Chapter V: Friends

Leighton's friendships were very salient, vivid interests to him among the varied occupations of his life. In any complete picture of his personality these must take a prominence only secondary to his passion for Art and Beauty,--and for "his second home,"--the land that had cast such a strange spell and charm over him from the early days of childhood,--to his love for his family, and his reverent devotion to his master, Steinle, and to Mrs. Sartoris. To these two inspiring friends and teachers he declared he owed what he prized most in life, namely, a development of those gifts and qualities which enabled him to be of service to his generation.

"I have always believed that his ruling passion was _Duty_--the keenest possible sense of it," Mr. Briton Riviere writes. The influences which were the most precious to Leighton were assuredly those which enabled him to extend his own influence in the highest and widest direction, and fulfil exhaustively his duty to his fellow-creatures. Every moment of his life was real and earnest to him. Every moment had a purpose--ever before him was the urgent imperative necessity he felt of being _faithful_: faithful in every detail as in decisive final aims. If an epithet had to be attached to his name, epitomising Leighton's salient characteristics, the most appropriate would surely be "Leighton the faithful."

Many among those who are dead,--also among the now living, found in him their best friend. The letters written to him by Mr. Henry Greville, and those that Leighton wrote to Mr. Hanson Walker are good examples, among the many that have been preserved, showing the very prominent place his friends took in Leighton's life. In the first we trace the tender affection he inspired in the hearts of his intimates,[56] and in the second the ardent manner in which Leighton would help artists younger than himself, and how with a parental solicitude he would do his best to forward their true interests.[57]

The following letters from Mr. Henry Greville were written on Leighton's return to Paris, after he had run over to London to place the "Romeo" picture which had been in the Paris International Exhibition with Colnaghi, and after "The Triumph of Music" had been sent in to the Academy.

LONDON, _April 25_.

DEAR FAY,--You are rather a bad boy not to have given either
Ad. or me a _signe de vie_, but as I have not seen her to-day,
she may have heard from you. We both want to do so _very_
much, so pray write ME a line directly. I only do so to-day to
say that at my suggestion Ad. and I rushed off yesterday again
to Colnaghi to find out if the Queen or Albert knew of your
picture being at his shop; and if not, to ask him to let them
know it, if he could do so with propriety. He said he would at
once send the picture to B. Palace, as he was in the habit of
doing other works; though he did not think that it was likely
they would buy another picture of yours, he admitted that it
might be advantageous to you that they should see it. He again
praised the picture greatly, and told us that it was
universally admired. My sister prefers it infinitely to
"Cimabue" in all respects, but the fact is, the subject is
more attractive to English people than the other. I have
nothing else to tell you. I am _very_ seedy with an affection
of the bronchial tubes, and very low, and would give anything
to see you, my dear boy, but must have patience till the
pleasant moment of having you under my roof arrives. You will
be glad to hear that my mother is better. I have not seen
Ellesmere, as he was at the Review, but you may depend on my
not forgetting your interests. The said Review was a most
glorious spectacle, and they had a splendid day for it. I am
starved to death here, and Ad. and I do nothing but grumble.
She and I dined _tete-a-tete_ last night, and slept and
coughed through the evening with the occasional intermission
of talking of you--you old Fay! To-night I am going with her
to Eli, though I ought to be in my bed. Theo is ill and can't
come, and Fanny reads. Oh! that you were to be with us! Tell
me if you would object to a VERY slight gold frame to the
drawings--merely a _line_, because, as my rooms are all white,
and that everything in them has gilt, the drawings want a sort
of background--which this slight frame would give them. Tell
me what you think. I don't mean to hang up my Vintage, but
keep it near me on an _easle_ (how do you spell it?). Charley,
being highly coloured, looks lovely, and don't want any
frame--nasty Charley! Now pray write and tell me all about
yourself--and the _moddles_--and how you _are_--and how you
get on--and what you do. Don't drag off to dull parties, but
go to bed early.

God bless you. Amami, ne ho gran bisogno. Colnaghi said he had
heard from one Cooper a very good report of "Orpheus."

H.

How have the photographs turned out? I like your portrait less
now that you are away--but it can't be helped, it is better
than none, but it looks so sad. I have hung you and Ad. up
side by side in sweet companionship in my dressing-room, so
that I may see you both the first thing on waking.

LONDON, _April 26th_.

DEAREST BIMBO,--You have made us pass some very anxious hours,
as the telegraph which I sent off at seven this morning will
have testified, though it will also have surprised and perhaps
alarmed you until you read its contents. The fact is, _I_
thought it odd that we did not hear from you, yesterday at all
events, as I felt sure you would have written immediately on
getting our joint note from Boulogne, Wednesday, and certainly
on the following day. However, I felt sanguine that on going
to dine at 79, I should find that Ad. had heard from you, but,
on the contrary, I found her full of anxiety at no letter,
imagining every species of cause for your silence, which she
said was so very unlike you, that I directly caught the same
state of worry, and we determined that I should telegraph the
first thing this morning to know if you were ill, or if
anything had happened. I never slept all night, and of course
had worked myself, with her assistance, into a wretched state
of anxiety about you--when at nine your letter arrived, and a
blessed relief it was. I should not probably have been in such
a state, had Adelaide not been convinced that illness or some
catastrophe had prevented your writing, because, she said,
your _wont_ was to do so immediately on parting with her, and
she could account for it in no other way. In short, dear Fay,
we were very foolish; but I assure you our folly met its own
punishment by the anxiety, and which spoilt our "Eli"
entirely. Poor Fay! I daresay you little thought that we were
tormenting ourselves about you, and I, for one, shall try and
not do so any more. Your letter is like yourself--dear and
kind. With regard to the enclosure, my opinion is that you
would not do wisely or handsomely by Colnaghi to withdraw your
picture from his keeping, unless he _wished_ to get rid of it
to make room for the supposed exhibition of drawings;
moreover, my own opinion is that you would not do well to
exhibit at the Crystal Palace. I have no faith in that
institution, and I think it will be a pity to rob your studio
of the "Pan" and "Venus" for that purpose; but as I do not
consider myself a good judge of these matters or competent to
advise you, I think I should be very much guided by what other
artists of the same standing as yourself think and do in the
matter, and before deciding or answering Mr. Magwood, I should
write to Buckner or any one else competent to advise you and
ask their opinion. I don't know what Sister Adelaide will say,
but I have sent her your letter and the enclosure, and she
will probably write to you on the subject. You are _too_ dear
and nice about my mother. I fear that before you come she will
have left London, and I don't think you would like to paint
her, because her sweet face is entirely hidden by the shade
she is obliged to wear over her poor eyes; but _you_ know
whether I should like her portrait painted by you! But, dear
Fay, you are too lavish of your time on others, and do not
think enough of yourself. Here I was interrupted by a visit
from Adelaide, overjoyed at hearing all is well with you, and
agreeing entirely with me _in re_ C. Palace, Colnaghi, &c. She
says if C. wishes the picture to be removed, it is for him to
express that wish and not you, that a better order of people
go to him than those who frequent the C.P., that he is
well-disposed towards you, and that it is advisable you should
keep him as your friend.

