rous and unstinted, but for pictures where nature was sacrificed to adventitious effect he had no toleration. His constant appeal was to nature. "Every artist," I have heard him say, "should learn nature by heart." His admiration of Turner's works was great, but it was discriminating. He had a just estimate of the defects and eccentricities of that great master, and, while recognising the genius which was manifest in almost all his pictures, he considered it too dearly bought in his later works by the sacrifice of nature. And this was the standard he applied to the works of all artists. thing polite and pleasant, but Turner, when I put the drawings into his hand, gave only a hasty glance at them and a subdued grunt, and passed them to Mr. Pickersgill without any remark. I think it was about the middle of my folio that I observed Mr. Hilton and Mr. Jones whispering together and looking with more than ordinary attention at one of the drawings, and when Sir Martin put it into my hands he gave me a pleasant smile. I passed it to Turner, who held it for some time, regarding it attentively with knitted brows. Then turning to me he said in a brusque manner, 'Where did you get that?' I was taken a little aback at the rough manner of the question and did not immediately answer, and he said again, 'Where did you get that?' All were now silent and listening. I answered, As everything about Turner is interesting, I give here Mr. Leitch's description of him, with an incident in connection with him interesting to Mr. Leitch himself. "From my earliest recollections of art I'To tell the truth, Mr. Turner, that drawing have been a great admirer of this extraordinary artist. I recollect well the first time he was pointed out to me. It was in an auctionroom in Pall Mall. He was then an elderly man, not tall but not what you would call a little man either. He was not ill-formed, but he had an awkward shuffling way of moving along. He had a fine head, not of the Oliver Cromwell or Napoleon Buonaparte class, but of a sort of Italian Jewish form. His eye was keen, his nose inclined to a hook, and his mouth was good in shape, but there was a cynical expression about it that I thought repelling. He was a great artist, but there was nothing pleasant or amiable about him. "The first time I met him was at the dinner-table of Mr. Pickersgill, in Soho Square, shortly after I returned from Italy. The evening was a remarkable one to me, and I have a very distinct recollection of the people I met there and what they said. There were Sir Francis Chantrey, Sir Martin Shee, Mr. Hilton, Mr. Jones and Sir Geoffrey Wyatville, besides Mr. Turner, Frank Arundel, and Henry Pickersgill. "Mr. Pickersgill, when he invited me, said he should like me to bring a folio of the studies I had done in Italy, as he thought his friends would be pleased to see them, and especially Chantrey and Turner. I accordingly took with me some drawings, and when we came up to the drawing-room they were produced. I was seated between Turner and Sir Martin Shee. Jones and Mr. Hilton were opposite, and as they had the folio they handed out the drawings separately to pass round the table. I don't recollect anything particular being said of the first ten or twelve subjects. Sir Martin Shee always said some was done from memory. It is an impression of a subject and effect which I saw in the Abruzzi Mountains, near the town of Salmona, in the middle of the Apennines.' He looked at me for a moment with a very unsatisfactory expression, and said, 'I don't believe a word of it.' Nothing more was said. Significant looks were exchanged amongst the company, and the rest of the drawings were passed over without much remark. After Turner left, Sir Martin Shee said to me, 'You have given us a great pleasure in showing us these interesting studies, but I need not say anything in commendation of them after the compliment that has just been paid you.' I replied that if Sir Martin alluded to what Mr. Turner had said, it was surely an extraordinary way of paying a compliment, and that I could not imagine what he meant. Sir Martin replied, 'Mr. Turner is an extraordinary man, and I cannot tell you what he meant, but this I am sure of, that had he not thought your drawing more than ordinarily good and true and beautiful, he would not have said a word about it.'" This was in 1842. I possess a replica by Mr. Leitch of this little drawing, and it is certainly very fine. It was about this time that Mr. Leitch was introduced by David Roberts to the late Mr. Etty, one of our truly great artists. Roberts had been telling Etty how unhappy Leitch was at his picture being so badly hung, when Etty said to Leitch, Don't be dis couraged, but go at it again and again; and let me tell you, if it can give you any conso lation, that in early years I painted for nearly ten seasons, and not an exhibition in London would admit my pictures at all."" Mr. Leitch often spoke with admiration of the evidence of hard work and careful study days." In the following year he writes, of nature shown in Turner's earlier works." Lately I have had such physical sufferings He used also to tell a story of a friend of his who had ventured to ask Turner what was the secret of his wonderful power of colouring, and of his true representation of nature, and who got for answer that the secret consisted in "nothing but hard work." Mr. Etty's secret was the same. It was the life-long secret of Mr. Leitch, and it must be the