Chapter V: Leighton as President of the Royal Academy (2)

Lastly, as to the new codification committee, I think with you,
_in strictest confidence_, that ---- was not a good choice; but
he was chosen in the usual manner by a majority of votes: that
your labours were not remunerated in the usual manner is an
oversight, which, of course, must and shall be set right. There
seems altogether, and your letter corroborates that impression,
to have been much vagueness about the doings of the Committee
_as a Committee_, though, as usual, much zealous work on your
part. I do not gather that attendances were entered in a book,
which is the machinery by which payment is generally regulated,
and the Committee having lapsed without reporting to the Council
on its labours (being a _sub-committee_ of the Council of 1878,
it lapsed by a natural death with that Council), the whole thing
had fallen out of notice. I hope that the old sub-committee will
put in their claims, which will very certainly be satisfied. The
codification has frequently been in my mind, for I consider it
of very great importance, but as it is my impression that I am
considered to drive the work of the Academy full hard as
it is, I have hesitated to impose more labours on my colleagues,
even though I am always ready to share them.--Sincerely yours,

FRED LEIGHTON.

_Tuesday Morning_,
2 HOLLAND PARK ROAD, KENSINGTON, W.,
_March 18, 1884_.

DEAR WELLS,--Thank you for your letter received yesterday, which
only lack of time prevented me from answering at once. I am
happy to say that Richmond cheerfully acceded to my wish in
regard to clauses 6 and 7. I do not think with Calderon, who has
written to me, that the words of a man so high-minded as
Richmond will indispose members in this matter, and, though I
feel the importance of raising no prejudice against the proposal
as keenly as ever, still wish him to initiate it. It is, I agree
with you, a pity that the question of the retiring pensions must
come off first; but that is, I fear, quite unavoidable, and it
connects itself with the very first resolution. I assure you, my
dear Wells, that I _see_ the bearing of all you say on this head
as plainly as possible, and have done so all along; but it does
not prevail with me, because it does not cover the whole ground,
and because I do not anticipate the dangers for which you think
it might be used as a precedent.

In view of my own personal painful position in this matter, I
shall _ask_ the Assembly _not_ to ratify the clause which
affects _me_.--In great haste, yours sincerely,

FRED LEIGHTON.

Leighton's official life, as understood and carried out by him, entailed infinitely more strain and occupation than can be described in these pages, but, notwithstanding, unless the call away from his easel was imperative, he kept certain hours in the day sacred to his art. These were from 9 A.M. till noon, and from 1 P.M. till 4. It was only in the off hours that he got through his other labours, which he performed, nevertheless, with most assiduous conscientiousness.

Among his duties outside the Academy were those at the British Museum. Mr. H.A. Grueber, Keeper of the Coins and Medals, writes: "Sir Frederic Leighton was elected a Trustee of the British Museum on May 14, 1881. He was an active member of the Standing Committee, who practically manage the affairs of the Museum, and he took great interest in the place. He was also a member of the Sub-committees on Buildings, on Antiquities, Prints and Drawings, also of those on Coins and Medals."

In the first R.A. Exhibition after his election, three pictures of the eight Leighton sent have, I think, a special interest--"Elijah in the Wilderness" (the picture into which he said he put more of himself than into any other he had painted up to that time); the portrait of his very dear friend Professor Costa, painted in the previous autumn at Lerici, and the head "Neruccia." Leighton with Costa studied the methods used in painting by the Venetians and Correggio, and Costa wrote the following with reference to them:--

The result of these studies and of the experience of years was
that Leighton and I definitely adopted the following method.
Take a canvas or panel with the whitest possible preparation and
non-absorbent--the drawing of the subject to be done with
precision and indelible. On this seek to model in monochrome so
strongly that it will bear the local colours painted with
exaggeration, and then the grey, which is to be the ground of
all the future half-tones; on this paint the lights, for which
use only white, red, and black, avoiding yellow, and, stabbing
(botteggiando) with the brush while the colour is wet, make the
half-tints tell out from the grey beneath, which should be
thoroughly dry. When all is dry, finish the picture with
scumbles (spegazzi), adding yellow to complete the colour.

Leighton formed his method of painting from these general
maxims, and he painted my portrait at Lerici on these principles
as an experiment, and then in 1878 we adopted the system
definitely. For this portrait he had four sittings--one for the
drawing and the monochrome chiaroscuro, one for the local
colours; then, having covered all with grey, he painted the
lights with red, white, and black, making use of the thoroughly
dried grey beneath for his half-tints. With scumbles
he completed the colour and the modelling.

As the exquisite fragments in pencil of cyclamen, bramble and vine branch,[68] explain most intimately Leighton's genius as a draughtsman, so this head of Neruccia appears to me, together with one other work, to explain most explicitly his genius as a painter--a modeller with the brush. In 1890 Leighton painted "The Bath of Psyche."[69] The modelling in the torso of this figure, and in the head of Neruccia, reach the zenith as exemplifying Leighton's individuality as a painter. They might truly earn for him the title--Praxiteles of the brush.

