Chapter 7

Lord LeightonPORTRAIT FROM A PHOTOGRAPH OF LORD LEIGHTON TAKEN IN 1863ToList

PORTRAIT FROM A PHOTOGRAPH OF LORD LEIGHTON TAKEN IN 1863ToList

April 1863, Saturday.Dearest Mamma,—You have seen in the papers that the Review at Brighton went off capitally. I enjoyed my day very much, and though I was alittletired andverysleepy for two days after, was altogether the better for it. It was a stiff day's work too—nine or ten hours without sitting down, and with the additional responsibility of having the command of the Artists' Company. I was sure you would be pleased at the reception of my"Fruit Girl"[29]by my brother artists—you must understand, though, that this applies chiefly to the younger men (and not toallofthem), for there are several of the older painters who strongly object to my style of painting and are bent on suppressing it.Will you thank Papa for his hint about theAthenæum—I am pretty sure he is mistaken about it, but I shall take measures about it—indeed Ihave.I spoke toCharlesGreville (Henry's brother) and told him I thought I should be coming on before very long; he very kindly overhauled the lists and said he thought I might be up by the end of the summer, and, what was still more kind, seeing me unseconded, he put his name down as seconder.

April 1863, Saturday.

Dearest Mamma,—You have seen in the papers that the Review at Brighton went off capitally. I enjoyed my day very much, and though I was alittletired andverysleepy for two days after, was altogether the better for it. It was a stiff day's work too—nine or ten hours without sitting down, and with the additional responsibility of having the command of the Artists' Company. I was sure you would be pleased at the reception of my"Fruit Girl"[29]by my brother artists—you must understand, though, that this applies chiefly to the younger men (and not toallofthem), for there are several of the older painters who strongly object to my style of painting and are bent on suppressing it.

Will you thank Papa for his hint about theAthenæum—I am pretty sure he is mistaken about it, but I shall take measures about it—indeed Ihave.

I spoke toCharlesGreville (Henry's brother) and told him I thought I should be coming on before very long; he very kindly overhauled the lists and said he thought I might be up by the end of the summer, and, what was still more kind, seeing me unseconded, he put his name down as seconder.

Forest Bank, Lyndhurst,Thursday, August 6, 1863.If I was not more explicit about being with Aïdé, it was because I made sure you knew it. You will be pleased to hear that when after manypéripétiesI did begin my fresco I got on capitally; I have now finished the task for this year, having paintedthreelife-size figures, with a good bit of background, infourdays. I worked hard for it, and am rather tired—head and eyes; otherwise flourishing.I am delighted with my new fresco material (Parry's)—the effect is excellent—nearly as fine as real fresco. Everybody seems much pleased with what I have done, particularly the parson. I like it myself; I enjoy working at it immensely; it is my real element. I find it (for meremanipulation bien entendu) absurdly easy.

Forest Bank, Lyndhurst,Thursday, August 6, 1863.

If I was not more explicit about being with Aïdé, it was because I made sure you knew it. You will be pleased to hear that when after manypéripétiesI did begin my fresco I got on capitally; I have now finished the task for this year, having paintedthreelife-size figures, with a good bit of background, infourdays. I worked hard for it, and am rather tired—head and eyes; otherwise flourishing.

I am delighted with my new fresco material (Parry's)—the effect is excellent—nearly as fine as real fresco. Everybody seems much pleased with what I have done, particularly the parson. I like it myself; I enjoy working at it immensely; it is my real element. I find it (for meremanipulation bien entendu) absurdly easy.

The following letter from Mr. Gambier Parry explains the "fresco material" Leighton used.

Highnam, Gloucester,August 3, 1863.My dear Leighton,—In reply to your last note about the use of the wall itself rather than of canvas, there can be no doubt on the subject, if only the plaster isgoodandwell put on. You speak of two or three months to get it dry. I assure you that that isnot near enough.When the surface feels dry to your hand you must not suppose that it is all dry inside, and if thewallis new, I doubta year being enough to dry it. The water must evaporate somewhere—it is drawnto thesurface ofinteriorsbecause they are the warmest.You ask whether the rough cast on the wall must be scraped off before you wash the wall for painting. If by therough castyou mean rough plaster, which is a totally different thing to rough cast, certainly use it as it is. The coarser the plaster the better, because it is all the more porous, so long only that it is of the best materials (viz. perfectlywashedsand, and good lime), and well put on a good wall.Nothing in the world could equal it for painting upon, except a surface ofcoarse cleanBath stone, withall its pores open. If you have such plaster as I have just described, and both it and the wall thoroughly dry, nothing could be better. The smooth surface, with what granulated texture you please, can be got according to the directions in my paper—viz. after two or three washes of pure diluted medium, give another or two more of the same, with dry whiting and a little white-lead, then go aheadwhile it is all fresh, viz.two or three daysafter the process of preparation has been completed.Take care in painting not to rub it up too much, for fear ofdrawing up the glossy resins to the surfaceaway from the wax. Paint rightintoyour prepared surfacesolidlyand withdecisionin the way of fresco painting, not as oil. Keep the brush clean, and the volatile oil in the dipper clean, and then, oh! how shall I envy you your power to use them all![30]At theEly ceiling, which is of hard woodnotporous, but prepared with three coats of oil white-lead, I am painting withLiquid Measure.Pale drying oil2Japan gold size2Turpentine2Artist copal1well shaken up every time it is used. The colours are all ground up in it, and then painting is done as in water-colour, usingpure spirits of turpentineas a vehicle. Colours dry extremely rapidly and with a dead surface. The stuff looks horribly black, but the colours are not materially affected by it. Of course it is not to be compared with my former medium, because there is that bane of the palette oil in it, but I used it because of its great facility (used transparent likewater-colour on a white ground), and because the surface was hard, so that wax might (in great heat) shrink or play tricks on it, as it has done in Murillo's pictures and many others.—Ever most sincerely yours,T. Gambier Parry.If I can do anything for you, command me; we go to Scotland on the 14th.

Highnam, Gloucester,August 3, 1863.

My dear Leighton,—In reply to your last note about the use of the wall itself rather than of canvas, there can be no doubt on the subject, if only the plaster isgoodandwell put on. You speak of two or three months to get it dry. I assure you that that isnot near enough.When the surface feels dry to your hand you must not suppose that it is all dry inside, and if thewallis new, I doubta year being enough to dry it. The water must evaporate somewhere—it is drawnto thesurface ofinteriorsbecause they are the warmest.

You ask whether the rough cast on the wall must be scraped off before you wash the wall for painting. If by therough castyou mean rough plaster, which is a totally different thing to rough cast, certainly use it as it is. The coarser the plaster the better, because it is all the more porous, so long only that it is of the best materials (viz. perfectlywashedsand, and good lime), and well put on a good wall.Nothing in the world could equal it for painting upon, except a surface ofcoarse cleanBath stone, withall its pores open. If you have such plaster as I have just described, and both it and the wall thoroughly dry, nothing could be better. The smooth surface, with what granulated texture you please, can be got according to the directions in my paper—viz. after two or three washes of pure diluted medium, give another or two more of the same, with dry whiting and a little white-lead, then go aheadwhile it is all fresh, viz.two or three daysafter the process of preparation has been completed.

