_To the Editor of the Western Daily Press_.
Sir,--First impressions forced upon me by an inspection of the
picture, "Ecce Homo," by Mons. de Munkacsy, would be succinctly
expressed in few words. It is haply, although not highly, inspired. It
constitutes a work of laborious but of average ability, and descends
to a lower technical state of imaginative eclecticism and expression
than I had indeed expected to encounter in so lavishly-applauded a
work. Let it be granted in the first instance that the theme is an
onerous one; the problem afforded by the venture should have been
met in a manner skilful in art, commensurate with its righteous
obligations and its lofty demands by the artist. The one fine
attribute conspicuously lacking in the work is its illumination,
generally too yellow; the fine quality of light, naturally directing
the hearts with the intelligences of the beholder to the central fact
of the subject theme, "I am the Light of the World." The broad use and
disposition of whitish pigment; I mean whitish, snowy light flecked,
pimpled, dimpled with tints of orange and purple, like snow about to
thaw, here and there, honeycombed or stippled to mark the intensity of
its native regard for its own divine, suffering, martyred Lord, would
have attracted the attention and won the curiosity, the sympathy, of
many finer sensibilities. A dramatic and subtle sense of distance,
such a powerful agent of spiritual injection in the hands of real
artists is in this work absent; never skilfully employed either for
negative or positive reflections of emotion. Linear perspective there
is, and employed to much scenic advantage; but aerial perspective,
utilised towards expressing overlapping figures, there is not, save
in meagre degree. The canvas is too crowded, the sense of vision
and admiration is nowhere at all lulled by repose. We may point
to successful juxtaposition of individual figures, to masses of
harmonious tones, but not to masterly composition. The mind of the
artist is intent upon the bitterness of turmoil; it does not reach us
directly by imperishably revealing or extolling the divine nature of
"The Man," "Homo;" and is throughout the field of interest usually
recognised in overstrained partiality for attitude and outline.
Hence the title of the picture is almost sought for, expected in the
multitude on the left, which should have been isolated. "Ecce Homo,"
briefly and emphatically, is not so suitable a title as I would
suggest, with the utmost regard for reverence, might be described, as
the interval between the two cries: "Away with Him," "Crucify Him,"
such intensely dramatic particles of time finding expression and vent
throughout the work in coarse silhouetting.
The crowding of the lawless throng against the front of the tribune,
on which the chief characters of the scene are portrayed, though not
in a material sense wrong, must be open to much æsthetic dispute;
must mar the success and the action of reflex thought, the spiritual
contest waging and recoiling between the Divine, meek victim and the
surging rabble. At all events, it is sad to trace no direct or secret
hint at new or transcendental methods conspicuous or even dimly
apparent in the painter's art. Little there is in the effort to draw
our finer instincts to spiritual truths. The utmost mechanical skill
of the diligent artist is discernible, labouring incessantly without
extraordinary or transcendental light to the appointed end, the goal
accomplished. It should be understood that as spiritual Art of its own
property and nature is beset, environed on all impinging sides with a
multifold range, a series of difficult corners around which the
sense cannot immediately travel, but would for the fructification or
sustentation's sake of its etherealism, a process of counter argument
may deduce this aphorism, that in works of art in which the eye
travels quickly round all the corners of thought, motive, and
expression, the priceless, highest crown of spirituality cannot be
awarded to it. The painter, honestly striving with his subject, and
on lines of intimate understanding, has none of his physical reasons
thrown into shade, either be it for the nobility of his art, or for
urgency's sake, or for the softer assuaging of sensitiveness in the
breasts of his academic audience, having no inclination to be stung
when in the precincts, the hands of Art; for to whom else is the
pictorial homily directed? The group of figures upon the raised
tribune is classically adjusted to its position of prominence. The
spare figure of Christ, "The Man of Sorrows," is well conceived; the
face is wan, haggard, the attitude tastefully depicted. A palpable and
perilous digression is made by the artist in ignoring the text of
Holy Writ, "Wearing the purple robe," electing to substitute for the
purpose of his science a scarlet "toga." But the "torso"! This is
essentially lacking in consummate understanding, skilful address.
In all that assists most to mature a native work of this immense
importance it is sound sense, equivalent to the gravest optimism, to
express this opinion, that the highest powers of science ought humbly,
intelligently to co-operate towards achieving a grand and triumphant
finale, perfect, harmonious in all its parts, and responsible to the
academic dictates of its sacred title. Such a figure Raphael, Leonardo
da Vinci, Titian, or Rubens would have painted and blessed our reasons
with, for a certainty: bountifully inspiring us at once and for
time with their divine interpretation of the great, the majestic
omnipotence.
Any failure in Art cannot rouse us to this pitch; our sensitive,
appreciative spirits would assuredly flag unless some keynote of
resonant power were sounded.
The figure of Pontius Pilate is realistically depicted; it has not the
aristocratic air of a Roman Governor, yet the face, not caring to
meet the gaze of the people, is a work exhibiting some power. It
sardonically, satirically suggests the thought, "I find in Him no
fault at all," possessing a semblance of three meanings. The people,
deputy officers, and supernumeraries assembled upon this elevation
are somewhat stiffly grouped, and the architectonic embellishments--no
unimportant feature--well conceived, as they form the framework of the
drama, and must be considered well painted. Let it be observed that
the basket capital of the arch is out of perspective; a like error is
to be observed in the roof of certain of the houses on the left;
the blue of the distance, although luminous and atmospheric, is too
opaque. The arches forming the left-hand middle distance are finely
depicted; correct as far as local traditional art will inform us,
and of considerable value in such a work as ballast, substance, in
steadying the erratic fancies or emotions of the painter. Criticism
must justly deal with the figures of the Jewish rabble. The attitudes
are telling, but over angular and rather vulgar. The populace, I
may remark, are too excited; such sustained, extravagant attitudes,
whether in a picture of large or small scale, but particularly in the
former, are upon canvas rarely satisfactory; they mock with littleness
at a Providence that made Art, and become puppets in the hands of
artists. The heads of not a few of the spectators are too large,
coarse, and expressionless. Here and there, in the distance for
instance, amongst the living panorama, there appears a figure hinting
at a better type of gesture, with a human heart, suggesting an
acquaintance with refinement, but the breadth of awe, the girdle
of salvatory redemption, even in coarse brutality is not even here
apparent. The work is a mute exposition of gesture. The higher, the
acute, the really more intense connection of poetry is absent.