While leafing through several volumes of 'Colour' magazine from the Great War period the other day, this blogger noticed a regular full page advertisement, which ran in each issue during 1915. 'Colour' magazine, a publication covering all that was new in art, art exhibitions, interior decoration and design was not an unusual place to see an advert for L. G. Pearse of 161A Strand. Pearse had exhibited at the Royal Academy and specialised in miniature portraits. Those who required a 'life-like portrait, exquisitely painted,' could go to Mr Pearse's studio to have their likeness captured. Two impressive quotes testified to the artist's skill. Lady Baden Powell said, "I cannot say how pleased I am with the miniature of my husband, it is perfectly delightful," while Lord Minto declared, "The miniature is quite excellent."
Miniature portraiture is something we tend to associate more typically with our 17th and 18th century forebears. But there seems to have been quite a vogue for the genre during the First World War, reflected in a number of such portraits held in the David Cohen Fine Art collection which we have recently begun to represent. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the miniature portraits depict, without exception, officers rather than ordinary soldiers, implying that a portrait miniature was something a little more exclusive and special in an era when photography was widespread and available to all. A painted portrait was a fitting and lasting tribute to the bravery of a loved one and although it was small and modest, it was an intimate token of love and respect which could, if desired, be kept close, in a jacket pocket or a handbag, or among other treasured family pictures in the home.
Among the miniatures we show here is one, of an unidentified officer from a Scottish regiment, by Albert Collings, a respected portraitist, who painted royalty and prominent society figures. Another portrait is by Katherine Sybil Haines who specialised in miniatures. Many of the portraits are indeed, as L. G. Pearse claims in his advert, incredibly life-like. Some are painted on ivory which give them an unusual luminosity and the fine brushwork and colours make them seem more real and vibrant than a studio photograph.
It is worth remembering that a number of these portraits will have been made posthumously, using photographs as reference, as a lasting reminder of loved ones who had 'gone west' (to coin a popular euphemism of the time). When David and Judith Cohen have been able to identify the subjects in the miniatures, their stories are inevitably poignant and moving. Take, for example, the portrait of
Captain Reginald Tavenor Johnson, 5th Battalion North Staffordshire Regiment, killed in action 13th October 1915, aged 36. Johnson was educated at Rugby School and Trinity College, Cambridge and served in the South African War 1899-1902 with the 1st Volunteer Company, North Staffordshire Regiment. He rejoined his Regiment in August 1914, proceeded to France in February 1915 and was promoted to Captain in August of that year. He was present at Neuve Chapelle, Wulvrghem, Hill 60 and Vermelles and was reported missing after the attack on the Hohenzollern Redoubt, 13th October 1915, when out of 200 men of his Company, only 5 returned. It was later confirmed that he had been killed while leading his Company on that occasion. Captain Johnson is commemorated on the Loos Memorial.
Although a slightly different genre, another portrait of interest is a miniature silhouette by Amies Milner of Captain Alfred Arnold Ernest Gyde, 2nd Battalion South Staffordshire Regiment whose profile shows him in mess dress uniform. Gyde's military career spanned 11 years, from 1913 to 1924 and a label on the back of the portrait states he was wounded on the 22 September 1914. What is significant about Gyde is that he was one of the first soldiers to step ashore in France with the British Expeditionary Force. He lived through the retreat from Mons and his exploits were ultimately recorded in an autobiographical account, "Contemptible," under the nom de plume of 'Casualty'. The book is an important text in our understanding of the Mons campaign during those early weeks of the war.
Knowing who the subject of any portrait is makes it more interesting, but the tiny, intricate images of those who remain nameless are just as moving in their anonymity. Information about who they were, and what they did during the Great War has been lost in the mists of time and it seems puzzling and rather sad that families who went to the trouble of having such beautiful portraits made should end up parting with them.
(With thanks to David and Judith Cohen who provided the additional autobiographic information)
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Luci Gosling