Take care in painting not to rub it up too much, for fear ofdrawing up the glossy resins to the surfaceaway from the wax. Paint rightintoyour prepared surfacesolidlyand withdecisionin the way of fresco painting, not as oil. Keep the brush clean, and the volatile oil in the dipper clean, and then, oh! how shall I envy you your power to use them all![30]

At theEly ceiling, which is of hard woodnotporous, but prepared with three coats of oil white-lead, I am painting with

Liquid Measure.Pale drying oil2Japan gold size2Turpentine2Artist copal1

well shaken up every time it is used. The colours are all ground up in it, and then painting is done as in water-colour, usingpure spirits of turpentineas a vehicle. Colours dry extremely rapidly and with a dead surface. The stuff looks horribly black, but the colours are not materially affected by it. Of course it is not to be compared with my former medium, because there is that bane of the palette oil in it, but I used it because of its great facility (used transparent likewater-colour on a white ground), and because the surface was hard, so that wax might (in great heat) shrink or play tricks on it, as it has done in Murillo's pictures and many others.—Ever most sincerely yours,

T. Gambier Parry.

If I can do anything for you, command me; we go to Scotland on the 14th.

London,April 26, 1863.Dearest Mamma,—You were no doubt surprised to see a sock arrive in Bath in solitary grandeur, unaccompanied by any sort of note. The fact is, for some days past I have been working at a rate which made me altogether unfit for correspondence. I have just returned from Lyndhurst, where I have been doing a bit more fresco—and very stiff work it was—up and at work at seven, and at it best part of the day, perched generally on an uncomfortably narrow ladder, and with my head almost blown off by the agreeable but overpowering smell of the vehicle with which I painted. The result is as far as it goes tolerably satisfactory—everybody there is delighted, and though that, of course, does not prove much, it is at all events agreeable to me that they derive so much pleasure from my work. The stained-glass window, too, which has been executed at my desire from Jones' designs, gives great satisfaction—is a lovely piece of colour, and (which was, to me, of paramount importance) does not hurt my fresco, though, of course, in the nature of things, it outshines tenfold in point of brilliancy; hence the folly, to my mind, of ever putting glass and wall painting in immediate juxtaposition. I shall go and paint another slice in June, after which Aïdé leaves, so I may not be able to finish my work till he returns in autumn. On my road to Lyndhurst, I paid avisit to Lady Dorothy Neville (Lady Pollington's sister) at Dangstein—a very beautiful place near Petersfield.On Monday week the Royal Academy opens—I shall be curious to see what pictures they have taken; my work at present will be a woodcut for Dalziel—then that for theCornhill—then a drawing for Cundall's Bible—Mrs. Magniac's portrait—the cartoon for the remainder of the Lyndhurst fresco—then perhaps a new picture. I wish some one would buy the old ones!Have you read "Sylvia's Lovers"? Don't read "Salammbo"—it is hideous.

London,April 26, 1863.

Dearest Mamma,—You were no doubt surprised to see a sock arrive in Bath in solitary grandeur, unaccompanied by any sort of note. The fact is, for some days past I have been working at a rate which made me altogether unfit for correspondence. I have just returned from Lyndhurst, where I have been doing a bit more fresco—and very stiff work it was—up and at work at seven, and at it best part of the day, perched generally on an uncomfortably narrow ladder, and with my head almost blown off by the agreeable but overpowering smell of the vehicle with which I painted. The result is as far as it goes tolerably satisfactory—everybody there is delighted, and though that, of course, does not prove much, it is at all events agreeable to me that they derive so much pleasure from my work. The stained-glass window, too, which has been executed at my desire from Jones' designs, gives great satisfaction—is a lovely piece of colour, and (which was, to me, of paramount importance) does not hurt my fresco, though, of course, in the nature of things, it outshines tenfold in point of brilliancy; hence the folly, to my mind, of ever putting glass and wall painting in immediate juxtaposition. I shall go and paint another slice in June, after which Aïdé leaves, so I may not be able to finish my work till he returns in autumn. On my road to Lyndhurst, I paid avisit to Lady Dorothy Neville (Lady Pollington's sister) at Dangstein—a very beautiful place near Petersfield.

On Monday week the Royal Academy opens—I shall be curious to see what pictures they have taken; my work at present will be a woodcut for Dalziel—then that for theCornhill—then a drawing for Cundall's Bible—Mrs. Magniac's portrait—the cartoon for the remainder of the Lyndhurst fresco—then perhaps a new picture. I wish some one would buy the old ones!

Have you read "Sylvia's Lovers"? Don't read "Salammbo"—it is hideous.

Dearest Mamma,—My chair has arrived safe and sound; once more, my very best thanks for it.Aïdéisone of the mostexcellentmen that ever lived—I like him extremely.By-the-bye, I am made one of the ensigns in our Rifle Corps, so that when you come to town you have a chance of seeing me strutting about with a sword.I write in haste. Good-bye, best love to all.—From your very affectionate boy,Fred.

Dearest Mamma,—My chair has arrived safe and sound; once more, my very best thanks for it.

Aïdéisone of the mostexcellentmen that ever lived—I like him extremely.

By-the-bye, I am made one of the ensigns in our Rifle Corps, so that when you come to town you have a chance of seeing me strutting about with a sword.

I write in haste. Good-bye, best love to all.—From your very affectionate boy,

Fred.

The Wise and Foolish VirginsTHE FRESCO PRESENTED BY LORD LEIGHTON TO LYNDHURST CHURCH—"THE WISE AND FOOLISH VIRGINS." Completed 1864ToList

THE FRESCO PRESENTED BY LORD LEIGHTON TO LYNDHURST CHURCH—"THE WISE AND FOOLISH VIRGINS." Completed 1864ToList

In a letter to his father dated 1864 Leighton announced the completion of the fresco, "The Wise and Foolish Virgins." The design of the whole and the lines of the draperies in each figure are all admirable, and the work is one which proves Leighton's powers of achieving rapidly, and under great difficulties, a complete work and one in which his great sense of beauty is very salient. There is also sufficient dramatic feeling in the gestures and expressions of the faces. Perhaps the most interesting (because the most spontaneous) attitude in the figures of the wise virgins is that which is kneeling, profile-wise, under the figure of the angel, who is indicating to her the presence of her Saviour. She seems dazed with awe and rapture. Her arm is caught up with a sudden unstudied angularity of movement which, though notso beautiful intrinsically as are most of those in Leighton's work, is very expressive, and produces a happy effect amid the more obviously arranged lines in the rest of the design. Among the many drawings preserved in the Leighton House Collection made for this fresco there is a slight but very sensitive sketch for this figure, also a finished pencil drawing for the head of Christ. The model who sat for this head was the Italian whom Leighton painted in "Golden Hours," and whom Watts used for the picture he (many years after its execution) entitled "A Prodigal." The type of this model may be felt by some to have been an unfortunate one to choose for the central imposing figure in the design of the fresco. It is, perhaps, weak—too good-looking in a commonplace style for such a subject.

