Note 64 — Chapter V · ToC

From a boy, without any effort or thought on his part, he exercised an unquestioned domination over others. Speaking of the days when he, as a boy of seventeen, first made friends with Leighton in Rome, Sir E. Poynter said, "He knew he was clever, but he hadn't a particle of conceit. I never saw him cast down, he was always jolly and noble; none ever thought of refusing him obedience." Again, Sir E. Poynter refers to these early days in his Dedication to Leighton of "Ten Lectures on Art": "I came to-day from the 'Varnishing Day' at the Royal Academy Exhibition with a pleasant conviction that there is, on all sides, a more decided tendency towards a higher standard in Art, both as regards treatment of subject and execution, than I have before noticed; and I have no hesitation in attributing this sudden improvement, in the main, to the stimulus given us all by the election of our new President, and to the influence of the energy, thoroughness, and nobility of aim which he displays in everything he undertakes. I was probably the first, when we were both young, and in Rome together, to whom he had the opportunity of showing the disinterested kindness which he has invariably extended to beginners; and to him, as the friend and master who first directed my ambition, and whose precepts I never fail to recall when at work (as many another will recall them), I venture to dedicate this book with affection and respect." Signor Giovanni Costa wrote: "I remember once in Siena there was an unemployed half-hour in our programme. Leighton happening to go to the window of the hotel, exclaimed, 'The Cupola of the Duomo is on fire!' and as he said it he rushed downstairs to go there. I, being lame, could not keep pace with him, but followed, and on arriving in the Piazza attempted to enter the Duomo past a line of soldiers who were keeping the ground; but they would not allow me to. Seeing them carrying wooden hoardings into the cathedral, I shouted. 'You are taking fuel to the fire! Let me in—I am an artist and a custodian of artistic treasures.' The word 'custodian' moved them, and they let me pass. When I got inside the Duomo I found Leighton commanding in the midst. He was saying, 'You are bringing fuel to the fire.' There was a major of infantry with his company, who cried out, 'Open the windows!' Leighton exclaimed, 'My dear sir, you are fanning the flames; you must shut the windows.' He had placed himself at the head of everybody, and the windows were shut. From the cupola into the church fell melting flakes of fire ('cadean di fuoco dilatate falde'—Dante) from the burning and liquefied lead, which would certainly have ignited the boards with which they had intended to cover the graffitte by Beccafumi on the marble pavement. Our half-hour was over. Leighton looked at his watch and said, 'In any case the cupola is burnt; let us be off to the Opera del Duomo; Duccio Buoninsegna is waiting for us!'"