ROYAL ACADEMICIAN--MUSIC--ARAB HALL
1869-1878
In 1869, the year after his journeyings in Egypt, Leighton was elected
a Royal Academician. The picture which he chose as his Diploma work to
be deposited in the Academy on his election was the "S. Jerome," one
of those few works which reflected the side of his nature about which
he was profoundly reserved. Another work of which the same might be
said is "Elijah in the Wilderness," painted in 1879. Leighton told a
friend he had put more of himself into that picture than into any
other he had ever invented. Three paintings which are among Leighton's
very best appeared on the walls of the Academy in 1869--"Daedalus and
Icarus," "Electra at the Tomb of Agamemnon," and "Helios and Rhodos."
In no work did Leighton indulge his passion for colour so successfully
as in the last-named picture. He wrote to his master, Steinle, in
1860: "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." Again, in a letter to a friend in 1879 he wrote:
"Colour was supposed to be my _forte_ (_par parenthese_, though I am
not a colourist, albeit passionately fond of colour, I have always
been, and am, a great _cuisinier_; I have tried quite innumerable
methods and vehicles)." Some of Leighton's appreciators cannot help
feeling jealous of this obstinate determination to struggle with those
gifts for which nature had not given him the preference, many
considering his artistic error to have been that of putting the screw
too tightly on his preconceived determinations. Had he _sometimes_, at
all events, allowed his "fanatic preference" to have free play, more
of his works might have glowed with the revelry in rich colour we find
on the canvas of "Helios and Rhodos."
[Illustration: ST. JEROME. 1869. DIPLOMA WORK
Deposited in the Academy on Lord Leighton's election as an
Academician]
[Illustration: "ELECTRA AT THE TOMB OF AGAMEMNON"]
No complete work evinces more conclusively the force of Leighton's
dramatic gift than "Electra"; and--further--masterly and beautiful as
are all Leighton's arrangements of drapery, those in this design
strike me as specially expressive. They are truly superb. The balance
of the masses, and the sweeping lines from the feet up to the shoulder
and over the chest, are grandly conceived--the arrangement of the
folds notably adding to the suggestion of tragic feeling in the
attitude of the figure.
"Icarus," in the picture of the inventive father and the aspiring son,
is a beautiful figure of a youth. The conception, design, and
colouring of the picture are worthy of Leighton at his best.
Though Egypt had made a deep impression on Leighton's aesthetic
emotions, as is obvious from his Diary, his visit there apparently did
not actually suggest any pictures except "A Nile Woman"--the only work
exhibited at the Academy in 1870--and "Egyptian Slinger Scaring Birds
in Harvest-time: Moonrise," exhibited in 1875. A subject suggested by
an event, which had occurred some years previously, appears to have
been engrossing his mind, before he found expression for it, in the
painting "Heracles Wrestling with Death for the Body of Alcestis,"
exhibited 1871. Many persons admired this work more than any that had
previously appeared.[42] It evoked the lines from Browning:--
"I know, too, a great Kaunian painter, strong
As Hercules, though rosy with a robe
Of Grace that softens down the sinewy strength:
And he has made a picture of it all.
There lies Alcestis dead, beneath the sun
She longed to look her last upon, beside
The sea, which somehow tempts the life in us
To come trip over its white waste of waves,
And try escape from earth, and fleet as free.
Behind the body I suppose there bends
Old Pheres in his hoary impotence;
And women-wailers, in a corner crouch
--Four, beautiful as you four,--yes, indeed!
Close, each to other, agonising all,
As fastened, in fear's rhythmic sympathy,
To two contending opposite. There strains
The might o' the hero 'gainst his more than match,
--Death, dreadful not in thew and bone, but like
The envenomed substance that exudes some dew,
Whereby the merely honest flesh and blood
Will fester up and run to ruin straight,
Ere they can close with, clasp and overcome,
The poisonous impalpability
That simulates a form beneath the flow
Of those grey garments; I pronounce that piece
Worthy to set up in our Poikile!"
Leighton had taken the lines from Euripides as his text:--
"There slept a silent palace in the sun,
With plains adjacent and Thessalian peace."
"....Yea, I will go and lie in wait for Death, the king of souls
departed, with the dusky robes, and methinks I shall find him
hard by the grave drinking the sacrificial wine. And if I can
seize him by this ambush, springing from my lair, and throw my
arms in circle round him, none shall snatch his panting body
from my grasp till he give back the woman to me."
[Illustration: "HERACLES STRUGGLING WITH DEATH FOR THE BODY OF
ALCESTIS." 1871
By permission of the Fine Art Society, the owners of the
Copyright]
This work made a landmark in Leighton's career. "Dante at Verona" had
combined a complicated design of many figures with a dramatic feeling;
"Cimabue's Madonna" and the "Syracusan Bride" had proved Leighton's
"great power of rich arrangement," to quote D.G. Rossetti's words
respecting "Cimabue's Madonna"; but in the "Heracles Wrestling with
Death" there was felt to be a more profound tragedy; indeed, the
objective treatment had in this instance ceded to one more subjective,
in so far that the subject had appealed to him through a personal
experience, though the feeling was, as in nearly all Leighton's
greatest works, veiled in a classic garb. In a letter to his mother,
dated November 13, 1864, he wrote:--
_November 13, 1864._
I returned so suddenly on account of a grave and terrible
anxiety, _now quite removed_, about my dear friend Mrs.
Sartoris.
I must tell you that for some time past she has been looking
dreadfully ill, getting daily worse, haggard and thin. I, in
common with all her friends, had been growing very anxious, and
conjectured that some day or other a crisis must come in which
only the surgeon could avail her. I little thought how near at
hand the moment was! She on her part had borne up with an amount
of moral and physical courage which everybody says was quite
incredible. Her nearest relations have not known from her that
she was in so dangerous a state. A week ago I arrived at
Francport, the chateau of the Marquis de l'Aigle, where I
expected to find Mr. and Mrs. Sartoris and their children. I
found instead Mme. de l'Aigle in the deepest anxiety and
commotion, having received a letter saying that on that very day
poor Mrs. S. was undergoing an operation of which the event was
very doubtful! I need hardly say that I instantly hurried off to
England in the greatest alarm, and in fear and trembling lest
she should have succumbed. You may judge of my relief, next
morning, on hearing from the servant in Park Place that she was
doing well. I hurried off to the doctor, a friend of mine, and
heard that for six hours her life had been in jeopardy, but
that, thank God, she was doing amazingly well, that for a week
there could be no _certainty_ of her recovery, but that the
possible chances doubled every day. Since then, thank God, she
has progressed so _astoundingly_ owing to her immense roots of
vitality and health, that one may be almost _certain_
(_unberufen_) of her complete recovery, in which event she will
enjoy life more than she has done for several years. Her family
and friends have escaped an entirely irreparable loss.
The very beautiful picture, "Greek Girls Picking up Pebbles by the
Shore of the Sea," was also exhibited in the Academy in 1871, likewise
a smaller work, "Cleoboulos Instructing his Daughter Cleobouline."
This is one of several which proves Leighton's gift for catching the
grace and singular refinement of childhood. "Lord Leighton's drawings
and paintings of children show the protecting, caressing tenderness he
felt towards them. He loved little things, little children,
kittens--'caressing littleness, that littleness in which there is much
of the whole woeful heart of things'--everything lovely that had in it
the unconscious grace of helplessness seemed especially to touch him."
In 1872 "Summer Moon" was exhibited--the picture Watts told me he
thought he preferred to all of Leighton's paintings. I believe the
cause of this preference arose from the fact that the quality and
texture in "Summer Moon" is looser and more vibrating, and gives a
greater sense of atmosphere than is suggested by Leighton's works as a
rule. Moonlight mystifies the tints of purple and blue, and creeps
over and into every fold of the beautiful drapery--glistening on the
white garment of the recumbent figure. In every line and touch in the
exquisite design of the figures and drapery lurks the poetry of
moonlight; the song of a nightingale perched on the branch of a
pomegranate tree enhancing the sense of deep restfulness in the
scene.[43]
[Illustration: "SUMMER MOON." 1872
By permission of Messrs. P. & D. Colnaghi, the owners of the
Copyright]
[Illustration: "A CONDOTTIERE." 1872]
[Illustration: STUDY FOR FIGURE IN FRIEZE. "MUSIC." 1886
Leighton House Collection]
[Illustration: STUDY FOR FIGURE IN "THE ARTS OF WAR,"
Victoria and Albert Museum. 1872
Leighton House Collection]
[Illustration: STUDY FOR FIGURE IN "THE ARTS OF WAR,"
Victoria and Albert Museum. 1872
Leighton House Collection]
[Illustration: STUDY FOR FIGURE IN "THE ARTS OF WAR,"
Victoria and Albert Museum. 1872
Leighton House Collection]
It is thought by some that the design would have carried out the
feeling of absolute repose better had the lower curves of the round
aperture behind the figures been absent--these lines rather suggesting
horns springing up on either side of the group. The end of the foot of
the sitting figure being cut off by the bottom line of the picture has
also a somewhat uncomfortable effect. The same thing occurs in the
picture "Greek Girl Dancing," producing the feeling that the canvas
has run short. These criticisms, however, only refer to minor matters.
