"There is truly to be traced in the feeling of his art that 'seal on a man's work of what is most inward and peculiar in his moods'; the sign of individual intimate preferences and of the moving power which certain aspects of beauty have had upon the artist's innermost susceptibilities, though these may be somewhat veiled and distanced by being translated through the reserved form of a classic garb. Perhaps it is this reserve which invests Sir Frederic Leighton's art with the special aroma of poetry which Robert Browning found in it to a greater extent than in any other work of his time.[6]Whether in his larger compositions, in the complicated grouping of many figures, such as the Cimabue picture being led in procession through the streets of Florence, the 'Daphnephoria,' 'Heracles struggling with Death,' the 'Andromache,' the 'Cymon and Iphigenia,' and others; or those simpler compositions, such as the 'Summer Moon,' 'Wedded,' 'The Mountain Summit,' 'The Music Lesson,' 'Sister's Kiss,' in all can be traced the sentiment of a poet inspiring the touch; not overriding by any assertiveness of sentiment the complete scheme of the picture, but lingering here and there with a wistful loveliness which has to be sought for within the barriers of the formal classic design. And it is this reticence in the expression of individual sentiment, this subduing it to thelarger conditions of a more abstract style of art which, though it will never make Sir Frederic Leighton's work directly popular, gives to it a quality of distinction. In such reticence is an element of greatness which probably will only be duly appreciated when the more transient moods of thought in the present generation have passed. His work lacks altogether the sentimental, brooding-over-self quality, which, when allied to genius, is contagious, and gives an interest of a subtle, but perhaps not altogether wholesome kind to some of the best work of this era."
"There is truly to be traced in the feeling of his art that 'seal on a man's work of what is most inward and peculiar in his moods'; the sign of individual intimate preferences and of the moving power which certain aspects of beauty have had upon the artist's innermost susceptibilities, though these may be somewhat veiled and distanced by being translated through the reserved form of a classic garb. Perhaps it is this reserve which invests Sir Frederic Leighton's art with the special aroma of poetry which Robert Browning found in it to a greater extent than in any other work of his time.[6]Whether in his larger compositions, in the complicated grouping of many figures, such as the Cimabue picture being led in procession through the streets of Florence, the 'Daphnephoria,' 'Heracles struggling with Death,' the 'Andromache,' the 'Cymon and Iphigenia,' and others; or those simpler compositions, such as the 'Summer Moon,' 'Wedded,' 'The Mountain Summit,' 'The Music Lesson,' 'Sister's Kiss,' in all can be traced the sentiment of a poet inspiring the touch; not overriding by any assertiveness of sentiment the complete scheme of the picture, but lingering here and there with a wistful loveliness which has to be sought for within the barriers of the formal classic design. And it is this reticence in the expression of individual sentiment, this subduing it to thelarger conditions of a more abstract style of art which, though it will never make Sir Frederic Leighton's work directly popular, gives to it a quality of distinction. In such reticence is an element of greatness which probably will only be duly appreciated when the more transient moods of thought in the present generation have passed. His work lacks altogether the sentimental, brooding-over-self quality, which, when allied to genius, is contagious, and gives an interest of a subtle, but perhaps not altogether wholesome kind to some of the best work of this era."
And again after his death:—
"Beauty of every kind played on a very sensitive instrument, when it made an appeal to his nature, giving him very positive joy: no complication of subtle interest beyond the actual influence being required before a responding echo was sounded, because so pure and innocent was this joy he had in the charm of beauty;—so also attendant on his personal influence, there was no power of mesmerism, nor of the black arts. In every direction it was healthy and bracing. Even a Nordau could have discovered no remotest taint of the degenerate!"
"Beauty of every kind played on a very sensitive instrument, when it made an appeal to his nature, giving him very positive joy: no complication of subtle interest beyond the actual influence being required before a responding echo was sounded, because so pure and innocent was this joy he had in the charm of beauty;—so also attendant on his personal influence, there was no power of mesmerism, nor of the black arts. In every direction it was healthy and bracing. Even a Nordau could have discovered no remotest taint of the degenerate!"
It is the emotions which art suggests outside itself which have been viewed by one school as more interesting than art itself, and it is the sensuous qualities in painting—colour and texture—which are the visible agents, and convey more readily these suggestions of emotions in our northern temperaments than do beautiful lines and forms. Our northern temperaments also love symbolism and mysticism, therefore are apt to favour the art that meets a veiled condition of things; and the perfection of complete finish in nature's form is no longer held up as a standard for the student to aim at. Leighton had no sympathy with the artificial, neither had he any with the shadow put in the place of the substance. The actual was ever sufficient for him, for in nature herself he never failed to find sufficient inspiration. The mind of the Creator in matter is what the ingenuous artist temperamentsearches for and is inspired to record; whereas it is, on the one hand, phases of human moods, selections from human passions, good, bad, and indifferent, which are made to saturate the feeling in much of our modern art, or, on the other hand, aspects of nature's moods given without the framework of her structure, and without the detail of her perfection.
It may be argued, however, that there are among the most beautiful effects in nature those which are not fully distinct to the sight—the shimmering iridescence on a shell, where one colour is seen sparkling against another through a film, or the waving branches of a willow, the liquid shifting of a flowing stream, or the endless effects of cloud and mist in a northern sky. To express this in paint requires an appropriate treatment in the manipulation of the pigment itself. Watts' theory was that you have to unfinish the record of certain facts in order to render the truth of the whole fact (see also Steinle's criticism on Leighton's head of "Vincenzo," 1854). He would, therefore, film his painting over with a scumble of white, and only partially repaint the surface, in order to get at that whole truth which includes the bloom of atmosphere and the veil of northern mists. Leighton is thought at times to have erred on the side of explicitness, and the texture of his surface is apt undoubtedly to lack the vibrating quality which carries with it a beauty of its own. This is partly accounted for by the fact that he had imbibed the rudiments of his teaching in a school whose followers were not sensitive to the finest qualities in oil painting, but also probably from his extreme desire to give expression to his sense of the intense finish in nature.
Doctrinaires of the very latest fashion in art insist that nothing comes legitimately within the province of the pictorial, except the impression of nature transmitted to the physical organ detached from memory, experience, and mind. By this faction the eye is treated solely as a machine. Soundas may be the doctrine that art has nothing to do with what the eye cannot see, or with those facts which experience alone teaches us are there, it is also no less true that the human eye sees, according to its intuitive power of transmitting to the brain, the different component parts of the actual object of its vision. It was no knowledge of anatomy which enabled Pheidias to see every subtilty of form in the human figure with consummate insight—any more than it was a knowledge of the laws of the flow and ebb of the tides, which enabled Whistler to give an actual sense of the swaying surface of the waves in "Valparaiso Bay"; again, it was no knowledge of botany which enabled Leighton and Millais to reproduce the structure of plants so perfectly, that they evoked unmitigated admiration as botanical studies from so high an authority on botany as Sir W.C. Thistleton Dyer. We may be told that what we really see is only the relation of tone, of light and shadow; but the fact that the architecture of the whole visible world, the meaning-full construction of all things that nature builds, is being constantly realised by our sight, makes the truth of this theory at least doubtful. That our eye cannot discern these natural objects without light goes without saying; further, that light and shadow shape the forms to be rendered by the brush is also true: but the assertion that what we see is only light and shade playing upon form, is shutting the door on another equally obvious truth. The eye, gifted with a natural sense of form, records ingenuously to the brain the sense of projecting and receding planes, the foreshortening of masses, the straightness, slant, or curve in a surface or in a line. A complete and exhaustive result may be achieved in a painting through this sense of form, as in the work of Van Eycke and of Leonardo da Vinci; or a shorthand record may be made, as in that of Phil May's sketches. But we feel that in both the sense of the wholeform has been felt. However, volumes would not exhaust the arguments for and against the so-called impressionist's view of art; so-called—but surely a term unfortunate and misleading, and in nowise explanatory. Every touch a true artist ever puts upon canvas is a record of an impression—whether that impression comprises the structure, light and shade, true colour and tone, all combined,—or only certain surface qualities extracted from its entirety and enforced so that the most obvious appearances start into relief, giving doubtless a sense of vitality to a work, but remaining nevertheless only a partial record of the object. Needless to say, Leighton sought to record his impressions of nature in their entirety, and this necessitated a balancing of their component attributes. The startling element is never found in his art.
