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Lot Essay
This arresting and beautifully preserved portrait of Countess Lucia Memmo Mocenigo is among the finest works from Angelica Kauffman's mature period in Rome. Lost to critical notice until very recently, when it was published by the sitter's great-great-great-great grandson, Andrea di Robilant (loc. cit.), in his account of Lucia's remarkable life, this picture constitutes an important addition to Kauffman's oeuvre and is a superb example of the artist's virtuosity as a portrait painter.
The sitter was the daughter of Andrea Memmo (1729-1793), the Venetian statesman whose life and clandestine affair with Giustiniana Wynne, later Countess Rosenberg-Orsini (1737 -1791), is recounted by di Robilant in his acclaimed work: A Venetian Affair. In 1786, whilst residing in Rome in his position as Venetian ambassador to the Papal states, Memmo commissioned Kauffman to paint a portrait of the sixteen year old Lucia, along with a likeness of himself and his younger daughter, Paolina (the latter is now in the Faringdon Collection, Buscot Park). Kauffman was among the most renowned artists then living in Rome and a staple of fashionable society. The Memmo sisters spent much of that summer in Kauffman's studio and became favourite companions of the artist, who took them on trips around the city along with her husband, the painter Antonio Zucchi, and her close friend, the sculptor Antonio Canova. About a year later, the three portraits were completed, and Lucia's father enthused that they were 'excellently painted by my excellent Kauffman' (A. Di Robilant, op. cit., p. 38).
Lucia's letters to Alvise Mocenigo, then her fiancé, paint a vivid picture of her thoughts during the time she was sitting to Kauffman. Alvise was the only son of Sebastiano Mocenigo, the patriarch of one of the most powerful and wealthy families in the Venetian Republic, and Andrea Memmo had worked tirelessly to secure the union. An obedient daughter, Lucia complied without pause to her father's wishes, but her letters also reveal the excitement and trepidation she felt in anticipation of meeting her future husband. She wrote to Alvise, '...So I consulted my heart, and this is what came out, and I don't even know if it's right or wrong... Enough now, I hope you will soon be at the end of this eternal wait and that I will have the very fine pleasure of seeing you at last to tell you in person how much I wish to be your loving and loyal spouse.' (ibid., p. 28).
After their marriage in 1787, Lucia and Alvise settled in Venice, taking up residence in Palazzo Mocenigo (fig. 1). At first the marriage was happy but Alvise's dalliances with other women soon strained the relationship. The couple moved to Vienna in 1792 where they spent some time in the court of Emperor Francis II and Empress Maria Theresa. In early 1793, Lucia gave birth to a son, Alvisetto, and returned to Venice soon after. When the boy was just one, she took him to live in Verona, where, tragically, he became ill and died. By the time Lucia's grief had abated and her correspondences resumed, she was back in Venice in a Republic on the brink of extinction. Napoleon's army had crossed the Alps in the spring of 1796, and within a year had signed a treaty with Austria dividing up the Venetian Republic. Lucia's husband travelled to Milan in the spring of 1797 to meet with Napoleon in an effort to save the Venetian state and spare his city a French occupation - but to no avail. The Memmos had been among the founders of the Republic in the 8th century and now, not long after the death of her own father in 1792, Lucia had to witness its disintegration.
In the spring of 1798, Lucia finally found the romance she had craved, falling in love with the Austrian officer Baron Maximilian Plunkett, with whom she carried on an extended - and somewhat notorious - affair. Though he was called back to battle, never to return, Lucia gave birth to their child in September 1799. She kept her son a secret for some time, but Alvise eventually discovered him and, in an unusual turn of events, legitimized the boy and named him his heir. Alvisetto, as the child was called, eventually became a respected politician and successful entrepreneur in his own right.
