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giovedì 25 giugno 2020

Leonardo in Britain. Collections and Historical Reception. Edited by Juliana Barone and Susanna Avery-Quash. Part One

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Leonardo in Britain 
Collections and Historical Reception
Proceedings of the International Conference (London, 25-27 May 2016)
Edited by Juliana Barone and Susanna Avery-Quash

Florence, Leo S. Olschki, 2019

Review by Giovanni Mazzaferro. Part One


Olschki Publishers in Florence has recently published (in English) the proceedings of Leonardo in Britain. Collections and Historical Receptions, the international conference held in London between 25 and 27 May 2016. All nineteen essays presented in the work discuss the theme of Leonardo’s reception in England between the 17th and the 19th centuries. Here is the index. My review will focus on the first and second part of the volume, presenting my comments to most of them:

Part I 

Drawings and Paintings: British Collectors and Collections

  • Martin Calyton: The Windsor Leonardos, 1519- 2019;
  • Jacqueline Thalmann: Leonardo in the Collection of General John Guise (1682-1765);
  • Sarah Vowles and Hugo Chapman: Leonardo Drawings in Bloomsbury and Beyond;
  • Carmen C. Bambach: Leonardo’s St. Anne Types and the Dating of the National Gallery Cartoon;
  • Caroline Campbell and Larry Keith: Towards a Biography of the National Gallery’s Virgin of the Rocks;
  • Pietro C. Marani: Update on and Insights into the Royal Academy Copy of The Last Supper and its Reception in England in the First Half of the Nineteenth Century;
  • Margaret Dalivalle: The Critical Fortuna of Leonardo in Seventeenth-Century England;
  • Susanna Avery-Quash and Silvia Davoli: The National Gallery Searching for Leonardo: Acquisitions and Contributions to Knowledge about the Lombard School.

Part II
Around the Treatise on Painting: Art and Science

  • J.V. Field: Leonardo’s Afterlife in the World of ‘New Philosophy’;
  • Domenico Laurenza: Leonardo’s Science in Seventeenth- and Eighteenth-Century England: The Codex Leicester, the Codex Arundel and the Codex Huygens;
  • Harry Mount: Leonardo’s Treatise of Painting: The First English Edition and the Manuscripts Owned by Patch, Smith and Johnson;
  • Juliana Barone: Leonardo's Treatise on Painting: The First English Edition and the Manuscripts Owned by Patch, Smith and Johnson
  • Janis Bell: Rigaud’s Popular Translation of Leonardo’s Treatise on Painting (1802);
  • Charles Saumarez Smith: Attitudes to Leonardo at the Royal Academy of Arts, 1768-1830;
  • Francesco Galluzzi: Alexander Cozens and Leonardo da Vinci: ‘Blot’ and Landscape Painting between the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century.

Part III
Re-Reading Leonardo

  • Lene Østermark-Johansen: ‘The Power of an Intimate Presence’: Walter Pater’s Leonardo Essay (1869) and its Influence at the fin de siècle;
  • Claire Farago: Re-reading Richter and MacCurdy: Lessons in Translation;
  • Francesca Fiorani: Kenneth Clark and Leonardo: From Connoisseurshio to Broadcasting to Digital Technologies;
  • Alessandro Nova: John Shearman’s Leonardo.


Leonardo's many roles

In fact, as we happened to see talking about the different European repercussions of the Treaty of Painting, it is not correct to talk about Leonardo's 'role' in Great Britain. Instead, one should analyse the artist's many 'roles' in English cultural life over three centuries. One can immediately notice, for example, a difference between France and England: In France, with the publication of the Treatise of painting both in Italian and French in 1651, Leonardo became the ideal trait d'union between Italian and French classicism, the one who had passed the baton between the two countries, the anticipator of Poussin, the object of study and of fierce controversy within the Paris Academy of Painting and Sculpture. All this did not happen in London, where, moreover, the Royal Academy was founded only in 1768. England knew best (or, in any case, held in greater consideration) Leonardo as a scientist, the forerunner of empiricism and new English scientific philosophy, and the precursor of Bacon (1561-1626) and Newton (1642-1726). At the end of the seventeenth century Robert Hooke (1635-1703), a key figure in the English scientific revolution, was, for example, nicknamed the 'London's Leonardo' or the 'England's Leonardo'; to the contrary, no English artist was compared to Leonardo as his heir or for having developed and updated his poetics.

