Art and the German Bourgeoisie: Alfred Lichtwark and Modern Painting in Hamburg, 1886-1914 9781442671027

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Alfred Lichtwark and Modern Paintin alfred lichtwark and modern painting in Hamburg, 1886-1914

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CAROLYN KAY

Art and the German Bourgeoisie: Alfred Lichtwark and Modern Painting in Hamburg, 1886-1914

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO PRESS Toronto Buffalo London

www.utppublishing.com © University of Toronto Press Incorporated 2002 Toronto Buffalo London Printed in Canada ISBN 0-8020-0992-0

Printed on acid-free paper

National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data Kay, Carolyn Helen Art and the German bourgeoisie: Alfred Lichtwark and modern painting in Hamburg, 1886-1914 / Carolyn Kay. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-8020-0992-0 1. Lichtwark, Alfred, 1852-1914 - Influence. 2. Painting, German - Germany - Hamburg - 19th century. 3. Painting, German - Germany - Hamburg - 20th century. 4. Art and society - Germany - Hamburg - History. I. Title. ND586.H35K39 2002

759.3'515

C2002-902130-8

University of Toronto Press acknowledges the financial assistance to its publishing program of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council. This book has been published with the help of a grant from the Humanities and Social Sciences Federation of Canada, using funds provided by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. University of Toronto Press acknowledges the financial support for its publishing activities of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP).

For Dad, Jenniffer, and Sebastian, with love, and for my mother, who started it all

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Contents

Acknowledgments

ix

Introduction 3 1 Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art 9 2 The Petersen Portrait: The Failure of Modern Art as Monument in Hamburg 41 3 The Scandal in 1896 over the 'New Tendency' 70 4 Lichtwark and the Society of Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art (the Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde) 100 Conclusion 117 Notes 123 Bibliography 147 Index 159 Illustrations follow p. 86

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Acknowledgments

In the process of researching and writing this book (developed from my Yale PhD thesis), I have benefited enormously from the financial support provided by the following sponsors: the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, the Yale Graduate School, Yale's Center for International and Area Studies, and Yale's West European Studies Department. During my research trips to Hamburg, I sought help and advice from the staff of the Kupferstichkabinett in the Kunsthalle, where the Lichtwark archive is located. My thanks to Dr Helmut R. Leppien, Herr Bertschat, Frau Mendt, Frau von Wangenheim, and Herr Schmidt. Heino Rose of the Hamburg Staatsarchiv was a friendly and enthusiastic guide to the sources on Lichtwark, and I was very glad for his assistance. At an early stage of the work, Hideko Secrest read over selected chapters and suggested important stylistic changes, and Helmut Walser Smith asked some tough questions about Lichtwark's views on art and the nation, forcing me to think again about my approach. Andreas Pickel of Trent University has also checked over several difficult translations from the German. My thanks to all these friends. I am especially grateful to my colleague Joan Sangster, whose encouragement and advice during the long process of writing this book kept me going at tough times. For the University of Toronto Press, editors Kristen Pederson and Judy Williams provided expert advice; furthermore, several anonymous readers who evaluated my work recommended changes for further research and revision that strengthened the manuscript. I wish, too, to express my appreciation for my first university mentor and teacher, Modris Eksteins, who intro-

x Acknowledgments duced me to German cultural history at the University of Toronto and inspired my passion for German art and modern German history. When I was a doctoral student at Yale and began investigating the subject of Alfred Lichtwark and modern art in Hamburg, I visited Peter Paret at the Institute for Advanced Study to ask for his opinion as to this topic's feasibility. From that point on he became a crucial source of criticism, knowledge, and advice: he read thesis chapters and suggested many changes, and through his own exemplary work he showed me how art could be used as a document of the past. I am very grateful for his support and for his superb guidance at a critical time in my work. Finally, I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to Peter Gay. From the beginning of my long journey from graduate student to professional historian he has offered encouragement for this topic, carefully following the progress of my ideas. His thorough comments on the various drafts of my thesis were instrumental in the development of my argument, and his stylistic suggestions helped me to refine my writing. Furthermore Gay's innovative work on the bourgeois experience of the nineteenth century inspired me to rethink the history of fin-de-siecle European culture and society. Most of all, I am thankful for the excellent direction he gave to this study over many years.

Art and the German Bourgeoisie

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Introduction

It is becoming clearer to me every day that Germans have an instinctive antipathy to painting, to painting intended as nothing more than painting. .. 1 Max Liebermann, 1902

In Imperial Germany, modern art and bourgeois society struggled through a troubled relationship, of great concern to artists, museum directors, art dealers, and the art-going public. Controversial German artists transformed the styles and subjects of German art, influenced at first by French impressionism and nineteenth-century Dutch painting and later by the startling new works of Munch, van Gogh, Gauguin, Cezanne, and the Fauves. During the 1890s, secession movements arose in Berlin, Munich, Dresden, Karlsruhe, Weimar, and Diisseldorf; secession artists such as Max Liebermann, Fritz von Uhde, and Walter Leistikow rejected academy-style painting and experimented with modern aesthetics. This led to the development of German impressionism, and later contributed to the beginnings of expressionism. The art public changed too, although the turning point was in the earlier years of the nineteenth century, when art was no longer restricted to royal courts and church commissions, and when a new buyer emerged: the bourgeoisie. The economic success of the middle class altered the interplay of art and society, and opened up new opportunities for artists. By the turn of the century, every major German city had its art dealers and public galleries, and art publications, like the popular Kunst fur Alle (Art for Everyone), charted the art world. Some of the most avid collectors of modern art were wealthy bourgeois from among Germany's leading industrialists and businessmen - men like Walther Rathenau,

4 Art and the German Bourgeoisie the director of Berlin's electrical manufacturing firm, AEG, and banker Karl Ernst Osthaus of Hagen.2 Moreover, the defenders of the embattled secession painters included men and women from the educated bourgeoisie or Bildungsbiirgertum: lawyers, physicians, professors, art historians, gallery directors, artists, and writers. Nonetheless, the bourgeois audience in Germany could be highly critical of the new works: a taste for the classical in art, for Renaissance paintings or reproductions by established (and talented) artists like Adolph von Menzel and Franz von Lenbach, is evident. Furthermore, conservative critics and demagogic populists argued for a 'pure' German art based on traditional culture; in Berlin they attacked secession painting for its independence from the state-sanctioned Salon, as well as for its cosmopolitanism and a supposedly 'profit-seeking' Jewish spirit.3 The influence of modern French culture on German artists aroused much of this nationalistic anger - but these critics also opposed modernism in general, equating modernism with Jewishness despite the fact that most of the Empire's Jews were not sympathetic to the changes in art and literature.4 The anti-modernists also set political goals for German art, demanding that a superior and hence native German culture, defined by traditional styles and lofty subjects, should accompany Germany's industrial and military march onto the world stage. This model for culture was tied to the notion of a German Sonderweg, or special path, in which Germany developed apart from the West politically, socially, and culturally. Artistic influences such as French impressionism would be rejected simply by being called 'foreign.' The attacks on modern painting found support from Emperor William II, who proclaimed that art should reinforce the German spirit, not descend into the filth of the gutter.5 In Berlin the Kaiser made every attempt to thwart innovation in the arts, and in particular meddled in the affairs of Hugo von Tschudi, the director of the National Gallery from 1886 to 1908. Tschudi was a talented and progressive administrator, whose interest in modern art led to the National Gallery's acquisition of works by both French and German impressionists. In response the Kaiser blocked the purchases of modern French painting whenever possible, supported in his actions by Anton von Werner, head of the Institute of Fine Arts in Berlin, and also publicly opposed the secession artists in Germany, especially Liebermann. Unfortunately for Tschudi, all purchases for the gallery had to be approved by the National Commission for the Arts (Landeskunstkommission), a committee of artists and officials selected by the

Introduction 5 Kaiser. Moreover, after 1898 the emperor became involved directly, vetoing paintings about to be bought by the gallery.7 Tschudi overcame these obstacles by accepting a good number of paintings as gifts from private individuals, and he was able to assemble an outstanding collection of impressionist and neoimpressionist European art. Then in 1908 Tschudi and the emperor clashed over the purchase of paintings by Delacroix, Courbet, and Daumier, leading to Tschudi's resignation within a year. For the historian of Imperial Germany, the conflict over German art seen, for example, in the Tschudi affair - shows the resistance to cultural change in the new Reich and the consequent politicization of art; it also reveals the fragile sense of German national identity at the fin de siecle. Some important historical studies have explored the jagged cultural landscape after 1871, concentrating mainly on Berlin and Munich.8 Peter Paret and Peter Jelavich, for example, have investigated the opposition to modern German culture in Wilhelmine Germany; Paret's study of the Berlin Secession led him to conclude that the hostile response to it on the part of art critics, artists, government officials, and anti-Semitic populists demonstrated just how difficult it was for the Reich to integrate social, economic, and cultural changes into its politics and institutions. Jelavich has looked at anti-modernism in Bavaria, and shows how Catholic pressure groups in Munich attacked the modernist dramas of Frank Wedekind and Oskar Panizza, calling their works pornographic and pushing for censorship of all public performances of their plays. 'Threatening modernity,' notes Peter Gay in his study of modernist culture, 'pervaded all of life - work, play, morals, religion. But its most conspicuous manifestations clustered in high culture: in the arts, in literature, and in the domain of ideas - philosophy, psychology, the social sciences.'9 The enemies of modernism, then, seized on modern art as a symptom of the decay of German society and its traditional values: art became the target for unease with the modern world and its pressures. With this book, I hope to add a new perspective on the subject of modernism in Imperial Germany. My study offers an interpretative account of the culture of fin-de-siecle Hamburg. A proud city-state that had flourished for centuries in the Hanseatic League, Hamburg embraced a long tradition of independence from princely rule; by the nineteenth century it was a liberal city, made prosperous by the success of trade and thus governed by merchants and lawyers.10 In 1871 Hamburg joined the Reich as a federated state, with control over its own

6 Art and the German Bourgeoisie local political structure and economy and over social and cultural policy. Despite this independence, the city's governing body, the Senate, actually did very little to stimulate cultural life and instead left this task to the efforts of private individuals and to arts administrators hired to direct museums and theatres. The most remarkable man among such adminstrators was the director of the Hamburg art gallery, or Kunsthalle, Alfred Lichtwark. From 1886 to 1914, Lichtwark dominated Hamburg's cultural life, a fascinating and tireless supporter of avant-garde art before expressionism. As Kunsthalle director, he set himself the task of improving the cultural character of the Hanseatic capital. To that end, he assembled an extensive collection of German and European art for the Kunsthalle, relying substantially on the generosity of well-to-do citizens of the city. He persuaded the public to support purchases of medieval German art and art of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, including works by Hamburg painters. He also led the way to the rediscovery of the early nineteenth-century artists Philipp Otto Runge and Caspar David Friedrich. Lichtwark's greatest achievement, however, was his acquisition of paintings by secession artists Leopold von Kalckreuth, Max Slevogt, Lovis Corinth, and, above all, Max Liebermann. The Kunsthalle purchased more works by Liebermann than any other public gallery in Wilhelmine Germany despite the frequent scandals over Liebermann's work in the early years of his career. Lichtwark also encouraged native Hamburg art, and helped to form a controversial artists' association called the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub (the Hamburg Artists' Association), whose young painters experimented with bright colours and impressionist brushwork. In addition, he purchased many paintings by French impressionists for the Kunsthalle. Ultimately, Lichtwark gathered an impressive collection of modern works from Germany and France, and he made the Kunsthalle one of the finest German art galleries of its day. By the turn of the century he had become one of the three most influential museum directors in the German empire, alongside Tschudi and Wilhelm Bode, director of the Prussian museums. Lichtwark is perhaps best known as a cultural critic who endeavoured to educate the German public about art. He was a prolific writer on painting, and on related topics such as interior decoration, gardens, crafts, architecture, public memorials, photography, and amateur art. He urged the public to educate itself in modern aesthetics, hoping that the bourgeoisie would come to appreciate the advances of modern art

Introduction 7 without dismissing artists like Liebermann. From his writings about his personal reactions to paintings, it is clear that Lichtwark wanted to evoke in other Germans the type of love that he felt for the German impressionists. But Lichtwark was not a champion of art for art's sake and this makes him an intriguing figure for the historian. He believed that culture had a crucial role in the new German nation - provided that that culture was creative, original, and distinctive to Germany. Lichtwark argued that all great states depended on political stability, economic success, military strength, and cultural achievement. Such achievement signalled an assured, intelligent, and cultured leading class. However, he thought that Germany's bourgeoisie lacked sufficient interest in German culture, and that this failure explained the weak sense of identity in a class that could not yet direct the nation with self-assurance. Lichtwark asserted that if the bourgeoisie educated itself about culture, this would enrich the cultivation and knowledge (Bildung) of each individual and help in the formation of a confident self-identity, in turn strengthening the nation. At the same time, German artists would receive important public recognition. Accordingly, in Hamburg, Lichtwark tried to win the support of the bourgeoisie for modern art, using the Kunsthalle as a place of cultural education. Lichtwark's depiction of the German bourgeoisie contained a sweeping and unfair condemnation of the entire class as philistine, and this is one of the subjects we will explore in this study. It is clear, however, that in the 1890s Lichtwark faced many critics and adversaries, who attacked his support of modern art and made it difficult for him to carry through his ambitious cultural program: this situation only intensified his prejudice against the bourgeoisie. We will look closely at Lichtwark's defence of modern art, and at the type of opposition he faced in Hamburg. Chapter 1 addresses Lichtwark's work in Hamburg and his ideas about culture, while chapters 2 and 3 discuss the most significant instances of public disapproval of Lichtwark's efforts in Hamburg: controversy in 1892 over a portrait by Max Liebermann of the Hamburg Burgomaster Carl Petersen, and an 1896 scandal involving the young painters of the Hamburgische Kiinstlerclub, who modelled their works after French impressionism. In the final chapter we will consider who in the bourgeoisie supported Lichtwark and why, focusing on a society of art patrons he formed in 1895: the Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde (the Society of Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art). Lichtwark did have some powerful backing from

8 Art and the German Bourgeoisie Hamburg's elite, but the two scandals of 1892 and 1896 brought into the open virulent expressions of anti-modernism - revealing that Hamburg residents shared with other Germans the sense of a traditional German culture under siege from a dangerous, immoral, nonGerman art. Lichtwark complained constantly about this backlash, but remained committed to his work as Kunsterzieher (arts educator) in Hamburg, becoming one of Imperial Germany's most outspoken champions of modernism.

CHAPTER ONE

Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art

What contains as powerful a driving force as the dream of a strong young spirit? Alfred Lichtwark, 19021 We as a people are endangered even along our border with the barbarians in the east, and this fact clearly reveals to us the importance of a harmonious national culture. Alfred Lichtwark, 18942

To make the acquaintance of Alfred Lichtwark, one can turn to the many books, essays, and letters he wrote in his lifetime. His writings are like conversation pieces - indeed, he intended them as such - and they offer an indelible impression of the man and his ideas. They even tease us somewhat, since there are aspects of this bourgeois gentleman that remain a mystery: his decision not to marry, for example, or his sociability with officers and aristocrats.3 The most difficult task, however, is to piece together his ideas about culture. Because of his many interests, these ideas can seem like disparate points on a map, although all were part of Lichtwark's grand plan: the cultural education of Germany's bourgeoisie. He envisioned a Germany transformed by an enlightened middle class and a brilliant new tradition in German art. Indeed, Lichtwark believed that the bourgeoisie's support of modern painting and literature would lead to 'a harmonious national culture,' able to integrate the nation socially and to augment the Reich's political and economic power. At stake was Germany's vitality as an emerging nation. Lichtwark was a loyal son of the Bismarckian age, swept up

10 Art and the German Bourgeoisie in the euphoria of Germany's progress as a young nation and deeply concerned to support the Reich's rise to world power. The man, his era, his work, and his ideas are intrinsically connected.4 The Pioneering Spirit: Lichtwark's Character

In 1902 Lichtwark published a concise biography of his friend Justus Brinckmann, the director of Hamburg's Museum fur Kunst und Gewerbe (Museum of Applied Arts).5 As in any sympathetic biography, the author identified closely with his subject, but in this case Lichtwark could barely contain his enthusiasm for Brinckmann's character and achievements. In fact, as Max Liebermann spotted immediately, throughout the work he indirectly offered the readers a portrait of himself.6 Lichtwark's theme was Brinckmann's unique sensitivity to art and his selfless devotion to Hamburg's Museum fur Kunst und Gewerbe. He honoured what he called Brinckmann's 'pioneering spirit,' an essence that propelled him to understand and nurture the progressive cultural forces of the age. Men like Brinckmann, according to Lichtwark, were visionaries, driven to action by a desire to move beyond the obstacles of existing traditions. They embraced a restless and youthful curiosity about modernity, and were resolute in the face of public opposition or derision. The characteristics of keen instinct, relentless will-power, self-mastery, and a deep love of life dominated their behaviour. In a nutshell, the finest physical, intellectual, and moral aspects of man were combined in this Pioniernatur. These men were also self-taught, Lichtwark pointed out, answerable only to themselves and hence talented and driven; they could be warriors, explorers, scientists, or artists - but what bound them together was the overpowering will within.7 In all of these characteristics, Lichtwark stressed what he thought were the best aspects of himself, including his will-power, his love of modern art, his belief in the promise of youth, his physical and intellectual energy, and his resolute direction of the Kunsthalle. Lichtwark undoubtedly perceived himself as a pioneer on a relatively lonely quest, little understood by others. How had he become such a man? In a quiet and beautiful rural area to the southeast of Hamburg, called Reitbrook, a house still stands adorned with a small plaque bearing Lichtwark's name. On 14 November 1852, Alfred Lichtwark was born here, son to Friedrich Carl Johann Ernst Lichtwark, a miller, and his wife Helena Johanna Henriette Lichtwark, nee Bach. Friedrich

Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art 11 Lichtwark had remarried in 1851 after the death of his first wife, choosing her niece, a woman of less than half his age, as his next partner.8 Alfred was the couple's first child; he would be followed by a brother and sister (Hans and Marianne) and yet another brother, who died within a year of his birth. Of these relatively humble beginnings we know very little. There is only one biographer, to date, of Alfred Lichtwark - Anna von Zeromski - and she paints a rosy portrait of the years in Reitbrook.9 The father appears in her account as 'a kindhearted friend to children.'10 Little Alfred spends his days roaming the fields surrounding the mill, or sharing his mother's love of flowers and helping her with the family garden. In this version, Alfred developed his keen sense of colour and his appreciation of nature from these early experiences, an interpretation that could be true. But it seems equally possible that Lichtwark suffered as a child; he did not like to discuss his own childhood, and this suggests that it may have contained painful episodes for him. We do know certain details about his early life that are noteworthy. In 1853, Friedrich Lichtwark lost his mill, and after several years of hardship had to move the family to Hamburg, hoping to find employment and a good school for the children. This turn of events apparently originated in a tragic incident; the father had put up a bond (Biirgschaft) for an untrustworthy friend who subsequently disappeared. As a consequence, Friedrich Lichtwark lost his savings and had to sell his property. Once in Hamburg, he failed at other ventures, leaving the burden of responsibility for the family with Alfred's mother. She offered laundry services to neighbours and managed to earn a meagre living. Finally, in 1869, Friedrich Lichtwark died. At age seventeen Alfred became the head of the family. At no point in his adult life, as far as we know, did Lichtwark ever mention his father: 'of him and his influence on the boy we know nothing,' observed the art critic Karl Scheffler.11 However, a persistent scholar later discovered several letters by Friedrich Lichtwark that revealed he was subject to an 'old sickness' (as himself called it): alcoholism.12 The loss of the mill as a result of a friend's irresponsibility is never mentioned in these letters, although there are persistent demands for large loans, suggesting that the father's mill was no longer profitable and that his illness rendered his ability to manage it negligible. If the father was indeed an alcoholic, this would explain his failure to find steady employment after selling the mill and moving to Hamburg. What we do not know is how Friedrich Lichtwark treated his children.

12 Art and the German Bourgeoisie A clue about the relationship of father and son does appear, though, in young Alfred's behaviour. Zeromski notes that as a child Lichtwark was obsessively concerned with cleanliness, to the point of attacking anyone he thought looked untidy or dirty.13 We might attribute this behaviour to the child's shame at the father's destructive illness; perhaps Alfred Lichtwark's concern for appearance was a means of controlling his environment, or an attempt to suppress feelings of his own 'dirtiness.' One consequence of these early years is indisputable: with the decline and death of Friedrich Lichtwark, Alfred took on the role of father in the family, sharing with his mother the responsibility for keeping it intact and for meeting its debts. He resolved to forge a career for himself that would allow the family to live comfortably in Hamburg. After the Lichtwarks had moved to Hamburg in 1860, Alfred, Marianne, and Hans attended a Freischule (public school) for poor children. The director of the school quickly noticed how well the eldest son performed his lessons; when a teacher took ill in 1866 he decided to ask Lichtwark to work as a part-time instructor. From this point on, Lichtwark was simultaneously a student and a teacher. He moved on to the St Jakobikirchenschule in 1868, and there, too, worked as a teacher's assistant. At night he studied at the Nikolaikirchenschule to become a teacher, although for some reason he never obtained a teaching certificate. Then in 1871 Lichtwark took courses at a Gymnasium in Altona and another in Hamburg. He studied until 1880 and supported himself by offering private lessons, and by teaching at the Gottschalksche Mittelschule for boys.14 We have a clear sense, even at this early stage, of how disciplined Lichtwark was and how much energy he gave to his studies. According to his brother, Lichtwark taught himself more than twelve different languages, including Spanish, Italian, Dutch, Norwegian, and Swedish.15 He learned English and French while at school. Other subjects fascinated Lichtwark too: he admired Darwin, for example, and read avidly in botany and zoology. He was happiest reading Shakespeare and Goethe, and treasured their works throughout his life. Lichtwark's energy for self-directed study reveals that while the independence forced on him by the circumstances of his family's hardship no doubt robbed him of some pleasures, it also helped him to develop strong intellectual skills and a secure sense of identity. He seemed destined at this point to become a teacher, but in the late 1870s something remarkable happened to change his life.

Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art 13 In Hamburg's Museum fur Kunst und Gewerbe, Justus Brinckmann offered public lectures on the museum's acquisitions, which ranged from Renaissance jewellery to nineteenth-century Viennese furniture and Japanese prints. Lichtwark attended these lectures from 1878 to 1880 and developed an intense interest in painting, graphics, and the decorative arts. Brinckmann befriended this young enthusiast, who impressed him with his interest in art. He then introduced Lichtwark to Carl Kail, a merchant and prominent member of Hamburg's legislature, the Citizens' Assembly. (After 1895 Kall became the commercial director of Hamburg's General Electrics, AEG.) Unexpectedly, this kind man offered Lichtwark the financial means to study art history in Leipzig under the renowned scholar Anton Springer. Kall placed great confidence in Lichtwark's abilities after knowing him for only a short time, and played a crucial role in Lichtwark's future by helping him to move beyond a modest career as a teacher. Within the first few years of their friendship he asked Lichtwark to regard him as a father, a gesture that touched Lichtwark deeply.16 At the University of Leipzig Lichtwark studied art history, philosophy, and classical political economy, of significance for his later thoughts on society and art. In 1885 he presented a thesis on Renaissance decorative engravings (Ornamentstich), a work he had actually begun before his formal studies at university. Lichtwark did not remain at Leipzig the whole time, however; in 1881, thanks to Brinckmann's efforts, he became an assistant to Julius Lessing in Berlin's Museum of Decorative Arts (Kunstgewerbemuseum). By 1884 he was director of the museum's library, well on his way to a successful career in the German capital. After his move to Berlin, Lichtwark wrote voluminous letters to his family, detailing his swift ascent into high society.17 He was in his element here, working hard to gain knowledge about art with each day, especially while he helped to catalogue the museum's fine collection of prints. He received invitations to dinners and official celebrations, where he met the artists Max Klinger, Hermann Prell, and Adolph Menzel, professors Theodor Mommsen, Herman Grimm, and Heinrich von Treitschke, Ludwig Pietsch (art critic for the Vossische Zeitung), and the leading men of Berlin's museums: Woldemar von Seidlitz, Hugo von Tschudi, Richard Schone, and Wilhelm Bode. Of Bode, Lichtwark had only good things to say; above all he admired Bode's achievements as a self-made man (Autodidakt), seeing in him a little of his own experience.18 One of Lichtwark's initial encounters with Bode pro-

14 Art and the German Bourgeoisie duced a glowing description for Lichtwark's mother: 'I was at Bode's this morning, and he related all sorts of things to me. What one learns from such a man!'19 During the Berlin years, Lichtwark learned as much as he could of art, literature, and society from Bode and many other friends. He set up a tasteful apartment filled with antique furniture and favourite prints. Klinger gave him essays by the Danish literary critic Georg Brandes to read, to add to the books by Zola, Flaubert, and Maupassant in his friend's home. As a social observer, little escaped Lichtwark's attention; he offered his mother intricate accounts of what people wore or how they acted over dinner, although eventually he found the demands of socializing draining and rather tedious. A greater challenge to his abilities arose when Julius Lessing suggested he write art reports for several Berlin newspapers. Beginning in 1881 his reviews appeared in the Nationalzeitung, under the initial 'k'; within a short period of time he was also writing for Die Gegenwart and the Hamburger Nachrichten, a paper that would later become the voice for some of his most strenuous critics. Lichtwark's stint as a journalist earned him extra money and the opportunity to study and to review contemporary German art, and also trained him to write clearly and proficiently for a large audience. He would later advise writers to consider the talents of a journalist, especially the ability to write in a direct and persuasive way so that anyone could understand.20 While his career in Berlin flourished, important developments in Hamburg forced Lichtwark to reconsider his future. In June 1886 Hamburg's governing Senate proposed the appointment of a director for the Kunsthalle; the gallery had first opened in 1869 under the supervision of an inspector, who died in February 1886.21 Lichtwark's stature in Berlin, combined with recommendations from Brinckmann and other influential supporters, made him the best candidate for the post. The terms of employment included a generous yearly salary of 8,000 marks, to be increased over time (reaching 19,000 marks in 1913-14), and the assistance of a secretary.22 The Senate stipulated that the new director would be expected to maintain and enhance the current art collection; furthermore, he would be responsible for 'the artistic education of the people and for heightening the sensitivity for beauty.'23 After weeks of careful thought about his future, Lichtwark finally agreed to accept the offer. Many of his Berlin friends had tried to dissuade him, since they were convinced he had a more promising future in the capital. Treitschke, for one, argued strenuously with Lichtwark

Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art 15 about his plans: 'You want to move from Berlin to Hamburg! Then you will truly be stranded!'24 Despite Treitschke's warning, the challenge of working as Kunsthalle director aroused Lichtwark's pioneering spirit. He had a chance at age thirty-four to take command of Hamburg's culture in a powerful way. Then, too, Lichtwark loved the city - a feeling reflected in his famous comment, 'I cannot help but regard and experience everything as a Hamburger.'25 Of even greater importance was the fact that Lichtwark yearned to rejoin his family. As early as July 1880 he had heard that he might be named successor to the aging Kunsthalle inspector. When he wrote to Marianne about this information, he could barely contain his joy: 'It would be an unspeakable piece of luck, [for] then we would all have arrived at a safe harbour!'26 And at Christmas 1880 Lichtwark assured his mother that, although the family was not together for the holidays (he and Marianne were in Berlin), she and Hans should not feel sad: 'be comforted, all will turn out fine!'27 The prospect of a respectable and secure position in Hamburg must have seemed very attractive to this dutiful son, after years of worrying about sending enough money to his mother. If the return to Hamburg offered Lichtwark a marvellous opportunity as a gallery director, it also meant coming home in triumph to those dearest to him. Without regret, then, Lichtwark made the transition from Berlin to Hamburg, becoming Kunsthalle director in October 1886, and remaining in this office until his death in 1914. At the start of his career, the Kunsthalle housed an unsystematic collection of paintings, graphics, and sculpture, donated, for the most part, by private benefactors. Among these artworks there were some treasures, including European prints from the fifteenth to seventeenth centuries, and a respectable (if uneven) collection of nineteenth-century British paintings, left to the Kunsthalle in 1886 by G.C. Schwabe, a successful Hamburg merchant.28 With an eye to the strengths and weaknesses of these holdings, Lichtwark fashioned a world-class museum over the next twenty-eight years, introducing new collections based on his evolving ideas about art. He outlined his intentions in his first public speech in December 1886 before the Kunsthalle Commission, the Hamburg Senate, and the Citizens' Assembly.29 In order to augment the Kunsthalle's collection, he wished to begin purchasing the best examples of nineteenthcentury European and German art; these works could be acquired with limited funds, he argued, while Renaissance art, for example, was

16 Art and the German Bourgeoisie simply too expensive. If the Kunsthalle bought contemporary English paintings, these could be added to the Schwabe collection. French art, too, deserved attention, 'in order to protect the nature of our collection from becoming monotonous, and to direct our population's vision

beyond national borders, even in artistic matters.'30 Lichtwark pre-

sented a program both ambitious and innovative: he made it clear to Hamburg's leaders that he would create a modern gallery of art, able to rival other German galleries. Furthermore, he intended to make this gallery an educational meeting-place for Hamburg's citizens, at a time when the city lacked a university, an academy of art, or a polytechnic institute. He proposed that children should be brought to the Kunsthalle, that programs for teachers should be introduced, and that lectures should be offered to the public on a regular basis. In every case, the gallery's art would function as a catalyst for aesthetic education, playing an active role in the viewer's visit to the Kunsthalle: 'We do not want to talk around objects, but we want to speak about the objects and before them. ... We do not want a museum that stands and

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still relatively new, coinciding with the expansion of late nineteenthcentury urban society. Lichtwark's achievements were thus all the more remarkable; he blazed his own path, with few examples to guide him.32 In the years after 1886, Lichtwark strengthened his authority in Hamburg, directing the Kunsthalle like an autocrat. However, in all decisions regarding the Kunsthalle he did have to report to the gallery's Commission, a governing board of seven members that included Lichtwark himself, and two representatives each from the Senate, the Citizens' Assembly, and Hamburg's local art association, the Kunstverein. On occasion, the Commission could be obstructive, refusing to approve suggestions for new acquisitions. For example, in 1894 the Commission rejected several paintings by Arthur lilies and Ernst Eitner, two controversial Hamburg artists whose work Lichtwark defended.33 But from the time he was appointed Kunsthalle director until his death in 1914, Lichtwark worked hard to establish good relations with the Commission members, constantly seeking their approval and support. Crucial to this relationship were Lichtwark's fascinating letters to the Kunsthalle Commission, beginning in 1891 and continuing until

Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art 17 1913.34 These letters, eventually published in twenty volumes, comprise some of the most significant sources for Lichtwark's ideas on art, and also offer a marvellous account of his observations on European society and culture. Lichtwark first intended to write to only one of the senators on the Commission (Senator Mohring), informing him of his day-to-day experiences while travelling to German and European cities for appointments with artists, collectors, and galleries. Then the other Commission members asked Lichtwark to have the letters to Mohring printed and distributed to them (and to a small number of friends of the Kunsthalle) in bound volumes. Lichtwark agreed to a printing of twenty-five copies of each volume of letters (covering one or two years of his travels), reassured that the letters would not be seen by the greater public. He soon realized that the letters could be used as a pedagogical tool, instructing the Commission members in art and persuading them of his own views on modern German and European painting. Ultimately, Lichtwark's skilful approach to the Commission did result in a productive relationship, in which he usually held the upper hand. Despite Lichtwark's rapport with the Kunsthalle Commission, his position with the Hamburg public was never entirely secure. Opposition to several projects (described in the following chapters) hampered his intentions for a large modern collection, especially during the 1890s. Money, too, posed a problem; the Senate and Citizens' Assembly approved yearly budgets of only 20,000 marks until 1900 (when the sums rose to between 50,000 and 100,000 marks), not nearly enough capital for Lichtwark's ambitions.35 Berlin's National Gallery, in contrast, received upwards of 300,000 marks per year from the Prussian parliament, beginning in 1873.36 To make up for the lack of funds in Hamburg, Lichtwark sought out private sponsors, a full-time job in itself. At the end of a typical day, he would make a gracious appearance at a dinner hosted by some Hamburg patrician; over polite conversation and excellent food he would attempt to persuade his dinner companions to support a local artist, or to provide funds for a modern work he wished to commission. In fact, private money paid for most of the modern paintings acquired by the Kunsthalle. Lichtwark appreciated the beneficence of his patrons, but complained incessantly that he needed more capital. He often cast a jealous eye at the public and private resources available to the director of Berlin's National Gallery, Hugo von Tschudi. Still, Lichtwark managed to build three major collections during his

18 Art and the German Bourgeoisie lifetime: the Historical Collection of Paintings in Hamburg (13801880), the Collection of Hamburg Painters of the Nineteenth Century, and the Collection of Paintings from Hamburg. This last was Lichtwark's favourite, and it included Hamburg landscapes and portraits of leading citizens, painted by some of Germany's finest modern artists. At auctions and private sales, Lichtwark also bought paintings by Dutch masters, French impressionists, and the cream of nineteenthcentury German artists: Runge, Friedrich, Menzel, Leibl, Klinger, and Bocklin. Earlier periods of German art were represented by a large collection of Diirer and Holbein graphics. Furthermore, Lichtwark researched the history of two fifteenth-century Hamburg artists, Meister Bertram and Meister Francke. He searched throughout Germany for examples of their work - such as Bertram's Grabow altar - and then persuaded the local authorities to return them to Hamburg. Lichtwark's rediscovery of Hamburg artists, particularly those of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (such as Matthias Scheits), resulted in an exhaustive native collection for the Kunsthalle, meant to reinforce local pride and demonstrate Hamburg's rich cultural and historical past. Lichtwark was so excited by these acquisitions that he tended to over-value their artistic quality, depicting Hamburg as the most important centre of painting in northern Germany during the early modern period.37 Yet he prized quality as much as historical significance in the paintings he collected for the three special Hamburg series, including landscapes and portraits from nineteenth-century artists Hermann Kaufmann, Julius Oldach, and Christian Morgenstern. When Lichtwark described Hamburg's Museum fur Kunst und Gewerbe in his biography of Justus Brinckmann, he called it the private collection of one man's vision. In just the same way, the Kunsthalle reflected Lichtwark's personal tastes. Or, as one observer put it, Lichtwark inscribed his history of art onto the walls of the gallery.38 Every visitor to the Kunsthalle witnessed Lichtwark's ideas and loves, and saw the coherent development of styles according to his arrangement of each room. Rainer Maria Rilke, for example, described his visit to the Kunsthalle in 1899 as 'an unspeakably rich surprise,' as he found himself 'led in a strangely assured way from painting to painting, in such a beautiful ascent from Runge to Bocklin to Liebermann.' 'In Hamburg,' he concluded, 'I first perceived the melody of the new beauty.'39 The Kunsthalle often worked effectively as an educational institution for Hamburg's citizens, with Lichtwark fashioning the lessons for visitors like Rilke. No wonder, then, that Lichtwark spent

Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art 19 hours of each day looking carefully at the hanging of paintings, rearranging selections, and reassessing his reactions to the best works by Liebermann or Kalckreuth. In all of the personal accounts written about Lichtwark since his death, authors have never failed to mention the relationship between his personality and his work. Many of his contemporaries praised him as one of the best examples of the intelligence and spirit of his age. How, then, was Lichtwark characteristic of Imperial Germany's Bildungsbiirgertum, the strata of well-educated, middle-class professionals in medicine, law, education, science, and the arts?40 His ideas about art will give us some answers to this question, but before we begin this discussion, it is worth considering several important aspects of his character. First of all, Lichtwark can be described as a Hanseatic gentleman: a man of aristocratic dress and habits, who was, nonetheless, a proud Hamburg burgher with a strong work ethic. He was loyal to the responsibilities of his position in the Kunsthalle, working from early morning to late at night. He might be drafting letters to artists with requests for paintings, meeting with the Commission, arranging an exhibition, rehanging a particular room, writing a new monograph, or attending an important social function. Lichtwark devoted himself to the Kunsthalle, taking very little time for personal matters outside of family illness. Undoubtedly he loved his duties, and connected the future of the Kunsthalle with his life's purpose, but he also believed in the benefits of hard work, and the duties of any public servant to his position. He did not admire Bureaukratismus (bureaucratism) if this meant a loss of individuality or demanded a servile type of intelligence, but in one of his most famous essays, The German of the Future,41 he did single out the best examples of professors, teachers, and officers as positive models for the rest of the nation. The aristocratic side of Lichtwark may have originated from his desire to escape the poor childhood he so rarely talked about. His successful career in Hamburg enabled him to live very well and so he cultivated the image of a Hamburg gentleman. He was fastidious about social manners and clothing - including the colour of the cravat he should wear. A large man with expressive eyes and a graceful bearing, he captured the attention of Hamburg society (plate 1). Historian Percy Ernst Schramm was a child when he met Lichtwark in the early 1900s, but remembers him vividly: 'Indeed, at this time in Hamburg's cultural life there was hardly any other man as highly regarded as this

20 Art and the German Bourgeoisie cultivated gentleman, who had risen from being the son of a Vierland miller.'42 How and where one wore a top hat or frock coat, what constituted an aperitif and at what time of the day it should be sipped, were signs of taste and good breeding to Lichtwark.43 This would explain why he felt comfortable even in the company of royalty - with men like Prince Eugen of Sweden, an artist and brother to Sweden's king, Gustav V. The German monarchy also found favour with Lichtwark. Though not a great admirer of Kaiser William II, since this emperor did so much to obstruct modern art in Berlin, Lichtwark did respect his grandfather, William I, for what he saw as his courage and his dedication to Germany. Clearly, Lichtwark was attracted to aristocratic society because he admired the aesthetic quality of clothing, food, and drink shared in high circles, and because he felt a special fondness for the suave English gentleman. Then too, he respected the elegance of spirit he saw in some aristocrats, notably officers, and believed that the best aspects of personality and physical prowess still existed in Germany's elite. One of his contemporaries, Karl Scheffler, argued that Lichtwark hoped to encourage an aristocracy of the middle class (Biirgertum), an idea we shall explore later.44 Despite the high regard he usually inspired in people with his intelligence, hard work, and personal style, Lichtwark was a very private man with few close friends. He suffered from the criticism of those who opposed the modern art he introduced, and he never quite escaped from the petty judgments of lesser men who knew that he did not have the full academic qualifications of some of his peers. He had not received a Prima from the Gymnasiums he attended, and had stopped his university studies at Leipzig before the Habilitation, although the Hamburg Senate named him an honorary professor in 1890. Even his writing style - sparse, crisp, and evocative - offended some people. Lichtwark complained to Kalckreuth that certain critics called his style superficial, merely because it differed from the traditional heaviness expected of German writers.45 According to his friend Gustav Pauli (director of Bremen's Kunsthalle), Lichtwark 'wrote in the style of his time, as others painted. The quick tempo, the impression of improvisation, are impressionistic.'46 This would explain why critics attacked Lichtwark's writing style: it was too modern for some. Leaving aside the biases of his critics, it is clear that Lichtwark had his flaws. His desire to instruct others occasionally bordered on pedantry, and this alienated people, artists above all.47 He jealously

Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art 21 guarded his authority in Hamburg, and viewed most of his critics as ignorant fools. And in public Lichtwark was emotionally cool (in marked contrast to his effusive letters) and this behaviour kept him at a distance from most people. He could be kind to children, people he knew, or even people he met casually - for example, needy artists - but he trusted very few men or women instrinsically. He even thought that his dog Marko meant more to him than human company.48 Lichtwark did offer enduring friendship and love to those closest to him, including Leopold von Kalckreuth (the only artist he addressed with DM), Max Liebermann, Gustav Pauli, the lawyer Wolf Mannhardt, Adele Dore (a celebrated actress of Hamburg's Schauspielhaus), and a family friend, Marie Zacharias.49 Kalckreuth held a special place in Lichtwark's affections; he came from an aristocratic family, and Lichtwark treasured his friendship with such a great man - an artist and aristocrat.50 The two became even closer when Kalckreuth moved to Hittfeld, where Lichtwark spent his summers. Lichtwark allowed this artist to paint a portrait of his mother, Helena Lichtwark, and was exceedingly pleased with the results. Kalckreuth also did a portrait of Lichtwark in 1911, for the official celebration honouring the twentyfive years of Lichtwark's service to the Kunsthalle. This portrait, Alfred Lichtwark, Director of the Hamburger Kunsthalle (plate 1), is one of the

very few likenesses we have of Lichtwark; he usually resisted having his portrait done, but allowed Kalckreuth to paint him because of their close friendship. Max Liebermann did not welcome such an intimate friendship with Lichtwark, but the two men were certainly on good terms - and Lichtwark prized his association with Liebermann, whom he considered the finest artist in modern Germany. Their discussions about art created the most stimulating exchange of ideas in Lichtwark's experience, as is clear from their many letters. In Liebermann, Lichtwark found his source of authority on art, and this meeting of minds was exciting to him. No one stood closer to Lichtwark, though, than his mother and sister. (His brother Hans is not mentioned as much in his letters, probably because he became more independent with age, working as a registry clerk for the city.) The two Lichtwark women were totally devoted to Alfred, and he to them. In fact, one suspects that his decision not to marry resulted from his feelings for his mother. An early letter of 22 June 1880, written from Leipzig, congratulated Helena Lichtwark on her birthday with the following words: 'My dear, dear mother! While spending my time here in Leipzig, so far away from you, I have

