Frederick W. Hamilton - "Capitals"

Henry Seton Merriman - "Dross"

Rev. E. Donald Carr - "A Night in the Snow"

Laura Lee Hope - "Six Little Bunkers at Uncle Fred's"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

Art in England

D >> Dutton Cook >> Art in England




West returned from the palace full of this royal announcement. He at
once put himself in communication with three ex-Directors of the
Incorporated Society,--Cotes, a fashionable portrait-painter; Chambers,
who had been instructor in architecture to the King when Prince of
Wales; and Moser, the gold-chaser and enameller, who had taught the King
drawing. These four artists formed themselves into a committee to
arrange the plan of an academy. The King, it is stated, took great
personal interest in the scheme, and even drew up several laws with his
own hand. He expressed great anxiety that the design should be kept a
profound secret, lest it should be converted into a vehicle of political
influence. The artists did not object to this secrecy; they rather
preferred that their plan should, as it were, open fire upon their foes
unexpectedly, with the suddenness of a battery promptly unmasked.

We now come to the well-known story of the arrival at Windsor Castle of
Kirby, the President of the Incorporated Society, at a time when the
King is inspecting West's completed picture of, 'Regulus.' Kirby joins
in the general admiration of the work; he turns to West, and trusts that
it is the artist's intention to exhibit the picture. West replies that
the question of exhibition must rest with his Majesty, for whom the
picture has been painted. 'Assuredly,' says the King, 'I shall be happy
to let the work be shown to the public.' 'Then, Mr. West, you will send
it to my exhibition,' adds the President of the Incorporated Society.
'No!' his Majesty interposes, 'it must go to _my_ exhibition--_to the
Royal Academy_!' Mr. Kirby is thunderstruck,--the battery had been
unmasked. Profoundly humiliated he at once retires from the royal
presence, not to survive the shock very long, says the story. However,
he lived to 1774.

Mr. Kirby was a landscape painter of repute in his day. Author of a
work on perspective, and the friend of Gainsborough, he had risen from
quite humble life to a position of some eminence, entirely by his own
exertions. It was admitted that he had attained the post of President of
the Incorporated Society without intrigue on his part, and that both by
reason of his professional skill and his private worth, he was entitled
to the respect alike of the friends and foes of that institution. The
King condescended to play an ignoble part when he took pains to mortify
and distress so honest a gentleman. Rival artists might conspire against
the Society from which they had seceded, and seek to mine its position;
but his Majesty stooped very low when he lent his royal hand to the
firing of the train. However, he had thrown himself heart and soul into
the project for founding a new society--the Royal Academy. So that he
reared that edifice, he seemed to care little how he might sully his
fingers in the process. In this, as in some other occurrences in the
course of his reign, he demonstrated sufficiently that he could on
occasion be obstinate and fatuous, wanting both in discrimination and in
dignity.

After the scene at Windsor Castle, in which poor Mr. Kirby had been
demolished, a meeting was held at the house of Wilton, the sculptor, of
some thirty artists, including, of course, the twenty-four ex-Directors
of the Incorporated Society, to hear Chambers, the architect, read the
proposed academy's code of laws which had been prepared under the
immediate inspection of the King, and to nominate the officers of the
institution. Some uneasiness had been felt during the day as to whether
Reynolds would or not join the academy. He had hitherto abstained from
all part in the proceedings; but that he should be the first president
had been decided by the King in consultation with the other
conspirators. Penny, the portrait-painter, had visited Reynolds to sound
him on the subject, but found him obdurate. West was then deputed to
wait upon the greatest English painter, and to leave no means untried in
the way of persuading him to join the new association. For a time
Reynolds was cold and coy enough, but influenced at last by the
allurement of probable knighthood, or the force of other arguments, he
permitted himself to be carried in West's coach to the meeting at
Wilton's. He was at once declared president; Chambers being appointed
treasurer, Newton secretary, Moser keeper, Penny professor of painting,
and Dr. William Hunter professor of anatomy. Reynolds, however, deferred
his acceptance of the post of president until he had consulted his
friends Dr. Johnson and Mr. Burke upon the subject, and it was not until
a fortnight after his election that he finally consented to fill the
proposed office.