"Summer Moon" is an exquisitely beautiful picture, one which will ever
sustain the great reputation of its creator. "A Condottiere" and the
monochrome version of "The Industrial Arts of War" (76 x 177 in.),
exhibited at the South Kensington International Exhibition the same
year, strikingly contrast in character with "Summer Moon." If the one
is notable for gentle, womanly grace and a sense of relaxation induced
by slumber, "A Condottiere" is full of verve and virile power,[44] and
in the design for "The Industrial Arts of War" all is action and
movement. Leighton made many studies for all his principal pictures,
but the finest group of sketches are certainly those made for mural
decorations. Being executed under more difficult conditions than the
easel pictures, doubtless he felt more preparation for frescoes was
required. The studies in Leighton House for the "Arts of War," "Arts
of Peace," two friezes, "Music," "The Dance," "And the Sea gave up the
Dead that were in it," the painted decoration for the ceiling of a
music room, "Phoenicians Bartering with Britons," are the most
completely worked out and powerful studies in the collection. In the
following year, 1873, the companion lunette in monochrome, "The
Industrial Arts of Peace," was exhibited at the Royal Academy. This
design is more comfortably fitted into its space than that of the
"Arts of War," as the whole is lifted up from the bottom line of the
lunette, and no part of the figures is cut off (as in the case of the
men's feet and the drapery of the otherwise most beautiful group of
women on the left hand in the "Arts of War"). "Weaving the Wreath," a
small picture of lovely colour and subtle technique, appeared in 1873,
and in 1874 three of the most remarkable of Leighton's pictures of
single figures. "In a Moorish Garden: a Dream of Granada" the charming
child "Cleobouline" reappears in an Eastern turban and drapery,
holding a copper vessel and followed by two peacocks, walking across a
square canvas filled in by a background of the delightful garden at
Generalife at Granada. "The Antique Juggling Girl" is one of the best
examples in Leighton's work of his "ardent passion for colour," and
his perfect mastery in painting the beauty of an undraped figure. The
form of the torso recalls the exquisite fragment from the Naples
Museum.[45] The actual painting, however, exemplifies the truth of
Leighton's very notable words written to Steinle, "What reveals true
knowledge of form is a powerful, organic, refined finish of modelling
full of feeling and knowledge--and that is the affair of the brush."
The principal scheme of colour is effectively carried throughout the
picture--in the golden flesh tint against the ivory-white of the
parchment banner hung as a screen background, the crown of dark ivy
leaves and the golden balls telling out as notes of a deeper tone; the
crinkled folds of white drapery resting on the darker mass, the full
tawny browns and yellows of the leopard skins on which the figure
stands making a dark, luminous basis, the metal jar and the
dense foliage of deep verdant green enriched by the orange of the
fruit springing up and continuing the dark framework of the central
design. This picture is a very original work, and should, I think, be
placed very high in the rank of Leighton's achievements. "Clytemnestra
from the battlements of Argos watches for the beacon fires which are
to announce the return of Agamemnon" is, in every sense, a contrast to
the "Antique Juggling Girl." The figure is powerful and heavily
draped, the drapery being superb, and the limbs those which might
truly overpower even Agamemnon.[46]
[Illustration: "ANTIQUE JUGGLING GIRL." 1874
By permission of Mr. George Hodges]
[Illustration: "CLYTEMNESTRA WATCHES FROM THE BATTLEMENTS OF
ARGOS FOR THE BEACON FIRES WHICH ARE TO ANNOUNCE THE RETURN OF
AGAMEMNON." 1874
Leighton House Collection]
[Illustration: STUDY FOR "CLYTEMNESTRA." 1874
Leighton House Collection]
[Illustration: STUDY FOR "SUMMER MOON"
From Oil Sketch painted by Moonlight in Rome
Given by the late A. Waterhouse, R.A., to the Leighton House
Collection]
The bar of red, which strikes a warm note among the cool lights and
shadows of moonlight, adding immensely to the value of these tones,
was suggested by the coral necklace, worn by the model from whom
Leighton painted the study by moonlight for "Summer Moon" in Rome.
"Egyptian Slinger" was Leighton's principal work exhibited in 1875,
"The Daphnephoria" already engrossing most of his time and thought.
This picture (89 x 204 inches), "a triumphal procession held every
ninth year at Thebes in honour of Apollo and to commemorate a victory
of the Thebans over the Aeolians of Arne" (see Proclus, "Chrestomath,"
p. 11), and the very fine portrait of Sir Richard Burton were
exhibited in 1876. From some points of view "The Daphnephoria" is
Leighton's greatest achievement. The difficulties he surmounted
successfully in the work were of a character with which few English
artists could cope at all. The size of the canvas alone would
certainly have insisted on ten years' devotion to it from most modern
artist-workmen. The extreme breadth of the arrangement of the masses,
united with great beauty of line and form in the detail; the sense of
the moving of a procession swinging along to the rhythmic phrases of
chanted music; the brilliant light of Greece, striking on the fine
surface of the marble platform along which the procession is moving
and on the town below, which it has left behind, contrasting with the
deep shadowed cypress grove rising as background to the figures;--all
this is more than masterly: it is convincing. It is probably quite
unlike what took place at Thebes every ninth year;--but Art is not
Archaeology. The written account of what took place fired Leighton's
imagination to create a scene in which he treated the Greek function
as the text; the wonderful light and the fineness of Greek atmosphere
as the tone; the processional majesty and grace of movement as the
action. The element of beauty which the record suggested to him was
the truth of the scene to Leighton, and he has recorded the essence of
it in an extraordinarily original work.
It was after Leighton's death that the picture first "struck home" to
me. The last day of the exhibition of a wonderful man's life-work had
come to an end one Saturday afternoon in the spring of 1897. It had
been a record day at Burlington House; crowds had filled the galleries
from morning till the light had begun to wane. Only a very few
stragglers remained, but the keeper, Mr. Calderon, R.A., was there.
One of the porters in his red gown came up to him, and petitioned for
a half-hour more before the final closing of the doors on the
message which Leighton had left to the world. Both men, the keeper and
the porter, looked grave and sad. The great President had been beloved
by all. The porter's request was granted, and it was during that short
half-hour that I seemed for the first time fully to realise the great
qualities of "The Daphnephoria"; the room being empty, it could be
seen from the right distance, and the conception of the work and its
completion spoke out very plainly and convincingly.
[Illustration: "THE DAPHNEPHORIA"--A TRIUMPHAL PROCESSION HELD
AT THEBES IN HONOUR OF APOLLO. 1876
By permission of the Fine Art Society, the owners of the
Copyright]
[Illustration: "AT A READING-DESK." 1877
By permission of Messrs. L.H. Lefevre & Son, the owners of the
Copyright]
Different as a picture could be was the exquisite "Music Lesson" of
1877. Again we have the lovely little Cleobouline, her delicate
fingers learning to make music on a mandoline. The grouping and grace
in the attitude of the teacher and the pupil, the ease and pleasant
arrangement of the draperies, the texture and fine distinction in the
feeling and technique of the work, can only be suggested by a
reproduction; whereas to appreciate in any way the delicate brightness
and charm of the colour is impossible without seeing the original.
This is the one of all Leighton's paintings which--perhaps more than
any other--conclusively contradicts the statement made, that "the
inspiration stage was practically passed when he took the crayon in
his hand." Another Cleobouline also appeared in the same Academy
Exhibition--as fascinating as the little lady learning music; "Study"
it was called--a child in a delightfully painted glistening pink silk
dressing-gown, sitting cross-kneed on an Eastern carpet before an
inlaid prayer-desk. Very characteristic of Leighton's bewitching
painting of children's feet are the little toes of the child peeping
out between the folds of pink drapery. The finest woman's portrait
Leighton ever painted appeared the same year as a "Music Lesson." This
was Miss Mabel Mills.[47] The breadth and delicacy in the modelling of
the cheek and throat rivals the work of Greek sculpture. The most
serious work exhibited in 1877 was the bronze version of Leighton's
"Athlete Strangling a Python,"[48] the small sketch of which was made
in 1874. This statue showed to the world his power as a sculptor.