22 Art and the German Bourgeoisie longed to be with you once again, but today this is especially true. I would give anything if, as in all the years which I can remember, I could step before your bed this morning and congratulate you with a kiss.'51 At a much later date, Lichtwark met a woman he found immensely appealing (Maria-Luise Newman, the wife of Hamburg merchant Henry Percy Newman), and he described her to Liebermann in a revealing manner: 'She is a very charming mixture of girlishness and motherliness. One could fall madly in love with her, and call her mother, if things were to become serious.'52 When friends asked him why he didn't marry, he on occasion responded, 'Well, I already have two women!' or he claimed to be wedded to the Kunsthalle.53 Contemporaries noted, too, that socially Lichtwark felt more comfortable in the company of men.54 Of course, it was not unusual in the late nineteenth century for men to remain single, but in Lichtwark's case the attachment to mother and sister seems extraordinarily strong. It is also striking that none of the siblings in the family ever married. Lichtwark's feelings for his sister may have run as deep as those for his mother; he confided everything to Marianne, and relied on her for support and companionship, especially in his last few years. In the 1880s, Marianne worked as a governess for a wealthy family in Berlin, sharing an apartment with her brother until 1882. Later, when they lived in Hamburg, she suggested to Lichtwark that they adopt a child, and he agreed, although they never acted upon this idea.55 And when Marianne became ill with a nervous disorder in 1910, Lichtwark lost all peace of mind. He had grieved openly for his mother when she died in 1909, and now he stood to lose his dearest companion. 'Perhaps this is too much for me. You know what Marianne means to me,' he wrote to Kalckreuth in 1910.56 Marianne recovered, however, and remained a solace to him in his last years. Throughout his life Lichtwark's strong connection to Marianne and to his mother created a soothing intimacy that on the one hand blunted relationships with outsiders, yet also provided him with love and self-assurance. In 1912 this life began to draw to a close: Lichtwark discovered the first signs of a stomach disorder, later diagnosed as cancer. He attempted to carry on his work as usual, but within a year he was unable to ignore the illness. A physician performed a difficult operation, and a few hours later returned to see if the patient had any complications. To his amazement he found Lichtwark sitting up in bed, reading an English essay.57 In this small incident we see Lichtwark's powerful will and vitality (even in the face of terminal disease), charac-

Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art 23 teristics that propelled his work as director of the Kunsthalle and found expression in his wide-ranging interests. In the past he had written on such diverse subjects as painting, architecture, amateur arts and crafts, flower arranging, public memorials, city parks, the need for a university in Hamburg, home decorating, photography, and graphics. Lichtwark's encompassing intellect recognized few limits, and hence took him beyond the boundaries of a specialist. When he died suddenly in January 1914, tributes poured in from friends and admirers, lamenting the passing of this great teacher to the German people, a Praeceptor Germaniae.58 Historian Erich Marcks remembered Lichtwark as an outstanding example of the brilliant and creative forces of the age, a man who had acted as an arts educator for all Germans.59 Lichtwark's ideal of culture, and its role within the German nation, remained a crucial part of his legacy. Lichtwark's Idea of National Art

In February 1894, Lichtwark attended the performance of a new play in Berlin called Der Herr Senator, a frivolous satire of Hamburg. He could barely contain his anger when he wrote to the Kunsthalle Commission about the play's popularity: Whether Berliners amuse themselves with this caricature could be a matter of indifference to us. Surely, however, its huge success will send a flood of similar products into the world, for which Hamburgers and Hamburg affairs will suffer the consequences. This new concoction may inaugurate a new era of German farce, in which Hamburg appears as a modern Gotham, and where Hamburgers are proclaimed as the Reich's stupid bourgeois.... This is our punishment for having been idle in cultural matters.60 Six years later Lichtwark was in Paris to see the German art exhibition at the World's Fair,61 and he witnessed another scene that pained him German tourists in France: Why do these young Germans need to be so fat? What reason do they have for their untidiness, for all these kaki colours - or does one write khaki - which they love? Why must they move about so wretchedly, and why be so loud? What forces them to eat so odiously? ... The French caricaturists have been able to collect an enormous supply of German types dur-

ng this summer, and it will take years before they have exhausted this.62

24 Art and the German Bourgeoisie As ambassadors of the nation, these Germans set embarrassing examples. To Lichtwark, their 'appalling' appearance and rude personal habits were signs of Germany's cultural ignorance. Fair or not, Lichtwark connected German boorishness with a complete lack of aesthetic sense among Germany's bourgeoisie. He later made the claim, in The German of the Future, that in the Reich one could be very rich, very uneducated, and blithely uninterested in culture without any fear of public criticism: 'Surely, up to now, there has never existed a social elite so bereft of cultural importance as the Germans of today.'63 Lichtwark tried to change this situation by confronting public indifference to culture, which he believed was widespread in the new Reich. If interest in art could be roused from the deep slumber of a century's neglect, the benefits to the aesthetic sense of the bourgeoisie would be tremendous. Furthermore, Germany's military, political, and economic strength could be matched with cultural vitality. Lichtwark did not simply aim at the cultural education of the middle class for the sake of German art - he also sought to nurture the culture of a future world power. As a warning of what might happen if conditions remained as they were, he compared Germany to a young tree in a forest of nations. For centuries only a stump and roots had survived harsh conditions, sharing nutrients with greedy neighbours. Now Germany stood on its own, with fresh branches stretching upward: 'But the powers who prepared for the destruction of the first stem are not yet conquered, and they lie among us and around us, waiting to ambush - same as before.'64 To Lichtwark, Germany's existence was at stake, even in the realm of culture: she would have to excel in every capacity to secure a place alongside Britain and France, and to obstruct

Russia's ambitions. 65

We see in these arguments that Lichtwark's nationalism influenced his ideas about art and culture.66 At first glance his views seem curious, since many German nationalists were anti-modernist and xenophobic. Lichtwark championed the type of modern German and French art these nationalists loathed, and yet he joined with them in supporting the Reich's political elite and in believing that Germany had to become a leading world power. Even though he showed a great deal of understanding for European society and culture, he also feared for the state of Germany's culture should it fall behind the art, music, and literature of France or Britain. Accordingly, he spoke out constantly on behalf of German culture under siege. Lichtwark's conservative nationalism, moreover, did not hinder his

Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art 25 advocacy of modern painting.67 It is false to assume that cultural modernism must be linked inexorably with the Left, and traditional art with conservatism and nationalism - as though these cultural and political categories are resolutely fixed.68 Blanket depictions of the avant-garde and the traditional in art weaken any consideration of Imperial culture, comparable to connecting all Jews with modernism, or all socialists with naturalism. Part of the complexity and certainly the power of Lichtwark's appeal as a cultural critic was his belief in the essential connections between culture and nationhood. Certain features of Lichtwark's nationalism merit emphasis. Firstly, as noted, he defended Germany's struggle for superiority in Europe, and thus he supported the aggressive stance against other nations. Indeed, he was a member of Hamburg's Wehrverein (Army League), the local branch of a national propaganda organization that supported a larger army, and campaigned for the Army Bills of 1912 and 1913.69 In addition, although not allied formally with any party, he remained closest to the oligarchical liberalism of Hamburg's political elite. In 1906 he opposed electoral reform in Hamburg, designed to extend the vote for the Burgerschaft (Citizens' Assembly), because the Social Democratic Party - supported by workers - would benefit from a wide franchise. Lichtwark feared and hated the SPD; he saw this party as an internal foe, able to destroy what little cohesion already existed between the classes. When Liebermann proposed a portrait of SPD leader August Bebel for the Kunsthalle in 1912, Lichtwark politely said no.70 Lichtwark was not, however, the type of nationalist who abhorred modern society. He praised industrial progress: 'For good reasons we are proud of the achievements by our engineers, industrialists and merchants, and we see in the economic power, which they won back for us in the course of a generation, one of the guarantees for our people's existence.'71 He also criticized Germany's division into 'estates,' and called for social integration, supporting educational reform as a means of bringing the classes together. In Hamburg Lichtwark worked with the Union of Teachers for the Encouragement of Arts Education (Lehrervereinigung zur Pflege der kiinstlerischen Bildung), an SPDinfluenced teachers' organization, dedicated to improving the quality of German education for the masses. Furthermore, as a lecturer on art Lichtwark took time to speak before Berlin's Verein fur Arbeiterwohlfahrt (League for Workers' Welfare) - although it should be noted that this was a bourgeois reform movement opposed by the SPD.72 Essen-

26 Art and the German Bourgeoisie tially, Lichtwark combined progressive notions about art and education with a conservative social and political outlook. To Kalckreuth, he seemed a resolute republican, but poet Richard Dehmel described him as an arch-aristocrat.73 It should not surprise us then that Lichtwark corresponded with Julius Langbehn during the 1880s and 1890s.74 Langbehn was a prophet of cultural pessimism, whose famous work Rembrandt as Educator (Rembrandt als Erzieher) praised art and individuality, while it attacked Germany's reliance on science and material progress. He called for a community of the people, where art would reflect simple German virtues.75 Some of Langbehn's ideas were echoed in Lichtwark's critique of German society and culture, especially Langbehn's cult of youth and his plea for art instruction in German schools.76 But Lichtwark did not despise modern society to the extent that Langbehn did, and he did not think that scientific progress would destroy German art. Moreover, he placed faith in the possibility of change, through education, and he dedicated his life to this pursuit, while Langbehn retired from public life as an embittered and egotistical eccentric.77 Both men agreed, however, that art constituted the highest form of expression in society. And they shared an exaggerated prejudice against the class that supposedly threatened the state of German art: the bourgeoisie. For Lichtwark, the history of modern German culture and society began with the contrast between two centuries, the eighteenth and the nineteenth.78 When he compared them, he invariably preferred the eighteenth century because of its aristocratic elite. From this class, Lichtwark chose the courtier as his model of the well-rounded individual: in such an aristocrat he saw a cultivated man who studied mathematics, physics, and philosophy, learned numerous languages, became proficient in music, and trained his body to be graceful and powerful. He could dance, fence, ride, and hunt. At court he served rulers who patronized the arts, and thus he learned to appreciate painting and sculpture. His choice of apparel showed style and colour; gardens designed for his enjoyment harmonized with baroque palaces or Palladian villas. In this romantic depiction of the courtier, Lichtwark portrayed guardians nurturing an exquisite culture. And he sadly concluded that by the late eighteenth century 'this culture had to lay its head on the block of the guillotine.'79 Beginning with the French Revolution, the burgher emerged from the wings and moved to centre stage. In the German states he first trea-

Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art 27 sured the cultural legacy passed on to his generation, but beginning in 1840 his interests turned in a different direction. Trade, banking, and industry demanded attention: profit became the golden calf. Aspiring to hard work and a virtuous life, the burgher read newspapers and novellas and discussed the latest technological inventions, but abandoned German culture. He lost interest in his physical appearance, and so gained weight and wore sombre clothing. Without regret, Lichtwark argued, the burgher shattered a 'harmonious education.' 80 He rose to social prominence, but at great cost to German culture. Only his love of German music remained. At the same time, an insidious transformation began to take place. After centuries of development, the German Burgertum turned into the modern phenomenon of the bourgeoisie, Lichtwark's byword for everything that was wrong with modern German society: It [the bourgeoisie] is a parvenu with all of the disagreeable characteristics of this type: conceited because of its success, dogmatic, arrogant, the sworn enemy by nature of any artistic independence, the patron and protector of all who flatter its vanity and narrow-mindedness. Being essentially without any artistic needs, the bourgeois as builder, employer, and buyer has reduced to his level architecture, the decorative arts, and painting.81 Because of their aesthetic ignorance, the German bourgeoisie demanded works by the 'gods of fashion' in art.82 'Enervated trash,' Lichtwark called the reigning art of his day - second-rate Italian and French paintings, or German works that copied classical models. Galleries bought up these paintings, academies encouraged their production, and official exhibitions featured a mass of inferior talents, where works were piled one on top of another. How could an original German culture survive in such an environment? Since 1850 a few painters had turned to nature for instruction, finding new subjects and techniques for their art, but the German public scorned their creative endeavours. This meant that the best German artists worked alone, often without financial assistance, and were subject to public hostility even though they created the art of the future. To prove his assertions, Lichtwark argued that Menzel, Bocklin, and Liebermann had all been rejected at some point in their careers. For Lichtwark, such cultural ignorance was a dangerous flaw of the German Burgertum, accentuating the split personality of this class: the good qualities of the Burgertum combined with the worst qualities of

28 Art and the German Bourgeoisie the bourgeoisie. The result was a German middle class lacking a strong sense of identity and confidence, in stark contrast to their British or French counterparts.83 Lichtwark wanted only the best qualities of the Burgertum to reemerge, based, in the first place, on cultivation of the full personality, including aesthetic sensitivity. His modern ideal was the English gentleman, a figure well known in the Hanseatic ports. Lichtwark attributed to the English gentleman the qualities of intelligence, good taste in fashion and design, and athletic prowess. But if a German burgher exhibited such skills he could count on being viewed as a curiosity: 'Yes, even today a man who applies aesthetic standards to his surroundings and his appearance runs a great risk of being labelled not only as frivolous, but also as deceitful and unreliable. Whoever seeks to deceive the Germans must put on the mask of boorishness, crudity, and negligence'.84 Lichtwark's target, then, was the middle-class philistine, product of the industrial age. This depiction of the uncultured bourgeoisie, which Lichtwark never revised, came close to a simplistic caricature of the middle class. Why did Lichtwark attack this class when the majority of the Kunsthalle's patrons, as we shall see, were bourgeois? Without these sponsors, Lichtwark could not have purchased his collection of paintings and graphics by Max Liebermann, nor could he have arranged for the modern commissions in the Collection of Paintings from Hamburg. Then, too, Lichtwark himself was bourgeois and he looked to Germany's middle class to provide the leadership of the future. One reason for Lichtwark's assault on the bourgeoisie is quite evident: he targeted Imperial Germany's middle class as stupidly hostile to modern German art because he was angered by public opposition in the early 1890s to Liebermann and then to other members of the Berlin Secession, after its formation in 1898. Lichtwark's perspective, akin to the elitist attitudes of the Secessionists, who rejected the styles of art popular in the academies and saw themselves as the champions of quality,85 expressed a patronizing view of Germany's bourgeoisie and its cultural tastes. Furthermore, Lichtwark sacrificed a balanced assessment of the strengths and weaknesses of the bourgeoisie because he had such ambitious goals for the future of German culture. He rarely mentioned the good qualities of the bourgeoisie because this praise would not suit his purpose; his attacks were meant to emphasize that German culture was in crisis because of the philistinism of the bourgeoisie. The only solution to this crisis, according to Lichtwark's scenario, was for the bourgeoisie to admit its failings, and to then take

Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art 29 responsibility for restoring a healthy German culture through patronage of the arts. Another likely reason for Lichtwark's criticism of the bourgeoisie was his resentment, as a prominent member of the Bildungsbiirgertum, of the advances in industry, trade, and banking by Germany's commercial and industrial bourgeoisie. To Lichtwark this progress had come at the cost of Germany's culture, which remained stuck in the quagmire of mediocrity. As a good Hamburg patriot, Lichtwark understood the importance of economic success, as we have noted; but he did not hesitate to attack the bourgeoisie for being materialistic and ignorant of culture. But was Lichtwark exaggerating when he repeatedly complained about the sorry state of art appreciation among the bourgeoisie? The answer to this question appears to be yes. The Burgerturn in Germany became essential for the success and popularity of modern art by the early 1900s. Contrary to Lichtwark's depiction of a bourgeoisie bereft of culture, art had become an important part of bourgeois life, as an element of Bildung,86 and a tool for the interpretation of life.87 Indeed, along with the belief in hard work, correct manners, and the importance of competition, bourgeois identity encompassed respect for literature, painting, and music.88 Admittedly, in the last quarter of the nineteenth century the most popular art for this audience was rather conventional: historical paintings by Anton von Werner, portraits by Franz von Lenbach, or genial depictions of peasants by Franz Defregger.89 Large collections of modern German paintings were uncommon, and the wealthiest bourgeois entrepreneurs - men like Alfred Krupp or Gerson Bleichroder - tended to purchase old masters.90 About 1900 a shift occurred in middle-class taste, and modern works by secessionist artists - and later by the French impressionists became much more popular.91 In fact, by 1914, Germany was one of the most important markets for French impressionism after the United States.92 The breakthrough of the modern had occurred because of several factors: the increasing influence of art dealers such as Paul Cassirer in Berlin, Heinemann in Munich, Gutbier-Arnold in Dresden, and Commeter in Hamburg; the support of modern art in the influential journals of Kunstfur Alle (Art for Everyone) and Kunst und Kunstler (Art

and Artist); scholarly histories of art that included modern painting, among them Richard Muther's History of Painting in the Nineteenth Century (Geschichte der Malerei im XIX Jahrhundert); and the work of profes-

sional art gallery directors like Lichtwark, Pauli, and Tschudi.93 One

30 Art and the German Bourgeoisie other factor proved essential: the plurality of the bourgeoisie.94 As studies of the Biirgertum have shown, the middle classes did not compose a homogenous entity, but a diverse collection of groups according to profession, wealth, education, and religion. The supporters of modern art tended to come from the Bildungsbiirgertum, although there were also notable patrons from the Wirtschaftsbiirgertum (the bourgeoisie of business and industry) - men like coal magnate Eduard Arnhold, and bankers Julius Stern and Baron August von der Heydt.95 Many of these patrons, especially in Berlin, were Jewish.96 According to Robin Lenman, what bound the new collectors together, Jews and non-Jews, was 'more leisure and a broader horizon than their Grunderzeit fathers [businessmen working in the economically volatile 1870s]; and visual taste sharpened by professional collaboration with advanced designers, architects and graphic artists.' 97 Innovations in interior design certainly played a part here; homes were designed with more light and space, and their owners increasingly chose impressionist paintings to complement the modern interiors.98 Thus while the Biirgertum as a whole did not welcome German or French impressionism and a large section of the middle class likely remained quite hostile to modern art,99 especially French art (witness the success of Langbehn's Rembrandt als Erzieher), a significant number of wealthy bourgeois did support and enjoy modern art - enough to keep art dealers happy and prompt dramatically higher prices for impressionist and post-impressionist paintings after the turn of the century. Lichtwark's category of the boorish bourgeois does not seem to fit here. In Hamburg there were some distinctive qualities of the bourgeoisie that should be taken into consideration, however, when evaluating Lichtwark's critical attitudes. Firstly, the bourgeoisie here tended to be a more cohesive group than in Berlin or the industrial Rhineland.100 The leading families (such as the Amsincks, Westphals, and Burchards) made up a patriciate that other families entered through marriage and kinship.101 The city's leading lawyers and merchants thus either came from this patrician elite or merged with it, evidence of the importance and power of Hamburg's ruling class. Furthermore, before 1900 Hamburg did not have a corps of professional civil servants (voluntary deputations, consisting of leading citizens, did most of the administrative work) or a university, which meant that the educated middle class tended to be a much smaller group in this city than in Berlin or Munich.102 Business interests, above all else, dominated the city and its bourgeoisie, and while this does not mean that culture was neglected,

Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art 31 one can argue that the arts were not considered as significant a part of life as elsewhere in Germany. For example, in Berlin leading businessmen had close social connections with artists, something that was extremely rare in Hamburg.103 And the lack of a university in Hamburg appalled Lichtwark; he stated in 1912 that 'the greatest economic luxury, which a state can afford, is ignorance,'104 arguably his most undiplomatic outburst during his tenure as Kunsthalle director. His frustration with those Hamburg burghers who opposed or ignored contemporary German culture surely intensfied his prejudice against the German bourgeoisie as a whole, and helps to explain his virulent attacks on this class. In contrast to the notion of the bourgeois as philistine, Lichtwark praised an idealistic model of the bourgeoisie, able to lead Germany economically, politically, and culturally. Actually, Lichtwark chose three models: the professor, the teacher, and the officer. When he described his ideal professor and teacher, he meant those educators interested in reform and dedicated to researching current developments in politics, economics, literature, and art.105 Such men could help to mould an entirely new generation of Germans and by their erudition could show the benefits of inquisitive learning. In the classroom, students would discover the best German writers, painters, scientists, and political leaders; their Bildung would include instruction in the arts, evoking national pride, and replacing the dreary rote learning of classical subjects. Eventually, these changes would produce a national Bildung of the highest quality, fortifying Germany's national identity. 'A strong culture, common to all, is the one element that binds a people together/ he argued. 'It is also the most secure defence against the invasion of foreign influences.'106 In the other school of the nation, the army, Lichtwark found his favourite model for German leadership: the officer.107 Part of a selective German elite, the officer had an important place in German society for many reasons, not least of which was his descent from the Prussian aristocracy and a long tradition of faithful service to the Hohenzollern monarchs. It seems ironic that a native of Hamburg would choose to emulate a Prussian officer, but Lichtwark isolated those qualities he thought instructive for all Germans, especially the officer's self-control. According to Lichtwark, the officer achieved this independence after years of training his body, disciplining his will, and refining his intelect. 'All this has made him such an excellent prototype that he

32 Art and the German Bourgeoisie has begun to influence the entire population, from prince to daylabourer.'108 Lichtwark wanted the Burgertum to adopt the officer's qualities, and so he took an aristocratic ideal - much like his eighteenth-century example - and urged the middle classes to aspire to it. He advocated an aristocracy of the Burgertum: an elite class of gentlemen who could direct, influence, and educate the rest of the nation. When Lichtwark met industrialist Walther Rathenau, he recognized the type of middle-class leader he hoped for: 'A man of business, who is superior to all in spirit, understanding, culture, and in the ability to express not only his ideas, but also his feelings. I have to ask myself whether such men usually develop in our midst. I wished that just one enemy of culture had stood next to this businessman and had observed him.'109 Confident, intelligent, hard-working, well-groomed, gracious and polite, agile in mind and body, eager to meet the challenges of the modern age, and, above all, interested in and supportive of German culture: these are a few of the characteristics Lichtwark called for in a reformed and thus improved middle class, able to lead the German nation into the twentieth century. In his defence of German art, Lichtwark also appealed to the Burgertum's economic concerns - pointing out the benefits to Germany's national economy if greater interest were shown in German artists.110 Instead of catering to an art market drowning in foreign works, and with each purchase sending German marks out of the country, German collectors could spend their money on German paintings. German artists would find patrons, who in turn would make a good investment. The advantages would extend beyond the production of fine art; Lichtwark thought that German fashion, furniture, and architectural design could utilize the finest native talents. For instance, he defended the idea of employing local craftsmen and artists to decorate German public buildings. In this comprehensive scheme Germans bought German art, German artists prospered, German crafts and designs defeated foreign competition, the economy improved, culture flourished, Bildung spread - and the net result was German national pride. At the head of a new state, enriched by culture, a secure middle class could confidently take its place. At the centre of this blueprint for culture and society, Lichtwark placed his main objective: a new tradition of German art. In 1906 he introduced the German public to its recent history of art; with the help of Tschudi he organized an exhibition of nineteenth-century German painting, in Berlin's National Gallery.111 Lichtwark's aim was to further

Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art 33 the cultural education of the German public with such an exhibition, showing paintings by secessionists and works by regional artists (thus celebrating the achievements of local culture). Notably, Tschudi did not share Lichtwark's cultural politics; he was less interested in forging a superior type of German art and more interested in helping the National Gallery to acquire paintings by outstanding international artists.112 Nonetheless, in the catalogue for the exhibition Tschudi praised early nineteeth-century German artists like Runge, Friedrich, Menzel, and (Karl) Blechen as precursors of the modern movement, exploring nature, colour, and the effect of light in new ways.113 Thus the Centenary Exhibition displayed a history of nineteenth-century German painting leading, triumphantly, to the modern movement. The exhibition was also divided into local sections, introducing the visitor to art from Hamburg, Munich, Dresden, and Vienna, and thereby demonstrating the rich mosaic of German culture. Artworks by secession artists such as Liebermann and Trubner were included as well. Despite the ambitious nature of the 1906 exhibition, public reactions tended to be mixed, with some Berlin critics questioning the quality of the paintings from Hamburg. Lichtwark found such objections infuriating, further proof of the public's unwillingness to value the accomplishments of their own modern artists. He complained that even the Berlin Secession admired French art too much: 'In the Berlin circle around Liebermann - who is, at present, the leader - only French [art] is prized. Of course, this is not stated outright. One will not allow art to have a national character. Only great art exists, not national art. And because only the French have created great art in the nineteenth century, there is only one conclusion: link up with it for the future development of German art.'114 What Lichtwark meant by 'national art' is perhaps best explained by the argument he presented in an essay entitled 'The Collector,' published in the Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde (The Yearbook for Hamburg's Society of Patrons of Fine Art) in 1911.115 'The Col-

lector' instructs the reader in the buying and collecting of art, and clearly defines the type of art that should be purchased: contemporary German art. Lichtwark reiterates his complaint that most Germans are more interested in Italian or French painting than the art of their own countrymen. In defence of German painting, he defines the worth of any work of art as unrelated to its price (prices for art had inflated dramatically since the late 1800s), and determined instead by the artist's

creative ability, and by the impact of his work upon the cultural life of

34 Art and the German Bourgeoisie a nation. The most significant artists of any age, he stresses, have gifts of genius that transcend national boundaries and produce world treasures; but their works are also expressive of their nation and people, and thus of the national soil in which they were nurtured. Indeed, he argues, English, German, French, and Italian artists create works that express the Gesamtgeist or collective spirit of their peoples, and these works, in turn, influence that spirit and even the development of the individual soul. Lichtwark reinforces this idea by reminding the reader of the tremendous impact one familiar work of national art - Goethe's Faust - has had on the German people, and he thus urges more attention for German artists such as Liebermann, Leibl, and Triibner. Ultimately, Lichtwark shows in this essay that he believed in a direct and beneficial connection between the artist and the nation. Why, however, did Lichtwark combine his appeal for national art with criticism of foreign art? After all, he bought works by Courbet, Manet, Monet, Renoir, Bonnard, and Vuillard for the Kunsthalle. He also supported the Berlin Secession, in defiance of those critics who attacked it as another form of French impressionism. And he defended Tschudi in 1908 during his conflict with the emperor over the purchases of paintings by Courbet, Delacroix, and Daumier for the National Gallery. (Lichtwark's loyalty to Tschudi subsequently turned William II against Lichtwark.)116 Nonetheless, Lichtwark's admiration for original foreign art had its limits; in 1895 he expressed fear at the possibility that German painting would be 'buried under the foreign flood.'117 He also stressed that German art had to excel as an independent cultural expression: 'Directly at hand there is public interest in building a front against the affectation of foreign ways. I am the last person who wishes to reject foreign artworks, as long as they only provide inspiration. But they must not take away the air and light from our own development.'118 To find a solution to this problem, Lichtwark looked to the cultivation of modern German art as a distinctive and innovative expression of German culture, thus setting himself apart from cultural nationalists who defined traditional volkisch (populistic) art as quintessentially Germanic. Lichtwark's definition of art helps to explain why he championed modernism. He was once asked how he could admire Titian and Diirer, if he also liked the works of Bocklin, Monet, and Runge. Such questions exasperated him: 'How long will it take until our public learns to understand that we can only rave about an artist when he is completely different from all others who have lived or are still alive; that

Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art 35 we can only love him when he is, and in so far as he is, a new man?'119 This takes us back to the pioneering nature Lichtwark praised in Brinckmann and himself, a quality he applied equally to artists. In an artist like Rembrandt, for example, Lichtwark discovered all of the aspects so crucial to cultural originality: For our generation Rembrandt has become the model of an artist. He is closer to our hearts than all others.... We love him because he has a greater compassion than others, because he does not recreate what others before him have produced, and because he does not spin out the melody of a predecessor; instead he gives of himself, truly alone in his creations. His signature expresses independence and relentless authority. His subject is the world. One could say of him what was originally meant for Shakespeare: he possessed the most comprehensive soul.120 Original art demanded what Lichtwark called Empfindung. By this he meant that an artist's creative vision - based on character, talent, and acute sensory perception - defined any work, transforming an external object or an internal image into a new representation of reality. (Lichtwark discussed this idea thoroughly with Liebermann, helping him to refine the arguments of Liebermann's work on the subject, Die Phantasie in der Malerie - The Imagination in Painting.)121 Further, artistic technique had to match the creative impulse, remaining innovative otherwise the artist would have to give way to the camera, which could mechanically reproduce an image much better. This is why Lichtwark often defined impressionism as the monumental art of the late nineteenth century: its technique was revolutionary, and both French and German artists invested their works with originality. Lichtwark said of Degas: He shows no trace of Rembrandt's profoundly humane sympathy. There is something in him of Menzel's abstract being, something asexual, inhuman, and cruel. However, amidst all of this narrowness, what richness of creative power in his painting, and what originality in unschematic composition, which is never just a part of the whole, but simply a completely new way of creating and of presenting his forms apart from tradition.122 Lichtwark also credited Monet and Manet with significant achievements in the use of light and colour, calling Manet, for example, an anarchist in this regard.123 In 1900 he told the Kunsthalle Commission

36 Art and the German Bourgeoisie that French impressionism had revolutionized art: 'thus during the past few decades we have witnessed how the new view of light and colour has encircled the world like a high wind.'124 And when he purchased a Renoir for the Kunsthalle in 1913, a portrait of a woman on horseback, he praised the artist for what he called his Psychologie, or his ability to offer a strong impression of the subject's character.125 German impressionists excited Lichtwark because they created a new direction for German art, based on 'light, colour, and life in all its motion.'126 Notably, he associated those men he considered the best artists - Max Liebermann, Leopold von Kalckreuth, Lovis Corinth, Max Slevogt, Wilhelm Triibner, and Fritz von Uhde - with a young generation of Germans, regardless of the fact that Lichtwark and most of the impressionists were middle-aged. Youthfulness was more a state of mind to him, part of a conscious decision to disregard the laws of art set down by academy masters: it meant a fresh approach to the use of the palette, brush, and knife. By placing German impressionists on the side of youth, Lichtwark also offered artists a defence against public indifference or hostility. Some day, he promised these artists, you will be honoured. 'Every day, as I stand before your paintings,' he told Kalckreuth in 1902, 'I see what you mean to us, and our entire youth sees this with me,' and on another occasion he reassured Frau Kalckreuth that public favour awaited her husband, precisely because the 'older generation' attacked his works.127 By calling the new German art youthful in spirit and technique, Lichtwark raised a battle cry for cultural progress; indeed, he defined good art as necessarily controversial. Lichtwark did not limit his praise of German art to the impressionists. Menzel, Bocklin, Friedrich, and Leibl had a place in his list of German masters. In contrast, Lichtwark did not much care for the paintings of Peter Cornelius, Anselm Feuerbach, and Hans von Marees, because these artists were so strongly influenced by Renaissance and classical art.128 In German impressionism Lichtwark saw the most promising advances in technique, colour, and sensitivity to nature; when he stood before portraits by Liebermann or Kalckreuth he felt overwhelmed by the natural and yet powerful images of their subjects. Liebermann's work, in particular, profoundly influenced Lichtwark's reactions to German impressionism. He told Liebermann that he encountered music, poetry, and dreams in his paintings, and he marvelled at the artist's constant experiments with technique - his dedication to finding the right brush stroke and the most exquisite colour in each painting.129 In the 1890s, when few others believed in

Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art 37 Liebermann, Lichtwark described him as a monumental German artist. He offered the same tributes to Leopold von Kalckreuth, although today Kalckreuth is regarded as a lesser artist than Liebermann. Youthful, innovative, original, colourful - these qualities headed Lichtwark's checklist for art. But when post-impressionism stormed the galleries of Europe he found that these qualities were now used to describe art forms he disliked. As he admitted in 1912, the youth of Germany had moved beyond him: 'After a certain age one is unable to follow. I saw this in old Durand-Ruel, who rejected everything that came after the impressionists, and I see it in myself when I stand before men in their forties.' 130 Lichtwark did like the paintings of Klimt and Hodler, and he even enjoyed the works of Oscar Kokoschka. Then, too, works by young artists, or before the final stage of development of the on occasion he had kind things to say about Cezanne, van Gogh, and Picasso.131 But his final judgment of most of these artists, and of Emil Nolde, Max Beckmann, and Henri Matisse, was negative. In 1913 Lichtwark wrote to Max Sauerlandt, (the young director of Halle's Stadtisches Museum), stating that he simply did not like Nolde's art: 'I am too old: for me Nolde is a dark horse.'132 Earlier, Lichtwark had come to the conclusion that Matisse followed on Cezanne's coattails, mesmerizing German youth with works that lacked any true substance, mere splashes of colour in exaggerated forms.133 Clearly, Lichtwark misjudged post-impressionism. Yet by nurturing impressionism he had laid the soil for later developments in German art, including expressionism. Finally, we should note that Lichtwark's demands for a new tradition of German art led him to emphasize local art production. He once said, quite rightly, that Germany did not have one culture, but many.134 After Germany's centuries of division into ecclesiastical territories, rival states, and independent cities, German culture flourished in local areas like Hamburg. Even in the new Reich, a cultural capital on the scale of Paris or London did not dominate; instead, the two major centres, Berlin and Munich, competed with each other in the cultural arena. Lichtwark hoped that Hamburg would also develop into a cultural centre, able to make a significant contribution to German literature and art. Since the Reformation, Hamburg's elite had welcomed artists and writers to the city, a fact that encouraged Lichtwark to make the extreme claim that the Hamburg Biirgertum had been one of the most significant cultural forces in German history, comparable to the Hohenzollerns.135 Buoyed by an exaggerated sense of Hamburg's past

38 Art and the German Bourgeoisie cultural importance, Lichtwark was convinced that the city held great promise for the future. By the time of Lichtwark's directorship in Hamburg, conditions seemed ripe for yet another period of cultural productivity. Hamburg was a wealthy city, with prosperous businessmen and merchants. Lichtwark argued that if a select group of twenty to thirty leading citizens donated between one and two thousand marks per year, this money could be used for purchasing Hamburg paintings or for sponsoring native artists.136 Furthermore, he considered Hamburg an excellent site for artists: the city and its adjoining rural areas offered beautiful subjects for landscapes, and there was a growing demand for official portraits of city leaders and their families. Beginning in the 1890s, Lichtwark helped to assemble a group of native artists whose early works excited him. In 1897 these artists, led by Arthur lilies and Ernst Eitner, formed the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub (the Hamburg Artists' Association). Lichtwark helped to sponsor their work and directed them towards plein-air (open-air) painting. The experiments of the Kiinstlerclub failed to achieve great success in Hamburg, however, for reasons we will explore later. And Lichtwark eventually quarrelled with these artists, who resented his demands upon their life and their art. In the end, they chose to study elsewhere in Germany and Europe, and their paintings never achieved the high quality Lichtwark had hoped for. Frustrated with this result, Lichtwark pointed a convenient finger of blame at Hamburg's citizens, and at the Senate, which tended to leave the sponsorship of culture to private initiative.137 His dream of creating a new school of German art in Hamburg was not fulfilled. Lichtwark was successful, though, in sponsoring one special Hamburg project: the Collection of Paintings from Hamburg. This collection commanded Lichtwark's attention from the 1890s on, once he recognized that local art production needed more time and money to develop. With paintings of Hamburg scenes and personalities executed by several of Germany's leading secession artists, Lichtwark built the Collection of Paintings from Hamburg into a representative display of modern German art, and in the process earned respect throughout Germany for his initiative in Hamburg. By the time of his death, Lichtwark's direction of the Kunsthalle had also found broader support in Hamburg than ever before. He had argued in the Brinckmann biography that one positive example of the pioneering spirit could inspire a

Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art 39 generation of Germans, clearly hoping that his own efforts would show this to be true. In this introduction to Lichtwark's personality and his ideas about art, I have offered a necessarily selective portrait of a nationalist devoted to modern German culture. A comprehensive analysis of his life and his many writings awaits a courageous biographer. As we move on to consider two specific examples of Lichtwark's projects for Hamburg - the creation of a local artists' community and Liebermann's portrait of the Burgomaster Carl Petersen - we will need to keep in mind several of the ideas discussed above, which can be summarized in three main points. In the first place, Lichtwark offers us a good example of the new leaders in Imperial Germany's Bildungsburgertum. Although he began his life in relative poverty, and never completed a full education in a Gymnasium or university, Lichtwark still achieved great success as a gallery director. His popular books, essays, and lectures won him acclaim outside of Hamburg, from as far away as New York's Metropolitan Museum.138 At the start of his career - his studies at Leipzig University and his work in Berlin - influential supporters like Brinckmann, Carl Kall, Anton Springer, and Julius Lessing helped him along, but Lichtwark did the hard work necessary to make a name for himself. His dedication to art inspired a lifetime of independent study and self-improvement. He never saw himself as a specialist in art; instead he lived his life as a connoisseur of all types of culture. Furthermore, he formed his aesthetic tastes independent of that section of the middle class that remained culturally conservative, never doubting his preference for impressionism. Indeed, the joy with which Lichtwark described artworks by Manet or Liebermann (in his letters to the Commission) always conveyed a sense of childlike pleasure - a tribute to his idea that youthfulness marked the pioneering spirit. Above all, Lichtwark was a self-made man in Imperial Germany's Bildungsburgertum, part of the rising bourgeoisie he wanted to educate and reform. Secondly, this desire to educate others was a powerful force in Lichtwark's life. In his quest to encourage more support from the bourgeoisie for modern German art, Lichtwark accepted the role of teacher to the nation. He designed the Kunsthalle as a place of art instruction, offered lectures and books that urged aesthetic sensitivity, and supported educational reform in German schools. He called for an elite class of educated burghers, able to lead the nation forward culturally,

40 Art and the German Bourgeoisie as well as politically and economically. His lessons about art always addressed ways to improve German society. As Karl Scheffler noted, 'he was a teacher to the nation, because he never stopped being a pupil of the times, not even for a moment.'139 Art for the nation, education that stressed national pride in culture - these are the goals Lichtwark worked for. Finally, Lichtwark chose modern German art as the basis of a new cultural tradition because he admired this art's quality and originality, but also because he thought it could serve the state. He designated Liebermann and Kalckreuth as the new architects of a superior German art able to support Germany's quest for world-power status, and thus his ideas were at odds with the prevailing official culture, including academy art. Lichtwark was a nationalist and a modernist, a man who saw himself as a pioneering spirit, educating other Germans to appreciate impressionism as the most creative artistic achievement of his generation.

CHAPTER TWO

The Petersen Portrait: The Failure of Modern Art as Monument in Hamburg

One is never happy with a portrait of people one knows. For this reason I have always pitied portrait painters. One so seldom demands the impossible from others, and yet one commands this from them. They are supposed to show in the portrait how others feel about this person, their likes and dislikes; they are not supposed to merely portray how they perceive a man, but how every person would perceive him. I do not wonder that such artists become increasingly stubborn, indifferent and self-willed. This in itself would not be important if it did not mean that one would have to do without the images of so many beloved and cherished fellow-creatures. Goethe, Elective Affinities

In 1892, six years after Alfred Lichtwark began working as Kunsthalle director in Hamburg, he found himself in the midst of a bitter dispute over a portrait he had commissioned of the respected Burgomaster CarlPetersenbyMaxLiebermann.1TheportraitwasloathedbyCarlPetersenbyMaxLiebermann.1Theportraitwasloathedby Petersen and his supporters among Hamburg's political and social elite - dismissed as a horrific example of unbridled excess in modern painting and banned from public showing. The city's political leaders also questioned Lichtwark's suitability as Kunsthalle director, in the wake of what they considered a poor choice of artist for an official commission. Much of this scandal took place privately, in heated exchanges between Lichtwark and Petersen; yet its effect on Lichtwark's ability to promote modern art was as telling as a full-blown public controversy. How the scandal unfolded and why the portrait was rejected as a city monument is instructive for the insight it provides into anti-modernism in Hamburg during the 1890s.

