The Life, Letters and Work of Frederic Leighton Volume II Part 7

NEW YORK, _Sunday, March 10_.

I am sure you have not forgotten the charming farmhouse at West Mion, to which you and your sketch-book were the means of introducing us, ---- farm: well, his brother is one of the richest shopkeepers in New York--and, upon the strength of my visit to the paternal acres in Hampshire, his wife, a funny little specimen of vivacious vulgarity, called upon me, and I, of course, upon her. I was shown into a drawing-room at least thirty feet long, with two ma.s.sive white marble chimney-pieces, green silk brocade curtains and furniture to match, magnificent carpets, mirrors, gildings, hideous _works_ in marble on scagliola pillars--in short, the most marvellous palace of shopkeepers' _beaux ideaux_ that you can conceive; through this to a beautifully fitted-up library; through this to a picture gallery, n.o.ble _seigneur_, _pensez y bien_! Oh, my dear Frederic Leighton, it was enough to make one fall down and foam at the mouth, to see such a hideous collection of daubs and to think of the money hanging on those walls; and then I thought of your pictures, and why the wretched man couldn't have procured them for some of his foolish money; and then I begged your pardon internally for the desecration of imagining your pictures in such company; and then I gazed amusedly about me, and at length gave tongue: "Mr. ----," said I, "this is a vastly different residence from the old homestead in Hampshire." The worthy man could not see in my heart which way the balance of preference inclined, and answered with benignant self-satisfaction: "Ah, well, you see, ma'am, they've been going on there for the last I don't know how many hundred years, just about in the same social position; they haven't a notion of the rapidity of our progress here." I hate to advise you to have your pictures back, for there really does seem to me to be a _greedy desire for pictures_ (I cannot qualify in any other way the taste which covets and buys such things) here; but I suppose pictures, at any rate, must be what these people want, and will not buy dear and good ones, when cheap and nasty do as well. I think, while I am here in New York, I shall take the liberty of making some further inquiry as to whether the great print and picture seller here does not think they could be seen to selling advantage in his shop; in short, it throws me into a melancholy rage to think what pictures are bought while yours are not. The state of this country is curious--strange and deplorable beyond precedent in history, it seems to me; and it is absolutely _impossible_ to foresee to what issue things are tending. The opinions one hears are all coloured by the particular bias of the speaker, and the confusion is so great in the general excitement of sectional partisanship that even one of the members--and a very influential one--of the peace convention sent to Washington for the purpose of proposing terms of conciliation--which should not, however, compromise the Northern principles--said that nothing had been done, that all was "sound and fury, and signifying nothing"--or if anything at present, the confirmed secession of the Southern, the disruption from the North of the Northern slave States, and, not impossibly, civil war. Of course, the more time elapses in palavering before the first fatal blow is struck, the less probability there is of its being struck at all; but, on the other hand, the longer the present state of things continues, the more accustomed people become to the idea of the dismemberment of the Union, and therefore, though the clangour of an appeal to arms diminishes, so I think does the prospect of anything like "making up" the family quarrel--indeed, if it were patched, and soldered to the very best, I do not believe that it will ever "hold water again"; but it is impossible to foresee from day to day what may be the turn of events.

If I live till a year from this summer I will be in England in July, and if I live till the November after that I will be in Rome, and you and Edward and Adelaide have my full permission to come too.

Good-bye, dear Mr. Leighton. Your letters are a great comfort as well as pleasure to me; I am extremely obliged to you for them.

I showed my daughter the photograph of your "Vision," and she was enchanted with it. She has not a cultivated or educated taste in matters of art--this country affords no means for such a thing--but she is a person of very fine natural perceptions and great imagination and sensibility, and she was so charmed with it that I hope you will not think it foolish or impertinent in me to tell you of it.

