Chapter I: First Studio in London (1)

1859-1863

In 1858 Leighton was represented on the Royal Academy walls by two pictures, "The Fisherman and the Syren"--a subject from Goethe's ballad,

"Half drew she him,
Half sunk he in,
And never more was seen"--

and by a scene from "Romeo and Juliet," both small canvases painted in Rome and in Paris.[8]

Leighton at this time received an encouraging letter from Robert Fleury, from whom he had learned much:--

Que parlez vous de reconnaissance, mon cher Monsieur Leighton?
de l'amitie je le veux bien, et je recois, a ce titre seulement,
le dessin que vous m'avez envoye. Ne me suis je pas fait plaisir
en vous reconnaissant du talent et en vous rendant la justice
qui vous est due? si vous m'avez donne l'occasion de vous faire
part de ma vieille esperance n'est ce pas une preuve de l'estime
que vous faites de mes conseils? Puisque vous m'offrez
genereusement votre amitie, je l'accepte de bien bon coeur, et
votre petit dessin me restera comme un gracieux souvenir de
vous.

ROBERT FLEURY.
PARIS, _le 18 Mars 1858_.

In the autumn of 1858 Leighton was back in Rome, and it was at that time the King, then Prince of Wales, first visited his studio. "I myself had the advantage of knowing him (Leighton) for a great number of years--ever since I was a boy--and I need hardly say how deeply I deplore the fact that he can be no more in our midst," were the words spoken by the King--thirty-nine years after this first meeting--at the Royal Academy banquet, which took place after Leighton's death, 1st May 1897.

He worked in Rome till his pictures were finished for exhibition in the spring, 1859.

He wrote to his mother:--

It is my particular object and study to go to no parties, in the
which I have succeeded admirably. I go often to Cartwright's in
the evening, that don't count; now and then to Browning, now and
then to the play, see a good deal of Lady Hoare; and that
reminds me that Hoare sent you some game the other day, which,
however, was returned, as you were not forthcoming. By-the-bye,
when I say I have made no acquaintances of interest, that is not
true; Odo Russell, son and brother of my friends, Lady William
and Arthur Russell, and our diplomatic agent here, is a great
friend of mine, and particularly sympathetic. I see him often at
Cartwright's, who is his _alter ego_; also I know and like Miss
Ogle, who wrote that (I hear) exceedingly remarkable novel, "A
Lost Love." She is a country clergyman's daughter in a remote
corner of Yorkshire, and wrote this book when she had, I
believe, never lived out of a circle of "kettles." She is not
young, but agreeable and quaint.

I am just finishing the largish studies of a very handsome model
here, and am about to send them off for exhibition. They seem
very popular with all who see them, and are, I think, my best
things.

1859.

DEAREST MAMMY,--I find to my annoyance that I have mislaid your
kind letter, so that I must answer as best I can from memory.

That the French and Austrians have been formally requested by
the Pope to withdraw their troops from the States of the Church
is, I have ascertained from good authority, true, though how on
earth you can have known in Florence so long ago a thing which
has only just happened, and which is still in great measure a
secret here, is what I can't make out; but, dear Mamma, I trust
this won't prevent your coming to Rome in April, as there is no
chance of the evacuation being carried into effect by that time.
There will be particularly (indeed exclusively) on the side of
Austria a great demur and _pourparler_, inasmuch as the
consequences of this step will probably be most serious to her;
so that for the next few months we need fear nothing. I trust
you will come; however, of course I dread the responsibility of
insisting too much. You will see how matters look in a few
weeks. I am just about to despatch to the Royal Academy some
studies from a very handsome model, "La Nanna." I have shown
them to a good many people, artists and "Philistines," and they
seem to be universally admired. Let us hope they will be well
hung in the Exhibition. Talking of exhibitions, you will be
rather amused to hear that my "Samson" has been _refused_ at the
British Institution, which this year is particularly weak and
insignificant. It is gone in to the Suffolk Street now, unless
too late. Neither I nor anybody else has the least idea what is
the cause of this strongish measure. I have sent my "Negroes" to
Paris, and if it is not too late the "Juliet" and "Paris" will
go there also. I think they will be well hung, as they are
godfathered by Mr. Montfort, my kind and valuable friend. This
afternoon the Prince of Wales came to my studio, with Colonel
and Mrs. Bruce, Gibson, &c. &c. Gibson spoke in the very highest
terms of my pictures, so of course all the others were
delighted!