42 Art and the German Bourgeoisie I The portrait of Burgomaster Petersen inaugurated Lichtwark's plan to commission paintings of Hamburg scenes and personalities for the Collection of Paintings from Hamburg (Sammlung von Bildern aus Hamburg). With this project Lichtwark hoped to educate the Hamburg public about contemporary art: he would invite modern painters, including young Hamburg artists (the later Hamburgische Kiinstlerclub), to sketch or paint familiar Hamburg scenes. Although Lichtwark knew that most Hamburgers disliked the new developments in art, he believed that if the subject of each commissioned work remained recognizable - a scene or individual well known in the city - this might encourage tolerance for experimentation with colour, line, or perspective, and a willingness to accept the use of pastels or water colours rather than oils. By 1914 the Collection included art by Liebermann, Corinth, Slevogt, Kalckreuth, and the French painters Bonnard and Vuillard. Lichtwark also tried to commission works by Gustav Klimt, Ferdinand Hodler, and Max Klinger, although his efforts did not meet with success. While none of these artists was as controversial as postimpressionists like Gauguin, Cezanne, or Matisse, their works still aroused hostility in Hamburg. In fact, as late as 1911 Lichtwark complained to Liebermann that the public used the word Schreckenskammer ('chamber of horrors') to describe the section in the Kunsthalle that contained the Collection of Paintings from Hamburg.2 Initially, Lichtwark had assumed that modern portraits done for the Sammlung von Bildern aus Hamburg would become unique and cherished monuments to the leading male personalities of the city. He hoped to bolster the proud spirit of the Hansestadt, to strengthen its sense of history, and to emphasize Hamburg's distinctive character in the new Reich.3 The basis for Lichtwark's ambitious plans became clear in his two-volume study, The Portrait in Hamburg, a survey of the history of portraiture in Hamburg.4 Lichtwark completed this study in 1898 - six years after the fiasco of the Petersen portrait. In it he argued for many more portraits of Hamburg's political and social elite, clearly stung by the hostile reaction to the Liebermann painting - and he stressed the idea that portraiture constitutes an essential component of a healthy national culture.5 For example, he noted that portraits can leave a rich legacy for future generations, offering clues to the characteristics of an era. The artist's choice of colour and composition, and the manner in which he recreates the appearance of the subject - show-

The Petersen Portrait 43 ing us the physical qualities of men and women of his time, and what sort of clothing they wore - all combine to give a distinct impression of a society and its people. In this way, portraits become valuable historical documents.6 According to Lichtwark, even more important than this historical function was the ability of portraiture to express and reinforce the superior qualities of a nation's predominant social class. Casting an envious glance at Britain, he wrote of a confident and assertive bourgeoisie whose leaders were 'lionized' in magnificent portraits, a tradition carried over from earlier centuries.7 One only needed to visit the National Portrait Gallery in London to see the fine quality of British portraiture. The English national character found expression in art, as far as Lichtwark was concerned, while the German situation paled in comparison. Why, for example, were there so few portraits of Hamburg's illustrious statesmen? Lichtwark implied that the Senate had been negligent in this regard, and he urged the city fathers to recognize the importance of portraits as monuments.8 Eventually, Lichtwark's efforts on behalf of modern portraits won out, albeit with the help of private donations. Liebermann painted seven portraits even after the Petersen difficulties, and in 1906 completed a superb ensemble portrait of nine Hamburg professors (including Justus Brinckmann) entitled The Hamburg Assembly of Professors

(plate 2). However, he painted all of these works after 1905 - twelve years after the controversial Petersen portrait - during which time Lichtwark had calmed the waters. Liebermann's later subjects included Baron von Berger, director of Hamburg's Schauspielhaus; the natural scientist Hermann Strebel; the poet Richard Dehmel; the political theologian Friedrich Naumann; the Burgomaster Heinrich Burchard; the writer Gerhart Hauptmann; the architect Peter Behrens; and a self-portrait (plate 3). All of these men either lived in Hamburg or had some personal connection to the city. Other artists also created portraits for the Hamburg Collection after 1905: Max Slevogt painted Burgomaster O'Swald, Lovis Corinth did a study of the historian Eduard Meyer, Fritz von Uhde produced a double portrait of Senator Gustav Hertz and his wife, and Wilhelm Triibner painted Burgomaster Monckeberg. All told, the Collection of Paintings from Hamburg offered a significant number of portraits by some of Germany's finest modern artists. In another section of the Kunsthalle (the northwest corner of the first floor), Lichtwark also set up the Kaisersaal, or Imperial Room.9 Here

44 Art and the German Bourgeoisie there were traditional portraits of German leaders: Luther, Frederich William III, Moltke, William I, and Bismarck.10 These works were the products of Germany's established academy artists, including Anton von Werner, the director of Berlin's Institute for Fine Arts. The most famous artist of the group was Franz von Lenbach, who along with Werner deplored impressionist experiments in German art. Lichtwark set aside his aesthetic reservations about Werner and Lenbach when he arranged for the Kaisersaal, content with the historical function of this imperial collection. The Kaisersaal also reflected the nationalistic cult of personality popular at that time, and is certainly yet another example of Lichtwark's love of country and his pride in Germany's achievements. He never devoted as much energy or time to the Kaisersaal as he did to the Collection from Hamburg, but the presence of the Kaisersaal in the Kunsthalle did constitute a solemn contrast to the colourful pastels and oils of Lichtwark's modern commissions. II In 1891, when Lichtwark decided to ask Max Liebermann to paint Burgomaster Petersen, he embarked on a risky adventure, setting his hopes on an artist whose past works had aroused public opposition. Liebermann did have admirers by the 1890s, but there were still many detractors, among them influential Berlin art critics - Adolf Rosenberg and Friedrich Pecht, for example - who profoundly disliked the artist's experiments with naturalism and impressionism. Moreover, Liebermann had not painted many portraits yet, except for several self-portraits and a few studies done for his own pleasure (including a portrait of his parents, and of a physician who had once attended him). In addition, when he selected Liebermann for the Petersen portrait, Lichtwark passed over the most sought-after portrait painter in Germany, Franz von Lenbach. Born in 1836, Lenbach had come from humble origins, and had spent several years as a craftsman living in Schrobenhausen, Upper Bavaria. He moved to Munich in 1854 and studied under the renowned teacher Karl Theodor von Piloty. Early experiments with plein-air naturalism, especially during a year's stay in Rome from 1858 to 1859, fell by the wayside as this painter grew older and gained public attention for his society portraits. By the 1880s Lenbach reigned as 'the prince of artists' (Kiinstlerfurst) in Munich, his position in society helped by his marriage to an aristocrat and his friendship with another famous painter,

The Petersen Portrait 45 Hans Makart. At this point, Lenbach settled into an opulent life in a neo-Renaissance villa, showered by requests for portraits of wellplaced nobles and bankers.11 To understand the outcry that greeted Liebermann's portrait of Petersen, a consideration of Lenbach's art and the popular standards for society portraits offers some needed clues. Lenbach had risen to prominence in the German art world during the heady and tumultuous years of the economic boom, the Grunderjahre of the early 1870s. Many artists took part in the euphoria of the decade, responding to the triumphant unification of Germany and unbounded confidence in financial speculation. The result was that official German art became ostentatious, as Fritz Stern has pointed out: After the parades were over, except for the annual Sedan-Feier which kept alive the memory of French humiliation, German artists took their turn to celebrate the new Empire in a rash of monumental paintings, buildings, poems, all imitative of earlier heroic styles. They sought to give their people a kind of instant apotheosis of their triumph. Everything exuded power and success, and a new national bombast belied earlier sobriety and Biedermeier restraint.12 At this time of nationalistic excess, Lenbach's best-known portraits celebrated the heroes of the empire - William I, Moltke, and Bismarck and these works became national monuments of German power and determination. Suitably, Lenbach was a fervent believer in the German hero; he called Bismarck 'a victory for humanity, worth more than an entire empire.' 13 Bismarck and Lenbach had met in 1878, and the artist became a regular guest at the Chancellor's residences in Varzin, Berlin, and Friedrichsruh. Over a period of twenty years, Lenbach completed more than eighty different versions of Bismarck, showing him as Chancellor, Junker, and country squire (plate 4). In all of the portraits one sees a romanticized image of firm paternal authority, combining the steeliness of great personal conviction and drive with the dignity of a man who is larger than life and a dedicated leader of the German people. Caricaturists of the day took great delight in ridiculing Lenbach's obsession with Bismarck, but his works were very popular, reproduced in large numbers for a wider audience. Lenbach's portraits, regardless of the subject, mirrored what the sitter and the audience wanted to see. The artist captured class, wealth,

46 Art and the German Bourgeoisie and prestige in body posture, costume, and facial expressions, working from photographs of the subject. (On occasion he even painted over enlarged photographs printed upon canvases treated with silver salts.)14 Lenbach often took several photographs of his clients and then allowed them to choose the image they found most flattering for the portrait; as Robin Lenman notes, this choice became 'part of a dynamic process of self-presentation in an increasingly achievement-orientated and individualistic society.'15 Lenbach was a skilful draftsman, able to reproduce the subtleties of physical features, while also using space and form gracefully in each work. Notably, he concentrated on the face and eyes of each subject, illuminating the head by means of surrounding shades of a lighter hue or tints colouring the face itself. In contrast, the body blended into a dark, usually black, background. The inspiration for this type of portraiture came from artists like Titian, Rubens, Velazquez, and especially Rembrandt.16 In Lenbach's hands, portraits became heavily stylized; they were formal tributes, pleasing to the eye, but they did not probe the character of the subject deeply. A good example of Lenbach's work is his portrait of Emperor William I (plate 5), painted in 1888. This is only one version of a portrait reproduced numerous times by Lenbach, and especially well known to the public. Here we see the Kaiser in half-profile, his face turned towards the viewer, although the gaze is not aimed directly at us. He is seated comfortably, yet able to hold a regal posture that dignifies the body in a way not apparent in the photographs used for the portrait. The face and hands absorb most of our attention: here Lenbach used light colours and delicate brush strokes. The body itself is dark and hazy, marked in outline, but submerged into the backdrop and the chair. We can see the decorations pinned to the Kaiser's chest, although they fade in comparison with the hands and face. Lenbach's portrait of William creates an image of solemn and heroic authority. Lichtwark included this painting in a collection of examples introducing children to art, the Exercises in the Observation of Works of Art,

written in 1897.17 To instruct children about Lenbach's portrait, Lichtwark reminded them of the popular images of William I, known from public statues and book illustrations, and he mentioned William I's place in German history as the first ruler of a united Reich. Subsequent questions directed the children's attention to the eyes of the portrait, which Lichtwark stressed were expressive of William's cleverness, his noble birth, and his kindness. Lichtwark also argued that the spirit of most individuals shone through in the face, reaching full expression

The Petersen Portrait 47 only in old age - and thus Lenbach had painted the Kaiser when he was almost ninety years old. William I had crowned his life with successes only after his youth had passed, and so, concluded Lichtwark, Lenbach was able to capture the Kaiser's mature character. Overall, Lichtwark's comments contain a clever pedagogic ploy, but today we have difficulty in seeing this portrait as a deep study, offering the full character of William I. Instead, Lenbach magnified William's authority, presenting him as a beneficent father to the German nation. As most portraits do, Lenbach's portraits venerated the social and political system of the country. Lichtwark too participated in this glorification of German leaders. He did not oppose the Hamburg Senate's decision, in 1890, to commission a Lenbach portrait of General Helmut von Moltke (plate 6), hero of the wars of 1866 and 1870.18 Lenbach was given 12,000 marks for his efforts, one of the very rare occasions when the Senate approved state funds for a work of art. Once completed, this portrait took a special place in the Kunsthalle's Kaisersaal. Lenbach, then, appears as one of Imperial Germany's political artists, even though he decried political art. Liebermann, on the other hand, was a genuinely non-political artist. While most of the examples of late nineteenth-century German culture were ornate, slavish, and nationalistic, Liebermann's art quietly expressed an individual perspective. HI Max Liebermann was the son of a wealthy Jewish cotton merchant: the Liebermanns had made their fortune in Berlin in the early nineteenth century.19 His father, Louis Liebermann, fulfilled the role of stern patriarch, and was rather a cold man, a character trait that later marked the son. His mother, Phillipine (nee Haller), came from a family of Viennese jewellers. She had several important relatives in both Berlin and Hamburg, including an uncle, Martin Haller, who had converted to Christianity and became a Burgomaster in Hamburg in 1866. Another famous relative was Walther Rathenau, Phillipine's nephew. The Liebermanns, then, were an established, successful Jewish family, well assimilated into Berlin society, and related to prominent Germans in other areas of the Reich. As a young man, Max Liebermann decided against a career in his father's firm and chose instead to pursue his great interest in art. He studied in Berlin and Weimar, making his debut in the 1872 Berlin Salon with the painting The Goosepluckers. This work (plate 7), with its studied

48 Art and the German Bourgeoisie composition and precise detail, shows a room of contrasting light and darkness, filled with old peasant women pulling the feathers from geese; the only man in the painting is standing, passing out the birds to the women. Liebermann avoids both an idealized portrait of these workers and a social commentary.20 Instead, he presents a scene of the workaday world in a naturalistic style. Adolph von Menzel, the most prominent artist in Berlin at that time, was deeply moved by this work, and offered Liebermann the rare honour of visiting his studio.21 Others found less to admire, however. Ludwig Pietsch, critic for the Vossische Zeitung, railed against the ugliness of the subjects, stressing the inappropriateness of featuring 'old village women' in a work of art. Bruno Meyer in the Zeitschrift fiir bildende Kunst judged the painting as 'absolutely empty' and 'vulgar.'22 Liebermann's realism made him some enemies, and his rejection of any anecdotal or moral message shocked many. In 1873 the scorned 'Apostle of Ugliness' left Berlin for Paris. In Paris Liebermann continued to experiment with naturalism. He also made several trips to Holland; there the beauty of the countryside and cities, along with the strong features of Dutch workers, offered good subjects for his new style of painting. He found inspiration, too, in studying the Dutch masters - especially Frans Hals. Then in 1878 Liebermann decided to visit Venice; while on this trip he met Lenbach, who advised him to move to Munich and exhibit in the salons there. Munich, at this point, and indeed until the turn of the century, was the empire's main cultural centre.23 Here artists could find generous patrons and experienced teachers. As early as 1854 the city began construction of a vast exhibition building called the Glaspalast, which would become the site of superb international exhibitions. French artists Gustav Courbet, Jean-Franqois Millet, and Jean Baptiste Corot, along with new German painters Wilhelm Leibl and Hans Thoma, displayed their works in these shows. But if Liebermann anticipated a positive environment for his unsentimental images of common subjects, he was undoubtedly disappointed when he came face to face with another hostile reception in Munich, which in a few details foreshadowed his later experience with the Petersen portrait. The trouble began with a painting Liebermann exhibited in 1879: Twelve-Year-Old Jesus in the Temple. The scene in this

painting (plate 8) shows Jesus, as a boy, discussing theology with the elders of a temple: he is at the centre of a circle of six men, a few of whom are listening intently while others are visibly sceptical.24 One man even turns away, towards a figure coming down some stairs. The

The Petersen Portrait 49 painting is starkly simple and unadorned; moreover, Jesus looks like a Jewish child, with great intelligence and conviction, and Liebermann avoids bathing the figure in shimmering light, or drawing the face according to the conventions of traditional religious painting. The scene is also dramatic and filled with movement, rather than tranquil or serene.25 Lenbach, Leibl, and Uhde, among others, admired the painting, and the jury of the Munich salon received the work warmly. A great many others, nonetheless, attacked Jesus in the Temple, offended by Liebermann's portrayal of the young Christ as a Jew. Adolf Stoecker, Berlin's court preacher, seized upon the incident to vent antiSemitic epithets and to accuse Liebermann of blasphemy. Prince Luitpold of Bavaria, who opened the exhibition, responded to this controversy by ordering that Jesus in the Temple be removed to an insignificant side room where few would see it. Then, on 15 January 1880, the Bavarian Landtag discussed the furore over the painting. Liebermann's opponents hurled out accusations of immorality and indecency, and threatened the Munich Artists' Association - who had organized the exhibition - with a loss of government subsidies. One member of the Centre Party, Balthasar Daller, quoted Friedrich Pecht (art critic for the Allgemeine Zeitung), who had called the work 'a stench in the nostrils of decent people.'26 Liebermann, left out in the wings, waited patiently until the exhibition closed and then gave the painting to Fritz von Uhde in return for one of this artist's works.27 Uhde himself would suffer notoriety for his naturalistic religious paintings. Shortly after the debut in Munich, Liebermann began to acquaint himself with a new development in European art that would fundamentally alter his own work: French impressionism. In Berlin, Liebermann met the Bernstein family - Carl and Felicie - avid collectors of French art. Carl Bernstein was a lawyer, and with his wife the centre of an important salon in Berlin.28 (Lichtwark, while in Berlin during the early 1880s, was an occasional guest in the Bernstein home, although he did not encounter Max Liebermann there.) Advised by their cousin Charles Ephrussi - friend to Monet, Degas, and Manet the Bernsteins bought works by Manet, Monet, Sisley, Pissarro, Cassatt, Degas, and Morisot. Reactions to these paintings included astonishment and disapproval (Adolph von Menzel asked if the Bernsteins had spent money on these 'scribblings'), but some artists, Liebermann and Klinger included, came away deeply impressed.29 Even Lichtwark was sceptical of French impressionism at first, not believing that this art offered anything new or original; with time, though,

50 Art and the German Bourgeoisie came more measured reflection, and Lichtwark began to show evidence of understanding and interest. Other Berlin critics remained hostile. When the Gurlitt gallery in Berlin held the first exhibition of the Bernsteins' collection in 1883, it met with scathing reviews. The Berliner Tageblatt took a particularly aggressive posture, seeing the works of the Parisian Malerfronde as proof of the irreconcilability of the Germans and the French - antipodes (Gegenfiifiler) in art and aesthetics, as well as in politics.30 Liebermann settled once again in Berlin during the 1880s, now better known and acknowledged as a talented, if controversial, painter. Indeed, some positive new developments greeted his homecoming. Anton von Werner, the most influential academic artist in the capital and head of the Association of Berlin Artists, offered to support Liebermann's inclusion in this society.31 Then, in 1888, Liebermann won a small gold medal in the Berlin salon. But complete acceptance in Germany's art circles continued to elude him. In 1889 Liebermann arranged for a selection of German art in a Parisian exhibition honouring the French Revolution.32 Nationalists at home cried out against his actions, and when the French government offered Liebermann the Legion d'Honneur for his efforts on behalf of the exhibition, the Prussian government refused to allow him to accept the decoration.33 Critics also noticed that Liebermann's style was changing: he had begun to use brighter colours and to play with the effect of outdoor light. Lines lost their precision, his brushwork looked thicker, especially when he used the spatula, and a quicker fleck of colour or tracing - the result of careful renderings of light, movement, and visual impressions - replaced intricate detail.34 He moved closer in technique to French impressionism. Lichtwark first met Liebermann in 1889, when he was advised by Wilhelm Bode to purchase the artist's The Netmenders for the Kunsthalle. Bode had seen this painting in the centenary exhibition in Paris, and upon his urging Lichtwark purchased the work for the moderate sum of 1,000 marks, using money donated to the Kunsthalle from private sources.35 The Netmenders (plate 9) is one of the finest Liebermann paintings: an enormous canvas (180.5 x 226 cm) surveys a flat field of greens and browns, reaching far into the horizon, and complemented by a huge expanse of blue and white sky. Women repairing nets sit about the field, and the viewer looks upon diagonally parallel lines of figures beginning in the foreground, stretching out into the distance and giving depth to the composition. The dominant figure stands at

The Petersen Portrait 51 the front, a powerful profile against both field and sky, braced against a brisk wind. One's eye moves from the main figure to the different positions of the other women, some sitting, others bent over or kneeling.36 All the women seem to emerge from the ground as though they belonged to it. Liebermann emphasizes the force of nature here, both in the setting of the women's work and in the beauty of the wind, billowing the clouds of the horizon, puffing up the luminous caps, filling out the swirling skirts and aprons. A lovely rhythm of colour and form harmonizes the women, the field, and the sky. Overall, the look of the work is Dutch, and shows the strong influence of the various trips to Holland Liebermann made in the 1870s and 1880s. Dutch painters like Rembrandt, Hals, and the nineteenth-century artist Jozef Israels undoubtedly influenced Liebermann as well. Lichtwark saw the painting in Paris shortly after he had arranged to purchase it. In a letter to his mother and sister he freely expressed his thoughts about the work: Yesterday I also saw our Liebermann. In space and colour he is quite magnificent; each time I see him I rejoice even more. But whether he will amuse the Hamburgers is, at the outset, very much the question. He offers too little that is sentimental and obliging, and the composition is also so new and unusual that one must first familiarize oneself with the work. I am immensely pleased that we have him. He should hang at one of the loveliest places, where the Rembrandt now hangs, because then one gains perspective.37 Lichtwark felt happy enough with The Netmenders to purchase another work by Liebermann in 1890, this time a commissioned pastel of Hamburg's Kirchenalle (plate 10) for the Collection of Paintings from Hamburg. Pleased again by this latest result, Lichtwark went ahead with plans for a portrait of Burgomaster Petersen, probably mentioning the idea to Liebermann in late 1890. Liebermann's study of Petersen was the first portrait commissioned for the Collection from Hamburg; arranging for the Kunsthalle Commission to accept the project did not prove an easy task for Lichtwark. The Commission members balked at the choice of Liebermann, whom they regarded as competent in landscapes, but virtually unproven as a portrait painter. Lichtwark refused to withdraw his suggestion, however; he thought Liebermann could produce an excellent portrait and in the process elevate the state of German portraiture to new heights.

52 Art and the German Bourgeoisie Implicit here was the idea that a Hamburg portrait could initiate this new trend. In early 1891 Lichtwark overcame the objections of the Commission members by finding a wealthy sponsor for the portrait: Reinhold Hermann Kaemp, a noted Hamburg industrialist. He put up the Garantiefonds, the green light Lichtwark needed to proceed with his plans.38 For his part, Liebermann welcomed the opportunity to paint a Hamburg dignitary. In a letter to Lichtwark of 27 January 1891, he expressed his enthusiasm for the challenge before him. Referring to a photograph of Petersen Lichtwark had sent him, Liebermann talked about Petersen's 'excellent head' and his sturdy legs. This first impression of Petersen was decidedly positive: 'The man appears energetic, could also be a general, does not stand in fear, I think, of God or the world, a capital fellow, who should appear strong and simply grand, as F. Hals represented his subjects in the guild paintings, recreated naturally, without tricks and without - glazing. It must be a solid piece of work.'39 After sketching some preliminary studies of Petersen's head (in early summer 1891), Liebermann worked on the painting during the summer and fall months of 1891. He followed photographs of Petersen, although one suspects that the Burgomaster also came to Liebermann's Berlin studio for a sitting - a common experience for all the subjects of Liebermann's portraits.40 Before considering the portrait itself, we should look at the subject of the work, Carl Petersen. In 1892, Petersen was eighty-three years old, one of the most respected men in Hamburg.41 He held, in that year, the most powerful office in the city government: the position of First Burgomaster.42 Petersen had begun his professional life as a lawyer, working in the 1840s next to Johannes Versmann, another of Hamburg's future political leaders. In the revolution of 1848, he took the side of the moderate liberals. Thereafter he decided on a political career, and in 1855 entered the Senate. By the time of Germany's unification, Petersen guarded Hamburg's interests, but not at the expense of isolation. In 1881 he supported Senator Versmann's bid to have Hamburg join Germany's customs union, in return for Bismarck's acceptance of Hamburg's free port. Throughout this active life, Petersen exhibited dedication and passionate interest in his work for Hamburg, especially during his thirtyseven years in the Senate. He was proud of the republican traditions of the city, endorsed a free citizenry, and opposed the acceptance of Prussian honours, such as ennoblement. The public respected him for his

The Petersen Portrait 53 intelligence and hard work in the Senate, and he was reputed to have a charming personality. Indeed, Lichtwark later stated that Petersen hardly had an enemy in Hamburg. His most skilful biographer, Adolf Wohlwill, described Petersen's appearance in this way: 'Petersen's build was of medium height, elegant and finely proportioned. Down to his last years his movements retained something youthful and elastic. The shape of the head was exceedingly fine, the forehead noble and aristocratically formed.' 43 Several other commentators of the period noted that Petersen paid special attention to his appearance: he shaved twice a day, and liked to bathe after any important speech.44 Wohlwill himself asserts that Petersen refused to allow any carelessness in his dress or grooming. In matters of art and aesthetics, Petersen followed the high moral standards he set for his own life. He liked theatre best, although he also enjoyed music. It was Petersen who convinced the Senate and Citizens' Assembly to award Brahms honorary citizenship, after this great composer had been shunned by the city of his birth.45 Painting and sculpture interested Petersen too, but he felt most comfortable with Italian Renaissance art (which he had discovered on several trips to Rome). Of the new developments in art he had little good to say, probably because he admired what he saw as the quiet and measured progress of history and culture and was deeply suspicious of experimentation.46 He once wrote to a nephew about the good old days of his youth, when mankind was simpler, more agreeable, conservative, and religious. Petersen looked to the future with caution, while he admired the earlier years of his century. What Petersen liked in art is best illustrated by a small incident. In 1889, the Citizens' Assembly celebrated his eightieth birthday with the gift of an allegorical sculpture, by a C. Boerner.47 This work featured a group of female figures in bronze; one of these represented Hammonia (a symbolic figure of Hamburg, modelled after the Greek goddess Athena) holding in her right hand a laurel-wreath over a medallion carved with Petersen's image. The other allegorical figures depicted strength, justice, knowledge, and generosity. Petersen found himself overwhelmed by emotion upon presentation of this gift, and was unable to speak for a few moments. Clearly, neoclassical and Italianate art met the standards of beauty he admired and understood. Lichtwark knew Petersen and his family well, and so one wonders why the Kunsthalle director thought this Burgomaster would appreciate a portrait executed by a modern artist.

54 Art and the German Bourgeoisie Liebermann finished Petersen's portrait in late 1891, and showed it to a select number of visitors in his Berlin studio. The portrait (plate 11) gives a full-length view of Petersen standing, his body directed towards our right, as though he has just emerged from the Senate room; but he is turned slightly in the viewer's immediate line of vision. Indeed, the face looks out decidedly at the viewer. He is dressed in the traditional costume of the Hamburg senator, with buckled shoes, breeches, a high ruffle, an ornate velvet and fur gown, and a large hat - which he holds in his right hand, along with a glove. On his left we see the outline of the grip of a sword. The costume is mostly black, with light flecks of offwhite on the gown giving some sense of the embellishments around the hem, and on the borders and shoulders of the upper half of the cloak. What stands out brilliantly is the starched white ruffle, echoed by the lace on the wrist of the right hand, and by the glove. Petersen's face is imposing above this costume: his gaze is steady, calm, and reassuring. Liebermann places the figure in front of a gold-brown backdrop, darker around the feet, lighter around the body and head. The brush strokes swirl about, sometimes moving vertically or horizontally (on the left and at the bottom), but in the upper right-hand corner they seem directed towards the border of the painting. Here we see Hamburg's emblem, almost dissolving into the background. What is striking about this portrait is the combination of a traditional subject (a dignitary dressed in a formal costume) and a realistic rendering of an eighty-three-year-old man. Petersen's body is slightly bowed, and this physical condition emphasizes his age. Yet there is a majesty to his bearing, especially in the fine character of the face, and this engages the viewer. The man - or our impression of him - never gets lost in the other details of the painting; most notably, the costume almost becomes part of the background. While a painter like Lenbach would have kept the whole portrait dark, except for the face and hands, Liebermann instead gives warm hues of brown to the backdrop, flecks of white to the gown, and spots of red to Petersen's face and to the Hamburg coat-of-arms. The work is vibrant in colour, and the face commands attention because of the white ruffle that frames it, and because of the strong features - the eyes especially - that Liebermann emphasizes. This portrait also demonstrates the influence of Frans Hals upon Liebermann. In the 1870s Liebermann had copied several portraits by Hals, attempting to learn how to use colour, light, and shade effec-

The Petersen Portrait 55 tively, and how to express physical gestures smoothly. He also discovered a means of capturing the heartbeat of the moment in a firm stroke of the brush, giving a vitality to features.48 Indeed when one compares the portraits of Hals and Liebermann, there is in the best works of the latter a similar compositional energy and brilliance, presenting a strong impression of both the physical appearance of the sitter and the character that lies beneath the flesh. Furthermore, like Hals, Liebermann chose rich colours for his backdrops; these colours do not overwhelm the figure, and yet they avoid the dramatic envelopment of the face and body in black or dark brown. Can we describe this portrait as impressionist? The realistic detail of Petersen's face and body and the clear features of his robe, hat, and shoes seem closer to naturalism; but the brushwork is light and at times suggestive, never giving way to a mannerist precision of outline or shading. Furthermore, the strokes of paint behind the figure, set down by both brush and knife, have an airy, whirling quality. As one critic has noted, Liebermann's technique in this work gave 'a wholly momentary and fleeting appearance.' 49 It is possible then to place the Petersen portrait as an early example of Liebermann's move towards impressionism. The artists who became known as German impressionists - Liebermann, Slevogt, and Corinth - embraced this style of painting in the 1890s and early 1900s, several decades after the emergence of French impressionism. They were influenced not only by Manet, Degas, Renoir, and Monet, but also by Dutch painting of the nineteenth century, and by the study of light and colour in the works of German artists such as Leibl and Menzel.50 Still, the paintings of the German impressionists did not constitute a drastic break with German naturalism and its darker palette.51 As a result, German impressionism had several distinct features. For example, the colours used by the German artists were not as light or atmospheric as those of the French painters, and a preoccupation with the gradations of colour and light - as in Monet's studies of Waterloo Bridge - is absent.52 As well, the portraiture of the German painters tended to be more introspective and probing than the French, as is seen clearly in the self-portraits of Liebermann, Slevogt, and Corinth.53 In common with the French painters, however, the German artists - whose style became known as pleinairisme (open-air painting) - studied the effect of light and shade on objects and employed brighter tones in their works; they also created

56 Art and the German Bourgeoisie visible brush strokes on the canvas, and avoided painstaking detail opting for the quick line and looser brushwork. Finally, both German and French impressionists rejected a strong narrative in their work, and chose instead to focus upon the appearance of their subject and how this could be aesthetically rendered. Within the history of nineteenth-century art, impressionism, both French and German, became part of the modernist revolution in finde-siecle culture. Impressionists left behind the old tricks of glazing and underpainting, and clearly showed the flatness of surfaces and the use of paints and brushes in the work.54 Critics and artists defined impressionism, above all, according to technique, and thus emphasized sketch-like brushwork, light hues of colour, and a rejection of conventional modelling and composition.55 The relationship between the artist and the subject changed too. In his book on French impressionism, Robert Herbert has made an intriguing case for the role of the impressionist artist as detached investigator.56 Herbert argues that one cannot separate the impressionists from the economic and social changes that transformed Europe in the nineteenth century and accompanied the rise of modern cities. One result of these changes was the development of urban cultures with their city cafes, theatres, outdoor restaurants, concert halls, and race-tracks. The French impressionists created art that reflected this modern world, and in the process they avoided anecdote or detailed narrations of events such as those found in history paintings. Instead, these artists placed some distance between themselves and the subjects of artistic study, employing an objectivity relatively free of 'custom, piety or precedent.' 57 Most significantly, they avoided emotional engagement with the work or object. Liebermann fits this definition of 'detached investigator.' What interested him most as an artist was the appearance of an object, and whether he found it aesthetically challenging or not. Once he left naturalism behind, Liebermann portrayed many subjects of modern bourgeois life, but he approached this world without sentimentality. When he painted Carl Petersen, the respected Burgomaster of Hamburg, he painted faithfully what he saw: an elderly, dignified man with an interesting face. And he showed far more interest in the play of colours in Petersen's face and costume than in his official social status. Liebermann thus gave a modern perspective to traditional portraiture. Such detached honesty seemed jarring to those Germans accustomed to stylized and elevated representations of great men.

The Petersen Portrait 57 IV We may now appreciate the portrait, as have most Liebermann scholars, but when it first met public scrutiny in April 1892, at the exhibition of a new Berlin group called the Eleven, the portrait raised many eyebrows. And in Hamburg the work was an unmitigated catastrophe: Petersen himself loathed it. The Berlin critics attacked the portrait for what they saw as a lack of reverence for the dignified subject. Adolf Rosenberg wrote that as long as Liebermann seized upon village folk, old women, and netmenders, one could barely tolerate him; but his inconsiderate handling of an official commission, supposedly following from the example of Frans Hals, had understandably evoked strong protest.58 The Berlin exhibition reached Hamburg through only one public source: a review printed in the Hamburgischer Correspondent on 11 April 1892, without an accompanying illustration. Franz Servaes was the author, a Berlin art critic supportive of the new directions in German art; he exclaimed profound surprise at the reaction to the portrait in some Hamburg circles. Indeed, to Servaes, Liebermann's portrait was nothing short of a masterpiece. He admitted not knowing Carl Petersen personally, but defended his appraisal: 'In my opinion, the question facing any portrait is, in the first place, this: is this a person who stands before us, a person who we can imagine breathes, earns his livelihood and moves about, a person in whom a distinctive individuality and spirited personality is visible? Before Liebermann's portrait one must answer this question with an unconditional yes.' 59 Servaes stressed that Liebermann had refused to bow to affectation or traditional posing of the subject, or indeed to the tastes of the majority: thus a true lover of art would admire the portrait. Petersen appeared as 'a hale and hearty, vigorously alive old gentleman, who has preserved a healthy facial colour and a sparkling eye.' Liebermann revealed the finest individual details with great skill, and yet imparted a simplicity to the work that created a monumental impression. Above all, Servaes praised Liebermann's ability to paint authentically and naturally: his works were artistically truthful. On 15 April 1892, a reply to Servaes's review appeared in the same newspaper - signed with the pseudonym 'Kunz' (referring to the generic names Hinz und Kunz, short forms for Heinrich and Konrad) and claiming to represent a large group of Hamburgers disgusted by

58 Art and the German Bourgeoisie the portrait.60 The expression 'Hinz und Kunz' means 'everyone' or 'all the people' and it was employed here to satirize a comment Servaes had made about Liebermann's portrait not being intended to appeal to all. Emphasizing the fact that Servaes had never seen the Burgomaster in person, the angry respondents stressed that the portrait in no way resembled Petersen, and further that it dishonoured such a highly esteemed man. They based their comments on the colours applied in the portrait, connecting Liebermann's use of the palette with the 'new tendency' in art, a title given to modern art in Germany. Liebermann's portrait, it was argued, showed a feeble, unsteady human frame and a face made grotesque by unnaturally red, bloated cheeks and messy hair. By disgracing Petersen in this way, the letter continued, Liebermann's work had aroused widespread protest in Hamburg. Moreover, the authors of the letter made the exaggerated claim that no one of importance liked the painting. In conclusion, they stated the demands of those opposed to the portrait: 'We call for nothing less than a true and faithful reproduction of the original, and for this very reason we have forcefully opposed ... the affectation of an ordinary pose confronting us in this work, and we demand from any portrait a recreation of the distinguished naturalness of the dignified original.'61 This letter left the reader with the final assertion that under no circumstances should the portrait appear in Hamburg. It is remarkable, though, that the portrait raised such indignation in Hamburg, because at this point very few people even knew what the painting looked like: a crucial point for us to remember as we attempt to define the controversy. Petersen saw it in Berlin, as did some other prominent citizens visiting this city, but the portrait was not shown publicly in Hamburg in 1892. Hamburg's Commetersche Kunsthandlung sold prints of the portrait (done by Albert Kriiger) at Christmas of that year, but they made only fifty copies.62 In studying the reaction to the portrait in Hamburg we must keep in mind, then, that while word of the scandal spread to the public, only a small number of people involved themselves directly in the dispute with Lichtwark. This is not to say that the incident was insignificant: Lichtwark's position in Hamburg was seriously threatened by the displeasure Petersen and his followers felt with Liebermann's work, and these men were powerful. It is not clear, however, who exactly made up this opposition. Lichtwark refers in his letters to formidable antagonists, though without ever naming them, apart from the Petersen family. But it seems safe to assume that many of Petersen's friends in the

The Petersen Portrait 59 Senate flocked to the old man's support. Furthermore, the familial connections that bound Hamburg's leading citizens into a tightly knit group made it more likely that opposition to the Petersen portrait would range across Hamburg society. Nonetheless, we cannot speak here of the widespread and heavily publicized type of controversy Lichtwark would face in 1896 over the impressionist paintings of the fledgling Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub. Those in Hamburg who had seen the portrait, and who attacked it, used this incident as the basis for questioning Lichtwark's direction of the Kunsthalle. Lichtwark mentioned these opponents in numerous letters to Liebermann. 'You have no idea,' he wrote on 24 January 1894, 'what this attempt has cost me, and still could cost me, as I have spared you the details.'63 The portrait's supposed distortion of Petersen's true appearance lay at the heart of the conflict. A leading senator and future Burgomaster, Heinrich Burchard, complained that the Petersen he knew had fussed daily over his appearance, while Liebermann had painted a coarse, unkempt fellow: 'his portrait of our old Petersen fell short of the essence of the man and his importance for Hamburg and Germany.'64 Another man who knew Petersen, Max Nonne (a famous neurologist), thought that Liebermann had failed to capture Petersen's character or the way he actually looked; this was because the plein-air technique dominated the effect of the portrait.65 Were these critics right? Undoubtedly each had his own impression of Petersen, coloured by feelings about what type of man he was, or by the importance of his public service to Hamburg. But when one looks at photographs of Petersen, it does not appear that Liebermann took any great liberties. Indeed, Petersen's eldest son admitted to Lichtwark, after the affair had died down, that the portrait looked remarkably like his father, especially in the eyes.66 More than anything else, Liebermann's experimentation in this portrait with colour, shading, and brushwork caused discomfort in the viewers: they looked upon an image of Petersen for which traditional portraiture had not prepared them. On 11 April 1892 - the day the review article on the Berlin exhibition appeared in the Hamburgischer Correspondent - Lichtwark wrote to Carl Petersen.67 He composed this letter, it seems, in order to comment on the etching of the portrait by Albert Kriiger. But, in fact, Lichtwark's main concern throughout the lengthy report was to assuage Petersen's indignation over the portrait itself. Carefully, Lichtwark tried to point out that with the commission of the portrait he had sought to obtain

60 Art and the German Bourgeoisie not only an excellent artistic study of the Burgomaster, but also the chance to initiate a new and historic development in German art. For this reason he had chosen the leading representative of the new generation of German artists, Max Liebermann. And he boldly defended the artist: It was important to me to ensure that the portrait of your excellency would also be of historical importance as a work of art. This is the reason that I turned to the leading force among the young generation. Just as those who choose to support Liebermann's creations concede this role to him, so too do his opponents. The portrait of your excellency was the first monumental task placed before Liebermann and the younger generation. As such it is epoch-making; it has its place in the history of modern art.68 Even though Lichtwark conceded (rather deceptively) that he would not discuss the artistic quality of the portrait, he did go on to make the point that any really outstanding work of art would first encounter some disapproval and derision, because it would arouse strong feelings in the viewers. 'An indifferent, feeble work passes through an exhibition free of particular animosity,' he remarked.69 By defending Liebermann in this way, Lichtwark attempted to win Petersen over to the idea that modern expressions of art did indeed have value, even if public reaction to them was negative. Lichtwark also argued in this letter that even before he had commissioned the portrait and the artist he had asked for expert advice in the matter, consulting Wilhelm Bode in Berlin, Woldemar von Seidlitz in Saxony (a cultural administrator for the government), and Dr Alfred Bayersdorfer in Munich (the curator of the Munich Pinakothek). All had approved his plans. Moreover, Liebermann's reputation as a portrait artist had grown since the completion of Petersen's portrait, and new commissions from other individuals awaited the artist. There were now prominent Germans throughout the Reich who admired Liebermann's talents. All of this meant, according to Lichtwark, that the Liebermann portrait had proven successful, and he hoped that Petersen would come to appreciate it. In full, this letter strongly expressed Lichtwark's opinion, a rare display of contrariness on the part of this otherwise diplomatic art gallery director. Obviously the affair over the portrait concerned Lichtwark deeply, but he refused at this point to give up the work. The result of his letter, nonetheless, was a bitter reply from Petersen.

The Petersen Portrait 61

One wonders how Lichtwark reacted to the furious tone of Petersen's letter of 14 April 1892.70 The Burgomaster held little back, as he hauled Lichtwark over the coals for his responsibility in the portrait affair. He reminded Lichtwark that from the very beginning of the project he had opposed the selection of Liebermann as artist, this 'leading representative of the plein-air fashion,' inexperienced in portraiture. To Lichtwark's arguments that Liebermann's work followed in the tradition of Frans Hals, and yet marked a new and monumental development in German portraiture, Petersen retorted: 'Your letter itself states that my portrait was destined to become "the first monumental endeavour" on behalf of a tasteless type of painting. Not exactly flattering for me, according to the saying: "experiments on the human frame which cost one nothing [experimenta fiat in corpore vili].'''71 Clearly Petersen saw the portrait as yet another example of modern experimentation in art - and as the subject he was the involuntary participant in this new trend. The most damning passage in the letter expressed fear that the portrait vulgarized Petersen's image: When the portrait was completed, it provoked my deepest displeasure. Herr Liebermann must realize this. Out of politeness I have refrained from remarks to him. But when you came to see me with praise for the 'masterpiece,' I informed you immediately that in my eyes it added up to a caricature; and indeed at that time, men and women whose taste and intelligence I trust expressed the same opinion, more or less categorically. Using a Hamburg turn of phrase, one man declared drastically: this is not the portrait of a Burgomaster, but of a drunken and depraved coffinbearer.72

Considering Petersen's academic taste in art, his rejection of the portrait and of plein-air painting is not surprising. Why, though, was the portrait considered so immensely displeasing and disgraceful? We should first consider the common themes in all of the attacks launched against the portrait by Petersen, his supporters in Hamburg, and the Berlin art critics who reviewed the exhibition of the Eleven: that the image is ugly, the colours inappropriate, and the features distorted or crude. In essence, the critics stressed that the 'real' man had been lost, replaced by, in Petersen's words, 'a drunken coffin-bearer.' Yet, as noted, the painting of the Burgomaster did not depart that drastically from the actual physical appearance of Carl Petersen. If we assume, then, that the portrait did come close to resembling

62 Art and the German Bourgeoisie Petersen, why were the subject and his supporters so enraged by it? Here we must turn to another of the critics' common laments - that the portrait made Petersen look 'ordinary' (like a drunken worker or a feeble old man) and did not reflect his distinguished political position within Hamburg. Admittedly, up to this point Liebermann had not attempted an official portrait of a dignitary; instead his paintings of the 1870s and 1880s had captured the lives of Dutch shoemakers, peasants, orphans, goosepluckers, and netmenders - subjects considered unsuitable by critics, since Liebermann did not idealize them. Moreover, the artist's opponents linked Liebermann's naturalistic paintings with literary naturalism and its working-class themes, and thus claimed to see questionable social motives in his works.73 In the midst, then, of critics' assaults in 1892 on the aesthetic quality of the Liebermann portrait one can also detect a rejection of the work because it fails to dignify Petersen's class standing. Liebermann had not set out to glorify Petersen, but to capture his most interesting physical qualities, without embellishment or sentimentality - just as was true of Liebermann's earlier paintings of workers. As a work of art, it succeeds in originality of technique, but the portrait could not meet the expectations of its audience because it offered the artist's rendering of the man rather than the statesman. In a similar way, a much earlier scandal - Manet's painting of Olympia, shown in the Salon of 1865 - had aroused howls of public derision because Manet replaced the traditional nude with a portrait of a working-class prostitute, whose naked body expresses a powerful sexuality. As T.J. Clark has shown, hostile critics attacked Olympia as 'the wife of a cabinetmaker,' whose ugliness could be summed up in one description: she was 'unwashed,' and hence of low class.75 Clearly, Manet's portrait was a much more shocking work than Liebermann's and explored different themes; however, what links the two works, I would argue, is the issue of class, and thus how critics of modernism associated impressionism with the working class and radical politics.76 Notably, when Liebermann finished the portrait Hamburg was caught in the midst of social conflict, involving bitter disputes between workers and employers. From 1888 to 1890 there were thirty strikes at the docks; and May Day 1890 turned into a massive wave of collective action.77 This strife, combined with the fact that more and more Hamburg workers were voting for the SPD, worried the Hamburg elite. Increasingly, the bourgeoisie saw itself as distinct from the 'smelly and dirty' workers, who were unable to aspire to the virtues of cleanliness, health, and order78 - and this bias seemed confirmed when the cholera

The Petersen Portrait 63 epidemic hit in August of 1892. It is possible to argue, then, that Petersen and his supporters hated the portrait not only because it was modern, but also because they thought it made him look ,common,' at a time of stark class divisions in Hamburg. As Liebermann noted privately, The Hamburgers think that their Burgomaster is not handsome enough, and an official portrait without an official theatrical pose appears to them as lese-majeste [Majestatsbeleidigung].'79 Petersen's reaction to the work expressed the elitism of sections of Hamburg's grand bourgeoisie, especially those men of Petersen's generation who feared the political and social changes of the city, and whose attitudes are exposed in Richard Evans's superb study of the cholera epidemic, Death in Hamburg.