He viewed the influence of art as one which should perfect the life of every class; should purify in all directions the debasing elements of materialism and self-interest; should put zest and gratitude into the hearts of all men and women who can see and feel, by awakening a sense of the perfection and beauty of nature, art forming an explanatory and illuminating link between her and mankind—a translation of her perfection transmitted with all reverence by the artificer;—a perfecting beautiful pinnacle in the erection and development of a noble human being.
No words could better describe Leighton's high endeavour in training his own mind and those whom he tried to influence, than the following, written by Lord Acton and quoted by his friend, Sir M. Grant Duff.[7]"If I had the power," writes Sir M. Grant Duff, "I would place upon his monument the words which he wrote as a preface to a list of ninety-eight books he drew up, and about which he still hoped to read a paper at Cambridge when he wrote to me on the subject last autumn. 'This list is submitted with a view to assisting an Englishyouth, whose education is finished, who knows common things, and is not training for a profession, to perfect his mind and open windows in every direction; to raise him to the level of his age, so that he may know the forces that have made the world what it is, and still reign over it; to guard against surprises and against the constant sources of errors within; to supply him both with the strongest stimulants and the surest guides; to give force and fulness, and clearness and sincerity, independence and elevation, generosity and serenity to his mind, that he may know the method and lay of the process by which error is conquered and truth is won, discerning knowledge from probability and prejudice from belief; that he may learn to master what he rejects as fully as what he adopts; that he may understand the origin as well as the strength and vitality of systems, and the better motives of men who are wrong; to steel him against the charm of literary beauty and talent, so that each book, thoroughly taken in, shall be the beginning of a new life, and shall make a new man of him.'" In a like spirit Leighton sought to arrive at viewing art; and what Lord Acton sought to effect by the general culture of men's minds and natures through reading, Leighton sought to effect in his special vocation by inducing other artists to study all that was greatest in Art from a wide and unprejudiced point of view—making it their own, so to speak, by thoroughly realising and appreciating the qualities in it which make it great. Each true masterpiece in Art, he urged, should be thoroughly taken in, and should be the beginning of a new effort. On the other hand, he sought to make the student "learn to master what he rejects as fully as what he adopts, that he may understand the origin as well as the strength and vitality of systems, and the better motives of men who are wrong." His desire was to guide art into the current of the world's best interests—the current in which goodliterature is so forcible an agent—on the highest, broadest, most catholic lines. He endeavoured to do so by his example as a working artist, by his Discourses, by his labours for the public in every direction where the Art of his country was concerned, and more directly by his influence on those with whom he personally came in contact.
[1]This picture has, I believe, unfortunately left the country. It was suggested by a passage in the second Idyll of Theocritus: "And for her, then many other wild beasts were going in procession round about, and among them a lioness." Sketches for portions of the picture and the squared tracing for the complete design can be seen in the Leighton House Collection. The full-length portrait of Mrs. James Guthrie was exhibited the same year as this second processional picture, which appeared on the walls of the Academy eleven years after the "Cimabue's Madonna." The head of the central figure, the Bride, Leighton painted from Mrs. Guthrie. The following charming letter from Mrs. Norton, the most notable of Sheridan's three beautiful daughters, refers to this picture:—3 Chesterfield Street,April 9.Dear Mr. Leighton,—I was so amused by the little grandson's observation on the picture that I cannot help writing about him. I asked him "what he thought of it"? He said, "Oh! it wasbeautiful! but you told me it would be beautiful—Mr. Leightonwas like aman in a story! you did not look so much at him as Carlotta and I did, but I suppose you have seen him before, and you did not seem topity the little panther! There was, in the picture, a little youngpuppypanther, and one of the young brides was coaxing it so tenderly, and looking down at its head; and she was one of the prettiest and kindest looking of all the brides (it was the side of the picture furthest from the screen); and I could not help thinking, 'Ah, my poor little panther! you little know when the brides get into that temple, and she gets married, how she'll forget all about you, and get coaxing other things, her husband and her children'; and I felt quite sorry for the panther." So spoke my grandson (just as I felt sorry for the cripple beggar).Now, as I am quite sure no one else will take this view of what is the principal interest in your glorious procession of youth and hope, I thought it as well to let you know, that you might give that little panther his due importance (a little leopard, I think he is), and not suppose him a subordinate accessory! That whole procession was tinged with mournfulness in Richard Norton's eyes for that little leopard's sake. I shall see that "Dream of Fair Women" again in the Exhibition, and admire it, as I did to-day, in a crowd of other admirers, I know. I do not mind the crowd. I see over them and under them, and through them, when there is anything so worth being eager about.—Believe me meanwhile, yours very truly,Caroline Norton.
[1]This picture has, I believe, unfortunately left the country. It was suggested by a passage in the second Idyll of Theocritus: "And for her, then many other wild beasts were going in procession round about, and among them a lioness." Sketches for portions of the picture and the squared tracing for the complete design can be seen in the Leighton House Collection. The full-length portrait of Mrs. James Guthrie was exhibited the same year as this second processional picture, which appeared on the walls of the Academy eleven years after the "Cimabue's Madonna." The head of the central figure, the Bride, Leighton painted from Mrs. Guthrie. The following charming letter from Mrs. Norton, the most notable of Sheridan's three beautiful daughters, refers to this picture:—
3 Chesterfield Street,April 9.Dear Mr. Leighton,—I was so amused by the little grandson's observation on the picture that I cannot help writing about him. I asked him "what he thought of it"? He said, "Oh! it wasbeautiful! but you told me it would be beautiful—Mr. Leightonwas like aman in a story! you did not look so much at him as Carlotta and I did, but I suppose you have seen him before, and you did not seem topity the little panther! There was, in the picture, a little youngpuppypanther, and one of the young brides was coaxing it so tenderly, and looking down at its head; and she was one of the prettiest and kindest looking of all the brides (it was the side of the picture furthest from the screen); and I could not help thinking, 'Ah, my poor little panther! you little know when the brides get into that temple, and she gets married, how she'll forget all about you, and get coaxing other things, her husband and her children'; and I felt quite sorry for the panther." So spoke my grandson (just as I felt sorry for the cripple beggar).Now, as I am quite sure no one else will take this view of what is the principal interest in your glorious procession of youth and hope, I thought it as well to let you know, that you might give that little panther his due importance (a little leopard, I think he is), and not suppose him a subordinate accessory! That whole procession was tinged with mournfulness in Richard Norton's eyes for that little leopard's sake. I shall see that "Dream of Fair Women" again in the Exhibition, and admire it, as I did to-day, in a crowd of other admirers, I know. I do not mind the crowd. I see over them and under them, and through them, when there is anything so worth being eager about.—Believe me meanwhile, yours very truly,Caroline Norton.
