I can and do live on a thousand écu a month. A significant surplus thus remains. I want to put this money towards a single goal, namely the creation of a collection of classic paintings that would bring my family renown.
Diary, 26 February 1822
âµ
1 The Queen of the Elves
RaczyÅski first heard about Hans Makart from a friend in Munich, Fernanda Prätorius.1 In a letter describing to the Count recent works by Wilhelm Kaulbach, she also mentioned a painting she saw in Kaulbachâs studio. It was an âillustration for a fairy taleâ by a young painter who had electrified the local artistic community. âI think his name is Makart,â she wrote.2 Acting on instinct, which rarely failed him in matters of art, RaczyÅski requested that a small sketch of the painting be sent to him immediately: âI urge you â just an outline drawing.â However, Prätorius soon reported that in Kaulbachâs expert opinion (an opinion seconded by Baron Georg von Werthern, who also lived in Munich and regularly wrote to RaczyÅski) this was in fact impossible: Makartâs painting featured no outlines or contours; it was all based on colour. Kaulbach thus offered to borrow the original painting and bring it to RaczyÅskiâs gallery in Berlin so that he might see for himself the young geniusâs art. Athanasius agreed to this solution, but not without some hesitation, as he feared for the workâs safety. He wrote in a letter from that period to the painterâs wife Josephine Kaulbach: âI look forward to the arrival of Makartâs painting.â A few days later, he did indeed receive the work. It was a sketch for a monumental composition entitled Modern Cupids (Moderne Amoretten), a triptych depicting subject matter that was both mysterious and â due to its explicit erotic overtones â scandalous. When it was exhibited in Munich a few months earlier, it had created a sensation and excitement among art lovers.3
The painting made a strong impression on RaczyÅski when he viewed it for the first time. He shared his feelings with his friends in Munich. âMy ecstasy is immeasurable,â he enthused in a letter to Werthern; âI am delighted,â he told Fernanda Prätorius; âI cannot describe my pleasure,â he wrote to Josephine Kaulbach. He wrote about Makart and his art only in superlatives: âItâs like nothing that came before it: genius, taste, brilliant colour, a new style and effect, dreams, spells, somewhat akin to Rubens, but more subtle and delicate.â4 The shortcomings in the execution of the peripheral groups and deficiencies in the drawing did not affect RaczyÅskiâs overall enthusiastic assessment of the work. After some time, however, RaczyÅski gained a greater critical distance to the painting. While he did not question the extraordinary talent of the young master, in a letter to Baron Werthern, he coolly and precisely pointed out the weaknesses in his work. The background was too dark; there were errors in the composition, flaws in the execution of the figures portrayed, whose bodies were too round and faces lacking in character, while the drawing in some parts was âworse than just incorrect.â âAt first glance, [the painting] is entrancing because it delights us with its colours, and this impression draws our attention to the subject. Now interested, I draw nearer and study it. I scrutinize the details and check them, and the delight vanishes, replaced by an aversion that grows ever stronger.â5
RaczyÅski did indeed wish to commission a painting from Makart, âbut his genius is so great and so eccentric that I would never wish to possess a painting I had not seen previously.â He, therefore, decided to commission another version of the Modern Cupids: not a replica, but a variation on a subject, namely a reproduction of the central part of the triptych â The Queen of the Elves â which RaczyÅski considered the most perfect. âI do not want the painting as it is,â he wrote a letter to Wilhelm Kaulbach asking him to commission the painting on his behalf and laying out in precise detail both his expectations and the terms of the contract to be signed with the artist.
RaczyÅskiâs reactions to Makartâs work can be broken down into the following stages: great curiosity aroused by a new painting style, joy mixed with eager anticipation, utter delight when viewing the painting for the first time, sober and critical judgment once his initial fascination had faded, precisely stated terms in the contract signed with the painter. All of these stages were characterized by the powerful emotions evoked by the work and the decisive actions taken in response to them: RaczyÅski was aroused, enthusiastic, and determined. We should note that these events took place late in 1868 when the Count was already eighty years old! RaczyÅski took possession of the commissioned painting â though, in fact, as modern research has shown, it was actually a photographic reproduction of the central part of the Modern Cupids glued onto a board and then coloured and gilded by Makart6 â in February 1870, four years before his death (Fig. 110).
Hans Makart, Queen of the Elves, 1869â1870
RaczyÅski Foundation at the National Museum in PoznaÅ, inv. no. MNP FR 530
The delight that Makartâs painting aroused in him must have come as a surprise to RaczyÅski himself. In theory, the work of this Austrian master should not have appealed to him. Its Rubenesque ostentation, offhand drawing technique, and frolicsome colours were not in accordance with the Countâs aesthetic criteria. And yet the painting did appeal to him. This is how RaczyÅski as a collector approached art throughout his life: although he had clearly defined tastes, he was also open to aesthetic surprises.
But why should we begin a description of RaczyÅskiâs activities as a collector with a work he acquired so near the end of his life? Because Makartâs painting reveals some essential characteristics of the Countâs approach to his role as a collector. Not only does it provide insight into his psychological profile as a collector, but it also highlights certain attitudes and behaviour that defined his activity in this field.
As mentioned above, once RaczyÅski made the decision to commission a painting from Makart, he drew up a contract that precisely defined the terms of the transaction. He was to receive a reproduction of the central part of the triptych with only minor changes as soon as possible. He inquired about the price and outlined the procedure to be followed in the event of his death. If the work were completed before the deadline set in the contract, RaczyÅskiâs son would be obliged to pay the painter in full, but if there were delays, the Countâs heir would be released from this obligation. RaczyÅski also asked the painter to send him a handwritten letter. Finally, he agreed to order a suitable picture frame in Berlin and assured the painter that he had already found a perfect place in his gallery for the painting, one that would bring out its best qualities. âYou know,â he wrote to Kaulbach, âhow much depends on ensuring that the paintings in the gallery are hung in good company. How often it happens that two paintings hanging next to each other detract from one another!â7 RaczyÅskiâs words here illustrate the fact that he thinks like an experienced collector. He sees Makartâs painting as an integral part of his gallery, as an element of a whole, and tries from the outset to guarantee that the work he is to acquire will satisfy his needs as a collector.
The terms of the contract proposed by RaczyÅski were, for the most part, typical of such a document. The Count specified the deadline and sum to be paid and provided precise guidelines concerning the paintingâs subject matter. However, two points are fascinating and require clarification: RaczyÅskiâs request for a variation rather than a faithful copy of the original work and for a handwritten letter from the artist. The significance of both points can only be fully understood within the context of a heated debate in the mid-nineteenth century among collectors and art scholars concerning the status of a copy and its place in an art collection, and the notions of originality and authenticity in relation to a work of art. The position the Count took on these issues needs to be examined more closely.
RaczyÅskiâs collection included several copies of works by Old Masters and replicas of contemporary paintings.8 Many other private and public galleries in the first half of the nineteenth century, including the largest and most prestigious museums in Berlin, Munich, or Dresden, owned and exhibited copies as well.9 Authors who wrote about collections at the time mention the presence of copies and replicas in them without any expression of surprise, criticism, or irony. Copies were treated as a special â viewers were informed that the works were not originals â but legitimate category of paintings to be included in art collections. Both contemporary collecting practices and art theory justified such actions.
Until the mid-eighteenth century, the position of the copy was strong and clearly defined. It was considered a reliable and valuable replacement for an unattainable original. This interpretation was logical because a good copy could successfully fulfil many of the key functions attributed to art: decorative, representative, illustrative, didactic, etc. Indeed, in the nineteenth century, the copy was still an important element of artistic culture. In keeping with at least two hundred years of tradition, it was one of the pillars of academic education,10 an important component in collections with representative and prestigious aspirations,11 and an acceptable alternative to an unattainable original in collections with normative (e.g. model collections of plaster casts of antique sculptures)12 or didactic (e.g. copies placed in collections to fill gaps to present the âentireâ or âcompleteâ history of art) functions.13 Replicas of contemporary works were also popular in the nineteenth-century iconosphere. The production of replicas by the author of the original work benefitted both the artist-producer and the collector-buyer. It provided income and popularity for the artist (the more copies of a work made available, the greater the audience for it), while the collector could acquire a well-known and renowned work with a predicate of authenticity. The fact that Makart made coloured mechanical reproductions of his works was only an inevitable consequence of this convergence of the interests of producers and buyers.
It thus comes as no surprise that a person who frequently visited art galleries in the mid-nineteenth century occasionally found in them the same or almost the same paintings. In Berlin alone, for example, Eduard Steinbrückâs Marie Among the Elves, originally located in Wagenerâs gallery, could be seen in a slightly altered version in RaczyÅskiâs gallery and in Mathilde von Waldenburgâs collection, as well. Respectively, Theodor Hildebrandtâs Murder of the Sons of Edward IV (Fig. 111), which was on display in both RaczyÅskiâs and Waldenburgâs galleries, was first completed (though the reproduction made for Athanasius was begun at the same time) in a monumental format for Canon Werner Friedrich von Spiegel in Halberstadt. Copies of the painting were included in many German collections. An art lover viewing collections in various cities would quite often encounter familiar pictures. For example, a version of Léopold Robertâs famous The Reapers (RaczyÅski owned an anonymous copy, perhaps by Edmund Wodick, and later acquired a replica by Robert himself) was part of the well-known collection of Adolf Heinrich Schletter in Leipzig.14
Ferdinand Theodor Hildebrandt, Murder of the Sons of Edward IV, 1835
RaczyÅski Foundation at the National Museum in PoznaÅ, inv. no. MNP FR 510
Despite their popularity, the status and rank of copies and replicas became more and more problematic during the nineteenth century. Since the mid-eighteenth century â at least since the publication of Edward Youngâs Conjectures on Original Composition (1759) â the originality of both oneâs actions (also in regard to art) and personality had become an important criterion for assessing their meaning and value.15 In the late eighteenth century, Kant described originality as an essential feature of genius â âoriginality must be its primary characteristicâ â while faithful reproduction was discredited as âaping.â16 Romanticism, with its cult of the genius who did not follow norms and stereotypes, necessarily elevated originality to the rank of supreme virtue.