For Petersen, the exhibition of the portrait in Berlin was the last straw; he argued that those from Hamburg who visited the exhibition came away with strong feelings of distaste for the work. As a result, he informed Lichtwark that he and his friends had approached the Kunsthalle Commission to demand the exclusion of Liebermann's portrait from the gallery. Petersen explained that he wished to escape victimization at the hands of a vulgar, ugly, and contrary Malermanier - an artistic fad that he would not even deign to distinguish as a specific school of painting. His final remarks to Lichtwark expressly stated that he would not permit the portrait to be shown anywhere in Hamburg. Petersen's resolve about this matter forced the Kunsthalle Commission, on 7 June 1892, to agree to keep the portrait from the public eye appears to them as lese-majeste [Majestatsbeleidigung].'79 Petersen's died; he had caught a cold in May, which worsened during the summer months. As he lay dying in the early weeks of November he is said to have expressed regret over his inability to do anything about the cholera epidemic raging at this time in Hamburg, further evidence of his dedication to his beloved home.81 Before Petersen's illness became critical, he asked Senator Heinrich Burchard, who was a member of the Kunsthalle Commission, to promise him that the Kunsthalle would never display the portrait to the public. Burchard gave his word, on behalf of the Commission, and notified Lichtwark immediately. Because of the sudden illness and death of Petersen, Lichtwark could do little but assent to this last request. In the months following the uproar over the Petersen portrait, Lichtwark had to face unhappy critics and opponents at home, and yet this was only part of his problem - he also stood to forfeit his association with Liebermann, who was very angry at the turn of events. On 2 April

64 Art and the German Bourgeoisie 1892, Liebermann wrote a forthright letter that blasted 'an eightythree-year-old senior, who is almost blind'; Petersen and other critics of the work did not seem to Liebermann 'a competent court of justice concerning my talents.'82 Lichtwark's letters to Liebermann during the spring of 1892 and the spring and summer of 1893 indicate clearly that the protest over the portrait had cooled their friendly association. Lichtwark was constantly trying to explain the situation to Liebermann, and to point out the bright side of the affair. On 19 June 1892 Lichtwark had to send a letter explaining the Commission's decision to keep the portrait out of the Kunsthalle. 'Only do not allow yourself to be provoked, dearest friend,' he begged; 'for you indeed the matter is crystal clear, and it shouldn't matter to you whether an old man who has done so little for art, just like the entire generation to which he belongs, likes your work or not.'83 Lichtwark stressed in this letter that the situation had taken a turn for the worse because of Petersen's illness. At stake was more than just the portrait: all of his plans for the Kunsthalle, including the purchase of more contemporary German paintings, could be jeopardized. Lichtwark would return to this theme again and again, and although we can suspect him of a certain amount of exaggeration designed to win Liebermann's sympathy, it would be a mistake to think that Lichtwark did not face a threat to his authority in Hamburg, or that he overestimated the seriousness of the situation. The fact that Lichtwark kept his position as director and continued, albeit more slowly, with his plans, resulted entirely from his own personal confidence and his social tact. Indeed, he had a clear strategy: 'If at this point I allow myself to become embittered and to be pulled into the conflict, then in the long run I will delay the process; if we succeed in shaming our opponents not only through our efforts, but also through an entirely responsible handling of the matter, then we will have won the game. That's just what I'm aiming at.'84 The problem, Lichtwark realized, was that Petersen counted as one of the most popular men in Hamburg, and that regard for his prestige would block efforts on behalf of the portrait, at least for a while. Yet Lichtwark did not abandon the portrait. In a letter to Petersen's daughter, of 20 April 1892, Lichtwark insisted that something had to be arranged so that in the future the portrait could be shown.85 He also indicated that Liebermann had offered to buy back the portrait - a request the Kunsthalle director had firmly rejected, convinced of the portrait's quality and importance. However, to soothe the disappoint-

The Petersen Portrait 65 merit and anger of the Petersen family, Lichtwark did make an interesting offer: he suggested arranging for another portrait, with Lenbach to be the artist this time. If he could place a portrait by Lenbach in the Kaisersaal, Lichtwark thought that he could then hang Liebermann's portrait elsewhere in the Kunsthalle. This intriguing idea never saw the light of day, probably because Petersen's illness and death made another portrait impossible. Lichtwark did arrange, nonetheless, for a conventional and suitably heroic public statue of Petersen; an Austrian sculptor named Victor Tilgner designed the work, which the city placed in front of the Stadthausplatz on Neuer Wall in late 1892 (plate 12).86 From June 1892 until March 1893 communication between Lichtwark and Liebermann lapsed, although Liebermann reestablished contact when he decided he wanted to exhibit the portrait in a Paris exhibition of that spring. Lichtwark endeavoured to win the approval of the Kunsthalle Commission and the Petersen family, but he warned Liebermann that the uproar over the portrait had not died down, and that the opposition still threatened to block any attempts to purchase more modern paintings: In the next budget I hope to request for the first time a large amount of money for modern paintings. The moment is as unfavourable as possible because of the difficult financial situation [following from the 1892 cholera epidemic]. The portrait has, as you know, earned us a most influential circle of embittered foes. If some sort of unforeseen development arises because of the portrait, just at the point when the budget is introduced, then they will do everything to make the proposal unpopular and hence to block permission for it. Then I would be incapacitated for years to come, and all the work of the last few years, directed towards acceptance of this proposal, would be for nothing.87

On 21 March 1893 Lichtwark reported to Liebermann that he could release the painting for the exhibition in Paris, but only if the title of the work was changed to read Portrait d'homme; costume des senateurs de la

ville libre de Hambourg. After a visit to this exhibition in June, Lichtwark wrote to Liebermann that the portrait gave a fine impression of grandeur and seriousness.88 Despite the troubles caused by the Petersen portrait, Lichtwark never doubted its aesthetic quality, or Liebermann's talents. He believed that the work had established Liebermann's excellence in this genre, especially for those friends of art who held no prejudice against

66 Art and the German Bourgeoisie the painter. Lichtwark also remained wedded to the idea that his efforts on behalf of the portrait would win out, despite his frustration over the slow progress towards this goal: 'I simply have to keep calm and determined, and objectively place our opponents in the wrong.'89 Another setback arose when Liebermann took the Petersen portrait from Paris to Munich in the summer of 1893, hoping to show it in a public exhibition. Shortly after the portrait arrived in Munich, it was whisked back to Hamburg: the Kunsthalle Commission refused to allow Liebermann to display the work, fearing that the Bavarian press would raise the issue of the Hamburg controversy once again. Lichtwark sent a supportive note of consolation to Liebermann, and reminded him once again, 'we have already won over the young generation - including some members of the subject's family.'90 By the fall of 1893 Lichtwark was writing lengthy letters to Liebermann explaining in greater detail the problems that had first arisen with the portrait, and the steps necessary to resolve the situation. His observations about the Kunsthalle Commission were candid: 'That a work of young art would not find an enthusiastic reception in our Commission, which consists almost entirely of elderly gentlemen, shouldn't have upset either you or me.' Nonetheless, in his view, 'much was already achieved when the Kunsthalle Commission accepted the portrait despite their aversion to the new.'91 And, indeed, Lichtwark convinced the Commission to go further than this; on 16 January 1894 he won permission to show the portrait in the Kupferstichkabinett (the room in which graphic art was stored) behind a curtain.92 This was a small concession, but an important one. Visitors to the Kunsthalle could request to see the portrait, so that although it was not on open display for everyone, it was not tucked away in a storeroom either. Some Hamburg citizens finally had the opportunity to see the portrait for themselves, and those who took advantage of this possibility - Senator William Henry O'Swald, for example - admitted to Lichtwark that they found the work impressive and lifelike. Even Liebermann must have gathered encouragement from Lichtwark's efforts on behalf of the portrait: several years later (11 November 1897), after the portrait had been lent for an exhibition in Stockholm, he confessed to Lichtwark: 'Despite the objections from Hamburgers I consider the Petersen portrait one of my best works, and I have heard from different quarters that in Stockholm it has appeared to great effect. Indeed, some went so far as to claim that with this work I salvaged German art.'93

The Petersen Portrait 67 After the turn of the century, Liebermann resumed painting for the Collection of Paintings from Hamburg, and Lichtwark's efforts to build a modern collection in the Kunsthalle proceeded, despite some renewed objections. Lichtwark did not forget about the Petersen portrait, however, and by a clever tactic he finally managed to transfer it into the public halls of the gallery. He knew that any effort to bring the portrait out from behind its curtain would violate the Commission's promise to Petersen not to allow the original work in the Kunsthalle. Instead, Lichtwark asked the Commission in 1902 if Liebermann might repaint the portrait; he explained that the artist had used side light when he first painted the Burgomaster, but now he wished to consider the effect of overhead light, since light from the side cast shadows on the face.94 Liebermann could have avoided these shadows, the argument went (and by implication the work could have appeared completely different), if he had painted the portrait with the aid of a strong overhead light. The Commission yielded to this spurious argument, perhaps content to find a way out of the long dilemma. Liebermann added a few brush strokes to the work during the summer of 1902. Following a long delay, the Commission took a look at the 'new' painting in January 1905, and along with Dr Burchard, then chairman, agreed to override Petersen's original request, and to allow the portrait in the Kunsthalle's permanent collection.95 They even made the curious assertion that if Petersen were alive, he would have willingly accepted the work. The portrait finally found its home in the Kunsthalle. V

How are we then to view the Petersen affair? What was its significance? In the first place, the year of the scandal, 1892-3, presaged later difficulties in Hamburg and Berlin, between what was called 'the new tendency in art' and the more traditional academic style of painting. Liebermann's troubles were only just beginning; he would become one of the most celebrated artists in Germany after the turn of the century, but his leadership of the Berlin Secession would be assailed for many reasons, most notable of which was its supposed 'un-German' and 'Jewish' character. Whether in Hamburg or Berlin, Liebermann's art always found opponents: to the Kaiser and to the critics of modern German art, Liebermann's paintings were too new and ugly, and not morally inspiring.96 In Hamburg, Lichtwark purchased more works by Liebermann -

68 Art and the German Bourgeoisie pastels, drawings, and paintings - the most beautiful of which may be Terrace in Jacob's Restaurant (Plate 13), acquired in 1903. He also, as noted earlier, commissioned more portraits by Liebermann. However, most of these artworks were not purchased or ordered until after 1900, more than eight years after the Petersen affair. Lichtwark's complaints in 1892 and 1893 - that the Petersen affair thwarted his attempts to purchase more modern works - were, in part, correct. The Senate and Citizens' Assembly annually approved the small sum of 20,000 marks for acquisitions, and before the turn of the century, Lichtwark was unable to earmark much of this money for modern paintings. In June 1893, for example, he expressed interest in purchasing something by Manet, but nothing came of this suggestion.97 Eventually Lichtwark paid for most of the art commissioned for the Collection of Paintings from Hamburg, and for the modern works bought after 1900, with private money - wills, donations, and funds raised by organizations like the Society of Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art. But even this support was affected by the fallout from the scandal: before the turn of the century, Lichtwark's sources of private money dried up. Disapproval of the Petersen portrait among Hamburg's elite apparently influenced benefactors to withdraw or withhold their generosity. Furthermore, the Commission was less likely in these years to accept a modern painting into the gallery, even if it were offered as a gift. So, in fact, Lichtwark's hands were tied for several years. Perhaps in trying to understand the significance of the reaction to the Petersen portrait we should also consider the reconstruction of Hamburg's town hall, going on at about the same time. The final design of this important building - overseen by architect Martin Haller98 - displayed the tastes and outlook of Hamburg's political elite, and anyone who has seen it today will understand this point (plate 14). The Rathaus is a monumental construction, in the tradition of Renaissance design. It was completed in 1897, and replaced Hamburg's fifth city hall burned down in the Great Fire of 1842. The architectural look of this new Rathaus was supposed to express the independence of Hamburg and the importance of its 'republican' traditions; however, the architects who designed it remained loyal to the conservative political outlook of the Senate. The classical style reflected the privileged political leadership - the oligarchy - within Hamburg; there was no reference in the statues on the main facade to Hamburg's large working-class population, or to other important groups in the city, including craftsmen, fishermen, domestic servants, and the growing

The Petersen Portrait 69 number of white-collar workers. Instead, neoclassical sculptures of German emperors gaze down upon the viewer, a reference to Hamburg's history and to those past rulers who had recognized the city's independent status. Furthermore, the Senate hired traditional artists and craftsmen to decorate the interior of the Rathaus, and most of these artists were not native to Hamburg. Lichtwark pleaded in vain for the selection of young Hamburg artists, and an interior design reflecting Hamburg's independence and growing importance within the Reich. In the end, the interior came to resemble an elegant palace: a far cry from the modern realities of the expanding urban centre outside.99 The new Rathaus concretely displayed the traditional tastes of many of Hamburg's senators, and their association with an older, protected world that was slipping away. The liberalism of these men fell short of the challenges at the turn of the century: the strikes of dock workers, the growing popularity of the SPD, or the rapid increase in Hamburg's population. And one sees in the cultural tastes of these men a similar unwillingness to look forward. Petersen and his supporters hated the portrait precisely because it was a modern work of art, part of a Malermanier the Burgomaster simply could not appreciate: a view of the world too unadorned, detached, and socially indiscriminate for his liking. Liebermann's work was hidden and shunned, although with time it found a more appreciative audience. Lichtwark had the ability in the early 1890s to understand Liebermann's art, and he welcomed the new steps forward in German culture. But some of his fellow citizens resisted these modern interpretations of a changing world; they looked, with longing, to the past, and to a time of more secure political and cultural authority. In contrast, the Petersen portrait stood out as a small signpost partially obstructing that view, pointing in a direction along an opposite path.

CHAPTER THREE

The Scandal in 1896 over the 'New Tendency'

In the early months of 1896, another controversy over modern art erupted in Hamburg, but this event was much more public than the Petersen affair. The provocative design of a poster set off the scandal, leading to a bitter conflict between Hamburg's Kunstverein - a citizens' arts association - and Lichtwark. The Kunstverein members involved in this debate believed that Lichtwark favoured German impressionism above traditional works, and that he exerted too much influence in the governing committees for annual Kunstverein exhibitions, choosing paintings for display that did not merit inclusion. In the many articles, letters, and reviews that appeared in the major Hamburg newspapers, Lichtwark's critics championed the type of art they described as healthy, beautiful, technically skilful, and modelled after the works of the old masters; they counterpoised this to what was called die neue Richtung - contemporary German art considered modern in style and subject matter. This 'new tendency' was held in great disdain; here, it was argued, one could see only unnatural, crudely coloured, and hastily executed works by amateurs. The battle between the adversaries and the defenders of modern art in Hamburg became a cause celebre in this mercantile city: it proved one of the most serious challenges to Lichtwark's authority in Hamburg and to his desire to foster a creative and original local art community. I Long before the Kunsthalle officially opened in 1869 and Hamburg welcomed its first public art gallery, the city's Kunstverein fostered interest in art among the middle class and led the way to the establish-

The Scandal over the 'New Tendency' 71 merit of a permanent gallery. Unlike other prominent German cities Berlin, Munich, and Dresden, for example - Hamburg had never been the home to royal patrons who sponsored artists and maintained magnificent collections. In this city the guardians of culture were private citizens of the bourgeoisie. It was due to their initiative and patronage, in associations like the Hamburg Kunstverein, that a sizeable collection of paintings was made available to the city by the second half of the nineteenth century. Art associations could be found throughout Germany in the 1800s, but the Kunstverein in Hamburg formed earlier than most. In 1822 twenty-three respected gentlemen agreed to establish a society that would meet weekly to study the paintings each had collected, with the general aim of fostering art appreciation in the city.1 The membership comprised men from diverse backgrounds, ranging in age from thirtytwo to fifty-eight; they all shared a commitment to liberal principles and thus to ideals of free thought and fraternity among like-minded, educated men.2 Before 1848, liberalism in Germany found expression in cultural or educational clubs, where interested men associated politics with Bildung, and eagerly shared ideas - including the obligation to spread enlightened thought, to encourage progress, and to represent the highest aspirations of the German people.3 One of the founding members of Hamburg's Kunstverein was a respected liberal democrat, David Christian Mettlerkamp. A master craftsman and a manufacturer of lightning rods, he won resounding fame after organizing the Hanseatic Legion, the citizen's army that battled against the French occupation in 1813-14. Other members included merchants, financiers, lawyers, and several art dealers.4 Local artists also became involved in the Kunstverein, including the young Julius Oldach. At first the Hamburg Kunstverein members treasured art by the old masters, but they were also very interested in contemporary painting that challenged the aesthetic standards of German academies or aristocratic collections.5 In this sense, the Kunstverein set itself apart from traditional art and championed less renowned artists; half a century later its tastes would be much more conservative. In 1826 the Kunstverein organized its first public exhibition, and included within the display of 161 paintings a significant number of works by local artists and two oils by Caspar David Friedrich, Arctic Shipwreck and Ulrich von Hutten's Grave.6 The decision to arrange public exhibitions was twofold: the members hoped to introduce Hamburg's citizenry to European art - including contemporary German painting - and the

72 Art and the German Bourgeoisie proponents argued that funds could be set aside from the entrance fees in order to provide support for struggling local artists. These aims highlighted the Kunstverein's keen interest in the work of young and promising German painters. In addition, the Kunstverein sought to educate the public about the latest developments in European art. In all of these respects its efforts were remarkably akin to Lichtwark's endeavours from the 1890s on. In 1848 the Kunstverein introduced significant changes that broadened its membership, allowing any man or woman to join as long as the prospective member could afford to pay the annual fee of 15 marks. Admittedly, such a fee still restricted the society to well-off citizens, but larger numbers did now become involved in the association. According to a new constitution, a board of directors was to run the Kunstverein, led by a first spokesman (erster Wortfiihrer). Other committees looked after the business of exhibitions, raffles of paintings, and the establishment of a permanent Kunstverein collection. There were general meetings during the winter months, and members who donated an additional sum over 30 marks (to help the Kunstverein acquire a permanent collection) were entitled to attend the sessions, participate in the final decisions, and vote for the leadership. Over forty years later (beginning in 1889), the Kunstverein allowed all members who paid the annual fees to join the general meetings; but before this time a select group of individuals and their supporters essentially directed the society.7 The Kunstverein's most notable achievement at mid-century was the establishment of a permanent collection of paintings and graphic art, which eventually led to the creation of Hamburg's Kunsthalle. In 1847 the Kunstverein directors presented their first written request to the Senate for a city art gallery, stating that an important private collection of art would be left to Hamburg if a public art gallery had been established before the owner died.8 Although the Senate seemed well disposed towards the request, concerns with more pressing matters delayed a decision, and the state lost the proffered collection. Finally in 1849 the Senate took action, after much urging from the Kunstverein, and offered a temporary gallery - exhibition rooms in the arcades of the newly constructed stock exchange building, erected in 1841. In the meantime the Kunstverein added to its collection with a rich legacy from a Hamburg gentleman, Hartwig Hesse. In 1850 the doors to the new gallery opened ceremoniously, with announcements that the rooms in the Borsen-Arkaden on Adolfsplatz could be visited from

The Scandal over the 'New Tendency' 73 noon to three p.m. on Mondays and Saturdays by every well-dressed citizen.9 Meanwhile the Kunstverein became the beneficiary of several important wills and private donations; new paintings swelled the society's collection, which could no longer fit comfortably into the rooms in the Borsen-Arkaden. In 1856 the Kunstverein directors wrote to the Senate's new gallery commission - consisting of two members of the Kunstverein and two senators - and complained that while other German cities like Cologne, Leipzig, Hannover, and even Bremen had established public art galleries, Hamburg lagged far behind in this regard. Three years later the Senate finally arranged for a committee to plan the construction of a permanent public gallery in Hamburg. This committee decided to locate the Kunsthalle on the GlockengieSerwall, a street in the heart of Hamburg, and the Senate and Citizens' Assembly approved 300,000 marks to cover the costs.10 Private donations met the remaining expenses, and in 1868 builders finished construction. The gallery officially opened on 30 August 1869, presided over by an inspector; seventeen years later Lichtwark became the Kunsthalle's first director. From this point on the Kunstverein lost its preeminent position in Hamburg. Two of its representatives sat on the Kunsthalle Commission, but Lichtwark took firm control of the direction of the Kunsthalle. The Kunstverein also turned over most of its permanent collection of paintings and graphics to the new gallery, although it kept some works, displayed in a few special rooms in the Kunsthalle, and after 1884 housed these in an annex of the stock exchange building. In 1899 these paintings were relocated to new rooms built for the Kunstverein on the Neuer Wall, a central location in Hamburg.11 If the Kunstverein wielded a measure of public importance after 1886 it was in the grofie Kunstaustellungen or grand exhibitions of art, beginning in 1894. These exhibitions took place in the Kunsthalle each spring from March to May, when virtually all of the salons on the second floor of the gallery were given over to paintings selected for the Kunstverein shows. Visitors could see examples of art from across Europe, including works by modern French, British, and Danish painters, as well as new paintings by contemporary German artists such as Liebermann, Klinger, Leibl, and Uhde. One of Hamburg's most astute observers, the judge and art collector Gustav Schiefler, called the grand exhibitions 'first-class events.'12 The committees managing the exhibitions consisted of Kunstverein

74 Art and the German Bourgeoisie members and independent artists, and Lichtwark was involved too. These committees chose a select group of paintings from the large number of works submitted for entry in the shows. The committee for 1896 had nine members, including the artists Valentin Ruths and Thomas Herbst, the Kunstverein business manager Ernst Juhl, and Lichtwark.13 They ultimately decided upon 65 paintings by Hamburg artists, 183 by other German artists, and 79 by foreign artists. The exhibition ran from 14 March until 14 May and proved a great success, with more than thirty-two thousand visitors. (This number appears even more impressive when one compares it with the approximately fifteen thousand tickets sold for the Menzel exhibition, held by the Kunstverein from 30 January until 15 March 1896.)14 In previous years the grand exhibitions had been equally well attended, and although prey to some grumbling about the newer works included, they had functioned smoothly, testimony to the productive cooperation between the Kunsthalle and the Kunstverein. But in 1896 this cooperative relationship ended, when public opinion exploded over the choice of an exhibition poster. II To publicize the grand exhibitions each spring, the Kunstverein's exhibition committee chose artists' posters from an open competition. In 1895 second prize went to Arthur lilies, and his entry created some uneasiness: the poster (plate 15) features the naked upper torso of a handsome young artist (a self-portrait), covered only by a primitive loin-cloth held tentatively by a single thread over the right shoulder. He stands in a meadow on the edge of a lake or river, paints onto a canvas, and stares directly, almost defiantly, at the viewer. The scene is an obvious tribute to the plein-air technique of painting. One is also tempted to see a suggestion of youthful rebelliousness, because of the age and the boldness of the artist portrayed. Critics seized upon the depiction of the half-naked youth, finding the subject wholly objectionable. Nonetheless, the Kunstverein committee did not withdraw the poster. A year later, when Ernst Eitner won the poster competition, public opinion erupted into angry debate over the 'new tendency.' Eitner was another of the Hamburg artists Lichtwark had great hopes for, and it was probably Lichtwark's influence on the Kunstverein exhibition committee that led to Eitner's work capturing first prize. It is hard now to appreciate the explosive effect of this poster on the

The Scandal over the 'New Tendency' 75 public, since at first sight it appears innocuous (plate 16). Beginning from the left we see a partial half-profile of a respectably dressed woman, her back towards us, glancing eastwards at the palm leaf she is holding. At the top the words Grosse Kunstausstellung des Kunstvereins are superimposed over a series of thick radiating lines, perhaps meant to be those of the sun. The poster was not an example of the unpopular Freilichtmalerei, and seems closer to the brash designs of Toulouse-Lautrec. Still, the critics of Eitner's design connected the poster with impressionism, lumping together all of the new experiments in art into the amorphous category of the new tendency. In particular, the colours of the poster were considered shocking: the woman and the graphics appear in violet, while the background blazes orange. From the records of the Kunstverein for November 1895 it becomes clear that the subject of this poster was not Eitner's creation: the Kunstverein wanted a Minervakopf - a portrait of the Greek goddess Athena, also known as Minerva - to be featured in all the designs for the exhibition poster.15 The committee spoke of 'our Minerva,' meaning that this figure was to represent an especially popular symbol in Hamburg: Hammonia. She was thought of as a city goddess (Athena was a protector of cities), and her image first appeared in Hamburg's medieval literature, and later in baroque operas, on the bows of Hamburg ships, and most memorably in Heine's Germany: A Winter's Tale.16 'Who are you?' I cried, 'You stare like a dream From the past, soon fated to wither. Where do you live, majestic dame? And may I accompany you thither?' She smiled and said: 'That's your mistake. I'm afraid you misconceive me: I'm decent, moral and very refined I'm not what you believe me. I'm not one of those Gallic drabs Or a tart from the Lorette sector Know then: I am Hammonia, Hamburg's goddess-protector!'17

Beginning in the nineteenth century, Hammonia appeared frequently in Hamburg's public events: women portrayed her in celebrations and parades, and she was often joined by the symbol of the German nation, Germania. Hammonia would appear at the start of

76 Art and the German Bourgeoisie processions, holding aloft a palm leaf, while accompanied by representatives of guilds and professional associations. In these instances she represented Hamburg's long history as a proud city-state of trade. If the figure desired by the Kunstverein was indeed Hammonia, then Eitner's rendering of this traditional symbol in bold new colours must have seemed a shocking provocation. Before we turn to the criticism directed at Eitner and the other painters of the 'new tendency' in Hamburg, we should consider the backgrounds of some of these men, and the artistic influences upon their work. Ernst Eitner was a local artist, born in Hamburg in 1867. With Lichtwark's help he had received a scholarship in 1887 to attend Karlsruhe's Grossherzoglich-Badische Kunstschule, for three years. Thereafter he spent time in Italy, France (Paris), and Hamburg, experimenting with colour, technique, and subject matter. Lichtwark became well acquainted with the young painter after 1890 and was excited about his work, offering comments and advice: 'with real pleasure I have looked again and again at your three oil paintings,' he wrote in 1892. 'It seems to me that a sure step towards originality has been made, for now the Karlsruhe grey is definitely behind you. ... Do you know the modern French? Claude Monet?'18 Lichtwark was also intrigued by the young Hamburg artist Arthur lilies, who had met Eitner in a drawing class in the city in 1888. These artists shared an interest in landscapes, the use of colour, and the techniques of impressionism; they were soon joined by a number of other young painters - Paul Kayser, Julius von Ehren, Friedrich Schaper, Julius Wohlers, Alfred Mohrbutter, and Arthur Siebelist. Thomas Herbst, an older and more established painter, friend to Max Liebermann, associated himself with them too. By 1897 these men had formed a secession group: the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub (the Hamburg Artists' Association). All of these artists, with the exception of Herbst, were young, ranging in age from twenty-six to twenty-nine. Their critics lumped them into the designation of 'young artists' or called their art 'young art,' using these categories to belittle the artists. Lichtwark, on the other hand, used the categories of young and old to defend the vibrancy of modern culture and its supporters against a tired and outworn traditionalism. The critics of the Kiinstlerclub chose to ignore Lichtwark's praise of die Jugend; by calling the Hamburg artists young, they found it easier to accuse them of immature work, and of false starts or clumsy steps. They could also present Lichtwark as an authority (a tyrannical

The Scandal over the 'New Tendency' 77 father) who pressed his views about modern art on Eitner and the others. Admittedly, Lichtwark's influence on these artists was considerable. In the early 1890s he convinced Eitner, lilies, and Schaper to remain in Hamburg and paint, arguing that this city would prove just as congenial an environment for their efforts as Berlin or Munich. He accompanied the artists on visits to rural areas surrounding Hamburg and pointed out good subjects for landscapes. He also instructed the artists to study examples of French impressionism, so that they could consider the superior effect of pure colours, the play of light, and the advantages of painting outdoors. In 1895 the Kunstverein grand exhibition in Hamburg featured French impressionists, and Lichtwark instructed Eitner, lilies, and the others to look closely at these works, especially the paintings by Monet. Their experiments with plein-air painting intensified after this introduction to modern French art.19 Inspired and excited, groups of these artists made study trips to adjoining regions like Finkenwerder, a small island to the southwest of Hamburg, on the Elbe. Their youth and inexperience (Thomas Herbst an exception here) encouraged a freer approach to impressionism, and thus they often used bright colours within their landscapes, following the example of the French impressionists. They worked out in the open, observing the various shades of light that fell upon large fields or village streets, seeing how shadows could appear purplish or skies a shimmering blue. This was part of the dramatic effect of plein-air painting: one noticed how changed the world looked outside of the studio, how shades of colour were transformed under different types of light during the course of a day, and how much sharper the divisions between dark and light became. As the Hamburg artists continued to observe and paint, they discarded the deep black or brown tints they had used in academy studies, and painted what they saw: spectral colours that glimmered on a bright day, their tones accentuated or subdued by the effect of the light, with lines that were fluid, rather than sharply delineated, disappearing or becoming hazy under the sun. For a public used to darker tones in art, the appearance of bright colours in a landscape jarred with what they expected to see. Traditional painting had accustomed them to a vision of the world that was actually more distant from nature than they believed. These deeply ingrained notions of how things ought to appear blocked the way to appreciating the new paintings. Still, it must be noted that the Hamburg artists' use of colour was less dramatic than that of the French painters they so

78 Art and the German Bourgeoisie admired; like other German impressionists, the Hamburg artists produced paintings that often seemed closer to naturalism and thus to the darker tones of green, blue and red. One example of the landscapes produced from the trips to Finkenwerder is Friedrich Schaper's A Summer's Day in Finkenzverder (plate 17), painted in 1895. A woman, holding her child, stands upon a sandy path, looking off towards a figure further on down the way. Our gaze also moves up and along this line and takes in a magnificent blue sky, skirted by a horizon of bluish-white. To the left, directly in front of us, there is a row of cottages with white side walls, rust-coloured roofs, purple and green frames, and yellowish-brown thatching. We can also see two women sitting before the door of the second house, one dressed in purple, although both figures are blurred. The small hill leading upwards from the doors of the cottages is carpeted by soft green grass, and the steps to the path are accentuated by lime flecks. Overall, the dominant colours in the work are blue, reddish-brown, purple, yellow, and green. Some colours are richly applied (blue, reddish-brown, green, and purple), while others are given lighter tones (the yellow of the path and the pale violet of the shadow in the forefront). On their excursions into the countryside, the Hamburg artists also decided to paint the interiors of peasants' and craftsmen's homes. Julius von Ehren and Friedrich Schaper depicted peasant men and women as almost incidental figures in these interiors, paying far greater attention to the effect of light on objects. Most of their paintings of rooms, such as Ehren's Entry-Hall in Finkenzverder (1895), show open windows, with sunlight illuminating the greenery outside and also creating an atmospheric effect of light and shade within the home. Plates, clothing, plants, or furniture often stand out because of the reds, blues, or greens applied by the painters, who remained true to the contrasts in tones under a ray of light. In Friedrich Schaper's Entry-Hall in Finkenwerder (1895/6) (plate 18) one is struck immediately by the yellows, blues, and red of the plates, set against the aquamarine of the wall. Stretching up into the first row of dishes are three healthy plants, one of which is blossoming with delicate white flowers. As we look further into the painting we are led into an adjoining room, where we see indications of a window pierced by white light, and a woman at work, ironing. Washed clothes dangle from the ceiling, given a bluishwhite tinge. In this interior, the colours of the painting attract the eye first, because of their radiance.

The Scandal over the 'New Tendency' 79 In many of these paintings, created during the early 1890s, it is difficult to distinguish among the various artists - proof of their common endeavours to experiment with impressionism, and of the effect they had on one another. One painting did look quite unique, however: Alfred Mohrbutter's Church in Allermohe (1895). The Hamburg critics condemned it as part of the 'new tendency' in German art, but Lichtwark managed to convince the Kunsthalle commission to accept the painting after the grand exhibition of 1896 had concluded.20 This work (plate 19) owes much more to naturalism than impressionism, although some of the colours used are indeed bright, particularly the green of the trees, caught in the panes of the windows, or the orange floor, given a richer quality by the brownish burial stones. The church is also well lit by external light, and Mohrbutter gives the scene an airiness that one would not expect, given the dark interiors of most nineteenth-century churches. Mohrbutter had studied under Kalckreuth from 1887 to 1890, and one sees the influence of this teacher in the smooth finish and the realism of the work. Beginning in 1894 and 1895, the Kunstverein committee chose paintings by several of these Hamburg artists for display in the grand exhibitions. But the public did not appreciate the experiments with colour or impressionist brush strokes. Moreover, when Lichtwark attempted to purchase works by Eitner and lilies for the Kunsthalle, the gallery's administrative Commission refused to give its permission, even when an anonymous donor presented one of Illies's paintings as a gift in 1894.21 When critics seized on Eitner's poster as a hideous example of the new tendency, it was not a coincidence that the debate turned into a scathing attack upon the artists known as Lichtwark's Jungen - who followed his advice to use colour, light, and the open air. For in this same year of 1896, the Kunstverein's grand exhibition included works by all of these artists. To many viewers, their modern paintings appeared as a revolutionary assault on the senses. III One of the first public attacks on the Eitner poster appeared in a letter to the Hamburger Nachrichten on 1 February 1896. The Nachrichten was

Hamburg's leading paper, National Liberal in orientation, with a strong conservative tinge. During the 1880s and 1890s it was a mouthpiece for Bismarck, who found its editors receptive to his arguments and political criticisms, especially after his dismissal from office in

80 Art and the German Bourgeoisie 1890. According to Gustav Schiefler, the paper had little regard for culture, seeing the arts as a luxury rather than a necessity.22 Moreover, the art critic of the Nachrichten, Heinrich Wallsee, resolutely opposed modern developments in painting. Lichtwark mistrusted this paper from the beginning, and his intuition was sound: when the father of Arthur lilies asked Wallsee for advice on the course of studies his son, as a fledgling painter, should take, Wallsee told him to keep the young artist away from Lichtwark. Aby Warburg, the distinguished art historian, later remarked that anyone who subscribed to the Nachrichten was guilty of participating in the paper's malicious representations.23 In the conflict of 1896, the Nachrichten became the sounding board for all of Lichtwark's angry critics. The letter of 1 February 1896 was signed 'Patriot' and part of it read: It has become difficult for us, while examining the designs for the poster competition - namely the two prize-winning designs - to remain calm. Or should one not be roused to indignation, when again this year one must witness a small circle of men paying homage to the so-called new tendency in art, permitted in the name of the Kunstverein to decree henceforth what is ugly - to be beautiful?!... Indeed it appears frankly impossible that for weeks, yes months, in the name of the Hamburg Kunstverein, this lilac-coloured female, who, without regard for correct design and especially masterful technique has nothing in common with art, should be exhibited on all poster pillars. If then a truly irrevocable resolution to this matter is to be put forward, it would really be time for opponents of this 'new tendency' to bring their anger out into the open, namely, when everything else fails, through massive resignations from the Kunstverein and the founding of a new association, which would set itself the goal of protecting true art on the basis of the fixed concepts of truth and beauty!24

The call for truth and beauty became constant in the ensuing months: the poster by Eitner, and the modern paintings by his fellow artists, were to some onlookers unspeakably ugly and unrealistic, the colours glaring, the subjects unworthy of treatment. Attacks on these artists and on Lichtwark were generally shrill and alarmist: this was certainly true of the second letter sent to the Nachrichten on 4 February, signed by a forty-five-year-old painter living in Altona, Martin Feddersen.25 In this letter, Feddersen urged opponents of the 'modern tendency of art' and of 'the patrons and representatives of this tendency'

The Scandal over the 'New Tendency' 81 to reject the current state of affairs. But Feddersen argued that the idea of forming a separate group, apart from the Kunstverein, would weaken the opposition's position, and allow those in charge to carry on. A position of strength from within the Kunstverein was essential if a powerful attack were to be launched; otherwise 'The representatives of the modern tendency will be victors rather than the vanquished, and they will be able to keep up their campaign undisturbed; then the ground that should indeed be first won again and made fruitful for art will henceforth, from the very outset, be spoiled by this degenerate art tendency, dragged in from Munich.26 Feddersen connected the new art in Hamburg with developments in Munich because he was a bitter critic of Uhde (a leading member of the Munich Secession), whose controversial The Lord's Supper appeared in the grand exhibition of 1896. In a separate pamphlet published late in March 1896, Feddersen criticized modern art in general, seeking to distinguish once and for all between what was meant by old and new tendencies in art.27 He illustrated what he saw as the weaknesses of the new art in the works of Uhde, Liebermann, and Triibner, and then turned to attack the Hamburg artists and Lichtwark. The task of art, according to Feddersen, is to enrich the feelings and perceptions of mankind; but the modern artist prizes a selfish individuality above all else, and spreads distorted images to the onlooker, thereby poisoning the future of German culture. Feddersen pointed out that Uhde, for example, portrayed biblical figures as common people; he distorted these figures and made them look dirty and shabby, devoid of greatness, uninspiring, base. They appeared like 'figures on the street,' Feddersen exclaimed. And in this critic's estimation the Hamburg artists were even more incompetent: they presented false mirrors of nature, poorly executed, unfinished, and lacking a fine understanding of what is instrinsically poetic in life. He laid the blame for the crisis of art in Hamburg at Lichtwark's feet, and challenged him to answer this critique publicly. Feddersen set down in ink what many of the Kunstverein members angrily muttered in private - that modern art as evidenced in the works of these Hamburg painters had little value and should not receive Lichtwark's support. The spearhead of the attack upon Eitner's poster was a letter of 7 February published in the Nachrichten. Its author, Robert Wichmann, worked as a partner in the firm Reefe and Wichmann, purveyors of tea, chocolate, and sweets.28 Wichmann was a member of the Kunstverein; he also won election to the Citizens' Assembly for the years 1876-9 and

82 Art and the German Bourgeoisie 1899-1905. Schiefler notes too that Wichmann owned a steamship wharf.29 The type of man that appears from the sources then, is a respectable, successful, middle-aged merchant (fifty-nine), active in Hamburg affairs. His letter to the Nachrichten was a forcefully argued plea for opposition to the 'new tendency,' placing himself as the leader of Lichtwark's critics. The opening sentence held little back: 'Unoriginal, tasteless, crude, and above all unfinished and dry, these appear to be the characteristics of the products sought after in the last few years by artists of a certain direction. This thought must come to everyone, who, immune to the unhealthy tendency of a school led astray, with simple common sense confronts these creations in places which earlier provided beloved and cherished sanctuaries of art.' 30 For Wichmann, Eitner's poster was a 'culmination point' in the dangerous advances made by the new art, and he claimed to have strong backing for his protest from the majority of Hamburg citizens interested in art. Although he admitted that he had not studied art formally, Wichmann emphasized that his amateur perspective was a positive element, protecting him from clever theories, and allowing him to approach art with a fresh, natural, and unbiased concept of beauty. Rather surprisingly, this critic was quick to assert that he was not opposed generally to Freilichtmalerei, but rather to the novices who designed posters or had their works exhibited in the annual Kunstverein shows: their works were still too technically flawed to be given such honours. Yet when Wichmann considered the lilies poster for 1895, the subject matter, and not the technical weakness,' was the rub. In my opinion, and that of thousands of others, it was simply incredible that a haggard, ugly, cross-eyed youth, seeming to emerge directly from bathing, with a black hole in his breast, who, without getting dressed, paints a landscape - that this youth, I say, should be the chosen subject to invite the populace of a great city to visit an exhibition. I and many, many others besides me find him simply tasteless, in great measure offensive to aesthetic feeling.31 Poster art, continues Wichmann, such as Eitner's or Illies's, should be placed in the Museum fur Kunst und Gewerbe, if anywhere at all: such posters are not art, they are hastily drawn sketches in sensationalist colours, in a style acclaimed only in Paris. He also quotes Anton von Werner's advice to students of the Berlin academy not to follow any particular tendencies or methods that are mere fads: 'You have here to

