1817. Born in London, February 23.
1827. Begins to frequent the studio of William Behnes.
1835. Enters Royal Academy Schools.
1837. Working in his own studio. ‘Wounded Heron’ and two portraits in Royal Academy exhibition.
1842. Success in Parliament House competition: ‘Caractacus’ cartoon.
1843-7. Living with Lord and Lady Holland at Florence.
1847. Success in second competition: ‘Alfred’ cartoon.
1848. Early allegorical pictures.
1850. Friendship with the Prinseps. Little Holland House.
1851. National series of portraits begun.
1852. Begins Lincoln’s Inn Hall fresco1: finished 1859.
1856. With Sir Charles Newton to Halicarnassus.
1865. Correspondence with Charles Rickards of Manchester.
1867. Elected A.R.A. and R.A. in same year. Portraits. Carlyle. W. Morris.
1872. New home at Freshwater, Isle2 of Wight. ‘The Briary.’ Little Holland House sold.
1877. Grosvenor Gallery opened. 1881. Watts3 exhibition there (200 pictures).
1882. D.C.L., Oxford4; LL.D., Cambridge.
1886. November; marries Miss Fraser Tytler. Winter in Egypt.
1890. New home at Limnerslease, Compton.
1895. National Portrait Gallery opened.
1896. New Gallery exhibition (155 pictures).
1897. Gift of pictures to new Tate Gallery.
1902. Order of Merit.
1904. Death at Compton, July 1.
George Frederick Watts
Artist
The great age of British art was past before Queen Victoria began her long and memorable5 reign6. Reynolds and Gainsborough had died in the last years of the eighteenth century, Romney and Hoppner in the first decade of the nineteenth; Lawrence, the last of the Georgian portrait-painters, did not live beyond 1830. Of the landscapists Crome died in 1821 and Constable7 in 1837. Turner, the one survivor8 of the Giants, had done three-quarters of his work before 1837 and can hardly be reckoned as a Victorian worthy9.
In the reign of Queen Victoria many thousands of trivial anecdotic pictures were bought and sold, were reproduced in Art Annuals and Christmas Numbers and won the favour of rich amateurs and provincial10 aldermen — so much so that Victorian art has been a favourite target for the shafts11 of critics formed in the school of Whistler and the later Impressionists. But however just some of their strictures may be, it is foolish to condemn12 an age wholesale13 or to shut our eyes to the great achievements of those artists who, rising above the general level, dignified14 the calling of the painter just when the painters were most rare. These men formed no single movement progressing in a uniform direction. The study of pure landscape is best seen in the water-colour draughtsmen, Cotman, Cox, and de Wint; of landscape as a setting for the life of the people, in Fred Walker and George Mason. Among figure-painters the ‘Pre-Raphaelites’, Rossetti, Holman Hunt, and Millais, with their forerunner16 Madox Brown, are the first to win attention by their earnestness, their romantic imagination, and their intense feeling for beauty: in these qualities Burne-Jones carried on their work and retained the allegiance of a cultured few to the very end of the century. Two solitary17 figures are more difficult to class, Alfred Stevens and Watts. Each learnt fruitful lessons from prolonged study of the great art of the past; yet each preserves a marked originality18 in his work. More than any other artists of their age they realized the unity19 of art and the dependence20 of one branch upon another. Painting should go hand in hand with sculpture, and both minister to architecture. So the world might hope once more to see public buildings nobly planned and no less nobly decorated, as in the past it saw the completion of the Parthenon and the churches of mediaeval Italy. It was unfortunate that they received so little encouragement from the public, and that their example had so narrow an influence. St. Paul’s can show its Wellington monument, Lincoln’s Inn its fresco; but year after year subject-pictures continued to be painted on an ambitious scale, which after a few months’ exhibition on the walls of Burlington House passed to their tomb in provincial museums, or reappeared as ghosts in the sale-room only to fetch a derisory price and to illustrate21 the fickle22 vagaries23 in the public taste.
In the early life of George Frederick Watts, who was born in a quiet street in West Marylebone, there are few incidents to narrate24, there is little brightness to enliven the tale. His father, a maker25 of musical instruments, was poor; his mother died early; his home-life was overshadowed by his own ill-health and the uncertain moods of other members of the family. His education was casual and consisted mostly of reading books under the guidance of his father, who had little solid learning, but refined tastes and an inventive disposition26. In his Sundays at home, where the Sabbatarian rule limited his reading, he became familiar with the stories of the Old Testament27; he discovered for himself the Waverley Novels and Pope’s translation of the Iliad; and he began from early years to use his pencil with the eager and persistent28 enthusiasm which marks the artist born.
