A Family of Art

 When I started this post, I was sure I was just writing about one artist who had an artistic father. I have a bit of a weakness for parent-child artistic duos (there are a surprising amounts, or maybe it isn't that surprising?) so was delighted to find one of my favourite Victorian pet portraitists had a son who painted actual people.  Turns out, that was only the tip of the iceberg. Let's start with how I got dragged in to this...

The Lonely Life (1899) Hugh Goldwin Rivière

The above picture appeared at the Royal Academy in 1899 with the following quote from Christina Rossetti: 'I, a Princess, King descended, decked with jewels, gilded, drest, Would rather be a peasant with her baby at her breast, For all I shine so like the sun, and am purple like the West.' This is the opening stanza of 'A Royal Princess' and if I was unkind I would summarise it as 'ouch, my diamond shoes are pinching!' but it is a thoughtful poem about the isolation of station (in the same vein see The Gilded Cage (1901-2) by Evelyn de Morgan and "What a comforting thing to know" from 1976's The Slipper and the Rose).  It was the Christina Rossetti quote that dragged in me, as I am always on the lookout for Pre-Raphaelite adjacent works and artists, but was delighted to find that Hugh is the son of Briton Riviere, who painted this...

Sympathy (1877) Briton Rivière

Briton Rivière is one of the greatest animal painters of the nineteenth century and after trying out various other subjects, settled on dogs as his speciality.  The above image has graced many a jigsaw from the 1970s and I think people are undoubtedly familiar with his work, if not the man himself.  However, when researching Hugh, I was astonished that Briton was not his only artistic relative.  We also have his mother, Mary Alice Dobell...

Young Woman, Presumed to be Mary Alice Dobell (c,1860s) Briton Rivière

I'm guessing Mary met Briton through artistic circles as she was also a practising artist.  Also, the above image makes me put Briton in my 'Pre-Raphaelite adjacent' pile too. Hugh's grandfather William Rivière was the drawing master at Cheltenham College and his Great Uncle Henry, Great Grandfather Daniel and Great Aunt Fanny Rivière all were artists, especially in miniatures. That's a lot of art all in one family. Also, I must question the repeated use of the phrase 'of Huguenot descent' which is applied especially to Briton (because he has the most French-ish name, I'm guessing).  It is something his peers seemed to do and we continue but why? Was it really that sexy to be a French Protestant (well obviously) or was it the 'elevated crafts people' connotations? As far as I can see, Hugh's Great Great Great Great Grandfather Daniel De La Rivière was probably the French immigrant as his wife Rebecca is referred in records as 'Madame' in around 1750. Anyway, I find people who hang great store in their ancestry a little disconcerting and so I always respond with my Peruvian/Māori heritage (both of which are in my family tree). Kia ora, have a marmalade sandwich. I digress.

The reason my interest in Hugh Rivière was that a cursory search of the Royal Academy catalogues showed that he redefined prolific. A quick glance gave me works from 1893-1938, which is very impressive and although he made his money through portraits, he also produced other interesting work. I will start at the beginning with Briton (1840-1920) who married Mary Alice (1844-1931) in Cheltenham in 1867.  As I said above, Briton's father was art master and Briton attended, possibly meeting local artist Mary there. The couple moved to Addison Road in Kensington (not far from Leighton House for context) with three servants, so you know how wealthy we are to start with. Hugh was their first born, followed by Millicent (1870-1956), Clive (1873-1929), Philip (1874-1955), Evelyn (1876-1945), Theodora (1878-1936) and finally Bernard (1880-1953). By 1881, the Rivière family were living at 82 Finchley Road, which feels less grand but it might be all the modern buildings that have appeared.  Possibly they wanted to live closer to a petrol station and a Ladbrokes.

On 5th March 1889, Hugh entered the Royal Academy school aged 20, and debuted at the RA exhibition in 1893 with Mrs Henry Craik, hanging alongside Kate Perugini, John Everett Millais and John Singer Sargent.  As you will see, 1893 was an unusual year with only one painting in the exhibition, as the following year, Hugh returned with three pictures - The Argonauts and the Sirens (exhibited with an accompanying poem), Mrs Henry Colgate, Dorothy and Olive and Vivien and Grey, Children of George Porter Wornum.  I love seeing what became of the subject who are obviously from privileged backgrounds. Grey Wornum, for example, ended up a CBE and has his own Wikipedia entry. Mrs Henry Colgate, or Ethel Dobell Jolly Colgate was a friend and cousin of Hugh's.

