The Galleries of the Exposition | Page 5

as Gainsborough undoubtedly was,
they are devoid of all the refreshing qualities that modern art has given
to the world.
Sir Peter Lely and Sir Henry Raeburn claim particular attention on the
north wall - the first by a deftly painted portrait of a lady, and the other
by a broadly executed likeness of John Wauchope. As portraits go, the
first picture is one of the finest in the gallery. Very conspicuous by
their size, the two big Romney portraits on the east wall are not in the
same class with either the Lawrence or the Reynolds on the same wall.
The great Lawrence portrait, the lady with the black hat, is one of the
most superb portraits in the world. There is a peculiar charm about this
canvas quite independent of the very attractive Lady Margaret
represented in the picture. The luscious blacks and pale reds and the
neutral cream silk cape make for a colour harmony seldom achieved.
Reynolds' portrait of John Thomas, Bishop of Rochester, is equally rich
and full of fine colour contrasts. The shrewd-looking gentleman is
psychologically well given, although one's attention is detracted from
the head by the gorgeous raiment of a dignitary of the church.
I think Hogarth's portrait on the small wall to the right does not disclose
this master at his best, nor does Hoppner rise to the level of his best
work in the large portrait alongside of it. The Marchioness of Wellesley
is better and more sympathetically rendered than her two children, who
barely manage to stay in the picture.
On the whole an atmosphere of dignity permeates this gallery of older
masters. One may deplore the lack of many characteristics of modern
art in many of the old pictures. They are very often lifeless and stiff,
but the worst of them are far more agreeable than most of those of our
own time. The serene beauty of the Tiepolo, the Lawrence, and the
Gainsborough portrait has hardly been surpassed since their day. Our
age is, of course, the age of the landscape painter, the outdoor painter,
as opposed to the indoor portraits of these great masters. It would not
be right to judge a Gainsborough by his landscapes any more than it
would be to judge a modern landscape painter by his portraits. But no
matter how uninteresting these old landscapes are, their brown tonality
insures them a certain dignity of inoffensiveness which a mediocre
modern work of art never possesses, I would rather any time have a bad
old picture than a bad one of the very recent schools. Modesty is not

one of the chief attributes of modern art, and the silent protest of a
gallery such as the one we are now in, the artist can well afford to heed.
The sculpture in this gallery has no relation to the historical character
of the room, but fits well into the atmosphere. Adolph A. Weinman's
admirable "Descending Night" is so familiar to all Exposition visitors,
in its adaptation in a fine fountain in the Court of the Universe, that no
more reference need be made to it. Here in bronze on a small scale, it is
even more refined. Mrs. Saint Gaudens' charming family group, in
burnt clay, is not so well in harmony with this gallery of older work,
but infinitely more appealing than J. Q. A. Ward's "Hunter" or Cyrus
Dallin's "Indian". Both of these groups lack suggestive quality. They
are carried too far. Edward Kemeys' "Buffaloes" lacks a sense of
balance. The defeated buffalo, pushed over the cliff, takes the interest
of the observer outside of the center of the composition, and a lack of
balance is noticeable in this otherwise well modelled group.
Gallery 91.
In this room one is carried farther back into the earlier phases of
painting by a Luini of pronounced decorative quality. The picture is
probably a part of a larger scheme, but it is well composed into the
frame which holds it. Besides, it is of interest as the only piece of old
mural painting included in the exhibition. The ground on which the
angel is painted is a piece of the plaster surface of the original wall of
which this fragment was a part. The method of producing these fresco
paintings (al fresco calco) necessitated the employment of a practical
plasterer besides the painter. The painting was first drawn carefully on
paper and then transferred in its outlines upon freshly prepared plaster,
just put upon the wall. Having no other means of making the paint
adhere to the surface, the painter had to rely upon the chemical reaction
of the plaster, which would eventually unify the paint with itself. It was
a very tedious process, which nowadays has been superseded by the
method of painting on canvas,