX VIVANTS" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">SKETCH IN WATER COLOUR FOR TABLEAUX VIVANTS,<br /> +"THE ECHOES OF HELLAS."<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>Leighton's friendship with Brock and the French sculptor Dalou began +in these autumn days of 1855. He also made the acquaintance of +Whistler, whose etchings he admired greatly. The work of Jean François +Millet also delighted him no less than that of Corot.</p> + +<p>His sister's diary contains the following notes: "November 25.—We +arrived at Paris. Our dear, handsome Fred was here to meet us. +December 1.—Fred comes to see us daily, though sometimes only for +five minutes. He is pale and coughs a good deal; it makes us uneasy. +He often comes to dinner. Presents to us on New Year's day. Took me to +the Conservatoire. Always generous. We went often to Mrs. Sartoris in +the evening."</p> + +<p>It was in Paris that Leighton probably first enjoyed to the full the +culture of his instincts for the drama. Mr. and Mrs. Sartoris remained +in Paris during the winter and spring, and Mr. Henry Greville arrived +there on February 28th, 1856.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_242" id="PageV1_242">[242]</a></span>Extracts from his published diaries give a picture of the <i>milieu</i> in +which Leighton's hours of relaxation from work were spent:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">27 Rue Du Faubourg St. Honoré</span>,<br /> +<i>Saturday, March 1, 1856</i>.</p> + +<p>I left London on Thursday with Flahault and Charles, and after +a smooth passage slept at Boulogne and came on here yesterday. +After dining <i>tête-à-tête</i> with the excellent doctor (the +Hollands dined out), I went to Adelaide Sartoris', where I +found Herbert Wilson, Leighton, and other young and +good-looking artists, and some ladies whom I did not know, and +amongst them Madame Kalergi, a niece of Nesselrode, a tall, +large, white-looking woman, who has a reputation for +cleverness and a great talent on the pianoforte. This morning +I went to Leighton's studio, and saw his drawings, which are +full of genius.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><i>Thursday, March 6.</i></p> + +<p>Heard in the morning that Covent Garden theatre was burnt at +seven yesterday morning, and went to announce the event to +Mario. In the evening, with Adelaide Sartoris and Leighton, to +Ristori's rentrée in "Mirrha." She acted more finely than +ever, and I was enchanted with her wonderful beauty and +classic grace: her tenderness, in this part especially, is +indescribable. Adelaide Sartoris had never seen her before, +and was as much delighted as astonished at the performance. +The audience was in a frenzy of enthusiasm, and yet I do not +believe half the people present understood Italian.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><i>Friday, March 20.</i></p> + +<p>I went last night with Adelaide Sartoris and Leighton to see +Ristori in Alfieri's play of "Rosmunda."</p> + +<p>In reading it I was convinced I should be bored by so inflated +a rhodomontade, and that the part of Rosmunda, being one of +unmitigated fury and violence, was unsuited to an actress +whose chief merit seemed to consist in her power of +delineating the gentler passions. I was therefore but little +prepared for the wonderful effect she produced upon me and on +the audience. The play is horrible and offensive, but her +manner of rendering this odious part is nothing short of +sublime. Her beauty in the costume of the sixth century is +beyond all description, and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_243" id="PageV1_243">[243]</a></span>manner in which she varies +the phases of the same passions of hatred and vengeance, and +the prodigious power of the whole impersonation, are +marvellous. Her acting of the scene in the third act, when she +tells Ildevaldo that Amalchilde loves Romalda, is about the +best thing I have seen her do; and the last act, in which she +murders her rival, and the way in which she seizes her and +drags her up the steps, is like a whirlwind sweeping +everything before it; too terrible almost to witness, and +prevented my sleeping all night.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><i>Monday, March 24.</i></p> + +<p>In the evening I went (as I generally do) to Adelaide +Sartoris', where I found Bickerton Lyons, French, and +Leighton. This latter is a singularly gifted youth. Besides +his talent for painting and drawing, which is already at +twenty-five very remarkable, and likely, if he lives, to place +him in the highest rank of modern artists, he appears endowed +with an extraordinary facility for anything he attempts to do. +He speaks many foreign languages with remarkable fluency, and +almost without accent; he is possessed of much musical +intelligence, and on matters connected with the art which he +has made his particular study and profession his information +is very extensive—and, I am told by others, better able to +judge than myself, that this is the case. With all these +qualities, natural and acquired, I never saw a more amiable or +single-hearted youth.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><i>Wednesday, March 26.</i></p> + +<p>Went with the Sartoris's, Montfort, and Leighton to the Palais +Bourbon to see Morny's pictures—a charming collection. The +Emperor had just sent him two beautiful pieces of Beauvais +tapestry—marvellous specimens of that manufacture; in return, +I suppose, for his speech of the other day, with which his +Majesty was highly pleased.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><i>Wednesday, April 2, 1856.</i></p> + +<p>In the morning, with Adelaide Sartoris, Browning the poet, +Cartwright, and Leighton, to the Pourtalès Gallery—a charming +collection. The pictures that most pleased me were a Paul +Veronese, a Rembrandt, and a Greuze. There is also a fine +collection of Raphael ware—glass and bronzes. Pourtalès has +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_244" id="PageV1_244">[244]</a></span>ordered by will that this collection should remain intact for +ten years, and then to be sold to the highest bidder.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><i>Wednesday, April 9, 1856.</i></p> + +<p>Last night, after a dinner given by a Lady Monson to Adelaide +Sartoris, Leighton, and myself, at Philippe's, we adjourned to +the first representation of the Italian translation of +Legouvé's play of "Medea"—that in which Rachel refused, after +attending rehearsals, to act the principal part, and about +which there was a trial. Great curiosity was shown about this +performance, and there was a great scramble for places; and, +although inserts for nearly three weeks, we were fobbed off +with very bad seats in the orchestra. The play had great +success, and that of Ristori was prodigious, but not greater +than she deserved. The part is most arduous, full of +transitions, and almost always on the full stretch. Her +costume was most picturesque, having been designed by +Schæffer, and she looked like a figure on an Etruscan vase; +and in no play that I have yet seen her in does she produce +more effect than in certain passages of "Medea." The audience +was wound up to a pitch of frantic enthusiasm. I am always +astonished at the effect she produces on the mass of the +audience, when I know how few there are who really can follow +the play. But, whether by means of her countenance, voice, or +gestures, she contrives to make all the nuances of her acting +felt by the public. I expect when she comes to London she will +find a vast difference between this excitable and sympathetic +audience and that stupid, flat collection of would-be +fashionables who will <i>promener leurs ennuis</i> at her +performances.</p></div> + +<p>Before his family had arrived in Paris the subject of the Orpheus +entitled "The Triumph of Music," to which Leighton was devoting +himself, was criticised by his father, which criticism Leighton +answered in the following letter:—</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>I do not think honestly that the choice of a mythological +subject like Orpheus shows the least poverty of invention, a +quality, I take it, much more manifested in the manner of +treatment than in the choice of a moment.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_245" id="PageV1_245">[245]</a></span>About fiddles, I <i>know</i> that the ancients had <i>none</i>; it is an +anachronism which I commit with my eyes open, because I +believe that the picture will go home to the spectator much +more forcibly in that shape.</p></div> + +<p>To his mother he writes:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right sc">Rue Pigalle.</p> + +<p>I have seen Scheffer,<a name="FNanchor_55_55" id="FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a> who is cordiality itself to me; +Robert Fleury, ditto, and I have further made the acquaintance +of Ingres, who, though sometimes bearish beyond measure, was +by a piece of luck exceedingly courteous the day I was +presented to him. He has just finished a beautiful figure of +Nymph, which I was able to admire loudly and sincerely. I have +also been to Troyon, who was polite.</p> + +<p>I am fiddling away at the preliminaries of my pictures, a +disjointed and desultory period through which one has to wade +to get at one's large canvas.</p> + +<p>The Sartoris are of course, as ever, my stronghold and +comfort.</p> + +<p>Your loving boy,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"><p>I have sent the sketch of my "Orpheus" to Ruskin, and don't +yet know his opinion of that particular thing, but I feel +about that, that as a <i>now</i> responsible artist, it is my +<i>duty</i> to do things exactly as I feel them and to abide by +them, risking criticisms and cavillings of every kind. I must +be <i>myself</i> for better and for worse; this truth, which I feel +strongly myself, has been corroborated by the opinions of +Fanny Kemble, Mr. Sartoris and Mrs. Sartoris, all at different +times, and quite spontaneously expressed. In haste.—Your +dutiful and affectionate son,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<p>The question naturally arises, considering the sequence of the history +of the Orpheus picture, <i>was</i> Leighton <i>himself</i> when he painted "The +Triumph of Music"? I have studied <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_246" id="PageV1_246">[246]</a></span>his work from the commencement to +the close of his artistic career, and this picture remains the unique +example, in my opinion, when he was <i>not</i> himself; the only picture +which does not carry out the principle he thought of all importance. +It does not evince "sincerity of emotion." The feeling and intention +of the work when first conceived had been absolutely sincere; but, +when it came to the performance, spontaneity had failed. It seems to +have been painted when he was overshadowed by an influence which was +alien to his real artistic sense, and is a further proof that Paris +was an entirely unsympathetic atmosphere to him. The picture appears +to me to be in feeling unreal, stagey—not to say, ridiculous. That +Leighton, after the first bitterness of his failure was over, shared +somewhat the same view of it is certain; for shortly after the Academy +Exhibition of 1856 was over he took it off the stretcher, rolled it +up, and consigned it to oblivion during his lifetime in the dark +recess of a cellar.</p> + +<p>Notes in Mr. Henry Greville's Diary, dated April 24th and Tuesday, May +6th, run as follows:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">London</span>, <i>April 24</i>.</p> + +<p>Went yesterday to Colnaghi's to see Leighton's picture of +"Romeo and Juliet," with which I was much pleased. Colnaghi +tells me it is much admired, and said, "Young Leighton will, +one day, be a very great man."</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><i>Tuesday, May 6.</i></p> + +<p>A letter from Leighton, in answer to mine preparing him for +the failure of his picture in the Exhibition, says: "Whatever +I may have felt about my little bankruptcy, there is no fear +of its disabling me for work, for if I am impressionable I am +also obstinate; and, with God's will, I will one day stride +over the necks of the penny-a-liners, that they may not have +the triumph of having bawled me down before I have had time to +be heard."</p></div> + +<p>In April Leighton's family left Paris to travel in Switzerland. The +following letters to his mother show the spirit in which Leighton met +his artistic disaster.</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_247" id="PageV1_247">[247]</a></span><i>May 7.</i></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Mamma</span>,—I received your two kind letters in +due time, and answer them on the second day you fixed, having +in the interval had time to hear about the fate of my picture; +but first let me say, dear mamma, that you need never fear my +misinterpreting or taking awry any kind advice that your love +and solicitude may dictate to you. I am reading as much as +ever my eyes will allow—indeed, you are strangely mistaken in +thinking I don't see the necessity of reading. I assure you +that it is a perpetual mortification to me to feel how little +I know, but I stand unfortunately at such a disadvantage owing +to the weakness of my eyes and my unprecedented absence of +mind; however, I shall do what I can, and hope for the best.</p> + +<p>Dearest Mamma, I did not expect to write a <i>consolatory</i> note +to you to inaugurate your journey, but I am sorry to say that +I am in that painful position. My picture, which has been +exceedingly badly hung, so that one can scarcely see half of +it (indeed I believe only the figure of Orpheus), is an +<i>entire failure</i>; the papers have abused, the public does not +care for it, in fact it is a "fiasco." Ruskin (who likes the +"Romeo" very much) is disappointed with "Orpheus," tho' he +says of course a man like me can't do anything that has not +great merits, and that I am to attach no importance to the +malicious articles written by venal critics. Now, dearest +Mother, look upon this—you and Papa, who takes so +affectionate an interest in my welfare—look upon this, as I +do, as a fortunate occurrence; consider what an edge and a +zest I get for my future efforts, and what an incentive I have +to exert myself to put down the venomous jargon of envious +people—next year, tho' the Academicians may think that they +have cowed me, I shall very probably not exhibit; but the year +after, God willing, they shall feel the weight of my hand in a +way that will surprise them. The more they abuse, the better +I'll paint—industry against spite—I will have a pull for it. +Dear Henry Greville behaves to me like an angel; he writes +<i>every day</i>, and sends me the <i>Times</i> regularly. Mrs. +Sartoris, too, writes very often. You will be glad to hear +that my prospects about models are rather brighter than they +were; I have found two or three that will be useful.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_248" id="PageV1_248">[248]</a></span><span class="sc">Paris</span>, <i>Sunday</i>.</p> + +<p>Although my letter (and I am afraid a very unpleasant one) +must have reached you as soon as the other was fairly out of +the house, yet I write a line in answer to all the kind and +considerate things you wrote in the idea I might be ill or +irritable. I value your kind solicitude, dear Mamma, as much +as you can wish, I assure you, and should indeed be heartily +sorry in any way to give you pain or make you in any way +unhappy—and talking of that, dear Mamma, I sincerely hope you +have completely got over your first annoyance about my fiasco, +which, except of course in a pecuniary point of view, is in +point of fact a fortunate event for my future progress, in the +<i>élan</i> it gives to my application and particularly to my +obstinacy. I am very busy now at "Pan" and "Venus," but have +not decided what I shall do next year. I think it is very +characteristic of the critics that they <i>none</i> of them mention +"Romeo and Juliet," which is, I know, universally liked. Dear +Mamma, never fear, your boy will walk over all that—depend +upon it. How does Papa take it? How the girls?—Give to all my +best love, and believe me, your very devoted son,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"><p class="right"><i>Tuesday, 1856.</i></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Papa</span>,—In the hope that I should receive to-day +Ruskin's pamphlet on the Institution, I delayed until now +answering your kind letter. It has, however, not arrived, and +as there is great uncertainty whether it really is already +published or no, I think it better not to keep you longer +without news from me. The criticisms in the papers are, as far +as I can judge, partly from the little I have read and partly +from what my friends tell me, singularly injudicious, leaving +almost entirely untouched the really vulnerable parts of the +picture, and attacking almost exclusively that which is least +objectionable—the execution.</p> + +<p>Ruskin does not much like the picture, and prefers the "Romeo" +considerably, but he will write of course in a serious spirit +and like an intelligent man. I have just made the acquaintance +of Robert Fleury—the best French colourist, in my +opinion—and he received me with the greatest kindness and +simplicity, showing all that he had, and explaining anything +that I wished <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_249" id="PageV1_249">[249]</a></span>to know; this is a valuable acquaintance which +I owe to Montfort. I have made the acquaintance of a highly +talented young German genre painter of whom I had heard in +Frankfurt; he is my age, and paints with greater facility, but +my talent is of a higher order I think. Ary Scheffer has been +very amiable and pleasant to me about my fiasco, telling me +what he went through himself, and telling me to think nothing +of it. I sent to Wild shortly after you left, and was able to +render him a little service in the way of some Venetian +costumes, still I hesitate to ask him to introduce me to Paul +Delaroche. We shall see about all that next autumn when I come +back from Italy, when the Viardots will also introduce me to +Delacroix.</p> + +<br /> + +<p>Pan and Venus are progressing <i>tout doucement</i>.</p> + +<br /> + +<p>I have written to Watts to ask his leave to put my pictures in +his studio (Pan and Venus) in Little Holland House. I read +carefully all you said, dear Mamma, about the critics, &c. &c. +I honestly think that my ill-luck is in no way attributable to +over-hurrying. Those things in my picture which were really +most open to discussion, I did all with my eyes open and +deliberately, and they were the only ones that the discerning +scribblers seem not to have noticed. Again, with regard to the +said critics, I think, dear Mamma, you see things "en noir." +<i>Who reports</i> me to have sneered at ——? I did internally, as +I do at all snobs. However, I have long since banished the +whole subject. If ever I attain real excellence, the public +will in the long run find it out; and if they don't pay me +they will at least acknowledge me, especially when the +pre-Raphaelite "engouement" has calmed a little. In a +fortnight I shall go to England; by that time Pan and Venus +will be done, and I think they promise well. I am very anxious +to get to London. I mean to enjoy it very much—take my fill, +and then go for a short time to Italy to renew my profession +of faith before Raphael and Michael Angelo. I am very glad to +hear that you are enjoying yourselves, and that you remember +me in the midst of your jonquils and anemones.</p></div> + +<br /> +<hr/> +<br /> + +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_48_48" id="Footnote_48_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_48_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> Watts wrote at the time Leighton died that he had +enjoyed an uninterrupted friendship with him of forty-five years. This +was evidently a slight miscalculation. We read in one of Leighton's +letters to his mother from Rome that Watts had called on him, but that +he had missed seeing him, and Watts certainly spoke to me of this +interview on the pavement of Montagu Square in 1855 as the first he +had had with Leighton.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_49_49" id="Footnote_49_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> In a letter from his mother, December 22, 1854, she +quotes an extract from the <i>Morning Post</i>, written by a critic who had +been visiting the studios in Rome, and who alludes to Leighton's +sympathy with Giotto. It reads to-day as quaint and curiously +antiquated as do Knight's scornful criticisms on the Elgin Marbles. +Mrs. Leighton writes: "One sentence in your letter has set your dear +father on the horns of anxiety. You tell us we are not to expect too +much from your pictures, and remind us 'that the path which leads to +success, &c. &c.' Now, Papa fancies that you had underpainted your +canvas and were not satisfied with the result, and that was the cause +of your writing less hopefully than usual. We have been wishing much +to hear what your progress was; knowing the subject of each picture, +we should have understood if you had reported progress. In case you +are in want of a little encouragement, I must tell you the other day +Papa enters the drawing-room with a radiant face. He held in his hand +a piece of paper, and requesting my attention, he read me its +contents, which I copy for you, and which I found were taken from a +column in the <i>Morning Post</i> devoted to criticisms on artists and +their works chiefly, I believe, on the Continent, but of that I am not +quite sure. 'I next called on Mr. Leighton, who is employed on a +canvas of many feet. His subject is'—then follows the description, +after which he adds: 'Mr. Leighton will become a great artist if he +advances as he has begun. His drawing is admirable, much better than +that of English artists generally. Some of the figures are Giottoish +in the treatment of the drapery, which is scarcely pardonable, because +drapery fell flowingly about the human body in Giotto's time as well +as now. Why imitate the uncomfortable line of that conventional rag? +It is, however, unfair to judge of anything beyond drawing and +composition in the present state of this picture, which is an +extraordinary work for so young a man.' Remarks more or less +favourable were made on several other artists, but nothing like what +you have just read. Do you know this critic? I need not tell you how +highly we appreciate this gentleman's sagacity; but jokes apart, Papa +was rather puzzled at such a criticism about the drapery of some of +the figures, because you excel in such folds, so it seems to us odd +that you should skimp any of your figures. The same column contains +observations on the subject of 'High Art' and large historical +pictures, or rather comments on those made by young students, such +indeed as I have heard you make, that I could almost have fancied the +author was answering your remarks. We were rather startled to read in +your letter that you find you had better not use the interests of a +professional man to facilitate the admission of your picture into the +Exhibition of the Royal Academy, but trust to its merits for that +result, as we are told the Exhibition in question is, strictly +speaking, a private affair for the works of the members only and such +as they choose to admit, which explains perhaps the complaints of +rejection one has read of from time to time. I hope your picture may +be kindly judged and well hung."