At this point, I would like to give a debt of gratitude to Archive.org for having the Royal Academy picture supplements so that I can show you some of Hugh's works and I think by sheer numbers of entries, he tended to have something in there.  If the illustration is in black and white, that's where it's from. In 1895, his picture Sanctuary caused a bit of a storm, but not for the right reasons.  With shades of the criticism of Millais's Holy Family, the Hampstead News described the figures thus - 'one woman in particular is an anatomical monstrosity ... Whence did Mr Riviere obtain his model? ... the Academy is scarcely the place to exhibit such strange freaks.' Rude.

Undeterred by this harsh criticism, Hugh was back in 1896, this time with two portraits - Eustace, son of Walter Bourke and Miss Freda Langdon-Davies.  One of these two is easy - Freda married Hugh in 1897 so this might have acted as their engagement painting, which is lovely.  Eustace is a bit trickier as I suspect he is the son of  the 8th Earl of Mayo and therefore the same Eustace Bourke who died in Flanders in 1915.

Lady Kelvin (1896)

1897 was not only the year that Hugh and Freda got married, but also the year he had three portraits in the RA, including a presentation portrait.  If anyone can give me a proper explanation of that term, I'd be grateful but I'm guessing it's a special portrait done to be presented to the sitter or to an institution connected to the sitter?  Anyway, his presentation portrait of Lady Kelvin was much praised and now lives in the Hunterian at the University of Glasgow.  He also had portraits of the Rev. Canon Ainger, Master of the Temple (which made it to the RA pictorial booklet) and Wenefryde Tollemache Scott.  Miss Scott (1889-1975) was only a child when the picture was done but she now has her own Wikipedia entry, albeit mainly for being a Countess.

Alderman John Gulson (1898)

Despite having three pictures in the RA again in 1898 (a picture entitled The Lotus Land, a portrait of his father and a portrait of Lady Heygate) none of them seem to have made waves in the newspapers, unlike his portrait of Alderman Gulson, which had been commissioned for Coventry and now resides in their art gallery.

John Percival, Bishop of Hereford (1899)

Whilst he had another three pictures in the RA in 1899, the portraits of Mrs Emmett Barlow and the Bishop of Hereford did not get a look-in because everyone wanted to know about The Lonely Life. The Lady's Pictorial were enraptured and hoped this meant Hugh would be doing more lovely pictures rather than his portraits. I would answer on Hugh's behalf and say 'Yes, but there is more money in portraits,' even though he did sell The Lonely Life for £367/10s which is around £30K in today's money. He even showed The Lotus Land again, which drew more attention this time probably because of The Lonely Life (being also from a poem, this time Tennyson).

Sir Squire Bancroft (1900)

At the turn of the century, Hugh was back at the RA with another 3 pictures - In the Golden Days, A F Walter Esq and Sir Squire Bancroft. It was the last of these, a portrait of a popular actor, which got all the attention and it is easy to see why.  It is such a 'living' portrait (as The Sketch announced) and unsurprisingly now lives in the National Portrait Gallery. This also wasn't the last portrait Hugh would do of an actor.

The Garden of Eden (1901)

In 1901, Hugh had no less than 4 pictures in the RA, three of which were portraits (Thomas Graham Jackson RA, Mrs Lionel Dugdale and Henry Arthur Jones) and another piece of romantic fancy, The Garden of Eden. While the portraits were admired, people once more fell for Hugh's other work - 'all that there is of poetry in a simple love story is expressed in the picture,' gushed the Echo.

At Iffley (1902)

We are back down to three pictures in 1902, one of which was the presentation portrait of the academic Reginald Bosworth Smith (who retired from Harrow in 1901, so possibly the portrait was to mark that) and William Fearon, the priest-headmaster of Winchester College. Hugh's painting At Iffley showing the rowing team from Oxford, was shown in the Graphic and it was described as 'vivid' but not beautiful  by the St James Gazzette. A far more flattering review was given to the portrait of his wife, shown at the New Gallery in December, which the Lady's Pictorial described as a portrait 'to live with and grow fond of.'

1903 brought another batch of portraits including the above of Alex Kennedy, from University College, London. Also present was a portrait of Lady Walpole and a portrait of sisters Freda, Sibyl, Beachie and Olive, daughters of C. Lang-Davies.  This was, of course, a picture of Hugh's wife and her sisters Sibyl (1874-1959), Beatrice (1880-1973) and Olive (1885-1970).  As Beachie got married in 1904 (with Olive following in 1905), I'm guessing this might have been the impetus to have the sisters together once more, although the Liverpool Mercury commented that the portraits in the exhibition were all very nice but of limited interest unless you were part of the family. We'll come back to that point...