For a rich artistic29 nature it was a starved life, but he made the most of such chances as came in his way. He was barely ten years old when he found his way to the studio of a sculptor30 named William Behnes, a man of Hanoverian extraction, an indifferent sculptor but possessed31 of a real talent for drawing; and from his more intellectual brother, Charles Behnes, he learnt to widen his interest in literature. In this halting and irregular process of education he received help, some years later, from another friend of foreign birth, Nicholas Wanostrocht, a Belgian, who under the assumed name of ‘Felix’ became a leading authority on the game of cricket. Wanostrocht was a cultivated man of very wide tastes, and it was largely through his encouragement that Watts gave to the study of the French and Italian languages, and to music, what little time he could spare from his professional work. London was to render him greater services than this. Thanks to his visits to the British Museum, he had, while still in his teens, come under a mightier32 spell. Though few Englishmen had yet learnt to value their treasures, the Elgin Marbles had been resting there for twenty years. But now, two years before Queen Victoria’s accession, there might be seen, standing33 rapt in admiration34 before the works of Phidias, a boy of slender figure with high forehead, delicately moulded features, and disordered hair, one who, as we can see from the earliest portrait which Mrs. Watts has preserved in her biography, had something of the unearthly beauty of the young Shelley. He was physically35 frail36, marked off from ordinary men by a grace that won its way quickly to the hearts of all who were susceptible37 to spiritual charm. Untaught though he was, he had the eye to see for himself the grandeur38 of these relics39 of Greece, and throughout his life they remained one of the guiding influences in his development, one of the standards which he set up before himself, though all too conscious that he could not hope to reach that height. We see their influence in his treatment of drapery, of horses, of the human figure, in his idealization of types, in the flowing lines of his compositions, and in the grouping of his masses. Compared to the hours which he spent in the British Museum, the lessons in the Royal Academy schools seem unimportant. He attended classes there for some months in 1835, but the teaching was poor and its results disappointing. William Hilton, R.A., who then occupied the post of Keeper, gave him some kind words of encouragement, but in general he came and went unnoticed, and he soon returned to his solitary self-training in his own studio. If we know little of his teaching in art, we know still less of his personal life during the time when he was laying the foundations of his success by study and self-discipline. Early rising was an art which he acquired early, and maintained throughout life; long after he felt the spur of necessity, even after the age of 80, he could rise at four when there was work to be done; and, living as he did on the simplest diet, he often achieved his best results at an hour when other men were still finishing their slumbers40. His shyness and sensitiveness, combined with precarious41 health and weak physique, would seem to equip him but poorly in the struggle for life; but his steady persistence42, his high conception of duty, his faith in his art, joined to that power which he had of winning friends among the noblest men and women of his day, were to carry him triumphantly43 through to the end.
The career of Watts as a public man began in 1843 when he had reached the age of 26. The British Government, not often guilty of fostering art or literature, may claim at least the credit for having drawn44 him out of his seclusion45 at the very moment when his genius was ripening46 to bear fruit. In 1834 the Palace of Westminster, so long the home of the Houses of Parliament, had been burnt to the ground. The present buildings were begun by Sir Charles Barry in 1840, and, with a view to decorating them with wall-paintings, the Board of Works wisely offered prizes for cartoons, hoping thereby47 to attract the best talent of the country. In June 1843 they had to judge between 140 designs by various competitors, and to award prizes varying in value from ￡300 to ￡100. Of the three first prizes one fell to Watts, hitherto unknown beyond the narrow circle of his friends, for a design displaying ‘Caractacus led in triumph through the streets of Rome’. This cartoon, however, was not employed for its original purpose: it fell into the hands of an enterprising, if inartistic, dealer48, who cut it up and sold such fragments as he judged to be of value in the state of the picture market at the time. What was far more important was the encouragement given to the artist by such a success at a critical time of his life, and the opportunity which the money furnished him to travel abroad and enrich his experiences before his style was formed. He had long wished to visit Italy; and, after spending a few weeks in France, he made his leisurely49 way (at a pace incredible to us to-day) to Florence and its picture galleries. On the steamer between Marseilles and Leghorn he was fortunate in making friends with a Colonel Ellice and his wife, and a few weeks later they introduced him to Lord Holland, the British Minister at Florence.
The story goes that Watts went to be the guest of Lord and Lady Holland for four days and remained there for four years — a story which is a tribute to the discernment of the latter and not a satire50 upon Watts, who was the last man in the world to take advantage of hospitality or to thrust himself into other people’s houses. No doubt it is not to be taken too literally51, but at least it is so far true that he very quickly became intimate with his host and hostess and found a home where he could pursue his art under ideal conditions. The value and the danger of patronage52 have been often discussed. Democracy may provide a discipline for artists and men of letters which is often salutary in testing the sincerity53 of their devotion to art and literature; but, in such a stern school, men of genius may easily founder54 and miss their way.
However that may be, Watts found just the haven55 which was needed for a nature like his. So far he had known but little appreciation56, and had lived with few who were his peers. Now he was cheered by the favour of men and women who had known the best and whose favour was well worth the winning. But he kept his independence of spirit. He lived in a palace, but his diet was as sparing as that of a hermit57. He feasted his eyes on the great works of the Renaissance58, but he preserved his originality, and continued to work, with fervour and enhanced enthusiasm, on the lines which he had already marked out for himself. He did not copy with the hand, but he drank in new lessons with the eyes and dreamed new dreams with the spirit.
The Hollands had two houses, one in the centre of the city, the other, the Villa59 Medicea di Careggi, lying on the edge of the hills some two or three miles to the north. This latter had been a favourite residence of the first Cosimo; here Lorenzo had died, turning his face to the wall, unshriven by Savonarola; and here Watts decorated an open loggia in fresco, to bear witness to its latest connexion with the patronage of Art. Between the two houses he passed laborious60 but tranquil61 days, studying, planning, training his hand to mastery, but enjoying in his leisure all that such a home could give him of varied62 entertainment. Music and dancing, literature and good company, all had their charms for him, though none of them could beguile63 him into neglecting his work. Fortune had tried him with her frowns and with her smiles; under temptations of both sorts he remained but more faithful to his calling.
