Chapter X: The Grosvenor Gallery and the New Gallery

When, for reasons that need not now be discussed, Mr. Hallé and I severed our connection with the Grosvenor Gallery, we at once cast about to establish its successor. It was obvious to us both that if the experiment was to be made successfully it must be made without delay, and, as a matter of fact, the New Gallery as it stands to-day was constructed and completed within the brief period of three months.

One of our initial difficulties was to secure a suitable site, and the second obstacle, scarcely less formidable, was to procure from those who favoured the movement sufficient resources to justify us in proceeding with the work.

The site upon which the New Gallery now stands had at one time been occupied by the well-known livery stables of Messrs. Newman, but shortly before coming into our possession they had been partly transformed to serve the purpose of a provision market. This partial reconstruction aided us very materially in our work. The central hall, so far as the mere outline of the fabric is concerned, did not need entire reconstruction. But the task, even with this help, remained formidable enough, and could not have been possibly carried through within the limited time at our disposal if it had not been for the hearty and zealous co-operation of all of those who were engaged upon the building.

There were many moments during these anxious three months when it seemed indeed impossible of accomplishment. Inevitable delays in the supply of the material required, again and again imperilled the chances of success, and I think we were not a little astonished ourselves to find that our original plan could be carried out in its entirety, and that we were able to open the first exhibition in the month of May.

The establishment of the Grosvenor and the New Gallery form an interesting chapter in the history of modern art in England. It is more than probable that neither the one nor the other could have come into existence if the Royal Academy had taken a more generous and liberal view of the functions it had to discharge; but the merest glance at the history of this institution suffices to show that it has at all times adopted the narrowest interpretation of its duties and responsibilities. Anxious for the homage due to a national institution, and intolerant of any protest against its rule, it has nevertheless persistently failed to advance with the growth of new ideas of art, and has steadily declined to undertake any enlargement of the original scope of its labours. Of the more important art movements that have arisen since the date of its creation, the Royal Academy has been little more than a spectator. At a time when the national interest in matters of art was scarcely recognised, it might, by a liberal interpretation of its duties, have become the acknowledged centre of a coherent system of art administration, but it had chosen instead to allow nearly all that was done by way of progress to be accomplished by independent effort.

It might easily have been shown that it was not the intention of the founders of the Royal Academy that it should thus degenerate into a private undertaking. The encouragement which George III. gave to the scheme was given on the ground that “he considered the culture of the arts as a national concern,” and in the instrument presented for his signature it is said that the great utility of such an institution has been fully and clearly demonstrated. Moreover, in the catalogue of the first national exhibition the demand of payment at the doors was made a subject of apology, and the only excuse was that no other means could be discovered of preventing the entry of improper persons.

But although the public and national character of the undertaking was clearly acknowledged at that time, a very few years sufficed to prove that the constitution of the Academy was unfavourable to the right interpretation of its duties. When the Academy was founded the English did not possess a National Gallery, and Barry, who perceived the use of such a collection of the Masters of Art in forming and educating the taste both of art students and the public, proposed to his fellow-members of the Academy that they should devote a portion of their surplus funds on the purchase of pictures by the Old Masters. But the Academy rejected this proposal as promptly as they had discarded the idea of a closer connection with the nation.

That the imperfections of the institution were clearly perceived by distinguished artists who afterwards became members of the body, is not disputed. Before the Commission of 1863 Mr. G. F. Watts expressed himself in no uncertain terms.

“It seems to me,” he said, “that there must be some defect. If it were extremely anxious to develop taste or encourage art I think that some means would have been found. A merchant finds means if he wants to improve his commercial arrangements. Whatever a man wishes to do, he finds a way of doing it more or less satisfactorily. But I do not see that the Royal Academy has done anything whatever.” And again, in relation to public taste and its guidance in all that concerns the erection of public monuments or public buildings, Mr. Watts says, “It seems to be a monstrous thing that the Royal Academy has had no voice in this matter.” And further, referring to independent efforts for the encouragement of public schemes of mural decoration, he most emphatically declares, “I think it ought to have occurred to the Academy, as a body of men having the direction of art and taste, many years before it occurred to the Prince Consort; and I think also that, when the initiative was taken, the Academy ought to have adopted the movement and have given it every advantage possible.”

And this was already matter of history at the time that the Grosvenor Gallery was founded. But the same spirit that had dwarfed their conception of the duties of a national institution on the administrative side, had also coloured the ungenerous attitude that they had at first betrayed towards that great movement in modern painting which was heralded by the pre-Raphaelite brethren.

In the teeth of a keen opposition that was at first displayed towards his work, Millais had fought his way into the august ranks of the academic body; but with that exception nearly all the great leaders of the new movement still stood without its walls. Holman Hunt, Rossetti, Burne-Jones, Ford Madox Brown, and the great sculptor Alfred Stevens knew nothing at that time of academic honour, and their work, if it was submitted for official judgment, was either coldly received or was treated in a spirit of active hostility.

It was that which gave to the movement which resulted in the establishment of the Grosvenor its importance and significance.

The battle has long ended now, and the fact that these men did, or did not, receive academic recognition counts for nothing in respect of the place they hold in modern English painting. Such rebel forces as have since come into existence have not been of a kind to win a like distinction, and public interest in art has become so languid in its exercise that if such a body of men were now to arise it may be questioned whether their work would stir the feeble pulses of the time.

But at the period of which I am speaking their gradual advancement was watched and welcomed by enthusiastic admirers, and it was that which made it possible for institutions like the Grosvenor and the New Gallery to challenge the sleepy self-complacency of the dwellers in Burlington House.

And it will now scarcely be denied that each of these two institutions in its turn has served a useful purpose. In a sense, indeed, they have been almost too successful, for a distinguished success achieved in one or the other has again and again proved the means of obtaining for the artist tardy recognition from the authorities of Burlington House. But the forces ranged on the side of orthodoxy are in this country always formidable, and it may be questioned now whether enough vitality survives in English art to justify the continued existence of independent institutions such as those I have named.

The great prices obtained at public auctions for the earlier masters of our School are sometimes quoted in support of the view that the taste for art remains unimpaired. As a matter of fact I think they may be taken to warrant an exactly opposite conclusion. The buyers of thirty or forty years ago who helped to encourage the painters of their own day were guided for the most part by their own individual preference. Their taste may often have been uninstructed, but at least it was their own. They loved the pictures which they sought to acquire, and, as their collections grew, a better taste grew with them. The modern buyer, on the other hand, is for the most part the mere puppet of the dealer. He buys at the top price of the market because he believes the market will maintain its price, and with a prudence that the dealer is careful to foster he makes his choice from among those older pictures whereof the market value has been appraised by time.

And so long as these purely commercial considerations dominate the taste of the time, the cause of contemporary painting must surely suffer. That a truer feeling will come again with the passing of time need not be doubted, but any one who has followed the movement in English painting since the middle of the last century must perforce experience a feeling of melancholy at the listless apathy and indifference which has taken the place of the earnest enthusiasm of an earlier day.

That enthusiasm was still at its height when Sir Coutts Lindsay founded the Grosvenor Gallery; it survived with scarcely diminished force when Mr. Hallé and I succeeded in establishing the New Gallery, and I look back without regret to my long association with both these institutions. As the child of our own creation the New Gallery has claimed from both of us the larger and the longer service. At the inception of our task we had the loyal support of Burne-Jones, whose art we both deeply loved, and when he died I think we both felt that a part of our mission had gone.