3 Chesterfield Street,April 9.
Dear Mr. Leighton,—I was so amused by the little grandson's observation on the picture that I cannot help writing about him. I asked him "what he thought of it"? He said, "Oh! it wasbeautiful! but you told me it would be beautiful—Mr. Leightonwas like aman in a story! you did not look so much at him as Carlotta and I did, but I suppose you have seen him before, and you did not seem topity the little panther! There was, in the picture, a little youngpuppypanther, and one of the young brides was coaxing it so tenderly, and looking down at its head; and she was one of the prettiest and kindest looking of all the brides (it was the side of the picture furthest from the screen); and I could not help thinking, 'Ah, my poor little panther! you little know when the brides get into that temple, and she gets married, how she'll forget all about you, and get coaxing other things, her husband and her children'; and I felt quite sorry for the panther." So spoke my grandson (just as I felt sorry for the cripple beggar).
Now, as I am quite sure no one else will take this view of what is the principal interest in your glorious procession of youth and hope, I thought it as well to let you know, that you might give that little panther his due importance (a little leopard, I think he is), and not suppose him a subordinate accessory! That whole procession was tinged with mournfulness in Richard Norton's eyes for that little leopard's sake. I shall see that "Dream of Fair Women" again in the Exhibition, and admire it, as I did to-day, in a crowd of other admirers, I know. I do not mind the crowd. I see over them and under them, and through them, when there is anything so worth being eager about.—Believe me meanwhile, yours very truly,
Caroline Norton.
[2]In a letter from Leighton to his mother, the following sentence occurs:—"Will you please explain to him" (his father) "that I am not going to model thedraperyof my figures, but thefigures themselvesto lay the drapery on, as my models could not fly sufficiently long for me to draw them in the act; it is of course a very great delay, but the result will amply make up for the extra trouble, I hope."
[2]In a letter from Leighton to his mother, the following sentence occurs:—"Will you please explain to him" (his father) "that I am not going to model thedraperyof my figures, but thefigures themselvesto lay the drapery on, as my models could not fly sufficiently long for me to draw them in the act; it is of course a very great delay, but the result will amply make up for the extra trouble, I hope."
[3]The picture has left the country, but sketches of the complete design are among those in the Leighton House Collection.
[3]The picture has left the country, but sketches of the complete design are among those in the Leighton House Collection.
[4]Lent by Lady Wantage to the Exhibition, in Leighton House, of the smaller works and sketches in 1903.
[4]Lent by Lady Wantage to the Exhibition, in Leighton House, of the smaller works and sketches in 1903.
[5]Outlook, July 15th, 1905.
[5]Outlook, July 15th, 1905.
[6]When standing with me before Leighton's picture "Wedded" in the studio Robert Browning exclaimed, "I find a poetry in that man's work I can find in no other."
[6]When standing with me before Leighton's picture "Wedded" in the studio Robert Browning exclaimed, "I find a poetry in that man's work I can find in no other."
[7]"The Late Lord Acton."The Spectator, July 5, 1902.
[7]"The Late Lord Acton."The Spectator, July 5, 1902.
In 1858 Leighton was represented on the Royal Academy walls by two pictures, "The Fisherman and the Syren"—a subject from Goethe's ballad,
"Half drew she him,Half sunk he in,And never more was seen"—
"Half drew she him,Half sunk he in,And never more was seen"—
and by a scene from "Romeo and Juliet," both small canvases painted in Rome and in Paris.[8]
Leighton at this time received an encouraging letter from Robert Fleury, from whom he had learned much:—
Que parlez vous de reconnaissance, mon cher Monsieur Leighton? de l'amitié je le veux bien, et je reçois, à ce titre seulement, le dessin que vous m'avez envoyé. Ne me suis je pas fait plaisir en vous reconnaissant du talent et en vous rendant la justice qui vous est due? si vous m'avez donné l'occasion de vous faire part de ma vieille espérance n'est ce pas une preuve de l'estime que vous faites de mes conseils? Puisque vous m'offrez généreusement votre amitié, je l'accepte de bien bon cœur, et votre petit dessin me restera comme un gracieux souvenir de vous.Robert Fleury.Paris,le 18 Mars 1858.
Que parlez vous de reconnaissance, mon cher Monsieur Leighton? de l'amitié je le veux bien, et je reçois, à ce titre seulement, le dessin que vous m'avez envoyé. Ne me suis je pas fait plaisir en vous reconnaissant du talent et en vous rendant la justice qui vous est due? si vous m'avez donné l'occasion de vous faire part de ma vieille espérance n'est ce pas une preuve de l'estime que vous faites de mes conseils? Puisque vous m'offrez généreusement votre amitié, je l'accepte de bien bon cœur, et votre petit dessin me restera comme un gracieux souvenir de vous.
Robert Fleury.
Paris,le 18 Mars 1858.
In the autumn of 1858 Leighton was back in Rome, and it was at that time the King, then Prince of Wales, first visited his studio. "I myself had the advantage of knowing him (Leighton) 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," were the words spoken by the King—thirty-nine years after this first meeting—at the RoyalAcademy banquet, which took place after Leighton's death, 1st May 1897.
He worked in Rome till his pictures were finished for exhibition in the spring, 1859.
He wrote to his mother:—
It is my particular object and study to go to no parties, in the which I have succeeded admirably. I go often to Cartwright's in the evening, that don't count; now and then to Browning, now and then to the play, see a good deal of Lady Hoare; and that reminds me that Hoare sent you some game the other day, which, however, was returned, as you were not forthcoming. By-the-bye, when I say I have made no acquaintances of interest, that is not true; Odo Russell, son and brother of my friends, Lady William and Arthur Russell, and our diplomatic agent here, is a great friend of mine, and particularly sympathetic. I see him often at Cartwright's, who is hisalter ego; also I know and like Miss Ogle, who wrote that (I hear) exceedingly remarkable novel, "A Lost Love." She is a country clergyman's daughter in a remote corner of Yorkshire, and wrote this book when she had, I believe, never lived out of a circle of "kettles." She is not young, but agreeable and quaint.I am just finishing the largish studies of a very handsome model here, and am about to send them off for exhibition. They seem very popular with all who see them, and are, I think, my best things.
It is my particular object and study to go to no parties, in the which I have succeeded admirably. I go often to Cartwright's in the evening, that don't count; now and then to Browning, now and then to the play, see a good deal of Lady Hoare; and that reminds me that Hoare sent you some game the other day, which, however, was returned, as you were not forthcoming. By-the-bye, when I say I have made no acquaintances of interest, that is not true; Odo Russell, son and brother of my friends, Lady William and Arthur Russell, and our diplomatic agent here, is a great friend of mine, and particularly sympathetic. I see him often at Cartwright's, who is hisalter ego; also I know and like Miss Ogle, who wrote that (I hear) exceedingly remarkable novel, "A Lost Love." She is a country clergyman's daughter in a remote corner of Yorkshire, and wrote this book when she had, I believe, never lived out of a circle of "kettles." She is not young, but agreeable and quaint.
I am just finishing the largish studies of a very handsome model here, and am about to send them off for exhibition. They seem very popular with all who see them, and are, I think, my best things.
