[Letters of the Artists of the Nineteenth Century] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert. Edited by Else Cassirer. Part Three

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[Letters of the Artists of the Nineteenth Century]
Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert
[Edited by Else Cassirer]
Berlin, Bruno Cassirer Verlag, 1913 [on the cover page] / 1914 [in the frontispiece], 710 pages, with 150 illustrations.

Review by Francesco Mazzaferro
Part Three

On the Cassirer Family, please see: https://letteraturaartistica.blogspot.com/2019/11/cassirer-family.html

Fig. 55) Adolf von Menzel, Dinner at the Opera, 1878

Go Back to the Beginning

There is always a symbiosis between art developments, society expectations, aesthetic convictions and the success of a style. And there is always a cyclical component in the succession of tastes and styles, whose fortunes are tied to that of the peoples and the countries. This was stated by the young painter Adolf von Menzel, in a letter to Heinrich Arnold, a businessman and friend of his, in 1836. Although he was only twenty-one, his reflection was already mature. In that letter, he wrote on German art from Dürer to his days, noting the inclination of his compatriots to reflect in fine arts the broader culture of their country. "Arts have always only put into practice what was wanted by them at their time. When religious belief was the vital principle of the human spirit, it was so in art too, both in antiquity and in the Middle Ages. When the spiritual orientation of any country or people reaches its peak and then declines, then art corrupts through all possible labyrinths and abysses, until a new awareness comes. Thus, the Lutheran reform was the culmination of religious belief, which has suffered the drift that I mentioned, until now. Today we are beginning to become aware of the translation of religious belief in a principle of knowledge. Art has always been an integral part of this progress of the spirit, in all its branches, and will always be part of its development. In fact, as well as humanity, also art and the demands that are put to it are an integral part of this spiritual development. And it is for this reason that I do not believe that the trend of our art in this [translator's note: idealistic] direction is a wrong path, but it is the logical result of a new spirit of our age [editor's note Zeitgeist]" [71].

It is like saying that German art cannot be appreciated intuitively. It is always a conceptual art. German art is always backed by a cultural elaboration, a religious origin, and a thorough background.

Goethe

No discussion on the art of the nineteenth century in Germany is feasible without quoting the reference intellectuals of that time. And here it is worth immediately noticing that, while numerous artists wrote in their letters of the relations they had with the intellectuals in the age of classicism and early romanticism, such as Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832), Friedrich Schlegel (1772 -1829), Johann Ludwig Tieck (1773-1853) and Friedrich Schelling (1775-1854), there is no trace of contacts of the artists with the giants of German culture in the second half of the nineteenth century: Richard Wagner (1813-1883), Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900) and Sigmund Freud (1856-1939). I even asked myself whether this was not the reflection of a deliberate choice by Else Cassirer, who perhaps wanted to reward the German culture of the early nineteenth century compared to that of the second half. Alternatively, it is possible that German visual artists remained much more attuned with the world of ideas during the first half of the nineteenth century, and took distance from it in the second half.

Fig. 56) Johann Heinrich Wilhelm Tischbein, Goethe in the Roman Campagna, 1787

In a letter of December 1786 [72], the painter Tischbein told the Swiss philosopher Johann Caspar Lavater (1741 -1801) about his first meeting with Goethe in Italy, praising his extreme simplicity and concentration at work. Tischbein and Goethe became great friends in Italy and, in the following decades, we can read missives which are full of nostalgia for the youthful adventures spent together twenty-five years before (the visit in certain taverns, the knowledge of certain girls, etc. ) [73].

