THE ROYAL ACADEMY

The Times Saturday May 2, 1896

Introduction

 This Summer Exhibition took place at a transitional time for the Royal Academy. Frederic Leighton had died on 25 th January 1896, closing his highly successful eighteen year term as President of the Royal Academy. The great number of pictures exhibited by well-known artists is a testament to the healthy condition in which he left the Academy. In his place was appointed Sir John Millais, his friend, rival, and artist of the highest distinction. Unhappily Millis was suffering from throat cancer, and would die on 13 th August the same year. I was surprised to note on reading this article that Millais had a number of pictures in the exhibition, given his deteriorating health. Prior to finding this piece I did not know of Harry Bates, a gifted sculptor, and very much the man with a future, who, unfortunately died in 1899 in his late forties. It is interesting to read of the distinction of the portrait of a Scottish worthy painted by William Quiller Orchardson (1835-1910), whose muted closely integrated colours, subtle evocation of atmosphere, excellent draughtsmanship make him one of the greatest, and sadly underrated Victorian artists. Mention is also made of John Singer Sargent, whose career as a society portrait painter was very much in the ascendant. I did not know that he had painted Joseph Chamberlain, as the portrait usually reproduced is that by Frank Holl (1845-1888), whose distinguished career was, like that of Harry Bates, terminated by death - brought on by overwork in his case. I also note that the work of Frank Dicksee, a great painter, and future President of the Royal Academy is also singled out for praise. Finally the number of “Presentation Portraits must be mentioned.

The Article

 Though, out of respect for the memory of Lord Leighton, there is to be no Royal Academy banquet this year, the arrangements for the annual exhibition are the same as usual. Yesterday was the private view, and on Monday the public will be admitted to the galleries, in which though there is but one picture of the late President’s, and though in some indefinable way the want of a once dominant presence seems to make itself felt, no other change is visible. “Clytie” occupies that central place which in past years has been held by “The Hesperides,” by “Rispah,” by “Captive Andromache,” and by many another heroine of ancient story and modern fantasy: another illustrious artist is marked “PRA” in the catalogue; but for the rest the stream of succession and of change flows almost unperceived. In one way, indeed, a remarkable innovation confronts the visitor. Even before he enters the doors a new work of art of imposing proportions meets his eye. For the first time a sculptor has been permitted to exhibit not merely an equestrian statue but one with all its mounting of elaborate pedestal and sculptured emblematic figures. As no room could contain a work well over 30 feet in height, it stands in the middle of the quadrangle this “Field Marshall Lord Roberts” (Frederick Slee Roberts 1832 -1914, soldier of Empire, and hero of the Victorian enlisted man) by Mr Harry Bates (Harry Bates ARA, 1850-1899, trained at the Lambeth School of Art, the Royal Academy schools, and under Rodin in Paris) - visible to any who chooses to turn in from Piccadilly, the quadrangle being to all intents and purposes a public place. When four or five years ago Mr Bates his “Hounds in Leash” which now stands outside Lord Wemyss’s (Francis Wemyss Charteris Douglas 1818-1914 ninth Earl, onetime Lord of the Treasury) house in Scotland, it was admitted that he had passed out of the stage of promise into that of performance; but this great statue of Lord Roberts represents a very great advance from the point then reached. It is, in the first place, a step in return to the methods of the Italian Renaissance in the matter of equestrian statues, it realizes the truth that the pedestal is as much a part of the monument as the effigy itself; that there should be an organic connection between the parts; that the ornament should not only have meaning, but that it should form a part of an architectural whole. It succeeds, in a word, just where Boehm’s Wellington fails, for Boehm made the mistake of adopting a pedestal of the most impossible of all materials, polished granite, and his four soldiers stand stiff and isolated at the corners with no relation to the background. As in Mr Onslow Ford’s “Lord Strathnairn” in Knightsbridge but with more elaborate detail. Mr Bates, who is evidently going to employ some manageable stone, makes his pedestal a real portion of the work of art, the symbolic figures of Britannia in front and of India at the rear, and the reliefs of the marching soldiers, contribute in a free and natural manner to the support of the statue. The latter is full of life, and if to European eyes the horse is a little too small, Mr Bates is doubtless strictly accurate in his representation of an Arab. In the two most famous of all equestrian statues Donatello’s “Gartamolata” at Padua, and Verrochio’s “Collooui” at Venice - the majority of the effect is increased by the size of the horses; the man appears to have at his control a living instrument of enormous force. In the statue before us what is suggested is not so much force as speed and spirit.

