Lenox, Berkshire, Massachusetts,Monday, March 12.Pictures of very high pretensions are exhibited, like the scenes in a theatre, by gas-light, and advertised in colouredpostersall over the streets like theatrical exhibitions. However, it is no use vexing your soul with what neither of us can help. I cannot and will not accept the responsibility of disposing of your pictures; but I willget the best advice I can about them and follow it, and spare no personal pains to have them advantageously dealt with; only, I hope it will not be very long before they arrive, because my own stay in Boston is now drawing to a close, and after the end of the present month I shall be at Lenox, a remote village in a lonely hill district one hundred miles from Boston, or rather I should say seven hours distant from the nearest railroad station, which is six miles away again from Lenox. When once I come here—for I write at this moment from this snowy wilderness—it will be to remain for the next nine or ten months, so you see I must make all arrangements about your pictures before taking my leave of civilised communities. I came up to this place from Boston yesterday to look at a house that I think of hiring for a year, and shall return to the city next week. I have left your pictures (should they arrive during my absence) to the charge of a friend of mine who is one of the directors of the Athenæum, and will see that they are properly received. Thank you a thousand times for the promised likeness of Westbury, which will be a treasure to me. What a contrast is my recollection of that charming place, to the abomination of desolation of the dreary savage winter landscape of low black hills, bristling with wintry woods and wide, bare, snow-covered valleys, that stretch before me here at this moment. I am well, but much worn out with my last course of public readings, which I had just ended in Boston. My daughters are well, and write to me tolerably frequently; the eldest seems happy and contented in her marriage; your small acquaintance, Fanny, writes to me from Savannah of sitting with the doors and windows wide open, and wiping the perspiration from her face in the meantime; and here everything is buried in snow. I shall wait till I return to Boston to finish this, as I shall hope to send you then news of the arrival of your pictures.
Lenox, Berkshire, Massachusetts,Monday, March 12.
Pictures of very high pretensions are exhibited, like the scenes in a theatre, by gas-light, and advertised in colouredpostersall over the streets like theatrical exhibitions. However, it is no use vexing your soul with what neither of us can help. I cannot and will not accept the responsibility of disposing of your pictures; but I willget the best advice I can about them and follow it, and spare no personal pains to have them advantageously dealt with; only, I hope it will not be very long before they arrive, because my own stay in Boston is now drawing to a close, and after the end of the present month I shall be at Lenox, a remote village in a lonely hill district one hundred miles from Boston, or rather I should say seven hours distant from the nearest railroad station, which is six miles away again from Lenox. When once I come here—for I write at this moment from this snowy wilderness—it will be to remain for the next nine or ten months, so you see I must make all arrangements about your pictures before taking my leave of civilised communities. I came up to this place from Boston yesterday to look at a house that I think of hiring for a year, and shall return to the city next week. I have left your pictures (should they arrive during my absence) to the charge of a friend of mine who is one of the directors of the Athenæum, and will see that they are properly received. Thank you a thousand times for the promised likeness of Westbury, which will be a treasure to me. What a contrast is my recollection of that charming place, to the abomination of desolation of the dreary savage winter landscape of low black hills, bristling with wintry woods and wide, bare, snow-covered valleys, that stretch before me here at this moment. I am well, but much worn out with my last course of public readings, which I had just ended in Boston. My daughters are well, and write to me tolerably frequently; the eldest seems happy and contented in her marriage; your small acquaintance, Fanny, writes to me from Savannah of sitting with the doors and windows wide open, and wiping the perspiration from her face in the meantime; and here everything is buried in snow. I shall wait till I return to Boston to finish this, as I shall hope to send you then news of the arrival of your pictures.
Wednesday, March 14.Your pictures are arrived, my dear Mr. Leighton; they reached Boston last week while I was absent at Lenox. I only returned yesterday evening, and found a letter from Mr. Cabot announcing that they were at the Athenæum; thither I went this morning, and spent a most delightful half-hour in looking at them. I like the"Samson" very much indeed; I think it is beautiful, and am charmed with the treatment of the subject, though you have chosen a different moment for illustration from the one I had imagined. This evening I have been having a long conversation with Mr. Ordway about the future destinations of the pictures. I am little sanguine, I regret to say, about their being bought here, for the only rich picture purchaser that I know here has a predilection for French works of art, smalltableaux de genre, and Troyon's landscapes. However, it must be tried. Mr. Ordway says he will exhibit your pictures in the Athenæum, which (should they be sold while there) will save you your commission, because, being an artist himself, he will not charge you any. If after due experiment they do not seem likely to sell here, we will send them to New York, and then to Philadelphia; in short, the best that can be done for them shall, as far as my agency is concerned, you may be sure.
Wednesday, March 14.
Your pictures are arrived, my dear Mr. Leighton; they reached Boston last week while I was absent at Lenox. I only returned yesterday evening, and found a letter from Mr. Cabot announcing that they were at the Athenæum; thither I went this morning, and spent a most delightful half-hour in looking at them. I like the"Samson" very much indeed; I think it is beautiful, and am charmed with the treatment of the subject, though you have chosen a different moment for illustration from the one I had imagined. This evening I have been having a long conversation with Mr. Ordway about the future destinations of the pictures. I am little sanguine, I regret to say, about their being bought here, for the only rich picture purchaser that I know here has a predilection for French works of art, smalltableaux de genre, and Troyon's landscapes. However, it must be tried. Mr. Ordway says he will exhibit your pictures in the Athenæum, which (should they be sold while there) will save you your commission, because, being an artist himself, he will not charge you any. If after due experiment they do not seem likely to sell here, we will send them to New York, and then to Philadelphia; in short, the best that can be done for them shall, as far as my agency is concerned, you may be sure.
Boston,Thursday, March 15.I have this moment received your letter of the 25th February, for which I thank you very much. It does not require any further answer with regard to your pictures, of the safe arrival of which I wrote you word last night. I did not tell you, by-the-bye, that they are both slightlystreakedacross from side to side with what Mr. Ordway thinks must have been small infiltrations of sea-water; he says the pictures are not injured by them, nor do they indeed appear to be so in the least, and that he can wipe off the stains with no damage whatever to them. Thank you for all you tell me of my sister; it is not much, indeed, nor very cheerful, but it is more than reaches me through any other channel, and far better than the miserable conjectures of absolute ignorance. Dear Mr. Leighton, thank you a thousand times for theportraitof Westbury—it is exactly what I wished for—but, oh, why could there not be the lovely upland beyond, and the sheep slowly rolling up and down the slopes, and the tinkle of the bell, and you and she and they and all of us. Oh dear, if you could conceive what it is to me to behere, you would know a thousand times better than I can tell you how precious such a memento ofthereis to me. Thank you, too, for the good inspiration of telling me about the change of place of the pictures at Westbury; it is wonderful how much one smallparticular has power to bring the whole of what surrounds it, back to the mind, and what vividness it gives to the picture that, in spite of the distinctness with which it was stamped upon the memory, becomes so soon, and yet so unconsciously, obliterated in the minor parts that give it charm and vitality. I spent a long hour to-day again looking at your pictures and wishing most heartily that I could afford to buy them both. Good-bye, dear Mr. Leighton; I shall leave this open till to-morrow, in case I should hear anything more about them before I go. I enclose the receipts for what I have paid. I suppose it is all right, but it seems a most monstrous price for mere conveyance, and indeed reminds us that our humorous forefathers calledstealing conveying.
Boston,Thursday, March 15.
I have this moment received your letter of the 25th February, for which I thank you very much. It does not require any further answer with regard to your pictures, of the safe arrival of which I wrote you word last night. I did not tell you, by-the-bye, that they are both slightlystreakedacross from side to side with what Mr. Ordway thinks must have been small infiltrations of sea-water; he says the pictures are not injured by them, nor do they indeed appear to be so in the least, and that he can wipe off the stains with no damage whatever to them. Thank you for all you tell me of my sister; it is not much, indeed, nor very cheerful, but it is more than reaches me through any other channel, and far better than the miserable conjectures of absolute ignorance. Dear Mr. Leighton, thank you a thousand times for theportraitof Westbury—it is exactly what I wished for—but, oh, why could there not be the lovely upland beyond, and the sheep slowly rolling up and down the slopes, and the tinkle of the bell, and you and she and they and all of us. Oh dear, if you could conceive what it is to me to behere, you would know a thousand times better than I can tell you how precious such a memento ofthereis to me. Thank you, too, for the good inspiration of telling me about the change of place of the pictures at Westbury; it is wonderful how much one smallparticular has power to bring the whole of what surrounds it, back to the mind, and what vividness it gives to the picture that, in spite of the distinctness with which it was stamped upon the memory, becomes so soon, and yet so unconsciously, obliterated in the minor parts that give it charm and vitality. I spent a long hour to-day again looking at your pictures and wishing most heartily that I could afford to buy them both. Good-bye, dear Mr. Leighton; I shall leave this open till to-morrow, in case I should hear anything more about them before I go. I enclose the receipts for what I have paid. I suppose it is all right, but it seems a most monstrous price for mere conveyance, and indeed reminds us that our humorous forefathers calledstealing conveying.
