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拍品專文
During his later career, particularly in the 1880s when his reputation was at his height, Burne-Jones was often asked to paint portraits. It was not an art form he relished. He had the highest standards, claiming that portraiture should be the 'expression of character and moral quality, not of anything temporary, fleeting, accidental.' There was also the problem of reconciling the demands of 'likeness' with his own very clearly perceived ideal. 'I do not easily get portraiture,' he wrote, 'and the perpetual hunt to find in a face what I like and leave out what mislikes me, is a bad school for it.' Given these two imperatives, it is not surprising that he was often most successful when painting his own family and friends or those who conformed to his particular vision, particularly children and young girls.
Gertie Lewis was the second child and elder daughter of George Lewis, the most famous solicitor of the day, and his wife Elizabeth. Born in 1833, the same year as Burne-Jones, Lewis came from a Sephardic Jewish family that had probably emigrated to England from the Netherlands in the eighteenth century. Excluded from Oxford and Cambridge on account of his religion, he entered University College, London, in 1847, joining his father's firm of Lewis and Lewis three years later. He soon gained a reputation for exceptional shrewdness and ability, making his name by representing the relatives of the poisoned Charles Bravo in the so-called Balham Mystery of 1876; and from then on for some thirty years he was involved in nearly every cause célèbre that came to court in London. His services were particularly sought in connection with society scandals, and inevitably he became associated with the Prince of Wales, extricating him from the embarrassing Tranby Croft Baccarat Affair (1890-91) and advising him in other cases where his mistresses, horse-racing and gambling were involved. He was knighted in 1893, and at the Coronation in 1902 was created a baronet by a King who had every reason to be grateful for his services.
Lewis married twice. His first wife died in 1865 and a year later he married Elizabeth Eberstadt, the third of five daughters of Ferdinand Eberstadt of Mannheim. Eleven years younger than her husband, she was blessed with good looks, great strength of character, boundless energy and a genius for friendship. She was also passionately devoted to the arts. As Max Beerbohm wrote when she died, 'good books, good plays, good pictures and, above all, good music were for her no mere topics of conversation but vital needs of her nature.' George Lewis, whose work often brought him into contact with the stage, gave her every support, supplying the necessary financial resources and enjoying playing the genial host.
The Lewises were already entertaining artists during the early years of their marriage, but it was when they moved to 88 Portland Place in 1876 that Elizabeth's career as a hostess took wing, and she was able to launch a salon on the grand scale. A glance at the books in which she kept a record of her dinner guests reveals an astonishing galaxy of talent: Burne-Jones, Whistler, du Maurier, Alma-Tadema, Sargent, Sullivan, Paderewski, Rubinstein, Sarasate, Joachim, George Henschel, Browning, Henry James, Oscar Wilde, J.M. Barrie, Ellen Terry, Henry Irving and Lillie Langtry - these are only some of the more famous names. Nor were they by any means mere social trophies. Wilde's letters to Elizabeth during his tour of America in 1882 show with what affection and gratitude he regarded the Lewises, and even the notoriously prickly Whistler was a close friend for years. Famous musicians and actors gladly took part in the Lewises' entertainments,and Sargent executed portraits of both George and Elizabeth.
By far the closest of these friendships, however, was with Burne-Jones. How and when he met the Lewises is unclear, but they were on intimate terms by the late 1870s, and from then on was a frequent visitor to Portland Place and Ashley Cottage, their country retreat at Walton-on-Thames. He sought George's help over legal matters and wrote constantly to Elizabeth, relying on her for sympathy and practical advice. Perhaps he was a little in love with her, as he was with so many of his women friends. Certainly after his death she destroyed many of his letters, considering them too intimate to survive.
The Lewises had three children: George, born in 1868, who was to take over the firm and inherit the baronetcy; Gertrude (or Gertie), born in 1871; and Katherine (Katie), born in 1878. These two girls were not only seven years apart in age but very different in character. As a child Gertie was gentle, pretty, intelligent and sympathetic. Katie, on the other hand, was alarmingly precocious, strong-willed and high-spirited. Oscar Wilde, writing to Elizabeth from Boston in June 1882, when Katie was still only four, called her 'that trenchant critic of life'. While Gertie aroused protective feelings among her mother's many lions, Katie diverted them with her witticisms and gift for repartee. Both sisters were the recipients of letters from their circle of older admirers, and in Burne-Jones's case these were invariably illustrated with engagingly whimsical drawings. Those he sent to Katie, a particularly remarkable series in which he often seems to be speaking both to the child and her parents at different levels of awareness, are now in the British Museum and have twice been published.
