Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.
Welcome to the National Gallery.
This lecture is part of a series
where we're trying something a little bit new,
where, of course, we'll be focusing on the paintings,
but we're going to be viewing them through a slightly different lens,
which is through the history of the National Gallery
and ideas to do with the history of taste and collecting.
So, we have about half an hour to travel through time and space together.
But first I'd like to introduce myself.
I'm Dr Susanna Avery-Quash.
I work here as a Senior Research Curator
in the History of Collecting, that's a bit of a mouthful,
but, basically, my role
is to think about the past histories
of our many paintings
before they arrived at the National Gallery
and became part of the national collection of Old Master paintings.
And so, really, this is a prime chance for me
to demonstrate the type of work that I do for the Gallery.
In fact, to whet people's appetites,
a few months ago I put on YouTube
a series of four little videos just lasting about two minutes each
where I drilled down into the past histories
of four of our paintings
to show seismic moments of change
where different types of art
were acquired by the National Gallery over time.
So, if you plug in: "Susanna Avery-Quash,
YouTube videos, History of Collecting", you should get four of them.
What I want to do today is talk about
these two beautiful,
very early Italian paintings in the National Gallery's collection
and explore with you their journeys
over 600 years,
and really the reasons why we've acquired them.
They obviously now sit in a very different place
from the ones they originally inhabited,
and their function today is very different
from their original purposes.
And I'd like to combine thinking about that change over time
with the whole remit of the National Gallery
over its last 200 years,
and along the way mention to you some key figures
in the 19th-century history of British art institutions,
including my personal hero, Sir Charles Eastlake,
the first director of the National Gallery,
who did so much to transform the Gallery
into the type of institution that we know and love today
and who was responsible not only for buying these paintings behind me
but about 150 other works
in the decade 1855 to 1865.
So, I'd like to first of all actually mention a little bit
about these two paintings.
So, on this side here, we have a crucifix.
So, we see Jesus Christ,
who Christian believers
hold to be the saviour of the world, God's Son,
who was brought to Earth in human form
to build up a new relationship
between mankind and God,
and people did not recognise immediately, for the most part,
as being the Son of God, so he was crucified,
but that was part of the grand scheme, so that his death on the cross
would reconcile mankind to God and build a better relationship.
So, much Christian art was dedicated to the life of Jesus Christ on Earth,
his seismic death by crucifixion by the Jewish authorities,
who did not recognise him and his claims to be the Son of God,
and then his Resurrection and Ascension into Heaven.
You can see how big this painting is.
Originally, it would have been just a tad larger,
because in monumental Italian crucifixes
often there's a roundel with God the Father painted at the top,
so you can imagine a round circle making the cross an even larger shape.
And the image of God the Father
would have enabled viewers to understand
that the figure below was God's Son,
and you can see the roundel above his head with a cross behind it,
and that signifies a halo
and the fact that he is a holy person, God's Son.
The figures to either side of the arm of the cross
are also part of the Christian narrative.
On my near side, we have the Virgin Mary,
Jesus's mother, who has come to lament
at the foot of the cross the death of her son.
And then John, the beloved disciple, on the far side,
who was one of the early witnesses to Christ's life.
Now, this sort of crucifix was never intended
to be put in an art gallery,
in the sense that when it was painted, about 1310, there were no art galleries.
It was intended for a church setting
to help the viewers
to focus their minds on the mass,
on the celebration of the Eucharist happening below.
Normally, these massive monumental crosses
were hung above the altar
where the priest would celebrate the mass.
And turning to this painting,
it's also very large,
it was also intended for an Italian church,
probably in Siena, again in the early 14th century,
and it's more of a victory painting,
it's celebrating life rather than a moment of death,
but we have many of the same characters in it,
because again it's about the life of Christ,
the central figure in Christian iconography.
So Christ is not a man aged about 33, at the end of his life,
he's a small child, he's the son of the Virgin Mary,
the lady on this side of the wing,
and she's sitting on a throne.
We know, actually, that she was a poor woman,
but because she's the Mother of God
Christian artists, following scriptural tradition
and theological reflection,
have made her into the Queen of Heaven.
