MY DEAR LEIGHTON,--We have been unable to hang one of your best pictures--not because it was an excellent work, as the profane world would say--but because we had already placed so many of your pictures that the space due to Leighton was more than exhausted. M.C. Mortlake called us over the coals dreadfully on your behalf, but I, for one, resisted his arguments, and I believe you have to blame me for your picture being returned to you. I should have said nothing about the matter, but for the fear that I might be thought so stupid as not to see the merit of your work. Pray believe that my motive was a good one, and that I have tried to do what is right to you and to the rest.--Ever, dear Leighton, faithfully yours, W.P. FRITH. [36] Ruskin would not, I believe, have spoken thus of the peacocks in the exquisite water-colour on ivory--presumably a sketch in colour for the picture. [37] Refers to Lord Ashburton's death. [38] This picture illustrates the verses in the _Paradiso_:-- "Thou shalt prove How salt the savour is of others' bread; How hard the passage, to descend and climb By others' stairs. But that shall gall thee most Will be the worthless and vile company With whom thou must be thrown into the straits, For all ungrateful, impious all and mad Shall turn against thee." "Dante, in fulfilment of this prophecy, is seen descending the palace stairs of the Can Grande, at Verona, during his exile. He is dressed in sober grey and drab clothes, and contrasts strongly in his ascetic and suffering aspect with the gay revellers about him. The people are preparing for a festival, and splendidly and fantastically robed, some bringing wreaths of flowers. Bowing with mock reverence, a jester gibes at Dante. An indolent sentinel is seated at the porch, and looks on unconcernedly, his spear lying across his breast. A young man, probably acquainted with the writings of Dante, sympathises with him. In the centre and just before the feet of Dante, is a beautiful child, brilliantly dressed and crowned with flowers, and dragging along the floor a garland of bay leaves and flowers, while looking earnestly and innocently in the poet's face. Next come a pair of lovers, the lady looking at Dante with attention, the man heedless. The last wears a vest embroidered with eyes like those in a peacock's tail. A priest and a noble descend the stairs behind, jeering at Dante."--_Athenæum_, April 1864. The following expresses the admiration of a brother artist, Richard Doyle, for the exiled "Dante":-- 54 CLIFTON GARDENS, MAIDA HILL, _April 5, 1864_.