Ruskin, on seeing the photograph of this work, wrote to Leighton (a postscript to a letter): "I was much struck—seriously—by the photograph from your fresco; it is wonderfully fine in action."

Leighton wrote to Steinle on receipt of his criticisms on the Lyndhurst fresco:—

Translation.]3rd December.My dear Friend,—Just now returned from a long journey (to Constantinople and Athens), I find two very welcome letters from you, by which I see with great pleasure that your old pupil may still reckon upon your invaluable friendship and sympathy, and I see it all the more certainly because you enclose a kind but pertinent criticism of the photographs I sent you.[31]I agree entirely, and can only pretend in my defence that it was difficult, with the long space (all having to be filled) and the altar standing in the middle of it, not to fall into rather a panic. That, after all, is but a lame excuse, and I hope that you will always rap me over the knuckles with the same friendly sincerity.My dear Friend, the idea of appearing as a collaborator beside you, my master, would be in the very highest degree delightful and flattering to me. It is therefore only after mature deliberation, and in the firm confidence that you will at least appreciate the sincerity of your Leighton, that I have to decline with real regret Herr Bruckmann's flattering invitation.You, more than any one else, will agree with me that an artist can execute no first-rate work, indeed dare undertake no work, that is not a genuine expression alike of his feelings and his convictions. I must candidly confess I cannot agree about a complete illustration of the Shakespearian plays, those masterpieces already in existence asexhaustively finishedworks of art; it seems to me that in literature only those subjects lend themselves to pictorial representation which stand in the written word more assuggestion. Subjects perhaps which are provided in the Bible or in mythology and tradition in great variety, or are not already generally in possession of the minds of the spectators of living plays (e.g.the Greek Tragedies). It is for the most part a struggle with the incomparable, already existingcomplete—which is quite intimidating to my capabilities. Do not take this ill, my dear Friend, and do not consider it too great a presumption that I, your pupil, declare so plainly against you where you think so differently. To go back over one detail, I must also confess thatto meacoloured cartoonis not a natural mode of expression; adrawn, or agrey in grey(grau in grau) painted cartoon—well enough. A size five feet high is to me, for asuggestionof colour, at least five times too large; just as little could I give a suggestion of form in this size. Colour is not necessary; but if one should use it in half life-size, it is too noble and poetic, I think, for one to venture, so to speak, to clarify it. Will you forgive me for all this, dear master? However, I shall see with deep interest the progress of the beautiful work which you will certainly execute.I have heard with some sorrow of the burning of the venerable Dome, and am just writing to Otto Cornhill in respect to a lottery which is to be arranged for the re-erection of the tower.I have read what you tell me of your dear family with great pleasure; please remember me most kindly to your wifeand children; also to my old comrades V. Müller, Wecker, and the rest. I am very glad to hear that G. Wecker, the apostate, has returned to art. He was, undoubtedly still is, a very gifted man, but had to guard somewhat, had he not? against theornamental.But my letter is becoming too long.Farewell, my dear Master; take nothing amiss from your grateful, devoted pupil,Fred Leighton.

Translation.]

3rd December.

My dear Friend,—Just now returned from a long journey (to Constantinople and Athens), I find two very welcome letters from you, by which I see with great pleasure that your old pupil may still reckon upon your invaluable friendship and sympathy, and I see it all the more certainly because you enclose a kind but pertinent criticism of the photographs I sent you.[31]I agree entirely, and can only pretend in my defence that it was difficult, with the long space (all having to be filled) and the altar standing in the middle of it, not to fall into rather a panic. That, after all, is but a lame excuse, and I hope that you will always rap me over the knuckles with the same friendly sincerity.

My dear Friend, the idea of appearing as a collaborator beside you, my master, would be in the very highest degree delightful and flattering to me. It is therefore only after mature deliberation, and in the firm confidence that you will at least appreciate the sincerity of your Leighton, that I have to decline with real regret Herr Bruckmann's flattering invitation.You, more than any one else, will agree with me that an artist can execute no first-rate work, indeed dare undertake no work, that is not a genuine expression alike of his feelings and his convictions. I must candidly confess I cannot agree about a complete illustration of the Shakespearian plays, those masterpieces already in existence asexhaustively finishedworks of art; it seems to me that in literature only those subjects lend themselves to pictorial representation which stand in the written word more assuggestion. Subjects perhaps which are provided in the Bible or in mythology and tradition in great variety, or are not already generally in possession of the minds of the spectators of living plays (e.g.the Greek Tragedies). It is for the most part a struggle with the incomparable, already existingcomplete—which is quite intimidating to my capabilities. Do not take this ill, my dear Friend, and do not consider it too great a presumption that I, your pupil, declare so plainly against you where you think so differently. To go back over one detail, I must also confess thatto meacoloured cartoonis not a natural mode of expression; adrawn, or agrey in grey(grau in grau) painted cartoon—well enough. A size five feet high is to me, for asuggestionof colour, at least five times too large; just as little could I give a suggestion of form in this size. Colour is not necessary; but if one should use it in half life-size, it is too noble and poetic, I think, for one to venture, so to speak, to clarify it. Will you forgive me for all this, dear master? However, I shall see with deep interest the progress of the beautiful work which you will certainly execute.

I have heard with some sorrow of the burning of the venerable Dome, and am just writing to Otto Cornhill in respect to a lottery which is to be arranged for the re-erection of the tower.

I have read what you tell me of your dear family with great pleasure; please remember me most kindly to your wifeand children; also to my old comrades V. Müller, Wecker, and the rest. I am very glad to hear that G. Wecker, the apostate, has returned to art. He was, undoubtedly still is, a very gifted man, but had to guard somewhat, had he not? against theornamental.

But my letter is becoming too long.

Farewell, my dear Master; take nothing amiss from your grateful, devoted pupil,

Fred Leighton.

Friday 10, 1864.Dear Papa,—You will be disappointed, after waiting so long, to receive no paper after all, and a skimpy note instead. I am amused at the studied ill-nature of theSpectator; I wonder whoV.is. The author of an article on sensation pictures in theRealm, in which I am flatteringly quoted, is by Mrs. Norton.En sommeI think my "Golden Hours" is the most successful of my pictures (perhaps more than anything since "Cimabue") and the "Orpheus" (deservedly) the least. I am about to begin two new pictures. Mrs. Guthrie's portrait—a full length—is postponed for her health till the winter.

Friday 10, 1864.

Dear Papa,—You will be disappointed, after waiting so long, to receive no paper after all, and a skimpy note instead. I am amused at the studied ill-nature of theSpectator; I wonder whoV.is. The author of an article on sensation pictures in theRealm, in which I am flatteringly quoted, is by Mrs. Norton.En sommeI think my "Golden Hours" is the most successful of my pictures (perhaps more than anything since "Cimabue") and the "Orpheus" (deservedly) the least. I am about to begin two new pictures. Mrs. Guthrie's portrait—a full length—is postponed for her health till the winter.