We think Mogford's reference useless, being a foreigner, and
we are certain that unless _Millais_ and others of the same
class exhibit at the C.P., you had best have nothing to do
with it. I took Ad. up to your room, and she says you will be
_comfy_ in it; and she saw your nice face, patted it, and
said, "Dear Fay, but it looks so sad!" She thinks both
drawings will be better for a slight gilt _rim_, but I won't
put it on without your leave. I am so glad you are leading a
wholesome life, and getting the b. who planted you, rather
than dawdle proudly, and be without a good _moddle_. I have
nothing to say, dear Bimbo, and you will have had enough of
me. I am very bad with an ulcerated throat, cough, and
inflamed bronchia, and altogether below par. I have seen
hardly anybody since I came. Adelaide would have been pleased
with "Eli," had she been in a vein where pleasure was
possible. Pauline sang to perfection the lovely music allotted
to her. And now, dearest Bimbo, God bless you. Write very
often, if only a _line_, as it is comfortable to hear that all
is well with you--that is always the news I most wish to get;
and tell me how the pictures progress, and your real state of
mind about them.--Your old and loving Babbo,

H.

I send back Mogford. Penelope B. (Bentinck) tells me that the
great judge, George, condescends to approve "Romeo" mightily!!

LONDON, _Monday, April 28th_.

DEAR GOOD FAY,--Cartwright was wrong about the telegraph, but
as our anxiety was removed by your letter, I did not expect
you to send me one. Knowing how likely you were to write,
supposing you to be well, you may imagine that we were not a
little anxious at getting no sign of life from you, in return
for our daily letters, and I never could have guessed that the
Boulogne letter would only have reached you on Saturday!
However, all is well that ends well, but we passed a very
disagreeable day and night, and it was _because_ we did _not_
think you capable of putting off writing that we fussed and
worried ourselves about you--foolishly, dear Fay, no doubt. I
am very seedy and confined to the house by throat, bronchia,
unceasing cough, swelled glands, bad eyes--and should not
inflict myself and ailments upon you, but that it is a solace
and a comfort to _causer avec "mon petit dernier"_--a
cognomen which smiles UPON me--and made _me_ smile. Sister
Adelaide tea'd with me last night _en tete a tete_. Fanny was
grand, and would not come in, though she dropped her sister at
my door, because (she said) I had not said _to_ her that I
wished _for_ her! I was so little _en train_ that I was not
sorry to have only Adelaide, and we _did_ more than once say
how we wished Fay was eating the muffin destined for the proud
Fanny. Adelaide has just been here, and brought me your dear
letter. I don't see any _present_ prospect of the fire of my
affliction being extinguished or allowed to grow dim, so you
may make your mind easy on that score, excellent Fay. I feel
for your loneliness, and know what a contrast it must present
with the sweet fellowship we have held together so unceasingly
for those last two months. The only thing you gain by the loss
of your people is more time, and a later repast. I don't doubt
poor Mamma being unhappy at leaving you, her true and only
Benjamin, and for an indefinite time. I can judge by what I
felt at parting with _mon petit dernier_, and _with_ the hope
of so soon greeting him again. No, Fay, I won't have the
Charley drawing, and I won't have you do anything more for any
one but yourself, knowing as I do all the things you have on
hand--and _a propos_ of _that_, I must tell you that I have
endeavoured to put another iron in the fire _in re_ fresco. I
asked Lady Abercorn, who is my dearest friend, to speak to
Lord Aberdeen (her father-in-law) who is on the Committee of
Taste, or whatever it is called, first about your picture at
Colnaghi's and then of you generally as desirous of painting
in fresco, and as of one whose studies have been that way
directed, in whom I take a great interest; but I made her
understand that it was no _job_ I wanted done, or that I asked
any favour, but merely I wished it to be known that Leighton,
a very rising artist, would like to be employed in that line,
if an occasion presented itself. Lady A. understood me exactly
and being very sympathetic immediately conceived an interest
for my _petit dernier_ (I wish you were my son, Fay!) and said
if she did not see Lord Aberdeen very soon she would write to
him. Neither I nor Adelaide know where Windsor and Newton
live, so you had best write straight to him to send the
colours you want. I think I _must_ put just a _baguette d'or_
on the drawings, and when you see them on my walls I don't
think you will disapprove. With regard to Cartwright, Adelaide
says Jules Sartoris has got a place called Tusmore. I should
advise him to lose no time in advertising it both in the
newspaper and by different agents in town and country. I
should think it was a place _sure_ to be let, from its
convenient distance from London and other advantages. There is
no news here.

LONDON, _May 6th_.