1859.Dearest Mammy,—I find to my annoyance that I have mislaid your kind letter, so that I must answer as best I can from memory.That the French and Austrians have been formally requested by the Pope to withdraw their troops from the States of the Church is, I have ascertained from good authority, true, though how on earth you can have known in Florence so long ago a thing which has only just happened, and which is still in great measure a secret here, is what I can't make out; but, dear Mamma, I trust this won't prevent your coming to Rome in April, as thereis no chance of the evacuation being carried into effect by that time. There will be particularly (indeed exclusively) on the side of Austria a great demur andpourparler, inasmuch as the consequences of this step will probably be most serious to her; so that for the next few months we need fear nothing. I trust you will come; however, of course I dread the responsibility of insisting too much. You will see how matters look in a few weeks. I am just about to despatch to the Royal Academy some studies from a very handsome model, "La Nanna." I have shown them to a good many people, artists and "Philistines," and they seem to be universally admired. Let us hope they will be well hung in the Exhibition. Talking of exhibitions, you will be rather amused to hear that my "Samson" has beenrefusedat the British Institution, which this year is particularly weak and insignificant. It is gone in to the Suffolk Street now, unless too late. Neither I nor anybody else has the least idea what is the cause of this strongish measure. I have sent my "Negroes" to Paris, and if it is not too late the "Juliet" and "Paris" will go there also. I think they will be well hung, as they are godfathered by Mr. Montfort, my kind and valuable friend. This afternoon the Prince of Wales came to my studio, with Colonel and Mrs. Bruce, Gibson, &c. &c. Gibson spoke in the very highest terms of my pictures, so of course all the others were delighted!
1859.
Dearest Mammy,—I find to my annoyance that I have mislaid your kind letter, so that I must answer as best I can from memory.
That the French and Austrians have been formally requested by the Pope to withdraw their troops from the States of the Church is, I have ascertained from good authority, true, though how on earth you can have known in Florence so long ago a thing which has only just happened, and which is still in great measure a secret here, is what I can't make out; but, dear Mamma, I trust this won't prevent your coming to Rome in April, as thereis no chance of the evacuation being carried into effect by that time. There will be particularly (indeed exclusively) on the side of Austria a great demur andpourparler, inasmuch as the consequences of this step will probably be most serious to her; so that for the next few months we need fear nothing. I trust you will come; however, of course I dread the responsibility of insisting too much. You will see how matters look in a few weeks. I am just about to despatch to the Royal Academy some studies from a very handsome model, "La Nanna." I have shown them to a good many people, artists and "Philistines," and they seem to be universally admired. Let us hope they will be well hung in the Exhibition. Talking of exhibitions, you will be rather amused to hear that my "Samson" has beenrefusedat the British Institution, which this year is particularly weak and insignificant. It is gone in to the Suffolk Street now, unless too late. Neither I nor anybody else has the least idea what is the cause of this strongish measure. I have sent my "Negroes" to Paris, and if it is not too late the "Juliet" and "Paris" will go there also. I think they will be well hung, as they are godfathered by Mr. Montfort, my kind and valuable friend. This afternoon the Prince of Wales came to my studio, with Colonel and Mrs. Bruce, Gibson, &c. &c. Gibson spoke in the very highest terms of my pictures, so of course all the others were delighted!
Tuesday Morning.I have not been able to answer your letter till now, and indeed even now I am interrupting my work to do it; I will answer all your questions categorically. First, about the brigands—I have made inquiries, and have heard of nothing new since these two cases about five weeks back, and am told that now the roads may be considered safe; indeed, no time is generally so good for travelling as just after an accident of that kind, as the authorities are on the look out: if you go byvetturino, there will in all probability be othervetturinion the road, and you will start together and arrive together from and to the different stations on the road. You quite misunderstood the sense of my letter, dear Mamma, if you imagined that I knew nothing of rumours of war, &c. &c.—so far from not knowing what is going on, I live in a hot-bed of politics, what with Cartwright and what with Odo Russell.I expressed my surprise that you should speak with confidence of the withdrawal of the French troops when the official news of the Pope'sformal requestto that effect could not yet have reached Florence, for the reason that it had not taken place; with the Florentine politicians the wish must have been father to the thought. What really will happen is impossible to say; they won't withdraw till the Austrians do—that is pretty certain; the French, I think, like to mislead people about it. A French general told a friend of mine that insix weeksthey would all be gone, butAntonelli, who ought to be the best authority, told Odo Russell they would not go for sixmonths, though the occupation has already ceased (as theMoniteurexpresses it) "en principe." You see, dear Mamma, that it is entirely impossible for me to give you anydefiniteinformation at a moment when nobody seems to know what is coming next. I should be very much disappointed if you could not come; if you settle to come, let me know in time to look for rooms at an Hôtel, and tell me what you expect to give. My work would not allow me to go to Florence. My pictures for the R.A. this year are three portraits in different sizes and attitudes from the same model, alldressed—one a small half-length, the other a kit-cat, the third a small head the size of my hand—this I have sold to Lady Hoare for forty guineas. It has been much coveted—Lady Stratford de Redcliffe wanted a repetition (I never do repetitions), and Mrs. Phipps seemed quite distressed it was sold. The Prince and his party told O. Russell they liked my studio better than any they had seen in Rome. My "Pan" and "Venus" are stowed away in London.
Tuesday Morning.
I have not been able to answer your letter till now, and indeed even now I am interrupting my work to do it; I will answer all your questions categorically. First, about the brigands—I have made inquiries, and have heard of nothing new since these two cases about five weeks back, and am told that now the roads may be considered safe; indeed, no time is generally so good for travelling as just after an accident of that kind, as the authorities are on the look out: if you go byvetturino, there will in all probability be othervetturinion the road, and you will start together and arrive together from and to the different stations on the road. You quite misunderstood the sense of my letter, dear Mamma, if you imagined that I knew nothing of rumours of war, &c. &c.—so far from not knowing what is going on, I live in a hot-bed of politics, what with Cartwright and what with Odo Russell.I expressed my surprise that you should speak with confidence of the withdrawal of the French troops when the official news of the Pope'sformal requestto that effect could not yet have reached Florence, for the reason that it had not taken place; with the Florentine politicians the wish must have been father to the thought. What really will happen is impossible to say; they won't withdraw till the Austrians do—that is pretty certain; the French, I think, like to mislead people about it. A French general told a friend of mine that insix weeksthey would all be gone, butAntonelli, who ought to be the best authority, told Odo Russell they would not go for sixmonths, though the occupation has already ceased (as theMoniteurexpresses it) "en principe." You see, dear Mamma, that it is entirely impossible for me to give you anydefiniteinformation at a moment when nobody seems to know what is coming next. I should be very much disappointed if you could not come; if you settle to come, let me know in time to look for rooms at an Hôtel, and tell me what you expect to give. My work would not allow me to go to Florence. My pictures for the R.A. this year are three portraits in different sizes and attitudes from the same model, alldressed—one a small half-length, the other a kit-cat, the third a small head the size of my hand—this I have sold to Lady Hoare for forty guineas. It has been much coveted—Lady Stratford de Redcliffe wanted a repetition (I never do repetitions), and Mrs. Phipps seemed quite distressed it was sold. The Prince and his party told O. Russell they liked my studio better than any they had seen in Rome. My "Pan" and "Venus" are stowed away in London.
Besides the three portraits of a model mentioned in his letter, exhibited at the Royal Academy, 1859, Leighton sent "Samson and Delilah" to Suffolk Street. For studies of this picture, see Leighton House Collection.
Later, from Naples, he wrote:—
Wednesday Morning, 1859.I scribble two lines in haste before starting to Capri to announce my safe arrival here in the middle of the day on Monday. I found here several letters from England; but, as Ihad presumed, that report about the sale of all my pictures was acanard. Lord Lansdowne wishes very much for a repetition of my small profile of Nanna, but as I refused to make one for Lady Stratford, I of course can't for him. George de Monbrison has very kindly consented to give up his Nanna to the Prince,[9]but is evidently sadly disappointed—so much so, that I have written to offer to do what I could not under any other circumstances,i.e.copy it for him.This place is in great beauty. I have been received with the greatest hospitality by the Hollands, with whom I have dined and supped both days.Yesterday I breakfasted with Augustus Craven,[10]who photographed me. He is a great adept at this art, and devotes much time to it. He has a most lovely house here, looking out on to the sea.I have nothing to add for the present, and I will write again from Capri.