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_50_50" id="Footnote_50_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> On a first visit to Athens I was struck by the +extraordinary insignificance and want of beauty in the Levantines of +mixed race who crowded the streets; nowhere seemed there a trace left +among the inhabitants of the town of the type of Greek beauty. When +travelling a few days later to Colonna, while the train stopped at a +station on the lower slopes of Hymettus, I saw two men hurrying +through the adjacent olive groves to catch it. They were dressed in +the Greek costume of the provinces—an embroidered waistcoat cut low +leaving the throat bare, the short white plaited skirt, and the heavy +cloak falling from one shoulder. Either of these men might have sat to +Pheidias for the Theseus. Both were more magnificent in form than any +statue ever made. Doubtless, in the days of her ancient glory, Greece +contained a far larger proportion of inhabitants who were beautiful +than are to be found now; nevertheless Pheidias without a doubt had to +exercise his gift of selecting the best, no less than did Leighton and +Watts.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_51_51" id="Footnote_51_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_51_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> See <a href="#toi">List of Illustrations</a>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_52_52" id="Footnote_52_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> Ibid.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_53_53" id="Footnote_53_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> Ibid.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_54_54" id="Footnote_54_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> Mr. Herbert Wilson.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_55_55" id="Footnote_55_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> The story is that on Leighton's expressing his gratitude +at receiving a visit from him (Ary Scheffer), he replied, "If I did +not attach considerable importance to your talent, I should not have +mounted three flights of stairs to see you."</p></div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_250" id="PageV1_250">[250]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER V<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>FRIENDS</h4> +<br /> + +<p>Leighton's friendships were very salient, vivid interests to him among +the varied occupations of his life. In any complete picture of his +personality these must take a prominence only secondary to his passion +for Art and Beauty,—and for "his second home,"—the land that had +cast such a strange spell and charm over him from the early days of +childhood,—to his love for his family, and his reverent devotion to +his master, Steinle, and to Mrs. Sartoris. To these two inspiring +friends and teachers he declared he owed what he prized most in life, +namely, a development of those gifts and qualities which enabled him +to be of service to his generation.</p> + +<p>"I have always believed that his ruling passion was <i>Duty</i>—the +keenest possible sense of it," Mr. Briton Rivière writes. The +influences which were the most precious to Leighton were assuredly +those which enabled him to extend his own influence in the highest and +widest direction, and fulfil exhaustively his duty to his +fellow-creatures. Every moment of his life was real and earnest to +him. Every moment had a purpose—ever before him was the urgent +imperative necessity he felt of being <i>faithful</i>: faithful in every +detail as in decisive final aims. If an epithet had to be attached to +his name, epitomising Leighton's salient characteristics, the most +appropriate would surely be "Leighton the faithful."</p> + +<p>Many among those who are dead,—also among the now living, found in +him their best friend. The letters written to <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_251" id="PageV1_251">[251]</a></span>him by Mr. Henry +Greville, and those that Leighton wrote to Mr. Hanson Walker are good +examples, among the many that have been preserved, showing the very +prominent place his friends took in Leighton's life. In the first we +trace the tender affection he inspired in the hearts of his +intimates,<a name="FNanchor_56_56" id="FNanchor_56_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a> and in the second the ardent manner in which Leighton +would help artists younger than himself, and how with a parental +solicitude he would do his best to forward their true interests.<a name="FNanchor_57_57" id="FNanchor_57_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a></p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep251" id="imagep251"></a> +<a href="images/imagep251.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep251.jpg" width="52%" alt="STUDY OF HEAD FOR "LIEDER OHNE WORTE."" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDY OF HEAD FOR "LIEDER OHNE WORTE." 1860<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>The following letters from Mr. Henry Greville were written on +Leighton's return to Paris, after he had run over to London to place +the "Romeo" picture which had been in the Paris International +Exhibition with Colnaghi, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_252" id="PageV1_252">[252]</a></span>after "The Triumph of Music" had been +sent in to the Academy.</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">London</span>, <i>April 25</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Fay</span>,—You are rather a bad boy not to have given +either Ad. or me a <i>signe de vie</i>, but as I have not seen her +to-day, she may have heard from you. We both want to do so +<i>very</i> much, so pray write <span class="sc">me</span> a line directly. I only +do so to-day to say that at my suggestion Ad. and I rushed off +yesterday again to Colnaghi to find out if the Queen or Albert +knew of your picture being at his shop; and if not, to ask him +to let them know it, if he could do so with propriety. He said +he would at once send the picture to B. Palace, as he was in +the habit of doing other works; though he did not think that +it was likely they would buy another picture of yours, he +admitted that it might be advantageous to you that they should +see it. He again praised the picture greatly, and told us that +it was universally admired. My sister prefers it infinitely to +"Cimabue" in all respects, but the fact is, the subject is +more attractive to English people than the other. I have +nothing else to tell you. I am <i>very</i> seedy with an affection +of the bronchial tubes, and very low, and would give anything +to see you, my dear boy, but must have patience till the +pleasant moment of having you under my roof arrives. You will +be glad to hear that my mother is better. I have not seen +Ellesmere, as he was at the Review, but you may depend on my +not forgetting your interests. The said Review was a most +glorious spectacle, and they had a splendid day for it. I am +starved to death here, and Ad. and I do nothing but grumble. +She and I dined <i>tête-à-tête</i> last night, and slept and +coughed through the evening with the occasional intermission +of talking of you—you old Fay! To-night I am going with her +to Eli, though I ought to be in my bed. Theo is ill and can't +come, and Fanny reads. Oh! that you were to be with us! Tell +me if you would object to a <span class="sc">very</span> slight gold frame to +the drawings—merely a <i>line</i>, because, as my rooms are all +white, and that everything in them has gilt, the drawings want +a sort of background—which this slight frame would give them. +Tell me what you think. I don't mean to hang up my Vintage, +but keep it near me on an <i>easle</i> (how do you spell it?). +Charley, being highly coloured, looks <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_253" id="PageV1_253">[253]</a></span>lovely, and don't want +any frame—nasty Charley! Now pray write and tell me all about +yourself—and the <i>moddles</i>—and how you <i>are</i>—and how you +get on—and what you do. Don't drag off to dull parties, but +go to bed early.</p> + +<p>God bless you. Amami, ne ho gran bisogno. Colnaghi said he had +heard from one Cooper a very good report of "Orpheus."</p> + +<p class="right">H.</p> + +<p>How have the photographs turned out? I like your portrait less +now that you are away—but it can't be helped, it is better +than none, but it looks so sad. I have hung you and Ad. up +side by side in sweet companionship in my dressing-room, so +that I may see you both the first thing on waking.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">London</span>, <i>April 26th</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Bimbo</span>,—You have made us pass some very +anxious hours, as the telegraph which I sent off at seven this +morning will have testified, though it will also have +surprised and perhaps alarmed you until you read its contents. +The fact is, <i>I</i> thought it odd that we did not hear from you, +yesterday at all events, as I felt sure you would have written +immediately on getting our joint note from Boulogne, +Wednesday, and certainly on the following day. However, I felt +sanguine that on going to dine at 79, I should find that Ad. +had heard from you, but, on the contrary, I found her full of +anxiety at no letter, imagining every species of cause for +your silence, which she said was so very unlike you, that I +directly caught the same state of worry, and we determined +that I should telegraph the first thing this morning to know +if you were ill, or if anything had happened. I never slept +all night, and of course had worked myself, with her +assistance, into a wretched state of anxiety about you—when +at nine your letter arrived, and a blessed relief it was. I +should not probably have been in such a state, had Adelaide +not been convinced that illness or some catastrophe had +prevented your writing, because, she said, your <i>wont</i> was to +do so immediately on parting with her, and she could account +for it in no other way. In short, dear Fay, we were very +foolish; but I assure you our folly met its own punishment by +the anxiety, and which spoilt our "Eli" entirely. Poor Fay! I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_254" id="PageV1_254">[254]</a></span>daresay you little thought that we were tormenting ourselves +about you, and I, for one, shall try and not do so any more. +Your letter is like yourself—dear and kind. With regard to +the enclosure, my opinion is that you would not do wisely or +handsomely by Colnaghi to withdraw your picture from his +keeping, unless he <i>wished</i> to get rid of it to make room for +the supposed exhibition of drawings; moreover, my own opinion +is that you would not do well to exhibit at the Crystal +Palace. I have no faith in that institution, and I think it +will be a pity to rob your studio of the "Pan" and "Venus" for +that purpose; but as I do not consider myself a good judge of +these matters or competent to advise you, I think I should be +very much guided by what other artists of the same standing as +yourself think and do in the matter, and before deciding or +answering Mr. Magwood, I should write to Buckner or any one +else competent to advise you and ask their opinion. I don't +know what Sister Adelaide will say, but I have sent her your +letter and the enclosure, and she will probably write to you +on the subject. You are <i>too</i> dear and nice about my mother. I +fear that before you come she will have left London, and I +don't think you would like to paint her, because her sweet +face is entirely hidden by the shade she is obliged to wear +over her poor eyes; but <i>you</i> know whether I should like her +portrait painted by you! But, dear Fay, you are too lavish of +your time on others, and do not think enough of yourself. Here +I was interrupted by a visit from Adelaide, overjoyed at +hearing all is well with you, and agreeing entirely with me +<i>in re</i> C. Palace, Colnaghi, &c. She says if C. wishes the +picture to be removed, it is for him to express that wish and +not you, that a better order of people go to him than those +who frequent the C.P., that he is well-disposed towards you, +and that it is advisable you should keep him as your friend.</p> + +<p>We think Mogford's reference useless, being a foreigner, and +we are certain that unless <i>Millais</i> and others of the same +class exhibit at the C.P., you had best have nothing to do +with it. I took Ad. up to your room, and she says you will be +<i>comfy</i> in it; and she saw your nice face, patted it, and +said, "Dear Fay, but it looks so sad!" She thinks both +drawings will be better <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_255" id="PageV1_255">[255]</a></span>for a slight gilt <i>rim</i>, but I won't +put it on without your leave. I am so glad you are leading a +wholesome life, and getting the b. who planted you, rather +than dawdle proudly, and be without a good <i>moddle</i>. I have +nothing to say, dear Bimbo, and you will have had enough of +me. I am very bad with an ulcerated throat, cough, and +inflamed bronchia, and altogether below par. I have seen +hardly anybody since I came. Adelaide would have been pleased +with "Eli," had she been in a vein where pleasure was +possible. Pauline sang to perfection the lovely music allotted +to her. And now, dearest Bimbo, God bless you. Write very +often, if only a <i>line</i>, as it is comfortable to hear that all +is well with you—that is always the news I most wish to get; +and tell me how the pictures progress, and your real state of +mind about them.—Your old and loving Babbo,</p> + +<p class="right">H.</p> + +<p>I send back Mogford. Penelope B. (Bentinck) tells me that the +great judge, George, condescends to approve "Romeo" mightily!!</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">London</span>, <i>Monday, April 28th</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear good Fay</span>,—Cartwright was wrong about the +telegraph, but as our anxiety was removed by your letter, I +did not expect you to send me one. Knowing how likely you were +to write, supposing you to be well, you may imagine that we +were not a little anxious at getting no sign of life from you, +in return for our daily letters, and I never could have +guessed that the Boulogne letter would only have reached you +on Saturday! However, all is well that ends well, but we +passed a very disagreeable day and night, and it was <i>because</i> +we did <i>not</i> think you capable of putting off writing that we +fussed and worried ourselves about you—foolishly, dear Fay, +no doubt. I am very seedy and confined to the house by throat, +bronchia, unceasing cough, swelled glands, bad eyes—and +should not inflict myself and ailments upon you, but that it +is a solace and a comfort to <i>causer avec "mon petit +dernier"</i>—a cognomen which smiles <span class="fakesc">upon</span> me—and made +<i>me</i> smile. Sister Adelaide tea'd with me last night <i>en tête +à tête</i>. Fanny was grand, and would not come in, though she +dropped her sister at my door, because (she said) I had not +said <i>to</i> her that I wished <i>for</i> her! I was so little <i>en +train</i> that I was not sorry to have only Adelaide, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_256" id="PageV1_256">[256]</a></span>and we +<i>did</i> more than once say how we wished Fay was eating the +muffin destined for the proud Fanny. Adelaide has just been +here, and brought me your dear letter. I don't see any +<i>present</i> prospect of the fire of my affliction being +extinguished or allowed to grow dim, so you may make your mind +easy on that score, excellent Fay. I feel for your loneliness, +and know what a contrast it must present with the sweet +fellowship we have held together so unceasingly for those last +two months. The only thing you gain by the loss of your people +is more time, and a later repast. I don't doubt poor Mamma +being unhappy at leaving you, her true and only Benjamin, and +for an indefinite time. I can judge by what I felt at parting +with <i>mon petit dernier</i>, and <i>with</i> the hope of so soon +greeting him again. No, Fay, I won't have the Charley drawing, +and I won't have you do anything more for any one but +yourself, knowing as I do all the things you have on hand—and +<i>à propos</i> of <i>that</i>, I must tell you that I have endeavoured +to put another iron in the fire <i>in re</i> fresco. I asked Lady +Abercorn, who is my dearest friend, to speak to Lord Aberdeen +(her father-in-law) who is on the Committee of Taste, or +whatever it is called, first about your picture at Colnaghi's +and then of you generally as desirous of painting in fresco, +and as of one whose studies have been that way directed, in +whom I take a great interest; but I made her understand that +it was no <i>job</i> I wanted done, or that I asked any favour, but +merely I wished it to be known that Leighton, a very rising +artist, would like to be employed in that line, if an occasion +presented itself. Lady A. understood me exactly and being very +sympathetic immediately conceived an interest for my <i>petit +dernier</i> (I wish you were my son, Fay!) and said if she did +not see Lord Aberdeen very soon she would write to him. +Neither I nor Adelaide know where Windsor and Newton live, so +you had best write straight to him to send the colours you +want. I think I <i>must</i> put just a <i>baguette d'or</i> on the +drawings, and when you see them on my walls I don't think you +will disapprove. With regard to Cartwright, Adelaide says +Jules Sartoris has got a place called Tusmore. I should advise +him to lose no time in advertising it both in the newspaper +and by different agents in town and country. I should think it +was a place <i>sure</i> to be let, from its convenient distance +from London and other advantages. There is no news here.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_257" id="PageV1_257">[257]</a></span><span class="sc">London</span>, <i>May 6th</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Fay</span>,—Your letter is a relief and a comfort. +It is both to me to see you take this disagreeable business so +manfully, so wisely, and to think that instead of being cast +down, your energies will only be aroused by this stupid and +unjust criticism. In this case it may, then, well be said, +"Sweet are the uses of adversity." As to all the other papers, +I can't pretend to say what they may have written, but the +<i>Leader</i> is one of no repute, and, as Ruskin said to Adelaide +this morning, it don't <span class="sc">really</span> signify <i>what</i> they +write; in the long run talent and genius must prevail, as +yours will, dear Fay, if it please God to grant you, as I +fervently pray, health and strength. She is going to write to +you, and will tell you all Ruskin said, and also what she +thinks of the Exhibition in general and your picture in +particular, which, I hear, is infamously placed—that is, in +so bad a light that only <i>Orpheus</i> is visible. Passing, I must +tell you that Edward (Sartoris) came to see me yesterday, and +the <i>first</i> thing he said on entering the room was, "Well, I +don't think Leighton's picture looks bad. Orpheus's drapery is +too yellow, but it don't look amiss at all." This was rather +much for him, eh? He likes "Autumn Leaves," and he praised the +"Leslie" (which Adelaide says is all very well, but "slaty"). +Landseer is beautiful—but E. (Edward Sartoris) was <i>sous le +charme</i>, having sat next him at dinner at Marochetti's, when +he told me L. was as much <i>aux petits soins</i> for him as if he +had been the loveliest of females. I am so glad about the +models, and if I don't hear from you as often shall know why. +I am also glad you dine with Cartwright and Co., but <i>how</i> you +<i>can</i> dandle a nasty, doughy, puffy, bread-and-butter smelling +thing called a baby! Pah! a baby is my horror and aversion. +Never do it again—not even by your own. I could not have +dandled even my Bimbo without a grimace. Well done! old +hideous ——; if she promise not to act herself, I'll take a +box for her next benefit. She is the <i>âme damnée</i> of Macready, +so that her verdict surprises me. I expect she will begin +imitating her, and have Medea translated—horrible idea! Read +Ellesmere's speech; it is very pretty, and the whole debate is +interesting, but Derby and Co. don't cut a good figure at all. +I am getting better now, and dined with my parent <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_258" id="PageV1_258">[258]</a></span>yesterday, +but can't go out in daytime for fear of eyes and throat, the +wind is so cold. Of course I read your letter to Ad. (Adelaide +Sartoris). (I think you had best now write straight to her, +because as I am soon hoping to be out, and have no one to send +so far, your letters will get to her quicker and more surely +by post.)</p> + +<p>You must be very careful, and take time to weigh well and +consider the subjects of your future pictures. I think the +Mermaid might be both interesting and effective well carried +out, and you might also perhaps paint some subject from some +one of the Italian poets—Tasso, Ariosto, Boccaccio—for your +own satisfaction. God bless you! my dear boy. I am longing to +see you again already. Tell me how the models answer and how +you get on. <i>Don't</i> call Brackley <i>de</i>. They are removed to +the Meurice. If you don't find them, write to her and offer to +go with her (saying at my suggestion) to the Louvre.—Love +your old Babbo,</p> + +<p class="right">H.