MY DEAR LEIGHTON,--I have just come back from Italy, and hope that it is not too late to tell you with how much satisfaction I read of the mark of honour that has been accepted by you. I am not a pa.s.sionate admirer of the legislative feats of the House of Lords, but so long as it stands, it is well that such a man as you should sit there. I hope that the thing has given you pleasure, and for my poor part I rejoice both as a friend and as a humble admirer of art and genius that this honourable recognition has fallen to you.--Yours sincerely,

JOHN MORLEY.

Not a word of reply, I pray.

From his native place Leighton received the following:--

When it was announced on Wednesday that the Queen had been pleased to confer the dignity of a Peerage of the United Kingdom upon Sir Frederic Leighton, Bart., President of the Royal Academy, who is a native of Scarborough, having been born here sixty-five years ago, the Mayor (Alderman Cross, J.P.) sent the following telegram:--"Sir Frederic Leighton, 2 Holland Park Road, London, the Mayor, Corporation, and inhabitants of Scarborough present their hearty congratulations on the honour conferred upon you.--The Mayor, Scarborough." The next morning the following reply was received:--"The Mayor of Scarborough,--Sincere thanks for congratulations from my birthplace.

LEIGHTON."

Leighton had been loath to acquaint his sisters with the real nature of his complaint, as he was aware how much their anxiety for him would be increased if they knew. However, he at last felt it was necessary to tell them. Very characteristically, he chose the moment when they were at the theatre, thinking it might produce a less painful shock when mentioned casually, and when their attention might be distracted more easily. It was difficult, however, under any circ.u.mstances to temper the blow. Leighton wrote the next Sunday--"I do hope I shall find you better this afternoon.... I ought not to have spoken to you about my ailment." I received the following in Somerset, dated January 20, dictated, ... "As I am (not to put too fine a point on it) in bed with a very bad cough at this moment, you will, I know, forgive my using the hand of a secretary in writing to you. I see that you want a contribution for Mrs. Watts Hughes' Home for Boys; I therefore enclose a cheque." ... On the day following, Tuesday, his doctors decreed that he should remain in his room, but on Wednesday, the day after, Leighton insisted on getting into his studio, where he worked all the morning from models. In the afternoon he drove in his open carriage--certainly without the permission of his doctors!--to Westminster, getting out and standing in the raw damp of a cold January afternoon to watch the pulling down of some old houses which had interested him. In the evening he wrote to me a letter, which happened to be the last he penned. A Lecture was to be given for the benefit of Mrs. Watts Hughes' Home for Boys; and in return for Leighton's contribution I had sent him four five shilling tickets to give away, offering to change them for half guinea tickets, but suggesting it would be most rash of him to go himself. However, he intended to go, and wrote that Wednesday evening:--

DEAR MRS. BARRINGTON,--... Since you are good enough to offer to change the tickets for tenners, I will ask you to do so, and thank you in advance. Yes, Mackail's book, which oddly enough I _have_ read--for, alas! I never read now--is an exquisite bit of work.

When the Lecture was given on the evening of January 29, Leighton had left us already four days!

At five o'clock on Thursday morning, January 23, he woke, feeling terrible pain and great distress in breathing, but would not ring for his servant because he believed him to be delicate, and thought it might hurt him to be disturbed so early. At seven he rang, and Dr.

Roberts, who was telegraphed for, at once saw that the situation was of the gravest. Sir Lauder Brunton also was summoned. Leighton's servant had promised his sisters that they should be sent for at once if the symptoms at any time became more acute; but on his mentioning this, Leighton said he must not send for Mrs. Orr and Mrs. Matthews, as they were both more ill than he was. However, as the morning went on and there were no signs of any change for the better, the sisters were told of his condition, and at once came--not leaving him till the end.

On Thursday afternoon, when he was supposed to be sinking, and they were with him alone, he expressed his wishes as to his property--the sums of money he wished given to various friends--adding that he should like ten thousand pounds to be given to the Royal Academy.

These were wishes expressed--not legacies, as he left his whole property unconditionally to his sisters, and believed that they, as next-of-kin, would, as a matter of course, be his heirs.

Contrary to the doctor's expectations, Leighton rallied on the Friday, and hopes were expressed that he might recover from the acute attack from which he was suffering. On his hearing this, he exclaimed to his sisters, "Would it not have been a pity if I had had to die just when I was going to paint better!"

