COLLECTORS AND CURIOSITIES

Paris and VeniceJ 15 00-1800

Krzysztof Pomian

Translated by Elizabeth Wiles- Portier

Polity Press

First published as Collectionneurs, amateurs et cuneux, copyright Editions Gallimard 1987. The essay entitled 'Enrre le visible et !'invisible: Ia collection' copyright Giulio Einaudi editorie, Torino, 1978. This English translation copyright Polity Press 1990. Published with the assistance of the French Ministry of Culture and Communication First published 1990 by Polity Press in association with Basil Blackwell Editorial office: Polity Press, 65 Bridge Street, Cambridge CB2 !UR, UK Marketing and production: Basil Blackwell Ltd 108 Cowley Road, Oxford OX4 1JF, UK Basil Blackwell, Inc 3 Cambridge Cenrer Cambridge, Massachusetts 02142, USA All rights reserved. Except for the quotation of short passages for the purposes of criticism and review, no part of this publication may be reproduced. stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form ot by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher. Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise. be lent. re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Bnttsh Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Pomian, Krzysztof Collectors and curiosities: Paris and Venice, 1500-1800. !. France. Paris. Collecting. history. 2. Italy. Venice. Collecting, history I. Title II. Collecrionneurs, amateurs et curieux. English 790.132094436 ISBN 0-7456-0680 -6 Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. Typeset in 10 on ll 1/2pt Garamond by Witwell Ltd, Southport Printed in Great Britain by T.J. Press Ltd., Padstow, Cornwall

Contents

Foreword

1 THE COLLECTION: BETWEEN THE VISIBLE AND THE 1.1 A Collection of Collections 1.2 Collections: the Invisible and the Visible 1.3 Usefulness and Meaning 1.4 Museums and Private Collections
2
THE AGE OF CURIOSITY

INVISIBLE

7
11

20
26 34

45 65

COLLECTIONS IN VENETIA IN THE HEYDAY OF CURIOSITY

3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4

4

Collections as Microcosms The Galleries of Antiquities Natural Curiosities Paintings

69
78

99
106

MEDALS/SHEL LS= ERUDITION/PH ILOSOPHY DEALERS, CONNOISSEURS AND ENTHUSIASTS IN EIGHTEENTH-C ENTURY PARIS MAFFEI AND CAYLUS COLLECTORS, NATURALISTS AND ANTIQUARIAN S IN THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY

121 139

6
7

169
185 192 217 239 258

7.1 Paintings, Drawings, Engravings 7.2 Objec(S from the Natural World 7.3 Historical Monuments
8
PRIVATE COLLECTIONS, PuBLIC MusEuMs

Notes Index

276

334

Foreword

The collector? A harmless eccentric, who spends his days sorting out stamps, impaling butterflies on pins or revelling in erotic engravings. Or, quite the reverse, a wily speculator who buys up works of art for next to nothing, only to sell them for fabulous sums, all the while claiming to be an art lover. Or again, a man of good family who has inherited, along with a stately home and antique furniture, a collection of pictures, the finest of which he allows to be admired on the glossy pages of chic magazines. Three different sketches, three very different viewpoints, but all anecdotal, for a collector is only taken seriously when he manipulates large sums of money. Only when a collection is made for investment purposes, is locked up in a bank vault and is worth more than its weighr in gold does it impress; anything else is perceived merely as a narcissistic and slightly frivolous pastime - nothing more than a trifle. The images of private collections and of collectors which are apparently most firmly rooted in French opinion, may vary in degrees of generosity and irony, but none ever attributes to its subject anything more than very minor importance. This is in no way surprising, as srare patronage, whether royal, imperial or republican, has, at any rate since the sixteenth century, been far more significant than private patronage. Royal collections, which fell, with the demise of the ancien regime, into state hands, acquired a status in French cultural history that private ones had neither the means nor the pedigree to rival. Thus it was that the state came to dominate art in France for centuries, not only by overseeing its production and its preservation, but also by undertaking to maintain and care for historical and scientific artefacts. Today, therefore, even museums built around private collections which include genuine masterpieces are looked down upon as the poor relations of state-run ones. Only in the last decades of the nineteenth century did private patronage

Foreword

Foreword

begin to help national museums build up their treasures and fill in their gaps, by commissioning works from artists not benefiting from state sponsorship. This same era saw several private collections become state property, usually after the death of their creator. This trend has recently increased thanks to the introduction of new tax laws copied from other countries. There are already some indications that the general public will, in the long run, adopt a different attitude towards collectors. With the increase in the number of donations as well as of museums either created from or considerably enriched by private collections, not to mention efforts made by exhibition organizers and critics to educate the public, collectors may therefore be seen one day as 'central characters in the world of art' (Andre Chaste!) if not that of culture more generally. In countries where everyone is fully aware that the museums, both large and small, have been founded thanks to private initiative and owe their stocks tO private collections and to purchases financed by private individuals and businesses, this opinion is already very widespread. In the United States, for example, the collector is seen almost as a kindly monarch, bestowing works of art or relics of the past upon his or her place of birth, whether it be great or small. What is more, he makes sure that that is where they stay, by presenting this birthplace with museums, institutions serving both an educative and recreative purpose. Virtually every one of these organizes exhibitions, lectures and film showings and functions as a library and source of publications, all of which make them meeting-places where the social fabric can be rewoven. Recognition of the cultural role of collectors can be found much nearer home. Italy, which waited many long years to become a nation state was, from the fifteenth century onwards, particularly rich in private collectors, several of whom gave the public access to their collections very early on. It is in Italy that the role of private collections over the centuries in the crystallization of civic loyalty and national feeling can best be seen. In fact, it soon becomes clear that their role was actually a political one, as they had a very real, albeit invisible, influence on urban life. The same is true today of public museums. It is only due to help from the state, in other words the taxpayers, that they are able not only to keep ticket prices low in order to increase visitor numbers but also to press ahead with the renovation of buildings, with conservation work and with purchases that allow them to keep up with current artistic endeavour. They are, however, equally dependent on private collections which, by helping them to trace the vagaries of taste right up to the present day and beyond, appear to complement them in a quite irreplaceable way. Astonishment, praise and criticism have been aroused by collections ever since their genesis. In the West, the Greeks were the first to make written

descriptions of their collections, and these still echo to the admiring rones of visitors. The inventories, often very detailed, provide a glimpse of the royal and ecclesiastical treasures of the Middle Ages, some of which have, miraculously, survived up to the present day. From the fifteenth century onwards, as modern-day collections began to burgeon, a whole body of literature came into existence, which was entirely or ar least in part devoted to them, and which turned out to be very heterogeneous. It included guides for travellers, art lovers and enthusiasts, accounts of journeys, descriptions of collections, art galleries and private museums, written sometimes by visitors, sometimes by the proprietors themselves. As well as these there were biographies of artists, works by local historians, research work carried our by antiquarians and scholars, works on natural history, correspondence often published by its authors during their lifetime, sales catalogues from the beginning of the seventeenth century onwards and, from the 1660s onwards, articles in journals. At the same time, archives became piled high with inventories compiled after the decease of a collector and various documents to do with the trade in art. In the eighteenth century dealers began to put pen to paper with advice on the choice and layout of a collection, dissertations on rhe trade in curiosities and on sales or handbooks intended for collectors. At the same period historians and art critics began to have their say too, sometimes making only passing reference to the collections where they had seen the works they describe, sometimes giving quite derailed descriptions. At a later stage they went on to produce many monographs of collections and of different categories of collectable objects, along with biographies of collectOrs, histories of collections and of museums in certain rowns or countries and research into the art trade. They even made several attempts to come up with an overview. Historians of science, of earth sciences and most especially of natural science later proceeded to follow them down these various paths. This great mass of literature contained a number of documents which dealt only with certain works of art - paintings in particular - seeking to reconstruct all the adventures which befell them between their birrh and the moment when their hisrory became known. To this end, attempts were made to find every trace these works had left, to identify their successive owners and the prices paid for them, as well as to place the restoration work carried out on them in its correct cultural and technical context. Thus, when collections were studied the aim may have been to highlight rheir intrinsic nature, but the interest was far more likely to have been kindled by one or several works they included, and which had caught the historian's eye. This way of proceeding left its mark on all those inventories and catalogues where curiosities, ancient relics, coins and natural history objects are all neglected save those which can further the search for traces of works of art

Foreword

Foreword

or even just of a few masterpieces. Luckily, this type of lopsided publication is becoming rarer nowadays, though it has not died out completely. Identifying the taste of collectors, which can be gauged from their choice of objects, represents a different, and perhaps more important, aspect of the study of collections. It is betrayed not only by the collections themselves but also by artists' commissions, by fa\;ades, interior decor, architectural details, pictures, frescoes, stuccowork, sculptures, furniture, fabrics, china and so on. This explains why the boundary separating the collection from the decor tends to disappear when taste is seen as the overriding concern. As a result, documents are no longer consulted over questions of collection layout, the significance of each piece or the selection of visitors to be allowed a glimpse. This perspective also means that anything which cannot contribute to the identification of taste fades into insignificance. Taste, isolated thus from notions of the past, from religious or patriotic sentiment and from questions of scientific interest, is reduced exclusively to a set of preferences accorded to certain artistic propositions, and imprisoned in the 'aesthetic' sphere, sometimes at the price of flagrant anachronism. It is, moreover, viewed as purely individual. In studies of this type efforts may not even be made to link differences in taste to those in generations, social strata, degrees of culture or indeed in religious, ideological and political leanings, by comparing collectors of the same nationality or age. Nor is it totally unknown for historians to set themselves up as arbiters of taste and to judge the collections under scrutiny according to their own preferences. It goes without saying that in this way they deprive themselves of all means of understanding the choices of those they claim to be studying. When collections are treated solely as the guardians of works of art or as testaments to taste, even if they seem initially to be the object of a study, they will actual! y on! y be used to solve puzzles concerning an entire! y different field. This process remains a perfectly legitimate one, as long as it is remembered that collections play more than these two roles, and that if the others are forgotten collections cannot be fully understood. Similarly, it is quite acceptable to restrict oneself to artistic, scientific or hisrorical collections according to the requirements of the history of those particular domains, as long as it is borne in mind that in this case a multi-dimensional phenomenon is being examined from one sometimes artificially isolated aspect, and that important elements may well be missed. When the choice of collections relevant to a particular viewpoint has been made from collections belonging to a particular town, region or country, and from a specific point in its history, it is obvious that only those characteristics which correspond ro the questions being asked are taken into account. Most of the time, unfortunately, these questions do not originate from theorizing about the collection as an anthropological event but are handed down wholesale from one generation of scholars to the next. At this stage there is

a considerable risk that, rather than approaching the object of study in one's own individual fashion, one will be tempted to impose on it the dividing lines habitually used to segregate the various disciplines, thoroughly mutilating it in the process. The articles contained in this volume are the fruits of nearly twenty years of research, and their approach to collections differs from those described above, in that they treat them as an institution coextensive with man both in terms of space and time. As such, collections become the product of a unique type of behaviour, consisting in the formation of collections, in an attempt to create a link between the visible and the invisible. There is a geographical dimension to this behaviour, in so far as collections are concentrated in religious and political centres and at intellectual, artistic and economic crossroads. To this can be added a social dimension, for collections are generally accessible only to a public satisfying certain criteria, while their actual nature and content depend on the status of the collector himself; rhat is, on the positions he has reached in the hierarchies of power, prestige, education and wealth. This last particular hierarchy also implies the existence of an economic dimension. Precious objects are concrete manifes rations of wealth, and collection pieces are not only exchanged as gifts, but are also bought and sold, plundered and stolen, with the result thar in civilized societies, wherever a collector goes, robbers and dealers are sure ro follow. As the boundary between the visible and the invisible shifts in time, there is also a historical dimension to collection-building, and objects belonging to neither category come to light, especially observable objects and reconstructible ones. This is the hisrory which is reflected in changes to the contents of collections, to their location and to the context which each category of objects is given, not only by those belonging ro other categories bur also by the language used to describe them. It is reflected too in changes to the way objects are dis pia yed, to their public and, last of all, to the attitudes of displayers and visitors alike to these collections. The collection is thus a unique domain, whose history cannot be consigned ro the narrow confines of the histories of art, the sciences or history itself. It is, or rather should be, a history in its own right, concentrating on 'semiophores', or objects bearing meaning, on their production, their circulation and their 'consumption', which most generally takes the form of mere viewing and does not, as such, involve any physical destruction. As the history of the production of semiophores it intersects with the histories of art, history and the sciences, as semiophores include not only works of art, but also relics of the past and objects found in the natural and exotic world. When the history of their circulation is examined, the history of economics cannot be avoided, especially when it comes to the evolution and development of the marker in semiophores. Lastly, with the

Foreword

history of their 'consumption', the history of the classification of objects and of the meaning vested in them, it comes into contact with intellectual history, while the history of those who place them on display and those who come and look at them intersects with social history. Placed at the crossroads of several different currents of thought, the history of collections would seem to offer a valuable line of pursuit to cultural historians. The first article contained in this volume outlines a general theory in which the collection is treated as an anthropological event, while the last one traces the transition from private collection to public museum. They both, especially the first, seek to provide theoretical justification for the approaches employed in the remaining articles, which are devoted to different aspects of the history of collections between the sixteenth century and the end of the eighteenth, centred mainly on Paris and on the territory of the former Venetian Republic. Therefore, while the same object is examined at some points with the aid of a telescope, elsewhere, a microscope is employed, since, in this way, a panoramic view of the phenomenon of collections, from the Palaeolithic to modern times, can be supplemented by studies of particular collections belonging to a specific region, town or even individual, entering at moments into very great detail indeed. This was, it seemed, a good way of avoiding both the Scylla of empty generalizations and the Charybdis of mountains of unrelated facts. All these articles were written between 1974 and 1983. All have been published already, but in works which have not always been readily obtainable. The ever-growing number of students of the history of collections will, I hope, find it helpful to have a volume containing all of them for the first time. If this book leads to a clearer definition of the field of research as well as its relevance to all studies of culture, highlighting the different possible approaches and the wealth waiting ro be discovered, it will have fulfilled its purpose. July 1986

The Collection: between the Visible and the Invisible

It would take more than one large tome to list the contents of every museum and private collection, even if these contents were only referred to once, and by category. In Paris alone, there are apparently 150 museums, not only the world-famous art galleries, but also museums devoted exclusively to the army, to nature and hunting, the cinema, counterfeiting, Freemasonry, the history of France, natural history, the history of man, oldfashioned spyglasses and telescopes, the navy, musical instruments, gramophones, speech and gesture, locksmithing, the table, techniques and technology and so on and so on. For their part, private collections often contain the most unexpected objects, whose banality is such as to make one wonder who on earth could possibly be interested in them. One lady in Poland even picks up orange, lemon and grapefruit wrappings. Which all goes to prove that every natural object known to man and every artefact, however strange, will show up somewhere in the world as part of a museum or private collection. This begs the question of how this universe, which comprises so many and such sundry elements, can ever be given an overall definition without the danger of succumbing to simple list-making. Our task is therefore one of finding out what, if anything, they all have in common. The trucks and locomotives lined up in the railway museum carry neither freight nor passengers. Nobody is slain by the swords, cannons and guns on display in the military museum, and not one single worker or peasant uses the utensils, tools and costumes assembled in folklore collections or museums. The same is true of everything which ends up in this strange world where the word 'usefulness' seems never to have been heard of, for to say that the objects which now await only the gaze of the curious were still of some use would be a gross distortion of the English language: the locks and keys no longer secure any door, the machines produce nothing and the clocks and watches are certainly not expected to give the precise time of day.

The Co!lectioJl: between the Visible and the Invisible

The Collection: between the Visible and the Invisible

Although they may well have served a definite purpose in their former existence, museum and collection pieces no longer serve any at all, and as such acquire the same quality as works of art, which are never produced with any definite use in mind, but simply to adorn people, palaces, temples, apartments, gardens, streets, squares and cemeteries. Even so, it cannot really be said that museum and collection pieces serve a decorative purpose: decoration is the art of using pictures and sculptures to break the monotony of blank walls which are already there and in need of enhancement, whereas walls are built or specially adapted in museums and in some of the larger collections, for the specific purpose of displaying works. Collectors with more modest means have showcases built, boxes and albums made or else clear a space somewhere for objects to be placed, the aim every time seemingly being the same, namely that of bringing objects together in order to show them to others. Museum and collection pieces may be neither useful nor decorative, yet enormous care is nonetheless lavished on them. The risk of corrosion caused by physical and chemical factors is reduced to a minimum by careful monitoring of variables such as light, humidity, temperature and levels of atmospheric pollution. Damaged objects are always restored to their former glory whenever possible, and every effort is made to ensure that the public's only contact with them is visual. The existence of a market where these objects circulate at sometimes astronomical prices emphasizes their great value; indeed when a self-portrait of Rembrandt was sold on 29 November 1974, at the Palais Galliera in Paris for the sum of 1,100,570 francs, one of the expert journalists found this figure completely derisory. 1 A black market, fed with stolen goods from private collections and museums, operates alongside the official one, and in 1974 alone, 4785 old masters went missing. 2 Besides these, thieves also go for objects which, although less spectacular, are nonetheless valuable in the eyes of the collectors, which means that along with museum curators, they too are constantly faced with a major security problem. The presence of a police station within the precincts of the Grand Palais in Paris, where the most prestigious works are exhibited, exemplifies the extent of the surveillance system which has been set up. Put in simple terms, collectOrs and curatOrs alike are forced to act as if they were guarding treasure. Given that this is the case, it might seem surprising that treasures like these should still be on show to the public, unlike those which languish in bank safes and strongrooms. Even more surprising is the fact that as often as not their owners do not profit from them financially. True, some collections are built up with a purely speculative end in mind, and most private collections are dispersed upon the death of their owners, to the benefit of their heirs. Yet this is by no means always the case, and one could cite dozens of examples of collections which have been turned into

museums. In Paris, the Cognacq-Jay, and Nissim de Camondo Museums all started life this way, as did Geneva's Ariana Museum, the Lazaro Galdiano in Madrid, the Federico Mares in Barcelona, the Peggy Guggenheim Foundation in Venice, Boston's Gardner House and New York's Frick Collection. The creation of a private collection cannot, therefore, be reduced to outright and unambiguous hoarding, and the same is, of course, even more true for museums. The objects these latter possess are inalienable, and no move is ever made to sell them off, even when a museum is afflicted by the very worst financial crisis imaginable. The only known exception to this, since the beginning of the twentieth century, has been the sale of pictures from the Hermitage Museum in Leningrad by the Soviet government from 1929 to 1937. 3 Even museums which reserve the right to sell certain pieces in their possession, such as the New York Museum of Modern Art, only do so in order to acquire other works which will widen the range of styles and movements the museum covers. Unlike private collectors, museums do not seek to keep works out of circulation for a limited period of time, but for always. The world of private collections and museums seems to be one of endless diversity, and yet the few remarks which have just been made, albeit provisionally, reveal a certain unity, certain points in common shared by every single one of those extremely heterogeneous objects which are amassed in such great quantities in private homes and public buildings alike. These remarks enable one to gain a clearer definition of the particular institution which concerns this volume, namely the collection, an institution which must satisfy the following criteria: a set of natural or artificial objects, kept temporarily or permanently out of the economic circuit, afforded special protection in enclosed places adapted specifically for that purpose and put on display. This definition is obviously rigorously descriptive, and one which immediately bars all exhibitions from the category of collection, since they only represent the very briefest of moments in the process of circulation or production of material goods. Excluded roo are the piles of objects which chance alone has thrown together, as well as all hidden treasures, regardless of their other characteristics. On the other hand, the same definition does include most libraries and archives in the category of collection, alongside museums and private collections, though this does require a distinction to be made straightaway between archives and mere repositories of documents which remain part of the administrative and economic circuits of activity. The Polish dictionary of archives does, in fact, furnish a view coinciding with our own definition: 'an institution called upon to guard, collecr, sort, preserve, keep and render accessible documents which, although they are no longer useful on a daily basis as before, and are therefore considered superfluous in offices and stares, nonetheless merit being preserved' 4 Libraries pose a slightly more complicated problem.

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The Collection: between the Visible and the Invisible

The Collection: between the Visible and the Invisible

11

Books are, it is true, sometimes regarded as objects, collected for their beautiful bindings or illustrations, for instance, and in this case the issue is simple, just as it is when a library acts as an archive or contains books intended solely for entertainment. Certain libraries, however, only house works of reference needed for the pursuit of some form of economic activity, and these cannot come under the heading of collection. This topic will be discussed later on, as will that of the coexistence in our societies of two types of collections, the private collection and the museum. The descriptive stage, which had enabled the collection to be defined, appears otherwise to be something of a cul-de-sac, though it does harbour an implicit paradox which now needs to be discussed, for it is an undoubted paradox that objects which are kept temporarily or permanently out of the circuit of economic activity should even so be afforded the kind of special protection normally reserved for precious objects. The fact is that they are precious objects, yet they paradoxically have an exchange value and no practical or usage value. Indeed they could have no practical value as they are bought not to be used but to be displayed. This could in itself be seen as a very particular use, but at that point the term 'use' might end up devoid of all meaning altogether. Any and every object can be used in many different ways of course, but it seems important to maintain the difference between these uses, however strange, and the very special behaviour reserved for certain objects, when they are simply looked at and admired. This is the fate of every item purchased for a collection, and even when it is carefully preserved or repaired, the sole aim is to render it more presentable. It must be remembered that when a work of art enters a museum or a collection, it loses its usage value, if one is of the opinion that its ability to decorate constitutes such a value, for it no longer serves that purpose in such an environment. It can now be taken as read that objects which become collection pieces have an exchange value but no practical value, yet the origin of this exchange value still needs to be elucidated, and our next task is to establish exactly what it is that makes these objects so precious in our eyes. Answers to this puzzle are frequently based on a sort of primitive psychology which can conjure up any postulation it needs, such as the existence of a property instinct or a tendency to hoard inherent in certain individuals and probably all civilized beings, if not in the whole of mankind. More seriously, it is claimed that certain collection pieces are sources of aesthetic pleasure, and that others, or indeed the very same ones, constitute the key ro greater historical or scientific knowledge. Lastly, it is observed that their possession confers a certain prestige on their owners, since they serve as proofs of their good taste, of their considerable intellectual curiosity, or even of their wealth and generosity, if not all these qualities at the same time. It is hardly surprising, or so the argument continues, that there are a

number of people who seek to own such pieces and are willing to sacrifice some of their fortune in the process, while other similar individuals, this time without sufficient means, seek at the very least the right to view them. This in turn creates demand, which attributes value to potential collection pieces rhe purchase of which gives rise to a new market. It also leads to pressure being exerted on the state for it to provide visual access to these objects for those who have nor the wherewithal to purchase for themselves the aesthetic pleasure, the historical and scientific knowledge or even the prestige they afford. This explanation has its merits, but remains unsatisfactory. Aesthetic pleasure is left undefined, the reason behind the urge to acquire historical and scientific knowledge is not explored and we never learn precisely how rhe possession of certain objects confers prestige. Even if all these answers were given, an explanation would still need to be found for the presence of collections in societies different to our own. The existence of a collection in contexts differing slightly from those of private collections and museums would immediately render the above explanation inapplicable, even if we were fully to understand and accept it. In this case, it would, at the very best, apply only to a local modification of a more general phenomenon; at worst, it would be entirely irrelevant, and would turn out to be a very secondary explanation of the behavioural trait which consists in considering collection pieces as precious, and whose true motives remain a total mystery to us. Accordingly, the real truth can only be ascertained if we leave the confines of our society and embark on the quest for collections elsewhere.

1.1 A COLLECTION OF COLLECTIONS

The quest is not an arduous one. Piled up in tombs and temples are sets of natural and artificial objects, kept temporarily or permanently out of the economic circuit, afforded special protection and placed on display, and it is time to take a closer look.

Funeral objects
Though not universal, the custom of burying the dead along with their possessions is extremely widespread, and the existence of funeral objects, sometimes precious, sometimes less so, has been proved as far back as Neolithic times. In the most ancient city to be discovered so far, C::atal Hliylik in Anatolia, which flourished between 6500 and 5700 BC, the contents of the tombs already differed widely according to the gender and

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13

social status of the person buried there. 5 These differences were reinforced later on in many civilizations, where tombs were filled with various different examples of tools, weapons, articles of toiletry, jewellery and ornaments, tapestries, musical instruments, works of art and so on. Accounts of digs and exhibition catalogues provide countless descriptions of the decoration and contents of tombs. An example from China, and a particularly spectacular one at that, the description of the tomb of Princess Tong-T'Ai dating from AD 706, will suffice to give a good idea of this. The tumulus measuring some twelve metres high, rose up from the tomb ":'hich was in turn some twelve metres below ground. A slope measuring Sixty metres m length, and decorated on each side by four recesses three metres deep gave on to a corridor which opened on to an antechamber ten metres further on, and this antechamber was linked by a passage more than six metres long to the funeral chamber. A stone sarcophagus had been placed within this chamber. Overall, the tomb measured some fifteen metres long by five metres wide. It was excavated from August 1960 to April 1962. It was noticed, as is often the case, alas, with the large tombs, that it had been visited by thieves ... In spite of the pillage, it still contained over a thousand objects: eight hundred and seventy-eight funeral statuettes, a great many vestimemary ornaments, ceramics, eight objects made from gold in the passage, which the thieves must have dropped as they left, around one hundred bronzes, one hundred and five door embellishments, roughly thirty iron objects, including pieces of harness, as well as a dozen jade pieces, also found in the passage. Seven hundred and seventy-seven statuettes were made of painted terracotta; sixty had 'Three Colour' glazing, while thirty more were made from wood ... No less exceptional were the murals decorating the walls of the tomb and corridor. G Two further facts need to be underlined. First of all, a whole series of measures was taken to protect the tombs from pillage, that is the reuse in this life of what is intended to remain with the dead forever in the life beyond. Attempts were made to disguise the location of the tomb or to make intruders lose their way, by building mazes or digging false graves. Divine assistance was sought in the form of curses invoking heavenly wrath upon the heads of possible robbers or profaners. Inspection and monitoring systems were set up. Secondly, and very importantly, the objects were placed in the tombs to be seen by those living in the next world. It is hard to believe that the Chinese or the Scythians really expected their sacrificed slaves to perform the usual tasks for their masters and their slaughtered horses to carry horsemen. Moreover, it is a fact that human and animal sacrifices were replaced almost everywhere by statuettes, and objects in actual use by models. This phenomenon is explained by invoking economic

considerations: the tendency to hold on to what could still be of use. However, this is a specious argument, as the replacement models were often more difficult to execute than the original objects, and the materials used often far rarer and therefore more precious. The advent of replacement models would seem thus to have been dictated not by economic motives but rather by the belief that funeral objects were not to be used but perpetually gazed upon and admired.

Offerings Our museums owe their name to the ancient temples of the Muses, though the most famous of these, the Museum of Alexandria, did not owe its fame to any collection of objects, but rather to its library and the team of scholars who formed a community within its walls. There is, nevertheless, more than one similarity between the Greek and Roman temples and our own museums, for it was in these temples that offerings were amassed and displayed. 'The object, which had been given to the god and received by him in accordance with the rites, becomes tEpov or sacrum, and shares in the majesty and inviolability of the gods. Stealing or moving it, preventing it from fulfilling its funcrion or even simply touching it constitute acts of sacrilege.' To talk of use in this context is in fact impossible. Once the object crossed the threshold of the sacred enclosure, it entered into a domain which was strictly opposed to utilitarian activities. Within this enclosure, 'one can neither extract stone, take earth, chop wood, build, cultivate nor live.' Accordingly, objects could only play one single role, and were placed on display either in the sacred buildings which they then adorned, or else in buildings erected specially to house offerings, when these became so numerous that they threatened to clutter up the places of worship. As well as coming to pray, the pilgrims, who were also tourists, visited the temples in order to admire the objects they contained. Indeed, a whole body of literature, the most well-known being the work by Pausanias, was written with the aim of describing the examples which were the most remarkable because of their material, their size, the difficulty of their execution, the extraordinary circumstances surrounding their placing in the temple or because of yet other features which set them apart from the rest. In theory, once an object had been offered to the gods it had to remain forever in the temple in which it had been deposited. Every object was listed in an inventory and protected from theft. Even when they deteriorated they were not disposed of in any old way.
If they were made of silver or gold, the following course of action was taken: a decree of the people resulting from a proposal from the priest or

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15

holy treasurer, in accordance with advice from the council, ordered that the offerings which were in a poor state be melted down into ingots or amalgamated to form one single offering; the same procedure was followed when dealing with all scraps of precious metal. If they proved to be an encumbrance or were broken, less valuable objects were taken from the temple and buried. Their dedication had consecrated them for eternity, and they were in no circumstances to be put back into circulation, so in order to shield them better from all secular use, they were often broken on purpose, if they were not already broken. This accounts for the piles of terracotta or bronze objects to be found in the vicinity of certain sanctuaries, for example at Tegea, Cnidus and Olympia. 7 Treasures amassed in temples as offerings did sometimes, however, return to the economic circuit, converted, in other words, into money. In spite of the belief that temples should not be touched even in times of war, armies did not always resist the temptation of pillaging the riches of their enemies, even when the enemies in question were Greek. Thus, when the Phocaeans gained control of the sanctuary of Delphi, they sold off the gold and silver offerings they found there in order to pay their mercenary army. This action was looked upon as sacrilege, and when the Phocaeans were in their turn conquered in 346 BC, they were forced to reimburse the temples for all that they had stolen from them. There did exist a legal procedure for lifting restrictions on sacred treasures. This required the vote of the people to whom the temple belonged, and was resorted to when the country was in danger, as was the case when the Athenians borrowed money from their gods during the Peloponnesian War. This was in fact a loan granted by the gods to the city and which had to be reimbursed with interest, and in 422 BC the Athenians had run up a debt of 4750 talents to Athena Polias, 30 talents to Athena Nike and 800 talents to the orher gods, meaning that, taking the interest into account, they owed a total sum of around 7000 talents. 8

Gifts and booty

Objects kept out of the economic circuit accumulated not only in temples but also in the seats of power. Tributes and booty flowed in, while ambassadors would come armed with gifts, which would always be shown to the courtiers and sometimes also to the crowds which gathered to witness their official visits. These objects were stored under strict guard in treasurehouses, and were rarely accessible, being exhibited solely during festivals or ceremonies. Funeral corteges and coronation processions proved good opportunities to display the splendour the country possessed, and the

dazzled public was given the chance to feast its eyes on all the stones, fabrics, jewels, objets d'art made of precious metals and so on, had been amassed. This was so not only in oriental monarchies but also 10 European countries during the Middle Ages, and we will come back to this later. We must now turn our attention to Rome, in which a general returning there from a victorious campaign, would be granted the privilege of displaying the men he had subjugated and the treasures he had seized. Thus, 'on the occasion of his third victory over the pirates, Asia, Pontus and the nations and kings listed in the seventh book of this work ... Pompey paraded a chess-board, along with its pieces made from stones, which measured three feet wide and four feet long ... three dtmng-room couches, dishes of gold and gemstones, sufficient for nine credence tables, three gold statues of Minerva, Mars and Apollo, thirty-three pearl a square mountain of gold with stags, lions fruit every, kind, surrounded by a gold vine, a pearl grotto topped wtth a sundtal . . . . After being carried round in triumphant display, some of the seized from the enemy were offered to temples, where they were put on vtew; Pompey, for example, dedicated wine cups and murrhine cups to Jupiter's temple on the Capitoline. Others remained in the possession of the victorious general. Booty seems to have formed the basis of private collections in Rome. This, at any rate, was the opinion of Pliny the Elder: 'It was the victory of Pompey over Mithridates that made fashion veer to pearls and gemstones. The victories of Lucius Scipio and of Cnaeus Manlius had done the same for chased silver garments of cloth of gold and dining couches inlaid with bronze; and that of Mummius for Corinthian bronzes and fine paintings'. 9 It is patently obvious that the objects which the great Roman collectors (as well as either generals or proconsuls), Sulla, Julius Caesar and Verres, amassed and put on display in their residences or else in the temples wh_ere they had been placed as offerings, were booty; and. the story_ of ts a good case in point. Only during the Emptre dtd collectmg gam popularity that when Vitruvius designed a house he would reserve a speCial place for housing pictures and sculptures. . Two features characterizing the Roman collectors sttll need to be outlined. The first of these was their supreme disdain for the usefulness of the objects they amassed, the second their constant efforts to outbid each other, risking in so doing not only their fortunes but also their dignity. The best illustration of this comes in a passage from Plmy the Elder, which is worth quoting despite its length. An ex-consul drank from a murrhine cup for which he had given 70,000 sesterces, although it held just three pints. He was so fond of it that would gnaw its rim; and yet the damage he thus caused only enhanced tts

16

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value, and there is no other piece of murrhine ware even today that has a higher price set upon it. The amount of money squandered by this same man upon the other articles of this material in his possession can be gauged from their number, which was so great that, when Nero took them away from the man's children and displayed them, they filled a private theatre .... When the ex-consul Titus Petronius was facing death, he broke, to spite Nero, a murrhine dipper that had cost him 300,000 sesterces, thereby depriving the emperor's dining-room table of this legacy. Nero, however, as was proper for an emperor, outdid everyone by paying 1,000,000 sesterces for a single bowl. That one who was acclaimed as a victorious general and as Father of his Country should have paid so much in order to drink is a detail that we must formally record. 10 This seems to bear a curious resemblance to the potlatch of the North American Indians, but whereas in Rome dignity was associated with the ability to spend money in exchange for utterly useless objects, dignity for the K wakiutl people, for example, is linked to the ability to give blankets, chests, canoes or food to others without asking for anything in return. This observation in turn raises two further questions. The first concerns the presence of collections in societies which historians of this institution are not accustomed to studying; the second, and more important, concerns the relationship between the collection and competitive behaviour. This will be discussed in more detail further on.

Relics and sacred objects

Relics, or objects supposed to have been in contact with a god or hero or to constitute the remains of some great event in the mythical or far-distant past, were equally well known in Greece and Rome. Pausanias describes a great many of them, including the clay Prometheus used to fashion the first man and woman, the rock Cronos devoured instead of his son, the egg from which Castor and Pollux hatched, the remains of the tree at the foot of which the Greeks made their sacrifices before setting off for the Trojan War, and many others besides. 11 Pliny also mentions them from time to time, one example being the sardonyx put on display in the temple of Concord in Rome, and which was said to have belonged to Polycrates of Samos, the hero of a famous tale. 12 It was Christianity with its cult of the saints which was responsible for the cult of relics reaching its apogee. It would be impossible to trace the hisrory of this cult within the covers of this book, and for the purposes of our study we need only repeat that a relic was any object said to have been in contact with a character from sacred history, and whenever possible was an actual part of his body. However minute it

was, and whatever its nature, this object retained all the with whic.h the saint had been invested during his lifetime, which explams how a relic was able to sanctify the place where it was situated just as effectively as the saint himself would have done. Some put a halt to the spread of disease and restored sufferers to health; others protected towns and kingdoms from their enemies. All guaranteed assistance from the saints with prosperity, and all were, not surprisingly, regarded as most preCious of treasures. When Queen Matilda returned to England 10 1125, after the death of her husband, the Emperor Henry V, she brought with her a relic of St James, and the events were described in the. following way by a chronicler: 'Queen Matilda travelled to her father m England takmg the hand of StJames with her and by this she did irreparable. d.amage to t.he regnurn Francorurn.'l3 This was by no means an isolated optmon: FrederiCk Barbarossa embarked on diplomatic negotiations in an attempt to recover the relic, but the English refused to relinquish it. . . Gifts of land were not sufficient in themselves to found a religious establishmen t relics were also needed. Once they entered a church or abbey, they would ever leave it as the result of a theft or, most because they had been given to some powerful figure or other. In thts way they became extremely numerous, and required catalogues to drawn The relics were contained in reliquaries, shown to the fatthful dunng religious ceremonies and carried in processions. contact. the miraculous powers of the relics even more effective, the not content themselves with merely looking on, but touched the reltquanes and kissed every inch of them. In northern France, between 1050 and 1550 it was relics that the monks exhibited when collecting donations towards the building of churches and abbeysl 4 Finally, relics were much coveted, often obtained through theft, and this meant that the most famous of them had to be guarded by soldiers.l5 Trading based on relics also. took place,. and the Roman cemeteries functioned, dare one say it, as quarnes from which great quantities of saintly relics were extracted for sale in the rest of As well as relics, churches also kept and put on show other objects, including natural curiosities and above all offerings: altars, chalices, ciboria, chasubles, candelabras and tapestries sometimes retain even today the names of their donors, while certain pictures even include the faces of them and their families. Funeral monuments, stained-glass windows, jubes and historiated capitals should all be added to the list, and doubtless items too. Thus, besides being places of worship, each church also a permanent exhibition of dozens of objects. This, however, IS so famd1ar a subject that it needs no further elaboration.