1864.I should not leave the place I am in except to build; a mended house would be most unsatisfactory andtemporary. I feel sure I shall nowhere get standing room for a house for less than £28, still less room for a house andlarge garden. If I find the terms exactly as I expect and my lawyer (Nettleship) satisfied with the title I shall, I think, close the bargain, the more so that another painter (I don't know who) is after it.[32]I am staying for a day or two at Dangstein (Lady Dorothy Neville's). I met here last night Mr. Henry Woolfe, who very kindly offered me introductions to one or two charming Venetian families (Mocenigo) which will be very pleasant for me, as I want to see a Venetian interior. Gambart has paid the £1050 for "Dante." The "Honeymoon" was bought by a Cornhill dealer yclept Moreby.I will let you know how all goes off on Saturday at the Council, meanwhile best love to Mamma.—From your affectionate son,Fred.

1864.

I should not leave the place I am in except to build; a mended house would be most unsatisfactory andtemporary. I feel sure I shall nowhere get standing room for a house for less than £28, still less room for a house andlarge garden. If I find the terms exactly as I expect and my lawyer (Nettleship) satisfied with the title I shall, I think, close the bargain, the more so that another painter (I don't know who) is after it.[32]I am staying for a day or two at Dangstein (Lady Dorothy Neville's). I met here last night Mr. Henry Woolfe, who very kindly offered me introductions to one or two charming Venetian families (Mocenigo) which will be very pleasant for me, as I want to see a Venetian interior. Gambart has paid the £1050 for "Dante." The "Honeymoon" was bought by a Cornhill dealer yclept Moreby.

I will let you know how all goes off on Saturday at the Council, meanwhile best love to Mamma.—From your affectionate son,

Fred.

August 23, 1864.I found your letter on returning from Lyndhurst this morning. I may as well tell you at once that I have finished my fresco, retouching a great deal of what was already painted, and I think I may add, greatly improving it—so much for that.With regard to the draft, my assent was only general and preliminary (besides being subject to the approval in the details of my solicitor) and bound me to nothing. My surveyor and solicitor have conferred together and with Lady H.'s agent, and though the agreement is not yet signed, the matter is virtually settled. I have several minor clauses altered which had been inserted originally in the general draft to meet cases different from my own. With regard to the title, I was surprised and vexed to hear that it was stipulated thatno title shouldbe called for. My lawyer told me that this was frequently the case—that he would go to Doctors' Commons to see the Will to ascertain the truth of the statement that the property was Lady H.'s in fee simple (as it is). Even this he said did notlegallyexhaust the matter, as there might be encumbrances not alluded to in the Will. He said, however, that many other leases had been granted on that property on precisely the same terms, that the matter turned on the character of the landlord, and that,en somme, I ran but little risk.Since thenI have seen him, and he tells me that he has fortunately been able to ascertain through a very respectable firm of solicitors, whohaveseen the titles, thatit is all right; he has therefore not thought it desirable to put me to the expense of investigating the Will—so far so good. As to the possible expense of the house, my dear Papa, you have taken, I assure you, false alarm. I shall indeed devote more to the architectural part of the building thanyouwould care to do; but in the first place architecture and muchornamentare not inseparable, and besides, whatever I do I shall undertakenothing without an estimate.You need never fear that I shall take otherwise than it ismeant the advice that your experience and interest in me suggest to you. You will also, I am sure, allow for the difference of feeling between yourself and an artist who lives by his eyes.A line will find me at Venice,poste restante, all September. I am just off.Best love to Mammy.—From your affectionate son,Fred.I knew neitherPoolenorJones. Grant said he thought it probable I should be an R.A. before long.

August 23, 1864.

I found your letter on returning from Lyndhurst this morning. I may as well tell you at once that I have finished my fresco, retouching a great deal of what was already painted, and I think I may add, greatly improving it—so much for that.

With regard to the draft, my assent was only general and preliminary (besides being subject to the approval in the details of my solicitor) and bound me to nothing. My surveyor and solicitor have conferred together and with Lady H.'s agent, and though the agreement is not yet signed, the matter is virtually settled. I have several minor clauses altered which had been inserted originally in the general draft to meet cases different from my own. With regard to the title, I was surprised and vexed to hear that it was stipulated thatno title shouldbe called for. My lawyer told me that this was frequently the case—that he would go to Doctors' Commons to see the Will to ascertain the truth of the statement that the property was Lady H.'s in fee simple (as it is). Even this he said did notlegallyexhaust the matter, as there might be encumbrances not alluded to in the Will. He said, however, that many other leases had been granted on that property on precisely the same terms, that the matter turned on the character of the landlord, and that,en somme, I ran but little risk.Since thenI have seen him, and he tells me that he has fortunately been able to ascertain through a very respectable firm of solicitors, whohaveseen the titles, thatit is all right; he has therefore not thought it desirable to put me to the expense of investigating the Will—so far so good. As to the possible expense of the house, my dear Papa, you have taken, I assure you, false alarm. I shall indeed devote more to the architectural part of the building thanyouwould care to do; but in the first place architecture and muchornamentare not inseparable, and besides, whatever I do I shall undertakenothing without an estimate.

You need never fear that I shall take otherwise than it ismeant the advice that your experience and interest in me suggest to you. You will also, I am sure, allow for the difference of feeling between yourself and an artist who lives by his eyes.

A line will find me at Venice,poste restante, all September. I am just off.

Best love to Mammy.—From your affectionate son,

Fred.

I knew neitherPoolenorJones. Grant said he thought it probable I should be an R.A. before long.

Venice,September 20, '64.My dear Papa,—Many thanks for your letter, which reached me safely a few days ago. I do indeed contemplate building my house so as to be enlarged at a future day. I find, however, that I shall probably be obliged to build at once rather more than I absolutely require for practical building reasons, but I need not therefore furnish more than I require. About the well I am now entirely in the dark. It would never have occurred to me to ask myself the question, Are there notpipesor something? With regard to the Will, if the perusal of it only cost a guinea, it might have been worth while to look at it, though Palmer and Nettleship thought it superfluous; but then P. and N. tell me it would cost £20! to have it gone over, and as my expenses with Browne (Lady H.'s agent) are already very great—he makes a preposterous charge,which I can't dispute, for the agreement—I don't think I shall care to add to them.My architect is Aitchison, an old friend.I wrote to the Academicians (Poole, Grant, and Jones) almost immediately on hearing from them, and expressed a hope, vague but polite, that we might meet on my return.PooleI should like to know; he is a man of poetic mind. I need scarcely tell you that the idea of my being elected President (!!!) for many years to come is simplyludicrous, even if there is a chance of my ever having the offer of that dignity.I am quite aware that people do talk of itlaughingly, but I don't think it goes beyond "chaff" yet. No doubt many other young artists are chaffed in the same way with imaginary dignities. I am delighted that Mamma is better; I should have said this before but that I have answered your letter systematically. I trust the improvement will be lasting.I congratulate you on Colenso's visit, and shall be very anxious to hear from you how it went off.As for myself, I am very snugly ensconced in a little mezzanino on the Grand Canal, with a sort of passage which I use as a studio and a bath-room, inasmuch as it opens straight on the water, and enables me to take a very jolly swim every day. I am not attempting a picture, but am making a sketch for one which I shall probably paint on the spot next autumn, staying here a couple of months or so. Meanwhile I have got several heads in hand—studies,notforsale, for use—and a few sketches in Saint Mark's, which I think promise well.Et voilà.I stay here a fortnight longer, so that a letter written on receipt of this would still catch me; after thatRomeis the safest address. I shall be there from the 20th to the 28th of October.Best love to Mamma, and believe me, your affectionate son,Fred.

