Somewhat of the same character is the portrait of Mrs. Nassau Senior,
who, with one knee on a sofa, is shown tending flowers, her rippling
golden hair falling over her shoulders. A full-length portrait of Miss
Mary Kirkpatrick Brunton, dated 1842, also belongs to the old style.
Watts had a passion for human loveliness, and in his day some of the
great beauties sat to him. The "Jersey Lily" (Mrs. Langtry) with her
simple headdress and downcast eye, appeared at the Academy of 1879.
"Miss Rachel Gurney" is a wonderful portrait of a flaming soul
imprisoned in a graceful form and graceless dress. Miss Gurney is shown
standing, turning slightly to the right with the head again turned over
the right shoulder, while the whole effect of energy seems to be
concentrated in the flashing eyes. Watts was able to interpret equally
well personalities of a very different character, and perhaps the canvas
representing Miss Edith Villiers is one of the most successful of his
spiritual portraits. Miss Dorothy Dene, whose complexion Watts was one
of the first to transfer to canvas, Miss Mary Anderson, and Miss Dorothy
Maccallum, were all triumphantly depicted. He will be known, however, as
the citizen portrait-painter of the nineteenth century, who preserved
for us not merely the form, but the spirit of some of the greatest men
of his day. Lord Tennyson sat three times. In 1859 the poet was shown in
the prime of life, his hair and beard ruffled, his look determined. In
1864 we had another canvas--"the moonlight portrait"; the face is
that of Merlin, meditative, thoughtful. As you look at it the features
stand out with great clearness, the distance of the laurels behind his
head can be estimated almost precisely, while seen through them is the
gleam of the moon upon the distant water. The 1890 portrait, in
scholastic robes, with grizzled beard, and hair diminished, is Tennyson
the mystic, and reminds us of his "Ancient Sage"--
"... for more than once when I
Sat all alone, revolving in myself
The word that is the symbol of myself,
The Mortal limit of the self was loosed
And passed into the Nameless, as a cloud
Melts into heaven."
The portrait of John L. Motley, the American Minister to England in
1869, and author of "The Rise of the Dutch Republic," is one of the most
successful paintings of handsome men; Watts here depicts perfectly the
"spiritual body" of strength, purity, and appeal; the eyes are deepest
blue, and the hair the richest brown. In this case the artist has, as he
was so prone, fallen into symbolism even in portraiture, for we can
trace in the background a faint picture of an old-time fighting ship.
Another classic portrait, so different to that by Whistler, is of Thomas
Carlyle. The sage of Chelsea sits ruffled and untidy, with his hands
resting on the head of a stick, and his features full of power. He seems
protesting against the few hours' idleness, and anxious to get back to
the strenuous life. The sitter was good enough to say that the portrait
was of "a mad labourer"--not an unfair criticism of a very good
portrait.
_The Biblical Paintings_ are, as before said, in partial fulfilment of
the frustrated scheme of "Cosmos." "Eve Repentant," in an attitude so
typical of grief, is perhaps the most beautiful; it is one of a trilogy,
the others being "She shall be called Woman," and "Eve Tempted." It is
singular that in these three canvases the painter avoids the attempt to
draw the face of the mother of the race. In the first the face is
upturned, covered in shadow; in the second it is hid from view by the
leaves of the forbidden tree, while in the third Eve turns her back and
hides her weeping face with her arms. This habit of Watts to obscure the
face is observed in "The Shuddering Angel," Judgment in "Time, Death,
and Judgment," in "Love and Death," "Sic Transit," "Great Possessions,"
and some others. Often indeed a picture speaks as much of what is not
seen as of what is seen.
Incidents from the Gospels are represented by "The Prodigal," where the
outcast is seen crouching on the ground, his face fixed on vacuity,
almost in the act of coming to himself. "For he had Great Possessions,"
is, however, the greatest and simplest of all. There the young man who
went away sorrowful with bowed head, scarcely knowing what he has lost,
is used by Watts as one of his most powerful criticisms of modern life.
Although the incident is a definite isolated one, yet the costume,
figure, chain of office, and jewelled fingers, clutching and releasing,
are of no time or land in particular.
