`The
Indianapolis Literary Club 2008-2009:
131st Year
“Art in the blood is liable to take the strangest
forms” (Sherlock Holmes)
Essayist: Stephen J. Jay M.D.
Read on Tuesday,
8:00 P.M., January 20, 2009, at the regular meeting of the Indianapolis Literary
Club, Park Tudor School, Indianapolis, Indiana
“And it is just
because these principles will always appeal to men in every generation wise
enough to assign the proper, supreme value to the power of intellect that
Johnson’s Club has achieved what it hoped for in its motto: Esto Perpetua, May
it last forever.”
Johnson’s Club, by
Herman W. Liebert, In: Esto Perpetua: The Club of Dr. Johnson and his Friends
1764-1784, Hamden, Conn.: Archon Books, 1963
“But, none the less,
my turn that way is in my veins, and may have come with my grandmother, who was
the sister of Vernet, the French artist. Art in the blood is liable to take the
strangest forms.”
Sherlock Holmes. In
“Greek Interpreter” by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The complete Sherlock Holmes.
Garden City, N.Y.:Doubleday, 1960.
“A Literary Party at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s”, engraving by D. George Thompson, after a
painting by James E. Doyle. From left to right: James Boswell (1740-1795), Biographer of
Dr Johnson; Samuel Johnson (1709-1784), Poet, critic
and lexicographer; Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792), Painter
and first President of the Royal Academy; David Garrick (1717-1779), Actor,
playwright and theatre manager; Edmund Burke (1729 or 1730-1797),
Statesman; Pascal Paoli
(1725-1807) Corsican patriot and supporter of representative democracy ; Charles Burney (1726-1814), Musician and
historian of music; Thomas Warton the Younger (1728-1790),
Historian of English poetry; Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774), Writer
The Indianapolis Literary Club
“Art in the blood is liable to take
the strangest forms” (Sherlock Holmes)
Essayist: Stephen J. Jay M.D.
Park Tudor School, Commons
January 20, 2009
Introduction
Last year,
when I came early to arrange this room for our meetings I became intrigued with
the black and white image behind the President’s chair and realized it was the
only tangible link between our Club and the famous Literary Club of London. My
interest was piqued in both the history of this picture and in the origins and nature
of literary clubs, including our own. Why are we drawn to such clubs?
My aims this
evening are twofold: first to reflect on this question and on the remarkable
spread of literary clubs across America in the 19th and 20th
centuries, and second to resolve the mysteries surrounding the image before us
which is titled: “A Literary Party at
Sir Joshua Reynolds’s”.
A Literary Party at Sir Joshua
Reynolds’s
Let’s look
closely at this picture. (1, 2) It is a
print from steel or possibly a copper stipple and line engraving that features
a dining room at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s, “with furniture and a chandelier of the
taste of the second half of the (last) 18th century.” (3, 4) Three
paintings, a man’s bust, and a four panel ornamental screen are seen behind the
table. Dinner is finished and around the
table are seated nine men. A
dark-skinned man, perhaps a Creole servant, has entered the room “bearing on a
tray a couple of high-shouldered decanters of wine..” (2) Perhaps this man is
Samuel Johnson’s servant, Francis Barber, who is mentioned several times in
Boswell’s biography of Johnson and to whom… Johnson left much of his property
at his death. At the head of the table is Johnson, essayist and lexicographer,
said to have been a scrofulous infant born in London at the home of a poor
bookseller. (5) To his left Boswell, author of the “Life of Samuel Johnson”;
then from left to right are: Reynolds,
portrait painter; David Garrick, actor noted for Shakespearean roles; Edmund
Burke, statesman and supporter of the American Revolution; General Pasquale de
Paoli, the Corsican patriot and proponent of democracy—the only person here not
a member of The Club, and, for Hoosiers, the person after whom our southern
Indiana town is named; then, Dr. Charles Burney, musicologist, father of Fanny
Burney, a most popular 18th century English novelist and chronicler
of society; on the right: Rev. Thomas Warton, literary critic, poet and
essayist; and finally, Oliver Goldsmith, physician, the author of “The Vicar of
Wakefield”, and a playwright who once said of Samuel Johnson: “There’s no
arguing with Johnson, for if his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with
the butt-end of it.” Johnson once
described Goldsmith as “…a plant that flowered late.” (6)
Johnson is
speaking and the center of attention with the index and middle fingers of his
right hand extended, suggesting he is making two points. His size is imposing
and facial expression intense, no doubt making his points forcibly and with his
irascible wit. With a gentleman’s gentle face, Joshua Reynolds, who was near
deaf, holds an ear trumpet close to Johnson. Boswell sits in the shadows,
diminutive and with passive expression. Only the Reverend Warton and Oliver
Goldsmith appear distracted, perhaps quibbling over the first point Johnson has
made.