The Scandal over the 'New Tendency' 83 study nature with all due respect and to acquire a language and a way of looking at things which is suited, in a refined and respectable manner, to give your artistic ideas and sensitivities a proper expression, and not to seek to appear clever or modern through intentionally ingenious scribblings.' 32 Wichmann closes his argument, finally, with an alarmist statement, which deserves to be repeated in full: For years have we, have the German people, endured the bacchanalia of the new art with touching patience, in the hope that this thing would go out of fashion, destroyed by its own shallowness and falsity. Unfortunately, we have all been disappointed in this matter. Like an epidemic this sickness spreads, also infecting circles that have up to now been healthy; thus it is the duty of those who still have a feeling for the true and beautiful art handed down to us, to unite, in order to preserve, untouched and pure, the treasures which we have inherited and which we will pass on to those who follow us.33

The choice of descriptive words and images in Wichmann's letter depicts the cultural scene in Hamburg in extreme colours of its own; the Hamburg painters are portrayed as dangerous intruders, threatening to contaminate the development of art. Wichmann also employs moral judgments when he speaks of a 'bacchanalia' of modern art, or when he emphasizes the offensive appearance of the youth in Illies's poster, thereby showing his defensiveness towards a liberality that he sees in part as sexual. Moreover, the counterpoising of healthy and sick categories of art, and the warning of an 'epidemic' that will seep into other circles, take on even greater meaning when one considers that the tragic cholera epidemic had broken out in the city in 1892: these words had powerful connotations for the Hamburg public. Despite the fact that Wichmann was not a trained art historian or connoisseur, perhaps because of this, he had a resounding effect upon the Hamburg public. This letter - reprinted as a separate brochure entitled The New Tendency of Art in the Kunstverein - helped to crystallize

public opposition to the modern art Lichtwark was promoting in the city or purchasing for the Kunsthalle.34 Of course, Hamburg was not unique in its lukewarm, and occasionally hostile, reaction to the new art. In Berlin in 1892 an exhibition of Edvard Munch's provocative etchings and paintings had been greeted by cries of outrage, leading to the closing of the show and to conflict between members of the inde-

84 Art and the German Bourgeoisie pendent association The Eleven - which included Liebermann and Walter Leistikow - and the chairman of the Association of Berlin Artists, Anton von Werner.35 In 1896 Tschudi began his difficult term as director of the National Gallery. In Munich the plays of Frank Wedekind aroused great indignation, and individual works like Spring Awakening were banned under a strict censorship law, the Lex Heinze.36 Furthermore, one of the most talented artists in Munich during the 1890s, Lovis Corinth, was unable to sell any of his paintings to the state; by 1900 he had left for Berlin, after having written to a friend, 'I really can't stand Munich any longer.'37 The situation in Hamburg was, in part, an echo of the reaction to modernism in the arts elsewhere in Germany. Yet the conflict in Hamburg also had distinctive features. As we have seen, Lichtwark was struggling to educate a city that did not have a vibrant artistic community of its own, and whose audience for high culture was smaller than Berlin's or Munich's. The attack on the 'new tendency' in 1896 spread swiftly throughout the city, intensifying bourgeois fears of modern art. After the letters by Feddersen and Wichmann appeared in the Nachrichten, the Kunstverein's board of directors, and the committee for the grand exhibition, decided on 15 February to withdraw Eitner's poster. The executive director of the Kunstverein at this time was Senator Werner von Melle (a proponent of cultural change, who tried unsuccessfully to establish a university in Hamburg in 1913); he later noted in his memoirs that Eitner himself had consented to such a step, in order to avoid an unpleasant scandal.38 But if the Kunstverein leadership had hoped to smooth over the ripples of public discontent with this concession, it was sadly disappointed. Within days Wichmann had gathered together various supporters, buoyed by the withdrawal of the poster and eager to press on further. On 20 February the Hamburger Fremdenblatt, a newspaper allied with the viewpoints of the Progressive party in the city, reported on the Wichmann opposition.39 The reporter's tone towards this group was warm, and he stated that Wichmann had won wide support for his views both within and outside Hamburg. The article listed the twentythree names of Wichmann's strongest supporters, co-founders of the oppositional group. All were members of the Kunstverein, but none was an artist. Indeed, the majority were merchants - owners of firms that imported jewels, flowers, fabrics, gasoline, gold, and foodstuffs. Others included several lawyers, a county judge, and a clergyman of St Petri's church. Three men were also, at that time, members of the Citi-

The Scandal over the 'New Tendency' 85 zens' Assembly: Arthur Lutteroth, a respected and active businessman in Hamburg, who had been president of the Hamburg Chamber of Commerce from 1879 to 1882; Hugo Brandt, a merchant and future senator (1901-19); and Friedrich Adolf Dohner, also a prominent businessman. 40 These men met on 16 February in Wichmann's home and discussed ways of increasing popular support for the campaign against modern art in Hamburg. Furthermore, they were resolved that the Kunstverein had to be reformed from within so that the favour shown by the executive committee to the 'new tendency' in painting did not continue unchallenged. Accordingly, several of Wichmann's supporters agreed to seek election to important Kunstverein committees. By the end of the meeting a committee of five had been selected to maintain the affairs of the opposition, and it had been decided that information about Wichmann's group should be publicized in the press, and in separate circulars. All in all, this group was the nucleus of a potentially formidable opposition, clearly unhappy with Lichtwark and prepared to take the steps necessary to stop the current direction of art in Hamburg. Predictably, the Wichmann camp received strong support from the Nachrichten's art critic, Wallsee. In an article of 28 February, he called for a reformed and independent Kunstverein, free of Lichtwark's influence.41 He envisioned an autonomous Kunstverein that would cherish traditional art, and thus would act as a counterweight to the Kunsthalle and its modern collection. Only Oscar Riecke - the art critic for the Fremdenblatt - defended Lichtwark at this point; in an article also of 28 February, he reminded his readers that Lichtwark had made the Kunsthalle into a recognized gallery, with outstanding exhibitions of art.42 Riecke attacked the idea that the vox populi should determine art in Hamburg, or should attempt to weaken Lichtwark's authority in the city. A few weeks later, on 14 March, the Kunstverein's grand exhibition officially opened to the public; visitors could now see the paintings by the notorious Hamburg artists. Art critics rushed to the opening and hastily offered their reviews. On 15 March Wallsee of the Nachrichten dismissed the paintings by Eitner, lilies, and the others as simply appalling: 'Arsenic green trees and grass, violet blue shadows, ochre yellow sunlight, glaring red brick roofs.' Real artists, he proclaimed, would not be led astray by the 'bell-wether' of such a 'pagan march.'43 Wallsee's criticisms were quite mild compared to the conclusions of the critic for the General Anzeiger, a popular advertising paper that pro-

86 Art and the German Bourgeoisie fessed a progressive liberal outlook. From 29 March until 12 April a commentator represented by the initials B.W. offered four instalments of his thoughts, laying out a savage critique of the Hamburg painters.44 He made his position clear at the start of the first review, praising Wichmann's essay and talking of the 'children's work' disfiguring the exhibition. The 'young' artists, in his view, failed to draw correctly, made use of unnatural colours and distorted perspectives, and were unable to impart any great feeling in their works. Indeed, he argued that they subscribed to the same views as the controversial modern Hamburg poet Richard Dehmel, seeing art as a means of expressing one's momentary reflections, which were constantly changing and unformed by basic principles or higher ideals: this was the hallmark of the very new in art and culture. This critic was also eager to mention the reactions of visitors to the grand exhibition, interpreting their responses as the only natural way to assess the new works. How terrible it was, he thought, for the viewer to be confronted by enormous displays of thick flecks of colour, extreme in their shades of lilac or glaring green, unknown in nature. 'This all must repel one from the outset,' he concluded. He takes as one failed example Eitner's portrait of a woman, 'who sits upon a bright green bench in an olive grey-green dress, with brown gloves, sulphur yellow ruffles, golden blond hair, dark blue hat and water blue eyes.'45 A female visitor at the exhibition apparently could not help exclaiming 'how becoming!' when she saw this painting, at which point laughter broke out among the audience. Here was proof, the critic asserted, of the ludicrousness of this type of art. In its conclusion, the reviewer for the General Anzeiger called upon the public to use its own judgment, rather than defer to the opinions of the experts who supported the new artists. He attacked Lichtwark for including such works in the exhibition and brusquely asked, 'is Professor Lichtwark truly the right man in the right office?'46 Indeed, with such renewed attacks on Lichtwark and the Hamburg artists, the opposition gained momentum. On 18 March, a local painter named Joseph Michael added his name to the list of Wichmann supporters with a hot-headed letter to the Fremdenblatt.47 The Kunstverein exhibition committee had chosen several of Michael's paintings for the grand exhibition of 1896, and the critics praised his work. But this artist - a young man of twenty-eight - obviously resented the different techniques employed by his colleagues, and thus saw Wichmann as the hero of the hour: 'With true enthusiasm for noble and ennobling

1 Leopold von Kalckreuth, Alfred Lichtwark, Director of the Hamburg Kunsthalle (Alfred Lichtwark, Direktor der Hamburger Kunsthalle), 1912 Oil on canvas, 99.5 X 85 cm. Hamburger Kunsthalle

2 Max Liebermann, The Hamburg Assembly of Professors (Der hamburgische Professorenkonvent), 1906 Oil on canvas, 175 X 290 cm. Hamburger Kunsthalle

3 Max Liebermann, Self-Portrait (Selbstbildnis), 1909/10 Oil on canvas, 112 X 92.5 cm. Hamburger Kunsthalle

4 Franz von Lenbach, Chancellor Otto von Bismarck (Reichskanzler Otto von Bismarck), 1879 Oil on wood, 140 X 103 cm. Hamburger Kunsthalle

5 Franz von Lenbach, Emperor William 1, (Kaiser Wilhelm I), 1888 Oil on wood, 105 X 73.8 cm. Hamburger Kunsthalle

6 Franz von Lenbach, General Field-Marshal Helmuth Graf von Moltke (Generalfeldmarschal Helmuth Graf von Moltke), 1890 Oil on wood, 119.5 X 95.5 cm. Hamburger Kunsthalle

7

Max Liebermann, the cossepluckers (die Conaerupifneene), 1871/2

Oil on canvas, 119.5 X 170.5 cm. Staatliche Museen zu Berlin-Preufiischer Kulturbesitz Nationalgalerie

8 Max Liebermann, Twelve-Year-Old Jesus in the Temple (Der zwolfjahrige Jesus im Tempel), 1878/9 Oil on canvas, 150.5 X 132 cm. Private collection, on loan to the Hamburger Kunsthalle

9 Max Liebermann, The Netmenders (Die Netzflickerinnen), 1887-9 Oil on canvas, 180.5 X 226 cm. Hamburger Kunsthalle

10

Max Liebermann, The Kirchenalle (Die Kirchenalle), 1890

Pastel, 47.8 X72.5 cm. Hamburger Kunsthalle

11 Max Liebermann, Burgomaster Carl Friedrich Petersen {Biirgermeister Carl Friedrich Petersen), 1891 Oil on canvas, 206 x 119 cm. Hamburger Kunsthalle

12 Photograph of Victor Tilgner's Carl Petersen Memorial, 1892 Landesmedienzentrum Hamburg

13 Max Liebermann, Terrace in Jacob's Restaurant (Terrasse im Restaurant Jacob), 1902-3 Oil on canvas. 70 X 100 cm. Hamburger Kunsthalle

14 Photographs of Hamburg's Rathaus, built 1886-97, and of its imperial hall (Kaisersaal)

Landesmedienzentrum Hamburg

15 Arthur lilies, Poster for the Spring Exhibition of the Kunstverein (Plakatfur die Fruhjahrsausstellung des Hamburger Kunstvereins in der Kunsthalle), 1895 Lithograph, 86.3 X 58.2 cm. Museum fur Kunst und Gewerbe Hamburg

16 Ernst Eitner, Poster for the Grand Exhibition of the Kunstverein (Plakatfur die Grofie Kunstausstellung des Hamburger Kunstvereins in der Kunsthalle), 1896 Lithograph, 86.3 X 58.2 cm. Museum fur Kunst und Gewerbe Hamburg

17 Friedrich Schaper, A Summer's Day in Finkenwerder (Sommertag in Finkenwerder), 1895 Oil on canvas, 62.5 X 114 cm. Museum fur Hamburgische Geschichte

18 Friedrich Schaper, Entry-Hall in Finkenwerder (Diele auf Finkenzverder), 1895-6 Oil on canvas, 55.7 X 49 cm. Hamburger Kunsthalle

19 Alfred Mohrbutter, Church in Allermohe (Die Kirche von Allermohe), 1895 Oil on canvas, 110 X 154 cm. Hamburger Kunsthalle

20 Caricature entitled 'Modern Artistic Painting,' in the Hamburger Freie Presse, 15 March 1896. The caption reads 'Today's modern painting has many opponents, but this tendency is still in good favour.'

The Scandal over the 'New Tendency' 87 art, Herr W. has set forth his opinion in a clear and generally comprehensible manner, which has found a joyful echo far beyond Hamburg's boundaries, in the hearts of thousands and thousands of educated laymen and artists.'48 And Michael tried to clarify what Wichmann, and those who supported him, objected to. It was not, he stressed, a struggle against the technical achievements of the last few decades, against 'light' and 'air' or a realistic portrayal of nature: one only needed to look at the superb paintings by Menzel to see that these skills could be expertly utilized. But Michael claimed that even this modern master had exclaimed 'simply horrible' when he had seen the paintings of the new Hamburg artists. What must be fought, he argued, were the 'poisonous excesses' created by certain self-proclaimed students of art, whom he categorized with a familiar Latin tag: Quod licet Jovi, non licet Bovi - what is permitted to Jupiter is not permitted to cattle. The theme of modern art as ugly and diseased appeared frequently in the various letters cited here, and it was given concrete expression in a caricature produced for the Hamburger Freie Presse on 15 March (plate 20).49 In this caricature we see an unattractive old woman seated before a dressing table crammed with cosmetics and perfumes. As she looks into the mirror, she begins to apply blush to her haggard cheeks, and behind her hangs a plait of hair, an adornment of youth that she will fasten on later. The caption reads: 'Today's modern painting has many opponents, but this tendency is still in good favour.' The point is not a very subtle one: modern art is shown as wrinkled ugliness, lacking the natural beauty and health of youth, plastered with colour that cannot hide the disagreeable appearance underneath. One wonders why the drawing compares art to an old woman's appearance. Was the cartoonist suggesting here that beauty is definitely in the eye of the (male) beholder, either immediately appealing or repulsive? The appearance of this caricature in a Hamburg newspaper was evidence of the popularity of the debate over modern art in Hamburg during February and March of 1896. Indeed, throughout March defenders and critics of the new tendency in art carried on a vigorous quarrel. For example, on 9 March Justus Brinckmann gave a lecture on poster art at the Museum"fur Kunst und Gewerbe, in which he attacked Wichmann's letter' of 7 February in the Nachrichten. Wichmann responded with letters in the Hamburger Fremdenblatt and the Hamburgischer Correspondent on 11 March; Brinckmann then wrote angry replies in the same two newspapers on 12 March. On 14 March, merchant Eduard Lorenz Lorenz-Meyer attacked modern art in a letter

88 Art and the German Bourgeoisie to the Nachrichten. Furthermore, two anonymous supporters of Lichtwark sent in letters to the Fremdenblatt on 19 and 20 March, defending modern art and the Kunsthalle director. Most of these letters were aggressive in defence of one side or the other, showing that the conflict over modern art in Hamburg aroused strong emotions. While the attack on Lichtwark and the 'new tendency' in art gained steam, defenders of the Kunsthalle director came forward, obviously concerned about the issue at stake: Hamburg's cultural direction. The most eloquent statement of support for Lichtwark came from Gustav Schiefler. His article was entitled 'The Movement against the New Tendency in Art' and was published in the newspaper most sympathetic to Lichtwark, the Hamburgischer Correspondent.50 In this article Schiefler declared that the emergence of an organized opposition to modern art was much more than an accidental outburst of disapproval or distaste; it was, he argued, a serious, indeed dangerous result of the development of culture in the nineteenth century. 'We stand in a crisis' he declared. 'The main point is to recognize this and to exert all our strength so that we may be fortunate enough to overcome it.'51 Schiefler's analysis of this crisis echoed Lichtwark's complaints about the bourgeoisie and German culture; their agreement on what caused cultural conflict in the new Reich was, I suspect, a result of their friendship and their shared commitment to modern art. In order to explain this crisis, Schiefler contrasted the state of late nineteenth-century culture with conditions in the early 1800s. During the time of Goethe and Humboldt, he argued, culture had been aristocratic; a small elite had devoted themselves to art and literature, and through their efforts they had enriched German culture. Within a few decades, however, new classes were demanding improvements in their material existence and a share of the cultural treasures in the various German states. In the process culture was democratized, flattened out for a wider audience. The great masses tried to take control of this culture and arrogated to themselves the right to question it, refusing to recognize the authority of professionally trained specialists in art. As a consequence, the German people attempted to judge all things without having properly immersed themselves in study, and this attitude had come to affect even circles of the educated. As a result, one witnessed attacks on art experts by 'laity' - seen even in Hamburg, Schiefler noted, in the movement against the 'new tendency' in art. Schiefler's argument, that by the late nineteenth century the masses dominated German culture with disastrous results, is alarmist and

The Scandal over the 'New Tendency' 89 faulty. The audience for art did not consist of the masses, but of the bourgeoisie; what Schiefler probably meant was that more bourgeois men and women were becoming interested in art and thus in public exhibitions such as the Kunstverein shows. Yet the fact that Schiefler portrayed the conflict as a deadly contest between an ignorant majority and a perceptive minority shows that he thought of himself, Lichtwark, and their supporters as part of a vanguard upholding art in its most creative form. His views were elitist, although he justifiably described Lichtwark's critics as amateur judges of art - since the Wichmann group readily admitted they were not experts, and yet claimed for themselves the right to define the true and beautiful in German painting. Rejecting the claims of Wichmann and his supporters, Schiefler stressed in his article that art had to be accepted as an end in itself, as the expression of an artist's will and feeling, incapable of being ordered about by non-artists. We cannot say, Schiefler argued, 'I demand of art,' or 'art should ...' Art possesses qualities we must all admire, even if some are inaccessible to us. Only the creative genius of an artist can shape the work; external laws or boundaries will not imprison it. Art enriches life, and gives it meaning beyond the necessities of existence. It is a crucial element of humanity. Above all, Schiefler noted, modern art was a cultural expression that must of necessity stride a few steps beyond the accustomed tastes of the majority. The problem, in his view, was that in the reactionary years after 1815 historical inquiry had won over enthusiastic adherents to love for the past. This love had since turned into partiality. Historicism accompanied material progress while contemporary culture faltered. Therefore, an impasse had been reached where most educated Germans claimed to find the 'true great art' in the masters of the Cinquecento (the sixteenth century), and saw the task of the artist as the search for a similar, polished quality. For Schiefler it was as though one constantly gazed back at the house one had left, while at the same time trying to find a way forward. Accordingly, Germans were seeing art with the eyes of another world, fastening upon past notions of beauty, verifying the new by measuring it against the old. But it was self-evident to Schiefler that a move forward in art was not reconcilable with an uncompromising loyalty to the past and its laws about beauty. The different aims of the artists and the public had thus led to misunderstanding. If the tussle between the two was to be broken it was the public that had to change: it must educate itself about modern art.

90 Art and the German Bourgeoisie Lichtwark, who had kept out of the conflict up to this point, was grateful for Schiefler's essay in the Correspondent, and wrote him to express his gratitude: 'Accept my heartiest congratulations for your splendid article. I can hardly express how much I rejoiced over the warm, fresh sounds. ... That bells the cat.'52 Lichtwark's confidence was mistaken, however. Although he and Schiefler agreed on their ability to see the issue clearly - dismissing their opponents as muddleheaded cranks - they did not count on the support these critics could muster up, and the consequences that would follow for the Kunstverein. IV At three o'clock on Saturday 28 March 1896, a general meeting of the Kunstverein was called to order - designed to hold elections for nine of the Kunstverein's thirty-six-member managing committee and to hear the president's annual report for 1895. The most important reason for this meeting, however, was the need to resolve the divisions over art that had split the society apart. Usually Kunstverein meetings were held in the basement rooms of the Kunsthalle, attended by a few interested members who quickly proceeded through the business at hand and then departed for home.53 Now that the conflict over the 'new tendency' had heated up an otherwise lacklustre public concern for art, the organizers expected a larger turnout than normal. So the executive board of the Kunstverein decided to call the meeting in one of Hamburg's new hotels, the sumptuous Hamburger Hof. The hotel's front entrance opened onto the Alter Jungfernstieg - a major street in the centre of the city, bordered on the north by Hamburg's beautiful internal lake, the Binnen Alster - and when Kunstverein president Werner von Melle arrived here he was startled to discover an enormous crowd.54 The large hall inside the Hof was filled to overflowing, and by a little after three the doors had to be shut because there was simply no more room. At the front of the hall, on a raised platform, the nine-member board of directors took their seats, joined by Melle, Brinckmann, Schiefler, and Lichtwark.55 They looked out onto a huge crowd of hundreds of men and women (numbering perhaps as many as fifteen hundred), the majority of whom were Wichmann supporters.56 Wichmann attended the meeting, as did several of the young Hamburg painters, including Arthur lilies, motivated by curiosity and anger. Two senators on the Commission of the Kunsthalle - Mohring and Burchard - came to

The Scandal over the 'New Tendency' 91 observe the meeting as well; according to the report published that evening in the Correspondent, they were worried about the impact of the conflict on the cultural life of Hamburg. Melle was the first to speak. His manner was commanding, and the hall remained silent while he quickly listed the major points of the yearly report for 1895 and then moved on to address the problem at hand.57 He began by refuting the notion that the directors of the Kunstverein favoured one type of art over another, and asserted instead that they were dedicated to an objective judgment of both traditional and modern art. He reminded the audience of recent Kunstverein publications that featured the art of older painters (Hermann Kauffmann, Philipp Otto Runge, and several early nineteenth-century Hamburg portrait painters), and he then listed the exhibitions held within the previous year that highlighted popular and accepted artists, such as Adolph von Menzel. Melle continued with a defence of the new art, echoing some of Schiefler's views. Art, he said, was at a crossroads, and a struggle was developing between the choice of two directions, young and old. The Kunstverein exhibition juries faced the difficult task of showing tolerance to both tendencies, and, furthermore, had to give fair support to the newer artists. What appeared as 'excesses' to some would, in all likelihood, blossom into a mature art form, of value for the future. He argued that it was imperative not to drive Hamburg's artists from the city. Essentially, Melle appealed for a fair and just approach to the new art. After these comments he opened the debate to the floor, but called on all present to avoid personal attacks and to keep in mind the greater aims of the Kunstverein. In the shouting match that followed such a perspective vanished. The next speaker was Arthur Lutteroth, the businessman and Biirgerschaft member who was a leading figure in Wichmann's opposition group. He offered some complimentary opening remarks, praising the Kunstverein leadership for their efforts in the past few years on behalf of art. Some members of the audience responded with a loud 'Bravo!' But this was Lutteroth's only concession to rational discussion. It was false, he asserted, to believe that the opposition to the Kunstverein leadership attacked all modern art. What Wichmann and his supporters demanded was an end to the favouritism shown by the Kunstverein directors to the 'excesses' of modern art. Lutteroth made things even clearer when he baldly spoke of the conflict as one that pitted Wichmann against Lichtwark: 'The point, clearly and simply put, is that this

92 Art and the German Bourgeoisie

is a struggle between Wichmann and Lichtwark, whose influence on the committee is so overwhelming that he is able even to charm those people who do not entirely agree with his direction.' 58 Moreover, argued the speaker, the modern artists were not finding buyers for their works; an artist should not be told how to paint, but if such an artist continued to produce works that no one would buy then he was 'not the divinely favoured artist he considers himself to be.'59 One should allow both the old and the new art in exhibitions, but these 'smears' (Schmieralien) had to be kept out of exhibitions. With this barbed comment Lutteroth roused the hall to cries of 'Bravo!' accompanied by hissing and general confusion. The speaker nonetheless continued, his words now pelted by interjections and shouts of support or derision. If anything, his tone grew more acerbic. He went on to say that in his view one could not even attach the description 'distinguished' to art in Hamburg any more. The only solution to this state of affairs, he concluded, was for those present in the hall to vote for the list of candidates presented by the Wichmann group - to replace five of the nine positions in the Kunstverein general committee. Once these men were elected, the process of reorganizing the Kunstverein could begin. Now Brinckmann jumped up, and casting aside his prepared speech, he pounded his fists upon the platform table. How could one propose, he cried, that artists should be measured by the amounts of money they earned? One need only think of the lives of Adolph Menzel or Jean Francois Millet! He was certain that all present shared his opposition to the viewpoints of men like Herr Lutteroth, and would not support the opposition's candidates. Following these last few words, hearty bravos emerged above the din of an agitated crowd, while Brinckmann returned quietly to his seat. At this point, another Wichmann supporter, Otto Westphal, stood up to report that he had distributed sheets of paper at the entrance to the hall, which contained the names of the Wichmann party candidates seeking election to the Kunstverein committee. He urged the audience to vote for these men. As the atmosphere in the hall grew more and more unruly, Schiefler felt compelled to speak out in defence of Lichtwark, and so he too joined the fray. He emphasized the obvious fact that the entire conflict had become personal: that the struggle was not just between the old art and the new, but also between Wichmann and Lichtwark. The Wichmann camp sought to secure their place as sole masters of art in Hamburg. Had anyone considered the consequences of such a

The Scandal over the 'New Tendency' 93 development? Schiefler warned that if Lichtwark was forced out of the Kunstverein committee this would surely affect the healthy state of art in Hamburg. Doubtless Schiefler would have liked to continue his argument, but after these few utterances he was cut short. Some in the audience shouted out 'Enough!' while others cheered for Lichtwark. Finally, one man said: 'Let him speak! We're not Social Democrats here!'60 Despite this appeal for calm, Schiefler was forced to stop speaking by the uproar, which now included yelling, pounding on chairs, and general mayhem. How Melle restored order in the hall is not clearly explained by any of the sources we have for the event, but we do know that the elections for the committee were held. And the Wichmann camp emerged triumphant: Eduard Brackenhoeft, Hugo Brandt, Johannes Merck, M. Ritter, and Wichmann himself were elected, along with four other Kunstverein members, one of whom, Friedrich Leopold Loesener, was also a Wichmann adherent.61 Of the members on the committee replaced by these six men, one bears special mention: Arthur lilies.62 The result was a nasty shock for the existing Kunstverein leadership. On the evening of the same day, the merchant Theodor Willinck, member of the board of directors, wrote to Melle and announced his resignation.63 He stated that he did not want to separate himself from the Kunstverein, but the events of the general meeting had shown him how much the members differed in their views from the leadership; most now embraced a notion of art that was absolutely counter to his own feelings. Within a short period of time many others on the board of directors gave up their positions - including J.F. Eduard Bohlen and Valentin Ruths unwilling to bow to the tastes of what Melle called 'the great uncomprehending masses.'64 Even Melle resigned, depriving the Kunstverein of an able leader. V And where was Lichtwark through all of this? During the general meeting he said nothing, despite the fact that the Wichmann camp had directed its attack against him personally. Arthur lilies had been seized by rage as he stood in the crowd at the Hamburger Hof, and he later recounted his astonishment at Lichtwark's silence. But why does Lichtwark remain silent? Lichtwark, against whom personally the entire struggle is directed, even more than against us, since it is

94 Art and the German Bourgeoisie plain that people regard us painters as having been led astray by him. Why does Lichtwark remain silent, when his ability lies precisely in words, who, moreover, in countless meetings has defended his conception of culture with great success, this powerful man of will, who has so often forced his designs upon the Hamburg Senate by virtue of the strength of his words. Why does Lichtwark let things run their course, why does he not now lead the struggle to victory, when the existence of his own ideals is at stake? ... He stands forth for his own and our own cause only when he knows that he confronts people with whom he can reach an understanding, and he completely fails when the situation involves individuals who are hostile towards him.... He is only a man of will when he believes he is assured of victory.65 This was a harsh assessment of Lichtwark's inaction during the meeting, and, considering the situation, rather unjustified. After all, Wichmann himself did not speak. It is reasonable to assume that both Wichmann and Lichtwark remained silent because a personal debate between the two men could have aroused even greater unrest in the audience. Indeed, Melle states that before the general meeting he and other supporters implored Lichtwark not to speak, since this would toss 'oil into the fire.'66 Melle also reports that during the meeting Lichtwark was choked by rage, but he honoured the request for his silence. However, at the close of the session he did approach Arthur Lutteroth to exclaim: 'you have disgraced yourself for all time!'67 This was the one outburst of disgust he allowed himself. Perhaps one other reason for Lichtwark's passivity on 28 March was his surprise at the success of the Wichmann camp. Before this meeting he underestimated his opponents, seeing them as confused amateurs in the world of art, isolated in their attacks. One of the first references we have to Robert Wichmann occurs in a letter Lichtwark wrote to the Kunsthalle Commission on 27 February 1896.68 Lichtwark was on his way to Berlin, travelling by train, and he happened to meet Friedrich Dohner, whom he described as one of those 'who have gathered around the banner of Herr Wichmann's idealism.'69 Dohner insisted on discussing the conflict and it soon became clear to Lichtwark that he and the other Wichmann associates were ill informed about the nature of modern art and the issues troubling the Kunstverein membership. Lichtwark then told Dohner that, for the sake of the health of the Kunstverein, the opposition must try to understand what the organization's executive sought to do in supporting the new art. It is telling that

The Scandal over the 'New Tendency' 95 at this point Lichtwark saw his position as one and the same with the Kunstverein; he minimized the divisions in this society, and certainly did not foresee the turn of events in the next month. Lichtwark's letter to the Commission also informs us that Dohner told him some sort of agreement had to be reached between the two sides in the conflict. But Lichtwark was opposed to this: 'I told him that this did not lie in our interest, and that in no way should anything be done by our side which would appear as an accommodation. I very much regretted that the poster had been withdrawn.' 70 Without revealing any further thoughts to Dohner, Lichtwark silently considered the necessity of disarming the opposition by means of a public lecture; perhaps this could win back some of the dissidents and prove a great coup. In fact, Lichtwark did produce such a lecture, along with a publication entitled Hamburg Art that defended the modern works of the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub and called for more patrons, but the lecture and the book did not appear until two years had passed.71 In the meantime he was not able to weaken the position of his critics. Lichtwark expressed his personal views of Robert Wichmann in a later letter to the Commission, of 24 April 1897.72 The context for his comments was concern about brochures written by Anton von Werner and Karl Schuch (a still-life painter) directed against Hugo von Tschudi. According to Lichtwark, these brochures were reprinted and distributed in Hamburg, to support the resident 'reactionaries.' Tschudi had been appointed head of Berlin's National Gallery in 1896, as we have noted, and in this same year he took an interest in examples of French impressionism at the Durand-Ruel gallery in Paris, while on a visit to the city with Liebermann. These paintings had a great effect on Tschudi, and in the next two years he acquired a significant number of foreign works of art. He arranged for the purchases with the help of private sponsors, since Tschudi knew that the Landeskunstkommission - with Werner one of the members - would not support the acquisition of impressionist art.73 In 1897 alone Tschudi managed to acquire paintings by Millet, Cezanne, and Sisley. Moreover, he had collected works in 1896 by Constable, Courbet, Manet, Monet, Degas, and Rodin. And he supported modern German painting as well, buying works by Bocklin, Leibl, Triibner, Leistikow, and Thoma.74 Werner, Schuch, and the Kaiser strongly opposed Tschudi's course of action, as Lichtwark noted: Tschudi's new acquisitions have annoyed many, although he has not purchased these works with the state's money. There is a circle in Berlin for

96 Art and the German Bourgeoisie whom it is of vital interest that the famous inscription on the front of the National Gallery, 'German Art,' will continue to be considered the program for all acquisitions, keeping out the foreign. ... His opponents have two powerful arguments for their rhetorical efforts, patriotism and hate of the so-called modern. ... The soul of this Fronde consists of Werner and Schuch.75 Tschudi's dilemma had implications for Hamburg. Lichtwark's critics welcomed the arguments of Werner and Schuch as further 'proof of the growing resistance to modernism in Germany, and they then set about reproducing anti-Tschudi brochures in the city. Wichmann and his supporters thus used the attack on Tschudi to bolster their own opposition to the paintings of the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub. At this same time, Wichmann came to see Lichtwark, although the reason for the visit is not clear from Lichtwark's letter of 24 April 1897: all Lichtwark says is that Wichmann wanted to speak his mind. The Kunsthalle director was blunt with his opponent and told him that he should have come and spoken with him long before, and that he should have acquainted himself with Lichtwark's essays on art. Wichmann seemed to Lichtwark to be an 'honest fanatic,' misinformed and ignorant of Lichtwark's intentions. Basic to Lichtwark's nature was a desire to instruct, and so the Kunsthalle director gave Wichmann several of his publications to read. The meeting with Wichmann convinced Lichtwark of the need to continue with his writing, and this incident was probably an impetus for his book of 1898, Hamburg Art. VI To a casual observer, the scandal of 1896 may appear as little more than a hiccup in Lichtwark's career in Hamburg, a momentary challenge to his efforts on behalf of modern art. Although his relations with the Kunstverein worsened in the following years, he was still able to influence the grand exhibition of 1898: he dominated the jury and chose works by the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub, despite renewed public objections. After 1899 the Kunstverein ceased holding grand exhibitions in the Kunsthalle, while Lichtwark continued to champion modern painting.76 Opposition to Lichtwark did not cease in 1896, but neither did it topple his authority in Hamburg.

The Scandal over the 'New Tendency' 97 The significance of the attack on the 'new tendency' lies rather in the display of vociferous hostility directed against Lichtwark and the new art, revealing the powerful anger and fear in the hearts of his critics. These self-proclaimed protectors of the 'true and beautiful' in art were not simply demonstrating aesthetic distaste when they attacked a brightly coloured poster, or impressionist landscapes and interiors. Indeed, when we consider the characterization of modern art by Wichmann and his supporters there appears to be much more at stake than the type of painting suitable for a gallery or exhibition. The opponents of the 'new tendency' held aloft an ideal vision of art, presenting it almost as a deity. Art, in this form, was noble in character, working to uplift the viewer because it enriched the human spirit. Wichmann personified this art as fresh, cherished, and pure. In contrast, he and his supporters saw modern art as degenerate, selfish, and false: it cast distorted reflections, contained poisonous excesses, and forced itself upon the populace. H.E. Wallsee of the Nachrichten described the 'new tendency' as a pagan march. In this setting, modern art could be cast as a type of devil or satyr that fundamentally threatened culture. Moreover, while Lichtwark's critics portrayed traditional art as beautiful and real, they rejected modern art as ugly and found it grotesque, repellent, coarse, and unnatural. They praised the technical ability shown by recognized masters and chided the Hamburg artists for producing unskilled, incomplete, unoriginal, and childish scribblings. And one of the most constant attacks by the critics castigated the new art as infertile. Illies's youth, in the poster of 1895, is described by Wichmann as having a black hole in his breast, an image of hollowness. Overall, the critics honoured traditional art because they believed that it alone expressed the German spirit: this art carried on from the customs of the past and was not faddish or momentary or a copy of French art. It is tempting to see here a conflict of Kultur against Zivilisation, a struggle against a world that was rapidly changing in Hamburg, especially from the 1890s on. We hear the strident cries of a cultural pessimism: a fear of a loss of idealism and spirit or of a lofty vision of mankind, and an anger that these changes in art were being forced upon Hamburg by a small circle of men and their Pied Piper, Lichtwark. Some of the discontented were artists, like Feddersen or Michael, who probably felt threatened because Lichtwark would not acquire their works for the Kunsthalle or encourage patrons to pur-

98 Art and the German Bourgeoisie chase their paintings. But most of Lichtwark's opponents, like most of his supporters, were laymen in the world of art: merchants or lawyers, members of the Citizens' Assembly. The conflict over modern art in Hamburg thus pitted bourgeois against bourgeois, with each group embracing a very distinct definition of German culture. To Lichtwark's opponents, the 'new tendency' in painting, as evidenced by the impressionist works of the young Hamburg artists, meant nothing less than a disastrous influence that would poison Hamburg society. They agreed with Lichtwark that art was a vital element of the German nation, but they did not share his willingness to look abroad for new cultural influences. These critics preferred to remain with what was tested and true, rather than to accept experiments in colour, subject, and technique. They grasped onto preconceived ideas about art and about German culture. Lichtwark was not immune to the criticisms of the public, even if he did belittle the objections, and his personal letters after 1896 often expressed his bitterness. He was unhappy too about the division that deepened between himself and the Kunstverein, a viewpoint he expressed in a letter to the new director, Paul Crasemann, in 1900. Unfortunately I cannot share your hope for the possibility of a successful relationship between the Kunstverein and the Kunsthalle. I sincerely regret that all experience points to the contrary. From the very beginning I made it my (obvious) duty not to meddle in the affairs of the Kunstverein, since I believed that this was the only way to assure good relations. I accepted an appointment in the general committee, although I always avoided being put in the position of having to join the board of directors. If it appeared that the Kunsthalle wielded decisive influence through such a personal connection, it seemed to me that this would endanger the Kunstverein. Yet, I have constantly placed myself at the disposal of the association, whenever my advice or cooperation has been desired, even though I have rarely encountered anything other than mistrust, if not insults, because the principles that I have deemed necessary for Hamburg have never really been joyfully affirmed. On the contrary, I have had to accustom myself to seeing the Kunstverein as the fundamental opponent of my efforts.77 Part of the regret and anger Lichtwark felt undoubtedly rested with the misunderstanding he encountered in the Kunstverein.78 Indeed, while

The Scandal over the 'New Tendency' 99 the Kunstverein could have helped Lichtwark to educate Hamburg about modern art, it worked instead as a thorn in his side, unwilling to accept the new works. The scandal of 1896 had brought out into the open Hamburg's resistance to new visions and perspectives in German art.

CHAPTER FOUR

Lichtwark and the Society of Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art (the Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde) One of the men who had joined the Wichmann camp against Lichtwark in 1896 was Friedrich Leopold Loesener; we have seen that he won election to the Kunstverein managing committee during the fractious debate over art in Hamburg. Loesener's daughter-in-law, Mary Loesener-Sloman, took quite a different stance on the issue of Lichtwark and the 'new tendency' in German painting: she and her mother, Amelie Albers-Schonberg, defended the embattled Kunsthalle director.1 Both had come into contact with Lichtwark after joining the Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde (GHK) - the Society of Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art - formed in 1893 and attached closely to the Kunsthalle. With this organization Lichtwark assembled an array of respected citizens around himself, who stood with him in the battle against his critics. The membership never numbered more than about a hundred, but included prominent merchants and lawyers, and many wives, daughters, and mothers from leading Hamburg families. The women of the Society far outnumbered the men, and according to Sloman were completely won over by Lichtwark: 'This faithful band of followers compensated Lichtwark for the vehement persecution he faced from the advocates of the old tendency.'2 Robin Lenman has argued that Lichtwark appealed to the women 'in rather American fashion,' recognizing their influence as 'taste-makers' within the high society of Hamburg's grand bourgeoisie.3 The GHK is an intriguing example of Lichtwark's supporters in Hamburg, allowing us to address the issue of who in the city's bourgeoisie welcomed cultural modernism, and why. How were the members exposed to contemporary German art and design? Why did they embrace Lichtwark's ideas about culture? What aims did the Society

Lichtwark and Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art 101 pursue? Ultimately, we will see that the Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde became a welcome forum for Lichtwark's work as 'educator' of culture - in this case educator to a chosen audience of the city's bourgeoisie. I In creating the Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde, Lichtwark had several ambitious aims, each connected to his project of bringing the Hamburg bourgeoisie into closer contact with modern German culture. He hoped that the distinguished and wealthy group of men and women in the GHK would support his leadership of the Kunsthalle, contribute money for acquisitions, and appreciate the new direction of German art. The Society, to Lichtwark, was a private club of trusted friends with whom he could share his trials and tribulations in Hamburg. Gustav Schiefler, a founding member of the GHK, noted Lichtwark's pleasure in attending Society meetings: 'He behaved naturally here, spoke his mind frankly and without hesitation, and granted us an unobstructed view of the creative work and energy of his exuberant soul.'4 Lichtwark showed members the latest acquisitions and also spoke candidly about plans for new paintings and programs, such as the extension of the Kunsthalle after 1900. 'We had the fortune,' said Schiefler, 'to observe, at close range, how a tree grew under the hands of a master gardener who had planted and cared for it.'5 This productive association caused the Society to stand by Lichtwark at a time when he felt increasingly under attack from the Kunstverein and antimodernist critics in Hamburg. Indeed, Lichtwark came to see the Society as the successor to Hamburg's Kunstverein, which had lost the ability, in his terms, to appreciate modern art. In contrast, Lichtwark characterized the Society as young and vibrant, dedicated to supporting contemporary culture.6 Once again, he associated the symbol of youth with cultural progressiveness. Along with its commitment to learning more about modern German art, the Society also embraced two important aims. First, Lichtwark directed the Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde to focus almost exclusively on Hamburg's culture and its artists. To learn more about this culture, past and present, Society members studied Hamburg architecture; in addition, Lichtwark created a special publication series, entitled the Liebhaberbibliothek (The Bibliophile's Library), which offered books on Hamburg's history, culture, politics, and society. The

102 Art and the German Bourgeoisie

Society launched an annual as well, beginning in 1895, called the Yearbook for the Society of Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art (Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde), containing articles on local art,

architecture, and design, and featuring illustrations by Society members. Lichtwark also wanted the Society to make contact with artists in the city, and so he persuaded members to collect paintings and graphic art by artists of the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub. He hoped to make the production of local art profitable for the artists and the city. Indeed, the constitution of the GHK pledged 'to help to spread understanding for the fine arts and their economic importance in Hamburg.'7 Clearly, Lichtwark intended the Society to be a stimulus for local culture and thus made it part of his effort to mould Hamburg into a leading centre of artistic production in the new Germany. Secondly, the Society actively encouraged each member as a dilettante artist; according to Lichtwark, dilettantism had become 'an important factor of artistic life' in the 1880s and 1890s.8 He argued that practice in painting, drawing, needlework, flower arranging, graphic art, and book-plate design helped the amateur to train the eye to appreciate colour and line. This enthusiasm for dilettante art appealed especially to many of the women who joined the Society and eagerly desired to learn to paint and draw, or who wished to practise these talents with others, under the direction of professional artists. Before we turn to a more detailed account of these aims, let us first consider the structure and membership of the Society. The first formal meeting of the duly constituted Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde took place on 30 January 1894. The Society continued to meet, with a long pause during the war, until 14 May 1923 - at which time it disbanded because of lack of interest and momentum.9 Once every month, usually during the afternoon of the last Tuesday, the GHK met in the Kupferstichkabinet of the Kunsthalle. The executive contained both men and women, since Lichtwark was resolute about women playing a major role in the Society. In 1899 he confided to Dr Alfred Bayersdorfer, the curator of the Munich Pinakothek, 'One of the presidents must always be a lady. That will ensure for us a great deal of participation and interest that might otherwise be lost.'10 Thus of the two leading positions in the Society - president and deputy president - the latter was always filled by a woman, throughout the organization's history.11 Admittedly, women never governed the Society alone, even though they made up the majority of the membership. Clearly, Lichtwark's advocacy of women in the GHK did not

Lichtwark and Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art 103 extend as far as suggesting that they lead the Society without help or direction from the men. Marie Zacharias and Eduard Lorenz LorenzMeyer were acclaimed as deputy president and president, respectively, at the founding meeting of the GHK on 18 December 1893. When Zacharias died in February 1907, she was replaced in November of the same year by Frau Dr Engel-Reimers; then, in the early 1920s, Frau Generalkonsul (Lulu) Bohlen became one of the two deputy presidents. Of all of these women, Marie Zacharias left the most lasting impact upon the life of the Society. A close friend of Alfred and Marianne Lichtwark, Zacharias was a distinguished elderly matriarch, devoted to the arts. She dabbled in painting and writing, and was well known for the musical evenings at her home in Harvesthude, where artists, merchants, and officials gathered together.12 In 1904 Lichtwark asked Kalckreuth to paint her, and the artist completed three portraits of this formidable woman, later purchased by the Kunsthalle for 9,000 marks.13 From 1894 to 1906 Zacharias was a constant and engaging presence at the GHK meetings; her close friendship with Lichtwark and her intense interest in fostering local art assured that she would work to keep the Society in line with Lichtwark's aims.14 Zacharias was also a good choice for deputy president, since many of the GHK's female members held her in high esteem. Mary Sloman described her as 'a talented, intelligent, witty and insightful woman/ who devoted herself 'body and soul' to supporting the modern art Lichtwark purchased for the Kunsthalle.15 The president of the Society from 1894 to 1920, Eduard Lorenz Lorenz-Meyer, was more of an enigma; he was an influential and respected textile merchant in the city and an enthusiast of art, but whether he actually liked German impressionism and the plein-air style of the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub remains unclear.16 He became a member of the Wichmann camp in 1896, which must surely have vexed Lichtwark no end in the midst of the conflict;17 yet in October 1898 he led the Society in condemning the latest public attack on Lichtwark by the disgruntled artist Joseph Michael - in this instance disassociating himself from the critics of modern art in Hamburg.18 It is possible that Lorenz-Meyer revised his views on art in the years following 1896, although his articles for the Society yearbooks show an almost exclusive interest in old Hamburg architecture. If he did remain hostile to the changes in German art at the end of the nineteenth century, then it is intriguing that he held such an important position in the Society during this time and that he was willing to associate so closely with Lichtwark.