It is not a little remarkable that Watts, who had breathed so deeply the
air of Italy, and had almost lived in company of Titian and Raphael,
should never have attempted the figure of Christ or His apostles. This
was, however, not without reason. His pictures were not only "for all
time," but apart from time altogether. His only specific reference to
Christianity is his beautiful canvas, "The Spirit of Christianity," in
which he rebuked the Churches for their dissensions. A parental figure
floats upon a cloud while four children nestle at her feet. The earth
below is shrouded in darkness and gloom, despite the steeple tower
raising its head above a distant village. The rebuke was immediately
stimulated by the refusal of a certain church to employ Watts when the
officials found he was not of their faith. In this picture Watts
approached nearest to the Italian Madonnas both in form and colour.
_The Mythical Paintings_ are, in the main, earlier than the Biblical
series, but even here the same note of teaching is struck, and our human
sympathies are drawn out towards the figure depicted. In one, "Echo"
comes to find her lover transformed into a flower; in another, "Psyche,"
through disobedience, has lost her love. She gazes regretfully at a
feather fallen from Cupid's wing; it is a pink feather, such as might be
taken from the plumage of the little Lord of Love who vainly opposes
Death in his approach to the beloved one. In "Psyche," Watts has made
the pale body expressive of abject loss; there is no physical effort,
except in the well-expanded feet, and no other thought but lost love.
The legend of "Diana and Endymion" was painted three times--"good,
better, best." A shepherd loved the Moon, who in his sleep descends from
heaven to embrace him. The canvas of 1903 must be regarded as the final
success--the sleeping figure is more asleep, his vision more dreamlike
and diaphanous. "Orpheus and Eurydice" (painted three times) is perhaps
the greatest of his classical pictures. It is one of the few
compositions that were considered by its author as "finished." Here
again the lover through disobedience loses his love; the falling figure
of Eurydice is one of the most beautiful and realistic of all the series
of Watts' nudes, and the agony of loss, the energy of struggle, are
magnificently drawn in the figure of Orpheus. Looking at the canvas, one
recalls the lines of the old Platonic poet-philosopher Boëthius:
"At length the shadowy king,
His sorrows pitying,
'He hath prevailed!' cried;
'We give him back his bride!
To him she shall belong,
As guerdon of his song.
One sole condition yet
Upon the boon is set;
Let him not turn his eyes
To view his hard-won prize,
Till they securely pass
The gates of Hell.' Alas!
What law can lovers move?
A higher law is love!
For Orpheus--woe is me!--
On his Eurydice--
Day's threshold all but won--
Looked, lost, and was undone!"
In "The Minotaur," that terrible creature, half man, half bull, crushing
with his hideous claw the body of a bird, stands ever waiting to consume
by his cruel lust the convoy of beauteous forms coming unseen and
unwilling over the sea to him. It is an old myth, but Watts intended it
for a modern message. The picture was painted by him in the heat of
indignation in three hours.
A small but very important group of paintings, which I call "The
Pessimistic Series," begins with "Life's Illusions," painted in 1849.
"It is," says Watts, "an allegorical design typifying the march of human
life." Fair visions of Beauty, the abstract embodiments of divers forms
of Hope and Ambition, hover high in the air above the gulf which stands
as the goal of all men's lives. At their feet lie the shattered symbols
of human greatness and power, and upon the narrow space of earth that
overhangs the deep abyss are figured the brighter forms of illusions
that endure through every changing fashion of the world. A knight in
armour pricks on his horse in quick pursuit of the rainbow-tinted bubble
of glory; on his right are two lovers; on his left an aged student still
pores over his work by the last rays of the dying sun; while in the
shadow of the group may be seen the form of a little child chasing a
butterfly.
This picture has the merit, along with "Fata Morgana," of combining the
teaching element with one of the finest representations of woman's form
that came from Watts' brush. He was one of those who vigorously defended
the painting of the nude. These are some of his words:
"One of the great missions of art--the greatest indeed--is to
serve the same grand and noble end as poetry by holding in
check that natural and ever-increasing tendency to hypocrisy
which is consequent upon and constantly nurtured by
civilisation. My aim is now, and will be to the end, not so
much to paint pictures which are delightful to the eye, but
pictures which will go to the intelligence and the
imagination, and kindle there what is good and noble, and
which will appeal to the heart. And in doing this I am forced
to paint the nude."