As a result of these processes and tendencies, in the mid-nineteenth century, when Athanasius was still an ardent collector, artistic reproductions (copies, replicas) enjoyed an indeterminate status. On the one hand, they were still accepted and even appreciated. On the other, they were being discredited and increasingly rejected. The fact that RaczyÅski commissioned a reproduction of Makartâs painting with changes reflects the ambivalent status of the reproduction. Of course, additional circumstances also played a role. RaczyÅski demanded changes because he wished to avoid the flaws he had found in the original Queen of the Elves. Nevertheless, the fact that he had acquired a work dependent on another, but was nonetheless original, was certainly important to him. This is demonstrated by the fact that in the case of several other commissioned reproductions he also demanded minor modifications that were not justified by faults in the original. When he commissioned The Two Leonors from Carl Ferdinand Sohn, RaczyÅski asked that the reproduction be made by Sohn himself and that it vary from the original version so âthat it would not be possible to take my painting for a copy but, in accordance with my wishes, a creative repetition produced from memory and based on the same studies.â17 Much later, in the autumn of 1870, in a letter to Wilhelm Amberg regarding the commission of a painting based on Reading from Goetheâs Werther, he clearly emphasized âthat the new painting should not be a copy but a creative repetition with changes.â18 Thus, RaczyÅski did not hesitate to commission a reproduction but wished to render it unique. In this way, he navigated the narrow path of compromise between the respect traditionally accorded to copies and replicas and the demands created by the growing importance of originality.
In the mid-nineteenth century, apart from originality, another quality demanded of good art was that of authenticity. During this period, a âdiscourse on authenticityâ culminated, literally and symbolically, in the well-known âHolbein disputeâ (Holbein-Streit), which reached its peak in 1871. The parties to the dispute were two major exhibition institutions â the museums in Dresden and Darmstadt. The authenticity of one of the two versions of Holbeinâs famous Mayer Madonna was at stake, and a wide range of modern analytical methods was used to determine which one was a copy. A side effect of the dispute was an unprecedented reverence for art historians, whose knowledge came to be valued more than the expertise of practitioners-painters.19 The controversy itself and even the verdict (the Pyrrhic victory of the Darmstadt painting) are not important here. But what is relevant is the fact that this debate erupted with such force, demonstrating how vital the requirement of authenticity was at that time.
Therefore, when RaczyÅski asked Makart for a handwritten letter that could be used, if necessary, as a certificate of authenticity, he wished to meet this requirement. Athanasius had made similar requests during his career as a collector. In the 1840s and 1850s, at RaczyÅskiâs explicit and repeated requests, Peter Cornelius provided confirmation in writing that Christ in the Abyss and Allegorical Scene were his own work.20 Five years later, the Count demanded a âhandwritten, explicit, and largeâ note confirming the authenticity of Wilhelm Kaulbachâs drawing.
RaczyÅskiâs concern for originality and authenticity in an artwork shows that as a collector he was endowed not only with inclinations, taste, and sensitivity but was also fully aware of changing tendencies in the fields of collecting and artistic theory and practice. Testimony to this fact is the extensive and meticulously detailed set of documents he kept concerning his activities as a collector.
We are able to reconstruct the history behind The Queen of the Elves, as well as behind other paintings in RaczyÅskiâs collection because the Count extensively documented transactions relating to them. We read about the picture in a set of letters compiled and ordered by RaczyÅski, then placed in a folder labelled âMakartâ â one of fifty bound collections of documents collectively entitled Libri veritatis.
Libri veritatis, or Books of truth â a compilation of letters, bills, extracts, press excerpts, and exhibition catalogues relating to RaczyÅskiâs activities as an art collector â was a curious title. What truth do these documents reveal? What does this truth concern? To whom is this title addressed?
In order to answer these questions, we must first understand the status of Libri veritatis. These volumes were not merely a supplement to the Countâs picture gallery but an integral part of it, in both legal and (quite literally) spatial terms. Their integrity was assured both by notes made in the documents of the entail and in RaczyÅskiâs will. In the latter, the Count pointed to the aforementioned physical closeness between the paintings and the records: âThe galleryâs library, contained in two cabinets and in the pedestal under Byströmâs vase, is inseparable from the gallery. In the pedestal, there are autographs, letters, notes, and evidence relating to the most important works in my collection of paintings.â âByströmâs vaseâ was a monumental antique-style vase commissioned by RaczyÅski in Rome from the Swedish sculptor Johan Niklas Byström in 1821. It was placed in one of the gallery rooms, and the Books of Truth were placed in its pedestal. In this manner, the paintings and words in the documents were engaged in a dialogue, complementing one another, strengthening the collectionâs artistic effect, and presenting RaczyÅskiâs attitudes toward both collecting and art. What was written in the Libri veritatis? Athanasius himself provides some succinct answers. In a letter to Cornelius dated 7 May 1840, he mentions the need for âcollecting and carefully storingâ documents regarding his collection of artworks in the belief that they will be of âkeen historical interest to future scholars and, above all, to my heirs.â21 However, the Libri veritatis did not merely play a role in the future but also, perhaps above all, in the present. The books endowed the gallery with an additional historical dimension: the paintings depicted scenes from the history of art, while the documents presented the collection as historical, i.e. having its own history and playing an important role in history. As mentioned above, the volumes were also proof of the authenticity, originality, and unquestionable authorship of the works in the collection, thus manifesting how important these issues were to RaczyÅski while simultaneously serving as a means of preserving the value of the works he had collected. As such, these documents could be â and were â used as evidence in disputes over the paintings. They thus had a rhetorical and prestigious value, as well. They also proved that the galleryâs creator was a competent and recognized art expert, displaying the extent of RaczyÅskiâs historical and artistic knowledge, and demonstrating that he was well-read in the professional literature, possessed methodological competence, and was a committed professional. At the same time, the documents provided art lovers who visited the gallery with access to original documents and source materials that functioned as conveyors of historical truth.
It is also quite telling that RaczyÅski meticulously documented his actions as an art collector from the very outset.
2 Italian Journey
The earliest documented purchase of artworks by RaczyÅski took place in 1806: the 18-year-old Athanasius bought two landscapes by Rosa da Tivoli in Dresden. Then, in 1810, he purchased in Warsaw several works from the gallery of paintings once owned by the last King of Poland StanisÅaw August Poniatowski and later sold. He was not a collector par excellence at that time but rather heir to a long tradition (dating back to at least the sixteenth century) of young aristocrats purchasing artistic objects during their travels around Europe. Artworks were bought as souvenirs or with the intention of enriching family collections. Naturally, it is difficult to determine exactly when Athanasius was transformed from an occasional buyer into a conscious and dedicated collector, i.e. when he began to perceive the works he purchased as parts of a greater whole. In an autobiographical fragment of Historical Studies, RaczyÅski observes retrospectively â and thus even more reliably, since it is possible to talk about the inception of a collection only in retrospect â that such a shift took place in the year 1820. He wrote: âThat year, I purchased the first works for my picture gallery.â22 At the time, Athanasius was making his first artistic trip to Italy. In the context of the history of the collection and RaczyÅskiâs artistic interests in general, this trip can be called seminal and, therefore, should be discussed in more detail.
Athanasius set out with his wife Anna on a journey to Italy from Wyszyny on 30 July 1820. They visited southern Germany, Switzerland, Lombardy, and Tuscany before arriving at their destination in Rome. The RaczyÅskis generally stayed in cities and towns along the way for just a few days, rarely longer. During these visits, they saw monuments and art collections in Nuremberg (18 August), Augsburg (25 August), Zurich (6 September), Lucerne (10 September), Bern (17 September), Geneva (21 September), Milan (6 October), Bologna (12 October), Florence (13 October), and Siena (19 October). Finally, on 21 October, they arrived in the Eternal City, where they rented rooms in a house located at 17 Via dei Prefetti. Like other wealthy young aristocrats on the Grand Tour, RaczyÅski treated this journey as a learning or, more broadly, formative opportunity.23 Getting to know the customs of the South, coming into direct contact with the remains of Roman antiquity, and becoming acquainted with Italyâs rich artistic traditions were the main goals of his trip around the Peninsula.24 Athanasius concentrated mainly on artistic matters, especially issues related to painting. In Italy he noted:
It is intimidating to see what a huge number of great painters Italy has produced. I do not know how I could acquire an in-depth knowledge of painting, but I would like to, and the five months I plan to spend in Italy should serve this purpose almost exclusively because my love for art is growing day by day.25
Material evidence of such a journey, again in line with a tradition that was at least a century and a half old, was provided by acquired works of art; these will be discussed later in this chapter. RaczyÅski also kept notes during his journey â they were included in his diary but still retained some degree of autonomy. They differed slightly in their poetics from other fragments of the journal and were divided into independent chapters which did not follow the general organization of the diary. I will focus on an analysis of these notes in this part of the book.