His health gave cause for anxiety from time to time, but he delighted in the sunshine and the genial64 climate of the South, and in general he was well enough to enjoy what Florence could give him of beautiful form and colour, and even to travel farther afield. One year he pushed as far as Naples, stopping on the way for a hurried glance at Rome. On this memorable day the Sistine chapel65 and its paintings were kept to the last; and Watts, high though his expectations were, was overwhelmed at what he saw. ‘Michelangelo’, he said, ‘stands for Italy, as Shakespeare does for England.’ So the four years went by till in 1847 this halcyon66 period came to an end. The Royal Commission of Fine Arts was offering prizes for fresco-painting, and Watts felt that he must put his growing powers to the test and utilize67 what he had learnt. This time he chose for his subject ‘Alfred inciting68 the English to resist the Danes by sea’. He was busy at work in the early months of 1847 making many sketches69 in pencil for the figures, and by April he was on his way home, bringing with him the ‘Alfred’ almost finished and five other canvases in various stages of completion. The picture was placed in Westminster Hall for competition in June, and soon after he was announced to be the winner of one of the three ￡500 prizes. When the Commissioners70 decided71 to purchase his picture for the nation, he refused to take more than ￡200 for it, though he might easily have obtained a far higher price. This is one of the earliest instances in which he displayed that signal generosity72 which marked his whole career.
During the next three years his life was rather desultory73. He was hoping to return to Italy and did not find it easy to settle down in London. He changed his studio two or three times. He planned various works, but felt chilled at the absence of any clear encouragement from new patrons or from the general public. His success in 1847 had not been followed by any commissions for the sort of work he loved: interest in the decoration of public buildings was still spasmodic and too rare.
He made the acquaintance of Mr. Ruskin; but, friendly though they were in their personal relations, they did not see eye to eye in artistic matters. Ruskin seemed to lay too much emphasis on points of secondary importance, and to fail in judging the work of Michelangelo and the greatest masters. So Watts thought, and many years later, in conversation with Jowett, declared, chary74 though he was of criticizing his friends. To-day there is little doubt whose judgement was the truer, even had Ruskin not weakened his position by so often contradicting himself. Besides Ruskin, Watts was beginning to make other friends, and was a member of the Cosmopolitan75 Club, which counted among its members Sir Robert Morier, Sir Henry Layard, FitzGerald, Palgrave, and Spedding. The large painting of the ‘Story from Boccaccio’, which now hangs in the Watts room of the Tate Gallery, hung for many years on the walls of this club and was presented to the nation in 1902. How frequently Watts attended the club or other social gatherings76 at this time we do not know. His name figures little in the biographies and memoirs77 of Londoners, and he himself would not have wished the record of his daily life to be preserved. His modesty78 in all personal matters is uncontested, and even if his subsequent offer of his pictures to the nation smacks79 somewhat of presumption80, his motive81 was something other than conceit82. His portraits were an historical record of the worthiest83 men of his own time: his allegories were of value, so he felt, not for their technical accomplishments84, but for the high moral lessons which they tried to convey. The artist himself was at ease only in retirement85 and privacy. Yet complete isolation86 was not good for him. Ill-health still dogged his steps, and the dejection which came over him in the years 1849 and 1850 is to be seen in the gloomiest pictures which he ever painted. Their titles and subjects alike recall the more tragic87 poems of Thomas Hood88. But the eclipse was not to last for long, and in 1850 Watts owed his recovery to a happy chance encounter with friends who were to give him a new haven of refuge and gladden his life for thirty years to come.
A high Indian official, James Pattle, had been the father of five daughters who were famous for their beauty, and from their tastes and character were particularly fitted to be the friends of artists and poets. If Lady Somers was the most beautiful of the sisters and Mrs. Cameron the most artistic, their elder sister Mrs. Prinsep proved to be Watts’s surest friend. Her husband, Thoby Prinsep, was a member of the India Council in Whitehall, a large-hearted man, full of knowledge and full of kindliness89. Mrs. Prinsep herself was mistress of the domestic arts in no common degree, from skilful90 cookery to the holding of a literary salon91. She and her husband realized what friendship could do for a nature like that of Watts, and they provided him with an ideal home, where he was nursed back to health, relieved of care, and cheered by constant sympathy and affection. It was Watts who discovered this home for them in a quiet corner of London, that has not yet lost all its charm. Behind Holland House and adjoining its park was a smaller property with a rambling92 old-fashioned house, built in the days when London was still far away. At Little Holland House the Prinseps lived for a quarter of a century. Here the sisters came and went freely with their children who were growing up around them. Here were gatherings of their friends, among whom Tennyson, Thackeray, Rossetti, and Burne-Jones might be met from time to time; and here Watts remained a constant inmate93, giving regular hours to his work, enjoying their society in his leisure, a special favourite with the children, who admitted him to their confidence and called him by pet names. There was no lionizing, no striving after brilliance94; all work that was genuine and of high intention received due honour, and Watts could hope here to carry to fruition the noble visions which he had seen since the days of his youth.