The first formal meeting of the Royal Academy was held in Pall Mall on
the 14th December 1768. Mr. Chambers read a report to the artists
assembled, relating the steps that had been taken to found the Academy.
No allusion was made in this report to the secret negotiations and
consultations with the King; but it was set forth that on the previous
28th November, Messrs. Chambers, Cotes, Moser, and West had had the
honour of presenting a memorial to the Crown, signed by twenty-two
artists, soliciting the royal assistance and protection in establishing
a new society for promoting the arts of design. The objects of the
society were stated to be 'the establishing a well-regulated school or
academy of design, for the use of students in the arts, and an annual
exhibition, open to all artists of distinguished merit, where they may
offer their performances to public inspection, and acquire that degree
of reputation and encouragement which they shall be deemed to deserve.'
'We apprehend,' the memorialists had proceeded, 'that the profits
arising from the last of these institutions will fully answer all the
expenses of the first: we even flatter ourselves they will be more than
necessary for that purpose, and that we shall be enabled annually to
distribute somewhat in useful charities. Your Majesty's avowed patronage
and protection is therefore all that we at present humbly sue for; but
should we be disappointed in our expectations, and find that the profits
of the society are insufficient to defray its expenses, we humbly hope
that your Majesty will not deem that expense ill-applied which may be
found necessary to support so useful an institution.' This memorial, so
the report went on to state, the King had received very graciously:
saying that he considered the culture of the arts as a national concern,
and that the memorialists might depend upon his patronage and assistance
in carrying their plan into execution; further, he desired that a fuller
statement in writing of their intentions might be laid before him.
Accordingly, Mr. Chambers had drawn up a sketch of his plan, and, having
obtained its approval by as many artists as the shortness of time would
allow, had submitted it to the King, who, on the 10th of December 1768,
signified his approbation, ordered that the plan should be carried into
execution, and with his own hand signed Mr. Chambers's plan--'the
Instrument,' as it was then, and has ever since been called. Mr.
Chambers then read the Instrument to the meeting, after which the
artists present signed an obligation or declaration, promising to
observe all the laws and regulations contained in the Instrument, and
all future laws that might be made for the better government of the
society, and to employ their utmost endeavours to promote the honour and
interest of the establishment, so long as they should continue members
thereof. The Academy thus obtained its constitution, and assumed such
form of legal existence as it has ever possessed.

The Instrument is simply a document on parchment, signed by the King,
but unsealed and unattested. It recites that sundry eminent professors
of painting, sculpture, and architecture had solicited the King's
patronage and assistance in establishing a society for promoting the
arts of design, and that the utility of the plan had been fully and
clearly demonstrated. Therefore the King, being desirous of encouraging
every useful undertaking, did thereby institute and establish the said
Society under the name of the 'Royal Academy of Arts in London,'
graciously declaring himself the patron, protector, and supporter
thereof, and commanding it should be established under the forms and
regulations thereinafter set forth, which had been humbly laid before
his Majesty, and had received his royal assent and approbation. The
rules declared that the Academy should consist of forty members only,
who should be called Academicians; they were to be at the time of their
admission painters, sculptors, or architects of reputation in their
professions, of high moral character, not under twenty-five years of
age, resident in Great Britain, and not members of any other society of
artists established in London. Under this rule, it will be noted, that
engravers could not aspire to the honours of the Academy. Sir Robert
Strange regarded this as a direct affront to the members of his
profession, and attributed it to his well-known attachment to the
Incorporated Society and hostility to the designs of the ex-Directors of
that body. The provision that members of other societies were to be
disqualified from becoming members of the Academy, was of course aimed
at the rival institutions, and undoubtedly a severe restriction upon
the general body of artists. Of the forty members who were to constitute
the Academy, the Instrument named thirty-six only; a circumstance which
justified suspicion that the leaders in the enterprise had so small a
following that they could not muster in sufficient force to complete the
prescribed number of original members: or they may have purposely left
vacancies to be supplied as artists of eminence were detached from the
rival societies or otherwise became eligible. Among the thirty-six,[9]
while many artists of fame appear, it must also be said that many very
obscure persons figure, whose names, but for their registry upon the
list of original Academicians, would probably never have been known to
posterity in any way. Nearly a third of the number are foreigners. There
are two ladies, Mesdames Angelica Kauffman and Mary Moser, the first and
last female Academicians. Then there are coach, and even sign-painters,
a medallist, and an engraver--Bartolozzi, whose nomination was in direct
contravention of the Academy's constitution and an additional injustice
to Sir Robert Strange. The originators of the plan must surely have felt
that they were marching through Coventry with rather a ragged regiment
at their heels. The number of reputable names missing from their list
was remarkable: Allan Ramsay, serjeant-painter to the King; Hudson,
Reynolds's preceptor, and Romney, his rival; Scott, the marine painter;
Pine, the portrait painter; and the engravers Strange, Grignon, and
Woollett; beside such artists as Edward Edwards, Joseph Farington, Ozias
Humphrey, John Mortimer, Robert Smirke, Francis Wheatleigh, and many
others (members of the Incorporated Society for the most part), who,
though ultimately connected with the Academy, had no share in its
foundation.

