ART.
BURNE-JONES AT THE NEW GALLERY.
"IF, as I hold, the noblest picture is a painted poem, then I say that in the whole history of art there has never been a painter more greatly gifted than Burns-Jones, with the highest qualities of poetical invention." Thus said Rossetti to Mr. Comyns Carr, as the latter tells us in the preface to the catalogue of the present exhibition. No reasonable critic will dispute the statement that a picture should be a painted poem. The dispute will be as to the kind of poetic ideas that are capable of expression in paint. The present ex- hibition shows very clearly that Burne-Jones considered that definite and intellectual, and often complicated, ideas were capable of pictorial treatment. So much so, that the pictures repeatedly become illustrations and assemblages of poetical images, with little heed as to whether these images were really capable of being represented by paint or not. The poetic idea is always present, but frequently it is an idea which is impossible of representation except by a highly artificial symbolism amounting to picture writing.
In weighing Rossetti's statement that there had never been a painter more greatly gifted with poetic invention than Burne-Jones it must not be forgotten that Rossetti's own view of poetry was a very limited one. These two men were at one in the subjects they treated pictorially. They were attracted by the same type of mystical imagery and fantastic story-telling. Elemental ideas and passions in all their directness and force had little charm for either of them. In taking a general survey of the wonderful collection of pictures at the New Gallery one feels that the world created by the painter, though a very beautiful one, is one of quaint fancies, subtle feelings, and languishing emotions. The spells of Merlin are upon us, beautiful, vague, and haunting, but not the soul-shaking revelations of a prophet who has penetrated the mysteries of time and eternity. Accepting this, and if we deliver over our minds to the enchanter, it is impossible not to be deeply impressed by the power and variety of the magic. In the greater number of the pictures the artist seems never quite willing to let the main emotion work upon us directly. Almost always the emotional or poetic basis of the picture has to be disentangled from a mass of symbolism and imagery, not perhaps irrelevant, but still obscuring to the main issue. Some of the pictures are much more direct in their appeal than others, and it is by these works that Burne-Jones may most truly claim a high place as a painter, and not merely as an illustrator of legends.
Two pictures in the present exhibition stand out for their directness of emotion and clearness of statement,—King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid (No. 98) and The Depths of the Sea (No. 101). In the first of these the dominant idea of the self-abandonment and wholehearted worship of the King is con- veyed with the utmost power and force. The blank beggar maid's face tells us nothing of what is going on in her mind. The whole picture is painted to make us realise the state of feeling of the King. The work is a true painted poem, not a painted illustration of a poetical incident. In few other of the pictures here is there anything so fine as the execution of the whole of this large work. In this composition the arrange- ment of the planes is quite satisfactory, which is not the case in a great many other instances. Too often the various objects, men and things, of which the picture is made up, seem to have been crashed and flattened, producing the effect rather of the botanist's dried flowers than of the grow- ing plant. In The Depths of the Sea the emotional basis of the picture is even simpler than that of the King Cophetua. It is the weird exultation of the non-moral being—a mermaid—as she drags down through the water the body of a drowned sailor. This picture is haunting in its fascination, and attractive by its power. One regret is raised by it and it is this : why, when the artist could paint a face with such an extraordinary amount of life and expression in it, should he, as a rule, have been content with expressionless masks for his women ? Those who distrust appeals to literary ideas in pictures will regard The Depths of the Sea as the painter's masterpiece, and pronounce it to be a true poem. One of the most completely successful pictures here as regards unity of impression is The Wine of Circe (No. 65). Colour and form are equally harmonious. Nothing could be better than the gesture of the enchantress as with cat-like stealth she pours the enchanted liquor into the wine. The lines of her figure are finely carried on in the black panthers that fawn upon her. The ships sailing up to the land are full of movement. The present exhibition may be said to contain nearly all the important pictures painted by Burne-Jones. The main exception is the omission of the series of the Briar Bose, which forms part of the decoration of a house, and so was difficult to move. The tapestry in the hall is in some ways one of the best things in the exhibition. Planned by Borne-Jones and executed under the supervision of William Morris, these woven pictures are of the most splendid effect. The clear, decisive colours have a freshness about them which the often worried surface of the oil pictures lack.
In the King Cophetna and The Depths of the Sea Burne-Jones appears at his best as a painter. They are both sombre and harmonious. When the painter dealt with bright colours he showed that the crowning gift of the colourist was denied him. He could assemble together brilliant hues and put them side by side sometimes with telling effect; but they always remained individual patches of colour standing aloof from one another. Now, the great colourist will put side by side the most vivid colours, but he does something which makes them become an indissoluble harmony. An instance of this mechanical mixture of colours is to be found in the very large unfinished work, Arthur in Avalon (No. 124). In this picture the figures are clothed in cold pinks, purples, and acid greens which are not in any way fused together by the dirty greys of the background. The composition of this large canvas—it is 21 ft. 6 in. long—is the reverse of effective. The figures seem too small, while the tendency to scrap- piness of effect so often present in this painter's work is here painfully evident. No one dominating idea of the design unites the parts into a whole. The eye travels from one part of the picture to another in an arbitrary manner, instead of being compelled to trace out a coherent and ordered intention. In studying the peculiarities of form peculiar to Burne- Jones, one is chiefly struck by the weak sense he had of the construction of the human body. Heads, hands, and limbs may be beautifully drawn by themselves, but figure-draughtsmanship, to be great, demands some- thing else, and that is construction. It is this feeling for construction which makes a figure a living thing. As an instance of the total want of this great quality, take the figure of Nimue in The Beguiling of Merlin (No. 68). If the body is taken in sections, there is much that is fine; but put together, the figure totters, and gives the feeling that collapse must follow movement. This is to be regretted, as the weird figure of Merlin is very fine, and a remarkable picture is injured by this lack of one of the essentials of figure-drawing. Merely regarded as a noble rendering of the human form undraped, the best thing here is the figure of the King on The Wheel of Fortune (No. 95). The head and upper part of the chest, together with the figure's right arm, are of singular beauty of form, both as regards line and modelling, but the rest of the figure does not quite harmonise with this upper part. Beautiful as are the legs, they do not quite belong to the body. Now, in supreme figure-work, like the Adam of Michelangelo, it is impossible to separate the different parts of the figure. It is the feeling of absolute unity that makes that figure incom- parable in art.
Probably Burne-Jones will always appeal more to people who understand poetry better than they do painting, and who like to walk in "meadows curiously beautified with lilies." He will satisfy those who crave for an ideal world of beautiful and strange things rather than for a setting forth of the great emotions that lie at the roots of our nature. Those who wish for inspiring thoughts and stimu- lating poetry, the awful message of the prophet, or the healthy joy of the world, will turn rather to the Sistine and the Stanze than to the Golden Stairs and The Lazes Yeneris. These comparisons have been made not to belittle, but to explain, the art of the great man who passed from us not a year ago. His fame can only be increased by the present collection of his works. Never is there to be found among them anything trivial or mean, and the patient development of the painter's ideal tells of a high serious- ness of purpose carried on till the end. Though many will feel that the painter did not touch the deepest things of the soul, and regret that his art was restricted, none will refuse to accord Burne-Jones a prominent and lasting
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