It's not a criticism of Hugh, but after a while, all these old white blokes start looking the same and my goodness, didn't the RA love them as 1904 brought us not only H W Worsley Taylor MP (which the Globe described as having 'ample sterling power') but also Rev Charles Silvester Horne (another MP), which was another presentation portrait. He also had a portrait of Lady Monk-Bretton, who I'm guessing was Ruth  Dodson.  Interestingly, it was the golden wedding anniversary portrait he did of Mr and Mrs John Morris of Capel, Dover that got the press coverage, as it was presented at a lavish party at the Hotel Metropole. Interestingly, his most exciting, non-bloke in a chair painting did not reach the RA...

A Libation to Olympus (1904)

This glorious piece was shown at the New Gallery, which was called the picture of the exhibition by The Times.  Given the popularity of his non-portraits, I find it interesting that he took this very well-received and obviously well-executed work to the New Gallery, where it received less attention than had it been at the RA but was maybe a bigger fish in the smaller pond.

Oh look, it's the Archbishop of Canterbury and yet another old white bloke in a chair. This one was the hit of the 1905 RA and another presentation portrait. The only other picture he did this RA was a portrait of Lady Critchett but obviously it was the Archbishop that made the booklet. He was all about the church in 1905, painting two portraits of the Bishop of Ripon, one in his robes and one in evening dress.  The one for the swimsuit round was obviously missed...

William Boyd Carpenter, Bishop of Ripon (1905)

The portrait of the Bishop of Ripon was the hit of the RA in 1906, where it was displayed alongside a portrait of Freda, Mrs Rivière, and an intriguing piece called Among the Aegeon Isles which was exhibited with lines from Shelley's 'Ode to the West Wind'.  Over at the New Gallery, Hugh also had a hit with this picture...

Dame Genevieve Ward (1906)

Genevieve Ward was an American soprano and technically not a Dame, but was made an honorary Dame Commander of the British Empire in 1921.  She began as a singer, but retired due to vocal difficulties, becoming a dramatic actress instead, hence why this painting is now owned by the Royal Shakespeare Theatre. 1906 was also a brilliant year for the Rivière family as Hugh and Freda welcomed their first daughter Nancy who I'm sure I read somewhere also became an artist but as her name is 'Nancy Briton Rivière' searching for her is damn near impossible as all you find is her grandfather.

1907 brought another three paintings to the RA, including this painting of the Countess of Leitrim in brown velvet. The newspapers reported that the Countess arrived at the private view, determined to see her portrait and it was destined to be displayed in the castle in Donegal.  The Irish Times particularly was very impressed.

Sir Godfrey Charles Morgan, Lord Lieutenant of Monmouth (1907)

There was a fair amount of excitement in the press about a portrait of Sir Godfrey Morgan, which was presented to him with a silver cup at the Volunteer Drill Hall in Newport in recognition of his service to Monmouthshire. Hugh's portrait of Lord Winterstoke, painted the same year, was presented to the people of Bristol and now hangs in the Art Gallery.

Good God, and I only at 1907?! On to 1908!

Astonishingly, only 2 portraits in the 1908 RA, but then the arrival of their second child, Raymond Briton Rivière, might have disturbed the household.  Raymond grew up to be an artist, obviously, and I found a few mentions of him in books on art in the 1960s and 70s.  In Justine Glass's 1969 book They Foresaw the Future, she writes that Raymond, a sculptor, said that a death in the family was always foretold by the appearance of a bat in full daylight. Smashing.

Lady Bullough (1909)

1909 brought two more portraits to the RA - Mrs George Bancroft, which made the booklet and a presentation portrait of The Lord Winterstoke.  There was also an interesting piece in the Paisley and Renfrewshire Gazette which caught my eye, as a friend of Hugh's reported that the artist believed in 'the beauty of old age when illuminated with the charm of noble character.' The writer also commented that 'silly women who fight against the inevitable with dyes and powder' should look at how beautiful his subjects are and take note. Part of me is in agreement with this statement, never more pertinant than right now, but also I want to know what this powder is and where I can get some.

Lord Bullough (1910)

1910 brought the closure of the New Gallery, which was noted in the newspapers as a blow to Hugh.  This feels a bit cheeky as I have never researched anyone so damn prolific at the RA and I don't think he had any trouble getting his pictures out.  He had two in the RA this year; last year's portrait of Lady Bullough (he painted one of Lord Bullough in 1910 so you get a matching pair) and a portrait of the actor Frank Benson. Again the newspapers talk about the feeling behind the portraits, with particular emphasis on the one of Benson. 