On this
picture in the margin is the title “A Literary Party at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s”.
Above this are the signatures of each man. At the left margin is printed
“Painted by James E. Doyle”, in the middle: “London. Published Oct 1, 1851, by
Owen Bailey”; and at the right margin is printed: “Re Engraved by D. George
Thompson.”
This then was
the image in artist James Doyle’s mind as he reflected on the first gatherings
of the London Literary Club in 1764.
“The Club” (Johnson’s Literary Club;
Literary Club)
The origins
of literary clubs are unknown, but it seems unlikely that people from ancient
civilizations did not gather together for wine, repast and repartee over things
literary.
But, it is
to 17th century England that we owe the word “Club” from the Anglo-Saxon
word, clifian, to cleave, which defines a club as one whose costs are shared
among its members. (1, 2). Samuel Johnson defined “Club” as “An assembly of
good fellows meeting under certain conditions”. He also posited that clubs were
“For those who love to fold their legs and talk themselves out.”(3) The whole
concept of a club is one of the most English things in the world. (4, 5) It has
been said that, if three Englishmen were stranded on a deserted isle, two of
them would form a club to exclude the third. (4)
Among a
myriad of English clubs of the 18th century, one, called simply: “The
Club”, founded in 1764, rose to prominence, and, as its famous motto and toast
“Esto Perpetua (May it last forever) predicted, it has existed almost 250 years.
The idea for The Club was Joshua Reynolds’s, known by his friends as “the
finest gentleman,” and “the dear knight of Plympton. (3, 5-9)
The Club has
had various names, confusing historians. (5, 10-13) The Oxford Dictionary of
National Biography refers to The Club as “Johnson’s Literary Club” but lists
Reynolds as its founder. James Boswell said: “Sir Joshua Reynolds had the merit of being the first proposer
of it, to which Johnson acceded. There were nine original members. (14)
Historians say
Reynolds founded The Club so Samuel Johnson could hold sway with enlightened
conversation and wit, partly to furnish “the great delight of (Samuel
Johnson’s) life—conversation and mental intercourse.” (7, 15) That Johnson was
a master of conversation and wit is incontestable. Johnson said of Oliver
Goldsmith’s apology in the London Chronicle for beating Evans the bookseller (16)
“He has indeed done it very well; but it is a foolish thing well done.” Johnson
once quipped that “he did not care to speak ill of any man behind his back, but
he believed the gentleman was an attorney.” (17) For twenty years, Johnson,
called by Boswell the “Great Cham of literature,” dominated The Club. (18, 18 A)
The Club’s
assembled talent, even genius, was incontestable: three of the world’s greatest
books were written by members: Gibbon’s “Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire”;
Edmund Burke’s “Reflections on the Revolution in France”; and Boswell’s “Life
of Samuel Johnson”. Johnson himself said that members of The Club could provide
a complete and competent faculty for an imaginary college at St. Andrews. (7, 19)
The Club’s
members increased to 35 by 1784, but a Club resolution limited membership to 40,
and “The Club had the reputation of being more difficult to enter than the
Kingdom of Heaven.” (13) The great historian Gibbon was “blackballed” once, as
well as James Boswell. (7)
The Club
first met at Turk’s Head Tavern in Gerrard Street, Soho, London, every Monday
evening, then once in a fortnight during the meeting of parliament. (13, 13 A, 19). Meals were modest initially, but later became
full-course dinners. Despite meeting at taverns, The Club owned its supply of
potables; and it was the custom to measure, not how much liquor was consumed,
but how much was left after each meeting. (20)
The
Treasurer’s minutes of August 29, 1820, reflected the purchase of 37 dozen and
2 bottles of old East India Madeira. The cost was about L 123. (21) Liquor
flowed freely at The Club, but Samuel Johnson preferred tea, not liquor; he included
a definition of tea in his famous dictionary and is credited with promoting its
use in England. (22) Johnson called himself “a hardened and shameless
tea-drinker”
No records
were kept of conversations of The Club members, but Boswell’s brilliant
biography popularized Samuel Johnson, with accounts of his conversations with
luminaries. (2, 14, 23) Samuel Johnson was not given to just “talk” and said on
one occasion, “We had talk enough, but no conversation; there was nothing
discussed.” Selection of new members was predicated on whether the nominee could
converse, not just talk. (24) For the rare individual who was voted into The
Club, the action was presented in the formal and dignified announcement: “Sir,
I have the pleasure to inform you that you had last night the honor to be
elected a member of The Club.” (25, 26)
With the
death of Johnson in 1784 and Reynolds in 1792 (27, 28), the Club had lost its
founders but the essence and spirit of The Club lived on. The always mild and
cheerful genius and attic elegance of expression of Joshua Reynolds and the wit
and biting critiques of Samuel Johnson were missed. In the “Poets Corner” of
The London Times (29): an Elegy on Samuel Johnson’s Death captured the immense
stature of the man:
“The winds howl fierce, the thunder
roils afar,
The forked lightning darts across
the skies;
Contending elements now seem at war,
And by their blasts the oak uplifted
lies.”
