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Tim Blanning, Painterly Enlightenment: The Art of Franz Anton Maulbertsch, 1724–1796, The English Historical Review, Volume CXXII, Issue 498, September 2007, Pages 1095–1096, https://doi.org/10.1093/ehr/cem192
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In 1995 Thomas DaCosta Kaufmann published an illuminating (and lavishly illustrated) study of the art and culture of Central Europe entitled Court, Cloister and City (rev. ante, cxiii [1998], 996–7). Among the lesser known artists he disinterred on that occasion was Franz Anton Maulbertsch, to whom he returns in this short but closely argued book. It started out as the Rand Lectures at the University of North Carolina, which helps to explain the agreeably discursive tone of the enterprise. Some large claims are made for his subject, whom he describes as a ‘great master’, responsible for ‘many luminously beautiful paintings’. Although he can cite in his support no less a figure than Oskar Kokoschka, the evidence provided by the thirty-six colour plates and fifty-two black-and-white figures is less than overwhelming. Part of the problem may be the variable quality of the former, which ranges from excellent to muddy. De gustibus non disputandum est, Kaufmann might reasonably rejoinder, and this matter can be left to the individual reader. Where he is on firmer ground is in his examination of the Enlightenment in the Habsburg Monarchy through the eyes of one of its most prolific artists. Here he has a great deal of importance to say and everyone interested in the history of the period will be stimulated by his findings. Particularly interesting is his analysis of the shifting pattern of Maulbertsch's patronage. He began as a fresco painter favoured by Maria Theresa and Joseph II, producing for example the enormous fresco depicting ‘Allegory of the Union of the Houses of Austria and Lorraine’ and ‘Treasures of the Tyrol’ in the Riesensaal of the Hofburg at Innsbruck. In the 1780s, however, the imperial commissions dried up. Instead, he turned to painting mainly for Hungarian abbots and prelates, whose commissions called for the privileging of local saints. A good example was a fresco for the chapel of the Bishop's Palace at Pressburg, Bratislava, painted for Cardinal von Batthyány, the leader of the opposition to Vienna, which depicted St Ladislas wearing the crown of St Stephen and included soldiers unfurling the flag of Hungary. As Kaufmann observes, this and the many other paintings like it can be seen ‘as manifestations of resistance to Joseph's reforms’. More problematic is the attempt to associate Maulbertsch with an enlightened agenda. Certainly there is some clear evidence, notably his ‘Allegory on the Edict of Toleration’, but elsewhere the evidence is strained beyond breaking point. Light may indeed signify the Enlightenment's favourite metaphor, but it can signify many other things besides. Similarly, the depiction of agricultural prosperity is not in itself evidence of physiocratic influence. Moreover, although Kaufmann is well aware of the variety of opinions that could be accommodated under the enlightened umbrella, he asserts that it proved increasingly unable to accommodate even radical Catholic reformers. His belief that there was a ‘bourgeois’ Enlightenment in Vienna comes from the same stable, in which today only dead horses are to be found. The attempt to link Maulbertsch and his exuberant baroque style to the austerity of Winckelmann and neo-classicism is ingenious but does not convince. Despite these qualifications, Kaufmann has shown once again how much of interest and beauty there is to be found when one gets off the beaten track and into the more remote districts of Bohemia, Moravia and Hungary.
