Generous Attributions: Renaissance Masters and the Formation of British Collections.

One of the privileges of living in Cambridge is having access to the small but fine Fitzwilliam Museum, located at a short walking distance from my college. The collections might not be as large or as impressive as those of London or Oxford, but it is a good spot where to get a good dose of beauty when in need, despite some of the dubious display of contemporary art in the Italian gallery which I found quite a bit out of place. It is while walking in that gallery, trying not to get distracted by the more modern additions… that I found myself pausing repeatedly and noticed something which captured my eyes. Some of the Renaissance paintings attributed to great Italian masters, while fine, they did not seem to visually completely match the style or expertise of the artists they were attributed to. Some of them certainly seem like competent executions, but certainly not exceptional, and without the confidence or refinement that one might expect from a great master. For me, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the persistent idea that these paintings’ attributions had been slightly generous, perhaps rather than the master, they might have been executed by a pupil? Their school? My moment of doubt touched a well-known historical phenomenon in the formation of museum collections in northern Europe, the overly generous attribution of paintings to celebrated old masters during the 19th century.

The presence of Italian paintings in British collections is closely related to the development of public institutions and the private collectors who accumulated these works in the 18th and 19th centuries. This was a time when works by artists such as Raphael, Titian or Guido Reni were regarded as the pinnacle of artistic achievement. Possessing their art meant establishing oneself as a cultural authority with immense intellectual refinement. Consequently, collectors and museums alike were extremely keen in acquiring their masterpieces. The Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge emerges within this context. It was founded thanks to the bequest of Richard FitzWilliam, 7th Viscount FitzWilliam, in 1816, whose private collection became the nucleus of the present museum. During the 19th century, the institution acquired several works, building a respectable collection of works attributed to great artists and yet the collectors’ market supplying these paintings was quite dubious; works that had passed through several collections, across countries, often without documentation, a situation much different from the papal and aristocratic collections of Rome and Florence, who often remained unchanged for centuries and came with much documentation, works created and which remained with the patrons who commissioned them. While, in Northern European circumstances attribution did not rely on historical evidence but on the opinion of dealers who clearly had an invested interest in this.

This is particularly evident with 15th century Italian painting. Unlike the great masters of the High Renaissance, whose work is usually well documented, many earlier artists worked within regional realities that shared a similar style. Workshops in Florence, Siena, Venice could produce vast amounts of devotional works for both Church and private patrons. These works frequently used a specific composition, iconographic conventions, sometimes the same “cartoons” were used for multiple works, making it difficult to define attribution between master and pupil. Artworks from this period were therefore relatively vulnerable to incorrect attribution and 19th century dealers took great advantage of this freedom.

Art history had not yet developed as an academic discipline then and the identification of artworks was mainly based on a dealer’s intuition. Collectors and scholars would compare the paintings based on their perception. This approach would sometimes produce realistic results, but it also encouraged a sometimes-unhelpful generosity in attribution. Later in the 19th century, scholars such as Giovanni Morelli tried to introduce more methodological rigor, he proposed artists could be identified through small, recurring details, rather than through general impressions. This eventually contributed to a more scholarly understanding of art history, which eventually contributed to the reassessment of many European collections and the very birth of art history as a proper academic discipline.

Artistic production during the Renaissance makes the whole issue even more complicated as painters often operated in workshops in which assistants and pupils both collaborated on many masterpieces. Many painters would delegate substantial work to these collaborators, artists from these “schools” who would eventually become painters in their own regard. This also make the boundary of attribution harder to define. Modern cataloguing practices are therefore extremely cautious in attributing works and use terminology such as: “workshop of”, “follower of”, “circle of”. With the development of art history as an academic discipline, iconography as defined within that context, and with deeper scientific understanding of these works, it is now possible to attribute works more specifically and with more precision to particular artists or their school. This is a costly and often uncomfortable process, where applied, it often laid the foundation to reattribution.

The Fitzwilliam Museum does reflect this history of attribution, like many 19th century collections, many paintings were catalogued with many prestigious names attributed to them. During the 20th and 21st centuries, ongoing research and conservation has prompted the reattribution of many of these works. Modern scientific techniques such as infrared reflectography, pigment analysis, and the study of underdrawings as well as archives back in Italy, allowed scholars to look at these works through new eyes and in much deeper detail.

The presence of these misattributions reveals something about the dynamic of certain “secondary” collections. A painting labelled as a work of Titian or Raphael would naturally attract greater attention than one attributed to their school or an anonymous follower. Because of the generosity of the Italian cultural environment, Italian “secondary” museums are often much more honest in their attributions, and local art historians are perhaps more willing to act and are often better prepared as well, because of the injustice of the environment they were trained in, breathing and living through that beauty, day by day. The presence of famous names can give a certain aura of prestige to a certain collection, hence why sometimes smaller collections have not always been keen on challenging the established attributions unless compelled to do so. Reluctance, one wants to hope, does not come as the result of deception, but because of cultural priorities as 19thcentury museums were part of a broader project of cultural definition, so to rival with the collections of the continent or at that time, the wealth of the American collections that were flourishing in wealth and quality during the Gilded Age. Patronage goes back to the Renaissance and purchasing Italian masterpieces was asserting that Britain belonged to that European cultural scene. The Victorians had a great love for things Italian, many of which they brought back with them during their Grand Tour journeys. This needs to be commended.

When we look at this phenomenon from this perspective, when we stop and realize that painting we at the Fitzwilliam and looks slightly too goofy to be a Filippo Lippi (first image), the master behind some of the most ethereally beautiful Madonnas of the Renaissance – we realize this is not merely a singular event but one that is part of a larger historical narrative. The Fitzwilliam is not just simply a collection with some fine Renaissance works that reflect the aspiration of 19th century collectors, the will to establish Britannia as another European cultural center through the purchasing of great masterpieces, but we also find there a true record of how the attribution of art has changed over time, favoring perceived honor and glory in favor of scientific honesty. Having written this article, the fine Domenico Ghirlandaio Nativity is definitely original and well worth seeing as a great example of Florentine Renaissance art, as are Titian’s Tarquin and Lucretia and Guido Reni’s splendid Baroque Ecce Homo or Guercino’s Betrayal of Christ. As well as the Flemish Baroque Rubens and Van Dyck who were very popular in British collections. Take your next trip to a smaller English museum as a challenge, try and identify what is what. Everyone can be an art historian! But do read some Panofsky on iconography. What do you see (if you just came to this world with no knowledge)? What is the subject represented (is it a Biblical story or a Greco-Roman myth)? And then a deeper iconographical interpretation. While “Principles of Art History” by Heinrich Wölfflin, will help you identify the various artistic styles and the hand of different masters. Oh, and always read some Vasari’s “Lives of the artists”! Enjoy the challenge!