Venice,September 20, '64.

My dear Papa,—Many thanks for your letter, which reached me safely a few days ago. I do indeed contemplate building my house so as to be enlarged at a future day. I find, however, that I shall probably be obliged to build at once rather more than I absolutely require for practical building reasons, but I need not therefore furnish more than I require. About the well I am now entirely in the dark. It would never have occurred to me to ask myself the question, Are there notpipesor something? With regard to the Will, if the perusal of it only cost a guinea, it might have been worth while to look at it, though Palmer and Nettleship thought it superfluous; but then P. and N. tell me it would cost £20! to have it gone over, and as my expenses with Browne (Lady H.'s agent) are already very great—he makes a preposterous charge,which I can't dispute, for the agreement—I don't think I shall care to add to them.

My architect is Aitchison, an old friend.

I wrote to the Academicians (Poole, Grant, and Jones) almost immediately on hearing from them, and expressed a hope, vague but polite, that we might meet on my return.PooleI should like to know; he is a man of poetic mind. I need scarcely tell you that the idea of my being elected President (!!!) for many years to come is simplyludicrous, even if there is a chance of my ever having the offer of that dignity.

I am quite aware that people do talk of itlaughingly, but I don't think it goes beyond "chaff" yet. No doubt many other young artists are chaffed in the same way with imaginary dignities. I am delighted that Mamma is better; I should have said this before but that I have answered your letter systematically. I trust the improvement will be lasting.

I congratulate you on Colenso's visit, and shall be very anxious to hear from you how it went off.

As for myself, I am very snugly ensconced in a little mezzanino on the Grand Canal, with a sort of passage which I use as a studio and a bath-room, inasmuch as it opens straight on the water, and enables me to take a very jolly swim every day. I am not attempting a picture, but am making a sketch for one which I shall probably paint on the spot next autumn, staying here a couple of months or so. Meanwhile I have got several heads in hand—studies,notforsale, for use—and a few sketches in Saint Mark's, which I think promise well.Et voilà.

I stay here a fortnight longer, so that a letter written on receipt of this would still catch me; after thatRomeis the safest address. I shall be there from the 20th to the 28th of October.

Best love to Mamma, and believe me, your affectionate son,

Fred.

In the preceding letters mention is made of the final arrangements for the building of Leighton's house in Holland Park Road. Mr. George Aitchison, R.A., his old friend, undertook to be the architect. It was begun in 1865, and first occupied by Leighton in 1866.

Referring to opinions expressed regarding Florentine Art, past and present, Leighton wrote to his younger sister: "——'s remark about ——, if I remember it, was utter bosh and pedantry. The Florentines of the end of the fifteenth century wereemphaticallyrealists, though their realism was animated by a higher genius and a deeper humanity than the modern Italians exhibit, thoughthey,by-the-bye, are mostly notrealistsbut mannerists. The chief characteristic of English Art is (I speak of course of the better men) originality and humanity on the one hand, and on the other, absence of acquired knowledge and guiding taste. Some day I will write you a lot more about it."

Fully launched into the English art world, deeply interested in every phase of sincere work produced by contemporary brother artists, Leighton nevertheless adhered in his own practice to the views and principles which he held from the time he became Steinle's devoted pupil. To a question which referred to his art development, asked by Mrs. Mark Pattison when she was about to write an account of his life in 1879, Leighton answered, "I can only speak of what is not achangebut virtually a growth, the passage from Gothicism to Classicism (for want of better words)i.e.a growth from multiplicity to simplicity. Artists' manners are not changed by books!" "As regards English artists," he writes in the same letter, "I can only of course speak with great reserve. Elmore treated me with marked kindness, lending me a studio. Millais, Rossetti, Hunt were most cordial and friendly, though I openly told them I was wholly opposed to their views; but, indeed, few men have more cause to speak well of their brethren."

The artistic events of the years 1862, 1863, and 1864 culminated in Leighton being elected an Associate of the Royal Academy. His old friend, Mr. George Aitchison, wrote at the time of Leighton's death: "In 1860 he took a studio at Orme Square, Bayswater. It was during this time that his conversation was so brilliant and so free from restraint. I remember a summer afternoon I spent with him, Mason, and Murch on the terrace at the Crystal Palace, when he gave vent to the freest criticism on books, artists, philosophy, science, and the methods of teaching, and deploredthe waste of time to students of making large chalk studies, when everything that was wanted could be shown on a sheet of smooth paper, seven inches high, with a hard pencil. He was a great admirer of Boxall and his delicate painting, of Mr. Watts' and Sir E. Burne-Jones' work, and persuaded the last two to join the Royal Academy. In 1864 he was made an A.R.A., and after this he became very cautious of expressing any but the most general opinions on contemporary English art, as his remarks generally got into the papers."

"Eucharis," 1863; "Dante at Verona," and "Golden Hours," 1864, are three works which might be placed in the first rank of Leighton's achievements. In the following letters references are made to the pictures:—

April 29, 1863.Dear Mammy,—I have just been to the R.A., having been invited to the "Varnishing Day."Fourpictures are hung—"Elijah,"high, of course, but in a centre place; it looks well, butmuchdarker than in the studio. "Peacock Girl,"[33]very well hung, exactly where "The Vision" was a few years ago; it looks well. "The Crossbowman" and "The Girl with the Fruit"[34]are fairly hung, but look, to me, less well than in the studio. The "Salome"[35]is the one not taken. Altogether I am well treated.

April 29, 1863.

Dear Mammy,—I have just been to the R.A., having been invited to the "Varnishing Day."Fourpictures are hung—"Elijah,"high, of course, but in a centre place; it looks well, butmuchdarker than in the studio. "Peacock Girl,"[33]very well hung, exactly where "The Vision" was a few years ago; it looks well. "The Crossbowman" and "The Girl with the Fruit"[34]are fairly hung, but look, to me, less well than in the studio. The "Salome"[35]is the one not taken. Altogether I am well treated.

In the following letters from Ruskin his interest is expressed in the pictures exhibited in the Academy of 1863, and for the "Romola" illustrations:—

My dear Leighton,—I've only just had time to look in, yesterday, at R. Ac., and your pictures are the only ones that interest me in it; and the two pretty ones, peacocks and basket, interest me much. Ahab I don't much like. You know you, like all people good for anything in this age and country (as far as Palmerston), are still a boy—and a boy can't paint Elijah. But the pretty girls are very nice—verynearlybeautiful. I can't say more, can I? If once theywerebeautiful, they would be immortal too. But if I don't pitch into you when I get hold of you again for not drawing your Canephora's basket as well as her head and hair! You got out of the scrape about the circle of it by saying you wanted it hung out of sight (whichIdon't). But the meshes are all wrong—inelegantlywrong—which is unpardonable. I believe a Japanese would have done it better. Thanks for nice book on Japan with my name Japanned.Itis very nice too. I wish the woodcuts were bigger. I should like it so much better in a little octavo with big woodcuts on every other page. But I never do anything but grumble.—Faithfully yours,J. Ruskin.