DEAREST FAY,--Your letter is a relief and a comfort. It is
both to me to see you take this disagreeable business so
manfully, so wisely, and to think that instead of being cast
down, your energies will only be aroused by this stupid and
unjust criticism. In this case it may, then, well be said,
"Sweet are the uses of adversity." As to all the other papers,
I can't pretend to say what they may have written, but the
_Leader_ is one of no repute, and, as Ruskin said to Adelaide
this morning, it don't REALLY signify _what_ they write; in
the long run talent and genius must prevail, as yours will,
dear Fay, if it please God to grant you, as I fervently pray,
health and strength. She is going to write to you, and will
tell you all Ruskin said, and also what she thinks of the
Exhibition in general and your picture in particular, which, I
hear, is infamously placed--that is, in so bad a light that
only _Orpheus_ is visible. Passing, I must tell you that
Edward (Sartoris) came to see me yesterday, and the _first_
thing he said on entering the room was, "Well, I don't think
Leighton's picture looks bad. Orpheus's drapery is too yellow,
but it don't look amiss at all." This was rather much for him,
eh? He likes "Autumn Leaves," and he praised the "Leslie"
(which Adelaide says is all very well, but "slaty"). Landseer
is beautiful--but E. (Edward Sartoris) was _sous le charme_,
having sat next him at dinner at Marochetti's, when he told me
L. was as much _aux petits soins_ for him as if he had been
the loveliest of females. I am so glad about the models, and
if I don't hear from you as often shall know why. I am also
glad you dine with Cartwright and Co., but _how_ you _can_
dandle a nasty, doughy, puffy, bread-and-butter smelling thing
called a baby! Pah! a baby is my horror and aversion. Never do
it again--not even by your own. I could not have dandled even
my Bimbo without a grimace. Well done! old hideous ----; if
she promise not to act herself, I'll take a box for her next
benefit. She is the _ame damnee_ of Macready, so that her
verdict surprises me. I expect she will begin imitating her,
and have Medea translated--horrible idea! Read Ellesmere's
speech; it is very pretty, and the whole debate is
interesting, but Derby and Co. don't cut a good figure at all.
I am getting better now, and dined with my parent yesterday,
but can't go out in daytime for fear of eyes and throat, the
wind is so cold. Of course I read your letter to Ad. (Adelaide
Sartoris). (I think you had best now write straight to her,
because as I am soon hoping to be out, and have no one to send
so far, your letters will get to her quicker and more surely
by post.)

You must be very careful, and take time to weigh well and
consider the subjects of your future pictures. I think the
Mermaid might be both interesting and effective well carried
out, and you might also perhaps paint some subject from some
one of the Italian poets--Tasso, Ariosto, Boccaccio--for your
own satisfaction. God bless you! my dear boy. I am longing to
see you again already. Tell me how the models answer and how
you get on. _Don't_ call Brackley _de_. They are removed to
the Meurice. If you don't find them, write to her and offer to
go with her (saying at my suggestion) to the Louvre.--Love
your old Babbo,

H.

Later in the summer Mr. Greville wrote:--

1856, HATCHFORD, _Thursday_.

MY DEAR BOY,--I do sympathise with your disgust at the same
time that I think you have acted very _legerement_ about your
pictures, and, in fact, taken no trouble or heed about them.
_You should have seen to it all yourself before you left
London_, or have given directions to Watts, to which he would
have attended, instead of leaving him in total ignorance as to
what you meant or wished, and which picture or if both were to
go. I kept perpetually telling you to see after this business
and to be more _exact_ in it, but you see now the consequence
of not attending to things more carefully. You had better
write a curt letter to Greene, reminding him that you _had_
given written directions (as you say) that it was your "_Pan_"
that was to be removed, and that you made no mention of the
"Venus" (what has he done with her?), and again asking him
(since he had not replied to the query) whether he had got the
"Romeo." I shan't be in London until to-morrow night late, and
as you are to be there on Monday there will be no use in my
going to Greene, but I can do so on Saturday if you wish it.
I have had an answer from Ellesmere's secretary, to whom I
wrote to go and see if your pictures were well hung, to say
that the Exhibition only opens in first week of September,[58]
but that he has a friend who is an influential member of the
hanging committee, and that he will speak to him in favour of
yours being put into a good light. I heard from Adelaide
yesterday that she will be in town on Monday and will dine us.
I hoped you would have stayed (and she too) all Tuesday and
gone away on Wednesday morning, so that we might have spent
two evenings together, and I am disappointed. I shall go to
Scotland on Wednesday, and am sorry to have settled to do so.
I suppose you know Alfred Sartoris marries Miss Barrington--an
alliance which will enchant Aunt ----, as the young lady is
"The Honourable," and allied to several marquesses and
earls.--Addio, caro, your ever affectionate H.

_P.S._--Write again by all means to Greene asking _what has
become of the "Venus,"_ and also whether the "Romeo" has or
_not_ been sent to Manchester--whether you employ him or not,
you have a right to know what he has done with your property.
Write a line to Queen Street to-morrow to say at what time you
will be there on Monday that I may not be out of the way.

Rain has come, but it is still deliciously warm and fine in
the intervals.

Later in the same year Mr. Greville wrote:--

LONDON, _August 26, 1856_.

MY DEAREST FAY,--I have just got your letter of Saturday 23rd
from Frankfort, and as you state therein that you were to
leave that place on Monday, and that the letters which I sent
to Malet for you could only reach him on that morning, it is
next to certain that they will not have reached you. I
requested him, in the event of your having left Frankfort, or
in his failing to find you out, to send them on to the _p.
restante_ at Venice, and you will probably find them there
together with this letter, but I think it best also to send
you the originals for fear of accident, as it is desirable
that you should write to Mr. Harrison yourself.[59] In the
meanwhile, I have told him that when I knew your address I
would apprize him of it, and in a few days I shall write and
say that you are at Venice; but I don't think he will write to
you any more, but that he will expect to know _when you are
likely to return_. Having got so far, it of course is out of
the question that you should think of, or for a moment be
expected to return on purpose, and I think it most likely you
will be able to get Watts to go and look at the picture, in
case the matter should be pressing; but I think it will be
best that you offer to return to England before you settle at
Paris, and whenever your present tour (which I told Mr.
Harrison was one for artistic purposes) shall be ended. It
will be a great bore having to come back even then, on
purpose. I am sorry you did not get the letters at Frankfort;
on the whole though, perhaps they would only have worried you
and have made you _hesitate_ as to _returning_, and which
perhaps you might have thought _shorter_ and less troublesome
than having to come back by-and-bye. However, it is very
probable you may get Watts to do what is necessary, and that
you may be saved the expense and bore of another journey here
in the autumn. Adelaide and I contemplated the possibility of
your coming over at once from Frankfort, and we both
deprecated the idea, though we privately said how intensely
glad we should be to see you--selfish as it might be; and it
was arranged that I was to telegraph to her to Tunbridge where
she is gone to-day. Thanks, you dear boy, for your letter just
received. I can understand your pleasure at finding yourself
in your old haunts again, with your old friend and master to
whom you owe so much. It is a great comfort to me to find that
he likes your drawings, though I never doubted his doing so. I
was amused by your account of the Pimp and Ballerina, whose
modesty seems to have attracted you more than that of the
Russian Princess. Since writing to you last I have done but
little. I am come into town this morning expecting to find
Ffrench, but he has not turned up. I saw Sister A.[60]
yesterday on her way through, but my visit was spoilt by the
---- Girls and Cigala, who (as he never made love to me)
appears to me merely a _bon sabreur_ and horse fancier. You
know my opinion of the young ladies, who, _par parenthese_,
adore you. I am still at H. (Holland) House, and shall remain
there until Friday, when I come to dine with Adelaide, and
shall then go to Hatchford until I repair to Worsley--my
sister will be established there before long. Yesterday,
Ellesmere's secretary sent me a letter to say that the gent.
of the hanging committee "would take care that Mr. Leighton's
pictures were placed in the most favourable position."[61] So
let us hope for the best. I must tell you that Vic. is come
home, and is now opposite to me, and that she looks admirably
well. We have had heaps of people at H. House at dinner almost
every day. Marochetti came yesterday. He is full of the
subject of colouring statues, and has just taken to Osborne
two busts which the Queen was to present to-day to P. Albert
for his birthday. Marochetti _traite d'imbeciles_ all the
English sculptors who cannot yet take in this "undoubted
fact." He says Gibson is the only one who admits it, but even
he will not go Marochetti's lengths. Watts is (you know) at
Malvern, and the doctor thought him decidedly better before he
went, and that he may get into tolerable health. I think he is
to be at Malvern three weeks. John Leslie's wedding is at this
moment proceeding; he has almost settled to buy Lady C.
Lascelles' house at Campden Hill, which will be a capital
position for his studio, and another Sunday lounge for you
next year. Next year! (_eheu fugaces!_) a long time to wait to
see you again under my roof, you very dear boy. I always think
this dispersing time so melancholy. I wonder if I shall hear
from you before Venice. Oh yes, of course, you will write
wherever you stop. Mind and tell me about your studies, and
what you see and do--above all things take care of your
health, and don't catch fever by working in the sun, &c.
Charles says he can't think where your hat box can be--he is
in ecstasies with your old trousers, which have come out
brand new and a capital fit! You would be quite envious if
you could see them.

