Copyright © 2020 by Wendy Waszut-Barrett
In 1883, Henry C. Tryon painted a drop curtain for the Salt Lake Theater. Many sources explain that Henry C. Tryon replicated a painting by William Linton (1791-1876), “A City of Ancient Greece, with the Return of a Victorious Fleet” for the Salt Lake Theatre’s drop curtain composition. The actual title of the painting was “A City of Ancient Greece – Return of the Glorious Armament,” and was painted by Linton in 1825. By 1840, the composition was engraved by J. W. Appleton and published by the Royal Gallery of British Art in 1840 with the title “A City of Ancient Greece.”
On Sept. 2, 1883, the “Salt Lake City Herald” published a long description of Tryon’s drop curtain composition (page 4). Here is the article in its entirety:
“Henry C. Tryon, artist of the Salt Lake Theatre, has finished the drop curtain on which he has been engaged for some time past. To those who have been acquainted with the artist’s condition during his work on this picture, the result will be a profound surprise. He has had scarcely one day on it in which he had the strength necessary to the labor, to say nothing of the unfortunate condition of mind that naturally results from physical incapacity and sickness.
The picture is from a painting by W. Linton, called “A City of Ancient Greece, with the Return of a Victorious Fleet,” but the lines of the composition have been materially altered, and it must be admitted, with happy results. Instead of making the city of primary interest, Mr. Tryon has made the “Return of the Victorious Fleet” the subject of his story, using the city as a necessary detail to the perfection of the tale. The hour is just before sunset, the sky soft, warm, and tender – just such a sky as any lover of nature might have noticed here repeatedly about a week ago when our warm Indian summer evenings began; and one of who had watched the progress of the picture must have felt forcibly on many occasions during the past two weeks what a powerful effect our summer evenings have had on the artist’s mind and with what trust and feeling he has expressed the sentiment they awakened in him.
The scene opens in a broad harbor. Showing the grand architectural structures of the period and nationality in the rear, gradating into the distance with a few hazy mountains, as an accessory background, the outlines of which are made apparent by a remarkable atmosphere and soft clouds tinged and iris-hued by the rays of the fast sinking sun, the existence of which, while not visible, is none the less strongly felt. On the right, and very prominent, are marble supports and marble steps leading down to the water’s edge; opposite to the left there is a distinct intimation of the same architecture, only hidden by a profusion of foliage and the sails and banners and pennants of the incoming vessels. A viaduct beneath which a stream of water flows fringes the centre of the harbor in the rear, and here again the foliage golden tipped by the sun, grows in glorious profusion and saves the eye from that sense of weariness which architecture, bare and unrelieved, however magnificent, however fascinating for the time being, invariably produces upon a longer acquaintance.
With the genuine landscape artist’s feeling, which does not exist where it does not reach after trees and water generally, foliage freaks out from unexpected yet natural points, and while doing service by relieving the monotony of architecture, introduces a feeling which, even though unobserved, gives a sense of satisfaction which is experienced and enjoyed without passing through the judgment for approval. The story of the picture is told in its title – “The Return of the Victorious Fleet.” There need be no title for the picture explains itself. The vessels filled with warriors enter at the left, pass up the harbor, then turn to the right where they group together, where wives, children and friends rush out of the grand marble structures and are massed between the marble columns, and receive the dear ones who have come home safely and victoriously out of the contest with a powerful foe. Everything is glowing, warm and cheerful, the expression being free and happy, while the bright colors, the brilliant banners, streamers and pennants, the colors commingling and toned down by the intervening atmosphere, give to the principal chapter of the story a gala-day appearance, and inspire a sentiment of pleasure in the bosom of the spectator. There is enough omitted detail to give the imagination ample sway, hence it is that the story continues to the right outside the picture, leading to the belief that the scene which the eye beholds is continually indefinitely, and that the same happy and joyful sentiment prevails at other colossal structures which do not appear in the picture.
