The Biggest Thing in Biggleswade

 Tom Berenger and Arnold Bennett. What could they possibly have in common?

In the television programme Film '89, Barry Norman predicted that the biggest actor to come out of the 1980s would be Tom Berenger. Tom Cruise might do okay, but it would be Berenger who would be the Tom we are all talking about.

For the first 30 years of the twentieth century, Arnold Bennett was the author, selling shedloads of books and earning enough for a Rolls Royce and a yacht.

Now, I studied literature and I love film, so I obviously know who both these people are (Mr Walker had the Film 89 episode on video, hence I saw how confident Barry was) but the average person has probably never heard of Arnold, and even I can't really remember the last Tommy B film I saw. What does all this have to do with art? Let me introduce you to Henry Ryland...

Goodness, what a handsome chap!

Unlike most of the people who have the misfortune to crop up on my blog, Henry Ryland is in no way obscure - he's got a Wikipedia page! However, what continues to puzzle me is that, in the grand conversation of Victorian art, he doesn't get much of a look-in. Is it because he's just another 'drape-y lady, vaguely classical' painter? Is it because he's a Primark Alma-Tadema? Rude. He should be more famous, and I'll tell you why: he went out of his way to get into every home in England and quite a few books. So, how did someone so ubiquitous become so obscure?

This is a postcard currently for sale on eBay for a rather steep price - no, it's not really signed by the painter and the girl is not only 'Jeanne' but also 'Vienna' in another copy of the picture for sale elsewhere. In fact, if you type 'Henry Ryland Postcard' in eBay or Etsy or Vinted, you are likely to find all manner of these winsome lasses, looking a bit Pre-Raphaelite. I first met Mr Ryland when a colleague was looking through the archive of an Edwardian archaeologist and found he was using one of these postcards as a bookmark. So, who was he, why are his women so recognisable and why don't we know him now?

Ruth (1899)

Born in the middle of summer 1856, Henry was the middle child of John (1828-1879) and Elizabeth (1825-1887), who had married in 1852. John was a draper and grocer in Biggleswade, Bedfordshire, where his father had been a draper before him, and they had five children - Frederick (1854-1902), Frank (1855-before 1861), followed by Henry, then John (1859-c.1901) and finally Mary (1861-1946). I find it a little odd that John jnr was not the first son born and in fact the last son born, but I don't think it's a coincidence that John was born a month after his grandfather, also John, died, so it's probably him he is named for rather than his father, if that makes sense. I did notice that the Rylands weren't on the whole, especially long-lived, which is unusual for quite a wealthy family, with only Henry and Mary doing any sort of damage to the 20th century. The family were important in Biggleswade (excellent name for a place) and the Ryland's Drapers and Grocers was very important;  the side of the Market place where the shop was became known as 'Ryland's Corner'. Things remained very much the same for a couple of census, with the family in the market place and the children attending school. The change came when John senior died in 1879, aged only 50. He left under £4000 to his wife and family, which wasn't a fortune (not bad, obviously, but still). The Ryland livelihood was also linked to their home, so what happened next?

The Four Seasons (1903)

Well, by the 1881 census much has changed. Elizabeth had moved her family into London, to Portsdown Road in Paddington. Frederick had received an MA from Cambridge and John had become an actor, with Henry listed as an artist. Mary didn't have an occupation because she was a girl and anyway, she married Montague Butler  (excellent name) in 1883 and went off to live the life of a vicar's wife.  The family had two servants and were set up very comfortably. As it was, the family must have been financially stable as Henry not only studied art at the South Kensington schools but also in Paris, where he had served in the studios of not only the famous Julian but also Jean Joseph Benjamin Constant, whose art is rather glamorous...

Fourite of the Emir (1879)  Jean Joseph Benjamin Constant

Lawks. Apparently, Constant's parting works to Henry were that he was great at drawing but couldn't paint.  Henry suspected that his own work didn't have enough boobs to please his teacher.  Anyway, now in his mid 20s, Henry was ready to enter the art world. He started by contributing art to the English Illustrated magazine in the 1880s, designing headers and footers as well as complete illustrations.