104 Art and the German Bourgeoisie Until 1906 the secretary of the GHK was Gustav Schiefler, who played a major role in arranging exhibitions and working for the yearbook. The Society also contained a Priifungskommission or examination board, whose duty it was to choose among members' artwork for exhibitions. Lichtwark was a permanent member until his death; other members included Lorenz-Meyer, Marie Zacharias, the art historian Emil Heilbut, the merchant Theodor Willinck, and Dr Otto Brandis, a lawyer and president of the Hanseatic Court of Appeals. Another executive committee created in 1899 was the Anregungskommission (a committee to stimulate ideas), designed to oversee members' work in painting and drawing. This committee included several women from the most distinguished families in Hamburg: Toni O'Swald, daughter of the architect Martin Haller and wife of the merchant Alfred O'Swald; Olga Schramm, married to lawyer and senator Max Schramm; and Marie Woermann, who belonged to the powerful shipping family headed by Adolf Woermann.19 Information about the general membership of the Society, taken both from its record-book and from the printed lists included in the yearbooks, reveals a distinguished but rather small association. Over the years 1894 to 1913 there were 250 members of the Society in total, including Lichtwark; 143 of these members were women, 107 were men. From 1894 to 1900 the Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde grew from 58 to 96 members; thereafter the membership lists exceed the hundred mark, with the high point reached in 1912 and 1913 at 150 members. Throughout the Society's existence the number of men remained small, perhaps because the Society met on a weekday afternoon, when the business and professional day was still underway. Ninety-six members, both men and women, remained in the Society for more than ten years, and 34 of them stayed for the entire period of Lichtwark's association with it. A small but steady group thus remained faithful to Lichtwark through several decades of his direction of the Kunsthalle. Why didn't more citizens belong to the Society? It seems that it was Lichtwark himself who intended to keep the Society small and exclusive: he had stringent requirements for membership set out in the Society's constitution. To belong to the Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde a candidate had to be nominated by the executive and then agreed upon by two-thirds of the members present at a general meeting.20 Most of the new candidates were put forward by Lichtwark; they were almost exclusively wealthy men and women from the Ham-

Lichtwark and Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art 105 burg elite, interested in art collecting. In 1909, for example, Lichtwark nominated a woman whom he called 'one of the few truly distinguished collectors in Hamburg.' 21 Many of those admitted to the Society, in fact, were expected to help the Kunsthalle financially and to become major collectors of art in Hamburg. Lichtwark was not disappointed in either regard; one of the most significant men in the Society was Eduard L. Behrens - banker, noted art collector, member of the Kunsthalle Commission and of the Kunstverein, and one of the first members of the GHK. In 1894 he donated 15,000 marks to the Kunsthalle;22the next year he died and bequeathed a further 150,000 marks and a fine collection of nineteenth-century French and German paintings - including works by the Barbizon school, and Menzel's Studio Wall. Wall.22 Both of his sons, Eduard and Theodor, were also members of the Gesellschaft. Like their father, they cherished art, becoming collectors of French impressionism and purchasing works by Thomas Herbst.23 In the years following their father's death, the Behrens brothers donated money to the Kunsthalle for the purchases of many works, including paintings and graphics by the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub. Another art collector of note was Ludwig Erdwin Amsinck, whose wife joined the Society in 1904. The Amsincks were one of the handful of great senatorial and merchant families in Hamburg, and thus Frau Amsinck's involvement in the Society brought favourable attention to Lichtwark's group.24 Moreover, the Amsincks owned a superb collection of paintings by Corot, Degas, Courbet, Dupre, Daubigny, and other nineteenthcentury French artists - a collection that Frau Amsinck would leave to the Kunsthalle after her death in 1921.25 The participation in the GHK of Frau Amsinck and the Behrens family meant cash donations and legacies for the Kunsthalle, as well as an enhanced reputation for Lichtwark among Hamburg's grand bourgeoisie. Lichtwark could boast of many other distinguished male and female members in his Society - judges, merchants, lawyers, senators, clergymen, bankers, and professors, some of whom were also noteworthy art collectors, albeit on a lesser scale than the Behrenses or Amsincks. Ernst Kalkmann, for example, was a wealthy merchant who purchased paintings by Liebermann, Eitner, von Ehren, Kayser, and other members of the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub.26 Henry Simms, another merchant, patronized the Hamburg artists Schaper and lilies, and in fact had lilies design the interior of his house.27 Paul Wohlwill, a lawyer, also commissioned lilies to paint murals for his home.28 And Henry Percy Newman, a close friend of Lichtwark's, collected works by

106 Art and the German Bourgeoisie

Liebermann, Kalckreuth, von Ehren, Monet, and Munch. Other significant members of the Society included Siegmund Hinrichsen, a banker and head of the Citizens' Assembly from 1892 to 1902; Erich Marcks, the prolific historian and devoted friend of Lichtwark; Carl Zimmermann, chief city planner of Hamburg from 1872 to 1908; and Count Harry Kessler (who resided in Berlin), aristocrat, writer, and aesthete.29 Kessler knew Lichtwark from their work together on the editorial board of Pan, beginning in 1894; he joined the GHK in 1897 and remained a member until 1904. 'In his struggle against philistinism, superficiality and falsification Lichtwark needed the assistance of the laity, namely the women/ argued his biographer Anna Zeromski, who had become a member of the Society in 1912.30 Indeed, it is impossible to study the history of the Society without noting the activities and contributions of its female members. Admittedly discovering the backgrounds of some of these women is quite difficult, as few left behind personal records. Still, we can identify certain individuals, including Mary Hertz, daughter of Senator Adolph Ferdinand Hertz and after 1896 the wife of Aby Warburg; Gerta Warburg, wife of Albert Warburg (head of the W.S. Warburg bank in Altona), who in 1905 invited Edvard Munch to come to Altona to paint her eldest daughter, Ellen; Lulu Bohlen (nee Woermann), wife of General-Consul Eduard Bohlen, and one of the most active and generous members of the Society (in 1901 she would donate two paintings by Kalckreuth to the Kunsthalle: Sunday Mood at Landesbrucken and The Elbe at Grasbrook); and Marie Kortmann, a teacher and campaigner for women's rights.31 Considering the illustrious membership of the Society and the combined wealth of its leading members, one might assume that the GHK had a great deal of money. In fact, the Society's finances were meagre. From 1901 to 1905, balances after expenses ranged from 3,348 marks in 1901 to 1,859 marks in 1905, and in the years 1908-12 hovered between roughly 1,500 and 2,500 marks.32 Most of the Society's money came in the form of subscriptions; according to the constitution, each member or couple had to pay 10 marks per year. Thus, for the year 1908 subscriptions brought in 1,170 marks, a rather small sum. Two years earlier, Lulu Bohlen complained in a letter to Lorenz-Meyer: 'We don't have any money in the bank! Our principal wealth consists of unsold annuals, the Life of Mary, etc.'33 The latter was a special book put out by the Society on Diirer's graphics, which added to the already high costs of producing the yearbooks.

Lichtwark and Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art 107 Nonetheless, for certain projects individual members donated money. For example, Lulu Bohlen, a Frau Hardi, and Frau Dr Zacharias (the wife of Eduard Zacharias, Marie Zacharias's eldest son and the director of Hamburg's Botanical Institute) raised 200 marks to pay Arthur Siebelist for a lithograph portrait of Karl Cordes, a respected Lutheran pastor in Hamburg.34 The ever-resourceful Lulu also raised 3,000 marks from Lorenz-Meyer, Erik Pontoppidan (Danish consel in Hamburg), Frau Zacharias, Frau Dr Engel-Reimers, and Marie Woermann for a portrait of Lichtwark by Kalckreuth. Lichtwark refused the offer in 1903 because at that time he felt there was considerable animosity in Hamburg against both himself and Kalckreuth;35 but he agreed in 1911 to sit for the portrait because of the twenty-fifth anniversary of his direction of the Kunsthalle (plate 1).36 In general, however, it seems that the Society did not have a large amount of capital for projects; contributions and fees were most important in keeping it afloat. When Lichtwark founded the Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde he intended to bring his influence to bear directly on its members, and he became a regular fixture in its monthly meetings. At these meetings, in addition to approving candidates for membership and examining members' art, the men and women of the Society listened to Lichtwark's lectures on art and artists while they looked at paintings or illustrations from the Kunsthalle. These meetings gave Lichtwark the opportunity to speak at length about the Kunsthalle's recent acquisitions, and about the significance of Liebermann's portraits and the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub's impressionist landscapes. The intimacy of the Society, plus the fact that the members already shared an interest in art, offered a fertile setting in which to plant tolerance and indeed support for modern painting. Lichtwark gave talks on such subjects as modern portraiture (27 March 1894); Hamburg artists lilies, Eitner, Wohlers, and Siebelist (16 January 1897); the Kunstverein's aversion to contemporary Hamburg art (27 March 1897); the importance of art collecting by Germany's bourgeoisie (26 March 1898); new paintings and drawings by Liebermann (29 January 1903); and the acquisition of Manet's Fame as Hamlet and Renoir's Women on Horseback (8 March

1910 and 5 March 1913).37 Within these talks, Lichtwark continued to fight against anti-modernist sentiment in Hamburg, and to proselytize for the art of the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub and German and French impressionists. Other speakers before the Society also chose to focus on modern artists; Schiefler displayed examples of graphic art by the

108 Art and the German Bourgeoisie highly controversial Nolde (31 December 1906), and gave a talk on van Gogh (27 September 1905), while the art historican Emil Heilbut discussed Claude Monet (26 March 1895). How many members actually attended these meetings is unclear. Records for the Society rarely note the number of members in attendance, although there is one reference to a meeting of 29 October 1902 at which thirty-nine women and seven men came to hear Lichtwark.38 If this was the norm, one would have to assume that the meetings actually brought together only a third or less of the actual membership for each year. On 29 May 1897 so few members showed up that Lichtwark's lecture was postponed.39 Schiefler later hinted that some of the meetings were not well attended; according to him, certain members did not enjoy the experience: 'If many participants approached the meetings without unabashed joy, perhaps this was because they found the weight of an overwhelming personality - to which they could not measure up - a burden.' 40 Yet, from women's memoirs we find ecstatic praise of the GHK sessions and of Lichtwark's participation. Zeromski writes: 'The meetings were truly festive hours, to which Lichtwark summoned those loyal to him. There he showed them his new acquisitions, confidently spread out his plans before their sympathetic eyes and hearts - even those plans which had only just begun to germinate in his mind - passionately expressed ideas which moved him, and poured out thousands of suggestions. He would have gladly invited others to lecture; but one wanted only to hear him.41 We can suspect Zeromski of exaggeration here, since she was an intensely romantic admirer of Lichtwark. But other sources do reinforce the idea that the women enjoyed attending society meetings. Mary Sloman has written warmly of her participation (and her mother's) in the GHK; and Olga Schramm was likewise appreciative of Lichtwark and the Society, although she was mainly interested in the opportunity to paint and draw with other amateurs.42 By 1905, however, Lulu Bohlen was complaining to Lorenz-Meyer that both Lichtwark and Marie Zacharias had too much power in the Society and that their leadership was becoming wearisome. She called for an 'energetic personality' to assume leadership of the GHK, by which she may have meant Lorenz-Meyer.43 There are also hints of conflicts between Schiefler and the executive of the Society in letters between Bohlen and Lorenz-Meyer and between Schiefler and LorenzMeyer.44 The reason seems to have been that Schiefler tried to bypass the executive of the GHK, on occasion changing the agenda for meet-

Lichtwark and Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art 109 ings or attempting to dominate meetings. Even Lichtwark noted splits within the Society, although the context for these problems is not always clear either from letters or from the record-book. He wrote to Lorenz-Meyer on 3 February 1902: 'Don't take it too seriously. Such storms occur in every society. ... A split would be dangerous and difficult to accomplish because of the distribution of assets.'45 Perhaps rifts developed in the Society over the issue of modern art versus academic painting and design; Schiefler recounts overhearing a Senatsprasident (unnamed) telling Otto Brandis in May 1909: 'Professor Erich Marcks is harnassed to Lichtwark's boat; he goes to the meetings of Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art. It has been a long time since I attended this boring expectoration by Lichtwark.'46 Another explanation, suggested by Schiefler, is that Lichtwark made decisions for the Society without acknowledging the authority of the executive - and that this practice caused resentment.47 Considering Lichtwark's overbearing behaviour towards the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub, such an explanation does seem plausible. Whatever the reason, the historical evidence points to the following: first, that the Society increasingly suffered from internal conflicts and a lack of members' interest; second, that the number of devoted participants - those who attended meetings regularly and heard Lichtwark lecture - probably came to no more than about forty, roughly one-half to one-third of each year's members. II Up to now we have made the mistake of considering art suitable only for the holidays. But it must also ennoble the objects of daily use if it is to fulfil its role in the political economy properly; for art is no longer, as it was a hundred years ago, the servant of the prince and the court. Lichtwark, 189748

Despite its small size, the GHK was a receptive forum for Lichtwark's ideas about the transformative influence of art. It was also a gathering place where members could concentrate on painting, drawing, and crafts. Lichtwark constantly promoted dilettantism in the GHK, despite the fact that at this time the amateur artist was a figure of scorn. He readily acknowledged that dilettantism had a poor reputation among Germans, but he urged the members of the Society not to be put off by the public's criticisms. Indeed, he argued that amateur art

110 Art and the German Bourgeoisie

could reach high standards of expression, if the bourgeoisie applied itself seriously to studying art.49 The social prejudice against dilettantism likely arose because most amateur artists were women, and the prevailing view of the day held that great artists were men; in any case we know that most men did not involve themselves in artistic hobbies.50 Nonetheless, Lichtwark urged both sexes to turn their attention to dilettante art. He who takes an interest in bookbinding and orders the works of his library to be bound with style and originality will not only learn to distinguish good from bad in this small domain of his fancy, but will also acquire a clear eye for all decorative arts and, gradually, for so-called high art. Embroidery modelled after natural flowers develops sensitivity for colour not only in nature, but also in art. And whoever works seriously as a painter or sculptor, studying nature, or immerses himself as a collector in some area of production, will see art as though the scales have fallen from his eyes.51 In an essay entitled 'Educating Oneself,' the Kunsthalle director claimed that dilettantism brought the individual closer to art (as had long been the case in music), and indeed to the best examples of art (i.e., contemporary art), in a way preferable to even art collecting.52 Notably, in supporting dilettantism, Lichtwark refused to separate decorative design or craft from the world of grand art: 'Our generation no longer recognizes a separation between art and craft. Bookbinding and embroidery can constitute art just as much as a painting.'53 At the monthly Society meetings, members displayed their paintings, sketchings, and designs. As well, the executive decided to hold yearly exhibitions of members' art.54 Lichtwark argued that these exhibitions would give members the opportunity to strive to produce their best works, since they would face criticism in a public setting.55 He aimed here to foster what he called 'serious' dilettantism, and to win back the respect that he thought amateur artists deserved. Catalogues of the yearly exhibitions show that members worked in bookbinding, painting, graphic art, sculpture, embroidery, quilting, furniture design, pottery, and goldsmithing.56 The exhibitions were usually held in the Kunsthalle, although after 1900 some were arranged in the salon of the Commetersche Kunsthandlung, a private gallery. Attendance was modest but not negligible: for example, in 1895 approximately seven hundred visitors paid 30 pfennigs each to

Lichtwark and Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art 111 attend the first dilettante exhibition in the Kunsthalle.57 Between twenty and forty members participated in each exhibition, and, by far, the largest number of participants were women of the society - including Frau Engel-Reimers, Mary Hertz, Lulu Bohlen, Marie Woermann, Toni O'Swald, and Marie Zacharias. Lichtwark praised the amateur talents of these women, and welcomed their participation in arranging exhibitions, judging members' artwork, and designing the Society's yearbook. There is also evidence that women of the Society occasionally met separately for art instruction, notably from one of the artists of the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub, Arthur Siebelist. On 16 April 1904, nineteen women of the Society met in the Kunsthalle to show Siebelist their designs for a projected book of poems by Gustav Falke.58 The artist was encouraging but instructed the women to continue to work on their designs - stressing that they must study nature carefully to perfect their technique. He also agreed to meet again with the women and review their work. Significantly, women of the Society were being instructed by an artist associated with the 'new tendency' in painting. Lichtwark likely suggested Siebelist because he knew this artist was a good teacher; but we may assume, as well, that Lichtwark wanted the women to be exposed to a modern Hamburg painter experimenting with colour and light, and whose style was impressionist.59 Women of the Society were also directly involved in another of Lichtwark's projects for the GHK: Blumenkultus - the study and appreciation of flowers. Because Lichtwark believed nature could train the eye to discern colour and form, he urged the women of the Society to improve their choice of flowers for home decoration and to complement these flowers with modern vases of simple design. 'Delight in the aesthetic beauty of flowers,' he wrote, 'forms one of the most important starting points for the artistic education of the individual.' 60 Yet he went beyond just extolling the loveliness of flowers; Lichtwark directed the GHK to become involved in the flower business, ordering wildflowers for sale to the city public. Moreover, he and several women of the Society visited potters to commission new designs for vases that would set off the colour and shape of violets, roses, narcissi, or wildflowers. The aim was to stimulate the flower business in Hamburg and to improve the quality of local pottery. But it does not appear that this project was very successful; for example, when the Society attempted to bring wildflowers into the markets of Hamburg, public interest never matched the effort. And while a committee of women

112 Art and the German Bourgeoisie decided on several potters for the Society's flower vases, and did arrange for some commissions based on designs that they themselves had created, few vases were purchased except by GHK members. Despite these failed attempts, the project shows Lichtwark's abiding interest in the aesthetic environment of the home. The amateur art of the GHK also found expression on the pages of the Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde - as illustra-

tions, flourishes, and closing vignettes. These yearbooks offer further evidence for the Society's artistic interests. Each Jahrbuch was handsomely produced and sold in the Commetersche Kunsthandlung of Hamburg; its format was quite large (24 x 30 cm), with modern type set on paper of good quality. The illustrations were reproduced as woodcuts, to allow for clear designs in print. Lichtwark wrote most of the articles, but not always out of choice: in March 1908 he complained bitterly to Lorenz-Meyer that he had never agreed to be stuck with all the writing.61 There were other authors who contributed articles Schiefler, Heinrich Merck, and Marie Zacharias, for example - but Lichtwark chose which articles were printed or not, and thus was the cause of his own misery. With Lichtwark selecting, editing, and composing articles for the yearbooks it is not surprising that so many of these articles defended his direction of the Kunsthalle, and such projects as the Collection of Paintings from Hamburg. As an example, in the Jahrbuch for 1898 we find a dialogue, written by Schiefler, between an artist and an art lover, with the two agreeing that the modern movement in art needs more recognition in Hamburg; another article follows, again by Schiefler, defending the study of nature, light, and colour by the artists of the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub; and there is also a tribute to Bocklin, by Lichtwark, urging greater understanding for contemporary artists and the cultivation of sensitivity for modern art.62 Earlier in 1897, Schiefler's defence of the young Hamburg artists, "The Movement against the New Tendency in Art,' was reprinted from the Correspondent article.63 In the Jahrbuch for 1902, Marie Zacharias wrote a short article about Wagner's visit to Hamburg in 1873, when he had attempted to win financial support for the Bayreuth Festival. Wagner had been successful in the end, but he had faced many critics of his music in the Hanseatic capital. Zacharias ends her article with a comparison between Wagner's dilemma and Lichtwark's trials: 'we are faced once again with an eternal puzzle: why each champion of a great new idea immediately finds himself confronted by an embittered band of oppo-

Lichtwark and Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art 113 nents who do not endeavour to understand the essence of the matter and who will only give up if the new project has succeeded and has become established regardless of their resistance.'64 Other articles by Lichtwark, commenting directly on the bourgeoisie and modern art in Hamburg, included The Creation and Ownership of Art' (1904), which offered his by then repetitive lament for the difficult conditions facing modern artists, and the bourgeoisie's failure to patronize art; The Local and National Foundations of Artistic Education' (1905), defending the Collection of Paintings from Hamburg, noting the hostility it had aroused, and thanking the 'small circle' of friends who had helped to support the collection; and The Problem with a Gallery of Modern Works' (1905), which bemoans the shortage of money, the public's misunderstanding of contemporary art, and the many masters (patrons, state authorities, museum commissions) that each gallery director must face.65 Not all articles in the journals became instalments in Lichtwark's lessons on modern art. Some discussed flowers and flower arranging, gardens, furniture, the decoration and design of exterior windows, book cover design, and the need for a city park. There were also numerous articles on old Hamburg architecture, complete with drawings by GHK members of historic buildings. Lichtwark applauded these articles for directing attention to historic Hamburg and its cultural past, and he argued that old houses of the Burgertum expressed 'the disposition and morality of our race from a time of natural and unbroken development.'66 With the Society's Liebhaberbibliothek, Lichtwark also planned to spread interest in Hamburg's past and to help develop a stronger sense of city pride: 'With its contents, it should strengthen the force of the joyous, self-sacrificing and judicious local patriotism, which in Hamburg, as elsewhere in Germany, must form the essential basis of the Reich identity without standing in opposition to it.'67 The Liebhaberbibliothek was a library of new works on local history and culture, begun in 1895 and produced exclusively for members of the Society. Between four and six volumes were released each year, with careful attention given to printing and binding; the books were printed by the Hamburg Senate's printing office, with handmade paper from Holland to enhance the quality of the page. In addition, some members of the Society were invited to design the binding for the Liebhaberbibliothek. Lichtwark encouraged study of the latest book designs from England and Denmark, praising the use of light-coloured leather for cover and

114 Art and the German Bourgeoisie spine, with title and author's name in contrasting colours or in gold.68 Occasionally, the pages were also ornamented with lithograph or woodcut illustrations by members: books of poetry produced for the Liebhaberbibliothek often featured such designs.69 Lichtwark, then, also intended the Liebhaberbibliothek to advance book design, illustration, and typography, and hence honour the book as art form. Subjects for these books included family histories - such as Emma Dina Hertz's memoir of her great-grandparents, The Great-Grandparents Beets (with illustrations by Mary Warburg), and Paul Hertz's Our Parents' House. In addition, literature by Hamburg authors, historical monographs, and works on culture were published, including Lichtwark's two-volume collection, Studies.70 III In creating the Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde, Lichtwark established an important ally among Hamburg's bourgeoisie. Most members were not as devoted to art as Lichtwark would have liked (he complained to Schiefler that members were not regular visitors to the Kunsthalle),71 and it is by no means clear that a majority favoured the art of the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub or Max Liebermann. In fact the Society may have been more popular as a place to meet friends and to pursue a hobby in arts and crafts. Still, members came into constant contact with Lichtwark and his views: they heard his lectures on contemporary art, looked at paintings of his selection, read articles in defence of his cultural politics, and were privy to his plans and purchases for the Kunsthalle. For this group of the Hamburg bourgeoisie, Lichtwark made modern art more accessible and indeed familiar. Two further examples provide evidence of the attention given to modern art in the Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde. First, there was the project of the Glitza-Blatter, beginning in 1897. Adolf Glitza, an avid collector of graphic art from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, had been the Hauptpastor of St Katherine's Church and an original member of the GHK. He died suddenly in 1896; a posthumous exhibition of his collection, arranged by the Society, was very successful - and Glitza's heirs agreed to allow the proceeds of the exhibition to remain with the GHK.72 Subsequently, the GHK executive decided to use the money to produce new prints by the artists of the fledgling Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub, thus hoping to encourage more members of the Society to collect contemporary graphic art. The

Lichtwark and Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art 115 artists - lilies, Eitner, Wohlers, and von Ehren - designed plates and sold these to the Society; next the Society arranged for inexpensive copies of prints to be reproduced from the plates.73 When we consider that the Glitza-Blatter, as these works were known collectively, began to appear only a year after the scandalous Neue Richtung debate, the Society's decision to promote new works by the young Hamburg artists does seem a bold strike against Lichtwark's critics in Hamburg. A second event of note in the history of the GHK was its international exhibition of graphic art, held in the Kunsthalle in December 1903 and January 1904. The show was arranged by Schiefler, a collector of European prints; he intended the exhibition to be a tribute to Lichtwark, but he also wanted to display before the Hamburg public the latest examples of graphic art.74 As he noted in the exhibition catalogue: 'It will demonstrate in broad outline what has been produced by leading artists since the reawakening of the graphic arts - thus in Germany since the end of the 70s - and notably will provide an overview of contemporary work.75 Featured artists included the members of the Hamburgische Kiinstlerclub and secession artists Corinth, Kalckreuth, Kollwitz, Leistikow, and Liebermann. In the European graphics section the visitor could see prints by Ensor, Beardsley, Whistler, Lautrec, Redon, and Munch. Schiefler had befriended Munch in late 1902, becoming one of his most significant patrons and friends, and hence he was able to convince the artist to exhibit several of his prints - including The Scream and Melancholy - in the GHK show.76 In total, forty-five prints by Munch were shown and offered for sale at a cost of 16 to 44 marks each.77 The graphics exhibition of 1903-4 displayed the works of 156 artists from across Europe: in fact, the German artists were outnumbered by artists from Belgium, England, France, Holland, and Scandinavia. And the exhibition was a success: 1,750 catalogues were distributed, while over 800 prints were purchased (for a total sum of 18,500 marks).78 Schiefler's initiative in 1903 was just one example of the commitment to modern art among a small but important group within the Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde. Henry Newman, Gerta Warburg, and Lulu Bohlen, among others, commissioned portraits by Liebermann, Munch, and Kalckreuth, patronized the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub, and donated money to the Kunsthalle. In 1911, during the celebrations for Lichtwark's twenty-fifth anniversary as Kunsthalle director, twenty-nine members gave sums in excess of 1,000 marks each to the Lichtwark-Stiftung - to endow a stipend of 65,000 marks

116 Art and the German Bourgeoisie

for purchases for the Kunsthalle.79 With this money, Lichtwark was able to commission (among other paintings) three works apiece in 1913 by Eduard Vuillard and Pierre Bonnard, a study of Erich Marcks by Kalckreuth, and portraits of Burgomaster Heinrich Burchard, Gerhart Hauptmann, and Peter Behrens by Liebermann - all for the Collection of Paintings from Hamburg. Thus the Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde, despite its small numbers, helped Lichtwark to continue adding to the Kunsthalle's modern collection. Furthermore, he was able to influence a select number of men and women to value and study modern art. Schiefler is an instructive example here. His contact with Lichtwark, mainly through the GHK, was formative, inspiring him to collect graphic art by artists of the Kiinstlerclub and by Liebermann. When Lichtwark died, Schiefler recalled how important their association had been: I have encountered few men in my life who have exerted such lasting influence on me. True, in the last few years I no longer met with him so often, but during the time that I held the post of secretary in this society I found my way to his office on a weekly basis, spending an hour or longer, and these hours belonged to some of the most significant of my life. At first his ideas stormed over me like a waterfall, taking away my breath, and it was a long time before I left behind my role as listener and began contributing to the topic of conversation independently.80 In the GHK, Lichtwark fostered the cultivated bourgeoisie, and in return won some much-needed support. This was an important victory for Hamburg's Kunsthalle and for the ambitious cultural program of its director.

Conclusion

In March 1912 Lichtwark travelled to Bremen to give moral support to his friend Gustav Pauli, who was in the midst of a bitter cultural dispute. A year and a half earlier Pauli had purchased van Gogh's PoppyField for the Bremen Kunsthalle, at a cost of 30,000 marks. This resulted in public attacks both on the work and on Pauli himself; by early 1912 a committee of enraged citizens in the Bremen Kunstverein had formed an opposition group to oust him from the Kunsthalle. Furthermore, a former Worpswede artist, Carl Vinnen, had used this incident to launch a general assault on modern European painting, claiming it poisoned native German art and found exclusive favour with German museum directors and art dealers. Vinnen's manifesto, along with letters of support, was published under the title A Protest of German Artists, and became a rallying cry for all opponents of modernism.1 While the scandal escalated, Lichtwark looked on with sympathy and anger: Pauli's twelve years of service seemed to mean little to the people of Bremen, he concluded.2 Exactly a year before, Lichtwark had complained to Pauli that he was still troubled by critics of the Collection of Paintings from Hamburg: 'I don't have to deal with just one Kaiser; here an entire herd of kaisers rule, and they all see only the red flag of modernism hanging from my pocket.'3 The conflict over modern art in Germany had not ceased: in response Lichtwark wrote a sharp rebuke to Vinnen's pamphlet, reprinted in the Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde for 1911,4 and he stood by Pauli during a stormy meeting in the Bremen Kunsthalle on 30 March 1912. With relief, Lichtwark watched Pauli silence his critics. A few months later Vinnen's campaign collapsed, effectively countered by secession artists and their supporters.

118 Conclusion Despite the obstacles faced by Pauli, Lichtwark, and Tschudi - three of the most progressive gallery directors in Wilhelmine Germany - all were successful in assembling excellent collections of modern art for their institutions. Moreover, in Hamburg, Lichtwark had many advantages. Unlike Tschudi, Lichtwark was never forced to resign from his position because of intractable opposition to his gallery acquisitions, and after the turn of the century more and more of Hamburg's citizens acknowledged him as one of the most significant cultural figures the city had ever known. He had built a unique collection of modern portraits and plein-air landscapes; he had lectured exhaustively on cultural education, art collection, and the technique and subject matter of finde-siecle painting; he had won praise for writing many books and articles on German culture; he had drawn attention to Hamburg's culture, past and present; and he had gathered support from Kunsthalle patrons in the Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde. By stimulating greater interest in the arts, Lichtwark found private investors for the Kunsthalle: as we have seen, most of the modern paintings he purchased for the gallery were paid for by private citizens who came to share his interest in contemporary art. One can argue, then, that Hamburg was a positive setting for Lichtwark's endeavours. Indeed, Liebermann thought Hamburg was just the right size for Lichtwark's ambitions, as he stated in a letter of 10 December 1902: 'Goethe once said that it would be most favourable for the individual if particular states were not bigger than the duchy of Saxony-Weimar. In view of your work, it seems that the size of the state of Hamburg is most advantageous. Hamburg is big enough to allow the realization of your ideas and not too big (like, for example, Berlin) so that these become diverted by other interests.'5 Moreover, as only a handful of arts administrators worked in Hamburg before 1914, Lichtwark could pursue his plans for the Kunsthalle and not worry about attacks from powerful colleagues opposed to modernism. He launched many projects for purchasing modern art for the Kunsthalle and spoke out confidently in defence of his acquisitions. The bourgeois audience listened, and a considerable number of citizens, interested in the contemporary arts and literature, applauded Lichtwark's initiative. Lichtwark's support came from women of the grande bourgeoisie wives or daughters of some of the leading merchants, bankers, and lawyers in Hamburg (Toni O'Swald, Olga Schramm, Gerta Warburg, and Marie Woermann, for example) - and from well-educated men like Gustav Schiefler and Justus Brinckmann.6 He was also successful in

Conclusion 119

persuading several prominent bankers and lawyers to donate money to the Kunsthalle, join the GHK, or collect modern paintings, and one thinks here of Eduard and Theodor Behrens, Ludwig Erdwin Amsinck, and Henry Simms. But much of Lichtwark's success occurred because of his indefatigable efforts to promote art in the city, not because the Hamburg Burgertum were uniquely progressive in their aesthetic tastes. After all, this was a city of tremendous wealth in banking and trade, where millionaires dominated the Senate,7 and along with multimillionaires resided in the villa quarter of the city's most prestigious region, Harvesthude.8 Despite the city's wealth, Lichtwark did not have the number of generous patrons available to Tschudi - men like James Simon, Eduard Arnhold, Julius Stern, and Robert von Mendelssohn, for example - and he was envious of this, referring to Tschudi's benefactors as 'almost exclusively Israelites.'9 These men, most of whom were indeed Jewish, had made it possible for Tschudi to purchase secession works for the National Gallery, as well as four Manets, four Renoirs, three Cezannes, one work apiece by Sisley, Pissaro, and Signac, and seven van Goghs - all before Tschudi left Berlin in 1908.10 When one considers the prices for 'prime' French paintings after the turn of the century - 60,000 marks for a Monet, 100,000 marks for a Renoir, and 50,000 marks for a Cezanne11 - Tschudi's accomplishment seems all the more remarkable.12 For Lichtwark, the most difficult years were the 1890s, coinciding with the vigorous debate in Berlin between secessionists and antimodernists, and the rejection elsewhere in Germany of French art (described as shallow, superficial, and frivolous) and of German naturalism - linked by critics with plein-airisme and associated with socialism and the militant working class.13 Lichtwark did not have many supporters at this time; instead he faced hostile critics in the Senate (among Burgomaster Petersen's defenders), in the Kunstverein, and in the public. He was openly derided, according to his contemporary Carl Monckeberg, as a useless museum director who knew little about art!14 That there were critics of the new art in Hamburg, and that Lichtwark, Liebermann, and the young artists of the Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub considered their opponents in the bourgeoisie boorish and uncultured, is not surprising. All over Europe the avant-garde ridiculed the bourgeoisie as materialistic and lacking taste, despite the fact that many bourgeois men and women supported the new art.15 What is important, however, is why some sections of the bourgeoisie rejected

120 Conclusion changes in art.16 In the Petersen portrait affair, Petersen and other senators attacked Liebermann's work as an unsentimental portrayal of a leading political figure. The artist used the hated plein-air technique of painting, tied to French influences and to naturalism. This style utilized impressionistic brushwork, lighter colour, and lack of detail thought to be an ugly, experimental approach to portraiture, and one that slandered the man who was the subject. Petersen wanted a formal portrait to memorialize his service to the city, capture his dignity, and make him look regal in his senatorial costume, and he could not see such a pictorial tribute in Liebermann's work. I have also argued that one cannot separate the anti-modernism of Petersen and his supporters from the conservative political outlook of the patrician class to which they belonged: these men felt more comfortable with the political, social, and cultural traditions of Hamburg's past, despite the fact that the city was rapidly changing socially and economically after 1871. Until the turn of the century, the Petersen affair was a disaster for Lichtwark, making it much more difficult for him to entice private donations for the Kunsthalle - a setback he complained about bitterly. He was also discouraged by the failure to inaugurate a new tradition of modern portraiture in Hamburg, although after 1900 his efforts would meet with success in an array of unique portraits by Liebermann, Corinth, Slevogt, Uhde, Bonnard, and Vuillard. The debate over the 'new tendency' in art, beginning with the controversy over Eitner's poster for the Kunstverein grand exhibition of 1896, shows more clearly the popular rejection of modernism in Hamburg at this time. Lichtwark's critics, led by Wichmann, had a great deal of support, as the Hamburg newspapers and other memoirs attest. They rejected the new art as pagan, degenerate, akin to French poster art, and thus un-German; furthermore, to give their cause more authority they quoted Anton von Werner's attacks on the Berlin Secession, allying the situation in Hamburg with the troubles in Berlin. The scandal set bourgeois against bourgeois: Wichmann and other merchants against Lichtwark, Schiefler, Brinckmann, and their supporters. Each side battled to defend its concept of German culture, resolute in opposition to the other. In the end, the conflict cost Lichtwark the support of Hamburg's Kunstverein, an organization that earlier in the century had been important in the promotion of contemporary art among the middle classes. Although Lichtwark exaggerated the villainy of his opponents, it is possible to understand his bitterness about the troubles he encoun-

Conclusion 121 tered in Hamburg, particularly during the 1890s. He embarked on an ambitious program, hoping to make Hamburg a model of cultural progress. But modernism never became popular with Hamburg's middle class, on the whole, and this troubled Lichtwark. He had hoped for a new tradition of modern German art under the leadership of Liebermann, Corinth, and Slevogt, welcomed, understood, and supported by the public. Such a change did not occur, certainly not in Hamburg. What frustrated Lichtwark was the slow acceptance by Germans of some of their best artists: not just Max Liebermann, but earlier pathbreakers like Philipp Otto Runge and Caspar David Friedrich. For the historian, this resistance to cultural change highlights the constant battle over 'what is German?' - a question that became more insistent at the close of the nineteenth century because of the political and social strains produced by rapid industrialization and urbanization, and the insecure nationalism of a rising nation-state. At the heart of the cultural debate was the issue of how to define German art, a problem evident throughout the century. In the early 1800s, Friedrich Schlegel had instructed artists to 'follow the old masters ... imitating what is truly just and naive in their works.' But Philipp Otto Runge had asked: 'For what purpose ... would one use the old myths today? What is the use of anything that has already been said? When something has been said, it has been completed; what is said a second time is only of value for the library or the granary, and will never germinate in either kind of soil.'17 To the modernists of the late nineteenth century, Runge's message would have appeared self-evident: the desire to experiment with new techniques and subjects, rather than to submit to the directives of the academy - and hence to the demands to study and copy the old masters - inspired countless numbers of new artists. But to the critics of modernism, the 'new tendency' in German painting was a step backward for German culture. They accused the secessionists of making art that lacked any evidence of German ideals, followed slavishly from foreign examples, and exposed a materialistic Jewish spirit: an art dependent on the art market. They called for a pure 'German' art, based on past traditions of painting, offering suitable subjects (landscapes, historical scenes), and extolling important virtues (loyalty, self-sacrifice, bravery, piety). Only this type of art, according to antimodernists, could express Germany's national character and cultural superiority in the Imperial years; a noble and dignified art was to glorify the nation and honour the Reich's political system. According to this argument, Germany's culture should carry on from the traditions

122 Conclusion of the past and should uphold the state - a demand that would reduce art to propaganda by the time of the Third Reich. Lichtwark rejected this conception of German culture, arguing that the finest art of any era must be original in technique and in terms of the artist's creative vision, and could not be an imitation of what had come before. A severe critic of 'second-rate' academy art, Lichtwark acclaimed the 'revolution' of French and German impressionism - the artists' experimentation with outdoor light, colour and brushwork, and the imaginative power in their representation of nature. He described the best works of Liebermann, Corinth, Slevogt, Kalckreuth, Uhde, and Trubner as monumental paintings in the history of modern German art. However, like the critics who defended traditional painting, Lichtwark did wish to tie German art to a political and social purpose. He argued that a new tradition of modern German art could elevate Germany's culture in the world, adding to the nation's military and economic achievements and its ascent to world-power status. He believed as well that the collective identity of the German people would be strengthened if all could share in a national Bildung based on contemporary culture. Accordingly, he urged understanding for modern German art, through arts education and popular interest in the modern collections of public galleries. The result, he thought, would be social integration, as Germans of all classes learned to associate themselves with a new cultural heritage. Lichtwark's premise was that culture is one of the most important qualities of any nation and its people, and like his critics he believed that German culture was in crisis - but he looked to modern art as the solution for this crisis. He attacked the bourgeoisie for neglecting the arts in favour of material pleasures, and yet he also looked to the bourgeoisie - as collector, patron, and educator - to rescue German art and return it to its place of honour in the nation. Lichtwark thus devoted his career to teaching the German public to appreciate and love the new artists of his generation, and in this way he was one of Imperial Germany's foremost cultural politicians.18 He was also one of the most commanding cultural figures in Germany before the First World War, whose success in Hamburg did not come easily - and yet could not have occurred without his supporters in the city's bourgeoisie.