Lenox, Berkshire, Massachusetts,Friday, April 27.Your pictures are at present in the New York Exhibition. Mr. Ordway tells me that it is extremely rare for pictures to sell without the intervention of dealers. In this country they cry down and undervalue all pictures that are not expressly committed to them, and the ignorance of the rich shopkeepers who purchase works of Art, is so excessive that they do not feel safe in making any acquisition without the advice and permission of some charlatan of a dealer, to whom these wiseacres come saying (verbatim, so Mr. Ordway informed me), "I want some pictures; can't you recommend any to me?" and then, of course, the picture-dealer recommends what brings him the highest percentage; and the man who buys pictures exactly like looking-glasses, window-curtains, or any otherfurniturefor a new house, departs satisfied that he possesses a work of Art. The things that are bought and sold here in the shape of pictures, and the things that are said about them,vous feraient pouffer de rire, if you did not live in this country. If you did, they would be like many other proofs of the semi-civilisation of the people, that would be rather doleful than otherwise to you. Thank you for all you tell about my sister and her children. I feel very much both for my sister and Anne in their separation. I have just parted with my maid Marie, who has lived with me fifteen years, and who leaves me now because her health is so much broken down that her physician tellsher, she must go to some other climate or she will die. So she is gone, and here I remain absolutely alone, looking, not for the "wrath to come," but what may be supposed no bad instalment of it—the advent of four new servants with whom I am to begin housekeeping in my small cottage next week. Just before leaving Boston I saw Hetty Hosmer. She has come home to her poor old paralytic father, who, I suppose, is not likely to live very long. Whenever the event of his death happens, Hetty will gather up her substance, and depart hence for the rest of her natural or artistic life. She is very little changed in appearance, and only a little in manner. She seemed very glad to see me, and so was I to see her, for she represented to my memory a whole world of things and places and people that I am fond of. I have not seen Lord Lyon, and do not expect to do so, as I understand he does not mean to stir from Washington all the summer, and thither I shall assuredly not go, though I would go a good way to see him. I'm told he lives in dread of being married by some fair American, and it is not always a thing that a man can escape; but he is too good for that, and I trust will not succumb to these intrepid little flirts. Good-bye, dear Mr. Leighton; I have a settled nostalgia, which is the saddest thing in the world. Your sketch of Westbury is always before me, and your letters are the most kindly return you could possibly make, for any service that you could require of me. I wish with all my heart I might have the great pleasure of writing you, now that one of your pictures was sold.Addio.
Lenox, Berkshire, Massachusetts,Friday, April 27.
Your pictures are at present in the New York Exhibition. Mr. Ordway tells me that it is extremely rare for pictures to sell without the intervention of dealers. In this country they cry down and undervalue all pictures that are not expressly committed to them, and the ignorance of the rich shopkeepers who purchase works of Art, is so excessive that they do not feel safe in making any acquisition without the advice and permission of some charlatan of a dealer, to whom these wiseacres come saying (verbatim, so Mr. Ordway informed me), "I want some pictures; can't you recommend any to me?" and then, of course, the picture-dealer recommends what brings him the highest percentage; and the man who buys pictures exactly like looking-glasses, window-curtains, or any otherfurniturefor a new house, departs satisfied that he possesses a work of Art. The things that are bought and sold here in the shape of pictures, and the things that are said about them,vous feraient pouffer de rire, if you did not live in this country. If you did, they would be like many other proofs of the semi-civilisation of the people, that would be rather doleful than otherwise to you. Thank you for all you tell about my sister and her children. I feel very much both for my sister and Anne in their separation. I have just parted with my maid Marie, who has lived with me fifteen years, and who leaves me now because her health is so much broken down that her physician tellsher, she must go to some other climate or she will die. So she is gone, and here I remain absolutely alone, looking, not for the "wrath to come," but what may be supposed no bad instalment of it—the advent of four new servants with whom I am to begin housekeeping in my small cottage next week. Just before leaving Boston I saw Hetty Hosmer. She has come home to her poor old paralytic father, who, I suppose, is not likely to live very long. Whenever the event of his death happens, Hetty will gather up her substance, and depart hence for the rest of her natural or artistic life. She is very little changed in appearance, and only a little in manner. She seemed very glad to see me, and so was I to see her, for she represented to my memory a whole world of things and places and people that I am fond of. I have not seen Lord Lyon, and do not expect to do so, as I understand he does not mean to stir from Washington all the summer, and thither I shall assuredly not go, though I would go a good way to see him. I'm told he lives in dread of being married by some fair American, and it is not always a thing that a man can escape; but he is too good for that, and I trust will not succumb to these intrepid little flirts. Good-bye, dear Mr. Leighton; I have a settled nostalgia, which is the saddest thing in the world. Your sketch of Westbury is always before me, and your letters are the most kindly return you could possibly make, for any service that you could require of me. I wish with all my heart I might have the great pleasure of writing you, now that one of your pictures was sold.
Addio.
Lenox,Friday, June 7.Thank you, dear Frederic Leighton, for your letter and the photographs, by means of which, and your description, I have a sort of vision (not quite what the Yankees call a "realising sense") of your pictures. The girl at the fountain is charming,[20]the other beautiful and terrible, as it should be.[21]I can well imagine the beautiful effect the sentiment of the picture must receive from that regretful return, as it were, of the daylight that has set upon the poor people for ever. In the English newspapers that are sent to me I looked eagerly among the noticesof the Exhibition for your name, and read the meagre little bit allotted to each picture. I was especially delighted with the critic who thinks your "Paolo and Francesca" tooearthlyin the intensity of their passions. The gentleman apparently forgets that it was not in Heaven that Dante met these poor things. With regard to your other pictures, dear Mr. Leighton, I think you are right to withdraw them from America. I wish with all my heart that I could have presented myself with one of those pictures; however, that is one of the vainest of all human desires. My income is already docked of two hundred pounds this year by the disastrous state of public affairs; but, of course, if one is in the midst of a falling house, one can hardly hope to avoid bruises and broken bones. The attitude of England is highly unsatisfactory to the North, who now choose to consider the whole action of the Government a crusade against slavery—which it is not, and was not, and will not be except in the New England state where the Abolitionist party has always been strongest, and where the character of the people is more of the nature to make fighters for abstract principles. The Southerners hate the Yankees, andvice versâ, for this very reason; and if the crisis comes really to anything like fighting, the New England, especially the Massachusetts men, will probably fight very maliciously as against slaveholders, and the slaveholders against them as Abolitionists, whichtheynow are, pretty much to a man. A huge volunteer force is levying and being prepared for action; but in spite of the very unanimous feeling of the North and North-West, and the warlike attitude of the South, I shall not believe in anything deserving the name of war till I see it. The South is without resources that can avail for a six months' struggle. The North has a huge, unarmed, undisciplined force of men at its command; but the Southerners do not want to fight, and neither do the Northerners;butif any combination of circumstances (and of course matters cannot stand still, especially with the border states allau pied en l'air) should occasion any collision accompanied with considerable effusions of blood, I believe the North would pour itself upon the Southern States and annihilate the secessionist party. It is extremely difficult to foresee the probable course of events, but I believe eventually the Southern States will be obliged to return to their allegiance,andthenI believe the North will, once for all, legislate for the future limiting of the curse of slavery to those states where itnowexists, and where, of course, under such circumstances, it would very soon cease to exist, as if it cannot extend itself it must die. In one sense slavery is undoubtedly the cause of the present disastrous crisis—and in the profoundest sense, for the character of the Southerners is the immediate result of these infernal "institutions"; and but for Southern slavery Southern "Chivalry," that arrogant, insolent, ignorant, ferocious and lawless race of men, would never have existed.Oh, how thankful I shall be to be at home once more! Farewell, dear Mr. Leighton; pray, if there is anything special to be done about your pictures, write to me and let me have the pleasure of doing something for you. Oh, I am so enraged that I could not get them sold; and yet though you may not think it, I should have thought it a pity for them to have to live the rest of their lives here. Thank you again for the photographs; I look at them constantly. Allsuch thingsare like being lifted into another atmosphere from that which surrounds and stifles one here. Believe me always your obliged and sincere friend,Fanny Kemble.Emil Devrient's was the best Hamlet I ever saw. It would not have been if my father's had not been too smooth and harmonious. I hope I shall see Fechter's.