'Forget Me Not' from The English Illustrated Magazine

Reading an article on Henry published in The Artist magazine in the 1890s, it is interesting to see how he had moved from being an illustrator to being a fine artist, and possibly not willingly. Henry had spent time designing stained glass windows and other decorative items and aspired to become a member of the Arts and Crafts Society.  This was however not to be, as the article recorded - 'I felt,' he said, 'that the late William Morris overshadowed the society a little too heavily, and after he rejected a couple of stained glass cartoons of mine as not being in entire accord with Kelmscott traditions I did not send again.' 

St Michael, design for stained glass window (1890s)

Although he was taught stained glass design, most of the emphasis was in the actual painting of glass and he felt he missed out on training in art. Henry also allegedly found editors refusing his work as his classical stuff was not in fashion for illustration as time went on. Had he been left to illustrate and design, then maybe he would have found less success but found a more welcome audience now? He did dabble quite overtly with Pre-Raphaelitism...

The Lady of Shalott (1880s)

However, that was not to be and Henry Ryland entered his Pretty Girl Era...

Rosamunda (1891)

While Henry was still appearing in the English Illustrated, he had arrived at the Royal Academy, beginning in 1891 with Rosamunda and Aline - just a side note that in 1893 Aline was the subject of a Tableaux (you know how much I love a tableaux!)  arranged by Henry with Miss Mary Rouke and Miss Mabel Harrison sat, being picturesque.

Florimel (1893)

The Artist magazine tried to explain his sudden popularity - he had beautiful models, but lots of artists did. He found a groove that was commercial, but again, no different from others. At the end of the nineteenth century, the magazine felt that a photographic style had overtaken art, and that many artists were merely showing what was before them.  Ryland, on the other hand, took 'snap-shots' of his models to save them hours of sitting still, then made their image a dream-like vision rather than a replication of life. These proved really successful - Florimel was reproduced for years in magazines, no doubt reaping back funds for Henry and his family,

Aspiration (1897)

The Royal Academy continued, with Aleyone in 1894 and four paintings in 1897, The Spirit of May, Margot, Denise and Aspiration in 1897. The last picture sold for £105 during the exhibition, the lowest amount paid for a watercolour that year but no reflection of how popular it was.  In a way, I wonder if the sale of his original paintings was less on his mind as Henry's relationship with Raphael Tuck & Sons began with postcard reproductions of his works, including Aspiration. Out in time for Christmas was the 'Ryland Portfolio,' a series of his beautiful girls. One acerbic reviewer called Henry's work 'the mixture of one part Rossetti with ninety nine of milk and water' which wasn't that exhilarating a brew. Rude. I had no idea that Jonathan Jones was that old. He's looking good for his age.

Saint Cecilia (1898)

Most of the images I could find online and am therefore using are the powdery pastels of the postcards that rained down on the market and were bought by everyone. In 1898, Henry had two paintings at the RA - Saint Cecilia and Supplicating.  He was also elected to the Royal Institute of Painters in Watercolours (with my best friend Byam Shaw).  He was also the subject of an article in the Artist magazine with a number of illustrations. The article dives deeply into the methods and theories behind Henry's art and makes it very clear exactly what a well-known painter he was, loved by the public and respected by his peers.

Iris (1899)

In 1899, Henry had three girls at the RA - Iris, Tryst and Egeria. At the Institute of Watercolours, Henry's work was described as 'ultra smooth modern Grecian' which is an interesting description which I'm not sure I agree with - yes smooth, but Grecian? Another reviewer called his work 'nerveless and over pretty,' which again is snooty, although they did admit it was 'graceful.' Against the backdrop of these criticisms were notices of Henry's plates in various publications, and the endless sales of his postcards.

