Portrait of Isabella Wolff by Sir Thomas Lawrence
A British art historian claims that one of the great British artists of the early nineteenth century may have hinted at a scandalous love affair in one of his portraits.
It’s easy for both academics and casual gallery visitors to view the great artists of centuries ago as stoic figures of history, aware of their own greatness. However, it’s important to remind ourselves of the moments from their lives when they exhibited their humanity. I’ve written about these aspects of their lives regarding their relationships, how they chose to express love, and when they decided to be lighthearted and funny in their work. And now, a British art historian believes he has gained fresh insight into the personal life of one of the great artists of Regency-era Britain: Sir Thomas Lawrence.
Lawrence was one of the most prolific British painters of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. He was the principal painter for kings George III and George IV, later serving as president of the Royal Academy from 1820 to 1830. He is probably best known for his 1815 portrait of the Duke of Wellington and King George IV’s coronation portrait. But his success extended beyond the bounds of Britain, as many foreign notables sat to have their portrait done, including Prince Metternich, King Friedrich Wilhelm III of Prussia, King Leopold I of Belgium, Queen Maria II of Portugal, Emperor Francis I of Austria, and the Italian sculptor Antonio Canova. For such a prominent artist, a scandal involving an affair with the wife of a foreign diplomat would have been catastrophic for his career.
One of Lawrence’s closest friends was Isabella Wolff, the wife of Jens Wolff, the Danish consul in London. One particular portrait Lawrence painted of her led British art historian Bendor Grosvenor to deduce that some of the more scandalous rumors about the pair may have been true. This portrait, completed in 1815, is now in the Art Institute of Chicago. Grosvenor notes that there are several classical references in the painting. The Art Institute description states that Wolff is depicted pondering a book with an illustration of Michelangelo’s Delphic Sibyl from the Sistine Chapel. According to Grosvenor, the artist may have included another reference to Michelangelo in Wolff’s posture. It is said to resemble the titular mythological character in Michelangelo’s lost painting Leda & the Swan. While the original painting is thought to have been destroyed, many prints and engravings exist, of which Lawrence owned a copy. The original myth tells that Leda slept with her husband and Zeus on the same night, with Zeus disguising himself as a swan. Grosvenor believes that the similarities in Leda and Isabella’s posture hint at their alleged affair.
In the background, there is a partial view of a sculpture resembling typical depictions of the Greek mythological figure Niobe. In the story, Niobe brags that she is a better mother than the goddess Leto. In response, Leto sent her twin children, Apollo and Artemis, to slay Niobe’s children. The portrayals of Niobe often show her with one of her children clinging to her skirt while she begs Zeus for his protection. This may indicate not only the existence of an affair but Wolff’s reason. Lawrence and Wolff’s close friendship was well-known in British social circles, especially among artists. In a letter to his wife, John Constable once wrote about their friendship and how it may relate to Wolff’s turbulent marriage: “She is quite an intimate of Sir Thomas Lawrence, who has often drawn her. Her husband, from whom she is parted, is the Danish consul & in every sense of the word a Wolfe.” Shortly after Lawrence died in 1830, the Literary Gazette commented how Isabella Wolff may have sought his company because of her husband’s treatment of her. The references in the portrait may also reinforce another rumor: that Lawrence was the true father of Wolff’s son Hermann. Some commentators remark that Lawrence was a significant figure in Hermann’s life, being such a close friend of her mother. When King Charles X of France asked for Lawrence to paint his portrait in 1825, Lawrence brought Hermann with him.
Lawrence and Wolff died within a few months of each other, and nearly all their correspondence was destroyed. We may only have to guess and speculate as to the nature of their relationship. And while this sort of investigative work may not do much to advance art historical scholarship on Lawrence’s work, it is important to keep these sorts of stories in mind. They show artists as living, breathing humans with complex emotions and complicated interpersonal relationships. Reminders of humanity like this keep scholarship grounded, in a way.