These visions had little to do with the exhibitions of Burlington House, the winning of titles, or the acquisition of worldly wealth. Watts cherished the old Greek conception of willing service to the community. And he was alive to the special needs of an age when men were struggling for gain, and when ‘progress’ was measured by material riches. To him, if to few others, it seemed tragic that, in the wonderful development of industrial Britain, art, which had spoken so eloquently95 to citizens of Periclean Athens and to Florence in the Medicean age, should remain without expression or sign of life. For a moment our Government had seemed to hear the call, and the stimulus96 of the Westminster competitions had been of value; but the interest died away all too quickly, and the attention of the general public was never fully97 roused. If the latter could be won, Watts was only too willing to give the time and the knowledge which he had acquired. The building of the great railway stations in London seemed to offer a chance, and Watts approached the directors of the North Western Company with a humble98 petition. All that he asked for was wall space and the payment of his expenses in material. Had his request been granted, Euston might have enjoyed pre-eminence99 among railway stations, and passengers for the north might have passed through, or waited in, a National Gallery of their own. But the Railway Director’s mind is slow to move; inventions leave him cold, and imagination is not to be weighed in the scale against dividends100 and quick returns. The Company declined the offer on the ground of expense, while their architect is said to have been seriously alarmed at the idea of any one tampering101 with his building.
Another proposal met with a heartier102 response. The men of law proved more generous than the men of commerce. The new Hall at Lincoln’s Inn was being built by Mr. Philip Hardwick, in the Tudor style. Benchers and architect alike cordially welcomed Watts’s offer to decorate a blank wall with fresco. The work could only be carried on during the legal vacations, and it proved a long business owing to the difficulties of the process and to the interruptions caused by the artist’s ill-health. Watts planned it in 1852, began work in 1853, and did not put the finishing touch till 1859. The subject was a group of famous lawgivers, in which the chief figures were Moses, Mahomet, Justinian, Charlemagne, and Alfred, and it stands to-day as the chief witness to his powers as a designer on a grand scale.
Before this he had already dedicated103 to national service his gift of portrait-painting. The head of Lord John Russell, painted in 1851, is one of the earliest portraits known to have been painted with this intention, though it is impossible to fix with accuracy the date when such a scheme took shape. In 1899, with the same patriotic104 intention, he was at work on a painting of Cecil Rhodes. In this half-century of activity he might have made large sums of money, if he had responded to the urgent demands of those men and women who were willing to pay high prices for the privilege of sitting to him; but few of them attained105 their object. His earlier achievements were limited to a few families from whom he had received help and encouragement when he was unknown. First among these to be remembered are the various generations of that family whose name is still preserved at South Kensington in the Ionides collection of pictures. Next came the Hollands, of whom he painted many portraits at Florence; and a third circle, naturally enough, was that of the Prinseps. In general he was most unwilling106 to undertake, as a mere107 matter of business, commissions from individuals unknown to him. He found portrait-painting most exhausting in its demands upon him. He threw his whole soul into the work, straining to see and to reproduce all that was most noble in his sitters. His nervous temperament108 made him anxious at starting, while his high standard of excellence109 made him often dissatisfied with what he had accomplished110. Even when he was painting Tennyson, a personal friend, he was miserable111 at the thought of the responsibility which he had undertaken; and in 1879 he gave up a commission to paint Gladstone, feeling that he was not realizing his aim. So far as mere money was concerned, he would have preferred to leave this branch of his profession, the most lucrative112 of all, perhaps the most suited to his gifts, severely113 on one side, and to confine himself to the allegorical subjects which he felt to be independent of external claims.
In the years after 1850, when he was first living at Little Holland House, Watts formed some of the friendships with brother artists which added so much pleasure to his life. Foremost among these friends was Frederic Leighton, the most famous President whom the Royal Academy has known since the days of Reynolds, a man of many accomplishments, linguist114, orator115, and organizer, as well as sculptor and painter, the very variety of whose gifts have perhaps prevented him from obtaining proper recognition for the things which he did really well. The worldly success which he won brought him under the fire of criticism as no other artist of the time; but, apart from his merits as a draughtsman and a sculptor he was a man of singularly generous temper, a staunch friend and a champion of good causes. These qualities, and his sincere admiration for all noble work, endeared him to Watts; and, at one time, Leighton paid daily visits to his studio to exchange views and to see his friend’s work in progress.
For a while Rossetti frequented the circle, but this wayward spirit drifted into other paths, and the chief service which he did to Watts was to introduce to him Edward Burne-Jones, most refined of artists and most lovable of men. The latter’s work commanded Watts’s highest admiration, and his friendship was valued to the end. To many lovers of painting these two remain the embodiment of all that is purest and loftiest in Victorian art; and though their treatment of classic subjects and of allegory were so different their pictures were often hung side by side in exhibitions and their names were coupled together in the current talk of the time. Burne-Jones was markedly Celtic in his love of beautiful pattern, in the ghostly refinement116 of his figures, in the elaborate fancifulness of his imagery. Watts had more of the full-blooded Englishman in his nature, and his art was simpler, grander, more universal. If we may compare them with the great men of the Renaissance, Burne-Jones recalled the grace of Botticelli, Watts the richness and power of Veronese or of Titian.