_Tuesday Morning._

I have not been able to answer your letter till now, and indeed
even now I am interrupting my work to do it; I will answer all
your questions categorically. First, about the brigands--I have
made inquiries, and have heard of nothing new since these two
cases about five weeks back, and am told that now the roads may
be considered safe; indeed, no time is generally so good for
travelling as just after an accident of that kind, as the
authorities are on the look out: if you go by _vetturino_, there
will in all probability be other _vetturini_ on the road, and
you will start together and arrive together from and to the
different stations on the road. You quite misunderstood the
sense of my letter, dear Mamma, if you imagined that I knew
nothing of rumours of war, &c. &c.--so far from not knowing what
is going on, I live in a hot-bed of politics, what with
Cartwright and what with Odo Russell. I expressed my surprise
that you should speak with confidence of the withdrawal of the
French troops when the official news of the Pope's _formal
request_ to that effect could not yet have reached Florence, for
the reason that it had not taken place; with the Florentine
politicians the wish must have been father to the thought. What
really will happen is impossible to say; they won't withdraw
till the Austrians do--that is pretty certain; the French, I
think, like to mislead people about it. A French general told a
friend of mine that in _six weeks_ they would all be gone, but
_Antonelli_, who ought to be the best authority, told Odo
Russell they would not go for six _months_, though the
occupation has already ceased (as the _Moniteur_ expresses it)
"en principe." You see, dear Mamma, that it is entirely
impossible for me to give you any _definite_ information at a
moment when nobody seems to know what is coming next. I should
be very much disappointed if you could not come; if you settle
to come, let me know in time to look for rooms at an Hotel, and
tell me what you expect to give. My work would not allow me to
go to Florence. My pictures for the R.A. this year are three
portraits in different sizes and attitudes from the same model,
all _dressed_--one a small half-length, the other a kit-cat, the
third a small head the size of my hand--this I have sold to Lady
Hoare for forty guineas. It has been much coveted--Lady
Stratford de Redcliffe wanted a repetition (I never do
repetitions), and Mrs. Phipps seemed quite distressed it was
sold. The Prince and his party told O. Russell they liked my
studio better than any they had seen in Rome. My "Pan" and
"Venus" are stowed away in London.

Besides the three portraits of a model mentioned in his letter, exhibited at the Royal Academy, 1859, Leighton sent "Samson and Delilah" to Suffolk Street. For studies of this picture, see Leighton House Collection.

Later, from Naples, he wrote:--

_Wednesday Morning, 1859._

I scribble two lines in haste before starting to Capri to
announce my safe arrival here in the middle of the day on
Monday. I found here several letters from England; but, as I
had presumed, that report about the sale of all my pictures was
a _canard_. Lord Lansdowne wishes very much for a repetition of
my small profile of Nanna, but as I refused to make one for Lady
Stratford, I of course can't for him. George de Monbrison has
very kindly consented to give up his Nanna to the Prince,[9] but
is evidently sadly disappointed--so much so, that I have written
to offer to do what I could not under any other circumstances,
_i.e._ copy it for him.

This place is in great beauty. I have been received with the
greatest hospitality by the Hollands, with whom I have dined and
supped both days.

Yesterday I breakfasted with Augustus Craven,[10] who
photographed me. He is a great adept at this art, and devotes
much time to it. He has a most lovely house here, looking out on
to the sea.

I have nothing to add for the present, and I will write again
from Capri.

This visit to Capri produced the famous drawing of the Lemon Tree.[11] Mr. Ruskin wrote: "Two perfect early drawings are of 'A Lemon Tree' and of a 'Byzantine Well'" (see List of Illustrations), "which determine for you without appeal the question respecting necessity of delineation as the first skill of a painter. Of all our present masters, Sir Frederic Leighton delights most in softly-blended colours, and his ideal of beauty is more nearly that of Correggio than any since Correggio's time. But you see by what precision of terminal outline he at first restrained and exalted his gift of beautiful _vaghezza_." In letters to Leighton, Ruskin refers to these drawings:--

1860.

DEAR LEIGHTON,--Unless I write again I shall hope to breakfast
with you on Friday, and see and know evermore how a lemon
differs from an orange leaf. In cases of doubtful temper, might
the former more gracefully and appropriately be used for bridal
chaplet?--Most truly yours,

J. RUSKIN.

_15th December 1882._

DEAR LEIGHTON,--Of course I want the lemon-tree! but surely you
didn't offer it me before? May I come on Tuesday afternoon for
both? and I hope to bring "Golden Water," but I hear there's
some confusion between the Academy and the Burlington Club.
"Golden Water" is perhaps too small a drawing for the
Academy--but you'll see.

I wish the lecture on sculpture you gave that jury the other day
had been to a larger audience, and I one of them.--Ever
affectionately yours,

J. RUSKIN.

_17th November._

DEAR LEIGHTON,--I brought up the "Byzantine Well,"[12] but was
forced to trust my friend, John Simon, to bring it across the
Park to you, and then forbid him till I wrote you this note,
asking you to spare a moment to show him the "Damascus Glass and
Arab Fountain." He is, as you know, a man of great eminence,
with a weakness for _painting_, which greatly hinders him in his
science.--Ever your loving,

J.R.

I can't get lectures printed yet.

With reference to differences of opinion which had arisen between them on certain art questions, Ruskin wrote in 1879: "I expected so much help from you after those orange (lemon) trees of yours!" Later (1883) he wrote: "The Pre-Raphaelite schism, and most of all, Turner's death, broke my relations with the Royal Academy. I hope they may in future be kinder; its President (Leighton) has just sent me two lovely drawings (the 'Lemon Tree' and the 'Byzantine Well') for the Oxford Schools, and, I think, feels with me as to all the main principles of Art education."