So, as a queen, she needs a throne,
and the artist has popped her on a monumental throne with Cosmati work,
and the Virgin is often shown in a beautiful blue robe
that designates her as a queen
and is often
painted with ultramarine,
which came all the way from present Afghanistan
and so it was the most expensive pigment you could actually get,
it cost more per ounce than gold.
And often the Virgin Mary is shown in this dark blue robe,
sometimes with this ultramarine pigment
to honour the fact that she's the Mother of God,
also honouring the fact that she's the most important person
in the biblical story apart from her son, to whom she gave birth.
There's the fact that you've got all these beautiful angels around them.
I said that the crucifix would have been bigger with a roundel above it.
Also, this painting you think might be quite large enough,
but again, originally, it would have been even larger.
We believe that the figure of the Virgin would have extended down to show her feet,
and there were floods in the Siena area
in the 14th-15th centuries, and probably the painting got damaged
when it was in the church, probably in Santa Croce Church in Florence.
In any case, that meant the damage was cut out
and so we've got a seated Virgin but without any legs.
This type of painting, which is very magisterial and very iconic,
is often known as a "maestà", from the Italian word majesty,
where the audience or the congregation,
rather than us, the museum visitor,
again is presented with an image of devotion
where the Virgin, who presents her baby,
who is Jesus Christ, the Son of God,
she's presenting him to us
for our adoration and worship.
Now, both these paintings were painted,
as I say, in the early 14th century,
not quite sure when, probably about 1310 to 1315,
and they've both come from Tuscany, the Siena-Florence area,
and they were painted there about 600 years ago.
What are they doing away from
their Italian ecclesiastical context for worship?
What are they doing in the middle of Trafalgar Square
and the fact that I'm standing up and lecturing you today?
Well, the point is that I wanted to share
these two representative examples of early-Italian art
because they are seismic in the history of the National Gallery.
When they arrive, they arrive together in 1857,
they were profoundly different
from most of the rest of the collection.
If you go anywhere but the Sainsbury Wing,
you will see the type of art that was originally bought
by the National Gallery.
So, the National Gallery had been in existence since 1824,
and these arrive some 30 or so years later in 1857.
So, when these arrived 30 years, a generation, after the foundation,
it looked like people from Mars had arrived.
These were very, very different
in subject matter,
in scale and in type
from what the National Gallery had been acquiring in its first history.
So, I want to tell you something, a drop-down in history
to why these paintings were bought
and why the National Gallery decided that it needed to change
the trajectory on which it had been travelling perfectly happily
for the first 30 years of its existence.
The first National Gallery was actually founded
on the collection of a private individual,
a philanthropist and a financier
who had emigrated from Germany,
who was born in Saint Petersburg in Russia,
called John Julius Angerstein.
And he is best known today
for having formed Lloyd's Insurance, which still exists.
He built it up into the reputable company that we know today.
And from his money that he earned in the City,
he was able to build up an art collection.
He wasn't an artist himself, he wasn't a connoisseur,
he was a money man, but he had the advantage of friends,
and three of his closest friends were all presidents of the Royal Academy.
If you want to build up an art collection,
get to know the president of the Royal Academy,
because John Julius Angerstein knew three of them:
Joshua Reynolds, the founding president,
Benjamin West, the American painter,
and then Sir Thomas Lawrence, the great Regency portraitist,
and all three people helped him build up an amazing collection.
Why I'm telling you about Angerstein's collection,
that was just down the road in Pall Mall,
was because Lord Liverpool's government in 1824
finally did the right thing and bought the collection for us
as a foundation collection of England, the National Gallery.
They actually bought 38
of John Julius Angerstein's Old Master paintings.
They also bought the lease on his London townhouse in Pall Mall
because they had nowhere to put the pictures,
because this was a foundation collection.
And so if you imagine it, the National Gallery,
which is meant to be in a public domain,
was actually founded on a private gentleman's private art collection
and the first home was not a purpose-built designated gallery,
it was actually his London Georgian townhouse.
And the type of art that he had
was the type of art that his three Royal Academician presidential friends
told him was the best taste, okay.
