Hackert’s output as a painter is rooted in the sketches that he made while conducting his trips into the country, a method exemplified by the drawing under discussion here, that was made after Hackert’s flight from Naples.  Arriving in Leghon by sea with his younger brother Georg Hackert (1755–1805) in 1799, the artist spent a year in Pisa in order to get established, and then moved permanently to Florence in 1800.  He is likely to have explored the outskirts of Florence immediately after his arrival in the city, setting out west along the Arno.  On reaching the village of Samminiatello, he saw opening out before him the sweeping view shown in the drawing under discussion here.  On the right of a broad bend in the river, we see the 13th century castle of Capraia, set on a rocky outcrop some thirty metres above the water. Inside the castle complex lies the small church of Santo Stefano, whose bell tower can clearly be seen in Hackert’s drawing.  Behind the trees, we may imagine the Medici Villa dell’Ambrogiana on the left bank of the Arno, situated directly across the water from Capraia in the vicinity of the small town of Montelupo Fiorentino.  This town is depicted by Hackert in a second drawing from the same provenance as the four drawings under discussion here, unsigned and undated but undoubtedly drawn in the course of the same excursion in 1800.  In it we see the castle of Capraia on the right and Montelupo on a hill on the left, while in our drawing we have to imagine Montelupo set up high beyond its left-hand edge (ill. 1).[1]  Hackert used this latter view as a model for a picture which he painted in 1802 and which is now in Montpellier.[2]

The drawing provides impressive evidence of Hackert’s skill in “transcribing” the features of a landscape, focusing on the aspects that he considered essential.  In dispensing with such factors as colour and the effect of light and shade, and thus forgoing rendering the plasticity of the objects he depicts, the artist “records” the individual features of the areas through which he travels using only their silhouette, reducing visible reality to a bare graphic structure, yet he still manages to include all the necessary information.  Trees, animals and rock formations are portrayed with intense realism and the observer never doubts that either the individual details depicted or the view as a whole, such as for example the position of the hills in the panorama of the Valdinievole, are anything but an absolutely faithful image of reality.

The drawing is characterised by a crowded succession of different forms that the artist sets against lofty, clear skies, while the presence of rivers and streams is indicated only by empty paper.  Yet another example of Hackert’s immense skill, he thus avoids tiring the observer’s eye, producing an artistic balance between the world created by his pen and the void deliberately left empty which requires the imagination of the mind’s eye for it to be interpreted as sky or as water.  Even though the drawing may seem unfinished at first sight, its freshness and immediacy together with the clear self-assuredness that governs their execution, convinces us that we are looking at self-contained works of art.  That conviction is confirmed by Hackert’s signature, placed in every instance in a carefully chosen position along with the date and the name of the locality depicted, as though the artist were trying to tell us that in his view there is nothing further to add to the sketch and that the artistic process may therefore be considered complete.

Hackert might finish his silhouette drawings with a sepia brush in his workshop and sell them to travellers on the art market, but in actual fact he kept many of them with him because in many ways they comprised what we might call his figurative memory.  Writing with satisfaction in his old age to the German poet Wolfgang Goethe (1749–1832), whom he had met in Naples in 1787, he says:

“I am certainly not wanting for subjects; I have thousands of well-made drawings from nature and so I can claim to have almost the entire Papal States and the Kingdom of Naples in my folders.”[3]

Only some of those “thousands” of sketches have come down to us, which is probably due to the fact that drawings completed with a sepia pen were popular not only with travellers of the time but also with 19th and 20th century collectors, thus we may fear that many of his silhouette drawings have been lost or destroyed.  Our drawing, which belongs to the first group of his sketches and thus to his precious image archive, may therefore be considered important for that fact alone, yet it gains in importance if we consider its provenance, which leads directly to Hackert himself.

On Hackert’s death, his legacy, including his drawings and paintings, went to his brother-in-law, Berlin Councillor Friedrich Christian Behrendt (1765?–1838) who organised their removal from Florence to Berlin.  This is most likely to be the source of the drawing under discussion here.  Its belonged to a group of thirty-two drawings which can be traced back with certainty to the collection of Princess Karoline Luise of Saxony Weimar Eisenach (1786–1816), the daughter of Duke Carl August (1757–1828).  The princess had a passion for drawing and was a dear friend of Goethe, himself a skilled draughtsman and a collector of drawings.  Goethe had been deeply impressed by his meeting with Hackert in 1787, and in his diary he even mentions an excursion in the painter’s company to Tivoli, where Hackert acted as his drawing teacher.  There is correspondence pointing to their renewed acquaintance in 1803, and Goethe – who owned many of Hackert’s drawings, which may still be seen in Weimar today – subsequently had his friend’s autobiographical notes sent to him, filling them out and publishing them in 1811.