Good-bye, best of Fays. I shall send this letter off and write
another in a few days. I will mark _outside_ the dates of my
letters (and PRAY, mind and always date yours--you never do)
so that you will know which to open first. God bless you, you
dear _good_ fellow.--Love your fond old,

BABBO.

LONDON, _Thursday, August 28_.

DEAREST FAY,--One line to say that this afternoon your letter
of Sunday with the enclosed for Harrison reached me. It is a
relief to me that you _got_ the letters, and I think your
answer does very well, but as it had no cover, and that I was
obliged to send it in my own name to Harrison, I added, what
_you_ had better have done, that if necessary you could easily
come over the beginning of November, and I rather hope they
will accept that offer, as by that time the Court will have
returned from Scotland (perhaps to Windsor though), and you
might have a chance of being brought into contact with Albert,
and you would jabber good German to him and win his heart,
which _may_ be valuable to you. With regard to Watts, he said
he should be too happy to do _anything_ for you, but he wished
you to be thrown with Albert. He (Watts) is better and has
left Malvern. I got yesterday the _Manchester Guardian_, with
a sort of preliminary list of the pictures which are to be
opened to the private view to-morrow. They were not then all
hung, but they mention the "Romeo" as in a conspicuous
place--a sombre picture, but the Romeo and Juliet finely
conceived--or something to that effect. You shall hear all
about it. I have got little Ffrench till Saturday, when I go
to Hatchford and he home. I expect Adelaide to-morrow--we dine
with her, and I _fear_ shall have ----, which will be a potent
bore. There is of course no other news. Penelope Bentinck has
produced a huge boy, and is quite well. John Leslie's marriage
went off without any tears, and he made a very good "neat and
appropriate."

God bless you, my very dear boy--you are not so fond of me as
I am of you--be sure of it. Take care of yourself, and write
to and love your old

BABBINO.

Tell me all about your studies, as they interest me, and don't
forget to put me up to some pretty cheap gilt-moulding for my
frame.

Adelaide was pleased and touched at your seeing about her
pictures. Fay, she is devotedly attached to you--you may be
sure of it.

HATCHFORD, _September 9_.

MY DEAREST FAY,--I am going to begin a letter to you which I
can only send when I know where to direct to you, for after
Venice (from whence I have not heard from you yet) you have
given me no address. I hope to hear that you got all mine sent
to that place, and particularly the one enclosing a copy of
Phipps' letter to me in which he tells me it is the Queen's
wish that you come over here on your return to Paris. I got
your letter from Meran on Thursday last, and I sent it off to
Adelaide by that post, enjoining her to let me have it back by
the next, since which I have never had a line from her, and at
last grew so alarmed that I wrote to Anne to ask what had
happened, and that I could not but fear Ad. had been sent for
to Edward[62] in Ireland. To this letter I got _no_ reply, and
I have been in great suspense and anxiety till this morning,
when sure enough my surmise proved correct, and I got a few
lines from Adelaide herself from Muckross, whither she arrived
on Saturday, having left Warnford the day before, they having
sent for her. She has, I do not doubt, written to you and told
you that she found him neither dead or dying, but in a low,
bilious fever, having been in bed a week, and the doctor not
giving much hope of a speedy recovery. She, however, intends
to move him as soon as it is possible, but it may be some time
first, and of course their plans are more or less uncertain,
and mine of meeting them in London at an end, as I shall be
gone to Worsley before they can be in town. It is, however, a
mercy that this illness is not even more serious than it is.
When I heard his account of himself as I passed through
London, I wondered that she was not more alarmed, but I did
not tell her how serious the case appeared to me, and as it
has proved; and when I did not hear from her, I immediately
guessed what had occurred. She found Fordwich there, and says
the place appeared a Paradise, and now that she is easy about
Edward, perhaps she won't mind spending the time there instead
of Warnford. Only, the boy was to go to Eton on the 11th, and
I don't know how they will manage that. I have written to Ad.
to-day, and have sent her a volume I received this morning
from Fanny Kemble. The letter would interest you, but is too
bulky to send. She speaks of you in a way that pleases me and
would gratify your vanity in every respect, and describes you
as one of the most interesting people she ever met, and hopes
that your art may be an unceasing source of fame, profit, and
delight to you. I will keep the letter and show it to you when
I have the happiness of seeing you, my dear Fay. When Sarah
leaves her she is to begin reading in the West, and I suspect
that will answer better to her than the girl's society! Dear
Fay, my sister writes to me that she and Brackley went into
Manchester to see your pictures. I will transcribe what she
says: "They are pretty well placed, but the 'Romeo' is so dark
a picture it is difficult to see, and the lighting of the
gallery has something of the defect of that at B. House. The
'Pan' and 'Venus' seem to me to be very good pictures. _B.
considers them improper._ I like the 'Pan' the best. There are
not many good pictures in the Exhibition." To this I replied
that I was much diverted by Brackley's prudishness, but that
if such personages were to be painted, it was not possible to
clothe them in crinoline or in green gauze drawers such as
Bomba imposed upon his Ballerina. It makes me so sick, all
that cant about impropriety, but there is so much of it as to
make the sale of "nude figures" very improbable, and therefore
I hope you will turn your thoughts entirely to well-covered
limbs, and paint no more _Venuses_ for some time to come. I
trust you will devote all your energies to the Romeo, Dalilah
and Syren, and if you have any spare time, that you will do
our Friar Lawrence. I forget if I told you that Miss Kaye saw
your portrait of yourself, and says it is quite a _libel_ on
your physiognomy. Why _did_ you make yourself so pinched and
sad-looking, Fay?