After his visit to Capri Leighton returned to London. He stayed with Mr. Henry Greville, and while there wrote to his mother the following letters:--

19 QUEEN STREET,
_Wednesday Morning, 1859_.

I have so far altered my plans that I stay on until Saturday
morning instead of going to-morrow with Mrs. Sartoris as I had
intended. I have still a call or two to make, and, besides, am
going to dine to-morrow with Mario and spend the evening of
Friday at Lord Lansdowne's, whose invitation I got though I had
not called on him. I suppose that a card was sent me because my
name was on the old list. I have since met him (at Henry's
party), and he made himself very amiable, renewing the
invitation by word of mouth. I have just been spending two or
three days at Old Windsor with Miss Thackeray, who has been
kindness itself as usual; the weather was divine, and we took
exquisite drives. Chorley[13] also has been a kind friend to me;
he took me twice to the Handel Festival, seating me, conveying
me, breakfasting me, and, but that I was engaged, would have
dined me. The Festival was, as you have no doubt read in the
papers, most successful, the choruses, considering the enormous
difficulty of training such masses of people (2000!) were
excellent; the quantity of sound produced was, of course,
enormous, still there was no _din_, nothing stunning, only an
exceedingly dense and close-textured quality of sound. The solo
singers varied in excellence. Clara Novello shone by the quality
of her voice, which carries any distance, and by the correctness
of her singing, but to me she is entirely without charm, and
left me as cold after the great song of the Nativity in the
"Messiah" as if she had not sung at all. Miss Dolby sang well
throughout; she was remarkable for the excessive decorum and
simplicity of her singing. She finishes a phrase with great
breadth; her voice, to some people disagreeable, is to me very
_simpatica_, and she gave me altogether the greatest pleasure.
Sims Reeves, whom but a few days back I heard sing so badly at
Liverpool, astounded me here by the remarkable care and study he
brought to bear on his solos. He sang in the "Messiah,"
beginning with "Behold and see if there be any sorrow," &c. He
sang exquisitely; and in the "Israel" he sang "The enemy said"
(a very ungrateful song) as well as possible. He was
vociferously encored, and well deserved it. ---- was simply
abominable, without a redeeming point. ----, though less
aggressively bad, was too insignificant to say much about at
all. Of course, altogether, the solos, especially the more
vigorous ones, were too weak for the choruses; that could not be
otherwise short of having four pair of Lablache lungs. Costa led
to perfection; it was a sight to see him.

_Friday_, PARIS.

DEAREST MAMMA,--I write you a few lines just to announce my safe
return to Paris. You have no doubt by this time got the box back
again. Henry was, as always, very kind to me, and I spent three
days very simply at his house. I had intended, when I left this,
to stay only two days in London, but those days being Saturday
and Sunday, I remembered that all the Galleries were shut, and
therefore, being most anxious to see the new Veronese, I stayed
over Monday. I was delighted with the pictures in the National
Gallery and also at Marlborough House, but the annual exhibition
at the British Institution is _deplorable_. I have decided, on
the advice of Buckner, Colnaghi, and others, to send my
"Niggers" ("A Negro Dance"--water-colour--from sketch made in
Algiers) to the Suffolk Street Exhibition (where I shall be well
hung through Buckner's intervention) _if_ I get done in time: it
will be a hard race, as the Exhibition opens a month sooner than
the R.A.

I reached home Tuesday evening at 10-1/2 o'clock, after a good
passage; I was, however, suffering from a shocking indigestion,
and, to crown all, was kept awake till four in the morning by a
ball immediately under my bed. Next morning I had to paint away
at Gallatti (my model) willy nilly (particularly nilly),
feeling seedy and frightfully cross. However, my "Gehazi" is now
as near as possible finished, and to-morrow I go in for the
"Niggers." I hope, dear Mamma, you will let me hear at once what
Lina or Suth. write; I am most anxious to hear more.

Good-bye, dear Mamma. Best love to all from your most
affectionate

FRED.

_Friday, 26th._

I am happy to say I have just done my "Niggers," and though too
late for the ordinary mode of conveyance on account of an
accident in the papers, I am saved by the exceeding kindness of
a secretary of the Sardinian Embassy, a great friend of mine; it
will be taken over on Monday night by a messenger under the
seals of the Embassy, and will just arrive in time. On Sunday I
hope to show it to Monfort, Fleury, and Scheffer. I will let you
know their verdict.

From America I have good and bad news. The bad is that my "Pan"
and "Venus" are _not being exhibited at all_ on account of their
nudity, and are stowed away in a cupboard where F. Kemble with
the most friendly and untiring perseverance contrived to
discover them. This is a great nuisance. I have sent for them
back at once; they know best whether or no it is advisable to
exhibit such pictures in America, but they certainly should have
let me know. I have written to Rossetti about it to-day,
expressing my regret and desires, and have added "my pictures
have been exposed to the wear and tear of several long journeys
_not only_ entirely for no purpose, but, being shut out from the
light, they are even suffering an injury; meanwhile I am
neglecting the opportunity of showing and disposing of them in
England, a possibility which I might willingly forego for the
sake of supporting an enterprise in which I am interested, but
not to adorn a hidden closet in the United States." Fanny Kemble
was charmed with the pictures, went often and pluckily to the
forbidden cupboard, and said she only wished she could afford to
buy them.