Joshua Reynolds’s
Will provided 200 pounds for James Boswell, 2000 pounds to Edmund Burke, and,
to seventeen of his particular friends, a picture each.” (30)
The Club’s
restrictive membership often ruffled feathers of aspirants. In 1911, Winston
Churchill and F. E. Smith founded a British political dining society to meet
fortnightly while parliament was in session. (31) Neither Churchill nor Smith
had been invited to join The Club and, in a pique, decided to establish their
own club and call it “The Other Club”, whose rules posted today at the
Churchill Centre in London state: The object of the “Other Club” is to dine (32);
both The Other Club and The Club continue to meet today. (33, 34)
American Diaspora of Literary Clubs
Little is
known about the spread of literary clubs from England to America. But, by the
end of the American Revolutionary War in 1783, there was growing interest in
literary activities. (1-4) Spurred on by the Postal Act of 1794, magazines
flourished in the “golden age of magazines”. (5) Colleges and universities
formed literary societies. New copyright laws favored authors and publications
soared. Public demand for information on religion and literature increased. Public
libraries proliferated – 300 in the United States by the 1870s. (1, 6, 7) Libraries promoted community literary clubs—an
early Library Primer said: “…it lies within the power of the librarian to
create them.” (1) The World’s Columbian Exposition in 1893 in Chicago was
attended by one quarter of the American population and featured many literary
activities which likely amplified interest in literary clubs in hometown
America. (8, 9) Other factors played a role, including the remarkable women’s
club movement, the “spirit of national unity,” and influx of immigrants who
found clubs a vehicle for assimilation. (10)
In the east,
the Calliopean Literary Society was formed in 1788 and the Century Club in 1847
in New York City. (2) In Boston, in 1855, the Saturday Club, frequented by
Oliver Wendell Holmes, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Emerson, Lowell and Longfellow. (11)
The Literary Club of Cincinnati 1849 (12-15); Chicago Literary Club, 1874 (16,
17); and our Indianapolis Literary Club, 1877. (18-24) In the table we have
distributed, I have summarized selected Literary and related clubs founded over
the past 200 years in the U.S. (25)
The Indianapolis Literary Club (from
1877)
This history
provides some context for understanding the motivation of our founding members
who met on Jan 10, 1877, in Indianapolis to organize the Indianapolis Literary Club—three
lawyers, a clerk of Federal District Court, a clergyman, and a librarian. (1-3)
There has been controversy about who proposed the idea. Francis Insley, President
of our club in 1970, said three members deserved consideration: Howland, Bartlett,
and Evans. Mr. Howland was Clerk of the U.S. courts in Indianapolis, and the
first organizing meeting was held in his house. A charter member, Mr. John H.
Holliday, said the Rev. Bartlett was “probably” responsible for the idea, but Holliday
was equivocal when he spoke 33 years after the Club was founded. Theodore L.