Wednesday Morning, 1859.
I scribble two lines in haste before starting to Capri to announce my safe arrival here in the middle of the day on Monday. I found here several letters from England; but, as Ihad presumed, that report about the sale of all my pictures was acanard. Lord Lansdowne wishes very much for a repetition of my small profile of Nanna, but as I refused to make one for Lady Stratford, I of course can't for him. George de Monbrison has very kindly consented to give up his Nanna to the Prince,[9]but is evidently sadly disappointed—so much so, that I have written to offer to do what I could not under any other circumstances,i.e.copy it for him.
This place is in great beauty. I have been received with the greatest hospitality by the Hollands, with whom I have dined and supped both days.
Yesterday I breakfasted with Augustus Craven,[10]who photographed me. He is a great adept at this art, and devotes much time to it. He has a most lovely house here, looking out on to the sea.
I have nothing to add for the present, and I will write again from Capri.
This visit to Capri produced the famous drawing of the Lemon Tree.[11]Mr. Ruskin wrote: "Two perfect early drawings are of 'A Lemon Tree' and of a 'Byzantine Well'" (seeList of Illustrations), "which determine for you without appeal the question respecting necessity of delineation as the first skill of a painter. Of all our present masters, Sir Frederic Leighton delights most in softly-blended colours, and his ideal of beauty is more nearly that of Correggio than any since Correggio's time. But you see by what precision of terminal outline he at first restrained and exalted his gift of beautifulvaghezza." In letters to Leighton, Ruskin refers to these drawings:—
1860.Dear Leighton,—Unless I write again I shall hope to breakfast with you on Friday, and see and know evermore how a lemon differs from an orange leaf. In cases of doubtful temper, might the former more gracefully and appropriately be used for bridal chaplet?—Most truly yours,J. Ruskin.
1860.
Dear Leighton,—Unless I write again I shall hope to breakfast with you on Friday, and see and know evermore how a lemon differs from an orange leaf. In cases of doubtful temper, might the former more gracefully and appropriately be used for bridal chaplet?—Most truly yours,
J. Ruskin.
15th December 1882.Dear Leighton,—Of course I want the lemon-tree! but surely you didn't offer it me before? May I come on Tuesday afternoon for both? and I hope to bring "Golden Water," but I hear there's some confusion between the Academy and the Burlington Club. "Golden Water" is perhaps too small a drawing for the Academy—but you'll see.I wish the lecture on sculpture you gave that jury the other day had been to a larger audience, and I one of them.—Ever affectionately yours,J. Ruskin.
15th December 1882.
Dear Leighton,—Of course I want the lemon-tree! but surely you didn't offer it me before? May I come on Tuesday afternoon for both? and I hope to bring "Golden Water," but I hear there's some confusion between the Academy and the Burlington Club. "Golden Water" is perhaps too small a drawing for the Academy—but you'll see.
I wish the lecture on sculpture you gave that jury the other day had been to a larger audience, and I one of them.—Ever affectionately yours,
J. Ruskin.
17th November.Dear Leighton,—I brought up the "Byzantine Well,"[12]but was forced to trust my friend, John Simon, to bring it across the Park to you, and then forbid him till I wrote you this note, asking you to spare a moment to show him the "Damascus Glass and Arab Fountain." He is, as you know, a man of great eminence, with a weakness forpainting, which greatly hinders him in his science.—Ever your loving,J.R.I can't get lectures printed yet.
17th November.
Dear Leighton,—I brought up the "Byzantine Well,"[12]but was forced to trust my friend, John Simon, to bring it across the Park to you, and then forbid him till I wrote you this note, asking you to spare a moment to show him the "Damascus Glass and Arab Fountain." He is, as you know, a man of great eminence, with a weakness forpainting, which greatly hinders him in his science.—Ever your loving,
J.R.
I can't get lectures printed yet.
With reference to differences of opinion which had arisen between them on certain art questions, Ruskin wrote in 1879: "I expected so much help from you after those orange (lemon) trees of yours!" Later (1883) he wrote: "The Pre-Raphaelite schism, and most of all, Turner's death, broke my relations with the Royal Academy. I hope they may in future be kinder; its President (Leighton) has just sent me two lovely drawings (the 'Lemon Tree' and the 'Byzantine Well') for the Oxford Schools, and, Ithink, feels with me as to all the main principles of Art education."
After his visit to Capri Leighton returned to London. He stayed with Mr. Henry Greville, and while there wrote to his mother the following letters:—
19 Queen Street,Wednesday Morning, 1859.I have so far altered my plans that I stay on until Saturday morning instead of going to-morrow with Mrs. Sartoris as I had intended. I have still a call or two to make, and, besides, am going to dine to-morrow with Mario and spend the evening of Friday at Lord Lansdowne's, whose invitation I got though I had not called on him. I suppose that a card was sent me because my name was on the old list. I have since met him (at Henry's party), and he made himself very amiable, renewing the invitation by word of mouth. I have just been spending two or three days at Old Windsor with Miss Thackeray, who has been kindness itself as usual; the weather was divine, and we took exquisite drives. Chorley[13]also has been a kind friend to me; he took me twice to the Handel Festival, seating me, conveying me, breakfasting me, and, but that I was engaged, would have dined me. The Festival was, as you have no doubt read in the papers, most successful, the choruses, considering the enormous difficulty of training such masses of people (2000!) were excellent; the quantity of sound produced was, of course, enormous, still there was nodin, nothing stunning, only an exceedingly dense and close-textured quality of sound. The solo singers varied in excellence. Clara Novello shone by the quality of her voice, which carries any distance, and by the correctness of her singing, but to me she is entirely without charm, and left me as cold after the great song of the Nativity in the "Messiah" as if she had not sung at all. Miss Dolby sang well throughout; she wasremarkable for the excessive decorum and simplicity of her singing. She finishes a phrase with great breadth; her voice, to some people disagreeable, is to me verysimpatica, and she gave me altogether the greatest pleasure. Sims Reeves, whom but a few days back I heard sing so badly at Liverpool, astounded me here by the remarkable care and study he brought to bear on his solos. He sang in the "Messiah," beginning with "Behold and see if there be any sorrow," &c. He sang exquisitely; and in the "Israel" he sang "The enemy said" (a very ungrateful song) as well as possible. He was vociferously encored, and well deserved it. —— was simply abominable, without a redeeming point. ——, though less aggressively bad, was too insignificant to say much about at all. Of course, altogether, the solos, especially the more vigorous ones, were too weak for the choruses; that could not be otherwise short of having four pair of Lablache lungs. Costa led to perfection; it was a sight to see him.
