Chapter II (2)

My architect is Aitchison, an old friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

FRED.

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

Referring to opinions expressed regarding Florentine Art, past and present, Leighton wrote to his younger sister: "----'s remark about ----, if I remember it, was utter bosh and pedantry. The Florentines of the end of the fifteenth century were _emphatically_ realists, though their realism was animated by a higher genius and a deeper humanity than the modern Italians exhibit, though _they_, by-the-bye, are mostly not _realists_ but mannerists. The chief characteristic of English Art is (I speak of course of the better men) originality and humanity on the one hand, and on the other, absence of acquired knowledge and guiding taste. Some day I will write you a lot more about it."

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

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

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

_April 29, 1863._

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

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

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

J. RUSKIN.

MY DEAR LEIGHTON,--The public voice respecting the lecture you
are calumniously charged with, is as wise as usual. The lecture
is an excellent and most interesting one, and I am very sorry it
is not yours.

I am also very sorry the basket _is_ yours, in spite of the very
pretty theory of accessories. It is proper that an accessory be
slightly--sometimes even, in a measure, badly--painted, but not
that it should be out of perspective; and in the greatest men,
their enjoyment and power animated the very dust under the feet
of their figures--much more the baskets on their heads: above
all things, what comes near a head should be studied in every
line.

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

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

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

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

J. RUSKIN.

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

_Monday._

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

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

J. RUSKIN.

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

Leighton writes to his mother:--

I had a kind note this morning from Ruskin, in which, after
criticising two or three things, he speaks very warmly of other
points in my work and of the development of what he calls
"enormous power and sense of beauty." I quote this for what it
is worth, because I know it will give you pleasure, but I have
NOT and _never shall have_ "enormous power," though I have some
"sense of beauty." The "Orpheus" and "Golden Hours" are not in
the _great_ room but in the next to it. I have not seen Gambart
lately, and do not, therefore, know whether he has got rid of
any more of my pictures (by-the-bye, I have sent the
"duet"--"Johnny"--to America to an Exhibition for the Sanitary
Commission, on the request of Mrs. Kemble's daughter). He will,
_I think_, engrave the "Honeymoon," but probably only photograph
the others; by-the-bye (again), Mammy, tell Gussy with my love
that I shall present her with a copy of each and shall not
"_think her greedy_," having no thoughts for her but
affectionate ones. With regard to the money paid me by Gambart,
I invested as soon as I got it L1000 in Eastern Counties Railway
_debentures_, at par, 4-1/2 per cent., this on the advance of
Coutts' stock clerk. Lord Ashburton's portrait was scarcely
begun.[37] I have offered to try to finish _tant bien que mal_
from photographs, and to _give_ it to Lady A. She is very
grateful. The child's picture also goes to the wall, as she
won't be able to sit for some time, and would then be _changed_.
Lady A. wanted to pay the price of the sketch as it stood; this
I of course refused. She has commissioned me to paint her a
fancy picture for L300.

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

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

_Translation._]
FRANKFURT AM MAIN,
_April 30, 1865_.

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

STEINLE.

FOOTNOTES:

[26] See Appendix, "Lord Leighton's Sketches."

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

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

[29] "Eucharis."

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

[31] Photographs of the Lyndhurst fresco.

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

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

[34] "Eucharis."

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

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

10 PEMBRIDGE VILLAS, BAYSWATER, W.,
_April 29, 1863_.

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

W.P. FRITH.

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

[37] Refers to Lord Ashburton's death.

[38] This picture illustrates the verses in the _Paradiso_:--

"Thou shalt prove
How salt the savour is of others' bread;
How hard the passage, to descend and climb
By others' stairs. But that shall gall thee most
Will be the worthless and vile company
With whom thou must be thrown into the straits,
For all ungrateful, impious all and mad
Shall turn against thee."

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

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

54 CLIFTON GARDENS, MAIDA HILL,
_April 5, 1864_.

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

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

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

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

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

RICHARD DOYLE.

[39] Referring to Leighton's painting of "Helen of Troy," exhibited in 1865, Mr. Martin Tupper wrote:--

ALBURY HOUSE, NR. GUILFORD,
_May 23, 1865_.