Fig. 57) Johann Wilhelm Tischbein, Goethe at the window of the Roman house in Via del Corso, 1787

In the very early years of the century, Goethe was the intellectual reference for all young painters, no matter whether they belonged to his classicist direction or were prone to the proto-romantic art streams which Goethe fought vigorously. Peter von Cornelius wrote with enthusiasm about Goethe in 1802; he was not yet tied to the group of the Nazarenes in Rome, vis-à-vis which Goethe would display a negative attitude later on. The nineteen year old painter commended the intention of Goethe "to put art at an even higher level: it should not only speak to the heart but also to the intellect, it must not only please or shake, but must also teach. (...) That is why he [Goethe] wants that a picture always speak for itself, so that every beginner, even when he does not know the subject, can immediately recognize the meaning of the painting and can draw his own conclusions” [74]. Even after it became clear that Goethe was now opposed to any form of romanticism, the twenty-nine old Philipp Otto Runge - one of the theoretical fathers of German early romantic art - wrote him a passionate letter in 1806: "I understand well that you also appreciate the efforts that go beyond the direction in which you hope art would move; and it would be too trivial to explain you the reasons for which I work in this way, as if I wanted to convince you that they are the right ones" [75].

A few years later, in an undated letter without addressee, the neoclassical sculptor Gottfried Schadow welcomed the activities of the Association of Art Friends (Verein der Kunstfreude) in Weimar, set up under the guidance of Goethe in 1799. Schadow explained that the Weimar association was not only able to beat in financial terms that established with a clear romantic orientation, in Düsseldorf in 1829, but also contributed much more to art culture, because the financial means raised from the sale of the paintings were used to fund magazines and publications such as the "Propylaea" (Propyläen, 1798-1800) and the notebooks of "On Art and antiquity" (Über Kunst und Altertum, 1816-1832). These were journals which Goethe curated with the precise objective not only to promote ancient art, but above all to support neoclassicism against the early romanticism and therefore both against the Nazarenes and Friedrich. This is what Schadow wrote in this regard, using a clearly derogatory tone towards new artistic movements that were spreading in Germany: "Goethe fought against the Nazarenes, which produced little angels and the Madonna pictures par force á la Cimabue; they also produced pictures of resting bandits, sometimes asleep, and only in rare cases acting aggressively, but sometimes carrying away the stolen goods. Even before, in the field of landscape painting, Friedrich had already adopted the tone of a night watchman, representing cloisters of snowy churches, hosting furtive masked dolls. Goethe said in this respect: 'Nice work, but I have always conceived art as a relief for life: here I see coldness, anxiety, death and despair' " [76].

Fig. 58) Caspar David Friedrich, Winter landscape with church, 1811

Romanticist and idealist intellectuals 

Despite the opposition of Goethe, romanticism soon became the new benchmark for art. So in May 1818 the pupil of Schadow, the sculptor Christian Rauch, addressed his dear friend Johann Ludwig Tieck, the intellectual of the proto-romanticism that was the first theorist of art religion (the school of thought of the priesthood of art, which still affected the late nineteenth century symbolism, originated from him). They were both in Italy: Rauch in Rome and Tieck in Florence. Rauch's letter was written in a phase of transformation: it revealed that his preferences were still neoclassical. He spoke on Canova and Thorvaldsen [77], and therefore on the most famous Neoclassical sculptors active in Rome: the judgment on the Danish artist was more flattering, while Canova embarrassed him: "This year Thorvaldsen has produced beautiful works. A Mercury slaying Argo is the best and the most beautiful of his works, the most sublime creation of his genius. ... Canova has translated in marble his dormant nymph in so an attentive and nice, really nice, way, but his atelier seems dead and desolate. Here is again a Venus with a big head as a model! Oh my God!" [78].

Fig. 59) Bertel Thorvaldsen, Mercury slaying Argo, 1818

The second part of the letter contains some surprises. In fact, if Tieck was an aesthetic theorist, he was also well-tuned in the art market. Rauch addressed him even for commercial reasons, and particularly to learn about the prices of some blocks of marble in Carrara, on behalf of Thorvaldsen in Rome and of his teacher Schadow in Berlin. Since Tieck was about to return from Florence in Germany, he also commissioned him to fulfil several contractual transactions relating to the sale and transport of his works to customers in Frankfurt, Berlin and Vienna [79]. This business relationship continued: in 1832 Rauch was required by the Prussian government to deal with some complex restorations. He then hired the Italian sculptor Giovanni Calandrelli (1784-1852), brought him from Rome to Berlin, and entrusted him with the restoration, while delegating to Tieck all logistical and administrative aspects [80].

