A Manet Mystery?
Portrait of Philip IV, after Velázquez, (possibly by Manet?), Oil on Canvas, 53 x 63 cm, ca 1850s
When the coronavirus lockdown was enforced, it caught us all unprepared. For the first few weeks, with archives and libraries being closed down, many research projects came to a virtual standstill. One of our own ongoing projects concerns a copy of Velázquez’s Portrait of Philip IV of Spain after the original in London’s National Gallery. It belongs to a friend of the agency and an image of it has been on my desk for the past few months.
Being confined to home and with very few resources at our disposal as a result of recent events, we decided — with the owner’s blessing — to open the case to the wider community and treat it as a kind of ‘crowd-sourced’ provenance case study.
The painting (shown above) is a copy of Velázquez’s original in the main collection of the National Gallery in London (inv. NG745), where it hangs in room 30. Painted around 1656, it is believed to be the last depiction of King Philip IV of Spain, portrayed very realistically in his later and more frail years. The original portrait has been copied many times and various versions have appeared at auction.
The original, and the version we are investigating, are both of the same size and visually almost identical. Philip wears simple black clothing against a dark background, the Order of the Golden Fleece pendant hanging around his neck. The layers of paint have been applied rapidly and gesturally in broad brushstrokes throughout the canvas, with the exception of the face, where the handling is lighter and more refined.
Technical analysis places the work in the middle of the 19th century. There is a regularity in the weaving of the yarn, which may indicate that a mechanical loom was used. This is consistent with what we know about 19th century supports. The ground preparation is white, consisting of ready-made elements that were available at the time from artists’ suppliers, so there is no immediate forensic reason to dispute the dating.
As is so often the case, the back of the painting also tells a story. Two inscriptions stand out. The first one, on the lower stretcher reads, “DAMAGED ARTS CLUB 1940 RESTORED BY H. WALKER”, and on the upper stretcher “Edouard Manet d’après Velasquez Philip IV d’Espagne”. There is a lot to unpack with both inscriptions.
Velázquez was a life-long inspiration to Manet, and is an example of the influence Spanish art exerted on French artists of the 19th century. If Manet did make a copy of the original, where did he see it and when?
In order to answer this question, one needs to consult the provenance of the original work. From 1862-1864, the Portrait of Philip IV by Velazquez was in the villa of San Donato in Florence, which housed the art collection of the Russian Prince Anatole Demidoff. Demidoff was born in 1813 in Saint Petersburg to Nicolas Nikitich Demidoff and Baroness Elisabeta Alexandrova Stroganova who had amassed not only a very large fortune as industrialists but also a substantial art collection. The Baroness died when Anatole was only 12 years old and his father four years later, leaving the boy a substantial fortune.
Anatole immediately immersed himself in the arts, commissioning works of art and expanding his collection. In 1840 he married Mathilde-Létizia Bonaparte, Napoleon’s niece. The union enhanced his social position, which resulted in the Duke of Tuscany bestowing on him the title of Prince of San Donato. The San Donato villa, near Florence — more of a small private museum than a villa — boasted over 35 rooms filled with art. Hanging among other works in room 18 —the ‘Ivories and Spanish Pictures’ room — was Velázquez’s Portrait of Philip IV. According to the Getty Provenance index, the painting was with Demidoff by 1862 and stayed in the collection until 1864.
From historical references we know that Manet went to Florence at least twice, once in 1853 and again in 1857. Although there are references to him having copied paintings there by Italian masters such as Fra Angelico, Ghirlandaio, Lippi, and others, there is no written mention of him copying the Velázquez. So, if our painting is indeed a copy by Manet, and he did not copy the work in Florence, that suggests it must have been copied either in Paris or London.
The Demidoff collection was eventually sold off in a series of ten auctions in Paris between 1863 and 1870. In 1865, the Velazquez was with the art dealer Emmanuel Sano. There is not a great deal of information available on Sano on the web, but we know he was quite a prominent figure in the mid-19th century art market. He worked very closely with Hôtel Drouot expert Adolphe Coûteaux and the art historian Otto Mündler. Sano was eventually appointed advisor to the collection of Prince Napoleon. In his years of art dealing between Paris and Berlin, Sano — who was initially trained as a marine painter — made some important sales, most notably the Portrait of Philip IV by Velázquez to Charles Eastlake, the Keeper and Secretary of the London National Gallery from 1878-1898.
The original Velázquez has been part of the National Gallery collection since 1865, when Eastlake (prior to becoming Keeper) acquired it on behalf of the museum. Did Manet copy the painting while it was in Paris, or on one of his few visits to London after it had arrived here?