We may leave the sculpture for the present (and indeed the galleries themselves contain little in this department that is of commanding importance) and we may turn to the pictures, speaking in this first article of the exhibition as a whole, and what to the public at large will appear to be the principal pictures of the year, and leaving for future occasions more detailed notices of many things of merit which do not so certainly draw attention at first sight. We have named the “Clytie” : it must be spoken of more at length, not only honoris caused; but because those for whom the late President’s art had the great attraction which it undoubtedly possessed for many serious minds, this unfinished picture will certainly take rank among the most important and beautiful of his achievements. Although entirely painted when the hand of his fatal illness was upon the artist, it shows no weakness or indecision, and though Lord Leighton had intended to carry it further, the composition, the sky, and the main parts of the figure are complete. In a note on the picture recently issued by The Fine Art Society, who are to publish an engraving from it, a writer described an interview with Lord Leighton only a week before his death, in which he speaks of his intention : “You know the story. I have shown the goddess in adoration before the setting sun whose last rays are permeating her whole being. With upraised arms she is entreating her beloved one not to forsake her. A flood of golden light saturates the scene, and, to carry out my intention, I have changed the model’s hair from black to auburn. To the right is a small altar on which is an offering of fruit, and beyond it I shall show the feet of a statue of Apollo.” He adds with a certain satisfaction that “Orchardson has said that I have never done anything finer than the sky” ; and certainly it may be admitted that he never did anything more vigorous . Nor did he ever draw arms, hands, and hair, with more grace or mastery, while the attitude is the natural attitude of passion, spontaneous and unforced. Hard irony of fate that a man should be cut off in the midst of a work so strong, so much alive as this! After Lord Leighton comes his successor, and everyone will naturally ask Sir John Millais, in this, the first year of his Presidency has done justice to his genius or his reputation. He sends four portraits and a figure subject: the last a “A Forerunner” to be regarded as in some sense as a companion to the “St Stephen” of last year. There have been more interesting Millais than this single almost nude figure of the young saint holding in his hand a small wooden cross which is to be the symbol aiding his prophetic preaching ; but in the painting much of the old mastery, the old power of making the brush answer to the thought, is still visible. The portraits are a head of Mr Stanley Leighton (111) ; a half length of Sir Richard Quain (356) - a very characteristic picture of a noticeable man, though in some parts very slightly painted, and certainly not a slavish likeness ; a little boy in the “Bubbles” manner, the child of Lord Manners (151) ; and, chief of all, a large half length of the Marchioness of Tweeddale. This last is a most imperial - looking portrait occupying, as its due, the centre position opposite Lord Leighton’s picture, and seeming to preside with much state and dignity over the whole room. The face is modelled with great care and even subtlety, and the black evening dress, the cloak, and the jewels - all very completely realized - have been painted with a force and understanding that is rare indeed. It would be very interesting to hang such a picture side by side with the lady by Carolus-Duran (Charles-Emile Auguste Carolus-Duran 1838-1913 distinguished French portrait painter, and master of Sargent), which now hangs in the Champs de Mars; but who should decide the prize in such a contest? There is, however, another portrait in the room which is even more remarkable, for, regarded as a piece of decoration, it should probable be placed first and highest of the British portraits of our generation. This is the great tribute that Mr Orchardson has paid to his fellow - countryman “David Stewart, Esq, of Banchory, Lord Provost of Aberdeen, 1889 - 1895” (183); a picture which thrones it at the end of the room and almost seems to suggest a Venetian Doge rather than a Scotch Lord Provost. Nothing more unlike the ordinary Corporation picture, the ordinary mayor or alderman, can be conceived, and we may add that this very distinguished gentleman in his crimson robes puts to shame the crude scarlet of the Judges at the other end of the room, and makes all the eminent doctors and country gentlemen on the walls look a little common. On a canvas large enough to give room for the carpet and table covering that he loves, Mr Orchardson has placed his sitter in a chair and painted him at full - length, he is completely enveloped in a fur bordered rose - crimson robe ; his left hand holds papers and his right hangs just a little undecidedly, over the arm of the chair. The gray but still vigorous head is placed in a strong light, almost too strong for the general effectiveness of the picture, which would possess more unity if this portion of it were slightly toned down. But this is all that the severest judgement could say against the picture,, which will certainly be much discussed and which ought to have considerable effect upon official portraiture in England. Everybody knows how fine an artist Mr Orchardson is, how well he draws, and with what delicate gradations he brings out his colour effects, but his principal pictures until now have been open to the objection that always attaches to history painting - that it is essentially arbitrary. There is nothing arbitrary in this Portrait of the Royal Provost; beyond all question it is the man himself, but so conceived and so placed on the canvas as to make of the work a complete picture.

