I went recently to see Cornelius, who is always genial and charming. He is drawing on one of the Redelli for the Campo Santo. Rich and spirited in invention and arrangement, the form in details, however, is very badly drawn—heads that are unpermissible; he treats God's nature quite cavalierly. I saw at his house a composition by a certain Wöredle (or some such name) of Vienna, a pupil of Führich, the subject taken from the Apocalypse: "There shall be wonders." Above, the Saviour, in the usual attitude, with the usual flowing garment; to the right and left, Mary and John, in their respective usual attitudes; at their feet four angels blowing trumpets, by Cornelius; in the background a number of comets; lying about in the middle and foreground, a quantity of figures, which have been collected from different works of Cornelius', strike convulsive attitudes on the floor; for the rest, the whole is constructed with appalling academic execution and lifelessness. Cornelius seemed to think it quite right; I consider it difficult, with reverence and love, to complete the head of one girl; for that reason I am not fond of going to him, for although personally he is extremely sympathetic to me, I cannot help feeling that I do not fit in with him, and am obliged to dissemble. But you must be quite weary of this chattering letter, dear Master; I will close. Remember me most kindly to your wife and children, and rely always upon the friendship of your grateful pupil,
Leighton.
Thursday, September 3, 1857.
Dear Friend and Master,—I was, as usual, most delighted to receive your cordial letter of 21st August; I am touched by your constant friendship, but also somewhat ashamed that you should treat your much indebted pupil almost as an equal and counsellor. I have the greatest desire to see your second cartoon, but I am very much afraid that this year it will be quite impossible, for I am going on a journey in quite the opposite direction; I am shortly going to Africa, partly to make some landscape studies, but also to make acquaintance with that very interesting race, but not in order to become a painter of Bedouins. It was my intention, as I am starting immediately, not to write till I came back, in order that I might have something to tell you; however, the following has suddenly made me change my mind; the fat, affected, tailor-like, civil-spoken little Jew visited me recently and told me you want to make inquiries about wall painting, and that I might tell you, if I was writing, that Conture has just gone away. This impelled me to write immediately. Will you forgive me, for old friendship's sake, if I put in a word here, to which you need not give the smallest attention? I want to protest vehemently, dear Master, against all oil-painting on walls; and that, not because fresco painting has sufficed for the greatest works of the greatest masters, but on account of the positive disadvantages of oils. How, in effect, do the two materials stand to one another? Fresco is certainly the one material for monuments. First, because it is the most suitable for a broad, massy, imposing form, for in no material can one pursue form so completely without losing colour; secondly, because by no other method can one attain such masterly, earnest, quiet, virile effect in colour; thirdly, however, and principally, because fresco is visible from all points alike, this advantage is immeasurable for architectural art. What, on the other hand, are the advantages of oil? Only one occurs to me and that is quite illusory, i.e. you have a wider range of colour; but all the colours that an oil palette has in advance of fresco are, for fresco, superfluous if not pernicious. Superfluous, because the broken, fine grey tones which have such an infinite charm in easel pictures, and which counteract the otherwise too great brilliance of the material, are quite superfluous in a painting where all tones are dull and solid. Pernicious, where they would be applicable, because they might mar the majestic peace of the work. And then it should be remembered that the limited scale of the fresco palette, so far as it extends, is unsurpassable for glow and atmosphere and strength. Titian's frescoes at Padua in the Tenola St. Antonio rival his oil-paintings in colour. M. Angelo's "Madonna in the Last Judgment" might (for colour) be by Tintoretto, and many figures on this glorious wall are as glowing as Titian's! As regards the disadvantages of oil-painting, I can only say that they often blister in the shadows, and that one can only see them from one point of view. I know very well that fresco is exposed to damp, but one can, indeed one must, have one's wall examined before one begins to work, and if it is well dried and "drained" there is no danger; at the worst, one can cover one's wall with sheets of lead; it has been discovered that this was often done in Pompeii. Or one can also (there are instances) paint upon a specially prepared canvas away from the wall. But you know all this better than I. Have you forgiven me, dear Friend? I could not forbear from saying this, and rely upon your indulgence.
Do not allow Schlösser to mislead you about my work. I daub on steadily, but am by a very long way not contented.
I send these lines to Frankfurt in the hope that they will be forwarded to you.
I shall stay some weeks in Algiers—can I do anything for you? in that case send me a line. Till the 1st October a letter will find me; address, Poste Restante, Algiers.
All good luck be with you on your holidays, and may you gain the desired strength.
Keep in remembrance your loving pupil,