_Friday._

Since I last wrote I have had a note from Rossetti, the
Secretary of the American Exhibition, giving me a piece of
information about my "Romeo" which can't fail to gratify you. He
said that, had my picture not been bought by Mr. Harrison, a
public subscription would have been opened to procure it for the
Academy of Arts at Philadelphia. Rossetti answers me (as indeed
I did not doubt) that he had not the remotest notion of the fate
of "Pan" and "Venus." He has written on my request to beg they
may be sent back at once to Europe. By Henry Greville's urgent
advice I have given notice that I shall send the "Orpheus," as
they have applied for more pictures; things were selling so
satisfactorily that there was scarcely anything left to exhibit
in Boston. I am glad to be able to reassure you about the
"Niggers." Sartoris _did_ like them exceedingly even before they
were anything like as good as they are now. Cartwright, who is
not _gene_ to dislike, is enchanted with them, and says if they
are not sold at once people are fools, for he has not for some
time seen anything he likes so much. Puliza Ricardo and other
"publics" like it extremely. Robert Fleury considered it highly
original, and said that if he only saw one little head in it he
would say, "c'est d'un coloriste." R. Fleury, you know, blames
very roundly what he does not like. Montfort, my most candid
adviser, was delighted, and said of a particular bit "je vous
assure c'est tout a fait comme Decamps." This is unconditional
praise. Again I consulted him about its chances of success in
the gallery of water-colours. He said, "_Comme aquarelle_ je
vous promets qu'il n'y en a pas beaucoup qui font comme
cela;"--about water colour being _infra. dig._, showing myself
competent in _two_ materials can only raise me. Poor Scheffer
was unwell and could not come. You see, dear Mammy, you need not
be so uneasy. I fully appreciate your and Papa's anxiety about
my pictures; but it has too great a hold on you when it makes
you think that I am entirely reckless and foolish, and that
rather than give in I should tell a lie and say it was too late
to withdraw a picture when it might still be done. Many thanks
for the extract about Sutherland which, however, I had already
seen, Henry Grev. having sent it me a week ago. My "Niggers"
arrived in time by great luck. Buckner godfathers them.

In haste with very best love, your affectionate boy,

FRED.

19 QUEEN STREET, 1859.

I have got, through the kindness of Elmore (R.A.), a sort of
studio at the other end of the world; I believe I told you this
in my last note; I suppose my things will come over in a week or
less. I am in great doubt about being able to paint in that
studio, and about its having been any use to come over to London
without the possibility of a really good _locale_: however, here
I am. I shall brush up my acquaintances and see a good deal of
my friends. Don't reckon on my _selling_ anything--_I_ don't at
all. My picture is hung so that it is virtually _impossible_ to
see it. I went to look at my "Niggers" in Suffolk Street, and am
confirmed in the idea (that also of my friends) that it is my
best work. I have as yet nothing worth writing about, so
good-bye, dearest Mamma, best love to all.

2 ORME SQUARE, _Sunday, 1859_.

Having got on Monday last into my studio and been very busy ever
since, this is absolutely the first moment I have found to sit
down and write to you.

You will wish to know some particulars about my studio. Of
course after Paris and Rome it is a sad falling off--narrow and
dark, though I believe, for London, very fair; when I _live_
here I must have a much larger light or I shall go
blind--however, I must not look a gift horse in the mouth. I
have had to furnish--this costs me about nine or ten shillings a
week; I keep a servant (a stupid, pompous, verbose, dirty,
willing, honest scrub) to run my errands and clean my brushes,
&c. &c., at half-a-crown a day; models are five shillings a
sitting here--ruination!--men with good heads there are
none--women, tol-lol!--a lay figure, twenty-five shillings a
month; in short, historical painting here is not for nothing; I
am working at my "Samson" picture; God knows how I shall finish
it in so short a time! Dearest Mammy, I shall have but a very
short peep at you this year, I am very sorry to say--I lost a
full month waiting for this wretched studio. I don't see my way
through my work before the middle or even end of the second week
in August, and I cannot well give up going to Scotland though
only for a very few days, as I have accepted so long ago. I am
to go there on the 20th; after that I must rush back post-haste
to Stourhead to finish Lady Hoare; all this will make me very
late for Italy, as I am anxious to revisit the north of that
country and study the Correggios a little at Parma before going
south. I shall be obliged to scamper across the country. I
_must_ be in Rome or the neighbourhood in October; I am going to
finish my Cervara landscape on the spot.

I am in very fair health, London decidedly agrees with me, and I
don't suffer as much as I expected from the obligato spleen of
blue devildom. I need not say this is a source of immense
congratulation to me.

When the picture "Nanna" returned from the Royal Academy, where it was exhibited in 1859, Leighton sent it to Bath, writing to his mother to announce its arrival.

LONDON, 1859.

DEAREST MAMMY,--I scribble a word in haste to announce to you
that I have sent "Nanna" off to Bath for you to see, she wants
varnish very badly as you see, but is not dry enough for that
yet. You must mind and put her in the right light, the window
must be on the left of the spectator--the more to the _left_ of
the picture you stand yourself the less you will see the want of
varnish. If you stand to the _right_ of the painting you won't
see it at all. Please send "Nanna" back when you have shown to
whom you wish, as she is overdue at Paris.

_Saturday Morning, 1859._

I returned yesterday from the Highlands, and have at last time
to write you a little word. My stay in the North has been most
satisfactory, I have enjoyed myself thoroughly, and have felt
particularly well in the keen bracing air of the mountains. My
time has been spent exclusively in walks, rides, and drives, for
the weather was great part of the time too uncertain to allow of
sitting out to paint (even had there been time), whereas no
amount of showers prevented our going out, and indeed to those
showers I owe seeing some of the most superb effects of colour,
light and shade, that I ever beheld. We used sometimes to have
three or four duckings in one ride, drying again in the sun, or
not as the case might be, and never catching even the phantom of
a cold, so healthy and invigorating is the breath of those
healthy hills. I said I painted nothing and bring home an empty
portfolio (all but a flower I drew one _very_ wet morning), but
I have studied a great deal with my eyes and memory, and come
back a better landscape painter than I went. On my road home, at
Dunkeld, where I lingered a day (exquisite spot), I jotted down
in oils two reminiscences of effects observed at Kinrara with
which I am rather well pleased--one is a stormy Scandinavian bit
of cloud and hill, the other a hot sunny expanse of golden corn
and purple heather, which looks for all the world like a bit of
Italy. Mind, they are the merest little sketches, but accurate
in the _impression of the effect_.