So, it's a very narrow type of art collecting,
and it's all the type of art that, had John Julius Angerstein been an aristocrat,
he wasn't, he was a financier, a gentleman,
but the type of art was emulating the taste of the aristocrats,
who would have gone on the Grand Tour to Italy,
Rome, Florence, Naples, whatever, France, Germany.
And so it was dominated by
16th and 17th-century Italian and some French art,
so I'm talking about the later Raphael, Michelangelo, that sort of thing.
So, if any of you came to the talk that was the first in this series,
I'm second in our series of the history of the National Gallery,
we looked at Sebastiano del Piombo, 'The Raising of Lazarus'.
That is National Gallery accession number 1,
and that was one of the 38 paintings
in John Julius Angerstein's collection,
and it was a grand manner, it was meant to be beautifully painted,
it was meant to show young artists how to draw compositions,
how to paint nude figures, how to draw landscape, that sort of thing.
So, we have artists like Michelangelo, Raphael, Leonardo,
we have French painters like Claude Lorrain and Poussin,
all the great academics.
That was what was in the core foundation collection
of John Julius Angerstein,
purchased by Lord Liverpool's government
to form the core of the national collection.
And young aspiring artists from the Royal Academy and elsewhere
were meant to come and study this type of art
that was acknowledged to be the correct form of art
and often showed classical subject matters, history paintings,
images from the Bible, but in the best manner
so that the British native school of young artists
would be able to resurrect our own school
and if not rival
they could even maybe surpass
the great masters from the foreign continent, okay.
So, this is what was the original National Gallery.
And this is how it continued for the first 30 years
until the mid-1850s.
And this was partly because
of the nature of the setup of the National Gallery.
They had a conservative body of aristocratic trustees
who all had private collections,
much of the same kind as John Julius Angerstein,
so they were comfortable and knew about that type of art
and so this is what they felt able to collect.
The second problem was that there was no annual purchase grant.
The government said, "We've been so generous,
we have bought the nation 38 paintings,
and we have housed it, and that is your lot."
And so they had no money to increase the collection,
so what the trustees tried to do
was bang on the doors of their aristocratic conservative friends
who all had collections like John Julius Angerstein's,
so when gifts and bequests came through, they were all of the same kind.
So, the National Gallery did grow quite steadily,
but it only collected a certain type of art,
like NG 1, Sebastiano del Piombo, that type of thing.
But then we have a change of era.
The Georgian era dies out,
we always think of them as rather naughty, rather louche,
rather fun-loving, aristocratic,
not caring about the general public or education,
and in come the serious Victorians and Queen Victoria comes to the throne.
And we start having serious-minded politicians
thinking about what is the point of the National Gallery
and who should it be serving,
and what type of art it should be collecting,
and what direction of flow should we be going in.
Were we happy to continue along
in this nice sort of vein of collecting yet more Michelangelos, Leonardos,
Claude, Poussin, that type of thing?
So, we have a number of select committees:
1835, 1840, 1850,
1853, you get the drift.
Thousands of pages of reports, hundreds of witness statements,
and all these questions are being asked
and prodded and thought about and contemplated,
and the end result is that people think:
"We're not that happy with the National Gallery
just showing certain types of art.
Shouldn't it be an educational collection?
Shouldn't it be more than a treasure trove of already acknowledged masterpieces?
If it's meant to serve a public and teach the history of art,
we can't teach the same thing time and time again.
We don't want more of the same drilling down, we want a breadth.
Shouldn't it become a survey collection
in order to display visually
the entire story of Western European painting?"
And the agreement basically was, "Yes, we've got it wrong
and we need to go back to the drawing board."
And this is where my hero, Charles Eastlake, comes in,
along with many people,
and this is where paintings like these two paintings here
come into play,
because people like, I wanted to quote to you
from a statement that one of the MPs, Lord John Russell,
made in the House of Commons on the 8th of March, 1853.
And remember that when he's speaking to his fellow MPs,
these type of pictures didn't exist,
we didn't have any works by the Master of the Albertini,
the Master of the Casole Fresco,
or Segna di Bonaventura's Crucifixion.
But the MP Lord John Russel wanted them, he had a vision.
