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 Æsculapius (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.
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. À bientôt.—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."