A quarter of a century ago, when the National Gallery of Ireland was a much less popular place than now, there used to be a small bust on display in one of the French rooms. A truly charming work, it is believed to represent Louis XV's mistress Madame du Barry and to have been carved by Jean Jacques Caffieri. Perhaps the lack of definite attribution explains why this pretty little piece formerly suffered from a certain neglect: its white marble had been left to grow discoloured by age and lack of proper
Except, that is, for three places where discerning visitors to the gallery had taken advantage of their solitary condition to stroke Mme du Barry: on the tips of her breasts and on her nose. As though they were cultural pilgrims hoping to achieve a state of grace through their actions, successive callers to the French rooms had ensured that these points on the bust remained as white as when first sculpted. In those days, there never seemed to be any staff on duty to guard against surreptitious stroking, and indeed it was perfectly possible to touch not just this item but every picture on display as well.
New entrance
Since then, of course, security has grown much tighter in the gallery, so that anyone attempting to caress the collection would soon be dissuaded. And the numbers of people entering the premises are much greater than formerly. The vast majority are arriving through the new entrance on Clare Street, where the gallery recently opened its smart new extension. The specific attractions of this development appear to be three-fold: the restaurant; the bookshop; and a temporary exhibition of French Impressionist paintings on loan from Boston's Museum of Fine Arts.
Around the world, restaurants and bookshops are now essential accoutrements for any cultural institution and often appear to be the most important elements in attracting visitors. A few years ago, the Victoria and Albert Museum in London ran an advertising campaign in which the place was promoted as "An ace caff with a museum attached". Thankfully, our own gallery has not adopted a similar approach, but its commercial outlets are unquestionably a big draw, as anyone who has queued for a cup of coffee in the restaurant can attest.
Meanwhile, despite the potential deterrent of an admission charge of €10 for adults, the Impressionist exhibition is sold out daily. There are a number of possible explanations, one being that that some of the pictures are of an extremely high calibre and will almost certainly never be on display again in this country. The works by Monet, for example, are quite fascinating because they reveal the development of his style over 35 years and more. But other pictures are of secondary quality - Renoir's queasy depictions of teenage girls spring to mind, as do the contributions of Le Sidaner, Diaz de la Peña and Harpignies.
Maximum crowds
And when did exemplars of the Barbizon school, including Corot - three wonderful canvases on show, by the way - Courbet and Rousseau become Impressionists? The explanation for this renaming, naturally, lies in the near-mystical power of the word Impressionism. It acts as a magnet like no other title in the history of art and is guaranteed to ensure maximum crowds. Here lies the most obvious reason for the crowds thronging the top floor galleries. They have been drawn there by the power of that one word: Impressionism.
Does this seem unreasonable? Well, there are, and have long been, opportunities to see similar work in Dublin but the same numbers do not take advantage. In the Hugh Lane Municipal Gallery of Modern Art, there is an abundance of work by Corot, Millet and other members of the Barbizon school, as well as plenty of pictures by Boudin, who is represented by five oils in the temporary National Gallery show. And the visitors flocking to the latter exhibition must have forgotten that the gallery has its own collection of Impressionist paintings, albeit not on the same scale as that owned by Boston's Museum of Fine Art.
The National Gallery's French rooms remain where they have always been in the building, and on the evidence of a couple of recent visits, they remain as quiet as ever. Instead of jostling to see the Boston pictures, it is possible to examine in solitude works by Corot, Millet, Sisley, Signac and Monet. The last of these is a particularly lovely piece, a view of Argenteuil Basin with a Single Sailboat, bought before the end of the 19th century by Edward Martyn and bequeathed by him to the gallery in 1924. It has, therefore, been owned by the gallery for more than three-quarters of a century, but evidently familiarity has bred indifference among the Irish public.
Irish tourists
The rest of the collection should not be forgotten either. The first room in the older building adjacent to the temporary Impressionist exhibition has been rehung to show work painted in Rome during the 18th century, including several fascinating portraits by Batoni of Irish tourists to that city. From there, a series of galleries traverses the history of Italian art back to the origins of the Renaissance before moving through the Spanish, Dutch and French equivalents.
Make the most of the opportunity because at present all these spaces are almost entirely deserted, the majority of callers opting not to stir beyond the new extension. And by the way, it will soon be possible to see the putative Mme du Barry bust again: she has been cleaned and is due to return to the French rooms shortly. Stroking is not permitted.