We have to return to the first room to find another of the chief portraits of the year. Brilliant as Mr Sargent’s work has been for many years past, surprising as has been his penetration of character and the Velasquez - like effects that he has known how to produce with simple means, he has this year made a great stride forward, especially in the “Mr Chamberlain” (Politician, Joseph “Radical Joe” Chamberlain 1836-1914) of Room 1 (04) and the “Portrait of a Lady of Room” V (402). In painting the Secretary for the Colonies Mr Sargent had to contend not only with the difficulties of the face, but the scanty opportunities which have to be reckoned with by an artist when he paints a very busy man; and it may also be added, that there also exists a very well - known and excellent portrait of Mr Chamberlain by the late Frank Holl. It is the barest truth to say that he has triumphed over all these obstacles. The portrait, from a centre in the First Room, stands out with astonishing reality; it is life itself. Very admirable too, is the ”Mrs Ian Hamilton” (129) in Room 11, and still better is the “Portrait of a Lady” in Room V - a well - known foreign lady who wears pearls of historic celebrity, the rendering of which by a few wavy strokes of the brush offers a typical example of Mr Sargent’s method of painting and of his surprising accuracy of hand. Work like this makes almost everything else in the room seem ordinary - makes the Impressionists look hasty and the precisionists look laboured.

The white evening dress and the crimson cape that hangs from one shoulder join with the background in an admirable scheme of colour, in the midst of which a single great emerald shines out with wonderful effectiveness. The one fault that we should venture to find is that the peacock on the lacquer screen is a little to prominent. Mr Sargent, as everybody knows is an American, though he has long been settled here and is now an Associate of the Academy. It is not pleasing to our national vanity to have to say that, if this picture is the cleverest thing in the exhibition, the next cleverest - we do not say the most beautiful or the most satisfactory - is the work of another American Mr E A Abbey, one of the new Associates. For this we have to move forward to the Seventh Room, where, on the centre right hand wall hangs the Shakespearian picture “Richard, Duke of Gloucester, and the Lady Anne” (616). The scene is that amazing one of the wooing of Anne at the funeral of King Henry, when the crook-back Richard of Gloucester offers a ring for her finger or, if she refuses a sword for his own breast. Mr Abbey, like the excellent illustrator he is, has entered into the spirit of Shakespeare, and has caught and rendered the non-human character of the Shakespearian Richard with curious success; while as for colour he is primarily inspired by stained glass and old illuminated manuscripts, there is a weird originality about the black and red which is entirely modern. Richard’s scarlet cloak fills the centre of the picture with marvellous completeness and forcible effect, while the long robes and the train of Anne, the black hoods of the men-at-arms in the procession, the mass of half shrouded faces, the gleam of the pikes and the halberds complete what is a real tour de force of colour. Perhaps the whole wants atmosphere, but the lack of it, Mr Abbey might say, helps the tapestry like and heraldic effect of the whole.