It would be tedious for writer and reader alike to describe too minutely the special characteristics of even the most notable pictures painted during the seventeen years when Leighton occupied the position of President of the Royal Academy. Words are but poor interpreters of painting such as his. Eighty canvases, two statues, and two designs--the reverse of the Jubilee Medallion, "And the sea gave up its dead which were in it"--were exhibited at the Royal Academy; eighteen slighter works at the Suffolk Street, and twenty-three at the Grosvenor Galleries. On referring to the list in the Appendix it will be realised how great was the amount of labour involved in the achievement of many of these works, considering their size, the complication of their designs, and also the completeness of their finish. It must also be remembered that Leighton made many hundreds of studies for his pictures. More especially numerous were these for the designs "And the sea gave up the dead which were in it," "The Dance, Decorative Frieze"; "Cymon and Iphigenia"; "Music, a Frieze"; "Design for the reverse of the Jubilee Medallion," "Captive Andromache," "Perseus and Andromeda," "Return of Persephone," "The Garden of the Hesperides," "Rizpah," "Summer Slumbers," "The Spirit of the Summit," "Flaming June," "Phoenicians Bartering with Britons," and "Clytie." When all these achievements are taken into account it will be realised that Leighton, to the end, however important his duties outside his studios, was true to his vocation, and proved himself the "workman first and the official after."

As a work combining poetic feeling, power of design, and great beauty in the arrangement of line, while at the same time expressing most explicitly Leighton's creed of creeds--namely, the ennobling and elevating influence of beauty in the lives of men and women--"Cymon and Iphigenia" is perhaps the picture he himself would have chosen as the most representative among these later works. He chose it as the one he wished sent to the Berlin Exhibition in 1885. When beginning it he described to me the moment of the day he wished to catch for the scene--"the most mysteriously beautiful in the whole twenty-four hours, when the _merest lip_ of the moon has risen from behind the sea horizon, and the air is haunted still with the flush of the after-glow from the sun already hidden in the west."[70]

The study for the group of sleeping figures reproduced here is almost identical in design with the sketch in plaster from the clay, so lamentably destroyed when Watts lent it to be cast in bronze after Leighton's death. Leighton also gave the drawing of this group to his fellow artist, so enthusiastically did Watts admire it. He, in his turn, gave it to the Leighton House Collection in the year 1897, together with the fine painting which Leighton exchanged for his own portrait, painted about 1863, and which greeted friends as they mounted the staircase in Leighton House during all the years he lived in Holland Park Road (see frontispiece to Vol. I.). The study for "Cymon and Iphigenia" is particularly valuable now as an example of Leighton's rapid sketches where every touch reflects a mine of knowledge, because it was put under glass before any of the crispness of the touch was blurred by rubbing.[71]

In a letter dated 1886 Watts wrote: "Leighton will carry off all the honours this year with his ceiling[72] and his two statues."

"An Athlete Awakening from Sleep" (given to the Tate Gallery by Sir Henry Tate) is generally known as "The Sluggard," a name bestowed on it by Leighton himself. The victor's garland lies at the feet of the athlete, a garland which does not preserve the owner from a sad weariness. Mr. Brock, R.A., in whose studio "An Athlete" was modelled, executed the fine bust of Leighton which was deposited in the Academy as Mr. Brock's diploma work.[73]

Sir John Millais admired greatly the other work alluded to in Watts' letter, "Needless Alarms." Leighton gave him this statuette, and Millais, desiring to show his gratitude in a tangible form, painted the picture "Shelling Peas" for Leighton.

In at least fourteen of the eighty pictures shown at the Academy during the last seventeen years of Leighton's life, there can be traced an earnest sentiment beyond the "sincerity of emotion" for beauty which all evince. This feeling is, however, always guarded by a marked reticence from sentimentalism. "Elijah in the Wilderness," "Elisha Raising the Son of the Shunammite," "The Jealousy of Simoetha, the Sorceress," "The Last Watch of Hero," "Captive Andromache," "Return of Persephone," "Rizpah," "Tragic Poetess," "Sibyl," "Farewell," "The Spirit of the Summit," "Fatidica," "Lachrymae," and the last passionate figure of "Clytie." The most popular pictures Leighton painted during these years appear to be "Sister's Kiss," "The Light of the Harem" (developed into a picture from the design of a group in the fresco, "The Industrial Arts of Peace"), "Idyll," "Whispers," "Wedded" (now in Australia), "Memories," "Letty," "Invocation," "Solitude," "The Bath of Psyche," "Bacchante," "Corinna of Tanagra," "The Bracelet," "Summer Slumber," "Atalanta," "Flaming June," and "The Fair Persian" (unfinished). Two sketches in the Leighton House Collection record effects which greatly fascinated Leighton in Scotland--"A Pool, Findhorn River," deep tortoiseshell brown; and "Rocks in the Findhorn," pink and grey enriched by lichen, and it was in Scotland that the Lynn of Dee inspired the subject of "Solitude." Leighton described to me the deep impression this Lynn of Dee had made on him. "It is the veriest note of solitude! a wonderful spot, full of poetic inspiration." In order to transmit a vivid record of this sentiment to his canvas, he took a second journey to the place.[74]

Leighton wrote the following letter to his father when first visiting Forres, in which he described the "craze" he had for these "dark brown Scotch rivers":--

ROYAL STATION HOTEL,
FORRES, N.B.

