John Soane's Cabinet of Curiosities: Reflections on an Architect and His Collection by Bruce Boucher
Yale University Press, 2024
Sir John Soane’s Museum, situated opposite Lincoln’s Inn Fields in London, is a treasure-house of wonderful things: paintings, books, sculptures, and other objects which almost defy description. Their unifying characteristic is that they were all collected by one man, the architect John Soane. The house in which the objects are situated was designed and reconfigured by Soane himself, and the story behind the collection is as fascinating as the wide diversity of items within it.
Soane had a fairly humble upbringing, but through a combination of good fortune, hard work, and genuine talent he became the foremost architect in late seventeenth/early eighteenth-century England. Most famous for designing the new building for the Bank of England, he had a long career and amassed a sizeable fortune. In 1784 he married Eliza Smith, the niece of George Wyatt, the City Surveyor of Paving. When Wyatt died six years later Eliza inherited a large fortune in her own right, and together the couple had the financial independence to follow their individual inclinations. As a young architect Soane had been encouraged to collect plaster copies of classical motifs, and from these he acquired a taste for other objects which inspired or simply interested him.
The title of the book is significant. The Cabinet of Curiosities became fashionable throughout Europe from the sixteenth century onwards. Rather than actual cabinets, these were often rooms in which men collected items of interest. Almost anything could be kept and displayed, from works of art to animal skulls, dried flowers and plants, fossils, books, and objects from antiquity. Soane’s collection may have started with architectural themes, but as time passed it grew to include anything that he, or his wife, felt inclined to buy. At the time of his death in 1837 there were more than forty thousand objects and seven thousand books in the house, and, concerned that they might be broken up, he left the house and contents to the nation on condition that the collection remained intact. It is still the smallest national museum in public ownership, and impossible to classify.
The museum occupies No. 13 Lincoln’s Inn Fields, one of the most prestigious addresses in London. Soane and his wife originally purchased No. 12 in 1792 but as the collection grew, the house became too small to contain it. In 1806 they bought the house next door, and in two phases between 1808 and 1812 completely reconfigured it to house the ever-growing collection. In 1813 they moved in, but Eliza sadly died just two years later. What followed is hugely significant for understanding not only the contents of the museum, but also how it came to be in public ownership.
The Soanes had two surviving children, John and George. John, the eldest, suffered from ill-health, and died in 1823. George, his younger brother, drifted without much purpose, was constantly in debt, and acquired a wife of whom Sir John disapproved. He failed to complete his medical studies, and an attempt at a writing career also came to nothing. He wrote regular begging letters to his father, who usually ignored them, and was eventually sent to a debtors’ prison. Even then his father would not help him, except for a small allowance covering his basic costs while in prison. He was eventually released in 1815, and set about taking his revenge.
Boucher explains what happened next. Soane was always extremely sensitive to criticism of his work, and bore grudges against those with whom he differed, often for life. Upon his release from prison George published two articles in the newspaper The Champion in which he criticised the design of the Bank of England and then described No. 13 as “the house in Lincoln’s Inn Fields where the architect must stand like a eunuch in a seraglio; the envious guardian of that which he cannot enjoy.” He then added, in a final condemnation, that his father had “reared this mausoleum for the enshrinement of his body.” Eliza recognised the anonymous author of the articles as her son: “those are George’s doing. He has given me a death blow. I shall never be able to hold up my head again.” Sir John held his son responsible for her death just two years later, and even had George’s articles framed and placed on the wall in his dressing room. When a friend suggested removing them, he succinctly replied, “I hang those there precisely in order that I may not forget.” As time went by Soane became determined that not only should the house and its contents remain intact after his death, his remaining son should inherit no interest in the estate. In 1833 an Act of Parliament was required to hand over ownership of the property to the Crown upon Soane’s death, and the rental income from No. 12 was used to cover the running costs. George got nothing.
Having dealt with how the collection came to be in public ownership, Boucher begins to examine in detail the objects contained in the house. The visitor unfamiliar with the museum is easily overwhelmed, since (as already stated) the collection comprises more than forty thousand different objects and the overall effect can be confusing. The rooms are carefully designed and often enlarged, some are lit with glass-domed ceilings, and each contains a plethora of objects, most displayed without any signage. The oldest object is the limestone sarcophagus of the Egyptian Pharaoh Seti I, which dates to around 1280 BCE. Boucher carefully explains how the collection grew, but more importantly he places Sir John at the very centre of the story, emphasising repeatedly how the house was laid out according to his wishes —wishes which may be somewhat opaque to others. A few examples might help to demonstrate this point.
In the Library, the Breakfast Room, and the Dining Room, the distinguishing features are the number and standard of the ancient vases on display. According to Boucher, between 1800 and 1802 —a relatively compressed time-frame— Soane bought at auction the bulk of his collection of nearly sixty vases, varying in both quality and size. At the time these were all classified as ‘Etruscan,’ although many are now known to be from ancient Greece, some even dating back to the fourth century BCE. The vases are displayed as finials on the top of bookcases, on wall brackets, and various shelves, corner pieces, tables, and even specially constructed cabinets. Together they comprise a collection worthy of any institution, but they beg the question: what was Soane’s motivation?