J. Ruskin.

My dear Leighton,—The public voice respecting the lecture you are calumniously charged with, is as wise as usual. The lecture is an excellent and most interesting one, and I am very sorry it is not yours.I am also very sorry the basketisyours, in spite of the very pretty theory of accessories. It is proper that an accessory be slightly—sometimes even, in a measure, badly—painted, but notthat it should be out of perspective; and in the greatest men, their enjoyment and power animated the very dust under the feet of their figures—much more the baskets on their heads: above all things, what comes near a head should be studied in every line.There is nothing more notable to my mind in the minor tricks of the great Venetians than the exquisite perspective of bandeaux, braids, garlands, jewels, flowers, or anything else which aids theroundingsof their heads.It is my turn to claim Browning for you, though I know what your morning time is to you. I must have you over here one of these summer mornings, if it be but to look at some dashes in sepia by Reynolds, and a couple of mackerel by Turner—which, being principals instead of accessories, I hope you will permit to be well done, though they're not as pretty as peacocks.I have been watching the "Romola" plates with interest. The one of the mad old man with dagger seemed to me a marvellous study (of its kind), and I feel the advancing power in all.Will you tell me any day you could come—any hour—and I'll try for Browning.—Ever faithfully yours,J. Ruskin.I'm always wickeder in the morning than at night, because I'm fresh; so I'll try, this morning, to relieve your mind about the peacocks. To my sorrow, I know more of peacocks than girls, as you know more of girls than peacocks—and I assure you solemnly the fowls are quite as unsatisfactory to me as the girl can possibly be to you; so unsatisfactory, that if I could have painted them as well as you could, andhadpainted them as ill, I should have painted them out.[36]

I am also very sorry the basketisyours, in spite of the very pretty theory of accessories. It is proper that an accessory be slightly—sometimes even, in a measure, badly—painted, but notthat it should be out of perspective; and in the greatest men, their enjoyment and power animated the very dust under the feet of their figures—much more the baskets on their heads: above all things, what comes near a head should be studied in every line.

There is nothing more notable to my mind in the minor tricks of the great Venetians than the exquisite perspective of bandeaux, braids, garlands, jewels, flowers, or anything else which aids theroundingsof their heads.

It is my turn to claim Browning for you, though I know what your morning time is to you. I must have you over here one of these summer mornings, if it be but to look at some dashes in sepia by Reynolds, and a couple of mackerel by Turner—which, being principals instead of accessories, I hope you will permit to be well done, though they're not as pretty as peacocks.

I have been watching the "Romola" plates with interest. The one of the mad old man with dagger seemed to me a marvellous study (of its kind), and I feel the advancing power in all.

Will you tell me any day you could come—any hour—and I'll try for Browning.—Ever faithfully yours,

J. Ruskin.

I'm always wickeder in the morning than at night, because I'm fresh; so I'll try, this morning, to relieve your mind about the peacocks. To my sorrow, I know more of peacocks than girls, as you know more of girls than peacocks—and I assure you solemnly the fowls are quite as unsatisfactory to me as the girl can possibly be to you; so unsatisfactory, that if I could have painted them as well as you could, andhadpainted them as ill, I should have painted them out.[36]

Monday.Dear Leighton,—I saw Browning last night; and he said he couldn't come till Thursday week: but do you think it would put you quite off your work if you came out here early on Friday and I drove you into Kensington as soon as you liked? We have enough to say and look at, surely, for two mornings—one by ourselves?I want, seriously, for one thing to quit you of one impression respecting me. You are quite right—"ten times right"—in saying I never focus criticism. Was there ever criticism worth adjustment? The light is so ugly, it deserves no lens, and I never use one. But you never, on the other hand, have observed sufficiently that in such rough focussing as I give it, I measure faults not by their greatness, but their avoidableness. A man's great faults are natural to him—inevitable; ifverygreat—undemonstrable, deep in the innermost of things. I never or rarely speak of them. They must be forgiven, or the picture left. But a common fault in perspective is not to be so passed by. You may not tell your friend, but with deepest reserve, your thoughts of the conduct of his life, but you tell him, if he has an ugly coat, to change his tailor, without fear of his answering that you don't focus your criticism. Now it so happens that I am in deep puzzlement and thought about some conditions of your work and its way, which, owing to my ignorance of many things in figure painting, are not likely to come to any good or speakable conclusion. But it would be partly presumptuous and partly vain to talk of these; hence that silence you spoke of when I saw you last. I wish I had kept it all my life, and learned, in place, to do the little I could have done, and enjoy the much I might have enjoyed.—Ever faithfully yours,J. Ruskin.Send me a line saying if you will give me the Friday morning, and fix your own hour for breakfast to be ready; and never mind if you are late, for I can't give you pretty things that spoil for waiting, anyhow.

Monday.

Dear Leighton,—I saw Browning last night; and he said he couldn't come till Thursday week: but do you think it would put you quite off your work if you came out here early on Friday and I drove you into Kensington as soon as you liked? We have enough to say and look at, surely, for two mornings—one by ourselves?

I want, seriously, for one thing to quit you of one impression respecting me. You are quite right—"ten times right"—in saying I never focus criticism. Was there ever criticism worth adjustment? The light is so ugly, it deserves no lens, and I never use one. But you never, on the other hand, have observed sufficiently that in such rough focussing as I give it, I measure faults not by their greatness, but their avoidableness. A man's great faults are natural to him—inevitable; ifverygreat—undemonstrable, deep in the innermost of things. I never or rarely speak of them. They must be forgiven, or the picture left. But a common fault in perspective is not to be so passed by. You may not tell your friend, but with deepest reserve, your thoughts of the conduct of his life, but you tell him, if he has an ugly coat, to change his tailor, without fear of his answering that you don't focus your criticism. Now it so happens that I am in deep puzzlement and thought about some conditions of your work and its way, which, owing to my ignorance of many things in figure painting, are not likely to come to any good or speakable conclusion. But it would be partly presumptuous and partly vain to talk of these; hence that silence you spoke of when I saw you last. I wish I had kept it all my life, and learned, in place, to do the little I could have done, and enjoy the much I might have enjoyed.—Ever faithfully yours,

J. Ruskin.

Send me a line saying if you will give me the Friday morning, and fix your own hour for breakfast to be ready; and never mind if you are late, for I can't give you pretty things that spoil for waiting, anyhow.

Leighton writes to his mother:—

I had a kind note this morning from Ruskin, in which, after criticising two or three things, he speaks very warmly of other points in my work and of the development of what he calls "enormous power and sense of beauty." I quote this for what it is worth, because I know it will give you pleasure, but I have NOT andnever shall have"enormous power," though Ihave some "sense of beauty." The "Orpheus" and "Golden Hours" are not in thegreatroom but in the next to it. I have not seen Gambart lately, and do not, therefore, know whether he has got rid of any more of my pictures (by-the-bye, I have sent the "duet"—"Johnny"—to America to an Exhibition for the Sanitary Commission, on the request of Mrs. Kemble's daughter). He will,I think, engrave the "Honeymoon," but probably only photograph the others; by-the-bye (again), Mammy, tell Gussy with my love that I shall present her with a copy of each and shall not "think her greedy," having no thoughts for her but affectionate ones. With regard to the money paid me by Gambart, I invested as soon as I got it £1000 in Eastern Counties Railwaydebentures, at par, 4½ per cent., this on the advance of Coutts' stock clerk. Lord Ashburton's portrait was scarcely begun.[37]I have offered to try to finishtant bien que malfrom photographs, and togiveit to Lady A. She is very grateful. The child's picture also goes to the wall, as she won't be able to sit for some time, and would then bechanged. Lady A. wanted to pay the price of the sketch as it stood; this I of course refused. She has commissioned me to paint her a fancy picture for £300.