Lenox,Friday, June 7.
Thank you, dear Frederic Leighton, for your letter and the photographs, by means of which, and your description, I have a sort of vision (not quite what the Yankees call a "realising sense") of your pictures. The girl at the fountain is charming,[20]the other beautiful and terrible, as it should be.[21]I can well imagine the beautiful effect the sentiment of the picture must receive from that regretful return, as it were, of the daylight that has set upon the poor people for ever. In the English newspapers that are sent to me I looked eagerly among the noticesof the Exhibition for your name, and read the meagre little bit allotted to each picture. I was especially delighted with the critic who thinks your "Paolo and Francesca" tooearthlyin the intensity of their passions. The gentleman apparently forgets that it was not in Heaven that Dante met these poor things. With regard to your other pictures, dear Mr. Leighton, I think you are right to withdraw them from America. I wish with all my heart that I could have presented myself with one of those pictures; however, that is one of the vainest of all human desires. My income is already docked of two hundred pounds this year by the disastrous state of public affairs; but, of course, if one is in the midst of a falling house, one can hardly hope to avoid bruises and broken bones. The attitude of England is highly unsatisfactory to the North, who now choose to consider the whole action of the Government a crusade against slavery—which it is not, and was not, and will not be except in the New England state where the Abolitionist party has always been strongest, and where the character of the people is more of the nature to make fighters for abstract principles. The Southerners hate the Yankees, andvice versâ, for this very reason; and if the crisis comes really to anything like fighting, the New England, especially the Massachusetts men, will probably fight very maliciously as against slaveholders, and the slaveholders against them as Abolitionists, whichtheynow are, pretty much to a man. A huge volunteer force is levying and being prepared for action; but in spite of the very unanimous feeling of the North and North-West, and the warlike attitude of the South, I shall not believe in anything deserving the name of war till I see it. The South is without resources that can avail for a six months' struggle. The North has a huge, unarmed, undisciplined force of men at its command; but the Southerners do not want to fight, and neither do the Northerners;butif any combination of circumstances (and of course matters cannot stand still, especially with the border states allau pied en l'air) should occasion any collision accompanied with considerable effusions of blood, I believe the North would pour itself upon the Southern States and annihilate the secessionist party. It is extremely difficult to foresee the probable course of events, but I believe eventually the Southern States will be obliged to return to their allegiance,andthenI believe the North will, once for all, legislate for the future limiting of the curse of slavery to those states where itnowexists, and where, of course, under such circumstances, it would very soon cease to exist, as if it cannot extend itself it must die. In one sense slavery is undoubtedly the cause of the present disastrous crisis—and in the profoundest sense, for the character of the Southerners is the immediate result of these infernal "institutions"; and but for Southern slavery Southern "Chivalry," that arrogant, insolent, ignorant, ferocious and lawless race of men, would never have existed.
Oh, how thankful I shall be to be at home once more! Farewell, dear Mr. Leighton; pray, if there is anything special to be done about your pictures, write to me and let me have the pleasure of doing something for you. Oh, I am so enraged that I could not get them sold; and yet though you may not think it, I should have thought it a pity for them to have to live the rest of their lives here. Thank you again for the photographs; I look at them constantly. Allsuch thingsare like being lifted into another atmosphere from that which surrounds and stifles one here. Believe me always your obliged and sincere friend,
Fanny Kemble.
Emil Devrient's was the best Hamlet I ever saw. It would not have been if my father's had not been too smooth and harmonious. I hope I shall see Fechter's.
Lenox,Thursday, October 11.How good an inspiration it was that made you send that beautiful photograph to me! It came to me really like a special providence, on the day when I had parted from my children for an indefinite time, and with more than usual sadness and anxiety; for my eldest child's health has failed completely since her confinement, and she came to me for a visit of ten days only, looking like the doomed, wan image of some woman whose enemies were wasting her by witchcraft. My small comfortless home was intolerably lonely to me, and towards sunset I went out to find some fortitude under the open sky. I wandered into a copse of beech trees that clothe the steep sides of a miniature ravine with a brook at the bottom, and here gathered a handful of the beautifulblue fringed gentian (do you know that exquisite flower that grows wild in the woods here?). The little glen with its clusters of mysterious blue blossoms was all but dark, but, emerging from it, I stood where I saw a wide valley flooded with the evening light, and hills beyond rising in waves of amber and smoke colour and dark purple; it was so beautiful that it cannot be imagined. The autumn has turned all the trees into gold and jewels, like the enchanted growth of fairy-land, and the whole world, as I saw it from the entrance of that shadowy dell, looked as if it was made of precious metals and precious stones. I was very sad, and stood thinking of our Saviour and the widow of Nain, and how pitiful He was to sorrowful human creatures, and with some sparks of comfort in my heart I returned home, where I found your letter waiting for me. I have told you all this of my previous state of mind and feeling, because—without knowing that—you could not conceive how like an express message of consolation your work appeared to me. May it be blessed to many hearts for admonition and for consolation as it was to mine, dear Mr. Leighton. It is no wonder that it seemed to me beautiful, and I do not think I shall ever sufficiently disconnect it with this first impression, to be able to judge of its merit as a work of art; it was, as I said before, a special Providence to me. I long to have it framed and hung where I can see it constantly. I have within the last few days moved into a house which I have hired for the next two years. It is all but in the village of Lenox, and yet so situated that it commands from the windows of every room a most beautiful prospect. The whole landscape is a harmonious confusion of small valleys and hills, rolling and falling within and around and beyond each other, like folds of rich and majestic drapery. Oh, what lights and shadows roam and rest over these hill-sides and in the hollows between them! The country is very thickly wooded, and the woods are literally of every colour in the rainbow, all mixed together under a sky, the peculiar characteristic of which is not so much softness or brightness, as a transparent purity that seems as if there wasnoatmosphere betwixt oneself and the various objects one sees. I expect this would make it difficult to paint these beautiful aspects of nature here; but, oh, how Idowishyou could see it, for, in the matter of American autumnal colouring, seeing alone is believing. The house itself is very tolerably comfortable, but hideous to behold both within and without; and I have begun my residence in it under rather depressing circumstances,i.e.withoutbeing ableto obtain the necessary servants for the decent comfort of my daily existence. Ever since the beginning of May I have been endeavouring, in vain, to procure and keep together a decent household. Not for onesingle weekhave I had my proper complement of people in the house, and I have done every species of house-work myself, from cleaning the cellar and kitchen to washing the tea-cups; it is a state of things as incredible as the colour of the autumn woods, and as peculiar, thank God, to America. I am now making my last experiment by trying coloured servants. Their manners and deportment are generally much better than those of either the Irish or American, and they seem capable of personal attachment to their employers, which neither of the other races are. The incessant worry, discomfort, and positive fatigue that I have undergone during the whole summer has completely shaken my nerves, so that I have been in a sort of hysterical condition of constant weeping for some time past. I trust, however, it will not be so wretched now, for I am at any rate close to the village inn, and if I am left without servants, can go there and get some food; it is a state of existencequ'on ne s'imagine pas. You will not wonder, after all this, to hear that I declined a ticket to the Prince's ball at New York, to which the whole population of the United States are struggling to get admittance; but at the best of times "I am not gamesome," and feel as if I had swept my own rooms quite too recently to be fit company for my Queen's son. Thank you, dear Mr. Leighton, for all you tell me about my sister and the children; she never writes, you know, and so I am thirsty all the time for some tidings of her. It is very sad to be so far away and hear so seldom from those one loves. Good-bye, God bless you; and thank you once more for the "Vision." I am sorry I cannot tell you of the sale of either of your pictures; they are in the Boston Athenæum, very safe, and highly ornamental to it, but not, I regret to say, sold. If you wish me to do anything more about them, you must write meyour directions, which I will fulfil with every attention and accuracy of which I am capable.
