The Royal Academy, London, is much in the news. First of all, esteemed chairperson
Sir Anthony Tennant has been under pressure to ‘do the gentlemanly thing’
and tender his resignation following his involvement in the New York auction
scam which led to the conviction of Alfred Taubman, the former chairman of Sotheby’s.
But then Christie’s always was the more ‘gentlemanly’ outfit
of the two. Those who make ‘gentleman’s agreements’ over any
kind of property transaction can never, nowadays, be taken any more seriously
than those who bay for a gentleman’s blood. The Royal Academy has benefited
from Tennant’s chairmanship in numerous ways — a question of ‘noblesse
oblige’ for Tennant since there has been little benefit to himself, given
that time is a limited resource. No one would expect Tennant to fly to New York
ever again, or even suggest it — except, that is, former art dealer Roy
Miles. The sculptor Michael Sandle has indicated that Tennant’s dignity
would be preserved if (like a gentleman?) he would ‘fall on his sword’
(another quaint expression that emerges on such occasions). But then, swordstuck,
he would be unable to assist the noble institution which he serves so altruistically.
Another gentleman would have to be solicited for the post, or maybe — perish
the thought — a ‘player’. A media player late of the BBC might
be interested, for example, but the plight of the BBC speaks legions (as they
say) for the results of not engaging gentlemen. ‘Gentlemen,’ as British
Rail used to emblazon in their toilets, ‘lift the seat’. What better
advice to all?