Burne-Jones painted several portraits of the sisters as young girls. He also drew their mother, although the painting of her projected in 1882 was never carried out. The best-known of these likenesses is the highly unconventional full-length of Katie, showing her lying on her tummy absorbed in a book, with a pekingese curled up at her feet. Dated 1886, the picture was exhibited at the Grosvenor Gallery the following year and sold in these Rooms in 14 June 2000, lot 20.
The present painting, which remains slightly unfinished and was certainly never exhibited, was probably a gift from the artist to the Lewises, as indeed was the full-length of Katie. It would appear to date from about 1879-80, which probably makes it the earliest of all the Lewis portraits by Burne-Jones. This date is suggested partly by the apparent age of the sitter, who would have been eight or nine at the time, and partly by the style. There is a distinct relationship with the head studies in oil that Burne-Jones made for the well-known Golden Stairs (Tate Britain), exhibited at the Grosvenor Gallery in 1880.
Burne-Jones painted a second portrait of Gertie in 1883, when she was twelve. Showing her in profile to left and rather dark in tonality it is a much more formal likeness than the present picture. It was included in the Arts Council's Burne-Jones exhibition in 1975-6, no. 239.
In 1902, at the age of thirty, Gertie made a late marriage to Theodore Birnbaum (changed to Burney in 1915). She remained close to Katie but they led very different lives. Not surprisingly, Katie never married. As a child she seems to have been more than a little spoilt, and in later life, rich, witty, and self-centred, she may well have deterred suitors. After he father's death in 1911 she continued to live in Portland Place with her mother, to whom she was devoted. Then when Elizabeth died in 1931 she moved to Evelyn Gardens, South Kensington, before settling in the Cotswold village of Broadway during the Second World War. She never lost her vitality, and continued to attract the talented and famous until the end of her life. Her great love was Bernard Berenson, with whom she conducted a lively and flirtatious correspondence from 1914 until his death in 1959.
Gertie and her husband often came to Portland Place to enjoy Elizabeth's dinners and parties. Their first child, Susan, was born in 1904, followed by a second daughter, Rachel, two years later, and a son, Anthony, in 1911. Then, just after the First World War had ended, tragedy struck. Theo's firm, the Gramophone and Typewriter Company (later HMV), went bankrupt, and he committed suicide.
Gertie's life changed completely. Withdrawing from society, apart from her immediate family and closest friends, she devoted herself to her children. Unlike Katie, she was naturally austere. She never kept a good table, and her idea of a summer holiday was a few weeks on the Belgian coast with nothing stronger to drink than mineral water. Nonetheless she, like Katie, had inherited her mother's love of music and art. Her home was a treasure-house of beautiful paintings and furniture, and the novels of her old friend Henry James were a constant solace. She died in 1955, aged eighty-four, and Katie followed her six years later.
Gertie Lewis was the second child and elder daughter of George Lewis, the most famous solicitor of the day, and his wife Elizabeth. Born in 1833, the same year as Burne-Jones, Lewis came from a Sephardic Jewish family that had probably emigrated to England from the Netherlands in the eighteenth century. Excluded from Oxford and Cambridge on account of his religion, he entered University College, London, in 1847, joining his father's firm of Lewis and Lewis three years later. He soon gained a reputation for exceptional shrewdness and ability, making his name by representing the relatives of the poisoned Charles Bravo in the so-called Balham Mystery of 1876; and from then on for some thirty years he was involved in nearly every cause célèbre that came to court in London. His services were particularly sought in connection with society scandals, and inevitably he became associated with the Prince of Wales, extricating him from the embarrassing Tranby Croft Baccarat Affair (1890-91) and advising him in other cases where his mistresses, horse-racing and gambling were involved. He was knighted in 1893, and at the Coronation in 1902 was created a baronet by a King who had every reason to be grateful for his services.
Lewis married twice. His first wife died in 1865 and a year later he married Elizabeth Eberstadt, the third of five daughters of Ferdinand Eberstadt of Mannheim. Eleven years younger than her husband, she was blessed with good looks, great strength of character, boundless energy and a genius for friendship. She was also passionately devoted to the arts. As Max Beerbohm wrote when she died, 'good books, good plays, good pictures and, above all, good music were for her no mere topics of conversation but vital needs of her nature.' George Lewis, whose work often brought him into contact with the stage, gave her every support, supplying the necessary financial resources and enjoying playing the genial host.