Lenox,Thursday, October 11.
How good an inspiration it was that made you send that beautiful photograph to me! It came to me really like a special providence, on the day when I had parted from my children for an indefinite time, and with more than usual sadness and anxiety; for my eldest child's health has failed completely since her confinement, and she came to me for a visit of ten days only, looking like the doomed, wan image of some woman whose enemies were wasting her by witchcraft. My small comfortless home was intolerably lonely to me, and towards sunset I went out to find some fortitude under the open sky. I wandered into a copse of beech trees that clothe the steep sides of a miniature ravine with a brook at the bottom, and here gathered a handful of the beautifulblue fringed gentian (do you know that exquisite flower that grows wild in the woods here?). The little glen with its clusters of mysterious blue blossoms was all but dark, but, emerging from it, I stood where I saw a wide valley flooded with the evening light, and hills beyond rising in waves of amber and smoke colour and dark purple; it was so beautiful that it cannot be imagined. The autumn has turned all the trees into gold and jewels, like the enchanted growth of fairy-land, and the whole world, as I saw it from the entrance of that shadowy dell, looked as if it was made of precious metals and precious stones. I was very sad, and stood thinking of our Saviour and the widow of Nain, and how pitiful He was to sorrowful human creatures, and with some sparks of comfort in my heart I returned home, where I found your letter waiting for me. I have told you all this of my previous state of mind and feeling, because—without knowing that—you could not conceive how like an express message of consolation your work appeared to me. May it be blessed to many hearts for admonition and for consolation as it was to mine, dear Mr. Leighton. It is no wonder that it seemed to me beautiful, and I do not think I shall ever sufficiently disconnect it with this first impression, to be able to judge of its merit as a work of art; it was, as I said before, a special Providence to me. I long to have it framed and hung where I can see it constantly. I have within the last few days moved into a house which I have hired for the next two years. It is all but in the village of Lenox, and yet so situated that it commands from the windows of every room a most beautiful prospect. The whole landscape is a harmonious confusion of small valleys and hills, rolling and falling within and around and beyond each other, like folds of rich and majestic drapery. Oh, what lights and shadows roam and rest over these hill-sides and in the hollows between them! The country is very thickly wooded, and the woods are literally of every colour in the rainbow, all mixed together under a sky, the peculiar characteristic of which is not so much softness or brightness, as a transparent purity that seems as if there wasnoatmosphere betwixt oneself and the various objects one sees. I expect this would make it difficult to paint these beautiful aspects of nature here; but, oh, how Idowishyou could see it, for, in the matter of American autumnal colouring, seeing alone is believing. The house itself is very tolerably comfortable, but hideous to behold both within and without; and I have begun my residence in it under rather depressing circumstances,i.e.withoutbeing ableto obtain the necessary servants for the decent comfort of my daily existence. Ever since the beginning of May I have been endeavouring, in vain, to procure and keep together a decent household. Not for onesingle weekhave I had my proper complement of people in the house, and I have done every species of house-work myself, from cleaning the cellar and kitchen to washing the tea-cups; it is a state of things as incredible as the colour of the autumn woods, and as peculiar, thank God, to America. I am now making my last experiment by trying coloured servants. Their manners and deportment are generally much better than those of either the Irish or American, and they seem capable of personal attachment to their employers, which neither of the other races are. The incessant worry, discomfort, and positive fatigue that I have undergone during the whole summer has completely shaken my nerves, so that I have been in a sort of hysterical condition of constant weeping for some time past. I trust, however, it will not be so wretched now, for I am at any rate close to the village inn, and if I am left without servants, can go there and get some food; it is a state of existencequ'on ne s'imagine pas. You will not wonder, after all this, to hear that I declined a ticket to the Prince's ball at New York, to which the whole population of the United States are struggling to get admittance; but at the best of times "I am not gamesome," and feel as if I had swept my own rooms quite too recently to be fit company for my Queen's son. Thank you, dear Mr. Leighton, for all you tell me about my sister and the children; she never writes, you know, and so I am thirsty all the time for some tidings of her. It is very sad to be so far away and hear so seldom from those one loves. Good-bye, God bless you; and thank you once more for the "Vision." I am sorry I cannot tell you of the sale of either of your pictures; they are in the Boston Athenæum, very safe, and highly ornamental to it, but not, I regret to say, sold. If you wish me to do anything more about them, you must write meyour directions, which I will fulfil with every attention and accuracy of which I am capable.
Lenox,Sunday, November 11.I trust before long you will receive your children safe and sound. I wish the two hundred pounds I have lost this year had been invested in one of those pictures instead of in St. Louis. Thank you for your account of Adelaide and her children; it is not much, but it is all that much better than nothing. The state of the country is very sad, and any probable termination of the war quite out of calculable distance. England, no doubt, will maintain her absolute neutrality in spite of secession, cotton, and anti-slavery sympathies; it is her only part. Good-bye, dear Mr. Leighton.I beg you will not scruple to write me now if there is anything more that I can do, either in the matter of the pictures or any other by which I can be of use to you here.
Lenox,Sunday, November 11.
I trust before long you will receive your children safe and sound. I wish the two hundred pounds I have lost this year had been invested in one of those pictures instead of in St. Louis. Thank you for your account of Adelaide and her children; it is not much, but it is all that much better than nothing. The state of the country is very sad, and any probable termination of the war quite out of calculable distance. England, no doubt, will maintain her absolute neutrality in spite of secession, cotton, and anti-slavery sympathies; it is her only part. Good-bye, dear Mr. Leighton.
I beg you will not scruple to write me now if there is anything more that I can do, either in the matter of the pictures or any other by which I can be of use to you here.
New York,Sunday, March 10.I am sure you have not forgotten the charming farmhouse at West Mion, to which you and your sketch-book were the means of introducing us, —— farm: well, his brother is one of the richest shopkeepers in New York—and, upon the strength of my visit to the paternal acres in Hampshire, his wife, a funny little specimen of vivacious vulgarity, called upon me, and I, of course, upon her. I was shown into a drawing-room at least thirty feet long, with two massive white marble chimney-pieces, green silk brocade curtains and furniture to match, magnificent carpets, mirrors, gildings, hideousworksin marble on scagliola pillars—in short, the most marvellous palace of shopkeepers'beaux ideauxthat you can conceive; through this to a beautifully fitted-up library; through this to a picture gallery, nobleseigneur,pensez y bien! Oh, my dear Frederic Leighton, it was enough to make one fall down and foam at the mouth, to see such a hideous collection of daubs and to think of the money hanging on those walls; and then I thought of your pictures, and why the wretched man couldn't have procured them for some of his foolish money; and then I begged yourpardon internally for the desecration of imagining your pictures in such company; and then I gazed amusedly about me, and at length gave tongue: "Mr. ——," said I, "this is a vastly different residence from the old homestead in Hampshire." The worthy man could not see in my heart which way the balance of preference inclined, and answered with benignant self-satisfaction: "Ah, well, you see, ma'am, they've been going on there for the last I don't know how many hundred years, just about in the same social position; they haven't a notion of the rapidity of our progress here." I hate to advise you to have your pictures back, for there really does seem to me to be agreedy desire for pictures(I cannot qualify in any other way the taste which covets and buys such things) here; but I suppose pictures, at any rate, must be what these people want, and will not buy dear and good ones, when cheap and nasty do as well. I think, while I am here in New York, I shall take the liberty of making some further inquiry as to whether the great print and picture seller here does not think they could be seen to selling advantage in his shop; in short, it throws me into a melancholy rage to think what pictures are bought while yours are not. The state of this country is curious—strange and deplorable beyond precedent in history, it seems to me; and it is absolutelyimpossibleto foresee to what issue things are tending. The opinions one hears are all coloured by the particular bias of the speaker, and the confusion is so great in the general excitement of sectional partisanship that even one of the members—and a very influential one—of the peace convention sent to Washington for the purpose of proposing terms of conciliation—which should not, however, compromise the Northern principles—said that nothing had been done, that all was "sound and fury, and signifying nothing"—or if anything at present, the confirmed secession of the Southern, the disruption from the North of the Northern slave States, and, not impossibly, civil war. Of course, the more time elapses in palavering before the first fatal blow is struck, the less probability there is of its being struck at all; but, on the other hand, the longer the present state of things continues, the more accustomed people become to the idea of the dismemberment of the Union, andtherefore, though the clangour of an appeal to arms diminishes, so I think does the prospect of anything like "making up" the family quarrel—indeed, if it were patched, and soldered to the very best, I do not believe that it will ever "hold water again"; but it is impossible to foresee from day to day what may be the turn of events.If I live till a year from this summer I will be in England in July, and if I live till the November after that I will be in Rome, and you and Edward and Adelaide have my full permission to come too.Good-bye, dear Mr. Leighton. Your letters are a great comfort as well as pleasure to me; I am extremely obliged to you for them.I showed my daughter the photograph of your "Vision," and she was enchanted with it. She has not a cultivated or educated taste in matters of art—this country affords no means for such a thing—but she is a person of very fine natural perceptions and great imagination and sensibility, and she was so charmed with it that I hope you will not think it foolish or impertinent in me to tell you of it.The last political news I have is that the border or Northern slave States will probably not join the cotton states, in which case the latter will, of hard necessity, very soon be compelled to abandon their absurd and infinitely perilous position; but one does not see the end of it all, for if theydocome back into the Union, it will be under a burning sense of humiliation which will hardly facilitate their future intercourse with the North, for humiliation and humility are difficult things, and the cotton Lucifer under coercion will not be a pleasant devil to deal with.