RaczyÅski embarked on his journey well prepared for his encounter with Italian art. He had already collected a considerable number of works in his musée imaginaire, having visited art galleries in Dresden, Vienna, and Paris. RaczyÅski repeatedly used them as points of reference and material for comparison when viewing new works of art for the first time. Having read Luigi Lanziâs Storia pittorica dellâItalia, RaczyÅski also had a sound knowledge of Italian art, including the basic trajectories of its development and the characteristics of its most important schools. Finally, based on his extensive knowledge of literature, he developed a sophisticated theoretical apparatus, the value of which was confirmed in his eloquent critique of the greatest works of European art. His critical talent allowed RaczyÅski to approach paintings in an active manner (because, as mentioned earlier, painting was far more important to him than sculpture or architecture). This included describing pictures and evaluating their artistic value, verifying their authorship, comparing them to other works he had encountered, and attempting to define the essence of the style of a given master. These ambitions were clear from the beginning of his journey and had already become apparent in his engagement in the arts in various German cities. However, they came to fruition during his stay in Rome, a city with an unparalleled reputation among art lovers, âthe capital of the worldâ as Goethe put it, or, as Athanasius observed, âthe home of the arts.â John Moore, the companion of Douglas Duke of Hamilton during his travels in Italy in the years 1772â1776 (the British were in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries among the greatest enthusiasts of the Eternal City and constituted a significant percentage of all visitors), observed: âThere are about thirty palaces in Rome, as full of pictures as the walls can bear. [â¦] There are also ten or twelve villas in the neighbourhood of this city, which are usually visited by strangers.â26 Half a century later, even despite the consequences of the turmoil of the Napoleonic period, Rome was still an outstanding artistic centre.
In short, during his stay in Rome, RaczyÅski aspired to be an âamateurâ in the eighteenth-century sense of the word, i.e. a man who was not professionally involved in art (though he might draw or produce graphic art for his amusement and might also have contacts with an academy of art), but who was able to talk about art competently and intelligently, see an artwork in the context of an artistâs oeuvre and the school to which it belongs, make intellectually inspiring comparisons between works, and, finally, provide grounds for his enthusiastic or cool response to a work based on its compliance with the rules of good taste. Charlotte Guichard has observed that in the Age of Enlightenment such an âamateurâ would often provide artists with means of support, would travel to Rome, build a collection, and express judgements on matters of taste.27 Indeed, RaczyÅski, especially in his mature years, did exactly that. He later described his ideal of communing with art expressis verbis in a passage in The History of Modern German Art in which he discusses the role of an art connoisseur.28 His stay in Rome was essential â one might say, even necessary â for RaczyÅskiâs becoming an âamateur.â
Due to the unique and extraordinary role played by Rome in the European collective consciousness, a journey to the city was always assigned special significance. It was like rediscovering an old acquaintance â one knew it from descriptions, had seen it in engravings, and listened to the stories about it. âAll old acquaintances, like friends I have made at a distance through correspondence, and who now are seen face to face,â Goethe wrote in his Italian journey. Since many visitors had a sound second-hand knowledge of the city, they planned their stay carefully and compiled detailed itineraries that included ancient monuments, Vatican museums, art galleries, palaces, and villas. RaczyÅski was obviously aware of this peregrinatory tradition. When his fascination with painting made him break away from it and distance himself from the cityâs ancient heritage, he felt he had to justify his actions:
How I wish that the admiration I feel for paintings was not so overwhelming, that it would allow me to enjoy the relics and the beauty of antiquities. I would love to discuss the Baths of Titus, but my head is full of what I have seen in paintings and frescoes and full of all the paintings that I hope and thirst to acquire.29
Here, RaczyÅski is clearly gripped by a fever for the arts and collecting.
As noted above, RaczyÅski travelled to Italy by way of southern Germany and Switzerland. He described this stage of his journey extensively, commenting on the places he visited and the landscapes he admired, recalling historical facts, reflecting on politics, and finally, describing the works of art he saw. In terms of art, his stay in Nuremberg, where he saw paintings by Lucas Cranach, Albrecht Dürer, and Hans Holbein, was the most important. These were the first works RaczyÅski chose to describe, albeit briefly, in his journal. However, it was only after he began visiting the cities of Italy â a trip he had looked forward to with growing anticipation (he wrote in Bern: âIâm beginning to tire of Switzerland; Iâm growing impatient because I so long to see Italyâ30) â that he began focusing his writings on art, nurturing his âconnoisseurâ ambitions. Beginning with his stay in Milan, where he visited the local galleries (Pinacoteca di Brera and Biblioteca Ambrosiana), RaczyÅski focuses almost exclusively on describing paintings and documenting his impressions of them in his travel diary. These accounts vary in nature and are in many cases limited to âenumerating the most noteworthy worksâ (mainly serving a mnemonic purpose), but at times they represent an ambitious attempt at ekphrasis or defining the constituent features of a given painting or painter. Indeed, even some of his short notes are interesting because they allow us to compile a catalogue of Athanasiusâ favourite painters and learn about his aesthetic preferences during the period when he first began to assemble his collection.
He undoubtedly most admired the works of the âdivineâ Raphael. He also cherished Fra Angelico, Leonardo, Giorgione, Andrea del Sarto, Bernardino Luini, and the major artists of the Venetian school, namely Titian and Veronese. Among later artists, he admired Annibale Carracci and his students and collaborators â Guido Reni, Domenichino, and Guercino. He also valued Claude Lorrain and was fascinated by Caravaggio. He also surrendered to the power of the artistic genius of Michelangelo, though not without hesitation: âMichelangelo was neither noble nor graceful in his works, but no ancient nor contemporary artist has ever endowed his works with such force and such life.â31 Thus, RaczyÅski most admired the works of the great Renaissance masters and artists representing classicizing tendencies in early seventeenth-century painting (interestingly, he has no kind words for the works of Nicolas Poussin). Although these preferences will change somewhat in the future (e.g. years later, the Count will mildly criticize his youthful admiration for Luiniâs Holy Family), RaczyÅski will generally stay true to them throughout his life.
When Athanasius looks at a painting, he pays attention primarily to its form rather than the subject, which he always describes perfunctorily. He focuses on beauty (beauté), greatness (grandeur), nobility (noblesse), charm (charme), grace (grace), transparency (transparence), simplicity (facilité), force (force), and expression (expression). He is also interested in the style (style), artistic conception (conception), composition (ordonnance), colour palette (coloris), use of light (lumières), the purity of drawing (pureté de dessin), and the manner in which details and draperies are represented. Therefore, as an art lover, RaczyÅski has a number of useful analytical and descriptive categories at his disposal. Generally speaking, these categories originated in the tradition of connoisseurship that grew out of the early modern academic discourse on art and was later developed by such authors as Giulio Mancini in Italy, André Félibien and Roger de Piles in France and Jonathan Richardson in England.32 A common practice among experts was a comparison of works of art. RaczyÅski was also not afraid to compare paintings and indicate which he liked more, always justifying his opinions by pointing to one workâs more natural colours, more delicate composition or better drawing technique. Here is an example of such an evaluative comparison:
In popular opinion Andrea del Sartoâs most excellent work is the painting known as Quadro di Luco or The Descent from the Cross. It is a great and beautiful composition in which all the characters are beautifully depicted, but I prefer his Holy Family, which hangs next to it. These two paintings have a dangerous neighbour though I think they do it more harm than good. This is Murilloâs Madonna. The drawing is great and colour better, but all in all, this work is less graceful, less luminous, less clear, and less noble.33
In the case of his favourite painters, especially Raphael, the painters of the Bolognese school, and Lorrain, RaczyÅski tries to describe their works in more detail and search for the essence of their work. A visit to the Stanze in the Vatican led to the following journal entry:
the paintings we had seen [earlier] were more than sufficient to learn to recognize Raphaelâs charm, but in order to appreciate his genius, one must see what we saw yesterday: The Raphael Rooms in the Vatican, The Fire in the Borgo, The Deliverance of Saint Peter, The School of Athens, The Meeting of Leo the Great and Attila. These works are so great and so graceful in detail that we feel ultimate respect for the divine author and his wonders. When I see Raphaelâs works, I keep reexperiencing what I felt about [the portrait of Beatrice] Cenci by Guido [Reni]. They are moving, heart-warming, and I donât understand what causes the feelings and emotions they arouse in us to manifest themselves. Raphael is never artificial. He is always about nature, nothing but nature, but nature that is full of grace, life, strength, and splendour. If Raphael could create the world anew with his brush, if he could endow it with movement, this world would be more charming, noble, and magnificent than the one we see and live in.34
If, as RaczyÅski observes, the key to Raphaelâs painting is nature, the essence of Claude Lorrainâs art is light:
On the other side [of Florenceâs Galleria Uffizi], among the paintings of the Flemish school, there is one of Claudeâs best landscapes. It is a seascape with a cluster of trees and some people who were not painted by him but are well executed. The sun is just above the horizon, with fog dimming its brightness and its pale rays being reflected on the sea. The whole landscape is shrouded in a delicate, warm fog.35
Elsewhere, in talking about the paintings in the Doria Pamphilj Gallery in Rome, RaczyÅski adds: âIt would be difficult to define what is called style in painting, but the fact is that in the case of landscape, one need not look any further for perfection in style than the works of Claude Lorrain. [â¦] Claude is perfect in all the elements that constitute a good landscape.â36
The observations above, supported by excerpts from RaczyÅskiâs diary, demonstrate that while in Italy, especially in Rome, the Count quickly matured as an âamateurâ of art. His observations on art became bolder. He undertook his first attempts to formulate synthetic assessments of artworks and attribute authorship to a work, in some cases challenging widely-held beliefs. At that time, RaczyÅski already had extensive knowledge of art history as well as a set of operative tools for describing and judging paintings. His aesthetic views were clearly formed, he owned works he considered to be models for a given genre, and finally, he also possessed good insights into contemporary Italian art. His opinions may often have been fairly unoriginal, but they were not the stereotypical observations of a tourist. RaczyÅskiâs views were also met with recognition in the artistic community.