I drove over to Dunkeld (twelve and a half miles) to lunch at
the Millais'; I think the drive one of the most enchanting
things I know, and I was favoured, moreover, by a few of those
divine glimpses of blue and silver sky of which Scotland has the
monopoly (a monopoly which she uses, perhaps, just a trifle too
modestly). This is Forres, as the paper shows you; if Macbeth's
witches really did live in this neighbourhood, it is just as
well they had their hands pretty full, for they would have found
the place uncommonly dull otherwise, especially on the
"Sawbath." On the other hand, the drive to and the walk along
the banks of the Findhorn--the excursion for which one comes
here--is quite delightful, and indeed surpassed my expectations.
I must tell you that I have nothing short of a craze for your
dark brown Scotch (and Irish) rivers, as dark as treacle, and as
clear as a cairngorm. This particular stream contrives to rush
part of the way through fantastic rocks of pink granite--you may
imagine the effect. Here again from the heights over the river I
_ought_ to have seen the sea and the coast of Sutherlandshire;
but the weather was sulky and I had to draw on my imagination
for the view.

In the forenoon I went over by train to Elgin, to see the ruined
cathedral, which is fine, but, like all Scotch architecture that
I have seen, crude and barbaric. As I stood on the platform
before starting, I heard a gruff, good-humoured voice hailing me
from a train on the other side; it was the voice which goes so
well with the rubicund face of the Duke of Cambridge. I was
going by the same train, so he made me get into his compartment;
he was going to Balmoral or Aberfeldie. He was very comic about
B---- and his article in the _Nineteenth Century_--"A fellow who
fouls his own nest is always a d----d bad lot--a d----d bad
lot," with which sentiment I close a d----d long letter.--From
your affectionate son,

FRED.

"Atalanta" may be noted, perhaps, as the strongest work achieved by Leighton. Here _is_ "enormous power," though shown on a comparatively small canvas. For noble beauty of the Pheidian type in the grand and simple pose and modelling of the throat and shoulder, it would be difficult to find its peer in Modern Art, and yet it was only the worthy record of the beauty of an English girl. "Flaming June" (a design first made to decorate as a bas-relief the marble bath on which the figure in "Summer Slumber" reposes), is equally perfect in the fine fulness of the modelling, but it lacks the direct simplicity which gives such a distinguished strength to the "Atalanta." In the sketch for "Flaming June" reproduced in these pages the pose is better explained than in the completed picture, the foreshortened line of the back and shoulder being confused somewhat by the drapery in the painting.

At the age of twenty-five, in the wing-like petals of a cyclamen, Leighton had succeeded in securing with the pencil the quality towards which he aimed from the beginning to the end of his studies--and these only ended with his life--namely, absolute completeness as far as human eye and hand can reach completeness in rendering the perfection of nature's forms. Notably in "Neruccia" and in "Psyche" he reached that aim with the brush, but in "Atalanta," and in such studies as those for "Flaming June," "Fatidica," and--imbued with a yet further interest of dramatic feeling--for "Clytie," his aim was reached with more freedom and power of touch. The quality of beauty in these works was no invention of his--only, as has been noted before, a discernment and echo in the artist's apprehension of nobler truths in nature than are discovered by the many. They are nobler, because possessing the germ of life and movement. In all nature's forms, beauty and style result from the spring and moving on--the development of growth, whether it requires aeons to develop the form as in mountains, years as in trees, or only days as in flowers. In the human limbs there is the further power of varied movement, and in the countenance of varied expressions. The greatest art stamps a suggestion of this power of growth and movement into the form and line expressing the facts it records; and, making it harmonise graciously with perfect structure in nature, the great artist evolves a thing of beauty. In our northern climes, and in our modern civilisation, beauty of form and line excite little genuine emotion. That is reserved for colour, tone, texture, and, in these very latter days, for the cleverness of the executant. The greatest opposer Leighton's teaching has had is laziness. Students will not take the trouble to go through irksome labour to secure knowledge, therefore they only aim at those qualities which are made comparatively easy by an emotional preference; and such emotional preference is rarely excited by form. There are exceptions, such as Watts, whose greatest artistic emotion was excited when he seized the beauty and style in Pheidias. He felt also the same enthusiastic excitement over Leighton's studies, stamped with a like Pheidian quality of style. Because the modern eye is so often blind to these qualities, therefore Leighton's work has been disposed of by many as merely academical and the result solely of taking inordinate pains! Surely those desirous of any true culture might learn one lesson at all events of Leighton: the value of Catholicity through learning "to master what they reject as fully as what they adopt ... the better motives of men" with whom they are not in sympathy. Catholicity is the outcome of the best natures, the best understandings, the best educations. It overrides those subtle egoisms and commercial interests which so often guide while distorting a true judgment in art matters, keeping the preferences of the public wriggling about without any definite instinct or principal on a never truly-convincing dead level. The mainspring of catholicity in art is a fervent reverence for nature. All works in which such fervent reverence is found, in whatever direction it is displayed, are worthy to be admitted into the fold, whether it be form, colour, or tone in nature's aspect--whether it be the stirring whirls of northern tempests, the rural peace of English glades, or the fineness of rarefied atmosphere in the south, as in Greek isles and sea. Whichever mood of nature appeals to a true artist and inspires in him the sacred fire, and consequently the expression in his touch, should find a place in the heart of the true lover of art. Because the aesthetic pores of a music-lover are open to the rapturous tumult of the wildly whirling Schumann symphony in A minor, is he, therefore, incapable of being entranced by the rare refinement of Palestrina's cameo-like phrases? Because he feels a rapturous excitement as the curtain falls at the end of the first act of "Lohengrin," can he not also feel a soul-satisfaction in the elevated serenity of Bach's "Christmas Oratorio"? Does it not rather denote a want of elasticity in the aesthetic perceptions, a want of flexibility in the sensibilities flavouring somewhat of the Philistine, to be touched by a limited range of emotions? Because Leighton is not Whistler, or Watts is not Sargent, why must the one be admired at the expense of the other? With Leighton's rare intellectual acumen he knew well that these limitations in viewing various outlooks on art arose chiefly from a want of wide culture and experience. In the great galleries of Europe, among the treasures in the churches of Italy, his own vision had been enlarged, and he had felt how nourishing to his own best instincts such enlargement had proved. Hence his earnest endeavours when first entering the Academy to establish the Winter Exhibitions of Old Masters, and later, when President, to give as many facilities as possible for students to travel abroad. Probably, it never will be fully realised how greatly Leighton's initiations in starting new ventures for young students and artists have helped the real progress of English art. His great modesty and rare tact prevented this initiation from being fully appreciated even at the time. When such an one as Leighton is working on great lines, the last thing he thinks of is, Who is really achieving the work? The aim has to be accomplished; it matters little who is used as the tool to achieve the work. The real satisfaction to such a nature is the fact that the work _has_ been achieved.