Every work he modelled evinced in an equal degree his consummate
ability as such, though the more flexible treatment--in the modelled
sketches for the "Python," the sleeping group in "Cymon and
Iphigenia,"[49] and the "Perseus and Andromeda"--may carry with it a
greater charm than is found in the completed statues. The following
letters from the French sculptor Dalou, the painter George Boughton,
and Sir Edgar Boehm are testimonies to the effect which the "Python"
in bronze, and the sketch, produced on artists at the time they were
executed:--
217A GLEBE PLACE, CHELSEA, S.W.,
_2 Mai 1877_.
MON CHER LEIGHTON,--Si mes humbles felicitations peuvent vous
toucher j'en serais tres heureux.
J'esperais vous voir lundi dernier a l'Academy et vous
complimenter comme vous le meritez pour votre belle statue. A
quoi sert de gratter toute sa vie un morceau de terre, quand
pres de soi on voit tout a coup surgir un chef d'oeuvre d'une
main a qui la sculpture etait jusque la restee etrangere?
Si j'etais envieux ce serait une belle occasion pour moi, mais
loin de la j'ai ete tres heureux d'admirer votre oeuvre, et tres
flatte de l'honneur qu'on a fait a ma pauvre terre cuite, en la
placant en pendant avec votre bronze; c'est encore un bon
souvenir de plus qui me viens de l'Academy et de vous, mon
cher Leighton, car je sais toute la part que vous avez prise au
deplacement dont ma figure a ete l'objet.
Aussi croyez que je suis heureux de pouvoir me dire votre
sincere admirateur et tres reconnaissant ami,
J. DALOU.
[Illustration: "AN ATHLETE STRANGLING A PYTHON"
From small sketch, 1876]
GROVE LODGE,
PALACE GARDENS TERRACE, KENSINGTON, W.,
_December 11, 1874_.
DEAR MR. LEIGHTON,--I fear that the note which I sent with the
bronze did not explain itself sufficiently. I _meant_ to ask you
to _accept_ it--"to have and to hold for yourself your heirs and
assigns for ever," to speak legally.
I can in no way express the pleasure I felt when I saw your
small study for the man battling with the serpent. I hope the
report in the _Academy_ that it is to be done life-size in
bronze is true. It will be worthy to go with the best of the
antiques. The other study for the singing maidens was
delightful[50] as the other was grand. To put it in the
picturesque parlance of the Far West, "I was knocked over and
sat on." It will be a slight relief to give my words a little
form and weight; as I am unfortunately not a Roman Emperor and
have not a golden crown of laurel about me, pray do me the
favour to accept the only thing I have worth sending.--Believe
me, yours very sincerely,
GEO. H. BOUGHTON.
GROVE LODGE,
PALACE GARDENS TERRACE, KENSINGTON,
_December 14, 1874_.
DEAR MR. LEIGHTON,--I don't know which to admire most--the
"sketch," as _you_ call it (it seems "heroic" in size even now),
or your great kindness in sending it to me. Now that I may enjoy
it at my leisure--and I take my leisure very often--it seems
finer even than I thought it was. Not merely the _spirit_ of the
antique, but the antique _itself_, and the "antique" I mean is
the everlasting, the best mortal may ever hope to make.
This is, as far as my capacity for judging is worth, _sincere_.
I know how perilous it is to say warmly what one feels, how it
is put down as "gush" and "bad form"; but when in this very
London fog of Art one sees a spark of pure light, there is some
excuse for shouting with joy.
I should reproach myself with taking up overmuch of your time in
this matter, but I know that you are very good-natured; besides
you might have taken my poor little bronze tribute in as few
words as I sent it, and there it might have ended--though for
myself I am glad you did not, and shall be ever selfishly
thankful that you acted as kindly as you did.
Pray don't bother to reply to this, I am too much your debtor
already.--Yours very sincerely,
GEO. H. BOUGHTON.
78 CORNWALL GARDENS,
QUEEN'S GATE, _May 11, 1877_.
DEAR LEIGHTON,--I follow my instinct and sincere desire in
congratulating you on your magnificent statue in the Academy,
which I have just seen. It is superb. I think it the best statue
of modern days. I was riveted with admiration and astonishment;
and whatever you may think of my judgment, pray take this as my
humble and heartfelt tribute to a work of genius, which to my
mind ranks nearer "zur Antiken" than anything I have seen,
during my career, produced in any school or country.
Believe me, with sincere admiration, yours,
J.E. BOEHM.
In 1890 Leighton made a replica of the statue in marble for the
Glyptothek in Copenhagen. It was exhibited in the Royal Academy
Exhibition in 1891.
Many were the voices heard exclaiming that Leighton ought to give
himself entirely to sculpture. His masterly power in understanding
form, and giving expression to it in Art, was readily understood and
appreciated when he worked in the round, whereas it had been but
scantily appreciated in his painting; the fact being, that the public
is unaccustomed to find that power developed in modern pictures,
whereas in sculpture it is the principal and obvious aim in any
statue. However, whatever the public thought or expressed, Leighton
went on painting. In 1878 "Nausicaa" and "Winding the Skein" were
exhibited, both among Leighton's happiest works. A reticent grace in
the attitude of the figure, and a tender yearning sadness in the face,
makes this rendering of "Nausicaa" very attractive. "Winding the
Skein" is the best example of those fair pictures which Leighton
painted, and evidently delighted in painting, as records of
Southern--and more particularly--Greek light and atmosphere. For the
special charm in the tone and colouring to be understood, the picture
itself must be seen; but the design and delightful feeling in the
movement of the figures can be rendered in the reproduction. Again in
this work the fascinating little figure of Cleobouline appears and
also the teacher in the "Music Lesson." In all, Leighton painted
thirty-six important pictures, twenty-six slighter works,[51] and
executed his first statue, "Athlete Strangling a Python," in the ten
years between 1869 and 1879.
[Illustration: "NAUSICAA." 1878]
During these years the Royal Academy Exhibition took place in
Burlington House, it having previously been held in a suite of rooms
at the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square.
Leighton sent photographs of the cartoons for the "Industrial Arts of
War" and of "Peace"[52] to Steinle, who wrote his criticisms on the
designs. The following is Leighton's answer:--
_Translation._]
_February 3, 1874._
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,--Your very welcome lines arrived
auspiciously a few days ago. I need not say how delighted I am
that you are not displeased with the two compositions of your
old pupil, and that you recognise in them a not unworthy effort.
I am especially grateful to you that while giving your
approbation you have enclosed a criticism, and only regret that
you have blamed but one thing, where there are unfortunately so
many faults. I shall endeavour, if these cartoons ever come to
be carried out, as far as possible to repress the faults which
you remark in "Peace"; for, as I am by all means passionate for
the true _Hellenic_ art, and am touched beyond everything by its
noble simplicity and its unaffected directness, so the _Roman_
or Napoleonic at its highest is antipathetic to me--I had almost
said disgusting. The two compositions are intended for a large
court (where there are objects from all parts of the world and
of all epochs); they will not, however, stand _near_, but
opposite to one another. The figures will be life-size, the
foremost ones almost colossal. The "Arts of Peace" I transported
to Greece, partly out of sympathy, and partly on account of the
special beauty of the Greek ceramic and jewel work; the conduct
of arms seemed to me to find its highest expression in mediaeval
Italy, and I gladly seized this opportunity to tread the old
path again in which my feet now so seldom wander.
If you really believe that my old friends in Frankfurt will be
interested in these works, I shall be extremely pleased if you
will put them in the Gallery; I wish only one thing, namely,
that it may be made quite clear to the spectator that they are
merely _cartoons_; their entire lack of effect would otherwise
be surprising.
But the Pinta, of which you write, haunts my mind! If I had only
time to run over myself!--but it is impossible.
Once more heartiest greetings, from your devoted pupil,
FRED LEIGHTON.
The Prince Consort, I believe, first conceived the idea of decorating
spaces on the walls of the Victoria and Albert Museum with frescoes,
as a memorial of the nation's gratitude on the close of the Crimean
War, and mentioned the subject to Leighton. It was not, however, till
1868 that Sir Henry Cole approached him officially on the subject in
the following letter:--
_July 14, 1868._
SIR,--The Lords of the Committee of Council on Education having
had under their consideration the subject of the permanent
decoration of the lunettes at the ends of the South Court of the
South Kensington Museum, have directed me to inquire if it would
be agreeable to you to undertake to execute a picture for one of
these lunettes, for which lunette their Lordships would be
prepared to authorise a payment of L1000, it being understood
that all rights of copying the work belong to the Department.