Wojciech Korneli Stattler, a young Polish painter who had been living in Rome for almost two years when he met RaczyÅski in 1820, and who still felt somewhat lost in Romeâs artistic world, observed that it was Athanasius who âevery day introduced me to some new master and opened me â hungry for knowledge â to all the sources of learning.â37 Stattlerâs words, despite their panegyric and exalted tone, which we may find artificial, were not unfounded. They find confirmation in the following, very interesting but little-known testimony.
A unique trace of RaczyÅskiâs contacts in Rome is Léopold Robertâs painting from 182138 (Fig. 112). Not typical of the Swiss artistâs work, the picture is a so-called âconversation piece,â combining elements of portrait and genre painting.39 While on public display today at the Musée dâart et dâhistoire in Geneva, it was known only from a brief historical reference until recently. Robert wrote about the work in a letter to his mother dated 24 March 1821: âI am now painting three portraits in one painting: the English ambassador to Naples Lord Drummond, a chamberlain of the King of the Netherlands, and a Polish countâ¦.â Although the physical resemblance is not evident, there is no doubt â there are simply too many telling signs â that Athanasius RaczyÅski was this âPolish count.â40
Léopold Robert, Lord Drummond and Two Friends, the Chamberlain to the King of The Netherlands and Count Athanasius RaczyÅski, 1821
Musée dâart et dâhistoire, Geneva, INV. no. BA 2002-0022, Dépôt de la Fondation Gottfried Keller, 2002
In the small painting, we see a conversation between three men in a modest but tastefully furnished office. Sir William Drummond, a British conservative politician and retired diplomat, as well as an erudite man of letters, is in the centre of the picture. Since the late 1810s, he had been an important figure among the cosmopolitan elite of the Eternal City. Sitting in an armchair, with a document or drawing in his hand, he turns to his younger companions, who are standing on the left. He seems to be addressing, in particular, Athanasius, who is standing closer to the centre of the painting. Without looking at him, Drummond is pointing with his left hand at a piece of paper he is holding in his right hand as if he wanted to explain something or consult on some matter with the young aristocrat. RaczyÅski thus plays here the prestigious role of the hostâs interlocutor.
There are many details in the painting that should be analysed more thoroughly: RaczyÅski is wearing the uniform of a Prussian official (he would later instruct Karl Friedrich Wach to paint him in the same uniform), numerous medals function as markers of personal attributes, and there is nothing in the picture to confirm the identity of the third figure. For the purposes of this book, I can only say that we are dealing here with a visual representation of RaczyÅskiâs active participation in the social and artistic life of the Eternal City. The visit of the young people must have been important for Drummond as well since he chose to commission Robert to document it.
Moreover, during his stay in Italy, RaczyÅski not just took part in discussions and artistic meetings. As has been mentioned, he also made his first planned purchases as a collector in Italy. These acquisitions should be discussed in the context of RaczyÅskiâs views on art in general.
3 A Single Goal
RaczyÅskiâs project to build a collection is born, coalesces, and begins to materialize during his journey to Italy. Along the way, during a stay in Nuremberg, he purchased the Madonna with Child and the Lamb, at that time considered to be the work of Lucas van Leyden. However, the Count attributed the picture to Quentin Massys, a view today generally held to be correct.41 (Fig. 113). He later purchased, among other works, Portrait of Cosimo deâMedici by Bronzino, âlittle Santi di Titoâ and Lot with his Daughters by Bartolomeo Schedoni in Florence; three Madonnas by, respectively, Francesco Francia, Domenichino, and Innocenzo da Imola in Bologna; a Madonna by Bernardino Luini (today recognized as a copy by an anonymous artist after Luiniâs original) in Milan; The Tribute Money by Ludovico Mazzolino and Pietà by Girolamo Siciolante da Sermoneta in Rome.
Quentin Massys, Madonna with Child and a Lamb, c.1520
RaczyÅski Foundation at the National Museum in PoznaÅ, inv. no. MNP FR 441
RaczyÅskiâs travels in Europe in later years provided him with opportunities to make additional purchases. I will not list all the works of Old Masters he acquired; the catalogue of RaczyÅskiâs works compiled under the direction of Piotr MichaÅowski allows us to accurately follow the timeline of his subsequent acquisitions.42 Instead, I will here mention only the most important of these.
Among the most fruitful early journeys in terms of picture purchases were RaczyÅskiâs stay in Paris from autumn 1823 to spring 1825 and a second trip to Italy from 1828 to 1829. In Paris, he bought, among other works, The Chess Game by Sofonisba Anguissola (Fig. 114) from Lucien Bonaparteâs Gallery, a tondo Madonna and Child by Sandro Botticelli (or, more likely, produced in his workshop43), and Sacra Conversatione by Vincenzo Catena. Among the works acquired by RaczyÅski in the late 1820s in Italy were the spectacular Abduction of Europa by Bernardo Strozzi (Fig. 115), Venus in the Forge of Vulcan by Jacopo and Francesco Bassano, and Jupiter and Io by Benvenuto Tisi called Garofalo.
Sofonisba Anguissola, The Chess Game, 1555
RaczyÅski Foundation at the National Museum in PoznaÅ, inv. no. MNP FR 434
Bernardo Strozzi, The Abduction of Europa, c.1640â1644
RaczyÅski Foundation at the National Museum in PoznaÅ, inv. no. MNP FR 430
RaczyÅskiâs Italian purchases mark a certain turning point in his collecting activity. Thenceforth, the Old Masters were gradually marginalized, and the Count began to acquire more and more modern art. This does not mean, however, that he did not buy any new paintings by Old Masters. Such purchases, though limited, were also important to him. He continued to make purchases abroad, including a number made during visits to London and during the years he spent in Portugal and Spain. In Iberia, he bought such works as Holy Martyrs by Gregorio Lopes (acquired in Lisbon in 1843) and The Assumption, an excellent work by Juan Carreño da Miranda (bought in Madrid in 1852). In London, he purchased at auctions John the Baptist, then attributed to Alonso Cano, and today associated with Guido Reni and his circle, as well as the monumental Virgin of the Rosary by Francisco de Zurbarán. After 1852, RaczyÅski also made numerous acquisitions in Berlin, using the services of local art brokers, in particular those of the local art market mogul Louis Friedrich Sachse.44
I write here about the paintings purchased by RaczyÅski, but what did it generally mean in the nineteenth century to buy a picture by one of the Old Masters? Though this is not the place for a detailed analysis of the nineteenth-century art market, a few key points should be mentioned.45 I will begin by describing the organization of the art trade in the most important centres where Athanasius made his purchases. I will then refer to two paintings from his collection, the Pietà by Siciolante da Sermoneta and the Virgin of the Rosary by Francisco de Zurbarán, to show how he made use of these market mechanisms, how he concluded transactions, and how transfers of paintings among collectors were made in the first half of the nineteenth century.
First of all, the process of buying a painting looked different in Paris, London, Rome, and Madrid. Local art markets were not only developed in varying degrees but also varied in how they were organised, thus requiring buyers to have specific knowledge and conduct transactions in different ways, depending on where the purchase was made.
In Paris, like in most other major European cities, including London and most large German cities, one could buy art either from influential art brokers, such as Jean-Baptiste-Pierre Lebrun and Alexandre-Joseph Paillet in Paris or Peter Coxe in London, or at art auctions organized by specialized institutions that provided extensive expert assistance during the purchase (e.g. Christieâs in London). According to Guido Guerzoniâs calculations, in Great Britain and France alone 118 auctions took place in 1800; 163 in 1820; and 438 in 1850; by the end of the century, over six hundred auctions were being organized each year.46 In the early nineteenth century, nearly 10,000 Old Masters and contemporary paintings were put up for sale at British auctions each year;47 fewer works were sold in Paris, but auctions held in the city were nevertheless numbered in the thousands.48 These auctions were addressed primarily to people like RaczyÅski â private collectors from aristocratic circles â and this group remained the principal clientele of auction houses until the 1850s.
