The following letter to his father announces that Leighton had been elected President of the International Jury of Painting, Paris Exhibition, 1878:—
Hôtel Westminster, 1878,
Friday.
Dear Papa,—I have been waiting to write till I should have something to say beyond the fact that the weather is odious, and shows no signs of relenting. On Saturday afternoon we had our meeting of the Royal Commissioners, which had for its object the hearing of an address from the Prince of Wales. On Monday morning the whole International Jury (some six hundred or seven hundred members) met at the Ministère de Commerce, and was little more than formal. To-day the group of sections which are concerned with Art held its first meeting under the presidency of Signor Tullio Massarani, an Italian, with Meissonier as Vice-President, the chief object of the meeting being to inform the various sections of the groups whom the Minister had appointed as their respective presidents. My section, composed of forty members, is Paintings and Drawings; there are twenty Frenchmen—nearly all the first artists of the country, in fact—and you will be surprised and very much gratified to learn that I was named president of this section—a very high honour, of course, and one of which I am extremely sensible, but which we must not misinterpret; it is, of course, only by an act of international courtesy that the French placed a foreigner at the head of their section, and amongst the other foreign artists there were few names of much weight or standing; still, it is a courtesy which will, I am sure, give you pleasure. Our section being thus constituted, we then appointed our own vice-president, reporter, and secretary; they were unanimously elected; the first was my old friend, Robert Fleury; the second was Emile de Savelege, the Belgian writer whom you know of; and the third an old and kind friend of mine, Maurice Cottier, a man much mixed up in the official artistic world and possessing a magnificent picture gallery. To-morrow we begin our labours at the Exhibition, and in the afternoon I shall go to the séance of the Institut, which always takes place on Saturdays. This is my budget.
Perhaps the most important work inside the Academy which Leighton effected during this time was that of establishing the winter exhibitions of Old Masters at Burlington House. No one exemplified practically better than did Leighton the value of the motto, "What is worth having is worth sharing." He had been fed from early youth from the fountain-heads of Art, and one of his first objects after being elected a member of the Royal Academy was to endeavour to secure the same inspiring stimulus for students which he had himself imbibed from the work of the greatest men. He told me also that his chief object in making conscientious studies in colour when he travelled, was to endeavour to convey to students who were not able to go abroad some idea of the varieties in the aspects of nature found in different countries. Leighton was much appreciated in London society, but the intimes of the old Roman days remained still the nucleus of his friendships; also every year he tried to find himself in his beloved Italy, and he generally succeeded. From his old friend Lady William Russell, mother of Odo Russell (afterwards Lord Ampthill and Leighton's ally in Rome), and Arthur Russell—the notable lady whose charm attracted to her salon all that was most interesting among the magnates of Europe—two notes record her affection for Leighton and the death of Henry Greville in 1872, the severest blow which Leighton had sustained since the death of his mother.
I was in hopes of seeing you, to thank you vivâ voce for the ambrosia you sent me from Italy. I did not write during your pictorial tour, not exactly knowing where you might be. It was, and is, for I have some still, excellent; Paolo Veronese did not eat any better, nor Titian, nor any of your Brethren in Apollo.
Guido you are—the English Guido—but not "da Polenta"; I will not accept that "terre à terre" denomination. I now thank you most gratefully—it was one of the seven works of mercy, for I really could not eat and was starving. The Indian cornflour was a renovation. If ever you can make up your mind to pay a visit to una povera vealisa—zoppa—sorda—brutta and seccante, and forget "Aurora," I shall be charmed. But I know that your time is better employed; so a million of thanks, and as many regrets not to be able to see your marvels of which I hear.—Believe me, most sincerely your obliged Serva and Amica,
E.A.R.
2 Audley Square Mayfair, W.
Sunday, 26th November 1871.
Dear Guido (but not of Polenta),—I have been quite mortified at your neglect of me, and invoked the muses in vain! and call'd on the ghosts of Titian and Raffael, but they did not heed my sighs! I am always glad to see you, and wish I could see your works! All my cotemporaries and comrades are dying off, and I cannot last long—so come to my "Evenings at Home" when you dine in my "Quartier" and are going to your club.
Alas! for dear Henry Greville! I knew him from his most early youth. Both his parents were my early friends from my youth, and his elder brother my cotemporary.