Fig. 60) Christian Rauch, Grave of Luisa of Prussia, 1811-1814

In April 1808, Gottlieb Schick, the classical painter, wrote a letter full of enthusiasm and excitement to the idealist philosopher Friedrich Schelling. Schick was located in Rome, where he had just read, thanks to friends, the speech on the "Relationship of the fine arts with nature" (Über das Verhältnis der bildenden Künste zu der Natur), held by the philosopher to inaugurate the Academy of Sciences of Munich in October of the previous year. It is an indication that the world of German artists in Rome, besides being animated by many drinking in taverns, was very cultured and kept up to date on what was happening back home. The letter began with a confession: "Before coming to Rome, I had not read anything from you, despite your name was already known to every person of culture. (...) But now I am passing to what I wanted to talk to you, and on which I can also speak, i.e. your speech at the opening of the Academy of Sciences in Munich. You are a man of supreme ability! On you has descended the divine spirit. You spoke of art as (at least in my opinion) no one else had done before." [81] It was the start of an exchange of letters. The anthology contains a second letter of December 1808, in which Schick did not hesitate to express ideas diametrically opposed to those of the philosopher: a controversy has erupted in Germany for or against academies, and many German artists who have moved to Rome (Carstens, Koch) took advantage of distance to make clear statements against them. Going to Rome was for many of them an act of insubordination against academies. Schelling, to the contrary, defended them, and wrote that a true genius cannot be afraid to succumb to a school system. In fact, he assumed later on the position of president of the Academy of Munich in 1827. Schick had the contrary opinion and exhibited his thesis in great detail. We will see it in the section on the relationship between artists and academies [82].

Fig. 61) Gottlieb Schick, Wilhelmine von Cotta, 1802

Nazarenes and other pre-romantic artists

Fig. 62) Johann Friedrich Overbeck, Joseph sold by his brothers, 1816

I already mentioned that the techniques and the styles adopted by the German artists have always a strong ideological connotation. They cannot only be read in intuitive terms, as an immediate expression of fantasy, but always refer to a broader intellectual framework.

In the retrieval of the art of the Middle Ages and the early Renaissance, the choice of the Nazarenes was clear: to reaffirm the primacy of design, line and shape over colour, by claiming an almost mystical and religious self-control against any excess in painting. Overbeck wrote to Steinle in February 1835: "This spirit is manifested at the same time through an expression which should be worthy of the body, and through the beauty of forms, which does not have to originate from flesh and blood, but instead must stem from a suppression of the carnal senses in a renewal in God." [83]. The critics of the Nazarenes also noted it: "It is really a shame that Cornelius, the greatest artist of our time, does not know how to paint: composition and painting must go hand in hand with each other" [84]. These were the words of King Ludwig of Bavaria, which manifested this view after breaking relations with Cornelius, formerly a protégé of him: he had commissioned him a fresco in the new church of Saint Louis, just built up in the centre of Munich, giving him the opportunity to paint a very large Last Judgment, but - after completion of the work - the king criticised the painter in a very abrupt manner. 

Fig. 63) Peter von Cornelius, The Last Judgement, 1836-1840, Munich, Church of St. Louis

The pre-romantic painters had completely opposite preferences to those of the Nazarenes, as evidenced by the letters of Caspar David Friedrich (1774-1840) and above all by those of Philipp Otto Runge (1777-1810). The two were contemporaries of the Nazarenes, but gave voice to a different sensibility and assigned an essential function to colour. Even here a theory was elaborated.