The art market in Italy was organized differently. It had developed in response to the demand for art from the thousands of âamateursâ who had been visiting Florence, Rome, and Naples for decades. There were no large institutions on the Italian market; instead, a key role in Italy was played by individual antiquarian-brokers. Possessing both an in-depth knowledge of local conditions and an extensive network of contacts, these brokers sought out paintings, negotiated prices, obtained expert opinions and certificates of authenticity, recommended art conservators, handled export formalities, etc. In almost every Italian city, one could find art agents who would conduct searches for potential clients and offer them their services.
The situation in Spain was quite different, as there was no distinct art market in that country.49 Nevertheless, as Oscar E. Vázquez has shown, âimages and objects were bought and sold, collected and traded, via newer venues outside the domain of an officially sanctioned academy and without the aid of a formal dealer system.â50 Responsible for this circulation were antiquarians, booksellers, small traders, and people who exhibited works of art alongside other items at fairs like the Rastro or Plaza Antón MartÃn in Madrid. However, they rarely offered works of high artistic value or ones that could be unquestionably attributed to outstanding artists and which possessed certificates of authenticity (like those offered for pictures sold at auctions in Paris or London, where the most important Spanish collectors of that time bought many of their paintings). It was not until the latter half of the nineteenth century that an official art market, organized with the participation of two state-owned art institutions, Real Academia de Bellas Artes de San Fernando and Liceo ArtÃstico y Literario, was established, following a long, slow process. And yet, in the middle decades of the nineteenth century, Spain offered art lovers and collectors â as well as merchants, speculators, and fraudsters â excellent opportunities to make very profitable purchases of high-quality works. As a result of the closure of most Spanish monastic orders in the 1830s and the 1840s and the confiscation and auctioning of their property (the so-called desamortizacÃon), thousands of religious works of art, including some true masterpieces, were traded on the art market at that time. Admittedly, after 1844 when Ramón MarÃa Narváez became Prime Minister, and especially after his government signed a new concordat with the Vatican in 1851, the situation began to stabilize, and confiscated artworks were returned to churches. However, when RaczyÅski was in Madrid, he could still choose from a wide range of excellent paintings. However, to take advantage of the situation on the market, one had to possess not only expert knowledge and superior artistic intuition but, above all, a good network of contacts. However, like most collectors of that time, RaczyÅski purchased the most important Spanish works in his collection in London.
The Pietà by Girolamo Siciolante da Sermoneta, an outstanding representative of Roman mannerism, was acquired by RaczyÅski in February 1821 during his first stay in Rome (Fig. 116). From a collectorâs point of view, the painting belonged to a category of privileged works. Its origin and attribution were both certain, and its artistic value had long been confirmed by references in the writings of authorities on art, including Giorgio Vasari in the second edition of his The Lives of the Most Excellent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects (1568). Naturally, this also meant that the painting had a higher price tag, which, apart from certain administrative difficulties, was the primary reason it took several years to locate a buyer for it.
Girolamo Siciolante da Sermoneta, Pietà , 1540â1550
RaczyÅski Foundation at the National Museum in PoznaÅ, inv. no. MNP FR 428
The painting had been painted by Siciolante in the 1640s as an altarpiece for the chapel of the Muti Papazzurri family at the Church of Santi Apostoli in Rome.51 In the mid-eighteenth century, due to reconstruction work on the church, it had been moved to another chapel owned by the same family. When the family decided to renovate this chapel in the early nineteenth century, they chose to sell the sixteenth-century painting and replace it with a new one. The proceeds from the sale were to be used to renovate the chapel. The Church authorities agreed to the sale on 2 January 1808. The author of the new altar painting was to be Francesco Manno. He was also entrusted with selling Sermonetaâs work. The painting was expensive, and thus the buyer would most likely be a wealthy foreign collector rather than a local art lover. However, plans to sell the painting abroad were met with firm resistance from the papal administration. The Vatican had implemented a policy of protecting works of great cultural value to prevent the uncontrolled flow of ancient relics and works of art from Rome.52 In January 1750, a new provision was introduced, according to which paintings, sculptures, and antiquities were no longer considered duty-free goods. In the edicts of Pope Pius VII of 1 October 1802 and of Cardinal Camerlengo Bartolomeo Pacca of 7 April 1820, this provision was updated and expanded. These documents were the main legal acts regulating the art trade during RaczyÅskiâs stay in Rome. Among other things, they stipulated that before a transaction was concluded, an artwork had to be examined by experts to assess its artistic and historical value. Artworks considered by experts to be particularly important or outstanding could not be sold abroad. They were to remain in Rome and possibly be included in the collections of the papal museums. Manno, who greatly valued Siciolante, first made an offer to the administration of the Vatican Museums. After it was rejected, he asked Cardinal Pacca in early 1818 for permission to sell the painting abroad, which, according to his edict, meant that the work needed to be first evaluated by experts. Manno obtained the relevant expertise in mid-February. In an opinion provided by artists from the Accademia di San Luca (of which Manno was a member), and signed by the sculptor Antonio Canova, the president of the Accademia di San Luca Gaspare Landi, and its secretary Guiseppe Antonio Guattani, Siciolante was a secondary artist, and the Pietà was a painting devoid of significant artistic value.53 Despite the indignation of many Roman art lovers, expressed in an official letter to the Camerlengo of the Holy Roman Church signed by several important figures in Romeâs artistic circles, Pacca issued permission to sell the picture abroad.
RaczyÅski came across the painting by Sermoneta in February 1821 in Tomas Rubinoâs antique shop at via Condotti, where Manno must have put it up for sale. His Libri veritatis contains a brief correspondence with both traders. RaczyÅski decided to buy the painting, and on 24 February issued an order to pay the agreed price of 450 scudi. Because the work required restoration, he requested the services of the prominent Roman conservator Pietro Palmalori. Not only did Palmalori renovate the work (which cost Athanasius an additional 100 scudi), he also finalized the transaction and applied for the required export licence on the Countâs behalf. The licence concerned not only the Pietà but also seven other paintings RaczyÅski had purchased in Rome.54 A few weeks later, Palmalori obtained the required written consent of the assessor Giovanni Antonio Pasinati, the commissioner for antique art Carlo Fei, and the treasurer of Cardinal Camerlengo Domenico Attanasio. Finally, on 10 April 1821, a permit to transport these paintings out of Rome by sea was issued. As we can see, the purchase of an old painting required RaczyÅski to complete a number of administrative procedures. However, this was no cause for concern for the collector. Specialized and well-organized dealers and brokers in various Italian cities who knew and âranâ the local art markets handled all these details for him.
The art market in the major artistic centres in northern Europe was also well-developed, though it was governed by a different set of rules. As mentioned above, the institution of the public auction played a crucial role in northern Europe. At one such sale, organized in May 1853 by the famous London auction house Christie & Mason, RaczyÅski bought the Virgin of the Rosary Adored by Carthusians by the Spanish painter Francisco de Zurbarán. This purchase deserves to be discussed in more detail.
Unlike Siciolanteâs Pietà , which RaczyÅski purchased virtually directly from its original church location, the history of the purchase of Zurbaránâs painting was much more complicated (Fig. 117). The Virgin was painted by the Spanish painter along with more than twenty other paintings in the late 1630s for the Carthusian monastery in the Andalusian Jerez de la Frontera. Endangered between the years 1810 to 1812 during the occupation of Spain by Napoleonâs army, the painting was not removed from the monastery where it was held until after the monastery was secularized in 1835. In 1837, it was bought along with six other works by Zurbarán originating from Jerez by a certain Jose Cuesta. With the help of the painter Antonio Mesas, who had led the confiscation campaign on behalf of the Spanish government two years earlier, Cuesta sold the paintings to Baron Isidor Taylor.55 A traveller, cosmopolitan, playwright, writer, art lover, and long-term general director of the French theatre, Taylor had been living in Spain since November 1835 in the company of the painters Adrien Dauzats and Pharamond Blanchard as the envoy of the French King Louis Philippe entrusted with the task of purchasing paintings for a planned Spanish gallery in the Louvre. Taylor knew the local market well (he had visited the Peninsula in 1823 and 1833), was a well-known public figure, and had substantial financial resources. All these factors and the unstable political situation in Spain allowed Taylor to be very effective in his efforts. During his nineteen-month mission, he purchased almost 500 paintings, including many attributed to the greatest masters of the Spanish school, including Velázquez, Ribera, Murillo, Zurbarán, and Goya. The paintings were sent to Paris and on 7 January 1838, they were exhibited in five rooms on the first floor of the Louvre, in the so-called Spanish gallery.56 Although French audiences had heard of Zurbaránâs works â the beauty of his paintings had been praised by Alexandre de Laborde in Un voyage pittoresque et historique de lâEspagne (1807â1820),57 and the painter Frédéric Quilliet discussed the works of the Spanish painter in Dictionnaire des peintres espagnols (1816)58 â the dark ascetic monastic religiosity of the Spanish masterâs works came as a visual shock to visitors to the Louvre in Paris. They aroused both consternation and great interest, and Zurbarán was mentioned in all the most important press reports concerning the gallery.59 The Spanish gallery shared the fate of the July Monarchy: the fall of Louis Philippe in the aftermath of the Revolution of 1848 marked its end. The dethroned king fled to England, where he died at Claremont in August 1850. Two months later, the government of the Second Republic acknowledged that the heirs of the deceased monarch had the right to the Spanish collection, recognizing it as Louis Philippeâs private property. Within six months, the paintings were taken to England, where they were sold at a public auction organized by the London auction house Christie & Manson from 6 May to 21 May 1853.60 The auction was commented on in the press. The Times reported: âThe sale evidently created interest, as during the day the room was quite crowded.â61 Two extensive catalogues were published, one in English and one in French. The Virgin of the Rosary was listed in them as lot number 142.