"Fata Morgana" is a picture of Fortune or Opportunity pursued and lost
by an ardent horseman. It was painted twice, first in the Italian style,
and again in what must be called Watts' own style--much the finer
effort. This picture shows us what, in the artist's view, man in this
mortal life desires, pursues, and mostly loses. Fortune has a lock of
hair on her forehead by which alone she may be captured, and as she
glides mockingly along, she leads her pursuers across rock, stream,
dale, desert, and meadow typical of life. The pursuit of the elusive is
a favourite theme with Watts, and is set forth by the picture
"Mischief." Here a fine young man is battling for his liberty against an
airy spirit representing Folly or Mischief. Humanity bends his neck
beneath the enchanter's yoke--a wreath of flowers thrown round his
neck--and is led an unwilling captive; as he follows the roses turn to
briars about his muscular limbs, and at every step the tangle becomes
denser, while one by one the arrows drop from his hand. The thought of
"Life's Illusions" and "Fata Morgana" is again set forth in "Sic Transit
Gloria Mundi," where we see the body of a king whose crown, and all that
represents to him the glory of the world, is left at death. It is not,
however, in Watts' conception essential glory that passes away, but the
_Glory of the World_. Upon the dark curtain that hangs behind the
shrouded figure are words that represent his final wisdom, "What I
spent, I had; what I saved, I lost; what I gave, I have."
[Illustration: PLATE VII.--THE GOOD SAMARITAN
(At the Manchester Art Gallery)
This is an early picture, painted in the year 1852 and
presented to the city of Manchester by the artist in honour of
the prison philanthropist, a native of that city.]
These I call "Pessimistic paintings," because they represent the true
discovery ever waiting to be made by man, that the sum total of all that
can be gained in man's external life--wealth, fame, strength, and
power--that these inevitably pass from him. To know this, to see it
clearly, to accept it, is the happiness of the pessimist, who
thenceforward fixes his hope and bends his energies to the realisation
of other and higher goods. In this he becomes an optimist, for this is
the pursuit, as Watts never ceases to teach, in which man can and does
attain his goal. Thus our prophet-painter, having seen and known and
felt all this, having tested it in the personal and intimate life,
brings to a triumphant close his great series, where positive rather
than negative teaching is given.
_The Great Realities_.--We have seen in "Chaos" primordial matter; we
have now from Watts' brush the origin of things on the metaphysical
side. In "The All-pervading," there sits the Spirit of the Universe,
holding in her lap the globe of the systems, the representation of the
last conclusions of philosophy. This mysterious picture is very low in
tone, conforming to Watts' rule to make the colouring suit the subject.
Here there is nothing hard or defined; the spirit of the universe is
merely suggested or hinted at, his great wings enclose all. The
elliptical form of this composition is seen again in "Death Crowning
Innocence" and "The Dweller in the Innermost," and the same expressive
indefiniteness and lowness of the colour tones. In the latter effort we
have the figure of Conscience, winged, dumb-faced and pensive, seated
within a glow of light. On her forehead is the shining star, and in her
lap the arrows which pierce through all disguises, and a trumpet that
proclaims peace to the world. Here, therefore, is the greatest reality
from the psychological side. We have also cosmical paintings
representing "Evolution," "Progress," the "Slumber of the Ages," and
"Destiny," all of them asking and answering; not indeed finally and
dogmatically, but as Watts desired that his pictures should do,
stimulating in the observer both the asking and the answering faculty.
In "Faith" we have a companion to "Hope." Wearied and saddened by
persecutions, she washes her blood-stained feet in a running stream, and
recognising the influence of Love in all the beauty of Nature, she feels
that the sword is not the best argument, and takes it off. The colouring
of this picture is rich and forcible, the maroon robe of the figure
being one of Watts' favourite attempts.
A satisfying picture of a little child emerging from the latest wave on
the shore of humanity's ocean, asks the question, _Whence and Whither_.