Fig. 64) Philipp Otto Runge, The colour sphere, 1810

Runge is well known for his colour theory. In 1806, he felt the need to write to Goethe, the great opponent of his thesis, in an attempt to explain his reasons, and drafted herewith a manifesto of the proto-romantic vision of colour. He wrote him that we should let us go, escape the constraints of individuality, lose ourselves in the infinity of life, to be won over by all-encompassing impressions: this is the only way one can have access to the essence of nature. The artist must in particular exceed the limit of the form, because it reduces naturalness and immediacy of expression. "Since I was fascinated by the special effects of mixing the three primary colours, I could not have peace until I managed to elaborate a certain image of the entire world of colours, which would be wide enough to understand all their changes and appearances" [85].

Fig. 65) Philipp Otto Runge, The Day, 1803

It is worth noting, though, that Runge worked out a theoretical approach that went well beyond the simple study of the interaction between the different tints. His analysis, in a long letter to his brother Daniel of 9 March 1802, was inspired by some statements by Ludwig Tieck on the history of culture. Tieck supported the thesis that the death of a culture and its replacement by a new civilization always creates masterpieces, in a sort of eternal return [86]. Runge then wondered: Are we witnessing the death of the old spiritual world and the birth of a new one, dominated by the prevalence of the spirit, which has become the deep instrument of knowledge of reality? [87]. In fact, only the spirit of man is able to understand that the world is dominated by the clash between what is strong and what is eternal: they are the two irrepressible elements of the universe, which are present everywhere in nature (rock and water) and are opposed to each other. They mingle, combine and separate, then compose themselves everywhere, even in the human soul, in a cycle of mutual influences which always alternates what is strong and what is sweet, since the origin of life: the hardness of childbirth and the maternal sweetness of love. So the whole world is circular, and the death and rebirth of art are an integral part of this vital circle. The task of the spirit is to understand that all aspects (nature, soul, religion and art) belong to a single system based on the combination of different elements.

The work of art is the spiritual unity between the individual and the whole, between art and religion, between object and composition, between drawing and colour. Colours have also to be assigned to each picture on the basis of the observation of different elements: the sky and the earth, but also the different emotions and the different feelings caused in men by natural phenomena. Although the attribution of certain colours to certain issues has become almost automatic, they must still be assigned to compose a harmony between objects and sensations [88]. 

Fig. 66) Philipp Otto Runge, The Great Morning, 1808

Art can only arise from the spirit, provided it has travelled the necessary path to understand the unity of the universe. Without it, art is only a craft exercise and has no value: "In my view there can be no work of art, if the artist has not made these initial steps. Otherwise it is not eternal art: since the eternity of a work of art in fact only consists of its connection with the artist's soul. Thanks to it, the artist realizes a picture of the origin of the eternal spirit. Any work of art that reaches only the phase of the composition, but yet originates from the completion of these original moments, has more value than any affectation beginning only from the stage of composition, but excluding the previous elements leading to it, even when it is carried to the final stage of the colour tones. (...) It is from here that originated the works of Raphael, Michelangelo Buonarroti, Guido Reni and many others. After them, it is said, art has fallen: what is it, but the fact that the spirit has failed? Annibale Carracci and others have always begun from the composition and Mengs from design: and the artists who make so much noise today have only begun from the tones" [89].

Fig. 67) Caspar David Friedrich, Bohemian Landscape, 1810-1811

If the Nazarenes preferred the subjects of historical and religious nature (and were therefore illustrators of actions), the pre-romanticists were instead characterized by a limitless passion for nature. Let us read a few words of Friedrich, in an undated fragment: "I just got out of a thick and dark forest and I found myself at a certain height. Before me, downhill and surrounded by fertile hills, there was a charming and lovely town, and the raking light of the evening lit up the leaning tower, on the top of which has recently been placed the roof. Magpies were running one after the other in a meadow rich of flowers, a delightful scene to see. And behind the hills there were mountains and behind the mountains stood out the fields. And so a field was following the other, in a line that stretched into the horizon. Full of joy, I was there a long time, and I have observed those so beautiful places; I saw the hard-working farmers, with their gleaming scythes, who hurried to Elsterwerda" [90]. And in another undated letter he added: "The artist's feeling is his law. The pure perception can never be contrary to nature, it should always conform to it. Never, however, it may happen that the feeling of another is imposed as law on us. Spiritual affinity can create similar work, but this affinity is very far from imitation" [91].