Francisco de Zurbarán, Madonna of the Rosary Worshipped by Carthusian Monks, 1638â1639
RaczyÅski Foundation at the National Museum in PoznaÅ, inv. no. MNP FR 433
RaczyÅskiâs presence at the auction was announced in a letter sent by the well-known London trading house Doxat & Co. to George Henry Christie and Edward Manson, who were in charge of the sale. In the letter, the Count was recommended to the organizers of the auction. Christie and Manson were also assured that RaczyÅski had the required financial means. RaczyÅski arrived in London on Wednesday, 4 May, and stayed in the city for a week until 11 May. He participated only in the first session of the auction, which took place on 6 and 7 May. He left Doxat instructions regarding possible further purchases. The Virgin of the Rosary was one of three paintings bought by Athanasius in London (the others were Judith, also attributed to Zurbarán at the time, and St. John the Baptist, then considered to be the work of Alonso Cano). RaczyÅski paid a significant sum of 165 pounds for the painting. While this was lower than the price paid for some paintings by Velázquez and especially Murillo, or for Zurbaránâs Saint Francis, it was still much higher than the auction average of around 30 pounds. It should be added that the English press made some peculiar comments in connection with the purchase. The Times violently criticised the decision to purchase a second work by Zurbarán, Saint Francis Receiving the Stigmata, for the collection of the London National Gallery. The price was too high, The Times wrote, while the painting was described as âa small, black, repulsive picture.â Meanwhile, the author of the article argued that âa capital picture by Zurbarán (No. 142), in his fine clear mannerâ was also available. It was said to have eventually been bought by a representative of the Prussian King (i.e. RaczyÅski, who was, in fact, acting on his own behalf): âThus England pays 100 ⤠more for a bad picture than Prussia for a good one.â62
4 Contemporary Painting
The paintings RaczyÅski bought in London were among the few works by Old Masters he purchased after 1840. Since the late 1820s, the Count had focused increasingly on the works of contemporary painters, which ultimately comprised more than half of his collection (92 out of 156 paintings). For reasons previously discussed in detail, RaczyÅski became fascinated by German painting. In 1820, during a trip to Italy during which he bought his first works by Old Masters, Athanasius commissioned Raphaelâs Dream in Rome from the brothers Franz and Johannes Ripenhausen, who were affiliated with the Nazarenes. Five years later, he commissioned Karl Wilhelm Wach to paint Christ Among his Disciples. In 1828, he commissioned The Marriage of Maria, the so-called Sposalizio, modelled on a painting by Raphael (Fig. 118) from Friedrich Overbeck, and the Poet of the Song of the Nibelungen from Julius Schorr von Carolsfeld. Over the next few decades, RaczyÅski bought works by Peter Cornelius, Wilhelm Kaulbach, Wilhelm Schadow, Ferdinand Theodor Hildebrandt, Carl Friedrich Lessing, Carl Ferdinand Sohn, Emil Löwenthal, Carl Rottman, Carl Blechen, Adolph Menzel, and Hans Makart. Some of these paintings were outstanding and important works admired by contemporary art critics, such as Kaulbachâs Battle of the Huns and Corneliusâ Christ in the Abyss. The history of these purchases is well known, so there is no need to repeat it here.63 Suffice to say that in just a few decades RaczyÅski created one of Europeâs best and most interesting private galleries of contemporary German painting. Although it was not the largest in numerical terms, thanks to the artistic quality of the works and the sophistication of the collectorâs concept, it was on a par with that of the Consul Joachim Heinrich Wagener in Berlin, Count Franz Erwein Schönborn-Wiesentheid at the Reichartshausen castle, and even King Ludwig I of Bavaria in Munich.64
Friedrich Overbeck, The Marriage of the Virgin (Sposalizio), 1836
RaczyÅski Foundation at the National Museum in PoznaÅ, inv. no. MNP FR 509
The vision of contemporary German art offered by RaczyÅskiâs collection is interesting for many reasons. Dominated by the Düsseldorf and Munich schools, and, to a lesser extent by the Berlin school, it reflected the taste of the collectionâs owner, but, at the same time, it was a reflection of mainstream German art criticism of the 1830s, 1840s, and 1850s. The arrangement of the exhibition made it even more attractive and original. In RaczyÅskiâs collection, German painting was âin dialogueâ with both the old European masters and contemporary French art.
For nineteenth-century German critics, including RaczyÅski, the works of French artists were an obvious, somewhat natural reference point for assessing domestic achievements in the field of art. A significant role was played here by Parisâs unchallenged position as the capital of artistic culture and the undying rivalry on many planes between the Germans and the French. In line with a somewhat stereotypical view, the relations between French and German painting could be summarized thus: the French school was characterized by virtuosity, theatricality, splendour, verve, lightness, and freedom, but also by superficiality, shallowness, and triviality, while the German school was characterized by modesty, economy, attention to detail, seriousness, and reflection. RaczyÅski also made comparisons between the two schools, but he was too refined in his assessments to be content with the simplistic picture outlined above.65
RaczyÅskiâs complex attitude towards contemporary French painting need not be analysed in detail here, having been discussed thoroughly in France Nerlichâs excellent monograph La peinture française en Allemagne 1815â1870.66 However, several important points should be addressed.
RaczyÅski studied French art during his many visits to Paris. Some of them, such as his visit in the spring of 1836, were planned solely to serve this purpose.67 RaczyÅski could also admire French painting in Berlin, where it enjoyed great popularity and was at times even more widely displayed than in France â at Kunstverein exhibitions, in galleries, and on the art market, where it was promoted by Friedrich Sachse.68 RaczyÅski commented on contemporary French art primarily in the first volume of The History of Modern German Art, and more precisely, in the first chapter, where he recalls his stay in France in 1824 and his study trip to Paris at the turn of March and April 1836 (the account was first published in the journal Musaeum and then included as an annex to his book on German painting).69 His second description is particularly interesting. It contains a list of the paintings currently being exhibited in the French capital, accompanied by a short commentary. RaczyÅski sees a variety of directions and aspirations in French painting. He recognizes its value: its spirit and originality, boldness, brilliance, careful observation, nobility, and truth.70 He observes with satisfaction that artists, for the most part, had freed themselves âfrom all the errors [â¦] that the revolutionary spirit had led French painters to commit in the late eighteenth century.â71 However, what RaczyÅski valued most in art â the ideal, the sublime, and style â could not be found in most French works. Art in France was too political; it was too dependent on changing moods and short-lived fashions. Historical painting often seemed too anecdotal. Religious painting was unconvincing because it generally did not grow out of a real, deeply felt spiritual experience. Of course, RaczyÅski found artists in France whose works aroused his considerable enthusiasm, including Léopold Robert (who was, in fact, Swiss), whose âgenius was directed toward that which is ideal and sublime;â Paul Delaroche, who was free from âall ornamentation, from all mannerismâ (his Execution of Lady Jane Grey being âone of the most beautiful works of new artâ); Ary Scheffer, who did not paint in a classic style, but was endowed with a âdepth of feelingâ that always protected him from âarrogance, wickedness, and carelessness;â Victor Schnetz, who ever since RaczyÅski first saw his art âmaintained his great talent;â and Louis Etienne Watalet, who like no other landscape painter was able to ârepresent nature with such truth in its overall impact.â72 I list these particular artists because RaczyÅski had already acquired their works or would soon acquire them for his collection. In total, a dozen or so works by French artists, including ten oil paintings (the others were watercolours or gouaches), could be found in RaczyÅskiâs gallery.73 However, what mattered most was not their quantity but their quality. Among them, there were true masterpieces that aroused powerful emotions in art lovers. This label was applied to two paintings in particular: a replica of the famous The Reapers by Léopold Robert, commissioned in 1834 but uncompleted at the painterâs death by suicide in March 1835 (Fig. 119),74 and Paul Delarocheâs Pilgrims in Rome, commissioned during a visit to the artistâs studio in the spring of 1836 and delivered more than a decade later.
Léopold Robert, Summer Reapers Arriving in the Pontine Marshes, 1834â1835
RaczyÅski Foundation at the National Museum in PoznaÅ, inv. no. MNP FR 502
Both paintings were put on display at major exhibitions in Berlin. The Reapers was shown at an exhibition at the Academy of Arts in 1836,75 while Pilgrims was displayed at the Kunstverein exhibition in 1847. However, a truly appropriate context for their viewing was provided by RaczyÅskiâs collection. Since it included works by both old and contemporary German and French masters, it allowed viewers to study the paintings comparatively. As early as the 1830s, the outstanding Berlin art historian Friedrich von Rumohr had pointed to this unique comparative aspect of the Countâs collection, which had been âcompiled with a most specific idea in mind, that the achievements of contemporary German schools could compete with well-made paintings from earlier eras.â76 The anonymous author of a series of articles devoted to the collection, published in 1842 in the journal Allgemeines Organ für die Interessen des Kunst- und Landkartenhandels, made similar observations.77 Interested readers could easily verify the opinions of both authors and make their independent assessments of both individual works and the collection as a whole as the gallery was open to the public.