I go on Monday morning to Stourhead, where I stay till Saturday,
and start Monday week for the Continent. Please send me a line
to Stourhead. How are you, darling? and Lina and Gus? and Papa?
Have you had any more drives?--Your loving boy,

FRED.

On returning to England Leighton took up his abode in his first studio in England. Hitherto he had paid visits to London,--Rome, and subsequently Paris, being his real home, for an artist's true home is in his studio. In the autumn of 1859 he settled in 2 Orme Square, and from that time to his death London became his headquarters.

After having settled into his studio in Orme Square in the winter of 1859, he wrote to Steinle and to Robert Browning the following letters:--

_Translation._]
2 ORME SQUARE, BAYSWATER, LONDON,
_December 5, 1859_.

MY DEAR FRIEND AND MASTER,--What a long time it is since I heard
from you! my last letter, despatched from Rome, has had no
answer.

I enclose a photograph of a memorial tablet which I executed in
Rome last winter for my poor widowed sister. The monument is of
white marble with black mosaic decoration; the four dark circles
are bronze nails, which secure the marble tablet to the wall.

When I had finished work in Rome, I went south and spent five
weeks in Capri. You would hardly believe, dear Friend, how this
wonderful island delighted me. I made vigorous use of my visit
and executed a fairly large number of conscientious studies. I
also took the opportunity to visit Paestum for the first time. I
may say that the _Temple of Neptune_ gave me the most exalted
architectonic impression that I have ever received; I shall
never forget that morning. The two neighbouring temples,
however, are not worth looking at, except from a painter's point
of view.

Meanwhile, the season being advanced, I was obliged, with real
regret, to give up my plan of going to Frankfurt, and to hurry
back to England. Here I am now permanently established. I
confess that I did not pitch my tent here without some anxiety;
I had not spent _a single winter_ in England since my earliest
childhood, and I had good reason to fear that to me, with my
love of sunshine, it would prove a little harsh. I also feared
the climate for my bodily health. However, "native air" appears
to be not altogether an empty phrase, but I find myself,
notwithstanding the fog, well and in good spirits. Man must
indeed carry the sun in his heart--if he is to have it. Of work
in particular, I have nothing much to say. Later, in the course
of the winter, I will report more at length.

Meanwhile, dear Master, write to me very soon. Tell me whether
you still think of your pupil, and especially tell me about your
certainly numerous works.--Your grateful pupil,

LEIGHTON.

_Translation._]
2 ORME SQUARE, BAYSWATER,
LONDON, _January 12, 1860_.

I spoke little in my last letter of my present work, partly
perhaps because of the feeling I have already described, but
partly also because I intend to send you a photograph directly
the picture is finished, which will not be till spring. It is a
commission, and the subject is religious. There is only a single
figure, and I would describe it to you now, but that I fear you
would imagine the picture much more beautiful than I can paint
it, and you would consequently suffer a disappointment later on
in my work which would be painful to me. For the rest, I am
striving as hard as I can to make it fine and simple. You will
perhaps be surprised, but, in spite of my fanatic preference for
colour, I promised myself to be a draughtsman before I became a
colourist.

And now adieu, my dear Friend. Directly I can show you anything
in "black and white" you shall hear from me again, and I shall
expect from you, as my old master, the most unsparing criticism;
that is the greatest proof of love you can give me.

FRED LEIGHTON.

2 ORME SQUARE, BAYSWATER,
_January 29, '60_.

DEAR BROWNING,--It is not till the other day that I at last
received from Cartwright your Rome address, or I should have
written to you some time ago; before it was too late to wish you
a merry Xmas and health, happiness, and all prosperity for
yourself and Mrs. Browning in the present year. I don't know
that I have anything worth telling you to write about, for all
the little incidents which have their importance for the space
of a day, all appear too trivial to write about after a lapse of
a week or two. Still I write to assure you I keep up my most
affectionate remembrance of you, and to beg that you won't
entirely forget me. I received your kind letter at the beginning
of the winter, and was truly concerned to hear that Mrs.
Browning had been so alarmingly unwell; I trust that the air of
Rome, which once before was so beneficial to her, will have
strengthened and recruited her again this time. Dear old Rome!
how I wish I could fly over and spend a week or so with you all
in my old haunts. I suppose I shall never be entirely weaned of
that yearning affection I entertain for Italy, and particularly
for Rome and the "Comarea." You must have it all to yourselves
this year. What a delight it must be to see neither Brown,
Jones, nor Robinson.

I suppose Cartwright, Pantaleone, and Odo Russell are the staple
of your convivial circle; and, by-the-bye, how much more freely
Mrs. Browning must breathe this winter without certain daily
visitations which I remember last year. I wonder whether you
will write to me and tell me what you are doing, socially and
artistically; everything about you will interest me.

As for myself, you would not believe it, in spite of my old
habits of continental life and sunshine, I take very kindly to
England; _it agrees_ with me capitally, really better than Rome.
I am fattening _vue d'oeil_. The light is certainly not
irreproachable, still I can work, and don't find that my ideas
get particularly rusty. On the contrary, for colour, certainly
my sense seems to be sharpened in this atmosphere.