19 Queen Street,Wednesday Morning, 1859.
I have so far altered my plans that I stay on until Saturday morning instead of going to-morrow with Mrs. Sartoris as I had intended. I have still a call or two to make, and, besides, am going to dine to-morrow with Mario and spend the evening of Friday at Lord Lansdowne's, whose invitation I got though I had not called on him. I suppose that a card was sent me because my name was on the old list. I have since met him (at Henry's party), and he made himself very amiable, renewing the invitation by word of mouth. I have just been spending two or three days at Old Windsor with Miss Thackeray, who has been kindness itself as usual; the weather was divine, and we took exquisite drives. Chorley[13]also has been a kind friend to me; he took me twice to the Handel Festival, seating me, conveying me, breakfasting me, and, but that I was engaged, would have dined me. The Festival was, as you have no doubt read in the papers, most successful, the choruses, considering the enormous difficulty of training such masses of people (2000!) were excellent; the quantity of sound produced was, of course, enormous, still there was nodin, nothing stunning, only an exceedingly dense and close-textured quality of sound. The solo singers varied in excellence. Clara Novello shone by the quality of her voice, which carries any distance, and by the correctness of her singing, but to me she is entirely without charm, and left me as cold after the great song of the Nativity in the "Messiah" as if she had not sung at all. Miss Dolby sang well throughout; she wasremarkable for the excessive decorum and simplicity of her singing. She finishes a phrase with great breadth; her voice, to some people disagreeable, is to me verysimpatica, and she gave me altogether the greatest pleasure. Sims Reeves, whom but a few days back I heard sing so badly at Liverpool, astounded me here by the remarkable care and study he brought to bear on his solos. He sang in the "Messiah," beginning with "Behold and see if there be any sorrow," &c. He sang exquisitely; and in the "Israel" he sang "The enemy said" (a very ungrateful song) as well as possible. He was vociferously encored, and well deserved it. —— was simply abominable, without a redeeming point. ——, though less aggressively bad, was too insignificant to say much about at all. Of course, altogether, the solos, especially the more vigorous ones, were too weak for the choruses; that could not be otherwise short of having four pair of Lablache lungs. Costa led to perfection; it was a sight to see him.
Friday,Paris.Dearest Mamma,—I write you a few lines just to announce my safe return to Paris. You have no doubt by this time got the box back again. Henry was, as always, very kind to me, and I spent three days very simply at his house. I had intended, when I left this, to stay only two days in London, but those days being Saturday and Sunday, I remembered that all the Galleries were shut, and therefore, being most anxious to see the new Veronese, I stayed over Monday. I was delighted with the pictures in the National Gallery and also at Marlborough House, but the annual exhibition at the British Institution isdeplorable. I have decided, on the advice of Buckner, Colnaghi, and others, to send my "Niggers" ("A Negro Dance"—water-colour—from sketch made in Algiers) to the Suffolk Street Exhibition (where I shall be well hung through Buckner's intervention)ifI get done in time: it will be a hard race, as the Exhibition opens a month sooner than the R.A.I reached home Tuesday evening at 10½ o'clock, after a good passage; I was, however, suffering from a shocking indigestion, and, to crown all, was kept awake till four in the morning by a ball immediately under my bed. Next morning I had to paint away at Gallatti (my model) willy nilly (particularly nilly),feeling seedy and frightfully cross. However, my "Gehazi" is now as near as possible finished, and to-morrow I go in for the "Niggers." I hope, dear Mamma, you will let me hear at once what Lina or Suth. write; I am most anxious to hear more.Good-bye, dear Mamma. Best love to all from your most affectionateFred.
Friday,Paris.
Dearest Mamma,—I write you a few lines just to announce my safe return to Paris. You have no doubt by this time got the box back again. Henry was, as always, very kind to me, and I spent three days very simply at his house. I had intended, when I left this, to stay only two days in London, but those days being Saturday and Sunday, I remembered that all the Galleries were shut, and therefore, being most anxious to see the new Veronese, I stayed over Monday. I was delighted with the pictures in the National Gallery and also at Marlborough House, but the annual exhibition at the British Institution isdeplorable. I have decided, on the advice of Buckner, Colnaghi, and others, to send my "Niggers" ("A Negro Dance"—water-colour—from sketch made in Algiers) to the Suffolk Street Exhibition (where I shall be well hung through Buckner's intervention)ifI get done in time: it will be a hard race, as the Exhibition opens a month sooner than the R.A.
I reached home Tuesday evening at 10½ o'clock, after a good passage; I was, however, suffering from a shocking indigestion, and, to crown all, was kept awake till four in the morning by a ball immediately under my bed. Next morning I had to paint away at Gallatti (my model) willy nilly (particularly nilly),feeling seedy and frightfully cross. However, my "Gehazi" is now as near as possible finished, and to-morrow I go in for the "Niggers." I hope, dear Mamma, you will let me hear at once what Lina or Suth. write; I am most anxious to hear more.
Good-bye, dear Mamma. Best love to all from your most affectionate
Fred.
Friday, 26th.I am happy to say I have just done my "Niggers," and though too late for the ordinary mode of conveyance on account of an accident in the papers, I am saved by the exceeding kindness of a secretary of the Sardinian Embassy, a great friend of mine; it will be taken over on Monday night by a messenger under the seals of the Embassy, and will just arrive in time. On Sunday I hope to show it to Monfort, Fleury, and Scheffer. I will let you know their verdict.From America I have good and bad news. The bad is that my "Pan" and "Venus" arenot being exhibited at allon account of their nudity, and are stowed away in a cupboard where F. Kemble with the most friendly and untiring perseverance contrived to discover them. This is a great nuisance. I have sent for them back at once; they know best whether or no it is advisable to exhibit such pictures in America, but they certainly should have let me know. I have written to Rossetti about it to-day, expressing my regret and desires, and have added "my pictures have been exposed to the wear and tear of several long journeysnot onlyentirely for no purpose, but, being shut out from the light, they are even suffering an injury; meanwhile I am neglecting the opportunity of showing and disposing of them in England, a possibility which I might willingly forego for the sake of supporting an enterprise in which I am interested, but not to adorn a hidden closet in the United States." Fanny Kemble was charmed with the pictures, went often and pluckily to the forbidden cupboard, and said she only wished she could afford to buy them.
Friday, 26th.
I am happy to say I have just done my "Niggers," and though too late for the ordinary mode of conveyance on account of an accident in the papers, I am saved by the exceeding kindness of a secretary of the Sardinian Embassy, a great friend of mine; it will be taken over on Monday night by a messenger under the seals of the Embassy, and will just arrive in time. On Sunday I hope to show it to Monfort, Fleury, and Scheffer. I will let you know their verdict.
From America I have good and bad news. The bad is that my "Pan" and "Venus" arenot being exhibited at allon account of their nudity, and are stowed away in a cupboard where F. Kemble with the most friendly and untiring perseverance contrived to discover them. This is a great nuisance. I have sent for them back at once; they know best whether or no it is advisable to exhibit such pictures in America, but they certainly should have let me know. I have written to Rossetti about it to-day, expressing my regret and desires, and have added "my pictures have been exposed to the wear and tear of several long journeysnot onlyentirely for no purpose, but, being shut out from the light, they are even suffering an injury; meanwhile I am neglecting the opportunity of showing and disposing of them in England, a possibility which I might willingly forego for the sake of supporting an enterprise in which I am interested, but not to adorn a hidden closet in the United States." Fanny Kemble was charmed with the pictures, went often and pluckily to the forbidden cupboard, and said she only wished she could afford to buy them.