</p> +</div> + +<p>Later in the summer Mr. Greville wrote:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right">1856, <span class="sc">Hatchford</span>, <i>Thursday</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My dear Boy</span>,—I do sympathise with your disgust at +the same time that I think you have acted very <i>légèrement</i> +about your pictures, and, in fact, taken no trouble or heed +about them. <i>You should have seen to it all yourself before +you left London</i>, or have given directions to Watts, to which +he would have attended, instead of leaving him in total +ignorance as to what you meant or wished, and which picture or +if both were to go. I kept perpetually telling you to see +after this business and to be more <i>exact</i> in it, but you see +now the consequence of not attending to things more carefully. +You had better write a curt letter to Greene, reminding him +that you <i>had</i> given written directions (as you say) that it +was your "<i>Pan</i>" that was to be removed, and that you made no +mention of the "Venus" (what has he done with her?), and again +asking him (since he had not replied to the query) whether he +had got the "Romeo." I shan't be in London until to-morrow +night late, and as you are to be there on Monday there will be +no use in my going to Greene, but I can <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_259" id="PageV1_259">[259]</a></span>do so on Saturday if +you wish it. I have had an answer from Ellesmere's secretary, +to whom I wrote to go and see if your pictures were well hung, +to say that the Exhibition only opens in first week of +September,<a name="FNanchor_58_58" id="FNanchor_58_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> but that he has a friend who is an influential +member of the hanging committee, and that he will speak to him +in favour of yours being put into a good light. I heard from +Adelaide yesterday that she will be in town on Monday and will +dine us. I hoped you would have stayed (and she too) all +Tuesday and gone away on Wednesday morning, so that we might +have spent two evenings together, and I am disappointed. I +shall go to Scotland on Wednesday, and am sorry to have +settled to do so. I suppose you know Alfred Sartoris marries +Miss Barrington—an alliance which will enchant Aunt ——, as +the young lady is "The Honourable," and allied to several +marquesses and earls.—Addio, caro, your ever affectionate H.</p> + +<p><i>P.S.</i>—Write again by all means to Greene asking <i>what has +become of the "Venus,"</i> and also whether the "Romeo" has or +<i>not</i> been sent to Manchester—whether you employ him or not, +you have a right to know what he has done with your property. +Write a line to Queen Street to-morrow to say at what time you +will be there on Monday that I may not be out of the way.</p> + +<p>Rain has come, but it is still deliciously warm and fine in +the intervals.</p></div> + +<p>Later in the same year Mr. Greville wrote:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">London</span>, <i>August 26, 1856</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My dearest Fay</span>,—I have just got your letter of +Saturday 23rd from Frankfort, and as you state therein that +you were to leave that place on Monday, and that the letters +which I sent to Malet for you could only reach him on that +morning, it is next to certain that they will not have reached +you. I requested him, in the event of your having left +Frankfort, or in his failing to find you out, to send them on +to the <i>p. restante</i> at Venice, and you will probably find +them there together with this letter, but I think it best also +to send you the originals for fear of accident, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_260" id="PageV1_260">[260]</a></span>as it is +desirable that you should write to Mr. Harrison yourself.<a name="FNanchor_59_59" id="FNanchor_59_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a> +In the meanwhile, I have told him that when I knew your +address I would apprize him of it, and in a few days I shall +write and say that you are at Venice; but I don't think he +will write to you any more, but that he will expect to know +<i>when you are likely to return</i>. Having got so far, it of +course is out of the question that you should think of, or for +a moment be expected to return on purpose, and I think it most +likely you will be able to get Watts to go and look at the +picture, in case the matter should be pressing; but I think it +will be best that you offer to return to England before you +settle at Paris, and whenever your present tour (which I told +Mr. Harrison was one for artistic purposes) shall be ended. It +will be a great bore having to come back even then, on +purpose. I am sorry you did not get the letters at Frankfort; +on the whole though, perhaps they would only have worried you +and have made you <i>hesitate</i> as to <i>returning</i>, and which +perhaps you might have thought <i>shorter</i> and less troublesome +than having to come back by-and-bye. However, it is very +probable you may get Watts to do what is necessary, and that +you may be saved the expense and bore of another journey here +in the autumn. Adelaide and I contemplated the possibility of +your coming over at once from Frankfort, and we both +deprecated the idea, though we privately said how intensely +glad we should be to see you—selfish as it might be; and it +was arranged that I was to telegraph to her to Tunbridge where +she is gone to-day. Thanks, you dear boy, for your letter just +received. I can understand your pleasure at finding yourself +in your old haunts again, with your old friend and master to +whom you owe so much. It is a great comfort to me to find that +he likes your drawings, though I never doubted his doing so. I +was amused by your account of the Pimp and Ballerina, whose +modesty seems to have attracted you more than that of the +Russian Princess. Since writing to you last I have done but +little. I am come into town this morning expecting to find +Ffrench, but he has not turned up. I saw <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_261" id="PageV1_261">[261]</a></span>Sister A.<a name="FNanchor_60_60" id="FNanchor_60_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_60_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a> +yesterday on her way through, but my visit was spoilt by the +—— Girls and Cigala, who (as he never made love to me) +appears to me merely a <i>bon sabreur</i> and horse fancier. You +know my opinion of the young ladies, who, <i>par parenthèse</i>, +adore you. I am still at H. (Holland) House, and shall remain +there until Friday, when I come to dine with Adelaide, and +shall then go to Hatchford until I repair to Worsley—my +sister will be established there before long. Yesterday, +Ellesmere's secretary sent me a letter to say that the gent. +of the hanging committee "would take care that Mr. Leighton's +pictures were placed in the most favourable position."<a name="FNanchor_61_61" id="FNanchor_61_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_61_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a> So +let us hope for the best. I must tell you that Vic. is come +home, and is now opposite to me, and that she looks admirably +well. We have had heaps of people at H. House at dinner almost +every day. Marochetti came yesterday. He is full of the +subject of colouring statues, and has just taken to Osborne +two busts which the Queen was to present to-day to P. Albert +for his birthday. Marochetti <i>traite d'imbéciles</i> all the +English sculptors who cannot yet take in this "undoubted +fact." He says Gibson is the only one who admits it, but even +he will not go Marochetti's lengths. Watts is (you know) at +Malvern, and the doctor thought him decidedly better before he +went, and that he may get into tolerable health. I think he is +to be at Malvern three weeks. John Leslie's wedding is at this +moment proceeding; he has almost settled to buy Lady C. +Lascelles' house at Campden Hill, which will be a capital +position for his studio, and another Sunday lounge for you +next year. Next year! (<i>eheu fugaces!</i>) a long time to wait to +see you again under my roof, you very dear boy. I always think +this dispersing time so melancholy. I wonder if I shall hear +from you before Venice. Oh yes, of course, you will write +wherever you stop. Mind and tell me about your studies, and +what you see and do—above all things take care of your +health, and don't catch fever by working in the sun, &c. +Charles says he can't think where your hat box can be—he is +in ecstasies with your old trousers, which have come out +brand <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_262" id="PageV1_262">[262]</a></span>new and a capital fit! You would be quite envious if +you could see them.</p> + +<p>Good-bye, best of Fays. I shall send this letter off and write +another in a few days. I will mark <i>outside</i> the dates of my +letters (and <span class="sc">pray</span>, mind and always date yours—you +never do) so that you will know which to open first. God bless +you, you dear <i>good</i> fellow.—Love your fond old,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Babbo.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">London</span>, <i>Thursday, August 28</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Fay</span>,—One line to say that this afternoon +your letter of Sunday with the enclosed for Harrison reached +me. It is a relief to me that you <i>got</i> the letters, and I +think your answer does very well, but as it had no cover, and +that I was obliged to send it in my own name to Harrison, I +added, what <i>you</i> had better have done, that if necessary you +could easily come over the beginning of November, and I rather +hope they will accept that offer, as by that time the Court +will have returned from Scotland (perhaps to Windsor though), +and you might have a chance of being brought into contact with +Albert, and you would jabber good German to him and win his +heart, which <i>may</i> be valuable to you. With regard to Watts, +he said he should be too happy to do <i>anything</i> for you, but +he wished you to be thrown with Albert. He (Watts) is better +and has left Malvern. I got yesterday the <i>Manchester +Guardian</i>, with a sort of preliminary list of the pictures +which are to be opened to the private view to-morrow. They +were not then all hung, but they mention the "Romeo" as in a +conspicuous place—a sombre picture, but the Romeo and Juliet +finely conceived—or something to that effect. You shall hear +all about it. I have got little Ffrench till Saturday, when I +go to Hatchford and he home. I expect Adelaide to-morrow—we +dine with her, and I <i>fear</i> shall have ——, which will be a +potent bore. There is of course no other news. Penelope +Bentinck has produced a huge boy, and is quite well. John +Leslie's marriage went off without any tears, and he made a +very good "neat and appropriate."</p> + +<p>God bless you, my very dear boy—you are not so fond of me as +I am of you—be sure of it. Take care of yourself, and write +to and love your old</p> + +<p class="right sc">Babbino.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_263" id="PageV1_263">[263]</a></span>Tell me all about your studies, as they interest me, and don't +forget to put me up to some pretty cheap gilt-moulding for my +frame.</p> + +<p>Adelaide was pleased and touched at your seeing about her +pictures. Fay, she is devotedly attached to you—you may be +sure of it.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Hatchford</span>, <i>September 9</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My dearest Fay</span>,—I am going to begin a letter to you +which I can only send when I know where to direct to you, for +after Venice (from whence I have not heard from you yet) you +have given me no address. I hope to hear that you got all mine +sent to that place, and particularly the one enclosing a copy +of Phipps' letter to me in which he tells me it is the Queen's +wish that you come over here on your return to Paris. I got +your letter from Meran on Thursday last, and I sent it off to +Adelaide by that post, enjoining her to let me have it back by +the next, since which I have never had a line from her, and at +last grew so alarmed that I wrote to Anne to ask what had +happened, and that I could not but fear Ad. had been sent for +to Edward<a name="FNanchor_62_62" id="FNanchor_62_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_62_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a> in Ireland. To this letter I got <i>no</i> reply, and +I have been in great suspense and anxiety till this morning, +when sure enough my surmise proved correct, and I got a few +lines from Adelaide herself from Muckross, whither she arrived +on Saturday, having left Warnford the day before, they having +sent for her. She has, I do not doubt, written to you and told +you that she found him neither dead or dying, but in a low, +bilious fever, having been in bed a week, and the doctor not +giving much hope of a speedy recovery. She, however, intends +to move him as soon as it is possible, but it may be some time +first, and of course their plans are more or less uncertain, +and mine of meeting them in London at an end, as I shall be +gone to Worsley before they can be in town. It is, however, a +mercy that this illness is not even more serious than it is. +When I heard his account of himself as I passed through +London, I wondered that she was not more alarmed, but I did +not tell her how serious the case appeared to me, and as it +has proved; and when I did not hear from her, I immediately +guessed what had occurred. She found <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_264" id="PageV1_264">[264]</a></span>Fordwich there, and says +the place appeared a Paradise, and now that she is easy about +Edward, perhaps she won't mind spending the time there instead +of Warnford. Only, the boy was to go to Eton on the 11th, and +I don't know how they will manage that. I have written to Ad. +to-day, and have sent her a volume I received this morning +from Fanny Kemble. The letter would interest you, but is too +bulky to send. She speaks of you in a way that pleases me and +would gratify your vanity in every respect, and describes you +as one of the most interesting people she ever met, and hopes +that your art may be an unceasing source of fame, profit, and +delight to you. I will keep the letter and show it to you when +I have the happiness of seeing you, my dear Fay. When Sarah +leaves her she is to begin reading in the West, and I suspect +that will answer better to her than the girl's society! Dear +Fay, my sister writes to me that she and Brackley went into +Manchester to see your pictures. I will transcribe what she +says: "They are pretty well placed, but the 'Romeo' is so dark +a picture it is difficult to see, and the lighting of the +gallery has something of the defect of that at B. House. The +'Pan' and 'Venus' seem to me to be very good pictures. <i>B. +considers them improper.</i> I like the 'Pan' the best. There are +not many good pictures in the Exhibition." To this I replied +that I was much diverted by Brackley's prudishness, but that +if such personages were to be painted, it was not possible to +clothe them in crinoline or in green gauze drawers such as +Bomba imposed upon his Ballerina. It makes me so sick, all +that cant about impropriety, but there is so much of it as to +make the sale of "nude figures" very improbable, and therefore +I hope you will turn your thoughts entirely to well-covered +limbs, and paint no more <i>Venuses</i> for some time to come. I +trust you will devote all your energies to the Romeo, Dalilah +and Syren, and if you have any spare time, that you will do +our Friar Lawrence. I forget if I told you that Miss Kaye saw +your portrait of yourself, and says it is quite a <i>libel</i> on +your physiognomy. Why <i>did</i> you make yourself so pinched and +sad-looking, Fay?</p> + +<p><i>September 12.</i>—Your letter from Venice of 5th reached me +this morning. I feel sure you will not have got my long +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_265" id="PageV1_265">[265]</a></span>letter directed there on the 5th and enclosing Phipps' answer, +so I had better transcribe it: "It would be very desirable +that Mr. L. should run over from Paris when there to see +exactly what is the damage done to his picture, and I will +have nothing done to it in the meantime, but care shall be +taken that the injury shall not be increased. Mr. L. does not +state in his letter where an answer would reach him, and if +you are in communication with him perhaps you would have the +kindness to mention to him what Her Majesty's wishes on this +subject are." So, you see, my dear boy, you <i>must</i> come, and +perhaps it may not be time so wasted, as I shall try and find +out when the Queen comes back from Scotland, so that if +possible you may time your arrival accordingly. The P. of +Wales is going to see the manufactories at Manchester, and +they are going to ask him to Worsley, I believe. Only fancy +those brutes at Warnford never sending me Adelaide's letter +written to me the morning of her hastening off to Ireland a +week ago until to-day! Too bad. She wrote in great distress of +mind and evidently hardly expected to find Edward<a name="FNanchor_63_63" id="FNanchor_63_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_63_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a> alive, +as she did not believe the telegraph which said he was better, +thinking that if it were so they would not have sent for her. +You dear boy, I am so glad you enjoy your Venice—which is all +very pretty no doubt, but I hate stinks and fleas—and they +abound there. I hate wobbling in a boat and walking in dirty +alleys, so I don't envy you at all. Have you fallen in with +either of the new married couples, Wilson or Leslie? Fay, it +is well you should come and see me, for I don't think there is +much chance of my going to Paris. The Hollands are going to +Naples, as the wall of their house at Paris has been damaged +by the pulling down of the next house and has to be rebuilt, +and I shall have no money to pay for lodging and food. There +are long lists of the pictures the Queen and others are to +send to the great Manchester Exhibition next year—I think +twenty at least from the Royal Galleries, and Ellesmere sends +eight or ten. I see that Eastlake is at Rome, so you may fall +in with him there. I conclude my next letter must be directed +there. You should recollect to give your address <i>d'avance</i>. +The second post has just <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_266" id="PageV1_266">[266]</a></span>brought me the enclosed, which, as +she says she don't write to you, I send (though it will cost a +fortune), knowing that it will gladden your eyes to see her +hand. She loves you dearly as I do, Fay! Your Meran letters +are very pretty, and I wish I could see that place. Good-bye, +and God bless you. We have lovely weather—not one bad day +since I have been here. Go and see the Villa Salviate. What +have you done with Steinle—what heard of Gamba? Love.—Your +old loving father,</p> + +<p class="right">H.</p> +</div> + +<p>Enclosed is one from Mrs. Sartoris to Mr. Greville, which he sends on +to Leighton.</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Muckross, Killarney.</span></p> + +<p>Many thanks. I got a letter too this morning, which I send you +with your own—let me have mine back. E. (Edward Sartoris) is +certainly a little better, thank God—still in bed though. He +hopes perhaps to get off next Saturday—this appears to me +nothing short of impossible—Monday I should think the very +soonest for such a move. This place is divinely beautiful, I +see, but I go out very little, and what with the shock I +received before starting, and the fatigue of my rapid journey, +and the anxiety about him, I feel incapable of receiving any +<i>impression</i> from the place. I seem to acknowledge its beauty, +but I cannot get even a momentary enjoyment out of it at +present. The <i>hosts</i> are very kind. Herbert always was an +excellent fellow. I cannot write to Fay, for with all the +delay caused by his letter having had to follow me here, my +answer would no longer catch him at Venice, and I do not know +where he next pitches his tent. Dear boy! he seems very +happy—God bless him and keep him so!</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Muckross</span>, <i>Tuesday, 9th</i>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Hatchford</span>, <i>September 22</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Fay</span>,—The enclosed reached me to-day having +first been sent to Ebury Street.<a name="FNanchor_64_64" id="FNanchor_64_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a> I think it best to send +it to you that you may reflect on what you will do, though it +seems to me that with the exception of the "Cimabue" you have +<i>no</i> picture you could send to this Exhibition. If you wish to +be represented by <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_267" id="PageV1_267">[267]</a></span>that work, I conclude you would have to ask +permission of the Queen to send it there, and this should be +done through "The Honourable Colonel Phipps," or Mr. Harrison, +his secretary. This permission would of course be granted at +once. When Charles told me in my bed this morning that a +letter had come for you from Manchester, I fondly hoped it was +to announce sale of one or other of your pictures! I wrote +yesterday, and have nothing more to say to-day but that I am +better, though still seedy. We have got the equinoctial gales +with rain. I fancy we, France and England, are going to recall +our missions from Naples, if Bomba don't give in, and send +squadrons of ships. But what then? I don't suppose we mean to +bombard the town. But he will do <i>just enough</i> to give us a +pretence for holding our hand, and matters will then resume +their ordinary course, and the K. of the two Sicilies be +governed just as it was before. Our position is a very +ticklish one in this affair. I long to hear whether you saw +Pasta—and anything more than the waddle, the red face and +beard. Mind and answer my questions. I should tell you that +amongst your papers that came from Manchester they sent P. +Albert's letter to Ellesmere, and the long prospectus too, but +there is no use in forwarding it to you—this will already +cost a fortune, but I think it best to send it. When is it you +expect to be here? How long do you stay at home?—Addio, +carissimo,</p> + +<p class="right">H.G.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">London</span>, <i>September 29</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My dearest Fay</span>,—Here I am, sleeping in London on my +way to Worsley to-morrow morning, and I have got my Mère +Augusta occupying your room; the first <i>female</i> I have ever +housed or fed, and it will be a rehearsal for Sister Ad. I +have just missed her, as she went to the station as I left it, +but I found a letter from her just returned from putting the +boy to school; it is a bore that I missed her, as I shall not +see her for an age. Edward has been committing all sorts of +follies and is again confined to his room, but is better. He +ought to come to London and consult a clever man, or he will +be very ill, as he was once before. What a fellow you are +never to say a word about Pasta to me! Of course Mrs. Siddons +had a magnificent <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_268" id="PageV1_268">[268]</a></span>eye and brow—who said she had not?