Patriots and statesmen alike forget that the time will come
when the want of great art in England will produce a gap sadly
defacing the beauty of the whole national structure....
Working, for example, as an historian to record England's
battles, Haydon would, no doubt, have produced a series of
mighty and instructive pictures....
Why should not the Government of a mighty country undertake
the decoration of all the public buildings, such as Town
Halls, National Schools, and even Railway Stations....
... Or considering the walls as slates whereon the school-boy
writes his figures, the great productions of other times might
be reproduced, if but to be rubbed out when fine originals
could be procured; for the expense would very little exceed
that of whitewashing....
If, for example, on some convenient wall the whole line of
British sovereigns were painted--were monumental effigies
well and correctly drawn, with date, length of reign,
remarkable events written underneath, these worthy objects
would be attained--intellectual exercise, decoration of space,
and instruction to the public.
The year 1848 was a critical time for Watts; his first allegorical
picture, "Time and Oblivion," was painted, and, in the year following,
"Life's Illusions" appeared on the walls of the famous Academy which
contained the first works of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. Watts was
not of the party, though he might have been had he desired; he preferred
independence.
Watts' personal life was at this time pervaded by the influence of Lord
and Lady Holland, who, having returned from Florence to London, had him
as a constant visitor to Holland House. In 1850 he went to live at The
Dower House, an old building in the fields of Kensington. There, as a
guest of the Prinsep family, he set up as a portrait painter. His host
and family connections were some of the first to sit for him; and he
soon gained fame in this class of work.
There was a temporary interruption in 1856, when a journey to the East,
in company with Sir Charles Newton, for the purpose of opening the
buried Temple of Mausolus at Halicarnassus, gave Watts further insight
into the old Greek world; and, one cannot but think, stimulated his
efforts, later so successful, in depicting for us so many incidents in
classical lore. We have, in a view of a mountainous coast called "Asia
Minor," and another, "The Isle of Cos," two charming pictorial records
of this important expedition. The next six years of the artist's life
were spent as a portrait painter; not, indeed, if one may say so, as a
professional who would paint any one's portrait, but as a friend, who
loved to devote himself to his friends.
In pursuance of his principles touching monumental work, Watts engaged
himself over a period of five years on the greatest and the last of his
civic paintings--namely, the "Justice; a Hemicycle of Lawgivers," to
which I shall later refer.
Watts was a man who seems to have enjoyed in a singular degree the great
privilege of friendship, which while it has its side of attachment, has
also its side of detachment. Even in his youthful days he never "settled
down," but was a visitor and guest rather than an attached scholar and
student at the schools and studies. It is told of him that when just
about to leave Florence, after a short visit, he casually presented a
letter of introduction to Lord Holland, which immediately led to a four
years' stay there, and this friendship lasted for many years after the
ambassador's return to England. Other groups of friends, represented by
the Ionides, the Prinseps, the Seniors, and the Russell Barringtons,
seemed to have possessed him as their special treasure, in whose
friendship he passed a great part of his life. Two great men, the
titular chiefs of poetry and painting, were much impressed by him, and
drew from him great admiration--Tennyson and Leighton; from the latter
he learned much; in the sphere of music, of which Watts was passionately
fond, there stands out Joachim the violinist.
Watts used to recall, as the happiest time in his life, his youthful
days as a choral singer; and he always regretted that he had not become
a musician. Besides being fond of singing he declared that he constantly
heard (or felt) mystic music--symphonies, songs, and chorales. Only
once did he receive a _vision_ of a picture--idea, composition and
colours--that was "Time, Death, and Judgment." Music, after all, is
nearer to the soul of the intuitive man than any of the arts, and Watts
felt this deeply. He also had considerable dramatic talent.