The last political news I have is that the border or Northern slave States will probably not join the cotton states, in which case the latter will, of hard necessity, very soon be compelled to abandon their absurd and infinitely perilous position; but one does not see the end of it all, for if they _do_ come back into the Union, it will be under a burning sense of humiliation which will hardly facilitate their future intercourse with the North, for humiliation and humility are difficult things, and the cotton Lucifer under coercion will not be a pleasant devil to deal with.

LENOX, _Sat.u.r.day, September 7_.

You owe me nothing, and you will owe me nothing, dear Mr.

Leighton, for expediting your pictures to England. When I wrote to Mr. Ordway about them desiring him to send them back to you, and to let me know the amount of any expenses he incurred in doing so, his reply was that the mere cost of packing and putting them on board ship would not be worth charging you with, and that the possession of your pictures in his gallery was well worth the small outlay of merely despatching them to you. I hope they will reach you safely. I am sorry, _sorry_ they have not remained here; but latterly, as you will easily believe, people's minds have been little inclined to the peaceful arts or any influences of beauty and grace; moreover, the pockets of the wealthiest amateurs are affected, as those of their poorer neighbours are, by the public disasters. My own loss this year is two hundred pounds of my income. What it may be next year, or how far my capital itself is safe, is more than anybody can tell. We are to be taxed moreover beyond all precedent in this country hitherto, and as it is already nearly the dearest place in the world to live in, what with onerous imports and the failure of interest from one's investments it will be simply ruinous. Thank you for all you tell me of my sister and her children. I am beginning to _see them again_, as the time when I may really hope to do so draws nearer. I am sorry for what you and all my friends tell me about Harry's strong dramatic propensities. Of course, if he is fit for nothing else, or fitter for that than anything else, he had better become an actor, and his being so in England need not prevent his being a worthy fellow and respectable and respected member of society. I am, however, much reconciled to what at first disappointed me extremely--my not being able to bring him out to this country; for if he should eventually take to the stage, here that is simply in most instances equivalent to taking to the gutter. My daughters are both with me just now, and f.a.n.n.y desires me to remember her very kindly to you. The incidents of the war which reach the other side of the water no doubt strike you as amazing enough; but anything more grotesque than the daily details in the midst of which we live, you cannot conceive. A young gentleman, a friend of ours who has just returned from his share in the campaign in a three months' volunteer regiment (he has entered the regular army, as a very large proportion of the volunteers did as soon as their three months' amateur service expired), described to us a volunteer corps which happened to be encamped in the neighbourhood of his company. He said they were one of the finest bodies of men he ever saw. Lumberers, that is, wood-fellers from the forests of Maine and New Hampshire, perfectly brave and reckless and daring--perfectly undisciplined too, to the tune of replying to their officers when ordered to turn out on guard, "No, I'll be d.a.m.ned if I do," with the most cheerful good humour. Thereupon the discomfited "superior"

simply turns to some one else and says, "Oh, well--you're so and so--go." Good-bye; I shall rejoice to see you again, and be once more at home among people who know how to behave themselves.--Believe me, always yours most sincerely,

f.a.n.n.y KEMBLE.

After the Prince Consort's death in 1861 Leighton wrote the following letter to his younger sister, who was in Italy:

I have just returned from a fortnight in Bath, where I have at last finished the Johnnies,[22] I believe, and hope you will like them; they are at all events much improved. I am glad for the poor lad that the _corvee_ of settling is over; he was dying to get back to his work. If zeal and enthusiasm can make an artist, he ought to become one.

I don't attempt to give you home news, as you are amply supplied with that article by Mamma. Everybody here is in great sorrow for the poor Queen. She bears up under her overwhelming grief with admirable fort.i.tude, and expresses her anxious desire to do _her duty as he_ would have wished it, but she speaks of all earthly happiness as at an end. The tender sympathy manifested by the whole nation is touching, but deserved.