Of artists of the older standing who paint subject pictures, there are many who have not fallen below the expected high standard; Mr Alma-Tadema, for instance, Mr Frank Dicksee, Mr Henry Woods (Henry Woods RA, 1846-1921), Mr Seymour Lucas (John Seymour Lucas RA, 1849-1923) ; Mr Herkomer with his large scene of village life, Mr Burgess (John Bagnold Lucas RA, 1830-1897), with a pathetic variant on his Spanish themes: while Mr J W Waterhouse and Mr Stanhope Forbes send very good work, though perhaps not their very best. The two pictures of Mr Alma-Tadema a small one in the Second Room and one of a larger size in his accustomed place in Room 111 strike the familiar note in the familiar perfect way; indeed it may be doubted whether the artist has ever painted light gauzy dresses and marble and bronze in a more magical fashion than in the picture called “The Coliseum” (291) . The title is not quite happy for the seen lies outside the Coliseum, and has nothing to do with the thronged benches or the fights of gladiators or “Habet” or “Ave Caesar!” A group of ladies and children are in a balcony watching the people passing below; just beyond them is a wonderful bronze statue, and in the background rises the distant Coliseum, not a frowning ruin as it now is, but gay with its awning and the hundreds of gleaming statues in its niches. In the smaller picture called “Whispering Noon” (104), the eye rests happily on a background of blue flowers, delightful in their harmony, but not more delightful than the tiny Scotch blue, but not more delightful than the artist’s accomplished daughter, Miss Anna Alma-Tadema has painted on a miniature circular panel, to be discovered by diligent searchers in the Ninth Room (721). Near the latter, by the way, is “A Carol” (741) - in point of technique the most perfect thing that Mrs Alma-Tadema has ever done. Assuredly this family is very strong this year!

Mr Frank Dicksee, again, is at his very best - not so much in the needlessly painful “Confession” (340), but in the brilliant piece of decoration called “The Mirror” (202). What it means, this very intense lady, with the dark hair gazing at herself in a classical hand-mirror, scarcely appears, nor does it much matter; it is enough that she is comely and that she is clothed in the most wonderful draperies and seated in by far the most wonderful chair that are to be found in the whole Academy. In what chateau of the Renaissance , in what museum, in what Aladdin’s palace, did Mr Dicksee find that chair of chased steel and mother-of-pearl? If in none, if he evolved it out of his own consciousness , it does him infinite credit as a designer, while in point of execution he has certainly never equalled the painting of this or the soft and myriad-hued in which his princess has robed herself. Standing before this picture, and speaking purely of its imitative qualities, an experience foreign critic was heard to say, “The English school is leaving the French far behind in its exact following of nature:” a true judgement, though, of course, a painter who starts with Mr Dicksee’s ideals be the last to say that the exact following of nature constitutes the whole of art. Mr Henry Woods has two pictures - a little scene of Giudecca in Room 1X, and exactly opposite Mr Dicksee’s, “A Venetian Christening Party” (298), much larger in scale than the work we are accustomed to see from his hand. This latter is full of his admirable qualities, and as a colour harmony is delightful: But Mr Woods has not only idealized his beauties (who are no means as common in the Venice of today as this group of painters would have us believe), but he has surely taken a slight liberty with Venetian customs. Babies there are invariably christened within 24 hours of their birth, or at 48 at the outside, and the Mamma naturally does not appear. However this realistic style of criticism might very soon carry us too far, and we may very well be content to enjoy Mr Wood’s pretty group, with its dexterous composition and admirable drawing, without too pedantically inquiring as to whether the history is right. The little picture by Mr Poynter, which hangs next to this is a study of Horace’s Neobule, the heroine of the Miserarum est; a very lovelorn heroine, rather wan with thinking of her Hebrus, but, of course, very daintily painted.

