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departure for Italy he had acquired in tour. The finer of his performances in German artistic circles a wide reputa- this method begin in the years 1853 and tion as being able to draw anything. 1854, during his stay in Rome, before The earlier studies from the nude show his success with the Cimabue. The a conscientious adherence to clumsy studies of hands, of which there are a German models, and are interesting number, are wonderful in their perfect chiefly for their faithfulness. But he delicacy and firmness of outline. Many grew rapidly more and more distin- heads also belong to this period-heads guished in his style,
of his friends, male and female, and of As for draperies in that school, they models—and a most extraordinary piece were but little considered. A student of landscape representing the Alba no was expected to be able to invent them, hills, all modelled with astounding and Leighton with his perfectly clear precision. head was a great adept at it. There are But the finest of all, except the several elaborate drawings of that time. famous "Lemon Tree,” which is in silwith complicated draperies, done en- ver point and was done in 1859, are the tirely de chic, as he told me himself, product of a visit to Algeria in 1857. I which if rather stiff look astonishingly do not believe that more perfect drawwell. The most remarkable one is the ings, better defined or more entirely water color of the “Plague of Florence," realized, than these studies of heads of in which he assured me that all the Moors, of camels, etc., were ever exdraperies again were done out of his ecuted by the hand of man. They are head.
not of the nature fashionable in this When he left Germany to continue his year of grace. They are not parstudies in Rome he learnt the error of ticularly summary, nor do they look as evolving draperies out of his moral if they had been done in a moment or consciousness and never again trusted without any trouble. The drawings in himself to put in anything without question are as complete as if they warrant from nature. It is true that came from the hand of Lionardo or the folds were not such as would nat- Holbein. urally fall about the figure. They were Of the "Lemon Tree" and of the carefully and elaborately ar- “Byzantine Well," another drawing in ranged. He would spend hours in ar- silver point. Mr. Ruskin says, “These ranging folds which he would copy in two perfect early drawings determine half an hour; but he never drew again for you without appeal the question out of his head. Experience had taught respecting necessity of delineation as him the danger of trusting to intuition, the first skill of a painter. Of all our as leading surely to mannerism, and it present masters Sir Frederic Leighton took shape in a remark of his late in delights most in softly blended colors, life on being shown a student's drawing and his ideal of beauty is more nearly with the recommendation that the that of Correggio than any since Corstudent had done it all out of his head. .reggio's time. But you see by what "How lucky," he said, “to be able to precision of terminal outline he at first get it out!"
restrained and exalted his beautiful gift Careful lead-pencil drawing, so much of 'Vaghezza.'" practised by Ingres, Delaroche, and the After this period for working draw. French school generally in the first half ings, not for show but for use in his of this century, was still the fashion pictures, he took to using chalks and when Leighton was a student. It is a tinted paper. It is far the readiest material which lends itself to, and in- method. His industry in this material deed demands, a perfectly definite out- is staggering. For the Daphnephoria, line, and in all the Academy studies besides finished clay models of a group done in pencil and the exercises in com- of three figures, and of one single figure, position done for his master, Steinle, there remain over thirty-six drawings; one always notices a remorseless con- for “Cimon and Iphigenia,” two models
and fifty-six drawings; for the captive sufficient power of analysis to sift the Andromache, fifty-nine; for “Solitude,” wheat from the chaff in it. a single figure, nine; for the “Return of To assist his outline Leighton made a Proserpine,” nineteen, and so on. Few most scientific study of draperies. In of these are mere sketches. Most of the heavy materials of the clothing used them are careful and for their purpose in the period in which he placed the finished drawings. At times, one must “Arts of War" he found opport
lities admit, his delight in handling the pencil for breadth and enrichment of the conran away with him, and he would re- tour, of which he made liberal use. For peat a whole study for no apparent pur- the "Arts of Peace” and for the Daphnepose, but as a rule he kept rigidly to a phoria, which are placed in the classical severe course of progressive definition, period, he employed softer tissues,