Sewall, Secretary and President of our Club, suggested the “the man who brought
about the first meeting was Charles Evans.” (3, 4)
I think
Sewall was correct. Charles Evans’s biographer notes that Dr. William Frederick
Poole, who helped establish the Cincinnati and Chicago Literary Clubs, stimulated
Evans’s interest in establishing a club here. Three years prior to our Club’s
founding, Evans wrote to Poole about promoting this matter. (5) It was over
Charles Evans’s signature on Dec 13, 1876, that an invitation was sent out to
meet for the purpose of “effecting an organization.” (3) In a paper entitled: “Looking Backward,” presented
at our Club’s 50th Anniversary, Charles Evans suggests the idea for
a Club was his, based on his early conversations with Dr. Poole in Cincinnati.
(6)
Finally, in
the mid 1870s, Evans was a budding star among American librarians, having been
appointed Librarian for Indianapolis Public Library at 22. Libraries were
promoting the literary club movement and Evans would have been motivated to
create a club here. (5, 7)
Thus, the
objective evidence points to Evans as the spark that lit our literary club
flame, but, in the absence of a “smoking gun,” we may have to accept that the
identity of our club founder will remain a mystery. In light of the interest among
women at the time to form literary clubs, was it possible that the wives of
these gentleman, suggested that a men’s literary club be organized? Perhaps to
free the women for a night to pursue their interests—literary or otherwise. (7,
8)
Charles
Evans was an odd sort, brilliant but irascible-a poor administrator, who lost
his job in Indianapolis and suffered similar fates at other libraries. (9) His
son, Chick Evans, became “the first American to win both the National Open and
Amateur Golf Championships in the same year.” (10, 11) But his father rarely saw him play. Charles Evans
excelled in his professional niche as a bibliographer. From 1903 to 1934, he
compiled everything printed in the U.S. from 1639 to 1820, published in 12
volumes over three decades, before illness stopped his work. (12) In 1935,
Charles Evans died, and it was more than 20 years before volume 13 of his work was
published. His American Bibliography is one of the great one-man
bibliographical works in U.S. history and his biographer said of Evans:
“Because of his temperament, Evans perhaps may be judged as a failure as a
librarian, but because of his dedication and perseverance he is recognized as
the “American Bibliographer.” (13, 14)
As a result
of the vision of Evans and our other founders, our Indianapolis Literary Club
today is one of the few Clubs in America that has maintained a literary focus
and tradition for more than one hundred and thirty years, a club that finds in
its “Roll of membership”: a President and two Vice Presidents of the United
States, cabinet members, U.S. Congressmen, Ambassadors, Governors of Indiana;
renowned authors and poets and men of distinction with national and local fame across
the spectrum of human endeavor. (15, 16) But Charles Evans left us another
legacy, the image before us.
Charles Evans and “A Literary Party
at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s”
It was on a trip to London, Oct 1, 1877, for a
Conference of Librarians, nine months after our club was founded, that Evans
purchased this print of “A Literary Party at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s.” (1) We have no record of Evans’s motivation to buy
it. But he was dedicated to the historical record, and he would have valued the
literary connection between The Club of London, in 1764, and our fledgling Club.
This print hung in Evans’s library for fifty years, and at our Clubs 50th
anniversary, Jan 10, 1927, he gave it to our Club. (2, 3) Despite its historic value
to us, our print has a fair market value of only $500. (4) While this is not
surprising in the world of art, I was surprised about the lack of factual
information about this picture, particularly since it is thought to be the only
visual representation of a meeting of perhaps the most famous club in the history
of English speaking people.
To address
the mystery surrounding the picture, I focused on two questions: First, what
motivated or inspired Doyle to create “A Literary Party at Sir Joshua
Reynolds’s”? Second, where is the original oil painting by James Doyle? But
first a few words about James Doyle’s family.
The Family of James Doyle (b. 1755,
Dublin) and Catherine Tyan
James
William Edmund Doyle was born in London in 1822 into a family of Irish
Catholics known for artistic and literary excellence and a “missionary zeal” to
express themselves. (1, 2) Over three generations, this remarkable family achieved
the distinction of having five of its members included in the British Dictionary
of National Biography. (1)
James’s father, John, was the famous artist
known as “HB.” As a child with great skill in painting miniatures and in drawing
horses, John Doyle became intrigued as a young man with politics, attending the
House of Commons as a silent onlooker making notes. (3, 4) In 1827, he published
political sketches with sarcastic but “gentle humor”, under a pseudonym, “HB”.