New York,Sunday, March 10.
I am sure you have not forgotten the charming farmhouse at West Mion, to which you and your sketch-book were the means of introducing us, —— farm: well, his brother is one of the richest shopkeepers in New York—and, upon the strength of my visit to the paternal acres in Hampshire, his wife, a funny little specimen of vivacious vulgarity, called upon me, and I, of course, upon her. I was shown into a drawing-room at least thirty feet long, with two massive white marble chimney-pieces, green silk brocade curtains and furniture to match, magnificent carpets, mirrors, gildings, hideousworksin marble on scagliola pillars—in short, the most marvellous palace of shopkeepers'beaux ideauxthat you can conceive; through this to a beautifully fitted-up library; through this to a picture gallery, nobleseigneur,pensez y bien! Oh, my dear Frederic Leighton, it was enough to make one fall down and foam at the mouth, to see such a hideous collection of daubs and to think of the money hanging on those walls; and then I thought of your pictures, and why the wretched man couldn't have procured them for some of his foolish money; and then I begged yourpardon internally for the desecration of imagining your pictures in such company; and then I gazed amusedly about me, and at length gave tongue: "Mr. ——," said I, "this is a vastly different residence from the old homestead in Hampshire." The worthy man could not see in my heart which way the balance of preference inclined, and answered with benignant self-satisfaction: "Ah, well, you see, ma'am, they've been going on there for the last I don't know how many hundred years, just about in the same social position; they haven't a notion of the rapidity of our progress here." I hate to advise you to have your pictures back, for there really does seem to me to be agreedy desire for pictures(I cannot qualify in any other way the taste which covets and buys such things) here; but I suppose pictures, at any rate, must be what these people want, and will not buy dear and good ones, when cheap and nasty do as well. I think, while I am here in New York, I shall take the liberty of making some further inquiry as to whether the great print and picture seller here does not think they could be seen to selling advantage in his shop; in short, it throws me into a melancholy rage to think what pictures are bought while yours are not. The state of this country is curious—strange and deplorable beyond precedent in history, it seems to me; and it is absolutelyimpossibleto foresee to what issue things are tending. The opinions one hears are all coloured by the particular bias of the speaker, and the confusion is so great in the general excitement of sectional partisanship that even one of the members—and a very influential one—of the peace convention sent to Washington for the purpose of proposing terms of conciliation—which should not, however, compromise the Northern principles—said that nothing had been done, that all was "sound and fury, and signifying nothing"—or if anything at present, the confirmed secession of the Southern, the disruption from the North of the Northern slave States, and, not impossibly, civil war. Of course, the more time elapses in palavering before the first fatal blow is struck, the less probability there is of its being struck at all; but, on the other hand, the longer the present state of things continues, the more accustomed people become to the idea of the dismemberment of the Union, andtherefore, though the clangour of an appeal to arms diminishes, so I think does the prospect of anything like "making up" the family quarrel—indeed, if it were patched, and soldered to the very best, I do not believe that it will ever "hold water again"; but it is impossible to foresee from day to day what may be the turn of events.
If I live till a year from this summer I will be in England in July, and if I live till the November after that I will be in Rome, and you and Edward and Adelaide have my full permission to come too.
Good-bye, dear Mr. Leighton. Your letters are a great comfort as well as pleasure to me; I am extremely obliged to you for them.
I showed my daughter the photograph of your "Vision," and she was enchanted with it. She has not a cultivated or educated taste in matters of art—this country affords no means for such a thing—but she is a person of very fine natural perceptions and great imagination and sensibility, and she was so charmed with it that I hope you will not think it foolish or impertinent in me to tell you of it.
The last political news I have is that the border or Northern slave States will probably not join the cotton states, in which case the latter will, of hard necessity, very soon be compelled to abandon their absurd and infinitely perilous position; but one does not see the end of it all, for if theydocome back into the Union, it will be under a burning sense of humiliation which will hardly facilitate their future intercourse with the North, for humiliation and humility are difficult things, and the cotton Lucifer under coercion will not be a pleasant devil to deal with.
Lenox,Saturday, September 7.You owe me nothing, and you will owe me nothing, dear Mr. Leighton, for expediting your pictures to England. When I wrote to Mr. Ordway about them desiring him to send them back to you, and to let me know the amount of any expenses he incurred in doing so, his reply was that the mere cost of packing and putting them on board ship would not be worth charging you with, and that the possession of your pictures in his gallery was well worththe small outlay of merely despatching them to you. I hope they will reach you safely. I am sorry,sorrythey have not remained here; but latterly, as you will easily believe, people's minds have been little inclined to the peaceful arts or any influences of beauty and grace; moreover, the pockets of the wealthiest amateurs are affected, as those of their poorer neighbours are, by the public disasters. My own loss this year is two hundred pounds of my income. What it may be next year, or how far my capital itself is safe, is more than anybody can tell. We are to be taxed moreover beyond all precedent in this country hitherto, and as it is already nearly the dearest place in the world to live in, what with onerous imports and the failure of interest from one's investments it will be simply ruinous. Thank you for all you tell me of my sister and her children. I am beginning tosee them again, as the time when I may really hope to do so draws nearer. I am sorry for what you and all my friends tell me about Harry's strong dramatic propensities. Of course, if he is fit for nothing else, or fitter for that than anything else, he had better become an actor, and his being so in England need not prevent his being a worthy fellow and respectable and respected member of society. I am, however, much reconciled to what at first disappointed me extremely—my not being able to bring him out to this country; for if he should eventually take to the stage, here that is simply in most instances equivalent to taking to the gutter. My daughters are both with me just now, and Fanny desires me to remember her very kindly to you. The incidents of the war which reach the other side of the water no doubt strike you as amazing enough; but anything more grotesque than the daily details in the midst of which we live, you cannot conceive. A young gentleman, a friend of ours who has just returned from his share in the campaign in a three months' volunteer regiment (he has entered the regular army, as a very large proportion of the volunteers did as soon as their three months' amateur service expired), described to us a volunteer corps which happened to be encamped in the neighbourhood of his company. He said they were one of the finest bodies of men he ever saw. Lumberers, that is, wood-fellers from the forests of Maine and New Hampshire, perfectly brave and reckless and daring—perfectly undisciplined too, to the tune of replying to theirofficers when ordered to turn out on guard, "No, I'll be damned if I do," with the most cheerful good humour. Thereupon the discomfited "superior" simply turns to some one else and says, "Oh, well—you're so and so—go." Good-bye; I shall rejoice to see you again, and be once more at home among people who know how to behave themselves.—Believe me, always yours most sincerely,Fanny Kemble.
Lenox,Saturday, September 7.