Fig. 68) Caspar David Friedrich, The Stages of Life, 1834

Genre painting and the Idea

Genre painting (landscape and history) characterized the nineteenth century, in Germany as well as in the rest of Europe. The letters show how, for both genres, there was a strong tendency in German art to represent topics as an expression of ideal themes. We are in the midst of the idealistic culture, dominating the German philosophy in that century. In 1836 the painter Louis Theodor Gurlitt (1812-1897) wrote to his colleague Johann Ludwig Lund (1777 -1867). "And it is quite certain that, both in history painting as well as in landscape painting, which are led by higher purposes, one should sacrifice something of true naturalness, to be real in a higher sense" [92].

Fig. 69) Louis Theodor Gurlitt, The spire of the Sommerspiret, without indication of date

The relationship between history painting and idea is in many ways obvious. Alfred Rethel (1816-1859) witnessed it. He wrote around 1836, therefore when he was still twenty year old, to his younger brother, and described the risks faced by a painter: mistakes in design, errors in painting and especially in the expression of the idea: "And here occurs the third case, often the worst you can think of, but in any case the most serious. The work has succeeded in terms of perfection of form and colour, but one wonders full of fear: does it lead to the original idea? (...) The opinions of the inexperienced often refer to marginal aspects (...), but they cannot understand the work as a whole, do not have a total impression, and the work leaves them totally cold" [93].

Fig. 70) Alfred Rethel, The Battle of Cordova, 1849

The relationship between the representation of nature and the idea was at the centre of the considerations of Philipp Otto Runge, in his letter to his brother in February 1802. He was describing the history of art as a transition from the composition of figures to the painting of landscapes: "Michelangelo was the highest point of the composition: the Last Judgment is the cornerstone of historical composition. Raphael has already produced a lot of art that was not merely a historical composition: the [Sistine] Madonna in Dresden is apparently only an emotion that he wanted to express through so famous figures. After him, there has never been historical art anymore; all the most beautiful compositions tend to the landscape. Consider for example the Aurora of Guido Reni, although there were not yet landscapers, who could unravel the true meaning of a landscape, by introducing allegories and deep thoughts into it" [94].

Fig. 71) Guido Reni, Aurora, 1613-1614

Thus, also the representation of nature has conceptual aspects. It was still Runge who said in 1802: "Who does not see the spirits in the clouds when the sun goes down? How can I not but fix the fleeting moon as an ephemeral figure that gives me an emotion? And is not this in itself a work of art?" [95].

Fig. 72) Anton Ludwig Richter, Bridal Procession in a spring landscape, 1847

The romantic Adrian Ludwig Richter – at the rediscovery of the Flemish landscape - stated in 1849, in a note on his trip to Ostend: "What was the spirit of this painting? The deeper penetration in the idea and in the appearance of nature. Each external aspect of nature becomes an ideal representation, if you are confronted with it and you study it. Thanks in part to this exact question, in fact, we can manage to capture the essence, the idea of the apparition itself. Our love, our enthusiastic view of the object is reflected in its imitation, and is reflected in an accurate attempt to reproduce the reality of the apparition. But this reality is animated by our love and by our enthusiasm – it is thus idealized, as long as that love is actually directed to what is really nice and true in the object and, therefore, the main theme is not distracted by the details" [96].

Naturalism and realism

These were the circumstances which facilitated the divergence between naturalism and realism in the German painting of the second half of the nineteenth century. This gap was absent elsewhere, and also in Italy was unknown. In Germany, the differentiation between the two streams eventually led to the split within the Berlin Secession, in the early twentieth century. The naturalist address had in fact its final outcome in impressionism, while realism inspired expressionism.

