Preface and Acknowledgments

Rosenblum, Robert

Save Cite Share

Free

Preface and Acknowledgments

Robert Rosenblum

Transformations in Late Eighteenth-Century Art

~IN ART, as in history, the late eighteenth century created such profound breaches with the past that today, in the late twentieth century, we are still grappling with the problems that then announced the dawn of a new era. In histories of art, this period of unprecedented complexity has generally been divided into the two presumably antagonistic...

Author

Robert Rosenblum

PublisherPrinceton University Press

Stable URL: https://aaeportal.com/?id=-22164

Preface and Acknowledgments

In art, as in history, the late eighteenth century created such profound breaches with the past that today, in the late twentieth century, we are still grappling with the problems that then announced the dawn of a new era. In histories of art, this period of unprecedented complexity has generally been divided into the two presumably antagonistic categories of Neoclassicism and Romanticism, a black-and-white polarity that, in more refined histories, also permits a single shade of gray called Romantic Classicism. With closer scrutiny, these semantic straitjackets, like the term Mannerism, have become impossible either to live with or to live without. What are we to call those strange new emotions we feel welling in so much late eighteenth-century art, if not Romanticism? What are we to call that abundance of works newly inspired by Greco-Roman art, history, and mythology, if not Neoclassicism?

Yet, indispensable as they seem to remain for simple communication, these two unequal categories—one referring more to feeling, the other more to form and/or to subject matter—are pitifully inadequate in analyzing the bewildering new variety of emotions, styles, and iconography that emerged in the late eighteenth century. Even the hybrid term, Romantic Classicism, offers only the broad implication that some (or is it all?) art inspired by Greco-Roman antiquity is also saturated with Romantic sensations. And even if we decided to be rigorous and substitute objective chronology for subjective isms, we would soon find ourselves involved with the uncomfortable fact that when we say late eighteenth-century art, we really must include much of early nineteenth-century art as well; and that the awkward alternate phrase, “art around 1800,” seems not to extend sufficiently into the eighteenth or nineteenth centuries to cover what we mean.

It should be quickly said that I have not found a new solution to these persistent problems, and that these semantic difficulties may well continue to vex the reader, as they do me. In fact, I have gone on using these terms in as commonsensical a way as possible. But what I have tried to do as well is to undermine the ostensible clarity of the usual historical presentation of this period by offering, so to speak, a Cubist view. By this, I mean that I have consciously tried to avoid any absolutes of method and category, and have approached these decades in a kaleidoscopic manner that constantly shifts its vantage point and even moves freely from one nation and one medium to another. For, beginning around 1760, Western art becomes so hydra-headed that the historian who attacks it from a single approach is sure to be defeated. Thus, instead of a complete survey, I have offered four essays that touch upon some, but hardly all, of the major new issues of the period; and instead of choosing between the artificial Scylla and Charybdis of style versus iconography, I have tried to alter my methodological proportions to suit the particular case at hand.

Indeed, any attempt to present a definitive synthesis of these years would be unusually premature. By comparison with what we know, say, of the monuments of Quattrocento art, we are positively ignorant about the late eighteenth century. There are few modern studies of any of the major artists, not to mention the minor ones, and most of these are inadequate. Even photographs have yet to be made, as well as published, of thousands of works moldering in the storage rooms of the many European museums that have assumed the quality of Western art to taper off at just the point where this study begins. With this in mind, I have tried my best to introduce as many unfamiliar works as possible as well as to offer, in rather copious footnotes, any number of signposts for the scholar who would continue exploration of the terra incognita of late eighteenth-century art. If the reader emerges with the feeling that most of these directions are yet to be pursued, that the period is far more complicated than he had imagined, and that I have raised many more questions than I have answered, then I shall feel largely satisfied with my efforts.

A few technical problems might also be mentioned here. One concerns the translation of the often lengthy titles given to French Salon paintings. In this, I have tried to use the following rule of thumb. In the captions, all titles are given in English, and generally in abbreviated form. In the text and notes, however, the reader will find that titles of extremely well-known paintings (David’s Oath of the Horatii) or of paintings that illustrate familiar subjects (Sylvestre’s Death of Seneca) are usually given in English, whereas the original French Salon titles have most often been kept for more obscure subjects, especially when the narrative events are helpfully described (Greuze’s L’Empereur Sévère reproche à Caracalla, son fils, d’avoir voulu I’assassiner dans les défilés d’Écosse et lui dit: Si tu désires ma mort, ordonne à Papinien de me la donner avec cette épée).

A second problem concerns bibliography. The manuscript was substantially completed in 1964; but given its wide range of topics and examples, an unusually large number of relevant books and articles have appeared since then. I have tried, when possible, to include some of these in the notes, even when it has been too late to incorporate their findings in my text; but the reader will obviously find many omissions in the post-1964 bibliography. Of these, the most centrally important promise to be James A. Leith, The Idea of Art as Propaganda in France, 1750–1799; A Study in the History of Ideas, Toronto, 1965; and a book by David Irwin on British Neoclassicism scheduled for publication in 1966. I understand, too, that the long-delayed catalogue of the major exhibition, Les architectes visionnaires de la fin du XVIIIe siècle, Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, 1964, is finally to appear in 1966.