When the court is completed, there will be four lunettes of a
similar size. At the present time, however, there are only two
spaces actually ready; and should you be willing to accept the
commission now offered to you, your picture would be placed in
one of these two finished lunettes. Mr. Watts, R.A., has been
asked to execute a similar commission for the second lunette;
and, in order that the works may have a certain symmetry in
respect of the scale of the figures, &c., it would be desirable
that you should place yourself into communication with him.--I
am, Sir, your obedient servant,
HENRY COLE.
[Illustration: STUDY FOR GROUP IN "THE ARTS OF PEACE,"
Victoria and Albert Museum. 1873
Leighton House Collection]
[Illustration: FIRST SKETCH FOR FIGURE OF CIMABUE
Carried out in Mosaic in the Victoria and Albert Museum, 1868]
[Illustration: ORIGINAL SKETCH FOR THE FIGURE OF NICCOLA PISANO
Carried out in Mosaic in the Victoria and Albert Museum, 1868]
Watts was not prepared to accept the commission to execute one of the
frescoes, being already immersed in work which absorbed his whole time
and attention. He did, however, accept the commission to make a
cartoon for the figure of Titian to be worked in mosaic in one of the
spaces which form a kind of frieze along the side of the Southern
Court. Leighton, besides agreeing finally to paint frescoes on the
lunettes at each end of the court, made cartoons in 1868 for two of
these side spaces, one of the figure of Cimabue, the other of Niccolo
Pisano. Sketches for these are in the Leighton House Collection. (See
List of Illustrations.)
A controversy took place between Leighton and Sir Henry Cole
respecting the question whether these figures were to be treated
pictorially or decoratively, whether the background was to be of plain
gold mosaic or whether there were to be objects depicted in
perspective behind the figures. The following part of a letter from
Leighton concluded the agreement.
I submit that I have given reasons _why_ the figures under
discussion should not be pictures, and that you, on the other
hand, have not put forward a single reason why, a single
principle on which they _should_ be pictures. You have contented
yourself with adducing some precedents; as the question,
however, is entirely one of principles, precedent alone means
nothing, one way or another; if it were not so, I should have
opposed to you cases in which the, to my mind, sounder principle
is observed.
Raphael's ceiling in the Vatican, for instance--an example you
will scarcely cavil at. There is not in the whole range of art a
single aberration that cannot be endorsed with some good name.
To glance once more at the principle: whether the gold behind
the figures be in effect the background of flat, or whether it
be, as you hold, "essentially something round"; whether or not
it be this, as I certainly assert, the wall throughout the
decoration, it is unanswerably a conventional _abstraction_, it
represents no concrete object, and as an _abstraction_ is
incompatible with any perspective representations of solid
objects, which presuppose space and distance--everything that is
on the _same_ plane as the figure is submitted to the same
conditions, hence any accessory on the pedestal is admissible;
everything _beyond_ the pedestal is part of the background,
which may be abstract or concrete, as you please, but _cannot_
logically be _both_.
I am the first to admit and admire the intimate connection which
existed formerly between architecture and painting: to say
"architecture and pictures," is to beg the whole question. In
condemning the loose practice of modern times, you cannot
propose upholding for admiration the mere fact that in old times
picture and wall were sometimes one, but no doubt allude with
just admiration to the harmony existing between them, in the
best examples, and to the wise adaptation of the one to the
other. You, I submit, are attacking and attempting to subvert
the very principles on which this harmony rests; my sole desire
is to assert and defend them, and I earnestly desire that,
actuated, as I am entirely convinced you are, more by the desire
to forward the truth than to triumph in argument, the views I
have put before you may eventually commend themselves to you,
and deter you from further encouraging a practice which may be
supported by precedent, but cannot be made tenable in theory.
In the autumn of 1873 Leighton visited Damascus, where he made studies
for the picture exhibited in the 1874 Academy, "Old Damascus--Jews'
Quarter,"[53] and a fine sketch of the interior of the Grand Mosque
which he enlarged into a picture 62 x 49 inches, and exhibited in
1875. He also made a remarkable moonlight study preserved in the
Leighton House Collection.
"One afternoon, late in the autumn of 1872," wrote Dr. William
Wright, "I was on the roof of my house trying to cool after a
long ride in the sun, when there came a loud knock at my door;
the latch was lifted, and presently a resplendent kavass mounted
to my platform. He explained to me that a noble Englishman was
coming up to see me, and with that Frederic Leighton skipped
gaily up the steps. After a courteous greeting and apology, he
sat down and became silent, absolutely wrapped up in the
pageantry of the sky. When I excused myself for the lapse of the
time, he looked at me, and said quietly, 'No artist ever wasted
time in accurately observing natural phenomena,' and added,
'That sunset will mix with my paint, and will tint your ink as
long as either of us lives. It will never be over, it has dyed
our spirits in colours which can never be washed out.'"
To his father he wrote:--
DAMASCUS, _October 18, 1873_.
DEAR PAPA,--I find that I am not as completely cut off from the
western world here as I have been led to believe I was, and that
boats leave Damascus for Alexandria weekly, and not fortnightly,
as I told you in my hasty line of the other day; although,
therefore, you are no longer uneasy about my health, I will not
defer till the later boat thanking you for your welcome letter
which reached me two or three days ago. I am much shocked and
concerned to hear of the death of my poor friend Benson, for
which I was in no way prepared, the last accounts I had received
before leaving England being of a decidedly hopeful nature. A
kinder heart never beat than his, and I felt really attached to
him; he is a great loss to me. And now to tell you about myself.
Three tedious days on board a Russian boat which tossed and
rolled like a cork over a sea on which a P. and O. would have
been motionless, brought me to Beyrout, a cheery, picturesque,
sunny port at the foot of Lebanon; gay and glad I was to land,
and Andrea's cool, clean inn overlooking the sea was a
delightful haven of rest, and my first meal at a steady table
(or a real chair) was ambrosial. Being in a hurry to get to the
end of my journey, I did not stay more than half a day, but
started by diligence for Damascus, a journey of some thirteen
hours, first over Lebanon itself (which is fine, but by no means
grand as I had hoped), then across the Valley of Coelesyria, and
lastly over Antilebanon, at the foot of which the town lies. At
the last relay I found waiting for me a horse and dragoman, for
which and whom I had telegraphed in order that I might get the
famous view of Damascus about which travellers have told wonders
from time immemorial, and which is only to be seen from a bridle
path over the hill above the suburb of Sala'aijeh; unfortunately
the days are getting short, and I did not reach the proper spot
till just after sunset; not too late, however, to enjoy the
marvellous prospect before me, and to feel that it is worthy of
all that has been said in its praise. It is impossible to
conceive anything more startling than the suddenness with which,
emerging from a narrow and absolutely barren cleft in the rock,
you see spread before your eyes and at your feet a dense mass of
exuberant trees spreading for miles on to the plain which looks
towards Palmyra, and, rising white in the midst of it, the
Damascus of the thousand and one nights. It is a great and a
rare thing for an old traveller not to be disappointed, and I am
grateful that it has been so with me this time. About the town
_itself_--as seen, I mean, _from within_--I have a mixed
feeling. In some respects it equals all my hopes, or at least in
one respect; in others it falls short of them. I have remarked
that to be prepared for disappointment never in the slightest
degree deadens the blow, and, accordingly, although I have both
read and been told to my heart's content that I should find the
streets unpicturesque and without character, relatively of
course (relatively say, to Cairo, not to Baker Street), I was,
nevertheless, depressed and in a way surprised to find them so.