I reserve for "Hope" the final word (see Plate III.). If, as I said, the
optimism which is spiritual and ideal springs from the pessimism which
is material and actual, so too does Hope grow from the bosom of
Despair. This the picture shows. Crouching on the sphere of the world
sits the blindfold figure of a woman, bending her ear to catch the music
of one only string preserved on her lyre. When everything has failed,
there is Hope; and Hope looks, in Watts' teaching, for that which cannot
fail, but which is ever triumphant, namely, Love.
_The Love Series_.--According to Watts, Love steers the boat of
humanity, who is seen in one of his canvases tossed about and almost
shipwrecked. Love does not do this easily, but he does it. Love, as a
winged youth, also guides Life, a fragile maiden, up the rocky
steep--Life, that would else fail and fall. Violets spring where Love
has trod, and as they ascend to the mountain top the air becomes more
golden. This picture, "Love and Life" (see Plate V.) was painted four
times. "Love and Death," painted three times, represents the
irresistible figure of Death tenderly, yet firmly, entering a door where
we know lies the beloved one. This is an eternal theme, suggested, I
believe, by a temporal incident--the death of a young member of the
Prinsep family. Love vainly pushes back the imperious figure; the
protecting flowers are trodden down and the dove mourns; and with it all
we feel that though Love fears Death, yet Death respects Love. Just as
"Love and Death" are companion pictures and tell complementary truths,
so "Time, Death, and Judgment" is related to "Love Triumphant" (see
Plate VI.). In the one we see Time, represented by a mighty youth half
clad in a red cloak, striding along with great vigour. His companion,
whom he holds by the hand, is Death, the sad mother with weary, downcast
eye and outspread lap ready to receive her load; but with neither of
them is the final word, for Judgment, poised in the clouds, wields his
fiery sword of eternal law and holds the balance before his hidden face.
In "Love Triumphant" Love takes the place of, and transcends Judgment.
Time and Death having travelled together through the ages, are in the
end overthrown, and Love alone rises on immortal wings. Thus the stoical
painter reaches his greatest height--tells his best truth.
_The Death Series_.--As may be expected, Death has no terrors for the
fundamental Watts. Never once does Death look with hollow eyes and
sunken cheeks, or grasp with bony fingers at the living. In "Death
Crowning Innocence," as a mother she puts her halo on the infant
Innocence, whom she claims. Death holds a Court to which all must
go--priest, soldier, king, cripple, beautiful woman, and young child.
The lion must die, the civilisation be overthrown, wealth, fame, and
pride must be let go--so Watts shows in his "Court of Death"; all come
to the end of the book marked _Finis_. Death is calm and majestic, with
angel wings, and overhead are the figures of Silence and Mystery,
guarding, but partially revealing what is beyond the veil--sunrise and
the star of hope; while even in the lap of Death nestles a new-born
babe--the soul passing into new realms through the gates of Death.
Again, Death is _the Messenger_ who comes, not to terrify, but as an
ambassador to call the soul away from this alien land, quietly touching
the waiting soul with the finger-tips. In the beautiful "Paolo and
Francesca" the lovers are seen as Dante told of them; wafted along by
the infernal wind; of them he spoke:
"... Bard! Willingly
I would address these two together coming,
Which seem so light before the wind."
Francesca's reply to Dante is of Love and Death:
"Love, that in gentle heart is quickly learnt,
Entangled him by that fair form...;
Love, that denial takes from none beloved,
Caught me with pleasing him so passing well,
That as thou seest, he yet deserts me not.
Love brought us to one death."
Watts has admirably caught the sweetness and sorrow of this situation in
his beautiful picture, which, again, is one of the very few he
considered finally "finished." It is almost a monochrome of blues and
greys.
In "Time and Oblivion," one of the earliest of the symbolical paintings,
Time is again the stalwart man of imperishable youth, while Oblivion,
another form of Death, spreads her mantle of darkness over all, claiming
all.