You owe me nothing, and you will owe me nothing, dear Mr. Leighton, for expediting your pictures to England. When I wrote to Mr. Ordway about them desiring him to send them back to you, and to let me know the amount of any expenses he incurred in doing so, his reply was that the mere cost of packing and putting them on board ship would not be worth charging you with, and that the possession of your pictures in his gallery was well worththe small outlay of merely despatching them to you. I hope they will reach you safely. I am sorry,sorrythey have not remained here; but latterly, as you will easily believe, people's minds have been little inclined to the peaceful arts or any influences of beauty and grace; moreover, the pockets of the wealthiest amateurs are affected, as those of their poorer neighbours are, by the public disasters. My own loss this year is two hundred pounds of my income. What it may be next year, or how far my capital itself is safe, is more than anybody can tell. We are to be taxed moreover beyond all precedent in this country hitherto, and as it is already nearly the dearest place in the world to live in, what with onerous imports and the failure of interest from one's investments it will be simply ruinous. Thank you for all you tell me of my sister and her children. I am beginning tosee them again, as the time when I may really hope to do so draws nearer. I am sorry for what you and all my friends tell me about Harry's strong dramatic propensities. Of course, if he is fit for nothing else, or fitter for that than anything else, he had better become an actor, and his being so in England need not prevent his being a worthy fellow and respectable and respected member of society. I am, however, much reconciled to what at first disappointed me extremely—my not being able to bring him out to this country; for if he should eventually take to the stage, here that is simply in most instances equivalent to taking to the gutter. My daughters are both with me just now, and Fanny desires me to remember her very kindly to you. The incidents of the war which reach the other side of the water no doubt strike you as amazing enough; but anything more grotesque than the daily details in the midst of which we live, you cannot conceive. A young gentleman, a friend of ours who has just returned from his share in the campaign in a three months' volunteer regiment (he has entered the regular army, as a very large proportion of the volunteers did as soon as their three months' amateur service expired), described to us a volunteer corps which happened to be encamped in the neighbourhood of his company. He said they were one of the finest bodies of men he ever saw. Lumberers, that is, wood-fellers from the forests of Maine and New Hampshire, perfectly brave and reckless and daring—perfectly undisciplined too, to the tune of replying to theirofficers when ordered to turn out on guard, "No, I'll be damned if I do," with the most cheerful good humour. Thereupon the discomfited "superior" simply turns to some one else and says, "Oh, well—you're so and so—go." Good-bye; I shall rejoice to see you again, and be once more at home among people who know how to behave themselves.—Believe me, always yours most sincerely,
Fanny Kemble.
After the Prince Consort's death in 1861 Leighton wrote the following letter to his younger sister, who was in Italy:
I have just returned from a fortnight in Bath, where I have at last finished the Johnnies,[22]I believe, and hope you will like them; they are at all events much improved. I am glad for the poor lad that thecorvéeof settling is over; he was dying to get back to his work. If zeal and enthusiasm can make an artist, he ought to become one.I don't attempt to give you home news, as you are amply supplied with that article by Mamma. Everybody here is in great sorrow for the poor Queen. She bears up under her overwhelming grief with admirable fortitude, and expresses her anxious desire to doher duty as hewould have wished it, but she speaks of all earthly happiness as at an end. The tender sympathy manifested by the whole nation is touching, but deserved.Whether there will be war or not, the beginning of the year will show; it is, I think, more than probable; there is no probability of the Americans giving up Mason and Slidell. If we do fight, it will be agreeable to feel that we are supported by the sympathy and approval ofall Europe; that we are entirely in the right isuniversallyrecognised, even by those who have no love for us. Sooner or later, a war with America was, I fear, unavoidable. There is a limit to what even we can overlook. All this need not prevent your coming to England that I can see; it won't stop the Exhibition, nor make any perceptibledifference in anybody's doings, except perhaps the picture buyers.—Your very affect. brother,Fred.
I have just returned from a fortnight in Bath, where I have at last finished the Johnnies,[22]I believe, and hope you will like them; they are at all events much improved. I am glad for the poor lad that thecorvéeof settling is over; he was dying to get back to his work. If zeal and enthusiasm can make an artist, he ought to become one.
I don't attempt to give you home news, as you are amply supplied with that article by Mamma. Everybody here is in great sorrow for the poor Queen. She bears up under her overwhelming grief with admirable fortitude, and expresses her anxious desire to doher duty as hewould have wished it, but she speaks of all earthly happiness as at an end. The tender sympathy manifested by the whole nation is touching, but deserved.
Whether there will be war or not, the beginning of the year will show; it is, I think, more than probable; there is no probability of the Americans giving up Mason and Slidell. If we do fight, it will be agreeable to feel that we are supported by the sympathy and approval ofall Europe; that we are entirely in the right isuniversallyrecognised, even by those who have no love for us. Sooner or later, a war with America was, I fear, unavoidable. There is a limit to what even we can overlook. All this need not prevent your coming to England that I can see; it won't stop the Exhibition, nor make any perceptibledifference in anybody's doings, except perhaps the picture buyers.—Your very affect. brother,
Fred.
Sunday, 1862.Arrived here safe and sound on Thursday night, and began my work on Friday. I am making studies[23]for the "Eastern King" which I shall begin to paint shortly after New Year. I found the frame for the large "Johnny" on my return. It improves the picture very much, and looks very handsome. I also found a letter from Henry Greville waiting for me. He says the Queen bears up admirably, because, she says,hewould have wished it, but that she always talks of her earthly career as at an end. The equerries, &c., will remain attached to the court.
Sunday, 1862.
Arrived here safe and sound on Thursday night, and began my work on Friday. I am making studies[23]for the "Eastern King" which I shall begin to paint shortly after New Year. I found the frame for the large "Johnny" on my return. It improves the picture very much, and looks very handsome. I also found a letter from Henry Greville waiting for me. He says the Queen bears up admirably, because, she says,hewould have wished it, but that she always talks of her earthly career as at an end. The equerries, &c., will remain attached to the court.
In 1862 Leighton sent eight pictures to the Royal Academy, and six were accepted. Before the sending in he writes to his father:—
1862.Dear Papa,—I am afraid I don't take exerciseveryregularly, still, I walk alittlenearly every day.With regard to the volunteering, the zeal for the matter is necessarily not what it was when every third man really expected to be called to defend the country. Nevertheless, the movement is not dead, but has found a level on which I fancy it will remain; theshootingwill keep it together a good deal. We (the artists) shall join the great business at Brighton on Easter Monday.Had I thought you would have taken my remark about the M. Angelo and the Johnnies so much to heart, I should have thought twice before I made it. Against what I said you must set the paragraph in theAthenæumtwo or three weeks back—my doubt is not whether they will be admired—I think they will bethat—my only question is whether they will becaredfor. Mrs. Austin admires and likes the M.A. beyond anything, and if she could afford it would, I believe, buy it at once.You will perhaps be surprised to hear that the pictures from which I expect most are the three which you have not seen—the "Eastern King" and the two others I mentioned in my last. One of them is Pocock's smaller order, a girl with aswan(not withpeacocksas theAthen.says)—the other is a kitcat of a girl listening to a shell. Both these are very luminous, and are in that respect the best things I have done.
1862.
Dear Papa,—I am afraid I don't take exerciseveryregularly, still, I walk alittlenearly every day.
With regard to the volunteering, the zeal for the matter is necessarily not what it was when every third man really expected to be called to defend the country. Nevertheless, the movement is not dead, but has found a level on which I fancy it will remain; theshootingwill keep it together a good deal. We (the artists) shall join the great business at Brighton on Easter Monday.
Had I thought you would have taken my remark about the M. Angelo and the Johnnies so much to heart, I should have thought twice before I made it. Against what I said you must set the paragraph in theAthenæumtwo or three weeks back—my doubt is not whether they will be admired—I think they will bethat—my only question is whether they will becaredfor. Mrs. Austin admires and likes the M.A. beyond anything, and if she could afford it would, I believe, buy it at once.
You will perhaps be surprised to hear that the pictures from which I expect most are the three which you have not seen—the "Eastern King" and the two others I mentioned in my last. One of them is Pocock's smaller order, a girl with aswan(not withpeacocksas theAthen.says)—the other is a kitcat of a girl listening to a shell. Both these are very luminous, and are in that respect the best things I have done.