 

Frank Benson (1910)

Possibly the fame of the sitter made people feel more connected to the portrait, although he shows Benson not in a costume, but in his OUAC blazer and shorts.  This caused some consternation in the press, especially when you compare it with something like John Collier's 1903 portrait of fellow actor Lewis Waller in his famous role (and elaborate costume) of Monsieur Beaucaire. Some of the critics admired the feeling behind it and the acknowledgement of the man rather than the actor.

Sir Adolphus Ward, Master (1911)

1911 census showed the family not in their famous St John's Wood home (that had appeared in newspaper articles and where he was listed in the Royal Academy catalogues) but at Belle Vue in Studland, Dorset.  At the RA that year, he showed 2 presentation portraits (Henry Griffiths, Senior Bencher of Gray's Inn, and Edmond G A Holmes, Chief Inspector of Elementary Schools) and a portrait of Mrs Compton Roberts (possibly the widow of the MP rather than one of her daughters-in-laws, due to his preference for an older woman). The same year, Cheltenham Art Gallery purchased A Libation to Olympus for £160.

Mrs Charles F Lees (Dame Sarah Lees) (1912)

1912 was an interesting year.  Three portraits in the RA, including the above which is of Sarah Lees, the first female mayor of Oldham from 1910-11 (hence the portrait).  The other picture I want to highlight from 1912 is this one...

Jean Sterling Mackinlay (1912)

In yet another of his theatrical portraits, Hugh shows the versatility of actress and singer Jean Sterling Mackinlay in this triple portrait. On the left we have the Piper of Dundee, the centre is coupled with lines from A E Housman's 'A Shropshire Lad' and the right-hand side is accompanied by a traditional song 'The Cuckoo'. The National Portrait Gallery have a number of Bassano portraits of her from around the same time and they look so dull in comparison to the movement and expression of Hugh's portrait.

William Archibald Spooner (1913)

In 1913 there was substantial press coverage of the death of Robert Ellett, a 70 year old solicitor from Gloucestershire who had been so popular that a subscription had been raised for Hugh to paint his portrait but no sittings had taken place.  I particularly like the portrait Hugh painted of William Archibald Spooner, Warden of New College and whom we get the term 'spoonerism' from. At the RA, Hugh had two portraits, one of the Lord Bishop of Gloucester and another of Robert Fellowes on horseback which the Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News felt confident it was a good likeness (of both man and horse, presumably). Again, there are many platitudes of what a great future Hugh was to have in portraiture, but after 20 years of RA exhibiting, there was still a sense that he was overshadowed by his father.

Handley Moule, Bishop of Durham (1914)

In 1914, the artist Sir Hubert Herkomer died, and his funeral was very well attended from the art world.  Hugh got a special mention as one of the mourners, which surprised me (no offence, Hugh) but it speaks to how famous he was at that point. The RA exhibition that year brought another three portraits including two presentation portraits, one of which is the above Bishop of Durham.

Edward Adrian Wilson (1915)

The 1915 RA is an odd one as it is the first after the outbreak of the First World War.  Looking through the artists listed, suddenly Hugh was surrounded by women, which was obviously a great thing but not for a great reason.  That year he exhibited two portraits, one of David Howard, but more notably a life-size portrait of Edward Adrian Wilson, the polar explorer who had perished with Captain Scott in 1912. At the exhibition of the Society of Portrait Painters, Hugh exhibited a portrait of Rear Admiral Sir David Beatty in an exhibition that seemed packed with military types (for obvious reasons).

Okay, I think I still have another twenty years if this and so I'm going to pick up speed a little or we'll still be here at Christmas.  In 1916, he had three more RA portraits - Hugh Fraser, Miss Eva Barry Pain and Emile Cammaerts, the Belgian playwright and poet. He also provided illustrations for Songs of the Specials by E W Fordham. Hugh also donated pictures to the Red Cross selling exhibitions, including two Leighton drawings.

In 1917, Genevieve Ward took to the stage again and the portrait of her by Hugh gained fresh admiration. Another three portraits graced the RA but I notice in the reviews the same terms are used - interesting, admirable - and in the West of England exhibition, his portrait of Lady Wills hung alongside a painting called A Mill on the Somme. I think I might see a problem...

At the time of the 1918 RA, the war was still raging and Hugh had his customary three portraits in the exhibition.  The only one that merited any notice in the newspaper was his portrait of Thomas Holmes, 'friend of ex-prisoners' and active in penal reform, which had been completed shortly before Holmes's death.  There was also some concern for one of Hugh's portraits which was in Germany and it was felt that it would never be seen in England again.

