Robert Richard Henry Scanlan was an accomplished Irish painter of portraits, animals, and genre subjects, also an illustrator.

Scanlan was born in Dublin and, as a child, one gets the impression that he spent every free moment sketching and doodling. He’s known predominantly as a watercolourist but also produced masterful works in oil. 

His artistic career began in earnest during the 1820s when he undertook numerous portraits for the landed gentry and rising middle classes. Often, these were delicate works, fiddly in their execution, and enlivened with subtle colouring. He debuted at the Royal Hibernian Academy in 1826 with ‘Portraits of Lizzy, Georgy and Arthur, the children of Captain A. E. Kennedy’.

Alongside these, he produced numerous genre scenes, some of which illustrated the plight of the poor. While also gaining commissions to paint the beloved animals of wealthy landowners.

It appears he left Ireland around 1829 as he married a Shropshire lass, Eliza Rea in Ludlow. The pair subsequently moved to Plymouth, where he was initiated as a freemason. In 1831, he joined a fraternity known as the ‘Blue Friars’, which is recorded in a chronicle titled ‘The Blue Friars: Their Sayings and Doings’ by William Henry Kearley Wright. It refers to the various meetings held by the group and explains that “the Blue Friars were not a religious order: they dwelt not in a monastery, they were not sworn to celibacy: they did not forswear the good things of life, nor forego its enjoyments and pleasures. On the contrary, they were men of mirth and wisdom.”

Their activities were rather jocular. “Lay Brother Scanlan, together with John Franklin and Henry Giles, partook with the Fraternity of a Feast of Mirth and Mutton, and an overflow of Wit and Wine”. “Lay Brother Scanlan perpetrated a sketch of the Brethren sitting in conclave, which when completed will doubtless be published in the Isle of Sky.”

From Plymouth, he headed to London and in 1837, his ‘Lord Mount Charles and Favourite Pony’ was shown at the Royal Academy. This undoubtedly elevated his credentials and further commissions followed including for this piece, circa 1840. He also painted Prime Ministers, Sir Robert Peel and the Duke of Wellington.

Robert Richard Scanlan, Portrait Of A Gentleman On A Bay Hunter (c. 1840)

Popular with London’s printsellers, his drawings were often reproduced as lithographs, particularly his comical sketches of horse derbies. Many of his witty observational pieces were later engraved and published as ‘Barney Bryan’s Sketchbooks’. A critic praised his “fine flowing style, combined with correctness”.

Despite these successes, for reasons unknown, he faced bankruptcy in 1849 and returned to Ireland a few years later to take a post as the Headmaster of the Cork School of Design. His efforts were well regarded and he was instrumental in the development of numerous budding Irish artists.

Following this, he moved to London once again and took a house in Chelsea with his wife and daughter, Elsie. Continuing to work for both printsellers and private clients until his death in 1876.

He’s represented at the Walker Art Gallery, Government Art Collection, National Gallery of Ireland, and The Courtauld.

Exhibited

Royal Academy, British Institution, Royal Society of British Artists, Royal Hibernian Academy.

Public Collections

Walker Art Gallery, Government Art Collection, National Gallery of Ireland, The Courtauld in London.

Timeline

1801

Born in Dublin, Ireland.

1831

Elected a ‘Lay Brethren of the Order’ of Blue Friars of Plymouth.

1832

Debuted at the Royal Society of British Artists with two watercolours. Address recorded as Plymouth.

1837

Debuted at the Royal Academy with four works including ‘Lord Mount Charles and favourite pony’. He continued to exhibit until 1859.

1845

Debuted at the British Institution with ‘Enough is as Good as a Feast’.

1849

Bankruptcy.

1853-1856

Employed as Headmaster of the Cork School of Design.

1876

Died.

Reviews

Morning Herald (London) - Saturday 22 September 1838

“Beauty and Star. Such are the names of two horses, favourites in the royal stud, which have been trotted out for public inspection by means of the lithographic art, by Mr. R R. Scanlan; in other words, a print representing those two noble quadrupeds, who now, although aged much, have lost nothing of the graceful line of beauty which so pervades their forms, has just been published by Moon, and must meet the approval both of the public and the nice observer of art.

Mr. Scanlan's drawing is distinguished by a fine flowing style, combined with correctness; and his lithography rivals the finest mezzotint. It does him the highest credit, especially in contrast with the dry, unartist-like tinted prints of racehorses, which are in perpetual course of publication amongst us, to the disgrace of British art.”