?e

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Royal treasures

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19

The objects gradually accumulating in the residences of those in power have already been alluded to in our discussion on gifts and booty. Gifts and booty were, however, not the only things to be found there. The Attalids of Pergamum, to quote a well-known example, prized sculptures and pictures, and they were not alone in doing so. However, we have chosen a number of inventories from the Middle Ages in order to highlight the contents of the homes of princes and kings in ancient times, as they give a fairly accurate picture. The first striking feature of these inventories is that most of the objects they list had some kind of use. In the case of regalia, rings and belts, the use was a ceremonial one; in the case of crosses crucifixes images reliquaries, altars, chalices, crooks, mitres and copes a dishes, knives, seat covers and so on were all part of secular life. From time to time, natural curiosities and various odd instruments, such as astrolabes and globes, find their way into these collections, and it becomes obvious that we are not dealing here with objects kept out of use and out of the economic circuit. Two features should, nevertheless, prevent any rapid assumptions being made. The first is the sheer number of objects: the inventory of King Charles V of France, lists 3906 items, and such a huge quantity could not possibly have been used all at the same time, however extended the court may have been, and must therefore not have served any function at all. The second is that in general, the objects were made from the precious metals gold and silver, and decorated with precious stones such as sapphires, rubies, onyx, amethysts, emeralds, diamonds and pearlsY This would appear robe a further reason for supposing that most of these objects would never be used in everyday life. Involvement in the economic circuit does not necessarily mean an object has to serve some practical purpose, since it can also stem from the accumulation of objects where the aim is to build up capital. It cannot be denied that in times of need princes dipped into their stares of treasure: when Charles V had part of his collection of dishes taken to the Mint he was neither the first nor the last to make use of this expedient. The inventories themselves contain references to sales made in order to finance royal expenditure elsewhere. The authors of the inventory of the jewels of King Charles VI of France wrote the following caption concerning a certain small gold crown with thirteen flowerets: '117 pearls were extracted from this crown and given to a silversmith by the name of Charles Poupart, in payment for a number of doublets and jewels he had made for the king for his journey to St Orner where the King of England himself was to be present.' ts And several other events of this kind could be cited. Philippe de Valois sent a famous piece known as Le Grand Camee from the Sainte Chapelle to Pope Clement VI as security for a loan, 19 and in 1253 the

Hohenstaufen family jewels were given as security, or possibly sold, to a company of merchants and bankers for the sum of 2522 Genoese pounds, the equivalent of two years' wages for a podesta in Genoa, one year's wages for five hundred craftsmen, the price of the largest ship to be built at that time, complete with crew and enough supplies to last for four months, 630 cows or 400 ordinary horses. 20 All these various equivalents, which indicate a treasure much less valuable than that of Charles V, for example, help to illustrate just how much wealth was stored up in the royal palaces. Yet it is impossible to reduce the amassing of precious objects by royalty to the simple accumulation of capital. Indeed, distinctions were apparently made at the time between 'joyaux' and 'epargne' just as a distinction was made between 'joyaux' and 'vaisselle'. In view of this, our task is to determine whether and in what circumstances the jewels were displayed, and in fact the inventories make it clear that they were normally shut away in chests or cupboards, these being placed in their turn in well-guarded chambers. They were taken out mostly for various different ceremonies and festivals: at the death of the 21 king, the regalia were paraded during the funeral procession, while they were also displayed on solemn visits to the different towns of the realm, along with ceremonial arms and armour, decorated harness and richly embroidered cloths covered in gems. Here is King Charles VII of France, entering Paris on 12 November 1437. Le roy estoit arme de toutes piesses, sur ung biau coursier; et avoit ung cheval couvert de velloux d'azur en coullour, seme de fleurs de lis d'orfaverie. Er devant luy, son premier escuier d'escurie monte sur ung coursier couvert de fin blancher couvert d' orfaverie semee de serfs [sic] vollans. Et estoient quatre coursiers tous pareulx, dont il y avoit trois chevalliers avec l'escuier, leurs coursiers pareillement couverrs que l'escuier, et eulx en armes de tous harnois; et porroit !edit escuier, sur ung bas ton, le harnois de teste du roy; et sur !edit harnois, une couronne d' or; et au milieu, sur Ia houppe, une grosse fleur de lis doublee de fin or moult riche, er son roy d'armes devanr luy porrant sa corte d'armes moult riche de veloux azure a trois fleurs de lis de fin or de brodeure (et estoienr les fleurs de lis brodees de grosses perles;) et ung autre escuier d'escuerie monte sur ung genest, qui porroit une grande espee toute semee de fleurs de lis de fin or d'orfaverie ... _22 The scene which has just been described is in no way exceptional, and it is clear, even without constant reference to source material, not only that the jewels were put on show, bur also that this was their chief function. Our case rests here, even if it does seem to rest on a mere assortment of

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bric-a-brac. The so-called collections which have been described so far differ in almost every aspect from ones which exist today, as well as from each other. Established in widely differing locations, and of different natures and origins, even the behaviour of their visitors or viewing public differs. True, in each case there is a set of objects which, subject to certain reservations, satisfy the conditions stipulated in our definition of a collection, yet by assimilating such heterogeneous sets we perhaps risk resembling the madman, created by the novelist Julio Corrazar, who firmly believed he was surrounded by collections. For him, an office was nothing but a collection of clerks, a school a collection of pupils, a barracks a collection of soldiers and a prison one of prisoners. The moral of this anecdote is that no comparison of institutions can be valid unless it is based not on external appearances but on functional similarity.

1.2 COLLECTIONS: THE INVISIBLE AND THE VISIBLE

The objects which are shut up in tombs are, to the living, sacrificed. As gifts to the dead, they should remain in their possession forever. No matter how this sort of proceeding is justified - and it has been variously justified by successive societies and in successive periods -the relationship between the living and the dead has always and everywhere been perceived as an exchange: the living give up not only the use but even the sight of certain objects, in return for the benevolent neutrality, if not actual protection, of the dead. Pursuing this idea to its extremes, the ancient Chinese invented special offertory currencies, which 'constituted from the very outset exchange values for use with the world beyond. As early as Neolithic times, there existed imitations of stone and bone cowries, and tombs dating from the third century BC contain considerable quantities of clay slabs symbolizing gold'; paper money appeared later on.23 Obviously, this exchange presupposed the division of human beings into two groups, those in this world and the others in the next. The same can be said of offerings, although in this case the dividing line ran not between the living and the dead but between man and god. This difference did, however, become blurred as the gods were actually deified men while ancestors benefited from almost divine status. Whatever the case, the important thing tO remember is that offerings placed in the temple became the property of the gods. The gods stipulated that these objects should not leave the sacred enclosure once they had entered it, except in the very special circumstances discussed earlier on. It was therefore possible to bury them in the /avissae, the pits where the objects cluttering up the temple were deposited, as in this way they continued to be the property of the gods. Moreover, instead of being sent to the temple, objects could be

ritually destroyed, and if this was deliberately done to dedicate them to the gods, they remained true offerings. Herodotus recounts how Croesus 'burnt on a great pyre couches covered with gold and silver, golden goblets, and purple cloaks and tunics; by these means he hoped the better to win the aid of the god of Delphi', to whom he also sent rich gifts. 24 Offerings also formed parr of the exchange process, therefore, and along with prayers and sacrifices guaranteed the favour of the divinity for whom they were intended. When objects were intended for gods or for the dead, they did not necessarily have to be put on display. Funeral objects were not, nor were offerings, except in certain societies, and this, of course, poses a problem, as we have defined the collection as a set of objects ... put on display. But for whom? We had implied that they were intended for the eyes of the living, yet the inhabitants of the world beyond also had visual access to them, at times when it was barred to the former. One possibility would be to disregard the non-human gaze and to limit discussion to sets of objects displayed to human eyes. This seems unnecessary, even though it does complicate the picture somewhat, since objects remained visible to the gods and even to the dead after having been physically destroyed, crushed and burned. However, funeral objects and offerings should, in our view, be considered as collections, as the important factor is not that they were intended for gods or for the dead, but the acknowledgement of the existence of a potential audience, in another temporal or spatial sphere, implicit in the very act of placing the objects in a tomb or temple. This is the belief, which could be expressed in actions alone, but which words have often been used to describe, that another kind of observer can or does exist, who should be allowed to rest his eyes on objects belonging to us. We should now look more closely at what happens when the objects intended for the gods, namely the offerings, are placed on public show. As well as serving as intermediaries between mortals and immortals, they also came to represent to visitors the fame of the gods, since they were proof that this fame reached all four corners of the world: after all, even the Hyperboreans sent offerings to Delphi .... In the same way, they represented peoples who lived in far and remote if not fabulous lands. For present-cia y visitors they were a reminder of past benefactors, along with the circumstances surrounding the sending of offerings, and even of groups and individuals who had been involved in bygone events. Some of the offerings were testaments to the ability of certain craftsmen, sculptors or painters to produce extraordinary works the likes of which are no longer seen today. The weirdest, strangest, most spectacular offerings stood out from the ranks of more commonplace articles, exciting the curiosity and imagination of the visitors by challenging them to go beyond the simply visual and co listen to or read more on the subject. Thus it was that stories

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or anecdotes, some of which have come down to us through the works of Herodotus, Pausanias, Pliny the Elder and several other authors, revolved around offerings of this kind. These offerings could continue to function as intermediaries for this world and the next, the sacred and the secular, while at the same time constituting, at the very heart of the secular world, symbols of the distant, the hidden, the absent. In other words, they acted as go-betweens between those who gazed upon them and the invisible from whence they came. Objects found in places of worship, especially painted or sculpted images of gods or saints, also played this role, by representing normally invisible personages, living on the other side of the boundary separating the sacred from the secular. These images were representative in that they were supposed to be flat or three-dimensional replicas of features, giving the onlooker an opportunity to associate a name or perhaps even a life history with a face. In fact, the link between a model and its image can be considered as being much stronger than that which consists merely of resemblance, and images were therefore attributed a certain power, which gave them a direct role in all that was sacred, and the capability to represent not only the features of a person but also the active force that was his. Phenomena of this sort are not hard to find: one only has to think of all the miracle-performing Madonnas populating European churches and all those images and statues from which miracles are still awaited. It is also an accepted fact that objects did not need to resemble a sacred personage in any way in order to represent him. This was particularly true of relics, which owed their significance to having either been in contact with a saint or constituted part of his body. However, relics represented not only the sacred but also the past, or more exact! y they represented the sacred because they were supposed to have come from a personage belonging to sacred history. This explains why they were always accompanied by authenticating documents, either sealed certificates attesting their origin or small strips of parchment bearing brief explanations. 2 5 While those who saw these images followed up this experience in the composition of a new theology or hagiography, those who had studied relics went on to write history and, from the twelfth century, when Guibert de Nogent wrote his De pignoribus sanctorum, critical history. In short, images and relics too were intermediaries between those who looked at and touched them and the invisible. We arrive at the same conclusion when we analyse the objects hotly fought over by wealthy Romans. There is no point in embarking on yet another discussion of statues and paintings, of images that is, since it is obvious that they represent the invisible. Indeed, the same can be said of precious stones and pearls, of Corinthian vases, crystal ladles and dishes, engraved silverware and so on. Gemstones in particular simultaneously represented several different aspects or domains of what has been termed

en bloc the invisible. They encapsulated the whole of nature; 'Hence very
many people find that a single gemstone alone is enough to provide them with a supreme and perfect aesthetic experience of the wonders of Nature.' 26 As well as being at the heart of many a legend associating them with mythical heroes or events, they also came from far-distant places, not only from the Orient as in the case of murrhine and crystal, but also from India and Arabia in the case of pearls. They possessed health-giving powers: ' "Adamas" prevails also over poisons and renders them powerless, dispels attacks of wild distraction and drives groundless fears from the mind.' 27 For their part, the Corinthian bronzes were a reminder of a casting method forgotten by the Romans and of an historical event: the fire which followed the taking of Corinth by Roman troops. 28 All these objects were, once again, intermediaries between the onlooker and the invisible, with statues representing gods and ancestors, pictures scenes from the lives of the immortals or historical events, precious stones the power and beauty of nature and so on. It now only remains to be said that various different traditions surrounding stones thrived during the Middle Ages in Western societies, and rhat these stones were also believed to have certain powers. The inventory of Charles V's jewels spoke, for instance, of a 'stone which cures gout', 29 while gold and silver were considered to be extraordinary substances, the very purest and, as such, the most representative products of the earth. They were noble and extraordinary substances used to produce or decorate images, reliquaries and more generally everything the king used, including his dishes, clothes, furniture, weapons, armour and regalia, in short, everything which represented either the realm as an undivided whole or else the power and wealth of its sovereign. Put another way, the contents of the treasurehouses belonging to kings and princes represented the invisible firstly because of the materials from which they were made, secondly because of the forms they were given, such as the crown, as these were the legacy of an entire tradition, and lastly because they had been acquired from a particular individual and thus constituted a reminder of past events, or else were either very old or came from exotic places. Yet again, we find ourselves dealing with objects mediating between their admirers and the invisible. It now seems clear that the collections which have just been discussed have not been compared uniquely on the basis of external likenesses. In spite of their apparent disparity, all these collections consisted of objects which were in certain respects homogeneous. This homogeneity sprang from their involvement in the exchange process which took place between the visible and invisible worlds. While funeral objecrs and sacrificial offerings moved from the first to the second of these worlds, other objects moved in the opposite direction, sometimes directly, sometimes by depieting elements of

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the invisible world in sculpted or painted images. It will be shown later on that it was the role forced upon them, the role of guaranteeing communication between the two worlds into which the universe is cleft, which kept these objects out of the economic circuit. Yet it will also be seen that it was this very same role which caused them to be attributed such a high value and meant that there was always a considerable temptation to reintroduce them into the circuit, in return for usage values and goods, which is why they had to be afforded special protection. Needless to say, they could not guarantee communication between the two worlds unless they were displayed to the inhabitants of both: only when this condition was met could they become the intermediaries between their admirers and the world they represented. To avoid any misunderstanding, it must be emphasized straightaway that the opposition between the visible and the invisible can take many and diverse forms. The invisible is spatially distant, not only beyond the horizon but also very high or very low. It is also temporally distant, either in the past or in the future. In addition, it is beyond all physical space and every expanse or else in a space structured totally differently. It is situated in a time of its own, or outside any passing of time, in eternity itself. It can sometimes have a corporeity or materiality other than that of the elements of the visible world, and sometimes be a sort of pure antimateriality. At times it will be an autonomy vis-a-vis certain or even all the restrictions placed on the visible world, at others it will be an obeying of laws different tO our own. Even so, these are, of course, merely empty compartments capable of containing the most diverse of beings, from ancestors and gods to the dead and to people different to ourselves, as well as events and circumstances. The objects going from one exchange partner to another between the visible and the invisible vary greatly according to the identity of these partners. Just as the ways of transmitting messages to the invisible can take varying forms, such as human and animal sacrifices, offerings, libations and prayers, so the phenomena representing the invisible can greatly vary, including heavenly apparitions, meteors, animals and plants (sacred cows in India, and the Romans' sacred forests), striking changes in the relief, such as mountains, and rivers. Collections, or at any rate those which have been examined here, as we have yet to interpret modern-day ones in Western societies, only represent one of a number of measures adopted in order to guarantee communication between the two worlds and the unity of the universe. This enables us to understand more clearly why there is such diversity in the objects making them up, in the places in which they are located and in the behaviour of their visitors, as it reflects the diversity in the ways the visible can be contrasted with the invisible. This diversity by no means rules out an equivalence of functions, but rather is a symptom of it. All rhe collections

which have been discussed fulfilled one identical function, that of allowing the objects they contained to play the role of intermediaries between their onlookers, whoever they might be, and the inhabitants of the world to which the former did not belong: the visible world, if the onlookers were invisible and vice versa. However, this function diversified into a multitude of equivalent functions, and for those reasons which have just been outlined. The term 'collection' immediately implies the grouping together of a certain number of objects. In this very work, the genus proximum is given as 'a set of objects'. Yet how many objects are needed to form a collection? In an abstract sense, it is clear that a question of this kind cannot possibly have an answer, and with the exception of one or two special cases, which need not be discussed here, such quantitive considerations do not need to be bothered with. This is because the number of objects going to make up a collection depends on several different factors, including the place where they are amassed, the type of the particular society, the state of its technology and its way of life, irs production capacity and ability to stock the surplus, and the importance it attaches to the use of objects to establish communication between the visible and invisible. This means that the number necessarily varies considerably in time and space and can only be used in very exceptional circumstances to distinguish a collection from a mere heap of objects. It is its function which is the really important factor, and the one which is expressed through observable characteristics which were listed in the definition of the collection. Given this fact, we are forced to accept that collections are also present in so-called primitive societies, and to extend our discussion tO cover the churinga of the Australian Aborigines and the vaygu'a of the Trobriand Islanders, which Malinowski rightly compares to the crown jewels in Europe,3 as well as examples of tools which are apparently conserved in Bambara villages and shown to adolescents during initiation ceremonies and, of course, the statuettes, masks, blankets and large items of copperware belonging to the peoples of the north-west coast of America. All these objects are kept temporarily or permanently out of the economic circuit, afforded special protection in enclosed spaces adapted specifically for that purpose and put on display. All, without exception, act as intermediaries between those who can see them and an invisible world mentioned in myths, stories and accounts. Even without a large number of examples, we can therefore show that the collection is a universally widespread institution, though this should come as no surprise, given that the opposition between the visible and the invisible is a universal phenomenon.

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1.3 USEFULNESS AND MEANING

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27

The invisible owes its existence to language, in the sense that it is language which allows individuals to communicate their separate fantasies to each other, turning into a social event their innermost convictions that they have been in contact with something concealed from the human eye. In addition, simply by shuffling words around, utterances can sometimes be formed which, though understandab le, nevertheless designate something that nobody has ever glimpsed. Most important of all, talk of the dead as though they were living, of past events as though they were present, of the very distant as though it were nearby and of the hidden as though it were visible all becomes possible, or rather inescapable, as language seems to induce this in a most natural and spontaneous way. Because of the need to safeguard the passage of linguistic communicati on from one generation to the next, the old transmit all their knowledge to the young, and this includes a whole set of utterances which inform the next generation of things they have not yet and rna y never witness. In a world alive with fantasies, where deaths and transformatio ns constantly take place, language constitutes the source of the invisible, since the very way it functions forces the belief upon us that we only see part of that which actually exists. The contrast between the visible and the invisible constitutes first and foremost the cleavage between that of which we speak and that which we see, between the universe of discourse and the world of visual perception. The origins of language remain a mystery. Specialists situate its advent at widely differing dates which range from the period of the australopithe cines to a period some hundred thousand years ago, or even later. Whatever the case may be, without the medium of language, the notion of assigning to any entity the unique role of representing a second entity which was, and always had been, invisible would be utterly inconceivable. Obviously, 'A represents B' is the equivalent of saying, 'A is a part of B' or 'A is close to B' or 'A is a product of B' or 'A resembles B'. There are unlikely to be other equivalents than these to 'A represents B', and in any case, the objects which were discussed during the descriptions and analyses of collections each have at least one of these four types of relationships with elements of the invisible world. It should be noted that 'A represents B' is only a convenient form of shorthand, and that it would be more accurate to say 'A represents B according to Cjin C's eyes' or something similar, as the exact representative role always depends on the individual observer. In this light, the next task is to determine exactly which conditions are required in order that a group accepts that A represents B, given that B is invisible. Obviously, the existence of a B must first of all be accepted, and as B is invisible, this can only be done by relying on an utterance which speaks of it. Speech, however, cannot sway belief on its own: it can be false, erroneous or

arbitrary, and must therefore be validated in some way or other. This is not the place to go into the various ways speech is rendered convincing and apodeictic; suffice it to say that, if B is invisible, a visible A can only be accepted as its representativ e if there exist utterances which speak of it. The presence of language alone cannot, however, explain the way in which objects and phenomena in general on the one hand and elements of the invisible world on the other come to represent each other. Relationships of this kind can only be formed and become long-lasting if some sort of permanent force drives mankind to interest itself in phenomena which are not necessarily vitally important to it and compels it, to return to our particular case, to amass, care for or even produce objects representing the invisible. A clue to the exact nature of this force has already been given. We have seen how rhe use of language inevitably causes the visible and the invisible to be set in opposition to each other, language functioning as a link which creates one of the two terms it both places in opposition and unites. The speaker himself is completely unaware of this operation, and only perceives its result, namely the cleavage of the universe into two domains, the first of which is only accessible via speech, the second above all via sight. If the visible were to be subordinated to the invisible in every aspect, any element of the visible, which appeared to be linked to the invisible through participation , proximity, descent or similarity, would automatically be favoured more than those which seemed bereft of such a link. The belief that the visible is, in some way, subordinated to the invisible, seems to be a constant and well-docume nted feature of all mythologies, religions and philosophies , as well as of science. It would, in fact, be surprising if this were nor the case, as the invisible is, by definition, that which cannot be reached and cannot be mastered in the way the visible normally is. What is more, the most banal of experiences leads one to attribute a certain power of fertility to the invisible: it is the source of all phenomena, as well as their ultimate destination. Accordingly, two moments have special significance in the passage in time of each phenomenon : the moment of its appearance, when it crosses over from the invisible to the visible, and that of its disappearanc e, when it moves from the visible to the invisible. When it comes to the conservation of traces left by the hominids, it is no accident that the most ancient remains testifying to an interest in our possessions were used in funeral rituals, which have been attested as early as the Neanderthal period. The opposition between the visible and the invisible, the inevitable product of the function of language itself, not only allows, but also encourages us to subordinate the visible to the invisible and to attribute a certain power of fertility to the latter. It excites in us an interest in anything which somehow seems linked with the invisible, and more especially in those objects which are supposed to represent it. Providing, of course, that

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The Collection: between the Visible and the Invisible

all the more striking; right up to the Magdalenian culture, artists continue to collect the bric-a-brac of their open-air museum: lumps of pyrite, shells, fossils, quartz and galenite crystals. There is certainly a connection between this collecting of strange specimens and religion, but this by no means lessens its aesthetic implications, since natural and man-made shapes both have the same religious overtones, whether they be the wallpaintings at Lascaux or the small pendants made from a fossiJH

29

once the group, part of a group or even a single individual, has procured through its economic activities sufficient means of subsistence, it has enough time left over to amass, care for or even produce objects representing the invisible. Many centuries passed before these conditions were met. The history of artefacts begins around three million years ago. This is the date palaeontologists have given to the most ancient tools found on the surface, while those found in place on sites are estimated to be two million five hundred thousand years old. 'From the very outset, tools are used very extensively; there are several different types, and these types can all be reproduced on a large scale.' Man, meaning all the representatives of the genus Homo, is from the very beginning a maker of things, not only tools but also habitations. The most ancient of these were discovered in Olduvai in Tanzania, in levels daring from a period one million eight hundred thousand and one million seven hundred and fifty thousand years ago, and in Ethiopia, in a level one million five hundred in Melka 1 Man would seem to have acquired mastery of fire old.l years thousand about seven hundred thousand years ago. The history of things, like the history of mankind, is measured in geological time. The history of man's interest in objects which are not just things is nonetheless incomparably shorter, though still measured in the same time-scale. True, the first signs of concern with the non-utilitarian seem to be very ancient indeed. A fragment of red ochre and a piece of green lava discovered in Olduvai are probably proofs of this, 32 as well as finds made in cave no. 1 at the Mas des Caves in Lunel-Viel (Herault departerne1lt, France). Searches yielded 'several splinters of bone, along with limestone pebbles, bearing incisions which were apparently made deliberately with stone tools. These graphic signs on bones and pebbles constitute the most ancient non-figurative lines known of today.' However, these objects, which are estimated to be four to five hundred thousand years oldll remain, for the moment at any rate, exceptions. Only when the climate became warmer, between forty and sixty thousand years ago, did the first fragments of red ochre appear, and even then they were very few and far between. In the levels corresponding to the last phase of the warmingup of the climate, Andre Leroi-Gourhan had discovered a series of curios collected by the dwellers of the Grotte de l'Hyene (Arcysur-Cure, Yo nne departement, France) during their expeditions. These comprise the large spiral shell of a secondary period mollusc, a round polypary from the same period, strangely shaped lumps of iron pyrite. They can in no way be considered works of art, but the fact that the shapes of these objects from the natural world should have attracted the attention of our zoological predecessors is already a sign of a link with the aesthetic. The absence of any noticeable interruption after this makes it

U mil proof of the contrary is found, the inhabitants of the Grone de l'H yene at Arcy-sur-Cure must therefore be given the title of the first known collectors. The natural curiosities which they had gathered and cared for were kept out of the circuit of economic activities, a circuit which at that period consisted solely of tool-making and looking for food. Moreover, they were given special protection, which explains why they could still be found tens of thousands of years later. Lastly, in view of the particular characteristics of the curios, which in particular possess strange forms which men of that period would not have been capable of producing, there can be no doubt whatsoever that they were put on display. They therefore present two different qualities: they are eye-catching and a source of wonderment, while their presence can only be explained with reference to the invisible. Be this as it may, we are not primarily interested in origins as such, and the very distant past has merely been examined with a view to determining the date, albeit approximately, when objects representing the invisible first appeared. Our real aim is to demonstrate the consequences on man's general mode of existence of this upheaval - and upheaval is no exaggeration - which constituted perhaps the greatest of all those which followed the mastery of fire. Even if one agrees with Andre Leroi-Gourhan that 'their technical skill is merely a zoological event to be counted as one of the specific characteristics of the anthropoids' J5 - and this point of view is certainly not without foundation - the gathering and above all the production of objects representing the invisible constitute proofs of the emergence of culture in the true sense of the word. Animals have been observed making use of tools in the wild, but nobody has ever seen them paint or sculpt without having first of all been provided with the means ro do so. Whether or not one agrees with this likening of technical ability to a zoological event the fact remains that the change which came about during the Upper Palaeolithic must be seen as fundamental. Before then, the material existence of man had been entirely restricted to the visible, the sole link with the invisible being language, and possibly also funeral rites; if other links existed no traces of them remain. The invisible and the visible, two distinct domains, therefore remained on parallel and non-converging planes. From the Upper Palaeolithic onwards, however, the invisible was

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31

'projected' into the visible, being represented at the very heart of the latter by a specific category of objects, not only natural curiosities but also everything that was painted, sculpted, carved, shaped, embroidered and decorated. This meant that the cleavage was now to be found within the visible itself. On one side, there were things, objects which were useful in that they could be consumed, could provide a means of subsistence, render raw materials fit for consumption, or even act as protection from the vagaries of the climate. All these objects were handled, all underwent or brought about tangible modifications, and all gradually wore out. On the other side were ranged the semiophores, objects which were of absolutely no use, according to the above definition, but which, being endowed with meaning, represented the invisible. They were put on display instead of being handled, and were not subjected to wear and tear. The production effort therefore now had two very different goals, one situated in the visible, the other in the invisible, the aims being to maximize either usefulness or meaning. Although these two goals did draw nearer to each other in certain very special circumstances, more often than not they were located at opposite points of the compass. A closer look at the relationship between usefulness and meaning in objects will help ro elucidate this point. There are three different possible situations: a thing has usefulness but is devoid of all meaning; a semiophore possesses only meaning, of which it is the vector, and has no usefulness at all; or an object apparently has at the same time both usefulness and meaning. Neither usefulness nor meaning can exist without an observer, as they merely characterize the links which groups or individuals have, through objects, with their visible or invisible environment. If one assumes this to be the case, no object can possibly be simultaneously thing and semiophore for the same observer, as it is only a thing when it is being used, and in such a situation its meaning is of no account. If its meaning is given priority, its usefulness dwindles to mere potentiality. While the formal features of an object which enable it either to be useful or else bear meaning can coexist, they imply two different and mutually exclusive types of behaviour. In the first case, it is the hand which establishes the visible relationship between this object and other, visible, objects, which it hits, touches, rubs or curs. In the second case it is the gaze, given a linguistic extension, either tacit or explicit, which establishes an invisible relationship between the object and an invisible element. While the thing fulfils itself by modifying that to which it is applied, and by becoming gradually worn out, the semiophore reveals its meaning when it goes on display. This leads to the formulation of two different conclusions: firstly, a semiophore fulfils its ultimate purpose when it becomes a collection piece; secondly and most importantly, usefulness and meaning are mutually exclusive, as the more an object is charged with meaning the less useful it is, and vice versa.

An object is given value when it is protected, cared for or reproduced, and our next task is therefore to attempt to identify the conditions it needs to satisfy in order to obtain this value, a task made easier by the observations contained in the previous paragraphs. In effect, if an object is to be attributed value by an individual or group, it needs to be useful or have meaning, nothing more, nothing less. Objects satisfying neither of these conditions are valueless, mere scrap, in fact, not even objects at all. The paradox, which had emerged at the beginning of this article can thus finally be resolved: it is the meaning of collection pieces that determines their exchange value. They are precious, that is they are assigned a value, because they represent the invisible and therefore have a share in the superiority and fertility it is unconsciously endowed with. In their capacity as semiophores, they are kept out of the economic circuit because only in this way can they fully divulge their meaning. So far so good. However, the existence of a double basis for valuing does in itself pose a problem, as one has to ask which conditions must prevail in order for things to be exchanged for semiophores, given that these two categories are completely dissimilar and apparently cannot possibly be compared. This is not the place to go looking for answers; suffice it to say that societies do exist where exchanges of this kind are inconceivable, ancient China being a good example. In an article which did not deserve to be forgotten, Franz Steiner had, moreover, attempted to develop a theory, based on his studies of various so-called primitive societies, to account for economies where semiophores (he talks of 'personal treasures') are not exchanged for things.36 These examples show just how real a problem this is, and provide additional justification for distinguishing things from semiophores. The latter can only gain a semblance of usefulness if one accepts that they can be exchanged for the former. Once this happens, the objects regarded by one group as semiophores, and accordingly kept out of the economic circuit, can be perceived by another group within the same society as potential usage values, a fact which encourages this group to try and return them to the economic circuit, through theft or pillage if need be. The rule outlined earlier, which stated that the greater the meaning the less the usefulness, seems in this light to become invalid, as the more an object is charged with meaning the greater its value, and this value is now expressed as the quantity of things which could possibly be obtained in exchange. However, it does retain a certain validity, as when one group sees something as a semiophore, another, or indeed the same group but at a different moment, sees it as a potential usage value. The more an object is attributed meaning, the less the interest which is taken in its usefulness. This phenomenon is not limited to objects. The pursuit of meaning and the tendency to establish and strengthen links with the invisible always take place to the detriment of usefulness. This can eventually lead on to suicidal

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behaviour, as in the case of 12,000 Tupi Indians in Brazil, who left for the 'land without evil' in 1539, and arrived at the end of their journey ten years later, a mere 300 strongY Such situations are only possible because the invisible imposes itself on men with as great a force as that of the visible, if not more, via language and semiophores of every sort. Obviously, such extreme cases where one term of opposition is sacrificed to the other are rare as an effort is normally made to strike a balance between the two However, this balance is necessarily unstable, especially in societies where the choice between usefulness and meaning becomes the necessary outcome of a conflict. The division into the useful and the meaningful, into things and semiophores, where the former are subordinated t? the latter, because :hese have links with the invisible, is not confined to objects. The same applies ro human activities which are themselves classified according to the rung they occupy on the ladder stretching up from utilitarian activities .to those w?ich uniquely produce meaning. Man himself thus finds he 1s m a hierarchy or in one of a number of hierarchies. At the top there lS mev1tably a man or semiophore-men who represent the invisible: gods, God, ancestors, society taken as a whole, and so on. At the bottom, on the other hand, are thing-men who have at the most only an indirect link with the invisible, while between the two extremes are those in whom meaning and usefulness are to be found in varying degrees. This hierarchical organization of society is projected onto space, as the residence of the semiophore-man, be he king, emperor, pope, grand pontiff or president of the republic, is seen as a centre from which one cannot move without also being increasingly distanced from the invisible. It goes without saying that although attention is drawn in these pages to one aspect of social hierarchy no attempt is made to ascribe every other aspect to it, while all the problems associated with the exercise of the monopoly of violence or of economic constraint are deliberately left to one side. This choice enables us to return to the empirical observations made earlier via theoretical reflection, and this is the sole aim of these remarks. How does a man allotted the role of representing the invisible carry it out? By abstaining from all utilitarian activities, by distancing himself from those who are forced to carry these out, by surrounding himself with objects which are not things but semiophores and by displaying them. In general, the higher a representative of the invisible is placed in his hierarchy, the greater the number of semiophores he surrounds himself with and the greater their value. In other words, it is the social hierarchy which necessarily leads to the birth of collections, those sets of objects kept our of the economic circuit, afforded special protection and put on display. These sets of objects are, in fact, quite simply manifestations of different centres of social importance where the invisible is transformed into the visible to

various and hierarchized degrees. This is true even in so-called primitive societies, where the social hierarchy is reduced to criteria of age and gender; thus the initiated have exclusive right to the churinga. This explains why collections in extremely hierarchized societies accumulated in the tombs of those who had occupied a place at or near the top, in temples or palaces, during their lifetime. It is now possible to say that they accumulated there not because the inhabitants of temples and palaces were the only ones to possess a 'taste' for them, but because the position of these people in the hierarchy left them no choice to do otherwise. In traditional societies objects were not amassed by individuals who had a liking for them but were generated in centres of social importance. This is seen most clearly in ancient China: 'Pearls are the yang of the yin: they dominate fire; jade is the yin of the }'ang: it dominates water. Their transforming force is like that of the divine powers. Let the son of the sky hoard pearls and jade; let the feudal lords hoard metals and stones; let the grand officers keep dogs and horses; let the subjects hoard cottons and silks. If not, he who is brave will command and he who is wily will win all.' And the author from whom we have borrowed this quotation from Ta Tai Li Ki (around 100 BC) makes the following remark: To avoid any confusion between the different ranks, everyone must treasure the values suited to his rank. The social hierarchy is inseparable from the hierarchy of values.' 38 Obviously, a system of this kind can only be maintained if things cannot be exchanged for semiophores, nor semiophores of greater value for those of lesser value. In places where these exchanges are authorized, access to elevated social positions is possible if things, or the currency representing them, are sacrificed in order to obtain semiophores. Violent or coercive means in these circumstances can be employed to obtain objects whose possession enables someone to occupy a coveted position. The greater the sacrifice in terms of usefulness, the higher the position to which one accedes. This explains the conflictual behaviour of which we gave examples when discussing ancient Rome. Clearly, collections and collectors cannot be studied solely from the standpoint of individual psychology, which uses notions such as 'taste', 'interest' or even 'aesthetic pleasure' ro explain everything. What actually needs to be explained is why the question of taste is only relevant ro certain objects and not others, why interest is taken in this object but not in that, and why only certain works give pleasure. Individual personalities and varying degrees of sensitivity only come into play if the organization of the society provides opportunities for expressing individual differences. Before assessing this aspect, it is first of all necessary to clarify the way in which the society in question, or the groups which go to make it up, draws the line between the visible and the invisible. Once this has been accomplished, it is possible to establish exactly what that society sees as meaningful, which objects it prizes the most and what type of behaviour these demand from

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collectors. When this has been accomplished, it is possible to draw up a 'map' indicating the places where the invisible meets the visible and which are inhabited by those who, because of their roles as representatives of the invisible, amass and display semiophores. We must now turn our attention back to museums and to private collections in order to clear up a certain number of problems relating to their history and functioning in the light of all that has just been said.