Whether there will be war or not, the beginning of the year will show; it is, I think, more than probable; there is no probability of the Americans giving up Mason and Slidell. If we do fight, it will be agreeable to feel that we are supported by the sympathy and approval of _all Europe_; that we are entirely in the right is _universally_ recognised, even by those who have no love for us. Sooner or later, a war with America was, I fear, unavoidable. There is a limit to what even we can overlook. All this need not prevent your coming to England that I can see; it won't stop the Exhibition, nor make any perceptible difference in anybody's doings, except perhaps the picture buyers.--Your very affect. brother,

FRED.

_Sunday, 1862._

Arrived here safe and sound on Thursday night, and began my work on Friday. I am making studies[23] for the "Eastern King" which I shall begin to paint shortly after New Year. I found the frame for the large "Johnny" on my return. It improves the picture very much, and looks very handsome. I also found a letter from Henry Greville waiting for me. He says the Queen bears up admirably, because, she says, _he_ would have wished it, but that she always talks of her earthly career as at an end. The equerries, &c., will remain attached to the court.

In 1862 Leighton sent eight pictures to the Royal Academy, and six were accepted. Before the sending in he writes to his father:--

1862.

DEAR PAPA,--I am afraid I don't take exercise _very_ regularly, still, I walk a _little_ nearly every day.

With regard to the volunteering, the zeal for the matter is necessarily not what it was when every third man really expected to be called to defend the country. Nevertheless, the movement is not dead, but has found a level on which I fancy it will remain; the _shooting_ will keep it together a good deal. We (the artists) shall join the great business at Brighton on Easter Monday.

Had I thought you would have taken my remark about the M. Angelo and the Johnnies so much to heart, I should have thought twice before I made it. Against what I said you must set the paragraph in the _Athenaeum_ two or three weeks back--my doubt is not whether they will be admired--I think they will be _that_--my only question is whether they will be _cared_ for. Mrs. Austin admires and likes the M.A. beyond anything, and if she could afford it would, I believe, buy it at once.

You will perhaps be surprised to hear that the pictures from which I expect most are the three which you have not seen--the "Eastern King" and the two others I mentioned in my last. One of them is Poc.o.c.k's smaller order, a girl with a _swan_ (not with _peac.o.c.ks_ as the _Athen._ says)--the other is a kitcat of a girl listening to a sh.e.l.l. Both these are very luminous, and are in that respect the best things I have done.

And later:--

LONDON, 1862.

DEAR PAPA,--I think I may confirm the report made to you of the success of my pictures, particularly the "Odalisque" and "Echoes" (by-the-bye, I have just received a letter from somebody who wants to know if they are sold). What the papers say, you have seen. You will be glad to hear that I have received congratulations on all sides, which gives me the idea of being tolerably secure; at all events, I got no such last year, nor indeed at all since the "Cimabue." That two of my pictures should not have been accepted does not indeed surprise me, and least of all would it do so if they were rejected on the score of _number_, but I have reason to suspect that they were _not_ liked; in fact I _know_ it. I have put my name down as a candidate for a.s.sociateship.

I don't think I have anything of interest to communicate; n.o.body has as yet asked the price of the "Eastern King" or the "Michael Angelo." There is no mistake now about what people in this country like to buying point; whether I shall conform to their taste is another question.

Poc.o.c.k liked the "Michael Ang." much, but did not seem to wish to have it. The same remark applies to the Johnnies.

Millais has been, and liked the yellow woman[24] extremely. I think he liked them all _of their kind_, but the yellow woman was his favourite by far. Stephens has also seen my pictures. He seemed altogether much pleased, but most especially with the design for the "Eastern King," which is also Fred c.o.c.kerell's favourite.

To his mother he wrote:--

1862.