The Lewises were already entertaining artists during the early years of their marriage, but it was when they moved to 88 Portland Place in 1876 that Elizabeth's career as a hostess took wing, and she was able to launch a salon on the grand scale. A glance at the books in which she kept a record of her dinner guests reveals an astonishing galaxy of talent: Burne-Jones, Whistler, du Maurier, Alma-Tadema, Sargent, Sullivan, Paderewski, Rubinstein, Sarasate, Joachim, George Henschel, Browning, Henry James, Oscar Wilde, J.M. Barrie, Ellen Terry, Henry Irving and Lillie Langtry - these are only some of the more famous names. Nor were they by any means mere social trophies. Wilde's letters to Elizabeth during his tour of America in 1882 show with what affection and gratitude he regarded the Lewises, and even the notoriously prickly Whistler was a close friend for years. Famous musicians and actors gladly took part in the Lewises' entertainments,and Sargent executed portraits of both George and Elizabeth.
By far the closest of these friendships, however, was with Burne-Jones. How and when he met the Lewises is unclear, but they were on intimate terms by the late 1870s, and from then on was a frequent visitor to Portland Place and Ashley Cottage, their country retreat at Walton-on-Thames. He sought George's help over legal matters and wrote constantly to Elizabeth, relying on her for sympathy and practical advice. Perhaps he was a little in love with her, as he was with so many of his women friends. Certainly after his death she destroyed many of his letters, considering them too intimate to survive.
The Lewises had three children: George, born in 1868, who was to take over the firm and inherit the baronetcy; Gertrude (or Gertie), born in 1871; and Katherine (Katie), born in 1878. These two girls were not only seven years apart in age but very different in character. As a child Gertie was gentle, pretty, intelligent and sympathetic. Katie, on the other hand, was alarmingly precocious, strong-willed and high-spirited. Oscar Wilde, writing to Elizabeth from Boston in June 1882, when Katie was still only four, called her 'that trenchant critic of life'. While Gertie aroused protective feelings among her mother's many lions, Katie diverted them with her witticisms and gift for repartee. Both sisters were the recipients of letters from their circle of older admirers, and in Burne-Jones's case these were invariably illustrated with engagingly whimsical drawings. Those he sent to Katie, a particularly remarkable series in which he often seems to be speaking both to the child and her parents at different levels of awareness, are now in the British Museum and have twice been published.
Burne-Jones painted several portraits of the sisters as young girls. He also drew their mother, although the painting of her projected in 1882 was never carried out. The best-known of these likenesses is the highly unconventional full-length of Katie, showing her lying on her tummy absorbed in a book, with a pekingese curled up at her feet. Dated 1886, the picture was exhibited at the Grosvenor Gallery the following year and sold in these Rooms in 14 June 2000, lot 20.
The present painting, which remains slightly unfinished and was certainly never exhibited, was probably a gift from the artist to the Lewises, as indeed was the full-length of Katie. It would appear to date from about 1879-80, which probably makes it the earliest of all the Lewis portraits by Burne-Jones. This date is suggested partly by the apparent age of the sitter, who would have been eight or nine at the time, and partly by the style. There is a distinct relationship with the head studies in oil that Burne-Jones made for the well-known Golden Stairs (Tate Britain), exhibited at the Grosvenor Gallery in 1880.
Burne-Jones painted a second portrait of Gertie in 1883, when she was twelve. Showing her in profile to left and rather dark in tonality it is a much more formal likeness than the present picture. It was included in the Arts Council's Burne-Jones exhibition in 1975-6, no. 239.
In 1902, at the age of thirty, Gertie made a late marriage to Theodore Birnbaum (changed to Burney in 1915). She remained close to Katie but they led very different lives. Not surprisingly, Katie never married. As a child she seems to have been more than a little spoilt, and in later life, rich, witty, and self-centred, she may well have deterred suitors. After he father's death in 1911 she continued to live in Portland Place with her mother, to whom she was devoted. Then when Elizabeth died in 1931 she moved to Evelyn Gardens, South Kensington, before settling in the Cotswold village of Broadway during the Second World War. She never lost her vitality, and continued to attract the talented and famous until the end of her life. Her great love was Bernard Berenson, with whom she conducted a lively and flirtatious correspondence from 1914 until his death in 1959.
Gertie and her husband often came to Portland Place to enjoy Elizabeth's dinners and parties. Their first child, Susan, was born in 1904, followed by a second daughter, Rachel, two years later, and a son, Anthony, in 1911. Then, just after the First World War had ended, tragedy struck. Theo's firm, the Gramophone and Typewriter Company (later HMV), went bankrupt, and he committed suicide.
Gertie's life changed completely. Withdrawing from society, apart from her immediate family and closest friends, she devoted herself to her children. Unlike Katie, she was naturally austere. She never kept a good table, and her idea of a summer holiday was a few weeks on the Belgian coast with nothing stronger to drink than mineral water. Nonetheless she, like Katie, had inherited her mother's love of music and art. Her home was a treasure-house of beautiful paintings and furniture, and the novels of her old friend Henry James were a constant solace. She died in 1955, aged eighty-four, and Katie followed her six years later.