secret of every artist who expects to attain to greatness. In a conversation with Etty as to one of his pictures, Mr. Leitch remarked how exquisitely the flesh of the principal figure was painted. Etty's reply was, "I ought to know something about flesh now, for I believe I must have painted nearly two thousand studies of it for the purpose of learning how to do it." And such was Mr. Leitch's own teaching. Writing to a pupil he says, "Look at the best drawings for corroboration and encouragement. Avoid bad works as you would fly from evil. Come back again to nature, again and again, and you will have the greatest comfort. Work, work, work is the word, both with head and hand. We cannot get anything good and true and beautiful without going through suffering for it; and work is the price we must pay for all enjoyment we may have from the divine art of painting." He was himself never satisfied to stand still he was always aiming at increased excellence. Writing in 1874 he says, "I always make it a rule that the last drawing I make shall be the best." With an apparently strong constitution, Mr. Leitch suffered all his life from a strange disease-acute pain and heat in the head; the peculiarity of it being that the attacks recurred regularly once a month. At first they usually lasted from twenty-four to forty hours, but if, as sometimes happened, the attack was deferred, it came afterwards with increased severity, and his sufferings were often excruciating. Then it passed away and he was quite well. In the later years of his life the attacks were more prolonged and they began to tell on his general health. Writing to me in 1878, he says, "I can't tell you how I suffer in my head, and how long and how terrible the attacks are. I really believe I shall lose my reason some of these that neither religion nor philosophy could persuade me from wishing myself dead for good and all." For the last two years of his life he got gradually more feeble. In December, 1882, he writes, "I have been worse than ever I was before with bodily sufferings, and I have a strong feeling that I can never be well again, and that seventy-eight years has a very serious look of old age." During these attacks he could do nothing in the way of his art, but as soon as they passed away he recovered his energy and resumed his painting. The last time I saw him was on the 29th of March, 1883, when I was passing through London. He was much changed, and evidently very feeble; indeed, he was then a dying man, but I found him in his studio doing beautiful work and quite cheerful. The lamp of his art was burning brightly to the last. He died in four weeks afterwards. He had sunk rapidly during the last fortnight, and he passed away quietly and peacefully. Amongst his last words were his responses to the prayers for the sick. Mr. Leitch was a man of more than ordinary intelligence and mental power, and he had a well-cultivated mind, stored with varied. information. His kindness of heart was great, and he was liberal though unostentatious in his charities. He had a fine sense of humour, and his power of mimicry, especially of Scottish characters, Highland and Lowland, was remarkable. He was a favourite with children, whom he delighted by his inexhaustible supply of stories, told in a very attractive way. In all companies he was a pleasant companion. Mr. Leitch left in his studio a large number of original sketches in water colour and pencil besides copies from the old masters. One of the most characteristic likenesses of him which I have seen is that which illustrates Part I of this article (page 565). It is from a rapidly done sketch in pen and ink for which Mr. Leitch sat to the late Sir Daniel Macnee, in Glasgow in 1874. Of a family of five sons and two daughters Mr. Leitch was survived by only one son, William, and a daughter, now the wife of Mr. Henry Eadie. His eldest son Richard was an excellent artist. He died in 1882. A. MACGEORGE. It is to the beggars that I attribute most of the waning popularity of Sorrento as an English resort; for thirty or more years ago, when travelling abroad was a serious affair not to be undertaken lightly, it was customary for the English, after passing the winter at Rome, to spend the summer at some cool place comparatively near by, and Sorrento was one of the most fashionable "villegiature." Now things are managed differently, and a tourist, who spends three days at Naples, to include the "doing" of Vesuvius and Pompeii, a day at Capri and Sorrento, and, if very enterprising, another at Amalfi, can return to his native land proudly conscious that he is henceforth an authority on Southern Italy. We might ourselves have done likewise had not circumstances necessitated our making a protracted stay at Sorrento, and we had therefore ample opportunity of finding out all its charms and little weaknesses, the most noticeable of the latter being the aforesaid army of beggars; but even here a closer acquaintanceship revealed some good qualities, and our natural dislike to them at the beginning was softened to something more than tolerance before our departure. To begin with, they threw so much spirit into their trade, that they compelled you to pay attention to them. The beggars at Pisa are famed throughout Italy, and certainly are worthy of their celebrity, but they fade into obscurity before their Sorrentine brethren. Here mendicancy is elevated to a science, and they imbibe the first principles of the art