Yale's Shrine to the Age of Reason

It was a feast fit for the spirit of Dr. Johnson. Beef Wellington and rich claret. Candles flickering on the tables and casting reflections on the dark mahogany paneling. Flowery remarks by Sir Peter Ramsbotham, British Ambassador to the U.S., and Kingman Brewster, president of Yale and the newly appointed Ambassador to the Court of St. James's. More than 800 distinguished guests, including the directors of London's Tate Gallery and Victoria and Albert Museum plus multimillionaire Art Collector Paul Mellon.

The setting was University Commons, the massive undergraduate dining hall at Yale University. But the British ambience was decidedly fitting, for the occasion was the formal opening of the Yale Center for British Art, a four-story chest of art treasures donated by Mellon, 69, class of '29. The collection contains more than 1,700 paintings, 5,000 prints, 7,000 drawings and 20,000 rare books, and it is valued at close to $200 million. It ranges from the bejeweled, beribboned portraits of the Elizabethan period onward to the nobly blooded horses of George Stubbs. Its special strength lies in the richest period of British art, the years between the birth of Hogarth (1697) and the death of Turner (1851). Added to Yale's already strong holdings in 18th century British history and literature, the museum makes New Haven one of the most important centers for British studies outside of England. Yale, understandably, is cocky as an Eton dandy.

Stately Manor. The Mellon collection, which opens to the public this week, is housed in the last building designed by Architect Louis Kahn. It is a triumph. At the heart of the stainless-steel and glass structure lie two inner courtyards, paneled in striking blond oak and covered by plexidome skylights. The galleries are built around the courts, with internal windows that open onto them. Sunlight streams in everywhere. The details are starkly modern: exposed heating ducts, a huge, free-standing circular stairway. Yet the effect, thanks to Kahn's classical symmetry, is of a stately, updated manor house. As President Brewster observes, "It's rather remarkable that such a building could give you such a low-key, domesticated feeling."

On the top floor, roofed only by filtered skylights, is the center's permanent exhibit, featuring the gems of MelIon's collection. It begins with two commanding portraits: Charles Stanhope, 3rd Earl of Harrington, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, and Sir Anthony Van Dyke's Mountjoy Blount, Earl of Newport. Indeed, the entire exhibit is heavily weighted with portraiture and landscapes. In one corner, the viewer can stare at the grayed elegance of a Gainsborough; in another, he is lulled by the peaceful countryside of a Constable. There is also a fine sampling of George Stubbs, including two huge works--both of lions variously attacking a horse and stag--that dominate one court. A large, dramatic Henry Fuseli painting, Dido on the Funeral Pyre--all swooning figures and swirling movement--anticipates the romantic period.

One floor below, in a gallery that will be used for special exhibits, Yale has produced an inaugural show on "English Landscape from 1630 to 1850." Its 228 drawings, watercolors, prints and books--not just a few flashy masterpieces--illuminate the depth of the center's collection and evoke the 18th century's fascination with Italian landscapes and sublime ruins. Both are illustrated in a striking Turner watercolor, done in 1817, depicting Vesuvius in Eruption, and a hazy, harshly bright watercolor of Venice's Grand Canal.

The center's second floor, also reserved for changing exhibits, has mounted a show on "The Pursuit of Happiness: A View of Life in Georgian England." It succeeds in conjuring up the courtly, mannered world of Jane Austen. Ladies devote their days to needlepoint and instructive reading. Families picnic in the formal gardens of their estates. People of fashion parade down the Mall in London. Young men of leisure visit the Continent and even form a "Society of Dilettanti" for ex-travelers.

The exhibits underline how much the center differs from an ordinary museum. "We hope that this building will be a catalyst for study of the 18th century," says Director Edmund Pillsbury, whose aviator glasses and double-breasted, pin-stripe suit have the air of being de rigeuer for museum curators. He sees the center's role as "an academic support, much like a library."

How did the Mellon collection come to Yale? Mellon had originally exhibited some of his treasures in 1963 at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, near his home in Upperville, Va. Yale officials saw an opportunity. Andrew Ritchie, then director of Yale's Art Gallery, approached Mellon with the argument that Yale already had a notable collection of British manuscripts and that art should logically accompany it. President Brewster joined in to echo Ritchie's plea. There was an even more powerful appeal. While at Yale, Mellon had studied under the late Chauncey Brewster Tinker, a great Johnson and Boswell scholar, keeper of Yale's rare books and an expert on 18th century letters. Indeed, it was Tinker who had originally inspired Mellon to become a collector. Mellon was persuaded.