In 1864 some friends found for Watts a bride in the person of Miss Ellen
Terry. The painter and the youthful actress were married in Kensington
in February of that year, and Watts took over Little Holland House. The
marriage, however, was irksome, both to the middle-aged painter and the
vivacious child of sixteen, whose words, taken from her autobiography,
are the best comment we possess on this incident:
"Many inaccurate stories have been told of my brief married
life, and I have never contradicted them--they were so
manifestly absurd. Those who can imagine the surroundings into
which I, a raw girl, undeveloped in all except my training as
an actress, was thrown, can imagine the situation.... I
wondered at the new life and worshipped it because of its
beauty. When it suddenly came to an end I was thunderstruck;
and refused at first to consent to the separation which was
arranged for me in much the same way as my marriage had
been.... There were no vulgar accusations on either side, and
the words I read in the deed of separation, 'incompatibility
of temper,' more than covered the ground. Truer still would
have been 'incompatibility of _occupation_,' and the
interference of well-meaning friends.
"'The marriage was not a happy one,' they will probably say
after my death, and I forestall them by saying that it was in
many ways very happy indeed. What bitterness there was effaced
itself in a very remarkable way." (_The Story of My Life_,
1908.)
In 1867, at the age of fifty, without his application or knowledge,
Watts was made an Associate, and in the following year a full Member, of
the Royal Academy. Younger men had preceded him in this honour, but
doubtless Watts' modesty and independence secured for him a certain
amount of official neglect. The old studio in Melbury Road, Kensington,
was pulled down in 1868, and a new house was built suited to the painter
who had chosen for himself a hermit life. The house was built in such a
way as would avoid the possibility of entertaining guests, and was
entirely dedicated to work. Watts continued his series of official
portraits, and many of the most beautiful mythical paintings followed
this change. Five years later, Watts was found at Freshwater in the Isle
of Wight, and in 1876 he secured what he had so long needed, the
sympathetic help and co-operation in his personal and artistic aims, in
Mr. and Mrs. Russell Barrington, his neighbours.
In 1877 Watts decided, in conformity with his views on patriotic art, to
give his pictures to the nation, and there followed shortly after, in
1881 and 1882, exhibitions of his works in Whitechapel and the Grosvenor
Gallery. A leaflet entitled "What should a picture say?" issued with the
approval of Watts, in connection with the Whitechapel Exhibition, has a
characteristic answer to the question put to him.
"Roughly speaking, a picture must be regarded in the same
light as written words. It must speak to the beholder and tell
him something.... If a picture is a representation only, then
regard it from that point of view only. If it treats of a
historical event, consider whether it fairly tells its tale.
Then there is another class of picture, that whose purpose is
to convey suggestion and idea. You are not to look at that
picture as an actual representation of facts, for it comes
under the same category of dream visions, aspirations, and we
have nothing very distinct except the sentiment. If the
painting is bad--the writing, the language of art, it is a
pity. The picture is then not so good as it should be, but the
thought is there, and the thought is what the artist wanted to
express, and it is or should be impressed on the spectator."
In 1886 his pictures were exhibited in New York, where they created a
great sensation; but incidents connected with the exhibition, and
criticisms upon it, caused the artist much nervous distress.
[Illustration: PLATE III.--HOPE
(At the Tate Gallery)
At the first glance it is rather strange that such a picture
should bear such a title, but the imagery is perfectly true.
The heavens are illuminated by a solitary star, and Hope bends
her ear to catch the music from the last remaining string of
her almost shattered lyre. The picture was painted in 1885 and
given to the nation in 1897. A very fine duplicate is in the
possession of Mrs. Rushton.]
It was a peculiar difficulty of his nature which led him to insist, on
the occasions of the London and provincial exhibitions of his pictures,
that the borrowers were to make all arrangements with his frame-maker,
that he should not be called upon to act in any way, and that no
personal reference should be introduced. Watts always considered himself
a private person; he disliked public functions and fled from them if
there were any attempt to draw attention to him. His habits of work were
consistent with these unusual traits. At sunrise he was at his easel.
During the hot months of summer he was hard at work in his London
studio, leaving for the country only for a few weeks during foggy
weather.
At the age of sixty-nine Watts married Miss Mary Fraser-Tytler, with
whom he journeyed to Egypt, painting there a study of the "Sphinx," one
of the cleverest of his landscapes. Three years after his return, he
settled at Limnerslease, Compton, in Surrey, where he took great
interest in the attempt to revive industrial art among the rural
population.
Twice, in 1885 and 1894, the artist refused, for private reasons, the
baronetcy that other artists had accepted. He lived henceforth and died
the untitled patriot and artist, George Frederick Watts.