Fig. 73) Rudolf Koller, Dinner on the field, 1867

Fig. 74) Hans von Marées, St. Martin and the beggar, 1869

French-influenced naturalism was characterized by the immediate representation of nature; realism instead aimed at representing the outside world, but in an ideal sense, not as it is but as it should be. In other terms, realism represented nature conceptually and idealistically. It belonged to naturalism the Swiss Rudolf Koller (1828-1905), who trained at the school of Barbizon. In 1867 he wrote to his fellow painter Robert Zünd (1827-1909): "You have to be just a child of nature, and represent as it is" [97]. Hans van Marées was instead a realist. Here is what he wrote to Adolf von Hildebrandt, sculptor and theorist of the form, in 1869: "This is the first requirement of a work of art, if it wants to be more than just decoration. Nature always stimulates participation; but it is not the perfection of the natural image, but the perfection of its understanding to make an object a work of art" [98]. And then he told Fiedler in 1882:"I am defining artist by nature one to whom nature has placed an ideal in the soul right from the start; and this ideal is what he believes blindly in and which represents for him the position of truth" [99].

Fig. 75) Max Liebermann, Avenue in Overveen, 1895

The maximum defender of naturalism was Max Liebermann (1847-1935), one of the closest painters to the Cassirer circle. Liebermann wrote in 1894 a letter to the art critic Woldemar von Seidlitz, thanking for having donated him a copy of the new book on the engravings of Rubens, released the same year. "And there is a second aspect that seems to me eminently modern [translator's note: in Rubens]: it is his piety towards nature. Although the neo-idealists want to teach us that true art goes beyond the simple reproduction of nature, I believe instead that after the failure of the neo-idealists, symbolists, etc., art should be recognized as la nature vue à travers a tempérament [the nature seen through a temperament]. The proof are the fourteenth century painters and Rubens. They have felt nature poetically, but they knew that nature is the greatest artist. And, above all, Italians and Rembrandt were naive; while nowadays it seems to me that, having recovered so hard the way of nature, we throw ourselves headlong back down the wrong way through the maze of the so-called poetry" [100]. This marked the start of a real religious war between the supporters of nature and those of a more mystical art, culminating in 1905 in the public confrontation between Lieberman and his supporters (like Wilhelm Bode) on one side and the art historian Henry Thode on the other: the latter wrote not only against Liebermann, but against a whole line of art history running from Rembrandt and Velázquez, to which he opposed Grünewald and the Nazarenes as his champions.

Fig. 76) Giovanni Segantini, Pastures in the spring, 1896

As to the other stream, i.e. the realists, a witness of the correspondence between idea and nature came from Segantini, the Italian-speaking painter who lived in strong symbiosis between the Italian and German worlds (and this is the reason why it is included in the German section of the anthology, as a subject of the Austro-Hungarian Empire). Segantini had been first a pointillist and then a symbolist. In an undated letter, addressed to a unknown journalist under the pseudonym of Mr. Candidus, he explained the process of his painting: "I paint in a simple and natural way; you cannot paint more naturally and easily than I do. (...) My palette is the simplest imaginable: white lead (I am never mingling this white lead with cinnabar or cadmium; however I can mix the white of China with any colour) - clay - mars yellow - cadmium yellow - French cinnabar - cobalt blue - ultramarine blue - cobalt green - emerald green - lacquered red. (...) After finishing the preparation of the canvas, I start to fix on it the guidelines of the idea that I want to display and I am working with more and more precision, to achieve an even greater detail.