Besides working drawings there are which fill out the figure less opulently, numberless designs and projects for pic- but the same care is discernible to contures in various materials. Some are ceal such parts of the figure as would done without models, as exercises in look poor in that particular pose, and composition; others elaborated to fill up gaps that would give a meagre sketches. Enchanting groups will be effect. found amongst them, full of tenderness It was this quality of silhouette which and graceful fancy. During the inter- gave his figures their charm and grace. vals of work when the model was rest. In the present moment, when impresing he made innumerable little sketches sionism and painting as distinct from as he or she moved about the studio, designing holds, and is likely to hold, and it was from notes made at these the field in England, it is well to remind moments that several of., his most the rising generation that their prednatural and graceful figures were de- ecessors had some merits of their own, rived. These charming little sugges- though of a different kind. Good outtions, often several on one sheet, will line-designing may not be one of those recall to many the best of those bewitch- virtues which tell most in a gallery, but ing terra-cottas which have been it is not to be despised. recovered of late years at Tanagra. He frequently admitted that he was They are slightly but sufficiently in- never so much at home with the brush dicated, and generally with a certain as with the point. Whatever he may insistence on the silhouette.
have been with the first, no one, after This is a point worth pausing upon for seeing this collection, will deny that he
moment. The insistence on the was a master of the latter. There is no silhouette is even more marked in what trace of the square blocking which is I have called the exercise in composi- taught in the modern French schools, tion. He considered it of the first the effect of which is to train the eye importance and made it the subject of to a certain dry correctness which is his most anxious study. “The outline,” perceptible in all but the very best
French drawing. The great Italians he said once to me, "should be always
never drew in this chip-chop fashion, changing in its subordinate parts, but
and their line, if occasionally over-rich, it should be simple in its general con
is never poor. Even accomplished tour." Careful Observation of the
artists are apt to overlook the difference studies for the Daphnephoria and the between good drawing and fine drawSouth Kensington frescoes will reveal ing. I have heard it said by some who how he acted on this maxim. Not only should know better that such a drawing single figures but whole groups are
as the “Lemon Tree," or other of those contained in one carefully considered studies of plant life in which Leighton bounding line. It is, perhaps, most delighted, is a mere exercise of patience. obvious of all in the "Arts of War,” It undoubtedly is exercise of which is, therefore, well worth the close patience, and a severe one, but it is a attention of any student who has great deal more. To appreciate the
vitality of the curves and twists of the and the man who can draw and paint leaves, and to follow them with such it can express anything he has in his exquisite fineness of undulating line, is heart. not given to all. It needs a hand like This is a time when it is necessary that ineffabile mano sinistra of Lionar- to bear this in mind. It is the fashion do's to do it.
to paint, and every one does it. We are Our artist's handling of black and flooded with clever amateurs. There is white continued to increase in vigor and a quantity of their work in the salon facility until, in the studies made for and in the Academy. Too good to be “The Sea giving up her Dead," “Per- rejected, whatever they do is nevertheseus and Andromeda," "The Phæni- less always wanting in “bottom." cians in Cornwall," and for other Nothing is in reserve. Where they designs of the last few years, we have excel is in the cheaper and more effecthe most powerful things he ever did. tive parts of the art, in the light and It would not be unfair to say that they shade or the color. Now these are just surpass any drawings ever made in En- the parts which Leighton left to the gland.
last. He spoke of them once to me as The great group of “The Sea giving “the jam on the bread-and-butter,” the up her Dead” is one which no other solid foundation being the drawing, painter in this country could have at which amateurs are always in haste to tempted with any chance of success. get over. He rather lingered than burIt shows astounding mastery. Unfor- ried over the earlier stages. But then tunately, in common with some other he was superficial in nothing. Besides designs done by Leighton for St. Paul's, the thoroughness of his drawing he had it did not find favor with the clerical done all he could to perfect himself in authorities. It was dubbed irreligious, other respects. He was learned in all a criticism which it is not for me to that the Greeks or Italians had done,
spute beyond saying that it'applies and had scientifically analyzed their with equal force to the Sistine ceiling. works. He had read everything of Anyhow it was a grand piece of work, value treating of methods and mediums. and it would be much to be regretted if He had anatomy at his fingers' ends, no use is ever made in St. Paul's of the and his system of procedure was one cartoon he executed of it.