(3, 5) For twenty years, John produced almost 1,000 sketches of which 900 are
preserved in the British Museum. (3,6) To hide his identity, he continued to
paint horses, regularly exhibiting and selling these, a perfect “cover” for his
political artistry and commentary. John Doyle became the nucleus of a circle of
prominent literary and artistic figures including: Sir Walter Scott,
Wordsworth, Coleridge, Dickens, Thackeray, and Macaulay; but, remarkably, Doyle
maintained his secret identity. (4)
John Doyle and his wife Marianne Conan had
seven children. A young son and daughter died before they were fifteen,
probably of consumption. (7) Another daughter became a nun. Four sons lived to
adulthood and became successful artists. The children were raised as devout
Catholics and were home-schooled- steeped in history, language art and music
from an early age. (5, 6)
One son, Richard,
or “Dicky” Doyle, became a preeminent artist, illustrator, and “the kindliest
of political satirists”. (1, 5, 6, 6 A, 8-10) He illustrated popular
manuscripts of “Beauty and the Beast” and “Jack the Giant Killer,” and at
eighteen, Dicky became a contributor to “Punch”, the weekly British magazine of
humor and satire. (8, 11) He created whimsical pieces and political cartoons
and he designed the famous cover of Punch that was used for more than 100
years. (8,12,13) Richard provided illustrations for eighteen books and created more
than one thousand drawings for illustrated books of prominent authors: Charles
Dickens, Ruskin, and Thackeray. (8,13) But, Richard was best known for his
marvelous paintings of fairies and his book “In Fairyland”, is generally
considered one of the greatest British books of the nineteenth century. (13, 14) Today, his paintings are in the finest
British museums.
Richard’s
brother, Henry also became a prominent painter, illustrator and cartoonist but
distinguished himself with paintings and frescos of religious themes that were recognized
by Pope Pius IX. (6, 15, 15A, 16) In 1869, Henry was appointed director of the
National Gallery of Ireland, where he served with distinction for twenty-three
years, until his death. (6, 16)
Charles was
the youngest and “weakest of character” of John and Marianne Doyle’s sons, and
despite his promise as an artist, he was unable to make a living from it. (6,
17-19) He worked for the Scottish government for 30 years, supplementing his
income with illustrations for books, such as Daniel Defoe’s: “The Life and
Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe”. (18, 20). His themes were often
whimsical, of elves and faerie folk, but, suffering from depression, alcoholism
and seizures, Charles spent the last twelve years of his life in asylums; ironically,
some of his best paintings came from this time, and he used them to demonstrate
he was not insane and that he was wrongfully confined. (6, 20-22) His works
today are held at Harvard; the National Library of Ireland, Royal Scottish Academy
and the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. (18) Ironically, Charles was the
only son of John and Marianne Doyle to bear children, nine of them, one of whom
would extend the Conan Doyle surname from its origins in 1856 to the end of its
short span of 150 years, in 1997. (23).
James William Edmund Doyle (1822-92)
James was
the eldest son, and as a child showed promise as an artist. (1-4) His most
successful painting was, “A Literary Party at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s,” was
engraved in 1848 and sold for 6 pounds a copy, selling out in two years. (1,5)
James created designs and frescos after Sir Walter Scott subjects for the walls
of the Royal Summer House at Buckingham Palace—his work selected by the Queen
and Prince Albert. (6,7, 7 A) But, while in his 20s, James became interested in
history, heraldry, and genealogy and turned to writing. He published two major
works for which he received widespread recognition in England: In 1864, “A
Chronicle of England from B.C. 55 to 1485”. (1,5,8,9) Adorning this opus of
principle events of English history, were 81 images, watercolor scenes of
medieval history and pageantry, prepared as wood engravings by Edmund Evans, one
of the best engravers of the Victorian era. (10) In 1886, James published: “The
Official Baronage of England: showing the Succession, Dignities, and Offices of
every peer from 1066 to 1885”. Doyle created 1600 illustrations for this work.
(5, 11-13)
James was a
quiet and private person, a deeply devout Catholic, and because of his ascetic and
scholarly ways and “prolonged bachelorhood, he carried the nickname, “The
Priest.” He was a tall, imposing and stern man, bearded to the cheek-bones. (14,
15) He married Jane Henrietta Hawkins Feb 12, 1874 in London. He was 52, she
39. (16) They lived, childless, for 16 years with a live-in cook and parlor
maid in London; in the 1891 census he described himself as an “Author” and “Landowner”.