_Landscapes_.--Although Watts will ever be remembered for his
allegorical, biblical, and portrait painting, yet he was by no means
deficient in landscape art. Indeed, he carried into that branch of work
his peculiar personality. Not only do his landscapes depict beautiful
scenery in a fitting manner, joining atmosphere, sunshine, and colour,
but they convey in an extraordinary degree the mood of Nature and of
Man. "The Sphinx by Night" has an air of mystery about it that
immediately impresses the spectator, and tells him something that cannot
be communicated by words. The Italian and the Asiatic canvases by Watts,
"Florence," "Fiesole," "Correna," "Cos," and "Asia Minor," all induce
the feeling of repose and happiness, and the message that Nature sends
to her devotees comes sweetly and calmly in "The Rainbow," where we look
over an extensive valley from high ground, while heavy clouds and the
rainbow adorn the upper air. In "The Cumulus" we "see skyward great
cloud masses rolling, silently swelling and mixing." They recall perhaps
the memories of the child, to whom the mountains of the air are a
perpetual wonder. When in Savoy in 1888, Watts painted the Alps, again
with a cloudy sky and a rocky foreground. In this the quietude of the
scene penetrates the beholder. English landscape, to which all true
hearts return, was successfully depicted, both in form and spirit, by
Watts' "Landscape with Hayricks" (like the Brighton Downs), a quiet
view from the summit of a hillside, on which are seen some hayricks. But
perhaps the highest of them all is that very peaceful idyll named "All
the air a solemn stillness holds." It was a view from the garden of
Little Holland House. The time is sunset; a man and two horses are
wending their way home. There are farm buildings on the left, and a
thick wood in the background. In this one we feel how thoroughly Watts
uses all forms as expressions of his invisible moods. In purely
imaginative landscape, however, Watts struck his highest note. His
"Deluge" canvases are wonderful attempts; in "The Dove that returned in
the Evening," the bird is the only creature seen flying across the
dreary waste of waters, placid but for three long low waves. On the
horizon the artist has dimly suggested the ark of Noah. "Mount Ararat"
is especially worthy of mention among the landscapes.
[Illustration: PLATE VIII.--PRAYER
(At the Manchester Art Gallery)
This is one of the most simple and beautiful of Watts' early
works. The young woman is kneeling at the table, book in hand,
her mind absorbed in thoughts of reverence. Painted in 1860.]
Before Watts entered upon his series of great imaginative paintings he
had used realism for didactic purposes. In those days his work was less
rugged than in later times, and had a delicateness and refinement which
is seen to perfection in some of his earlier portraits. A few of these
efforts may be mentioned. "Study" is the bust of a girl, with long red
hair, looking upwards; it represents a beautiful combination of
spirituality and human affection. "The Rain it raineth every day" is a
picture of ennui and utter weariness, beautifully and sympathetically
expressed. The colouring is very brave. In "Prayer" (see Plate VIII.)
the simplicity of the treatment may lead any one to pass it by as
something slight and conventional, but it is perhaps one of the greatest
of this type where simplicity and spirituality are combined. In
"Choosing" Watts approached very near to the summit of simplicity and
charm. A golden-haired girl is choosing a camellia blossom; but where
all are so beautiful it is difficult for her to decide. Great interest
in this picture lies in the fact that it was painted in 1864, and was
drawn from Watts' young bride Miss Ellen Terry. One is almost tempted to
find in this picture the germ of allegory which grew to such heights in
the artist's later efforts.
_The Warrior Series_.--Watts, like Ruskin and many other of the
nineteenth-century philosophic artists, idealised warfare. His warriors
are not clad in khaki; they do not crouch behind muddy earthworks. They
are of the days before the shrapnel shell and Maxim gun; they wear
bright steel armour, wield the sword and lance, and by preference they
ride on horseback. Indeed, they are of no time or country, unless of the
house of Arthur and the land of Camelot.
We are thus able to understand the characteristic of Watts' warrior
pictures. The first is "Caractacus," the British chief; though no
Christian, he is the earliest of Watts' heroes. The second is the
beautiful "Sir Galahad," whose strength was as the strength of ten,
because his heart was pure. We see a knight standing bare-headed at the
side of his white horse, gazing with rapt eyes on the vision of the Holy
Grail, which in the gloom and solitude of the forest has suddenly dawned
on his sight. The features of young Arthur Prinsep, with his bushy hair,
who later became a general in the British army, can be detected in this
wonderful and simple picture. Its composition is like a stained-glass
window. It is of all Watts' perhaps the nearest to mysticism, and at the
same time it is an appeal to the young to be like Sir Galahad. The
original is in Eton College Chapel.
