Zoffany – What a life!

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Johan Zoffany RA Society Observed

Stephen Somerville looks at 18th-century high society, royalty – and sexual innuendo – in the work of a much-travelled artist

A contemporary of Reynolds and Gainsborough, Johan Zoffany (1733–1810) was a successful and much sought-after portrait and group portrait painter, who received royal patronage.  It seems somewhat strange that he has received disproportionately little attention, and is perhaps little known to the general public. The only previous exhibition of Zoffany’s work was in 1977, and I am ashamed to say that if I did see it I cannot remember it!  Therefore the current exhibition is overdue. 

The exhibition fits well into the RA’s Sackler Galleries and the catalogue is ‘sumptuously illustrated’ and with excellent essays.  There is some variation of exhibits between the Yale and Royal Academy versions.  It must have been a great joy for the exhibition organizers to be able to be so indulgent in the catalogue production and choice of exhibits, as no expense seems to have been spared.  Much of this is, of course thanks to the benevolence of Paul Mellon.

Zoffany was born in Germany and arrived in London in 1760 aged 27. He was a cosmopolitan figure, having studied in Italy with Mengs. He was attracted to English society and London, which had a substantial German community. He was intelligent, charming and especially attracted to young women. 

His most important and striking works are his conversation pieces. These include the portraits of the Academicians of the Royal Academy 1771–2 (cat. no. 44); The Sharp Family 1777–8 (cat. no. 77); Charles Townley’s Library 1781–2 (cat. no. 63); Colonel Mordaunt’s Cock Match c. 1784–8 (cat. no. 86); and his finest and most famous work, The Tribuna of the Uffizi 1772–7 (cat. no. 53), commissioned by Queen Charlotte as a pendant to his Royal Academicians.  In the ‘Tribuna’ are gathered together 22 Grand Tourists and cognoscenti, whom Horace Walpole called ‘a flock of travelling boys’. They are portrayed poring over the great treasure house of the Dukes of Tuscany.  

It is a tour de force, crowded with figures and works of art, and Zoffany had to distort the perspective to include everything. The likenesses of the visitors appear faithfully recorded with convincing variations of expression as they examine and discuss the works on show.  The painting of the various works of art is remarkable, even if Zoffany has had to reduce the size of some of the sculpture. 

Painted over a number of years, the painting does not seem laboured or sterile. Most artists would have shied away from such a complex composition, but with Zoffany, the more figures and elements there are, the merrier.  Unfortunately for Zoffany, the reputation of some of the personalities portrayed apparently offended the King and Queen, and it was only reluctantly received by them. 

Martin Postle and his colleagues must be congratulated for arranging this exhibition, and he contributes an excellent introductory essay and catalogue entries.  Even so, I find it difficult to keep up with his observations of so many sexual references within the Tribuna of the Uffizi.  Zoffany was not averse to including sly sexual elements and allusions, but I could not keep up with this art historian’s version of a ‘spot the ball’ competition.   

Zoffany was an accomplished instrumental performer and amongst his musical companions were J. S. Bach and Carl Abel.  There are a number of portrait groups or conversation pieces that include musicians and their instruments. The most famous and complex composition is The Sharp Family (cat. no. 77), which gives evidence of his fine and accurate depictions of instruments and figures. I have always thought that to paint musical instruments accurately and with correct fingering and bowing actions you have to be a musician yourself.   One slight criticism of the Sharp family painting is in the rather unresolved modelling of the left hand of Judith Sharpe, who is depicted playing the lute, elegantly dressed in a yellow riding habit and black hat trimmed with ostrich feathers. 

The portrait of Academicians (cat. no. 44) is a splendid gathering with wonderful insightful portraits of so many famous men, so well known through their art but rarely portrayed elsewhere.  How fine and intelligent Paul Sandby looks in conversation with his brother, Thomas.  Perhaps Zoffany’s only witty sexual innuendo is in the portrait of Richard Cosway, who is depicted standing proudly on the right of the composition, holding his cane firmly placed on the mons venus of a truncated plaster cast of an antique sculpture lying beneath him.   

Another excellent painting from the Royal Collection is the portrait of John Cuff and his Assistant in the optical workshop (cat. no. 51), with the fascinating ephemera connected with their work around them. 

The three self-portraits (fig. 24) 1778; (cat. no. 59) 1778 and (cat. no. 60) 1779, all painted when he was in Italy, before his arrival in London, can only be described as eccentric.  In 1773 Zoffany was elected to the Accademia in Florence and he was a member of the academies in Bologna, Cortona and Parma.

