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Phillip Burne-Jones was born on 1st October
1861, the only son and elder surviving child of Edward
and Georgiana Burne-Jones. Phil, as he was always known,
was always a source of anxiety to his parents. He was
educated at Marlborough, a very strange choice on the
part of his artistic father and politically radical
mother, and a serious mistake on their part. Phillip
followed this with at University College Oxford, though
he left after two years without a degree. He then
studied art at home, in a studio space arranged by his
parents, possibly under the direction of his father,
though his work shows little paternal influence. Phillip
really became a playboy at this time, basking in the
reflected glow of his father’s celebrity. During the
next few years he did, at times, paint more seriously,
but an inability to concentrate and persist became
apparent at this time, and lasted throughout his life.
Between 1898 and 1918 he exhibited at the Royal Academy
a number of times, and also exhibited at The Grosvenor
Gallery, and the Paris Salon.
It would be
wrong to dismiss his work entirely, as the painting of
his father working at his easel, and a similar portrait
of his uncle Edward Poynter, are well-observed,
competently painted, and highly finished. He was a
reasonably prolific portraitist, and his distinguished
family connections gained him some eminent sitters
including G F Watts, Elgar, Rudyard Kipling, and Henry
James. In 1894 Edward Burne-Jones accepted a baronetcy,
a rather curious and uncharacteristic thing for him to
do-he said that the contempt of his wife was
‘withering.’ The most perceptive comment came from
William Morris, who reportedly said ‘well a man can be
an ass for the sake of his children.’ When Burne-Jones
senior died in 1898, Phillip regretted his shortcomings
as a son, ‘I failed him at every turn.’ In truth
given his character, and the overwhelming effect of his
father’s celebrity
I doubt if he could possibly have done much
better, and my main feeling on looking at his life is
sympathy.
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