Notes

Abbreviations HbgSTABI HKH KVH StAH

Staats- Und Universitatsbibliothek, Hamburg Hamburger Kunsthalle, Lichtwark-Archiv Kunstverein, Hamburg Staatsarchiv Hamburg Introduction

1 HKH, archive 171, Briefwechsel mit Max Liebermann, 1902-5: letter from Liebermann to Alfred Lichtwark, 10 Dec. 1902. Unless otherwise noted, all translations from the German are mine. 2 On Osthaus see the article by Sebastian Muller, 'Official Support and Bourgeois Opposition in Wilhelmine Culture,' in Irit Rogoff, ed., The Divided Heritage: Themes and Problems in German Modernism (Cambridge, 1991), 16390. 3 Peter Paret, The Berlin Secession: Modernism and Its Enemies in Imperial Germany (Cambridge, Mass., 1980), 109-10. 4 Peter Gay, Freud, Jews and Other Germans: Masters and Victims in Modernist Culture (New York, 1978), 100. 5 Paret, The Berlin Secession, 27. 6 See the article by Peter Paret, The Tschudi Affair,' Journal of Modern History 53 (Dec. 1981): 589-618, and Barbara Paul, Hugo von Tschudi und die moderne franzosische Kunst im Deutschen Kaiserreich (Mainz, 1993), 253-76. 7 Paret, The Tschudi Affair,' 599-600. 8 Along with the monographs by Gay and Paret, cited above, see Peter Jelavich, Munich and Theatrical Modernism: Politics, Playwriting, and Performance, 1890-1914 (Cambridge, Mass., 1985); Robin Lenman, 'Politics and Culture:

124 Notes to pages 5-10 The State and the Avant-Garde in Munich, 1886-1914/ in Richard Evans, ed., Society and Politics in Wilhelmine Germany (London, 1978), 90-111; and Maria Makela, The Munich Secession: Art and Artists in Turn-of-the-Century Munich (Princeton, 1990). Other books that address modernism in Imperial Germany include Peter Paret, German Encounters with Modernism, 18401945 (Cambridge, 2001); Thomas Nipperdey, Wie das Burgertum die Moderne fand (Berlin, 1988); Wolfgang J. Mommsen, Biirgerliche Kultur und Kunstlerische Avantgarde: Kultur und Politik im deutschen Kaiserreich 1870 bis 1918 (Frankfurt-am-Main, 1994); the series Kunst, Kultur und Politik im Deutschen Kaiserreich, edited by Stephan Waetzoldt (Berlin, 1981-9); Matthew Jeffries, Politics and Culture in Wilhelmine Germany: The Case of Industrial Architecture (Oxford, 1995); Franchise Forster-Hahn, ed., Imagining Modern German Culture, 1889-1910 (Hanover, NH, 1996); and Robert Jensen, Marketing Modernism in Fin-de-Siecle Europe (Princeton, 1994). An outstanding and comprehensive text on art in modern Germany, by a historian, is Robin Lenman's Artists and Society in Germany, 1850-1914 (Manchester, 1997). See also his Die Kunst, die Macht und das Geld: Zur Kulturgeschichte des kaiserlichen Deutschland 1871-1918 (Frankfurt-am-Main, 1994). 9 Gay, Freud, Jews and Other Germans, 21. 10 For histories of Hamburg, see Werner Jochmann and Hans-Dieter Loose, eds., Hamburg. Geschichte der Stadt und ihrer Bewohner, 2 vols. (Hamburg, 1982 and 1986); Richard J. Evans, Death in Hamburg: Society and Politics in the Cholera Years 1830-1910 (London, 1987); Eckart Klessmann, Geschichte der Stadt Hamburg (Hamburg, 1981); Philippe Dollinger, The German Hansa, trans. D.S. Ault and S.H. Steinberg (Stanford, 1970); Jorg Berlin, ed., Das andere Hamburg: Freiheitliche Bestrebungen in der Hansestadt seit dem Spatmittelalter (Cologne, 1981); Inge Stephan and Hans-Gerd Winter, eds., 'Heil iiber dir, Hammonia': Hamburg im 19. Jahrhundert: Kultur, Geschichte, Politik (Hamburg, 1992). 1. Alfred Lichtwark and Modern German Art 1 Alfred Lichtwark, Justus Brinckmann (1902; rpt. Hamburg, 1978), 65. 2 Alfred Lichtwark, Wege und Ziele des Dilettantismus (Munich, 1894), 37. 3 Of Lichtwark's character, Peter Gay has noted that 'there was something of the outsider about him - artistic, social, perhaps sexual - that gave him a useful distance from the taste reigning in his country and his city.' I find this an intriguing evaluation. See Peter Gay, Pleasure Wars, vol. 5 of The Bourgeois Experience: Victoria to Freud (New York, 1998), 186. 4 See Erich Marcks, Alfred Lichtwark und sein Lebenswerk (Leipzig, 1914).

Notes to pages 10-15

125

5 Lichtwark, Justus Brinckmann. 6 HKH, archive 171: letter of 11 June 1902 from Liebermann to Lichtwark. 7 For Lichtwark's discussion of the Pioniernatur see Lichtwark, Justus Brinckmann, 7-11. 8 Material relating to Lichtwark's family background can be found in HKH, archive 120. 9 Anna von Zeromski, Alfred Lichtwark: Ein Fiihrer zur deutschen Zukunft (Jena, 1924). Zeromski met Lichtwark when she was a young student in Hamburg, and maintained contact with him after she joined the Gesellschaft Hamburgische Kunstfreunde in 1912. The biography is a romantic tribute to the man, often too subjective, but it is still quite helpful. She based most of her information on interviews with Marianne Lichtwark, and she corresponded with Lichtwark's friends and admirers, gathering an impressive amount of information. However, Marianne Lichtwark permitted Zeromski to see only selected letters to and from Lichtwark, and thus there are gaps in Zeromski's information. 10 Ibid., 7. 11 Karl Scheffler, 'Alfred Lichtwark,' in the introduction to Lichtwark, Alfred Lichtwark: Eine Auswahl seiner Schriften, ed. Wolf Mannhardt (Berlin, 1917), 1: xv. 12 HKH, archive 120: Wilhelm Leonhard, 'Schwere Schicksalsschlage fiihrten Lichtwarks Vater in die Trunksucht,' Bergerdorfer Zeitung, 20 April 1963. 13 Zeromski, Alfred Lichtwark, 10-11. 14 HKH, archive 120: Henny Wiepking, 'Alfred Lichtwarks Friihzeit,' parts 1 and 2, Bergerdorfer Lichtwarkkalender, 1959 and 1961. 15 Zeromski, Alfred Lichtwark, 25. 16 Mentioned in a letter of September 1880, in Alfred Lichtwark, Briefe an seine Familie, ed. Carl Schellenberg (Hamburg, 1972), 82. 17 These letters are reprinted in ibid. 18 Lichtwark noted this in a letter to his mother, dated January 1882, ibid., 231-2. 19 Letter of April 1882, ibid., 306. 20 Lichtwark, Justus Brinckmann, 38. 21 StAH, 'Antrag, betreffend den Beamten-Etat der Kunsthalle,' no. 64,18 June 1886, in Verhandlungen zwischen Senat und Burgerschaft, 1886 (Hamburg, 1887), 202-6. 22 StAH, Entwurfzum Hamburgischen Staats-Budget: see the breakdown of the Kunsthalle budget for the years 1886-1914. 23 StAH, 'Antrag, betreffend den Beamten-Etat der Kunsthalle,' 205. 24 Quoted in Zeromski, Alfred Lichtwark, 55.

126 Notes to pages 15-20 25 Letter of 15 July 1892, in Alfred Lichtwark, Briefe an die Commission, vol. 1 (Hamburg, 1896), 208-9. 26 Letter of 24 July 1880, in Lichtwark, Briefe an seine Familie, 72-3. 27 Letter headed 'Berlin, Weihnachten 1880,' ibid., 101-3. 28 See the section 'Stifter und Mazene,' in the exhibition catalogue Aus der Geschichte der Hamburger Kunsthalle (Hamburg, 1969), 16-20. 29 Alfred Lichtwark, 'Die Aufgaben der Kunsthalle 1886,' reprinted in Drei Programme (Berlin, 1902), 11-32. 30 Ibid., 19. 31 Ibid., 26 and 29. 32 This point - Lichtwark as one of the first creators of the modern public art gallery - is the theme of Margrit Dibbern's Die Hamburger Kunsthalle unter Alfred Lichtwark (1886-1914): Entwicklung der Sammlungen und Neubau (Hamburg, 1980). 33 I discuss the rejection of these paintings in chapter 3. 34 Alfred Lichtwark, Briefe an die Commission fiir die Verwaltung der Kunsthalle, 20 vols. (Hamburg, 1896-1910). The original letters can be found in HKH, archive 106 a-c. In 1924 Gustav Pauli edited a two-volume collection of Lichtwark's letters for public consumption. See Alfred Lichtwark, Briefe an die Kommission fiir die Verwaltung der Kunsthalle, ed. Gustav Pauli, 2 vols. (Hamburg, 1924): hereafter cited as Pauli, Briefe. 35 StAH, Entwurfzum Hamburgischen Staatsbudget, 1886-1914. 36 Lenman, Artists and Society in Germany 1850-1914, 55. 37 Dibbern, Die Hamburger Kunsthalle, 42-3. 38 Wilhelm Waetzoldt, 'Trilogie der Museumsleidenschaft (Bode-TschudiLichtwark),' Zeitschrift fur Kunstgeschichte, 1 (1932), 5. 39 Letter of 30 Dec. 1899 from Rilke to Lichtwark, reprinted in 'Ein Briefwechselzwischen Rainer Maria Rilke und Alfred Lichtwark,' fahrbuch der Hamburger Kunstsammlung, vol. 5 (Hamburg, 1960), 70. 40 For a definition of Germany's nineteenth-century Burgertum, including the Bildungsbiirgertum, see Jiirgen Kocka's 'Burgertum und Biirgerlichkeit als Probleme der deutschen Geschichte vom spaten 18. zum friihen 20. Jahrhundert,' in Kocka, ed., Burger und Biirgerlichkeit im 19. Jahrhundert (Gottingen, 1987), 21-63. 41 Lichtwark, Der Deutsche der Zukunft (Berlin, 1905). 42 Percy Ernst Schramm, Neun Generationen: Dreihundert Jahre deutscher Kulturgeschichte im Lichte der Schicksale einer Hamburger Biirgerfamilie. 16481948, 2 vols (Gottingen, 1963), 2: 441. 43 Waetzoldt, 'Trilogie der Museumsleidenschaft,' 8. 44 Scheffler, 'Alfred Lichtwark,' ix.

Notes to pages 20-3

127

45 See the letter of 5 Feb. 1901, in Alfred Lichtwark, Briefe an Leopold Graf von Kalckreuth, ed. Carl Schellenberg (Hamburg, 1957), 85. 46 Pauli, Briefe, 64. 47 Gustav Schiefler, Eine Hamburgische Kulturgeschichte 1890-1920, ed. Gerhard Ahrens, Hans Wilhelm Eckardt, and Renate Hauschild-Thiessen (Hamburg, 1985) 66. 48 Letter of 5 Nov. 1906, in Lichtwark, Briefe an Kalckreuth, 187-8. 49 Letters from Lichtwark to Dore, which extol her talents as an actress, are reprinted in 'Briefe Alfred Lichtwarks an Adele Dove,' Hamburgisches Jahrbuchfiir Theater und Musik (1941), 188-206. See also Lichtwark's letters to Mannhardt, in the Briefe an WolfMannhardt, ed. Carl Schellenberg (Hamburg, 1952). 50 The most thorough account of Kalckreuth's life has been provided by his son, Johannes Kalckreuth, in Wesen und Werk nteines Vaters: Lebensbild des Malers Graf Leopold von Kalckreuth (Hamburg, 1967). 51 Lichtwark, Briefe an seine Familie, 65-8. 52 Letter of 1 May 1910, in Lichtwark, Briefe an Max Liebermann, ed. Carl Schellenberg (Hamburg, 1947), 246-7. 53 Quoted in Zeromski, Alfred Lichtwark, 156. 54 Pauli, Briefe, 23. 55 See Lichtwark's letter of 24 Nov. 1906, in the Briefe an Kalckreuth, 190-2. 56 Letter of 1 March 1910, ibid., 241. 57 Zeromski, Alfred Lichtwark, 122. 58 Max Liebermann gave this title to Lichtwark: see the article 'Max Liebermanns Nachruf fur Alfred Lichtwark,' in the Hamburger Nachrichten, 30 Jan. 1914. 59 See Marcks, Alfred Lichtwark und sein Lebenswerk. 60 Lichtwark, Briefe an die Commission, vol. 3 (Hamburg, 1896), 12. 61 Lichtwark wrote an article for the official catalogue of the German exhibition at the World's Fair, in which he argued that nineteenth-century German art failed to establish a sufficient connection 'to the life of the predominant class of the population, the bourgeoisie.' The German exhibition featured innovative examples of technology and applied arts, but the paintings shown were rather unremarkable. Conventional works predominated, especially portraits by Franz von Lenbach (who was the artist in charge of the installation). The French, in contrast, offered a room of Manet's art, thereby celebrating the modern. See the article by Francoise Forster-Hahn, 'Constructing New Histories: Nationalism and Modernity in the Display of Art,' in Forster-Hahn, ed., Imagining Modern German Culture, 71-86.

128 Notes to pages 23-5 62 Letter written from Paris, 17 Oct. 1900, in Lichtwark, Briefe an die Commission, vol. 8 (Hamburg, 1901), 219. 63 Lichtwark, Der Deutsche der Zukunft, 9. 64 Ibid., 24-5. 65 The quote about the barbarians in the east, at the start of this chapter, gives a good indication of Lichtwark's fear of Russia. Also, in July 1892 he heard about a 'Patriotic Conference' in Paris, arranged by the Catholic church for victims of a Russian famine. He wrote to the Commission: 'The Vatican and Russia as friends of France, of the Republic; that is a terrible fin de siecle.' See the letter from Brussels, 14 July 1892, Briefe an die Commission, 1:194-5. 66 This point is emphasized in only a few analyses of Lichtwark. The most convincing argument, to my mind, is offered by Erich Marcks in his Alfred Lichtwark und sein Lebenswerk. But some interesting comments about Lichtwark's nationalism are also presented by the historian Klaus von See, in his Die Ideen von 1789 und die Ideen von 1914: Volkisches Denken in Deutschland zwischen Franzosischer Revolution und Erstem Weltkrieg (Frankfurt am Main, 1975), 103-7. See also Birgit-Katharine Seemann, Stadt, Burgertum und Kultur: Kulturelle Entwicklung und Kulturpolitik in Hamburg von 1839 bis 1933 am Beispiel des Museumswesens (Husum, 1998), 139. She describes Lichtwark as a 'convinced nationalist.' Hans Praffcke, in Der Kunstbegrijf Alfred Lichtwarks (Hildesheim, 1986), 167-83 and Edgar Beckers, in Das Beispiel Alfred Lichtwark: Eine Studie zum Selbstverstandnis der Reformpadagogik (diss. Universitat Koln 1976), 108-9, place less emphasis upon Lichtwark's nationalism, seeing this as subservient to his dedication to German culture. 67 The connection between nationalism and modern culture is also explored in Gerhard Kratzsch's study of Ferdinand Avenarius, editor of the popular art journal Der Kunstwart. See Kunstwart und Durerbund: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Gebildeten im Zeitalter des lmperialismus (Gottingen, 1969). 68 Arno Mayer uses this false polarity between avant-garde and traditional art in his The Persistence of the Old Regime: Europe to the Great War (New York, 1981). An excellent example of current research on the connections between modernism and fascism is Matthew Affron and Mark Antliff, eds., Fascist Visions: Art and Ideology in France and Italy (Princeton, 1997). See also Francoise Forster-Hahn's discussion of modernism and nationalism in Wilhelmine Germany, in Imagining Modern German Culture, 10. 69 For Lichtwark's membership in the Wehrverein, see the Hamburgischer Correspondent, 18 March 1912. My thanks to Marilyn Shevin-Coetzee for providing this reference. 70 Letter of 7 April 1912, in Lichtwark, Briefe an Max Liebermann, 297-8. 71 Lichtwark, Der Deutsche der Zukunft, 8.

Notes to pages 25-9

129

72 At the congress for this association, in April 1900, Lichtwark discussed Holbein's Dance of Death. During the lecture, workers received reproductions of the art, so that they could look on carefully while Lichtwark offered his analysis. However, he found the congress as a whole rather disappointing, with endless speeches and indifferent audiences. See the letters of 21 Nov. 1899 and 24 April 1900 in the volumes 7 and 8 of the Briefe an die Commission (Hamburg, 1901), 152 and 42-5 respectively. Lichtwark notes the hostility of the SPD to the Verein fur Arbeiterwohlfahrt in the letter of 21 Nov. 1899. 73 Zeromski, Alfred Lichtwark, 284-5. 74 Ibid., 59. There is a fragment of an undated letter from Langbehn to Lichtwark in HKH, archive 76. 75 Langbehn's Rembrandt als Erzieher was first published in 1890. See the discussion of Langbehn in Fritz Stern, The Politics of Cultural Despair (Berkeley, 1961), 95-180, and in Johannes Stiickelberger's Rembrandt und die Moderne: der Dialog mit Rembrandt in der deutschen Kunst um 1900 (Munich, 1996). 76 Stern notes the influence of Langbehn on Lichtwark's Der Deutsche der Zukunft. See The Politics of Cultural Despair, 174. 77 In 1910 Lichtwark described Langbehn as a typical Schleswig-Holstein fanatic, like Liebermann's foe, Emil Nolde: 'Revolting. But truly holsteinisch: typical for certain Holstein tempers full of hate and fanaticism.' Letter of 17 Dec. 1910, in Lichtwark, Briefe an Max Liebermann, 262. 78 I take the following description from Lichtwark's Wege und Ziele des Dilettantismus, 17-18. 79 Ibid., 18. 80 The description above is from ibid., 18-20. 81 Alfred Lichtwark, Das Bildnis in Hamburg (Hamburg, 1898), 1:52. 82 Much of the following discussion comes from vol. 2 of Lichtwark's Das Bildnis in Hamburg, 56-64. 83 Ibid., 70. 84 Lichtwark, Der Deutsche der Zukunft, 16. 85 Jensen, Marketing Modernism in Fin-de-Siecle Europe, 171. 86 The concept of Bildung is difficult to translate into English. It does not simply mean education or knowledge, but also the character development of the individual through exposure to ideas and to culture. As Maria Makela has put it: 'Bildung - that particularly German concept... combines the meaning of the English word 'education' with notions of character formation and moral cultivation.' Makela, The Munich Secession, 13. 87 Nipperdey, Wie das Bilrgertum die Moderne fond, 24. 88 David Blackbourn, 'The German Bourgeoisie: An Introduction,' in Blackbourn and Richard Evans, eds., The German Bourgeoisie: Essays on the Social

130 Notes to pages 29-30 History of the German Middle Class from the Late Eighteenth to the Early Twentieth Century (London, 1991), 9. 89 Lenman, Artists and Society in Germany, 70. See also Wolfgang J. Mommsen, Biirgerliche Kultur und Kunstlerische Avantgarde: Kultur und Politik im deutschen Kaiserreich 1870 bis 1918 (Frankfurt-am-Main, 1994), 50. 90 Lenman, Artists and Society in Germany, 152-3. 91 Art historian Robert Jensen claims that secessionism had become 'widely familiar and increasingly acceptable' as early as 1895, but his arguments are less convincing than the conclusions of other detailed studies, including Thomas Nipperdey's Wie Das Biirgertum die Moderne Fand, Peter Paret's The Berlin Secession, and Robin Lenman's Artists and Society in Germany, 1850-1914. See Jensen, Marketing Modernism in Fin-de-Siecle Europe, 179. 92 Lenman, Artists and Society in Germany, 171; Jensen, Marketing Modernism, 8. 93 Lenman, Artists and Society in Germany, 171-2; Jensen, Marketing Modernism, 16, 77-8,212-19. 94 Nipperdey, Wie das Biirgertum die Moderne fand, 174. 95 On Eduard Arnhold see Wolfgang Hardtwig's 'Drei Berliner Portrats: Wilhelm von Bode, Eduard Arnhold, Harry Graf Kessler: Museumsmann, Mazen und Kunstvermittler - drei herausragende Beispiele,' in Gunter and Waldtraut Braun, eds., Mazenatentum in Berlin: Biirgersinn und Kulturelle Kompetenz unter sich verandernden Bedungungen (Berlin, 1993), 39-71; on Julius Stern and Baron August von der Heydt see Lenman, Artists and Society in Germany, 173,179-80 and Sebastian Muller, 'Official Support and Bourgeois Opposition in Wilhelmine Culture,' in Rogoff, ed., The Divided Heritage, 177-84. 96 See the article by Peter Paret, 'Bemerkungen zu dem Thema: Jiidische Kunstsammler, Stifter und Kunsthandler,' in Ekkehard Mai and Peter Paret, eds., Sammler, Stifter und Museen: Kunstforderung in Deutschland im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert (Cologne, 1993), 173-85. See also Cella-Margaretha Girardet, Jiidische Mazenefur die Preussischen Museen zu Berlin: eine Studie zum Mazenatentum im Deutschen Kaiserreich und in der Weimarer Republik (Engelsbach, 1997). 97 Robin Lenman, 'Painters, Patronage and the Art Market in Germany 18501914/ Past and Present 123 (1989), 133. 98 Lenman, Artists and Society in Germany, 174. 99 Paret, The Berlin Secession, 89. 100 In Hamburg the wealthy Biirgertum constituted approximately 10 per cent of the city's inhabitants in the late nineteenth century. Seemann, Stadt, Biirgertum und Kultur, 18.

Notes to pages 30-4 131 101 Evans, Death in Hamburg, 15. 102 Ibid., 27, and 'Family and Class in the Hamburg Grand Bourgeoisie 1815— 1914,' in Blackbourn and Evans, eds., The German Bourgeoisie, 133. 103 Dolores Augustine, Patricians and Parvenus: Wealth and High Society in Wilhelmine Germany (Oxford, 1994), 214-17. 104 Quoted in the exhibition catalogue Kunst ins Leben: Alfred Lichtwarks Wirkenfur die Kunsthalle und Hamburg von 1886-1914 (Hamburg, 1986), 16. 105 Lichtwark, Der Deutsche der Zukunft, 9-19. 106 Lichtwark, Wege und Ziele des Dilettantismus, 37. 107 Lichtwark discusses the qualities of the officer in Der Deutsche der Zukunft, 19-22. An earlier mention is in Das Bildnis in Hamburg, 2: 73. 108 Lichtwark, Der Deutsche der Zukunft, 22. 109 Lichtwark, letter from Miinster, 27 Jan. 1911, in the Briefe an die Commission, vol. 19 (Hamburg, 1919), 15-16. Lichtwark and Rathenau were members of a committee that judged designs for a monument of Bismarck in the Rhineland. Their choice for the monument was ultimately rejected as inadequate, and the two men wrote a defence of their actions, called Der rheinische Bismarck (Berlin, 1912). 110 See, for example, Lichtwark's letters of 20 March 1893, in Briefe an die Commission, vol. 2 (Hamburg, 1896), 107-8; 7 Nov. 1895, in Briefe an die Commission, 3:354-7; and 15 May 1900, in Briefe an die Commission, 8:72-7. See also Lichtwark, Das Bildnis in Hamburg, 1:6. 111 See the catalogue, Die deutsche fahrhundert-Ausstellung Berlin 1906,2 vols. (Munich, 1906), with an introduction by Tschudi. 112 Sabine Beneke, 'Hugo von Tschudi - Nationalcharakter der Moderne um die Jahrhundertwende,' in Claudia Riickert and Sven Kuhrau, eds., 'Der Deutsche Kunst...' Nationalgalerie und nationale Identitat 1876-1998 (Amsterdam, 1990), 57. 113 Paul, Hugo von Tschudi und die moderne franzbsische Kunst im Deutschen Kaiserreich, 238-49. 114 Letter from Berlin, 21 April 1906, in Briefe an die Commission, vol. 14 (Hamburg, 1908), 100-1. 115 Alfred Lichtwark, 'Der Sammler,' fahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde 17 (1911), 5-20. 116 Lichtwark's Briefe an die Commission for 1908, vol. 16 (Hamburg, 1916), and 1909, vol. 17 (Hamburg, 1917), offer lengthy descriptions of Tschudi's dilemma. Peter Paret analyses the entire conflict between Tschudi and the Kaiser in 'The Tschudi Affair/ Journal of Modern History 53 (Dec. 1981), 589-618. 117 Letter from Berlin, 19 Aug. 1895, in Briefe an die Commission, 3:274.

132 Notes to pages 34-40 118 Ibid., 273-4. 119 Letter of 22 June 1897, in Briefe an die Commission, vol. 5 (Hamburg, 1899), 142. 120 Letter of 26 Oct. 1898, in Briefe an die Commission, vol. 6 (Hamburg, 1900), 285. 121 Max Liebermann, Die Phantasie in der Malerei, 4th ed., (Berlin 1916). Liebermann dedicated the book to Lichtwark and Tschudi. A modern edition of this work is Max Liebermann, Die Phantasie in der Malerei; Schriften und Reden, ed. Giinter Busch (Frankfurt, 1978). 122 Letter of 28 Jan. 1899, in Briefe an die Commission, vol. 7 (Hamburg, 1901), 16. 123 Ibid., 15. 124 Letter of 14 Oct. 1900 in Briefe an die Commission, 8:203. 125 Letter of 17 Jan. 1913 in Briefe an die Commission, vol. 20 (Hamburg, 1920), 338-40. The work he praises is Renoir's Rider in the Bois de Boulogne, 1873. 126 See the letter of 22 Jan. 1903, in Briefe an Max Liebermann, 136-7. 127 Lichtwark to Kalckreuth, 12 Jan. 1902, and Lichtwark to Frau Kalckreuth, 5 Jan. 1906, in Briefe an Kalckreuth, 92-3 and 160-2. 128 Pauli, Briefe, 61. 129 See the letters of 12 Dec. 1902 and 13 Jan. 1907, in Briefe an Max Liebermann, 134-5 and 168-75. 130 Letter of 22 March 1912, in Briefe an die Commission, 20:138-9. 131 See the letters of 11 July 1912, in ibid., 209-10, and 26 Oct. 1910 in Briefe an die Commission, vol. 18 (Hamburg, 1917), 247. 132 HbgSTABI, Handschriftenabteilung, Nachlafi Max Sauerlandt: letter of 15 June 1913. After the First World War, Sauerlandt became the director of Hamburg's Museum fur Kunst und Gewerbe, holding the position until 1933. 133 Letter from Berlin, 6 Jan. 1909, in Briefe an die Commission, 17:9-11. 134 Letter of 20 June 1894, in Briefe an die Commission, 3:59. 135 Letter of 13 July 1895, ibid., 229. 136 Alfred Lichtwark, Hamburgische Kunst (Hamburg, 1898), 46. 137 Letter of 1 Feb. 1899, in Briefe an die Commission, 7:36-7. 138 In 1913 the director of the Metropolitan Museum visited Lichtwark in Hamburg, and invited him to give a lecture in New York on the new extension added to the Kunsthalle in 1912. Lichtwark regretfully turned down the offer, probably because of his stomach illness. See the letter of 1 July 1913, in Briefe an die Commission, 20:425-6. 139 Karl Scheffler, 'Alfred Lichtwark,' in Lichtwark, Alfred Lichtwark, xxii.

Notes to pages 41-8

133

2. The Petersen Portrait 1 Burgomasters were the political leaders of both the city and state of Hamburg, appointed from within the Senate. 2 Letter of 2 April 1911, in Lichtwark, Briefe an Max Liebermann, 266-8. 3 Hannah Hohl stresses this point in the introduction to the exhibition catalogue Dreimal Deutschland: Lenbach, Liebermann, Kollwitz (Hamburg, 1981), 9. 4 Alfred Lichtwark, Das Bildnis in Hamburg, 2 vols. (Hamburg, 1898). 5 Ibid., 1:6. 6 Ibid., 1:14. 7 Ibid., 1:17-18. 8 Ibid., 1:22-4 and 58-60. 9 In Berlin's National Gallery one could also find rooms of historical paintings, located on the second floor, celebrating the battles leading to the unification of Germany. After 1906, these paintings were gathered together in one large exhibition hall, the Cornelius-Saal. See Jorn Grabowski, 'Leitbilder einer Nation. Zur Prasentation von Historien- und Schlachtengemalden in der Nationalgalerie,' in Dominik Bartmann, ed., Anton von Werner: Geschichte in Bildern (Munich, 1993). 10 Hohl, Dreimal Deutschland, 47-8. 11 For a full account of Lenbach's life and art see the exhibition catalogue, Franz von Lenbach 1836-1904 (Munich, 1986). 12 Fritz Stern, Gold and Iron: Bismarck, Bleichroder, and the Building of the German Empire (New York, 1977), 160-1. 13 Quoted in Hohl, Dreimal Deutschland, 40. 14 Gert Schiff, 'An Epoch of Longing: An Introduction to German Painting of the Nineteenth Century,' in the exhibition catalogue German Masters of the Nineteenth Century (New York, 1981), 31. 15 Robin Lenman, Artists and Society in Germany 1850-1914,85. 16 Ibid., 32. 17 Alfred Lichtwark, Ubungen in der Betrachtung von Kunstwerken (Hamburg, 1897). 18 Hohl, Dreimal Deutschland, 47. 19 For information on Liebermann's background see Paret, The Berlin Secession, 42-9, and Erich Hancke, Max Liebermann (Berlin, 1923), 11-20. Hancke draws an intriguing portrait of the stern and often disapproving father. 20 Paret, The Berlin Secession, 43. 21 Nicolaas Teeuwisse, Vom Salon zur Secession: Berliner Kunstleben zwischen Tradition und Aufbruch zur Moderne 1871-1900 (Berlin, 1986), 64-6.

134 Notes to pages 48-52 22 Pietsch and Meyer are quoted in ibid. 23 See Makela, The Munich Secession. 24 Liebermann used the Portuguese Synagogue in Amsterdam as the model for the interior of the temple. Paret, The Berlin Secession, 44. 25 Ibid. 26 Quoted in Makela, The Munich Secession, 33. 27 Jesus in the Temple can be seen today in the Hamburg Kunsthalle, as Lichtwark purchased it from Uhde's estate in 1911, for 60,000 marks. The purchase of the painting is set out in StAH 364-2/1: Verwaltung der Kunsthalle, Protocoll, Kunsthalle, III, 5, 3 June 1911. 28 Teeuwisse, Vom Salon zur Secession, 98. 29 Ibid., 103. In 'Ansprache an Max Klinger,' Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde 15 (1909), 80-1, Lichtwark states that Klinger was the first artist to appreciate the Bernstein's collection of impressionist paintings. 30 Teeuwisse, Vom Salon zur Secession, 107. 31 Paret, The Berlin Secession, 45. 32 For information on Liebermann's organization of this exhibition see Francoise Forster-Hahn, '"La Confraternite de l'art": Deutsch-franzosische Ausstellungspolitik von 1871 bis 1914,' Zeitschrift fiir Kunstgeschichte 48 (1985), 506-37. 33 Ibid., 46-7. Liebermann was also the target of anti-semitic attacks by critics of this exhibition. See Francoise Forster-Hahn, 'Constructing New Histories: Nationalism and Modernity in the Display of Art,' in Forster-Hahn, ed., Imagining Modern German Culture, 75-6. 34 Paret, The Berlin Secession, 47. 35 HKH, archive 76: Liebermann asked for 970 marks in a private letter to Lichtwark of 7 Dec. 1889. 36 See the analysis of 'Das Schone im Unscheinbaren,' Die Netzflickerinnen,' in the exhibition catalogue Max Liebermann: Der Realist und die Phantasie (Hamburg, 1997), 151-2. 37 Letter of Sept. 1889, in Lichtwark, Briefe an seine Familie, 672. 38 See Lichtwark's letter to Liebermann, 7 Feb. 1891, in Briefe an Max Liebermann, 84-5. 39 Quoted in Kunst ins Leben, 152. 40 Carl Schellenberg, introduction to Alfred Lichtwark, Briefe an Max Liebermann, 53. 41 For details of Petersen's life see Adolf Wohlwill's Biirgermeister Petersen (Hamburg, 1900). 42 Within the Senate the three longest-serving lawyers became Burgomasters

Notes to pages 53-6 135 in a rather confusing cycle. One of the three would become First Burgomaster for a year, with another named as Second Burgomaster. The last man would have the year to himself. Then all three would switch positions: the First Burgomaster retiring for a year, the Second Burgomaster becoming the First, the man in waiting assuming the Second Burgomaster's office. Evans, Death in Hamburg, 15-16. 43 Wohlwill, Biirgermeister Petersen, 130. 44 Hans Schadow, Mit Pinsel und Palette durch diegrofie Welt (Leipzig, 1922), 117. 45 Wohlwill, Biirgermeister Petersen, 142-3. 46 Ibid., 147. 47 Ibid., 148-9. 48 Karl Scheffler, Max Liebermann (Munich, 1922), 52. 49 See the discussion of the Petersen portrait by Matthias Eberle in the exhibition catalogue Max Liebermann in seiner Zeit (Berlin 1979), 264-5. 50 Hajo Diichting and Karin Sagner-Duchting, Die Malerei des deutschen lmpressionismus (Cologne 1993), 7-8. Francoise Forster-Hahn has also noted that Menzel was claimed by German modernists as an early impressionist. See Francoise Forster-Hahn, 'Adolph Menzel: Readings between Nationalism and Modernity/ in Claude Keisch and Marie Ursula Riemann-Reyher, eds., Adolph Menzel 1815-1905: Between Romanticism and Impressionism (New Haven, 1996), 103. 51 Diichting and Sagner-Duchting, Die Malerei des deutschen Impressionismus, 7; Robin Lenman, 'From Brown Sauce to Plein Air: Taste and the Art Market in Germany, 1889-1910,' in Forster-Hahn, ed., Imagining Modern German Culture, 57. 52 Horst Uhr, 'Impressionism in Austria and Germany,' in Norma Broude, ed., World Impressionism: The International Movement, 1860-1920 (New York, 1990) 337. 53 Duchting and Sagner-Duchting, Die Malerei des deutschen Impressionismus, 26,32. 54 Clement Greenberg, 'Modernist Painting,' in Francis Frascina and Jonathan Harris, eds., Art in Modern Culture: An Anthology of Critical Texts (London, 1992), 309. 55 Richard Schiff, 'Defining Impressionism and the Impression,' in Frascina and Harris, eds., Art in Modern Culture, 183-4. 56 Robert Herbert, Impressionism: Art, Leisure and Parisian Society (New Haven, 1988). 57 Herbert takes this quotation from the sociologist Georg Simmel, who explored the alienation of urban life in the early twentieth century. Ibid., 52.

136 Notes to pages 57-64 58 Rosenberg's comments are reprinted in Hohl, Dreimal Deutschland, 58. 59 Hamburgischer Correspondent, 11 April 1892. 60 Hamburgischer Correspondent, 15 April 1892. 61 Ibid. 62 In 1893 the journal Kunstfur Alle offered an illustration of the Petersen portrait. Perhaps more Hamburgers saw the portrait in this publication. 63 Lichtwark, Briefe an Max Liebermann, 110. 64 Quoted in Schadow, Mit Pinsel und Palette, 118-19. 65 Recounted in Volker Detlev Heydorn, Maler in Hamburg 1866-1914, vol. 1 (Hamburg 1974), 44. 66 Lichtwark told Liebermann about this in a letter of 25 March 1894. See Briefe an Max Liebermann, 111. 67 StAH, 622-1, Petersen D43: letter of 11 April 1892. 68 Ibid. 69 Ibid. 70 Two copies of this letter, a draft and then a finished version, are to be found in ibid. 71 Ibid. 72 Ibid. 73 Paret, The Berlin Secession, 85-6. 74 See the discussion of Olympia in T.J. Clark, The Painting of Modern Life: Paris in the Art of Manet and His Followers (Princeton, 1984), 79-146. 75 Ibid., 87-8, 96. 76 See also the discussion by Stephen Eisenman, 'The Intransigent Artist or How the Impressionists Got Their Name,' in Frascina and Harris, eds., Art in Modern Culture, 193. 77 Evans, Death in Hamburg, 86; Wulf Hund, 'Der 1. Mai 1890,' in Berlin, ed., Das andere Hamburg, 119-39. 78 Evans, Death in Hamburg, 178. 79 Letter of Max Liebermann to Richard Graul (art historian and director of the Kunstgewerbemuseum Leipzig), 1 June 1892, in Max Liebermann: Der Realist und die Phantasie, 227. 80 StAH, 364-2/1, Verwaltung der Kunsthalle, Protocoll, Kunsthalle III, 3: minutes of the meeting on 7 June 1892. 81 Evans, Death in Hamburg, 306-7. 82 Quoted in Kunst ins Leben, 152-3. 83 Lichtwark, Briefe an Max Liebermann, 88. 84 Ibid. 85 StAH, 622-1, Petersen D43.

Notes to pages 65-71 137 86 Volker Plagemann, 'Vaterstadt, Vaterland': Denkmaler in Hamburg (Hamburg, 1986), 109. 87 Lichtwark, letter of 16 March 1893, in Briefe an Max Liebermann, 91-2. 88 Letter of 8 June 1893, ibid., 95. 89 Letter of 26 March 1893, ibid., 94. 90 Letter of 9 Aug. 1893, ibid., 98. 91 Letter of 28 Nov. 1893, ibid., 103. 92 StAH, 364-2/1, Verwaltung der Kunsthalle, Protocoll, Kunsthalle III, 3. 93 StAH, 622-1, Petersen D43. 94 StAH, 364-2/1, Verwaltung der Kunsthalle, Protocoll, Kunsthalle III, 4: minutes from the meeting of 19 June 1902. 95 Ibid.: meeting of 28 Jan. 1905. 96 Marion Deshmukh offers a very interesting summary of Liebermann's career in '"Politics Is an Art": The Cultural Politics of Max Liebermann in Wilhelmine Germany,' in Forster-Hahn, ed., Imagining Modern German Culture, 165-83. 97 Lichtwark, letter of 2 June 1893, in Briefe an die Commission, 2:167-8. 98 Haller headed a large consortium of architects, including Johannes Grotjan, Wilhelm Hauers, and Emil Meerwein, who worked together to complete the official design. His father was the former Burgomaster Martin Haller, Max Liebermann's great-uncle. Hermann Hipp, 'Das Rathaus,' in Volker Plagemann, ed., Industriekultur in Hamburg: Des Deutschen Reiches Tor zur Welt (Munich, 1984), 33. 99 See Hermann Hipp, 'Das Rathaus der Freien und Hansestadt Hamburg,' in Ekkehard Mai, Jiirgen Paul, and Stephan Waetzoldt, eds., Das Rathaus im Kaiserreich: Kunstpolitische Aspekte einer Bauaufgabe des 19. Jahrhunderts (Berlin, 1982), 179-230 and Volker Plagemann, 'Vaterstadt, Vaterland,' 80-6. 3. The Scandal in 1896 over the 'New Tendency' 1 Marina and Uwe M. Schneede, 'Der Zweck des Kunstvereins ist mehrseitige Mittheilung iiber bildende Kunst,' in Plagemann, ed., Industriekultur in Hamburg, 336. See also Hans Platte, 250 Jahre Kunstverein in Hamburg, 1817-1967 (Hamburg, 1967), 1-2. 2 Marina and Uwe Schneede, 'Der Zweck des Kunstvereins,' 336. Women did not join the Hamburg Kunstverein until the 1840s; in 1847 the Kunstverein had 467 members, 30 of whom were women. Ibid., 338. 3 James J. Sheehan, German Liberalism in the Nineteenth Century (Chicago, 1978), 13-16.