_September 12._--Your letter from Venice of 5th reached me
this morning. I feel sure you will not have got my long
letter directed there on the 5th and enclosing Phipps' answer,
so I had better transcribe it: "It would be very desirable
that Mr. L. should run over from Paris when there to see
exactly what is the damage done to his picture, and I will
have nothing done to it in the meantime, but care shall be
taken that the injury shall not be increased. Mr. L. does not
state in his letter where an answer would reach him, and if
you are in communication with him perhaps you would have the
kindness to mention to him what Her Majesty's wishes on this
subject are." So, you see, my dear boy, you _must_ come, and
perhaps it may not be time so wasted, as I shall try and find
out when the Queen comes back from Scotland, so that if
possible you may time your arrival accordingly. The P. of
Wales is going to see the manufactories at Manchester, and
they are going to ask him to Worsley, I believe. Only fancy
those brutes at Warnford never sending me Adelaide's letter
written to me the morning of her hastening off to Ireland a
week ago until to-day! Too bad. She wrote in great distress of
mind and evidently hardly expected to find Edward[63] alive,
as she did not believe the telegraph which said he was better,
thinking that if it were so they would not have sent for her.
You dear boy, I am so glad you enjoy your Venice--which is all
very pretty no doubt, but I hate stinks and fleas--and they
abound there. I hate wobbling in a boat and walking in dirty
alleys, so I don't envy you at all. Have you fallen in with
either of the new married couples, Wilson or Leslie? Fay, it
is well you should come and see me, for I don't think there is
much chance of my going to Paris. The Hollands are going to
Naples, as the wall of their house at Paris has been damaged
by the pulling down of the next house and has to be rebuilt,
and I shall have no money to pay for lodging and food. There
are long lists of the pictures the Queen and others are to
send to the great Manchester Exhibition next year--I think
twenty at least from the Royal Galleries, and Ellesmere sends
eight or ten. I see that Eastlake is at Rome, so you may fall
in with him there. I conclude my next letter must be directed
there. You should recollect to give your address _d'avance_.
The second post has just brought me the enclosed, which, as
she says she don't write to you, I send (though it will cost a
fortune), knowing that it will gladden your eyes to see her
hand. She loves you dearly as I do, Fay! Your Meran letters
are very pretty, and I wish I could see that place. Good-bye,
and God bless you. We have lovely weather--not one bad day
since I have been here. Go and see the Villa Salviate. What
have you done with Steinle--what heard of Gamba? Love.--Your
old loving father,

H.

Enclosed is one from Mrs. Sartoris to Mr. Greville, which he sends on to Leighton.

MUCKROSS, KILLARNEY.

Many thanks. I got a letter too this morning, which I send you
with your own--let me have mine back. E. (Edward Sartoris) is
certainly a little better, thank God--still in bed though. He
hopes perhaps to get off next Saturday--this appears to me
nothing short of impossible--Monday I should think the very
soonest for such a move. This place is divinely beautiful, I
see, but I go out very little, and what with the shock I
received before starting, and the fatigue of my rapid journey,
and the anxiety about him, I feel incapable of receiving any
_impression_ from the place. I seem to acknowledge its beauty,
but I cannot get even a momentary enjoyment out of it at
present. The _hosts_ are very kind. Herbert always was an
excellent fellow. I cannot write to Fay, for with all the
delay caused by his letter having had to follow me here, my
answer would no longer catch him at Venice, and I do not know
where he next pitches his tent. Dear boy! he seems very
happy--God bless him and keep him so!

MUCKROSS, _Tuesday, 9th_.

HATCHFORD, _September 22_.

DEAREST FAY,--The enclosed reached me to-day having first been
sent to Ebury Street.[64] I think it best to send it to you
that you may reflect on what you will do, though it seems to
me that with the exception of the "Cimabue" you have _no_
picture you could send to this Exhibition. If you wish to be
represented by that work, I conclude you would have to ask
permission of the Queen to send it there, and this should be
done through "The Honourable Colonel Phipps," or Mr. Harrison,
his secretary. This permission would of course be granted at
once. When Charles told me in my bed this morning that a
letter had come for you from Manchester, I fondly hoped it was
to announce sale of one or other of your pictures! I wrote
yesterday, and have nothing more to say to-day but that I am
better, though still seedy. We have got the equinoctial gales
with rain. I fancy we, France and England, are going to recall
our missions from Naples, if Bomba don't give in, and send
squadrons of ships. But what then? I don't suppose we mean to
bombard the town. But he will do _just enough_ to give us a
pretence for holding our hand, and matters will then resume
their ordinary course, and the K. of the two Sicilies be
governed just as it was before. Our position is a very
ticklish one in this affair. I long to hear whether you saw
Pasta--and anything more than the waddle, the red face and
beard. Mind and answer my questions. I should tell you that
amongst your papers that came from Manchester they sent P.
Albert's letter to Ellesmere, and the long prospectus too, but
there is no use in forwarding it to you--this will already
cost a fortune, but I think it best to send it. When is it you
expect to be here? How long do you stay at home?--Addio,
carissimo,

H.G.

LONDON, _September 29_.