14 MUSEUMS AND PRIVATE COLLECTIONS

New attitudes towards the invisible, and towards the past, towards unknown regions of the earth and nature in particular, first began to appear in Western Europe in the second half of the fourteenth century. The first image to be challenged was the traditional one of the past. With the assimilation of Aristotle's works into university teaching, the opposition between the sacred and the secular seemed to have been overcome, at least in its simplified form, namely the opposition between the Christian and pagan past. However, it was precisely this first opposition which now returned to the centre of controversy. Several scholars now considered that what had been seen as an amalgam of the sacred and the secular, of theology and philosophy, of Aristotle and St Augustine in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries was in fact a nonsensical hash which neither those speaking in the name of a return to the purity of faith nor those dreaming of a revival of true antiquity really wanted. Attempts were frequently made to enjoy at the same time both a faith restored to its original vitality and an antiquity which had shaken off the dust of ages, yet despite the wishes of certain individuals, these two different movements never converged and any alliance was doomed to be transitory. In the domain we are studying, the first of these movements meant that the churches were purged of any object which might distract the attention of the faithful away from the divine word, leading to an iconoclasm of which there were numerous examples during the Reformation and especially during the wars of religion. 39 The second movement, however, encouraged the search for manuscripts of works by the ancients, manuscripts which were discovered in libraries where they had lain forgotten, copied out and then published. In addition, ancient inscriptions were recorded, medals collected and works of art and all the other relics of antiquity were unearthed. 40 Objects which had been absent for many centuries therefore began to resurface in ever-increasing quantities. It is worth pausing for a moment ro reflect on this phenomenon, for in a most interesting process scrap was being turned into semiophores. For many centuries the remains of antiquity had been regarded as rubbish,

except for one or two exceptional works which had been held as relics and had, as in the case of ancient cameos, found refuge in the treasure-houses of churches or princes. Formerly, therefore, these remains had been neither meaningful nor useful, and more often than not did not have a place in the daily affairs of man but languished somewhere beneath the earth. Now, however, they were given meaning, as they were seen in relation to the texts which had come down from antiquity, texts to which they were meant to provide the key, and as such they ceased to be relics and mimbilia and became objects of study instead. The vague meaning they possessed because of their origins became more concrete thanks to research where they were compared and contrasted with each other and examined, without exception, with reference to texts dating from the same period. It was therefore not simply a question of new objects coming to light but of a new class of semiophores consisting of objects used for study purposes joining classes which already existed. There was, in addition, a whole new social group which functioned as a vector for the interest in this new category of semiophores. This group consisted of the humanists, as they became known at the end of the fifteenth century, and these men did not in fact fit in with any other previously existing group, as they were defined neither by the exercise of similar professions, nor by the membership of the same organization, name! y the clergy, but by the cult they developed of bonae litterae, litterae antiquiores. The birth and proliferation of collections of antiquities mirrored the growth and spread of this group, first in Ita! y, then in the rest of Europe. Only later, and because of the influence of the humanists, were collections of this kind formed in the royal courts, in the Medici and d'Este courts, the papal and cardinal courts in Italy, the court of Matthias I Corvinus in Hungary, those of the kings of France and England and elsewhere. In the second half of the sixteenth century the fashion for collecting antiquities spread to every European country, and in very different circles, including merchant circles, if Claude Faucher is to be believedH Between 1556 and 1560, Hubert Goltzius, a Belgian collector and engraver, made several journeys to Belgium, Holland, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Italy and France. On his travels, he visited all the collectors of antiquities who lived in the towns through which he passed. The list of these men runs to 968 names, and includes those of the pope, of cardinals, and of the emperor, as well as of kings and princes, theologians, lawyers and doctors, scholars and poets, priests, monks, officers and artists42 In England, which Goltzius omitted ro visit, the Society of Antiquaries was founded sometime between 1584 and 1586, and at the beginning of the next century antiquarians had already joined the ranks of the social types used as butts in pia ys 4 l From the initial core of Italian humanists the passion for antiqumes spread to every geographical and social sphere. However, new attitudes

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towards the invisible were not only expressed through the gathering of antiquities. Travel, which burgeoned from the fifteenth century onwards, with the results which are well known to all of us, is proof of the belief that the boundaries of the invisible can be moved in order to reach places traditionally considered to be inaccessible. The texts and maps guiding travellers and showing them which routes to take also fall into this category. The real and the fabulous, which had been inextricably mixed in medieval representations of the inhabited world began to separate out, as expeditions returning from far-distant lands brought back with them not only highly profitable merchandise but also a completely new brand of knowledge. And new semiophores too. Fabrics, gold plate, porcelain, garments made of feathers, 'idols', 'fetishes', specimens of flora and fauna, shells and stones also flooded into the collections of princes and scholars 44 Whatever their original status, these objects became semiophores in Europe, collected not because of their practical value but because of their significance as representatives of the invisible comprising exotic lands, different societies and strange climates. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, however, they did not enjoy the same status as the antiquities. Seen more as curios than study objects, they were attributed a lesser value, even though they were actively sought, especially by scholars. Out of all of them, medals, that is ancient currency, were, in France at least, collection pieces par excellence until the mid-eighteenth century. After this date, they were supplanted by natural history objects. 4 l A third category of semiophores which, while not actually new did attain a greater degree of dignity in the fifteenth century, was composed of pictures and modern works of art generally. Works of art owed their new status to their link with nature, perceived as a source of beauty which alone was capable of bestowing on man-made objects features enabling them to last for a long time; the works of the ancients which had withstood the ravages of time owed their survival entirely to nature. In the language of that period, the term 'nature' did, of course, cover many different, even mutually exclusive concepts, and there was a great debate as to the exact place of nature, given the opposition between the visible and the invisible. There were countless different ways of conceiving nature as well as differences over the role of art, which some thought should only be used to visualize the invisible while others felt it should simply depict what the artist saw. All agreed, nonetheless, that art alone could turn the transient into the lasting. In other words, while the subject of the representation sooner or later became invisible, the representation itself remained. The artist was thus seen as a privileged being, in that he was able to conquer time not through a leap into eternity but within the secular world itself, by being the creator of works which were simultaneously visible and longlasting, providing that they were in harmony with nature. This made him

an irreplaceable instrument for a prince aspiring not only to everlasting life but also to glory, that is, to fame here below amongst his fellow men, a fame which, if gained through heroic feats in battle alone would be but fleeting, since these feats were rapidly forgotten. Only artists, whether painters, sculptors or engravers, could render fame lasting. In a world where the invisible was seen less as an eternal phenomenon than as a future one, it was a positive duty of all princes seeking true glory to protect the arts. As a result, they became both patrons and collectors, the place they occupied requiring them to manifest good taste, attract artists to their court and surround themselves with works of art. All those who occupied the upper echelons of the hierarchy, and not just those of royal blood, were forced to play the same role, their particular preferences showing through within the confines imposed on them by their positions, so that if some took a special interest in art, others had a preference for literature or the sciences. Some revealed more traditionalist tendencies, others felt the desire to nurture and foster innovations, and parsimony and generosity prevailed to varying degrees. 46 Whatever the case, the duty of all who occupied positions of power was to try and make the highest bid possible for objects which included not just the works of artists but the artists themselves, whose price was measured in degrees of meaning, and this meaning was guaranteed if they could succeed in engaging artists and surrounding themselves with their works. A fourth category of semiophores need only be mentioned here. Making its appearance in the seventeenth century, it too became a source of collection pieces, and comprised scientific instruments. These instruments obviously owed their existence to a change in attitude towards the invisible, when man attempted to move back irs frontiers in nature, and in so doing developed a whole new language to describe it. This was the language of mathematical theory, which was to enable man, on the basis of what he could see, to arrive at infallible conclusions on rhar which he could not. Here too, a new social group formed, consisting of scientists; connections sprang up between branches of this group scattered in various different countries, academies sprang up, spontaneously at first and later under the auspices of the powers that be, who were anxious to become patrons in this domain too. The facts are, however so well known that no extra rime need be spent on them. In the Middle Ages collections gradually accumulated in churches and royal treasure-houses. They consisted of relics, sacred objects, mirabilia and gifts, along with works of art whose material was often considered more precious than the beauty of their execution. In other words, two groups, the clergy and those in power, monopolized semiophores, determined the degree of access the public had to them and used them in order to reinforce rheir

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39

position of domination. In the second half of the fourteenth century, a process was set in motion which in the end would destroy this system and replace it with another. New social groups sprang up, which owed their existence to the monopoly they exerted over certain areas of knowledge and know-how. The humanists were particularly skilled in the use of Latin, the antiquarians possessed the greatest knowledge of the lives of the ancients, the artists were most knowledgeable in the production of works of art and scholars had the monopoly of the sciences. New semiophores, including manuscripts and other sundry remains of antiquity, exotic and natural curios, works of art and scientific instruments, began to come into circulation and were absorbed into collections. To the members of these groups they represented not only objects enabling them tO acquire new knowledge or learn new techniques, in the way that artists study the works of their predecessors, but were also emblematic of their social rank. This explains why collections now began ro be found for the first time in the libraries and studios of those men who were founts of both art and knowledge. In addition to this, and for the reasons outlined above, the men at the top of the power hierarchy were required to manifest their artistic tastes, possibly even their interest in the sciences, whether they were genuine or not. They roo founded collections, therefore, or else ordered their servants to do so in their stead, these collections being a mark of their superiority and of their prominent position in the domain of meaning. They were encouraged to do so by the artists and scholars themselves, both groups being unable to operate properly withour support from those in power, with the artists being especially dependent on official commissions. Nor was this all, since the authorities liked to have these founts of art and knowledge under their control for political ends, particularly for what we would call propaganda today. Patronage and collection-building admirably satisfied these various different requirements, albeit ambiguously, given that when the great and powerful commissioned artists, supplied scientists with research subjects and writers with the themes for their works, they gave them the material conditions to carry out not only these commissioned works but also those which had not been. The material conditions necessary to artistic, scientific or literary production not only took the form of pensions and stipends given to proteges, but also consisted in the provision of access to all the semiophores necessary for the exercise of their profession, and which were to be found in private collections of curios, picture and sculpture galleries, libraries and deed registries. While, to both intellectuals and artists, collections represented tools and the emblems of social rank for the members of the intellectual and artistic milieu, those in power regarded them as proof of their superiority, as well as the means by which they could dominate this milieu.

So far, the most important weapon in the battle for semiophores has only been mentioned in passing. The time has now come to give it its proper share of attention- the lion's share. We are, of course, talking about money. Its importance springs firstly from the fact that those in power who sought to engage the services of artists and scholars as well as own collections had to pay for the privilege. However, it also derives from the emergence, alongside the twin hierarchies of power and of sacred (the clergy) and secular (artistic and intellectual circles) knowledge, of a hierarchy of wealth, which did not correspond to these first two. All three were themselves arranged in a hierarchy, with power dominating knowledge, sacred knowledge struggling to maintain its pre-eminence and domination over its secular counterpart, while within the latter, different professions were given different statuses. Wealth was situated at the very bottom, as it consisted solely of the instruments of economic constraint, namely money and the means of production. Once again, usefulness was subordinated to meaning. In this light, it is easy to understand why the acquisition of semiophores, the purchase of works of art and the founding of libraries or collections, represented one way of turning usefulness into meaning and of enabling someone occupying a lofty place in the hierarchy of wealth to attain an equivalent position in the hierarchy of taste and learning. As we have already seen, collection pieces were emblematic of social rank, if not of superiority, and this meant that admission ro this exclusive milieu, which depended on the withdrawal of part of one's wealth from the utilitarian circuit, could be obtained through the purchase of semiophores. Thus assured of demand, a market in works of art, antiquities and diverse curios gradually developed during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Alongside sales by private agreement between collectors :1nd others arranged by specialist dealers, public auctions made their appearance. These were better suited to the specific nature of the merchandise in question, that is, collection objects, since they gave free rein to combative behaviour in these encounters, where each bidder exposed simultaneously his taste, his capacity to sacrifice wealth in order to satisfy it and the exact extent of this wealth. The public auction of collection pieces thus constituted a privileged place where the different hierarchies made their presence known, and where that which was utilitarian was changed into meaning. Hardly surprising, therefore, that the major sales where the contents of famous collections were dispersed, as happened in Paris in the eighteenth century, became highly fashionable occasions, commented on in letters and in the press of the day. One of the most important stages in the development of the system of public auctions was marked by the appearance of printed catalogues of the objects to be sold. The first work of this kind was published in Holland in 1616. It proves that there was, first on a local, later on an international

40

The Collection: between the Visible and tbe Invisible

The Collection: between the Visible and the Invisible

41

scale, a substantial number of people interested in collection pieces who could only acquire them through purchase. It also signified the emergence of a new profession in direct communication with the collectors, namely that of the auctioneers and experts responsible for establishing the authenticity of the objects put up for sale. Lastly, it consisted of a type of discourse which, till then, had been reserved for inventories, but which now began to infiltrate the language, as objects now had to be classified and named with accuracy. According to calculations based on the number of catalogues printed, Amsterdam was the main auction centre up to the mid-eighteenth century, this centre then shifting to London and later to Paris. 4 7 However, Italy was the country which supplied most of the modern works of art and the antiquities, having a virtual monopoly of the latter, while its monopoly of paintings was challenged first by Holland, then by France. But in Italy trading in an and antiquities did not take place in the auction room but in the shops of the dealers. As for the objects, they came not only from the breakup of established collections and contemporary artistic production, but also from finds (especially in the case of hoards of money which turned up almost everywhere), from journeys and expeditions, and from excavations, which became increasingly popular from the eighteenth century onwards. Lastly, new collection pieces were created when objects, providing, of course, they were not demoted to the rank of rubbish, were elevated to the rank of semiophore for the first time. The most dramatic example of this transformation was the case of medieval works which, in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, were collected solely by students of the history of the Middle Ages, and therefore, given that they were denied all aesthetic value, enjoyed the status of historical sources at the most. Only at the beginning of the eighteenth century in England, and around one hundred years after this in France and Germany, did interest grow in medieval works of art, an interest reflected in the growth of countless collections specializing in objects from this period, as well as in a corresponding increase in prices. The ever-increasing role of money in facilitating the ownership of semiophores had a great many consequences. Certain categories of collection objects, and first and foremost pictures and ancient works of art, soon became inaccessible to anybody without sufficient means to make high enough bids. Accordingly, these people fell back on less costly pieces, such as medals, prints, drawings, exotic curios and specimens of natural history. However, each time a category of semiophores began to appear in the collections of artists and intellectuals the rich and powerful also began to take interest in them, resulting in a rise in prices and causing these particular semiophores to become increasingly, if not entirely, inaccessible. This led to the birth of a mechanism encouraging the transformation of despised objects and items of rubbish into semiophores. These included medieval artefacts, ones produced by non-European peoples, popular works

of art and objects used in societies distant in either space or time. The market mechanism is, of course, not the only thing which determines which of these objects should change in status and monetary value, and mere! y encourages constant searches for new ones, with changes in historical and scientific knowledge as well as in ideological presuppositions favouring one category of objects rather than another. It is in this context that the new disciplines of archaeology and its many branches, of palaeontology, the history of an and of ethnography were born. These disciplines developed research techniques designed to unearth fresh objects and at the same time constructed theories enabling them to classify, date them and elicit from them information of every sort. There was an additional consequence of this growth in the role of money in providing greater access to semiophores. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, a whole section of the population found itself cut off from the contents of flourishing private collections, which were opened only to those whom their proprietors chose to admit, namely, people of similar social rank, and the artists and scholars who were given permission to study objects which they needed for their work but did nor actually own. The only collections which remained accessible to everyone were those owned by the churches. The display of modern secular art, of antiquities, exoric and natural curios was restricted to the privileged few who presided over the hierarchies of power, wealth, taste and knowledge. The people who had no access to the new semiophores were the members of the 'middle classes', whose lack of finance stood in the way of their ambitions to become fully-fledged collectors, and their number increased in step with economic growth and the spread of schooling. It was they, or their spokesmen, and in particular the scientists, writers, scholars and artists who had not yet gained the favour of the rich and powerful, who started to press for the opening up of the collections which housed the various different semiophores (books and manuscripts, historical sources, objects) they needed when exercising their professions. And it was to their request that private individuals and those in power responded, firstly by setting up public libraries in the seventeenth century, later by opening museums, even if a certain number of them were, in fact, morivated by religious considerations. The first of the big public libraries was the Bodleian, inaugurated in Oxford in 1602 and open to all the members of the university. The second one, the Ambrosiana, was founded in Milan by Bishop Federico Borromeo, and opened its doors in 1609. In 1620 it was the turn of the Angelica in Rome, founded by Bishop Angelo Pocco. In Paris the first public library, or more accurately a private library open to men of letters, belonged to De Thou, while the first truly public one was founded by Cardinal Mazarin. The number of institutions of this kind was to grow in the latter half of the century, and it was at this time that the first museum made its appearance:

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The Collection: between the Visible and the Invisible

43

in 1675 Elias Ashmole left his collections to Oxford University for the use of its students, and access was given to them in 1683. In 1734 a papal foundation, the Museo Capitolino, was opened to the public, and in 1743, Anne-Marie-Louise de' Medici offered the state of Tuscany the collections which had been amassed over three centuries by her family, on condition that they should be inalienable and always remain open to the public. Collections bought from Sir Hans Sloane formed the basis of the British Museum, which was created in 1753 by the British parliament, and from then onwards the movement gathered momentum and spread to other European countries. Before dealing briefly with the effects of this, however, we should mention that the third institution of this type, namely archives, only appeared later on. The Archives Nationales in France, which were for a time the first and only such institution, were founded by the Convention by decree in 1794. The chief characteristic of museums is their permanence. Unlike private collections, which are generally dispersed after the death of their creators and suffer the consequences of any financial problems the latter may meet, museums survive their founders and normally lead a peaceful existence. The reason for this is that whatever their legal status, they are public institutions; private museums are simply private collections which have borrowed a title associating them with something they are not. They may owe their existence to donations, state purchases of private collections, the nationalization of former royal, noble or ecclesiastical properties, as was the case in France during the Revolution. They may arise from the creation of non-profit-making foundations, as was the case of the major American museums, but every great museum started out as the result of a decision made by the public authorities or by a community. These are the bodies which either directly fund the conservation of the objects, see to their display, ensure the replenishment of their stocks or else supervise them indirectly by making sure they do not break the law. The fact that these public museums are open to everybody also distinguishes them from private collections. True, there are not many countries where museum entry is completely free, but even when a charge is made for entry, it stirs up many a guilty conscience, as if there was a firm belief that the access to semiophores should be entirely free. This is why reductions are given to certain categories of the population, depending on the particular country concerned, and why at least once a week museums can be visited free of charge. In this light, the price of the admission ticket is paid not so much in return for a service but rather as a sort of donation, and there is no better example of this than the Metropolitan Museum of New York, where each visitor is told: 'Pay what you wish, but you must pay something.' The relationship between visitors and museums therefore falls into the category of the 'gift economy' and not simply that of the market economy. Gifts

have, moreover, played an extremely important role in the actual birth of museums, as well as being largely responsible for the growth and enrichment of their stocks. In some countries, museums even enjoy the right of pre-emption when purchasing items in auctions, which means that they do not necessarily have to make the highest bid. We have emphasized the role of the pressure, exerted by people unable either to own collections or to visit those belonging to the privileged few, in the creation of libraries and museums. Had it not been the expression of a far more profound requirement, however, this pressure would have had much less effect. In order for the various subsets of society to be able to communicate between each other, they must, among other things, all have potential access to semiophores of the same kind. The reason for this is that when the objects in one particular category of objects rather than another are seen as semiophores and not as objects possessing only usage value, or even just as rubbish, they are generally held, though often tacitly, to represent the invisible. Where this happens, it is also accepted that the invisible world they represent is a reality and not a fiction. It goes without saying that everyone must agree on the nature of the particular invisible world held as a reality, in other words, the same semiophores must be given the same meaning. This is easier said than done: an antique cameo was a semiophore for those who saw it as a relic as it remains one for those who see it as a specimen of ancient art, yet because this means that the same cameo has two different meanings, communication between the holders of these two separate attitudes becomes difficult, if not impossible. Differences of opinion over the meaning of objects and consequently over the nature of the invisible can lead to social conflict: when, to quote a trivial example, the sacredness of objects used in religious acts of worship is refuted, this is, whether we know it or not, tantamount to denying the foundation of the privileged position of the clergy, which accordingly loses its rai.ron d'etre. On the other hand, if particular value is placed on objects from the past, from other societies or from nature, it justifies the activities of all those involved in unearthing, collecting, conserving and studying such objects. Viewed from this angle, the museum can be seen as one of those institutions whose role is to form a consensus of opinion around the technique of opposing the visible and the invisible, which began to take shape towards the end of the fourteenth century, and consequently around new social hierarchies, where a place at the top required the enjoyment of a privileged relationship with the invisible in its new definition. In other words, the museums took up where the churches had left off, functioning as places where all the members of a society could participate in the celebration of the same form of worship. Accordingly, their numbers grew in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries at the same pace as the disaffection of the populations, especially the urban ones, with traditional religion. The

44

The Collection: between the Visible and the Invisible

nation has now become both the subject and rhe object of this new cult, which has superimposed itself on the old one, no longer capable of catering for the whole of society. The nation gives perpetual homage to itself by celebrating every aspect of its past, each and every one of irs social, geographical and professional groups which it believes has contributed to the general prosperity, and all the great men born on its soil and who have left lasting works in every domain imaginable. Even objects from other societies or from nature render the narion which has collected them more illustrious, since this action shows it has recognized, via its artists, scholars, explorers, even its generals, their value and has even been able to make sacrifices in order to acquire them. It is precisely because a museum is the repository of everything which is closely or loosely linked with its nation's history that its contents should be accessible to all. This is also why they should be conserved. They have come from the world of the invisible, and that is their ultimate destination. However, the invisible world to which they are destined is not the same as that from which they come. It is located elsewhere in time, and set in opposition to the past, to the hidden, to the distant, since no object can possibly represent it. This new invisible world, accessible only in and through discourse, is the future. By placing objects in museums one puts them on display not only to present but also to future generations, just as, in the past, other objects were displayed to the gods.

2
The Age of Curiosity

One of the most significant works of Pierre Borel (1620-71), a doctor from Casrres, is a description of the Antiquitez, Raretez, Plantes, Mineraux et autres chases considerables de fa ville et du comte de Castres, which includes a 'Catalogue des chases rares' contained in the author's museum.' An 'Inscription qui est sur Ia porte du susdit Cabinet s'adressant aux curieux' and quoted in its entirety in this catalogue sets out the philosophy which determined the nature of this museum. For Borel, his museum was a microcosm or a resume encompassing every single rare thing ('microcosmum seu rerum omnium rariorum Compendium'). Or then again a cemetery because it contained several corpses. After some reflection, however, he decided it would be more accurate to call it the Elysian Fields, as the dead were brought back to life through a licit form of necromancy, and conjuring up an even more impressive metaphor, he compared the objects in his study with the trophies of Hercules, referring to the presence of the remains of snakes and the bones of giants. The museum did not merely comprise the works of God and of nature, but also examples of the liberal, mechanical and chemical arts. Specimens from every corner of the globe were equally to be seen, America providing the exotic items and Africa the monsters. The roll-call was answered by all the continents and every element: 'lei, la mer t'offre ses poissons les plus rares, !'air ses oiseaux, le feu ses ouvrages et Ia terre ses mineraux.' Lastly, the study contained a number of rare monuments from antiquity which nothing could destroy. All these things were kept in a fairly limited space where the fish inhabited the air, or less poetically where their skeletons were suspended from the ceiling, and where enemies jousted one against the other. How did Borel organize the various rooms of his museum, or rather the different categories of his catalogue, given that the latter very likely did not

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The Age of Curiosity

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respect the actual layout of the objects? The 'Raretez de !'Homme' were listed first of all, the other categories being dealt with in the following order: 'Des bestes aquatre pieds', 'Des Oyseaux', 'Des Poissons et Zoophites de mer', 'Coquillages' and 'Autres choses marines', 'Insectes et Serpens', 'Des plantes et premierement des bois et racines', 'Des feuilles', 'Des fleurs', 'Des gommes et liqueurs', 'Des semences ou graines', 'Des Fruits rares', 'Autres fruits et semences', 'Des mineraux et premierement des pierres', 'Choses changees en pierre', 'Autres mineraux', 'Des antiquitez' and 'Chases artificielles'. Obviously, this list was intended to encompass all things and all beings, and divided them up into three implicit major categories: men; animals, plants and stones; and artefacts. That is to say, into works of God, products of nature and works wrought by human hand. Countless other divisions could be made, as one could claim that the list reflects a different system of classification whereby things and beings are divided up between the four different elements. All inanimate beings, and possibly plants too, if not insects and snakes, would rhus represent the element earth; fish and the 'chases marines' the element water; birds and quadrupeds the air, while man could easily be associated with fire, given that fire is always inextricably linked with art. It is more than likely that several different classifications actually overlap one another, none actually intended to interrupt rhe continuum of the hierarchy of beings where man is placed at the summit and objects produced by art, that is, accidental forms, lower down. If one wanted to be more faithful to the text, one would in fact talk about the hierarchy of rare things, given the predominance of the words 'rare' and 'rarity'. However, it is not simply a question of words, as closer study of rhe contents of the different categories reveals that Borel's museum actually was full of rare, or supposedly rare, objects. We discover that the 'raretez de l'homme' included the bones of a giant, a two-headed monster and fragments of a mummy- all the ingredients of a truly fabulous and magical anthropology. The same applies to the zoological specimens, which included a two-headed cat, 'une piece de vraie corne de Licorne' and some bezoars, and even more so to all rhe marine animals, with such evocative names as the sea cow, sea cucumber, sawfish, hammerhead, dogfish, razor-shell and devilfish, to name but a few. The 'remore qui arrete les navires', was also represented, while the shells included one 'mediocre tres rare, et couverte naturellement de Characteres Hebrieux, Syriaques, Grecs, Latins et de routes les autres langues'. Borel's sea was not very distant from Pliny's, whose ideas were resuscitated by sixteenth-century naturalists such as Cardan, who believed that 'All the forms and shapes of animals are to be found in the sea, and nor just of animals but also of instruments'; while in his book on fish, which was considered the standard work on the subject, Rondelet made the following observation: 'Pliny writes that the sea contains the shapes not only of

animals but also of things of the earth, such as clusters of grapes, razors and saws.' 2 Borel's museum therefore offers a glimpse of nature prior ro the scientific revolution. In it, the pia y of analogies, correspondences and resemblances facilitated the passage from the visible to the invisible, where a stone could reveal 'deux yeux semblables naturellemem avec leurs prunelles' or 'un pa'isage remply d'Arbres'. Even then, however, modern science was beginning to make its presence felt, with 'lunettes a puce ou microscopes qui grossissent fort les objets' (microscopes). Both the 'lunettes de multiplication et pour approcher les objets' (telescopes) and 'un triangle de verre pour voir l'Arc-en-ciel' (prism) represented a new approach to nature, an approach which ultimately would totally transform its image. In Borel, however, the interest in instruments of observation, the plurality of worlds and the life of Descartes went hand in hand with the search for books on hermetic philosophyl and rare objects. Despite attempts to observe nature, Borel continued to see it as a principle of infinite variability and diversity, seen most clearly at work in that which was exceptional, singular or even unique. The reason for this is clear: if nature is said to be governed always and everywhere by the same laws, then logically it should be reflected in the common, the repetitive and the reproducible, but if, on the other hand, no laws can be seen at work in nature, rare things alone are seen to be capable of representing nature properly. The same applied to hisrory. Antique rarities, such as vases and urns, including one supposed to come from Corinth (another reference to Pliny), statues of the gods, medals, coins, engravings and weapons 'du temps passe', were present in the same numbers as these modern ones: 'un plat d'escorce de cocos, un gobelet de !a chine tres artistement agence et verni dedans de couleur d'or', 'un thermometre. Plusieurs autres sortes d'instruments de musique, comme une lut d'iuoire, une harpe, etc.', some globes, 'une perspective dans un coffret, plusieurs raretez sur verre et autres matieres. La poudre de simpathie'. Fifty portraits in oils should be added to this list, not to mention sixteen miniatures and twenty other pictures of 'histoires nudites, hommes illustres, fruitages, pa'isages, etc.', and the contents of this part of the catalogue can best be explained by Borel's overriding interest in events and in rare, if not unique happenings which for him represented history. This explains the importance of the portraits of great men, as placing them in chronological order was the best method of making the whole of history unfold before one's eyes. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of private museums like Borel's in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Borel himself knew of sixtythree in France alone, and forty-four in twenty-eight different foreign towns scattered between Spain and Lithuania. While it is true that some of those he listed were no longer extant when he was alive, even in the light of

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our meagre knowledge his list seems highly incomplete, a defect common to all the other lists drawn up at that period too. As reliable statistics do not appear to have been drawn up for any country, we would paint a misleadingly accurate picture if we were to reel off a whole set of partial facts, and any attempt to make a critical analysis of them would distract us from the matter in hand. Suffice it to say, therefore, that the contents of these museums differed substantially, and those of Borel's were by no means typical of them. Some comprised predominantly pictures, while others concentrated more on numismatics or antiquities. Completely homogeneous collections seem, however, to have been exceptions, and the varying proportions of objects from different catalogues to be found in museums which were in fact contemporaneous apparently reflected differences in wealth, education or social rank between their owners, as well as the distance separating them from the centres where new fashions were born and nurtured, and not to mention national, categorial and individual differences in interest and taste. There is enough material here to sustain sociological and geographical research into erudite culture in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, but the students willing to embark on it have yet to be found. The museums resembling Borel's were sufficiently numerous at this period to constitute in themselves an important socio-cultural phenomenon. Although they had made an appearance some time prior to the period we are studying, they seem only to have entered into their phase of expansion in the latter half of the sixteenth century. By the eighteenth century, they were already on the wane, even if some could still be found, and after the 1750s they became very few and far between indeed. With the great surge in passion for natural history, the very different kind of interest which had been shown in rare things died down, and exhibition rooms accordingly changed in appearance. 4 Traditionally designated as a Kunstund Wunderkammer 5 this type of museum, exemplified here by Borel's, therefore reached its apogee in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It remains to be seen whether these Kunst- und Wunderkammern had any real significance, and whether the vogue for them can justifiably be regarded as symptomatic of major tendencies in erudite culture at that time. Many pictures of the seventeenth century, especially from Antwerp, depict rooms full of pictures, statues, antiques, medals, exotic objects (the weapons and clothing of 'savages') and natural objects (corals, shells, minerals), and some were supposed to reproduce the layout of private museums which had actually existed and been known to the artists. 6 Many hours could be spent analysing such documentation. Each collection resembling Borel's own was, like his, a veritable 'microcosm', a 'compendium of the universe'. When one of them was represented in a picture, it meant that it was possible to take in the entire universe at a single glance, as this universe had been reduced to

the scale of the human eye. Yet though there was reduction, there was also attention to detail and concern for the accurate rendition of all the objects, and more especially of the pictures, which made it possible to identify them. There seems to have been a desire to miniaturize the constituent parts of the world in such a way as to allow the eye to take them all in at the same time, without losing any of their most intimate features.