There is very little information about Manet’s few visits to London, indeed some doubt has been cast on whether he ever visited the capital at all. However, a 1999 article referenced the work of scholar Juliet Hacking who discovered a photograph by David Wilkie Wynfield depicting none other than Manet on what could have been his only visit to London.
We approached the National Gallery to check whether the Gallery’s archive includes any references to possible visits by Manet or requests to copy works in the Gallery’s collection. (A long shot, but all in the name of due diligence.)
All the information compiled on the provenance of the original painting is very interesting and insightful, but how does it help us in our own research? The research so far is based on the assumption that whoever copied the work, whether it be Manet or another artist, did so directly from the original. In many other instances in the past, that has been the case. Copies, even seemingly identical ones, will have the occasional small differences between each other and between them and the original. This makes for a very tricky exercise that generally militates against definitive verdicts. Such differences aside, how accurately can we assess an image that we know to have been heavily restored, for example, as in this case, as a result of having been damaged (possibly during the Blitz?) The same goes for the inscription on the verso — where and when was it added? While in this case the inscription is in French, it’s unlikely that a French person wrote it, as one would expect a French speaker to spell the name as Philippe rather than Philip. On the other hand, if it was an English writer, why would they write in French “…d’après…”? Another mystery.
The inscription on the verso places the painting in 1940 at The Arts Club in Mayfair, one of the most prominent private members clubs in London. Founded in 1863, the club was initially located in Hanover Square, but moved to 40 Dover Street in 1896, its present location, albeit looking very different today. In its long history, the club has welcomed prominent members such as Charles Dickens, Frederic Leighton, John Everett Millais, Auguste Rodin, Whistler, Walter Sickert, and Franz Liszt, to name just a few. Interestingly, with regard to Frans Liszt, we know that Manet visited Florence in 1857 to attend, as a witness, the wedding of Liszt’s daughter Blandine to Manet’s friend Émile Ollivier. Could it be that Liszt acquired the copy of the Velázquez at that time and later brought it back to London where he was a member of The Arts Club, perhaps later donating it? Such a scenario may sound somewhat far-fetched, but it is in the nature of this kind of research that one needs to accommodate every possibility.
In September 1940, the Club suffered considerable damage as a result of the Blitz. It seems plausible that the damage to the painting was also caused at that time. The restorer Herbert Walker is named on the back of the painting, although thus far this has not been of much help in establishing the painting’s authorship. We know that Walker restored works for the Tate Gallery, Liverpool Art Gallery, The National Gallery and The Royal Academy and that his own workshop was also damaged as a result of the 1940 bombings.
40 Dover Street , September 1940 Copyright Westminster City Archives
Like most members’ clubs at that time, the walls of The Arts Club were richly endowed with works of art, some of it made by members, some of it donated by members, other works merely on loan. Sadly, due to changes in the Club’s management in recent years, almost all historical references and archival material are proving difficult to locate. We do know that the Club regularly published a journal, but a full run of these publications has so far proven impossible to trace. The British Library holds only one edition, that of Spring 1997.
While scouring the internet for possible references and clues, I came across a rather troubling article entitled “15 Years of Thefts Come to Light at The Arts Club”. The article presents useful and relevant clues with regard to certain key people in the club (without laying blame for the missing works of art) and makes direct reference to the Club’s journal. Once it had been established that some paintings had gone missing, the Club reported their disappearance in an article (in its own in-house Journal), entitled "Lost and Gone Forever”. Unfortunately the list is not available online, but the Art Loss Register, which does hold Arts Club registrations (of stolen art), has issued a certificate stating that this particular painting does not appear on its database of stolen art. A few months ago we reached out to a former chairman of the club, a Mr. Morris, who could not recall this work in particular, but noted that it was the kind of picture that could have been at the club at that time. Although not a solid lead, this did suggest that we might be on the right path.
Our art historical research into the case has confirmed that Manet copied many of Velazquez’s works, including a few versions of Philip IV by the Spanish master. A 1989 volume on Velazquez published by the Metropolitan Museum of Art lists at least nine known versions of the National Gallery portrait. One of the copies was originally in the Huth Collection in London, which also appears to have owned other copies of works by Velazquez. Again, with archives and libraries currently shut down, it has not yet been possible to explore the archival material relating to the Huth collection. Could it be that this is the painting that was once in their collection? Henry Huth (1815-1878) was a member of the Burlington Fine Arts Club, but was he perhaps also a member of The Arts Club in Dover Street?
Finally, for those of you who have made it this far down the article, can you help? Do you know someone who was a member of the old Arts Club and might still have copies of the Club’s journals? Perhaps someone remembers the work from a long time ago? The painting has not been on public display since at least the late 1980s when it was purchased by the father of the current owner in Italy.
We are fascinated to learn more.