The story is made the richer by the happy idea of coloring which the artist has employed – that is, the line of light follows the interest of the story, which begins at the left, spreads bout two-thirds over the picture, and culminates at the extreme right hand. So the shadows are deepened at the left (the bright colors of the sails just entering the harbor relieving it of a dismal air) the light gradually dawning towards the middle of the picture where it breaks in a glorious flood just at that point where the interest of the story culminates, and then modulates and tones down to the right, leaving the impression that away in the distance the story is concluded, leaving also to the imagination just as much as is essential to the perfection of a charming sketch. One objection that might naturally be interposed to the detail of the story is the fact that on the front marble steps there are no figures such as can be seen in the rear, and which as a matter of fact ought really to be visible at the point referred to. But there are weighty reasons why these were omitted. In the first place, Mr. Tryon is essentially a landscape painter, and confesses his inability to paint respectable figures. This being true, he could add nothing to the effect. But even were he capable of painting figures, for the truth of the story they are better omitted in this picture. To paint them well, or even indifferently, would be to arrest the eye, and in the degree in which this result was produced, just in that degree would the interest of the story be interrupted, and the idea of the artist be disadvantageously affected. It is a principle in all art that too much detail ruins the finest paintings, as in all stories, those details only are to be tolerated which are essential to the solution of the plot, that moment it is an injury.
Therefore, for the reason that he was incompetent for good figure-painting, and because such a detail would arrest the eye at a point where the injurious, Mr. Tryon wisely deemed it best to leave out the figures, and made the architecture as simple as possible, relieving it only by the water at its edge, and the prows of the two vessels just turning one of the columns. So much for mechanical thought and labor. But who can explain in words the sentiment, the tone, the poetic idealism the artist intended and has expressed? It is in these mainly that his genius is manifest; and every eye that rests upon the glowing canvass will behold beauties peculiar to itself; in every mind it will awaken thoughts that may occur to none other, and the impression and sentiment that it may arouse will be individualized in each bosom. Imagine, a warm, rich, summer day, the haze of an Indian summer’s eve lingering lovingly and tenderly overall, toning down features that might be harsh and making indistinct and indefinite points that seem to fade away into atmosphere so delicate, so mild, so feeling, so tender!
Here and there a flood of warm light develops a particular feature in order that the contrast may heighten the effect, as for instance in the foliage under the viaduct, or as a single point in the architecture; as a cloud catches a single ray of the warm sun as to appears on the ripples on the waves. The beauty of the water in the harbor must strike every artist and art lover as a thing of surpassing loveliness, in that it is true to nature and nature is beauty. The reflection of the brilliant colors from the prows of the bright colored boats, mingling in the waves, produces a combination of brilliant colors, which is rendered beautiful from the very indistinguishable profusion of the hues and the brilliance of the effect, rendering the transparency of the water so realistic that the deception is perfect. But who can describe a painting in words, however beautiful, however poor? It may be pronounced good, bad, or indifferent, particularly points favored and others condemned; it may awaken thoughts that otherwise would remain dormant, and may call to view things of beauty which would otherwise have blossomed and blushed unseen, but to the artist alone is given to produce anything approaching an imitation of the evanescent beauty, the supreme grandeur of nature. The critic cane merely direct public attention, and that is all we dare attempt with regard to Mr. Tryon’s picture. The drop curtain just finished, establishes, or will establish a fact that has always been claimed by the HERALD, that a successful scene painter is every inch an artist. Only view “The Return of Victorious Fleet” by Mr. Tryon, and be convinced.”
The newspaper article stated that Tryon replicated a painting by William Linton (1791-1876) – “A City of Ancient Greece, with the Return of a Victorious Fleet” for the Salt Lake Theater. The actual title of the painting was “A City of Ancient Greece – Return of the Glorious Armament,” and was painted by Linton in 1825. By 1840, the composition was engraved by J. W. Appleton and published by the Royal Gallery of British Art in 1840 with the title “A City of Ancient Greece.”
In 1910, Tryon’s drop curtain was replaced with a new one, tucked away in storage for the next two decades. Of the event, “The Salt Lake City Herald-Republican” reported,
“After thirty years of almost continuous service, the drop curtain at the Salt Lake theatre is to be replaced by a new one which manager George D. Pyper expects to have in place in time for the engagement of Henry Miller, beginning September 29. The subject of the new curtain will be Salt Lake Valley in the days of the pioneers, and it will be copied from a painting by William M. Minor, scenic artist at the theatre.