Compendium of the universe

An Art Lover's Gallery by Frans Francken II (Musee des Beaux-Arts, Antwerp) shows a wall decorated with pictures, and below it a table bearing an album of drawings, small pictures, medals with the effigies of famous men, some coins, a small casket, shells and stones. Here, as in other similar cases, 7 we are put in the place of the spectator facing natural specimens and works of art. The latter reproduce nature in the form of landscapes, introducing at the same time historical and religious dimensions which invite the eye to extend its gaze inwards towards thought, transcending the visible to reach the invisible, the present tO reach the past and the here below to reach the beyond. A much richer spectacle is offered by pictures of museums enlivened by a bouquet of brightly coloured flowers being visited by men and women occasionally accompanied by animals such as dogs, monkeys and parrots. Somerimes, as in the case of The Gallery of Cornelis van der Geest, by Willem van Haecht (Rubens' House in Antwerp, since 1969), and very likely that also of Rubens' Studio by Cornelis de Baeilleur (Pitti Palace, Florence),8 figures from history are depicted in the gallery they are known to have visited. At other times the figures remain unknown to us, as they are in Hieronymus Janssens' Picture Gallery visited by Dilettanti (Musee Girodet, Montargis),9 but this difference has no bearing on our particular viewpoint. What is important here is the fact that all these types of pictures depict the major categories of beings and objects which together encompass the entire contents of the universe: the sacred and the secular, the natural and the artificial, the animate and the inanimate, the far and the near. And equally important is the fact that besides illustrating these categories with objects which exemplify them, they show them being looked at by people. In this way, the gaze becomes itself an object to be looked at, just as the pictures representing something become in their turn represented objects. Both gaze and representation are thus multiplied by two, with the result that the image of a gallery, be it the most realist of images, turns into an allegory of mao's apprehension of the works of art and nature. At the outset, interpreting pictures as allegories when they claim to be realist, would seem an extremely hazardous enterprise. Yet their artists did

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51

not hesitate to correct reality, by placing in rooms pictures which we know they did not contain or else bringing together in another room people whom we know paid visits there on different occasions. It would seem that the aim was not so much to create a faithful portrait of a particular room on a particular date, but rather to convey the very essence of such a room, showing it as a place where the universe, considered as a whole, became visible through the intermediary of objects intended to represent the major categories of beings and things, and even the classes subdividing these categories. In other words, it is here that the universe became visible as a single entity, for although it retained every single constituent part, it underwent a process of miniaturization. Just as the still lifes painted with the greatest respect for the physical aspect of the objects were nonetheless heavily symbolic, so the representations of galleries were both realist and endowed with allegorical meaning. This view is borne out by the existence of numerous pictures which so meticulously portray rooms that each separate object is exactly reprod.uced, only_ tO introduce into them allegorical, mythological or legendary figures. This IS the case of the American savages planted in the centre of a room, surrounded by animals, birds and fish mostly from their native New Present ro_o are American artefacts with, it is true, several foreign additions, along With specimens of American fauna and flora depicted in the pictures decorating the walls, some of which also portray scenes from the lives of the Indians, and statues of these latter placed in the niches (America. Jan van Kessel the Elder; Bayerische Staatsgemaldesammlungen, Munich). There can be no doubt whatsoever that this is an allegory of America incarnated by the female savage seated in the foreground and surrounded by symbols of wealth, and in fact this picture was one of a series depicting the four contments. 10 Another and even more exuberant room, full of ancient busts, pictures, scientific instruments including globes and a telescope, and medals, harbours a half-naked nymph whom some say is meant to be Venus, a Muse, and who is accompanied by a Cupid. This picture is an allegory of Sight, and the same couple reappears in three other pictures of the same series, painted by Peter Paul Rubens and Jan 'Velvet' Brueghell, and dedicated to the Five Senses (Prado, Madrid). In the allegory of hearing, the nymph sings and plays, listened to by the Cupid and by a stag, in a different room to before where we can see several musical instruments and scores next tO the pictures, globe and clock. In the allegory of the sense of smell, she is seated with her companion amid the flowers of a garden, while in the allegory of taste, we see her eating, fully dressed this time, in a room full of eccentricities where she is served, in the absence of the Cupid, by a satyr. Lastly, the allegory of touch is portrayed by the nymph giving a tender kiss to the Cupid in one of Vulcan's caves, piled high with pictures, weapons and armour and instruments. II

Two further pictures by Jan 'Velvet' Brueghel deal with the theme of the five senses: Sight and Smetl and Ta.rte, Hearing and Touch, which once more feature nymphs and Cupids surrounded by objects (Prado, Madrid). 12 The same painter also created a series depicting the Fottr Elements, where one picture, The Allegory of Fire (Musee des Beaux-Arts, Lyons), shows Venus, along with a Cupid, in Vulcan's forge, 'sorte de "cabinet d'amateur" heteroclite, a Ia fois precis et irrealiste' 13 A different series of paintings by the same Brueghel, and on the same theme also exists, where although Venus does not figure in the work entitled The AllegorJ' of Fire (Pinacoteca Ambrosiana, Milan), Vulcan's forge does continue to resemble a museum full of bric-a-brac. The same type of museum, all its features intact, is portrayed by]. van Kessel in a painting which just happens to represent The Four Elements (Musee des Beaux-Arts, Strasbourg). 14 A comparison of Johannes Georg Hainz's Mu.reum of Curiositie.r (Schloss Friedenstein, Schlossmuseum, Gotha) with The Great Vanity by Sebastian Stoskopf (Musee des Beaux-Arts, Strasbourg) 15 will prove convincingly just how difficult it is at times to distinguish between the representation of a museum and an allegorical picture. It would seem, however, that it is precisely this difficulty which is important, as it is due to the fact that in both cases realism, if not illusionism, in the execution of detail gives, thanks to the choice and organization of this detail, an allegorical meaning to the whole. As we have seen, a picture which portrays a private museum portrays it as a place where one can see the universe as a whole. This is even truer of pictures of the same kind which form part of a series intended to express this very concept of totality in visual form. For geographers of the period, there were but four continents, and so these four represented the whole of the inhabited world. Thus, when a continent was embodied not only by an allegorical figure but also by examples of its native peoples, animals, plants, minerals and artefacts, it was in fact represented by all the main categories of objects. The entire series therefore presents us with a sort of pictural inventory of the world intended to be exhaustive not only in a geographical sense but also in the way objects are apportioned to the different categories, all of which are depicted. Similar remarks could be made about the series on the five senses. With the risk of stating the obvious, the five senses signify all the means and all the senses a human being has at his disposal for apprehending the objects of the physical world, objects which can be divided up according to the way in which they act on our organs. Painting the five senses, however, introduces more oppositions, most notably that which operates between that which is stable, discernible through the senses of sight and touch, and which resists time, like ancient statues, and all that is transitory, such as sounds, tastes, smells. It should perhaps not be forgotten that flowers and musical instruments often figure among the 'vanities' 16

52

The Age of Curiosity

The Age of Curiosity

53

and that Rubens' and Brueghel's Tbe Allegory of Hearing features a clock in the foreground. Finally, all the categories and classes discussed in this chapter can be represented within the framework of the four elements (or the four qualities which constitute them). This is a particularly ancient and flexible framework, and one which not only enables beings and things, temperaments, climates, seasons, ages of man and so on to be divided up in a logical and exhaustive manner, bur also accommodates virrually all types of classifications. 17 Hard! y surprising, therefore, if it often dictated the Ia your of museums. It remains to be seen what the figures of Venus and Cupid signified and why they were used in preference to others. It also remains to be seen why artists chose to portray these museums, for the desire to show off their virtuosity by painting perfectly recognizable miniatures of pictures, objets d'art and natural artefacts is not in itself sufficient reason, just as the wish to liven up the allegories cannot adequately explain the presence of an unclad woman in their midst. This presence can, however, be justified fully in a painting by Willem van Haecht, Apelles' Atelier, which at first glance only resembles our allegories because it, too, depicts an opulent gallery full of fine pictures from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, natural curios and globes (Maurirshuis, The Hague). The scene is that of Apelles busy painting the portrait of Alexander's favourite, Campaspe. Neck and shoulders bared, and one breast revealed, she stands before the painter, surrounded by her followers, while Alexander watches both the artist and his model. This extremely complex picture represents nor simply rhe objects amassed in the gallery and admired by Alexander's courtiers, but also the very act of representing and its end product, the emerging painting. Above all, however, it represents desire. When he ordered ["Apelles] to paint him a portrait of the nudity of Campaspe, the most beautiful of all his concubines, and one he greatly loved, certain obvious signs made it clear to Alexander that as he studied her closely, Apelles had fallen in love with her beauty. This is why he showed him the full measure of his affection and gave her to him, as if, having been the friend of a king - and of King Alexander, too - it was right that she should become the friend of a painter. Some thought that the very famous Venus Dione was the portrait of this beautiful womaniB The illustration of this legend, Apel!es' Atelier, is a hymn to the glory of painting, an art capable of reproducing all things and all beings, and far nobler than all the other arts. It is also an apology for desire, of which Campaspe is at the same time both the object and the personification. This is the desire to see and possess, desire channelled through the woman and aimed at all the beings and all the things collected by Apelles in his atelier-

museum. This interpretation may seem a little far-fetched, but the same theme of desire reappears in Frans Francken II's painting, Ulysses recognizing Achilles from among the Daughters of Lycomedes (Louvre, Paris), which plays on how masculine and feminine characteristics oppose yet complement each other. Here, Achilles betrays his true nature by taking hold of the sword and shield, while the daughters of Lycomedes only have eyes for the jewels. The scene takes place in a gallery where pictures, a vase of flowers and various other different objects can be seen, and desire is explicitly directed towards objects but not personified. Personification does seem to take place in the two paintings of Tbe Toilet of Venus by J. van Kessel (Baron Coppe Collection, Brussels; Fr. Sheid Collection, Cleydael Castle, Antwerp), where Venus, half-naked, is accompanied by a Cupid and stands amid shells, minerals, scientific instruments and pictures, with a backdrop of shelves bearing busts and statues. All this immediately brings to mind the allegories discussed above, but this time there is nothing to suggest that allegory is involved. Even so, having just drawn comparisons between Apel!es' Atelier and Ulysses recognizing Achilles from among the Daugbters of Lycomedes it is difficult to avoid reaching the conclusion that Venus, of whom Campaspe is but an avatar, can only be performing her toilet in such an unlikely place as this, in the company, what is more, of a Cupid, because this is the only way that the desire responsible for bringing together rare objects in a cabinet can be represented allegorically. The placing of the personification of desire in the midst of such objects, shows that it is towards them that the desire is directed, and that it is this desire which fuels the urge to seek out and amass them in order to form a microcosm. The same applies to other female figures placed in the same setting: it applies both to the Venus from the Lyons Allegory of Fire, and to the nymph in the allegories of the five senses, who consequently represents not only individual senses (a role which could have been filled by any figure portrayed looking, playing an instrument or eating) but also incarnates and makes visible the desire which is implicit in all openness to things and beings and in every sensory or intellectual apprehension of the universe.

The quest for totality

Totality and desire, two themes which, though independent, often overlap in the paintings included in our rapid survey, also crop up in the names which, in French at least, are given to those who attempt to amass objects and create museums. 'AMATEUR, s.m., Qui aime quelque chose. II ne se dit point de l'amitie, ni des personnes. II est amateur de l'estude, des curiosites, des tableaux, des coquilles, amateur de !a Musique, des Beaux-Arts, le peuple est amateur de nouveautez.' 19 A little later, Furetiere's gloss was followed

54

The Age of Curios ity

The Age of Curios ity comme l'AstrologieJudiciaire, Ia Chiromance, Ia Geomance, et meme on y joint Ia Cabale, la Magie, etc.

by that of the Academ ie which, in its diction ary, subord inated the noun 'amate ur' to the verb 'aimer' and explain ed: 'AMAT EUR. s.m.v. Qui aime. II ne se dit que pour marqu er I' affecti on qu' on a pour les chases , et non celle qu'on a pour les person nes. Amate ur de la vertu, de Ia gloire des lettres, des arts, amateu r des bans !ivres, des tableau x, amateu r des nouvea utez.' 20 Not only did the Academ ie's diction ary not give the word amateu r full autono my, a status first grante d in the 1717 edition , but it also ignore d curios and shells, as well as studies, which headed Furetie re's list of examp les. This is an import ant differe nce and reflects the conflic t betwee n the intellig entsia and the literary spokes men of the court, who accused the former of being pedant s. 21 In particu lar, those whose interes t in curios and shells was favourably looked on by Furetie re, since he design ated them as amateu rs, were cruelly ridiculed by La Bruyer e in a chapte r of his Caracteres, of which more later. The Academ ie tacitly refused them the title of amateu r, which it reserve d for lovers of paintin gs, that is, objects not used for study. In the Academ ie's and in Bruyer e's opinio n, people taking an interes t in shells and simila r things of that nature were merely curieux. CURIEUX, EUSE. adj. et subst. Celuy qui veut tour s<;avoir , et rout appren dre. Tous les homme s ont un desir curieux de s<;avoir I'advenir. II se prend quelquefois en mauvaise part. C'est un indiscret qui est curieux de s<;avoir les secrets d'aurruy, qui decachette les lettres. II ne faut point erre curieux d'appre ndre les affaires des Princes, quand ils les cachent. Cervantes a escrit l'Hisro ire du Curieux impert inent, qui vouloit esprouver si sa femme lui etoit fidelle. CURIEUX, se dit en bonne part de celuy qui a desir d'appre ndre, de voir Ies bonnes choses, les merveilles de !'art et de Ia nature. C'est un curieux qui a voyage par route !'Europe, un curieux qui a feuillete rous les bons Livres, rous Ies Livres rares. C' est un Ch ymiste curieux qui a fait de belles experiences, de belles descouvertes. CURIE UX, se dit aussi de celuy qui a ramasse Ies choses Ies plus rares, les plus belles et les plus extraordinaires qu'il a pu trouver tant dans les arts que dans Ia nature. C'est un curieux de Livres, de medailles, d'estam pes, de tableaux, de leurs, de coquilles, d'antiquites, de choses naturel les. CURIEUX, se dit encore de Ia chose rare qui a ere tamassee ou remarquee par l'homm e curieux. Ce Livre est curieux, c'est-a-dire est rare, ou contien t bien des chases singulieres, que peu d'homm es s<;avent. Ce secret est curieux. Cette experience, cette remarque est curieuse. Le cabinet de cet homme est fort curieux, remply de chases curieuses. On appelle les sciences curieuses, celles qui ne sont connues que de peu de personnes, qui ant des secrets particuliers, comme Ia Chymie , une partie de J'Optique, qui fait voir des chases extraordinaires avec des miroirs et des lunettes; et plusieurs vaines sciences ou !'on pense voir l'advenir,

55

He who wishes to know and learn everything. Every man is curious (curieux) to know his own fate. This term is sometimes used negatively. He who is curious (curieux) to know the secrets of others, openin g their letters, is indiscreet. It is wrong to pry (etre curieux) into affairs Courtiers do not make known. Cervantes wrote the story of the Inquisi tive Man (Curieux impert inent), who wanted to test his wife's faithful ness. When those who have a thirst for learning and desire to look at the treasures of art and nature are described as having an Inquiring Mind (curieu x) it is meant as a compliment. He who has travelled throughout Europe , and has perused every fine and rare book has an Inquiring Mind (est un curieux). Fine experiments and discoveries are the work of a keen (curieu x) Chemist. He who has gathere d togethe r the very rarest, most beautif ul and most extraor dinary works of art and nature is an ENTH USIAS T (un curieux). There are book, medal, print, paintin gs, flower, shell, antiqui ties and natural objects enthusiasts ( Curieux). The rarities which are collected or remarked by the enthusiast (curieux) are also described as curiosities (curieux). This book is a curiosity (curieux), that is, rare, or contains many singular things, unknown to many. This secret is curious (curieux). This experim ent, this comme nt is curions (curieux). This man's museum is most curious (curieu x), full of curiosities (chases curieuses). The curious sciences (sciences curieuses) are those which are known only to a few, and have particular secrets, such as Chemistry, and a part of Optics, where extraor dinary sights are produced by means of mirrors and glasses; also several vain sciences, said to reveal the future, such as Astrology, Chiromancy, Geomancy and even Cabbala, Magic, etc. A clearer idea of Furetie re's article emerge s when one compa res it wirh that which the Academ ie include d in its diction ary for the same word: CURIEUX, EUSE. adj. Qui a beaucoup d'envie et de soin d'appre ndre, de voir, de posseder des chases nouvelles, rares, excellentes etc. Fort curieux. extrem ement curieux. curieux de curieux de voir. if veut tout voir, tout if est curieux. il est curieux de fleurs, de tulipes, curieux de nouvelles. curieux de peintures, de tableaux, de medailles. curieux de livres, de bustes. elle est curieuse en habits, curieuse en tinge. Curieux, se dit aussi des chases, et signifie, Rare, nouveau, extraor dinaire, excellent dans son genre. Cette nouvelle est curieuse. cette remarq ue est curieuse. un bijou curieux. On dit, qu'Un livre est curieux, qu'un cabinet est curieux, pour dire, qu'Un livre, qu'un cabinet est rempli de chases rares curieuses. II se prend quelquefois en mauvaise part, et se dit d'un homme qui veut indiscr etemen t penetr er les secrets d'autruy. Vous venez escoute r a ma

56

The Age of Curiosity porte, vous etes bien curieux. ne soyez pas si curieux que de fouiller dans mes papiers. if est sotement curieux indiscret, curieux impertinent. Curieux, s'emploie aussi quelquefois dans le subst. et alors il signifie, Celuy qui prend plaisir afaire amas de choses curieuses et rares ou celuy qui a une grande connoissance de ces sortes de choses. Le cabinet d'un curieux. C'est un homme qui est tous les jours avec les curieux. He or she who is most eager and is at great pains to learn, see, possess new, rare and excellent things. Very curious (curieux). Extremely curious (curieux). Eager (curieux) to know. Eager (curieux) to see. He is a flower, tulip enthusiast (curieux), interested (curieux) in the latest news. A paintings, picture, medal enthusiast (curieux). Interested (curieux) in books, busts. She is interested (curieuse) in clothes, in linen. Objects can also be described as curious (curieux), meaning rare, new, extraordinary, excellent of their kind. This news is curious (curieux). This comment is curious (curieux). A curious (curieux) piece of jewellery. Books and museums are described as curious (curieux), meaning that they are full of rare and curious (curieux) things. It is sometimes used negatively, and can serve to describe someone who pries into rhe secrets of others. You have been listening at my door, you are a busybody (curieux). Do not be so inquisitive (curieux) as to go through my papers. He is a foolish busybody (curieux), a prying busybody (curieux). As a substantive, it designates someone who takes pleasure in collecting rare and curious objects or who is very knowledgeable about them. An enthusiast's (curieux) museum, he mixes daily with those who have an inquiring mind (les curieux).

The Age of Curiosity

57

While the word 'amateur' is the vehicle for the theme of desire, or more accurately laudable desire, the word 'curieux' is associated more closely with the theme of totality, although it too bears some relation to desire. Anyone wishing either ro know or ro learn everything is considered to be curieux by Furetiere, and although the Academie adopts a more cautious approach, it nevertheless cites this definition as one of its examples, simply substituting 'voir' for 'apprendre'. More important than the explicit definitions is the fact that the whole of the semantic field of the word 'curieux' is dominated by the possibility of replacing it by expressions such as: 'he who wants to establish a special relationship with totality'; 'he who enjoys a special relationship with totality'. For man, learning or possessing represent ways of setting up a relationship of this kind, and in order to accomplish this he must have the intention of apprehending a specific totality and not a collection of objects which cannot possibly ever constitute a whole, while the sought-after objects themselves must be capable of rendering the apprehension of a given tOtality possible. These two conditions are met

once one decides, dissatisfied with a knowledge of the common and the normal, to seek greater knowledge of the singular, and accordingly searches among natural and artistic artefacts for rare, exceptional and extraordinary objects, objects supposed to have a special link with totality as they constitute the source of additional information without which the knowledge of the world as a whole, or of one or other of its domains, would remain incomplete. This explains why they are known as 'objets curieux', just as anyone taking an interest in them is called cutieux. When efforts are made to extend one's knowledge beyond the obvious and the universally familiar to things which are kept hidden from most people the same adjectives apply, and it is precisely when a curieux individual attempts to unveil such 'chases curieuses' as the secrets of others or the machinations of princes in order to obtain a complete view of man, that he runs the risk of crossing the boundary separating the permissible from the forbidden. He who seeks to complete his representation of time by attempting to add to his representation of the past and the present that of the future, is also dubbed curieux, and this explains why premonitory gimmicks are given special importance and why so many are drawn to practise the so-called 'vain sciences' in other words, the 'sciences curieuses'. While the meaning of the word curieux differed only marginally from one dictionary to the other, the same cannot be said of the value judgement concerning the thing it designated. In Furetiere's view, this word 'se dit en bonne part' nor only of a great traveller, scholar or the author of fine experiments but also of someone who has filled rooms with the rarest, most beautiful and most extraordinary things he has been able to find. In his definition, 'curieux' is used pejoratively in only a very few isolated cases. The Academie's dictionary, on the other hand, which only grants this word a positive value when it is applied to something 'excellent en son genre', strongly reproves the 'curieux' under a veil of impartiality, though avoiding outright condemnation of them. It is highly likely that Bruyere had something to do with this: he would appear to have been the source of the references ro tulips and busts as examples of objects of which one can be 'curieux'. A comparison of the articles on curiosite clearly shows up all the differences between these two dictionaries. Furetiere: CURIOSITE, s.f. Desir, passion de voir, d'apprendre les choses nouvelles, secrettes, rares et curieuses. Il y a une bonne et une mauvaise curio .rite. II a ere puny de sa curiosite. Sa curiosite luy a valu beaucoup. CURIOSITE, se dit aussi de la chose meme qui est rare, secrette, curieuse. II y a aParis plusieurs cabinets remplis de belles curiositez. Ce Chymiste nous a fait voir force curiositez, quantite de belles experiences de son art.

58

The Age of Curiosit)l

Desire, eagerness to see, learn about new, secret, rare and curious things. CtJriOJ'ity (curiosite) can be both good and bad. He was punish ed for his inquisitiveness (curiosite). He has benefited a great deal from his curioJity (curiosite). CURIOSITY is also used to describe the rare, secret or curious things themselves. In Paris, there are several museums full of fine curiosities (curiosites). This Chemist showed us many curiosities (curios ites) and many fine experiments of his art.

The Age of Curiosit)'

59

The Academie: CURIOSITE, s.f. Passion, desir, empressemem, de voir, d'appre ndre, de posseder des choses rares, singulieres, nouvelles etc. Grande curiosite. louab!e curiosite. cutiosite blasmable. sote curiositi. curiosi te irnpertinente. ettriosite defendiie. il eut la curio site de voyager. la curiosi te de voir, d'entendre etc. il a peu de curio site. trap de curio site. alter par curio site en quelque lieu. satisfaire, conten ter sa curiosite. sa curiosite n'est pas en tableaux, medailles etc. II se prend encore plus particulieremem pour une trop grande envie, un trop grand empres sement de sc;:avoir les secrets, les affaires d'autruy. Sa curiosite le po1te a ouvrir toutes les lettres qui lui tomben t entre les mains. c'est avoir trop de curiosite que de vouloir penetr er dam les secrets de ses amis malgn eux. II signifie aussi, Chose rare et curieuse. ll a un cabinet plein de curiositez. En ce sens il a plus d'usage au pluriel qu'au singulier. Eagerness, desire, anxiousness to see, learn, possess rare, singula r, new things. Great curios it)' (cu1iosite), praisew orthy cttriosit)' (curio site), inqmszttveness (curiosite blasmable), foolish curiosity (curiosite). Inquisitiveness (curio site impert inente) . Forbidden curiosity ( ettriosite). His inquiring mind (curiosite) led him to travel, see, listen, etc. He has very little curiosity (curiosite). Too much curiosity (curios ite). To go somewhere om of curiosit)' (curiosite). Satisfy one's curiositJ1 (curiosite). His interests (curiosite) do not lie in pictures, medals, etc. In particular, it is used for an over-zealousness to know the secrets and affairs of others. He is such a busybody (sa curiosite le porte a) that he opens every letter he comes across. The desire to know the secrets of one's friends against their will is a sign of inquisitivenes s (trop de ettriosite). It also signifies a rare and curious thing. His museum is full of curiosities (curiosites). In this case, it is usually used in the plural. Curiosity is therefo re a desire and a passion : a desire to see, learn or possess rare, new, secret or remark able things, in other words those things

which have a special relatio nship with totality and conseq uently provid e a means of attaini ng it. In short, we are dealing with the desire for totality , and this is why it cannot better be repres ented than by Venus or a nymph , half-na ked and accom panied by a Cupid in an enthus iast's private museu m. If one analyses the vocabulary or carries out an interpr etation of pictori al docum ents one comes to the same conclusion. What the picture s do not say, howev er, is that this desire for totality is ambiva lent, and that curiosi ty can be good or bad, praisew orthy or blameful. While Furetie re mostly sees it as the former , the Academ ie takes the opposi te line, as is particu larly clear from their descrip tions of cabinets. In one definit ion 'rempl is de belles curiosi tez', in the other they are simply 'pleins de curiosi tez', while the 'belles experie nces' in chemis try which, togeth er with optics, was for Furetie re and for Borel too, a 'science curieuse', warran t not a single mentio n from the Academie. On the other hand, this same body places far more empha sis than Furetie re on the danger s of curiosite, of its excesses, its vanity, its foolishness and its impert inence . This criticism, couched in terms of morali ty, if not savoirvivre, of an unbou nding curiosity, accusing it of leading to interfe rence in the affairs of others, is merely an echo of a whole intellectual and institu tional mecha nism put in place in order to check all manife station s of curiosi ty and harnes s it to the service of the faith. It must be remem bered that for many centuri es Christi an thinke rs regard ed curiosi ty as a source of morral danger for the soul and as such the object of extrem e mistru st. St Augus tine suspec ted it of turning philoso phers away from faith by encour aging them to consul t demon s, and of preven ting those who indulged in curiosi ty by studyin g creatur es, from raising themse lves to the level of the immor tal and the lasting Y Isidore of Seville actually went one step further , by imposi ng a whole series of interdi cts on it: Have no curiosity for those things which lie hidden. Abstain from seeking out all those which are far distant from human senses. Leave to one side, like a secret, anything which the authority of the Holy Scriptu res has not caused you to learn. Seek not beyond that which is written, questio n not the holy teachings. Do not desire to know that which it is forbidd en to know. Curiosity is a dangerous presumption. Curiosity is a harmful science. It leads to heresy. It embroils the mind in sacrilegious fables 2 3 If by chance anyone had been tempte d to accuse the author of the Etymo logies of disobe ying his own comma ndmen ts, he would no doubt have replied that he was pursui ng not curiosi ty but studiou sness, and it was this opposi tion betwee n being curious and being studious which provid ed the loopho le St Thoma s Aquina s needed in order to reconc ile the AristOtelian thesis, which held that the desire for knowle dge was natura l to

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The Age of Cttriosity

The Age of Curiosit)J

61

man, with the belief that this desire should be carefully overseen, channelled and given direction, since left to its own devices it would lead to excesses: 'As regards knowledge there is a tension of opposites; the soul has an urge ro know about things, which needs to be laudably tempered, lest we stretch out to know beyond due measure.' 24 This, then, is the role of studiousness: to curb curiosity and prevent man from overstepping the boundaries set by God. Seen in this light it becomes a virtue, while curiosity remains a vice capable of perverting intellectual and sense-knowledge, as witnessed when attempts are made to know truth nor for its own sake but to boast of this extra knowledge, forgetting God in the process and believing that one has transcended one's earthly condition. This is what happens when disorder takes hold of desire itself and when necessary study is abandoned in favour of futile things, as in the case of the priests, mentioned by Sc Jerome, who read comedies and pastoral poems instead of the gospels. The same is true when 'a person studies to learn from an illicit source; such is the case when he seeks ro foretell the future by recourse to demons. This is superstitious curiosity.' Intellectual knowledge can also be perverted when the study of the world is not subordinated to the knowledge of God, when, in other words, creatures are taken as separate from the Crearor. Or again, when a person attempts to grasp facts beyond his capacity, for by so doing he may slip into error. 25 As for sense-knowledge, ir can be perverted by curiosity when used to examine the actions of others, uniquely in order to scorn, denigrate or trouble them needlessly 2 G

Modern science confronted with curiosity

This modest offering by no means deserves to be called a history of curiosity. This history still needs co be told, though it cannot be so within the framework of rhis particular article. Nevertheless, these few observations do give an idea of the considerable efforts made to curb and channel the thirst for knowledge. This entailed convincing individuals that certain areas of knowledge were robe avoided as being illicit, that certain questions should not be asked, that certain interests should be kept hidden and that certain methods of acquiring knowledge should in no circumstances be employed. It was stressed, in other words, that certain limits could only be crossed on pain of damnation: moral and religious limits were imposed on knowledge from the outside, but which knowledge had to respect nonetheless, as it was neither autonomous nor self-fulfilling. Sense-knowledge is supposed to contribute to bodily welfare, intellectual knowledge is meant to contribute to the salvation of the soul. This is why knowledge of the truth does not suffice: The good for man lies in knowing the truth, and his sovereign good lies, not in knowing any sort of truth, but in the perfect

knowledge of the supreme truth, as Aristotle shows.' 27 It is surely nor necessary to repeat that subordinating sense-knowledge to utilitarian ends and to intellectual knowledge, subordinated in its turn to religious, moral and social ends, did not only translate itself in discourse. It was inscribed into the whole system of institutions, more particularly in the organization of the university, especially che faculty of theology. The Church had a monopoly over the definition of the boundaries between licit and illicit knowledge, between permitted and prohibited questions, between the accepted and forbidden methods of acquiring knowledge, and anyone lured by unbridled curiosity ro the other side of chis boundary risked condemnation, and not simply in the form of words. The irruption into official culture of formerly occult forms of knowledge and of all the 'sciences curieuses' which the authentic theology guarded against was evidence that the system of institutional curbs on curiosity was breaking up by the end of the fifteenth century. It is a phenomenon which has been remarkably described in what are now standard works, so I will not linger over it. Borel's catalogue, which typifies a large body of very similar texts, has been quoted from and commented on, along with the pictures which have themselves been selected from a far greater number, precisely because they constitute examples of the apology for unbounded curiosity. Moreover, it should be stressed that learned culture in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries consisted chiefly of the practice of curiosity in all these many forms, and the moralists and philosophers simply confirm this with their incessant attacks on it. This was true for Montaigne, for whom 'la curiosite est vicieuse partour' and who saw in the 'divination es astres, es esprits, es songes' a 'notable example de la forcenee curiosite de nostre nature, s'amusam apreoccuper les choses futures, comme si elle n'avoit pas assez affaire a digerer les presentes.' 28 And also for Pascal, for whom 'la curiosite n'est que vanite.' 29 Bruyere shared this viewpoint, as evident from his diatribe against curiosity, contained in the edition of Caracteres published after the appearance of Furetiere's dictionary, but before that of the Academie one. For him, curiosity was a purely social passion as it only attached itself to 'some particular object which is rare and yet in fashion'. Accordingly, he went on to demonstrate that curiosity had nothing to do with knowledge and certainly not with knowledge of totality, explicitly contradicting the claims of its panegyrists. Here is the tulip enthusiast in front of his flower: 'he looks at the tulip and admires [ ... ] but God and nature are not in his thoughts, for they do not go beyond the bulb of his tulip.' The fruit enthusiast 'is fond only of a certain kind'; the medal or prim enthusiasts only look for items they need to complete their series so that they can boast about them. Others, 'deceived by their curiosity', 'are unwilling to be ignorant of any branch of Lknowledge] L ... ], srudy them all and master none.' In short, Bruyere highlighted the contrast between che

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declared ambition, that of apprehending everything, and the final result, entanglement in minor detail, resulting in ' ian absolute ignorance] of all facts and principles'.3o Although Bruyere's criticism of curiosity was quite ferocious, it was necessarily ineffective because it reposed on moral and religious ideas which had an ever-dwindling influence on the way knowledge was organized. It was criticism which neither ridiculed nor cursed curiosity but rather tried to define new limits for it and set up a new institutional framework capable of curbing and channelling it which turned our to be most effective in the long term. This was not done in the name of religion. Instead, the principles supposedly governing from within knowledge itself were used to justify the need to keep curiosity within well-defined limits. To this end, Descartes condemned blind curiosity in favour of research carried our in accordance with the rules of method. He even went as far as to say that seeking truth without due regard being paid to these rules was worse than not seeking it at all.3 1 The role of these rules was to make possible infallible discrimination between truth and error, and as such it was a cognitive and not a moral role, as Descartes himself saw, and in his Discottrs de la methode, he clearly separated the exposition of the rules to be observed in order ro know something well from the description of the precepts governing one's actions. Moreover, the limits these rules imposed on knowledge separated those things which could be apprehended in a sure and certain manner from those which could not, a division based once more on uniquely cognitive criteria. All these themes crop up again in a passage of the Recherche de Ia verite par Ia !ttmiere natttre!le which, according to the full title of this pamphlet, 'penetrates into the secrets of the most curious of the sciences.' Contrary to the opinion of Epistemon, who holds that: 'the desire for knowledge, which is common to all men, is an evil which cannot be cured, for curiosity increases with knowledge,' Eudoxus comments that: 'there are truths that can be known in every matter sufficient to satisfy fully the curiosity of healthy minds,' adding that 'the body of a dropsical patient is nor further removed from irs normal condition than the mind of those who are perpetually worked upon by an insatiable curiosity.' Epistemon, however, interprets this opposition between 'healthy mind' and 'insatiable curiosity' in an entirely traditional way, defining the limits beyond which curiosity must not venture in moral terms: 'I have, it is true, heard in former times that our desire could not extend naturally to things that seemed to us impossible, and that it ought not to do so to those that are vicious or useless.' Knowledge acquired within these limits, and which is therefore legitimate, is so vast that nobody can exhaust it completely, and everybody constantly wishes ro know more. It is in reply to this comment, and after an exchange of polite remarks that Eudoxus introduces the essential distinc-

tions which clarify Descartes' point of view and reveal exactly how it differs from the traditional one. The first of these distinctions is 'between the sciences and those simple forms of knowledge which can be acquired without the aid of reasoning, such as languages, history, geography, etc., or to speak generally, everything that depends on experience alone'. This eliminates from the field of legitimate interests of an honest man all knowledge which, according to Descartes, merely encumbers one's memory. A second distinction is made within science itself, between those branches of knowledge which 'are deduced from common objects of which everyone is cognizant' and those acquired 'from rare and well thought out experiments'. Descartes has no time for the latter, 'for we should first of all have to examine all the herbs and scones brought to us from the Indies; we should have to have beheld the phoenix, and in a word to be ignorant of none of the marvellous secrets of nature.' This is why he contents himself with explaining truths 'which may be deduced from common things known to each one of us'.l2 Recherche de la verite therefore brings rogether Epistemon, a 'curieux' mainly interested in 'the secrets of the human arts, apparitions, illusions, and in a word all the wonderful effects attributed ro magic' and a member of the old school which dominated the learned culture of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and Eudoxus, who represents the Cartesian version of modern science. Like Descartes himself, of whom he is merely the spokesman, Eudoxus establishes a clear opposition between curiosity on the one hand and science and, in his particular case, erudition, on the other. On one side he places rule, and on the other, the arbitrary, on one side the common and the ordinary and on the other the rare and the strange, on one side the tranquillity afforded by certitude and on the other the impossibility of attaining peace, on one side the rational and on the other the dominion of passion. This is more than a mere demonstration of the superiority of science, however. The aim is also to present and legitimize a set of methods capable of harnessing the desire for knowledge to the furtherance of science, for science cannot hope to profit from this desire until it ceases its interminable pursuit of things singular or strange. This goal is shared by Malebranche when he is ironical about those who 'never try to find out whether what they are told is possible or not. One has only to promise them the most extraordinary things, such as the restoration of natural heat, the humide radical or the vital spirits, or indeed anything else they do not comprehend, in order for their idle curiosity to be excited.' The only remedy for an attitude such as this consists of rules capable of moderating curiosity and at the same time subordinating it to science and religious faith. 33 The same theme is taken up by Bernard Lamy: 'When reason is not in control, and when one is carried away by curiosity, in other words a mad desire for knowledge, it is impossible to study in an orderly fashion. One is endlessly

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thirsty for knowledge, but the disorderliness of one's curiosity makes it impossible to continue the search for truth in a steadfast manner.' 34 Thus, the second half of the seventeenth century saw the development of an intellectual and institutional mechanism intended to curb and channel curiosity which the old framework, constructed more than a thousand years earlier, had been unable to control for the past two hundred years. Only the intellectual dimension of this story has been highlighted in these last few pages, and even that has been done in a fragmentary fashion through a few examples chosen from a much larger corpus of work. Another study would be needed to show how the formation of informal groups of scholars and networks of correspondents, followed by the advent of structured academies fully recognized by the public powers, along with scientific journals, was accompanied, albeit slightly later, by the taming of curiosity. In other words, certain questions which had begun to seem incongruous were discarded, as were certain interests which were no longer considered respectable in anyone aspiring to be a scholar, as well as certain experiments and references which were no longer given any credibility. A lengthy process, this change was far from automatic and was not exempt from rifts and conflict. When it had eventually taken place the 'sciences curieuses' which had been accepted into official culture at the end of the fifteenth century found themselves excluded from it once again, this time not on! y by the Church but also by the scientific institutions. As for the 'cabinets curieux', created in order to make visible the whole of existence, these were turned into natural history collections in the service of scientific debate. Curiosity, as embodied in the Kunst- und Wunderkammer, in the library of a scholar, the laboratory of a chemist practising hermetic philosophy or of a physicist for whom optics remained a science of miracles, exuberant, incoherent, muddled, assailed by contradictions, and pulling in all sorts of different directions, enjoyed a temporary spell in power, an interim rule between those of theology and science.