Lady Betty Trafford

In 1919, Hugh had two portraits in the RA (Lady Betty Trafford and Colonel E W Greg) but didn't garner much notice in the newspaper.  A portrait he exhibited in Liverpool was criticised for being 'artificially posed' which is the first negative note I read about his portraits.

In April of 1920, Briton Riviere died.  I wondered if that was the reason that Hugh only exhibited one painting at the RA, a portrait of Mr and Mrs Eardley Holland - he was a surgeon and his wife was Dorothy Colgate, who appeared in a portrait by her cousin in 1894.

In 1921 Hugh had absolutely no paintings in the RA and there was a riot! Okay, maybe not a riot but in a particularly hysterical article, the Daily Chronicle wrote 'ACADEMY REJECTS WORKS BY FAMOUS ARTISTS - HON JOHN COLLIER AND HUGH RIVIERE UNHUNG - VICTIMS INTERVIEWED.' Yes, Victims! While some of the artists were insulted by this ludicrous move, Hugh remained stoical - 'it must be remembered there are 900 fewer works exhibited this year...being so, the only possible way for the new blood to be admitted is that painters of the traditional school who are not members of the Academy [and therefore guaranteed a spot] shall be excluded.' He went on to comment that he doubted that any of the established yet excluded painters were going to starve because, like himself, they had patrons.  Hugh certainly wasn't short of work and presented a portrait to Sir Francis Hyett, Chairman of Gloucester County Council.  I suppose that was the difference between artists like Hugh and, for example, Blair Leighton who was also excluded - if someone needs honouring, you got them a portrait, not a painting of winsome Georgian ladies.

Interestingly, Hugh was back at the RA in 1922 with a portrait of Mr and Mrs Grant Watson, which received no comment at all.  In 1923, Hugh exhibited a portrait of the Marchesa Malacrida, the very exciting writer who died in a magnificently tragic manner in the 1930s (She rolled her car at high speed. Her spaniel survived).  There was absolutely nothing in the newspapers about this portrait, nor can I find it, so I think my Hugh-Bubble has finally burst. For the rest of the 1920s, he only really received mention when the sitters for his portraits died, for example Squire Bancroft or Genevieve Ward.

Jimmie (1935)

Things didn't change in the 1930s.  Hugh worked regularly and appeared in the newspapers when some chap was honoured with his portrait. I especially liked Jimmie from 1935 which Hugh kept hold of until 1953 when he gave it to the art gallery in Cheltenham. I wondered if she was a family member, but I can't see any likely candidates (for example Raymond married Monica). Thus, finally, Hugh seems to have retired. Hugh continued to exhibit with the Royal Academy until 1938, when he went out on his tradition three paintings - a portrait of his son, a portrait of Katherine, the daughter of Emile Cammaerts who he had painted in 1916, and a portrait of Mrs Maurice Chesterton, the wife of an architect of the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre with Elizabeth Scott. In 1939, Hugh and Freda, now 69 and 72, are living in Uckfield in East Sussex, moving to Kew before his death in January 1956, leaving £37,000.  There was not a scrap of an obituary in the newspapers.

So, what is the problem with Hugh Goldwin Riviere? Why is he not massively famous? Why do the RA spell his name wrong (rude)? I think the key lies in what the Liverpool Mercury said - portraits are great if you know the people involved.  If not, you are struggling. Think about your favourite portrait...it tends to be either something that is exceptional, like the Singer Sargent one of Ellen Terry or you really feel you know the person, like Gluck's portrait of Georgie (definitely my favourite of her work). Not to be rude to Hugh, but looking through the Art UK collection of his work, not much stands out among the sea of old gray-haired blokes, mostly sat down. These are undoubtedly important blokes, probably very well-beloved blokes but a century or more down the line, they are just one mass because they are removed from their context and contemporaries. I think you can see this happen within this lifetime, hence no obituary. What is also intresting is that we haven't swooped in on Hugh for his non-portraiture because The Lonely Life is marvellous.  Maybe that time is yet to come.

I'm going for a lie down now...

A Dragon, the Brontës and Two Doomed Marriages

 There are moments when I am busy researching one thing, and another small item comes across my desk and I'm hooked into a search for a story.  This is true of a Victorian exhibition catalogue which I was flicking through and saw that a Rossetti painting that was included was owned by an artist who also had a painting there.  Moreover, that painter was a woman, so I went in search, as I do like finding out about female artists/collectors in the nineteenth century (everyone needs a hobby). What I found was a tad on the tragic side, and you know how much we all love that.  Let's start with the painting by Dante Gabriel Rossetti...