"There is one object which I have more than once
stated in this house as worth striving for,
an object which ought not to be attained with much difficulty,
I mean the obtaining of a collection
of works by the early-Italian masters,
many of which are, indeed, very beautiful in themselves,
but which have a further value as showing the progress
which led afterwards to the beautiful creations of Raphael and da Vinci."
Okay, so you get here a sense of
the desire to show a story,
the progress, the development
of Western European art.
After people like Lord John Russell and various other foreigners
started beating their drum for a reform,
my hero, Charles Eastlake,
comes into the equation.
Before he had any association with the National Gallery,
he had aspired to become a history painter in the European tradition
and he'd been a pupil at the Royal Academy schools as a young man,
and then had actually lived for no fewer than 14 years
in Rome, where he had travelled around Rome and further afield in Italy
and France and Germany, looking at private and public collections
and thinking about great art.
He was also very intellectual by bent,
and he started thinking about the history of art
from the pictures he'd seen and realised that England
was a little bit behind its continental partners
in the writing of the story of art,
so he started laying down his paintbrush and picking up his pen,
and he started translating texts,
Goethe's Colour Theory,
Passavant's book on the "Life of Raphael", into English
because he was very concerned
that the Brits weren't very good at languages
and couldn't get hold of the information
that was written in French, Italian, German and so on.
So he did a good lot of translation work and a good lot of editing work,
and he was also involved as secretary
of something called the Fine Art Commission
that was to encourage a new school of British artists
to decorate the new Houses of Parliament.
The old ones had burnt down and Barry built the ones just down the road
in 1840,
and Prince Albert was involved, as was Sir Robert Peel,
as was Eastlake, in generating interest
in young artists to paint British scenes,
British histories and literature for the Houses of Parliament,
and he was also interested in building up a collection of art.
In 1847, his first association with this place started
when he was appointed Keeper.
The old Keeper, William Seguier, had died
and he was very Georgian and happy-go-lucky
and didn't do much to build up the collection
and didn't worry that there were no labels or catalogues,
and didn't worry if people didn't come into Pall Mall
or this place here that was opened in 1838.
Eastlake was much more concerned
with the history of the pictures and that the public should come and enjoy them,
so he wrote a pioneering catalogue at the end of his keepership in 1847
that tried to plot the history of all the works of art,
and he was a very, very vociferous speaker
advocating this survey
in the most important of those select committees,
there was one in 1835, 1840, 1850 and 1853.
Now, it was the 1853 select committee
that really promoted the purchase of works of this kind,
and their report was published, a thousand pages of it,
in 1855,
and that led to something absolutely revolutionary
in the history of art institutions.
This place was reconstituted.
I've done quite a lot of work in the history of other institutions
and apart from Dulwich College in South London having a minor change to its rules
I can find no other major European museum
that has been reconstituted,
as if to say: "We got it wrong,
we had go to back to the drawing board and we've started again."
And it is in the reconstitution of the National Gallery in 1855
that led to the embracing of the purchase
of works like the two behind me,
and these two are two of the twenty-two
that came in very quickly
after this reconstitution in 1857.
As part of the reconstitution,
Eastlake had been this very vocal expert witness at the 1853 select committee,
the government said, "Right, sorry, we've got it wrong,
we didn't have expert staff, didn't give you money,
no direction of flow, we're going to change all this."
So, in a nutshell, Eastlake gets promoted from being Keeper
to the first-ever director with autonomous power,
he wanted that because he had a vision,
he didn't want trustees to stop him doing it.
He was the first director with autonomous power,
he had cash in hand so he could actually buy pictures,
he was given 10,000 pounds a year
to buy paintings for the new-style National Gallery,
and he had a competent staff.
He had a Bavarian picture dealer called Otto Mündler,
who was employed for three years as the Gallery's travelling agent.
And between Otto Mündler and Charles Eastlake,
they scoured continental Europe
with a vision, with a purse full of money
and knowledge from all the art history they'd been learning,
and they stole a march on many other museums of the day.
Eastlake wrote about 36 notebooks
which we preserve in the National Gallery, which say where he went,
when he went, who he saw, what he saw,
and whether he thought certain works like this were eligible.