DEAR SIR,--It is just possible that the following few words of
comment upon your wonderfully spiritualised "Helen of Troy" may
be acceptable to you from the undersigned.

The "Helen" of Euripides is very little read amongst us, and yet
it is as strangely sensational as "The Woman in White": there
being two Helens in the play, the real substantial wife
remaining faithful to Menelaus in the island of Pharos, while
Juno gives to Paris--out of jealous rage at him for his
"judgment" in favour of Venus--"an image composed of ether" in
the likeness of Helen.

This Ethereal Presence you have so exquisitely portrayed that it
is probable you know the play! only that I think you would then
have quoted from it in the R.A. catalogue, in explanation of
what confuses some of your ignorant reviewers as to this
embodied spirit.

The counterfeit Helen was of "unsubstantial air," a figure
marvellously rendered in your picture, and which I can fully
appreciate: and you quote a very apposite passage from Lord
Derby's "Homer," as that which you illustrate; but if there are
reprints of the catalogue, I would suggest the addition of a
line from Euripides, as thus:--

"Juno to Paris gave me--yet not me,
But in my semblance formed a living image
Composed of ether."
WODHALL'S _Eur. Hel._

If haply you do not know the book, inquire at Longman's for the
fifth volume of the Greek Tragic Theatre (in English); or,
should you prefer it, of course it is extant in the Greek. If
not easily attainable in London, I shall be happy to lend you
the volume by post. Congratulating you on your difficult and
exquisite achievement--I am, dear sir, truly yours,

MARTIN F. TUPPER.
F. LEIGHTON, Esq.

[40]

WARNFORD COTTAGE,
BISHOP'S WALTHAM.

MY DEAR MR. LEIGHTON,--I was very sorry indeed when I returned
to Park Place on Sunday evening and found that you had been so
kind as to call upon me.

I have not ventured to intrude upon you in your late affliction
with the expression of a sympathy which cannot have much value
for you, but had I seen you when you called I should hardly have
refrained from telling you how sincerely I feel for your
sorrow.--Pray believe me, yours always most truly,

FANNY KEMBLE.
WARNFORD, _Thursday, 2nd_.

FOREST BANK,
LYNDHURST.

MY DEAR LEIGHTON,--I cannot let the post go out without offering
you my sincere sympathy on your loss. I know how deeply attached
you were to your mother, and am very sure the bereavement is a
heavy grief to you. You are right in saying that to me your
sorrow comes especially home. My mother sends you her
affectionate love, and we both beg you to remember that,
whenever you have a few spare days and want quiet, you must
consider this home as a temporary home.--Believe me always, in
all affection, yours,

HAMILTON AIDE.

MY DEAR LEIGHTON,--I must write to you to express the grief both
myself and my wife felt on hearing of the loss which has
befallen you. I am well aware that no words can afford
consolation against such afflictions, but I should be sorry if
you had construed silence into want of sympathy. If you have
time I should be glad to hear from you, and to know how may be
your father, from whom I have received on every occasion so much
kindness. You have much distress to go through, for death has
recently touched you in many ways by striking your own family,
your friends, and imperilling others to a degree that must have
inspired every pain it can produce.

Good-bye, my dear Leighton; remember me to your father, and
express to him my deep sympathy with him in his
misfortune.--Yours ever affectionately,

W.C. CARTWRIGHT.
PALAZZI GIORGI, ROME,
_January 31_.

13 EATON PLACE (WEST),
_Tuesday, January 17, 1865_.

MY DEAR LEIGHTON,--I heard at the Marqs', on Sunday, of your
late bereavement; and, as perhaps the one of all your many
friends whose mind the most habitually dwells among thoughts of
loss and deprivation, I can assure you of thought of it with
sincere concern and sympathy, and just write a line to say so.
There is nothing to be said, I well know, which is of any
immediate good or alleviation, and time only strengthens
affectionate recollection: but after a time, among gentler
thoughts which will come, I hope you will, as you may justly,
find comfort in thinking that your mother's life was spared so
as to permit her to be cheered by the certainty of your success.
This is much--especially to a woman's heart.--Faithfully and
sincerely yours,

HENRY J. CHORLEY.