Fig. 77) Giovanni Segantini, The nature, 1898-1899

If the image I want to create has been suggested to me by nature, then I produce first of all a design that corresponds to the emotional impression that struck me at a particular time, and I reproduce it in lines on the prepared canvas. If the idea instead is generated in me, so I search in nature for the lines that correspond to it. Once I have fixed on canvas the lines which express what I want spiritually, then I move, so to speak, to the general colouring, adhering to prepare it as close as possible to reality. To this end, I use brushes which are as thin and long as possible; with them I start working with the canvas, applying delicate, fine and soft strokes, and I always leave a space between each stroke, which I fill with the complementary colour and - if possible - when the local colour is still fresh, so as to result in as a possible merger. Mixing colours on the palette produces the dark; the purest the colour you apply to the canvas, the most you introduce light, air and reality into our picture" [101].

Fig. 78) Hans Thoma, Eight women dancing in the bodies of birds, 1886

The theme of the relationship between nature, idea and art is explored in a letter by Hans Thoma of June 1880, in which he criticized naturalism. Art and nature cannot be the same thing: "How can you want to compare art, this product of man, with the infinite nature? Art is something else, and in fact nothing but the expression of life and of human feeling, against the enormous chaos of nature. So, to speak in the crudest way, one could possibly conceive art as a kind of ordered framework, in front of the confusion of the impressions that our soul receives from the world" [102]. The artist's task is therefore to "reveal the nature to the soul. Art is a certificate of the soul's perceptive ability, of the spirit that forms according to its own laws. With fine arts it is the same as with music and poetry" [103].

Art and music

Despite Thoma’s words on the relationship between painting and music, it is striking that, in a century that has been run by a formidable wealth in the production of symphonic and lyrical music, the references to the great composers of their time are so limited in the Letters of the Artists of the Ninenteenth Century, at least among the German artists (the relationship between painting and music took instead much space in the letters by Ingres reproduced by Else Cassirer, where the French artist drew a parallel between Raphael and Mozart, but also honoured all the German symphonic music of the early nineteenth century). It is of course difficult to say whether the rarity of musical quotations is completely random or the result of the choices of Else Cassirer or finally a symptom of a lack of communication among artists. An exception is the Viennese Romantic painter Moritz von Schwind (1804-1871), who revealed in his letters his great passion for Schubert [104] (1823), Handel [105] (1833) and Beethoven [106] (1852). Instead, he wrote to hold different opinions from those of Wagner [107] (1855).

Fig. 79) Moritz von Schwind, King of the Elves, around 1830

Friedrich Peller the Elder (1804-1878) wrote in 1853 to have distant tastes from those of Liszt. So some of the most successful myths of musical romanticism - and in particular the Wagner-Liszt trend which culminated in Brückner – did not appear to be shared by the authors selected by Else Cassirer. It looks like as if the curator had taken a position in favour of the most classical wing of musical romanticism, that of the Viennese school and Brahms. These were the deep rifts that divided different groups of the German speaking society during the whole nineteenth century.

Fig. 80) Friedrich Peller il vecchio, Tempesta, 1856

End of Part Three
Go to Part Four 

NOTES

[71] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, Berlin, Bruno Cassirer, 1919, 712 pages. Quotation at pages 358-359.

[72] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 31.

[73] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, pp. 31-35.

[74] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, pp. 138-139.

[75] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 179.

[76] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 61.

[77] The anthology contains (at pages 99-101) also two letters from Rauch to Thorwaldsen, in which he updated him on his most recent projects, the activities of the Akademy of Saint Luke in Berlin and on the work of the Nazarenes.

[78] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 95

[79] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 95

[80] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, pp.104-105.

[81] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p.121.

[82] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, pp.122-125.

[83] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 128.

[84] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 164.

[85] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 180.

[86] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 171.

[87] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 172.

[88] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, pp.174-175.

[89] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 176.

[90] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 167.

[91] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 165.

[92] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 258.

[93] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 243.

[94] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 178.

[95] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 178.

[96] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 235.

[97] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 303.

[98] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 328.

[99] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 334.

[100] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 430.

[101] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 352.

[102] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 396.

[103] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 397.

[104] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 182.

[105] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 183.

[106] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 193.

[107] Künstlerbriefe aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, (quoted), 1919, p. 196.