I had to transcribe all the notebooks and this word "non-el",
or "in-el", or "el". What is this "el"?
I thought, "Ugh! Silly woman! Eligible."
It's not eligible or it is eligible.
And Eastlake, as the first director of the National Gallery,
had to make up things as he went along because there was no precedent.
So, he had money and he had a vision of making a survey collection,
but within that he had to think about what pictures would be suitable and appropriate
for the National Gallery of Great Britain.
So, eligible would be: suitable subject matter,
so, religious art is okay,
we don't want too many weepy Saint Mary Magdalenes
and we certainly don't want too many images of God the Father,
because we are Protestants, thank you,
in Victorian Britain and we are not Roman Catholic, okay.
Eligible apart from subject matter is cost.
We only have 10,000 pounds, we're lucky to have that,
but we've got to spend our pennies carefully,
and always the private owners or churches
that are trying to sell their pictures to Eastlake and Mündler
are trying to raise the price.
Eastlake and Mündler are trying to lower it.
There's got to be a fair asking price.
The condition, it's got to be in fair condition,
because the public, like we lot, will say:
"Oi! Why have you spent X number of pounds of our money
on a rubbishy little painting that's falling apart?"
Also, Eastlake was trying to introduce the public
to unusual works like this,
and if they were really falling apart the public simply wouldn't get it,
so Eastlake had to be very strategic in his purchases,
he had to think of subject matter, price, condition,
and then he could get going.
And one of the very first purchases he made
in line with the recommendations
of the 1853 select committee,
written up in its 1,000-page report in 1855 that reconstituted the Gallery
was: Eastlake, you're going to go out
and buy early-Italian pictures
because they are the beginning chapter, the first chapter,
of this survey, this story, that we want to tell the British public.
We're very good, if you think of an alphabet, with letters like
M, N, O and P, something like Claude Lorrain, Poussin, that type of thing,
but where's the A? And B and C? We've got none of that.
So, we've got a very patchy story.
So, why these two paintings are so key in the history of the National Gallery
is that they are the first examples
that our first director, Charles Eastlake,
bought of early-Italian art
for the National Gallery in order to fulfil
the new purchasing criteria
of a survey collection
that could be displayed on the walls in such a way
that anyone could walk into the Gallery
and start understanding visually
the development of Western European art from its origins,
and these paintings were some of the very earliest
that Eastlake managed to scoop up
in a coup in 1857.
So, he was appointed director in 1855,
he's got his notebooks, he's running around and he comes to Florence.
And there are a couple of wily dealers,
Ugo Baldi and Francesco Lombardi,
and they have been making a collection
of earliest Sienese and Florentine art.
And they loved them to a certain extent, they are Tuscan,
they have a sense of pride, but they're also dealers,
and they want to make a deal.
They want to sell their collection of 100 works
to anyone, and they don't really mind.
So, the National Gallery is aware of this collection from 1847,
but they don't have any money, it's not 1855, it hasn't been reconstructed,
and why do they want 100 ugly early-Tuscan pictures anyway,
because they're not used to it and don't have a rationale.
So, the matter gets dropped from 1847.
It's picked up in 1855
when people can say, "Look, guys, aren't there two dealers
who haven't sold their 100 pictures yet?
Their pictures are just what we want in this new-style National Gallery.
We don't need 100 of them,
but to have a nice selection would fill up the A, B, C bit
of the alphabet we're trying to create."
So they go back to Ugo Baldi and Francesco Lombardi,
the National Gallery says, "We love your pictures, we don't want 100,
because they're not all "L"
according to price, condition, subject matter,
can we have about 20 of them?"
First of all, the dealers say, "Nope, you either have all of them or none of them."
The Gallery said, "We can't afford all of that."
But Eastlake was desperate,
so desperate was he to get some of them
that he had an Act of Parliament passed, that we haven't used very often,
in 1857 to say if we buy an entire collection but we don't want some of it,
can we sell off the bits we don't want?
This is a very unknown fact about the National Gallery.
We only used it once to get rid of some early-German pictures that we didn't want.
The sale wasn't successful, so we haven't done it again.
