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Tuesday 2 December 2008

Face value

Pompeo Batoni 1708–1787
National Gallery, until 18 May

Room 2 opens up a little on the colour front with some quite pleasing hues — soft carmines and aquamarines — but it’s all rather muted, too intent on being harmonious to provide an edge of interest to catch the eye. Even a potentially dramatic subject such as ‘Prometheus Fashioning Man from Clay’ is thrown away in the urge to be well mannered. And the compositions are too reliant on the reliefs from ancient Roman sarcophagi to have their own imaginative life. Too many of these religious, mythological or allegorical pictures are wooden. Look at ‘Achilles Comforted by Thetis’ (1747), so theatrical and forced as to be almost laughable. The two Tritons seem to be staring in disbelief at Thetis’ buttocks, as we stare in disbelief at the whole ensemble.

A change of pace comes with the third room, which introduces the portraits from the Grand Tour, when wealthy Britishers touring cultural high spots stopped off in Rome for a portrait souvenir by an artist at the height of fashion. And this is when Batoni really emerges as a painter, particularly in the superb portrait of Frederick, Lord North, to the right of the entrance into this gallery. This three-quarter-length depiction has the ring of conviction to it, an authenticity of character unmitigated by the various decorative distractions of the clothing, however beautifully rendered. The pairing of the two portraits of Sarah, Lady Fetherstonhaugh, and her husband Sir Matthew, is not nearly so impressive, but then perhaps Batoni did not manage the same sympathy for these sitters. (There were, after all, nine portraits altogether of Sir Matthew and his family, and perhaps he wearied of them.) Leaving this room, there is another fine portrait to the right of the exit, of Robert Clements, later 1st Earl of Leitrim.

The fourth room is the centrepiece of the show. Here is a great trio of Batoni portraits: ‘Colonel the Hon. William Gordon’, in magnificent plaid, kilt and stockings; ‘Thomas Dundas, later 1st Baron Dundas’, balletic in pose though he appears to have torn his tights; and ‘Alexander Gordon, 4th Duke of Gordon’, painted with an extraordinary though ever-so-refined swagger. For my money, the two small portraits on either side of the exit from the exhibition are more poignant and affecting: ‘Henry Swinburne’ and ‘Prince William Henry, Duke of Gloucester’. Room 5 is given over to Batoni the storyteller, and is generally disappointing, though ‘The Appearance of the Angel to Hagar in the Desert’ has a bit of vim to it. The last room concentrates on Batoni’s ability to evoke character, and includes ‘David Garrick’, informal and attractive in a fashionable purple-brown Italian velvet suit, one of the few sitters not of high birth that Batoni painted. Also here is Lady Mary Fox, later Baroness Holland, whose celebrated amiability shines forth from the canvas.

More articles from: Andrew Lambirth | this section

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