On the Sat.u.r.day morning the gravest symptoms returned, and every hope vanished. It was then suggested to Leighton that it would be better for him to make a will, and his lawyer was sent for; but it was some time before he could arrive. Though the agony was great, Leighton refused all alleviations till his will was written out. It was as follows:--

This is the last will and testament of Frederic Leighton.

I will and bequeath to my sisters, Alexandra Orr and Augusta Newnburg Matthews, the whole estate unconditionally.

FRED LEIGHTON.

Mrs. Orr wrote: "When the official will had been drawn up and signed, he said, 'Does this give my sisters absolute control over all I have?'

On the lawyer answering in the affirmative, Leighton asked, 'Then no one can interfere with them?' 'No one,' answered the lawyer; 'they are paramount.' He was afraid that the brief paragraph was not sufficiently strong."

After signing it, he said, "My love to the Academy"; but his last words were spoken in German, and meant for his sisters' ears alone.

Then came the end.

"We went together," writes Lady Loch, "to see Fred Leighton the Sunday before he died, and he said, 'Mind you come to "my concert." I have just settled it all with Villiers Stanford, and it will be beautiful.'" In about ten days after, with aching hearts at the loss of so true, so warm, so great a friend, we attended his burial service at St. Paul's Cathedral, seeing such proofs of real mourning all along the Embankment and streets, for indeed every man, woman, and child had lost a real, true friend.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE SPIRIT OF THE SUMMIT." 1894]

[Ill.u.s.tration: STUDY FOR "LACHRYMae." 1895]

All who were present must ever remember the last "Music" in the March before, when (contrasting so strongly in colour and sentiment) "Lachrymae" and "Flaming June" stood on the easels, and for the first time the silk room was open, hung with the work of Leighton's friends; how, through all the beautiful strains from Joachim and the rest, a tragic note rang out to tell, as it seemed, of the waning life of the centre of it all. No one said it, but all felt that the last chapter was ending of those many, many perfect pages in life known as "Leighton's music."

A voice sang with emotion Charles Kingsley's soul-stirring verse--

"When all the world is old, lad, And all the trees are brown; And all the sport is stale, lad, And all the wheels run down, Creep home, and take your place there, The spent and maim'd among; G.o.d grant you find one face there You loved when all was young."

Cruelly pathetic did it seem that one who had ever had the vitality of a boy, who had ever been the inspirer and support of those weary overwrought ones whose wheels had run down before their time, should himself be stricken, creeping home "the spent and maimed among."

The studios emptied, and he came down the stairs with the last of us.

Dainty figures of girls were dancing round the fountain in the empty Arab Hall; and as he went to the outer door they flew to him, throwing their arms round his neck. "They are all my G.o.d-children," he said, as each, fleet-footed, fled out of the gate. A clasp, a wring of a friend's hand; then, ashen pale, tired and haggard, he turned back lonely into the House Beautiful--and that book was closed.

Instead of strains of perfect song and music hailing their completion, the six pictures of the next year looked down on the coffin, and over a rich carpeting of beautiful flowers. In the centre, above the head, the sun-loving "Clytie" stretched out her arms, bidding a pa.s.sionate farewell to her G.o.d.

The coffin was borne away to the Academy on Sat.u.r.day, February 1, previous to the funeral on the Monday.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "CLYTIE." 1896 By permission of the Fine Art Society, the owners of the Copyright]

The following is a correct account of the public funeral, written on the day it took place, and forwarded to Leighton's birthplace.

At half-past ten this morning, by which time a dense crowd had collected in the neighbourhood of the Royal Academy, the workmen commenced to remove the numerous wreaths from the Central Hall, where the body of Lord Leighton has rested since Sat.u.r.day night, and to load the huge floral car. Prominent among these wreaths was one from the Princess Christian; but that from the Prince and Princess of Wales was conveyed in a separate carriage by representatives of the Prince and Princess, General Ellis and Lord Colville of Culross. The wreath consisted of choice white flowers rising from a bank of delicate green foliage, and attached was a card written by the Princess of Wales, and inscribed as follows:--

"Life's race well run, Life's work well done, Life's Crown well won, Now comes rest."