—and +was a glorious actress, but I should always have preferred +Reston. What did Pasta say of <i>her</i>? You are wrong about P. +not being <i>powerful</i>—she was <i>tremendous</i>; her voice was one +of immense power—almost coarse at times, but prodigious, and +her <i>gestes</i> sublime from grace and strength. Dear Fay, I have +measured the frame; it is twelve inches wide and fourteen +long. Now do find me a pretty cheap croûte. I have seen no one +in London but Lady Shelburne, who said there was no news. She +disapproves, like me, of the policy with regard to Naples, and +I think we shall find by-and-by a great reaction <i>là dessus</i>. +By-the-bye, when at Rome go and hear the opera Verdi has been +composing for that place on the story of Adrienne, and tell me +all about it. He wrote formerly such pretty melodies, and is a +clever fellow. I don't know what Adelaide will do about going +to Germany, but I hope give it up, as for many reasons it +appears to me at this moment to be a foolish scheme.</p> + +<p>Good-night, you dear boy. I can't frank this, as it is late, +and I don't know how, so you must pay this time. Write soon, +and <i>answer</i> my letters.</p> + +<p>I don't quite understand what it is you are doing in Italy +except amuse yourself. Is there any other ——? How long will +it be before I see you?—Addio, caro caro, tanto tanto,</p> + +<p class="right">H.</p> +</div> + +<p>On the death of Lady Ellesmere, his sister, in answer to Leighton's +letter of sympathy Mr. Greville writes—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Hatchford</span>, <i>Wednesday</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My dearest Fay</span>,—In my affliction, I have one +consolation—and it is such events as these that prove it—I +am rich in friends, more so, much more than I deserve—and +amongst them there is no one whose unselfish love I prize more +than yours.</p> + +<p>Dear Fay, I <i>know</i> you feel for me, and I am grateful.</p> + +<p>God bless you for it.—Your affectionate</p> + +<p class="right">H.</p> +</div> + +<p>A short note to his father from Leighton announces the death of this +dear friend in December 1872.</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Athenæum Club, Pall Mall, S.W.</span>,<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_269" id="PageV1_269">[269]</a></span><br /> +<i>Friday</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My dear Papa</span>,—I lost last night one of my oldest and +dearest friends—Henry Greville; he died without much +suffering, and looks this morning calm and beautiful in his +rest. You know what I lose in him.—Your affectionate son,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred.</p> +</div> + +<p>Among many letters of the kind, preciously preserved by those who owe +much to Leighton, the following notes, addressed to his young friend +"Johnny" (Mr. John Hanson Walker), may be found interesting as +exemplifying the trouble which Leighton would take in helping young +artists, and with what kindness, sincerity, and delicacy he tendered +his advice and assistance. None of these letters are dated.</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right sc">The Athenæum.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My dear Johnny</span>,—I write one line in haste to say how +sorry I am to hear that your health has been unsatisfactory of +late. I earnestly trust you won't disregard your doctor's +advice, and that you will, <i>at any sacrifice</i>, do something to +recover strength, even though a long sea voyage were +necessary. Health is the <i>first</i> thing. Talk it over with Miss +Nan; if her love is as sincere as you believe, and I don't for +a moment doubt it, she will give you the same advice.</p> + +<p>For myself, I begin to think my studio will never be ready. I +have not done a stroke of work. I <i>hope</i> at the end of next +week I shall be at it again.</p> + +<p>In October I am off to Rome.—Yours sincerely,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.<br /> +2 Holland Park Road,<br /> +Addison Road, Kensington.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right sc">Athenæum Club,<br /> +Pall Mall, S.W.</p> + +<p>Supposing a proper price were given, should you care to copy +(for a man of position) a portrait by Sir William Beechey and +one or two by Sir Thomas Lawrence? I am not asking you to do +it for a moment, I merely want to know whether you would +<i>care</i> to do the work; <i>if</i> so, please let me know what you +would ask.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_270" id="PageV1_270">[270]</a></span>I have seen Mr. Greville to-day, and he begs me to tell you +that the Countess Grey will be glad if you can undertake for +her, for the sum of <i>£10</i>, a copy of a portrait of Lady +Charlotte Greville. The picture is now with the Countess of +Ellesmere, Mr. Greville's sister, and shall be sent to you +wherever you wish, if you will let me know at once. Is it to +go to Great Castle Street? Lady Ellesmere will be extremely +obliged if you will not keep the picture a moment longer than +you absolutely require it to make a good copy; the portrait is +that of her mother, and she is extremely loth to part with it, +even for a time. Please send me a line in answer to this, and +believe me always.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i></p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"><p>The picture will be duly sent to you.</p> + +<p>I have another matter for your consideration: Mr. Greville +wants to know if you can think of any good picture (Sir Joshua +or Gainsborough would be best) that would make a good +companion to the one he has already bought of you; if you +could suggest anything suitable, he would give you the +commission. I am very glad you should have encouragement, but +I trust you will not flag in your zeal about more important +studies.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"><p>I send you the money from Mr. Greville for the portrait of his +mother. I am very glad you should have this new commission, +but you must thank <i>him, not me</i>, for it was entirely his idea +and desire. He is indeed one of the kindest and best men +possible. I look on him myself as a second father.</p> + +<p>To save time, I shall make arrangements for you to work in my +studio on the <i>4 first</i> days of January, if you can manage it. +I shall be out of town, and you will have the place all to +yourself.</p> + +<p>I wish you a happy Xmas and New Year, and remain.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right sc">Warnford Court,<br /> +Bishops Waltham.</p> + +<p>You will forgive me, I am sure, for not writing to you to +thank you for your letter, received some weeks back; but the +fact is I have been so very busy as to make writing a matter +of very great difficulty. I heard from your father not long +ago that you have been <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_271" id="PageV1_271">[271]</a></span>very fortunate in getting capital +commissions for portraits where you have been staying. I am +very glad indeed to hear it, and trust sincerely that you feel +you are progressing as steadily in proficiency as in +prosperity. To the commissions you have had in the country, I +have one to add here. Mr. Henry Greville wishes you to paint +for him a copy of a head of a relation of his—I believe, of +poor Lady Ellesmere, his sister, whose recent death has been +such a terrible grief to him. You will, I am sure, be glad to +undertake this painting, even though it may not in itself be +very interesting. The size is a sort of oval kit-cat, not +large. He proposes to offer you ten pounds for it.</p> + +<p>How is Miss Nan? I hope you have good accounts of her, and +that all goes smoothly between you.</p> + +<p>I send this to Bath to be forwarded, as I don't know your +present whereabouts.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"><p><span class="sc">Dear Johnny</span>,—I am just off to Paris, and write one +line in hot haste to thank you for yours, and to say that I am +delighted to hear you are conscious of progress. Come back as +soon as you can <i>conveniently</i>, please, because Mr. Greville +has <i>borrowed</i> Lady Ellesmere's portrait for you to copy, and +wants to return it as soon as possible to the Duke of +Devonshire.</p> + +<p>Come and see me when you return, and believe me, with kind +regards to Miss Nan,—Yours always,</p> + +<p class="right">F.L.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right sc">2 Holland Park Road,<br /> +Kensington, W.</p> + +<p>I want very much, before they have quite disappeared, to get +for myself and for a friend a couple of old-fashioned country +bumpkins' smocks; you know the sort of thing. Do you chance to +know any one in any of the villages about Bath who could pick +up a couple? I should like a brown one (<i>NOT a white Sunday +one</i>) and a green one, and that they should <i>not</i> be +washed—well worn, untidy things. If you saw your way to +getting me such garments, I should be very grateful, but don't +<i>trouble</i> about it.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"><p>If you have leisure to think of anything but Miss Nan just at +present, will you do me a favour? Will you get for me a +peasant's <i>wide-awake</i>, in shape like the one I painted in +your <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_272" id="PageV1_272">[272]</a></span>portrait, only really <i>old</i> and <i>soiled</i> and <i>stained</i>; +bought, in fact, if possible, off a bumpkin's head? Can you do +this for me, and either send it or bring it if you are about +to return shortly? I will pay you when we meet.</p> + +<p>When is the wedding to be? or is it already over? I wish you +all happiness and prosperity, and remain with kind +remembrances to Miss (or Mrs.) Nan,—Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> + +<p>I hope you can read this; my hands are so cold I can scarcely +hold the pen.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"><p>Mr. Greville has very kindly desired me to give you another +commission, this time a larger one. He wants you to copy from +my large picture the group of women carrying flowers, the size +of the original.<a name="FNanchor_65_65" id="FNanchor_65_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_65_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a> He offers you £25 for it. If you are +disposed, as I have no doubt you will be, I would, if I were +you, write him a line of thanks for the kind interest he shows +in you. In great haste.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"><p>One line in a great hurry to say that I am delighted to hear +that you have got in to the life school at the Royal Academy, +and to thank you for the photo., which is capital.</p> + +<p>I have not touched my Venus since you went away. I have been a +good deal out of town myself, and have spent most of my time +in finishing the two large decorative figures, which have now +gone home. I am sorry you did not see them.</p> + +<p>Come as soon as you can to begin Mr. Greville's picture.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"><p>I leave town Saturday next, and shall not see you till +Saturday the 6th July, so I write a line to say that you will +set to work by yourself; the maid will light you a fire and +give you the key of the studio.</p> + +<p>I have written direct to Gatwell to order the canvas, or it +would not have been ready in time. You are to paint the group +full size. <i>Trace it</i> to get it quite accurate. Put the head +of the centre figure, the woman in <i>yellow</i>, about four inches +or four and <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_273" id="PageV1_273">[273]</a></span>a half inches from the top of the canvas; that +will give you all the rest. <i>Leave out</i> the little <i>child +sitting</i>. Go slap at the colour, vigorously but <i>NOT quick</i>. +The slower you work, if you work with energy, the sooner you +get through, and the better the result.</p> + +<p>I hope you are enjoying yourself.</p></div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep273" id="imagep273"></a> +<a href="images/imagep273.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep273.jpg" width="60%" alt="PORTRAIT OF MRS. HANSON WALKER" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">PORTRAIT OF MRS. HANSON WALKER<br /> +By permission of Mr. Hanson Walker<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"><p>Although I certainly think it is a pity to exhibit too soon, +nevertheless I think that your particular situation just now +does justify you in doing so, as long as you confine yourself +to the Suffolk Street Gallery. I sincerely hope you may sell +your pictures.</p> + +<p>With kind regards to Mrs. Nan and love to my god-child, I am, +in haste, yours always,</p> + +<p class="right">F.L.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"><p>I can't quite make out the price as written in your note, so +to avoid mistakes I send blank cheque, which pray fill in +yourself.</p> + +<p>Just off—good-bye.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><i>26th December.</i></p> + +<p>I have got your note and enclose little cheque. This is as it +should be. It is absurd that because I am an old friend, you +should be a loser by me in time and pocket.</p> + +<p>With a merry Xmas and New Year to you and Nan, I remain, in +haste, yours sincerely,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">2 Holland Park Road</span>, <i>Monday</i>.</p> + +<p>Many thanks for your letter. I have had absolutely no time to +answer sooner, and now can only do so most briefly. I am +extremely glad to hear of the success of your labours at +Dorchester, and think you are very right to take for yourself +and "Mrs. Nan" a refreshing little holiday on the hills.</p> + +<p>I will begin the portrait next week,<a name="FNanchor_66_66" id="FNanchor_66_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_66_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> when you return, at +which time also I hope to show you some under-painted work +which I think may interest you. I shall certainly call and see +your screen. It will no doubt be a very useful bit of +"property" to you.</p> + +<p>Remember me very kindly to your wife.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"><p><span class="sc">My dear Johnny</span>,—I am much obliged to you for your<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_274" id="PageV1_274">[274]</a></span> +letter, telling me of your doings in the country. I think you +will do wisely in going to the Isle of Wight to paint +landscape; the danger of copying the old masters too +exclusively, as you have been forced to do lately, is that one +is apt to fall into mannerism by trying to see Nature with the +eyes of others; painting landscape direct from Nature is the +best possible corrective against this tendency.</p> + +<p>I shall be glad to see you and what you have done on your +return, if you are here before the 20th or 22nd August; if +not, we shall meet in October, when I return from the East.</p> + +<p>I am working away at my picture, which will be under-painted +before I leave England.</p> + +<p>I wish you joy of your summer trip, and remain, yours very +truly,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><i>6th September.</i></p> + +<p>I have just got your letter, and scribble a line in haste (for +I am very busy) to say that you are wholly at liberty to do +whatever you choose with Nan's picture, and that I am glad for +your sake that people like it. I am also much pleased to hear +that you have an interesting portrait on the easel, in which +you see progress and improvement in the matter of breadth and +light and subordination of half tints; nothing is more +important in painting; I think that after accuracy and +refinement of form, it is the quality you should most strive +for. I am myself tolerably well, but not by any means +brilliantly. I have got to work at a few small heads, which +you will see before long.</p> + +<p>In haste, with love to Nan and the children.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Lynton</span>, <i>Saturday</i>.</p> + +<p>I have just received your note, and hear with sincere regret +that you have not been prospering lately in your affairs. I am +in great difficulty as to what I can do for you in the matter +of the Curatorship. If it were only a question of testifying +to your character, zeal, industry, &c. &c., I should have real +pleasure in giving you that testimony in the highest and +fullest degree. But, my dear Johnny, if I am not very much +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_275" id="PageV1_275">[275]</a></span>mistaken, the Curator is expected to be able when required to +<i>advise and direct the pupils</i>, and I cannot in candour +conceal from you that your age and experience do not appear to +me yet to qualify you for that part of the duties. If it were +not so, why does the candidate send in some of his works for +inspection? You must not be angry with me, Johnny; you know I +have always spoken the plain truth to you, and am always ready +and desirous to help you when it is in my power. I should be +only too glad to think of your obtaining some post that should +relieve you from all immediate pecuniary care. Give my love to +your wife and children, and believe me always, yours most +sincerely,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> + +<p><i>P.S.</i>—I shall be back on Wednesday or Thursday.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><i>Sunday.</i></p> + +<p>In case any alteration should have been made in the +arrangements of the Schools during my absence, and that +<i>teaching</i> is not expected as part of the duties of a curator, +I send you a letter to the Council, as I should be sorry you +lost any fair chance by my absence.</p> + +<p>You heard from me no doubt yesterday.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><i>Care of</i> <span class="sc">Mrs. Walker</span>,<br /> +<span class="sc">Nealinmore, Glen Columbkille</span>,<br /> +<span class="sc">Co. Donegal</span>.<br /> +<i>15th.</i></p> + +<p>I have got your note, in regard to which I feel some little +embarrassment. I am, as you know, always pleased when it is in +my power to be of any use to you, and I should therefore wish +to help you in this matter concerning which you write. I own, +however, to having some hesitation in asking this favour of +Mr. Hodgson, because I fear that the granting of it would be a +source of a good deal of inconvenience to him, and he might, +out of his old friendship, be put in an awkward position; he +would be equally loth to say "yes" or "no." The picture hangs +in his dining-room, <i>and cannot possibly be moved</i>. The copy +would be a lengthy affair, for there is an enormous amount of +work in the group you speak of, and you would <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_276" id="PageV1_276">[276]</a></span>have, +therefore, to be established for a long time in a room which +is in daily use by the family. I do not at all say that he +might not grant the favour you ask, but I own I feel that <i>I</i> +cannot, discreetly, ask it of him. I am sure you will not +misinterpret my declining, and I shall be very sincerely glad +if you yourself succeed in your direct appeal.</p> + +<p>I trust you and yours are thriving, and that you have not +suffered lately from your leg.</p> + +<p>This is a wild, wind-swept corner of Ireland in which I am +staying, and abounding in matter for studying, especially rock +forms, but the inconstancy of the weather puts sketching +almost out of the question.</p> + +<p>This is a matter of comparative indifference to me, as I came +here purposely for rest, and not for work.</p> + +<p>Give my love to Nan and the chicks.—Sincerely yours,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"><p>Do you know of any one who would do a life-size <i>copy</i> of a +portrait of the Queen in robes for the sum of <i>£100</i>? I have +been asked to inquire. It is, I believe, for Chelsea Hospital. +In former days it might have been worth <i>your</i> while; now it +no longer is, it would not pay you; but you perhaps know of +some less prosperous artist who would undertake it, and who +would do it <i>well</i>—for of course that is expected.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">2 Holland Park Road,<br /> +Kensington, W.</span><br /> +(<i>Postmark, Mar. 9. 82.</i>)</p> + +<p>I am absolutely <i>ashamed</i> to rob you, but you offer me the +drawing so kindly that I can't possibly refuse it; I am +delighted with it, only you must let me give you a little +drawing some day in return. With very best thanks.</p></div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep276a" id="imagep276a"></a> +<a href="images/imagep276a.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep276a.jpg" width="45%" alt="STUDY OF GROUP FOR CEILING IN MUSIC ROOM" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDY OF GROUP FOR CEILING IN MUSIC ROOM<br /> +Executed for Mr. Marquand, New York, 1886<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep276b" id="imagep276b"></a> +<a href="images/imagep276b.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep276b.jpg" width="45%" alt="FIRST SKETCH OF GROUP FOR MR. MARQUAND'S CEILING" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">FIRST SKETCH OF GROUP FOR MR. MARQUAND'S CEILING IN MUSIC ROOM, NEW YORK<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>The following letter was written when Mr. Hanson Walker was in +America. In it Leighton refers to the ceiling he painted for Mr. +Marquand (see <a href="#toi">List of Illustrations</a>):—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">2 Holland Park Road,<br /> +Kensington, W.</span>,<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_277" id="PageV1_277">[277]</a></span><br /> +<i>12th February 1887</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Johnnie</span>,—I was very glad to get your letter +giving so very satisfactory an account of yourself and your +doings. I had already heard of your prosperity in a general +way from Nan, who came to see me before starting, but who told +me also how lonely you felt. It must have been a great joy to +you to see her again, and it will be a still greater when you +see the (<i>fourteen?</i>) youngsters about you once more; you +will, like everybody who crosses the water, bring back a very +pleasant recollection of American kindness and hospitality, +and, I am glad to think, also a good pocketful of money. I +hope it will bring you luck here. I am glad that Mr. Marquand +has made you welcome to his house, which I understand is very +beautiful. I know his Vandyke well; it belonged to an +acquaintance of mine, Lord Methuen, who has a number of +beautiful things at Corsham. It is one of the finest I know, +and stands quite in the front rank of Vandykes. The Turner +also I know, a rare favourite of mine. But of the Rembrandt I +know nothing. I am glad, too, you thought my "ceiling" looked +well. I hope he has introduced <i>a little gold in the rafters</i> +to <i>bind</i> the paintings to the ceiling itself. Give my love to +Nan, and believe me, with all good wishes, sincerely yours,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> + +<p>Please remember me to the Marquands and to your friends the +Osbornes.