Rival Cities

The Speaker, 15 October 1892, pages 466-467, 1,995 words

Manchester and Liverpool are rival cities. They have matched themselves one against the other, and the prize they are striving for is which shall be the great art-centre of the North of England. The artistic rivalry of the two cities has become obvious of late years. Manchester bids against Liverpool, Liverpool bids against Manchester; the results of the bidding are discussed, and so an interest in art is created. This is very charming; and if the money spent on art were wisely spent, worthy collections would be formed, and much good would be done. It was Manchester that first threw her strength into this artistic rivalry. It began with the decorations which Manchester commissioned Mr. Madox Brown to paint for the town hall. Manchester's choice of an artist was an excellent and an original one. Mr. Madox Brown was not an Academician; he was not known to the general public; he merely commanded the respect of his brother-artists. The painting of these pictures was the work of years; the placing of every one was duly chronicled in the press, and it was understood in London that Manchester was entirely satisfied. But lo! on the placing in position of the last picture but one of the series, an unseemly dispute was raised by some members of the Corporation, and it was seriously debated in committee whether the best course to pursue would not be to pass a coat of whitewash over the offending picture. It is impossible to comment adequately on such barbarous conduct; perhaps at no distant date it will be proposed to burn some part of Mrs. Ryland's perfect gift – the Althorp Library. There may be some books in that library which do not meet with some councillor's entire approval. Barbarism on one side, and princely generosity on the other, combined to fix attention upon Manchester, and, in common with a hundred others, I found myself thinking on the subject of the relation of Manchester and then of Liverpool to art, and speculating on the direction that these new influences were taking.

The August heats failed to drive me beyond the four-mile radius, and it was a long time before I could decide on so arduous an undertaking as a journey all the way to the North of England. But the journey, once undertaken, soon became a long delight; and if it were not my business to write upon art, I would tell about red autumn in the Midlands, how the moon rose over the wolds in Derbyshire, and how, hanging like a lantern out of the sky, it lighted us into Manchester. But my business is with art, and not with Nature; and waiving all comparisons between these two inseparable friends – or, shall I say, foes? – I will apply myself at once to the task of telling my story of the art movement in the North of England.

There are two exhibitions now open in Manchester and Liverpool – the permanent and the annual. The permanent collections must first occupy our attention, for it is through them that we shall learn what sort and kind of artistic taste obtains in the North. At first sight these collections present no trace of any distinct influence. They seem to be simply miscellaneous purchases, made from every artist whose name happens to be the fashion; and considered as permanent illustrations of the various fashions that have prevailed in Bond Street during the last ten years, these collections are curious and perhaps valuable documents in the history of art. But is there any real analogy between a dressmaker's shop and a picture gallery? Plumes come into and go out of fashion; but then plumes are not so expensive as pictures, and it seems to be hardly worth while to buy pictures for the sake of the momentary fashion in painting which they represent. But Manchester and Liverpool do not seem to have, as yet, grasped the essential fact that it is impossible to form an art gallery by sending to London for the latest fashions. Now and then the advice of some gentleman knowing more about art than his colleagues has found expression in the purchase of a work of art; but the picture that hangs next to the fortuitous purchase tells how the taste of the cultured individual was overruled at the next meeting by the ignorant taste of the uncultured mass. I could give many, but two instances must suffice to explain and to prove my point. The Liverpool Gallery has been fortunate enough to secure what is, perhaps, Mr. Albert Moore’s most beautiful picture – three women, one sleeping and two sitting on a yellow couch, in front of a starlit and moonlit sea. This picture was exhibited in the Academy, I think, two years ago, and in the same Academy there was exhibited a picture by Mr. Bartlett – a picture of some gondoliers rowing or punting or sculling (I am ignorant of the aquatic habits of the Venetians) for a prize. Strange as it will seem, the Liverpool Gallery has been guilty of the anomaly of not only purchasing but even hanging these pictures side by side. Such divagations of taste make the visitor smile, and he thinks perforce of the accounts of the stormy meetings of councillors that find their way into the papers. Artistic appreciation of these two pictures in the same individual is not possible. What should we think of a man who said that he did not know which he preferred – a poem by Tennyson, or a story out of the London Journal? Catholicity of taste does not mean an absolute abandonment of all discrimination; and some thread of intellectual kinship must run through the many various manifestations of artistic temperament which go to form a collection of pictures. Things may be various, without being discrepant. But the collections I saw at Manchester and Liverpool are not reasonably varied, like our National Gallery; but in the main discordant and discrepant conglomerations, uninformed by presiding judgment.