The Cork Examiner - 14 September 1853

“There is at present on exhibition at Mr. Fletcher's rooms, South Mall, a painting by Mr. R. R. Scanlan which claims the interest of the spectator as much by the subject which the artist has chosen as by the merits of the picture itself. Most of our readers will recollect the act of devoted heroism performed in last January, by a boatman named Florence Sullivan and his sons, who saved the lives of the Captain and crew of a vessel, The Lady of the Lake, wrecked in Bantry Bay, under circumstances of the most appalling danger. 

The newspapers at the time were filled with the praises of those gallant men, and the sympathy and admiration which their heroism awakened were not more deep than lasting. Mr. Scanlan has selected as the subject of the picture, a group of the family, as they may be supposed or seen to stand upon the shore near the scene of the exploit.

He has portrayed the rough, bold, weather-beaten features of all the men, the grey-haired father in especial, with a force which makes one feel that the picture is no less remarkable for the fidelity of the likeness than the beauty of the painting. They stand upon a rough, shingly beach, around the little boat in which they so devotedly risked their lives. The attitude of each man is natural and easy, with none of that attempt at statuesque effect to which so many artists are too ready to sacrifice the truthful semblance of life. 

The face, form, and position of old Florence Sullivan catch the eye at once, and impress upon the mind an instant sense of the life-like accuracy with which each is drawn. In the background is to be seen the bay, now tranquil, where the ennobling exploit of this poor family was displayed. Spectators will observe a considerable likeness, such as the features of every family present, in the faces of the brothers, yet not more than would exist in actual life, for no appearance of sameness in form or attitude is to be seen in the figures which compose this remarkable group.

We may add that this picture is at present being exhibited in order that some funds may be raised to be divided amongst the family of the Sullivans. Though heroes in very truth and in every attribute, yet let the public not forget in their admiration that they are but poor boatmen to whom the mere praise of words can be of little worth.”

An Epistle consolatory to R. R. Scanlan, Esq. (A Lay Brother). Alias Barney Brian, during his late illness. By Tuck (the Prior). February, 1832.

“Barney, evil leads to good 
(So has sung the Poet);
Illness, rightly understood 
Is health — pray do you know it?

Health, "av coorse," of mind, I mean, 
Not mere health of body; 
The last, compared with first, I ween. 
Is but a Jack-a-noddy.

Illness, such as yours, my man. 
Leads to clear decision: 
Many things when sick we scan, 
In health elude our vision.

Sickness much the vanity 
Of earth's pursuits discloses, 
Physicks minds to sanity 
By alternative doses.

Sickness, too, is source of health, 
Barney; for example, 
Suppose yourself in want of pelf. 
Now you've means most ample.

Artist wanting, we'll suppose. 
An excellent lay figure: 
You'd suit him now, c’est autre chose 
When you are in your vigour.

Anxious one his new-sown land 
To guard from rook or crow, 
He'd buy you now in field to stand — 
But would not long ago.

Barney, don't be in a fret —
If faithfully I say all,
I'm told you can a summerset
Throw through street door keyhole.

Think what privilege you have
To enter uninvited
Each house, and not, like portly knave,
For burgl’ry be indicted.

Yes, in bulk you are decreased, 
And my eyes deceive me 
If you aren't longer at the least 
Three yards or more, believe me.

The gas-man, in a desp'rate plight, 
Sadder grows and sadder. 
Since you have contracted to light 
The lamps without a ladder.

Whilst by your sick couch, my man. 
And sitting at your feet, 
I almost thought you, Mr. Scan 
Another Union Street.

Unshaven, stretch'd upon your bed. 
If things, I thought, should go ill. 
They'd buy you for the famous head 
Of Saracen on Snow Hill.

So rough appear your chin and chops. 
Upholsterers declare 
'Twould be the making of their shops 
To have your shock of hair.

They say, so like the front to back 
Your caput now appears. 
That Mr. Piper's clipping hack 
Nor nose could find nor ears.

And when to him you orders gave 
Your head to mow, — or rather,
To hack the stubble, the poor slave 
Knew not which side to lather.

A warrant, seal'd with wax and tape, 
Has issued out from Stonehouse, 
Alleging you have made escape 
From some adjacent bone-house.

Nay, worse — some people do opine 
You’ve dealt with Sangrado, 
That, though the sun doth brightly shine, 
You cast no kind of shadow.

'Tis sad with doctors' tricks to cope. 
Their physicking and slashing;
You’re thinner than a piece of soap 
After a hard week's washing.

But comfort take. I can define
A scheme for riches ample: 
Travel in the skeleton line, 
And show yourself as sample.”