Leighton was for five years an Associate before being elected a full member of the Royal Academy in 1869. During these years the number of important pictures he exhibited each season notably increased. In at least twelve of these works the many-sided Leighton is worthily represented—"Dante at Verona,"[38]"Golden Hours," "David,""Syracusan Bride" (exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1866 and in the Paris International Exhibition in 1868),"Helen of Troy,"[39]"Greek Girl Dancing," "Venus Disrobing from the Bath," "Ariadne Abandoned by Theseus, Ariadne Watches for his Return, Artemis Releases Her by Death," "Actæa, the Nymph of the Shore," "Dædalus and Icarus," "Electra at the Tomb of Agamemnon," "Helios and Rhodos." The extreme variety from every point of view which exists in this group of twelve pictures, chosen from the twenty-six paintings and the numerous sketches executed in these five years, would be a proof in itself, if one were needed, of Leighton's extraordinary versatility as regards themotivesof his pictures.

Greek Girl Dancing"GREEK GIRL DANCING." 1867By permission of Mr. PhillipsonToList

"GREEK GIRL DANCING." 1867By permission of Mr. PhillipsonToList

A PastoralDRAWING FOR THE PAINTING "A PASTORAL." 1866Leighton House CollectionToList

DRAWING FOR THE PAINTING "A PASTORAL." 1866Leighton House CollectionToList

In the spring of 1865, after years of delicate health, Mrs. Leighton at the last died suddenly, at her home in Bath. At the time Leighton was staying at Sandringham where he received a telegram announcing her death, and on the same day he joined his family at Bath. It has been said that, as long as a man is blessed by possessing a mother, he still retains the blessing of being—in the eyes of one person at least—a child. To Leighton's tender-hearted nature this blessing was a very real one, as is testified by his correspondence with his mother.[40]The first chapter of Leighton's life seems, in a sense, only to end with this great sorrow.

Translation.]Frankfurt am Main,April 30, 1865.Dearest Friend,—As your last friendly lines of 14th March did not bring your address, I grasp the opportunity offered me by Mr. Tobie André to express to you my heartfelt sympathy on the loss of your dear mother. I remember that you often spoke to me of this mother with true filial affection, and I have secretly blessed you for it; I know now also that you will treasure her memory!—Always, your truly devoted,Steinle.

Translation.]

Frankfurt am Main,April 30, 1865.

Dearest Friend,—As your last friendly lines of 14th March did not bring your address, I grasp the opportunity offered me by Mr. Tobie André to express to you my heartfelt sympathy on the loss of your dear mother. I remember that you often spoke to me of this mother with true filial affection, and I have secretly blessed you for it; I know now also that you will treasure her memory!—Always, your truly devoted,

Steinle.

[26]SeeAppendix, "Lord Leighton's Sketches."

[27]Seepage 59, vol. ii., poem, Leighton's "Francesca di Rimini," by R.A.

[28]Head painted on the wall of the Vestry of Highnam Church—since destroyed.

[29]"Eucharis."

[30]Sir Hubert Parry writes: "I remember Leighton made a practical test of my father's medium by painting a fine dashing sketch of a head on the wall of the Vestry at Highnam Church. I used to admire it greatly. Unfortunately that Vestry was pulled down; and though efforts were made to preserve the sketch by cutting a great piece of plaster out of the wall, I understand that during the many years when I was hardly ever at Highnam, the plaster crumbled and collapsed." See letter to Steinle.

[31]Photographs of the Lyndhurst fresco.

[32]The ground on which Leighton built his house, 2 Holland Park Road, now preserved for the public.

[33]"Girl feeding Peacocks" (see sketches in Leighton House Collection). Leighton painted a small and exquisite water-colour on ivory of the picture, which was sold at Christie's after his death.

[34]"Eucharis."

[35]SeeList of Illustrations: reproduction from sketch in Leighton House.Mr. Frith, R.A., wrote the following respecting the rejection of "Salome":—10 Pembridge Villas, Bayswater, W.,April 29, 1863.My dear Leighton,—We have been unable to hang one of your best pictures—not because it was an excellent work, as the profane world would say—but because we had already placed so many of your pictures that the space due to Leighton was more than exhausted. M.C. Mortlake called us over the coals dreadfully on your behalf, but I, for one, resisted his arguments, and I believe you have to blame me for your picture being returned to you. I should have said nothing about the matter, but for the fear that I might be thought so stupid as not to see the merit of your work. Pray believe that my motive was a good one, and that I have tried to do what is right to you and to the rest.—Ever, dear Leighton, faithfully yours,W.P. Frith.

[35]SeeList of Illustrations: reproduction from sketch in Leighton House.

Mr. Frith, R.A., wrote the following respecting the rejection of "Salome":—

10 Pembridge Villas, Bayswater, W.,April 29, 1863.My dear Leighton,—We have been unable to hang one of your best pictures—not because it was an excellent work, as the profane world would say—but because we had already placed so many of your pictures that the space due to Leighton was more than exhausted. M.C. Mortlake called us over the coals dreadfully on your behalf, but I, for one, resisted his arguments, and I believe you have to blame me for your picture being returned to you. I should have said nothing about the matter, but for the fear that I might be thought so stupid as not to see the merit of your work. Pray believe that my motive was a good one, and that I have tried to do what is right to you and to the rest.—Ever, dear Leighton, faithfully yours,W.P. Frith.

10 Pembridge Villas, Bayswater, W.,April 29, 1863.

My dear Leighton,—We have been unable to hang one of your best pictures—not because it was an excellent work, as the profane world would say—but because we had already placed so many of your pictures that the space due to Leighton was more than exhausted. M.C. Mortlake called us over the coals dreadfully on your behalf, but I, for one, resisted his arguments, and I believe you have to blame me for your picture being returned to you. I should have said nothing about the matter, but for the fear that I might be thought so stupid as not to see the merit of your work. Pray believe that my motive was a good one, and that I have tried to do what is right to you and to the rest.—Ever, dear Leighton, faithfully yours,

W.P. Frith.

[36]Ruskin would not, I believe, have spoken thus of the peacocks in the exquisite water-colour on ivory—presumably a sketch in colour for the picture.

[37]Refers to Lord Ashburton's death.