On Dec 3, 1892 James died at age 70. (17-19) His obituaries said he had
extraordinary knowledge of history, heraldry and antiquities but his extreme
modesty of character and retiring nature prevented him making a remarkable
figure in the world. (20-22) One obituary said James’s death deprived
historical art of a gifted and conscientious student and the Holy Church of a
loyal and devout son-a simple and gentle “man wholly without guile.”
James was
recognized primarily as an illustrator and antiquary, not a painter, this despite
the considerable early success of James’s “A Literary Party at Sir Joshua
Reynolds’s.” (23)
Let’s return
now to the two questions: What motivated James to create “A Literary Party”? Where
is the original oil?
James Doyle’s oil painting: “A Literary
Party at Sir Joshua Reynolds”
Unfortunately,
we have no specific primary source information as to James’s reasons for
painting this image. Doyle’s biographers and art historians are silent on this
point. (1, 2)
Of the many
possible motives, I think it likely Doyle painted “A Literary Party” on a
commission. James had done such work before and, struggling for income at age 26—he
needed the money. In 1848, The Literary Club
of London was well- known as a bastion for some of the best minds in English
history, and it is plausible there was interest in capturing on canvas the founding
fathers at a dinner meeting. Is it possible that The Club of London approached
James Doyle and commissioned “The Literary Party”? I will return to this point
shortly.
A
commissioned work would help explain why the “Literary Party” image is so different
from James’s other works. His biographer, Rosemary Mitchell, astutely noted,
they (his paintings) were “elegantly composed, with statuesque figures, but
essentially lifeless. “ (1) Doyle’s engaging figures in “The Literary Party”
are strikingly different from the stiff and “lifeless” figures in his “Chronicle
of England”. A painting on commission, with specific expectations of the artist,
might explain this disparity. I have assembled a selection of James’s work so
you can convince yourself whether or not this point has merit.
Our second
question concerned the whereabouts of Doyle’s original painting. As with the
first question, I found more mystery and confusion than enlightenment, after
considerable research that includes about two linear feet of material which
I’ll summarize in a merciful couple of minutes.
The IN
Historical Society archives of our club had no information regarding Doyle’s
original oil.
Among the many museums and libraries I contacted in the U.S., the U.K and Ireland, my primary sources of information were the National Portrait Gallery in London and the Yale University Center for British Art. They had no information on the original oil. (3)
I spoke with
university experts at Leeds; Lancaster; Aberdeen; Edinburgh; University of
Essex; University of Glasgow; Universities of London and St. Andrews; again, no
information on the whereabouts of the original painting.
The auction
houses, Christies and Sotheby’s had never handled this painting. (4)
Dr. Rosemary
Mitchell, biographer of James E. Doyle for the Dictionary of National Biography,
thought only one of his oil paintings existed: “The Black Prince on the Eve of
the Battle of Poitier”; she had no information on the whereabouts of Doyle’s
“Literary Party” painting. (5)
I requested Wills
and probate information from London Probate Department but found no evidence
for the original oil.
I also
explored other possible niches into which the “Literary Party” painting might
have fallen: Doyle moved among Catholic hierarchy, and I wondered if he had given
the painting to the Church. The Archivist at Westminster Diocese had no
knowledge of the painting. (6)
James and
his wife were invited by the Duke of Norfolk to spend their honeymoon at
Arundel Castle, and I wondered if James had given the painting to them; Arundel
Castle did not have the painting or any record of it. (7).
The Public
Catalog Foundation in the U.K. is a registered charity in London set up to
photograph and record and place online all oil, acrylic and tempera paintings
in publicly owned collections in U.K., about 200,000 paintings, of which only
20% are now available for public viewing. The Director of this Foundation did
not find Doyle’s painting. (8)
Finally, I found an interesting potential
relationship between Charles Burney, one of the nine men featured in Doyle’s
painting. Burney’s daughter, the famous author, Fanny Burney, lived in Dorking
at her home, Camilla Lacey. (9,-11) After her death in 1840, the house, which
was filled with her manuscripts and antiques, ended up in the hands of a
wealthy industrialist F. Leverton Harris, a prominent Member of Parliament and
renowned art collector. (11-18) I wondered if Doyle’s painting might been among
Fanny Burney’s collections. In a tragic fire, in 1919, the house burned to the
ground and there was no mention that oil paintings were lost. (9) At F.