But Eastlake had the trick up his sleeve
that he could go back to the wily Florentine dealers and say,
"I'll take your 100, but we'll get rid of some of them."
But luckily, at the same time the stars converged
and although he had the law ready up his sleeve
the dealer said, "Just have what you want."
So he bought 22 of the 100
early-Florentine and Sienese paintings, of which these are two,
and in the glass case behind me, the Duccio is a third of the 22.
And when the 22 pictures arrived back at the National Gallery,
there was a lot of gasping and comments of dismay,
because they're unwrapping not just one or two, but 22 pictures
dating from the sort of 13th, 14th centuries,
the earliest one was Margarito d'Arezzo of 1260.
These are still 600 years old, they're 50 years later, 1310, okay.
They're unwrapping one after another,
and the trustees are thinking, "Oh god, Eastlake has gone completely mad.
What is he doing?" And the public are thinking:
"Hmm, the National Gallery was meant to be full of examples of high art
that we're meant to follow and emulate."
But Eastlake has to say in his first annual report that was published,
he has to justify his purchases saying, "I haven't lost my head,
I am quite sane, and what I'm doing here
is I'm buying, on very different grounds than what we're used to purchasing for,
I'm not buying for aesthetic merit,
I'm not buying because things look nice,
I'm buying for historical interest.
I'm buying them as an historian, an art historian, not an artist.
So, I'm saying to young artists, come and look, don't necessarily copy,
but just enjoy,
and for the general public to understand the history of art."
So, I'd like to finish by reading the justification
that Eastlake gave out loud
when he purchased this wonderful crucifixion
that I started off with by Segna di Bonaventura,
and this painting, we don't know much about the artist,
but we say it's the Master of the Albertini.
The dreadful thing was he didn't even have a name,
and he was spending money on a Master, they like things with an autograph.
Anyway, this is what Eastlake said,
that he had not bought all of the works from the Lombardi-Baldi collection,
but, "I have selected all the justly celebrated
and all the most historically valuable pictures in the collection.
They were comprehended." I love that, sort of going after a thief.
"And not withstanding the difficulty averted
of stopping at that point,"
because the dealers wanted to sell him more,
"scarcely any others were admitted.
The unsightly specimens
of Margaritone and the earliest Tuscan painters,"
so unsightly is a Victorian word for ugly, people thought they were ugly.
"So the unsightly specimens of Margaritone and the earliest Tuscan painters
were selected solely for their historical importance,
and as showing the rude beginnings
from which, through nearly two centuries and a half,
Italian art slowly advanced to the period of Raphael and his contemporaries."
There was a sigh of relief at Raphael, they understand, they like Raphael.
Raphael is the pinnacle of beauty,
but Eastlake is saying we've got to get to the story where hero Raphael enters.
We've got to know what preceded Raphael.
And this is why the Gallery did such a great job under Eastlake
of acquiring many, many of the 150 acquisitions under his watch
that were early-Italian, and also early-German, early-Netherlandish art,
in order to show the public the history of painting.
And I just wanted to finish by saying
that the National Gallery that we have today
is largely the result of Eastlake's efforts.
He died in Pisa,
basically through over-hard work on Christmas Eve in 1865,
a decade after starting in office.
And his vision for the National Gallery
transformed the place from being a hotchpotch
of certain acknowledged masterpieces hung in a random order
with no labelling, poor lighting, no cataloguing,
into the type of gallery that we have become.
We may answer questions in a slightly different way,
but we pose the same questions
that Eastlake first put on the table:
What is the National Gallery for? It's for everyone.
What type of paintings should we have?
A survey collection of Western European art.
How should they be displayed?
By chronology.
By an historical account through different countries.
How do we help the public to understand them?
By putting labels up, by cataloguing them properly, and so on.
So, my point to you today is when you come round the Gallery again
or continue your journey this afternoon,
please remember and spare a thought for Charles Eastlake,
our first director in office for a decade from 1855,
who transformed the way that the Gallery is arranged and run
and it was he who was really responsible
for the type of art in the Sainsbury Wing,
because he inaugurated systematically
the purchase of the earliest types of Italian art
that we have in our collection.
Thank you very much.
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