I am soldiering too. I drill three times a week, and make as bad
a soldier as anybody else. The Sartoris, you know, are no longer
in London--a great loss to all their friends--but I go pretty
often to see them in the country, and have spent many a happy
day there in the course of the winter. By-the-bye, do you hear
or know anything of those two drawings I did of you and Mrs.
Browning? If so, will you give the one of you to Hookes that he
may send with some other things he has? And now, dear Browning,
"_vi levero l'incomodo_," and will bring this very tedious
epistle to a close. Remember me most kindly to Mrs. Browning, to
Cartwright and his wife, to Odo Russell, B----, Pantaleone with
better half, Storeys, and last, but not least, dear little
Hatty! Love to Cerinni; tell me about him. Good-bye.--Believe
me, very affectionately yours,

FRED LEIGHTON.

I am hand-and-glove with all my enemies the pre-Raphaelites.
Woolner sends his affectionate remembrances.

Leighton writes to his sister in Italy:--

2 ORME SQUARE, BAYSWATER,
_March 12_.

MY DEAR GUSSYKINS,--You may have heard from Mamma that I went to
Paris to hear Madame Viardot in "Orphee." What wonderful
singing! what style! what breadth! what pathos! You would have
been enchanted, I am sure. Do you know the music? It is
wonderfully fine and pathetic, the first chorus particularly is
quite harrowing for the accent of grief about it. Madame
Viardot's _acting_, too, is superb--so perfectly simple and
grand, it is really antique. And when you consider all she has
to overcome--a bad, harsh voice, an ugly face, an ungainly
person; and yet she contrives to look almost handsome. She
enters heart and soul into her work; she said it was the only
thing she ever did that (after fifty performances) had not given
her a moment's _ennui_. I am afraid there is no chance of her
singing it in England this year, if at all; I don't believe the
Covent Garden audience would sit through it.[14]

I also saw Gounod's new opera, "Philemon et Baucis," and was
disappointed. Nothing but the care and distinction of the
workmanship redeems it from being a bore; the subject is ill
adapted for the stage, and is dragged through three acts with
portentous efforts. Striking melodies there are few, charming
accompaniments many; all the pretty music (or nearly) is in the
orchestra--_c'est la sauce qui fait avaler le poisson_. The
introductions to the first and second acts, but particularly the
latter (a little _motif_ on the oboe), are charming; there is
also a capital chorus. All this, however, is an impression after
one hearing; I might alter my mind on hearing it oftener, but I
think not.

In the Royal Academy Exhibition of 1860 Leighton sent one picture only, "Sunrise--Capri."

_Translation._]
2 ORME SQUARE, _September 15, 1860_.

MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,--I was almost afraid that you would think
that I had entirely forgotten you, but this would be a very
undeserved interpretation of my long silence. No, my dear
Master, you still live in my constant memory, in my most
grateful recollection.

When I last wrote, I promised to send you a photograph of my
large picture. This work has taken up my time far beyond my
expectations, and I always put off writing in order not to send
you an empty letter. At last it is thus far, and I enclose both
the large photograph and some little ones, in the hope that you,
dear Master, will be interested also in the unimportant works of
your old pupil.

Have I already told you the subject of my religious picture? I
think not. At the turning-point of a very critical illness, the
lady who commissioned my picture dreamt that she, as a
disembodied spirit, soared up heavenwards in the night.[15]
Suddenly she was aware of a point of light in the far vault of
heaven. This light grew, developed, and soon she saw coming
forth from the night the shining form of the Saviour. Full of
confidence she approached the holy apparition. Jesus, however,
raised His hands and, gently repulsing her, enjoined her to
return to earth, and during her life to make herself worthier to
enter the company of the blessed. She awoke, recovered, and
ordered the picture.

You will be able to imagine, my dear Friend, how little
contented I am with my work; however, I am accustomed to show
you my weaknesses, and I therefore send you also this
unsatisfactory work. As regards the photograph, it is in certain
respects successful, although it makes the whole picture _four
times too dark_.

I send also a portrait of my sister; a head of an English
soldier, who lost an arm at Balaclava, and recently died of
consumption; and finally a photograph after a drawing on wood,
which I drew for a book, but which has been _incredibly_
disfigured by the engraver. Fortunately I had the drawing
(although bad) photographed before I sent it to be engraved.

But enough of me and my affairs.

And you, dear Master, what are you working at? Are your
cartoons all finished? Shall you soon begin your frescoes? What
other beautiful things have you composed?

Do not punish my long silence, but send me a couple of lines to
tell me what interests me so deeply. So soon as I have finished
anything new (and I have many pictures in prospect) I will send
you another specimen of my handiwork.

Meantime I beg you will remember me most cordially to your wife
and daughters, and to my other friends in Frankfurt. And
yourself do not altogether forget, your loving pupil,

FRED LEIGHTON.

It was in 1860 Leighton joined the Artist Rifle Corps. It was also then he first made the acquaintance of Sir William B. Richmond (now Chairman of the Leighton House Committee).