carefully thought out for the producSuch drawings as those I am now tion of the best work in the best way. speaking of, or reproductions of them, In fact, he may be held up to younger ought to be hung up in the schools of generations as the very type of the proart all over the country as examples for fessional craftsman. students. They are invaluable lessons. When all the evidence of labor given However eminent a man may be in by his drawings is seen it will, I fear, be other departments of the art, in color, a shock to many. The belief that an in sentiment, or in decorative effect, he artist's life is an easy one will never can never be called a master of his craft be eradicated from the mind of the unless he can draw the human figure majority. They will probably continue with facility. The severe training it to think that art is a charming accomrequires is the only path to thorough- plishment, which, if somewhat difficult ness such as it is the aim of all to acquire, is, when once learnt, a academies to teach. The study of the pleasant employment in moments of inhuman figure is like that of the dead spiration. But if anything would bring languages. It is not an end in itself. it home that it is not so, one would supThough occasional nude figures do find pose it would be these drawings. For their way into exhibitions, they are here we see a man not only while young year by year less welcomed, except it and winning his way in the world, but may be as exercises and proofs of pro- still when loaded with honors and with ficiency. But the figure remains the business, going through the same mill indispensable basis of art education, every time he sits down to paint a pic
ture indeed, ever toiling harder and eyed, red-haired, white-toothed. His growing more fastidious as he feels the friends said that the heart of him was years before him grow fewer, until as sound as a nut; others, and these finally by continual exertion is brought with no cause of disaffection towards on a fatal malady and death, which, if him, held him a man whose will was he would but have consented to take his born to over-ride the wills and the ease, the doctors think he might have rights of the weak. His dogs and his averted.
horses knew the lash of his whip, but But Leighton's indomitable character loved him withal. His servants held would yield to nothing less than death. him honest, although his face in the Turning over the portfolios we see it stable-yard and the cattle-byre was as written more legibly than if it were set good as a high wind. down in a journal. Here was a man There was one he was never rough pursued with ambition to excel, clear-with-his French wife. She was little, headed, sparingly emotional, a man of and merry as a squirrel, with bright, intellect and iron will. If he was not dancing brown eyes, and a pretty manexactly a poet in the sense of displaying ner of appeal that went to one's heart. a warm sympathy with human nature, She hung Squire Barnard's life like he was eminently so in the sense that a rose on his coat. She was always he had a cult and love for beauty. He prattling to him, or nestling by him had an ideal, which he pursued with with her little brown hand in his great an unswerving passion. It was his paw, or perched on his chair-arm whishabit and his creed to keep his pic- pering in his ear some innocent jest, tures generally impersonal, but now at which he would shout his big laugh and again his heart appeared in them, and swear that there was never such and once at any rate the springs of his a girl. innermost life were committed to can
She was more babyish and more vas in a picture which was the type of witching than her two boys-solemn, bis general mental attitude, piz., “The serious-eyed, brown-skinned children, Spirit of the Summits."
beautiful in roundness and health. S. P. COCKERELL. Those boys were the crown of Squire
Barnard's pride. They were called Pierre and Antoine-Peter and Antony the squire said, were names good enough for him. He had them riding
their ponies before they were three From The Speaker.
years of age, and he was as proud of THE FRENCH WIFE.
their pluck as he was of their health Squire Barnard of Castle Barnard and beauty. was a man filled with the fulness of He had found his French wife abroad life. He looked round upon his castle -no one quite knew where.