The English reading of Leonardo can only fully grasped from examining the collecting of his works, from paintings to drawings to manuscripts. To this end, two factors are key: the archival research of how the collections were formed and, of course, the study of the figures of collectors, intellectuals and merchants as well as of their social networks. And this analysis cannot limit itself to considering which documents (direct or indirect, pictorial or manuscripts) were in the hands of collectors. It is also necessary to include those which were believed to be by Leonardo, while eventually were not. In short, the question is – as Martin Kemp wrote in his preface - why the works attributed to him went beyond the circle of his closest students, but also encompassed others that today would never be associated with da Vinci’s name. We need, in short, to go back a few centuries, to understand that, at the time, the figurative examples of Leonardo's art were extremely rare and that instead drawings were mechanically associated on the simple basis of information collected from sources or reproductions of his drawings made by third parties. From this point of view, for example, it is appropriate to underline the role of the Bohemian engraver Wenceslaus Hollar (1607-1677) who repeatedly reproduced grotesque portraits of Leonardo in the collection of drawings of the Count of Arundel. Almost by osmosis, from that moment on, many grotesque caricatures traceable in England were attributed to Leonardo, strengthening his fame as artist with a passion for physiognomy. Even Hollar himself, in 1646, engraved examples of heads with particularly fine features, always assigning them to the Tuscan artist. This is the case of a Portrait of a boy today attributed to Benvenuto Garofalo: “iIt was already identified as such in 1646, when Wenceslas Hollar engraved it, and by the time it appeared in the sale of the Revd Dr Henry Wellesley in 1866 the sitter had also been granted a distinguished identity, 'Giovanni Galeazzo, Duke of Milan'. This shows the lingering influence of the early tendency to connect Leonardo with head studies of either great beauty or great ugliness'.” (Vowles, Chapman, 55).

 
Collectionism and drawings

There are not many English names associated with the collecting of Leonardo's works, especially in the seventeenth century. Among the earliest ones, I would like to mention Charles I Stuart (1600-1649), whose famous collection was dispersed years after his beheading in 1649; Thomas Howard (1585-1646), the second Earl of Arundel (1585-1646) and George Villiers, first Duke of Buckingham (1592-1628). In her most interesting essay, Margaret Dalivalle stressed that all of them were based on diplomatic networks of scholars and international agents, who helped enrich their collections. On Leonardo, the information available in England at the end of the sixteenth century was that obtainable from both editions of Vasari’s Lives by Vasari (who, however, were in Italian and whose circulation might have been fairly limited) and, above all, through the English translation of Giovanni Paolo Lomazzo’s Treatise on Painting produced by Richard Haydocke in 1598 (fourteen years after the publication of the Italian princeps). The author made the hypothesis that Arundel's great interest in Leonardo's graphics and manuscripts was also stimulated by the awareness of their dispersion, which Lomazzo precisely narrated. His collection was the result of the tenacious search for Leonardo's testimonies conducted directly or indirectly between Italy and Spain, especially in search of the albums owned by Pompeo Leoni, between 1620 and 1646. Ms Dalivalle, however, suggests not underestimating the role of Charles, Prince of Wales, and George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, who were, it seems, the first to have a direct contact with Leonardo's sheets during their Madrid journey of 1623. Not to be undervalued, then, is the presence, in that expedition, of Sir Balthazar Gerbier (1592-1663) as diplomat, but also as adviser of the Duke of Buckhingam on matters of art. Carducho, in his Diálogos de la pintura, recalled the Prince of Wales' failed attempt to purchase two manuscript books owned by Juan de Espina y Velasco. Buckingham, for his part, enjoyed far greater prestige with King Charles than Lord Arundel. For instance, we know from Cassiano dal Pozzo's account of the trip to France that the Duke had tried to buy the Mona Lisa during his stay in Fointainebleau in 1625, probably through Gerbier's prior advice. Equally, we are also aware that Buckingham eventually managed to buy a copy. At the time of his assassination, the Duke certainly owned the aforementioned copy, and two other paintings attributed to Leonardo.