The Wedding of St George and Princess Sabra (1863) Dante Gabriel Rossetti

This is one of his later watercolours but calls back to his pre-Cornforth period, where Siddal-esque damsels and handsome knights (that look a bit like the artist) live a simple, content life. Princess Sabra bears a definite resemblance to Elizabeth Siddal, which for 1863 is very interesting.  Likewise, the King and Queen are Rossetti's brother and sister, and one of the trumpeters looks remarkably like William Morris. So why did Rossetti reach back into his past for this painting?

Cartoon for Stained Glass Window design (1861-2)

A simple answer is that the original design for the painting came from the past, if only a couple of years.  The marriage of George and Sabra was one of the six designs Rossetti made for the newly formed Morris & Co in 1861-2.  These designs were created during the golden days of Rossetti's marriage to his beloved Elizabeth, and the vision of Camelot that William and Jane Morris and the Red House presented.  The painting of this scene was commissioned by Robert Henry Williams for his wife on the occasion of their marriage in August 1863. Quite how that sat with Rossetti, I'm not sure as it was just over a year since the sudden death of Elizabeth, by her own hand. This will unfortunately become relevant quite quickly.  I'll start with Robert and then we'll tackle who he married...

William Smith Williams, Father of the Groom...

Robert Williams was the son of the illustrious William Smith Williams who I talked about in this post. Robert was one of his many children, around sixth of eight in total, and unlike his father, he went into banking rather than publishing.  As you will recall, his father was a friend of Charlotte Bronte, nurturing her talent, and this will not be the only mention of that Haworth family today. Rossetti had met William Smith Williams at a friend's house (according to William Michael in his memoir with family letters), which is where the acquaintance with Robert may have stemmed. Robert had been with the Union Bank, but by the time of his marriage he was the London manager of the Mercantile and Exchange Bank at only 26 years old.  He was obviously a very talented young man.

The Studio at Townshend House by Emily Epps

He was marrying Emily Epps, daughter of George Napolean Epps.  George and his brother John were homeopathic doctors, who Charlotte Bronte wrote to in desperation at her sister Emily's medical condition in December 1848.  They sent medicine but Emily rejected it and shortly afterwards died. Emily was an artist, as were her sisters Ellen (or Nellie) and probably most famously Laura.  

Laura Alma-Tadema entering the Dutch Room at Townshend House (1873) Ellen (Nellie) Epps

The sisters were trained by artist John Brett, and were also friends with Maria and Christina Rossetti; the latter recorded visiting them in 1857.  Ellen was also taking instruction from Ford Madox Brown (she was a friend of Catherine Madox Brown), so the family were closely tied to the Pre-Raphaelites, closer than I actually realised - Laura subsequently married Lawrence Alma-Tadema and I wonder if that is why some people lump Larry A-T in with the Pre-Raphs, due to the links.

The Little Gardener by Emily Epps

I wonder if it was the connection to Charlotte Bronte that brought Robert and Emily together? Either way, the couple were married and Robert commissioned Rossetti's watercolour as a wedding gift for his bride. On their wedding certificate, Robert's home is 9 New Cavendish Street, where the couple set up home in a rather grand house as befitted a bank manager.  The Mercantile and Exchange Bank was started in 1863, a new bank with a young, bright manager and shortly before his wedding, negotiations concluded to take over the London Bank of Scotland with literally millions of pounds being discussed, which for 1863 must have seemed like impossible fortunes. Robert was clever, but allegedly highly strung and his health was a little delicate, but by the Autumn of 1863, Mr and Mrs Williams were a prestigious couple.  By the Autumn of 1864, Emily was a widow.

The Drawing Room at Townshend House by Emily Epps

The business of the bank was unpredictable, and in October 1864, the banking firm M. Souto in Brazil failed for a very large amount causing chaos, just as Brazil entered a war with Uruguay. Despite all the Bank's business with Brazil to be stable and correct, Robert found the news to be devastating and he plunged into a state of mental excitement.  On Sunday 16th October, Robert saw his father, who judged him to be depressed but otherwise in fine health.  Father-in-Law George also saw him and concurred, placing the blame his Robert's depression squarely at the feet of the rocky financial situation which Robert was managing to steer through. He felt he had overworked his brain which had given way due to the level of anxiety.  Robert encouraged Emily to go out for the evening on Monday with a friend, to the theatre.  When the servants got concerned about their master later on Monday night, George Epps was sent for and he went to his son-in-law's room and found him dead, poisoned by cyanide. The questioning at the inquest attempted to find out if Robert was a keen amateur photographer (and therefore could arguably have accidentally poisoned himself) but sadly not enough to have cyanide in the house for any reason other than this tragic one. The inquest concluded that Robert had taken his own life while the balance of his mind was disturbed.