before they can speak plainly. Have I not seen little babies in arms stretch out their small dirty paws imploringly; while their first words are not the familiar "papa" and "mamma," but "Datemi una piccola moneta !" With this training no wonder that, when the fat black-eyed babies are released from their swaddling-clothes, they take as naturally to begging as ducklings to the water; they haunt the dark corners of the streets, and when an unwary foreigner appears, they fall on him with such a chorus of supplications, that the unfortunate victim generally suc cumbs and bestows the coveted soldi in selfdefence. If however they are refused, they will proceed to "give the Signor music;" the said music consisting of a German song, which in an evil moment must have been taught the youth of Sorrento by some wandering student. The song has been handed down from one to another, Italianised, clipped, and altered, until nothing now remains of the original but the air and a very decided chorus of "Nein, Nein, Nein," which, when shouted after you by half-a-dozen ragamuffins, sounds most aggressive. Entreat, threaten, command, the loud monotonous chant will still continue; you may retrace your steps, they will do the same; you may attempt dignity and silence, although under the circumstances that is well-nigh impossible; in the end you will be vanquished, and humbly offer unlimited pennies to be released from your unwelcome escort. It is useless to appeal to the authorities, for once, when the little rogues were rather worse than usual, and I threatened to give them in charge to a carabiniero standing by, the biggest of the party made me a low bow, and with the sweetest smile entreated me to do so. "He is my cousin," he added, "and a great friend of mine." Although in general the old people and the children form the greater part of the beggars, it must not be imagined that the young men and girls do not have their fair share of the strangers' money; and although for very shame they can hardly beg after the fashion of their elders and the clamorous children, they have discovered a roundabout way which reflects the greatest credit on their ingenuity. Their system is as follows:-The Neapolitans have always been famous for their singing and dancing; old travellers in Southern Italy used to come home with vivid accounts of the merry Neapolitan peasants, and their picturesque tarantellas and costumes became proverbial. Sorrento was particularly celebrated for its graceful dancers, and boasted indeed of a tarantella of its own, which was thought by some to be even prettier than the Neapolitan one. In the meantime, the years pass by, the bright costumes are rapidly dying out-vanishing as elsewhere before the all-prevailing influence of cheap lilac cotton-the peasants have now other things to think of besides dancing; still the English tourists increase, and to these Sorrento would be nothing without the traditional tarantellas and songs. Songs and tarantellas have therefore to be provided by some means or another, and a number of the best-looking specimens of the Sorrento inhabitants have organized a regular troupe, who nightly perform unlimited tarantellas in the gayest of costumes at one or the other of the hotels. The whole affair, though pretty enough, was rather too studied to please us. To the performers the sole interest lay so obviously in the amount to be gained. It is also worthy of record that during the whole time of our stay we never saw a spontaneous tarantella danced for their own pleasure, although I have seen genuine ones at Castellamare and elsewhere along the coast. The tarantella at Sorrento proves a most lucrative affair, and, moreover, appears to give universal satisfaction, for indeed they are more Neapolitan than the Neapolitans, so anxious are they to please the strangers. The English tourist is, however, exacting, and-in spite of having tarantellas to order, costumes according to his taste, and the regulation songs - demands still more. Next to the popular "Santa Lucia," "La Bella Sorrentina" is the favourite air of the English; but not content with hearing the song at Sorrento, they required to see the beautiful Sorrento girl in question. They were told she was dead, she was old, and finally that, like Mrs. Harris, there was no such person. It was no good, they insisted on having her. The natives therefore rose to the occasion, and during the last ten or twelve years the "bella Sorrentina" is on inquiry forthcoming. She is photographed, and her photographs are sold about the town for the benefit of the tourists. When she grows old, and her good looks wane, she will be supplanted by another beauty, quite in the regular fashionable way. The present occupant of the position is a beautiful young woman, Mariuccia by name, known familiarly throughout the town by the nickname of "La Rousella," from the colour of her hair, which is a lovely Titian red. She is only twenty-two years of age, but already is considered to be rather old. and rumours are afloat that before long she will be deposed. The poor thing has had a hard life in spite of her beauty, for she has been married twice, and gossip says her first husband beat her often. The little Rosina, who is even now pointed out as her successor, although pretty enough in her way, has not nearly so much real beauty, and misses altogether the stately grace which is Mariuccia's distinguishing characteristic. The ideas the lower classes have of England |