Sir John Everett Millais

by A. L. Baldry

THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE

In this work, painted in 1874, he displayed his strength in a large and ambitious composition. As a subject picture it may fairly be reckoned as the most complete assertion of his mature conviction that he ever put before the public. Its motive was one calculated to appeal vividly to his militant instincts, and was suited in every way to his robust and energetic personality. The idea of indomitable perseverance in the face of apparently overwhelming dangers, of tenacious effort to triumphantly accomplish a great intention, was quite in accordance with his natural sympathies; and the picture has therefore an inner significance to which almost as much interest attaches as to its outward aspect of unhesitating certainty. It is, perhaps, a little unequal in execution, but parts of it are magnificent, and especially the head of the old seaman, who sits at the table and listens to the story of Arctic exploration that is being read to him by the girl seated at his feet. The sitter for this splendid study of rugged age was Mr. Trelawny, the friend of Shelley and Byron.

According to his usual custom Millais did little more than suggest in the picture the story implied by the title. The North-West Passage is not an illustrative painting of adventures in the Arctic region, but a piece of domestic genre on a large scale intended rather to stimulate the imagination than to record something actually accomplished. But to every thinking man it is wanting in nothing that gives interest to a work of art. It teaches an admirable lesson and points a moral well worth attention; and in its combination of strenuousness and simple directness, it reflects exactly the nature of one of the frankest and least self-conscious of men. The canvas is a tribute to the many great personalities whose lives have been devoted to the making of our national history, and, rightly understood, it is an eloquent appeal to us all to follow worthily in their footsteps.

A YEOMAN OF THE GUARD

Another masterpiece exhibited three years later has now found a permanent resting-place in the National Gallery. This riotous and gorgeous exercise in strong colour could only have been accomplished by an artist whose splendid audacity was equalled by his knowledge of his craft. The scarlet uniform, with its lavish embroidery of black and gold and picturesque fashion, was something that exactly suited his fancy; and he revelled in his struggle with the many problems of technique which such a subject presented for solution. Yet there is little sign in the picture that he found it more than usually exacting; and there is no evidence that he devoted to it an exceptional amount of labour. It is particularly memorable for its consistent and thorough treatment, for the sound judgment with which every variation of the colour and every component part of the design have been managed; and it seems to have been carried through without hesitation or change of intention. It is an unfaltering record of a clearly defined impression, and is not less interesting on account of the sensitive and characteristic rendering of the worn, old face of the model than as a piece of still life painting of quite extraordinary force. The qualities that make it great are those which distinguish the productions of none but the unquestionable masters of pictorial art.

THOMAS CARLYLE

THOMAS CARLYLE.

The Portrait of Thomas Carlyle has qualities scarcely less commanding, though it did not offer such opportunities for the display of masterly contrivance as were afforded by the Yeoman of the Guard. To deal with masses of strong colour, or to attempt audacities of brushwork, would not have been correct in a simple presentation of a modern man. But even without any spectacular additions this picture is a remarkable one, because it reveals so plainly the discernment of character which had much to do with the success that Millais gained in portraiture. He cannot be said to have spared Carlyle in his analysis, nor to have tried to soften off the angularities of disposition which made the grim old sage more feared than loved by the people with whom he came in contact. The face is frankly that of a man who has been soured by the warfare of life; it is hard, dogmatic, fierce perhaps, and certainly intolerant, but it is keenly intellectual and shrewdly reflective. There is courage and firmness of conviction in every line, and the instinct of the tenacious fighter is declared in all the rugged and rough-hewn features. The unflinching gaze of the angry eyes, deep-set under the lowering brows, is wonderfully suggested, and the cynical, contemptuous mouth is magnificently drawn without any trace of caricature. That such a man should have summed up humanity as "mostly fools" would seem natural enough to every one who studies this portrait; the Carlyle that Millais has put on record for us does not look like a lover of his species, nor like a man who would find much pleasure in the society of his fellows. Perhaps the painter has been too severe—to such a breezy enthusiast Carlyle must have been more than a little repellent—but he has indisputably been perfectly consistent in his statement of what he considered to be the right reading of the complex character of his famous sitter.