Three cores of Leonardo's drawings are present in British public institutions: the first is located at the Royal Collection in Windsor; the second at the Christ Church in Oxford and the third at the British Museum. Martin Clayton, Jacqueline Thalmann and Sarah Vowles with Hugo Chapman reconstruct their origins and the relevant historical events.

The collection of the Royal Collection (555 autographed sheets of a fundamentally 'artistic' topic plus about sixty copies and works by Leonardo's students) is by far the most numerous and has the characteristic of coming largely from a group of drawings which were aggregated together since 1519, or since the death of Leonardo and the passage of the folios in the hands of Francesco Melzi. From Melzi the folios went to Pompeo Leoni. Leoni, who lived between Italy and Spain, owned two albums of Leonardo's drawings: one is the Atlantic codex (now in the Ambrosiana Library) and the other the so-called "Leoni Album", which is the one found in Windsor. Clayton formulated various hypotheses on the arrival of the album in England, certainly by 1629, when it was in the possession of Lord Arundel, but most likely between 1625 and 1626. The issue is, basically, to understand whether the album came directly to Arundel or intermediate passages involved the Prince of Wales and/or the Duke of Buckingham. Moreover, the Leoni Album should not be confused with the two above mentioned codes in the possession of Juan de Espina, which are still preserved in Madrid today. By 1690 the album passed into the hands of the English Crown; nevertheless, it went through seventy years of substantial oblivion, until a gradual rediscovery in the second half of the eighteenth century, with the publication of part of the drawings (by Francesco Bartolozzi and others between 1795 and 1811), until the first overall inventory was made in the early nineteenth century.

The core of the Christ Church drawings is actually quite limited, and is the result of the collecting activity of General John Guise (1682-1765). The most interesting aspect, however, is that when, by testamentary disposition, it reached Oxford, about forty sheets were attributed to Leonardo, while currently only seven are. Guise had studied at Christ Church and here he had met and attended Henry Aldrich (1648-1710), a collector himself; it was probably through Aldrich that he came into contact with some prints taken from works by the Tuscan artist and with the printed editions of the Treatise on Painting of 1651. The case of the English general fits perfectly with our attempt to understand the mechanisms through which the amateurs made attributions to Leonardo, in the substantial absence (or extreme rarity) of  directly observable originals. First of all, a portrait of a young man today assigned to Sodoma bears the words “By Leonardo da Vinci. Portrait of Raphael from Urbino". It being understood that it is not clear when these writings were inserted (and probably they were on different occasions), it is evident that the drawing had an evocative power for the collector because it was assumed to offer the historical evidence of the meeting (and the passing of the baton) between da Vinci and Sanzio.

 

Sodoma, Portrait of a Young Boy, Christ Church, Oxford, JBS 313
Source: https://www.pinterest.it/pin/496944140112969411/


Similarly, a portrait of a Venetian nobleman today attributed to Giovanni Bellini was believed to be the effigy of Ludovico Sforza. Another of the forty sheets that came to the Christ Church collection reproduced a torso of a Roman sculpture and contained the description "Engraved in the house of Ciampolino 1513 in Rome". Assigned as it was to Leonardo, it testified to his presence in the Eternal City and the study of ancient art. In short, Guise believed he had highly evocative drawings of particular historical moments, and for this reason he had purchased them (probably before 1720), taking particular account, rather than on stylistic aspects that he could not know, on the written testimonies reported on the sheets, as they were matching with printed sources. In fact, what is considered today the most important specimen preserved at Christ Church is the cartoon representing the grotesque bust of a man, which Bernard Berenson, relying on Vasari, thought to be Scaramuccia, king of the gypsies, but which certainly entered in the Guise collection because it was perfectly part of the well-known tradition of Vinci's physiognomic studies. It should be remembered that about half of the forty sheets that made up the Guise collection came from the collection of
Carlo Ridolfi (1594-1658), author of the Wonders of Art (1648), perhaps arrived in England (Thalmann's hypothesis) through Marshal Schulenberg (1661-1747), who lived in Venice for a long time. 