Literally Priceless. Tinker's legacy also lingers on at the nearby Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, an ultramodern marble-and-granite cube that rises incongruously from the heart of old Yale. Its 400,000 volumes, which include a superb 18th century collection, have led such eminent experts as the late R.W. Chapman of Oxford to proclaim that "in the English 18th century, Yale is first and the rest are nowhere." The heart of the collection, 1,820 volumes of the 2,600 books that served as Yale's library in 1742, are enclosed behind glass walls in the center of the library's main floor; they are marvelously illuminated by day with amber light that filters from outside through the translucent marble walls. "The collection was so good for 1742 that a catalogue of it was published in London that year," Director Louis Martz says proudly.

Over the years, says Martz, the library has acquired first editions of works by virtually every major 18th century author. Many of the collection's trophies are currently on display in honor of the new Yale Center. The exhibit begins with Dryden's Fables, Ancient and Modern, which was published in London in 1700, and ends with Wordsworth's manuscript for the second edition of Lyrical Ballads, which appeared in 1800. Also on display are The Life and Strange Surprizing Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, An Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard, and James Boswell's manuscript of The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D., which Martz says is "literally priceless."

Yale's grip on the 18th century--or vice versa--has inspired two great publishing projects, on Boswell and WaLpole. The Boswell "factory," as it is sometimes called, is essentially manned by one scholar, retired English Professor Frederick Pottle, 79 (who has, however, a staff of four helpers). A stooped, sprightly man given to suspenders and tweed jackets, Pottle pursues his life's work in a dusty room in the main Sterling Library, cluttered with index cards, legal pads and old pharmacy lamps. He started in 1924 with a doctoral bibliography on Boswell, then went to do research work at the Long Island estate of wealthy Collector Colonel Ralph Isham, who had bought the bulk of the Boswell papers from Boswell's heirs. Yale purchased the papers in 1949, after Isham had fallen on hard times, and Pottle took charge. Boswell's London Journal, full of ribald details of night life along the Thames, was an international bestseller in 1950, but volumes since then have subsided to a series of scholarly thuds. Volume X, The Laird of Auchinleck, which traces Boswell's life from the summer of 1778 to the fall of 1782, is scheduled to be published in September. (Three more volumes are yet to come before Boswell's death in 1795.) Even after a half-century of work, Pottle remains enthralled by his period. Says he: "People in the 18th century had a passion for facts. They weren't so much involved in agonizing."

Right next door to Pottle is the office devoted to Horace Walpole--son of British Prime Minister Robert Walpole, author of the classic gothic, Castle of Otranto, and foremost letter writer of his time (1717-97). For 44 years, the Walpole factory has churned out 39 of a prospective 48 fat volumes of Walpole's correspondence. A massive index, now under way, may alone fill six more volumes. The whole set is, in Librarian Martz's words, "the ultimate in annotation, excellence and accuracy."

Gothic Mansion. The real center of this project is a rambling, 18th century colonial house in Farmington, Conn. Named Strawberry Hill after Walpole's Gothic mansion, it is the home of Wilmarth ("Lefty") Lewis, 81, Yale class of '18, who has been editing Walpole letters since 1926. There the snowy-haired Lewis has recreated Walpole's library. Portraits of Walpole's family adorn the walls, and a converted squash court houses Lewis' huge holding of 18th century satirical prints. The collection is cross-referenced on 60,000 cards, so detailed that Lewis can easily answer a random question on the length of curtains in Georgian homes. Would Walpole approve? "Oh, yes, terribly," Lewis smiles. The richly furnished estate, plus the collection, will become, on Lewis' death, Yale at Farmington. It is meant, says Lewis, for "the tip-top people in the period. I want wizards."

The wizards will not include Kingman Brewster, soon off to London, but he is being given another kind of salutation--a new T shirt with his portrait on it. At $6.50, it is selling fast at the Yale Coop. Its inscription: "The King."

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