Leverton Harris’s death in 1926, his extensive art collections were dispersed to
museums. A print of “A Literary Party at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s” was among the
items he bequeathed to the National Portrait Gallery in 1927. But no original
oil. We can only speculate whether the fire at Camilla Lacey consumed Doyle’s
original painting. (11-19)
Provenance: Indianapolis Literary Club’s
print: “A Literary Party at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s”, by D. George Thompson,
after James E. Doyle, 1851.
Having
failed to find the original oil, I searched for information regarding the
origins and history of our Club’s “Literary Party” print.
After
research and counsel with experts at the Yale Center and the National Portrait
Gallery, I have some suggestions about the origins of our print: Doyle’s
original oil was painted in the 1840s circa, 1848, and was engraved in London by
the well- known engraver, William Walker. (1) It was published by Owen Bailey, sold
well, and after the initial 325 impressions were reported to the Printseller’s
Association, the work was probably “re-engraved” or “re-worked” to sharpen
detail. (2, 4) In 1851, the print was re-issued
by Owen Bailey but with a different engraver, D. George Thompson. It was a
print from this engraving that Charles Evans purchased in 1877. The National Portrait Gallery in London has
the 1851 print and Yale Center for British Art has both the 1851 and 1848
prints; neither has detailed provenances for their prints. There is consensus
that the original plates from 1848 and 1851, are lost, a common occurrence with
engravings.
This
research has answered some questions but raised others: First, why doesn’t William
Walker’s name, appear with D. George Thompson on our 1851 print? Did Walker
have a “falling out” with the publisher, Owen Bailey, over a dispute over
ownership of the image? This was apparently not an uncommon occurrence. (3, 4) For this we have no answer.
Second, what
is the relationship between the two engravings? Were they one in the same? Or
is the 1851 engraving a new work by D. George Thompson? The likely answer to this
question is found in the fine printing at the lower right hand corner of our
1851 print: “Re-Engraved by D. George Thompson”. A detailed “side-by-side” “forensic” comparison
of the two prints would help resolve this mystery.
Third, is it
possible the Literary Club of London commissioned the 1848 work with artist
James Doyle and engraver, William Walker? I believe it is. A mysterious dedication
line on the 1848 print suggests this is plausible. It reads: “Dedicated by
unanimous permission to “The Club” by their most obedient and Humble Servant
William Walker”. (5) Unfortunately, I found no information about this dedication
statement or any relationship between Walker and The Club. On the other hand,
if The Club commissioned the painting or engraving there would likely be a
record of their ownership of it—I found none. Another possibility is that
William Walker proposed the idea of a painting and engraving to James Doyle.
Walker’s wife, Elizabeth, was an accomplished engraver, having been appointed
miniature painter to King William IV. (6) Her father was also a prominent
engraver who collaborated with Sir Joshua Reynolds, the subject of Doyle’s “Literary
Party” painting. The Walkers may have had both pecuniary and sentimental
reasons for urging Doyle to paint the picture.
A fourth
question relates to the significance of another statement on the 1848 engraving:
“Engraved by William Walker from a picture by James E. Doyle in possession of
James Prior, Esqre. F.A.S.” (7) Who was James Prior? (8, 9) Had Doyle sold or
given the painting to him? James Prior was a naval physician and prominent
author who completed his great biography of Oliver Goldsmith in 1848; perhaps
Prior was motivated to obtain Doyle’s painting because of his intimate
knowledge of Oliver Goldsmith, who was featured in the “Literary Party”
painting. I found no corroborating evidence, even after examining Wills from
the London Probate Department for James Prior and his wife Dame Caroline. (10-13)
A final mystery
involves James Doyle’s other oil paintings. One expert questioned why only one
of his oils was known to survive: “The Black Prince on the Eve of the Battle of
Poitiers.” Yet most of James’s other drawings and watercolors exist in museums.