Friday.Since I last wrote I have had a note from Rossetti, the Secretary of the American Exhibition, giving me a piece ofinformation about my "Romeo" which can't fail to gratify you. He said that, had my picture not been bought by Mr. Harrison, a public subscription would have been opened to procure it for the Academy of Arts at Philadelphia. Rossetti answers me (as indeed I did not doubt) that he had not the remotest notion of the fate of "Pan" and "Venus." He has written on my request to beg they may be sent back at once to Europe. By Henry Greville's urgent advice I have given notice that I shall send the "Orpheus," as they have applied for more pictures; things were selling so satisfactorily that there was scarcely anything left to exhibit in Boston. I am glad to be able to reassure you about the "Niggers." Sartorisdidlike them exceedingly even before they were anything like as good as they are now. Cartwright, who is notgénéto dislike, is enchanted with them, and says if they are not sold at once people are fools, for he has not for some time seen anything he likes so much. Puliza Ricardo and other "publics" like it extremely. Robert Fleury considered it highly original, and said that if he only saw one little head in it he would say, "c'est d'un coloriste." R. Fleury, you know, blames very roundly what he does not like. Montfort, my most candid adviser, was delighted, and said of a particular bit "je vous assure c'est tout à fait comme Decamps." This is unconditional praise. Again I consulted him about its chances of success in the gallery of water-colours. He said, "Comme aquarelleje vous promets qu'il n'y en a pas beaucoup qui font comme cela;"—about water colour beinginfra. dig., showing myself competent intwomaterials can only raise me. Poor Scheffer was unwell and could not come. You see, dear Mammy, you need not be so uneasy. I fully appreciate your and Papa's anxiety about my pictures; but it has too great a hold on you when it makes you think that I am entirely reckless and foolish, and that rather than give in I should tell a lie and say it was too late to withdraw a picture when it might still be done. Many thanks for the extract about Sutherland which, however, I had already seen, Henry Grev. having sent it me a week ago. My "Niggers" arrived in time by great luck. Buckner godfathers them.In haste with very best love, your affectionate boy,Fred.
Friday.
Since I last wrote I have had a note from Rossetti, the Secretary of the American Exhibition, giving me a piece ofinformation about my "Romeo" which can't fail to gratify you. He said that, had my picture not been bought by Mr. Harrison, a public subscription would have been opened to procure it for the Academy of Arts at Philadelphia. Rossetti answers me (as indeed I did not doubt) that he had not the remotest notion of the fate of "Pan" and "Venus." He has written on my request to beg they may be sent back at once to Europe. By Henry Greville's urgent advice I have given notice that I shall send the "Orpheus," as they have applied for more pictures; things were selling so satisfactorily that there was scarcely anything left to exhibit in Boston. I am glad to be able to reassure you about the "Niggers." Sartorisdidlike them exceedingly even before they were anything like as good as they are now. Cartwright, who is notgénéto dislike, is enchanted with them, and says if they are not sold at once people are fools, for he has not for some time seen anything he likes so much. Puliza Ricardo and other "publics" like it extremely. Robert Fleury considered it highly original, and said that if he only saw one little head in it he would say, "c'est d'un coloriste." R. Fleury, you know, blames very roundly what he does not like. Montfort, my most candid adviser, was delighted, and said of a particular bit "je vous assure c'est tout à fait comme Decamps." This is unconditional praise. Again I consulted him about its chances of success in the gallery of water-colours. He said, "Comme aquarelleje vous promets qu'il n'y en a pas beaucoup qui font comme cela;"—about water colour beinginfra. dig., showing myself competent intwomaterials can only raise me. Poor Scheffer was unwell and could not come. You see, dear Mammy, you need not be so uneasy. I fully appreciate your and Papa's anxiety about my pictures; but it has too great a hold on you when it makes you think that I am entirely reckless and foolish, and that rather than give in I should tell a lie and say it was too late to withdraw a picture when it might still be done. Many thanks for the extract about Sutherland which, however, I had already seen, Henry Grev. having sent it me a week ago. My "Niggers" arrived in time by great luck. Buckner godfathers them.
In haste with very best love, your affectionate boy,
Fred.
19 Queen Street, 1859.I have got, through the kindness of Elmore (R.A.), a sort of studio at the other end of the world; I believe I told you this in my last note; I suppose my things will come over in a week or less. I am in great doubt about being able to paint in that studio, and about its having been any use to come over to London without the possibility of a really goodlocale: however, here I am. I shall brush up my acquaintances and see a good deal of my friends. Don't reckon on mysellinganything—Idon't at all. My picture is hung so that it is virtuallyimpossibleto see it. I went to look at my "Niggers" in Suffolk Street, and am confirmed in the idea (that also of my friends) that it is my best work. I have as yet nothing worth writing about, so good-bye, dearest Mamma, best love to all.
19 Queen Street, 1859.
I have got, through the kindness of Elmore (R.A.), a sort of studio at the other end of the world; I believe I told you this in my last note; I suppose my things will come over in a week or less. I am in great doubt about being able to paint in that studio, and about its having been any use to come over to London without the possibility of a really goodlocale: however, here I am. I shall brush up my acquaintances and see a good deal of my friends. Don't reckon on mysellinganything—Idon't at all. My picture is hung so that it is virtuallyimpossibleto see it. I went to look at my "Niggers" in Suffolk Street, and am confirmed in the idea (that also of my friends) that it is my best work. I have as yet nothing worth writing about, so good-bye, dearest Mamma, best love to all.
2 Orme Square,Sunday, 1859.Having got on Monday last into my studio and been very busy ever since, this is absolutely the first moment I have found to sit down and write to you.You will wish to know some particulars about my studio. Of course after Paris and Rome it is a sad falling off—narrow and dark, though I believe, for London, very fair; when Ilivehere I must have a much larger light or I shall go blind—however, I must not look a gift horse in the mouth. I have had to furnish—this costs me about nine or ten shillings a week; I keep a servant (a stupid, pompous, verbose, dirty, willing, honest scrub) to run my errands and clean my brushes, &c. &c., at half-a-crown a day; models are five shillings a sitting here—ruination!—men with good heads there are none—women, tol-lol!—a lay figure, twenty-five shillings a month; in short, historical painting here is not for nothing; I am working at my "Samson" picture; God knows how I shall finish it in so short a time! Dearest Mammy, I shall have but a very short peep at you this year, I am very sorry to say—I lost a full month waiting for this wretched studio. I don't see my way through my work before the middle or even end of the second week in August, and I cannot well give up going to Scotland though only for a very few days, as I have accepted so long ago. I am to go thereon the 20th; after that I must rush back post-haste to Stourhead to finish Lady Hoare; all this will make me very late for Italy, as I am anxious to revisit the north of that country and study the Correggios a little at Parma before going south. I shall be obliged to scamper across the country. Imustbe in Rome or the neighbourhood in October; I am going to finish my Cervara landscape on the spot.I am in very fair health, London decidedly agrees with me, and I don't suffer as much as I expected from the obligato spleen of blue devildom. I need not say this is a source of immense congratulation to me.
2 Orme Square,Sunday, 1859.
Having got on Monday last into my studio and been very busy ever since, this is absolutely the first moment I have found to sit down and write to you.
You will wish to know some particulars about my studio. Of course after Paris and Rome it is a sad falling off—narrow and dark, though I believe, for London, very fair; when Ilivehere I must have a much larger light or I shall go blind—however, I must not look a gift horse in the mouth. I have had to furnish—this costs me about nine or ten shillings a week; I keep a servant (a stupid, pompous, verbose, dirty, willing, honest scrub) to run my errands and clean my brushes, &c. &c., at half-a-crown a day; models are five shillings a sitting here—ruination!—men with good heads there are none—women, tol-lol!—a lay figure, twenty-five shillings a month; in short, historical painting here is not for nothing; I am working at my "Samson" picture; God knows how I shall finish it in so short a time! Dearest Mammy, I shall have but a very short peep at you this year, I am very sorry to say—I lost a full month waiting for this wretched studio. I don't see my way through my work before the middle or even end of the second week in August, and I cannot well give up going to Scotland though only for a very few days, as I have accepted so long ago. I am to go thereon the 20th; after that I must rush back post-haste to Stourhead to finish Lady Hoare; all this will make me very late for Italy, as I am anxious to revisit the north of that country and study the Correggios a little at Parma before going south. I shall be obliged to scamper across the country. Imustbe in Rome or the neighbourhood in October; I am going to finish my Cervara landscape on the spot.
I am in very fair health, London decidedly agrees with me, and I don't suffer as much as I expected from the obligato spleen of blue devildom. I need not say this is a source of immense congratulation to me.