Of course, there are, as in every Eastern town, numberless
delightful bits, and those ennobled as regularly as the day
comes by a right royal sun and canopy of blue, yet in the main,
Cairo and, in a very different way, Algiers, are far more
brilliant, and by-the-bye although you see here an extraordinary
variety of costumes from the remotest corners of the East (I
have met Indians in the streets), a group of Algerine Bedouins
in their stately white robes is worth a whole bazaar full of the
peasants and pilgrims that throng Damascus. Then in
architecture, Damascus falls far behind Cairo, both for
abundance and beauty of its specimens. Its background, too,
Antilebanon, is unsatisfactory, humpy and without power of
character or beauty of line, such as makes the Red Mountains on
the skirt of the Cairene desert so delightful. Here then are the
shortcomings; but I have my compensation in the houses, the old
houses of which some few are standing, though grey and
perishing, and which are still lovely to enchantment. I can't
hope to convey to you in writing any idea of this loveliness,
and it is not within the scope of sketching (though I am doing
one or two little corners), but I am having three or four
photographs made (for there are none!) from which you will be
able to gather something of their charm. They cannot, however,
give you the splendour of the light, and the fanciful delicacy
of the colour in the open courts, or the intense and fantastic
gorgeousness of the interior. Indeed I shall probably not
attempt the latter, and though you will see lemon and myrtle
trees rising tall and slim out of the marble floors and bending
over tanks of running water, you will miss the vivid sparkling
of the leaves, and you will not hear the unceasing song of the
bubbling fountains. I wish I could report that I am doing much
work. I am doing some, and think I see my way to one or two
pot-boilers (the fatal, inevitable pot-boilers!); but distances
here are great, and so is the heat, and there is not much that
is within the compass of _sketching_, though there is endless
paintable material. I am doing a bit in the great mosque, which
is very delightful to me, in colour, and, if I can render it,
may strike others in the same way. I am having the spot
photographed in case I try to make a picture of it. The second
p.-b. would probably be some unambitious corner of a court with
a figure or two, _et voila_. It is late and I am sleepy, so
good-night and good-bye. I wish you gave me a brighter account
of Lina; give her too my best love. It was hardly worth while,
by-the-bye, to have my letters forwarded. I shall only get them,
if at all, just before leaving Damascus next week! I fear I
can't get back to England till end of third week in
November.--Your affectionate son,
FRED.
In the autumn of 1877 Leighton revisited Spain. A letter dated
September 21, 1877, Madrid, in which Leighton answers certain
questions asked by Mrs. Mark Pattison concerning art galleries and
dealers, ends with the following sentence:--
Thank you for what you tell me about Puvis de Chavannes' work. I
admire the designs for Ste. Genevieve hugely, and am altogether
an _aficionado_ of that odd, incomplete, but refined and poetic
painter; but for emptiness of modelling he seeks his peer in
vain. I am seeing Velasquez again for the third time; this is
the place in which to see him in all his splendour, and in all
his nakedness--but that would be a chapter, and not a hasty
note.--Very truly yours,
FRED LEIGHTON.
From Spain Leighton crossed to Tangiers, whence he wrote:--
TANGIERS, _October 4, 1877_.
MY DEAR PAPA,--You are probably not a little surprised at the
superscription of this letter; so am I. It was a sudden and a
happy thought that brought me here. I reflected that, whilst I
had long wished to see Tangiers, I should not very probably come
to Spain again, and should therefore not have another chance of
visiting Morocco without a journey made on purpose. The run from
Gibraltar is only four hours, and I wonder the trip did not form
part of my original scheme. It will have one drawback for me,
that I shall get to Granada a few days later, and be by so much
the longer in getting news from England; but my journey will not
be prolonged on the whole, as I shall endeavour to cut off at
the end what I put on now. I the more owe myself what enjoyment
I can get here, that as I told you--did I not?--in my last, my
journey has been hitherto rather a dismal failure. I told you
how vile the weather was in Madrid, so that all technical study
of the pictures was out of the question. Well this is, since
then, the first perfectly fine afternoon we have had. Observe, I
only say afternoon, for it poured in the morning, and the
phenomenon of a wholly bright day has still to come. I am also
still further in arrears of enjoyment from the fact that I got
rather out of order, God knows why, the day I went to Toledo, to
the utter spoiling of what should have been one of my most
delightful trips, and am only now pulling round again, having
called in AEsculapius (at 2 dollars a consultation), whilst at
Gibraltar. An attack of this nature is simply fatal to any real
pleasure on one's journey, and, coming on the top of dark
weather and the contretemps just as the closing of the Alcazar
in Seville (one of the things I especially wanted to see) made
rather an absurd failure of the whole thing. At Seville I was
fool enough to go again to a bull-fight, and was so disgusted
that I got up and went away when the performance was only half
over. Meanwhile the aspect of the arena itself, with the
Cathedral and its marvellous tower rising just above into the
sky, is a very striking sight, and one I should regret to have
missed. The processional entry, too, of the whole of the
performers--picadors, capeodors, espadas, &c. &c.--is very
picturesque and stately. It is when the goring and torturing
begins that the sight is revolting; and the enormous popularity
of this form of sport with a nation, not, that I am aware of,
exceptionally cruel, only shows how easily our worst instincts
stifle our better nature, such as it is.
This is a prodigiously picturesque place, and I enjoy more than
I can say watching the Arabs swarming up the streets and
markets, stately and grand in their picturesqueness beyond any
population that I know, and particularly instructive and
valuable to an artist from the sculpturesque _definiteness_ of
their forms. The Jewish women here are said (by Ford) to be
prodigiously handsome. I have seen no Rebeccas amongst them yet.
I have not yet opened my box, and shall at best do little or
nothing; I have no time. Next week I shall be in Granada, from
where I hope to have to acknowledge a letter dated in Kensington
Park Gardens. Meanwhile I am, with best love to Lina and
yourself,--Yours affectionately,
FRED.
GRANADA, _October 19, 1877_.
MY DEAR PAPA,--To-morrow is my last day in Granada. On Sunday I
turn my face Londonward, and my holiday will be pretty nearly at
an end, as I have, from want of time, given up my original
intention of seeing Valencia, Alicante, Tarragona, &c. &c.
Travelling in Spain is so infinitely slower than I had
remembered it, and so ideally inconvenient in regard to hours of
starting and arriving, that my programme has altogether
undergone considerable modifications. I reached this place a
good week later than I expected, and I did not get your letter
till some days later yet, owing, I suppose, to the difficulty
experienced by the postal authorities in the art of reading.
This will account to you for the time that will have elapsed
between your receipt of my two epistles. I am truly sorry to
hear that poor Lina is below par; tell her so, with my love. As
you do not speak of yourself, I presume that you are in good
form, and am glad to hear it. There is one passage in your
letter which suggests to me a strong protest. I think it
preposterous that the ambulant spinsters, or otherwise, with
whom you foregather on your journeys, should expect _you_ to
furnish them with photos of your "celebrated son." I like
enthusiasm; but _genuine_ enthusiasm does not halt at a
shilling, which is the sum for which my effigy is obtainable in
the public market; _verb. sap._ I will not describe to you
Toledo, Cordova, Seville, Granada, &c. (under which heads see
Murray's guide-book). I have done so before (probably), and they
have altered less than I, with the exception, perhaps, of
Granada, or rather the Alhambra, which, alas! is changed indeed,
thanks to the restoring mania, and is now all but brand new. I
ought, perhaps, to remark that the changes in _me_ are not
precisely in that direction. Taking a bird's-eye view of my
holiday, I don't think I should call it altogether a success,
though I have had many very delightful moments, and have seen
many very beautiful things; but, in the first place, I have
failed to fulfil one of the special objects of my trip, that,
namely, of making a few sketches of sky effects, particularly
seaside skies, which I sorely want for my picture of the girls
and the skein of worsted. I have not done so, because I have not
_once_ seen anything even resembling the skies I mean, and which
are generally forthcoming at this season. The weather has indeed
of late been fine, often if not always, and here even, at
times, superb; but it is the before the rains, and not, as it
should be, the clear, keen, autumn weather, after the air has
been well swept and purged by the equinoctial broom and pail,
which I had a right to demand of a Mediterranean October. This
is a great disappointment. I did not want to _work_, and God
knows I have not (five little sketches in all!); but just this
document I did peremptorily require. In the second place, I have
been rather seedy (am all right now), not very, but enough to
poison my pleasure; and just so much that, after two or three
little amateur attempts (local apothecary, fellow-travellers,
&c. &c.), I thought it right (at Gibraltar) to see a doctor, not
_because_ I was ill, but _lest_ I should get worse and develop
more serious symptoms, as internal disturbance occasionally does
in hot countries. In a few days (and two large bottles of
physic) I was much better, and am now, I repeat, quite "myself"
again.
But I perceive that this uninteresting twaddle has filled my
paper, and barely left me space to tell that I have been to
Africa, and shall be home on the 28th (evening). Yes, to Africa;
Tangiers in four hours' steam from Gibraltar, and a most
picturesque spot, of which more when we meet. On my way home I
shall spend part of a day in Madrid, in the hopes of seeing the
pictures this time. On my road through France I shall make a
short break at Poitiers. _A bientot._--Affectionate son,
FRED.
