_ JOHN SINGER SARGENT PHCHOOHECEEEEE A CATALOGUE OF THE MEMORIAL EXHIBITION OF HIS WORKS AT THE MUSEUM OF FINE ARTS BOSTON - FROM NOVEMBER THIRD TO DECEMBER ) TWENTY-SEVENTH - MCMXXV MEMORIAL EXHIBITION OF THE WORKS OF JOHN SINGER SARGENT - 2 Bn) oe i a SELF PORTRAIT OF JOHN SINGER SARGENT By permission of Anderson, Rome Uffizi Gallery No. 58 'A CATALOGUE OF THE MEMORIAL EXHIBITION OF THE WORKS OF i Bet ALE JOHN SINGER SARGENT OPENED ON THE OCCASION OF THE UNVEILING OF MR. SARGENT’S MURAL DECORATIONS OVER THE MAIN STAIR CASE AND THE LIBRARY OF THE MUSEUM EXHIBITION FROM NOVEMBER 3 TO DECEMBER 27 NINETEEN TWENTY-FIVE BOSTON - MASSACHUSETTS MUSEUM OF FINE ARTS MCMXXV a "SECOND iprtiow alee. ie an PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES ACKNOWLEDGMENT THE TRUSTEES WISH TO EXPRESS THEIR THANKS TO FRIENDS OF THE MUSEUM FOR THE VERY GENEROUS WAY IN WHICH THEY HAVE COME FORWARD, OFTEN AT CONSIDERABLE PERSONAL INCONVENIENCE, TO AID IN MAKING THIS EXHIBITION A WORTHY MEMORIAL. FOREWORD HISTLER once said — with pungent zest — that painting and literature, being two distinct arts, it was just as futile © to write a criticism of a painting asit would be to paint \ a criticism of a book. The hint may not be lost upon us 7 in the presence of this notable collection of John Sar- gent’s paintings, and we can safely leave them to speak for themselves. Moreover, the quality of his painting has been so fully recognized by eminent critics of both continents, that it may not be amiss here to dwell upon the development of his career and the more personal side of the artist and the man, from a personal knowledge extending over many years. John Sargent came from the Florence Academy of Fine Artsin 1874, when he was eighteen years old —well fitted for his entry into the French atelier of Carolus-Duran, where he remained five years. He could already draw and paint well, the result of painstaking and minute work. His first training, it is said, came from his mother who set him to copying the tea service on the family table; while his preference for the Italian Primitives indicated the direction of his early choice. As water- color was his first medium, so it was his first love, and continued to be to the end; even his oils reflected, by their easy flow, the medium of water-color in which he painted so fluently. I remember well meeting Sargent in Paris in the early eighties, and I can see him now: very tall, almost slight of build, of erect carriage, and wearing a dark roundish beard—the picture of a handsome attractive young man, rather awkward and shy, but withal possessing the indes- cribable charm of a fresh, winning personality. He was then, as he [ vii ] continued to be, a man of few words, which were as carefully and labori- ously sought for as were the various phases of his art. Let no one think that he attained with one bound his mastery of eye and brush; it was preceded by a long and painstaking apprenticeship during which he searched, with a precision never discarded even in the heyday of his greatest freedom and mastery of expression. Sargent’s first success was the portrait of his master exhibited in the Salon of 1877 which gained him a mention honorable; and the medals followed in increasing preciousness of metal and value — bronze, silver, and gold. Then appeared in the Salon of 1882 the portrait of Miss Burckhardt —“ The Lady with the Rose’’— one of the best things Sar- gent ever did, which placed him in the first rank of portrait painters. In the same year, but of a very different and distinct note, came a dazzling ’ production, “ El Jaleo’’—the Spanish dance now in Fenway Court, Boston. That canvas also made a profound impression and stamped the painter asa genius. But another was to follow, in 1884, quite different from these, yet on the same high level — one of those ‘‘ damned ultimate things’’ acclaimed by all. I was present at the opening of a small coterie of exhibitors at the Ga/erte Georges Petit when that painting — the Boit children — was first shown. The artistic and fashionable world crowded around it, lost in admiration and wonder, for it was an epochal piece of painting, of a bigness of vision and execution unseen since the days of Velazquez and Frans Hals. Carolus-Duran was there, proud of the achievement of his pupil, but disturbed — visibly so, for it was apparent that his young pupil, at the outset of his career had already surpassed his master. In that same year, 84, was exhibited in the Salon the portrait of Mme. Gautreau now in the Metropolitan Museum. How advanced it looked then, especially in the flat tones of the face! «‘ C’est Japonais,”’ wrote Albert Wolff, whose pen was as poisonous as it was brilliant,