The Manchester Gallery has purchased Lawson's beautiful picture, "The Deserted Garden"; but Manchester has also purchased Mr. Fildes' picture of a group of Venetian girls – a picture of girls sitting on steps, the principal figure in a blue dress with an orange handkerchief round her neck – the simple I may say child-like – scheme of colour, beyond which Mr. Fildes never seems to stray. Now the Lawson and the Fildes agree no better than do the Moore and the Bartlett; and such flagrant opposition of taste merely make a gallery look absurd, and hold up the corporation of Manchester to ridicule. Truly, the rival cities have got their galleries into such a muddle that I hardly know what to advise. I do not like to joke on so serious a subject, but the only thing that occurs to me which they might do would be to toss up which should go for Fildes and Bartlett, and which for Lawson and Moore. Then some measure of harmony would be attained, and one city would be going the wrong road, the other the right road; at present both are going zigzag.

But notwithstanding the multifarious tastes displayed in these collections, and the artistic chaos they represent, we can, when we examine them closely, detect an influence which, though it fluctuates, abides; and this influence is that of our discredited Academy. The Manchester and Liverpool collections are merely weak reflections of the Chantrey Fund collection. In neither can I detect anywhere local taste or temperament. Now, if the object of these cities be to adopt the standard of taste that obtains in Burlington House, to abdicate their own taste – if they have any – and to fortify themselves against all chance of acquiring a taste in art, it would clearly be better for the two corporations to hand over the task of acquiring pictures to the Academicians, who will gladly accept the responsibility, and who will administer the trust reposed in them with the same honesty and straightforwardness as they have displayed in the administration of the moneys which the unfortunate Chantrey entrusted to their care.

A word about this Chantrey Fund, the maladministration of which is the continual talk among artists. Like many another man, Mr. Chantrey desired to benefit art. He therefore left his fortune – a sum of four thousand a year – to the Academy, on the understanding that it should be spent on the encouragement of art. About Mr. Chantrey's intentions there is not the slightest doubt; he wished his money to be spent on works of art. Will anyone say that the Academy has administered the trust according to the desires of the testator? They have used Mr. Chantrey's money for the maintenance of impecunious Academicians, and the advertisement of the art in which a Bond Street dealer has invested his money. The Chantrey pictures hang in the Kensington, and nearly everyone spells the word – j-o-b. Most of the pictures are by Academicians, and nearly always the worst pictures they have ever painted have been bought for this collection. Did Mr. Herkomer ever paint worse than the picture he is represented by in the Chantrey collection? Different opinions we may hold regarding the work of this painter, but everyone will admit that this picture is his worst picture – a picture for which it would be difficult to find a sale in the open market. Again, does anyone think that the Academy was influenced only by artistic considerations when it purchased the "Pool of London"? No one thinks such a thing. And so the administration of the Chantrey Bequest Fund may be described as an annual fraud committed on a dead man.

This sowing of evil seed is an irreparable evil; none can tell where the wind will carry it, and unexpected crops are found far and wide. I had thought that the harm occasioned to art by the Academy and its corollary, the Chantrey Fund, began and ended in London. But in Manchester and Liverpool I was speedily convinced of my mistake. Art in the provinces is little more than a reflection of the Academy. The absurdly miscellaneous character of the Manchester and Liverpool collections is owing – first, to the influence of the Academy, and then to the conditions under which those collections have been formed. The majority of the pictures represent the taste of men who have no knowledge of art, and who, to disguise their ignorance, strive to follow the advice which the Academy gives to provincial England in the pictures which it purchases under the terms – or, rather, under its own reading of the terms – of the Chantrey Bequest Fund. One of the first things I heard in Manchester was that the committee had been fortunate enough to secure the nude figure which Mr. Hacker exhibited this year in the Academy. And on my failing to express unbounded admiration for the purchase, I was asked if I was aware that the .Academy had purchased "The Annunciation" for the Chantrey Bequest Fund. "Surely," said a member of the committee, "you agree that our picture is the better of the two." I answered: "Poor Mr. Chantrey's money always goes to buy the worst, or as nearly as possible the worst, picture the artist ever painted – the picture for which the artist would never be likely to find a purchaser."

To conclude, I repeat that what impressed me most in Liverpool and Manchester was the extent of the influence exercised by that dishonest mercantile bourgeois institution known as the Royal Academy. And I felt, even more than I had felt before, that the real mission of the art-critic is to discredit this shameless make-believe in the eyes of the public. We want to create various centres of taste and culture, we want to decentralise art, we want free trade in art, and none of these things shall we attain until the Academy is destroyed. G.M.