[9] The thirty-six members nominated by the Instrument were:--Joshua
Reynolds, Benjamin West, Thomas Sandby (architect), Francis Cotes
(portrait painter), John Baker (coach panel painter), Mason Chamberlin
(portrait painter), John Gwyn (architect), Thomas Gainsborough, J.
Baptist Cipriani (Italian), Jeremiah Meyer (German, miniature painter),
Francis Milner Newton (portrait painter), Paul Sandby (water-colour
painter and engraver), Francesco Bartolozzi (Italian, engraver), Charles
Catton (coach panel painter), Nathaniel Hone (portrait painter), William
Tyre (architect), Nathaniel Dance (portrait painter), Richard Wilson, G.
Michael Moser (Swiss, gold-chaser and enameller), Samuel Wale (sign
painter and book illustrator), Peter Toms (portrait and heraldic
painter), Angelica Kauffman (Swiss), Richard Yeo (sculptor of
medallions, engraver to the Mint), Mary Moser (Swiss, flower painter),
William Chambers (architect), Joseph Wilton (sculptor), George Barrett
(landscape painter), Edward Penny (portrait painter chiefly), Agostino
Carlini (Italian, sculptor), Francis Hayman, Dominic Serres (French,
landscape painter), John Richards (landscape painter), Francesco
Zucarelli (Italian, landscape painter), George Dance (architect),
William Hoare (historical and portrait painter, father of Prince Hoare),
and Johan Zoffany (German, historical and portrait painter). The number
of forty was not completed until 1772, when were added Edward Burch (gem
sculptor and wax modeller), Richard Cosway (miniature painter), Joseph
Nollekens (sculptor), and James Barry (historical painter). Seven of the
original thirty-six Academicians do not appear on the roll of the
Incorporated Society in 1766, viz., Baker, Cipriani, Toms, A. Kauffman,
M. Moser, Penny, and Hoare.

Having named the original members, the Instrument proceeded to lay down
rules for the further government of the institution; to prescribe the
manner of electing future members, a council, and president, a secretary
and keeper (the treasurer was to be nominated by his Majesty, 'as the
King is graciously pleased to pay all deficiencies'), the appointment of
different professors, the establishment of schools, a library for the
free use of students, and of an annual exhibition of works of art to be
'open to all artists of distinguished merit.' New laws and regulations
were to be framed from time to time, but to have no force until
'ratified by the consent of the general assembly and the approbation of
the King.' At the end of the Instrument the King wrote, 'I approve of
this plan; let it be put in execution'--adding his signature.

This Instrument, with the bye-laws and regulations made upon its
authority, cannot be said to possess the characteristics or incidents of
a charter, still less of an Act of Parliament, or indeed, to present any
very formal or legal basis upon which to found a national society. The
Commissioners of 1863, while they recommended the grant of a charter to
define satisfactorily the position of the Academy, considered the
Instrument as a solemn declaration by the original members of the main
objects of their society, to which succeeding members had also
practically become parties, and were of opinion that its legal effects
would be so regarded in a court of law or equity. It did not appear,
however, that the Academy itself was in favour of the objects of its
institution being more clearly defined by means of a charter. In 1836,
Haydon boldly accused the Academicians that they 'cunningly refused
George IV.'s offer of a charter, fearing it would make them responsible
"to Parliament and the nation."' The charge would seem to have some
truth in it. Certainly the Academy has made no attempt to obtain a
precise definition of its position in regard to the crown and the
public.

The Incorporated Society viewed with natural alarm the rise of a rival
institution, favoured in so marked a manner by the patronage of the
crown. Sir Robert Strange at once proposed the presentation of a
petition, setting forth in plain terms the grievances that would be
entailed upon the Society, and upon artists generally, by the illiberal
constitution of the Academy and its apprehended monopoly of the royal
protection. Sir Robert's proposition was, however, not accepted. A
petition of a more cautious nature, from which everything likely to
offend had been carefully eliminated, was presented to the King by Mr.
Kirby, the president. His Majesty replied to the prayer of the petition,
'that the Society already possessed his Majesty's protection; that he
did not mean to encourage one set of men more than another; that, having
extended his favour to the Society incorporated by charter, he had also
encouraged the new petitioners; that his intention was to patronize the
arts; that the Society might rest assured his royal favour should be
equally extended to both, and that he should visit the exhibitions as
usual.' This reply was gracious enough: but it was not ingenuous. The
King was not as good as his word. He _did_ mean 'to encourage one set of
men more than another.' He visited the exhibition of the Incorporated
Society in 1769 _for the last time_. In the same year he presented the
funds of the Society with L100, _his last donation_. Meanwhile his
visits to the Royal Academy were constant, his preference for that
institution clearly manifested; between 1769 and 1780 he presented to
its funds from his privy purse upwards of L5000.