Perhaps of all the ways in which Leighton helped to forward the condition of art in England, the most valuable was his industry in searching out unknown work, discovering what merit existed in it, hunting up the artist, and, by becoming personally acquainted with him, encouraging in every manner his onward progress. What he effected in Mason's case with such a rich harvest to the world as the result, he did in many other cases when the artist was a perfect stranger to him. Mr. Alfred East, the President of the Royal Society of British Artists, writes: "Lord Leighton was a man of broad sympathies in his appreciation of Art, an earnest worker with a lofty purpose and a high ideal. He liked to see these qualities in others, and spoke of the dignity and privilege of being an artist, and lived up to it in his own house. To those who knew him well he was singularly modest about his work, soliciting criticism with a frankness which was as unaffected as it was sincere. He never posed, but was a fellow-worker and a comrade. Such were the characteristics of the artist at home. I owe more to his encouragement than to any other influence of my life. Our acquaintanceship grew into friendship; he helped me to speak to him as I could speak to no other, of my own aims and ideals. This is the great artist as I knew him."

Singularly chary of accepting favours or putting himself under any obligation where he did not feel certain he could requite it by any feeling or action of his own, the response Leighton's nature made when any person, thing, or place gave him delight was that of a spontaneous, unstinting gratitude. Never did any one enjoy more fully the best of blessings--a grateful heart. Moreover, once the tender spot of pity touched, a self-ignoring energy of helpfulness and desire to benefit arose, which was at once the most beautiful and the least fully understood trait in his character. It is difficult for many to understand a _passion_ for unselfishness. "We bear with resignation the sorrows of others," is one of the good sayings of Walter Bagehot. No rule without an exception--Leighton did not bear with resignation the sorrows of his friends, nor of those he pitied as overweighted and in any need of help which he could give. No better proof exists of the fineness, the distinction of a nature, or the reverse, than the effect which misfortune or suffering produces on it. Pity with Leighton was ever allied with profound respect. He gave help as one indulging himself in a privilege rather than as one conferring a benefit. A beautiful story, for which I happen to be the best authority, is interwoven with the last years of his life.

One day, somewhere in the winter of 1879, on opening a gate which leads from our garden to the Holland Park Studios, I saw standing at one of the studio doors a figure which I described to Leighton as a "vision of beauty"--a young girl with a lovely white face, dressed in deepest black, evidently a model. Needless to say, Leighton, ever eager to procure good models, obtained her name from the artist to whom she was sitting when I first saw her, and engaged her as a model for the head. Shortly after she began to sit to Leighton, he wrote to me saying the young girl was in sad circumstances, and he would be very glad if I could help her by making some studies from her. I agreed, and he arranged with her to give me sittings. She told me that she had recently lost her mother, her father had deserted his family of five girls and two boys, and she with her elder brother were left to support them. She was endeavouring to act the part of mother to her younger sisters and brother. As Leighton and I grew to know her better we found her very intelligent and conscientious in acting this part, and she enlisted our sympathies entirely. She confided to me, while sitting one day, that she longed greatly to find something to do more interesting and remunerative than spending her days as a model. She thought she could act. I consulted Leighton. His first exclamation was, "_Impossible!_ with _that_ voice! How _could_ she go on the stage?" I thought the voice, which had a singularly unpleasant Cockney twang in it, might be trained, as I had observed how very eager she was to learn to speak in a more educated manner, quite realising her own shortcomings. Leighton came round to my opinion; and, once having made up his mind that she was bent on educating herself for the stage, showed himself as ever the most unselfish and untiring befriender. Meanwhile four of these beautiful children became useful to him as models. From the second daughter, who afterwards married an artist, Leighton painted "Memories," reproduced here; from the third, Hetty, he painted "Simoetha the Sorceress" and "Farewell"; but it was the youngest, Lina, quite a small child, who delighted him most, and who had a rare, refined charm which must have captivated any child-lover. She took the place of little Connie Gilchrist of the "Cleobouline," the "Music Lesson," and other of the earlier paintings, in the later pictures. She sat for "Sister's Kiss," "The Light of the Harem," "Letty," the sleeping group in "Cymon and Iphigenia," "Kittens," in the friezes "The Dance" and "Music," and "A little girl with golden hair and pale blue eyes"--

"Yellow and pale as ripened corn
Which Autumn's kiss frees--grain from sheath
Such was her hair, while her eyes beneath,
Showed Spring's faint violets freshly born."

