Notes on the Royal Academy Exhibition, 1868

In Short

This collection of critical essays offers a dual perspective on the 1868 Royal Academy Exhibition. William Michael Rossetti and Algernon Charles Swinburne provide separate, subjective assessments of the art displayed that year. While Rossetti adopts a measured, systematic approach to analyzing individual works, Swinburne offers a passionate, lyrical, and often pugnacious commentary on the successes and failures of the era's painters. The work has lasted not merely as a record of a specific gallery season, but as a primary document illustrating the aesthetic standards, prejudices, and spirited debates of high Victorian art criticism.

The Story

The text opens with a candid disclaimer: this is no collective manifesto, but the individual, unvarnished opinion of two distinct thinkers. William Michael Rossetti initiates the survey with a methodical march through the exhibition. He provides a grounded, often technical reading of the paintings and sculptures, evaluating them on their narrative clarity, the "truth" of their historical representation, and the artist's technical execution. He praises the robust invention of Baron Leys, identifying a "startling realism" in his medieval subjects, while expressing a professional, if restrained, appreciation for the craftsmanship of Sir Edwin Landseer. Rossetti’s tone is that of a patient, observant juror; he is quick to defend the "simple and semi-humorous" quality of a small work if it possesses genuine charm, yet he is equally willing to critique a painter’s "excessive" or "opaque" handling of paint when it undermines the work's potential.

The narrative arc of the volume shifts significantly when Algernon Charles Swinburne takes up the pen. If Rossetti is the meticulous juror, Swinburne is the fiery, uncompromising advocate for the soul of art. He is not interested in cataloging the exhibition; he is hunting for beauty, meaning, and the "vital bloom" of the artist's vision. He begins by enshrining G.F. Watts’ Wife of Pygmalion as a triumph of classical grace, comparing it favorably to the Venus of Melos. From this height, Swinburne descends into a sharp, scathing critique of the establishment. He lashes out at the "debasement and distortion" of Shakespearean subjects by John Everett Millais, lamenting that once-great talents have been dulled or corrupted by the Academy’s influence.

Swinburne’s critique culminates in an extended, reverent examination of the work of Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Here, the pamphlet moves beyond the gallery walls into a meditation on the nature of desire and the "fleshly" sublime. He describes the siren-like quality of Lady Lilith with intoxicating prose, focusing on the "sleepy splendour" of the woman and the "passive and perfect" nature of her beauty. Through his analysis of Dante Gabriel’s other works, such as Venus Verticordia and the sketch of La Pia, Swinburne argues for a definition of art that transcends mere narrative or technical skill, finding instead a "sacred seal of patience and pain." The pamphlet ends not with a final summary of the exhibition, but with the lingering, haunting echoes of Swinburne’s poetic analysis, leaving the reader with the impression that art is a battleground where only the most intense, singular visions survive the "common cry" of academic mediocrity.

How It Unfolds

The opening declaration The authors establish their independence, stating that each speaks solely for himself. They assert that a signed pamphlet is a transparent and equitable form of criticism, even if it invites the charge of presumption.

The systematic review William Michael Rossetti moves through the exhibition number by number, evaluating the technical merit and narrative success of each piece. He balances his praise for artists like Leys and Legros against his disappointment with the "offhand squalid" tendencies of other contemporary painters.

The shift in tone Swinburne enters the text with an abrupt change in voice, declaring that his aim is not to judge or counsel, but to share his impressions. He immediately elevates the discourse, focusing on the emotional and spiritual resonance of the works that move him most deeply.

The attack on the establishment Swinburne delivers a stinging rebuke to Millais, contrasting his current work with the perceived loss of his former genius. He argues that the Academy’s influence has resulted in a "bitter want of beauty" and a distortion of classic subjects.

The celebration of the ideal The pamphlet concludes with Swinburne’s long, lyrical homage to the works of Dante Gabriel Rossetti. He reframes the entire exhibition as a foil for these masterworks, elevating the "fleshly" and the symbolic over the mundane requirements of common realistic art.

The People

The exhibition is seen through the eyes of two primary critics: William Michael Rossetti and Algernon Charles Swinburne. William Michael functions as the voice of organized, careful observation, wanting to provide a reliable map of the exhibition for the viewer. He values "truth" and "solidity," looking for a painter’s ability to tell a story through clear, coherent visual cues. In contrast, Algernon Charles is the voice of the romantic, seeking "subtlety of beauty" and "noble sadness." He stands against the "academic" constraints that he believes stifle true genius.

They both fix their attention on figures like Baron Leys and M. Legros, who provide the "repose and satisfaction" of disciplined work. However, their true interest lies in the artists who evoke the "after-gust" of a great painting—the feeling that lingers long after one has left the room. They are also haunted by the absent presence of Dante Gabriel Rossetti. For Swinburne, Dante Gabriel is the standard by which all other art is measured. He represents the "vital genius" that makes the rest of the exhibition seem, at times, like a collection of "feeble attempts." These critics do not end up changed by the exhibition, but rather use the exhibition to solidify their own distinct, and often conflicting, philosophies of what art should be.

In Its Own Voice

“The reader of this pamphlet will be apt to understand, from its very arrangement, the fact that each of the writers speaks solely for himself.”

(The authors explain the structure of the critique, emphasizing that there is no single, unified stance.)

“The soft severity of perfect beauty might serve alike for woman or statue, flesh or marble; but the eyes have opened already upon love, with a tender and grave wonder.”

(Swinburne describes his reaction to G.F. Watts’ Wife of Pygmalion.)

“Exclusion and suppression of certain things in the range of art are not really possible to any academy upon earth, be it pictorial or literary.”

(Swinburne argues against the institutional power of the Royal Academy to silence artists like Sandys.)

What It's Really About

At its core, this work is an argument about the function of art in a modernizing society. The authors grapple with the tension between "intellect"—the historical, narrative, and technical accuracy favored by the Academy—and "imagination," the intuitive, sensual, and poetic power championed by the Pre-Raphaelites. It asks whether a painting should be a clear, moral, or historical record of the world, or if it should exist as a self-contained, "sublime" object of beauty. The debate between the two writers mirrors the wider cultural struggle of the late Victorian era, as they weigh the value of tradition against the disruptive, "magnetic" force of new, non-conformist art.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the history of taste or the development of Victorian aesthetic theory will find this a fascinating, if sometimes challenging, read. The pamphlet offers a raw look at how art was consumed and debated before the rise of modern mass-market criticism. The prose is marked by the sharp, ornate, and occasionally aggressive style of 19th-century intellectual life; Swinburne, in particular, writes with a rhythmic, sometimes dizzying intensity that rewards close attention.

However, a modern reader must be prepared for the specific constraints of the period. The text is dense with references to artists, paintings, and literary figures who were household names in 1868 but are often obscure today. It also reflects the gendered and class-bound attitudes of the Victorian art scene, which can feel jarringly archaic. Furthermore, the inclusion of period advertisements—such as those for "Safety Matches" and "Machine-Made Jewellery"—serves as a strange, industrial-age counterpoint to the high-minded discussions of beauty. For those who can navigate these quirks, the book provides an authentic, unfiltered window into the Victorian mind at play, capturing a moment when the definition of "fine art" was being rewritten by those who believed it was far more than mere decoration.