3
Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of Curiosity

To Gianfranco and Sara Bertani

Paintings, sculptures, inscriptions, sometimes rarities and natural curios too, not to mention relics - before the age of the museum, all these things were displayed inside churches and official buildings, while outside, decorated like those of private palaces, showed off frescoes, busts and statues. This was the case in several European countries in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, as it was in Italian, and particularly Venetian, towns, the sole difference in this respect being the quantity and quality of works which had amassed there during the Renaissance. What did distinguish them from the towns of northern Europe, however, was the presence of ancient monuments, the finest of which in Venetia were undoubtedly the arenas of Verona. These works and monuments, described in books by local authors or by travellers, several of which were published at the time, 1 were visited in the same way they are nowadays, and although a large proportion of them were kept in places of worship, this did not mean that they were looked at with religious rather rhan secular curiosity. True, the stare of the pictures did often leave a great deal to be desired; according to Boschini Titian's A.rsunta would have awoken pity in anyone with notions of tasre 2 which probably explains why foreign visirors failed to mention it - and Maffei spoke indignantly of the lamentable treatment suffered by one of Veronese's paintings.3 Nevertheless, in spire of all these vicissitudes, there remained more than enough beautiful things to admire at one's leisure. The churches and official buildings were therefore the guardians of collections, that is, groups of natural or artificial objects kept temporarily or permanently out of the circuit of economic activities, afforded special protection in an enclosed place adapted specifically for that purpose and put on display. 4 These collections were public, since they belonged not to an

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individual but to an institution and, most importantly of all, were open either to everyone or to selected visitors only, depending on the circumstances. This is at any rate how the writers of the time distinguished them from private collections. Sansovino would seem to have been the only one to include the 'studi di anticaglie' in his work on the [ab1iche pubficbe',' thus forcing his continuatOrs to do so too. Boschini made a clear distinction between the 'pitture publicbe' and those which were kept 'nelle case di molti

Cavalieri, et altri intendenti, et dilettanti di questa marauigliosa Dottrina

[painting],' 6 the same distinction being operated not only by dal Pozzo and Lanceni but also by many others. 7 It was the public collection which gave a town a good deal of its fame and lustre, which determined in the main its image not only in the eyes of foreign visitors but also of the town's own inhabitants, and which acted as a focal point for feelings of collective identity. These collections did, however, have serious lacunae. This was due to the fact that they were the instruments either of a form of religious worship or else of a cult, in which the city was both subject and object, especially in the case of a city-republic like Venice. These two forms of praise did, however, tend to merge into one, as in the case of the cult of St Mark. The problem was that the contents were dictated by liturgical requirements, and these favoured certain categories more than others. It meant, for instance, that statues, ancient busts and antiquities in general were not much sought after, except for those presenting a quite remarkable splendour, such as the vases in the treasure-house of St Mark's basilica. These gaps would in due course be filled thanks to private initiative. In February 1587 (1 586 more veneto), and following the example of Cardinal Domenico Grimani sixty-four years earlier, Patriarch Giovanni Grimani expressed his intention of leaving his ancient marbles to the Most Serene Republic upon his death, and requested that a place should be chosen which would be 'suitable for such a purpose, so that once foreigners had seen the Arsenal and the other sights of the City, they might also, amongst the things of note, see these antiquities displayed in a public place.' 8 The Senate decided that Grimani's marbles should be put in the anteroom of the library, which was itself the fruit of private initiative. In August 1596, Federigo Contarini, the procurator of St Mark's, who had been given the task of supervising the work, announced that it had successfully reached completion, and that the 200 antique pieces, including several he had himself donated, had been installed in the premises specially set aside for the purpose. This 'antiquario publico' later acquired two statues, left ro it by Zuanne Mocenigo, who died in 1598 9 Another donation, from Giacomo Contarini, dates from the same period, but only took effect in December 1713, with the extinction of the line of his male descendan ts. 10 From the end of the sixteenth century, therefore, Venice possessed a

public collection of ancient statues which contributed to the city's glory. Still lacking, however, was a numismatic collection, but this was remedied thanks, once more, to private initiative. In 1683, Senator Pietro Morosini had bequeathed his ancient medals to the republic, and in the foreword to the catalogue of this collection Charles Patin explained that these medals, along with the orher antiquities, were to be carefully conserved by the authorities:
It is incumbent on the Public Majesty to keep a careful watch over these monuments of scholarly interest, these rich sources of learning and example, from which young noblemen can derive instruction and wise old men pleasure. It is only right and proper that the Public Majesty should possess TREASURES of medals, such as those which are found amongst sacred and secular remains, as well as of printed and manuscript writings, of marble statues and inscriptions and of weapons, treasures which the Most Serene Republic displays with such great splendour to both its own people and to foreigners. It is clearly incumbent on the Public Majesty not to allow itself to be outdone by any other power. Yet what Prince is there who does not assemble and conserve these jewels of wisdom? 11

This appeal to protect numismatic monuments in the context of an international battle for prestige, where it was important always to have the upper hand, went unheeded. As for the Morosini collection, provided only minimal protection in the Doges' Palace, part of it was stolen a few years later.U Nevertheless, an example had been set, and at the beginning of the eighteenth century, another senator, Domenico di Vincenzo Pasqualigo, left his collection of Venetian coins, dating from the twelfth century ro his own times, to the public library.13 Leaving aside for the moment the history of the collection of ancient inscriptions which Verona's Accademia Filarmonica acquired in 1612, we will now look briefly at the botanical garden opened in Padua in 1546. Botanical gardens are, like decorative gardens, a form of collection, albeit a rather special one. The Paduan garden was, from the outset, a public institution, open to visitors and founded by a decree of the Senate of the Venetian Republic of May 1545, but here, too, private initiative had been behind the whole project, in the shape of Francesco Bonafede, a professor of medicinal plants at the university.l 4 Now that we have examined the list of public collections founded in Venetia in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, we can begin to make a few general comments about them. The first remark one can make is that no public collection was entirely given over to natural objects, indeed, these were practically absent from them, apart from a few notable exceptions, such as the unicorn horns in the treasure-house of St Mark's, one of which

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had been left to it in 1684 by Procurator Alessandro Contarini, who had purchased it in France for a not unsubstantial sum. 15 It should also be noted that there were no public art galleries, a fact which did not, moreover, apply only to Venetia. It is true that Maffei's remark about a church in Verona: 'Jl tempio di S. Giorgio per canto di pitture e una galleria, alia quale non sara si' facile, ch'altra possa paragonarsi,' 16 could have been said about many others too, yet pictures representing certain secular subjects found wallspace neither in churches nor in official buildings. This was the case for all portraits except official ones, as well as for genre paintings, landscapes and paintings with mythological themes. This situation helps to explain the importance of private collections, which not only provided space for objects neglected by the public collections of the period, though obviously not all, but also reflected more rapidly each successive change in taste, historical interests and attitudes to nature. By so doing, they eventually came to change the nature of the public collections: the contents of a private collection today are, in general, those of a public collection tomorrow. Nor is this all, as between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries private collections in Venetia and elsewhere were semi-public in nature. The subjects of monographs or primed catalogues, they were also described or mentioned in guides or works detailing the most notable features of different towns. Their fame was spread far and wide by passing travellers who visited them and later spoke of them in their printed accounts and letters, and these writings will be extensively cited a little later on. Private collections therefore increased their proprietors' reputations within the republic of letters and even beyond that, while at the same time they, along with their public counterparts, shaped the images of the towns where they were to be housed. In a period notable for its learned travellers, this was true even for a city like Venice, which certain! y was not lacking in claims to fame, and according to Spon: 'It would take several whole volumes to list all that is rare in Venice as far as curiosities such as medals, agates and fine paintings are concerned; for it has far more beautiful pictures than any other rown in Italy, including possibly Rome, while no town in the whole of Europe can boast as many medal enthusiasts as Venice.' 17 Similarly, the name of Verona was associated, especially in the last quarter of the seventeenth century, with that of the Moscardo counts, the owners of a museum well known in learned circles throughout Europe, and which we will be discussing later on, while Vicenza had the reputation of being a town with nothing to see 18 and it was said that in Padua, there were 'several collections of curiosities and a fair number of people well versed in antiquities'. 19 We will now confine ourselves to private collections, without forgetting that they constitute but one pole which can never entirely be dissociated from the opposing one comprising public collections. It is, in fact, the

relationship between the two which enables us to define the period covered by rhis article. Beginning at the end of the sixteenth century, which also marked the advent of the first 'antiquario pubblico' in Venice, its end can justifiably be siwated in the 1720s, following the publication of Maffei's project for a lapidary museum. It would be wrong to imply that this project led to ruptures on a grand scale, yet it did, as we shall shortly see, reflect a change in taste, in historical interests and attitudes to nature, and this change had an effect on the principles governing the organization and even the contents of collections.

3.1 COLLECTIONS AS MICROCOSMS

The entry of the Venetian collectors into the age of curiosity, around the turn of the seventeenth century, was marked by the popularity of the Kunst- und Wunderkammern. 20 These were collections with encyclopaedic ambitions, intended as a miniature version of the universe, containing specimens of every category of things and helping to render visible the totality of the universe, which otherwise would remain hidden from human eyes. There was a sufficient number of them to invalidate Schlosser's claim that they were more or less non-existent in Italy; 21 in Venice, for instance, Andrea Vendramin (1554-1629) built up a collection which passed after his death to the Reynst brothers, who transported it to Amsterdam. 22 Judging from the headings of the catalogue Vendramin himself drew up and illustrated, the museum contained pictures; sculptures of divinities, oracles and ancient idols; costumes of different lands; ancient instruments of sacrifice including urns and lamps; medals of ancient Romans and famous Venetians; Egyptian rings and seals decorated with scarabs, emblems and other signs engraved in stones and gems; pure, mixed and composite natural substances; whelks, shells and conches from various parts of the world; minerals; strange things from India and other regions of the world, both in east and west; illustrated books on chronology, prints, animals, fish and birds- seemingly in the form of pictures, although Vendramin did also receive live specimens 2 3 - plants and flowers; 'admirable antiquities from the city of Rome and other things pleasing to the eye'; the works of authors who had written about Christ the Redeemer; manuscripts. 24

Art and nature

Not unlike the title of the Italian translation of Pierio Valeriano's Hieroglyphica, published in 1625, 25 the catalogue Andrea Vendramin

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compiled just two years later can be seen to contain almost everything mentioned by this encyclopaedia as a collectable object, as well as several other objects besides. This similarity is significant, as are the differences between Vendramin's museum and the Venetian collections of the first half of the sixteenth century, as described by Marcantonio Michiel, 26 or those which belonged to Giovanni Grimani and Gabrielle Vendramin, which we know of thanks to archive documemsY All these collections concentrated on paintings, sculptures, medals and antiquities, neglecting natural objects, and were obviously not intended to represent the universe. Indeed, only towards the end of the sixteenth century would Venetian collectors begin to adopt this particular project. In his testament of 1595, Giacomo Contarini (1536-95) made mention of mathematical instruments, minerals and 'secret srones', 28 alongside books, statues and paintings, while in the last decades of the sixteenth century, Federigo Contarini, whom we have already met, and one of the first to have had 'encyclopaedic' ambitions and visions of possessing specimens of every category of thing and being, formed his own collection. In the inventory established after his death we find numerous natural objects including corals, crystals, petrifications, minerals, oysters with two pearls, horns, teeth and claws from various different animals; these objects are juxtaposed with statues, medals, cameos, antiquities of every kind as well as pictures, the most worthy of note being a depiction of the four seasons and several landscapes, some by Flemish artists. 29 This collection was inherited by Carlo Ruzzini (1554-1644), who made additions to it, and it then remained in the Ruzzini family until the end of the seventeenth century, while vestiges of it could still be seen as late as 1750.3 With its sixty-six marble statues, eighty-four fragments, several busts, heads, statuettes and idols in marble or metal, not to mention 3600 medals, 380 of which were gold and 2070 silver, as well as 120 masterpieces and any number of petrifications and other natural objects, some most spectacular,l 1 the Ruzzini collection was only in its infancy, and later on, in spite of the sale of several statues to the duke of Mantua, 32 was one of the richest in Venice. It is hardly surprising that it was frequently visited and that several descriptions of it have survived, descriptions which all illustrate the interests and tastes of their writers as much as, if not more than, the contents of the collection itself. In 1660 Boschini, while praising the collection as a whole ('Non ghe xe al Mondo un Studio si perfeto') dwelt mostly on the statues which turned it into a Roma picenina'. He emphasized the richness of the medal collection and spent some time over the pictures, in order to justify his initial observation that the collection no longer corresponded to contemporary tastes ('no l'e moderna'). 3' Martinoni looked at things from a different angle, for in 1663, while he did not neglect the pictures and medals, he gave over around a third of his account of the collection to a list of the

natural rarities and curios, highlighting their diversity and 'le meraviglie di cose cosi rare, e pellegrine'.3 4 In Spon's opinion, voiced in 1675, it was 'un des plus beaux cabinets du monde en medailles, agathes et tableaux fins,' Jj while in 1698 Montfaucon gave as much space in his account to the medals as to the natural things, while emphasizing that there had been many more examples of each in the past.' 6 This comment would indicate that the collection was already on the wane at the time of Montfaucon's visit, but luckily, we have in our possession a description of it written by John Evelyn in 1645, its most glorious period. So fascinated was the author by its wealth of curios of every son that he did not even mention the magnificent paintings lining the wallsY On Michaelmas day I went with my Lord Mowbray (eldest son to the Earle of Arundel!, & a most worthy Person) to see the Collection of a Noble Venetian Signor Rugini: he has a stately Palace, richly furnish'd, with statues, heads of the Roman Empp, which are all plac'd in an ample roome: In the next was a Cabiner of Medals both Latine & Greeke, with divers curious shells, & two faire Pearles in 2 of them: but above all, he abounded in things petrified, Walnuts, Eggs, in which the Yealk rattl'd, a Peare, a piece of beefe, with the bones in it; an whole hedg-hog, a plaice on a Wooden Trencher turned into Stone, & very perfect: Charcoale, a morsel of Cork, yet retaining its levitie, Sponges, Gutts, & a piece of Taffity: Part rolld up, with innumerable more; In another Cabinet, sustaind by 12 pillars of oriental A chat, & raild about with Chrystal, he shew'd us severall noble Intaglias, of Achat, especially a Tiberius's head, & a Woman in a Bath with her dog: Some rare Corneliam, Onixes, Chry.rtals &c in one of which was a drop of Water not Congeal\{ but plainly moving up & down as it was [shaken]: but above all was a Diamond which had growing in it a very faire Rubie; Then he shew'd us divers pieces of Amber wherein were several !meets intomb'd, in particular one cut like an heart, that contain'd lin] it a Salamander, without the least defect; & many curious pieces of Mosaic: The fabrique of this Cabinet was very ingenious thick set with Achat.r, Turcoies, & other precious stones, in the midst of which a dog in stone scratching his Eare, very rarely cut, & Antique, & comparable to the greatest Curiositie I had ever seene of that kind, for the accuratenesse of the work: The next chamber had a Bedstead all inlayd with Acbats, Cbrystals, Carnelians, Lazuli &c, esteemed worth 16000 Crounes.l 8 'Curious', 'rare', 'perfect', 'very ingenious', 'greatest ... ever seen': the epithets used by Evelyn show how astonished he was at the diversity and richness of the objects shown to him, as well as at the quality of workmanship of the works produced by human hand and the exceptional nature of the natural things. If one reads his account carefully and takes into consideration a number of facts obtained elsewhere, it is possible to picture

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these three rooms in the Ruzzini Palace, with their serried ranks of statues, their tables and shelves lined with busts, the furniture, with its black wood providing a sharp contrast with the brilliant colours of the semi-precious stones, its drawers opened to reveal the metallic gleam of the medals, the sparkling gemstones, the gay hues of the shells and the strangeness of the petrified forms. Three rooms which complemented a gallery of paintings and where art met nature, the ancient the modern, where the occulted became the manifest and the exotic the familiar. Not a single detail is missing from this portrait of a Kunst- und Wunderkammer. We have a second portrait of a Kunst- und Wunderkammer, once more complete in every way, in the detailed description of the collection formed in Vicenza by Girolamo Gualdo the Elder (1496-1566) and subsequently added to by his nephew, Giuseppe (?1520-72), Giuseppe's son, Emilio (1555-after 1631) and the latter's own son, Girolamo the Younger (15991656), who also drew up the inventory.39 The title of this document leaves no doubt possible as to the encyclopaedic ambitions of the Gualdo collection 40 which appears, from the inventory, to have been conceived with the exact intention of fulfilling them. Had he walked beneath the richly decorated porticoes with rapid step, sparing the painted fas;ades embellished with inscriptions only a rapid glance, we would have come to the garden where, in the midst of the cedars, jasmines, orange trees, rosemary and laurels, there were aviaries alive with birds, as well as fountains, statues and column bases and capitals. 41 Here, art coexisted with nature, as it did too within the house, in the four state rooms. The first three of these were above all given over to paintings, 42 while the fourth constituted the very heart of the collection, the studio: 'piccolo loco, cbe potemo ragionevolmente cbiamare mondo piccolo, come !i Greci cbiamavano l'buomo micro cosmo '; 4 ' above the door leading to this room was an epigram extolling this 'naturae et art is thesaurus'. 44 These pieces of rhetoric are, nevertheless, less eloquent than the decor and the contents of the studio were. let us begin with the ceiling, which depicted 'tutto l'universo ': Earth, together with the four continents, occupied the centre, surrounded by Water; above this lay the various regions of the Air, where one could espy comets, a rainbow and various other meteorological phenomena. Next came the Moon, Mercury, Venus, the Sun, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn, placed in their correct orbits, followed by the First Mover and the fixed stars, set in the crystalline sky, this sky in its turn surrounded by the abode of the chosen: the empyrean heavens with their nine choirs of angels and the blessed. Even higher than this, one could see the Holy Trinity, the Virgin Mary, St Joseph and StJohn the Baptist. The six sections on the surround of the ceiling depicted God the Almighty creating all things visible and invisible in six days. 4 5

The Janus-like Kunst- und Wunderkammer

The pictorial cosmology of the Gualdo studio managed to unite the Aristotelian, Ptolemaic and Thomist traditions, while referring also to the hexamera. The spirit of Janus was alive in all the Kunst- und Wmtderkammem of the seventeenth century, indeed in the whole of culture, which was encapsulated by the former, and its presence was never more completely betrayed than by the juxtaposition of certain objects below this ceiling and next to the spheres. For not only were there quadrants and solar clocks, which had strong associations with the Aristotelian and Ptolemaic systems, but also mechanical clocks which had none,46 and above all 'certain spyglasses whose author, a famous mathematician, goes by the name of Galileo' and an 'entire telescope in the form of a cylinder, which the same Galilos Galilei gave to my uncle, one of the first ones'. 17 It is impossible to know whether the phrase, 'hie astra videre datur' in the above-mentioned epigram referred to the stars painted on the ceiling or to those one could see through Galileo's telescope; perhaps it referred to both. Whatever the case, this unimaginable encounter between an image of the universe which had remained unchanged for two thousand years and the recently invented instrument which would soon shatter it shows clearly how far apart the limits of the curiosity culture were set. There still remain many aspects of the decor of the studio to be discussed, however. The four seasons were depicted in the four angles where the ceiling met the walls, 48 and they must have been particular! y dear to Gualdo, as the same theme was repeated in at least two other places. In one of these, the seasons were personified by a young girl (spring), a woman (summer), a robust young man (autumn) and an old man (winter), and were linked to the corresponding signs of the zodiac. 49 In the other, a painting depicted the 'whole year' in the form of the chariots belonging to Flora (spring), Ceres (summer), Pomona (autumn) and Janus (winter), upon each of which rode several other gods.5 Just as the ceiling represented the spatial organization of the whole universe, so this constituted an allegorical representation of the universe as a temporal succession. Behind all the different images, however, lay the same desire to embrace being in its entirety and place it centre stage. This particular desire was the driving force behind efforts to bring together specimens of every class of thing and being in the Jtudio: paintings and prints, especially portraits;5 1 statuettes;5 2 glass phials;Sl medals; 54 the 'mathematical, geometrical and astrological instruments' discussed earlier; weapons; 55 natural things including petrifications, shells, the horns and claws of assorted animals, ostrich eggs, objects brought back from India by the Jesuits, the skeletons of marine animals and branches of red coraJ.5 6 The studio also contained a libraryY Far from being confined to the studio alone, the Gualdo collection

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actually filled the entire house. The ancient inscriptions were scattered more or less throughout, 58 and the paintings nor only adorned the state rooms bur also the lived-in part. 59 This was, most notably, where an impressive collection of relics was to be found, its prize pieces being wood from the Holy Cross, bodily remains of rhe saints, fragments of the sepulchres of Lazarus, Jesus Christ, the Virgin Mary, stones from Mount Sinai, from the torrent of Cedron and so on. 6 Certain objects, both natural and man-made, took on the roles of secular relics in the Gualdo collection, such as the crab from SenatOr Vendramin's studio 61 and the claw from the 'Gran Bestia' (bear?) which was a gift from Stefan Bathory, King of Poland, during his stay at the Gualdos' home when still only Prince of Transylvania.62 Other objects were mementoes of Pinelli and Pignoria, 6 3 not to mention all those which were reminders of family ancestors. This means that the presence of several of the objects could be justified on two counts, since they belonged both to nature and to history, thus adding an extra dimension to the way history was represented by the gallery of portraits of famous people and members of the family, as well as by the family tree. 61 The Gualdo collection seems curiously never ro have been described by foreign visitors, at least not in the seventeenth century. True, it was apparently quite rapidly dispersed following the death of Girolamo the Younger, as a century later there remained hardly anything at all. 6 5 Yet this does not explain the silence which reigned prior to this. In 1646, John Evelyn came to Vicenza, armed with advice from the Earl of Arundel to visit first of all the buildings by Palladia. He was also recommended the Thiene Palace, the gardens belonging to the counts of Valmarana, the Villa Rotonda and the 'pretty collection of painting' belonging to an apothecary, Angelo Angelico. As for the Gualdo collection, not a word was said. 66 Evelyn apparently followed this advice, and remained unaware of the collection, as did other travellers passing through Vicenza during the first half of the seventeenth century. 67 Thus it came to pass that this collection, though very ambitious and significant, played a relatively minor cultural role in the end. The same can certainly not be said of one formed in Verona by Lodovico Moscardo (?1611-81). Described by its owner in a work which ran to two editions, it was visited by a great many travellers during the last thirty years of the seventeenth century, 68 while its fame was perpetuated well into the eighteenth century, largely thanks ro the long description given by Maffei in his Verona ii!ust1ata. 69 The founder of this collection, which remained in his family quite a while after his death,7 had shown an all-embracing curiosity very early on in his youth. In 1656 he claimed in a preface to notes on his museum that for the last thirty years he had devoted his entire life to 'the assembly of several Medals, Coins, Idols, Military Offerings, Votive Figures, Tombs, Minerals, Earths, Stones, Paintings, Drawings, and other

examples of the strangest things wrought by both Man and Nature, and which, once brought together, take on the name of Museum'. 71 This is an interesting declaration from more than one point of view: in the first place, it would seem to indicate that its author began collecting in the late 1620s, when he would barely have finished his adolescence. This is not wholly unlikely, as we know of other precocious collectors, while it was around this time that Francesco Calzolari the Younger died, and most, if not all, of his collection of natural objects, of which more later, went to join the one Moscardo had formed 72 and made regular additions to. Moscardo's declaration also revealed the encyclopaedic scope of his ambitions, with his desire to unite the products of nature and art and of past and present by choosing the strangest things from each category, those which were not seen ordinarily and which, for this very reason, seemed better representatives of the creative powers at work in the universe. By carrying our this programme for more than half a century, Moscardo brought together both natural objects and antiquities of every son. These included the inscriptions which so impressed Spon during his visit of 1675,73 as well as the urns, vases, lamps, idols and weapons, some of which attracted the attention of Mabillon 74 and Montfaucon_75 As for the meda)s and coins, their number and rarity made them worthy of the best collections in Europe. 76 In addition to these were some 138 pictures, mostly the work of Venetian artists and religious in subject, 77 any number of drawings,?S and at least a hundred portraits of princes and famous literary and military figures.79 The overall impression made on a visitor who was neither antiquary nor scholar has been preserved for posterity in the account by Misson, dated 1687, in which he wrote: 'One finds there a gallery and six chambers all filled with that which is most marvellous in Art and Nature. ... Paintings, Books, rings, animals, plants, fruit, metals, monstrous or extravagant specimens, Works of every fashion. In a word, every curious or sought-after thing one can possibly imagine, either because of its rarity, or the delicacy and excellence of the workmanship,' before going on to fill several pages with descriptions of the various different objects. 80 The analogy with Evelyn's remarks is blatantly obvious.

The exuberant world of curiosity

It is impossible, unfortunately, to gain an accurate picture of the layout of Moscardo's museum from his writings, as these take the form of a series of scholarly essays, each on a different room, and divided into the following three sections: antiquities; stones, minerals and earths; corals, shells, animals, fruits and so on. The way the objects were divided up between these three different sections does, however, reserve a few surprises.

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Leaving aside the fact that he placed giants under the heading of antiquities 81 (after all, giants were supposed to have lived in ancient times), one still has to ask why his chapters on the mummy, 82 on musical and mathematica l instruments, paintings, clocks and on 'Indian shoes' 83 were included in the third section. The addenda ro the 1672 edition pose the same problem, for after describing the 'divers weapons, coins and seals of the Princes della Scala', Moscardo went on to describe the pygmies and a little later chameleons. 84 The least one can say is that his system of classification was rather lax, yet it must be asked whether it really needed to be very rigorous, if art, nature and rime really could be perceived best not through their common and normal productions but through those which were extraordinary and, by implication, unclassifiable. This state of mind, which was very prevalent at that time, can best be understood by studying an extract from the second edition of Moscardo's work. In it, he devotes a chapter to stones in his collection which had been brought back from the Holy Land. These included stones from Mary's birthplace and from her sepulchre, stones from the site of the house of Sts Martha and Mary Magdalene and from the site of the crib, a stone from the place where St Stephen was stoned and another from the site where the Cross stood. At the end of this survey, Moscardo concludes: I end the description of the stones from the Holy Land with a stone contained in this museum, taken from Lake Garda, next to the castle of Sirmione in the diocese of Verona. This stone opens into two halves. In one half, one can see a cross, formed by nature's hand in exactly the same way as a skilful sculptor would have done: ir consists of two crossed pieces of rounded wood, petrified in the stone. It could be believed that God has even left the memory of the Most Holy Passion he suffered for mankind in the heart of the moumains. 8 5 A work of nature, the stone cross was also a sign of the Passion; a member of the mineral kingdom, it also referred to biblical history, and it was for this very reason that it was included in the museum. The boundary between the natural and the supernatural was thus smudged, the former sometimes impregnated with the latter and natural objects apparently capable of adopting every shape and form imaginable and of presenting every characteristic, as these both depended on the supernatural meanings with which these objects could be endowed. From the theological point of view, there was therefore no gulf between the twin domains of the possible and the impossible (impossible except where God directly intervened with a clearly identifiable miracle). Everything and anything could happen, reality often being stranger than fiction, and the division between the possible and the impossible was not introduced either with reference to the new

science, which Moscardo did not even mention. The very idea that the laws of nature might not tolerate even the slightest exception and might rule out in advance the advent of certain beings or events was totally foreign to him. For him, no limits could be imposed on nature; it was an exuberant phenomenon , capable of producing objects, such as petrified fish, 86 purely for fun, and able to copy forms created by God, like the conch 'shaped like an ear'. 87 Moscardo therefore unquestionin gly accepted all the conventional facts wholesale, having no suitable intellectual instrument at hand with which to question them, especially with regard to the mineral kingdom and that of the living. This is why the name of each mineral, stone or earth immediately triggers a series of references. This is the case of chrysolite: Isidore affirms that chrysolite looks like gold, with a hint of the colour of sea water. Pliny held that the Indian chrysolites were the finest. Albert the Great tells how it cures men afflicted with melancholy and protects them from demons. Agricola recalls seeing with his very own eyes a block made up of more than sixty chrysolites, though all square in shape.88 This is also why the museum contains objects, such as the bezoar89 and basilisk, whose value springs solely from their links with traditional knowledge. The basilisk actually forms the subject of a chapter discussing the large body of literarure devoted to it, and there is also a drawing of rhis animal,9 accompanied by the following description: Although it possesses all the characteristics and features attributed to rhe real basilisk by every author, this drawing of the basilisk displayed in the museum is not that of a real one. Rather, it is a counterfeit work, made from a skate fish by sorcerers and charlatans, who then stand on platforms and show it off to the common people as though it were a rrue basilisk.9 1 The interest of this oft-cited passage lies not in the warning against mock basilisks manufacture d by charlatans9 2 but in the belief in the existence of the 'true basilisk' of tradition, just as unicorns which were different to rhinoceros were also supposed to exist.93 In conclusion, Moscardo' s museum referred, as did the Kunst- und Wunderkammern generally, to a universe peopled with strange beings and objects, where anything could happen, and where, consequently, every question could legitimately be posed. In other words, it was a universe to which corresponded a type of curiosity no longer controlled by theology and not yet controlled by science, both these domains tending to reject certain questions as either blasphemous or impertinent, thus subjecting curiosity ro a discipline and imposing certain limits on it. Given free reign during its

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brief interregnum , curiosity spontaneousl y fixed on all that was most rare and most inaccessible, most astonishing and most enigmatic. In Moscardo and the other collectors mentioned already or about to be so, this culminated in an interest in mummies, hieroglyphics9 4 and everything attributed secret meaning, including rings, certain gemstones and amulets. As bearers of meaning, the stone cross and other similar objects also belonged to this category, being natural hieroglyphics , so to speak. Bearers of meaning transcend in fact their own particularity, echoing a hidden and inaccessible entity, whose existence is a certainty, but whose characteristics only become known thanks to some revealed knowledge from way back in time. It is precisely because strange and rare objects, and not common or normal ones, all function as hieroglyphics that in the world of curiosity they are attributed the privilege of being able to make the universe comprehensible, as long as they are correctly deciphered. What is more, when they are placed rogether, they allow the universe ro be reduced ro the scale of human vision, to the scale of a microcosm.9 5

Statues, sculptures, fragments

Among the antiquities, statues occupied the highest social position, this rank being directly related to their price. As a result, only the wealthiest could afford them, and they were consequently not to be found in every collection mentioned here, although the one owned by Federigo Contarini in Venice, which passed into the hands of the Ruzzini and has been discussed at length, did contain a number of them. These panicular statues, however, though part of the original collection, were sold off, some going to the dukes of Mantua. As for the rest, those seen by Evelyn in 1645, and evoked also by Boschini, presumably changed hands before 1675, as neither Spon nor Montfaucon mentions them. For his part, the Duke of Mantua sold his statues around 1709 to two Venetians, the brothers Bernardo (1652-1720) and Francesco (1658-1732) Trevisani,99 of whom rhe former had in his possession well before this sale a large collection of medals, Greek and Latin inscriptions, statues, seals, manuscripts and 'varie ragguardevole antichitd/. 100 The gallery of statues belonging to the Trevisani brothers remained in Venice at least until 1719, and when the younger brother was named bishop of Verona in 1725 he installed it in his episcopal palace. 101 It is in this way that Verona, already rich in antiquities both publicly and privately owned, became for a number of years the home of the two greatest collections of ancient statues which existed at that time in Venetia, for from the end of the sixteenth century it also housed the gallery of antiquities formed by Count Mario Bevilacqua (1536-93 ). This gallery contained a collection comprising mainly statues which the family managed to preserve almost intact until the beginning of the nineteenth century. As Franzoni has already made a detailed study of its history,l 02 suffice it to say that the fact that Queen Christina of Sweden twice stayed at the Bevilacqua Palace during visits to the town shows just how important a place this palace occupied in Veronese social topography during the second half of the seventeenth century.t03 Although we know less of the other collectOrs of statues, we can be sure that they all belonged to the same social class, and this enables us to affirm that in the seventeenth century statues were aristocratic objects par excellence. Nor was this a pure! y Venetian phenomenon . 104 They therefore aroused relatively little interest among antiquaries and scholars of the period, only coming into their own in the second half of the eighteenth century. 'Out of all the divers kinds of scholarly study which contribute to our knowledge of history, rhe place of honour must surely go to thar of inscriptions and medals,' was the observation made by Foscarini around 1750, at the beginning of a long paragraph on the Venetian collections of antiquities, 10 5 and this commonplac e, which relegated statues to second place, if not even lower, was just as valid a century earlier. This does not

3.2 THE GALLERIES OF ANTIQUITIES

There were at least seventy collections of antiquities in Venetian towns between the end of the sixteenth century and the first decades of the eighteenth century. We know of thirty in Venice, eighteen in Verona, eleven in Padua, three in Brescia, three in Rovigo, and one each in Feltre, Treviso and Vicenza, and these figures imply that there were around 200 collectors, given rhat at least forty or fifty collections remained in the same families for the whole of the period mentioned above, the equivalent of three or four generations. This number should probably be much larger, as the collections we have taken into account are mostly those which even then had a certain reputation,% whereas the smaller ones containing medals, and which were probably far more numerous, do not figure in any statistics. The interest shown in objects from the Middle Ages can quickly be summarized: Girolamo Gualdo the Younger owned a few paintings by Venetian primitives 97 while Moscardo, as we saw earlier, possessed the Scaliger family's weapons, coins and seals. All that is needed to complete the list is the name of Domenico Pasqualigo, a collector of Venetian medals, and even if a few more people interested in medieval curiosities could be found, the overall total would remain virtually unchanged.98 Thus on the one hand, there was a long-standin g, massive and overwhelmin g cultural phenomenon, namely an interest in antiquities, while on the other there was individual eccentricity, a by-product of local patriotism, which was very widespread yet never sufficient in itself to raise the things it valued ro the status of a collector's piece.

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mean that statues were completely absent from scholarly collections, but they were not always of the type associated with galleries uniquely intended to give pleasure. Federigo Contarini, like Mario Bevilacqua and his descendants or the Trevisani brothers, thus possessed a certain number of large statues, sometimes restored, and designated variously in the inventories as 'figure de pietra grande', 'figure in piedi' and 'Statue del Naturale di marmo'. These collectors also owned torsos, heads and statuettes, and in the 1589 inventory of the Bevilacqua sculptures the pieces are in fact classified according to their material and size. 10 6 Let us now examine the inventory of the collection of the famous Paduan jurisconsult Marco Mantova Benavides (1489-1582), which remained in the same family till the beginning of the eighteenth cemury. Drawn up in 1695 by Andrea Benavides (d. 1711), a distant heir to Marco, this document gives us an idea of the state of the collection more than a century after the death of its founder. 107 We will study the alterations made to it a little later. For the moment, we are solely concerned with the anriquities it contained, and as there were hardly any medals and only three inscriptions, these comprised in the main vases, or urns, and sculptures, although these were not always genuine. 108 Almost two-thirds of these approximate ly 150 supposedly ancient statues were made up of 'teste' (seventy-thre e) and 'testine' (fifteen), while there were also nineteen 'statue overo torsi' or 'torsi sive statue' and seven 'torsetti', as well as a significant number of fragments such as hands and feet. The number of actual statues could be counted on the fingers of one hand and, unless there has been some carelessness on our part, the phrase 'statua grande dal naturale senza testa ne bracci' would appear to occur only once. 109 Clearly, small objects and fragments ruled supreme in this particular collection. Let us now look at another scholarly collection which, unlike the Mantova Benavides one, played an important cultural role in the seventeenth century. Already in existence as far back as 1605 in Padua, this one belonged to Lorenzo Pignoria (1571-1631) and had provided him with a considerable amount of information which formed the basis of a great many of his works, some of which were widely read, and after Pignoria's death a book describing it was published.uo The list of Pignoria's acquisitions included paintings and prints ('icones'); portraits of famous men, including many of his friends; statues; ancient medals from Greece, Rome and elsewhere; modern medals; seals; various different ancient utensils, such as different weights and measures, keys, fibulae, rings, lamps, amulets; natural things such as shells, stones, crystals; exotic objects from India and China. 111 This did not, however, mean that Pignoria possessed a genuine Kunst- und for he was first and foremost an antiquary and had never seen his collection in terms of a microcosm, although distinctions can

obviously become very blurred in this area. What is important is that the term 'statuae' is used to describe objects in Pignoria's museum which we would call 'staruettes' because of their size, which can be deduced from the engravings of them. 112 We are still in the realm of small objects. Although we have seen that out of all the antiquities it was statues which commanded the greatest social prestige, we have yet to determine their exact importance in intellectual circles. While their exorbitant prices explain their absence from many collections, they do not account for the lack of interest shown in them by seventeenth- century scholars and antiquaries. This lack of interest, already striking when compared with attitudes in the latter half of the eighteenth century, becomes even more so when one remembers that ancient statues were at the heart of a debate on art, and more particularly on Venetian art, which had been accused of deteriorating into mannerism due to its masters' ignorance of large classical statuary. Boschini's reply tO this was firstly that every single example of statues of this kind could be seen in Venice, either the original works themselves or else copies of them, as in the case of the Belvedere Laocoon and Torso, the portraits of the emperors, the He1cules Farnese and the Venus owned by the Medicis. 113 This explains the praise he lavished on Ruzzini's collection, which he believed was turning Venice into a second Rome, and he went on to add that in any case the painter's principal task was to imitate living nature and that the study of statuary should be of only secondary importance. 1 14 This debate hard! y involved scholars and antiquaries at all, as art and its problems did not fall within the a,mbit of their professional concerns, even if some did take an interest in it on a personal level.