Those who went to Little Holland House and saw the circle of the Prinseps adorned117 by these artists, and by such writers as Tennyson, Henry Taylor,33 and Thackeray, had a singular impression of harmony between the men and their surroundings; and if they had been asked who best expressed the spirit of these gatherings, they would probably have pointed119 to the ‘Signor’, as Watts came to be called among his intimate friends — to the slight figure with the small delicately-shaped head, who seemed to recall the atmosphere of Florence in the Middle Ages, when art was at once a craft and a religion. But few who saw the grace and old-fashioned courtesy with which he moved among young and old would have guessed what fire and persistency120 were in him, that he would outlive all his generation, and be still wielding121 a vigorous brush in the early years of the century to come.
One interlude in this busy yet tranquil life came in 1856 when he was asked to accompany Sir Charles Newton’s party to the coast of Asia Minor122. Newton was to explore the ruins of Halicarnassus on behalf of the British Government, and a man-of-war was placed at his disposal. The opportunity of seeing Grecian lands in this leisurely fashion was too good to be missed, and Watts spent eight happy months on board. He showed his power of adapting himself to a new situation, made friends with the sailors, and sang ‘Tom Bowling’ at their Christmas concert. Incidentally he visited Constantinople, as it was necessary to get a ‘firman’ from the Porte, was commended to the famous ambassador Lord Stratford de Redcliffe and painted two portraits of him, one of which is in the National Portrait Gallery to-day. He also enjoyed a cruise through the Greek Islands, where the scenery with its rich colour and bold pure outlines was specially123 calculated to charm him. He painted few landscapes in his long career, but both in Italy and in Greece it was the distant views of mountain peaks that led him to give expression to his delight in the beauty of Nature.
A different kind of distraction124 was obtained after his return by occasional visits to Esher, where he was the guest of Mrs. Sanderson, sister of Mr. Prinsep, and where he spent many a happy day riding to hounds. For games he had no training, and little inclination125, though he loved in his old age to watch and encourage the village cricket in Surrey; but riding gave him great pleasure. His love for the horse may in part be due to this pastime, in part to his early study of the Parthenon frieze126 with its famous procession of horsemen. Certainly this animal plays a notable part in his work. Two great equestrian127 statues occupied him for many years. ‘Hugh Lupus’, the ancestor of the Grosvenors, was cast in bronze in 1884 and set up at Eaton Hall in the Duke of Westminster’s park. ‘Physical Energy’ was the name given to a similar figure conceived on broader and more ideal lines. At this Watts continued to work till the year of his death, though he parted with the first version in response to Lord Grey’s appeal when it was wanted to adorn118 the monument to Cecil Rhodes. Its original destination was the tomb in the Matoppo hills; but it was proved impracticable to convey such a colossal128 work, without injury, over the rough country surrounding them; and it was set up at Cape15 Town. The statue has become better known to the English public since a second version has been set up in Kensington Gardens. The rider, bestriding a powerful horse, has flung himself back and is gazing eagerly into the distance, shading with uplifted hand his eyes against the fierce sunlight which dazzles them. The allegory is not hard to interpret, though the tame landscape of a London park frames it less fitly than a wide stretch of wild and solitary veld.
Horses of many different kinds figure in his pictures. In one, whose subject is taken from the Apocalypse, we see the war-horse, his neck ‘clothed with thunder’; in another his head is bowed, the lines harmonizing with the mood of his master, Sir Galahad. ‘The Midday Rest’, unheroic in theme but grand in treatment, shows us two massive dray horses, which were lent to him as models by Messrs. Barclay and Perkins, while ‘A patient life of unrewarded toil’ renders sympathetically the weakness of the veteran discharged after years of service, waiting patiently for the end. One instance of a more imaginative kind shows us ‘Neptune’s Horses’ as the painter dimly discerned them, with arched necks and flowing manes, rising and leaping in the crest129 of the wave.
His portraits of great men generally took the form of half-lengths with the simplest backgrounds. His subjects were of all kinds — Tennyson and Browning, Rossetti and Burne-Jones, Gladstone, Mill, Motley, Joachim, Thiers, and Anthony Panizzi.34 His object was a national one, and the foreigners admitted to the company were usually closely connected with England. Sometimes the pose of the body and the hands helps the conception, as in Lord Lytton and Cardinal130 Manning; more often Watts trusts to the simple mass of the head or to the character revealed by the features in repose131. No finer examples for contrast can be given than the portraits of the two friends, Burne-Jones and William Morris, painted in 1870. In the former we see the spirit of the dreamer, in the latter the splendid vitality132 and force of the craftsman133, who was impetuous in action as he was rich in invention. The room at the National Portrait Gallery where this collection is hung speaks eloquently to us of the Victorian Age and the varied genius of its greatest men; and in some cases we have the additional interest of being able to compare portraits of the same men painted by Watts and by other artists. Well known is the contrast in the case of Carlyle. Millais has painted a picturesque134 old man whose talk might be racy and his temper uncertain; but the soul of the seer, tormented135 by conflicts and yet clinging to an inner faith, is revealed only by the hands of Watts. Again Millais gives us the noble features, the extravagant136 ‘hure’35 of the Tennyson whom his contemporaries saw, alive, glowing with force; Watts has exalted137 this conception to a higher level and has portrayed138 the thinker whom the world will honour many centuries hence. Some will perhaps prefer the more objective treatment; and it is certain that Watts’s ambition led him into difficult paths. Striving to represent the soul of his sitter, he was conscious at times that he failed — that he could not see or realize what he was searching for. More than once he abandoned a commission when he felt this uncertainty140 in himself. But when the accord between artist and sitter was perfect, he achieved a triumph of idealization, combined with a firm grasp on reality, such as few artists since Giorgione and the young Titian have been able to achieve.