It is always a pleasure to reach the point where one can express both personal and professional gratitude to the many people and institutions who have helped in the preparation of a book; but there is also the anxiety, especially when the book’s origins go back a decade to the 1950s, that many names will be inadvertently forgotten. At least there is no chance of forgetting that my heaviest debt was earned by Professor Walter Friedlaender. It was under his wise and witty guidance that, between 1951 and 1955, at the Institute of Fine Arts, New York University, I first learned to manipulate the scholarly tools necessary to study art around 1800 and that I first began to realize that this period was susceptible to many different historical approaches. My unpublished doctoral thesis, written under his supervision, stressed an analysis of morphological change in late eighteenth-century art (The International Style of 1800: A Study in Linear Abstraction, 1956); whereas another student effort, a report I gave in one of his seminars on stoical subject matter, concentrated on iconographical questions of the same period. The admirable flexibility of his teaching is, I hope, reflected in the varied methodology of these essays. Chapter II resumes many of the iconographical matters raised in his seminar; Chapter IV considers some of the formal questions elaborated more single-mindedly in my thesis.

The possibility of enlarging still further the scope of my interests in art around 1800 to include architecture was provided first by Professor Henry-Russell Hitchcock, who asked me to assist him in the preparation of bibliography and notes for his classic Pelican volume, Architecture: Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries (1958); and second, by Professor Carroll L. V. Meeks, who, in 1961, invited me to speak on associative aspects of Neo-classic architecture to a graduate seminar at Yale. Without these opportunities, Chapter III would have been much the poorer. Indeed, it might not have been written at all.

My thanks go as well to certain people who have provided annual and most personal hospitality in institutions in England and France—Peter Murray and his staff at the Witt Library, London; Jean Adhémar at the Cabinet des Estampes, Bibliothèque Nationale; Sylvie Béguin, Michel Laclotte, and Pierre Rosenberg at the Louvre. To these should be added Marc Sandoz, who was unusually generous in sharing with me his remarkable knowledge of late eighteenth-century French painting and his private photographic resources; and Boris Lossky, who was particularly kind in providing me with rare photographs. Many other friends, professional acquaintances, and students participated in the composition of this book in ways that ranged from bibliographical clues and photograph-hunting to museum trips and long discussions. I have tried to thank some of them in appropriate places in the footnotes; but I should perhaps single out here—at the risk of forgetting others who were equally helpful—Charles Buckley, Richard Carrott, Anthony Clark, Donald Drew Egbert, Stuart Feld, Myron Laskin, Pierre Martory, Thomas McCormick, Ellis Waterhouse. L. D. Ettlinger and Sheldon Nodelman were good enough to read parts of the manuscript and to offer discerning criticism of fact and idea that permitted me to improve the text in many large and small ways. I must also express my gratitude to Princeton University, for so frequently providing me with the necessary time and research funds to complete this book; and to the American Council of Learned Societies, which contributed in the same indispensable way.

Finally, I wish to thank three ladies, without whom this book would never have come to light: Miss Kazuko Higuchi, who so often worked after hours to assist me in my own photograph hunts; Miss Jan Pikey, who retyped my manuscript with extraordinary speed and precision; and lastly, Miss Harriet Anderson, Fine Arts Editor of Princeton University Press, whose combination of tact, efficiency, and wisely flexible adherence to editorial rules made the transformation of a manuscript into a book a wholly agreeable and profitable dialogue between author and editor.

R. R.

December 1965

PREFACE FOR THE SECOND PRINTING, 1969

This reprinting has provided me with the welcome opportunity to make many corrections, if not to alter in any way the basic arguments. For the reader who, like the author, wishes to continue weighing these arguments in the light of recent research, the following bibliographical indications should be of help.

The three books mentioned in my first preface have now all appeared. The first—James A. Leith, The Idea of Art as Propaganda in France, 1750–1799: A Study in the History of Ideas (Toronto, 1965)—adds considerable material to the theme of my second chapter; the second—David Irwin, English Neoclassical Art: Studies in Inspiration and Taste (London, 1966)—offers a rich compendium of facts and illustrations related to those British artists who turn up in these pages. As for the third—the long overdue catalogue of the important Bibliothèque Nationale exhibition of 1964, Les Architectes visionnaires de la fin du XVIIIe siècle—it has finally appeared on the occasion of the reorganization of the exhibition in 1967 under the auspices of the University of St. Thomas, Houston. The resulting catalogue, Visionary Architects; Boullée, Ledoux, Lequeu (University of St. Thomas, 1968), has quickly become a standard reference.