ROBERT BROWNING.

--also the child in "Captive Andromache." Of the sister-mother of this little family, beautiful as she was, Leighton declared he never could paint a successful likeness, notwithstanding his attempts in "Viola,"[75] "Bianca," "Serenely wandering in a trance of sober thought," and "Miss Dene." Her very beautiful throat, however, was reproduced worthily in many of his subject-pictures, and the true dramatic instinct she undoubtedly possessed enabled her to be of help in such pictures as "Antigone," "Return of Persephone," and the last picture, the passionate "Clytie." But however useful she proved as a model, Leighton never for a moment thought of his own interests before the serious welfare of the young girl's life. He realised that if she was to make a successful actress, it involved serious and concentrated study. One morning I received the following note:--

DEAR MRS. BARRINGTON,--Miss Pullen will be very happy to sit to
you on Monday, and will talk over the rest when you meet. You
are very kind about it all, as is, indeed, your wont.

_P.S._--You see my harassed old head does sometimes remember
what I promise.

And later:--

2 HOLLAND PARK ROAD,
KENSINGTON, W.

DEAR MRS. BARRINGTON,--I want you to help me in a little
conspiracy against (?) our young tragic friend. Mrs. Glyn
frequently urges that she ought, at all events for a time, to
give her _whole_ mind and being to the study of her art. I need
not say I share that opinion, and I have at last, after infinite
trouble and persistence (my _nose_, you know)[76] induced her to
leave off sitting for a _month_, in the hope, if you will all
help, of making it a _quarter_. This would, I am confident, be
of the greatest value to her, giving her time also to read a
little and concentrate her thoughts. I am quite prepared to give
up painting from her for three months; but she is in mortal
dread lest her other friends should think her unkind and
ungrateful for their sympathy. I have told her I believe no such
thing, and that I feel sure that Schmaltz and you (who work most
from her) will, as willingly as I, postpone your studies in
order to aid her in so important a matter. She is going to call
on you to-day; if you agree with me, _be very firm_--have a
_nose_! _Refuse_ to paint from her for three months.

We succeeded in making the little girl work exclusively at her acting, and Leighton, Watts, and I frequently visited the school where she was being trained under Mrs. Glyn, to hear her and her fellow-students perform the pieces they had studied. Eventually she appeared in London and in the provinces, and quickly communicated all her successes and failures to Leighton and to me. Constant notes passed between us as we each received news from our young _protegee_, or when we thought some fresh step might be taken for her advantage. For instance, one of these notes runs as follows:--

DEAR MRS. BARRINGTON,--It has occurred to me that I perhaps
seemed this morning what I certainly did not mean to seem,
churlish in regard to that letter from Irving.[77] _If Miss
Pullen is now ripe for him to hear her_--this is the most
important point (for to go to him _too soon_ would be the most
unwise thing possible in view of her getting a good
engagement)--and if, having declined a letter on a previous
occasion, she has any unnecessary scruple about now asking for
one, it will be quite enough for you to tell me from her that
she wishes for one, and I will at once write it. _Kemp will
always be able to tell you where to get at me._ I can write as
easily from Vienna or Constantinople as from here.

From Exeter Dorothy Dene wrote to Leighton after recounting an unwonted success:--

"Don't be frightened that I shall let all this praise turn my
head. I know how much better it could be done, and after every
scene a great weight falls on my heart that I have done no
better. But I like you to warn me; it is good for me, so don't
leave off, please. I am sorry that your friend, Lord
Mount-Edgcumbe, will not see me, and that you had the bother of
writing for nothing. Please do not fash yourself about finding
out any one else. I must leave off now, as it is time to go to
the theatre, and you will not get this any sooner if it were
posted to-night than to-morrow.

_Sunday, 24th._

"To continue, our lodgings are very comfortable, and nearly
opposite the theatre; the food is good, and very fairly cooked,
but I am very pleased with the tuck parcel; we had one of the
birds when we arrived, the other things we have hardly touched.
I thought it better to save them for places where the food may
be bad. Please send me Mr. B. Tree's letter. I thought as you
think about its advice. Thank you so much for _your_ kind advice
and gentle reminders, I shall try so hard to remember all you
have said to me at different times; and if I do become anything
in the future, I shall owe all the best part of it to you."

An engagement for two matinees was made for her debut in London.