Apart from portraits there was a rich variety in the subjects which the painter handled, some drawn from Bible stories, some from Greek legends or mediaeval tales, some for which we can find no source save in his own imagination. He dealt with the myths in a way natural to a man who owed more to Greek art and to his own musings than to the close study of Greek literature. His pictures of the infancy141 of Jupiter, of the deserted142 Ariadne, of the tragedy of Orpheus and Eurydice, have no elaborate realism in detail. The Royal Academy walls showed, in those days, plenty of marble halls, theatres, temples, and classic groves143, reproduced with soulless pedantry144. Watts gave us heroic figures, with strong masses and flowing lines, simply grouped and charged with emotion — the yearning145 love of Diana for Endymion, the patient resignation of Ariadne, the passionate146 regret of Orpheus, the cruel bestiality of the Minotaur. Some will find a deeper interest, a grander style, in the designs which he made for the story of our first parents in the Book of Genesis. Remorse147 has rarely been expressed so powerfully as in the averted148 figure of Eve after the Fall, or of Cain bowed under the curse, shut out from contact with all creation. In one of his masterpieces Watts drew his motive from the Gospel story. The picture entitled ‘For he had great possessions’ shows us the young ruler who has come to Christ and has failed in the supreme149 moment. His back, his bowed neck and averted head, with the gesture of indecision in his right hand, tell their tale with consummate150 eloquence151.
In his more famous allegories the same is true; by simple means an impression of great power is conveyed. The popularity of ‘Love and Death’ and its companion picture shows how little the allegory needs explanation. These themes were first handled between 1860 and 1870; but the pictures roused such widespread admiration that the painter made several replicas152 of them. Versions are now to be found in the Dominions153 and in New York, as well as in London and Manchester. Photographs have extended their renown154 and they are so familiar to-day that there is no need to describe them. Another masterpiece dealing155 with the subject of Death is the ‘Sic transit’, where the shrouded156 figure of the dead warrior157 is impressive in its solemnity and stillness. ‘Dawn’ and ‘Hope’ show what different notes Watts could strike in his treatment of the female form. At the other extreme is ‘Mammon’, the sordid158 power which preys159 on life and crushes his victims with the weight of his relentless160 hand. The power of conscience is shown in a more mystic figure called ‘The Dweller161 in the Innermost’. Judgement figures in more than one notable design, the most familiar being that which now hangs in St. Paul’s Cathedral with the title of ‘Time, Death, and Judgement’. Its position there shows how little we can draw the line between the different classes of subjects as they were handled by Watts. A courtier like Rubens could, after painting with gusto a rout162 of Satyrs, put on a cloak of decorum to suit the pageantry of a court, or even simulate fervour to portray139 the ecstasy163 of a saint. He is clearly acting164 a part, but in Watts the character of the man is always seen. Whether his subjects are drawn from the Bible or from pagan myths, they are all treated in the same temper of reverence165 and purity.
It is impossible to avoid the question of didactic art in writing of these pictures, though such a wide question, debated for half a century, can receive no adequate treatment here. We must frankly166 allow that Watts was ‘preaching sermons in paint’, nor would he have repudiated167 the charge, however loud to-day are the protests of those who preach the doctrine168 of ‘art for art’s sake’. But the latter, while stating many principles of which the British public need to be reminded, seem to go beyond their rights. It is, of course, permissible169 for students of art to object to technical points of handling — Watts himself was among the first to deplore170 his own failures due to want of executive ability; it is open to them to debate the part which morality may have in art, and to express their preference for those artists who handle all subjects impartially171 and conceive all to be worthy of treatment, if truth of drawing or lighting172 be achieved. But when they make Watts’s ethical173 intention the reason for depreciating174 him as an artist they are on more uncertain ground. There is no final authority in these questions. Ruskin was too dogmatic in the middle years of his life and only provoked a more violent reaction. Twenty years later the admirers of Whistler and Manet were equally intolerant, and assumed doctrines175 which may hold the field to-day but are certain to be questioned to-morrow.
Watts was most reluctant to enter into controversy176 and had no ambition to found a school; in fact so far was he from imposing177 his views on others, that he scarcely ever took pupils, and was content to urge young artists to follow their own line and to be sincere. But he could at times be drawn into putting some of his views on paper, and in 1893 he wrote down a statement of the relative importance which he attached to the qualities which make a painter. Among these Imagination stands first, Intellectual idea next to it. After this follow Dignity of form, Harmony of lines, and Colour. Finally, in the sixth place comes Realism, the idol178 of so many of the end of the century, both in literature and art.