I have deferred answering your letter till now, that I might be able to inform you definitely of my fate as regards the Royal Academy. I have just been there; I must tell you at once the least pleasant part of my news--they have rejected the large "Johnny" and "Lord Cowper." On the other hand, the other pictures are well hung; two (the "Odalisque" and the yellow woman), _very_ well, being on _the line_ in the _East Room_. The "Michael Angelo," the "E. King," and the sh.e.l.l girl are just above the line and well seen--the small "Johnny" just below the line. I think the pictures all look well, though not so luminous as in the studio. I am confirmed in my opinion that the Academy Exhibition is a false test of colour; what looks sufficiently _silvery there_ is _chalky_ out of it. The "Odalisque" looks best from general aspects. Lady Cowper wrote me a very nice note about the rejection of her son's portrait, and said she was delighted to get it so soon. I am sorry about the large "Johnny," because my chance of selling it is much diminished.

That Leighton received great encouragement from personal friends there can be no doubt. The following is one of very many letters he received which expressed warm appreciation.

64 RUTLAND GATE.

MY DEAR MR. LEIGHTON,--I do not know how to express my thanks to you. I have this moment come home and found your beautiful drawing, and can hardly hold my pen, I am in such a state of delight at possessing such a reminiscence of my favourite picture. You really _do_ not know what pleasure you have given me, and I think it _too kind_ of you to have parted with this to give to me. One thing you may be quite sure of, that the "Eastern King" will receive the greatest homage to the end of days from his devoted admirer and your sincere friend,

MARY SARTORIS.[25]

_Past Midnight, Tuesday._

Among Leighton's friends was Charles d.i.c.kens. The following notes, written in 1863, have turned up in a packet of miscellaneous correspondence:--

OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"

NO. 26 WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND, LONDON, W.C., _Thursday, April 9, 1863_.

MY DEAR LEIGHTON,--I owe you many thanks for your kind reminder.

It would have given me real pleasure to have profited by it had such profit been possible, but a hasty summons to attend upon a sick friend at a distance so threw me out on Friday and Sat.u.r.day in obliging me to prepare for a rush across the Channel, that I saw no pictures and had no holiday. I was blown back here only last night, and believe that I shall deliver your message to Mrs. Collins to-day; that is to say, I am going home this afternoon and expect to find her there.

When the summer weather comes on, I shall try to persuade you to come and see us on the top of Falstaff's Hill. A hop country is not to be despised by an artist's eyes.--Faithfully yours always,

CHARLES d.i.c.kENS.

GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT, _Sat.u.r.day, July 18, 1863_.

MY DEAR LEIGHTON,--Shall I confess it? I never went out to breakfast in my life, except once to Rogers'. But what I might have done under this temptation is a question forestalled by my having engaged to go down to Bulwer Lytton's in Hertfordshire on Monday, to stay a few days.--Cordially yours,

CHARLES d.i.c.kENS.

It was in 1863 that Leighton paid the notable visit to his friend of the Roman days, George Mason, to whom the world's Art owes so much.

a.s.suredly, without Leighton's encouragement and help, those lovely idylls which stand with the most precious treasures of the English school of painting would never have been created. Mason had returned to England in 1856; he married and settled in his own manor-house, Wetley Abbey. Children were born and expenses increased, and little or nothing was there with which to meet them. After Rome England seemed a hopeless place to work in, and Mason's surroundings were quite dumb to his artistic sense. Leighton, when he heard of his depression and poverty, sought him out in his rural retreat, beamed mental sunshine on his spirits, made him walk with him, pointing out the pictorial beauties of Mason's own native country, and ended by taking him a tour through the Black Country. Mason's poetic sense was again awakened; an artistic purpose was again inspired; and, feeling the despair of hopeless poverty removed (Leighton was ever ready with substantial aid), he painted the pictures for which the world has so much reason to be grateful. When in 1872--nine years after this visit--George Mason died, Leighton arranged for a sale of his pictures and property, from the proceeds of which his wife and children obtained an income of 600 a year. Leighton wrote to Mrs. Matthews at the time of Mason's death: "Poor Mason's death has been a great shock to me, though indeed I should have been prepared for it at any time. His loss is quite irreparable for English Art, for he stood entirely alone in his especial charm, and he was one of the most lovable of men besides."