And later:—
London, 1862.Dear Papa,—I think I may confirm the report made to you of the success of my pictures, particularly the "Odalisque" and "Echoes" (by-the-bye, I have just received a letter from somebody who wants to know if they are sold). What the papers say, you have seen. You will be glad to hear that I have received congratulations on all sides, which gives me the idea of being tolerably secure; at all events, I got no such last year, nor indeed at all since the "Cimabue." That two of my pictures should not have been accepted does not indeed surprise me, and least of all would it do so if they were rejected on the score ofnumber, but I have reason to suspect that they werenotliked; in fact Iknowit. I have put my name down as a candidate for associateship.I don't think I have anything of interest to communicate; nobody has as yet asked the price of the "Eastern King" or the "Michael Angelo." There is no mistake now about what people in this country like to buying point; whether I shall conform to their taste is another question.Pocock liked the "Michael Ang." much, but did not seem to wish to have it. The same remark applies to the Johnnies.Millais has been, and liked the yellow woman[24]extremely. I think he liked them allof their kind, but the yellow woman was his favourite by far. Stephens has also seen my pictures. He seemed altogether much pleased, but most especially with the design for the "Eastern King," which is also Fred Cockerell's favourite.
London, 1862.
Dear Papa,—I think I may confirm the report made to you of the success of my pictures, particularly the "Odalisque" and "Echoes" (by-the-bye, I have just received a letter from somebody who wants to know if they are sold). What the papers say, you have seen. You will be glad to hear that I have received congratulations on all sides, which gives me the idea of being tolerably secure; at all events, I got no such last year, nor indeed at all since the "Cimabue." That two of my pictures should not have been accepted does not indeed surprise me, and least of all would it do so if they were rejected on the score ofnumber, but I have reason to suspect that they werenotliked; in fact Iknowit. I have put my name down as a candidate for associateship.
I don't think I have anything of interest to communicate; nobody has as yet asked the price of the "Eastern King" or the "Michael Angelo." There is no mistake now about what people in this country like to buying point; whether I shall conform to their taste is another question.
Pocock liked the "Michael Ang." much, but did not seem to wish to have it. The same remark applies to the Johnnies.
Millais has been, and liked the yellow woman[24]extremely. I think he liked them allof their kind, but the yellow woman was his favourite by far. Stephens has also seen my pictures. He seemed altogether much pleased, but most especially with the design for the "Eastern King," which is also Fred Cockerell's favourite.
To his mother he wrote:—
1862.I have deferred answering your letter till now, that I might be able to inform you definitely of my fate as regards the Royal Academy. I have just been there; I must tell you at once the least pleasant part of my news—they have rejected the large "Johnny" and "Lord Cowper." On the other hand, the other pictures are well hung; two (the "Odalisque" and the yellow woman),verywell, being onthe linein theEast Room. The "Michael Angelo," the "E. King," and the shell girl are just above the line and well seen—the small "Johnny" just below the line. I think the pictures all look well, though not so luminous as in the studio. I am confirmed in my opinion that the Academy Exhibition is a false test of colour; what looks sufficientlysilvery thereischalkyout of it. The "Odalisque" looks best from general aspects. Lady Cowper wrote me a very nice note about the rejection of her son's portrait, and said she was delighted to get it so soon. I am sorry about the large "Johnny," because my chance of selling it is much diminished.
1862.
I have deferred answering your letter till now, that I might be able to inform you definitely of my fate as regards the Royal Academy. I have just been there; I must tell you at once the least pleasant part of my news—they have rejected the large "Johnny" and "Lord Cowper." On the other hand, the other pictures are well hung; two (the "Odalisque" and the yellow woman),verywell, being onthe linein theEast Room. The "Michael Angelo," the "E. King," and the shell girl are just above the line and well seen—the small "Johnny" just below the line. I think the pictures all look well, though not so luminous as in the studio. I am confirmed in my opinion that the Academy Exhibition is a false test of colour; what looks sufficientlysilvery thereischalkyout of it. The "Odalisque" looks best from general aspects. Lady Cowper wrote me a very nice note about the rejection of her son's portrait, and said she was delighted to get it so soon. I am sorry about the large "Johnny," because my chance of selling it is much diminished.
That Leighton received great encouragement from personal friends there can be no doubt. The following is one of very many letters he received which expressed warm appreciation.
64 Rutland Gate.My dear Mr. Leighton,—I do not know how to express my thanks to you. I have this moment come home and found your beautiful drawing, and can hardly hold my pen, I am in such a state of delight at possessing such a reminiscence of my favourite picture. You reallydonot know what pleasure you have given me, and I think ittoo kindof you to have parted with this to give to me. One thing you may be quite sure of, that the "Eastern King" will receive the greatest homage to the end of days from his devoted admirer and your sincere friend,Mary Sartoris.[25]Past Midnight, Tuesday.
64 Rutland Gate.
My dear Mr. Leighton,—I do not know how to express my thanks to you. I have this moment come home and found your beautiful drawing, and can hardly hold my pen, I am in such a state of delight at possessing such a reminiscence of my favourite picture. You reallydonot know what pleasure you have given me, and I think ittoo kindof you to have parted with this to give to me. One thing you may be quite sure of, that the "Eastern King" will receive the greatest homage to the end of days from his devoted admirer and your sincere friend,
Mary Sartoris.[25]
Past Midnight, Tuesday.
Among Leighton's friends was Charles Dickens. The following notes, written in 1863, have turned up in a packet of miscellaneous correspondence:—
Office of "All the Year Round,"No. 26 Wellington Street, Strand, London, W.C.,Thursday, April 9, 1863.My dear Leighton,—I owe you many thanks for your kind reminder. It would have given me real pleasure to have profited by it had such profit been possible, but a hasty summons to attend upon a sick friend at a distance so threw me out on Friday and Saturday in obliging me to prepare for a rush across the Channel, that I saw no pictures and had no holiday. I was blown back here only last night, and believe that I shall deliver your message to Mrs. Collins to-day; that is to say, I am going home this afternoon and expect to find her there.When the summer weather comes on, I shall try to persuade you to come and see us on the top of Falstaff's Hill. A hop country is not to be despised by an artist's eyes.—Faithfully yours always,Charles Dickens.
Office of "All the Year Round,"No. 26 Wellington Street, Strand, London, W.C.,Thursday, April 9, 1863.
My dear Leighton,—I owe you many thanks for your kind reminder. It would have given me real pleasure to have profited by it had such profit been possible, but a hasty summons to attend upon a sick friend at a distance so threw me out on Friday and Saturday in obliging me to prepare for a rush across the Channel, that I saw no pictures and had no holiday. I was blown back here only last night, and believe that I shall deliver your message to Mrs. Collins to-day; that is to say, I am going home this afternoon and expect to find her there.
When the summer weather comes on, I shall try to persuade you to come and see us on the top of Falstaff's Hill. A hop country is not to be despised by an artist's eyes.—Faithfully yours always,
Charles Dickens.
Gad's Hill Place,Higham by Rochester, Kent,Saturday, July 18, 1863.My dear Leighton,—Shall I confess it? I never went out to breakfast in my life, except once to Rogers'. But what I might have done under this temptation is a question forestalled by my having engaged to go down to Bulwer Lytton's in Hertfordshire on Monday, to stay a few days.—Cordially yours,Charles Dickens.
Gad's Hill Place,Higham by Rochester, Kent,Saturday, July 18, 1863.
My dear Leighton,—Shall I confess it? I never went out to breakfast in my life, except once to Rogers'. But what I might have done under this temptation is a question forestalled by my having engaged to go down to Bulwer Lytton's in Hertfordshire on Monday, to stay a few days.—Cordially yours,
Charles Dickens.
It was in 1863 that Leighton paid the notable visit to his friend of the Roman days, George Mason, to whom the world's Art owes so much. Assuredly, without Leighton's encouragement and help, those lovely idylls which stand with the most precious treasures of the English school of painting would never have been created. Mason had returned toEngland in 1856; he married and settled in his own manor-house, Wetley Abbey. Children were born and expenses increased, and little or nothing was there with which to meet them. After Rome England seemed a hopeless place to work in, and Mason's surroundings were quite dumb to his artistic sense. Leighton, when he heard of his depression and poverty, sought him out in his rural retreat, beamed mental sunshine on his spirits, made him walk with him, pointing out the pictorial beauties of Mason's own native country, and ended by taking him a tour through the Black Country. Mason's poetic sense was again awakened; an artistic purpose was again inspired; and, feeling the despair of hopeless poverty removed (Leighton was ever ready with substantial aid), he painted the pictures for which the world has so much reason to be grateful. When in 1872—nine years after this visit—George Mason died, Leighton arranged for a sale of his pictures and property, from the proceeds of which his wife and children obtained an income of £600 a year. Leighton wrote to Mrs. Matthews at the time of Mason's death: "Poor Mason's death has been a great shock to me, though indeed I should have been prepared for it at any time. His loss is quite irreparable for English Art, for he stood entirely alone in his especial charm, and he was one of the most lovable of men besides."