138 Notes to pages 71-80 4 Marina and Uwe Schneede, 'Der Zweck des Kunstvereins,' 336. 5 Robin Lenman has noted the important role of the nineteenth-century art unions in promoting new examples of German art to the middle classes. See his Artists and Society in Germany 1850-1914, 66-7,142-3. 6 Marina and Uwe Schneede, 'Der Zweck des Kunstvereins,' 338. Arctic Shipwreck was purchased by Hamburg's Kunsthalle in 1905. 7 Marina and Uwe Schneede, 'Der Zweck des Kunstvereins,' 338. 8 Volker Plagemann, 'Die Anfange der Hamburger Kunstsammlungen und die erste Kunsthalle,' Jahrbuch der Hamburger Kunstsammlung 11 (1966), 62. 9 Ibid., 63-4. 10 Ibid., 72-3. 11 Marina and Uwe Schneede, 'Der Zweck des Kunstvereins,' 339. 12 Schiefler, Eine Hamburgische Kulturgeschichte, 104. 13 The following information on the 1896 grand exhibition can be found in the Jahres-Bericht des Kunst-Vereins zu Hamburgfilr 1896 (Hamburg, 1897), 14-16. 14 Ibid., 7. 15 KVH, Grosse Kunstausstellung des Kunstvereins Hamburg - Kunsthalle Sitzungs Protocolle: meeting of 27 Nov. 1895,9-10. See also meeting of 4 Dec. 1895,11-12. 16 The history and meaning of Hammonia are discussed in Gisela Jaacks, 'Germania und Hammonia,' in Plagemann, ed., Industriekultur in Hamburg, 285-6. 17 '"Wer bist du?" rief ich "du schaust mich an / Wie'n Traum aus alten Zeiten / Wo wohnst du, grofies Frauenbild?/Und darf ich dich begleiten?" / Da lachelte das Weib und sprach: / 'Du irrst dich, ich bin eine feine,/Anstandige, moralische Person; / Du irrst dich, ich bin nicht so eine. / Ich bin nicht so eine kleine Mamsell, / So eine welche Lorettin - /Denn wisse: ich bin Hammonia/Hamburgs beschiitzende Gottin!' Heinrich Heine, Deutschland. Ein Wintermarchen (1844; rpt. Stuttgart, 1987), XXIII. 97-108. The English translation comes from Hal Draper, trans., The Complete Poems of Heinrich Heine: A Modern English Version (Boston, 1982), 525-6. 18 Quoted in Carsten Meyer-Tonnesmann, Der Hamburgische Kiinstlerclub von 1897 (Hamburg, 1985), 97. For information on Eitner's beginnings as an artist see 49-50. 19 Ibid., 100. 20 StAH, 364-2/1, Verwaltung der Kunsthalle, Protocoll, Kunsthalle III, 3. Lichtwark presented Mohrbutter's painting as a privately donated gift from a Senator Hachmann, on 23 April 1896. 21 StAH, 364-2/1, Verwaltung der Kunsthalle, Protocoll, Kunsthalle III, 3: meeting of 28 Feb. 1894. 22 Schiefler, Eine Hamburgische Kulturgeschichte, 250.

Notes to pages 80-7 139 23 Warburg's views and Wallsee's advice to Illies's father are recounted by Schiefler, ibid. 24 Hamburger Nachrichten, 1 Feb. 1896. The letter is entitled 'Kunstverein' and is in the section of the paper called 'Vaterstadtische Blatter." All of the letters cited henceforth from the Nachrichten are to be found in this segment of the newspaper. The writer of this letter refers to the two designs that won the poster competition: an independent minor artist named Hans Delf won second prize. 25 Hamburger Nachrichten, 4 Feb. 1896. 26 Ibid. 27 Martin Feddersen, Die neue Richtung in der bildenden Kunst mit Bezug aufdie hamburgischen Kunstzustande (Altona, 1896). 28 StAH, Hamburger Adrefibuch, 1896,445 and 608. 29 Schiefler, Eine Hamburgische Kulturgeschichte, 105. 30 Robert Wichmann, letter to the Hamburger Nachrichten, 7 Feb. 1896. 31 Ibid. 32 Ibid. 33 Ibid. 34 Robert Wichmann, Die neue Richtung der Kunst im Kunstverein (Hamburg, 1896). 35 See Paret, The Berlin Secession, 50-4. Of course, Munch was a more shocking and original painter than any of the young Hamburg artists. 36 On the censorship of Spring Awakening see Jelavich, Munich and Theatrical Modernism, 84-5. See also a work that preceded Jelavich's book, and influenced it: Robin Lenman, 'Censorship and Society in Munich, 1886-1914' (DPhil Dissertation, Oxford University, 1975). 37 Lenman, 'Politics and Culture,' 92. 38 Werner von Melle, Dreifiig Jahre Hamburger Wissenschaft 1891-1921, 2 vols. (Hamburg, 1923-4), 1:87. 39 Hamburger Fremdenblatt, 20 Feb. 1896. 40 StAH, 601, Handschrift DC I, Burgerschafts-Mitglieder 1859-1959. 41 Hamburger Nachrichten, 28 Feb. 1896. 42 Hamburger Fremdenblatt, 28 Feb. 1896. 43 Hamburger Nachrichten, 15 March 1896. 44 'Streifzug durch die Grosse Kunstausstellung des Kunstvereins in der Kunsthalle,' General Anzeiger, 29 March, 5 April, 12 April 1896. 45 Ibid., 29 March 1896. 46 Ibid. 47 In the section 'Aus und mit dem Publikum,' Hamburger Fremdenblatt, 18 March 1896. 48 Ibid.

140 Notes to pages 87-95 49 Hamburger Freie Presse, 15 March 1896. 50 Hamburger Correspondent, 27 March 1896. Schiefler's essay was also reprinted in the Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde for 1897. 51 Ibid. 52 Lichtwark, quoted in Schiefler's diary entry for March 1896, reprinted in the Hamburger Anzeiger, 20 Feb. 1925. 53 Melle, Dreifiigjahre Hamburger Wissenschaft, 1:87. 54 Ibid. 55 The best account of the meeting, written on the same day as it occurred, is in the Hamburgischer Correspondent, 28 March 1896. The Hamburger Fremdenblatt and the Hamburger Nachrichten offered their reports on 31 March 1896. 56 Arthur lilies, in his memoirs, states that the Hamburger Hof contained more than fifteen hundred seats, and that all were filled. See 'Aus den Lebenserinnerungen von Arthur lilies: Lichtwark's Feinde 1896,' in Gustav Schiefler, ed., Das graphische Werk von Arthur lilies (Hamburg, 1970), 181-3. 57 Melle provides an accurate account of his comments and of what followed in his Dreifiig Jahre Hamburger Wissenschaft, 1:87-9. 58 Lutteroth, quoted in the article 'Generalversammlung des Kunstvereins,' Hamburgischer Correspondent, 28 March 1896. 59 Ibid. 60 This quotation appears in the report of 28 March 1896 in the Hamburgischer Correspondent, although the speaker is unnamed. 61 See the report in the Hamburger Nachrichten, 31 March 1896, in the section 'Aus dem hamburgischen Kunstleben.' 62 KVH, Protocoll der Deliberations-Versammlung: general meeting of 28 March 1896. 63 Melle, Dreifiig Jahre Hamburger Wissenschaft, 1:89. 64 Ibid. 65 lilies, 'Lichtwarks Feinde 1896,' 182-3. 66 Melle, Dreifiigjahre Hamburger Wissenschaft, 1:87. 67 This is what lilies claims in 'Lichtwarks Feinde 1896.' 68 Lichtwark, Briefe an die Commission, vol. 4 (Hamburg 1899), 15-17. 69 Ibid., 15. 70 Ibid., 16. 71 Alfred Lichtwark, Hamburgische Kunst (Hamburg, 1898). 72 Lichtwark, Briefe an die Commission, 5:33-36. 73 Paret, 'The Tschudi Affair,' 599. 74 Nicolaas Teeuwisse describes all of these acquisitions in greater detail in Vom Salon zur Secession, 201-7.

Notes to pages 96-103

141

75 Lichtwark, in the letter of 24 April 1897, Briefe an die Commission, 5:33-4. 76 The Kunstverein did resume holding exhibitions in the Kunsthalle in 1903 and 1904, but once again problems arose, and in 1905 another break occurred. Schiefler, Eine Hamburgische Kulturgeschichte, 106. 77 HKH, archive 70: letter of 6 July 1900. 78 In late 1896, Lichtwark had described the Kunstverein members as 'reactionary.' See HKH, archive 97, Abschriften von Privatbriefen: letter of 3 Nov. 1896 to the writer and jurist Dr Carl Monckeberg. 4. Lichtwark and the Society of Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art 1 Mary Loesener-Sloman (nee Albers-Schonberg) was the wife of Friedrich Loesener-Sloman. Her father-in-law was connected through marriage to the wealthiest man in Hamburg, shipowner Robert Miles Sloman. Mary Sloman later wrote memoirs of her life in Hamburg, including her involvement in the Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde. See her Erinnerungen (Hamburg, 1957). 2 Ibid., 39-40. 3 Lenman, Artists and Society in Germany 1850-1914,165. 4 Schiefler, Eine Hamburgische Kulturgeschichte, 64-5. 5 Schiefler offered this description in a speech for the Society honouring Lichtwark after his death in January 1914. The text was published by the GHK, under the title Gedenkrede Alfred Lichtwark zu Ehren (Hamburg 1914). 6 See Lichtwark's introduction to the first edition of the yearly journal produced by the Society from 1895 to 1912, the Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde 1 (1895), 3-5. 7 StAH, 614-1/56-2, Satzung der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde (no date). 8 Lichtwark, introduction, Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde, 1 (1895), 5. 9 Details of the Society's meetings were faithfully recorded in a Protokollbuch, now contained in StAH, 614-1/56, Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde. 10 HbgSTABI, Handschriftenabteilung - Literaturarchiv: letter of 23 Sept. 1899 from Lichtwark to Dr Alfred Bayersdorfer. 11 The names of the executive for the GHK were printed in the Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde, from 1895 to 1912. 12 Schiefler, Eine Hamburgische Kulturgeschichte, 167-8. 13 Johannes Kalckreuth, Wesen und Werk meines Vaters, 267-9. Lichtwark's joy

142 Notes to pages 103-6 over the paintings is expressed in his letters to Kalckreuth of 27 and 31 July 1904. See Lichtwark, Briefe an Kalckreuth, 139-41. 14 An account of Marie Zacharias's life is offered in her memoirs, entitled Familien-, Stadt- und Kindergeschichten (Hamburg, 1954). 15 Sloman, Erinnerungen, 39. 16 There is an unpublished biographical essay on Lorenz-Meyer, written by his son Albrecht, in StAH, 622-1, Lorenz-Meyer CXal. 17 Lorenz-Meyer is identified as a leading member of the Wichmann camp in the newspaper article of 20 Feb. 1896 in the Hamburger Fremdenblatt. 18 StAH, 614-1/56, Protokollbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde: entry for 29 Oct. 1898. 19 Marie Woermann donated money to the Kunsthalle for the Collection of Paintings from Hamburg. See Marita Bellut, 'Die Sammlung von Bildern aus Hamburg' (Magisterarbeit der Albert-Ludwigs-Universitat zu Freiburg, 1980), 87. 20 StAH, 614-1 /56-2, Satzung der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde. 21 StAH, 622-1, Lorenz-Meyer CXf9: letter from Lichtwark to Lorenz-Meyer, dated 30 Feb. 1909. 22 A brief account of Behrens's life, and praise for his private art collection, is offered by Lichtwark in the Jahresbericht der Kunsthalle zu Hamburg fur 1895 (Hamburg, 1896), 26-30. Behrens is also mentioned as a major contributor to the Kunsthalle in the exhibition catalogue Aus der Geschichte der Hamburger Kunsthalle (Hamburg, 1969), 17. Further information about Behrens's private art collection, including the lavish assortment of paintings by Menzel, Daubigny, Corot, and Dupres in Behrens's bank on the Hermannstrafie, is provided by Gustav Schiefler in Eine Hamburgische Kultutgeschichte, 131-2. 23 Ibid., 134. 24 Richard Evans profiles the Amsinck family in 'Family and Class in Hamburg's Grand Bourgeoisie 1815-1914/ in Blackbourn and Evans, eds., The German Bourgeoisie, 115-39. 25 Aus der Geschichte der Hamburger Kunsthalle, 17. 26 Meyer-Tonnesmann, Der Hamburgische Kunstlerclub von 1897,124. 27 Ibid., 58,66, and 146-8. 28 Ibid, 153. 29 An interesting account of Kessler is found in Wolfgang Hardtwig, 'Drei Berliner Portrats: Wilhelm von Bode, Eduard Arnhold, Harry Graf Kessler: Museumsmann, Mazen und Kunstvermittler - drei herausragende Beispiele/ in Giinter and Waldtraut Braun, eds., Mazenatentum in Berlin: Burgersinn und Kulturelle Kompetenz unter sich verandernden Bedingungen (Berlin, 1993).

Notes to pages 106-10

143

30 Zeromski, Alfred Lichtwark, 205. 31 Background on these women can be found in Schiefler's Eine Hamburgische Kulturgeschichte. A detailed account of Gerta Warburg's fascinating and tragic life (she would die in Sobibor in 1943) is offered by her granddaughter Gertrud Wenzel-Burchard in Granny: Gerta Warburg und die Ihren Hamburger Schicksale (Hamburg, n.d.). 32 StAH, 614-1/56-2, Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde. 33 StAH, 622-1, Lorenz-Meyer CXh2f: letter from Lulu Bohlen to LorenzMeyer, dated 18 Jan. 1906. 34 StAH, 622-1, Lorenz-Meyer CXh2f: letter from Lulu Bohlen to LorenzMeyer, 8 March 1906. 35 StAH, 622-1, Lorenz-Meyer CXh2c: Lulu Bohlen reported Lichtwark's opinions in a note to Lorenz-Meyer of 30 Dec. 1903. 36 StAH, 622-1, Lorenz-Meyer CXf9c. 37 StAH, 614-1 /56: all of these talks are noted in the Protokollbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde. 38 StAH, 614-1/56, Protokollbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde: entry for 29 Oct. 1902. 39 StAH, 614-1/56, Protokollbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde: entry for 29 May 1897. 40 Schiefler, Eine Hamburgische Kulturgeschichte, 65. 41 Zeromski, Alfred Lichtwark, 207. 42 Sloman, Erinnerungen, 39-40; Percy Ernst Schramm, Neun Generationen, 2:441. Olga Schramm was RE. Schramm's mother. 43 StAH, 622-1, Lorenz-Meyer CXh2e: letter of 27 Jan. 1905. 44 StAH, 622-1, Lorenz-Meyer CXh2a and CXH2c: letters from Lulu Bohlen to Lorenz-Meyer, 25 Oct. 1903, and from Schiefler to Lorenz-Meyer, 26 Feb. 1901. 45 StAH, 622-1, Lorenz-Meyer CXf9c. 46 Quoted in Schiefler, Eine Hamburgische Kulturgeschichte, 291. 47 Ibid., 65. 48 Lichtwark, 'Topferkunst,' Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde 3 (1897), 24. 49 Lichtwark, 'Selbsterziehung,' in Vom Arbeitsfeld des Dilettantismus (Berlin, 1907), 13-17. 50 Julius Gebhard, Alfred Lichtwark und die Kunsterziehungsbewegung in Hamburg (Hamburg, 1947), 151. 51 Lichtwark, 'Dilettantism und Volkskunst,' in Vom Arbeitsfeld des Dilettantismus, 24. 52 Lichtwark, 'Selbsterziehung/ in Vom Arbeitsfeld des Dilettantismus, 15.

144 Notes to pages 110-14 53 Ibid., 16. 54 In several of the family archives in the StAH there are sketches and watercolours by former members of the GHK: see 424-88/5 Familie Baur, 622-1 Familie O'Swald, 622-1 Familienarchiv Lorenz-Meyer, 622-1 Familie Krogmann. 55 Lichtwark, 'Zur Organisation des Dilettantismus,' in Vom Arbeitsfeld des Dilettantismus, 36. 56 Katalog der Jahres-Ausstellung der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde nos. 2-7 (Hamburg, 1896,1898-1900, and 1902-3). 57 StAH, 614-1/56, Protokollbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde: entry for 28 March 1896. 58 HKH, archive 23, Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde: Protokoll iiber die Versammlung am 16. April 1904. 59 Siebelist had established an artists' colony in Hittfeld, beginning in 1903, where he taught young men and women - including Anita Ree, later an important painter of the 1920s. Meyer-Tonnesman, Der Hamburgische Ku'nstlerclub von 1897, 235-13. 60 Lichtwark, 'Vom Blumenkultus,' Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde 3 (1897), 10. 61 StAH, 622-1, Lorenz-Meyer CXf9c: letter from Lichtwark to Lorenz-Meyer, 21 March 1908. 62 The articles are 'Der Hamburger Pan: Ein Gesprach zwischen Kiinstler und Kunstfreund im Restaurant,' 'Die Hamburger Landschaft als Kulturelement,' and 'Die Seele und das Kunstwerk,' Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde 4 (1898), 9-15, 31-7, and 2-8 respectively. 63 Schiefler, 'Die Bewegung gegen die "Neue Richtung" in der Kunst,' Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde 3 (1897), 30-6. 64 Marie Zacharias, 'Wagner-Erinnerungen,' Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde 8 (1902), 11. 65 Lichtwark, 'Kunstschaffen und Kunstbesitz,' Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde 10 (1904) 91-101; 'Kiinstlerische Bildung auf ortlicher und volkischer Grundlage,' Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde 11 (1905), 87-105; 'Das Problem einer Galerie Neuerer Meister,' Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde 11 (1905), 67-76. 66 Lichtwark, 'Das Jahrbuch,' Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde 6 (1900), 76. 67 Lichtwark, 'Die Hamburgischer Liebhaberbibliothek,' in Vom Arbeitsfeld des Dilettantismus, 55-6. 68 Lichtwark, 'Bucheinbande,' in Vom Arbeitsfeld des Dilettantismus, 74-5.

Notes to pages 114-18 145 69 Helmut Leppien, 'Berichte iiber Taten, Plane und Meinungen Lichtwarks,' in the exhibition catalogue Kunst ins Leben, 126. 70 Alfred Lichtwark, Studien, 2 vols. (Hamburg, 1896-7). Emma Dina Hertz, Die Urgrosseltern Beets (Hamburg 1899) and Paul Hertz, Unser Elternhaus (Hamburg, 1895). The Hertzes were one of the wealthiest Jewish merchant families in Hamburg; Paul was the son of Emma and Adolph Hertz. 71 Schiefler, Eine Hamburgische Kulturgeschichte, 292. 72 A catalogue of this exhibition, Gedachtnisausstellung der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde der Deutschen und Hollandischen Meister der Sammlung Glitza, is in the Hamburg Kunsthalle. The exhibition was held in September and October of 1896, and featured graphic art by German and Dutch artists. 73 See the article by Schiefler, 'Die Glitza-Blatter,' Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde 3 (1897), 37-8. 74 Schiefler discusses the background to the exhibition in Meine Graphiksammlung, ed. Gerhard Schack (Hamburg, 1974), 21-6. 75 Schiefler, introduction to the exhibition catalogue Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde: Graphische Ausstellung 1903-1904 (Hamburg, 1903). 76 The friendship between Munch and Schiefler is detailed in Edvard Munch and Gustav Schiefler, Briefwechsel, ed. Arne Eggum, 2 vols. (Hamburg, 1987-90). 77 The Munch works displayed in the exhibition are listed in Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde, 116-18. 78 Schiefler, Meine Graphiksammlung, 22. 79 HKH, archive 220: see the list of GHK contributors to the Lichtwark-Stiftung in the pamphlet 'Alfred Lichtwark von Mitgliedern der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde (zum 25. Jahrigen Amstjubilaum)." 80 Schiefler, Gedenkrede Alfred Lichtwark zu Ehren, 6. Conclusion 1 Carl Vinnen, Ein Protest deutscher Kiinstler (Jena, 1911). 2 Lichtwark, letter of 30 March 1912, in Briefe an die Commission, 20:69. 3 Letter of 25 March 1911 in Alfred Lichtwark, Briefe an Gustav Pauli, ed. Carl Schellenberg (Hamburg, 1946), 68. 4 Lichtwark, 'Zu Vinnens Kiinstlerprotest,' Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde 17 (1911), 93-4. This article appeared again in a collection of writings against Vinnen by secession artists, museum directors, and art critics, edited by Alfred W. Heymel, entitled lm Kampfum die Kunst: Die Antwort aufden Protest deutscher Kiinstler (Munich, 1911). 5 HKH, archive 171: letter from Liebermann to Lichtwark, 12 Oct. 1902.

146 Notes to pages 118-22 6 Birgit-Katharine Seemann has argued that in many of Hamburg's leading families women took a keen interest in the arts, and thus purchased paintings and developed art collections for their families. See her Stadt, Burgertum und Kultur, 25. 7 Evans, Death in Hamburg, 14. 8 Augustine, Patricians and Parvenus, 165; Evans, Death in Hamburg, 56. 9 See the letter of 23 Aug. 1900, in Lichtwark, Briefe an die Commission, 8:148-52. 10 Paret, 'Bemerkungen zu dem Thema,' in Mai and Paret, eds., Sammler, Stifter und Museen, 177. 11 Lenman, Artists and Society in Germany, 163. 12 However, Lichtwark did manage to purchase Renoir's Riders in the Bois de Boulogne, in 1913, for 90,000 marks. See Lenman, Artists and Society in Germany, 163. 13 Ibid., 51,81-2. 14 Carl Monckeberg, Hamburg vor und nach dem Kriege (Hamburg, 1917), 72. 15 Peter Gay, Education of the Senses, vol. 1 of The Bourgeois Experience: Victoria to Freud, 7. 16 Nipperdey, Wie das Biirgertum die Moderne fand, 49. 17 Runge and Schlegel are quoted in the article by Stephan Waetzoldt, 'Artists and Society,' in the exhibition catalogue German Masters of the Nineteenth Century (New York, 1981), 41. 18 Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Trilogie der Museumsleidenschaft (Bode-TschudiLichtwark),' 10.

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Index

Albers-Schonberg, Amelie, 100 Allgemeine Zeitung, 49

Amsinck, Ludwig Erdwin, 105,119, 142n24 anti-modernism, 4-5,8,41,97-8,107, 117,121; and definition of German art, 121-2; in Hamburg, compared to Berlin and Munich, 83-4,95-6, 119,120,121 Arnhold, Eduard, 30,119 art dealers, Germany, 29,30 Barbizon school, 105 Bayersdorfer, Dr Alfred, 60,102 Beardsley, Aubrey, 115 Bebel, August, 25 Beckmann, Max, 37 Behrens, Eduard, 105 Behrens, Eduard L. (father), 105,119, 142n22 Behrens, Peter, 43,116 Behrens, Theodor, 105,119 Berger, Baron von, 43 Berlin Secession, 5,28, 29,33,34, 67 Berliner Tageblatt, 50

Bernstein, Carl and Felice, 49

Bildung, 7,29,31,71; definition of, 129n86 Bildungsburgertum, 4,19, 29,39, 126n40 Bismarck, Otto von, 44,45,52, 79, 131nl09 Blechen, Karl, 33 Bleichroder, Gerson, 29 Bocklin, Arnold, 18,27,34.36,95,112 Bode, Wilhelm, 6,13-14,50, 60 Bohlen, Eduard, 93,106 Bohlen, Lulu, 103,106,107,108, 111, 115 Bonnard, Pierre, 34,42,116,120 bourgeoisie, Germany: attitudes to art, 29-30; 31; ridiculed by artists, 119 bourgeoisie, Hamburg: attitudes to workers, 62-3; characteristics of, 30-1,130nl00; elitism of, 68-9; lacklustre connection to art, 30-1, 119; supporters of Lichtwark, 100-1. See also Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde Brackenhoeft, Eduard, 93 Brahms, Johannes, 53 Brandis, Otto, 104,109

160 Index Brandt, Hugo, 85, 93 Bremen Kunsthalle: scandal (1912), 117 Bremen Kunstverein, 117 Brinckmann, Justus, 10,13,14,35,39, 87,90,92,118,120 Burchard, Heinrich, 43,59,63,67,90, 116 Btirgertum,Hamburg,27-8,30,119,130nl00.Seealso 130n100. See also bourgeoisie, Hamburg Cassatt, Mary, 49 Cezanne, Paul, 3,37,42,95,119 Clark, T.J., 62 Collection of Paintings from Hamburg, 18.28.38,2,113,117: artists contributing to, 42; as Schreckenskamtner, 42

Commeter Kunsthandlung, 29,58, 110,112 Constable, John, 95 Cordes, Karl, 107 Corinth, Lovis, 6,36,42,43,55,84, 115,120,121,122 Cornelius, Peter, 36 Corot, Jean, 48,105 Courbet, Gustave, 34,48,95,105 Crasemann, Paul, 98 Daller, Balthasar, 49 Daubigny, Charles Francois, 105 Daumier, Honore, 34 Defregger, Franz, 29 Degas, Edgar, 35,49, 55,95,105 Dehmel, Richard, 43,86 Delacroix, Eugene, 34 Dohner, Adolf, 85 Dohner, Friedrich, 94-5 Dore, Adele, 21

Dupre, Jules, 105 Durand-Ruel, Paul, 37 Diirer, Albrecht, 18,34,106 Ehren, Julius von, 76,78,105,106, 115 Eitner, Ernst, 16,38,76, 79,82,85,86, 105,107,115; controversial poster for Kunstverein grand exhibition (1896), 74-6,80, 84; meets Lichtwark, 76 Engel-Reimers, Frau Dr, 103,107, 111 Ensor, James, 115 Ephrussi, Charles, 49 Eugen, Prince of Sweden, 20 Evans, Richard, 63 Falke, Gustav, 111 Feddersen, Martin, 80-1,97 Feuerbach, Anselm, 36 Friedrich William III, Emperor, 44,45 Friedrich, Caspar David, 6,18,33,36, 71,121 Gauguin, Paul, 3,42 Gay, Peter, 5 General Anzeiger, 85-6

Germania, 75 Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde (GHK), 7,68,100-16; audience for Lichtwark's ideas, 101,107-8,114; and book design, 113-14; donations by members to the Kunsthalle, 105,115-16; exhibit of modern graphic art, 115; finances, 106-7; gives support to Lichtwark, 101,114; the GlitzaBlatter, 114-15; and Hamburg's culture, 101-2; Lichtwark's aims for, 101-2; Lichtwark's influence

Index 161 on, 108-9; the Lichtwark-Stiftung, 115-16; promotes dilettantism, 102,109-11,144n54; structure and exclusive membership, 102-3, 104-6; women as members, 100, 102-4,108,111-12; Yearbooks, 112-13 Glitza, Adolf, 114 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 34, 41,88,118 Grofie Kunstaustellung des Kunstve-

reins. See Kunstverein Grand Exhibition of Art (1896) Gurlitt gallery, Berlin, 50 Gustav V, King of Sweden, 20 Haller, Martin, 47,68,104,137n98 Hals, Frans, 48,51, 52, 54-5,57,61 Hamburg Artists' Association. See Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub Hamburg: Burgomasters, 52,133nl, 134-5n42; cholera epidemic (1892), 62-3,65,83; Citizens' Assembly, 15,16,17, 25,53, 73, 81,84-5,406; and creation of the Kunsthalle, 72-3; general characteristics of, 5-6; Great Fire (1842), 68; lacks university, 30-1; redesign of Rathaus, 68-9; reputation as uncultured, 23; Senate, 6,14,15,16, 17,20,38,43,47, 52,53,59,68,113, 119; workers, 62-3, 68-9 Hamburger Freie Presse, 87 Hamburger Fremdenblatt, 84, 85,86,

87-8 Hamburger Nachrichten, 14, 79,80-1,

42,59, 96,102,103,105,107, 111, 112,114,115,116,119; artists of, 76; critics of, 76-7; influence of French impressionism on, 77-8; Lichtwark's influence on, 77; painting Hamburg scenes, 77-9 Hammonia, 53,75-6 Hauptmann, Gerhart, 43,116 Heilbut, Emil, 104,108 Heine, Heinrich, 75 Herbert, Robert, 56 Herbst, Thomas, 74,76, 77,105 Hertz, Adolph Ferdinand, 106 Hertz, Emma Dina, 114 Hertz, Gustav, 43 Hertz, Mary, 106, 111, 114 Hertz, Paul, 114,145n70 Hesse, Hartwig, 72 Heydt, Baron August von der, 30 Hinrichsen, Siegmund, 106 Hodler, Ferdinand, 37,42 Holbein, Hans, 18 Humboldt, Wilhelm von, 88 lilies, Arthur, 16,38,76,79,80,85,90, 93-4, 105,107,115; poster for Kunstverein grand exhibition (1895), 74, 82,101 impressionism, French, 4, 6,18, 29, 30,33,34, 36,49, 55-6, 77,105; reflects changes in modern Europe, 56 impressionism, German, 30,107; definition of, 55-6. See also pleinair painting Israels, Jozef, 51

84, 85,87-8, 97,139n24 Hamburgischer Correspondent, 57, 87,

88, 90,91,112 Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub, 6,38,

Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde, 33,102,117;

articles promoting modern art,

162 Index 112-13. See also Gesellchaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde Jelavich, Peter, 5 Jews, Germany: and modernism, 4; as patrons of modern art, 30,119 Juhl, Ernst, 74 Kaemp, Reinhold Hermann, 52 Kalckreuth, Leopold von, 6,21,22, 36,39,42, 79,103,106,107,115, 116,122; Alfred Lichtwark, Director of the Hamburger Kunsthalle, 21,107

Kalkmann, Ernst, 105 Kall, Carl, 13,39 Kauffmann, Hermann, 18, 91 Kayser, Paul, 76,105 Kessler, Count Harry, 106 Klimt, Gustav, 37,42 Klinger, Max, 13,14,18,42,49, 73, 134n29 Kokoschka, Oscar, 37 Kollwitz, Kathe, 115 Kortmann, Marie, 106 Kriiger, Albert, 58,59 Krupp, Alfred, 29 Kunstfur Alle, 3,29,136n62 Kunst und Kunstler, 29 Kunsthalle Commission, 15,16,23, 51-2,63,65,66,67,73, 79,94-5,105 Kunsthalle, Hamburg, 6,15,36,110; bourgeois patrons of, 105,115-16; budgets, 17; Kaisersaal, 43-4,47, 65; Lichtwark appointed as director, 14; Liebermann collection, 6; as modern public gallery, 16; origins of, 72-3 Kunstverein, Hamburg, 16,70, 81, 84,89,90-5,105,107,119,120; conflict within (1896), 90-3,140n56; grand exhibitions of art, 73-4;

helps to establish Kunsthalle, 72-3; Lichtwark and, 74,98-9; loses preeminent position in Hamburg, 73; membership, 72; origins and development, 71-2; supports original German art, 71-2 Kunstverein Grand Exhibition of Art (1896): attendance of, 74; controversial poster for, 74-5; exhibition committee of, 74; Hamburg artists of 'new tendency' displayed in, 79, 85-7; Lichtwark's influence on, 74 Langbehn, Julius, 26,129n77 League for Workers' Welfare, Berlin, 25 Leibl, Wilhelm, 18,34,36,48,49,55, 73,95 Leistikow, Walter, 3,84,95,115 Lenbach, Franz von, 4,29,44-7,48, 49,54, 65; Emperor William I,46;

portraits of Bismarck, 45; portrait of Moltke for the Kunsthalle, 47 Lenman, Robin, 46,100,138n5 Lessing, Julius, 13,14, 39 Lichtwark, Alfred: argues for 'new tradition' of German art, 32-40; on art and the economy, 32,109; breaks with the Kunstverein, 96-9, 141nn76, 78; character of, 9-10, 19-23; critics of, 58-9, 65,70,76-7, 80,85-6,90-9,1224n3; as cultural critic, 6; on culture and nation, 7,9, 24,31,33-4,40,122; death of, 22-3; defends modernism, 8,34-7, 121-2; depiction of bourgeoisie as Philistines, 23,26-31,119,122; on dilettantism, 109-11; early years and development, 10-14; on educational reform, 25-6; fashions

Index 163 modern public gallery, 15,126n32; and Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde, 100-16; hired as director of the Kunsthalle, 14-15; on impressionism, 35-6,39-40, 49-50,122; on Kalckreuth, 37; on Langbehn, 129n77; on Lenbach's portrait of William1,46-7;letters to the Kunsthalle Commission, 16-17,126n34; on Liebermann, 36-7,39-40, 51,69; nationalism of, 24-5,44,128nn65, 66; on need for cultured bourgeoisie, 7, 9, 31-2, 122; 'new tendency' scandal (1896), 70, 80-99,120; Petersen portrait scandal, 41, 57-69,120; on post-impressionism, 37; on portraits, 42-3; promotes local art in Hamburg, 37-9; on public's neglect of German artists, 27,33, 121; as self-made man in Bildungsburgertum, 39; successes in Hamburg, 118-19; supporters among Hamburg's bourgeoisie, 118-19, 122; supporters among Hamburg's leading women, 100,106,118-19, 146n6; as teacher to the nation, 3940; and workers, 25,129n72; and World's Fair, Paris (1900), 23-4, 127n61 Lichtwark, Friedrich Carl Johann Ernst (father), 10-12 Lichtwark, Hans (brother), 11,12, 21 Lichtwark, Helena Johanna Henriette (mother), 10-12,15, 21,22 Lichtwark, Marianne (sister), 11,12, 15, 21,22,125n9 Liebermann, Louis, 47 Liebermann, Max, 10,25,28,34,39, 40, 73,76, 84,107,114,118,119,

120,121,134n33; as 'apostle of ugliness,' 48; and Berlin Secession, 3-4, 33; Burgomaster Carl Friedrich

Petersen, 54-5; critics of, 27,44, 48,81; early years and artistic development, 47-50; and French impressionism, 49-50; and the Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde, 105-6,115; The Goosepluckers, 47-8; The Hamburg Assembly of Professors, 43; as im-

pressionist painter, 55-6; meets Lichtwark, 50; The Netmenders, 50-1; Petersen portrait, 41,51-2, 54-6h9,12hhhhhhhhhhh0;andDiePhantasiein der Malerei, 35; and works in the Collection of Paintings from Hamburg, 42-3,116,120; Terrace in Jacob's Restaurant, 68; Twelve-YearOld Jesus in the Temple controversy,

48-9,134nn24,27; and 'young' art, 36 Liebermann, Phillipine, 47 Liebhaberbibliothek, 101,113 Loesener, Friedrich Leopold, 93, 100 Loesener-Sloman, Mary. See Sloman, Mary Lorenz-Meyer, Eduard Lorenz, 87, 103,104,106,107,108,112,142nl7 Luitpold, Prince Regent of Bavaria, 49 Luther, Martin, 44 Lutteroth, Arthur, 85, 91-2,94 Makart, Hans, 45 Manet, Edouard, 34,35,39,49,55,68, 95,107,119; Olympia, 62 Mannhardt, Wolf, 21 Marcks, Erich, 23,106,116

164 Index Marees, Hans von, 36 Matisse, Henri, 37,42 Meister Bertram, 18 Meister Francke, 18 Melle, Werner von, 84,90-1, 93,94, 95-6 Mendelssohn, Robert von, 119 Menzel, Adolph von, 4,13,18,27,33, 35,36,48,49,55, 74,91,92,105, 135n50 Merck, Heinrich, 112 Merck, Johannes, 93 Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, 39,132nl38 Mettlerkamp, David Christian, 71 Meyer, Eduard, 43 Michael, Joseph, 86-7,97,103 Millet, Jean-Francois, 48,92,95 modern German art: bourgeois patrons of, 3; Centenary Exhibition in Berlin (1906) and, 33; critics of, 4-5,62; general characteristics of, 3 Mohrbutter, Alfred, 76; Church in Allermohe, 79,138n20

Mohring, Senator, 17, 90 Moltke, Helmuth von, 44,45 Mommsen, Theodor, 13 Monckeberg, Carl, 119 Monckeberg, Johann Georg, 43 Monet, Claude, 34,35,49,55, 76,77, 95,106,119 Morgenstern, Christian, 18 Morisot, Berthe, 49 Munch, Edvard, 3,83,106,107,115, 139n35 Munich, 48,81 Museum fur Kunst und Gewerbe, Hamburg, 13, 82,87 Muther, Richard, 29

National Gallery, Berlin, 4,17,32-3, 34,133n9 National Portrait Gallery, London, 43 naturalism, 44,55,56, 79,119,120 Naumann, Friedrich, 43 'new tendency' in art, 58,67,121; caricature of, 87; public opposition to, 80-8,97-8; scandal in Hamburg over, 70, 74,75,76, 79-93,115,120. See also Hamburgischer Kiinstlerclub; Kunstverein; Lichtwark, Alfred; Wichmann, Robert Newman, Henry Percy, 22,105,115 Newman, Maria-Luise, 22 Nolde, Emil, 37,108 Nonne, Max, 59 Oldach, Julius, 18,71 Osthaus, Karl Ernst, 4 O'Swald, Alfred, 104 O'Swald, Toni, 104, 111, 118 O'Swald, William Henry, 43,66 Pan,106

Panizza, Oskar, 5 Paret, Peter, 5 Pauli, Gustav, 20,21,29; faces opposition in Bremen, 117 Pecht, Friedrich, 44,49 Petersen, Carl, 41,56,58,59,63,119; character and background, 52-3; reaction to portrait by Liebermann, 57,61-2,69; reputation in Hamburg, 52-3; statue of, 65 Petersen portrait: critics of, 57-9, 61-2,120; defenders, 57; fails to glorify Petersen's social position, 62,120; hidden from public, 63; illustration of in Kunst fur Alle, 136n62; 'redone' for Kunsthalle,

Index 165 67. See also Liebermann, Max; Lichtwark, Alfred Picasso, Pablo, 37 Pietsch, Ludwig, 13,48 Piloty, Karl Theodor von, 44 Pissarro, Camille, 49,119 plein-air painting, 38, 55,59,61,74, 77,119,120. See also impressionism, French and German Pontoppidan, Erik, 107 Prell, Hermann, 13 Rathenau, Walther, 3-4,32,47, 131nl09 Redon, Odilon, 115 Rembrandt als Erzieher (Rembrandt as Educator), 26,30. See also Lang-

behn, Julius Rembrandt, 35,46,51 Renoir, Auguste, 34,35,55,107,119, 146nl2 Riecke, Oscar, 85 Rilke, Rainer Maria, 18 Rodin, Auguste, 95 Rosenberg, Adolf, 44,57 Rubens, Peter Paul, 46 Runge, Philipp Otto, 6,18, 33, 34, 91, 121 Ruths, Valentin, 74,93 Sammlung von Bildern aus Hamburg. See Collection of Paintings from Hamburg Sauerlandt, Max, 37,132nl32 Schaper, Friedrich, 76,105; EntryHall in Finkenwerder, 78; A Summer's Day in Finkenwerder, 78

Scheffler, Karl, 11,20,40 Scheits, Matthias, 18 Schiefler, Gustav, 73,80,81,91,118,

141n5; and Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde, 101,104, 107,108,109,112,114,115-16; supports Lichtwark in 'new tendency' scandal (1896), 88-90,92-3, 120 Schlegel, Friedrich, 121 Schone, Richard, 13 Schramm, Max, 104 Schramm, Olga, 104,108,118 Schramm, Percy Ernst, 19 Schuch, Karl, 95-6 Schwabe, G.C., 15 Seidlitz, Woldemar von, 13,60 Servaes, Franz, 57-8 Siebelist, Arthur, 76,107, 111, 144n59 Signac, Paul, 119 Simmel, Georg, 135n57 Simms, Henry, 105,119 Simon, James, 119 Sisley, Alfred, 49, 95,119 Slevogt, Max, 6,36,42,43,55,120, 121,122 Sloman, Mary, 100,103,108,141nl Social Democratic Party (SPD), 25, 62,69,93 Society of Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art. See Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde Springer, Anton, 13,39 Stern, Fritz, 45 Stern, Julius, 30,119 Stoecker, Adolf, 49 Strebel, Hermann, 43 Thoma, Hans, 48,95 Tilgner, Victor, 65 Titian, 34,46 Toulouse-Lautrec, Henri de, 75,115 Treitschke, Heinrich von, 13,14-15

166 Index Triibner, Wilhelm, 33,34,36,43,81, 95,122 Tschudi, Hugo von, 4,13,17,29, 32-3,84,95-6,118,119; 'Tschudi affair,' 5,34 Uhde, Fritz von, 3,36,49,73,81,120, 122 Union of Teachers for the Encouragement of Arts Education, Hamburg, 25 van Gogh, Vincent, 3,37,108,119; and art scandal in Bremen, 117 Velazquez, Diego, 46 Versmann, Johannes, 52 Vinnen, Carl, 117,145n4 Vossische Zeitung, 48

Vuillard, Edouard, 34,42,116,120 Wagner, Richard, 112 Wallsee, Heinrich, 80,85,97 Warburg, Aby, 80,106 Warburg, Albert, 106 Warburg, Gerta, 106,115,118,143n31 Warburg, Mary. See Hertz, Mary Wedekind, Frank, 5,84 Wehrverein, Hamburg, 25 Werner, Anton von, 4,29,44,50,82, 84,120 Westphal, Otto, 92 Whistler, James, 115 Wichmann, Robert: attacks Eitner and lilies, 82-3,97; background of,

81-2; criticized by Schiefler, 89; develops opposition group, 84-5, 91-3,103,120; Kunstverein elections and, 90-3,94; Lichtwark and, 94-6; modern art as 'bacchanalia' and 'epidemic,' 83; supported by artists, 86-7. See also 'new tendency' scandal William I, Emperor of Germany, 20, 44 William II, Emperor of Germany, 4-5,20,34,95,117 Willinck, Theodor, 93,104 Wirtschaftsburgertum, 30

Woermann, Adolf, 104 Woermann, Marie, 104,107, 111, 118, 142nl9 Wohlers, Julius, 76,107,115 Wohlwill, Adolf, 53 Wohlwill, Paul, 105 Yearbook for the Society of Hamburg's Patrons of Fine Art. See Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft Hamburgischer Kunstfreunde

Zacharias, Eduard, 107 Zacharias, Frau Dr, 107 Zacharias, Marie, 21,103,104,107, 111, 112 Zeitschriftfur bildende Kunst, 48

Zeromski, Anna von, 11,12,106,108, 125n9 Zimmermann, Carl, 106