Numismatic collections, testimony of universal history While art was the domain of artists and their patrons, and of dilettantes and professionals alike, antiquaries and scholars devoted themselves to the study of history and consequently were fascinated not by statues but by medals and inscriptions; history could not be learnt from books alone. In his book, which was translated into Latin and Italian, and became even more influential in Venetia when its author settled in Padua in 1677, 11 ) Charles Patin (1633-93) wrote: 'II faut recourir aux pieces qui Ia justifient, a qui Ia malice et !'ignorance des hommes n'a pu donner d'atteinte. II en faut croire les monumens du temps, dont les Medailles sont Ies marques les plus assurees, et les plus frequentes.' For the sake of information let us add that, 'les monumens antiques qu'on conserve avec tam de soin dans les Cabinets sous le titre de Medailles .. , n'estoient que de simples Monnoyes et qu'elles n'ont acquis le titre de Medailles que par leur antiquite.' 116 Let us also

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emphasize that anyone embarking on the collection of ancient medals enters into a world dominated by high numbers and where lengthy searches need to be undertaken in order to obtain a complete series in a particular category such as Greek or imperial medals or large bronze medals, or evenone can always dream- every single Roman or every single ancient medal. For some medals are rarer than others, and while some are so common they feature in every collection, others are seldom seen. 117 One particular bronze medal of Otho was indeed considered to be so rare that in his description of the Ruzzini collection Boschini devoted four lines to it. 118 Spon was astonished to come across five specimens in the collection belonging to Giannantonio Soderini (1640-91), though Wheler, his travelling companion, claimed that there were actually only twot t9 It is probably this very same medal that Giandomenico Tiepolo had engraved with a legend underlining its importance, so proud was he of having it in his gallery. 120 Medal collectors therefore had to overcome the hurdle of great rarity, while juggling with the high numbers which were inevitably involved, even when they set themselves strict limits: Carlo Torta, chancellor of the university of Padua, collected only gold medals, yet even with 300 he was nowhere near completing the series]2t The correspondence of Apostolo Zeno ( 1668-1750) allows us to trace the formation of a medal collection, involving as it did price-haggling, checks for authenticity (forgeries and doctored medals often appeared on the market), exchanges and the seeking of expert advice. The Zeno collection, which was begun in 1708, contained around 5900 medals by 1726, including 700 Greek ones, and comprised 700 gold, 1400 silver, 1000 large bronze, 1600 medium bronze and 800 small bronze medalst2 2 Onorio Arrigoni ( 1668-1758), a fellow Venetian, made twenty-five journeys across ltal y in search of medals and around 1740 had roughly twenty thousand in his possession, not to mention other antiquities including weights, lamps, urns, Egyptian statuettes, amulets and instruments of sacrifice.l2l The finest medals and antiquities were to be found in the Orient, however. This is borne out by the example of Giannantonio Soderini, who initially built up his remarkable collection during travels in Egypt, the Holy Land, Turkey and the Greek islands, before going on to Zara, where he took up a military post of command. 124 In a similar fashion, a certain Marcantonio Diedo astounded Zeno when he showed him the 'countless' medals statues inscriptions, bas-reliefs, urns and other objects which he had back after travelling with the army as a prot,veditore, or supplier.m It was well known in Venice that travellers returning from Greece or from the Levant brought medals back with them, and for this reason enthusiasts would go and purchase them as soon as the ship had docked; indeed Spon was himself asked for some when he landed. 126 The twin obstacles of rarity and number arose from the fact that every

collector of ancient medals had to master a very long history or cover very large areas, or both. The 1310 quarto pages of the two-volume Museo Tiepofo show this admirably. This work contains an alphabetical index of the kings and emperors, in addition to a geographical index of the towns and peoples from which the museum's coins originated, as well as a map entitled 'Geographica numismatica Urbiwm et Popuforum quorum Nummi in Mmeo Tbeupofi asservantttr'. The Roman coins are divided up into seven different series: consular; imperial; those struck in accordance with the senatus comufta; colonial and municipal; large (medallions); Greek imperials; imperials from Egypt and Alexandria. Next come coins from the kings of Egypt, Judaea, Macedonia, Sicily and Syria, as well as from other provinces and from independent peoples and towns. 127 This magnificent museum therefore represented, and consequently made visible, an important slice of ancient history as it was known at the period, in terms not only of its major protagonists but also of its events and places of importance. A most important question in all this was how to decide exactly when ancient hisrory as such came ro a close. This was a vital question, because a date was needed in order to mark the boundary between that which could be included without any hesitation in a collection of ancient medals and that which was subject to discussion, if not to outright exclusion. An authority in this matter, Charles Patin went as far as Heraclius I (?575641) in his book listing Roman imperial medals, and commented: 'C'est Ia que finissent d'ordinaire les suites des Medailles Imperiales: Les guerres des Gots et des Africains acheverent de faire perir les belles lettres et les plus beaux reflets de Ia grandeur Romaine.' 128 Later on, in his catalogue of the collection amassed by Pietro Morosini, he moved the boundary back to the end of the reign of Constantine I (306-337), arguing in much the same way that the devastation wrought by the barbarians diminished the quantity of coins produced and robbed them of all learning and elegance. 129 Other experts nevertheless placed the boundary as late as the reign of Charlemagne.IJO Thus, the field of numismatics also came to resound with the sound and fury of the debate over the dating of universal history, advocates of Vasari emphasizing the break caused by degradation in the art in the era of Constantine, while their opponents preferred to see the end coincide with the end of the reign of Charlemagne, the last emperor of the \X! estll 1 Whatever the exact differences over this particular problem may have been, medieval and Byzantine coins received scant attention, even if they were sometimes included in collections. Their time would come later, and in the meantime, seventeenth century numismatic collections gave the impression that history was discontinuous, a gulf of several centuries separating the ancient from the modern, with medals only reappearing after the 'domination of the Goths', if not as late as the sixteenth centuryU2

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Ancient history was, moreover, depicted differently to its modern counterpart, which itself was treated as a discontinuous phenomenon where emphasis was placed on the major happenings which had been perpetuated or commemorated in metal and above all on the great men immortalized through medals. As far as modern history was concerned, a complete void stretched between two major happenings or two great men, as exemplified in collectors who, like Andrea Vendramin, concentrated on the 'illustrium Venetorum Numismata' !33 or else, like Lodovico Moscardo, amassed 'medaillons modernes en argent et en bronze de certains papes, princes et hommes celebres dans Ies armes et dans Ies lettres'.ll 1 Ancient history could, it is true, have been depicted in a similar fashion, and would have resembled the version of history which comes across from a series of portraits or indeed that which was recounted in all its peripeteia by the ancient hisrorians themselves. Lorenzo Pararol (1674-1727), a collector and connoisseur of medals did, in fact, treat his coin collection as though it were one of portraits in his work entitled, Series Augustorum, Augustarum, Caesannn et Tyrannorum omnium tam in Oriente quam in Occidente ec., cum eorumdem imaginibus ex optimorum numismatum fide ad vivum expressis. 155 Most of the time, however, ancient medals were looked to to provide a different version, the hope being that they would help to unfold the mysteries surrounding the ancients' religion, their divinities, their temples, their ports, markets, libraries, public highways, burial grounds, bridges, triumphal arches, porticos, theatres, amphitheatres, circuses, pyramids, palaces, colisea, obelisks, triumphs and games. Information was also sought on the privileges given to the cities, the dates colonies were established, the successes of the Roman conquest, peace- and war-time customs, chariots and so on. Medals afforded glimpses of all these things, and did not simply depict great men and emperors. 1 36 Every aspect of ancient history was considered to be interesting; each was worthy of attention, for ancient history coincided with universal history. More accurately, while the Scriptures gave the biblical version of universal history, ancient history provided the secular one, its universality coming from the examples and models it offered to all men and for all times. It was believed that these examples and models would enable individuals to transcend time and attain glory, the secular equivalent of immortality. This held good for every domain, except religion, and was especially true as far as politics and the arts were concerned. The discontinuity of modern history as represented by medals sprang from the fact that these only acknowledged events and people when they succeeded in following these examples and imitating these models. As for the justification of their claim to superiority over other relics of ancient history, this Ia y in the fact that they rendered this history visible in all its spatial, temporal and other dimensions and that they resurrected the past more successfully than other monuments, thereby

vanquishing time by undoing all that it had wrought since and holding out the promise of similar victories in the future. The frontispiece of the book on gemstones belonging to the Capello Museum in Venice shows a portico leading onto a rotunda, where a window opens onto the outside. In the foreground on the left, at the foot of a column, sirs an old winged figure. Visibly weary, he is holding a scythe, while next to him is an empty clepsydra. Facing him, on the right, is a globe, while again on the right, two fully-clad women, one with a globe in hands, are busy conversing. A richly carved table in the centre displays a number of gemstones which a youth, wearing a winged helmet and carrying a caduceus, is showing to a beautiful woman. Another man, armed this time and with a shield in his right hand, is holding out his left hand to her as he enters the rotunda. 137 The message seems clear: time has been vanquished, brought to a standstill by the power of the gemsrones, which Mercury, the eternal go-between, is showing to Venus, the personification of desire.138 Space, too, is vanquished - rhe presence of the globes would seem to signify that this power is efficacious everywhere. Mars himself appears to have abandoned war, as he would otherwise be holding a sword in his right hand instead of the shield: the desire to contemplate the relics of antiquity engenders peace and harmony. Given the amount of space devoted to them and the fact that it is these, rather than the medals, that Mercury is showing to Venus, it would appear that the gems represent the key to the picture. Yet the medals could just as easily fulfil this role. We even know of another frontispiece, though admittedly not from the Venetian Republic, which depicts the victory of medals over time. A phoenix is also portrayed in it,l39 and it is worth noting that one of these mythical birds figured in the decor of Pignoria's gallery, 'painted with its proper colours and features, according to the descriptions Pignoria had found in the ancient authors and paintings by famous artists'. 1 40

Inscriptions, relics of local history

Although they varied in terms of wealth, in all other respects, numismatic collections closely resembled one another throughout the whole of the period dealt with here, even when they were located in different Venetian towns. The reason for this was simple: they all drew on the same stock of coins and could therefore only differ from one another in terms of quantity, state of preservation and the presence - or absence - of particularly rare specimens. This was not at all the case with ancient inscriptions. In the first place, each one was unique. In addition, they circulated much less easily than medals, partly because of their size and weight and partly because people were reluctant to relinquish objects linked with the history of t:heir town or

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region; it is a point we will come back to later. This explains why each epigraph ic collection compris ed differen t element s, although in the region studied in this chapter, the inscripti ons found in collections within the same town did actually come from that particula r town or from its surround ing area in most cases, the sole exception being Venice, where all the antiquities were imported . The amount of interest shown in inscripti ons also varied from town to town, which means the topic must be dealt with on a topograp hical footing, a footing which would not have been at all relevant to medals. Consequently, we find ourselves at the outset following in the footsteps of Momms en who, in rhe fifth volume of his Corpus lnscriptionum Latinarum, detailed in an unparall eled fashion the epigraph ical anthologies and the collections of inscripti ons to be found in each Venetia n town. Our paths rapidly diverge, however, as for us, inscripti ons, like medals, constitu te element s of seventee nth-cent ury culture, rather than ancient history sources. Our principa l concern lies with the attitudes adopted towards them, the treatme nt meted out to them and the meaning vested in them.

B1escia
Did the 'studio famosissimo de' Signori Averoldi', dating from the beginning of the seventee nth century, contain inscriptions? The answer is probably yes, as 'all the things to be found in it, save the medals, were unearthe d in this town or its region.' 141 This informa tion comes from the book by Ottavio Rossi, which bears eloquen t witness to the interest shown in local inscriptions. He reproduc ed a great number of them in the first edition, 142 and the second, which appeare d nearly eighty years afterwards, contained even more. 14 3 Meanwhile, the collection started by Giulanto nio Averoldi (1651-1 735) in the 1680s, if not earlier, counted among irs exhibits forty marbles, all ancient, except for one from the time of Charlem agne, as well as medals and various other antiquities.l44

Verona cathedra l and a promine nt figure among Venetia n antiquaries in the sixteent h century. A friend of Pignoria,I 48 he was the only collector ro have his name cited more than fifty years after his death in Moscardo's history of Verona. l 49 Here, we will content ourselves with quoting the major findings of L. Franzon i in his research into the history of the museum at the Accademia Filarmonica. Like his father Fabio, Cesare Nicheso la spent large sums of money on the antiquities he amassed in his Pontone villa, the inscripti ons being placed in the garden. So much in fact that after his death the villa and the collections it paused were put up for sale in order to satisfy his creditors, and it was at this point that the Venetia n rectors of Verona suggested to the Accademia Filarmonica that it might purchase Nichesola's inscripti ons to prevent them being dispersed. The necessary money was raised through a collection, while Count Gio. Giacomo Giusti paid for the marbles to be transpor ted by river from Pontone to Verona. So it was that in 1612 the Accademia came to own a museum wirh thirty-fo ur ancient inscriptions. This number increase d over the years as pieces were added to it from other Verones e epigraph ic collections belonging to Federico Ceruti (1531-1 611), Policarp o Palermo (1565/6 -1616) and Francesco India (1553-a fter 1613), so that by 1628 an inventor y of it mention ed '88 pezzi de pietre antiche diverse seg1zate et non segnate'. 150 During the seventee nth century travellers sometim es visited the Accademia's museum ; Hensche nius and Papebro ch apparen tly saw it in 1660, 151 while in 1685 Mabillon and Germain were taken there by Moscardo, !52 himself the owner of an epigraph ic collection numberi ng fifteen pieces according to Spon, but in actual fact somewh at larger. 153 1716 marked a new chapter in the history of the museum of the Accademia Filarmonica when Maffei decided to enlarge it, reorgani ze it and open it to the public 1 54 For reasons we will go into later, this initiativ e of Maffei does not fall within our particula r ambit.

Vicenza
Its only known epigraph ic collection in the seventee nth century belonged to Gualdo, and compris ed twenty or so ancient inscripti ons mostly very fragmen tary.m Unlike Verona, however, two lists of inscripti ons which could be seen in the town and its surround ing region were compile d at that time, both of which remaine d in manuscr ipt form. The first of these was the work of Silvestro Castellini, a historian and the author of the Annali di Vicenza. 15 (, The second we owe to Gian Marzio Cerchiari (1641-1 712), the pupil of Sertorio Orsato and Charles Patin and quite a well-known figure in scholarly antiquar ian circles in the Venetia n Republic at the end of the seventee nth cenruryi57

Verona
Around 1590, Count Agostino Giusti (1546-1 615) had his palace and gardens altered in order to house statues, along with an epigraph ic collection. 145 The Giusti gardens, regarded as the finest in all Italy, according to the Earl of Arundel, 146 drew considerable admirati on from many visitors apprecia tive of the sense of order which prevailed, the towering cypresses, the presence of ancient stones, the decor, and last but not least, the artificial grotto, of which more later on.l47 The most importa nt collection of inscripti ons in the seventee nth century was, however, to be found in the Accademia Filarmonica's museum. This grew up around the collection of Cesare Nichesola (1556-1 612), a canon at

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Belluno appears in the seventeenth century to have produced neither epigraphic collections nor even records of inscriptions, the sole event worthy of note in this area being the publication in 1620, thanks to Bishop Luigi Lollino, of the book written many years previously by Pierio Valeriano, and which was still in manuscript form when he died. 158

Feltre
In Feltre, however, Daniele Tomitano ( 1588-1658) had assembled a collection of antiquities in his Vellaio villa which contained at least seven inscriptions, judging from the survey of those to be found in the town and the surrounding area carried out by Antonio Dal Corno (1683-1711). 159

Another was formed by Sertorio Orsaco (1617-78), who filled it with finds from the town itself as well as its surroundings, and used it to advance his critical study and interpretation of inscriptions, the significance of which we will have occasion to stress later on. There were also several collections of minor imporrance. 167 A further difference between Padua and Verona, at least in the latter half of the century, I 68 was the publication of several collections of inscriptions, some concentrating on ancient ones, others on modern, and some again combining the two. 169

Venice
By force of circumstance, any interest in local epigraphy could only find an outlet here in the gathering together of 'modern' inscriptions, such as the work by Giovanni Giorgio Palfer at the beginning of the seventeenth century, and this type of inscription was also cited in the successive editions of Sansovino's book and in the one written by Martinelli.m All the collections of ancient inscriptions consisted of pieces brought from the mainland, and in particular from Aquileia, whose patriarchs were traditionally Venetians, 171 from Adria, where Venetian families had their estates, 102 as well as from Dalmatia, Greece and the islands.m This is why Greek inscriptions occurred more frequently in these collections, such as those of Girolamo Molin and Bernardo Trevisani, than elsewhere. 114 The problem with emphasizing the diversity of local situations is that it masks the characteristics peculiar to the history not only of epigraphic curiosity but also of curiosity for antiquity in general throughout the Venetian Republic in the seventeenth century. One of these characteristics was the way in which this curiosity washed over the republic in successive and apparently separate waves, the first of these, which lasted from the end of the sixteenth century to the first few decades of the seventeenth century, being exemplified the best by Lorenzo Pignoria. We have already come across Pignoria the collector, in close contact with other collectOrs such as Gualdo in Vicenza 175 and Nichesola in Verona, but he belonged in fact to a much larger network, 176 of which we will cite only a few members. Two of these, BenedettO Ceruti and Andrea Chiocco, were doctors in Verona, and the authors of a MuJcteum Cafceo!arium, which contained, moreover, a letter from Pignoria addressed to Ceruti concerning a stone covered in hieroglyphics.177 Another member of this network resided in Belluno. This was Luigi Lollino, bishop, bibliophile and poet, whose portrait Pignoria kept in his studio. 178 In Treviso, it was represented by Giovanni Bonifacio, the town historian, who sent medals to Pignoria. 17 9 This latter was also in comact with all the collectors and antiquaries residing in Padua. These included a certain Giovanni Battista Fichetti, 'hitomo intendente delle noJtre antichita',

Treviso
Bartolomeo Burchelato (1548-1632) 160 built up a collection of antiquities which included a number of inscriptions.

Rovigo
Of all the small Venetian towns, only Rovigo possessed a real museum of antiquities. The creation of Count Camillo Silvestri (1645-1719), it comprised eighty ancient marbles including eleven Greek ones, along with an extremely rare bronze plaque, marble, terracotta and crystal funeral urns, lamps, idols, vases, amulets, fibulae, rings and a rich collection of medals. 161

Padua
The sixteenth century, with its intense interest in ancient inscriptions, 162 left two important epigraphic collections to posterity. The first of these was inherited and greatly enlarged by Alessandro Maggi de Bassano (?150387),163 while the second finished up in the house of Giorgio Contarini (d. 1617) in Este, after rather an eventful career. 164 Both remained in their respective homes not only for the whole of the period under discussion here, but also long afterwards, Bassano's collection being assimilated into the municipal archaeological museum in the course of the nineteenth century, while Contarini's can still, apparently, be seen today in its original location. In this respect, the situation was not unlike that of Verona, except that the collections were preserved over a very long period by private individuals rather than by institutions such as the Accademia Filarmonica. In addition, several new collections containing epigraphic material were formed during the seventeenth century. One of these belonged to Giovanni de Lazara (1621-90), and was especially well endowed with medals, 165 as well as containing every kind of antiquity, and inscriptions in particular. 166

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Francesco Vedova 'che alia Giurisprudenza haveJJe congiunta un'e.rquisita notitia delle Lettere piu belli e delle Antichita della patria', 180 Luigi Corradini, the owner of a gallery, 181 Giorgio Contarini, 182 and so on. Finally, it should not be forgotten that Pignoria had lived in Rome for many years, and had retained many solid friendships there. He was on extremely good terms with Peiresc and the members of a whole circle which revolved around him. 18 3 The author of works which were widely read in learned circles, and an active member of the republic of letters, Pignoria stands out from amongst the Venetian scholars of antiquity during the first three decades of the seventeenth century. This wave was followed by twenty empty years, for which the 1630 plague certainly must have been partially to blame. True, there was Giovanni Filippo Tomasini (1595-1655), who knew Pignoria and wrote a description of his library and collections, and who was in contact with Giovanni de Lazara 184 Isolated facts of this sort, however, cannot constitute a proper link between the generation of the beginning of the century and the one which was active in the second half, with Sertorio Orsato as its leader. Married to Irene Mantova Benavides, the sister of Andrea who was the last of the Benavides to own the family collection, 18 ' Orsato was Cerchiari's master in epigraphy and influenced all those in Venetia who took an interest in ancient inscriptions. He was a friend of Giovanni de Lazara 18 6 and corresponded with a number of scholars and antiquaries living in other Italian towns as well as abroad 187 Of all his disciples, both indirectly and directly, Camillo Silvestri was the most notable, and it was he who inherited Orsato's collection of inscriptions. 188 This collection went from Padua to Rovigo before being sold by Carlo Silvestri, Camillo's son, to Maffei for the Accademia Filarmonica's museum, where it joined Nichesola's marbles. 18 9 Members of Camillo Silvestri's extremely extended network of contacts included several names already familiar to us: Giulantonio Averoldi, Giovanni Marzio Cerchiari, Charles Patin, Carlo Torta, Apostolo Zeno and Scipione Maffei, these last two carrying on the tradition of antiquarian curiosity and scholarship well into the eighteenth century. 19

From symbolic interpretation to methodical comparison

One striking difference between the pre-1630 generation and the post-1650 one was the considerable increase in specialization. The galleries of antiquities of every kind, which had been so common at the beginning of the century, were replaced, especially after 1670, by ones which concentrated on specific categories of ancient objects, most often medals, and more seldom inscriptions, even if they did contain items from various other categories as well. If Moscardo, who belonged to the same generation as

Orsato, seems an isolated figure, it is because he continued to represent the exuberant and universal form of curiosity, even if he did gradually come to concentrate on the history and study of antiquities. His brand of curiosity, which could be seen in the antiquaries of rhe beginning of the century, was no longer the driving force behind the research carried out by Orsato, Cerchiari, Silvestri, Patin and other authors of catalogues of ancient coins, as they were motivated instead by an altogether more disciplined and less diffuse brand of curiosity. When Ottavio Rossi, or someone with considerably more erudition and a better-developed critical eye, namely Lorenzo Pignoria, interpreted ancient monuments, it involved referring to ancient texts in order to explain the form and sometimes also the material of each one or even, if the case arose, the image and the series of letters it bore. 19 1 Implicit in this was the recognition of the authority of the ancients in every matter concerning them; objects could only be understood if the ancients' attitude to them could be determined. Accordingly, given that each object was considered to be directly associated with the ancients' discourse, each became a symbol, that is, something visible and incomplete which was related to an invisible totality. This meant that there could be no rules governing the way this tOtality was related to other objects and the texts supposed to explain it, as each type of object, if not each individual object, symbolized ir in irs own unique fashion, which inspiration or intuition alone could help to divine. I92 As for those objects which none of the texts at hand could explain, they necessarily came to symbolize mysteries; since they obviously referred to beliefs held by the ancients, these beliefs therefore must be occult ones which either had not been committed to writing or else had been concealed behind the literal meanings of the texts. Studies were concentrated on these occult beliefs and accordingly on the objects which were associated with them, such as hieroglyphics, mummies, amulets, gnostic gemstones or rings, as the unveiling of these occult beliefs was considered to have an initiatory value and was the only way to become acquainted with the ancients' opinions in the domain they elected as the most important. Even so, some, such as Pignoria, remained cautious in this approach, while others, like Father Athanasius Kircher or Giovanni Battista Ferrecio, to take a Venetian-born author, were caught up in a whirlwind of exegetic frenzy and honestly believed they had come across the solution to every enigma and the key to every mystery. 193 This kind of approach, which embodied the exuberant curiosity we have already seen at work, fell into disrepute in the latter half of the century. Thanks largely to criticism voiced by the Pyrrhonists, the ancients' discourse gradually lost authority, and what one saw became more reliable than what one read, as the very way of looking was gradually changing, in accordance with a new set of presuppositions. Instead of attempting to

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become initiated in the mysteries of the ancients, scholars now increasingly sought knowledge about them which could be cross-checked. Thus, in order to come to conclusions over the beliefs, knowledge or customs of the ancients, scholars began comparing objects within the same homogeneous class, using one to explain the other, according to one carefully chosen criterion. That criterion was typology, when the objects being compared came from the same category, such as inscriptions or medals, chronology, when they came from the same period, and geography, when they were all from the same place. Symbolic interpretation was therefore gradually superseded by the comparative method and a new set of rules which determined the composition of the different classes and excluded a number of comparisons as illegitimate. A certain number of questions were also ruled out on the grounds that they were impertinent, which meant that restrictions were imposed on curiosity. This change was accompanied by another, where objects best suited to comparative study rose in value, while interest in curios and occult beliefs dwindled. It is obvious that these changes did not take place in so simple and straightforward a fashion as this account implies. Resistance was met with, conflicts and rifts appeared and attitudes changed at different paces in different places. We have room only for one example of the complexities involved in this process. Around 1335-44 the monks from the Santa Giustina Cloister in Padua had discovered the following inscription: VF T LIVIUS LIVIAE T.F. QUARTAE L. HALY CONCORDIALI PATAVI SIBI ET SUI OMNIBU 194 They believed this was a passage from livy himself, the most famous citizen of Padua, and when human bones were exhumed from the same site in 1413, people quite naturally thought that these were the remains of the historian. The bones had consequently became the focus of veneration, exactly like those of a saint, and the King of Naples, Alfonso of Aragon, had even asked to be sent a fragment. All the Paduan historians shared this view, and with quite remarkable unanimity they all made the same reading of the inscription: VIVENS FECIT I TITUS LIVIUS I LIVIAE TITI FILIAE I QUARTAE. LUCIUS I HALYS I CONCORDIALIS I PATAVI I SIBI ET SUIS I OMNIBUS.

In his Monumenta Patavina of 1652 Sertorio Orsato was still faithful ro this reading, 19 5 yet although he placed, as he said, 'his confidence in many erudite authors, especially in Scardeone, with whom disagreement over the affairs of the nation ... would, to my mind, show a great lack of respect for history' ,1 96 he nevertheless had his doubts. This was because the text could only be attributed to Livy if he was made responsible for a curious grammatical error, where the name of Lucius Halys, believed to be the historian's son-in-law, was put in the nominative case instead of the dative, like that of his wife.197 Orsato felt this objection was worthy only of a pedant, even though the stone was supposed to date from the Augustan period, 'nel quale tutte le case arriuarono a! colma della perfezione'. 198 His conviction was further strengthened by the unanimous opinion of his predecessors. It is easy to imagine his astonishment when a German epigrapher, Marquardus Gudius, whom he took to Livy's monument, where the inscription had place of honour in the very centre, gave a new reading to it which rejected the accepted one and at the same time eliminated the error, something nobody had so far managed to do: VIVENS FECIT I TITUS LIVIUS I LIVIAE TITI FILIAE I QUARTAE. LIBERTUS I HAL YS I CONCORDIALIS I PAT AVI I SIBI ET SUIS I OMNIBUS. 19 9 As Orsato was, or rather feigned, not to be prepared to rob the historian Livy of his inscription and give it to Titus Livius a freed slave, he posed Gudius three questions: (1) Should not the word LIBERTUS have been placed directly after the name of the former mistress? (2) Could a slave have HALYS as a forename? (3) Could a LIBERTUS attain the position of CONCORDIALIS, the highest priestly rank in Padua? 200 In order to answer the first of these questions it was necessary to show that the same turn of phrase could be found in other inscriptions dating from roughly the same period as the 'Livian' one, and where a former slave owed his freedom to a woman. 201 Next, an inscription was quoted in order to prove that some slaves did answer to the name of HAL YS, and as this forename was written there with an i, Orsato explained, with examples to back him up, that no distinction was made between an i and a y. 202 He went on to use other inscriptions to show that freed slaves did indeed attain the highest of ranks in the colonies.2o3 In order to justify the interpretation Gudius gave to the 'Livian' inscription, and which he adopted as his own without hesitation, 204 Orsato therefore referred to thirteen other inscriptions similar to it in age, nature and, in several cases, in place of origin roo. Had he not been held in the thrall of the authority of his predecessors, he would have been able to carry out this work much sooner, and with the same end result, but a spur from outside was needed in order for him to interpret the remains of antiquity not according to received knowledge handed down to him but by confronting carefully and systematically one set of remains with another. It is

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precisely because this is rather an exceptional case that we can still trace the changeover from the process whereby a seen thing was directly related co the invisible, in this case the past, and supposedly known to historians, to the process whereby inferences concerning the past could only be made once the object had been compared with other, similar ones. This relationship with the past thus became a mediate one. The case of the 'Livian' inscription was special precisely because the problems posed to Orsato by the new reading concerned the accession to knowledge of the past via the present. This is borne out by the fact that much of his text constitutes an attempt to render palatable a truth which was certain to displease his fellow citizens, and it explains the wealth of oratorical precautions and protestations of loyalty to the nation which, he claimed, could only benefit from the truth being restored. In addition, it accounts for the affirmation that the new reading of the inscription did not prevent anyone from continuing to believe that the bones actually were those of Livy, this being an important concession to public opinion. 205 As Orsato's terminology itself bears witness, the affair was steeped in a very special religion, going by the name of patriotism, and a cult such as this was in no way peculiar to Padua, but could be detected in other Venetian towns too. What is important as far as we are concerned is that inscriptions often became focal points for it, this accounting to a large degree for the attitude taken cowards them.

Epigraphy and patriotism

We have already seen that the collections of ancient inscriptions were, for the most part, formed in the mainland rowns, and it was there that epigraphic research took place. Numismatic collections, on the other hand, were concentrated in Venice. The significance of this observation only becomes apparent when one discovers that the collectors of ancient inscriptions and the epigraphers sought almost to a man either to celebrate their country's glory or else to study its history. Indeed, these two very frequently went hand in hand, as illustrated by Ottavio Rossi's authorship of a hisrory of Brescia along with a book on the illustrious deeds of its citizens.206 Giulantonio Averoldi wrote a guide to the paintings of this very same town, which we have already quoted, while we could also eire lodovico Moscardo's history of Verona and Silvestro Castellini's annals of Vicenza as examples of this double aim. Other examples would be Daniele Tomitano, author of the annals of Feltre,2 7 Bartolomeo Burchelato, historian of Treviso,208 Camillo Silvestri, author of the Historia agraria de Polesine 20 9 and lastly Lorenzo Pignoria and Serrorio Orsato/ 10 this is not to mention Scipione Maffei, the last and most famous of this long line, who set out to

write a guide for foreigners, never completed it, but instead published that greatly erudite work, his Verona illustrata a quarter of a century later. 211 Staying on the same subject, one should perhaps recall here the titles extremely revealing - of the anthologies of inscriptions: Memorie Bresciane, Aiarmora Berica, Monumenta Patavina. There is an obvious conclusion tO be drawn here: if numismatics was closely linked with universal history, epigraphy, while connected to the history which is that of both Rome and Christianity, belonged overwhelmingly to local history, or, more accurately, bridged the gap between the two. However, this did not pertain to all regions, and the relationship between the study of medals and that of inscriptions could vary considerably and even become inverted in some places, especially beyond the limes. This restriction could equally apply to a further opposition between numismatic and epigraphic history which stemmed from the nature of the documents they each drew upon. The end of the history of ancient medals coincided with the reigns of Constantine or Charlemagne, that of the modern ones beginning with the Renaissance, and a great void filled the space between them, due to the medieval coins' failure to conform to the canons of beauty which the numismatists thought were natural. The condemnation by these canons of all that was reputedly 'gothic' 212 was a widespread phenomenon, but one which ceased to apply where an object dear tO a town, country or institution was concerned. Despite being gothic, the tomb of Antenor in Padua was greatly revered, and the same was true of the Scaligers' tombs in Verona.m This was not a factor when it came to coins, as the mainland towns had nearly always used ones minted elsewhere, unlike Venice, which had them struck in its name, and where it was thus possible to plan and assemble a collection of the city's coins. Inscriptions, however, constituted a continuous series stretching from antiquity to the seventeenth century in each of these towns, and therefore represented sources of prime importance for historians, who rapidly learnt to use each and every one of them. While breaks and interruptions were highlighted by numismatic history, epigraphic history tended to emphasize the continuous occupation of a particular site or the survival of certain names and institutions. The one signalled abrupt changes, the other a slow evolution. Collectors, epigraphist-historian s and even a substantial proportion of the population regarded inscriptions, as well as other public monuments and works of an, as the relics of a shared past, the constituents of a collective identity. They were the foremost sources of local history and enabled this history to be integrated with universal history, thereby making it possible to determine how great an influence events taking place within the town itself had had on the rest of the world. Accordingly, inscriptions, along with epigraphy, had not only a historical significance but also a

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political one, or rather this historical significance gave rise to a political one, though one which made itself felt not in the corridors of power reserved for the Venetian nobility, but in the cultural sphere. The deliberations in 1612 of the Veronese Accademia Filarmonica over the purchase of Nichesola's marbles are particularly telling in this respect. The Venetian Rectors emphasized that 'it would be sensible for the glory of this city' to preserve in its entirety 'such a precious treasure of ancient stones, envied and coveted'. The promise by the three members of the Company to cover the cost of transporting the stones to its museum aroused 'the universal enthusiasm and the contentment of this entire nation, which recognizes in these stones a large part of its nobility, antiquity and original splendour'. 214 Ideas such as these were an incitement to recall and record for posterity all expatriated statues, inscriptions and works of art. In Brescia, for instance, nobody forgot that Gian Mateo Bembo, governor of the town in 1561, took a statue away with him to Venice, nor that a different one, having spent some time in the Averoldi studio, was given to the Duke of Ferrara. 215 Eighty years afterwards, Feltre still remembered that in 1592 the town had given Domenico Contarini, its podestd and a Venetian patrician, a statue of Hercules which had just been unearthed 'privando se stessa de si bella antichita'. 216 Its inhabitants still remembered, a hundred years after the event, the statue found in 1573 and given to the patriarch Grimani and, this time 150 years on, a certain number of inscriptions, one of which was transported to Venice, a second one sent to Cividale del Friuli and a third dispatched to Trieste. 217 Sertorio devoted a section of his Monttmenta Patavina to lost or expatriated inscriptions, 218 a list which was later lengthened by his own, his brother and heir being reproached for the gift he made of these inscriptions to Camillo Silvestri 'privando da cosi bel pregio e la patria, e Ia casa'. 21 9 The departure of a painting could stir up the same sort of emotion, and in his history of Verona, Moscardo made a great thing of the purchase by a noble Genoese of a painting of the Last Supper by Veronese, which was held to be one of the finest works he had produced in his native townno The members of the Venetian nobility were loyal patriots of the Most Serene Republic, and they demonstrated their patriotism by bequeathing their statues, medals and works of art to it, bequests which were proof of their belief in its everlastingness. However, the patriotism which, in the mainland towns, manifested itself in an attachment to ancient stones, paintings and monuments, was not directed towards the Republic of Venice. While it is true that the republic was the subject of a whole body of occasional rhetoric, dedications, expressions of gratitude and fulsome tributes, these did not in themselves make the republic a patria, for this term quite simply designated one's native town. It was the history of one's patria that one studied. It was the patria's glory one protected and

magnified. It was through the commemoration of the patria's great men and major events in its history that one communed with one's fellow citizens. In short, it was one's patria that was celebrated in a culr, and in this cult collections of art and antiquities played a not inconsiderable role, for they contained relics and as such provided valuable aid to the collective memory. Indeed patriotism had a major influence in the formation of collections of this type, and more generally in the interest taken in the preservation and study of monuments. However, these various breeds of urban patriotism, including the Venetian one, spawned a new breed, Italian cultural patriotism. This was expressed through attitudes to language and literature which, in our particular domain, resulted in a common cult of the same founder heroes such as Petrarch, portraits of whom could be found in many a gallery.m It also found expression in the awareness of a common Roman past, whose monuments had to be prevented from leaving the country in order that they might remain in their original sites. The theme of an Italy despoiled by foreigners is a recurring one in the letters of Aposrolo Zeno. Having lavished on the manner in which the Nanis of Canareggio wke care of the manuscripts in their possession, he adds 'If all the others had acted in similar fashion, many precious manuscripts and important documents would not have left Venice and finished up as far away as Holland and England, while others would not have come to a sorry end in the boutiques of secondhand dealers and goldsmiths.' 222 Elsewhere, he deplores the removal of the Sabatini museum to France, 22 l or rejoices at the pope's purchase of the Albani gallery, as this will ensure it remains in Italy.m Zeno's letters give the impression of a certain resignation to the inevitable, and yet in the very year he wrote the first of these, a pamphlet appeared which explained how to save monuments from dispersion and destruction, and this he had certainly read. This was the famous letter addressed by Scipione Maffei to Countess Adela'ide Felice Canossa Tesing de Seefeld, and its publication in 1720 signalled a change of direction in Venetian antiquarian studies. At odds with ideas which were widespread in the latter half of the seventeenth century, and which awarded pride of place to numismatics, Maffei gave priority to inscriptions. One reason for this was that as veritable archives carved in stone, they were more eloquent than medals, and therefore, if instructive antiquities were to be favoured, it was natural that inscriptions should be given most imporrance. 225 A further reason, and this was a very innovative move on the parr of Maffei, was that they should be looked at in the same way as bas-reliefs and other figurative monuments: 'Is it not true that we sometimes come across ones which have been executed with such skill and with such perfect and beautiful figures and such gracious draperies that they constitute incomparable documents for the arts of drawing?'226 This can be