During the nine years that Leighton was a Royal Academician he worked
most energetically in many directions towards establishing the
principles which he considered sound and essential to the growth of
the best Art instincts in England. He was one of the Professional
Examiners in Art from 1866 to 1875 at the Victoria and Albert Museum.
In 1884 he became one of the Art Referees for the Museum, and was
consulted by Sir Henry Cole to a considerable extent. He aided, as far
as lay in his power, all Art Societies to expand and to grow on the
lines of Catholicity. He was a member of the Committee of the Society
of Dilettanti, for the purpose of obtaining information as to the
probable success of renewed search for monuments of Greek Art. The
following extract from a report proves what an active part he took in
the business of the society:--
"In the autumn of the same year two hundred cases of
inscriptions and sculptures from Priene were transported from
Priene to Smyrna, and thence conveyed to England in H.M.S.
_Antelope_. In March 1870 the society presented these marbles to
the trustees of the British Museum. In May 1870 the committee,
then consisting of Earl Somers, Lord Houghton, Mr. Watkiss
Lloyd, Mr. Penrose, Mr. Cartwright, Mr. Leighton, and Mr.
Newton, held several meetings. The committee at their meetings
went carefully over all the drawings and details obtained by the
society of the Temple of Bacchus at Teos, Apollo Smintheus, and
Minerva Polias at Priene; they were of opinion that they would
form an interesting and valuable publication, and should be
proceeded with as soon as possible, and executed in a style
worthy of the former productions of the society. Mr. Leighton
offered to redraw the sculpture on some of the friezes, and Lord
Somers to prepare the landscape illustrations."
In 1871 the President of the Artist Benevolent Fund, Mr. J.K. Kempton
Hope, wrote to Leighton: "I am peculiarly proud that the first act
which I have to perform in my new character is to say how honoured and
grateful we all should be if you would kindly consent to accept the
position of Vice-President."
The following letter to his father announces that Leighton had been
elected President of the International Jury of Painting, Paris
Exhibition, 1878:--
HOTEL WESTMINSTER, 1878,
_Friday_.
DEAR PAPA,--I have been waiting to write till I should have
something to say beyond the fact that the weather is odious, and
shows no signs of relenting. On Saturday afternoon we had our
meeting of the Royal Commissioners, which had for its object the
hearing of an address from the Prince of Wales. On Monday
morning the _whole_ International Jury (some six hundred or
seven hundred members) met at the Ministere de Commerce, and was
little more than formal. _To-day_ the group of sections which
are concerned with Art held its first meeting under the
presidency of Signor Tullio Massarani, an Italian, with
Meissonier as Vice-President, the chief object of the meeting
being to inform the various sections of the groups whom the
Minister had appointed as their respective presidents. My
section, composed of forty members, is _Paintings and Drawings_;
there are twenty Frenchmen--nearly all the first artists of the
country, in fact--and you will be surprised and very much
gratified to learn that I was named president of this section--a
very high honour, of course, and one of which I am extremely
sensible, but which we must not misinterpret; it is, of course,
only by an act of international courtesy that the French placed
a foreigner at the head of their section, and amongst the other
foreign artists there were few names of much weight or standing;
still, it is a courtesy which will, I am sure, give you
pleasure. Our section being thus constituted, we then appointed
our own _vice_-president, reporter, and secretary; they were
unanimously elected; the first was my old friend, Robert Fleury;
the second was Emile de Savelege, the Belgian writer whom you
know of; and the third an old and kind friend of mine, Maurice
Cottier, a man much mixed up in the official artistic world and
possessing a magnificent picture gallery. To-morrow we begin our
labours at the Exhibition, and in the afternoon I shall go to
the _seance_ of the _Institut_, which always takes place on
Saturdays. This is my budget.
Perhaps the most important work inside the Academy which Leighton
effected during this time was that of establishing the winter
exhibitions of Old Masters at Burlington House. No one exemplified
practically better than did Leighton the value of the motto, "What is
worth having is worth sharing." He had been fed from early youth from
the fountain-heads of Art, and one of his first objects after being
elected a member of the Royal Academy was to endeavour to secure the
same inspiring stimulus for students which he had himself imbibed from
the work of the greatest men. He told me also that his chief object in
making conscientious studies in colour when he travelled, was to
endeavour to convey to students who were not able to go abroad some
idea of the varieties in the aspects of nature found in different
countries. Leighton was much appreciated in London society, but the
_intimes_ of the old Roman days remained still the nucleus of his
friendships; also every year he tried to find himself in his beloved
Italy, and he generally succeeded. From his old friend Lady William
Russell, mother of Odo Russell (afterwards Lord Ampthill and
Leighton's ally in Rome), and Arthur Russell--the notable lady whose
charm attracted to her _salon_ all that was most interesting among the
magnates of Europe--two notes record her affection for Leighton and
the death of Henry Greville in 1872, the severest blow which Leighton
had sustained since the death of his mother.
I was in hopes of seeing you, to thank you _viva voce_ for the
_ambrosia_ you sent me from Italy. I did _not_ write during your
pictorial tour, not exactly knowing _where_ you might be. It
was, _and is_, for I have some still, _excellent_; Paolo
Veronese did not eat any better, nor Titian, nor any of your
_Brethren in Apollo_.
_Guido_ you _are_--the English Guido--but _not_ "da Polenta"; I
will _not_ accept that "terre a terre" denomination. I now thank
you most gratefully--it was one of the seven works of mercy, for
I really could not eat and was _starving_. The Indian cornflour
was a _renovation_. If ever you can make up your mind to pay a
visit to una povera vealisa--zoppa--sorda--brutta and seccante,
and forget "_Aurora_," I shall be charmed. But I know that your
time is better employed; so a million of thanks, and as many
regrets not to be able to see your _marvels_ of which I
hear.--Believe me, most sincerely your obliged Serva and Amica,
E.A.R.
2 AUDLEY SQUARE MAYFAIR, W.
_Sunday, 26th November 1871_.
DEAR GUIDO (but _not_ of Polenta),--I have been quite
_mortified_ at your neglect of me, and invoked the muses in
vain! and call'd on the ghosts of Titian and Raffael, but they
did not heed my sighs! I am always glad to see you, and wish I
could _see your works_! All my cotemporaries and comrades are
dying off, and I _cannot_ last long--so come to my "Evenings at
Home" when you dine in my "Quartier" and are going to your club.
Alas! for dear Henry Greville! I knew him from his most early
youth. _Both_ his parents were my _early_ friends from _my_
youth, and his elder brother my cotemporary.
Come! Benvenuto Cellini--venite!
_Monday, February 1873._
Leighton's passion for music led him to encourage all that was best in
instrumental as well as in vocal performance. The Monday Popular
Concerts were started by Messrs. Chappell in 1859, the first being
given on the 3rd January. From their commencement Leighton was a
subscriber, and very rarely missed being present.
It was in the 'seventies that Leighton instituted those yearly feasts
of music, which were among the real treats of the year.[54] His dear
friend Joachim was to the end the _piece de resistance_ of these
gatherings. Never did the Great Master seem so inspired as when he
played in that studio. Leighton wrote to his sister, Mrs. Matthews,
April 1871:--
DEAREST GUSSY,--You heard, no doubt, that I gave a party the
other day, and that it went off well. To me perhaps the most
striking thing of the evening was Joachim's playing of Bach's
"Chacone" up in my gallery. I was at the other end of the room,
and the effect from the distance of the dark figure in the
uncertain light up there, and barely relieved from the gold
background and dark recess, struck me as one of the most poetic
and fascinating things that I remember. At the opposite end of
the room in the apse was a blazing crimson rhododendron tree,
which looked glorious where it reached up into the golden
semi-dome. Madame Viardot sang the "Divinites du Styx," from the
"Alcestis," quite magnificently, and then, later in the evening,
a composition of her own in which I delight--a Spanish-Arab
ditty, with a sort of intermittent mandoline scraping
accompaniment. It is the complaint of some forsaken woman, and
wanders and quavers in a doleful sort of way that calls up to me
in a startling manner visions and memories of Cadiz and Cordova,
and sunny distant lands that smell of jasmine. A little Miss
Brandes, a pupil of Madame Schumann, played too. She is full of
talent and promise, and has had an immense success. Mme. Joachim
sang "Mignon" (Beethoven) excellently.
[Illustration: Sketch executed on the spot by Mr. Theodore Blake
Wirgman of their Majesties the King and Queen attending a
Popular Concert in St. James's Hall, Lord Leighton being one of
the Royal party. About 1893.]