The Incorporated Society, shut out from studying in the Royal Academy,
determined to open an art-school for themselves and their pupils.
Application was made to the Academy for a return of the properties which
Mr. Moser had carried away it was now alleged, under false pretences,
from the St. Martin's Lane Academy. It was intimated that payment should
be made for the chattels in question, or that they should be restored.
The Royal Academy, however, took no steps in the matter. Tired of
waiting, the Incorporated Society at last fitted up at great expense a
new studio for themselves at premises in Maiden Lane, Covent Garden,
occupied in more modern times by the Cyder Cellars.

Early in 1769 the Academy opened its art-schools in Pall Mall; Reynolds
presiding, read his first discourse. One grave defect in the Academy's
constitution was then in a measure remedied. The art of engraving was
recognised: a law was passed, by which not more than six engravers could
be admitted as 'associates of the Royal Academy.' In April the first
exhibition was held. The number of works exhibited was 136. Among these
were four portraits by Reynolds, seven by Cotes (some of them in
crayons, in which he was supposed to excel), and three by Gainsborough.
West sent two pictures--the 'Regulus,' of which mention has already been
made--the firebrand work which brought about indirectly so much mischief
and discussion--and a 'Venus lamenting the Death of Adonis.' There were
also landscapes by Barrett, Gainsborough, Sandby, Serres, Wilson, and
Zucarelli, and 'poetical and historical works by Cipriani, Bartolozzi,
and Miss Kauffman. The exhibitors were fifty in number; Mr. Pye, in his
'Patronage of British Art,' divides them into, 'Members of the Royal
Academy, 33; non-members, _having no interest in the revenue_, 17.' A
glance at recent catalogues will demonstrate the changed proportion now
existing between exhibiting members and exhibiting non-members, as
compared with the first exhibition of the Royal Academy.[10] By this
exhibition a clear profit of nearly L600 was realized. A sum of about
L150 was expended in charity; the surplus was applied towards the
general expenses of the Academy. These, however, so far exceeded the
receipts as to necessitate a grant from the privy purse to the amount of
L900. The King and Queen visited the Academy exhibition in May,
accompanied by a guard of honour. From this incident arose the practice,
still existing, of stationing sentries at the doors of the Academy
during the exhibition.

[10] 'In the year 1862 there were 1142 works exhibited; of
these 146 were the works of academicians, leaving 996 for the
non-academicians.'--_Sir Charles Eastlake's Examination before the Royal
Academy Commission_, 1863.

In addition to a charge of sixpence for the catalogue, visitors were
required to pay one shilling for admission to the exhibition. In
explanation of this charge, the following curious advertisement preceded
the list of pictures: 'As the present exhibition is a part of the
institution of an academy _supported by royal munificence_, the public
may naturally expect the liberty of being admitted without any expense.
The Academicians, therefore, think it necessary to declare that this was
very much their desire, but they have not been able to suggest any other
means than that of receiving money for admittance to prevent the rooms
being filled by improper persons, to the entire exclusion of those for
whom the exhibition is apparently intended.'

This advertisement, which was repeated in the Academy catalogue of 1780,
would seem at the first sight to suggest that the Academicians had
failed to comprehend their exact position. Or had the King in his
enthusiasm for their cause led them to believe that he intended to
defray their expenses wholly from the privy purse without aid from the
public? However this may be, it has long been understood that the
amounts taken at the doors of the exhibition for admission, and the
sales of catalogues, form the real support of the Academy. A gross
income of at least L10,000 is thus produced, half of which amount, as
clear profit, the Academy is enabled every year to add to its ever
increasing store of wealth.[11]

[11] Out of its accumulated riches the Academy has defrayed, the cost of
its new Galleries in Burlington Gardens, first opened in 1869.