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seen as the first step towards the creation of a link between the completely erudite attitude towards antiquity and an artistic or aesthetic point of view which, after Caylus, similar in so many ways to Maffei, and above all after Winckelmann, would eventually lead to the ousting of medals, inscriptions and small objects in general by large-scale statuary, and to the art historian moving centre stage, relegating the antiquarian to the wings. However, Maffei was obviously a long way off still from all this, and inscriptions interested him chiefly because of their usefulness to the study of chronology, geography, the religion of the Gentiles and language. 227 It was this usefulness which was used to justify plans for a museum to be opened in Verona, specifically for them. A public institution which would differ in its very conception to the Accademia Filarmonica's existing collection 22s which was to serve as its kernel, this museum was intended to bring the greatest number of ancient inscriptions possible and to 'ensure their future preservation' 22 9 These were, though, not to be its only functions, for Maffei believed that it also had what can only be called a political vocation. I had also been moved by the sight of Italy being deprived daily of quantities of ancient monuments of every kind, avidly sought by foreign nations taking advantage of our blindness and our abandonment of the admirable studies which our forebears had first introduced to the world in order ro carry off that which served as a palladium and kept our honour safe. I was particularly roused by the number of such relics still to be found here either because of the ancient grandeur of this colony or else because of the sheer abundance of these stones .... \Vho could, without any remorse, condone the disappearance of these infallible proofs of our Roman citizenship, our tribe and our ancient dignities, the flame of whose ancient virtues we should on this occasion rekindle' 230 After all that has been said already, there is no point in spending too much rime over this declaration. Let us just draw attention to the emphasis placed on the historical role of Italy, the country which introduced 'bttoni studj' to the world, as well as on the honour of the Italians, contrasted with that of foreign nations, this honour being sustained and protected by the ancient monuments. It should also be noticed how the remains of Verona's ancient splendour, which form part of the 'palladium' of Italy's honour, provide a link between national and local points of view. Lastly, let us draw attention to the evocation of 'ancient virtues', which indicates that Maffei's museum was intended to play an instructive role. It does not seem too great a distortion of the passage to affirm that in this case he is referring specifically to civic instruction. That Maffei stood on the threshold of an era different to that of Orsato

and Silvestri is plain ro see. Instead of a purely erudite approach, a new approach, at the same time erudite and artistic, was being gradually adopted; the museum was given an explicit role to play in both national and ' local politics, and inscriptions were divided up into different classes 2 l 1 In i the decade following the publication of his pamphlet, the decline in interest in the objects which had so excited seventeenth-century antiquarians became increasingly manifest. At the beginning of 1731, Apostolo Zeno wrote in a letter: 'Here [in Venice] the taste for medals, which had earlier flourished and spread so very greatly had now all but disappeared ... .' 2 l 2 One week later he returned to the same subject, and not for the last time either: 233 'A study which is so useful is gradually disappearing from Italy, while it is flourishing more than ever beyond our frontiers and overseas.' 2 3 4 He was, however, wrong on this last point, as similar changes were taking place outside Italy as well. In Paris, for example, it was precise! y during the 1730s that collectors started to turn their attention away from medals towards shells and other natural things instead. 235

3.3 NATURAL CURIOSITIES

The study of sacred and secular history was found far more interesting than nature in the seventeenth century. In the Venetian Republic, as indeed elsewhere, collections featuring antiquities or even just medals were far more commonplace than those which were entirely given over to natural objects, which had no part to play in general culture. Several doctors and pharmacists collected ancient medals, but this did not make them professional numismatists, and their interest is easy to understand, in that medical knowledge was intimately bound up with antiquity, as illustrated, for instance, by the title of the first official Venetian pharmacopoeia 2 36 Natural things, on the other hand, were only collected by those who dealt with them in a professional capacity, in the same way that scientific instruments were amassed solely by engineers, artillerymen or scholars. The gentleman, or homuite hon-zrne, was not required to and rarely did take any interest in them. There were, however, two exceptions to this rule, the first being obviously the Kumt- und Wunderkammern, where natural things and scientific instruments were included as being objects of encyclopaedic interest, and where nature, a creative force, was represented alongside art, another creative force, and time, the destroyer, as illustrated on the frontispiece of the 1672 edition of Moscardo's book. The second exception was private botanical gardens, certain of which belonged tO people entirely unconnected with pharmacy or medicine. Cesare Nichesola, whom we have already come across on several occasions, had just such a garden in his

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Pontone villa; 237 a similar one, this rime in Venice was owned by the Venetian Senator Nicolo Contarini at the beginning of the seventeenth century, 238 while at the end of this century Giovanni Battista Nani possessed a garden of wide repute in La Giudecca. 2 l 9 Giovanni Francesco Morosini (1658-1739), another Venetian senaror, had two gardens, one near his palace in Venice and another, very well stocked and of great repute, in Padua, which was even the subject of a printed catalogue in 1713240 This in fact marked a turning point, as previously only pharmacists who owned herb gardens appear to have published catalogues.24l It is impossible to reel off a list of decorative gardens in the way one can for botanical gardens because of their sheer number, though it is somewhat difficult at times tO distinguish between the two. One can add the gardens belonging to the counts Valmarana in Vicenza during the first half of the century, 242 as well as at least twenty Venetian ones,2 4 l to the Giusti gardens in Verona, which were mentioned earlier. Each contained collections of often rare and exotic plants imported from China or the Levant, alongside edifices, fountains, ancient and modern statuary, sometimes inscriptions and occasionally grottoes decorated with natural curios. In the Giusti gardens grotto for instance, there were alpine flowers and seashells corals madrepores and water spurting out from time to time from the urn 'held b; a faun. 244 While not dwelling on the symbolism of the grotto, 24 5 let us just point out that it seems to have been intended as a microcosm representing the four elements, where air (alpine flowers), fire (the corals) and water (shells and madrepores) were all to be found within the earth- and where the immutable contrasted with the moving, the long-lasting with time, measured in the spurts of the fountain. The closing lines of a description of the Santo Cataneo gardens in Venice bear witness to the fact that the idea of totality did, albeit confusedly, cross the minds of visitors to the gardens: "In conclusion it can be said that one finds there the earth the sea the mountain, the plain, the town, the villa, the wood, the forest, ;he and lastly everything which can enliven and amuse the mind.' 246 After living plants come dried ones, and after gardens come herbaria, which have come down to us in such quantities that they were obviously even more abundant at that time. Herbaria are the best examples of a type of collection which was initially strictly linked to the exercise of a profession. The members of the medical profession were the ones who applied themselves the most to plant collecting and botany, while the pharmacists were the ones who most frequently owned small gardens of medicinal plants needed to produce medicines; indeed out of the twenty or so Venetian authors who wrote about plants or formed herbaria at least eight were pharmacists.m Many more certainly followed the example of Francesco Calzolari the Elder (1522-1609), a Veronese pharmacist who searched Monte Baldo for plants. For instance, a Venetian pharmacist going

by the name of Antonio Donati, evoked excursions on the lido made by himself and three of his colleagues in order to study the flora.248 In the seventeenth century, herbaria were started up for two main reasons: curiosity for plants and interest in their medicinal properties. Donati examined plants, as well as stones and fish, with the eye of a pharmacist, primarily concerned with their therapeutic properties, whether real or supposed. 249 However, when it comes to the herbarium formed by an infirmary monk working in the Venice hospitals, a certain Fra Fortunato da Rovigo (1634-1701), which filled eight volumes, the result of forty years of plant gathering, out of a total number of 2353 plant species probably only a tiny proportion had any real pharmaceutical value.250 Similarly, when lorenzo Patarol, who had no connection whatsoever with medicine, began to neglect medals and turn instead to natural curios such as fossils stones and crustaceans, and above all plants, he created a botanical garden based on Tournefort's method, and was later the author of a work with the following significant title: Institutiones rei herbariae cum classibus et generibus plantarum ad mentem ]os. Pitton Tournefortii. 251 In eighty years gardens had come a long way since the Clavis clavennae aperiem naturae thesaurum in planctis which belonged to the canon of Treviso Giacomo-Antonio Chiavenna, and where the plants were set Out in the alphabetical order of the diseases they were supposed to cure.zsz Just as plants began tO be looked upon and studied less and less from a purely therapeutic viewpoint and more and more with a view to describing and classifying them, so doctors and pharmacists changed their attitudes towards stones and minerals, shells and living creatures in general. As late as the beginning of the seventeenth century, stones and minerals were still included in the materia medica, as ordained by Dioscorides, along with corals and certain gems,m and could be found in all sorts of collections, such as the one owned by Melchior Zertelle, a pharmacist in Venice who derived 'great pleasure from the things of rarity which are beneficial to the human body'. 254 By the end of the century, even when collections of natural things were formed by pharmacists or doctors, they were no longer exclusively linked to the making of medicines and entered instead into the field of natural history. Those belonging to another Venetian pharmacist, Giovanni Girolamo Zannichelli (16621729) are good examples of this, as rhe number of fossils, molluscs, crustaceans, plants, stones, metals and minerals he amassed was such that all could not possibly have advanced him in his professional activities. Rather, they were brought together in order to allow comparisons, descriptions and classifications to be made.m let now look more closely at collections of natural things and examine the way they evolved as time passed. The one which belonged to Francesco Calzolari the Elder at the end of the sixteenth century seems to have been

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very much associated with his professional activities. The small volume describing it resembles advertising literature, with the conventional rhetorical flourishes at the beginning, followed by an attestation that Francesco Calzolari makes very good medicines. The list of items contained in his museum begins with approximately 200 which apparently all belong to the materia medica. These items are followed by three categories given over to stones, dried animals and rare plants respectively, each one arranged in alphabetical order. After all this, the work continues with a panegyrical account of the Calzolari Museum by Giovanni Battista Olivi, borne our by Ulissis Aldrovandis Bononiensis !ocuples testimonium peregrinarum rerum quae in Naturae Tbeatm Francisci Calceolari . .. congregatae compiciuntur, which attests in all due form that its author, who visited the museum in question on 15 October 1571, saw a certain number of objeCts of which he lists the main classes, using examples to illustrate them 2 '6 The large volume, published in 1622, which Benedetto Cerutto and Andrea Chiocco devoted to the museum of Francesco Calzolari the Younger, was different in style, even though its subtitle emphasized its importance not only to natural and moral philosophy but also tO all things medical. 257 The objects were discussed in six different sections, dealing, in order, with the following subjects: fruits and marine plants, crustaceans, cetaceans, fish and amphibious animals; earths, including ochres, salts, sulphurs and bitumens; gems and srones, including those 'qui a natura .runt effigiati'; metallic bodies; plants, roots and exotic fruits; birds, quadrupeds and divers other things. Obviously, this classification was based on a threefold division between sea, earth and air, yet this does nor mean that this order was respected within the museum itself. The appended engraving did not illustrate it, showing one single room only, where animals were suspended from the ceiling and which was lined on three sides with cupboards used as perches by stuffed birds. Jars filled the upper parts of these cupboards, the space below being taken up with drawers. Vases stood on the wooden floor. The Calzolari collection was a collection of rare and singular objects,m governed by a curiosity which held to the same principles which were found in the more encyclopaedic curiosity of a figure such as Moscardo, even though in this case it was limited tO natural things. It is for this reason that it would not be useful to linger over the objects making up the collection, some of which have already been discussed. Suffice it to say that the collection belonging ro Francesco Calzolari the Younger was already quite separate from the business of pharmacy, although several of his contemporaries subordinated theirs to this profession. It is easy to perceive the link here between this divorce and the increase in the quantity and diversity of items included in collections. This increase in turn bears witness to the internal dynamics of curiosity, which drove collectors to accumulate more and

more in the hope of exhausting nature's srock, thereby leading to the compilation of inventories intended to cover the whole of nature. This process itself led to a tension between those natural objects which were in fact discovered and the conceptual framework adopted in order to identify, describe and classify them. Before the period when this tension began to trouble a great many people, several collections of natural things sprang up which owed their existence solely to a brand of exuberant, undisciplined and credulous curiosity. When Andrea Mantova Benavides completed his grandfather's collection towards the middle of the century, the additions included a 'whole Crocodile' which wept over the men it had just devoured, 2 '9 'a petrified piece of watermelon from Moum Carmel which appeared upon the said mountain transformed by miracle into stone by glorious St Benedict', giant teeth and bones, 260 'a black horn from the unicorn animal, to fight poisons' 261 and several similar objects. At the end of the century, the Paduan palace of Abbot Matteo Priuli, who owned not so much a collection but rather an accumulation of bric-abrac, housed the following noteworthy pieces: 'a serpent's tongue set in silver' and 'basilisk's tongue in two pieces' alongside 'a round crystal microscope' (probably a magnifying glass),Z 62 not to mention 'two basilisk skeletons in pieces' and 'the claw of a large animal', 26 l which we have already come across in the house of Girolamo Gualdo the Younger. Later still, at the beginning of the eighteenth century, Fra Petronio da Verona, a Capuchin friar working in hospitals in Padua, Venice and his native town, formed a collection of objects from the sea, and left a set of drawings accompanied with explanatory notes. He generally borrowed nomenclatures from Belon and Rondelet, even Pliny, and these, like the drawings, showed that for him the sea was an element where replicas of terrestrial things could be found, such as sea cows, sea elephants and so on. 264 But the duality expressed in the juxtaposition of the traditional representation of the sky and of the telescope or of a basilisk and magnifying glass, can also be detected in Fra Petronio's inventory. The legend of one drawing reads: Priapus rnMinus Rondeletii; spetie d'Aicionio, seu Holothuria Zanichelli.' 26 ' The first reference is to an author of the sixteenth century, the second to a contemporary. More significantly, the first characterizes a living creature according to its resemblance to a part of a human body, while the second designates it by a name whose Greek roots bear no visual associations. This single sentence thus manages ro capture two different perceptions, one based on physical similarities, the other on abstract classification, traditional knowledge juxtaposed with new scientific knowledge. It was the latter of these two forms of knowledge that lay behind the collection of a professor at the University of Padua and naturalist of distinction, Antonio Vallisnieri (166 1-1730). It was the fruit of field

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research carried out since 1689 both around Padua, during excursions, hunting trips, visits to tend sick patients and holidays, and further afield, while rravelling. 266 Its pieces were 'arranged in an orderly way according to their classification', the aim of the collection being to prove the validity of irs creator's ideas and to instruct youth in natural and medical history, in an attempt to overcome what Vallisnieri saw as a certain backwardness in Italy: 'He often complained nonetheless of the dearth of people in this country of ours, Italy, who were willing to embark on studies of this kind, and accused our nation of shamefully leaving this glory to the other nations of Europe which were more cultivated than our own.' 267 Vallisnieri clearly adopted the same attitude in this matter as his two friends Maffei and Zeno. Vallisnieri's museum contained several types of natural things, each represented by a large number of specimens. Thus, the petrified objects of the sea included stones, metals, minerals, lava, strange petrifications, volcanic stones, and were followed by a different sort of stone, that found within the organs of animals and men, such as bezoars and gallstones. Next came birds' eggs and nests, as well as their skeletons, then the skulls, horns and teeth of quadrupeds, specimens of the human anaromy, surgical instruments, sea fish and sea monsters, seashells, snakes, tOrtoises, insects 'in incredible quantities', dried plants, sponges, fruits from all over India and fungi 2 6 8 In addition to all these, a substantial collection of antiquities given by a member of the noble Venetian Correggio family and by Gasparo Mantova Benavides could also be seen.269 The Vallisnieri Museum was intended tO participate in the crusade against ignorance led by the leaders of the Enlightenment, and two examples brilliantly illustrate precisely this didactic function. The first consisted in presenting proofs of 'nature's little tricks', in order to demonstrate the work of chance, the role of 'the accidental union of certain particles' which were capable of imitating the shapes of artefacts or living beings. 270 This world was a very different one ro those of Calzolari or Moscardo, as is highlighted even more clearly by the example of the basilisk. Among the serpents was a basilisk which Vallisnieri knew noc to be a natural and genuine specimen but which he kept in order to disabuse those who thought it was and to make it clear to them that it had been cleverly made from a Ray-fish. This is the case of all the basilisks we admire in galleries and which form the subject of fables told by the gullible. But our Philosopher made use of such things to reveal and confound all deceptions and make visitors to his museum aware of them. In this manner he revealed monstrous deceptions perpetrated in other museums where much was made of miraculous works of nature, of

basilisks, fabulous hydras, petrified bread and fungi and other similar nonsense. 271 Although its beginnings were in the seventeenth century, Vallisnieri's collection no longer actually belonged to the same period as those described in previous pages, even though some of these were created at the same time. The overwhelming presence of objects such as various different stones, birds' eggs and nests and above all insects, all signalling a profound change in direction, is the first aspect which sets it apart from the rest. This does nor mean that Vallisnieri was left unmoved by rare things which, after all, still awake our curiosity even today, but his centre of interest did shift cowards objects which, although commonplace, did reveal strange anatomical or behavioural traits when subjected to close analysis. It was believed that this apparent and localized strangeness could nevertheless be explained by global necessities, absent at first sight, but discoverable by dint of consistent and methodical study. Nature gradually revealed herself tO be the very incarnation of order and regularity when subjected to this type of study, even though things and beings did occasionally stray from the straight and narrow. From now on, however, no particular meaning could be invested in those inanimate forms which sometimes seemed to resemble artefacts or living beings. Discipline was therefore imposed on curiosity, forcing it to proceed with method, while some formerly admissible questions were now judged to be unacceptable. In Vallisnieri, this rejection of the attitude traditionally held by naturalists and the collectors of natural things went hand in hand with the desire to broadcast and inculcate his own, flushing out all imposture and destroying everything he considered to be mere invention. It would not be unreasonable ro suppose that he freely expressed his feelings and ideas when he showed off his collection pieces. Caylus had this to say following a visit paid to him in 1714: 'II nous expliqua tout ce qu'il a dans son cabinet, soit sur les meraux soir sur les planres avec une attention infinie parce qu'il vir que nous y prenions gout.' 272 In the Venetian Republic and elsewhere too, many cultivated people would soon discover in themselves a pronounced taste for natural history, following in the footsteps of Lorenzo Patarol, who happened, moreover, to be a friend of Vallisnieri, 273 and who not only began to collect natural things himself but also made many converts, explaining to his friends and correspondents that 'non e inferiore questa diletto a que!lo delle medaglie.' 274 We can see that the changes in the attitudes towards history and towards nature occurred simultaneously, and that the 1720s marked the beginning of a new era for both.

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3.4 PAINTINGS

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A great many inhabitants of Venetian towns probably possessed paintings in the seventeenth century; indeed, they seem to have been such an essential feature of the homes of the nobility that it would appear that not to own an adequate number would have been utter! y unacceptable in a town-dwelling patrician. In 1648 Ridolfi spoke of nine owners of paintings in Bergamo, nineteen in Brescia, sixteen in Padua, 160 in Venice, fifteen in Verona and six in Vicenza, 275 and this list is certainly far from complete; at the end of the century, for instance, Paglia counted forty-eight in Brescia. 276 Possessing paintings and collecting them are, however, two very different things. In the first of these cases, it is simply a question of covering blank walls, and the pictures therefore perform an essentially decorative role. In the second, walls are sometimes specifically built in order to provide extra space for works whose number and choice demonstrate that theirs is not so much a decorative role but one consisting in drawing attention to and raising questions about painting itself. The boundary between the two is necessarily a little blurred, as in the period under discussion here, and indeed for many years afterwards, a painting was never purely decorative, in that it always represented something, while any picture hung on a wall automatically played a decorative role. Nevertheless, there did exist a very real difference between an owner and a collector of paintings, of which people were definitely aware in the seventeenth century. Thus, when Boschini mentioned seventy-five picture owners in Venice in 1660, he only went into any detail in the case of twenty or so galleries, 277 and his list strongly resembles that drawn up by Martinoni who included twenty-five collectors of paintings in his edition of Sansovino's book three years later. 278 Dal Pozzo gave over space in his work to the thirty galleries to be found in the latter half of the seventeenth century in Verona,2 79 but there was certain! y a much larger number of picture owners living in that town at that time. Similarly, Averoldi's book, which was written at exactly the same date as Paglia's, described only one collection of paintings in Brescia. 280 True, the description was written by the collector himself, but this does nothing to explain why the same initiative was not taken by others too, if indeed there were any; perhaps it was purely coincidence or perhaps they had quite simply nothing of any real interest to say. Whatever the reason, the fact remains that a distinction was definitely made between owners and collectors of paintings in the seventeenth century, and we shall proceed likewise, considering as picture collectors all those who were regarded as such by their contemporaries, as well as all those who owned such extensive collections that their works could not in all honesty be ascribed a purely decorative role. Thus, although a certain Alessandro Savorgnan from Venice was never mentioned either by

Boschini or Martinoni, we will treat him as a collector because alongside clocks, weapons, bas-reliefs and medals, he possessed 1111 pictures.2s1 Now that this has been settled, it is easy to see that in the seventeenth century, Venetian collections of paintings were largely concentrated in two towns, Venice itself and Verona. The Paduans' taste for antiquities seems to have curbed any enthusiasm for painting, and while the Mantova Benavides' collecrion was extremely rich in prints, and also contained paintings and drawings, the latter were mostly portraits.282 We can, moreover, find no trace of any collection of paintings, however small, in Padua, and the same applies to Rovigo - although the Silvestri collection did include paintings - as well as to Treviso, where they were to 'go forth and multiply' in the course of the next century.283 As for Vicenza, where there were six collections of or including paintings in the first half of the seventeenth century, these sank into utter oblivion after 1660. Since the case of Brescia has already been discussed, only two towns remain to be looked at. About ten collectors were to be found in Verona at the beginning of the century, and by the start of the following century, this number had swelled to approximately thirty, while in the case of Venice, the corresponding figures were roughly twenty for the early 1600s and between thirty and forty a hundred years later. These deliberately vague figures can only give a rough idea of the situation bur one which nonetheless enables us to see that although paintings were commonly to be found in the houses of the nobility they formed the basis of collections much more rarely than antiquities.

The market in pictures One reason for this was that collections of paintings required greater investment than those comprising other objects, and when Verona's two most famous collections of the first part of the seventeenth century, those belonging to Crisroforo and Francesco Muselli and to Pietro Curtoni, were sold in the 1660s, they fetched 22,000 and 10,000 ducats respectively, the lowness of the second figure being due to the withdrawal from the collection prior to the sale of the most famous piece, a portrait of a lady by RaphaeJ.2 84 Moscardo tells how Spinola of Genoa purchased Veronese's La.rt Supper in the artist's native town for 7000 ducats, and although this was a quite exceptional picture, 285 payments of tens and indeed hundreds of ducats for a masterpiece were in no way exorbitant. On average, a picture from the Muselli collection was worth 176 ducats, and one from the Curtoni collection 50 ducats, and these figures are borne our by the inventories drawn up after the demise of various collectors, as the examples in table 1 show 286

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Table I

Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of CuriositJ'

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Estimated Prices 200 ducats and over 100-199 ducats 50-99 ducats 10-49 ducats Less than 10 ducats Lack of information Total

Daniele Dolfin Inventory, Venice, 1681 No of paintings %

7

Canossa Inventory, Verona, 1687 No of paintings % 16 28 56 254 4 7 14.5 66 8 0.5 100

5
4 6 20 64

5 8 26 86 2

31
2

134

100

387

These two collections are not entirely comparable in that Canossa's was almost three times as big as Dolfin's, and one inventory was drawn up six years after the first. What is more, the highest estimates were attributed to paintings from the Canossa collections on the whole, although the Dolfin collection included one piece valued at 1000 ducats while estimates in the former only reached 600 ducats at the most. Our of the twelve paintings in the Dolfin collection with an estimated value of 100 ducats or more, seven were by Tintoretto (one valued at 300, three at 250 and three at 150 ducats), while the five remaining ones were by Jose Ribeira (1000), Francesco Albani (350), Cavalier Cairo (300), Forabosco (120) and Guercino (100), all active in the first half and even at the beginning of the second half of the seventeenth century. The fifteen paintings valued at 200 ducats or more in the Canossa collection were, however, the work of much earlier artists, none of whom continued on beyond the first half of the seventeenth century, many in fact living at the beginning of the previous century: Raphael (600), Veronese (600), Palma the Elder (400), Cavalier Cairo (300), Alessandro Turchi (300), Sante Peranda (300), Castiglione (260 and 200), Guido Reni (250), Rubens (250), Dossi? (250), Durer (220), Brusasorzi (200), Lucas van Leyden (200) and one anonymous painter (200). These figures give an indication of the status of different painters, albeit a relative one, in that we know nothing about the size of the canvases nor their state of preservation. They also bear out what was said earlier concerning the prices fetched by masterpieces. There is absolutely no need to give any further examples nor to embark on lengthy discussions over the purchasing power of the Venetian ducat in the latter half of the seventeenth century in order to come to the conclusion that paintings were expensive. This was so even when they were commissioned from the painters, prices ranging from 10 to 200 ducats in the last quarter of the seventeenth century in Verona, and

even then for relatively little-known painters2 87 The older the painting the higher the price, and after having seen the Wedding at Cana by Veronese in the refectory of the cloisters on the island of San Giorgio, Monconys observed in 1664 that: 'II [Veronese] ne s'en fir payer que cent pistoles, quoy qu'a present on en donneroit bien trois milles aces Peres de s.Benoist, s'ils le vouloient vendre,' while again according to Monconys, a Venus by the same painter was valued at 15,000 ecus. 288 That very same year Boschini, in order to demonstrate the superiority of painting over gold, cited two paintings by Tintoretto in the Madonna dell'Orto church in Venice, for each of which 50 ducats were paid immediately after completion, but which would surely fetch 50,000 ducats if only they were put up for sale. 28 9 The percentage of the population able to afford to indulge in collecting old masterpieces was necessarily low, yet did represent a large number of individuals, as Venice and the Venetian Republic supplied people all over Europe with pictures. In the first half of the century, the Earl of Arundel made his purchases there through a go-between named Daniel Nis, and other Englishmen followed his example. 29 In the second half of rhe century, his place was taken by Leopolda de' Medici, whose agents scoured the market, and who had as his adviser Paolo de Ia Sera, himself a tireless collecror. 291 The list of illustrious names could easily be added to, while one must also consider Dutch merchants, such as the Reynst brothers who bought the collection formed by Andrea Vendramin, and to whom Ridolfi dedicated his Maraviglie dell'arte, 292 as well as the ambassadors to the court of the Most Serene Republic, who purchased canvases for themselves and for their masters. 293 As well as this, the Muselli collection was bought by a French art dealer, a certain Monsieur Alvarez, and ended up in the gallery belonging to the Duke of Orleans, the drawings later finding their way into the Crozat collection; the Curtoni collection was sold to a certain Prince della Mirandola. 294 These examples are sufficient proof of the healthy demand for pictures from the Venetian school which prevailed throughout the century, or which was at any rate too healthy for the supply ro keep up with. This was especially true for canvases by artists who had died, and which were very scarce indeed, for although it is difficult to come up with accurate figures, ir is highly probable that a large proportion of works produced since the fifteenth century formed part of collections which were handed down from generation to generation, being dispersed only after they had been in the possession of the same family for at least a century. Venetian collections generally lasted a long time, and according to Magagnato, out of the thirty or so collections of paintings in Verona described by dal Pozzo, some of which dated from as early as the sixteenth century, about twenty were still extant around 1803-4. 29 5 It was in the latter half of the eighteenth century,

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if not the beginning of the nineteenth, that several great Venetian collections, some of them very old, went on sale,296 and back in the seventeenth century, the number of paintings truly available in the marketplace was far lower than the number of canvases which were actually produced. Obviously, this phenomenon was not unique to the Venetian Republic in the seventeenth century, but this ratio did undergo variations, and the gap between the two figures seems to have been wider at that rime than later on, and helps to explain the strategies evolved by those who were new to the world of collecting or by collectOrs of relatively modest means. This phenomenon above all explains the interest taken in copies used as substitutes for inaccessible originals. Some inventories provide evidence of their existence, several of them containing substantial numbers of them, as did the one drawn up in 1655 for Tirabosco, a Venetian man of letters, which listed thirty-three copies out of a total of 168 pictures. It is worth noting that copies could sell for very considerable amounts, averaging out at 11 ducats, the highest figure, 30 ducats, being fetched by a copy of Veronese. 297 As well as copies, one quite often came across works described as 'scuola di' or 'maniera di' in inventories, and lasr but not least forgeries, executed by artists who often earned their living as dealers. One such painter was Pietro Vecchia, who was responsible for a forgery of a Giorgione self-portrait, among others, while another was his occasional accomplice, Nicolo Renieri. 298 Operating on a more modest scale, a painter from Bassano, Gian Battista Volpato, who was given the task of restoring the altars in Feltrino's churches, left copies in place of the originals; more than ten years went by before the affair came to light in 1686 and the forger convicted. 299 Given all the fraudulent activities intended to increase the size of stacks of canvases supposedly painted by famous artists, activities of which dealers and artists, in their capacity as experts, were completely aware, being often involved themselves, it is easy to grasp the acuteness of the problem of attribution and the controversy surrounding certain paintings. Echoes of some arguments have carried down the centuries, the following passage from one of dal Pozzo's descriptions showing that connoisseurs were far from unanimous over this particular picture: 'Un Ganimedo a cauallo d'un

l'Orbetto ... and imitated him so accurately that many connoisseurs made incorrect judgements and took copies for the originals when attempting to distinguish pupil from master.' JOI It seems reasonable to suppose that several works by Cerchini pass even today as works by Alessandro Turchi, as there is always a considerable element of guesswork involved in the attribution game. 302

Venetians and foreigners Paintings by 'old' masters, that is, artists alive fifty or more years earlier, 303 apparently made only very rare appearances on the market, and purchases were made in their owners' homes, artist-dealers acting as advisers for sellers and buyers and serving as go-betweens.' 04 As soon as they had built up a certain reputation, active painters worked exclusively on commission, with the result that most of the works in the marketplace were of poorer quality, coming mostly from ateliers, or else being imitations and copies, while alongside these were works by painters foreign to Venetia, or rather to the Venetian school of painting, some of them Flemish, others Italian, whose canvases were brought to Venice to be sold there. Boschini recounts with great gusto, and not a litrle malice, the trials and tribulations of a foreign dealer attempting to sell pictures of fruit and flowers, buildings and landscapes, on the Rialto market, while the Venetian art lovers make unfavourable comparisons with local productions. He ends with a piece of gentle advice for the poor dealer:
Fradelo, no se porta !'aqua a! mar; Ne cristali a Muran per negociar; Ne quadri dove e '! fonte del dessegno. Credeme a mi; tole sto bon consegio, Che no 'l ve costa niente, e 'I val a.rsae: Mue paese; ande in altra Citae, Che in ogni liogo fare certo megio_;o>

aquila, tenuto da alctmi di Guido, e da altri venire da Rafaello, o dal Correggio.' 300 Opinions here differed over the artist, the school and the
period, the differences between the various dates implied by the conflicting attributions being quite considerable, given that Raphael and Correggio were active half a century before Guido Reni began work as an artist. It is clear that dal Pozzo himself was unable to come down on either side of the fence, as he would surely have done so otherwise. A different passage by the same author bears witness to the difficulties caused by imitations and copies: 'Gio Cerchini was a pupil of Alessandro Turchi, known as

Boschini does not solely justify this rejection of foreign painting by affirming that Venice is the 'fame del dessegno'. True, the poem constantly echoes the desire to glorify his native land through its artists and their works; it even claims that the Venetians hold pride of place in the world of painting3 6 and that their 'manner' is the eighth wonder of the world, this last remark being attributed to a Tuscan,l 07 and not surprisingly, given that these claims are included mainly as a challenge to Vasari who was supposed to have made them on behalf of the Tuscans. It is also from an aesthetic stance that Boschini rejects foreign painting.