Then follow the words, "A mark of sincere and affectionate regard, esteem, and admiration for a great artist and much beloved friend, from Alexandra and Albert Edward." At the head of the card were the words, "To Sir Frederic Leighton." There was also a wreath from the Empress Frederick, bearing the words: "From Victoria, Empress Frederick," in the Empress's own writing.

The Queen's wreath for the funeral of Lord Leighton was sent from Buckingham Palace this morning to Colonel the Honourable W.

Carington, by whom it was conveyed to St. Paul's Cathedral. The wreath is composed of laurel, entwined with which are immortelles, and it is tied with broad satin ribbon. Attached to the wreath is an autograph card from Her Majesty, with the following inscription: "A mark of respect from Victoria, R.I."

About five minutes to eleven the coffin was removed from the Central Hall, and carried through the vestibule into the quadrangle. A detachment of the Artists' Volunteers was drawn up here, and saluted the coffin as soon as it emerged into the open by presenting arms. The remains were placed in a gla.s.s hea.r.s.e, and the volunteers took up their position at the front and sides. The pall-bearers, relatives, and others meanwhile formed in procession, and punctually at eleven the cortege left the Academy, the crowd reverentially uncovering as the hea.r.s.e pa.s.sed into the street. The whole length of the route, from Piccadilly to St. Paul's, was lined with people; but the crowds were quiet and orderly, and maintained a clear s.p.a.ce for the funeral cortege without the a.s.sistance of the police. The volunteers marched with arms reversed, and the remains of the deceased artist were carried to their last resting-place with every manifestation of mournful regret. Flags were at half-mast on many public buildings, and as the solemn procession pa.s.sed slowly along, the remains were reverently saluted by the crowd.

Pa.s.sing into Pall Mall by Charing Cross, the procession wended its way through Northumberland Street, proceeding thence along the Thames Embankment, New Bridge Street, and Ludgate Hill, St.

Paul's being reached shortly before noon.

The service in the Cathedral, which occupied an hour, was at once picturesque as a spectacle and impressive in its solemnity as a religious function.

More than an hour before the time appointed for the arrival of the funeral cortege, the s.p.a.ce available to the public in St.

Paul's was occupied, and a few minutes after eleven o'clock, visitors of distinction, who had been provided with special invitations, began to fill up the reserved seats in the transept.

Among those present were representatives of the Royal Family, the German Emperor, and the King of Belgium, members of both Houses of Parliament, including the Speaker; delegates from learned bodies and artistic a.s.sociations, as well as from the art committees of various provincial munic.i.p.alities.

The first lesson was read by the Dean, and the succeeding pa.s.sages were given by the Bishop of Stepney; but the greater part of the service was undertaken by the Archbishop of York, chaplain of the Royal Academy. The musical portions of the service were exceptionally fine, and included, as a somewhat unusual feature, a trombone quartette.

Lord Salisbury had promised to be one of the pall-bearers, but found himself unable to attend. The pall-bearers were Major-General Ellis, representing the Prince and Princess of Wales; the Duke of Abercorn, Sir Joseph Lister, Sir J. Millais, Sir E. Thompson, Sir A. Mackenzie, and Professor Lecky.

After the coffin was lowered into the crypt by a central opening directly beneath the dome, the two sisters of the late Lord Leighton came to the front, and took a last look at it. When the coffin was lowered many beautiful flowers were placed upon it, and again, after the opening was covered up, the s.p.a.ce was more than covered by further wreaths sent by various Academicians, the Royal Academy, students, and personal friends, many of whom lingered some time after the conclusion of the solemn ceremony.

_Scarborough Evening News, February 3, 1896._

Leighton's death touched, as did his life, all sorts and conditions of men; for he had been the true friend alike of the greatest and of the least. The soil in which true distinction is rooted is of a quality too rich, too fertile to be affected by cla.s.s prejudice. Leighton's own life was made beautiful by the grat.i.tude he felt for the joy nature's loveliness inspired in his soul, and by the pa.s.sion to make known through his work the mysterious treasure, the never-failing fountain of delight, ever springing up in his heart. Lovingly human, he ardently desired not only to pa.s.s on his own joy in beauty to every fellow-creature who crossed his path, but, where he saw in any possible way help could be given, to give it.

Of the eager, great-hearted Leighton, not a few can echo Romola's tribute to Savonarola--the last words of the great book whose pages he vivified with his art: "Perhaps I should never have learned to love him if he had not helped me when I was in great need."