Mr Stanhope Forbes, whose work is to be found in Room V, has again occupied himself with those problems of half-light and dim interiors which have engaged his brush so often of late, though “The New Calf” (397) is without the centre of glowing light that marked “The Forging of the Anchor.” The title explains itself; a farmer’s family are paying a visit to a stable to see the new arrival. The animals are excellent, and the lighting of the difficult subject extremely clever; but one can hardly rid oneself of the feeling that here, as in his last year’s picture of “The Quarry Team,” Mr Forbes has adopted a scale far too large for his subject. By way of vivid contrast the vis-à-vis of this picture is “The Birth of Love,” by Mr Solomon (Solomon J Solomon RA, 1860-1927), one of the new Associates; a full-sized Venus rising from the sea with flying cupids whispering to her (452). Like all Mr Solomon’s work, it is effective, but the effect has been reached without much exercise of mind, which is even more certainly the case with the conspicuous work of a rather similar artist in the Sixth Room, Mr Arthur Hacker’s “The Cloister or the World” (478). These facile exercises on the obvious, suggesting not so much life as “living pictures,” become a little wearisome after a time. Much better, but still not so completely successful as his recent single-figure pictures had lead us to hope, is Mr T C Gotch’s “Alleluia” (874), which is said to have been bought by the Council out of the Chantrey Bequest. This group of half a score of little damsels beautifully clothed and singing praises in concert makes a very pleasant decorative effect; but the faces and the open mouths are without music or movement, and the whole seems a little haphazard. There was so much that was original and now in Mr Gotch’s “ Child Enthroned”- if that is the correct title - a couple of years ago that one hoped for something very considerable indeed from his hand - a hope that is not quite fulfilled in this new picture. The little work of Mr Seymour Lucas in this same room “A Story of the Spanish Main” (316), suggested by “Westward Ho!” is painted in a more familiar key, , and is as strong and careful as this artist’s painting has always been. It leads us back by a certain natural affinity, to Mr Gow’s clever picture in the Third Room “The Crossing of the Bidasson : Peninsular War” (870) The figures are on a smaller scale than usual, and there is more landscape; as often before men and horses are a little too spick-and-span for the rough work of campaigning, but the drawing is as faultless as of old. Close by hangs one of the few remaining subject-pictures that we need mention today, Mr J W Waterhouse’s “Pandora” (271), simpler in conception than some of his work has been, but none the less charming in colour and design. A little further is one of Mr J M Swan’s ( John Macallan Swan RA, 1847-1910), exquisite small pictures; one of those that irresistibly proclaims the born artist. “The Lion-Hunter (254) is a tragedy on a tiny canvas; the green-eyed lioness drags away her dead cub, but not before she has had her revenge, for the Zulu who has slain it has himself been slain, and lies there upon his shield his body shining like bronze. Still more exquisite is the same artist’s bright little picture “The Sirens,” unfortunately thrust away into a corner of the Fourth Room (308) - a picture which, though the anatomy of the main figure is a little odd, is a marvel of subtle colour, atmosphere, and distances. Mr Solomon should study this work before he paints another Venus.