In 1863 followed "The Eve of Peace," in which we see a warrior of middle
age, much like Watts himself at that time, who has lost the passion for
warfare, sheathing his sword, glad to have it all over. The peacock
feather that is strewn on the floor of "The Court of Death," and lies by
the bier in "Sic Transit," is fastened to the warrior's casque.
"Aspiration," also taken from young Prinsep (1866), is a picture of a
young man in the dawn of life's battle, who, wishing to be a
standard-bearer, looks out across the plain. He sees into the great
possibilities of human life, and the ardent spirit of life is sobered by
the burden of responsibilities. "Watchman, what of the Night?" is
another wonderful composition, representing a figure with long hair,
clad in armour, looking out into the darkness of the night, with his
hand grasping the hilt of the sword. The colour, low in tone, and the
whole composition, indicate doubt and yet faith. Ellen Terry was the
model for this painting.
"The Condottiere" represents the fighting spirit of the Middle Ages.
This soldier is, like the others, clad in armour, and is not likely to
have a vision of the Holy Grail. His features represent the
determination and vigour which were required of him in those ferocious
days. "The Red Cross Knight accompanying Una" is a charming picture,
representing an incident in Spenser's "Faëry Queen," but the palm must
be given to "The Happy Warrior," who is depicted at the moment of death,
his head falling back, and his helmet unloosed, catching a glimpse of
some angelic face, who speaks to him in terms of comfort and of peace.
This picture, of all the others, shows how Watts has insisted on
carrying to the very highest point of idealism the terrible activities
of warfare:
"This, the Happy Warrior, this is he,
That every man in arms should wish to be."
He sent a copy, the original of which is in the Munich Gallery, to Lord
Dufferin, whose son was killed in the South African War, and he declares
that many bereaved mothers have thanked him for the inspiration and
comfort it has brought to them.
Watts' pictures are widely distributed; a roomful may be seen at the
Tate Gallery, Millbank, S.W. Nearly all the portraits of public men are
at the National Portrait Gallery, Trafalgar Square, London. There is a
portrait of Thomas Carlyle in the South Kensington Museum, three or four
pictures at the Manchester Corporation Gallery, and one at the Leicester
Art Gallery. There are also several of Watts' best pictures in a gallery
attached to his country house at Compton in Surrey; while his fresco
"Justice" can be seen at the Benchers' Hall, Lincoln's Inn.
Watts was conscious of the benefit he had received from the great men
who had preceded him, and in his best moments so essentially humble,
that in his last will and testament, and the letters of gift, he rises
to the great height of artistic patriotism which always appeared to him
in the light of a supreme duty.
The former document has the following phrases: "I bequeath all my
studies and works to any provincial gallery or galleries in Great
Britain or Ireland, which my executors shall in their discretion select,
and to be distributed between such galleries." This Will is dated
November 1, 1899, and relates to such works as had not already been
disposed of. His great gift to the nation was made in 1897, accompanied
by a characteristic letter in which he says:
"You can have the pictures any time after next Sunday. I have
never regarded them as mine, but never expected they would be
placed anywhere until after my death, and only see now my
presumption and their defects and shrink from the consequences
of my temerity! I should certainly like to have them placed
together, but of course can make no conditions. One or two are
away, and I am a little uncertain about the sending of some
others; if you could spare a moment I should like to consult
you."
A few weeks later, following a letter from the Keeper of the National
Gallery, he writes as follows:
"I beg to thank you and through you the Trustees and Director
of the National Gallery for the flattering intention of
placing the tablet you speak of, but while returning grateful
thanks for the intention of doing me this honour I should like
it to be felt that I have in no way desired anything but the
recognition that my object in work, and the offering of it,
has only been the hope of spending my time and exercising my
experience in a worthy manner, leaving to time further
judgment. Most certainly I desire that my pictures should be
seen to advantage, and have a good effect as an encouragement
to artists of stronger fibre and greater vitality, to pursue
if only occasionally a similar direction and object."
At the end of a long life by no means devoid of mistakes and
disappointments, it would seem as though Watts attained to his desires.
The man has passed away, while the witness of his aspirations remains.