A Family Group (1896) Lawrence Alma-Tadema
(from left to right Washington Epps, Ellen, Emily and Laura)

Strangely (and very tragically) Robert's death may have freed Emily to pursue her artistic interests. She continued to paint, using her brother-in-law's studio, creating narrow paintings of different parts of the Alma-Tadema home at Townshend House in Regent's Park.  She also shared a studio with her sister Ellen, and I wonder if she accompanied her sister when Ellen went on a European tour prior to her own marriage in the 1870s. Emily had 5 works at the Royal Academy between 1881 and 1889, as well as one from 1874 called My Doll's Picnic. I find it sad that in accounts of Ellen and Laura's art, no mention is made of Emily and her career, but she was present at her sister's side, in their studios if not in their biographies.

When Emily died in 1912, the Rossetti marriage painting was left to Ellen, by that time Lady Gosse, who sold it after her husband's death in 1928.  It remains in private hands to this day. I'm not one to believe that objects are 'cursed' but the irony of this blissful marriage image from one sad widow to another (well, shortly afterwards), and the fact the Rossetti marriage (21 months) and the Williams marriage (14 months) were both cut short by the hand of the spouse is not lost on me.  I would be interested to see what other art Emily owned and also what occasioned Robert to approach Rossetti to create the watercolour. If nothing else, it reminds us that even in the best known of families, some people slip from biographies and are lost.

Simply the Best (Known)

 I've now returned from Paris, but whilst there I got into a very interesting and lively discussion with Mr and Miss Walker.  It was after an exhausting trip to the Louvre - a wonderful museum with a terrible map and appalling signage - and we had collapsed in the Opéra Café to eat fine French food.  

Our trip to the Louvre had two objectives:

(1) Miss Walker wanted to see some Ancient Egyptian sculpture and grave goods

(2) Mr Walker wanted to see the Venus de Milo

Two very simple requests, I think you'll agree.  Personally, I just wanted to visit my old friend, the tomb of Philippe Pot…

 

Tomb of Philippe Pot (c.1480)

I absolutely love it, especially taking pictures up their cowls which I find very creepy. I always wonder what I’m going to see! Turns out, it’s this:

Excuse me, just being nosy...

Anyway, I digress.  We found the Egyptian grave goods easily enough but tracking down Venus from inside the sculpture galleries proved a bit of a trek – if we had gone to find her first we would have been fine because there are signposts to her from the entrance, but once in, it becomes a little tricky.  Anyway, I knew when we had finally found her because of the crowd…

As you can see of my picture of the tomb of Pip Pot and his hooded chums, there were a few people, but they were just passing through the gallery.  The picture above was taken by Mr Walker as Lily and I had gone to sit down, unable to cope with the massive crowd around the armless, gorgeous lady. We didn’t even bother to attempt to see the Mona Lisa, which I had squinted at from afar in a previous visit, but the crowds were there obviously because Venus is A MASTERPIECE. So, our lunchtime discussion became who decides what is a masterpiece, is this manipulated in any way and does this ever change?

I know, I know, this is a can of worms, but it links in to my last post and also to the experience of anyone who loved the Pre-Raphaelites before the twenty-first century. It’s all very well now, the Pre-Raphaelites are the Macbeth of exhibitions (the one you put on if you need to cause a stir as people really love them) but thirty years ago, you got a funny look if you said you liked them.  You were meant to like eighteenth century art, and not the fun stuff either, the really grey pictures of sad fish.  If that’s your thing, good luck to you, but not for me. Not only that, but when I first started doing art history, I bought books with names like ‘World’s Best Art’ and ‘100 Greatest Works of Art’ which invariably had the same pictures in them.  So, what is the best work of art in the world then?

Las Meninas (but with cats)

Luckily, your friend and mine Jonathan Jones joylessly listed them in 2014 solving this mystery for all time. He gets extra points for including the Chauvet cave paintings, marvellously pretentious, but his list is 90% European (da Vinci cartoon, Caravaggio, Rembrandt, Velázquez, Picasso, Michelangelo, Cezanne plus the cave paintings and the Parthenon sculptures) and Jackson Pollock. Whilst that list has the appropriate level of JoJo dullness (sorry Mr Jones, I think you need a some cake and a giggle) he does touch on some big hitters (although he picks da Vinci’s cartoon rather than the Mona Lisa) and reflects the fact that the vast majority of Good Art ™ comes from European white men.  Apparently.

The Birth of Venus. Sort of.