When the picture "Nanna" returned from the Royal Academy, where it was exhibited in 1859, Leighton sent it to Bath, writing to his mother to announce its arrival.
London, 1859.Dearest Mammy,—I scribble a word in haste to announce to you that I have sent "Nanna" off to Bath for you to see, she wants varnish very badly as you see, but is not dry enough for that yet. You must mind and put her in the right light, the window must be on the left of the spectator—the more to theleftof the picture you stand yourself the less you will see the want of varnish. If you stand to therightof the painting you won't see it at all. Please send "Nanna" back when you have shown to whom you wish, as she is overdue at Paris.
London, 1859.
Dearest Mammy,—I scribble a word in haste to announce to you that I have sent "Nanna" off to Bath for you to see, she wants varnish very badly as you see, but is not dry enough for that yet. You must mind and put her in the right light, the window must be on the left of the spectator—the more to theleftof the picture you stand yourself the less you will see the want of varnish. If you stand to therightof the painting you won't see it at all. Please send "Nanna" back when you have shown to whom you wish, as she is overdue at Paris.
Saturday Morning, 1859.I returned yesterday from the Highlands, and have at last time to write you a little word. My stay in the North has been most satisfactory, I have enjoyed myself thoroughly, and have felt particularly well in the keen bracing air of the mountains. My time has been spent exclusively in walks, rides, and drives, for the weather was great part of the time too uncertain to allow of sitting out to paint (even had there been time), whereas no amount of showers prevented our going out, and indeed to those showers I owe seeing some of the most superb effects of colour, light and shade, that I ever beheld. We used sometimes to have three or four duckingsin one ride, drying again in the sun, or not as the case might be, and never catching even the phantom of a cold, so healthy and invigorating is the breath of those healthy hills. I said I painted nothing and bring home an empty portfolio (all but a flower I drew oneverywet morning), but I have studied a great deal with my eyes and memory, and come back a better landscape painter than I went. On my road home, at Dunkeld, where I lingered a day (exquisite spot), I jotted down in oils two reminiscences of effects observed at Kinrara with which I am rather well pleased—one is a stormy Scandinavian bit of cloud and hill, the other a hot sunny expanse of golden corn and purple heather, which looks for all the world like a bit of Italy. Mind, they are the merest little sketches, but accurate in theimpression of the effect.I go on Monday morning to Stourhead, where I stay till Saturday, and start Monday week for the Continent. Please send me a line to Stourhead. How are you, darling? and Lina and Gus? and Papa? Have you had any more drives?—Your loving boy,Fred.
Saturday Morning, 1859.
I returned yesterday from the Highlands, and have at last time to write you a little word. My stay in the North has been most satisfactory, I have enjoyed myself thoroughly, and have felt particularly well in the keen bracing air of the mountains. My time has been spent exclusively in walks, rides, and drives, for the weather was great part of the time too uncertain to allow of sitting out to paint (even had there been time), whereas no amount of showers prevented our going out, and indeed to those showers I owe seeing some of the most superb effects of colour, light and shade, that I ever beheld. We used sometimes to have three or four duckingsin one ride, drying again in the sun, or not as the case might be, and never catching even the phantom of a cold, so healthy and invigorating is the breath of those healthy hills. I said I painted nothing and bring home an empty portfolio (all but a flower I drew oneverywet morning), but I have studied a great deal with my eyes and memory, and come back a better landscape painter than I went. On my road home, at Dunkeld, where I lingered a day (exquisite spot), I jotted down in oils two reminiscences of effects observed at Kinrara with which I am rather well pleased—one is a stormy Scandinavian bit of cloud and hill, the other a hot sunny expanse of golden corn and purple heather, which looks for all the world like a bit of Italy. Mind, they are the merest little sketches, but accurate in theimpression of the effect.
I go on Monday morning to Stourhead, where I stay till Saturday, and start Monday week for the Continent. Please send me a line to Stourhead. How are you, darling? and Lina and Gus? and Papa? Have you had any more drives?—Your loving boy,
Fred.
On returning to England Leighton took up his abode in his first studio in England. Hitherto he had paid visits to London,—Rome, and subsequently Paris, being his real home, for an artist's true home is in his studio. In the autumn of 1859 he settled in 2 Orme Square, and from that time to his death London became his headquarters.
After having settled into his studio in Orme Square in the winter of 1859, he wrote to Steinle and to Robert Browning the following letters:—
Translation.]2 Orme Square, Bayswater, London,December 5, 1859.My dear Friend and Master,—What a long time it is since I heard from you! my last letter, despatched from Rome, has had no answer.I enclose a photograph of a memorial tablet which I executedin Rome last winter for my poor widowed sister. The monument is of white marble with black mosaic decoration; the four dark circles are bronze nails, which secure the marble tablet to the wall.When I had finished work in Rome, I went south and spent five weeks in Capri. You would hardly believe, dear Friend, how this wonderful island delighted me. I made vigorous use of my visit and executed a fairly large number of conscientious studies. I also took the opportunity to visit Paestum for the first time. I may say that theTemple of Neptunegave me the most exalted architectonic impression that I have ever received; I shall never forget that morning. The two neighbouring temples, however, are not worth looking at, except from a painter's point of view.Meanwhile, the season being advanced, I was obliged, with real regret, to give up my plan of going to Frankfurt, and to hurry back to England. Here I am now permanently established. I confess that I did not pitch my tent here without some anxiety; I had not spenta single winterin England since my earliest childhood, and I had good reason to fear that to me, with my love of sunshine, it would prove a little harsh. I also feared the climate for my bodily health. However, "native air" appears to be not altogether an empty phrase, but I find myself, notwithstanding the fog, well and in good spirits. Man must indeed carry the sun in his heart—if he is to have it. Of work in particular, I have nothing much to say. Later, in the course of the winter, I will report more at length.Meanwhile, dear Master, write to me very soon. Tell me whether you still think of your pupil, and especially tell me about your certainly numerous works.—Your grateful pupil,Leighton.
Translation.]
2 Orme Square, Bayswater, London,December 5, 1859.
My dear Friend and Master,—What a long time it is since I heard from you! my last letter, despatched from Rome, has had no answer.
I enclose a photograph of a memorial tablet which I executedin Rome last winter for my poor widowed sister. The monument is of white marble with black mosaic decoration; the four dark circles are bronze nails, which secure the marble tablet to the wall.
When I had finished work in Rome, I went south and spent five weeks in Capri. You would hardly believe, dear Friend, how this wonderful island delighted me. I made vigorous use of my visit and executed a fairly large number of conscientious studies. I also took the opportunity to visit Paestum for the first time. I may say that theTemple of Neptunegave me the most exalted architectonic impression that I have ever received; I shall never forget that morning. The two neighbouring temples, however, are not worth looking at, except from a painter's point of view.
Meanwhile, the season being advanced, I was obliged, with real regret, to give up my plan of going to Frankfurt, and to hurry back to England. Here I am now permanently established. I confess that I did not pitch my tent here without some anxiety; I had not spenta single winterin England since my earliest childhood, and I had good reason to fear that to me, with my love of sunshine, it would prove a little harsh. I also feared the climate for my bodily health. However, "native air" appears to be not altogether an empty phrase, but I find myself, notwithstanding the fog, well and in good spirits. Man must indeed carry the sun in his heart—if he is to have it. Of work in particular, I have nothing much to say. Later, in the course of the winter, I will report more at length.
Meanwhile, dear Master, write to me very soon. Tell me whether you still think of your pupil, and especially tell me about your certainly numerous works.—Your grateful pupil,
Leighton.