"Dear Mrs. Barrington, 'Dorothy' acts at the _Globe_ on Monday and Tuesday afternoons," wrote Leighton; "I mean to go on Monday." I took a party of eight to see her, including the late Lord Lytton, who took much interest in the stage. After the performance Leighton wrote to me, "Poor Dorothy was paralysed with terror yesterday--but I hope intelligent people will have seen _through_ that." Again, later, "she is adding, as she deserves, to the number of her friends, several of whom treat her with really maternal kindness." I can indeed very truly endorse Leighton's good opinion. Dorothy and three of her sisters were worthy of all the interest shown in them. They were entirely self-respecting, conscientious children, most affectionately devoted to one another, and striving their utmost to improve in every sense, and make themselves worthy of the help they received. Naturally they adored their chief benefactor, Leighton. Unfortunately, Dorothy, notwithstanding dramatic gifts, great perseverance and intelligence, lacked charm on the stage. Her very beautiful face and throat were not seen to advantage, as they were hardly in proportion with her figure, which was short and too stiffly set to move gracefully on the stage. Leighton in fun always called her "the little tee-to-tum," or when she wore a large hat, "the mushroom." As he felt vitality waning and mental effort a greater strain, the little family of Pullens had to Leighton somewhat the same resting charm that Italy had in early days, when he turned from the German austerity in study to the relaxation of the _dolce far niente_ of Italian national life. "I go to see them," he used to say, "when I want to let my back hair down and get off the stilts." When Leighton was dying, his sister, Mrs. Sutherland Orr, took Dorothy into his room. He was too ill to speak, but only smiled to her in answer to her saying, "If I have or ever will do anything worth doing, I owe it all to you--everything I owe to you." It is almost unnecessary, as it is distasteful, to mention that this beautiful paternal attitude Leighton displayed towards these orphans was made the subject of ugly gossip--for are there not always the _miserables_ of the world who seek the ugly rather than the beautiful? misinterpreting the beautiful so that it should come within the range of their scandalous arrows, more especially when the darts attack a man in the high position Leighton held. Some of these offshoots of envy and jealousy came within earshot of Leighton's sisters, who thought it well to warn him in a letter that such malice was in the air. He wrote a lengthy answer, ending with the following sentence: "But let me turn away from the whole thing, it has pained me more than enough. I implore you not to reopen it. On the only thing that matters, you are _absolutely assured, if you believe in my honour_. If you hear these rumours again, meet them with a flat, ungarnished denial. Let that suffice--it does for me." To a lady friend he wrote still more explicitly, in order, as he said, that there should exist in his own handwriting an implicit and unmitigated denial of the malicious falsehood. Leighton never knew under whose auspices this scandal was conducted. As is the case invariably, it was impossible to put the finger exactly on the culprit--for these fulsome things have to be propagated under the rose, in order that they should get a firm root before an authoritative denial can be given. However, after Leighton's death, the lie was stated more boldly--even directly to his two sisters. It is necessary, therefore, to include in the account of his life the full and truthful version of the kind and fatherly protection Leighton gave to this family.

The interests of the Kyrle Society were another cause which I had in common with Leighton. He spoke at the first public meeting that was held in the Kensington Town Hall on January 27, 1881, and I possess an interesting correspondence with him on the subject, which space will not allow me to quote. The important matter contained in it appears in the following correspondence between Mr. T.C. Horsfall, the chief mover in establishing the Art Museum and Galleries in Manchester, and Leighton, together with a discussion on other vital points connected with Art:--

_April 7, about 1880._

DEAR SIR,--I am probably too late to be of any use, but have
nevertheless much pleasure in assuring you once again of the
sympathy with which I view your endeavours to bring the refining
influences of Art in all its forms, and, so to speak, in
co-operation on the masses in the vast industrial centre from
which you write. I believe that in seeking to elicit and to
cultivate their sense of what is beautiful you are opening up to
them a deep source of enjoyment, and by opposing good to bad
influences, rendering them great and lasting service.--Yours
very faithfully,

FRED LEIGHTON.

* * * * *

_February 17, 1881._

I have carefully read over the programme of your enterprise, and
there is much in it with which I can warmly sympathise. I desire
nothing more deeply than to see the love and knowledge of Art
penetrate into the masses of the people in this country--there
is no end which I would more willingly serve; but there is in
your programme a paragraph which I cannot too emphatically
repudiate--that, namely, which excludes from Art, as far as the
public is concerned, that which is the root of the finest Art as
Art, the human form, the noblest of visible things. That you
should sternly and stringently exclude all work which reveals
an offensive aim or prurient mind is what I should be the
first to claim, but that you should lay down as a corner-stone
of your scheme an enactment which would exclude by implication
more than half the loftiest work we owe to Art--_nearly all
Michael Angelo_, much of Raphael's best, Sebastiano del Piomba's
"Raising of Lazarus," Titian's "Bacchus and Ariadne,"
Botticelli's "Birth of Venus"--this is indeed a measure from
which I must most distinctly dissociate myself, and which makes
it impossible for me to connect my name with an enterprise which
would else command my sympathy.

_From the "Manchester Courier," August 30, 1890._

SIR FREDERIC LEIGHTON ON THE MANAGEMENT OF ART GALLERIES.

To the Editor of the _Manchester Courier_.

SIR,--On the 4th and 6th inst. I published two long letters on
the management of art galleries, of some part of which this is a
summary:--No one can intelligently and fully enjoy any picture
or statue unless he has some measure of three kinds of
knowledge. (1) He must know something about the subject
represented, or he cannot enjoy the expression by the work of
the artist's feeling and thought; (2) he must know something of
the processes of the art in which the artist has worked, or he
cannot know what effects the artist sought or might have sought;
(3) he must know something of the history of the art, or he
cannot understand what elements in the work are due to the
artist himself and what to his time and place; or enjoy at all
some of the finest works ever produced. For the giving of the
second and third of these three kinds of knowledge there ought
to be subsidiary collections in our Manchester galleries, kept
distinct from the principal collection, and for the giving of
the first kind there ought to be several distinct subsidiary
collections, of which some should be for the purpose of giving
knowledge of flowers, birds, trees, and the other beautiful
objects which are "elements of landscape." As a very large
proportion of the people of all large towns are ignorant of all
that is interesting in nature, and of all that is noblest and
most interesting in history and in contemporary life, and as
pictures can very effectively give some knowledge both of nature
and of the deeds of men while fulfilling their special function,
which is to give certain kinds of aesthetic pleasure, the
principal collections in our galleries ought to be used for the
purpose of giving knowledge of nature and of noble human nature.
A gallery of good pictures of the kind would, by reason of the
interest of the subjects represented, attract so much attention
that the public would to a far larger extent than now feel the
influence of the artistic qualities of pictures. In order to
obtain pictures of suitable subjects, the directors of art
galleries, instead of only buying pictures in exhibitions and
studios as they now do, should, as a rule, revert to the custom
which prevailed in the ages when art influenced life deeply, and
should ask artists to paint pictures of prescribed subjects. I
believe that they would get thus better pictures and at lower
prices. Many artists certainly would be at their best when they
knew they were working to enlighten a great community, and would
gladly accept a moderate price for a picture ordered for a
public gallery.