Mrs. Watts Hughes writes the following notes relating to those years
of the 'seventies:--
I remember the incident you refer to at Eton College. The
_Orfeo_ performance was given by the Eton boys, who had formed a
society among themselves with the view of making acquaintance
with the music of the great masters. I took the part of _Orfeo_,
and a niece of Darwin's, Miss Wedgwood, who is now Lady Farrer,
sang Euridice's part. I believe Lord Leighton sang in some of
the quartettes and choruses. I often met Lord Leighton at Mrs.
Sartoris' musical gatherings at her house in Park Place, St.
James', when he would sing very heartily the tenor parts of the
old madrigals, in which also Mrs. Douglas Freshfield, Miss
Ritchie, and others took part with Mrs. Sartoris, who on some
occasions would sing one of her great operatic _Arias_ which
brought her so much fame in her former years.
In 1877 Leighton began to build the famous Arab Hall.[55]
The following letters from Sir Richard Burton refer to the collecting
and sending of one instalment of the precious tiles:--
DAMASCUS, _March 22, 1871_.
DEAR MR. LEIGHTON,--I have just returned from a pilgrimage to
Jerusalem, or yours of April 14th, 1871, would not have remained
so long unanswered. And now to business. I am quite as willing
to have a house pulled down for you now as when at Vichy,[56]
but the difficulty is to find a house with tiles. The
_bric-a-brac_ sellers have quite learned their value, and demand
extravagant sums for poor articles. Of course you want good old
specimens, and these are waxing very rare. My friends, Drake and
Palmer, were lucky enough, when at Jerusalem, to nobble a score
or so from the so-called Mosque of Omar. Large stores are
there found, but unhappily under charge of the Wakf, and I fancy
that long payments would be required. However, I shall send your
letter to my colleague, Moore, who will do what he can for you.
The fact is, it is a work of patience. My wife and I will keep a
sharp look-out for you, and buy up as many as we can find which
seem to answer your description. If native inscriptions--white
or blue, for instance--are to be had, I shall secure them, but
not if imperfect. Some clearing away of rubbish is expected at
Damascus; the Englishman who superintends is a friend of mine,
and I shall not neglect to get from him as much as possible.
We met Holman Hunt at Jerusalem; he was looking a little worn,
like a veritable denizen of the Holy City. I hope that you have
quite recovered health. Swinburne, the papers say, has been
sick; his "Songs before Sunrise" show even more genius than
"Poems and Ballads." What has become of Mrs. Sartoris? I saw her
son's appointment in the papers. Poor Vichy must be quite
ruined--veritably it was a Cockney hole. Syria is a poor Chili;
the Libanus is a mole-hill compared with the Andes--do you
remember? I am planning a realistic book which has no Holy Land
on the brain, and the public will curse her like our army in
Flanders. Pilgrims see everything through a peculiar medium, and
tourists shake hands (like madmen) when they sight the Plain of
Esdraelon or Sharon, as the case may be.
_N.B._--Both plains are like the poorer parts of our midland
counties. My wife joins in kind remembrances.--Ever yours
sincerely,
RICHARD F. BURTON.
[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF SIR RICHARD BURTON, K.C.M.G. 1876]
TRIESTE, _July 13, 1876_.
MY DEAR LEIGHTON,--One word to say that the tiles are packed,
and will be sent by the first London steamer--opportunities are
rare here. Some are perfect, many are broken; but they will make
a bit of mosaic after a little trimming, and illustrate the
difference between Syriac and Sindi. They are taken from the
tomb (Moslem) of Sakhar, on the Indus. I can give you analysis
of glaze if you want it; but I fancy you don't care for
analyses. The yellow colour is by far the rarest and least
durable apparently. The blues are the favourites and the best.
Here we are living in a typhoon of lies. I am losing patience,
and shall probably bolt to Belgrade in search of truth. Austria
is behaving in her usual currish manner, allowing her policy to
be managed by a minority of light-headed, Paddy-whack Magyars
and pudding-headed, beer-brained Austro-Germans. How all Europe
funks the Slavs, and how well the latter are beginning to know
it.
Very grand of _la grande Bretagne_ to propose occupying Egypt
without any army to speak of. Sorry that you don't understand
the force of the expression, the "world generally," but will try
some time or other to make it clear. United best regards and
wishes. Why don't you take a holiday to Turkey?--Ever yours,
R.F. BURTON.
_P.S._--I hear that W. Wright has subsided into an Irish
conventicle, and that Green doesn't like prospect of returning
to Dan!
The construction of this thing of beauty, the Arab Hall, is a visible
and permanent proof of the side in Leighton's artistic endowments
which are so rarely found in northern, or indeed any modern nations,
and the want of which are gradually leading our world into being very
ugly--namely, the sense of the appropriate, of balance, of proportion,
and of harmony in the construction and decoration of buildings. As an
adherent of the pre-Raphaelites, William Morris had been battling with
this tasteless condition of things for some years--strenuously working
to counteract the unmeaning adaptations of foreign designs of all
times and of all countries into English work, and the general
muddledom into which the decoration in the surroundings of domestic
life had fallen, by starting afresh on the lines of simple good
designs of English pre-Puritan days. Leighton's taste had been
inspired, in the first instance, by the crafts as well as by the art
of Italy. Subsequently, the East had fascinated him. He admired
greatly the frank, courageous beauty in the colouring of the
decorations of her buildings; but, having an acute sense of the
appropriate, he felt that they would not harmonise successfully with
the necessary surroundings of English domestic life. He was
therefore inspired to erect a special shrine for his collection of
enamels. It has been truly said that the Arab Hall is as notable a
creation in Art as any of Leighton's pictures or statues. The beauty
of its effect is greatly enhanced by the arrangement of light and
shade which leads on to the wonderfully beautiful casket of treasures.
Monsieur Choisy, the distinguished French architect, wrote as follows
in the _Times_ of April 27, 1896, when advocating the preservation of
this house for the public: "Nowhere have I found in an architectural
monument a happier gradation of effects, nor a more complete knowledge
of the play of light. The entrance to the house is by a plain hall
that leads to a '_patio_' lit from the sky, where enamels shine
brilliantly in the full light; from this 'patio' one passes into a
twilight corridor, where enamel and gold detach themselves from an
architectural ground of richness somewhat severe; it is a transition
which prepares the eye for a jewel of Oriental Art, where the most
brilliant productions of the Persian potter are set in architectural
frame inspired by Arab Art, but treated freely; the harmony is so
perfect that one asks oneself if the architecture has been conceived
for the enamels, or the enamels for the hall. This gradation, perhaps
unique in contemporary architecture, was Leighton's idea; and the
illustrious painter found in his old friend Mr. G. Aitchison, who
built his house, a worthy interpreter of his fine conception. This
hall, where colour is triumphant, was dear to Leighton, and even forms
the background to some of his pictures. Towards the end of his life he
still meant to embellish it by substituting marble for that small part
that was only painted. The generous employment of his fortune alone
prevented him from realising his intention.
"England has at all times given the example of honouring great men;
she will, I am sure, find the means of preserving for Art a monument
of which she has such reason to be proud."[57]
[Illustration: VIEW OF ARAB HALL. 1906]
FOOTNOTES:
[42] In the Leighton House Collection is a splendid study for the
wrestling figure of Heracles, also for the recumbent Alcestis, and the
drapery for the phantom figure of Death. The figure of Heracles, fine
as it is in the picture, lacks somewhat of the ardent quality in the
action of the sketch. Owing to the public-spirited generosity of its
owner, the late Right Hon. Sir Bernhard Samuelson, this picture has
travelled all over the world for exhibition. It was also lent to
Leighton House for more than a year in 1901.
[43] In the Leighton House Collection is a head in oils (presented by
the late Alfred Waterhouse, R.A.) which Leighton painted actually by
moonlight in Rome, as a study for one of the figures in "Summer Moon."
See List of Illustrations.
[44] See study for picture in Leighton House Collection.
[45] Leighton had a cast made of this, and his copy is still in the
collection in his house. Another copy he gave to Watts, who admired it
beyond measure. Watts recounted to me that so preciously did he value
it, that, not daring to expose it to the danger of housemaids' dusting,
he carefully wrapped it up in handkerchiefs and put it in a drawer. One
day, alas! forgetting it was there, in a hurry, he pulled the bundle of
handkerchiefs out; it fell to the floor and was smashed.