RaczyÅskiâs interest in Makartâs painting has been analysed by art historians. Basic information on this subject is provided by Karl Simon, âHans Makart und Graf Athanasius Raczynski,â while a more thorough interpretation of the topic is offered by Anna Tomczak, âHrabia z Wielkopolski i przyszÅy ksiÄ Å¼Ä malarzy wiedeÅskich.â
Letter from Fernanda Prätorius to Athanasius dated 5 December 1868, LV: Makart, MNP, MNPA 1414/28, p. 2. Born in Salzburg in 1840, Hans Makart came to Munich in 1859 to study at the cityâs Academy of Fine Arts, where he joined (in 1861) the studio of the famous painter of historical subjects Carl Theodor von Piloty. The works shown at the Munich Kunstverein exhibition in 1868 brought him a great deal of publicity, which led to an invitation to work at the Imperial Court. The following year Makart was called by Franz Joseph to Vienna, where he later had an extraordinary, though not uncontroversial, career. See: Doris H. Lehmann Historienmalerei in Wien. Anselm Feuerbach und Hans Makart im Spiegel zeitgenössischer Kritik (Köln-Weimar-Wien: Böhlau, 2011), 40â50.
The triptych Modern Cupids was displayed at an exhibition at the Kunstverein in Munich in 1868. It caused a great sensation and almost overnight brought the author great notoriety. In autumn of the same year, the painting was shown in Vienna, where it also met with a very lively reception. Critics were by no means in agreement about Makartâs work. Apart from enthusiastic opinions, there were also voices expressing reserve and even criticism; however, even most sceptics recognised the young painterâs exceptional talent. See: Doris H. Lehmann Historienmalerei in Wien, 36â38.
Letter from Athanasius to Josephine Kaulbach dated 21 December 1868; LV: Makart, MNP, MNPA 1414/28, p. 55.
Letter from Athanasius to George von Werthern dated 24 December 1868; LV: Makart, MNP, MNPA 1414/28, pp. 57â58.
M. Piotr MichaÅowski et al., Galeria Atanazego RaczyÅskiego, 390.
From an attachment to a letter from Athanasius to Wilhelm Kaulbach dated 26 December 1868; LV: Makart, MNP, MNPA 1414/28, p. 63.
I propose the following distinction between a âcopyâ and a âreplicaâ: the former is a faithful reproduction of another artistâs work, while the latter is an original reproduction of a previous painting. A copy does not conceal its secondary nature; if it does, it is not a copy, but a forgery.
Ilka Voermann, Die Kopie als Element fürstlicher Gemäldesammlungen des 19. Jahrhunderts, Schriften zur Residenzkultur 8 (Berlin: Lukas Verlag, 2012), 85.
Anette Strittmatter, Das âGemäldekopierenâ in der deutschen Malerei zwischen 1780 und 1860 (Münster: LIT-Verlag, 1998), 26â33; Ilka Voermann, Die Kopie als Element fürstlicher Gemäldesammlungen, 28â45.
Ilka Voermann, Die Kopie als Element fürstlicher Gemäldesammlungen, 117â158.
For more on this subject, see the articles contained in: Charlotte Schreiter, ed., Gipsabgüsse und antike Skulpturen. Präsentation und Kontext (Berlin: Reimer, 2012).
Anette Strittmatter, Das âGemäldekopierenâ in der deutschen Malerei, 235â236.
France Nerlich, âFranzösische Bilder. Die Sammlung Wagener in Vergleich,â in Birgit Verwiebe and Angelika Wesenberg, eds., Die Gründung der Nationalgalerie in Berlin. Der Stifter Wagener und seine Bilder (Köln-Weimar-Wien: Böhlau, 2013), 99â120, esp. 104.
Reinhard Wegner, âDer Streit um die Präsentation der Bildenden Kunst. Alois Hirt und Gustav Friedrich Waagen,â in Birgit Verwiebe and Angelika Wesenberg, eds., Die Gründung der Nationalgalerie in Berlin, 81â86.
Immanuel Kant, Critique of the power of judgement, edited by Paul Guyer, translated by Paul Guyer and Eric Matthews (Cambridge: University Press, 2000), 186â197, citations on 186 and 196.
Letter to Carl Ferdinand Sohn dated 22 November 1836; LV: Carl Ferdinand Sohn, MNP, MNPA 1414/40, p. 9.
Letter from Wilhelm Amberg to Athanasius dated 24 October 1870; LV: Wilhelm Amberg, MNP, MNPA 1414/12, p. 3.
For more on the âHolbein debateâ (âHolbein-Streitâ), see the monumental monograph by Lena Bader, Bild-Prozesse im 19. Jahrhundert. Der Holbein-Streit und die Ursprünge der Kunstgeschichte (Paderborn: Wilhelm Fink Verlag, 2013). Also: Oskar Bätschmann, âDer Holbein-Streit: eine Krise der Kunstgeschichte,â Jahrbuch der Berliner Museen 38 (1996). Beiheft. âKennerschaft. Kolloquium zum 150sten Geburtstag von Wilhelm von Bode,â 87â100; Lena Bader, âKopie und Reproduktion im Holbein-Streit. Eine wissenschaftshistorische Retrospektive aus bildkritischer Perspektive,â in Wojciech BaÅus and Joanna WolaÅska, eds. Die Etablierung und Entwicklung des Faches Kunstgeschichte in Deutschland, Polen und Mitteleuropa, 145â164.
For more on this issue see: letter from RaczyÅski to Ernst Förster dated 20 April 1840 and to Peter Cornelius dated 7 May 1840, as well Corneliusâ reply to RaczyÅski dated 13 May 1840; LV: Peter Cornelius, MNP, MNPA 1414/14, pp. 3â4, 13â14, 17â18.
Letter from Athanasius to Peter Cornelius dated 7 May 1840; LV: Peter Cornelius, MNP, MNPA 1414/14, pp. 13â14.
Athanasius RaczyÅski, Geschichtliche Forschungen, 474.
For more on the eraâs Grand Tour, see e.g.: Chloe Chard, Pleasure and Guilt on the Grand Tour: Travel Writing and Imaginative Geography, 1600â1830 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1999), 9â39; Mathias Leibetseder, Die Kavalierstour. Adelige Erziehungsreisen im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert (Köln-Weimar-Wien: Böhlau, 2004).
See: Andrew Wilton and Ilaria Bignamini, eds., Grand Tour: The Lure of Italy in the Eighteenth Century, exh. cat. (London: Tate Gallery, 1996); Clare Hornsby, ed., The Impact of Italy: The Grand Tour and Beyond (London: British School at Rome, 2000); Jeremy Black, Italy and the Grand Tour (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2003).
DIARY, 15 October 1820.
Cited from: Carole Paul, âIntroduction. The Grand Tour and Princely Collections in Rome,â in Eadem, ed., The first modern museums of art: the birth of an institution in 18th- and early 19th-century Europe (Los Angeles: J. Paul Getty Museum 2012), 1â19, citation 2.
Charlotte Guichard, Les amateurs dâart à Paris au XVIIIe siècle (Seysel: Champ Vallon, 2008), 17â18.
Athanasius RaczyÅski, Geschichte der neueren deutschen Kunst, vol. 1, 32â41.
DIARY, 20 November 1820.
DIARY, 17 September 1820.
DIARY, 27 October 1820.
Carole Paul, âIntroduction. The Grand Tour and Princely Collections in Rome,â 6â7. For more on connoisseurship see: Carol Gibson-Wood, Studies in the Theory of Connoisseurship from Vasari to Morelli (New York-London: Garland, 1988).
DIARY, 17 October 1820.
DIARY, 27 October 1820.
DIARY, 20 November 1820.
DIARY, 20 November 1820.
Cited from: Maciej MasÅowski, Studia malarskie Wojciecha Kornelego Stattlera (WrocÅaw-Warszawa-Kraków: ZakÅad Narodowy im. OssoliÅskich, 1964), 58. See also: Maria Nitka, TwórczoÅÄ malarzy polskich w papieskim Rzymie w XIX wieku (Warszawa-ToruÅ: Polski Instytut Studiów nad SztukÄ Åwiata, 2014), 208â209.
Information about the painting has been drawn primarily from the article by Paul Lang, âLord Drummond et deux amis, un chambellan du roi des Pays-Bas et le comte Athanas Raczynski, 1821,â Bericht über die Tätigkeit der Eidgenössischen Kommision der Gottfried Keller-Stiftung 2001 bis 2004 (2004): 24â27. The fate of the painting from its creation to the present day is unknown; it was rediscovered in 2001, when it was offered for sale in a Parisian gallery, where the following year, it was purchased for the Musée dâart et dâhistoire in Geneva with funds provided by Gottfried Keller-Stiftung.
For more on the genre see: Kate Retford, The Conversation Piece: Making Modern Art In 18th-century Britain (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2017).
This identification was first proposed by Stephan Bann in 2001, and supported by Paul Lang, âLord Drummond et deux amis,â 24â25.