Goethe was informed of Hackert’s death without delay, in April 1807, by the young painter Wilhelm Titel (1784–1862), who was a guest of the celebrated landscape artist in the last few months of his life and must therefore have heard almost immediately of the opportunity to purchase drawings from the late artist’s legacy which Councillor Behrendt had had removed to Berlin.  Behrendt, for his part, had already begun to sell Hackert’s work in Florence and he undoubtedly continued to do so in Berlin.[4]  The group of thirty-two drawings from which our sketche originally hails consists of work from every phase of Hackert’s career, thus revealing that he kept them as material for study and that they were therefore in his house when he died.  Moreover, the group contains preparatory studies for a cycle of ports of the Kingdom of Naples commissioned by King Ferdinando IV and which the artist could never have sold because the “copyright” for the cycle was held by the king himself.  And indeed the only other preparatory studies to have survived for this cycle are to be found in the Berlin prints cabinet, which they entered as part of the artist’s legacy well after his death.  So we may be almost absolutely certain that the thirty-two drawings purchased by Karoline Luise came from Hackert’s legacy and that the purchase was brokered by Goethe, the princess’s adviser in matters relating to art and well-informed regarding the practical aspects of his old friend’s legacy.

When the princess married Duke Friedrich Ludwig of Mecklenburg-Schwerin (1778–1819) in July 1810, she brought the works with her as part of her dowry.  She was later to become a very keen collector of landscape drawings.  After her premature death, the thirty-two drawings were inherited by her daughter Helene Luise Elisabeth of Mecklenburg-Schwerin (1814–58), who married Prince Ferdinand Philippe Louis Charles Henri Rosolin d’Orléans (1810–42) and brought Hackert’s works with her to France.  The next owner, her son Robert d’Orléans, duc de Chartres (1840–1910), married his cousin Françoise d’Orléans (1844–1925) and their heir was their son Jean Pierre Clément Maria d’Orléans, duc de Guise (1874–1940) and the husband of Isabelle Marie Laure Mercédès Ferdinande d’Orléans.  The couple were followed by their son Henri Robert Ferdinand Marie Louis Philippe d’Orléans, Comte de Paris (1908–1999).  Hackert’s drawings were auctioned off along with other works of art, uniforms, weapons and period costumes, and soon found their way into several different art galleries.

The importance of the drawing under discussion here lies not only in its being excellent example of Hackert’s skill and talent as an artist but also in its history and in its association with Goethe and with the Weimar court.  Thus we may confidently conclude that it can be labelled a valuable addition to the catalogue of Jakob Philipp Hackert.

 - Claudia Nordhoff

[1]           Jakob Philipp Hackert, “View of Montelupo and of the Castle of Capraia”.  Private collection.  Pen in brown on pencil, 760 x 545 mm., no inscription.  See the catalogue of the Hilmar Klemke Gallery in Cologne, edited by Claudia Nordhoff, Hackert, Kniep. Werke aus dem Nachlaß Jakob Philipp Hackert und andere Provenienzen. Cologne 2002, entry on pp. 49–50 (published in German and English).

[2]           Jakob Philipp Hackert, “View of Montelupo Fiorentino and Capraia”.  Montpellier, Musée Fabre.  Oil on canvas, 64 x 34 cm., inscribed on the back Philippe Hackert 1802.  See Nordhoff/Reimer 1994, II, entry 311.  The picture should probably be indentified with a canvas found in the painter’s workshop after his death and mentioned in the catalogue of the works he left:  “Capraja  vis à vis de Monte Lupo à deux postes de Florence sur le chemin de Pise” (cited by Bruno Lohse, Jakob Philipp Hackert, Leben und Anfänge seiner Kunst. Emsdetten 1936, p. 152, n. 32).

[3]           Letter datelined Weimar, 10 May 1803, Goethe- und Schiller-Archiv.  Cited by Nordhoff 2012, p. 194:  “An Stof fehlet es mir nicht ich habe Tausende Zeichnungen nach die Natur mit richtigkeit gezeichnet, so das ich sagen kan, das ich beinahe den KirchenStat und daß Königreich Napel u Sicilien in meine Portefeuls habe.”

[4]           See an article in the Gazzetta Toscana dated 19 September 1807 informing readers of the opportunity to purchase Hackert’s work from his heirs, i.e. Behrendt (see Nordhoff 2012, p. 654).