</p></div> + +<br /> +<hr/> +<br /> + +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_56_56" id="Footnote_56_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> Owing to the kindness of Mr. Greville's niece and +executor, Alice, Countess of Strafford, I am able to quote extracts +from his letters to Leighton in this "Life." Unfortunately the letters +from Leighton to Mr. Greville cannot be found, though, as we know, +many were written. During his first visit to Algiers in 1857, Leighton +wrote to his mother: "The fact is that as besides corresponding with +you I write often to Mrs. Sartoris, and still oftener to Henry +Greville, and having continually much the same to tell all of you, I +often cannot remember to whom I have written what."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_57_57" id="Footnote_57_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> It was when visiting his family at Bath that he first +saw Hanson Walker, the "Johnny" of the letters and of the pictures. +Leighton was much taken with the picturesque beauty of the boy's head, +and made various studies from it. A pencil study he made from his head +(see <a href="#toi">List of Illustrations</a>) he used as a study for his picture "Lieder +ohne Worte." Having discovered that his sitter had a natural taste for +drawing, Leighton advised "Johnny's" father to let him become an +artist. This led to the boy being sent to learn drawing at the School +of Art in Bath. When Leighton returned to London after it had been +decided that "Johnny" was to study drawing, the young student received +one day to his surprise a large case. On opening it he found to his +delight a cast from the antique, a drawing-board, paper, charcoal, +chalks, in fact, all the utensils wanted by a beginner wishing to work +seriously at Art. Never to the end of his life did Leighton's interest +in his pupil flag. Never was he too busy to do a kindness to him or +his. Perhaps the early and somewhat romantic marriage which "Johnny" +made with a lady for whom Leighton felt from the earliest days of the +wedded life a very sincere regard, and the charming children who soon +made a pretty cluster round their parents, and were always a delight +to Leighton, cemented the friendly interest. The head of "Nan" (Mrs. +Hanson Walker—see <a href="#toi">List of Illustrations</a>), painted as a wedding +present to "Johnny," is one among the happiest of Leighton's +portraits. It is broad in treatment, and fair and very pure in colour, +and as a likeness was considered perfect.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_58_58" id="Footnote_58_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> Yearly Exhibition at Manchester.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_59_59" id="Footnote_59_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_59_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> This correspondence refers to the "Cimabue's Madonna" at +Buckingham Palace. Small holes in the canvas having appeared, the +authorities were anxious that Leighton should inspect the picture, and +take steps to prevent further mischief.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_60_60" id="Footnote_60_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_60_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> Mrs. Sartoris.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_61_61" id="Footnote_61_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_61_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> In the Yearly Exhibition at Manchester, where Leighton +sent the "Romeo," "Pan," and the "Venus."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_62_62" id="Footnote_62_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_62_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> Mr. Edward Sartoris.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_63_63" id="Footnote_63_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_63_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> Mr. Edward Sartoris.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_64_64" id="Footnote_64_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_64_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> Papers relating to the great Manchester Exhibition held +in 1857.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_65_65" id="Footnote_65_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_65_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> "A Syracusan Bride."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_66_66" id="Footnote_66_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_66_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> The portrait of Mrs. Hanson Walker, which Leighton +painted as a wedding present for his young friend.</p></div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_278" id="PageV1_278">[278]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER VI<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>STEINLE AND ITALY AGAIN—FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF THE EAST, 1856-1858</h4> +<br /> + +<p>In Mr. Henry Greville's diary we find the following entry:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><i>Thursday, July 24th, 1856.</i></p> + +<p>Went on Monday to Hatchford with Leighton, and passed all +Tuesday with him and Mrs. Sartoris on St. George's Hills. The +day was enchanting, and the Hills in their greatest beauty.</p></div> + +<p>Before leaving London in 1856 Leighton wrote to his mother:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">London</span>, <i>Wednesday, 1856</i>.</p> + +<p>As my stay in London is drawing to a close, and nobody writes +to me, I must write to somebody. I am happy to say (for I know +it will interest you) that my "Pan" and "Venus" are admired as +much as I could wish, so that I am not without hopes of +selling one of them at Manchester. Gibson was quite delighted +with them; I am, however, bound to say he knows nothing about +it. The sketches of my "Orpheus" I have sold to White for £25, +which comes "unkimmon" handy, as this place is ruinous. I have +made the acquaintance of Rossetti, one of the originators of +the pre-Raphaelite movement. He is apparently a remarkably +agreeable and interesting man. Hunt also I like much. My plans +are these: on Monday next I leave London, and shall spend a +small week between the Cartwrights and (perhaps) the Grotes, +after which on or before the 12th I shall be with you in Bath, +where I shall remain until the 16th, on which day I shall come +up by the early train to town, where I shall meet H. Greville, +stay long enough to get my passport in order, and then be off +double quick to Italy. I am longing to get to work again; I +am <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_279" id="PageV1_279">[279]</a></span>doing nothing whatever except Henry's dog, which takes up +what little time I have. Will you tell Papa that I went to the +shop he recommended, and got a splendid Shakespeare ready +bound in eight volumes for three guineas!</p></div> + +<p>From Bath he wrote to Steinle:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">9 Circus, Bath</span>,<br /> +<i>August 2, 1856</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My very dear Friend</span>,—In about ten days I expect, on +my way to Italy, whither I go on a short student journey, to +pass through Frankfurt or Cologne, according as you are in one +or the other, exclusively in order to take my dear master once +more by the hand; and if you are at the moment in Frankfurt, I +might even spend two or three days in the old Bokaga, and even +draw a composition as in the old times. Do, dear friend, send +me a line by return of post in order that I may make +arrangements.</p> + +<p>The rest verbally—I have sadly forgotten my German.</p> + +<p>Hoping to meet very soon, dear master.—Think of your pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Bath. 9 Circus</span><br /> +(<i>later</i>).</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My very dear Master</span>,—I have just received your dear +lines, and hasten to say that nothing could be more delightful +to me than to travel with you again, if only for a few days.</p> + +<p>I had intended to go <i>viâ</i> Milan for the sake of quickness, +but I will go direct through the Tyrol to Venice.</p> + +<p>If all goes well, I will arrive in Frankfurt on the 23rd of +this month; does that fit in with your plans?</p> + +<p>How delighted I am to see you again, my good Master!</p> + +<p>To our speedy meeting!—Your grateful pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<p>Leighton had felt his failure keenly, though, with his usual +consideration, he had tried to lessen the disadvantages of it <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_280" id="PageV1_280">[280]</a></span>in +writing to his mother. The friend who enjoyed constant intercourse +with him at the Bagni de Lucca in 1854 wrote at the time of his death: +"Leighton longed for and desired success; but only in so far as he +deserved it. When he was sharply checked in his upward career, he +accepted the rebuke with humility, for he was a modest man." Mrs. +Browning writes to Mrs. Jameson, May 6, 1896, from Paris: "Leighton +has been cut up unmercifully by the critics, but bears on, Robert +says, not without courage. That you should say his picture looked +well, was comfort in the general gloom." Though those critics who were +spokesmen for the envious among the artists seemed to revel in +Leighton's disaster, he had many friends who took perhaps a too +favourable view of the unfortunate picture. But neither excess of +abusive ridicule, nor a too favourable view taken by intimate friends, +could unduly influence Leighton himself—Leighton the actualist. He +had a firm faith that in the <i>actual</i> it is man's lot to find the true +and the really helpful. These words of his master, Steinle's, written +to him in 1853, doubtless recurred to him, and he felt he must return +to the Eternal City to be reinspired after his fall:—</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>I would rather remember that you will receive these lines in +the Eternal City, that you are with our friend Rico, and that +you are settling to work with renewed vitality and a pocketful +of studies. In Cornelius, besides much that is stubborn, you +will find so much that is admirable, and so much truly +artistic greatness, that you will soon love him, for he is +also of a truly childlike disposition, and much too good for +Berlin, for which reason he has left the place. You lucky men +who have crossed the Tiber—the Vatican of St. Peter, the +Courts of St. Onofrio, the Villa Pamfili—where in the world +is there anything like them? Where is there a town in which +every stone has greater, more splendid things to tell us <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_281" id="PageV1_281">[281]</a></span>of +every period? Where is there a place where the artist could +soar higher than in Rome? Forget that you are practically in +an island, and study your Rome; it is invaluable for one's +whole life, which is otherwise so commonplace and so small. +Your youth and courage—"the sparrow among the beans" ("Triton +among the minnows")—need not be injured thereby; but, dear +friend, you must become a man, and there is nothing great in +the world that has been achieved except by taking pains. +Addio, carissimo; greet Rico and the friends most heartily. My +wife reciprocates your friendly greetings, and I remain, your +devoted friend,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Steinle.</p> +</div> + +<p>He travelled there <i>viâ</i> Frankfort to see Steinle, with whom he went +to Meran, thence to Venice and Florence, then on to Rome.</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Frankfurt, Brauseler Hof</span>,<br /> +<i>August 24</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Mamma</span>,—Being at last in Frankfurt, and +having seen Steinle and his works, and, <i>en revanche</i>, shown +him mine, I sit down to write to you. You will, I am sure, be +glad to hear that he was much pleased with my drawings, that +he liked the compositions, and what is more, gave me good +advice about them. He also suggested to me to paint the little +"Venus" rising out of the sea (from Anacreon), of which I have +already made a sketch. My studies he seemed to think +excellent; I gave him three of them; I was so charmed to see +his dear face again, looking just the same as he always did, +and when he showed me what he had been doing, I fairly set up +the pipes. He took me in the afternoon to the Guaitas, who +have a series of drawings by him from Clemens Brentano's +poems; they are perfectly exquisite; the richness and variety +of his imagination is something marvellous. Mr. Guaita, who is +about to have them photographed for his friends, has kindly +promised me a copy. To-morrow morning I am off for the Lake of +Constance, whence through the Finstermünz to Meran, where I +and Steinle part, though not till I have stayed there two or +three days. To-day I shall go to Mr. Bolton and to Madame +Beving to deliver your letter. Altogether Frankfurt has +improved in appearance; it <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_282" id="PageV1_282">[282]</a></span>looks much more like a capital +than it did formerly; new shops have sprung up, old ones are +improved, and the whole town looks gay and busy; all this does +not prevent it from being highly antipathetic to me, which is, +I daresay, in some measure attributable to the hideous jargon +that one hears wherever one turns. I have seen Gogel and Koch, +who were both very civil, the former asking me to dine with +him, which, however, I could not do, being already engaged to +Steinle. And you, dearest Mamma, how are you? and Papa and the +girls? Tell me all about them—write Venice p. restante.</p> + +<p>God bless you, dear Mamma. Remember the boy.</p> + +<br /> + +<p>I have had such a letter from Henry (Mr. Henry Greville); +there never was anything like the tenderness of it—you would +have been just enchanted.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Venice</span>, <i>September 6</i>.</p> + +<p>I believe I told you in my last letter that I was going to +spend a few days at Meran with Steinle. Now when I got there I +found the place so beautiful and so healthy, and so rich in +subjects for "my pencil," that I stayed <i>a week</i>, and this +accounts for my being rather behindhand with this letter.</p> + +<p>Steinle and I had rooms at a sort of hydropathic +boarding-house, with splendid accommodation for bathing in the +coldest possible mountain water, a convenience of which I +availed myself daily to my great enjoyment.</p> + +<p>I lived <i>comme les poules</i>. I was up at daybreak and a good +bit before the sun (who takes a long time before he gets his +nose into a valley) and went to bed very shortly after sunset; +I worked and walked and ate and slept, that was my simple bill +of fare. My good Steinle and myself got on, as of course, +capitally. He is most affectionate and kind, and I have +derived a good deal of artistic advantage from his intercourse +even in that short time.</p> + +<p>By-the-bye, before I left Frankfurt I received through H. +Greville a letter from Mr. Harrison, secretary to Col. Phipps, +asking me to go to the Palace to look at the canvas of the +"Cimabue," which appeared to be defective in some parts; +though what on <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_283" id="PageV1_283">[283]</a></span>earth can be the matter with it I don't know; +at the same time I got another saying, that as I was not in +England, there would be no necessity for me to make a special +journey to England on that account, and merely wishing to know +when I expected to return. I sent an appropriate answer, which +I submitted to Henry Greville, and now am waiting for further +instructions from Harrison here in Venice.</p></div> + +<p>Writing of his delight in being again in Italy he adds:—</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>How I revelled in the first really Italian bit, the lake of +Lugano! What an exquisite little picture it is with its villas +and terraces, its cypresses and its oleanders, and the little +town itself too! stretching its cool arcades along the blue +margin of the water; a lovely drive along the lake took me to +that of Como, and from thence I went by rail to Milan; stayed +a day, went to the Scala, performance so bad I was obliged to +leave the house, and now I am for a week in Venice gliding +along in lazy gondolas, winking up at grey palaces and +glittering domes. I suppose you won't leave Italy this time +without seeing Venice once more, and feeding your eyes again +on Titian and Bonifazio, Veronese and Tintoretto. By-the-bye, +I am doing a sketch from a superb Bonifazio in the Academy +here; yesterday I painted hard for six hours, so you see it is +not <i>all</i> boats, and now I must close. I will write to you +again from Florence, and I hope with a better pen. God bless +you, Mammy, give my love to all from your loving boy.</p></div> + +<p>To his father Leighton writes:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Florence, Hôtel du Nord</span>,<br /> +<i>25th September 1856</i>.</p> + +<p>About my pictures<a name="FNanchor_67_67" id="FNanchor_67_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_67_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a> I have heard (for Henry makes the +Ellesmeres keep him <i>au courant</i>, which of course is very +convenient for me) that they are pretty well hung, but that +the "Romeo" is not seen very well owing to a defect in the +lighting <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_284" id="PageV1_284">[284]</a></span>of the room. Lady E. said the "Pan" and "Venus" +seemed to be very well painted, or something, but Lord +Brackley thought them improper! Henry, of course, was furious +at their prudishness. I don't for the life of me know where to +have them sent to, nor can I know for the next three weeks +about, as I must write to consult Henry and get his answer and +then write to you, but surely there is time. You have, of +course, received the letter in which I tell you that I <i>must</i> +go to England at the beginning of November to see about my +picture, but you need not be afraid about my having to do it +over again; that would be a good joke; no artist ever yet was +responsible <i>pro</i>spectively for what might happen to his +picture; but it will be a frightful bore in the expense line +coming back from Italy fairly swept out as I shall be. Were +you so kind as to pay the rent for me as I asked you?</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Florence</span>, <i>28th September</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My very dear Friend</span>,—Well may you say that the Meran +post is tardy, for I only received your dear letter of the +13th three days ago. Meanwhile you have probably long since +received mine, in which I thanked you heartily for the +beautiful coat received in Venice.</p> + +<p>I have already stayed here in Florence eight days, and though +I have not worked very arduously, I have yet thoroughly +enjoyed myself, and also, I hope, learned something from the +lovely things that I am seeing again here; meanwhile there +remains much for me to see in the two days that I have still +to stay, amongst others the Capella of Benozzo Gozzoli in the +Palazzo Riccardi, a work which I love excessively. To see the +old Florentine school again is a thing which always enchants +me anew, for one can never be sated with seeing the noble +sweetness, the childlike simplicity, allied with high manly +feeling, which breathes in it. But I speak to you of plain +things which you know far better than I. I am quite eager to +see the new drawings at Fabiola, and I am much excited about +those at Cologne; but the gods alone know when I shall see +them.</p> + +<p>On Wednesday I go to Rome, where I hope to see Rico; <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_285" id="PageV1_285">[285]</a></span>if only +I could take <i>you</i> with me, dear master! Meanwhile I beg you +to remember me most kindly to Madame Steinle, and yourself +believe in the love of your grateful pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> + +<p><i>P.S.</i>—My stay in Rome will (alas!) only be very short, for I +am unexpectedly obliged to go soon to London, confound +it!—instead of a month, <i>ten</i> days! <i>Povero me!</i></p></div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep285" id="imagep285"></a> +<a href="images/imagep285.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep285.jpg" width="70%" alt="CA' D'ORO, VENICE. WATER COLOUR" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">CA' D'ORO, VENICE. WATER COLOUR. 1856<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Florence</span>, <i>11th October 1856</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Mammy</span>,—I wonder whether you are coming to +Florence, and, if so, how long you are going to stay. I +suppose you will go to the Hôtel du Nord as in old times—I go +there invariably, and write now from my own particular room. I +wrote to you last from Venice, where I spent ten days in a +very satisfactory manner between work and <i>flânerie</i> of an +artistic description—indeed I <i>flâned</i> this time with more +advantage than hitherto, for I went more closely than I had +yet done into the <i>architecture</i> of Venice, studying the +different masters, their different styles and relative merit; +I need not say that I found this extremely interesting. Fred +Cockerell, a young architect friend of mine, was there with +Villers Lister, another very nice boy, a London acquaintance +of mine. We were a great deal together, and they accompanied +me to Padua, where I left them doing <i>Giotto</i>, which I would +most willingly have done myself if I had not been hard pressed +for time. In the painting line I only made one sketch, a +Bonifazio of the first water, which will figure very +satisfactorily on my studio wall; it took me a good deal of +time, and is on the whole, I think, very fair. In Florence I +have had one or two great disappointments which have rather +diminished my enjoyment of this loveliest place. I expected +confidently to find both Browning and his wife and Lyons. +Neither of them are here, the former not having yet returned +from the North, and the latter having been called home to see +his father, who is very ailing. I have seen the Fenzis, who +received me with their wonted cordiality, and am going to-day +to call on the Maquays. I am here too short a time to work, +beyond a pencil sketch or two, and am off for dear old Rome on +Friday <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_286" id="PageV1_286">[286]</a></span>morning as ever is. I shall stay there till I find a +studio, which I hope won't be long, and shall then rush off to +Cervara in the mountains to paint.