The paintingâs attribution has recently been questioned by Zygmunt WaźbiÅski, who considers the work in its present condition to be a product of comprehensive restoration work in the years 1816â1820, which lead to a repainting of the entire surface of the painting, i.e. the creation of a new object; Zygmunt WaźbiÅski, âMadonna z DzieciÄ tkiem Quintina Massysa ze zbiorów Muzeum Narodowego w Poznaniu: obraz do kaplicy czy do galerii kolekcjonera?,â in Adam Labuda, MichaÅ Mencfel, and Wojciech Suchocki, eds., Edward i Atanazy RaczyÅscy, 396â429.
M. Piotr MichaÅowski et al., Galeria Atanazego RaczyÅskiego.
Doubts about Botticelliâs authorship have been raised several times by researchers, most recently by Damian Dombrowski, who attributed the painting to a pupil of the Italian master named Biagio; Damian Dombrowski, Die religiösen Gemälde Sandro Botticellis. Malerei als pia philosophia (Berlin-München: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 2010), 230â232.
On the subject of Sachseâs business activities see: Annette Schlagenhauff, âDie Kunst zu Handeln: Louis Friedrich Sachse. Lithograph, Kunstförderer und Kunsthändler in Berlin,â Jahrbuch der Berliner Museen 42 (2000): 259â294. RaczyÅskiâs correspondence with Sachse, but also with representatives of other firms in Berlin trading in art, such as Buch- und Kunsthandlung von E.H. Schroeder and Kunsthandlung L. S. Lüderitz, are contained in Libri veritatis (see e.g. LV 47b, MNP, MNPA-1414-47b).
For more on the nineteenth-century art market see e.g.: Monica Preti-Hamard and Philippe Sénéchal, eds., Collections et marché de lâart en France 1789â1848 (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2006); Jeremy Warren and Adriana Turpin, eds., Auctions, Agents and Dealers. The Mechanisms of the Art Market 1660â1830, Studies of the History of Collections III (Oxford: Beazley Archive-Archaeopress, 2007); Charlotte Gould and Sophie Mesplède, eds., Marketing Art in the British Isles, 1700 to the Present. A Cultural History (Farnham: Ashgate, 2012).
Guido Guerzoni, âThe British Painting Market 1789â1914,â in Michael North, ed., Economic History and the Arts (Köln-Weimar-Wien: Böhlau, 1996), 97â132, esp. 129â131.
Guido Guerzoni, âThe British Painting Market 1789â1914,â 107.
Burton B. Fredericksen, âSurvey of the French Art Market between 1789 and 1820,â in Monica Preti-Hamard and Philippe Sénéchal, eds., Collections et marché de lâart en France 1789â1848, 19â34, esp. 32.
See: Oscar E. Vázquez, Inventing the Art Collection. Patrons, Markets, and the State in Nineteenth-Century Spain (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2001), 31â96. Also: Mari-Tere Alvarez, âThe Almoneda: the second-hand art market in Spain,â in Jeremy Warren and Adriana Turpin, eds., Auctions, Agents and Dealers, 33â39.
Oscar E. Vázquez, Inventing the Art Collection, 53.
For more on this subject, see in particular: John Hunter, Girolamo Siciolante, pittore da Sermoneta (1521â1575) (Roma: âLâErmaâ di Bretschneider, 1996), 127â131. Also: M. Piotr MichaÅowski et al., Galeria Atanazego RaczyÅskiego, 84â87.
About papal regulations on the protection of works of art see: Peter Leisching, âRoma Restauranda. Versuch einer Geschichte des Päpstlichen Denkmalschutzrechtes,â in Erwin Gatz, ed., Römische Kurie. Kirchliche Finanzen. Vatikanisches Archiv. Studien zu Ehren von Hermann Hoberg. Erster Teil, Miscellanea Historiae Pontificiae 45 (Roma: Università Gregoriana Ed., 1979), 425â443; Peter Johannes Weber, âKulturgüterschutz im Kirchenstaat bis zum Ende des 18. Jahrhunderts,â in Idem, ed., Liber discipulorum et amicorum. Festschrift für Prof. Dr. Kurt Siehr zum 65. Geburtstag, Schweizer Schriften zur Vermögensberatung und zum Vermögensrecht 2 (Zürich: Schulthess, 2001): 265â302.
This expert opinion was published by John Hunter, Girolamo Siciolante, pittore da Sermoneta, 325â326.
The license is preserved in the Archivio di Stato di Roma, Rome. Camerlengato (1816â1854). Parte I: 1816â1823, Busta 37: Roma â Licenze de asportare oggetti preziosi per arte o per antichità , 1814â1823, p. 67.
See: Elias Tormo y Monzó, âEl Despojo de los Zurbaranes en Cádiz, el viaje de Taylor y la efÃmera GalerÃa Española del Louvre,â Cultura Española XIII (1909): 29â39; Benito Navarrete Prieto, âAportationes a los Zurbaranes de la Cartuja de Jérez,â in José Antonio Buces et al., eds., Zurbarà n. Estudio y Conservación de los Monjes de la Cartuja de Jerez (Madrid: Ministerio de Educación, PolÃtica Social y Deporte, 1998), 19â55.
For more on the Spanish gallery see: Jeannine Baticle and Christine Marinas, La Galerie espagnole de Louis-Philippe au Louvre, 1838â1848, Notes et Documents des musées de France 4 (Paris: ReÌunion des museÌes nationaux, 1981); Jeannine Baticle, âLa Galerie espagnole de Louis-Philippe,â in Manet-Velázquez. La manière espagnole au XIXe siècle, exh. cat. (Paris: ReÌunion des museÌes nationaux, 2002), 139â152.
Alexandre de Laborde, Voyage historique et pittoresque de lâEspagne, tome seconde, seconde partie (Paris: P. Didot lâaîné, 1820), 33â36.
Frédéric Quilliet, Dictionnaire des peintres espagnols (Paris: chez lâauteur, 1816), 404â407.
See: Jeannine Baticle, âLa Galerie espagnole de Louis-Philippe,â 145. Another half century would have to pass before the ârealâ discovery and triumph of Zurbaranâs art; the initial turning point was a monographic exhibition organized by the Prado Museum in 1905, and later, the publication of Paul Guianardâs now-classic academic study 1960 (Paul Guinard, Zurbarán et les peintres espagnols de la vie monastique (Paris: Ãditions du Temps, 1960)).
H.C. Marillier, âChristieâsâ 1766 to 1925 (London: Constable, 1926), 36â37 and 261.
The Times, Saturday, 14 May 1853.
The Times, Wednesday, 11 May 1853.
Konstanty Kalinowski, âDie Bildergalerie des Grafen Athanasius RaczyÅski,â in Konstanty Kalinowski and Christoph Heilmann, eds., Sammlung Graf RaczyÅski, 18â32, esp. 25â27; M. Piotr MichaÅowski et al., Galeria Atanazego RaczyÅskiego.
See: Christoph Heilmann, âGraf Athanasius RaczyÅskis Sammlung zeitgenössischer Malerei.â
See in particular: Athanasius RaczyÅski, Geschichte der neueren deutschen Kunst, vol. 1, 390â397. Also: Thomas W. Gaehtgens, âFranzösische Historien- und deutsche Geschichtsmalerei,â 263â271.
France Nerlich, Le peinture française en Allemagne 1815â1870, 101â103, 171â172, 297â308.
RaczyÅski devotes several paragraphs to his stay in Paris (âpour voir lâétat des arts en Franceâ) in a letter to his sister-in-law, Konstancja RaczyÅska, dated 20 April 1836; MNP, MNPAâ1414â48, pp. 82â83.
France Nerlich, Le peinture française en Allemagne 1815â1870, 3. On the reasons for his situation see also 7â11.
Museum, Blätter für bildende Kunst, no. 19, 21, 22 and 24â25 from 1836; Athanasius RaczyÅski, Geschichte der neueren deutschen Kunst, vol. 1, 337â397. For more on RaczyÅskiâs account see: Thomas W. Gaehtgens, âFranzösische Historien- und deutsche Geschichtsmalerei.â
Athanasius RaczyÅski, Geschichte der neueren deutschen Kunst, vol. 1, 394.
Athanasius RaczyÅski, Geschichte der neueren deutschen Kunst, vol. 1, 360â361.
Athanasius RaczyÅski, Geschichte der neueren deutschen Kunst, vol. 1, 340, 342, 355, 358, 359.
See: France Nerlich, Le peinture française en Allemagne 1815â1870, 299â308.
See: âDas letzte Gemälde von Léopold Robert,â Museum. Blätter für bildende Kunst, No. 13, den. 28. März 1836, 100â102.
See the discussion of the painting in: âBericht über die Berliner Kunst-Ausstellung (Eröffnet am 18. September 1836),â Museum. Blätter für bildende Kunst, No. 40, den 3. October 1836, 313â319, 315â316.
Friedrich von Rumohr, Reise durch die östliche Bundestaaten in die Lombardey und zurück über die Schweiz und den oberen Rhein, in besonderer Beziehung auf Völkerkunde, Landbau und Staatswirtschaft (Lübeck: Rohden, 1838), 21â22.
Allgemeines Organ für die Interessen des Kunst- und Landkartenhandels, No. 48, 26. November 1842, 190.