MY DEAREST FAY,--Here I am, sleeping in London on my way to
Worsley to-morrow morning, and I have got my Mere Augusta
occupying your room; the first _female_ I have ever housed or
fed, and it will be a rehearsal for Sister Ad. I have just
missed her, as she went to the station as I left it, but I
found a letter from her just returned from putting the boy to
school; it is a bore that I missed her, as I shall not see her
for an age. Edward has been committing all sorts of follies
and is again confined to his room, but is better. He ought to
come to London and consult a clever man, or he will be very
ill, as he was once before. What a fellow you are never to say
a word about Pasta to me! Of course Mrs. Siddons had a
magnificent eye and brow--who said she had not?--and was a
glorious actress, but I should always have preferred Reston.
What did Pasta say of _her_? You are wrong about P. not being
_powerful_--she was _tremendous_; her voice was one of immense
power--almost coarse at times, but prodigious, and her
_gestes_ sublime from grace and strength. Dear Fay, I have
measured the frame; it is twelve inches wide and fourteen
long. Now do find me a pretty cheap croute. I have seen no one
in London but Lady Shelburne, who said there was no news. She
disapproves, like me, of the policy with regard to Naples, and
I think we shall find by-and-by a great reaction _la dessus_.
By-the-bye, when at Rome go and hear the opera Verdi has been
composing for that place on the story of Adrienne, and tell me
all about it. He wrote formerly such pretty melodies, and is a
clever fellow. I don't know what Adelaide will do about going
to Germany, but I hope give it up, as for many reasons it
appears to me at this moment to be a foolish scheme.

Good-night, you dear boy. I can't frank this, as it is late,
and I don't know how, so you must pay this time. Write soon,
and _answer_ my letters.

I don't quite understand what it is you are doing in Italy
except amuse yourself. Is there any other ----? How long will
it be before I see you?--Addio, caro caro, tanto tanto,

H.

On the death of Lady Ellesmere, his sister, in answer to Leighton's letter of sympathy Mr. Greville writes--

HATCHFORD, _Wednesday_.

MY DEAREST FAY,--In my affliction, I have one consolation--and
it is such events as these that prove it--I am rich in
friends, more so, much more than I deserve--and amongst them
there is no one whose unselfish love I prize more than yours.

Dear Fay, I _know_ you feel for me, and I am grateful.

God bless you for it.--Your affectionate

H.

A short note to his father from Leighton announces the death of this dear friend in December 1872.

ATHENAEUM CLUB, PALL MALL, S.W.,
_Friday_.

MY DEAR PAPA,--I lost last night one of my oldest and dearest
friends--Henry Greville; he died without much suffering, and
looks this morning calm and beautiful in his rest. You know
what I lose in him.--Your affectionate son,

FRED.

Among many letters of the kind, preciously preserved by those who owe much to Leighton, the following notes, addressed to his young friend "Johnny" (Mr. John Hanson Walker), may be found interesting as exemplifying the trouble which Leighton would take in helping young artists, and with what kindness, sincerity, and delicacy he tendered his advice and assistance. None of these letters are dated.

THE ATHENAEUM.

MY DEAR JOHNNY,--I write one line in haste to say how sorry I
am to hear that your health has been unsatisfactory of late. I
earnestly trust you won't disregard your doctor's advice, and
that you will, _at any sacrifice_, do something to recover
strength, even though a long sea voyage were necessary. Health
is the _first_ thing. Talk it over with Miss Nan; if her love
is as sincere as you believe, and I don't for a moment doubt
it, she will give you the same advice.

For myself, I begin to think my studio will never be ready. I
have not done a stroke of work. I _hope_ at the end of next
week I shall be at it again.

In October I am off to Rome.--Yours sincerely,

FRED LEIGHTON.
2 HOLLAND PARK ROAD,
ADDISON ROAD, KENSINGTON.

* * * * *

ATHENAEUM CLUB,
PALL MALL, S.W.

Supposing a proper price were given, should you care to copy
(for a man of position) a portrait by Sir William Beechey and
one or two by Sir Thomas Lawrence? I am not asking you to do
it for a moment, I merely want to know whether you would
_care_ to do the work; _if_ so, please let me know what you
would ask.

I have seen Mr. Greville to-day, and he begs me to tell you
that the Countess Grey will be glad if you can undertake for
her, for the sum of _L10_, a copy of a portrait of Lady
Charlotte Greville. The picture is now with the Countess of
Ellesmere, Mr. Greville's sister, and shall be sent to you
wherever you wish, if you will let me know at once. Is it to
go to Great Castle Street? Lady Ellesmere will be extremely
obliged if you will not keep the picture a moment longer than
you absolutely require it to make a good copy; the portrait is
that of her mother, and she is extremely loth to part with it,
even for a time. Please send me a line in answer to this, and
believe me always.

_Thursday._

* * * * *

The picture will be duly sent to you.

I have another matter for your consideration: Mr. Greville
wants to know if you can think of any good picture (Sir Joshua
or Gainsborough would be best) that would make a good
companion to the one he has already bought of you; if you
could suggest anything suitable, he would give you the
commission. I am very glad you should have encouragement, but
I trust you will not flag in your zeal about more important
studies.

* * * * *

I send you the money from Mr. Greville for the portrait of his
mother. I am very glad you should have this new commission,
but you must thank _him, not me_, for it was entirely his idea
and desire. He is indeed one of the kindest and best men
possible. I look on him myself as a second father.

To save time, I shall make arrangements for you to work in my
studio on the _4 first_ days of January, if you can manage it.
I shall be out of town, and you will have the place all to
yourself.

I wish you a happy Xmas and New Year, and remain.

* * * * *

WARNFORD COURT,
BISHOPS WALTHAM.

You will forgive me, I am sure, for not writing to you to
thank you for your letter, received some weeks back; but the
fact is I have been so very busy as to make writing a matter
of very great difficulty. I heard from your father not long
ago that you have been very fortunate in getting capital
commissions for portraits where you have been staying. I am
very glad indeed to hear it, and trust sincerely that you feel
you are progressing as steadily in proficiency as in
prosperity. To the commissions you have had in the country, I
have one to add here. Mr. Henry Greville wishes you to paint
for him a copy of a head of a relation of his--I believe, of
poor Lady Ellesmere, his sister, whose recent death has been
such a terrible grief to him. You will, I am sure, be glad to
undertake this painting, even though it may not in itself be
very interesting. The size is a sort of oval kit-cat, not
large. He proposes to offer you ten pounds for it.

How is Miss Nan? I hope you have good accounts of her, and
that all goes smoothly between you.

I send this to Bath to be forwarded, as I don't know your
present whereabouts.

* * * * *

DEAR JOHNNY,--I am just off to Paris, and write one line in
hot haste to thank you for yours, and to say that I am
delighted to hear you are conscious of progress. Come back as
soon as you can _conveniently_, please, because Mr. Greville
has _borrowed_ Lady Ellesmere's portrait for you to copy, and
wants to return it as soon as possible to the Duke of
Devonshire.