[8]The critics, judging from the following extracts, were amiably inclined towards him that year:—"Among the pictures familiar to London loungers of 1858, is Mr. F. Leighton's scene from 'Romeo and Juliet,' a work lost and, it may be submitted, undervalued, owing to the disadvantageous place given it in Trafalgar Square. The depth and richness of its colour, the picturesque manner in which the story is told, the contrast in some of the heads, that, for instance, of Friar Lawrence, hopeful in the consciousness of knowledge of Juliet's secret, with that of the entrancing maiden of Verona, or again with that of the weeping nurse, whose grief is a trifle tooaccentué. The truthful conception and careful labour of this picture have now a chance of being appreciated, and but that Pre-Raphaelitism is resolute not to give in, might fairly have entitled it to the prize bestowed elsewhere."—Athenæum, 1858."We will take the second-named gentleman first, and come at once to his 'Fisherman and Syren.' The picture is not of any commanding size, nor does it relate any very exciting legend. The story is of the mystic Undine tinge, and with a shadowy semblance in it to that strange legend, current among the peasants of Southern Russia, of the 'White Lady' with the long hair, who, with loving and languishing gestures, decoys the unwary into her fantastic skiff, then, pressing her baleful lips to theirs, folds them to her fell embrace, and drags them shrieking beneath the engulfing waves. The 'Fisherman and Syren' of Mr. Leighton has something of this unreal, legendary fatality pervading it throughout. There is irresistible seductiveness on the one side, pusillanimous fondness on the other. That it is all over with the fisherman, and that the syren will have her wicked will of him to his destruction, is palpable. But it is not alone for the admirable manner in which the story is told that we commend this picture; the drawing is eruditely correct, most graceful, and most symmetrical. The syren is a model of form in its most charming undulations. The fisherman is a type of manly elegance. That Mr. Leighton understands, to its remotest substructure, the vital principle of the line of beauty, is pleasurably manifest. But there is evidence here even more pleasing that the painter, in the gift of a glowing imagination, and a refined ideality, in his mastery of the nobler parts of pictorial manipulation, is worthy to be reckoned among the glorious brotherhood of disciples of the Italian masters—of the grand old men whose pictures, faded and time-worn as they are, in the National Gallery hard by, laugh to scorn the futile fripperies that depend for half their sheen on gilt frames and copal varnish. This young artist is one of Langis' and Nasasi's men. He has plainly drunk long and eagerly at the painter's Castaly. The fount of beauty and of grace that assuaged the thirst of those who painted the 'Monna Lisa' and the 'Belle Jardinière'; who modelled the 'Horned Moses' and the 'Slave'; who designed Peter's great Basilica, and the Ghiberti Gates at Florence."—Daily Telegraph, 3rd May 1858.
[8]The critics, judging from the following extracts, were amiably inclined towards him that year:—"Among the pictures familiar to London loungers of 1858, is Mr. F. Leighton's scene from 'Romeo and Juliet,' a work lost and, it may be submitted, undervalued, owing to the disadvantageous place given it in Trafalgar Square. The depth and richness of its colour, the picturesque manner in which the story is told, the contrast in some of the heads, that, for instance, of Friar Lawrence, hopeful in the consciousness of knowledge of Juliet's secret, with that of the entrancing maiden of Verona, or again with that of the weeping nurse, whose grief is a trifle tooaccentué. The truthful conception and careful labour of this picture have now a chance of being appreciated, and but that Pre-Raphaelitism is resolute not to give in, might fairly have entitled it to the prize bestowed elsewhere."—Athenæum, 1858.
"We will take the second-named gentleman first, and come at once to his 'Fisherman and Syren.' The picture is not of any commanding size, nor does it relate any very exciting legend. The story is of the mystic Undine tinge, and with a shadowy semblance in it to that strange legend, current among the peasants of Southern Russia, of the 'White Lady' with the long hair, who, with loving and languishing gestures, decoys the unwary into her fantastic skiff, then, pressing her baleful lips to theirs, folds them to her fell embrace, and drags them shrieking beneath the engulfing waves. The 'Fisherman and Syren' of Mr. Leighton has something of this unreal, legendary fatality pervading it throughout. There is irresistible seductiveness on the one side, pusillanimous fondness on the other. That it is all over with the fisherman, and that the syren will have her wicked will of him to his destruction, is palpable. But it is not alone for the admirable manner in which the story is told that we commend this picture; the drawing is eruditely correct, most graceful, and most symmetrical. The syren is a model of form in its most charming undulations. The fisherman is a type of manly elegance. That Mr. Leighton understands, to its remotest substructure, the vital principle of the line of beauty, is pleasurably manifest. But there is evidence here even more pleasing that the painter, in the gift of a glowing imagination, and a refined ideality, in his mastery of the nobler parts of pictorial manipulation, is worthy to be reckoned among the glorious brotherhood of disciples of the Italian masters—of the grand old men whose pictures, faded and time-worn as they are, in the National Gallery hard by, laugh to scorn the futile fripperies that depend for half their sheen on gilt frames and copal varnish. This young artist is one of Langis' and Nasasi's men. He has plainly drunk long and eagerly at the painter's Castaly. The fount of beauty and of grace that assuaged the thirst of those who painted the 'Monna Lisa' and the 'Belle Jardinière'; who modelled the 'Horned Moses' and the 'Slave'; who designed Peter's great Basilica, and the Ghiberti Gates at Florence."—Daily Telegraph, 3rd May 1858.
[9]The Prince of Wales, who lent the picture to the exhibition of Leighton's works at Burlington House, 1897.
[9]The Prince of Wales, who lent the picture to the exhibition of Leighton's works at Burlington House, 1897.
[10]Mr. Augustus Craven's wife,néePauline la Ferronnay, was the authoress of the famous book,Le Récit d'une sœur, in which several of the most charming scenes took place at Naples.
[10]Mr. Augustus Craven's wife,néePauline la Ferronnay, was the authoress of the famous book,Le Récit d'une sœur, in which several of the most charming scenes took place at Naples.
[11]Mr. George Aitchison wrote: "In 1859, while at Capri, he drew the celebrated Lemon Tree, working from daylight to dusk for a week or two, and giving large details in the margin of the snails on the tree."
[11]Mr. George Aitchison wrote: "In 1859, while at Capri, he drew the celebrated Lemon Tree, working from daylight to dusk for a week or two, and giving large details in the margin of the snails on the tree."
[12]The drawing had been lent to Ruskin at the time he was lecturing at Oxford.
[12]The drawing had been lent to Ruskin at the time he was lecturing at Oxford.
[13]Leighton knew Mr. Chorley through Mrs. Sartoris. He accompanied the greatcantatricewhen she made a tour abroad. "Mrs. Kemble's children and their nurse are with them, and Mary Anne Thackeray, a life-long friend, and Mr. Chorley, and the great Liszt, who subsequently joined them in Germany."—Preface by Mrs. R. Ritchie to "A Week in a French Country House," by Mrs. Adelaide Sartoris.
[13]Leighton knew Mr. Chorley through Mrs. Sartoris. He accompanied the greatcantatricewhen she made a tour abroad. "Mrs. Kemble's children and their nurse are with them, and Mary Anne Thackeray, a life-long friend, and Mr. Chorley, and the great Liszt, who subsequently joined them in Germany."—Preface by Mrs. R. Ritchie to "A Week in a French Country House," by Mrs. Adelaide Sartoris.
[14]Leighton was perfectly right. "Orphée" was produced at Covent Garden, and the great artist, Madame Viardot, sang in it superbly. The opera was given after one or two acts of a well-known work, and I can vouch for the fact, having been one of the audience, that the house was very nearly empty at the close of "Orphée," Lord Dudley and a very few true lovers of music only remaining in the stalls to the end.
[14]Leighton was perfectly right. "Orphée" was produced at Covent Garden, and the great artist, Madame Viardot, sang in it superbly. The opera was given after one or two acts of a well-known work, and I can vouch for the fact, having been one of the audience, that the house was very nearly empty at the close of "Orphée," Lord Dudley and a very few true lovers of music only remaining in the stalls to the end.