I sent a copy of my letters to Sir Frederic Leighton, and asked
him if he would let me have his opinion respecting the principal
suggestions contained in them. With the great kindness which
distinguishes him, Sir Frederic Leighton has written me the
following letter, which contains advice so valuable that I am
sure every person in Manchester who cares for art will be glad
to have an opportunity of reading it:--

"DEAR MR. HORSFALL,--I must apologise for my very long
delay in answering your letter--a delay due in great part
to lack of time, but in part also to the fact that your
questions could not be answered hastily, or without due
consideration. I may say at the outset that I very warmly
appreciate the depth of your interest in the subject of
art, and the constancy of your efforts to spread its
influence in Manchester; and I am glad to be able to add
that on not a few points, I find myself in harmony with
your views.

"It is evidently not possible for me to touch, within the
compass of a letter, upon more than one or two of the
matters with which you deal in your two long communications
to the Manchester press; and, indeed, the question on which
you mainly dilate, and in regard to which I am not wholly at
one with you, would require to be dealt with at far greater
length than is possible to me here. I must content myself
with saying what little seems to me sufficient to indicate
the grounds of my dissent from you. But first I should like
to say a word in passing on the vexed subject of _copies_.

"There can be no doubt that it would be an immense advantage
to those who cannot travel--that is to say, to the enormous
majority of men--to bring before their eyes, through
reproductions--if these reproductions were absolutely
faithful--the masterpieces to which distance deprives them
of access. This is, in the case of sculpture and
architectural detail, in a large measure achieved by the
means of plaster casts, though it is needless to point out
that the capacity of the material robs the reproduction of
much of the life and light of the original. With pictures
the case is different. The subtle and infinite charm which
resides in the _handiwork_ of a master, and in the absence
of which half the personality of his work is lost, can
hardly ever be rendered by a copyist. For this reason the
overwhelming majority of even reasonable copies is to my
mind worse than useless. Such copies can kindle no
enthusiasm, and they virtually misinform the student. It has
always seemed to me that the best way to acquaint young
people with pictures which they are not able to see is to
put before them photographs of the originals, which, besides
giving design, form, and light and shade, with absolute
fidelity, render, in a wonderful way, the executive
physiognomy of the work; and by the side of these
photographs free, but faithful, coloured sketches of the
pictures should hang, giving the scheme, harmony, and tone
of the colour, but not, like finished copies, professing an
identity with the original, which is never achieved.

"Turning now to what you say on the subject of the
acquisition of works for a public gallery, I should at once
dissuade you from any idea of giving definite commissions--I
mean commission to paint specially selected subjects. I have
always felt very strongly that artistic work, to be of real
value, must be the outcome of entirely spontaneous impulse
in an artist. I believe that in the immense majority of
cases work done under any other conditions lacks vitality
and sincerity, and will not show the worker at his best. A
subject which does not impose itself unbidden on the artist
will never elicit his full powers. I have myself on that
ground for many years past invariably declined to paint
under any kind of restriction.

"Neither does your idea of--practically--refusing
encouragement to any work which does not commemorate a noble
deed, and, if possible, the noble deed of a well-known
personage, commend itself to me. It seems to me, on the
contrary, to be a harmful one, inasmuch as it misdirects the
mind of a people, already little open to pure artistic
emotion, as to the special function of Art. This can, of
course, only be the doing of something which it _alone_ can
achieve. Now, direct ethical teaching is specially the
province of the written and the spoken word. A page or two
from the pen of a great and nobly-inspired moralist--a
Newman, say, or a Liddon, or a Martineau--can fire us more
potently and definitely for good than a whole gallery of
paintings. This does not, of course, mean that a moral
lesson may not indirectly be conveyed by a work of art, and
thereby enhance its purely moral value. _But it cannot be
the highest function of any form of expression to convey
that which can be more forcibly, more clearly, and more
certainly brought home through another channel._ You may no
more make this direct _explicit_ ethical teaching a test of
worth in a painted work than you may do so in the case of
instrumental music; indeed by doing so you will turn the
attention of those before whom you place it from the true
character of its excellence--you will, so to speak,
mis-focus their emotional sensibility. It is only by
concentrating his attention on essentially artistic
attributes that you can hope to intensify in the spectator
that perception of what is beautiful in the highest, widest,
and fullest sense of the word, through which he may enrich
his life by the multiplication of precious moments akin to
those which the noblest and most entrancing music may bestow
on him through different forms of aesthetic emotion. It is in
the power to lift us out of ourselves into regions of such
pure and penetrating enjoyment that the privilege and
greatness of art reside. If, in a fine painting, a further
wholly human source of emotion is present, and if that
emotion is more vividly kindled in the spectator by the fact
that he is attuned to receive it by the excitement of
aesthetic perception through the beauty of the work of art as
such, that work will gain no doubt in interest and in width
of appeal. But it will not therefore be of a loftier order
than a great work in architecture or music--than the
Parthenon, for instance, or a symphony of Beethoven, neither
of which preaches a direct moral lesson.