We have spoken of several of the principal portraits, but there are others which arrest attention on first visit and ought not to be passed over. Amongst the Academicians, Messrs Ouless, Fildes, Herkomer, and Wells have been very busy, and Mr Richmond sends one portrait. Somewhat slight in execution as they are, there is an elegance of their own in Mr Fildes’s portraits of ladies, especially in such a one as “The Shepherdess : A Portrait of Mrs Stuart M Samuel” (16) while the painting of the dress in the “Portrait of Mrs Frank Bibby” (99) is brilliant, though the hands leave a good deal to be desired. Of Mr Herkomer’s numerous portraits, that of “Dr J L Williams (283) is perhaps the most sympathetic; the eyes especially are full of expression. The doctors, one may remark, have it all their own way in the Academy this year; Sir Joseph Lister ( Joseph Lister, 1827-1912, who introduced the antiseptic system, which revolutionised surgery, improved survival rates, a man to whom we should all be grateful), Sir Richard Quain (1816-1898, physician-extraordinary to Queen Victoria, later president of the General medical Council), Mr Treves, Dr Williams, and several others have driven the bishops well above the line and have skied the judges. Mr Ouless is at his best in his picture of the most eminent of this profession; his head of Sir Henry Acland (Henry Wentworth Acland, 1815-1898, professor of Medicine), whose face at last seems to show some signs of times, is a quite admirable portrait (600), and there is excellent work and no mannerism in the half-length “Federic J Harrison, Esq.” (207) Mr Wells has painted several ladies, but the most observed of his portraits will be that of Sir Michael Hicks-Beach in the highly ornate robes of Chancellor of the Exchequer (292). On the same wall, above the President’s picture, is Mr A S Cope’s (Sir Arthur Stockdale Cope, RA, 1857-1940), full length of the German Emperor in a scarlet uniform - a good straightforward piece of work, but not especially distinguished. Mr Lavery, the Scottish artist whose “Lady in Black” (now at the Champ de Mars) was so justly admired last year, has not been so happy in his subject on the present occasion; and Mr Harris Brown’s clever portrait of the Bishop of Peterborough is most unkindly skied (439). Very sober and sound is the work in Mr William Carter’s (William Carter RBA, 1863-1939), “Sir John Hoskyns” (341), very intelligent Mr Lorimer’s (John Henry Lorimer 1856-1936)“Sir Joseph Lister” (937). A newer portrait painter who made a mark about a year ago, is Mr Walter Osborne (Walter Frederick Osborne RHA, 1859-1903), of Dublin; he has gone forward this year, with his two half-lengths of ladies in Room. (979-980), and still more with his lifelike presentation in Room X1 of Mr Walter Armstrong, the Director of the National Gallery of Ireland (860). Last, but by no means least, comes a foreign painter of great distinction, M Benjamin Constant, who sends three portraits - one of a lady , “Madame L G” (894), one of Sir Julian Pauncefote (889), and one, well placed in the Second Room of M De Blowitz (189). This last is a work of astonishing cleverness - a perfect likeness, with that happy union between the momentary and the permanent elements in a face which is the chief object of the portrait painter to achieve.

Of the landscapes and sea-pieces we must defer any full account till another opportunity, though not because they are in any way less interesting of less abundant than of old. On the contrary, Mr Hook, Mr Colin Hunter, Mr MacWhirter, Mr Davies, Mr Ridley Corbet, Mr Mark Fisher, Mr Alfred Parsons, Mr Waterlow, Mr Alfred East, Mr David Murray, Mr William Stott, and many others have seldom been in greater force, while the new men are very plentiful and some of the new ladies are much in evidence - witness Miss Kemp-Welch with her excellent group of horses in the New Forest. (907) The upright shore scene of Mr Peter Graham “Beetling Sea-crags” (329) is a good example of a method that is very familiar and always popular. A charming Scotch scene is that of the new RA Mr Boughton - “A Sportsman on the Highland River” (228). The pictures of animals are, perhaps, fewer than usual; what occur to us as demanding notice now are only the “Study of Leopards” by Mr Swan, and Mr Briton Riviere’s capital pictures of dogs. To all these, as to the landscapes, we may hope to return.

Notes

Many of the artists mentioned in this interesting article have already been featured on VAB. Where that is the case I have not included biographical details regarding them. Where lesser known artists have not (yet) been featured on my site, I have added their dates, and other information which would fit into the format. In the case of portraits I have also added some information regarding distinguished sitters, and their dates. I have not been able to identify the author of this article.

PHR

14 March 2006.