Also helpfully, in 1980 the BBC broadcast 100 Great Paintings which is more than I have time for now (and seems to have actually involved 220 paintings which is cheating).  Overwhelmingly, in their opinion, the best pictures in the world ever came from the twentieth century, outnumbering every other century by a mile.  The nineteenth century did quite well but you will be massively unsurprised to hear that the best pictures of that century were not English, with only two Pre-Raphaelites present (I was surprised they did that well).  The sole representation of the Pre-Raphs were Millais's Ophelia and Holman Hunt’s The Hireling Shepherd, which I have to admit was a bit of a shock.  No Rossetti, let alone Burne-Jones. You will also be wholly unshocked to hear that only six Great Artists were women, with only Mary Cassatt and Élisabeth Vigée-Lebrun representing pre-twentieth century female artists.

Rubber Duck with a Pearl Earring

One thing I noticed when searching for the ‘best art works ever’ is that some of the results interpreted that as being ‘most famous’ which I think might be the point of many of these lists. If you take ‘most famous’ for being synonymous with ‘best’ (I know it isn’t but bear with me) then the list is fairly consistent; we get the Mona Lisa, Girl with Pearl Earrings, Van Gogh (Starry Night if you are edgy, Sunflowers if you are basic, apparently), Picasso’s various unfortunate looking ladies, Renaissance Venuses and maybe a bit of Andy Warhol/The Scream/Northern Renaissance peasants.  Las Meninas consistently scores well, even Johnny Jones likes it, and I think it can be labelled the most edgy of all famous paintings, but the question has to be asked whether Vermeer would chart if the book and film hadn’t raised the consciousness?  Add to that list Klimt's Woman in Gold which has started to outshine The Kiss since the movie about the former.  I think there is definitely a case to be made for relabelling ‘best’ for ‘best known’ but that is only half the story.

Detail of Millais' Ophelia

Where are the Pre-Raphaelites? You cannot tell me that Ophelia is not worth a mention for the face alone. In Time Out’s 2025 list, they even included estimated financial values (rude) which adds a another dimension to a painting’s ‘worth’. I find it interesting that on an awful lot of lists, Whistler’s Mum is included as one of the world’s best but no Millais/Rossetti/Hunt etc. So come on, does no-one (beyond the BBC2 exhaustive list) think the Pre-Raphaelites are among the greatest and the good?

Hokusai's The Wave (Nom Nom Nom)

Hang on, I’ve just had a phone call from Hokusai. I’ll rephrase my question – does no-one think the Pre-Raphaelites are among the best Western paintings? Apologies to all artists in the East because if you didn’t paint that wave (or that dodgy one with the woman and the octopus) you don’t get a look-in.

Won't somebody please think of poor John Singer Sargent!

Turns out, this site includes a few Pre-Raphaelites including Hunt, Millais, one of Rossetti’s Prosepines and even a Burne-Jones.  To be fair, they listed loads of pictures so it would have been a bit rude had they not shoved in a couple – everyone gets a look in, including John Singer Sargent who I had not noticed was neglected in other lists. Why had I not noticed that Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose was not on the lists when it is a brilliant painting? The Victorians, especially those working in England, have been alarmingly ignored, So possibly, due to their familiarity, the Pre-Raphs will now appear among the establishment in the lists of the best-known art works, but still that’s not ‘best’ is it? Which leads me to this conclusion…

Fair Rosamund, not on any lists, which is rude

In my last post I spoke about how Rossetti didn’t like his portrait being painted, and I wondered if that affected how we view him. I think that Rossetti’s peers desperately wanted to honour him and felt that he was a Great Artist™ (his poetry being somewhat more controversial) but his avoidance of that, for whatever reason, means that his value is lost to his future critics.  If other artists were able to express that they felt Rossetti was great maybe it would never have been a question. Likewise, I feel that because of the controversies surrounding Millais and Rossetti and their complicated love lives, all the Pre-Raphaelites have become tarred with the Reality Telly brush and the stories about who slept with who overshadows the brilliance of their art. 

I think the answer is a slightly impossible one - we should stop attempting to produce 'Best Art' books because they are flawed and massively influenced by what is known and societal norms. I'm happy for journalists to ask people what their favourite works of art are, but no-one has the right to make you feel stupid just because you don't think cave paintings in France mean more to you than dogs playing snooker. Then again, if you like those cave-horses because they strike you as amazing and heart warming, then that's awesome too. See all the art and love what resonates with you, famous or not.

Let me know your favourite works of art, and here is one of mine...

The Temptation of Sir Percival (c.1894) Arthur Hacker

Everytime I see it, it makes me giggle because it is so beautifully painted and utterly, gloriously silly. What more can you ask for in life?