In 1806, Alvise was appointed governor of Agogna, one of the twenty-four departments in Napoleon's new Kingdom of Italy, and the family moved to Novara, not far from Milan. In the years that followed, Lucia was called to serve as lady-in-waiting to Princess Augusta, wife of Napoleon's stepson, until relieved of these duties by Napoleon's second wife, Empress Marie Louise. In 1810, Lucia went to Navarre to visit Jospéphine, Napoleon's first wife, whom she had met and befriended in Venice some years before. She then moved for a year to Paris, where she continued to visit Empress Marie Louise at Saint Cloud. When Napoleon's regime collapsed in 1814, it was Lucia who sought an audience with Talleyrand to try to retrieve papers once belonging to the former Republic of Venice. Her efforts were in vain, and, dejected, Lucia wrote: "This [Paris] is a great city but I prefer the one I was born in, and I hope to spend the few years of life I still have surrounded by our beloved lagoons." (ibid., p. 248). The couple returned in the summer of 1814 to Venice, where Alvise died a few months later. Lucia was left to manage the family finances, and in June 1818 rented the piano nobile of Palazzo Mocenigo to Lord Byron (fig. 2). The poet's menagerie of birds, dogs, a wolf, a fox, and two monkeys, understandably irked the lady of the house, and though he remained there for some time, his relationship with Lucia was endlessly plagued by landlord-tenant squabbles.
Years later, in 1833, Lucia was visited by an old friend from her days in Paris - Chateaubriand. The great diplomat-writer described his visit - and the present portrait - eloquently: "Madame Mocenigo lives retired in a tiny corner of her own private Louvre, overwhelmed by its vastness... I found her sitting across from Tintoretto's original sketch of his Paradise. Hanging on the wall right above her was Madame Mocenigo's own portrait, painted in her youth... Madame Mocenigo is still beautiful, the way one is beautiful in the shadow of old age... The time came to take my leave, and I respectfully kissed the hand of the Doge's Daughter whilst casting a lingering glance at the same beautiful hand in the portrait, which now withered at my lips." (ibid., p. 282). Lucia died on 7 March 1854, a month before her 84th birthday.
Like many of Kauffman's mature female portraits, the present work depicts a seated, elegant lady attired in fashionable, flowing classical dress; her torso is turned and her gaze meets the viewer's directly. In this case, however, the exceptional intimacy that characterizes the image can be accounted for, at least in part, by the close personal relationship between artist and sitter. Here, the delicacy and refinement of the handling and the extraordinary subtlety with which the flesh is modeled not only give form to Lucia's outward beauty, but also convey something of the ineffable loveliness of spirit to which her letters of the time so clearly testify.
We are grateful to Dr. Bettina Baumgärtel and Professor Wendy Wassying Roworth who have independently confirmed the attribution to Kauffman after inspection of the original.
The portrait will be included in Dr. Baumgärtel's forthcoming catalogue on the artist.
The sitter was the daughter of Andrea Memmo (1729-1793), the Venetian statesman whose life and clandestine affair with Giustiniana Wynne, later Countess Rosenberg-Orsini (1737 -1791), is recounted by di Robilant in his acclaimed work: A Venetian Affair. In 1786, whilst residing in Rome in his position as Venetian ambassador to the Papal states, Memmo commissioned Kauffman to paint a portrait of the sixteen year old Lucia, along with a likeness of himself and his younger daughter, Paolina (the latter is now in the Faringdon Collection, Buscot Park). Kauffman was among the most renowned artists then living in Rome and a staple of fashionable society. The Memmo sisters spent much of that summer in Kauffman's studio and became favourite companions of the artist, who took them on trips around the city along with her husband, the painter Antonio Zucchi, and her close friend, the sculptor Antonio Canova. About a year later, the three portraits were completed, and Lucia's father enthused that they were 'excellently painted by my excellent Kauffman' (A. Di Robilant, op. cit., p. 38).
Lucia's letters to Alvise Mocenigo, then her fiancé, paint a vivid picture of her thoughts during the time she was sitting to Kauffman. Alvise was the only son of Sebastiano Mocenigo, the patriarch of one of the most powerful and wealthy families in the Venetian Republic, and Andrea Memmo had worked tirelessly to secure the union. An obedient daughter, Lucia complied without pause to her father's wishes, but her letters also reveal the excitement and trepidation she felt in anticipation of meeting her future husband. She wrote to Alvise, '...So I consulted my heart, and this is what came out, and I don't even know if it's right or wrong... Enough now, I hope you will soon be at the end of this eternal wait and that I will have the very fine pleasure of seeing you at last to tell you in person how much I wish to be your loving and loyal spouse.' (ibid., p. 28).