"But I am being led away into undue length without the
possibility, after all, of doing more than roughly indicate
the grounds of my dissent from a rather vital article of
your creed--a dissent which will, I am afraid, jar on you in
proportion to the great sincerity with which you hold your
faith. I may say, by the way, that I dwelt at rather greater
length on this very subject in my first presidential address
to the Royal Academy, delivered on 16th December 1879.--And,
herewith, I remain, dear Mr. Horsfall, yours very truly,

FRED LEIGHTON.
"2 HOLLAND PARK ROAD, KENSINGTON,
"_August 18, 1890_."

Examples of the kind of copies which Sir F. Leighton recommends
can be seen in the Art Museum in No. 1 Room. We have there a
photograph of the "Adoration of the Magi" of Paul Veronese, with
a series of studies by Mr. F. Shields of the composition, the
light and shade, and the arrangement of colour in the picture.
These copies suffice to prove that such a collection as Sir F.
Leighton recommends would be of the greatest value and interest.
May I say with regard to two points in the letter, that my
proposal to use some parts of the collections in our galleries
for the purpose of revealing the beauty of nature and the
greatness of human nature, does not involve any belief that the
giving of ethical teaching ought to be one of the functions of
pictures, and that the proposal is made partly for the purpose
of increasing the width of appeal of works of art. While trying
to make that appeal reach a large part of the community, we may
usefully teach, by means of other parts of the collections, that
the excellence of paintings has no relation to ethical
teaching.

With regard to the influence on the artist of the choice by
others of his subjects, I think that Sir F. Leighton is misled
by his own great gifts. A man of remarkably wide culture, and of
great poetical power, he has been enabled, by the great range
and strength of his imagination, to choose subjects giving ample
scope for the exercise of the qualities peculiar to the painter,
and yet appealing strongly to the powers of thought and feeling
of all fairly educated people. To such a man, and to such a man
only, spontaneous impulse can now be a sufficient guide in the
choice of his subject; and to such a man, and only to such a
man, the choice of his subject by other persons of intelligence
would be a harmful restriction. In every picture gallery it is
but too obvious that the majority of even able painters, though
unrestricted by the will of any committee, are impeded by more
hampering restrictions than any intelligent committee would
impose, and are unable to find subjects interesting both to
themselves and to others. For many able painters the intelligent
choice by others of subjects for their work would remove, and
not impose, restrictions. It must be remembered that the
subjects of the works of Pheidias, of Cimabue, of Giotto, and
indeed those of most of the works which have been much cared
for, were chosen for, and not by, the artists.--Yours, &c.,

T.C. HORSFALL.

The following letter is Mr. Horsfall's answer to the one published in the _Manchester Courier_, August 30, 1890:--

SWANSCOE PARK, NEAR MACCLESFIELD,
_August 20, 1890_.

DEAR SIR FREDERIC LEIGHTON,--It is most kind of you to answer my
letter so fully. I shall show my gratitude by doing my best to
make your counsel as useful as possible to Manchester.

The system which you suggest for giving some idea of
masterpieces which are too distant to be visited seems to me to
be admirable, and I cannot but believe that it will be adopted
in one of our Manchester Galleries.

With regard to the advisableness of choosing for public
galleries chiefly pictures of noble subjects respecting which
most people have, when they see the pictures, or can be expected
to gain, some knowledge, though I feel the great weight of your
argument, I am still of the same opinion. I may say this without
presumption, because the great question which we are discussing:
"How can Art be made most useful to England?" involves the two
other questions: "What are the best conditions under which
artists can work?" and "How can the best work of artists be made
to influence the rest of the community?" In considering the
second of these questions an artist is, I think, impeded by his
special gifts, while I, not an artist, aided by the _qualites de
mes defauts_, and by the results of several years of experiment
in the use of pictures, believe myself to have gained much
trustworthy knowledge! Speaking from the standpoint which I have
thus reached, I should say that whilst the artist is most
conscious of the analogy which exists between painting and
instrumental music, there is really a much closer analogy
between painting and poetry, or between painting and song, and
that it is this closer analogy which should guide the action of
the directors of public galleries. Painting deals, while
instrumental music does not, with subjects respecting which we
think and feel, and it must accept the results for good and evil
of this; its products cannot be, as instrumental music is,
without definite relation to our feeling and thought, and a
simply neutral relation being impossible, the relation must be
ennobling or debasing in some degree. I think that my analysis
of the conditions which must be fulfilled if the relations is to
be an ennobling one was sound.

In asking that painters shall choose subjects pure and lovely
"and of good report," I am not asking that painting shall leave
its special function--shall cease to do that which it can do
better than any other art; but only that it shall recognise that
its function differs from that of instrumental music, and is the
creation in us of a symphony of feeling or emotional thought and
enjoyment of form and colour, and human skill, and love of
beauty.--With very many thanks, I am, dear Sir Frederic
Leighton, yours sincerely,

T.C. HORSFALL.

2 HOLLAND PARK ROAD, KENSINGTON, W.,
_August 22, 1890_.

DEAR MR. HORSFALL,--I have to thank you for your kind and
interesting letter of the 20th.