_December 12, 1860._

DEAREST MAMMY,--I have deferred until now answering your kind
letter that I might be able to announce to you a little
circumstance which took place yesterday, and which, though not
of any real importance, may give you and Papa pleasure. I was
yesterday raised to the rank of Captain; I command the 3rd
Company--Lewis was at the same time made Captain of the 2nd--his
election of course came before mine; he has done three times
more for the Corps than I have or could have done--he lives very
near and goes _every day_--as a man of business, and a very
clever one, he has entirely organised the bookkeeping
department, and in fact has been altogether the vital principle
of the Corps. I was chosen next for having shown some zeal in
this service and some little capability for teaching. The vacant
lieutenancies go to Nicholson (the musician) and Talfourd. One
of the ensigncies has been given to Perugini, contingent on its
being lawful for him to hold such commission; another to old
Palmer. So much for our volunteering. I wish we had a commander.
The next question in your letter I thought I had answered in my
last--however, though Ruskin stayed about three hours and was
altogether very pleasant, he did not say anything that I could
quote about my paintings. He was _immensely_ struck by my
drawing of a lemon-tree, and was generally complimentary, or
rather, _respectful_, that is more his _genre_. I don't think,
however, that he cared for Sandbach's picture--which leads me to
the third point in your letter. Neither of the S.'s have seen
their picture; last time they were in London, having made no
definite appointment, I missed them. He wrote to say that when
he came up to town again, he would fix a day to call on me.
Gibson, the old traitor, never turned up at all. By-the-bye, I
see you ask whether I shoot much--no, not often; I am an
ordinary, average shot--my unsteady hand prevents my shooting
well. My general health is pretty fair. Many thanks, dearest
Mammy, for your kind wishes and congratulations on that
melancholy occasion, my birthday--it is a day I always
hate--fancy my being _thirty_!!! About marrying, dear Mamma, you
must not forget it requires two to play at that game. I would
not insult a girl I did not love by asking her to tie her
existence to mine, and I have not yet found one that I felt the
slightest wish to marry; it is no doubt ludicrous to place this
ideal so high, but it is not my fault--theoretically I should
like to be married very well.

In another letter to his mother Leighton writes on the subject of marriage: "If I don't marry, the reason has been that I have never seen a girl to whom I felt the least desire to be united for life. I should certainly never marry for the sake of doing so." The same subject is again alluded to in a letter written in 1863, from Leighton's mother to her younger daughter who was in Italy. The letter begins by referring to a servant who was dismissed by Leighton.

"He has such an effect on him by his profound stupidity and
intense conceit he can't keep him, for if he did, the irritation
would render him wicked if he indulged it, and ill if he
repressed the same--at least that's Fred's feeling just now. He
means to take an Italian servant if he can find one.

"Fred has received an invitation to Sandringham (the Prince of
Wales). If he has not found a suitable servant we are to lend
him ours--Ellen's husband, a very superior person. I must not
forget to tell you that we saw ----'s new baby, a very dear
little thing. Freddy was enchanted with it. He noticed him more
than ----, who is a delightful little chap, and after caressing
it several times with exceeding tenderness, he suddenly grew red
in the face, and said, 'I must nurse him,' which he did for a
long time, to the wonder and admiration of Miss ---- and the
nurse. For my part, it gave me actual pain to see that proof of
his strong love for children, believing that he will never have
any of his own. He declares he has never seen a girl he could
marry. Of course this shows he is unreasonably fastidious;
more's the pity!"

2 ORME SQUARE, _April 10, 1861_.

DEAREST MAMMY,--I have deferred writing until now that I might
be able to tell you the result of my little "private view," now
over. I am happy to say I have a great success. The "Vision"
pleased many people much, but was altogether, as I expected, the
least popular; the subject, though very interesting, was less
attractive to the many, and besides I have progressed in
painting since the date of that picture. My little girl at the
fountain, christened for me by one of my visitors, "Lieder ohne
Worte," has perhaps had the greatest number of votes.[16] The
"Francesca,"[17] on the other hand, has had, I think, the
advantage in the _quality_ of its admirers. Watts, for instance,
and Mrs. Sartoris think it by far my best daub.

By-the-bye, you will be particularly pleased to hear that Lina's
portrait has had an immense success, and indeed, on second
thoughts, perhaps it was more admired than anything else. The
"Capri" and the "Aslett" were also much liked. Mind, dear Mamma,
this letter is "strictly confidential," because although, of
course, you want to know what people say of my pictures, anybody
else seeing this letter would (or might) suppose I was devoured
with vanity.

I have just made an unexpected acquaintance in the Gladstones,
who sent me, I don't know why, a card for two parties. It was
very polite of them, and of course I went. This is a very
egotistical letter, dear Mamma, but I know that is what you
want.

I am very sufficiently well, not strong, but never ill. I
marched to Wimbledon with the Volunteers last Monday, and got
wet several times but did not catch cold.[18]

LONDON. 1861.

DEAR PAPA,--If the _Public_ receives my pictures as favourably
as the _Private_ has done, I shall have no cause to complain; as
far, at least, as the maintenance and increase of my reputation
is concerned. I should, however, have liked the "market" to be a
little more "brisk."

Tom Taylor and Rossetti (Wm.), the only critics that came (as
far as I know) besides Stephens, were, as far as I can judge,
both of them much pleased with what they saw. I know at least
that both spoke well of my pictures behind my back.

As for Ruskin, he was in one of his queer moods when he came to
breakfast with me--he spent his time looking at my portfolio and
praised my drawings most lavishly--_he did not even look at the
pictures_. However, nothing could be more cordial than he is to
me.

I bolted out into the passage after you when you left the other
day to tell you that one of the gentlemen you saw come in was
Sir Edwin Landseer, but you had disappeared.

PARIS. _Monday_.