For the answer we must look not only at how the vases are displayed, but also at what Soane and his contemporaries understood about what they were collecting. Boucher outlines the background: an aristocratic craze for hunting down and bringing back ancient artefacts, mostly from Italy. The recent discovery of Pompeii and Herculaneum had provided European collectors with the opportunity to own and display high-quality items in their own homes. The desire to possess these antiques became a growing obsession among wealthy individuals who harboured intellectual pretensions. Soane himself probably had multiple ambitions: as an architect he had developed a keen interest in all aspects of the ancient world, studying and collecting the detailed features of its buildings, while he was also fascinated by its artefacts, especially vases and statues. As a collector he knew that by possessing such rare objects he was projecting himself as a man not only of wealth and taste, but also of learning. It was almost as if the ownership and display of these valuable items imbued him with the knowledge of their production and decoration.
Throughout the house, as one might expect, there are casts and original fragments of classical architecture. There are also several cork models of classical ruins, including one of Pompeii. As a young architect Soane had spent two years in Italy, studying all aspects of Italian architecture, both ancient and more modern interpretations of its classical tradition. He absorbed everything that he saw, and its influence remained with him throughout his career. The sheer number of architectural motifs which adorn the walls and alcoves are, in themselves, overwhelming and add to the impression of overcrowded space. However, it must be remembered that this was not just a private house containing a private and personal collection, but also a workspace in which Soane and his pupils could study and refer to examples of architectural details from the past.
Another theme that runs through the house is what Boucher calls “British worthies.” These are works by artists, writers, and architects whom Soane admired and supported —especially if they were, or had been, members of the Royal Academy. (He himself had been trained at the Academy school, won prizes there, been elected as a member, and delivered the architectural lectures on numerous occasions.) Wherever one looks, there are spaces filled with reminders of these revered figures. For example, when reconfiguring the two houses Soane was able to create what has become known as the ‘Shakespeare recess’. Measuring only one-and-a-half metres by two-and-a-half, it contains a fine bust of the Bard, while nearby are some painted scenes from his plays by Soane’s fellow Academicians Henry Howard and George Jones. The recess itself is almost shrine-like, leading to a staircase displaying further paintings of scenes from the plays. Boucher notes that Soane’s admiration for Shakespeare was part of the prevalent and growing sense of patriotism and ‘Englishness’ at the time. Nowhere is this more apparent than in what has become known as the ‘Picture Room’.
The Picture Room is one of the highlights of the whole house. Not only does it contain pictures of exceptional quality, its unusual design is worthy of study itself. It is a small room with paintings hung close together from just below eye-level almost up to the glass domed ceiling, which provides plenty of natural light. On one side are the four canvases of Hogarth’s The Humours of an Election (1752-53), which alone make the house worth visiting. However, every day at two o’clock the panels upon which they are displayed are unhooked and folded out to reveal further panels upon which are hung the eight canvases of the series The Rake’s Progress, painted around 1734. Soane purchased these for the substantial sum of 570 guineas in 1802, the same year in which he bought his collection of vases, and eventually acquired the Election set in 1823 for the then-enormous price of £1,732 10s. An added attraction of this set was the fact that the paintings had belonged to David Garrick and were being sold by his wife, thereby linking Soane to another of his ‘British Worthies.’
While the Picture Room paintings themselves are of huge interest – a magnificent large Caneletto, Riva degli Schiavoni, Venice, faces you as you enter the space – Boucher draws out the significance of the whole space in relation to Soane and his overall intentions, rather than dwell on the individual pictures themselves. The house, after all, was designed as a unified whole, so that while each part has a distinct purpose, it also has a sympathetic relationship with the rest of the house. Although the works in this room are of variable quality Boucher highlights how the overall ensemble expresses the influence of Sir Peter Bourgeois. Little known today, he was a fellow Academician whom Soane knew well, and also an art dealer who —together with Noël Desenfans— acquired much of what is now housed at Dulwich, the gallery which may legitimately be regarded as Soane’s architectural masterpiece. So the connections are made visible: Soane saw value in his fellow Academicians and sought to celebrate them while they, in their turn, supported him.
While The Rake’s Progress was one of the most expensive acquisitions, the Election series which necessitated redesigning the Picture Room, although less well-known, shows Hogarth at the height of his powers. It viciously portrays the corruption endemic within the Parliamentary electoral system at the time, and is full of graphic details. The scene which shows the voting, for example, has a clearly deranged figure being dragged to the voting booth, while a dead body is brought in to cast its vote. Britannia’s coach lies broken in the background, and her coachmen are playing cards. It is a depiction of chaos and deceit, and one which Hogarth clearly enjoyed creating. In placing this series in such a prominent position, Soane both promotes his fellow Academician (a founding member of the Academy) while also acknowledging his affinity with the artist. Like Soane, Hogarth came from humble beginnings, and both men supported the Foundling Hospital. It could even be suggested that Soane and Hogarth are archetypes of the successful strivers portrayed in the Hogarth series Industry and Idleness, while George obviously corresponds to the Idleness character.
Boucher’s book is a thoroughly-researched and exhaustive account of the house and collection’s development. As previously stated, the largely absent labelling means that many of the artefacts remain puzzling to the average visitor. However, on the plus side, this means that the house is still presented more or less as Soane left it, allowing us to appreciate the synergy between the professional man and his personal life. The book illuminates so much about the collection that it thereby becomes even more interesting and significant. Sadly, Soane is not a well known figure and his house, although usually well attended (ninety people are permitted inside at any one time, so queueing is common) is not on the mainstream museum map. However, it is a gem that rewards multiple visits, for each time you find something new that you previously missed. This book provides all the detail that one could wish to make the next encounter even more worthwhile.--Paul Flux
