CA' D'ORO, VENICE. WATER COLOUR. 1856[ToList]
Florence, 11th October 1856.
Dearest Mammy,—I wonder whether you are coming to Florence, and, if so, how long you are going to stay. I suppose you will go to the Hôtel du Nord as in old times—I go there invariably, and write now from my own particular room. I wrote to you last from Venice, where I spent ten days in a very satisfactory manner between work and flânerie of an artistic description—indeed I flâned this time with more advantage than hitherto, for I went more closely than I had yet done into the architecture of Venice, studying the different masters, their different styles and relative merit; I need not say that I found this extremely interesting. Fred Cockerell, a young architect friend of mine, was there with Villers Lister, another very nice boy, a London acquaintance of mine. We were a great deal together, and they accompanied me to Padua, where I left them doing Giotto, which I would most willingly have done myself if I had not been hard pressed for time. In the painting line I only made one sketch, a Bonifazio of the first water, which will figure very satisfactorily on my studio wall; it took me a good deal of time, and is on the whole, I think, very fair. In Florence I have had one or two great disappointments which have rather diminished my enjoyment of this loveliest place. I expected confidently to find both Browning and his wife and Lyons. Neither of them are here, the former not having yet returned from the North, and the latter having been called home to see his father, who is very ailing. I have seen the Fenzis, who received me with their wonted cordiality, and am going to-day to call on the Maquays. I am here too short a time to work, beyond a pencil sketch or two, and am off for dear old Rome on Friday morning as ever is. I shall stay there till I find a studio, which I hope won't be long, and shall then rush off to Cervara in the mountains to paint.
Good-bye, Mammikins. Give my best love to all, and believe me your loving boy,
Fred.
In Rome Leighton received the following from his friend Mr. Cartwright:—
Aynhoe, September 26, 1856.
My dear Leighton,—Truly was I delighted with your letter, so that in spite of my "nature to" I gulped my huff, though I was like to choke; but self-interest is a wonderful smoothener, and as I want you to do something for me I mean to behave myself. Leighton, by the squints which you shot over my park from your outspread umbrella, by those you are hereafter to shoot, by Tokay cup and venison hash—by anything you like, I want you to belumber yourself with some ripe stone pinecones, and a hundred cork acorns. I have found a true legitimate stone pine about forty to fifty feet high on my property, and as for the cork trees you have seen the one in my garden, and therefore, I do not see why I should not have a lot in the park. They can only be raised from acorns. Now, if you could take steps to get me these things—God! I don't know what I would not do for you, and how would we enjoy it in years to come to watch the growth of our trees. It is a national object. You may have some difficulty in getting the acorns and cones; Pantaleone or Erhardt might perhaps mention to you some gardener who would procure them. You know probably the trees would get to be called L. pines and Leighton oaks, which is one way to immortality if Orpheus and Eurydices won't help you. I wrote to Mason about the pines; by all means make him answer, the exertion will do him good, he wants exercise, and therefore don't get on with his work. My God! when I came in at twelve to-day he was not up!
How I envy you at Rome when I think of it; how would I enjoy being there, and yet I can't help thinking of ——'s death at the same time. Remember me to little Cornhill and every Roman who remembers me. Write Poste Restante, Paris. I go there, I believe, next week, but where I shall be the winter ——? Forster is in the Westminster—be d——d to it for stale wine that it is. As for Mason, make him write, and believe me, yours affectionately,