The National Gallery

The Speaker, 2 September 1893, pages 244-245, 1,335 words

Sir John Hibbert replied very well to Mr. Whitmore's impertinent suggestion of interference in the management of the National Gallery. The post of director was not yet vacant; when it became vacant, the trustees would be consulted. Mr. Whitmore was mistaken in supposing that the duties of the director were confined to the purchase of pictures; that although only two pictures were bought last year, a larger number might be purchased next year or the year after, and so on. I have since learnt that Mr. Whitmore is one of the members for Chelsea. Many of his constituents are therefore artists. These, I do sincerely hope, will not allow their member's conduct to pass without protest. I hope that none will neglect to write him at least one letter. I would approve of a deputation with banners; of calls early in the morning, after an all-night sitting; of calls late in the evening, about eight o'clock, as he was sitting down or going out to dinner. But make not the persecution needlessly harsh, or prolong it until Mr. Whitmore resigns his seat and turns art critic. When he has endured the purgatory of frequent visitors and numerous letters, I would suggest that a resolution be passed at the Chelsea Arts Club calling upon Mr. Whitmore to consult "D.S.M." before asking questions regarding art in the House of Commons. "D.S.M." is at present at Dieppe, painting pictures for his exhibition in the autumn, but during this absence "D.S.M." will entrust to me the task of "coaching" Mr. Whitmore. We want a member of Parliament who will bring artistic questions before the House. But the M.P. who makes art the province of his oratory must be under our command. We will undertake to equip him with buckler and spear, and direct the plan of attack. There is much to be done. There is the higher sewage. Interrupting myself for a moment, I will take this opportunity to answer a correspondent who is in doubt as to what I mean by the higher sewage. South Kensington, of

course – a most interesting question for an enterprising M.P.

But my readers are waiting to hear who I think ought to be appointed director of the National Gallery when Sir Frederick Burton resigns. Shall it be Mr. Poynter, Mr. Armstrong, or Mr. Sidney Colvin? Some critics have argued that Mr. Poynter should not be appointed because he is an artist. It has always seemed to me that artists know more about painting than anyone else, and I have never been able to understand how it is possible to criticise work done in a medium in which the critic has made no practical experiments. The fact that Mr. Poynter is of the Academy seems to me a more sensible reason for not appointing him director of the National Gallery. The Academy and South Kensington have brought disaster on English art, and very humbly I will venture to suggest to the trustees the wisdom of keeping the National Gallery distinct from the Academy. Think of Sir Frederick Leighton with his knowledge of French and Italian – if our search were sufficiently diligent we could find a little German too amid his accomplishments – his sculpture, his Moorish house, his florid oratory, his picturesque appearance – see him driving down Kensington in a victoria, looking like a Venus, an Aurora, a sort of damaged Guido Reni, realising in an attitude an entire art and much interesting psychology – and say if this appeal to popular prejudice is not too flagrant, too – shall we say irresistible? Sir Frederick is surely irresistible! Who goes to the Government with any slight artistic project without being referred to Sir Frederick ? Sir Frederick pooh-poohs it and it is heard of no more. Or should the projector send first to the Moorish house, he is snubbed in classic phrases and abundant soap. Sir Frederick has done much for the institution of which he is the head; with French, Italian, and gorgeous manners he supports its tottering walls. I pity the man who comes after him for instance, a mere painter like Mr. Orchardson. Under the guidance of this gorgeous personality the Academy has absorbed all that is rich, ostentatious, brand new, ignorant, and commonplace. This rapacious institution has devoured the provinces – provincial picture galleries are merely continuations of the Academy. One thing only – the National Gallery – has escaped the pestilential taint; almost, I should say, for the "Derby Day" hangs there still. But the Academy has, on the whole, failed to make its influence felt in the National Gallery. And the Academy hungers for the National Gallery; it watches, it licks its chaps, it jumps again and again, hoping that the tempting morsel has fallen within reach. There was the proposal that Mr. Tate should build the new wing, fill it with his pictures, and call it the British Luxembourg. And only a few months have passed, and it is proposed that when the post of director of the National Gallery is vacant it shall be filled by an Academician. The Academy will strain itself to secure this election. Sir Frederick will drive all over Mayfair in his victoria, he will talk to duchesses in French and Italian, dinners will be given in the Moorish house, and as the guests stand round the fountain, described by how many interviewers, Mr. Agnew will tell the story of the lost Gainsborough.

That the National Gallery should be kept separate from the Academy I regard as a matter of vital importance. But should Mr. Poynter resign his R.A.-ship, and forswear very solemnly and very publicly the Academy and all its infamous practices, I am not as sure as some folk seem to be that the real objection to Mr. Poynter would not be removed. For it does not follow because an artist is narrow in his practice of an art that he should be narrow in his appreciations. I may be wrong, but I can imagine myself getting on very well with Mr. Poynter. Mr. Poynter is neither an ignorant nor a vulgar man; he is quite different from Herkomer; Fildes, Leader, Dickaee, and Goodall. True that bis work never was very interesting, but it is only revolting when he paints modern gentlemen out shooting. Many worse pictures have been painted than "Atalanta's Race," and his picture in the Chantrey Fund collection is very far from being the worst. He would not do as badly in the National Gallery as some folk imagine. He would make no grave mistakes, and would leave the Gallery pretty well as he found it. If thirty years of management were divided between the three – Mr. Poynter, Mr. Armstrong, and Mr. Sidney Colvin – I hardly think that the aspect of the Gallery would be materially altered or advanced. Not one of the three would risk the slightest adventure. A few well-authenticated specimens of Dutch and Italian masters would be added, repetitions of pictures already in the Gallery; perhaps an attempt would be made to pacify the patriotic dealers who write to the papers pointing out that English art is neglected at Trafalgar Square.

I will not attempt to conceal from my readers that I should like to be director of the National Gallery, and that I fully believe that I should perform the duties of director exceedingly well. For I have ideas how the circle of our collection might be completed. But I am aware that there is no slightest possibility of my being appointed director. What a howl the suggestion would raise in certain circles! So perhaps I cannot do better than to present my ideas to those who have none, but who have, what is better, excellent chances of obtaining the appointment. But my ideas on this grave subject are too vast for the last paragraph of an article – I must postpone them till next week. G.M.