</p> + +<p>Good-bye, Mammikins. Give my best love to all, and believe me +your loving boy,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred.</p> +</div> + +<p>In Rome Leighton received the following from his friend Mr. +Cartwright:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Aynhoe</span>, <i>September 26, 1856</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My dear Leighton</span>,—Truly was I delighted with your +letter, so that in spite of my "nature to" I gulped my huff, +though I was like to choke; but self-interest is a wonderful +smoothener, and as I want you to do something for me I mean to +behave myself. Leighton, by the squints which you shot over my +park from your outspread umbrella, by those you are hereafter +to shoot, by Tokay cup and venison hash—by anything you like, +I want you to belumber yourself with some ripe <i>stone +pinecones</i>, and a hundred cork acorns. I have found a <i>true</i> +legitimate stone pine about forty to fifty feet high on my +property, and as for the cork trees you have seen the one in +my garden, and therefore, I do not see why I should not have a +lot in the park. They can only be raised from acorns. Now, +<i>if</i> you could take steps to get me <i>these</i> things—God! I +don't know what I would not do for you, and how would we enjoy +it in years to come to watch the growth of our trees. It is a +<i>national</i> object. You may have some difficulty in getting the +acorns and cones; Pantaleone or Erhardt might perhaps mention +to you some gardener who would procure them. <i>You</i> know +probably the trees would get to be called L. pines and +Leighton oaks, which is one way to immortality if Orpheus and +Eurydices won't help you. I wrote to Mason about the pines; by +all means <i>make</i> him answer, the exertion will do him good, he +<i>wants</i> exercise, and therefore don't get on with his work. My +God! when I came in at twelve to-day he was not up!</p> + +<p>How I envy you at Rome when I think of it; how would I <i>enjoy</i> +being there, and yet I can't help thinking of ——'s death at +the same time. Remember me to little Cornhill and every Roman +who remembers me. Write Poste Restante, Paris. I go there, I +believe, next week, but <i>where</i> I shall be the winter ——? +Forster <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_287" id="PageV1_287">[287]</a></span>is in the Westminster—be d——d to it for stale wine +that it is. As for Mason, make him write, and believe me, +yours affectionately,</p> + +<p class="right">W.C.C.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Rome</span>, <i>October 14, 1856</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Mamma</span>,—I have delayed writing to you for a +few days in the hope of finding a letter from you in answer to +my last; however, as the posts here are frightfully irregular, +and I think it very possible your answer may have been lost, I +wait no longer. I enclose two little criticisms on my "Romeo" +and "Venus," which will I think please Papa and you, and which +were sent me through Mrs. Sartoris by Henry Greville.<a name="FNanchor_68_68" id="FNanchor_68_68"></a><a href="#Footnote_68_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a> +There is, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_288" id="PageV1_288">[288]</a></span>however, not the remotest chance of my selling them +at Manchester, and I am considering where to show them next. I +am trying here in Rome (where I shall stay till the end of +October) <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_289" id="PageV1_289">[289]</a></span>to make up by rigid economy for the expense +inevitably incurred by living at inns all the way here. I +can't tell you what a delight it was to me to see this dear +old place again. Everything is so unaltered since I left it, +that I felt on returning exactly as if I was coming home from +a drive instead of a lengthened absence. The frescoes which I +knew so well were as new to me again from their colossal +grandeur, and I wished I could spend a month or so exclusively +copying in the Sixtina. My picture, though not well <i>seen</i>, is +not particularly badly <i>hung</i>, but it can only be seen from a +distance, so that the expressions are almost entirely lost; it +does not look so well as in my studio. The Pre-Raphaelites are +very striking, full of talent and industry, but unpleasant to +the eye. Meanwhile they have the day. Colnaghi told me that he +<i>thought</i> he could sell "Romeo" if I made the price <i>four +hundred</i>, and said I could do it without derogating, as it +went through his, a dealer's, hands. I consulted Henry and +Mrs. S., who strongly advised me to follow his advice. I have +done so. May it bring me luck. If the remarks you quote, dear +Mamma, are meant to apply to my relation with Mrs. Sartoris, I +can only say, that as I have derived from her more moral +improvement and refinement (you know it), and from her circle +more intellectual advantage than from <i>all my other +acquaintances</i> put together twice over, I can't join with Mrs. +Whatshername in apprehending "a great number of +inconveniences."</p></div> + +<p>In a later letter Leighton announces the sale of the "Romeo" +picture:—</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>The "Romeo," which had the best place in the Exhibition, has +been sold for £400, which to me represents <i>£360</i> after +deduction of percentage. They have in a most slovenly way sold +my picture for pounds though marked <i>guineas</i>, they want to +know if I claimed the difference; as they have behaved without +sufficient <i>égard</i> about other things also, I have directed +the secretary in England to say that I should like the error +to be rectified, though I do <i>not</i> wish the sale to be +cancelled on that account if it be too late. I don't want to +miss the money of course, but I have no idea of such +negligence on their part.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_290" id="PageV1_290">[290]</a></span>You see, dear Mamma, that my little pension to Lud has become, +for this year at least, so easy that I have scarcely any merit +left.</p></div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right sc">19 Queen Street, Mayfair.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Mamma</span>,—Having arrived in London, and been to +the Palace to see my picture, I hasten both to tell you the +result of my inspection and to answer your very kind letter to +Paris which, like an ass that I am, I have neglected to bring +with me. The damage to my picture is trifling and easily +remediable, having arisen in no way from the precarious nature +of paint or varnish, but from a faulty canvas, and probable +rough usage in moving. I shall set all right in a few days; +the holes or raw places are in the sky, and luckily not near +the faces. I have not yet seen Colonel Phipps, and am waiting +for further instructions; the Court I shall of course not see, +as it is at Windsor.</p> + +<p>I don't remember whether I told you that I got an invitation +from Manchester to exhibit next spring, and having nothing to +send but "Cimabue," have respectfully applied to the Queen +through Colonel Phipps to obtain it of her for that occasion.</p> + +<p>I am truly sorry not to see you all but as you say, I can't +afford it; indeed, I write now partly to ask Papa to send me +some money, the £50 he gave me in the middle of August when I +started are not only gone, but scarcely took me back to Paris, +and but for Petre, whom I met coming back from Naples, and who +lent me a trifle with most friendly alacrity, I should have +been frightfully pinched; the first part of my journey being +all travelling, and hotel life was very dear. In Rome, +however, I lived for nothing, and sailed from Civita Vecchia +to Marseilles "before the mast," a thing I will never do again +if I can help it, but which enabled me just to get home to +Paris within a few francs of the £50. Meanwhile I have no +hesitation in saying that I never spent three months more +profitably or more agreeably. I suppose Papa kindly paid my +last quarter as I asked him, but not having received your +letter I don't in reality know.</p> + +<p>P. Delaroche is dead, I am sorry to say. Going through Paris I +went to see Rob. Fleury, who with characteristic kindness put +me up to several dodges in picture-restoring with a reference +to "Cimabue"—invaluable information.</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_291" id="PageV1_291">[291]</a></span>After doing what was required to the Buckingham Palace picture, +Leighton returned to Paris, where he wrote the following to Steinle:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">21 Rue Pigale</span>, <i>1st December</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Friend and Master</span>,—I read with real distress +the sad news of your severe loss, but sincere and deep as is +my sympathy, I pass on in silence, for in such an hour of +trial there is but one comfort for you, and that not from man.</p> + +<p>I should no doubt have come back to you from Rome in the +beginning of October, but I had to go to England, where I +spent three weeks, and am consequently now just established +again in Paris. My Italian journey afforded me in every way +the greatest pleasure and edification, and I seem now for the +first to have grasped the greatness of the Campagna and the +giant loftiness of Michael Angelo; still the dear old town, +now as ever, is quite unchanged. The good Cornelius is so +cheerful and friendly that it is a real pleasure; he has +finished some works which have much beauty in the design, but, +quite in confidence, they are nevertheless a trifle "solite +cose," and much too weakly drawn: from a man who makes claims +to style, one expects something more of solidity. Cornelius is +a richly and powerfully endowed man, but he does the young +generation no good; if young people would only look at work of +Michael Angelo's! I except the sculptor Willig, he is a famous +fellow, and also an agreeable man. I was glad to meet Gamba +again, but unfortunately I did not see any work of his.</p> + +<p>Dear Friend, in spite of all my efforts I could nowhere find +the right garment for your composition, and learnt only after +a long search what is properly the official dress; I learnt at +last from the custodian of the Sixtina, who inquired from the +head "Ceremoniere," that the cardinal in these days wears the +Cappa Magna <i>pavonazza</i>, not the <i>red</i>.<a name="FNanchor_69_69" id="FNanchor_69_69"></a><a href="#Footnote_69_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a> The costume +therefore <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_292" id="PageV1_292">[292]</a></span>is: purple undergarment, <i>lace shirt</i> (rochetto), +cappa magna of violet <i>cloth</i> (those in the <i>Charwache</i> will +wear no <i>silk</i>), black shoes, four-cornered hood, and gloves +with the ring; I enclose a drawing of the real confessional in +St. Peter's Church; I hope it may be of use to you. Dear +master, how can you possibly <i>excuse</i> yourself for closing +your letter with a word of true and wise advice! You know that +I owe to you, and to no one else, the whole of my serious +education, and am proud of it.</p> + +<p>If you do not get the work at Cologne, it will be a downright +infamy and a dirtiness without parallel; but I hope for the +best.</p> + +<p>How I should like to see your "Marriage at Cana."</p> + +<p>Keep in remembrance your loving pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><i>Saturday, 9th May 1857.</i></p> + +<p><span class="sc">My dear Friend and Master</span>,—Your letter, just +received, has given me intense pleasure. Your constant and +affectionate remembrance of a pupil who is under so many +obligations to you, rejoices my heart. On this occasion, +however, your letter was particularly welcome, because I had +already begun to worry myself a little about your long +silence, and was almost afraid you might imagine that I had +not exerted myself sufficiently in the matter of your +cardinal.</p> + +<p>But first of all I offer my best congratulations on the +completion of the Cologne affair, and on the splendid field +which is offered to you also in Münster. At last you have work +which is worthy of your abilities and your efforts, and will +give them scope. With such employment I must not regret that I +shall not have the pleasure of seeing you again in Paris. That +I have not seen the "Marriage of Cana" is, I candidly confess, +a source of regret to me; I know the design of the +composition, and should have liked extremely to have seen how +it has turned out. When shall I see one of your works again?</p> + +<p>What shall I tell you about myself, my dear friend? I am +getting on with my pictures, and have now got them all three +into a fairly forward state of <i>under</i>-painting; completion, +however, will only be reached in the course of next winter, +for I intend to execute them with minute care. I have +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_293" id="PageV1_293">[293]</a></span>simplified my method of painting, and foresworn all <i>tricks</i>. +I endeavour to advance from the beginning as much as possible, +and equally try to mix the right tint, and slowly and +carefully to put it on the right spot, and <i>always</i> with the +model before me; what does not exactly suit has to be adapted; +one can derive benefit from every head. Schwind says that he +cannot work from models, they <i>worry</i> him! a splendid teacher +for his pupils! nature worries every one at first, but one +must so discipline oneself that, instead of checking and +hindering, she shall illuminate and help, and solve all +doubts. Has Schwind, with his splendid and varied gifts, ever +been able to model a head with a brush? Those who place the +brush behind the pencil, under the pretence that <i>form</i> is +before all things, make a very great mistake. Form <i>is +certainly</i> <span class="fakesc">all</span> <i>important</i>; one cannot study it +enough; <i>but</i> the greater part of <i>form</i> falls within the +province of the tabooed <i>brush</i>. The everlasting hobby of +<i>contour</i> (which belongs to the drawing material) is first the +<i>place</i> where the <i>form</i> comes in; what, however, reveals true +knowledge of form, is a powerful, organic, refined finish of +modelling, full of feeling and knowledge—and that is the +affair of the brush (<i>Pinsel</i>).</p> + +<p>You see I have again begun discoursing, my dear Master; you +must excuse all this silly talk, and ascribe it to the +pleasure I feel whenever I enjoy intercourse with you, even if +only by letter. How much we have already talked over together!</p> + +<p>And now adieu, dear Friend. Rest assured that you have not +wasted your affection on an ungrateful man, and keep always in +remembrance—Your faithful pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Leighton.</p> + +<p>Please remember me most kindly to your wife.</p> + +<p>I do not know of any work of mine that has appeared in an +illustrated paper—Louie has been dreaming.</p></div> + +<p>Three interesting letters to Steinle belong to the following year. In +the second Leighton states that he is about to start for Algiers. +After his arrival there he writes to his mother describing the place. +Notwithstanding the difficulty he found in drawing the natives of +Algiers, owing <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_294" id="PageV1_294">[294]</a></span>to their shyness and to their prejudices, Leighton +succeeded while there in making drawings which rank among his very +best; in fact, in certain qualities no others he ever drew can be said +to equal them. To quote Mr. Pepys Cockerell (<i>Nineteenth Century</i>, +November 1896):—</p> + +<p>"I do not believe that more perfect drawings, better defined or more +entirely realised, than these studies of heads of Moors, camels, &c., +were ever executed by the hand of man."</p> + +<p>Unfortunately the paper Leighton used was of the kind which becomes +injured by time. The brown stains which now disfigure the sheets and +the faint tone of the pencilling make it impossible to reproduce these +drawings with any worthy result, but some of the original sketches can +be seen in the Leighton House Collection.</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Rome, 11 Via Della Purificazione</span>,<br /> +<i>March 3, 1857</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My very dear Master</span>,—Heartiest thanks for your kind +lines of the 3rd of last month.</p> + +<p>I hear with the greatest interest that your cartoon is now +finished, and that you expect to get to the wall next year. +How I envy you this great work! I cannot deny that I rejoice a +little, secretly, that you are tied down to <i>buon</i> fresco, for +I have a passion (unfortunately an altogether unsatisfied one) +for this material. You may be quite sure that if it is in any +way possible for me, I shall make a little excursion to +Cologne in order to offer my humble assistance; nothing could +be more delightful to me.</p> + +<p>Some works of yours have just come to Rome; illustrations to a +prayer-book, engraved (I believe) by Keller. When did you make +these charming drawings? The one with the blossoming staff and +the little Madonna is quite specially sympathetic to me. The +things are, however, engraved without feeling or delicacy.</p> + +<p>With what you say about the advantage of growing older I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_295" id="PageV1_295">[295]</a></span>quite agree, and I am in a certain respect anxious for the +time when I shall find my <i>niveau</i>, and shall be able to work +with more peace and equanimity. I have been for some time in a +very painful position—I feel so humbly my incapacity even +from afar off to approach the entrancing beauty of nature, +that I have not the courage to embark upon any large work. For +some time I have scarcely composed at all; partly, it is true, +because I have no time, but partly also because I do not feel +myself in a position to embody an idea properly. I know that +such a condition is morbid, and hope to extricate myself from +it in time. It arises also partly from the fact that my +<i>individuality</i> is not yet sufficiently developed; I see it +coming, but it takes a very long time. I know already, on the +smallest computation, <i>what</i> I want, but I do not know <i>how</i> I +am to accomplish it.</p> + +<p>I went recently to see Cornelius, who is always genial and +charming. He is drawing on one of the Redelli for the Campo +Santo. Rich and spirited in invention and arrangement, the +form in <i>details</i>, however, is very badly drawn—heads that +are unpermissible; he treats God's nature quite cavalierly. I +saw at his house a composition by a certain Wöredle (or some +such name) of Vienna, a pupil of Führich, the subject taken +from the Apocalypse: "There shall be wonders." Above, the +Saviour, in the usual attitude, with the usual flowing +garment; to the right and left, Mary and John, in their +respective usual attitudes; at their feet four angels blowing +trumpets, by Cornelius; in the background a number of comets; +lying about in the middle and foreground, a quantity of +figures, which have been collected from different works of +Cornelius', strike convulsive attitudes on the floor; for the +rest, the whole is constructed with appalling academic +execution and lifelessness. Cornelius seemed to think it quite +right; I consider it difficult, with reverence and love, to +complete the head of one girl; for that reason I am not fond +of going to him, for although personally he is extremely +sympathetic to me, I cannot help feeling that I do not fit in +with him, and am obliged to dissemble. But you must be quite +weary of this chattering letter, dear Master; I will close. +Remember me most kindly to your wife and children, and rely +always upon the friendship of your grateful pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_296" id="PageV1_296">[296]</a></span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>Thursday, September 3, 1857.</i></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Friend and Master</span>,—I was, as usual, most +delighted to receive your cordial letter of 21st August; I am +touched by your constant friendship, but also somewhat ashamed +that you should treat your much indebted pupil almost as an +equal and counsellor. I have the greatest desire to see your +second cartoon, but I am very much afraid that this year it +will be quite impossible, for I am going on a journey in quite +the opposite direction; I am shortly going to Africa, partly +to make some landscape studies, but also to make acquaintance +with that very interesting race, but <i>not</i> in order to become +a painter of Bedouins. It was my intention, as I am starting +immediately, not to write till I came back, in order that I +might have something to tell you; however, the following has +suddenly made me change my mind; the fat, affected, +tailor-like, civil-spoken little Jew visited me recently and +told me you want to make inquiries about wall painting, and +that I might tell you, if I was writing, that Conture has just +gone away. This impelled me to write immediately. Will you +forgive me, for old friendship's sake, if I put in a word +here, to which you need not give the smallest attention? I +want to protest vehemently, dear Master, against all +<i>oil</i>-painting on <i>walls</i>; and that, not because fresco +painting has sufficed for the greatest works of the greatest +masters, but on account of the <i>positive disadvantages</i> of +oils. How, in effect, do the two materials stand to one +another? Fresco is certainly the one material for monuments. +First, because it is the most suitable for a broad, massy, +imposing <i>form</i>, for in no material can one pursue form so +completely <i>without losing colour</i>; secondly, because by no +other method can one attain such masterly, earnest, quiet, +virile effect in colour; thirdly, however, and principally, +because fresco <i>is visible from all points alike</i>, this +advantage is immeasurable for architectural art. What, on the +other hand, are the advantages of oil? Only one occurs to me +and that is quite illusory, <i>i.e.