Come and see me when you return, and believe me, with kind
regards to Miss Nan,--Yours always,

F.L.

* * * * *

2 HOLLAND PARK ROAD,
KENSINGTON, W.

I want very much, before they have quite disappeared, to get
for myself and for a friend a couple of old-fashioned country
bumpkins' smocks; you know the sort of thing. Do you chance to
know any one in any of the villages about Bath who could pick
up a couple? I should like a brown one (_NOT a white Sunday
one_) and a green one, and that they should _not_ be
washed--well worn, untidy things. If you saw your way to
getting me such garments, I should be very grateful, but don't
_trouble_ about it.

* * * * *

If you have leisure to think of anything but Miss Nan just at
present, will you do me a favour? Will you get for me a
peasant's _wide-awake_, in shape like the one I painted in
your portrait, only really _old_ and _soiled_ and _stained_;
bought, in fact, if possible, off a bumpkin's head? Can you do
this for me, and either send it or bring it if you are about
to return shortly? I will pay you when we meet.

When is the wedding to be? or is it already over? I wish you
all happiness and prosperity, and remain with kind
remembrances to Miss (or Mrs.) Nan,--Yours truly,

FRED LEIGHTON.

I hope you can read this; my hands are so cold I can scarcely
hold the pen.

* * * * *

Mr. Greville has very kindly desired me to give you another
commission, this time a larger one. He wants you to copy from
my large picture the group of women carrying flowers, the size
of the original.[65] He offers you L25 for it. If you are
disposed, as I have no doubt you will be, I would, if I were
you, write him a line of thanks for the kind interest he shows
in you. In great haste.

* * * * *

One line in a great hurry to say that I am delighted to hear
that you have got in to the life school at the Royal Academy,
and to thank you for the photo., which is capital.

I have not touched my Venus since you went away. I have been a
good deal out of town myself, and have spent most of my time
in finishing the two large decorative figures, which have now
gone home. I am sorry you did not see them.

Come as soon as you can to begin Mr. Greville's picture.

* * * * *

I leave town Saturday next, and shall not see you till
Saturday the 6th July, so I write a line to say that you will
set to work by yourself; the maid will light you a fire and
give you the key of the studio.

I have written direct to Gatwell to order the canvas, or it
would not have been ready in time. You are to paint the group
full size. _Trace it_ to get it quite accurate. Put the head
of the centre figure, the woman in _yellow_, about four inches
or four and a half inches from the top of the canvas; that
will give you all the rest. _Leave out_ the little _child
sitting_. Go slap at the colour, vigorously but _NOT quick_.
The slower you work, if you work with energy, the sooner you
get through, and the better the result.

I hope you are enjoying yourself.

* * * * *

Although I certainly think it is a pity to exhibit too soon,
nevertheless I think that your particular situation just now
does justify you in doing so, as long as you confine yourself
to the Suffolk Street Gallery. I sincerely hope you may sell
your pictures.

With kind regards to Mrs. Nan and love to my god-child, I am,
in haste, yours always,

F.L.

* * * * *

I can't quite make out the price as written in your note, so
to avoid mistakes I send blank cheque, which pray fill in
yourself.

Just off--good-bye.

* * * * *

_26th December._

I have got your note and enclose little cheque. This is as it
should be. It is absurd that because I am an old friend, you
should be a loser by me in time and pocket.

With a merry Xmas and New Year to you and Nan, I remain, in
haste, yours sincerely,

FRED LEIGHTON.

* * * * *

2 HOLLAND PARK ROAD, _Monday_.

Many thanks for your letter. I have had absolutely no time to
answer sooner, and now can only do so most briefly. I am
extremely glad to hear of the success of your labours at
Dorchester, and think you are very right to take for yourself
and "Mrs. Nan" a refreshing little holiday on the hills.

I will begin the portrait next week,[66] when you return, at
which time also I hope to show you some under-painted work
which I think may interest you. I shall certainly call and see
your screen. It will no doubt be a very useful bit of
"property" to you.

Remember me very kindly to your wife.

* * * * *

MY DEAR JOHNNY,--I am much obliged to you for your letter,
telling me of your doings in the country. I think you will do
wisely in going to the Isle of Wight to paint landscape; the
danger of copying the old masters too exclusively, as you have
been forced to do lately, is that one is apt to fall into
mannerism by trying to see Nature with the eyes of others;
painting landscape direct from Nature is the best possible
corrective against this tendency.

I shall be glad to see you and what you have done on your
return, if you are here before the 20th or 22nd August; if
not, we shall meet in October, when I return from the East.

I am working away at my picture, which will be under-painted
before I leave England.

I wish you joy of your summer trip, and remain, yours very
truly,

FRED LEIGHTON.

* * * * *

_6th September._

I have just got your letter, and scribble a line in haste (for
I am very busy) to say that you are wholly at liberty to do
whatever you choose with Nan's picture, and that I am glad for
your sake that people like it. I am also much pleased to hear
that you have an interesting portrait on the easel, in which
you see progress and improvement in the matter of breadth and
light and subordination of half tints; nothing is more
important in painting; I think that after accuracy and
refinement of form, it is the quality you should most strive
for. I am myself tolerably well, but not by any means
brilliantly. I have got to work at a few small heads, which
you will see before long.

In haste, with love to Nan and the children.

* * * * *

LYNTON, _Saturday_.

I have just received your note, and hear with sincere regret
that you have not been prospering lately in your affairs. I am
in great difficulty as to what I can do for you in the matter
of the Curatorship. If it were only a question of testifying
to your character, zeal, industry, &c. &c., I should have real
pleasure in giving you that testimony in the highest and
fullest degree. But, my dear Johnny, if I am not very much
mistaken, the Curator is expected to be able when required to
_advise and direct the pupils_, and I cannot in candour
conceal from you that your age and experience do not appear to
me yet to qualify you for that part of the duties. If it were
not so, why does the candidate send in some of his works for
inspection? You must not be angry with me, Johnny; you know I
have always spoken the plain truth to you, and am always ready
and desirous to help you when it is in my power. I should be
only too glad to think of your obtaining some post that should
relieve you from all immediate pecuniary care. Give my love to
your wife and children, and believe me always, yours most
sincerely,

FRED LEIGHTON.

_P.S._--I shall be back on Wednesday or Thursday.

