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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