After their marriage in 1787, Lucia and Alvise settled in Venice, taking up residence in Palazzo Mocenigo (fig. 1). At first the marriage was happy but Alvise's dalliances with other women soon strained the relationship. The couple moved to Vienna in 1792 where they spent some time in the court of Emperor Francis II and Empress Maria Theresa. In early 1793, Lucia gave birth to a son, Alvisetto, and returned to Venice soon after. When the boy was just one, she took him to live in Verona, where, tragically, he became ill and died. By the time Lucia's grief had abated and her correspondences resumed, she was back in Venice in a Republic on the brink of extinction. Napoleon's army had crossed the Alps in the spring of 1796, and within a year had signed a treaty with Austria dividing up the Venetian Republic. Lucia's husband travelled to Milan in the spring of 1797 to meet with Napoleon in an effort to save the Venetian state and spare his city a French occupation - but to no avail. The Memmos had been among the founders of the Republic in the 8th century and now, not long after the death of her own father in 1792, Lucia had to witness its disintegration.
In the spring of 1798, Lucia finally found the romance she had craved, falling in love with the Austrian officer Baron Maximilian Plunkett, with whom she carried on an extended - and somewhat notorious - affair. Though he was called back to battle, never to return, Lucia gave birth to their child in September 1799. She kept her son a secret for some time, but Alvise eventually discovered him and, in an unusual turn of events, legitimized the boy and named him his heir. Alvisetto, as the child was called, eventually became a respected politician and successful entrepreneur in his own right.
In 1806, Alvise was appointed governor of Agogna, one of the twenty-four departments in Napoleon's new Kingdom of Italy, and the family moved to Novara, not far from Milan. In the years that followed, Lucia was called to serve as lady-in-waiting to Princess Augusta, wife of Napoleon's stepson, until relieved of these duties by Napoleon's second wife, Empress Marie Louise. In 1810, Lucia went to Navarre to visit Jospéphine, Napoleon's first wife, whom she had met and befriended in Venice some years before. She then moved for a year to Paris, where she continued to visit Empress Marie Louise at Saint Cloud. When Napoleon's regime collapsed in 1814, it was Lucia who sought an audience with Talleyrand to try to retrieve papers once belonging to the former Republic of Venice. Her efforts were in vain, and, dejected, Lucia wrote: "This [Paris] is a great city but I prefer the one I was born in, and I hope to spend the few years of life I still have surrounded by our beloved lagoons." (ibid., p. 248). The couple returned in the summer of 1814 to Venice, where Alvise died a few months later. Lucia was left to manage the family finances, and in June 1818 rented the piano nobile of Palazzo Mocenigo to Lord Byron (fig. 2). The poet's menagerie of birds, dogs, a wolf, a fox, and two monkeys, understandably irked the lady of the house, and though he remained there for some time, his relationship with Lucia was endlessly plagued by landlord-tenant squabbles.
Years later, in 1833, Lucia was visited by an old friend from her days in Paris - Chateaubriand. The great diplomat-writer described his visit - and the present portrait - eloquently: "Madame Mocenigo lives retired in a tiny corner of her own private Louvre, overwhelmed by its vastness... I found her sitting across from Tintoretto's original sketch of his Paradise. Hanging on the wall right above her was Madame Mocenigo's own portrait, painted in her youth... Madame Mocenigo is still beautiful, the way one is beautiful in the shadow of old age... The time came to take my leave, and I respectfully kissed the hand of the Doge's Daughter whilst casting a lingering glance at the same beautiful hand in the portrait, which now withered at my lips." (ibid., p. 282). Lucia died on 7 March 1854, a month before her 84th birthday.
Like many of Kauffman's mature female portraits, the present work depicts a seated, elegant lady attired in fashionable, flowing classical dress; her torso is turned and her gaze meets the viewer's directly. In this case, however, the exceptional intimacy that characterizes the image can be accounted for, at least in part, by the close personal relationship between artist and sitter. Here, the delicacy and refinement of the handling and the extraordinary subtlety with which the flesh is modeled not only give form to Lucia's outward beauty, but also convey something of the ineffable loveliness of spirit to which her letters of the time so clearly testify.
We are grateful to Dr. Bettina Baumgärtel and Professor Wendy Wassying Roworth who have independently confirmed the attribution to Kauffman after inspection of the original.
The portrait will be included in Dr. Baumgärtel's forthcoming catalogue on the artist.