DEAREST MOTHER,--I must wind up with bad news, which I hope you
will bear well: my pictures are badly hung, ill lighted, and
almost entirely ignored by the press.[19] Of course this is _au
fond_, a bitter disappointment to a man of my temperament,
especially after all the praise my work got before the
Exhibition. However, I shall wear a brave face, and who knows
but that some good may arise to me out of this? My little
energies will be sharpened up and my tenacity roused. I trust in
some future day, as long as hope lives. God bless you, Mammy;
best love to dear Gussy. From your affectionate son,

FRED.

_May 1, 1861._

DEAREST MAMMY,--Life being a pump handle, first up then down,
you won't be too much surprised to hear that after the real
success my pictures had on "private view" they are with one
exception (the landscape) badly hung, "The Vision" over a door,
the others above the line, which will make it impossible to see
the finish or delicacy of execution which is an important
feature in them. I have not seen them myself, but am told this
by those who have. Don't take on, dear Mammy, nor let Papa worry
himself about it. Things come right in the end, and I know that
many people will be much annoyed at this treatment of me.
_Millais_, like a good fellow that he is, spoke up for me like a
man, though he himself feels so differently on art from what I
do. My good friend Aide is furious. After all perhaps, though
badly hung, the pictures may still be seen well enough to be
judged, that is all I really want, then perhaps some of the
papers will speak up for me. I am glad I let so many people see
them at the studio, those at least know what the pictures are
like. Of one thing be sure: if my works have real value, public
opinion will in the _long run_ force the Academy to hang me--but
enough of this subject.

The Prince of Wales saw a photo-portrait of me in Valletort's
book the other day and begged him to ask me for one. I have had
some new ones done, and mean at the same time to send H.R.H. a
photograph of each of my larger pictures, "The Vision," the
"Francesca," and "The Listener," which, by-the-bye, I have
christened on the suggestion of a lady friend of mine (a sister
of Cockerell's) "Lieder ohne Worte."

Landseer said nothing that was worth repeating, though he gave
me one or two useful practical hints. He is eminently a
practical man, and I suspect in his heart sneers at style. He
was, however, I believe, pleased with my things.

9 PARK PLACE, ST. JAMES'S,
_Sunday, May 5, 1861_.

DEAR MRS. LEIGHTON,--I know that the news of the bad hanging of
your son's pictures has reached you (unpleasant tidings
generally travel fast) and I hasten to tell you, what I hope may
a little mitigate the annoyance you must have felt about it,
that they are spoken of in terms of great eulogium by both the
_Times_ and _Athenaeum_. I was afraid that their unfortunate
placing might have prevented the possibility of any justice
being done them by the public critics, but after all the _Times_
and _Athenaeum_ are the most influential and leading of all our
public journals. Mrs. Orr's portrait is consistently praised by
all the papers, even by those which review the others less
favourably. Fortunately, the pictures were well seen in the
studio by numbers of people of all classes before they went to
the Academy, and excited very general admiration in those who
felt no particular interest either in art or in your son; while
his friends, and those who _know_, were delighted not only with
the works themselves, but at the visible indications in them of
increased power in all ways. They have been thought by all whose
opinion is of value a great advance upon what he has hitherto
done. All this will, I hope, be pleasant to you; what will be so
most of all will be to know that he took the exceeding trial and
vexation of the abominable hanging of his pictures with the most
perfect temper, and an admirable desire to be just about those
who were doing him this ill turn. You will care for this, as I
do, more than for any worldly success his talent could have
brought him. I think he is looking well, although he complains a
little of feeling tired. I daresay it is nothing but the
weariness that must make itself a little felt after a great and
all-engrossing exertion. His volunteering occupation is quite
invaluable to him, giving him the exercise he never would
otherwise get. I think he seems to like his life in London,
where he has many friends, so many that if you were here you
would no longer feel as jealous about me as you once owned to
feeling--do you remember? I do not apologise for writing all
this to you, for although excess of zeal may be a sin in the
eyes of others, and even indeed of those whom one would die to
serve, a mother will hardly count it as such when her child is
in question. With best remembrances to Mr. Leighton and your
daughters, I am, ever faithfully yours,

ADELAIDE SARTORIS.

To his father Leighton wrote:--

1861.

As to the article in _Macmillan_, I don't in the least deny its
value as far as it goes and _quo ad_ the public; it is in that
sense very gratifying to be spoken of in such flattering terms
in a periodical of some standing, but I can't individually feel
much elated at the praise of a critic who in other parts of his
article shows he is not _au fond_ a judge; as for what he says
in _interpretation_ (I am not now alluding to the _praise_), it
is so verbatim what I said myself to those who visited my
studio, that I suspect he must have been of that number. I
remember, it is true, telling you _before_ I began to paint
"Lieder ohne Worte" that I intended to make it _realistic_, but
from the first moment I began I felt the mistake, and made it
professedly and pointedly the reverse. I don't think, however,
that we understand the word realistic alike; the Fisherman and
Syren which you quote was as little naturalistic as anything
could be, and, while you urge me to take up some subject
possessing that quality, I would point out that the Michael
Angelo and the Peacock Girl both fulfil that condition--to _my_
mind _to a fault_. I have sent in (or am about to) a formula
which I received to fill up, stating what I would contribute to
the Great Exhibition of 1862 (International). I have offered the
Cimabue, four "Nannas," the "Lieder ohne Worte," "Francesca,"
and the "Syren." I have obtained permission for all.

_Translation._]
2 ORME SQUARE, BAYSWATER,
_30th April 1861_.

MY DEAR FRIEND AND MASTER,--When I last wrote you I promised in
the spring to send you photographs of my pictures for the
exhibition. I have just received some prints and hasten to
enclose them.