I tracked down the owner of “The Black Prince” hoping that he would lead me to
the “Literary Party” painting. Professor Stephen Wildman, Director, Ruskin
Library and Research Centre, Lancaster University told me he indeed owned the
“Black Prince”, but he had never seen the “Literary Party” or heard of it at
auction. (14) Dr. Wildman had purchased the “Black Prince” 25 years ago at a
small auction house in Birmingham, England, but without provenance he could
trace. He said the “Literary Party” oil “could either be hanging quietly
forgotten somewhere, or has been destroyed without record through fire, flood
or war.” (14) An assistant Curator at the National Portrait Gallery in London said
that James Doyle’s pictures would not necessarily be considered of museum
quality and that Victorian pictures such as Doyle’s were completely
unfashionable for a large part of the 20th century; this might
explain why his oils have vanished. (15)
“Art in the blood is liable to take
the strangest forms.” (Sherlock Holmes)
My odyssey
has met dead ends; confusion; and more mystery than I thought could exist at
the outset of my research. But this shouldn’t surprise us, considering the
family history of James Doyle. As you may have surmised, James E. Doyle, the
mysterious, “Priest,” was indeed Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s eldest uncle. (1, 2)
Conan Doyle was the second of nine children of James’s youngest sibling,
Charles Altamont Doyle who suffered in asylums. It was Arthur Conan Doyle’s uncle, James, the
stern and devout Catholic, who stimulated Conan Doyle’s interest in genealogy but
was critical of his nephew’s “disturbingly alien and Bohemian” ways. (1, 3-5) But,
despite family discord over Conan Doyle’s beliefs in spiritualism, he respected
his uncles and family history; Conan Doyle was a prominent mourner at his Uncle
James’s funeral.
I was
fortunate to communicate with Georgina Doyle, whose biography of Conan Doyle’s
first family: “Out of the Shadows” is a treasure of this history. She is the
widow of the nephew of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and told me she thought “the
original picture…probably sold at one time” and added “I fear only luck may
help here.” (6) She was happy, however, that someone was interested in James. Mrs.
Doyle’s note to me also included the wonderful image of a Long Tailed Tit from
an original water color by her step-daughter and James Doyle’s great great
niece. Art, indeed, runs in the blood! And “Art in the blood is liable to take the strangest
forms.” (7)
Reflections on Clubs and Clubbing:
Esto Perpetua
I want to
conclude by returning to the question posed at the outset: Why did men meet as
a literary club in London in 1764? Why did our Club’s founders meet in Indianapolis
in 1877? Why do we meet today?
Perhaps we should
answer the question: What does the pronoun, “it”, mean in the Club’s ancient
motto: Esto Perpetua: May it last
forever? May what last forever? What did our founding fathers have in mind? What
do we have in mind today?
A review of
the aims of many of the literary clubs in the handout we provided earlier includes
similar ideas that: A club is a place for fellowship; healthy and free exchange
of ideas; a social and intellectual democracy, where ideas and independent achievement,
not just position, have value; a place that celebrates man but also the ecumenical
view of men; as one author put it: “the Club is…a brilliant manifestation of
the triumph of the aristocracy of the mind,” a place where we might learn and contribute
to the improvement of the human condition. Some view the club as a society of
interested and interesting men with merit- a culture of accomplishment,
rewarded. (1, 2)
Other clubs
have been less philosophical and touted the club as a place for clever repartee
and humor: for example, the Boswell Club in Chicago met not for yearnings of
literary fame but for the Triple B’s: “to gather monthly around the table and
Bite, Burp and Bibble.” (3)
Perhaps “it”
was in the “18th century a repast: soup, salad, a venison pie, or stewed
rabbits, and ice or fruit for dessert,” washed down with claret and port in
profusion. (4) Perhaps “it” was the conversation that, often, shaped by the
likes of Samuel Johnson, was a “head-long steeplechase, with every man for himself
and the devil take the hindmost.”(5) Was “it” the community of quality minds of
an “intellectual aristocracy.” Perhaps the nostalgia for a dream of a universal
mind and language of cultivated men, the striving for and confidence in
improving the lot of humankind. The search for higher principles and “nobler
things of the human spirit.”
I was struck
by how relevant these age old ideas are to the present and how each of us most
assuredly will have our own unique reasons for “clubbing”. Perhaps the reason
why our literary club and those like ours have lasted for more than a century
is that our vision and mission are universal, with principles that transcend
the generations, that appeal to us today as they appealed to our Club founders
and to Sir Joshua Reynolds’s and Samuel Johnson some 245 years ago.
I’m sure
some of us would agree this evening that the “it” in the motto “May it last
forever” is all these things and more.
End: “Art in
the blood is liable to take the strangest forms” (Sherlock Holmes)
Stephen J.
Jay
January 20,
2009