Concerning the destinies of the rival institutions but brief mention
must suffice. Their downfall dates from the rise of the Royal Academy.
Still, they died lingering deaths. The Incorporated Society struggled
gallantly though vainly against the superior advantages and the royal
preference enjoyed by the Academy. In 1772, the Society built the large
room, the Lyceum, in the Strand, at an outlay of L7500. But in a year or
two the decrease in its revenues compelled it to part with the building
at a sacrifice. In 1776, the Society held no exhibition. In 1777 and
1778 it exhibited at a room in Piccadilly, near Air Street. In 1779, it
again did not exhibit. In 1780, it appeared once more at its old
quarters in Spring Gardens. But its existence now was of a very
intermittent kind. In 1781 and 1782 it made no sign. In 1783, and again
in 1790, it held exhibitions at the Lyceum. In 1791, it made its
farewell appearance in public at the rooms in Spring Gardens. In 1836,
Mr. Robert Pollard, the last surviving member of the Society, being then
81, handed over its books, papers, letters, documents, and charter, to
the Royal Academy. This was the formal surrender of the Incorporated
Society; but in truth the struggle had been decided against it long and
long before.

The Free Society dragged on its existence, making feeble annual
exhibitions until 1779 inclusive; but at that time it had long outlived
public notice. In 1769, it had built a room next to Cumberland House,
Pall Mall. But this, ill-fortune probably compelled it to surrender, as
in 1775 its exhibition was held in St. Alban's Street. The provident,
praiseworthy, modest aims of the Free Society ought to have saved it
from ruin--ought to have excited public sympathy on its behalf. But this
was not to be. The Royal Academy was left master of the field. In the
success of the King's exhibition, the older institutions were forgotten
and lost.




WIDOW HOGARTH AND HER LODGER.

On the 26th day of October 1764, died William Hogarth. Very ailing and
feeble in body, but still with his heart up and his mind, as ever, alert
and vigorous and full of life, he had moved on the day before from his
pleasant snug cottage at Chiswick to his town house in Leicester Fields.
He turned now and then in his bed uneasily, as he felt the venomous
slanders of Wilkes and Churchill still wounding and stinging him like
mosquito bites; else was the good little man at peace. 'I have
invariably endeavoured to make those about me tolerably happy.' 'My
greatest enemy cannot say I ever did an intentional injury.' So he wrote
at the close of his life. And there was much love for him in the
world--culminating in his own household. His servants all had been years
and years in his service; he had painted their portraits and hung these
on his walls; there is credit to both master and servants in the fact.
After all, a man may, if he chooses, be a hero even to his
valet-de-chambre. None could have dreamt the end was so near. It is not
known that any doctor was attending him. He had read and answered a
letter in the morning; fatigued with the effort, he had retired to bed.
He was alone when the fatal attack came on: the 'suffusion of blood
among the arteries of the heart.' Starting up, he rang the bell with a
violence that broke it in pieces; they had not thought so much strength
remained to him. He fell back fainting in the arms of Mary Lewis, his
wife's niece; she had lived in his house all her life, and was his
confidential assistant in publishing and selling his prints. She
supported the poor creature for two hours, and he drew his last breath
in her arms.

Widow Hogarth wore her deep crape, be sure, with an aching void in her
heart, and an acute sense of the painful wrench to her life caused by
this bereavement. A fine stately, woman still, though she was now
fifty-five. But six years back she had sat for Sigismunda: the dreadful
mistake in historical art which poor Hogarth had vainly perpetrated in
emulation of Correggio. Something of the beauty of the Jane Thornhill,
who thirty years before had stolen away with her lover to be married at
the little village church of Paddington, must have yet remained. The
interment, as all the world knows, took place in Chiswick Churchyard; a
quiet funeral, with more tears than ostrich-plumes, more sorrow than
black silk. It was not for some six or seven years after, that the
sculptured tomb was erected, and Garrick and Johnson calmly discussed
the wording of the epitaph. It is 'no easy thing,' wrote the doctor.
Time had something numbed their sense of loss when they sat down to
exchange poetical criticism; though habit is overpowering, and it would
have taken a good deal, at any time, to have disturbed Johnson from his
wonted pose of reviewer; just as the dying sculptor in the story,
receiving extreme unction from his priest, found time to complain of the
mal-execution of the crucifix held to his lips. 'Pictured morals,' the
doctor wrote, 'is a beautiful expression, but _learn_ and _mourn_ cannot
stand for rhymes. _Art_ and _Nature_ have been seen together too often.
In the first stanza is _feeling_, in the second _feel_. _If thou hast
neither_ is quite prose, and prose of the familiar kind,' etc. etc.

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