</i> you have a wider range of +colour; but all the colours that an oil palette has in advance +of fresco are, for fresco, superfluous if not pernicious. +Superfluous, because the broken, fine grey tones <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_297" id="PageV1_297">[297]</a></span>which have +such an infinite charm in easel pictures, and which counteract +the otherwise too great brilliance of the material, are quite +superfluous in a painting where <i>all tones</i> are dull and +solid. Pernicious, where they would be applicable, because +they might mar the majestic peace of the work. And then it +should be remembered that the limited scale of the fresco +palette, so <i>far as it extends</i>, is unsurpassable for glow and +atmosphere and strength. Titian's frescoes at Padua in the +Tenola St. Antonio rival his oil-paintings in colour. M. +Angelo's "Madonna in the Last Judgment" might (for colour) be +by Tintoretto, and many figures on this glorious wall are as +glowing as Titian's! As regards the disadvantages of +oil-painting, I can only say that they often blister in the +shadows, and that one can <i>only see them from one point of +view</i>. I know very well that fresco is exposed to damp, but +one can, indeed one must, have one's wall examined before one +begins to work, and if it is well dried and "drained" there is +no danger; at the worst, one can cover one's wall with sheets +of lead; it has been discovered that this was often done in +Pompeii. Or one can also (there are instances) paint upon a +specially prepared canvas away from the wall. But you know all +this better than I. Have you forgiven me, dear Friend? I could +not forbear from saying this, and rely upon your indulgence.</p> + +<p>Do not allow Schlösser to mislead you about my work. I daub on +steadily, but am by a very long way not contented.</p> + +<p>I send these lines to Frankfurt in the hope that they will be +forwarded to you.</p> + +<p>I shall stay some weeks in Algiers—can I do anything for you? +in that case send me a line. Till the <i>1st October</i> a letter +will find me; address, Poste Restante, Algiers.</p> + +<p>All good luck be with you on your holidays, and may you gain +the desired strength.</p> + +<p>Keep in remembrance your loving pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> + +<p>21 Rue Pigalle.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Algiers</span>, <i>Friday, 18th</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Mamma</span>,—I arrived here only last Monday, as +the little delay about the money made me lose the boat by +which <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_298" id="PageV1_298">[298]</a></span>I intended to sail; having, however, nothing in my +studio that was dry enough or otherwise fit to work on, I left +Paris all the same and visited Avignon, Nîmes, and Arles, most +interesting towns which I had long desired to see. Avignon +reminded me so vividly of certain parts of Rome that it was +all I could do not to take a place for Civita Vecchia and +succumb to my longing desire to see Italy once more.</p> + +<p>I have not the least idea (especially in this hot weather) how +to describe to you this strange and picturesque town in which +I have taken up my temporary quarters; everything where the +African element has been preserved is so entirely new, so +unlike anything that you have seen, that I see no chance of +putting before your mind any living image of the thing. Before +going further I may as well tell you, dearest Mammy, that +although it is very hot I am perfectly well and have an +enormous appetite. I walk from six to eight hours every day, +and bathe regularly in the sea.</p> + +<p>Algiers occupies one horn of a most beautiful bay, thickly +studded with villas and farms, and reminding one greatly of +Italy. The aspect of the town, however, shows you at once, and +from a great distance, that you are in no European land. You +must know that oriental houses have no roofs, but are +surmounted by terraces, that they have no windows, the rooms +being lit from the inner court, and that they are painted +three times a year of the purest white, so that on approaching +Algiers, rising as it does steeply up the hillside, it looks +from the sea and under an African sun like a pyramid of +alabaster or marble, or, as some poet or other has said of it, +like a swan about to spread her wings. The effect of this +whiteness glittering out from the green and purple hills and +hanging over a dark-blue sea is really most beautiful; +unfortunately, however, the whole of the lower part of the +town that runs along the port has been so completely +Europeanized that, but for a rather pretty mosque on the +waterside, you might fancy you were at Havre or any other +French seaport town. As soon, however, as you get up into the +Arab town, your illusions are not only restored but enhanced, +for assuredly nothing could be more perfectly picturesque and +striking than the steep, tortuous streets that climb up to +the <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_299" id="PageV1_299">[299]</a></span>Casbah, or fortress, at the top of the town. The upper +storeys of the houses jut out into the street in such a manner +that they constantly meet, forming an archway underneath, and +yet the streets are never dark, from the dazzling whiteness of +all the walls, which reflect the light in every direction and +gild and brighten the darkest corners. Fancy, in the midst of +all this gleaming white, the gorgeous effect produced by the +varied colours of oriental costumes and complexion: the +copper-coloured Arabs, the sallow Jews, the ebony negroes; and +then the frequent display of every kind of fruit—crimson +tomatoes and purple aubergines, emerald and golden melons, +glowing oranges, luminous green grapes, and to relieve the +blaze of ardent colour, the tender ivory tones of the +tuberose, and the soft milk-white jessamine. I don't think a +colourist could have a more precious lesson than seeing this +place; you see in half-an-hour a sufficient number of fine +harmonies to set you up for a year. Not less striking than the +display of colour is the variety of types and costumes. Arabs +of the desert, with their lofty bearing and ample drapery, the +tattered, brawny Kabyles, the richly dressed Jewesses, the +negresses, dressed in long indigo-coloured draperies, and with +bracelets of horn round their ankles; in fact, you cannot +imagine a greater medley than is presented by a street in the +Arab quarter of the town. It has this drawback, that in the +midst of such an <i>embarras de richesses</i>, I don't know how I +shall ever be able to work; as yet I have not seen a pencil +even, indeed I have not been off my feet since I arrived, and +my head is in a perfect muddle. I spend next week in the +interior of the country, and when I come back I shall have a +fortnight in which I hope to do something. Getting anybody to +sit here is exceedingly difficult, and costs mints. The price +of living here is the same as Paris, but anything at all extra +is very dear; a horse or a cab to get to some place beyond a +walk is very expensive, and my consumption of drink (lemonade, +coffee, &c., for pure water is not wholesome here) from six in +the morning till bedtime is something incredible. Good-bye, +dearest Mother, I will write a longer letter next time. I have +no news from India. Best love to all, from your most +affectionate boy.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_300" id="PageV1_300">[300]</a></span>If you hear from Lina, <i>mind</i> you let me know, as I am most +anxious for news.</p> + +<p>I am so sorry the ink is so pale. I have written over half the +letter, but it is not much use; next time I will have darker +ink.</p></div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep299" id="imagep299"></a> +<a href="images/imagep299.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep299.jpg" width="40%" alt="SKETCH IN OILS. ALGIERS." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">SKETCH IN OILS. ALGIERS. 1895<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Algiers</span>, <i>Monday 29, 1857</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Mamma</span>,—Poor Lina,<a name="FNanchor_70_70" id="FNanchor_70_70"></a><a href="#Footnote_70_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a> what a state of +wretched suspense and terror she must live in! what a +frightful crisis it is! God grant all may end well. Have you +heard lately? Pray let me know whatever you can; at this +distance I can get only the most salient facts, and am most +eager to hear some more circumstantial account of the progress +of affairs. Poor Sutherland, I often think of his kind grey +eyes and manly carriage; what a harassing, anxious life he +must lead!</p> + +<p>Before I go any further I must ensure saying a thing that I +have been intending to tell for some time past, and which has +always been driven out of my head by the more immediate +subject of my letter. I am by no means certain that I have not +already mentioned it; I wish to be quite certain. The fact is +that as besides corresponding with you I write often to Mrs. +Sartoris, and still oftener to Henry Greville, and have +continually much the same to tell all of you, I often cannot +remember to whom I have written what, and I am therefore +uncertain whether I told you that Romeo and Juliet and Pan and +Venus are by this time exciting (let us hope) the admiration +of the citizens of America at the town of Philadelphia. It +costs me nothing at all either to send or to fetch, and the +percentage is ten per cent. I sent them off the end of last +month, just before leaving Paris for Africa. Tom Taylor is on +the committee, and I think the speculation may turn out good, +particularly if Mrs. Kemble, who is in America now, takes an +interest in them.</p> + +<p>Putting aside all question of anxiety and sorrow, I am +delighted with my visit to Algiers. I feel that, though I have +as yet been unable to touch a pencil, I have already taken a +great deal of new stuff, and if I were to leave Africa with an +empty sketch-book, I should still return to my easel improved +in knowledge <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_301" id="PageV1_301">[301]</a></span>of form and combination of colours. Still it is +a great mortification to me to see such fine types around me +without any means of getting them to sit, an operation to +which they have an insuperable objection; if it were not +vexatious, it would be quite amusing to see how they slink +away when they perceive you are trying to sketch them.</p> + +<p>Of course, one of my great desires was to see if possible a +Moorish <i>intérieur</i>; and in this, though it is difficult to +achieve, I have been very fortunate, through the +instrumentality of a young native, with whom I became +accidentally acquainted. I have made the acquaintance of one +Achmet, son of Ali Pasha, a decayed native gentleman, now +holding office in the French customs, but once very well to do +in the world. I have been twice to his house, which I may as +well describe to you, as it is a type of all Moorish houses in +this part of the world. The whole of the centre of the +building is taken up by a little <i>cortile</i>, open to the sky +and surrounded by two storeys of arcades of a graceful shape, +on to which the rooms open as in Greek houses. These arcades +are painted pure white, and are relieved by fillets of +coloured porcelain tiles that have a most original and +charming effect; the first-floor gallery is closed in by a +breast-high balustrade, elegantly carved and painted blue or +green; the top of the house is invariably an open terrace, +adorned with flowers and shrubs. The rooms, I said, open on +the corridors and have no windows (except little peeping +holes) on to the street; they are consequently always wrapped +in a sort of clear, cool, reflected twilight that is +inexpressibly delightful and soothing in hot, glaring weather. +Each room takes up one side of the house, and is therefore a +long narrow strip; immediately opposite the door is an alcove, +containing a raised, handsomely cushioned and carpeted divan, +and ornamented invariably with three florid gilt +looking-glasses. At the foot of the raised divan is another +lower one for those who like low seats; other such divans run +along the wall, and a few highly wrought, embossed chests and +other oriental articles of furniture complete the decoration +of the room. In such a room Achmet Oulid received us, putting +before us delicious hot coffee in tiny cups with filagree +stands, a delightful kind of peach jam, and the pipe of peace. +You would have laughed to see your <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_302" id="PageV1_302">[302]</a></span>son lolling on a Turkey +carpet and puffing away at a long pipe. Our host has the +dearest little daughter, ten years old, whom by a great +stretch of courtesy we were allowed to see. By-the-bye, nearly +all Arab children are lovely, and look great darlings in their +Turkish dress.</p> + +<p>My paper is coming to an end and the boat does not wait, so I +close. I shall write you another letter before I leave this +and tell you more of what I have done and seen.</p> + +<p>Good-bye, dearest Mammy.</p></div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep301" id="imagep301"></a> +<a href="images/imagep301.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep301.jpg" width="40%" alt="SKETCH IN OILS. ALGIERS." /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">SKETCH IN OILS. ALGIERS. 1895<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>Leighton refers to this visit in a letter to Mrs. Mark Pattison +(1879), who was about to write an account of his art. "This visit made +a deep impression on me; I have loved 'The East,' as it is called, +ever since. By-the-bye, I drew here my (almost) only large +water-colour drawing 'A Negro Festival' (the picture Leighton always +referred to as 'The Niggers'), which was thought very well of by my +friends."</p> + +<p>To his sister in India he wrote:—</p> + +<div class="block1"><p>Since I last wrote I have spent a month or six weeks in +Algeria, and have opened an acquaintance with the East which I +hope to keep up, not only from the pleasure but from the +instruction I have derived from even a short visit. My next +journey, however, will be to the old, original cradle of +Western Art—to Egypt, which country, as I shall visit it +under widely different circumstances from what you did, poor +dear, and I trust in much better health, will of course strike +me in a very different manner. There are many things in the +Arab quarter in Algiers which will probably stand comparison +with Cairo, but besides that, Egypt has far more physiognomy +as a country than the coast of Algeria. I am anxious to study +the Egyptian type, which is truly grand and wonderful. +However, these are plans for a tolerably remote day, as I +shall spend my next winter in my dear, dear old Rome, to which +I am attached beyond measure; indeed, Italy altogether has a +hold on my heart that no other country ever can have (except, +of course, my own); and although, as I just now said, I was +most delighted with Africa, <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_303" id="PageV1_303">[303]</a></span>and have not a moment to look +back to that was not agreeable, yet there is an intimate +little corner in my affections into which it could never +penetrate. If I am as faithful to my wife as I am to the +places I love, I shall do very well. What the first impression +of an Eastern country is, you already know by experience as +far as the mere aspect goes, but to understand my sensations +you must translate your own into a far brighter key. In my +case everything was for me: a decent passage, a glorious day, +a light heart, and a firm determination to enjoy myself; to +this add that more rapid apprehension of what is beautiful +which belongs to an artist's eye, and is the natural +consequence of the constant exercise and cultivation of that +faculty.</p> + +<p>I saw in Algiers many things that interested me, very much <i>du +point de vue mœurs fêtes</i>, with strange music on queer +instruments, odd dances, odder singing. The music of the Moors +is altogether very strange; it is monotonous in the extreme, +fitful, and sometimes apparently without any kind of shape, +and yet there is something very characteristic and almost +attaching about it. This applies only to instrumental music, +for as for the voice, they seem to consider it only as a +shriller instrument, using always at full pitch, with neck +outstretched and eyes half shut, always from the throat and +always higher than they can go. It is very strange that a +nation which attained once so high a pitch of civilisation, +should either never have known or have entirely forgotten that +the human voice is capable of inflection, and what an +all-powerful vehicle it may be made of every passionate +sentiment or soothing influence. However, much the same thing +is noticeable in the peasants near Rome, whose songs consist +(within a definite shape) of long-sustained chest notes that +are peculiar in the extreme, and though often harsh seem to be +wonderfully in harmony with the long unbroken lines of the +Campagna.</p> + +<p><i>À propos</i> of chanting, I saw a very striking thing one day in +Algiers, in the shape of a Rhapsodist, who recited, with an +uncouth instrumental accompaniment, a long string of strophes +describing (I am told) the life and deeds of some hero; it was +exactly what a recital of the Homeric poems must have been +amongst the early Greeks. The Homer stood up in the midst of a +motley and most picturesque group of breathless listeners, and +chanted, with a sort <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_304" id="PageV1_304">[304]</a></span>of animated monotony, verses of about +two lines each, heightening the colour of his tale by +gesticulations. After each strophe the music struck in, +consisting of two queerly shaped tambours and a shrill flute. +After the performance, or rather, during the pauses, money was +collected in the tambourines. Homer (if he ever lived) no +doubt did the same.</p></div> + +<p>On his return to Paris Leighton wrote to Steinle:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Paris</span>, <i>October 22, 1857</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My very dear Friend</span>,—Since I know your industry +better than any one else, and also know that at this moment +you are quite particularly busy, I cannot be surprised that +you have not answered my letter of last month; however, some +warm expressions slipped from me in that letter which you may +perhaps have taken amiss; lest this should be indeed the case, +I hasten, my dear Master, to make you an ample apology and to +beg you not to take amiss what I may have said too hastily; +but if it is not so, do send me a short note that my doubt may +be solved; for it is an excessively painful idea to me that a +single word from my mouth should have displeased you.</p> + +<p>I have just come back from Africa, where I have spent some +weeks with extreme pleasure, and, I believe, not without great +benefit; indeed, I might say that an artist cannot perfect his +sense of form so well anywhere as in the East; the types of +characteristic stamp which meet one's eye at every step are a +wonder to see, and of the simple grandeur of the costumes one +can form no previous conception—one sees real Michael Angelos +running about the streets.</p> + +<p>I have done little or almost nothing, for one cannot possibly +induce the Arabs to sit; however, I believe I have learnt a +great deal by my observations; I have already made a +resolution to become acquainted with the Egyptian race in the +near future. But now I must see to it that I produce something +this winter, for time goes bye with giant strides, and will +not be called back again.</p> + +<p>And you, my dear friend? what are you working at now? How <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_305" id="PageV1_305">[305]</a></span>I +should like to see your second cartoon! but unfortunately that +is one of the impossibilities. What has happened about the +church you were to paint? Has anything been settled? Once more +I beg you to write me a few lines to assure me that you are +not angry at my indiscretion.</p> + +<p>Please remember me most kindly to your wife. And keep in +kindly remembrance, your grateful pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<p>And again:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><i>Translation.</i>]</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Paris, 21 Rue Pigalle</span>,<br /> +<i>November 2, 1857</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Friend and Master</span>,—All my best thanks for your +kind letter, and for the enclosed photograph of your splendid +cartoon; there is no need for me to tell you how greatly this +has rejoiced and delighted me; by now you know that beforehand +regarding every work of Steinle's (Steinleischen Arbeit), and +in no work more than in this do I recognise the fulness and +the brilliance of your fancy; meanwhile (as is only human) my +joy is a trifle damped by the overwhelming desire to know the +complete composition, and then to see the original itself. How +glad I am that at last you have a worthy task!</p> + +<p>It was a great relief to me to find that you did not take +amiss what I wrote about wall painting, and that you quite +understood that I could only become so wrathful regarding a +matter which interests me in the highest degree. I wish with +all my heart that you may discover something which will fill +all requirements, while at the same time, as a bigoted +frescoist, I shake my head a little at your heresy. You will +certainly find me dreadfully stiff-necked, dear Friend! That +is because lately I have seen fresco painting much nearer, and +have compared it with oil painting directly beside it; I +cannot deny that in colour I find it immeasurably more frank +and stronger than its oil-neighbour, which appears muddy and +dull next it. True, Cennini mentions wall painting, but only +supplementarily, and after he has written at length of <i>buon +peseo</i>. I certainly fall into his views again!</p> + +<p>Now, adieu, my dear friend; once more all my best thanks; <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_306" id="PageV1_306">[306]</a></span>you +may rely upon it, that the very first thing of mine that is +photographed shall immediately find its way to you at +Frankfurt; meantime, I candidly confess to you that I am quite +terribly dissatisfied with my performances, and could only +submit a hasty work to you.</p> + +<p>Think often of your most devoted pupil,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> + +<p>(Written below by Steinle)<br /> + Answered, 4th June 1858.</p> +</div> + +<p>The following letters, dated 30th November 1857, Paris, refer to Mrs. +Orr's narrow escape from Aurungabad, owing to the fidelity of Sheik +Boran Bukh, in the time of the Mutiny. It is a good example of the +ease with which Leighton threw himself into the atmosphere of a +situation. It reads like the writing of an Oriental!