The Rose Maiden (postcard)

All this time, Henry was living and working at 2 Pembroke Studios in Kensington, built by Charles Frederick Kearley in 1890-1, meaning that Henry was one of the first tennents. Other notables include Byam Shaw (number 4), Herbert Draper (number 9) and John Young Hunter (number 3). For the 1901 census, Henry was visiting his brother Frederick who was an author by this point and died in 1902, so I wonder if it was a visit to an ailing sibling.

Meditation (1902)

Interestingly, in 1902, 45 year old Henry married 21 year old Mabel Louise Mann. I'm not one to speculate (ahem) but the couple were blessed six months later with a daughter, Gwendolen Margaret (1902-1975) - interestingly Gwendolen went on to marry a man 20 years a senior too when she married Thomas Wallace in 1933.  Also in 1902, Henry had Meditation at the Royal Academy, which was described as 'always pretty and too often conventional.'  I wondered if the Mabel was the model for Meditation.  She came from a large family living in Portabello Road, her father was a gas fitter and I can't really find much about her, so wonder if she posed for Mr Ryland as it is tricky to see how they would have met otherwise.

Now well into his 'pretty women' period, the girls leant themselves easily to advertising, especially for women's products such as soap for various companies including Pears. Henry continued to exhibit at the Watercolour Institute with more regularity than at the RA, although most years saw one of his watercolours on the walls, all the way up to 1919. The pretty girls weren't all that Henry did and I was surprised to see that there was an almost contradictory side to his work. While Henry was making money off his drape-y girls, he was also doing this...

The Annunciation (1903)

From the very start of Henry's career, he had found inspiration from Biblical works. He had spent time with stained glass and in the 1890s was creating illustrations for Bibles and Bible-adjacent works such as Some Sweet Stories of Old: Boys of Bible Stories (1892)...

If you imagine that Biblical illustration and art was happening at the same time as this...

...you can see how Henry covered all sorts of audience, and made a fair amount of money doing so. Good job too, as in 1908, Gwendolen was joined by Henry jnr (1908-1980) and so Henry needed to support his growing family. By 1911, the family had moved to 32 Fairfax Road, Bedford Park in Chiswick, which is very nice indeed (I had a look on Google Earth) - lovely big windows on the top floor. Looking at Henry's output for the 1910s, it really doesn't change - Fountains, Amphoras, Roses - nothing altering even as society changed.  I noticed in one exhibition, one of his classical girl paintings was hanging near a painting of a dreadnaught. In the 1915 War Relief exhibition, Henry's contribution was Tea in the Garden. I think I can see the problem.

The Day is Over (no date)

Henry died  in November 1924 after an illness that had placed him in St Mary's Convent Nursing Home in Chiswick. He had some short obituaries in local and national newspapers. Mabel lived on to 1967 (being that much younger than her husband) and in 1939 she was still living in Fairfax Road with son Henry (bookshop owner) and his wife Lilian. Gwendolen married a civil engineer and lived a long life in Richmond.

The Guarded Flame (1908)

Henry Ryland is one of the 19th and early 20th century's most recognisable and profitable artists due to the sheer scale of his reproductions. Search on eBay today and you will find his postcards and plates in that floral, pastel prettiness that made him so popular.  He was a man of many talents, from stained glass to gesso to paints and pastels. So, why no revival?

Why Do Flowers Fade (1908)

My theory is that within his lifetime, critics disliked his popularity. Even in his obituaries, he was listed as almost as good as Marcus Stone. Wow, that's rude. From the writing of his contemporary critics, they took it for granted he would endure and be remembered as a leading light of art. He definitely hit his stride in the Edwardian period, but by then the narrative of art was becoming abstract and Henry's pastel pretties were definitely not that.  However, they were popular. I wonder how many young men went into the trenches with one of Henry's postcards tucked in a book. He's sort of Pre-Raphaelite, sort of classical, sort of religious but affiliated with none of them, and first and foremost commercial. When I normally call for an exhibition of neglected artists, I can envisage how that would look, but I think Henry Ryland's power lies in those plates and postcards, putting art into the hands of normal people, who could have something beautiful and useful marking the pages of their books.  I feel William Morris might have missed a trick there...