Of recent studies of late eighteenth-century art, the only general survey is Hugh Honour’s Neo-classicism (Harmondsworth, 1968), an admirably fresh and literate cross-section of all the visual arts, viewed in the light of both stylistic and historical analysis. To this should be added the relevant chapters (iv, v) in Michael Levey’s stimulating survey of the entire century, From Rococo to Revolution (London, 1966). A wide range of Neoclassic art (from Mengs, Copley, and Vien to Schick, Thorvaldsen, and Camuccini) was presented in the huge exhibition, Angelika Kauffmann und ihre Zeitgenossen, Bregenz, Voralberger Landesmuseum and Vienna, Oesterreichisches Museum für Angewandte Kunst, 1968; but unfortunately, the well-illustrated catalogue provides full entries only for works by Angelica, and not for those by her contemporaries. The most amply documented exhibition catalogue to coincide, at least in part, with the period discussed here, is Romantic Art in Britain; Paintings and Drawings, 1760–1860, Detroit Institute of Arts and Philadelphia Museum of Art, 1968, in which abundant bibliographical and biographical data are given about an unusually full selection of British artists.

In monographic terms, knowledge of many artists considered in these pages has been greatly enlarged. On Mengs, see now Dieter Honisch, Anton Raphael Mengs und die Bildform des Frühklassizismus, Recklinghausen, 1965; on Mortimer (whose date of birth has recently been proved to be 1740, not 1741), see the exhibition catalogue, John Hamilton Mortimer, A.R.A., 1740–1799, Towner Art Gallery, Eastbourne and Iveagh Bequest, Kenwood, 1968; on Wright of Derby, see the definitive monograph by Benedict Nicolson, to appear shortly; on Girodet, see the bicentenary exhibition catalogue, Girodet, 1767–1824, Musée de Montargis, 1967; on Ingres, see, among the many publications to celebrate his death centenary in 1967, the exhibition catalogue, Ingres, Paris, Petit Palais, 1967, and the monograph, Robert Rosenblum, Ingres, New York, 1967.

As for architecture, the bibliography in the University of St. Thomas catalogue, Visionary Architects, is particularly full; but a few studies should be singled out for their special relevance to my third chapter: Johannes Langner, “Architecture pastorale sous Louis XVI,” Art de France, III, 1963, pp. 171–186; idem, “Ledoux und die Fabriques,” Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte, XXVI, 1963, pp. I–36; Marie-Louise Biver, Pierre Fontaine, premier architecte de l’Empereur, Paris, 1964.

Lastly, a few specialized articles that pursue themes touched upon in my text should be noted: L. D. Ettlinger, “Jacques Louis David and Roman Virtue,” Journal of the Royal Society of Arts, January 1967, pp. 105–123; Peter Walch, “Charles Rollin and Early Neoclassicism,” Art Bulletin, XLIX, June 1967, pp. 123–126; Boris Lossky, “Léonard de Vinci mourant entre les bras de François I—peinture de François-Guillaume Ménageot au Musée de l’Hôtel de Ville d’Amboise,” Bulletin de l’Association Léonard de Vinci (Amboise), no. 6, June 1967, pp. 43–46. To these may be added two compilations of studies concerning art of this period: “Kunst um 1800,” a group of scholarly lectures reprinted in Stil und Ueber-lieferung in der Kunst des Abendlandes; Akten des 21. International Kongresses für Kunstgeschichte in Bonn, 1964, I (Epochen Europàischer Kunst), Berlin, 1967, pp. 175–235; and a special issue of Apollo (LXXX, September 1964) devoted to Napoleon and the arts.

R. R.

New York, November 1968

PREFACE FOR THE THIRD PRINTING, 1970

This new printing has made it possible to correct some small errors, mainly typographical, as well as to sharpen the accuracy of several references to Blake. For the latter improvements, I must thank David Bindman in particular; for the former, some attentive students.

As before, I should also like to indicate a few recent publications that may provide up-to-date clues for the reader’s further pursuit of issues raised in the text. Two books of Italian origin have surveyed the period in different ways: one, Francesco Abbate, ed., Il Neoclassicismo (Milan, 1966), offers a short, well-illustrated international survey of all the arts; the other, Mario Praz, On Neoclassicism (London, 1969), provides a new English edition of a remarkable series of essays originally published in 1940 as Il Gusto neoclássico. Partly because 1969 was the bicentenary of his birth, Napoleon naturally received the lion’s share of recent art-historical research. In 1967 there had appeared a fresh account and a well-illustrated survey of the painting he inspired: Alvar González-Palacios, David e la pittura napoleónica, Milan, 1967. But it was 1969 that inevitably saw the peak of Napoleonic activities, of which the most important were two exhibitions in Paris: Napoléon (Grand Palais) and Napoléon, tel qu’en lui-même (Archives Nationales, Hôtel de Rohan). The catalogues for these exhibitions should prove indispensable for future scholarship.

Two articles that touch closely on works of art discussed in the text should also be cited here: Joseph Sloane, “David, Robespierre, and ‘The Death of Bara,’” Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 6e période, LXXIV (September 1969), 143–160, which explores the relationship between David’s painting and historical truth; and Xavier de Salas, “Sur Cinq dessins de Goya acquis par le Musée du Prado,” Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 6e période, LXXV (January 1970), 29–42, which, by disclosing an inscription with the date “January 1795” on a drawing by Goya after Flaxman, makes it possible now to date the drawing reproduced in these pages (Fig. 206).

R.R.

New York, May 1970

Previous chapter Next chapter

Base text size -

Chapter images ()