</p> + +<div class="block1"><p><span class="sc">Most valued Friend</span>,—The report of your gallant and +generous conduct towards my sister and the companions of her +flight has reached my ears, not only by private letters but +also through several of the first English newspapers. From one +end of this country to another, Englishmen have read the +account of your loyal bearing, and from one end of the country +to the other there has been but one voice to praise and to +admire it; for uprightness and fidelity are precious in the +eyes of all Englishmen, and honour and courage are to them as +the breath of life; but <i>my</i> feelings towards you are +naturally doubly warm and grateful, for to your care and +vigilance I owe the safety of a most precious and valued life, +that of a beloved sister. It is to express to you this +gratitude that I now write, and also to beg you to accept as a +small token of my regard a shawl which I send together with +this letter, and which will be as a sign to cement our new +friendship. Wear it in remembrance of that perilous night at +Aurungabad, and in wearing it remember that on that night your +fidelity won for you many new friends, and amongst the truest +and most sincere count the brother of Mrs. Orr,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred Leighton.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="cen"><i>To</i> <span class="sc">Frederick Leighton</span>, Esq., &c. &c.<span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_307" id="PageV1_307">[307]</a></span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Aurungabad</span>, <i>13th July 1858</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Most respected Sir</span>,—I beg to return you my humble +and hearty thanks for your kindness in having sent me a +revolving pistol, which was highly admired by all who saw it. +I cannot be sufficiently thankful to your invaluable kindness. +I shall not part with it till death, but keep it as a +remembrance of your high estimation of me your unworthy +servant, and ever pray for your and family's welfare and +happiness.</p> + +<p>I feel very uneasy in not hearing from Captain Orr since he +left us; I beg you will kindly let me know how he is getting +on, as I hear that he is not altogether very well. I was very +anxious to accompany him, and he agreed to take me, but on +second consideration he changed his mind. I hope some day or +other to be able to see you and family by God's grace.</p> + +<p>I conclude, sir, with my humble respects and good wishes to +self and family. Hoping all's well.—I am, Sir, your most +obedient and grateful servant,</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="sc">Sheik Boran Bukh</span>, <i>Silladar</i>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="block1"> +<p class="right"><i>Thursday.</i></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Papa</span>,—In accordance with your request, +yesterday received, I enclose an envelope for B.B., on which +perhaps you will be so good as to add his rank, whatever that +may be—I believe Subahdar. I am glad the letter is right, and +knowing your great epistolary facilities, I don't feel as +sorry as I ought to have interfered with your design. I don't +think it will fall heavily on you.</p> + +<p>I have a great favour to ask of you; and I feel sure you won't +grudge it me, as it concerns a man whose house is a second +home to me: Cartwright—indefatigable as he is, he keeps +constantly on the alert for any vacancy in Parliament, and is +in frequent communication with Hayter on the subject. Now the +representation of <i>Scarborough</i> has just become vacant, and I +should take it as the greatest kindness if you would write <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_308" id="PageV1_308">[308]</a></span>to +that great friend of yours in that town (a banker—whose name +I, if I were to sit on my head, I could not remember; but you +know), mentioning Cartwright as a great friend and most +appropriate man. He (your friend) is sure to be very +influential amongst the townsfolk. I should wish you to say +this: state who Cartwright is, his family, place (Aynhoe Park, +Brackley), his relations <i>with Hayter the Whipper-in</i> (that he +may not appear <i>tombé des nues</i>), and the following creed: +Pledge himself to Reform Bill with extension of franchise; +considers the Educational question amongst the most important +of the day; wants a thorough inquiry into India and Indian +affairs (government), and is prepared to support Lord +Palmerston's administration. All this is very important to +mention, because <i>all his relations</i> are hot Tories. Also, in +case your friend should accept the suggestion and want to +communicate <i>at once</i> Cartwright, give his (C.'s) direction in +Paris, <i>No. 5 Rue Roquépine</i>. Will you do this for me?</p> + +<p>Please give dear Mamma a wigging for expressing no pleasure at +the prospect I hinted at of running over to Bath for a day or +two in the winter; tell her if she does not behave better I +won't come. I would write at greater length, but my model is +waiting, and I have no time.—With anticipated thanks, your +affectionate son,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred.</p> +</div> + +<p>It was in the year 1857 that Leighton painted the beautiful figure of +"Salome, the Daughter of Herodias," which apparently was never +exhibited in any exhibition of his works till that of 1897. A sketch +(see <a href="#toi">List of Illustrations</a>) made for the picture is in the Leighton +House Collection, also other drawings of dancing figures sketched in +Algiers.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep308" id="imagep308"></a> +<a href="images/imagep308.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep308.jpg" width="52%" alt="STUDY FOR "SALOME, THE DAUGHTER OF HERODIAS."" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">STUDY FOR "SALOME, THE DAUGHTER OF HERODIAS." 1857<br /> +Leighton House Collection<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>To his mother he wrote in the beginning of 1858:—</p> + +<div class="block1"> +<p><span class="sc">Monday</span>, <i>Jan. 1858</i>.<br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dearest Mamma</span>,—Many thanks for your nice long +letter, which I had been anxiously expecting not only for news +of yourself but to <span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_309" id="PageV1_309">[309]</a></span>hear what tidings had reached you from +India. I am so glad dear Lina continues tolerably well +considering her position. I can fully understand how +dreadfully anxious poor Sutherland must have been the whole +time about her. I mean to write to her myself without delay. +Will you please let me have her present direction, as I don't +know it? How kind Sutherland is to have remembered at such a +moment about my tigerskin! What an excellent and thoughtful +creature he must be! The extract from Brig. Stuart's despatch +is most gratifying and satisfactory, but I want to see it in +print; where is it published? can't you somehow get it and let +me have it? I have the greatest desire to possess it in that +shape. What a nice letter Booran Buckh's is. I am afraid that +about the regiment returning to Aurungabad is a hope not very +likely to be realised. There is still a frightful deal to do +in Oude. Sir Colin wants men sadly, and cavalry is +particularly precious.</p> + +<p>Mario's <i>étrenne</i> cost me a pound, it was the least I could +do. Let me reassure you, dear Mamma, about my behaviour to +that amiable creature. I have been at his house often since, +and am sure he is not in the least hurt; as for his thinking I +was proud about his being an actor, that is so out of the +question that I could not help laughing when I read the +passage in your letter. In the first place, he would never +dream of suspecting me of such a piece of vulgarity, and in +the next, actor or no, he still is Count Candia, and therefore +more than my equal in rank.</p> + +<p>I hope I may be with you somewhere about the 6th or 7th +February, and should stay till the 10th or 11th. It would be +humbug to say that I should not rather find you alone than in +a whirlpool of funereal gaieties; but, however, I am at your +disposal; do with me as you wish. I have been suffering very +much of late from tooth and face ache. I am rather better now, +thanks to, or in spite of, homœopathy.</p> + +<p>Lady Cowley I have never found in yet. The Embassy parties +have not begun yet. I go out almost every evening, but only in +a circle of four or five houses. I can't stay at home, my eyes +are too weak to do anything, I am sorry to say; I have not +opened a book this winter. The Hollands are going to Naples, +to my great regret; they were very kind; poor Lady Holland has +only just recovered from a very serious illness.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="PageV1_310" id="PageV1_310">[310]</a></span>You tell me to bring over my Algerine sketches, but I have +very little to show, a few scratches only of types; my two +principal studies are <i>in oils</i>; I can't well take those over. +I am working away at my pictures as well as the pitch-dark +weather allows (which is very badly); however, I hope they may +turn out well. The silent Sartoris said to-day he thought my +Juliet picture "safe to succeed."</p> + +<p>Good-bye, dear Mamma; best love to all from your most affect. +boy,</p> + +<p class="right sc">Fred.</p> +</div> + +<br /> +<br /> + +<h4>END OF VOL. I</h4> + +<br /> +<br /> + +<h4>Printed by <span class="sc">Ballantyne</span>, <span class="sc">Hanson & Co.</span><br /> +Edinburgh & London</h4> + + +<br /> +<hr/> +<br /> + +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_67_67" id="Footnote_67_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_67_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> "Romeo," "Pan," and "Venus," being then exhibited at the +yearly autumn Exhibition at Manchester.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_68_68" id="Footnote_68_68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_68_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> "368. <i>From Keats' Ode to Pan, in the 'Endymion'</i>: F. +Leighton.—Flesh painting is the grand test. With the majority of +artists the attempt results in a something very much resembling tinted +marble. Not so Mr. Leighton. This enchanting creation of his mind +glows with the rich warm hues of life; and the sweeping outline which +gives such beauty to the female form is preserved with subdued +definiteness. The background is a fine piece of mellow autumnal +tinting.</p> + +<p class="noin">"<i>The Royal Institution.</i>—In the second room will be found one of the +very best, if not the best picture in the exhibition, No. 183, +'Reconciliation of the Montagues and Capulets,' by F. Leighton. +Whatever its other merits or faults may be, it tells the sad story +clearly and forcibly. The scene is 'the tomb of all the Capulets,' and +the moment chosen by the artist is when the heads of the rival houses, +standing by the dead bodies of those in whom all their hopes had been +centred, agree to lay by their ancient feuds, and clasp their hands in +sign of future friendship.</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'<i>Capulet</i>—O brother Montague, give me thy hand:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">This is my daughter's jointure, for no more</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Can I demand.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Montague</i>—But I can give thee more:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">For I will raise her statue in pure gold:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">That while Verona by that name is known</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">There shall no figure at such rate be set,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">As that of true and faithful Juliet.'</span><br /> + +<p class="noin">In the foreground are the bodies of the lovers, placed on a bier. +Juliet has thrown herself upon the body of Romeo, her hands clasped +around his neck, and her cheek touching his. In that position, typical +of her undying love, the fatal potion has done its work. Lady Capulet, +in a paroxysm of maternal grief, has thrown herself on her knees at +the foot of the bier; behind her is the Friar. Opposite the spectator +are old Capulet and Montague, their aged forms bowed with grief, in +the act of reconciliation. These are the principal figures. The +Prince, attendants, &c., fill up, without crowding, the picture. The +gloom of the ancient monument is capitally rendered, the colouring is +harmonious, and the disposition of the figures careful and dramatic. +The artist has admirably discriminated the characters of the two aged +noblemen. Readers of Shakespeare will not need to be reminded of the +distinction which the dramatist has made between the two. Montague +appears only in the first and last acts, but displays great +resolution, accompanied by a noble moderation, in the brawl commenced +by the retainers of each of the houses. The language put into his +mouth is noble and poetical, especially in concluding his account of +the black and portentous humour which had overtaken his son.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'But he, his own affection's counsellor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is to himself,—I will not say—how true,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to himself so secret and so close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So far from sounding and discovery<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As is the bud, bit with an envious worm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="noin">No such language as this is ever given to old Capulet. On the +contrary, he is fussy, shallow, and pretentious. Even the Nurse snubs +him. In the first act he rushes out frantically calling for his sword, +to which Lady Capulet replies—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'A crutch, a crutch!—why call you for a sword?'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="noin">And the Nurse on another occasion says—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Go, go, you cot quean, go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Get you to bed; faith you will be sick to-morrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this night's watching.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="noin">The artist has finely distinguished the two men; there is no mistaking +them. On the other hand, if we may 'hint a fall' or two, we should +say, that the faces of the lovers are too livid and corpse-like. They +are but newly dead, and the artist would have been truer to nature and +increased the beauty of his picture if he had allowed some of the +beauty of life to linger around them. The attitude of the Friar, too, +with elevated arms and appalled look, is not in harmony with the grand +composure of his demeanour at all other times, the noble motives from +which he had acted, and that sanctity of character which induces the +Prince to say to him, after his explanatory speech—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'We still have known thee for a holy man.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="noin">With all drawbacks, however, this is a noble picture; and if our +readers will turn to the scene in the play and refresh their memories +before going to the Institution, they will, we think, agree with us in +ranking it as a successful Shakesperian illustration—high praise, but +deserved."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_69_69" id="Footnote_69_69"></a><a href="#FNanchor_69_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></a> Among the drawings sold by the Fine Art Society in 1897 +was a very striking and interesting sketch in water-colour by Steinle. +The subject was a peasant confessing to a Cardinal. May be it was the +sketch for this picture for which Steinle asked Leighton to help him +respecting the cardinal's costume.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_70_70" id="Footnote_70_70"></a><a href="#FNanchor_70_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></a> Mrs. S. Orr was in India, the Mutiny taking place at +that time.</p></div> + +<br /> +<br /> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep310a" id="imagep310a"></a> +<a href="images/imagep310a.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep310a.jpg" width="48%" alt="BLIND SCHOLAR AND DAUGHTER" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"BLIND SCHOLAR AND DAUGHTER"<br /> +No. 1. "Romola"<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep310b" id="imagep310b"></a> +<a href="images/imagep310b.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep310b.jpg" width="46%" alt="NELLO'S SHOP: "SUPPOSE YOU LET ME LOOK AT MYSELF"" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">NELLO'S SHOP: "SUPPOSE YOU LET ME LOOK AT MYSELF"<br /> +No. 2. "Romola"<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep310c" id="imagep310c"></a> +<a href="images/imagep310c.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep310c.jpg" width="48%" alt="THE FIRST KEY" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"THE FIRST KEY"<br /> +No. 5. "Romola"<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep310d" id="imagep310d"></a> +<a href="images/imagep310d.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep310d.jpg" width="75%" alt="THE PEASANTS' FAIR" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"THE PEASANTS' FAIR"<br /> +No. 6. "Romola"<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep310e" id="imagep310e"></a> +<a href="images/imagep310e.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep310e.jpg" width="75%" alt="THE DYING MESSAGE" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"THE DYING MESSAGE"<br /> +No. 7. "Romola"<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep310f" id="imagep310f"></a> +<a href="images/imagep310f.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep310f.jpg" width="75%" alt="FLORENTINE JOKE" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"FLORENTINE JOKE"<br /> +No. 8. "Romola"<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep310g" id="imagep310g"></a> +<a href="images/imagep310g.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep310g.jpg" width="46%" alt="THE ESCAPED PRISONER" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"THE ESCAPED PRISONER"<br /> +No. 9. "Romola"<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep310h" id="imagep310h"></a> +<a href="images/imagep310h.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep310h.jpg" width="75%" alt="NICCOLO AT WORK" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"NICCOLO AT WORK"<br /> +No. 10. "Romola"<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep310i" id="imagep310i"></a> +<a href="images/imagep310i.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep310i.jpg" width="75%" alt="YOU DIDN'T THINK" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"YOU DIDN'T THINK"<br /> +No. 11. "Romola"<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep310j" id="imagep310j"></a> +<a href="images/imagep310j.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep310j.jpg" width="46%" alt="FATHER, I WILL BE GUIDED" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"FATHER, I WILL BE GUIDED"<br /> +No. 13. "Romola"<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep310k" id="imagep310k"></a> +<a href="images/imagep310k.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep310k.jpg" width="45%" alt="THE VISIBLE MADONNA" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"THE VISIBLE MADONNA"<br /> +No. 15. "Romola"<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep310l" id="imagep310l"></a> +<a href="images/imagep310l.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep310l.jpg" width="45%" alt="DANGEROUS COLLEAGUES" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"DANGEROUS COLLEAGUES"<br /> +No. 16. "Romola"<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep310m" id="imagep310m"></a> +<a href="images/imagep310m.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep310m.jpg" width="75%" alt="MONNA BRIGIDA" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"MONNA BRIGIDA"<br /> +No. 17. "Romola"<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep310n" id="imagep310n"></a> +<a href="images/imagep310n.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep310n.jpg" width="48%" alt="BUT YOU WILL HELP" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"BUT YOU WILL HELP"<br /> +No. 18. "Romola"<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep310o" id="imagep310o"></a> +<a href="images/imagep310o.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep310o.jpg" width="75%" alt="DRIFTING" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"DRIFTING"<br /> +No. 20. "Romola"<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep310p" id="imagep310p"></a> +<a href="images/imagep310p.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep310p.jpg" width="75%" alt="WILL HIS EYES OPEN?" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen" style="margin-top: .2em;">"WILL HIS EYES OPEN?"<br /> +No. 21. "Romola"<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<div class="tr"> +<p class="cen"><a name="TN" id="TN"></a>Typographical errors corrected in text:</p> +<br /> +Page xviii: Spagniola replaced with Spagnola<br /> +Page 63: Middelburg replaced with Middelburgh<br /> +Page 69: antlered replaced with anthered<br /> +Page 136: Spagniola replaced with Spagnola<br /> +Page 160: Kuppelwiesser replaced with Kuppelwieser<br /> +Page 153: volorous replaced with valorous<br /> +Page 190: Sclosser replaced with Schlosser<br /> +Page 198: antlered replaced with anthered<br /> +Page 210: "magnificent intellectual capacity, and unerring and instantaneous +spring upon the point to unravel." replaced with "magnificent intellectual capacity, and an unerring and instantaneous +spring upon the point to unravel." (see "Reminiscences of G.F. Watts" by Mrs. Russell Barringtong, page 193.)<br /> +Page 226: Spagnolli replaced with Spagnola<br /> +Page 261: "bran new" replaced with "brand new"<br /> +Page 272: "He offers you £25 for if" replaced with "He offers you £25 for it"<br /> +Page 273: "your sincerely" replaced with "yours sincerely"<br /> +Page 291: Pigale replaced with Pigalle<br /> +<br /> + +Footnote 10: Sain-Damien replaced with Saint-Damien; l'envalussait replaced with l'envahissait; and, +remplet replaced with remplit<br /> +Footnote 36: Caranco replaced with Carcano (see Adelaide Sartoris' book "A Week in a French Country-House" page xxx.)<br /> + + + +<p class="noin">Note that the names I'Anson and Ffrench are legitimate surnames.</p> + +<p class="noin">Frankfort a/M. is the abbreviation for Frankfurt am Main, +(in English 'Frankfort on the Main') a city on the Main River, Germany.</p> +</div> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Life, Letters and Work of Frederic +Leighton, by Mrs. Russell Barrington + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE, LETTERS OF FREDERICK LEIGHTON *** + +***** This file should be named 35934-h.htm or 35934-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/9/3/35934/ + +Produced by Jeannie Howse, Jonathan Ingram and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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