[38]This picture illustrates the verses in theParadiso:—"Thou shalt proveHow salt the savour is of others' bread;How hard the passage, to descend and climbBy others' stairs. But that shall gall thee mostWill be the worthless and vile companyWith whom thou must be thrown into the straits,For all ungrateful, impious all and madShall turn against thee.""Dante, in fulfilment of this prophecy, is seen descending the palace stairs of the Can Grande, at Verona, during his exile. He is dressed in sober grey and drab clothes, and contrasts strongly in his ascetic and suffering aspect with the gay revellers about him. The people are preparing for a festival, and splendidly and fantastically robed, some bringing wreaths of flowers. Bowing with mock reverence, a jester gibes at Dante. An indolent sentinel is seated at the porch, and looks on unconcernedly, his spear lying across his breast. A young man, probably acquainted with the writings of Dante, sympathises with him. In the centre and just before the feet of Dante, is a beautiful child, brilliantly dressed and crowned with flowers, and dragging along the floor a garland of bay leaves and flowers, while looking earnestly and innocently in the poet's face. Next come a pair of lovers, the lady looking at Dante with attention, the man heedless. The last wears a vest embroidered with eyes like those in a peacock's tail. A priest and a noble descend the stairs behind, jeering at Dante."—Athenæum, April 1864.The following expresses the admiration of a brother artist, Richard Doyle, for the exiled "Dante":—54 Clifton Gardens, Maida Hill,April 5, 1864.My dear Leighton,—I feel so awkward whenever I attempt to praise a man's works to his face, and I felt that you, yesterday, were so likely to be bored with the repetition of similar speeches from your large influx of visitors, that at the moment of my going I could not bring myself to say what I wished to say—how much I liked your pictures. To-day, however, when "Dante" and "Orpheus," and the music and drawing parties are before my mind as vividly as they were yesterday before my eyes in your studio, I cannot resist sending you a few lines to say what pleasure my visit gave me, although I was "without words."The "Dante" seemed to me a very impressive picture, and I think one of the most important as well as most successful of your works, historical in a higher sense than the mere representation of an event—an illustration of the man and the time. I could mention many of the figures that especially pleased me, but, for beauty, can only single out that most delightful little child in the foreground, toddling at the feet of Dante, laden with flowers, the childhood and innocence of whose whole figure and face, although we do not see the face, contrasts so beautifully with the worn, ascetic, melancholy Poet. I think these two are a poem in themselves.The lady in the "drawing lesson" struck me as a charming figure, so graceful, and the painting of her dress as a perfect piece of work. The lady leaning over the instrument in the "music" ("Golden Hours") subject is also a great favourite of mine.The "Orpheus," although there is a great deal to admire in it, I don't think I liked so well as the others. Perhaps it is that the classic subject does not come home to me, but I say this doubtingly, feeling that it is a picture that would very likely grow upon me.Anyhow, I end by offering you my most hearty congratulations.—Most sincerely yours,Richard Doyle.

[38]This picture illustrates the verses in theParadiso:—

"Thou shalt proveHow salt the savour is of others' bread;How hard the passage, to descend and climbBy others' stairs. But that shall gall thee mostWill be the worthless and vile companyWith whom thou must be thrown into the straits,For all ungrateful, impious all and madShall turn against thee."

"Dante, in fulfilment of this prophecy, is seen descending the palace stairs of the Can Grande, at Verona, during his exile. He is dressed in sober grey and drab clothes, and contrasts strongly in his ascetic and suffering aspect with the gay revellers about him. The people are preparing for a festival, and splendidly and fantastically robed, some bringing wreaths of flowers. Bowing with mock reverence, a jester gibes at Dante. An indolent sentinel is seated at the porch, and looks on unconcernedly, his spear lying across his breast. A young man, probably acquainted with the writings of Dante, sympathises with him. In the centre and just before the feet of Dante, is a beautiful child, brilliantly dressed and crowned with flowers, and dragging along the floor a garland of bay leaves and flowers, while looking earnestly and innocently in the poet's face. Next come a pair of lovers, the lady looking at Dante with attention, the man heedless. The last wears a vest embroidered with eyes like those in a peacock's tail. A priest and a noble descend the stairs behind, jeering at Dante."—Athenæum, April 1864.

The following expresses the admiration of a brother artist, Richard Doyle, for the exiled "Dante":—

54 Clifton Gardens, Maida Hill,April 5, 1864.My dear Leighton,—I feel so awkward whenever I attempt to praise a man's works to his face, and I felt that you, yesterday, were so likely to be bored with the repetition of similar speeches from your large influx of visitors, that at the moment of my going I could not bring myself to say what I wished to say—how much I liked your pictures. To-day, however, when "Dante" and "Orpheus," and the music and drawing parties are before my mind as vividly as they were yesterday before my eyes in your studio, I cannot resist sending you a few lines to say what pleasure my visit gave me, although I was "without words."The "Dante" seemed to me a very impressive picture, and I think one of the most important as well as most successful of your works, historical in a higher sense than the mere representation of an event—an illustration of the man and the time. I could mention many of the figures that especially pleased me, but, for beauty, can only single out that most delightful little child in the foreground, toddling at the feet of Dante, laden with flowers, the childhood and innocence of whose whole figure and face, although we do not see the face, contrasts so beautifully with the worn, ascetic, melancholy Poet. I think these two are a poem in themselves.The lady in the "drawing lesson" struck me as a charming figure, so graceful, and the painting of her dress as a perfect piece of work. The lady leaning over the instrument in the "music" ("Golden Hours") subject is also a great favourite of mine.The "Orpheus," although there is a great deal to admire in it, I don't think I liked so well as the others. Perhaps it is that the classic subject does not come home to me, but I say this doubtingly, feeling that it is a picture that would very likely grow upon me.Anyhow, I end by offering you my most hearty congratulations.—Most sincerely yours,Richard Doyle.

54 Clifton Gardens, Maida Hill,April 5, 1864.

My dear Leighton,—I feel so awkward whenever I attempt to praise a man's works to his face, and I felt that you, yesterday, were so likely to be bored with the repetition of similar speeches from your large influx of visitors, that at the moment of my going I could not bring myself to say what I wished to say—how much I liked your pictures. To-day, however, when "Dante" and "Orpheus," and the music and drawing parties are before my mind as vividly as they were yesterday before my eyes in your studio, I cannot resist sending you a few lines to say what pleasure my visit gave me, although I was "without words."

The "Dante" seemed to me a very impressive picture, and I think one of the most important as well as most successful of your works, historical in a higher sense than the mere representation of an event—an illustration of the man and the time. I could mention many of the figures that especially pleased me, but, for beauty, can only single out that most delightful little child in the foreground, toddling at the feet of Dante, laden with flowers, the childhood and innocence of whose whole figure and face, although we do not see the face, contrasts so beautifully with the worn, ascetic, melancholy Poet. I think these two are a poem in themselves.

The lady in the "drawing lesson" struck me as a charming figure, so graceful, and the painting of her dress as a perfect piece of work. The lady leaning over the instrument in the "music" ("Golden Hours") subject is also a great favourite of mine.

The "Orpheus," although there is a great deal to admire in it, I don't think I liked so well as the others. Perhaps it is that the classic subject does not come home to me, but I say this doubtingly, feeling that it is a picture that would very likely grow upon me.

Anyhow, I end by offering you my most hearty congratulations.—Most sincerely yours,

Richard Doyle.

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