[46] _The Athenaeum_ described the work when it appeared. "There is the
grandeur of Greek tragedy in Mr. Leighton's 'Clytemnestra watching for
the signal of her husband's return from Troy.' The time is deep in the
fateful night, while the city sleeps; moonlight floods the walls, the
roofs, the gates, and the towers with a ghastly glare, which seems
presageful, and casts shadows as dark as they are mysterious and
terrible. The dense blue of the sky is dim, sad, and ominous. But the
most ominous and impressive element of the picture is a grim
figure--the tall woman on the palace roof before us, who looks Titanic
in her stateliness, and huge beyond humanity in the voluminous white
drapery that wraps her limbs and bosom. Her hands are clenched and her
arms thrust down straight and rigidly, each finger locked as in a
struggle to strangle its fellow; the muscles swell on the bulky limbs.
Drawn erect and with set features, which are so pale that the moonlight
could not make them paler, the queen stares fixedly and yet eagerly
into the distance, as if she had the will to look over the very edge of
the world for the light to come."
[47] The Hon. Mrs. Grenfell.
[48] Purchased by the trustees of the Chantrey Bequest and placed in
the Tate Gallery.
[49] Leighton gave this group to Watts, who expressed to me an
unbounded admiration for it. "Nothing more beautiful has ever been
done! Pheidias never did anything better. I believe it was better even
than Pheidias!" were the words Watts used when deploring the fact that
he had lent it to a sculptor to be cast--something had gone wrong in
the process of casting, and it had been destroyed. When giving me the
modelled sketch for the "Python," Watts said, "I am giving you the most
beautiful thing I have in my place."
[50] The group of singing girls modelled as a study for "The
Daphnephoria."
[51] See complete list in Appendix.
[52] The "Arts of War" lunette was commenced in 1870 and finished in
1880. The "Arts of Peace," begun in 1881, was completed in 1886. An
account of these two frescoes appeared in the _Magazine of Art_ written
by Mr. J. Ward, the master of the Macclesfield School of Art, who
assisted Leighton in the work.
[53] In a letter from Mr. J.G. Hodgson, A.R.A., praises are bestowed on
this picture and the "Moorish Garden" at the expense of "Clytemnestra"
and the "Antique Juggling Girl." The letter is a good example of the
criticisms which Leighton's serious work often received--that work in
which, nevertheless, he was most true to himself. The ordinary English
eye neither longed for nor appreciated Leighton's native Hellenic
strain.
5 HILL ROAD,
_Friday, April 4, 1874_.
MY DEAR LEIGHTON,--I was immensely delighted with your two
pictures of the Jew's house and the Alhambra ("Moorish Garden: A
Dream of Granada"). I was at the opera last night, but thought
much less of Crispin and his Comara than of them; they are quite
charming, and excite me with the desire of emulation, at that
safe distance which is inherent in the nature of things. For
your "Clytemnestra" and the other ("Antique Juggling Girl"), I,
being a Philister, care nothing at all. From those to turn to
these, seems like leaving a garden fragrant with roses and
citron blossoms, where I hear the murmur of cooling streams,
Abanah and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, to enter a museum filled
with dusty plaster casts.
After all, the woes of the house of Atreus are now of very
little importance to mankind, or interest either. The most of
the latter they possess, is that they serve as themes for some
good Greek play, which had better have been burnt, as they have
hampered the genius of modern Europe and taught us nothing. Had
only Homer and the lyrics survived, we should have done better.
At all events, if a man must illustrate, why does he not
illustrate Shakespeare, a bigger man head and shoulders than any
of the Greek tragedists? But it appears to me you are made for a
much better and more intellectual purpose than illustrating
anybody. You have the eye to see and power to represent what you
see. You have special gifts and faculties highly trained. The
aspect of nature, as it appears to such a mind, would be of the
highest intellectual value to us, and would lead to progress. I
don't think modern art differs from that of any other day. It
has always been the effort to represent what is seen every day,
bringing to bear upon the representation the greatest possible
amount of culture, _i.e._ of reflection and selection. The women
and that dear little girl in the courtyard of your Jew's house
will outlive all the "Clytemnestras," &c.; they live with blood
in their veins, the others are but galvanised corpses. There I
have had it out; you must not complain, because you have had to
apologise for slashing into me, and now it is my turn. In the
prologue to Goethe's "Faust," if you remember, the poet, a
stubborn fellow, has his notions of the high aim of his art. He
will do nothing but what is extremely sublime, &c. The clown
quite agrees that such things may possibly do for the future,
but who, says he, is to amuse the present? I am that sort of
clown, I suppose. Don't be riled, and believe me,--Very much
your admiring friend,
J.G. HODGSON.
[54] Mr. William Spottiswoode wrote of one of these:--
"DEAR LEIGHTON,--Best of thanks from Mrs. Spottiswoode and
myself for another of the happiest day-dreams of the year, viz.
your afternoons at home."
[55] Mr. Aitchison, R.A., wrote: "During his visits to Rhodes, to
Cairo, and Damascus, he made a large collection of lovely Saracenic
tiles, and had besides bought two inscriptions, one of the most
delicate colour and beautiful design, and the other sixteen feet long
and strikingly magnificent, besides getting some panels, stained glass,
and lattice-work from Damascus afterwards; these were fitted into an
Arab Hall, something like La Zira at Palermo, in 1877."
The Arab Hall was begun November 1877, virtually completed by the end
of 1879, but some small matters not till 1881. Materials--Bastard
statuary, _i.e._ the marble columns in the angle recesses. These caps
are of alabaster, designed by George Aitchison, R.A., and modelled by
Sir E. Boehm. The large columns are of Caserta marble, caps of stone,
birds modelled by Caldecott; column niches lined with Devonshire spar;
dado, Irish black; string, Irish green, and bases of small columns.
Those of the large columns are of Genoa green and Belgian blue; the
marble lining behind big columns is of Pyrennean green, and the panel
overhead; the lintel of Irish red. The marble work was done by White &
Son, Vauxhall Bridge Road. Mosaic floor, designed by George Aitchison,
R.A.; executed by Messrs. Burke & Co., who replaced fountain of white
marble with the single slab of Belgian black. Chandelier, designed by
G.A. Aitchison, R.A., executed by Forrest & Son, now extinct. The
lattices to the lower part of the gallery designed by George Aitchison,
R.A.
Sir Caspar P. Clarke wrote: "I was commissioned in 1876, by the
authorities at South Kensington, to proceed to the East to buy artistic
objects for the Museum. Before I started Leighton asked me, if I went
to Damascus, to go to certain houses and try to effect the purchase of
certain tiles. I had no difficulty in finding my market, for Leighton,
with his customary precision, had accurately indicated every point
about the dwellings concerned, and their treasures. I returned with a
precious load, and in it some large family tiles, the two finest of
which are built into the sides of the alcove of the Arab Hall. Leighton
made no difficulty about the price, and insisted upon paying double
what I had given. He never spoke of picking things up cheap, and
scouted the idea of 'bargains in Art objects.'"
[56] Leighton, Sir Richard Burton, Algernon Swinburne, and Adelaide
Sartoris passed some weeks together at Vichy in September 1869.
Swinburne wrote in 1875: "We all owe so much to Leighton for the
selection and intention of his subjects--always noble, always
beautiful--and these are always worthy of a great and grave
art."--"Essays and Studies," A.C. Swinburne.
[57] Letters from Lord and Lady Strangford to Leighton exist on matters
concerning the East, on which both were great authorities.
"Will you accept," Lady Strangford wrote, "as a token of my admiration
of your house, a piece of ancient Persian needlework? It is really old,
and it is said that they no longer do anything of the kind in Persia,
and that these pieces are valuable. I do not know if this is true or
not, but _if_ you _like_ the thing, please use it among the many
treasures you have already accumulated. It is to my eyes a nice bit of
harmonious colouring. Let it say to you how much, how very much, I
enjoyed your sketches.--Yours very truly,
E.A. STRANGFORD.
"_P.S._--I bought the work from a Persian at Antioch."
To Professor Church Mr. Aitchison wrote after Leighton's death: "I
cannot urge the preservation of his home and surroundings, as I built
the house, for there are always too many to attribute low motives to
everybody, and it would be called personal advertisement; though when
one's work is done it becomes almost impersonal, and if it did not, the
fact remains the same, that here he (Leighton) lived and drew part of
his culture and inspiration from his surroundings. As a mere matter of
reverence, how many would come from all parts of the civilised world to
see his abode!"
[Illustration: PROFESSOR GIOVANNI COSTA
Painted at Lerici, October 1878]