Some years earlier, in meeting criticism, Watts had said, ‘I admit my want of dexterity179 with the brush, in some cases a very serious defect,’ but at the same time he refused to accept the authority of those ‘who deny that art should have any intellectual intention’. In general, he pleaded that art has a very wide range over subject and treatment; but he did not set himself up as a reformer in art, nor inflict180 dogmas on the public gratuitously181. He found that some of his more abstract themes needed handling in shadowy and suggestive fashion: if this gave the impression of fumbling182, or displayed some weakness in technique, even so perhaps the conception reaches us in a way that could not be attained by dexterity of brushwork. As he himself said, ‘there were things that could only be done in art at the sacrifice of some other things’; but the points which Watts was ready to sacrifice are what the realists conceive to be indispensable, and his aims were not as theirs. But his life was very little troubled by controversy; and he would not have wished his own work to be a subject for it.
External circumstances also had little power to alter the even tenor183 of his way. Late in life, at the age of 69, he married Miss Fraser Tytler, a friend of some fifteen years’ standing, who was herself an artist, and who shared all his tastes. After the marriage he and his wife spent a long winter in the East, sailing up the Nile in leisurely fashion, enjoying the monuments of ancient Egypt and the colours of the desert. It was a time of great happiness, and was followed by seventeen years of a serene184 old age, divided between his London house in Melbury Road and his new home in Surrey. Staying with friends in Surrey, Watts had made acquaintance with the beautiful country lying south of the Hog’s Back; and in 1889 he chose a site at Compton, where he decided to build a house. To this he gave the name of Limnerslease. Thanks to the generosity of Mrs. Watts, who has built a gallery and hung some of his choicest pictures there, Compton has become one of the three shrines185 to which lovers of his work resort.36
But for many years he met with little recognition from the world at large. It was only at the age of 50 that he received official honours from the Royal Academy, though the success of his cartoons had marked him out among his contemporaries twenty-five years earlier. About 1865 his pictures won the enthusiastic admiration of Mr. Charles Rickards, who continued to be the most constant of his patrons, and gave to his admiration the most practical form. Not only did he purchase from year to year such pictures as Watts was willing to sell, but twenty years later he organized an exhibition of Watts’s work at Manchester, which did much to spread his fame in the North. In London Watts came to his own more fully when the Grosvenor Gallery was opened in 1877. Here the Directors were at pains to attract the best painters of the day and to hang their pictures in such a way that their artistic qualities had full effect. No one gained more from this than Watts and Burne-Jones; and to a select but growing circle of admirers the interest of the annual exhibitions began and ended with the work of these two kindred spirits. The Directors also arranged in 1881 for a special exhibition devoted187 to the works of Watts alone, when, thanks to the generosity of lenders, 200 of his pictures did justice to his sixty years of unwearied effort. This winter established his fame, and England now recognized him as one of her greatest sons. But when his friends tried to organize a dinner to be held at the Gallery in his honour, he got wind of the plot, and with his usual fastidious reserve begged to be spared such an ordeal188. The élite of London society, men famous in politics, literature, and other departments of public life, were only too anxious to honour him; but he could not endure to be the centre of public attention. To him art was everything, the artist nothing. Throughout his life he attended few banquets, mounted fewer platforms, and only wished to be left to enjoy his work, his leisure, and the society of his intimate friends.
His interest in the progress of his age was profound, though it did not often take shape in visible form. He believed that the world might be better, and was not minded to acquiesce189 in the established order of things. He sympathized with the Salvation190 Army; he was a strong supporter of women’s education; he was ardent191 for redressing192 the balance of riches and poverty, and for recognizing the heroism193 of those who, labouring under such grim disadvantages, yet played a heroic part in life. The latter he showed in practical form. In 1887 he had wished to celebrate the Queen’s Jubilee194 by erecting195 a shrine186 in which to preserve the records of acts of self-sacrifice performed by the humblest members of the community. The scheme failed at the time to win support; but in 1899, largely through his help, a memorial building arose in the churchyard of St. Botolph, near Aldersgate, better known as the ‘Postmen’s Park’.
In private life his kindliness and courtesy won the hearts of all who came near him, young and old, rich and poor. He was tolerant towards those who differed from him in opinion: he steadily196 believed the best of other men in passing judgement on them. No mean thought, no malicious197 word, no petty quarrel marred198 the purity of his life. He had lost his best friends: Leighton in 1896, Burne-Jones three years later; but he enjoyed the devotion of his wife and the tranquillity199 of his home. Twice he refused the offer of a Baronetcy. The only honour which he accepted was the Order of Merit, which carried no title in society and was reserved for intellectual eminence and public service. At the age of 80 he presented to Eton College his picture of Sir Galahad, a fit emblem200 of his own lifelong quest. His last days of active work were spent on the second version of the great statue of ‘Physical Energy’, which had occupied him so long, and in which he ever found something new to express as he dreamed of the days to come and the future conquests of mankind. In 1904 his strength gradually failed him, and on July 1 he died in his Surrey home. Like his great exemplar Titian, whom he resembled in outward appearance and in much of the quality of his painting, he outlived his own generation and was yet learning, as one of the young, when death took him in the 88th year of his life.