Zoffany’s friendship with and patronage by David Garrick gave him opportunities to record the busy and splendid theatre life in London.  During the 1761–2 season there were 533 performances.  Most of these were at the two ‘patent theatres’, namely Covent Garden and Drury lane.  The Licensing Act of 1737 gave them the monopoly. (The Act, which was brought in by Sir Robert Walpole, allowed the Lord Chamberlain to censor plays and remained largely in force until 1968. Walpole was much exercised by the plays of Henry Fielding, which were highly critical of Walpole himself.)  I find these theatrical portraits of famous actors in striking poses rather wooden and puppet like – almost frozen in time.  The exception to this is the splendid Charles Maklin as Shylock (cat. no. 29). Here the variation and modulation of tone and perspective give it an air of reality, vitality and movement.

Amongst the portrait groups is the beautiful Queen Charlotte and her Brothers and Family  (cat. no. 39) where the landscape and trees  are surely taken straight from Gainsborough both in form and palette.     The portrait of Sir Lawrence Dundas with his grandson (cat. no. 71) shown in what is now believed to be his drawing room at Arlington Street, is a charming depiction of grand paternal love and care.   Dundas, from an old and impoverished family, amassed a great fortune, and commissioned Robert Adam and Thomas Chippendale to refurbish his houses.  The fine display of Dutch masterworks includes a van der Capelle (over the chimney piece), which I remember from my time at Colnaghi’s, when we secured the picture for the National Gallery of Wales.

It appears uncertain why Zoffany left London at a time when he had a successful and busy social life there.  Perhaps it was the disappointment of not being selected to accompany the botanist Sir Joseph Banks on Captain Cook’s second circumnavigation of the world. He always harboured a strong desire for exotic travel and riches. Paul Sandby observed that ‘he anticipates to roll in gold dust’.   Charles Greig covers this period in an excellent and romantic essay which retraces  Zoffany’s footsteps in Upper India. It brings to life some of the fading memories and accounts there. I am sure Charles Greig would have loved to have been transported back to those vibrant and opportunistic times.

Perhaps the most exotic period of his career was Zoffany’s time spent in India.  I say perhaps, because he seems to have an extraordinary life wherever he was. As a friend remarked to me the other day about Zoffany ‘What a life!’ could have made a marvellous alternative title to this exhibition.  Arriving in Calcutta in 1783, unencumbered by his wife and family, his new life offered ample opportunity to discover new worlds and cultures. 

The most striking and impressive record from his time there is Colonel Mordaunt’s Cock Match (cat. no. 86).  Like the Tribuna it isa tour de force of figures and personalities crowded together and embracing the excitement of the spectacle.  Amongst the European personalities is Colonel Mordaunt, who directs affairs. He was head of Asaf-ud-Daula’s bodyguard, and is described rather disparagingly by Maya Jasanoff in her essay as ‘an illegitimate…. ne’er-do-well’.  The excitement of the scene is palpable; the crowds of Indian onlookers jostle together, and you can almost hear the musicians. 

Rather more calm, and seated on a sofa in conversation with another European, is Major General Claude Martin, who originally fought for the French, but defected and became superintendent of Asaf-ud-Daula’s arsenal.  Martin was to become on of the most successful European entrepreneurs, and amassed a great fortune.     

After his return from India in 1789 Zoffany rarely travelled from London or his home in Kew.  One somewhat curious excursion was to the forest of Norwood with the Daniell brothers, fellow artists who had lived in Bengal.  In Norwood they met and questioned gypsies who lived there, and discovered that their Romany language was similar to the language spoken in Bengal – they found 26 words that were the same.  This reflects the discovery by Sir William Jones (1746–94) that Sanskrit was the origin of all Indo-European languages.

On a question of technique, it appears that many of Zoffany’s paintings are in excellent condition.  He was trained in sound continental techniques, and they have survived well. Perhaps they lack the spontaneity of the work of some of his contemporaries, such as Gainsborough, but they have none of the problems that Reynolds had with his notoriously unstable paint.

There are, annoyingly, no reference numbers in the catalogue itself to the much more elaborate illustrations incorporated in the main body of the text.  Maya Jasanoff incorrectly observes that in the conversation piece of Colonel Pollier and Friends (cat. no. 90) Zoffany, who has painted himself into the background, is winking.  This is just not so.  When checking the index for references to Sir William Jones (a personal hero of mine) they missed an important reference on page 131. Nonetheless, on the whole the catalogue is splendid and a thoroughly good companion to an excellent exhibition that would appeal to a wide range of readers.

Johan Zoffany RA Society Observed, edited by Martin Postle with contributions by Clarissa Campbell Orr, Jessica David, Gillian Forrester, Charles Greig, Maya Jasanoff, Martin Postle, Kate Retford, Robin Simon and MaryAnne Stevens is published by the Royal Academy of Arts, London in association with Yale University Press, 2011. 320 pp., 225 colour and 5 mono illus, £40.00 (hardback), £24.95 (paperback). ISBN: 9780300176049 (hardback)978-1-907533-26-6 (paperback)