Leonardo, Grotesque Bust of a Man, Christ Church, Oxford, JBS 19
Source: http://www.openculture.com/2017/09/leonardo-da-vincis-bizarre-caricatures-monster-drawings.html


The British Museum's collection has completely different characteristics from the first two, because it does not come from an original nucleus or from the collectible effort of a single person, but is the result of a series of 'extemporaneous' acquisitions that occurred during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. It is impossible to follow the events here. Nevertheless, it is worth mentioning some aspects. The British Museum was without Leonardo's drawings at the time of its foundation; only in 1824 it obtained some of them following the inheritance of Richard Payne Knight (1751-1824). On that occasion eighteen drawings attributed to Leonardo entered the collection, for the most part studies of heads, which today, except for two, are assigned to other names, including a dozen portraits attributed to an anonymous Dutchman. This raises legitimate doubts about the real competence of the British curators at the time. Even
Passavant, in 1831, visiting the museum's collection, assigned a drawing to the Vinci which was not his. Therefore, it must be remembered, once again, that the number of original works accessible also to experts in the sector was extremely limited; Windsor's collections were little known, and if anything, one could resort to the seventeenth century engravings by Hollar or the late eighteenth century engravings by Bartolozzi. All the events of British collecting were then based on a sort of 'original sin'. In 1830, in fact, Sir Thomas Lawrence (1769-1830), president of the Royal Academy at the time, died, and the British Museum was offered the entire collection of drawings by ancient masters of the deceased. The government did not consent to the purchase of the material for 18 thousand pounds and the drawings were gradually dispersed. The Lawrence collection also included several drawings by Leonardo. In the following decades the British Museum, mainly by bidding in auctions, managed to recover some of them, always appealing to the government for ad hoc allocations to partially compensate the serious mistake made with the Lawrence inheritance. However, purchases were increasingly difficult, due to the surge in the prices of Leonardo's graphic tests and much had to be renounced when prices reached levels that were not affordable for a museum institution.
 

Leonardo, Head of a Warrior, London, British Museum
Source: https://www.britishmuseum.org/collection/image/225833001

 

The National Gallery

Leonardo, The Virgin of the Rocks, London, National Gallery NG1093
Source: https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/leonardo-da-vinci-the-virgin-of-the-rocks


Leonardo's first work to be bought by the National Gallery was the second version of the Virgin of the Rocks in 1880. The museum – which existed since 1824 – already included The Christ among the doctors by Bernardino Luini, at the time believed to be a Leonardo. In the essay The National Gallery Searching for Leonardo, Susanna Avery-Quash and Silvia Davoli recalled that as early as 1854
Otto Mündler argued that it was undoubtedly a Luini. The twenty-four years that it took for it to be recognized as such in the museum catalogue also demonstrate how great the desire to own a work by the artist from Vinci was (especially if we take into account the competition with other European museum institutions and, in particular, with the Louvre). Talking about the National Gallery museum policy in the second half of the nineteenth century means dwelling first of all with Charles Lock Eastlake’s work, his first Director after the reform of 1855. The main merit of the English connoisseur, in the substantial absence of works by the artist on the market, was that of helping reconstruct the Lombard artistic context in which Leonardo worked for several years. Eastlake's approach, which had clear encyclopaedic purposes and aimed to gather testimonies of the development of the various Italian art schools on the walls of the museum, was subsequently judged to be not sufficiently attentive to purely aesthetic aspects. The fact remains that, at the death of Eastlake, and again in the following years, thanks to the work of the successive directors and the group of connoisseurs who had dealt with Eastlake in support of his research, the National Gallery was finally able to offer to the visitors a sufficiently complete picture of early 16th century Lombard painting (Bergognone, Boltraffio, Francesco Melzi, Andrea Solario, Bernardino Lanino). Moreover, a series of purchases aimed to reconstruct the Florentine circles in which Leonardo had moved (Piero di Cosimo, Lorenzo di Credi). Physically, the Lombards were exposed all together, in a crescendo that saw in Correggio the artist of the highest level influenced by Leonardo, while the paintings of the artist from Vinci were in the context of the Florentine school. This entailed having to make choices that might seem inconsistent: when, for example, the Virgin of the Rocks entered the English collection, it was exhibited in the context of Florentine works, although dating back to the period when Leonardo was in Lombardy.

End of Part One
Go to Part Two 


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