* * * * *

_Sunday._

In case any alteration should have been made in the
arrangements of the Schools during my absence, and that
_teaching_ is not expected as part of the duties of a curator,
I send you a letter to the Council, as I should be sorry you
lost any fair chance by my absence.

You heard from me no doubt yesterday.

* * * * *

_Care of_ MRS. WALKER,
NEALINMORE, GLEN COLUMBKILLE,
CO. DONEGAL.
_15th._

I have got your note, in regard to which I feel some little
embarrassment. I am, as you know, always pleased when it is in
my power to be of any use to you, and I should therefore wish
to help you in this matter concerning which you write. I own,
however, to having some hesitation in asking this favour of
Mr. Hodgson, because I fear that the granting of it would be a
source of a good deal of inconvenience to him, and he might,
out of his old friendship, be put in an awkward position; he
would be equally loth to say "yes" or "no." The picture hangs
in his dining-room, _and cannot possibly be moved_. The copy
would be a lengthy affair, for there is an enormous amount of
work in the group you speak of, and you would have,
therefore, to be established for a long time in a room which
is in daily use by the family. I do not at all say that he
might not grant the favour you ask, but I own I feel that _I_
cannot, discreetly, ask it of him. I am sure you will not
misinterpret my declining, and I shall be very sincerely glad
if you yourself succeed in your direct appeal.

I trust you and yours are thriving, and that you have not
suffered lately from your leg.

This is a wild, wind-swept corner of Ireland in which I am
staying, and abounding in matter for studying, especially rock
forms, but the inconstancy of the weather puts sketching
almost out of the question.

This is a matter of comparative indifference to me, as I came
here purposely for rest, and not for work.

Give my love to Nan and the chicks.--Sincerely yours,

FRED LEIGHTON.

* * * * *

Do you know of any one who would do a life-size _copy_ of a
portrait of the Queen in robes for the sum of _L100_? I have
been asked to inquire. It is, I believe, for Chelsea Hospital.
In former days it might have been worth _your_ while; now it
no longer is, it would not pay you; but you perhaps know of
some less prosperous artist who would undertake it, and who
would do it _well_--for of course that is expected.

* * * * *

2 HOLLAND PARK ROAD,
KENSINGTON, W.
(_Postmark, Mar. 9. 82._)

I am absolutely _ashamed_ to rob you, but you offer me the
drawing so kindly that I can't possibly refuse it; I am
delighted with it, only you must let me give you a little
drawing some day in return. With very best thanks.

The following letter was written when Mr. Hanson Walker was in America. In it Leighton refers to the ceiling he painted for Mr. Marquand (see List of Illustrations):--

2 HOLLAND PARK ROAD,
KENSINGTON, W.,
_12th February 1887_.

DEAR JOHNNIE,--I was very glad to get your letter giving so
very satisfactory an account of yourself and your doings. I
had already heard of your prosperity in a general way from
Nan, who came to see me before starting, but who told me also
how lonely you felt. It must have been a great joy to you to
see her again, and it will be a still greater when you see the
(_fourteen?_) youngsters about you once more; you will, like
everybody who crosses the water, bring back a very pleasant
recollection of American kindness and hospitality, and, I am
glad to think, also a good pocketful of money. I hope it will
bring you luck here. I am glad that Mr. Marquand has made you
welcome to his house, which I understand is very beautiful. I
know his Vandyke well; it belonged to an acquaintance of mine,
Lord Methuen, who has a number of beautiful things at Corsham.
It is one of the finest I know, and stands quite in the front
rank of Vandykes. The Turner also I know, a rare favourite of
mine. But of the Rembrandt I know nothing. I am glad, too, you
thought my "ceiling" looked well. I hope he has introduced _a
little gold in the rafters_ to _bind_ the paintings to the
ceiling itself. Give my love to Nan, and believe me, with all
good wishes, sincerely yours,

FRED LEIGHTON.

Please remember me to the Marquands and to your friends the
Osbornes.

FOOTNOTES:

[56] Owing to the kindness of Mr. Greville's niece and executor, Alice, Countess of Strafford, I am able to quote extracts from his letters to Leighton in this "Life." Unfortunately the letters from Leighton to Mr. Greville cannot be found, though, as we know, many were written. During his first visit to Algiers in 1857, Leighton wrote to his mother: "The fact is that as besides corresponding with you I write often to Mrs. Sartoris, and still oftener to Henry Greville, and having continually much the same to tell all of you, I often cannot remember to whom I have written what."

[57] It was when visiting his family at Bath that he first saw Hanson Walker, the "Johnny" of the letters and of the pictures. Leighton was much taken with the picturesque beauty of the boy's head, and made various studies from it. A pencil study he made from his head (see List of Illustrations) he used as a study for his picture "Lieder ohne Worte." Having discovered that his sitter had a natural taste for drawing, Leighton advised "Johnny's" father to let him become an artist. This led to the boy being sent to learn drawing at the School of Art in Bath. When Leighton returned to London after it had been decided that "Johnny" was to study drawing, the young student received one day to his surprise a large case. On opening it he found to his delight a cast from the antique, a drawing-board, paper, charcoal, chalks, in fact, all the utensils wanted by a beginner wishing to work seriously at Art. Never to the end of his life did Leighton's interest in his pupil flag. Never was he too busy to do a kindness to him or his. Perhaps the early and somewhat romantic marriage which "Johnny" made with a lady for whom Leighton felt from the earliest days of the wedded life a very sincere regard, and the charming children who soon made a pretty cluster round their parents, and were always a delight to Leighton, cemented the friendly interest. The head of "Nan" (Mrs. Hanson Walker--see List of Illustrations), painted as a wedding present to "Johnny," is one among the happiest of Leighton's portraits. It is broad in treatment, and fair and very pure in colour, and as a likeness was considered perfect.

[58] Yearly Exhibition at Manchester.

[59] This correspondence refers to the "Cimabue's Madonna" at Buckingham Palace. Small holes in the canvas having appeared, the authorities were anxious that Leighton should inspect the picture, and take steps to prevent further mischief.

[60] Mrs. Sartoris.

[61] In the Yearly Exhibition at Manchester, where Leighton sent the "Romeo," "Pan," and the "Venus."

[62] Mr. Edward Sartoris.

[63] Mr. Edward Sartoris.

[64] Papers relating to the great Manchester Exhibition held in 1857.

[65] "A Syracusan Bride."

[66] The portrait of Mrs. Hanson Walker, which Leighton painted as a wedding present for his young friend.