It was and his pastures, his park-land and his certain that she seemed to have no relplough-land, and had no more thought atives; at least, no one out of France to his latter end than the man in the ever came to visit her. There was a Scriptures. He had an ancient house, rumor that Squire Barnard had eloped from the windows of which he sur- with her—a foolish rumor perhaps; but veyed three counties, and which had Nelly Egan, a housemaid at Castle Barbeen his father's before him, and would nard, swore to the conversation she be his son's after him. He had the had heard one morning when she was land-hunger and the house-hunger for dusting the inner library and the squire his own possessions. He was incred- and his wife in the outer had not seen ibly proud, under his rough exterior, cf or heard her presence because of the his name and his race. He was a red- heavy curtains drawn across the archi faced, blustering, overbearing man; between. handsome, if you like the sort-blue- The squire was at his papers, his
lady as usual seated on the arm of his thou not bid him, Robert, that he chair. For a miracle, she was silent, should be careful?" and after a time the squire seemed to “Nay," said the squire, following and notice so unusual a happening for detaining her, “I will not have my boys Nelly heard him say:
taught fear. I would rather to see "What, my chicken, silent so long! them dead than afraid. I will let thee I shall think thy music is out of sea. go when thou hast gained courage.”
with the blackbird's and the The French wife, indeed, was flutterlark's."
ing in his grasp like a snared bird, and She answered nothing, and then, ac- turning great eyes of appeal upon him; cording to Nelly, who must have had but though he caught her in his arms her eye between the curtains, he swung and held her close, he was merciless to her on to his knee, and laid her down her. Only when she had promised him on his shoulder as if she were a bit of not to frighten the boy did he let her a child. Then he swore a great oath, go, and then he went with her. which Nelly was too good a Presbyte- It was Nelly, again, who heard this rian to record, that he would have no scrap of conversation between them tears; yet, for all that, he pulled out when sb ought to have been minding his big bandanna, and mopped away her own business. The squire had. at the French wife's eyes affection- been away, and on his return had ately.
brought his wife a barbaric piece of “It is the birthday of my mother, jewellery. It was his custom to lead'her Robert,” she said in broken English, with gems and gold. She was thankthat fell from her lips as prettily as the ing 'him, with her heart in her eyes, and drops of water from a fountain.
the children were rolling together with "And what then? I have a birthday the dogs on the hearth-rug. His glance in a week from now; and whatever fell upon them, and pride leaped into thou askest of me I shall give thee. his eyes. Is that enough, child ?"
“Thou hast given me the boys," he He gathered her up closer in his said, pointing at them. “I have a right arms, and held her against his rough to love thee." cheek.
"Thou wouldst love me without the "I would go into France, if I might; boys, Robert?" she said in alarm. and pray my mother's pardon. She is “I don't know that I could love a old, and I left her without a word. childless woman, even thee. What What would we do, thou and I, if some would become of the land, then? Be day our sons should do the like?”
content, my pretty. Thou art the “Thy lady-mother would have none mother of brave sons, and I adore of me," the squire said, with a tremble thee." of anger in his voice, “because I prayed Not so long after this, as time goes, as my fathers had prayed before me.
Squire Barnard and his cousin James Why dost thou think of her? Hast met over a card-table. The two men thou not me?"
hated each other, and both were in“Yes, yes, Robert,” answered the flamed by drink. Squire Barnard was French wife timidly, and lifting a hand the loser and was savage. Insult after to stroke his cheek. “I ought not to insult he flung into his cousin's pale, weep having so dear a husband.”
sneering face, which had a look of "And thy lads, thy gift to me. Come triumphant malice that almost madto the terrace to see them. Antony is dened him. His ill-luck continued, and playing with his ball, and Peter, when he grew wilder and more savage. He I last saw him, was setting his pony played his cards amid a shower of to jump the sunk fence."
oaths, and his insults to the man op"Oh, my boy,” cried the French wife, posite increased so that James Bargetting up and running fast to the nard's veins swelled in his forehead, his door. “He will kill himself! Why dost lips worked, and into his little grey