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1
fresco
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| n.壁画；vt.作壁画于 | |
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isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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watts
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| （电力计量单位）瓦，瓦特( watt的名词复数 ) | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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6
reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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survivor
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| n.生存者，残存者，幸存者 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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13
wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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14
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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forerunner
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| n.前身，先驱（者），预兆，祖先 | |
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17
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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unity
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| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
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dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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illustrate
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| v.举例说明，阐明；图解，加插图 | |
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fickle
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| adj.(爱情或友谊上)易变的，不坚定的 | |
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23
vagaries
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| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
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24
narrate
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| v.讲，叙述 | |
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maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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testament
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| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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32
mightier
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| adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的 adv. 很，极其 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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34
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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40
slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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41
precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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42
persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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43
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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46
ripening
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的现在分词 )；熟化；熟成 | |
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47
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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50
satire
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| n.讽刺，讽刺文学，讽刺作品 | |
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51
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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patronage
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| n.赞助，支援，援助；光顾，捧场 | |
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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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54
Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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56
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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57
hermit
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| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
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renaissance
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| n.复活，复兴，文艺复兴 | |
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59
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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60
laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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61
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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beguile
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| vt.欺骗，消遣 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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halcyon
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| n.平静的，愉快的 | |
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utilize
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| vt.使用，利用 | |
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inciting
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| 刺激的，煽动的 | |
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69
sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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70
commissioners
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| n.专员( commissioner的名词复数 )；长官；委员；政府部门的长官 | |
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71
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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72
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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chary
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| adj.谨慎的，细心的 | |
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cosmopolitan
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| adj.世界性的，全世界的，四海为家的，全球的 | |
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gatherings
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| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
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memoirs
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| n.回忆录；回忆录传( mem,自oir的名词复数) | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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smacks
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| 掌掴（声）( smack的名词复数 )； 海洛因； （打的）一拳； 打巴掌 | |
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presumption
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| n.推测，可能性，冒昧，放肆，[法律]推定 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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worthiest
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| 应得某事物( worthy的最高级 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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84
accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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85
retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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86
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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87
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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88
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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kindliness
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| n.厚道，亲切，友好的行为 | |
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skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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91
salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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92
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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93
inmate
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| n.被收容者；(房屋等的)居住人；住院人 | |
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94
brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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95
eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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96
stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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97
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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98
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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99
eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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100
dividends
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| 红利( dividend的名词复数 )； 股息； 被除数； （足球彩票的）彩金 | |
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101
tampering
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| v.窜改( tamper的现在分词 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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102
heartier
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| 亲切的( hearty的比较级 )； 热诚的； 健壮的； 精神饱满的 | |
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103
dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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104
patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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105
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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106
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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107
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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108
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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109
excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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110
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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111
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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112
lucrative
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| adj.赚钱的，可获利的 | |
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113
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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114
linguist
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| n.语言学家；精通数种外国语言者 | |
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115
orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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116
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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117
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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118
adorn
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| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
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119
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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120
persistency
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| n. 坚持(余辉, 时间常数) | |
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121
wielding
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| 手持着使用（武器、工具等）( wield的现在分词 )； 具有； 运用（权力）； 施加（影响） | |
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122
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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123
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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124
distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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125
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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126
frieze
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| n.(墙上的)横饰带，雕带 | |
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127
equestrian
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| adj.骑马的；n.马术 | |
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128
colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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129
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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130
cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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131
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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132
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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133
craftsman
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| n.技工，精于一门工艺的匠人 | |
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134
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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135
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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136
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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137
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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138
portrayed
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| v.画像( portray的过去式和过去分词 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
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139
portray
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| v.描写，描述；画(人物、景象等) | |
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140
uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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141
infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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142
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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143
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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144
pedantry
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| n.迂腐，卖弄学问 | |
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145
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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146
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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147
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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148
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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149
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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150
consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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151
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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152
replicas
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| n.复制品( replica的名词复数 ) | |
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153
dominions
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| 统治权( dominion的名词复数 )； 领土； 疆土； 版图 | |
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154
renown
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| n.声誉，名望 | |
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155
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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156
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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157
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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158
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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159
preys
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| v.掠食( prey的第三人称单数 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
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160
relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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161
dweller
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| n.居住者，住客 | |
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162
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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163
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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164
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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165
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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166
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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167
repudiated
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| v.（正式地）否认( repudiate的过去式和过去分词 )；拒绝接受；拒绝与…往来；拒不履行（法律义务） | |
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168
doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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169
permissible
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| adj.可允许的，许可的 | |
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170
deplore
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| vt.哀叹，对...深感遗憾 | |
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171
impartially
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| adv.公平地，无私地 | |
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172
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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173
ethical
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| adj.伦理的，道德的，合乎道德的 | |
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174
depreciating
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| v.贬值，跌价，减价( depreciate的现在分词 )；贬低，蔑视，轻视 | |
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175
doctrines
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| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
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176
controversy
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| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
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177
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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178
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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179
dexterity
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| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
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180
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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181
gratuitously
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| 平白 | |
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182
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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183
tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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184
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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185
shrines
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| 圣地，圣坛，神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
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186
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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187
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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188
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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189
acquiesce
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| vi.默许，顺从，同意 | |
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190
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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191
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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192
redressing
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| v.改正( redress的现在分词 )；重加权衡；恢复平衡 | |
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193
heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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194
jubilee
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| n.周年纪念；欢乐 | |
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195
erecting
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| v.使直立，竖起( erect的现在分词 )；建立 | |
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196
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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197
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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198
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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199
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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200
emblem
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| n.象征，标志；徽章 | |
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