It will be difficult to exceed the beauty of the old curtain, whose artistic coloring and good drawing have made it a favorite for years. “The Return of the Victorious Fleet” was painted by Henry C. Tryon, one of the best artists in his line who ever came to Salt Lake. Those who have studied the stately ships coming into harbor may have wondered at the absence of life in the picture. The original, which is in the possession of Mr. Pyper, contained a crowd of people on the steps of the buildings, but Mr. Tryon was not a figure painter, and rather than mar his painting by inferior work, left the out altogether.
Except for the short intervals, “The Return of the Victorious Fleet” has hung in the theatre nearly thirty years. Some years ago an attempt was made to replace it by a picture of the chariot race in “Ben Hur.” The artist made the horses of heroic size, and so near the edge of the curtain that they seemed to menace the spectators who sat close. One critic of the day said that a certain scene in a play created a strong effect until “Pyper’s horses came clattering down” that there were plans for a new drop curtain for the Salt Lake Theater” (Salt Lake City Herald-Republican, 18 Sept. 1910, page 26).
Tryon’s curtain remained in storage until 1930 when it was donated to Kingsbury Hall. Tryon and his drop curtain made headlines again on January 9, 1930, when the “Deseret News” announced, “S. L. Theatre Curtain to be Hung at ‘U’” (page 9). The article reported, “The beautiful old Salt Lake theatre curtain, which hung for more than 40 years and witnessed, if curtains have that power, some of the earliest graduating classes of the old University of Deseret, will now function entirely as a cohort of education. It was announced Thursday that George D. Pyper, former manager of the theatre, had presented the curtain to the University of Utah to be hung in Kingsbury hall on that building’s completion. The curtain carries a painting by Henry C. Tryon entitled, “The Return of the Victorious Fleet.” “It was the most popular curtain ever hung in Salt Lake,” says Mr. Pyper.
On January 10, 1930, the “Salt Lake Tribune” reported, “ University Auditorium Gets Historic Curtain. Announcement was made Thursday by George D. Pyper, manager of the old Salt Lake Theater, that the curtain which was used in the historic structure would be presented to the University of Utah for the use in the new auditorium of the state institution, Kingsbury hall. The Salt Lake theater was razed last year, and the curtain is among the few relics of the building. It is decorated with a painting by Henry C. Tryon entitled, “Return of the Victorious Fleet.” Kingsbury hall will be completed about March 1. The new curtain will be hung shortly thereafter, with some form of ceremony” (page 7).
George D. Pyper wrote about the history of the Salt Lake Theatre in the 1937 book, “The Romance of an Old Playhouse.” Pyper recalled the popularity of Tryon’s drop curtain at the venue, writing:
“Many other artists have contributed to the scenic investiture of the plays produced in the old theatre, among whom may be named J. Guido Methua, George Tirrell, De La Harpe, R. Kirkham, Henry C. tryon and later James Anderson. Of these, most interest is centered on Tryon who painted “The Return of the Victorious Fleet” o a drop curtain which hung for many years in the Theatre, and which Salt Lake theatregoers never grew tired of. It was quite marvelous that Tryon’s curtain should have been so well regarded, because, while the original picture contained what seemed to be thousands of figures, Tryon’s reproduction contained absolutely none. Years later, desiring a change, I was induced by one of the artist’s to allow him to paint the chariot race from Ben Hur” with figures heroic size. The curtain was hung but did not make a hit. Mr. LeGrande Young, a regular patron and an expert on horses, came to me and said seriously that I might fool him on a landscape or marine scene, but I could not fool him on a horse; that those Ben Hur horses were spavined and their shoulders out of joint and that unless I took down the curtain he would not patronize the theatre. Then one of the newspapers said that in a very quiet scene which required a slow curtain, “down clattered Ben Hur’s horses and spoiled the scene.” So the noisy horses were turned out to grass and up again went “The Return of the Victorious Fleet” to the great satisfaction of the theatrical patrons. Only when it actually became thread-bare and the stage lights could be seen through its worn fabric would the public permit me to junk it” (pages 143-144).
To be continued…