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Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of Curio.ritJI

Una i\.fosca, un Zenzal, una Fa1jala Ha da far drento a un stttdio e pampa, e pala, E concorer con Paulo e con Zorzon? Se t;ede ben che '!gusto xe coroto, De chi spende le dopie e tra via !'oro, Cambiando in vermi cusi gran tesoro.' Pitura, vate a vesti da coroto.l 12

Dei Veneziani questa e !'opinion: Che chi no sa formar un gran quadran, El rest a sia fandonie e cantafole. Che per canto de far far meze figure, !doli, cimiterii e sacrificii, Bassi rilievi, statue con capricii De fruti a fiori, e antighita de mure; Oseli morti e con varii istrumenti, Trofei, con armadure de piu sorte, Chitare, libri e scheletri de morte, Con ossi de animali spuzzolenti, Tutte queste xe robe, che a Venezia Puochi ghe inclina: perche in quanta a l'Arte (Come che ho dito) l'e minime parte; E per questa puochissimo i le aprezia.3os

113

Paintings with subjects such as these are therefore small pictures, 'rrifles', as Boschini calls them elsewhere, 30 9 which cannot possibly be held in any real sort of esteem in places such as Venice where true painting is associated with 'great' works, that is, those depicting moving figures rather than fixed, inanimate objects. The quality of execution is not at issue: 'Tuto xe bel che ben jato.' 310 Rather, it is the lack of status afforded to the subjects represented, still lifes, edifices or landscapes, as this means they are automatically inferior ro those depicted in Venetian painting, since a painting's status is determined by the status of the subjects it represents. The Venetian attitude to the flowers, fruirs, armour, musical instruments and other objects mentioned in the above passage, is as follows.
Tute ste cose le stimemo un ,;iente; Stimemo le figure che se muove, In agiere un Mercurio, un Marte, un Giove, E far dei scurzi da pitor valente. Far ati e positure come vive, Che se muova con spirito e fracasso: Come sarave un Rugier, un Gradasso, Con que! furor, che l'Ariosto scrive.lll

This argument is also used to belittle paintings of animals, for which Boschini perceives, not without some distaste, a certain vogue.
So pero che ghe xe certi sugeti, Che c1ede de condir le galarie Con ragni, con formigole e stampie, E i le stima piu dolce dei confeti. Un Leguro, una Rana, un Scarpion,

This was the stance taken by the most intransigent of all the theorists of the Venetian school in the latter half of the seventeenth century. Driven by a powerful combination of patriotism and aesthetic concerns, he proclaimed the superiority of painting as it was practised in his native town as well as historical painting in general, whether it was based on traditional Christian themes, ancient mythology or modern epic. In the opinion of Boschini, histOrical painting reached its apotheosis during its baroque period, when huge canvases depicted pagan gods or heroic deeds with a background of sound and fury. The art lover demonstrated his infallible taste by devoting his undivided attention to this supreme accomplishment of the Venetian school, and this apologia of Venice as the painting capital of Europe was thus accompanied here with unqualified support for the hierarchizing of different genres or subjects, these being the determining factors in assessing which pictures were worthy of display in a gallery. The last quotation shows that Venice was home to a number of collectors whose taste was, at least in Boschini's eyes, corrupted, precisely because their galleries contained works representing nature rather than history, and animals, even insects, instead of moving figures. In other words, it was possible to find collectors whose choices did not correspond to Boschini's normative doctrine, and it is important to bear this fact in mind when rereading the whole of the passage given over to the trials and tribulations of the poor foreign dealer in Venice, with its virulent attacks on stilllifes, buildings and landscapes painted at the same period by both the Flemish and their Italian imitarors.ill This can be seen as a warning by Boschini to Venetian dilettantes who were beginning ro succumb tO foreign temptations and consequently stray from the straight and narrow. The vast majority of the paintings making up the Venetian collections would nevertheless seem to have been produced in that very same town, if one examines them through the eyes of Ridolfi, Martinoni or indeed Boschini himself, and the Veronese collections through dal Pozzo's eyes. In Venice, these authors most frequently cited Veronese, Titian and Tintoretto as the artists of works in its collections, while in Verona, Veronese, Titian and Turchi were cited most often. In both places, the foreign painters most frequently mentioned were Guercino and Guido Reni, members of the school of Bologna, while mention is also occasionally made of one or two

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Flemish artists. In Venice, virtually every subject was borrowed from biblical history, mythology and epic poeuy. There were very few landwhile no still lifes, pictures of flowers, fruit, animals or genre ptctures whatsoever were mentioned. The story is a little different in Verona, as although there too the majority of paintings had historical subjects, the collections nevertheless contained a fair number of landscapes battles, still lifes and genre scenes.lll ' As soon as one compares the description of a collection with its inventory,m it becomes apparent that the judgement of seventeenthcritics was coloured by patriotic feeling, and that they were thus to concentrate on their town's 'homegrown talent'. This feeling, to they openly confessed in their works,' 16 led them to neglect foreign pamters unless these were responsible for a particular masterpiece or had become legendary in their own right, their pictures thereby proving the good taste of therr owners and the amount of money which had been sacrificed in order to acquire such coveted possessions. Normative presuppositions and social rank also coloured the views of the critics. In his descriptions of the galleries belonging to members of the Venetian elite Boschini, for instance, was more or less forced ro concentrate on those elements which, confirming his opinions, he could allow himself to praise, and consequently said nothing about the rest. The differences between B?schini's Venice and dal Pozzo's Verona accordingly reflected in part the between their opinions on art, dal Pozzo's opinions being mirrored m the paintings making up his personal collection, where out of the 111 canvases considered worthy of mention twenty-two were landscapes}17 The differences of opinion themselves could be explained by the fact that Boschini never left Venice, whereas dal Pozzo spent a great proportion of his life in distant parts, as well as by the fact that their social positions were not the same and that they were not exact contemporaries, dal Pozzo's book being published fifty-eight years after Boschini's. period dre'; attention to the types of objects they .Because wri.ters of w1shed to seem collectrons and constdered worthy of attention, rather than to what was actually to be found hanging on gallery and museum walls, the Images they have left us of picture collections in Venice and Verona must be trear.ed with a certain amount of caution, and the same most probably applte.s tO other towns and other writers. As we do not have at our disposal a suffroendy representative range of inventories, this image can on! y be countered with a hypothetical reconstruction based on the facts which are available to us. This reconstruction sheds light on a certain number of aspects, and allows us to affirm that the attitude of the Venetian collectors to works by foreign artists was by no means as negative as would first appear: It i.s nevertheless true that, to the best of our knowledge, none speoaltzed 111 works produced by a foreign school (there was apparently no

Venetian or Veronese equivalent of Paolo della Sera), while the majority of paintings listed in the inventories belonged to the Venetian school. All these changes seem therefore to have been confined to the fringes, but then it was there that matters of taste were dictated more often than nor. Wherever it has been possible to identify paintings, a far from negligible proportion (roughly 10 to 30 per cent, depending on the collection), has been found to be of foreign origin. 318 It should be stressed that we do not know for certain exactly which painters were labelled as foreigners, and in some cases the percentage can vary substantially according to whether Correggio and Parmigiano happened to be seen as Venetians or nor.3 19 One also needs to decide how the French and Flemish painters who settled in the Venetian Republic should be labelled. Whatever the case, the inventories clearly show that the Venetian collectors were far more open to foreign influence and far more inclined ro purchase imported works than documents of the period would seem to imply. Collectors in Verona would appear to have been more attracted to foreign works of art than their Venetian counterparts, although this is a point which requires closer study. Foreign works accounted for 54 per cent of the Muselli collection and 38 per cent of the Curtoni one, percentages considerably higher than any encountered in Venice. Of a later collection, the Canossa, 30 per cent was composed of foreign canvases, similar in this respect to two Venetian collections, the rather exceptional one (as we shall immediately see) owned by Gasparo Chechel, and the one which belonged to the Bergonzis, which was already well known in the 1640s and was apparently considerably enlarged by its last owner. 320 In the absence of the results of research currently being carried our, one can nonetheless suppose that other Venetian collections were just as receptive in the final decades of the seventeenth century to foreign works as the Bergonzi one was. Present in the greatest numbers were the northern Europeans and more particular! y the Flemish. The interest of the Gasparo Chechel inventory lies precise! y in the fact that it describes a collection where pictures of Flemish origin abounded; indeed they were the only foreign pictures it contained. This was probably due to time spent by Chechel in Augsburg, and to his marriage to a German (or Flemish) woman,m and explains why his collection was probably an exception in the Venice of the period preceding his death in 1657. It did, however, resemble those of Muselli and Curtoni, where 27 per cent and 18 per cent respectively of the paintings were Flemish. A little later, at the turn of the century, the Bergonzi collection too had a strong Flemish flavour. All of these inventories most frequent! y mention Brueghel (most certainly 'Velvet' Brueghel, sometimes distinguished from Brueghel the 'Elder'), Rubens, VanDyck, Paul Bril, as well as two Germans, Diirer- by far the best known in Venetia- and Holbein; the Dutch were apparently neglected. Given that all this is based on

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Table 2
Name of collector

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attributions made at the time, it is reasonable to assume that several paintings supposedly the work of these prestigious artists were in fact the work of far more modest individuals. While it would be impossible to speak with total accuracy, we can say that the northerners as a whole were responsible for roughly half the canvases of foreign origin found in collections in Venice and Verona. The other half came from other parts of Italy, the Bolognese painters, such as Albani, Carracci, Guercino and most of all Guido Reni being especially popular; the latter was present not only through the paintings attributed to him but also through very many copies and imitations. 122 It would seem that the other Italian schools of painting were less well known. From time to time we come across the name of a Roman or Neapolitan but with no trace of any sustained interest for them in the background as there was for the Bolognese. Finally, the Tuscans were virtually absent, except for one or two pictures attributed to Raphael and Leonardo da Vinci. It is as if the Venetian collectors sought from foreign works that which was lacking in their homegrown painters, as if, in other words, they were looking for painting different to their own, such as landscapes, fruit and flowers, edifices, animals and genre scenes. In the long term, this openness to foreign, and in particular to Flemish, painting, seems to have caused tastes to change course, with paintings which had been excluded from that noble genre par excellence, namely historical painting, gaining new status. In this sense, Boschini was to identify the defence of the pre-eminence of Venetian painting with that of the primacy of historical painting.

Date of inventory

Number of paintings

Landscapes and 'minor genres (as % of total)

Vincenzo Grimani Calergi Giovanni Pierro Tirabosco Michele Pietra Gasparo Chechel Giovanni Grimani Calergi Daniele Dolfin Giorgio Bergonzi

1646 1655 1656 1657 1664 1681 1709

180 168 486 142 164 134 556

8 14 6 21 24 0 34

The decline of the hierarchy of genres Most of the dwellings where paintings were to be found contained examples of what were considered to be the minor genres, and rare are the inventories which do not mention them. In overall percentage terms, however, they did not represent a very high proportion of the total number of pictures possessed in the first decades of the seventeenth century, and theirs was seemingly an essentially decorative role. Not a single picture of fruit and flowers, not a single still life or genre scene was present in the Museiii and Curtoni collections, and only one or two landscapes. It has to be admitted that the documents furnishing us with information on these collections are not strictly speaking inventories, since they appear to list just the works in the gallery or studio, 12! neglecting ail those to be found in the lived-in part of the house. Yet dal Pozzo's own descriptions were not inventories either, being selective even within the very gallery itself, as we have seen regarding the Canossa collection, though they still managed to mention quite a number of landscapes as well as other subjects absent from

the Muselli and Curtoni collections. While this can partially be accounted for by dal Pozzo's personal taste, it is nevertheless difficult to avoid arriving at the conclusion, albeit hypothetical, that dal Pozzo was not an exception in the circles he moved in, and that the number of landscapes belonging to Veronese collections did rise during the final decades of the seventeenth century, while the considerable improvement in their status caused that of pictures depicting fruit and flowers, animals and battles to improve too. 324 A similar impression can be gained from the statistics concerning Venice. Table 2 gives the percentages of landscapes and pictures belonging to the 'minor genres' found in a selection of inventories chosen for their size. Five of these deal moreover with genuine collections: Vincenzo Grimani Calergi and his heir, Giovanni, as well as Daniele Dolfin were gallery owners; Michele Pietra possessed a 'studio de quadri originali', while the 'Camera sopra li due Rii' with its 17 4 paintings, and the 'Portico' with seventy, certainly served as galleries in Giorgio Bergonzi's residence. We should add that the Grimani Calergi, Dolfin, Pietra and Bergonzi collections were recognized as such by contemporaries. 325 These figures would seem to indicate that the proportion of paintings included in Venetian collections and which belonged ro the 'minor genres', primarily the landscape genre, began to grow in the latter half of the seventeenth century. This is, of course, mere supposition, and the idea must be treated with the greatest of caution, given the modest size of our corpus. In addition, our figures show one notable exception in the shape of the Daniele Dolfin collection. This may be due to the fact that for around a third of the paintings the subjects are not mentioned in the inventory, the landscapes being mentioned solely when they appear in historical paintings.32G Another explanation may lie in the Dolfins' social status, theirs being a well-known senatorial family. The policy of commissioning works

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followed by Venetian senators, including the descendants of this family, leads one to think that they were particularly attached as a group to historical painting, 327 and that Boschini had them in mind when he wrote: 'Di Veneziani questa e !'opinion: Che chi no sa formar un gran quadran, E! res to sia fandonie e cantafole.' If it could be proved that the collectors belonging to senatorial circles in the latter half of the seventeenth century were particularly reticent towards acquiring landscapes and the 'minor genres' in general, it would have to follow that the vogue for such pictures was sustained by groups figuring lower down on the social ladder, but more open to foreign influence and more prepared to innovate. Let us now return to the hypothesis of an increase in the proportion of Venetian collections given over to the 'minor genres'. If a comparison is made between the two collectors from the Grimani Calergi family, whose deaths were separated by an interval of eighteen years, this increase is easy to see. Although the overall number of pieces drops slightly, the percentage of the type of picture we are interested in here is three times higher for the second than for the first, the inventories indicating that this is due to the purchase of many canvases depicting landscapes, fruit and flowers and so on. The collection of Giorgio Bergonzi is, on this question, even more revealing, as a third of it comprises pictures of landscapes, flowers, fruit, animals and battles, its general orientation thus being an exaggerated version of that of dal Pozzo's. Indeed, it contains works by a number of artists mentioned in descriptions of Veronese collections drawn up by the latter, including Borgognone, Calza, Cremonese, Salvator Rosa and Antonio Tempesta. 328 The fact that there are several canvases for each one, indicates that there was a steady search for certain names and certain themes. If we draw attention to a well-attested interest for fruit and flowers as well as representations of animals 329 and to the presence of Gaspard van Witte!, with five vedute, 330 then all these factors taken tOgether add up to a portrait of a resolutely modern collection diametrically opposed to the model Boschini attempted to impose half a cemury earlier, in that it is orientated more towards nature, a foretaste of a trend which would only really come to maturity later on. Although one cannot say with any certainty whether the Giorgio Bergonzi collection represented a significant proportion of Venetian collections from the same period and whether or not it resembled ones formed by members of the same social circle, by merchants in other words, it is nevertheless worthwhile considering these questions. We have already seen that a picture collector was someone who, not coment with decorating walls already in existence, had new ones specially built, in order to set out the canvases he had acquired. In practical terms this meant that he had to set aside one or several rooms in his house for displaying his collection, and fit out not only the lived-in part but also a studio, gallery, sometimes even a porrico.33l It is clear from reading

inventories where prices and the amount of space occupied are given for each picture, that studios and galleries were used to house the most prestigious and highly prized works, whose role was not to decorate but to form part of the actual collection itself. In the Dolfin collection, for instance, the twelve pictures valued at 100 ducats or more were all found 'nella Galeria', while the others which were placed there were also more costly than those found elsewhere in the house. 332 Similarly, in the Canossa collection, twenty-six of the forty-three paintings of an estimated worth of 100 ducats or more were hung in the gallery, eleven in the second room, which was apparently its extension, while the remaining six are dispersed more or less everywhere.333 Having said this, it is clear that the status accorded by collectors to landscapes and 'minor genres' cannot be defined solely by taking into account the increase in their numbers in Venetian collections, even if this could be properly confirmed. It is necessary to establish whether they had a purely decorative role or whether they were hung on the walls of the studios and galleries, as part of the collection itself. In the home of the Marquis of Canossa, there was only one landscape among the 130 pictures to be found 'nella prima camera terena detta Galeria sopra Adice', and that was a StJohn preaching in the Desert by Civetta, valued at 160 ducats. This was accompanied by an animal picture by Giovanni Battista Castiglioni, valued at 200 ducats. Works of this kind were more numerous in other rooms, while 'nel camerino dove mangiava il Signor Marchese' were placed ten pictures which included two family portraits, five landscapes and three animal pictures featuring geese and hens, a turkey and a dog.334 In other words, 'minor genre' pictures played a purely decorative role in the Marquis of Canossa's household. The same goes for the homes of V incenzo Grim ani Calergi and Michele Pietra. The gallery of the former contained only three landscapes out of a total of fifty pictures, the rest, along with representations of fruit and flowers, being hung elsewhere. 335 In the Pietra studio there were seventyeight works, and every single one had a historical subject.3l 6 These two interiors greatly contrast with the Bergonzi one, where seventeen of the 174 paintings displayed 'nella Camara sopra li due Rii' were landscapes or else belonged to the 'minor genres'. The spectacle which met one's eyes 'nel Portico' was even more telling, as out of the seventy-two paintings there forty-nine belonged in this category.m One can therefore affirm with absolute certainty that in Giorgio Bergonzi's collection, which contained more so-called 'minor' pictures than others did, changes took place which affected the very status of these works, as here they were considered worthy of display in the most prestigious places, alongside works by the most famous artists. The increase in the number of 'minor genre' paintings enables us to

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affirm one thing and one thing only: people liked to have them around but did not necessarily attach any real importance to them, their pictorial value was neglected and no particular meanings were invested in them. In other words, this increase shows that they were a source of visual gratification and nothing more. On the other hand, the fact that these pictures were hung in galleries means that they must have formed the subject of conversations, arguments and analysis, since these were places where time was spent contemplating works, scrutinizing their merits and defects and elucidating their message during discussions with visitors being shown around. This is why the migration of 'minor genre' works from the lived-in part to the studio or gallery marked a genuine change in taste. Because of the limited facts at our disposal, we can go no further than to say that the first inklings of change in Venice came at the end of the seventeenth century. This suffices, however, to show that it was to run its course parallel to the other changes taking place at the same period in other domains. By making room for landscapes alongside depictions of scenes and for images intended to speak only of themselves alongside scholarly allegories requiring laborious deciphering, taste in painting showed itself to be following a more general trend to lessen the amount of cultural allusion in historical and antiquarian learning and concentrate instead on knowledge originating from and centred on nature alone.

4
Medals/Shells= Erudition/Philosophy

Between 1700 and 1720, 39 per cent of Parisian collectors took an interest in medals, either to the exclusion of everything else or else in conjunction with pictures, prints and assorted curios. In the next thirty years, however, this figure fell to 21 per cent before dropping to a mere 8 per cent for the years 1750-90. In the same period, this fall was matched by a rise in the popularity of natural history objects, such as shells, minerals, anatOmical and botanical specimens. They were present in 15 per cent of collections in the period 1700-20, and this figure rose to 21 per cent for 1720-50 and then to 39 per cent in 1750-90. These statistics result from an initial quantitative analysis of the contents of the 723 collections found in eighteenth-century Paris, and which did not solely comprise books. Although they would probably benefit from a little fine-tuning, it seems highly probable that they would in any case continue to show a decline in interest in medals counterbalanced by a growing fashion for natural history objects, two opposite tendencies which can be detected in contemporary writings. In 1683]. Spon published a list of the names of the eighty-four enthusiasts in Paris, a list given to him by ]. Vaillant, the king's physician and antiquary, and which contained the names of twenty-seven medal collectors. 1 In 1687 P. Bizot listed twenty-nine 'personnes choisies' who amassed medals of recent date, while five years later, N. de Blegny compiled a list of the 121 'fameux curieux des ouvrages magnifiques' 2 Hence, towards the end of the seventeenth century medal lovers made up between a third and a quarter of Parisian collectors. In the second edition of his De l'utilite des voyages, which appeared in 1727, Baudelot de Dairval included a list of collections which had been revised by the editor, where nineteen out of forty-three contained medals. 3 For Dezallier d'Argenville, in the same year, medals still constituted an object of curiosity par excellence. 4 In 1760, however, Caylus wrote to Father Paciaudi:

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'You are right to be astonished by the lack of taste for antiquities which prevails in Paris. A few medal collections can still be found; but as for broken pots, nobody, is, so to speak, following in my footsteps ... .'5 These 'few medal collections' were indeed still to be found in Paris: we ourselves know of thirty-nine which were in existence between 1750 and 1790. However, the most important of these, owned by Cleves, d'Ennery and Pellerin, had been formed at the beginning of the century, 6 and all of them put together represented only a tiny fraction of the 467 we have identified in Paris for the same period. This means Grimm was right when he commented in 1765 that]. Pellerin, whose book he was describing to his readers, possessed 'a medal collection of a size unusual for a private individual, particularly in France, where this taste is not very widespread'. 7 This comment is confirmed by L.- V. Thiery, who described in 1786 the ninety-two most important collections in the capital, but only made explicit mention of five containing medals. 8 The lists we have just cited are certainly not exhaustive, and the picture each gives is distorted by the specific interests of the person who compiled it: there were, for instance, more than five of the ninety-two collections known to Thiery which contained medals. Nevertheless, every single one shows a similar trend and bears out the conclusions we have reached from our studies of around 70 per cent of all collectors active from 1700 to 1790. It is easy to explain the difference between the figures arrived at at the time and our own, since we take into consideration every collector we manage to identify, and not solely the celebrities of the day, and divide the century into three parts of different length, considering collections which existed during the same period as contemporary, rather than concentrating on a single year, as the lists did. In spite of the differences in method, we all come to the same conclusion, namely that after 1720, and above all after 1730, private collectors began to turn away from medals. We will see straightaway that natural history was henceforth increasingly to arrest their attention.

The rise of shells, the fall of medals 'When I perceived that in France the taste for shells, which belong to the domain of Natural History, was growing in popularity, I was impelled to return tO Holland in order to select all I could find of this sort which was rare or beautiful.' This is the explanation Gersaint gave of his actions in the preface to his Catalogue raisonne des coquilles, published in 1736. He also made a significant promise: 'If I perceive that the Public declares itself in favour of these amusements ... I will do my utmost to provide it from time to time, regarding all that comes under the heading of Natural History and not simply this part of it, with collections which may by their remarkable

nature satisfy both Naturalists and the Curious.' 9 Clearly, Gersaim realized that he was embarking on a new fashion, and that he was not yet sure of succeeding. These doubts and uncertainties were, however, rapidly quelled by events, and by 1742, according to the list compiled by Dezallier d'Argenville, there were seventeen natural history collections in Paris.l 0 In the 175 7 edition, he described twenty of them, 11 and ten years later, the Conchyliologie nouvelle et portative listed fifty, 12 this number rising to 135 in 1780. 1 3 In the light of these figures, it would seem that it was at the end of the 1750s and the beginning of the 1760s that natural history really achieved popularity among a large proportion of the public. In June 1758 Grimm wrote: 'With the ever-growing taste for natural history, we are amply supplied with books on the subject,' l 4 and in his December 1759 number, he published the Observations sur quelques auteurs d'histoire naturelle by Charles Bonnet, along with a Liste des livres d'histoire naturelle drawn up by Daubenton. 1' In January 1763 the Correspondance litteraire commented that: 'For some years, natural history has been one of the favourite subjects of study for the public, and those who devote their efforts to it are sure of a special welcome ... .' 16 Written on a copy of the sale catalogue of the Bonnier de la Mosson collection is a comment dated 19 July 1763: This sale l which took place in 1744] only reached one hundred and four thousand and fifty-nine livres and eight sous, a very mediocre price indeed compared with what it had cost M. Bonnier .... If this Collection had been sold today, instead of making a loss, we should have made a considerable profit, given that as Curiosity is now in fashion, several Persons have since formed Natural History Collections of great consequence.' 17 In 1786 Thiery included forty-five natural history collections among the ninety-two he considered worthy of description. 18 Let us add to these testimonies, which all tally, and to all that we know in any case about the fashion for natural history, 19 a few further facts arising from our research. During the first two decades of the century medals were - after paintings, which never lost their pride of place - the objects most often encountered in collections. In the period leading up to 1750 they were fourth in the list of priorities for collectors, ranking equally with natural history curios. The latter then rose to second place, while medals fell to the bottom of the league. These rough dates, which we chose as a basis for our initial calculations, are not of tremendous significance, and it would be a far more satisfactory state of affairs if they could be substituted by other, more accurate ones resulting from the study of the sources themselves, since the synchronicity of the decline in interest for medals and the ever-growing passion for shells and natural history in general, would thus become even more apparent. We must now attempt to assess the significance of this change, which was, after all, one of the most important ones to affect the taste of Parisian

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collectors in the eighteenth century, and this means calling on a few additional facts. Between 1700-20 and 1750-90, the number of collections in Paris had risen from 149 to 467. Although these figures are still not definitive, they leave no doubt as to the prevailing trend. This increase in number was accompanied by profound changes in the socio-professional make-up of the collecting population. Prior to 1720, 26 per cent of collectors were courtiers, with 15 per cent members of the legal profession, 12 per cent scholars and antiquaries, 11 per cent members of the clergy, a further 11 per cent artists and 8 per cenr money dealers. After 1750, although courtiers continued to dominate with 22 per cent, they were now followed by money-handlers (16 per cent), artists (12 per cent), members of the bourgeoisie (10 per cent), scholars and antiquaries (9 per cent). For the sake of brevity, we have left out other social categories, and only retained those at the top of the league, this being enough to show the rise of the money dealers and bourgeoisie, as well as to a lesser extent, that of the artists, accompanied by a decline in the number of representatives of the legal profession, of the clergy and also of scholars and antiquaries. In 1700-20, virtually all medal collectors (forty-six out of fifty-eight, to be precise) were courtiers, clergymen, scholars and antiquaries and members of the legal profession. In the light of this, one could be tempted to explain the lack of interest in medals in the latter half of the century by the fact that a large proportion of collectors at that period belonged to social groups where objects of this kind had never been held in esteem. This would still leave us with the task of explaining why they were not interested in them, however, and even if we knew the answer to this question, the proposed explanation would still nor suffice. This is because it would seem reasonable to suppose that the collectors belonging tO the groups which dominated the world of curiosity in the early years of the century, both in terms of numbers and social prestige, would have been able to impose their tastes and interests on the newcomers. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Indeed, the very opposite took place, the courtiers, scholars and antiquaries, members of the clergy and of the legal profession all turning away from medals themselves. Before 1720 medals were to be found in fourteen collections out of the thirty-eight owned by courtiers, this ratio being in the order of thirteen to seventeen for the clergy, twelve to eighteen for the scholars and antiquaries and seven to twenty-two for members of the legal profession. After 1750 it changed to twelve to one hundred for courtiers, two to twenty-nine for clergymen, four to forty for scholars and antiquaries and four to thirty-four for the legal profession. The task is therefore to ascertain why those who were interested in medals at the beginning of the century turned away from them in the latter half of it, or rather, to understand the change in behaviour of two categories of collectors: the courtiers on the one hand and the scholars and antiquaries on the other. The

clergy all belonged at the same time either to court circles or else to the republic of letters, meaning that their ecclesiastical calling itself is of no relevance to us here.

Medals: history and aesthetics

Out of all the vestiges of antiquity, medals were the most easily accessible. Their small size made transport easy, and many were thus brought from Holland, Italy and the Levant, in spite of the dangers which habitually awaited travellers, such as shipwrecks, pirates, bandits and customs officers. 2o Considerable numbers of medals were also to be found buried in the ground: ' ... in my rooms I still have the remains of an antique vase ... which some peasants ... had found ... and broken into, thinking that it contained some sort of treasure. Inside were around twenty-five pounds of Roman medals of various Emperors and Empresses, from Hadrian to Posrumus; I bought them from the founders of Villedieu along with the fragments of the vase ... .' 21 Several other similar finds could equally be cited. Such finds continued to be made in the second half of the century, 22 when medals had ceased to be the object of curiosity par excellence, and although the dearth of actual figures makes it difficult to be absolutely categorical on this point, it seems that change in attitude on the part of the collectors was not the result of any dearth in supplies. The answer must therefore lie with the demand. This word Curieux is very ambiguous indeed and its meaning should be determined once and for all. In effect, if this term applies to any man who builds up a collection of Medals, the man of Letters becomes confused with that ordinary mortal, the simple man of taste, who only seeks and values in Medals the beauties of ancient engraving. The true scholar is no longer differentiated in any way from him who merely seeks to appear to be and whose wealth permits him to satisfy his vanity, since both collect Medals, even though to very different ends. Their Collections are therefore entirely dissimilar, and the studious man who toils uniquely for his proper instruction will assemble objects with care, objects which will be neglected by him who seeks to flatter his self-esteem or his taste, rather than to form his mind and perfect his knowledge. 23 The speaker here is obviously the scholar, the 'man of Letters', convinced of the superiority of a scholarly collection, intended tO be an aid to study, over that which is entirely dictated by aesthetic criteria. Between the two types of collectors, the scholars and the rest, there is a sort of latent which surfaces in the value judgement the scholar passes on those seekmg

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merely to 'flatter their self-esteem or their taste'. Both groups attempt to impose their particular concepts of collections, and thereby play the role of arbiters in numismatic curiosity. The allusion to 'wealth' allows us to define the social position of the scholars' opponents as that of courtiers. In the 1739 edition of Pere Joubert's Science des nudailles, this debate between the spokesmen of the two camps can be followed, since the advice its author gives to collectors is contradicted by his editor, de Ia Bastie. When discussing the difference between ancient and recent medals, Joubert explains: 'The moderns are all those which have been made during roughly the last three hundred years. For out of the medals we have from the reign of Charlemagne to the fifteenth century, the curieux deign only to collect those which complete the series originating from the Greek empire, and which we could say, to repeat the view of one of our curieux, constitute nothing more than an ugly interval between the ancient and the modern, which no longer provides either satisfaction or pleasure for the eye or the mind. This means that if one listened ro one's taste antiquity would be deemed to end with Theodosius at the end of the fourth century.' 24 We can see that Joubert placed himself on the side of the man of taste, and that his choice of the end of the fourth century as the limit of the ancient world, which also represents the end of beauty, was dictated by aesthetic criteria. The Middle Ages, this 'ugly interval between the ancient and the modern', were thus excluded from the field of interest of a collector wishing to be guided solely by his own tastes. For de Ia Bastie, on the other hand, whose commentary on the word 'curieux' has just been cited, medieval medals were interesting not because of their beauty but because they constituted historical sources. 'Those who are curious only when it comes to the beauty of the design and creation, will doubtless not take the trouble to collect the medals and coins struck between the reign of Charlemagne and the rebirth of the arts; but the curious who are lovers of literature and do nor wish to neglecr anything which might help to shed light on the history of the Middle Ages, will collect them with great relish and find instruction on divers points of which we would know nothing were it not for the aid of these monuments.' 2; The presence of medieval medals would therefore indicate that we are dealing with a collection governed above all by historical preoccupatio ns; when the aesthetic point of view was paramount, only ancient and modern medals were accorded places. The contrast between history and aesthetics therefore grafted itself onto the rivalry between scholars and courtiers, although we have just seen that the aesthetic perspective did lead to history being carved up to a certain extent, and to choices being operated amongst the monuments of the past. In short we are still looking at a history of sorts, but one which differed from that practised by scholars, and one at which we should now take a closer look. 26 In the eyes of the collectors, the beauty of the medals stemmed above all

from the noble and long-lasting material from which they were made. Collections were made of large bronze imperial medals or else ones made of gold and silver.27 The aesthetic pleasure emanating from a medal arose first and foremost, however, from the beauty of their engraving, but this beauty was inevitably accompanied by the need to find an explanation for this engraving. This was provided by the accompanyin g inscription. 'One derives pleasure from owning the rarest and best-preserve d [medals], from recognizing the genuine ones, identifying the forged ones and plunging into the mysteries surrounding the figures they represent.' 28 This would seem to have nothing to do with aesthetic pleasure, but to be concerned with satisfaction of quire a different nature. To succumb to such a view would, however, mean committing a serious anachronism based on the arbitrary premise that aesthetic pleasure is always and everywhere the same, when in fact the very opposite is true. 'I have several times been astonished,' writes Dubos, that painters who are so concerned that we should recognize the figures they use to affect us and who must encounter so many difficulties in rendering them recognizable with the aid of only a simple paintbrush, do not add a brief inscription to their historical paintings. Three-quarters of the people who look at them, and who are moreover entirely capable of doing the works full justice, are not sufficiently educated to guess the subject of the painting. For them, it simply depicts a fine and pleasing person, but one who speaks in an unknown tongue: the painting rapidly becomes uninteresting, since the duration of pleasure, when the mind takes no part, is short indeed 29 For what was a medal if not a depiction of history struck onto metal and accompanied by a short inscription allowing one to recognize, either immediately or indirectly, the figure or the scene represented there, and consequent! y ro prolong the visual pleasure with an activity of the mind? This activity of the mind in fact consisted of nothing other than a reflection on history, which turned out, as we have seen, to be an essential component of the pleasure a collector derived from medals. For here, this pleasure was felt to derive from an explanation or interpretatio n, the result, in other words, of the establishmen t of a link between image and text. We always come back to history, whether it be directly or via aesthetics. 'History should ... be ... the principal study of a Curieux with regard to medals. Herodotus, Dion, Dionysius of Halicarnassu s, Polybius, Livy, Tacitus, Velleius Paterculus, etc., should be read and reread industriously. As he increases his collection of medals, he will need to read the Greek and Latin antiquaries, Suidas, Pausanias, Philosrratus, Rhodigius, Giraldus, Rosin and the like for explanations of the types and symbols.' 30 In this

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way, the medal enthusiast acquired a complete historical and philological culture. He developed a certain image of the hisrory of antiquity which in fact corresponded to the image the ancients had themselves, since it was their very point of view, their appreciation of events and their criteria he adopted. For him, they constituted his authorities, even if he did criticize them over certain points of detail, in that while the texts were needed in order to explain and classify the medals, their veracity could be checked if they were directly compared with the medals themselves: '... they help us to distinguish between truth and fiction, to supply history with proofs, to dispel its mists, to piece together its fragments, explain the obscure passages of the authors, recognize the anachronisms and to shed light on the geography.'' 1 A complex pattern of cross-references was thus established between texts and medals, allowing mutual explanation. Even so, he who used medals to pursue historical research, even if he was busy writing a 'histoire metallique' or a 'his to ire prouvee par les medailles'' did not automatically become a complete historian. Instead, he remained an antiquary, for the history of Greece and Rome was supposed to have been written down once and for all by the ancients themselves.3 2 In other words, the numismatists of the seventeenth century and beginning of the eighteenth were incapable of integrating the facts they amassed into a meaningful whole, and this applied to every scholar of that period too. In the field of research itself, they behaved like collectors of facts, gradually accumulating them without arriving at any overview.33 Their particular brand of history was identical to that which the scholars of the same period practised in their compilation of dictionaries, annals, chronological and genealogical tables.

Monuments to glory, hisrorical sources This is not the place to analyse this crisis of historical thinking, which came to a head at the end of the seventeenth and beginning of the eighteenth centuries, and which has, moreover, been discussed elsewhere.' 4 Suffice it to say that these two centuries of research had unearthed a huge body of facts which could no longer be catered for within the framework of traditional history, namely the history of kings, consuls and emperors. For instance, the numismatic academy, which met at the home of the Due d'Aumont, set out to 'illustrate ... the history of the Romans through ancient inscriptions and medals and, on that subject, describe the lives of the emperors with reference to the medals struck during their reigns ... , all this with a view to forming a corpus of Roman history, or at the very least a more complete and accurate history of the emperors than the one we have had until now.' 35 This version of ancient history, centred on the lives of monarchs,

did not, however, leave any room for knowledge which had also been gleaned from the study of medals, though by asking different questions whereby the medals taught them 'of the cult and religion of the ancients, the victims and instruments of their sacrifices, the vestments of their pontiffs, augurs, their sacrificers; of the weapons and machines they used in war, the different crowns used to recompense services rendered to the nation, and the pomp of their triumphs; [told them] of the deities which were associated with specific towns, republics and realms, the names and generations of the families, the origins and the revolution of the states.' 36 Within the framework of ancient history as defined by aesthetic criteria, appeared two different attitudes therefore: the first was concerned only with that which related to the lives of the monarchs, while the second sought tO study the most diverse aspects of the lives of the ancients. For the former, medals above all constituted monuments to the glory of those who had made history, while for the latter they represented study tools. Nevertheless, in both cases, they were 'so many lessons and examples bequeathed by antiquity so that we might imitate the peoples which, through these medals, have rendered their memory eternal'Y Inspired by this example, the French monarchy at the time of Louis XIV had used medals for political ends. Since 1663 the striking of royal medals had been under the control of the Petite Academie, whose work programme had been outlined by the king himself when Colbert had presented its members to him: 'You may, sirs, judge the esteem in which I hold you from the fact that I am entrusting you with that which is the most precious in all the world rome, my glory. I am sure you will perform marvels. For my part I shall seek tO supply you with material which merits being fashioned by men as skilful as you.' 38 The glory Louis XIV speaks of here, and which is a notion constantly associated with medals, was fuelled by his heroic actions, especially the mighty feats of arms which interspersed his reign. This is because it was he who was their true author, he who was creating history, at least according to him- to judge from his words - and to the academicians. Out of the 286 medals struck before 1700, in accordance with the projects they had devised to celebrate the 'principaux evenements du regne de Louis Ie Grand', 159 commemorated exploits in war, thirty-nine were concerned with the king's person and family, such as births and marriages, thirryseven dealt with administrative actions, including edicts and declarations, eighteen with diplomatic successes, seventeen with economic activity (buildings, canals, etc.), while eight were devoted to the academies and to scientific discoveries, and an equal number again to other sundry matters. 39 It is therefore obvious that more recent medals, for France's activities in this domain were by no means exceptional, punctuated the most powerful moments of history, along with the major events which both constituted it and formed its testimonies and relics. Turning these into collection items

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therefore meant in a certain manner becoming initiated in the cult of the monarchy or of the state, and at the same time acquiring the means to study their history. It would seem that it is this double role pia yed by the medal, a role particularly noticeable in the case of modern medals, which explains why those interested in numismatics were recruited both from court circles and from among scholars and antiquaries. In short, medals were collected by anyone with a historical leaning, whether their particular view of hisrory entire! y neglected aesthetic considerations in favour of evidence of past events, or whether it concentrated exclusively on that which was beautiful, thereby giving place to two further viewpoints, one which saw medals as sources and another which saw them as monuments to the glory of princes ancient and modern. That medals were capable of satisfying two such different, if not opposing interests, was due to the fact that they brought together an image and a text, the 'Pourtraicture' and the 'Escriture', to borrow the terms used by M. de Bagarris.'o While the former gave them superiority over inscriptions and narratives, given that 'quand on a Ia vraie peinture des choses un coup d'ceil fait plus que tous les commentaires', 41 the latter gave them an advantage over engraved stones and sculptures because of the 'certitude historique' of the legends which only medals bore 42 In a word, medals alone possessed both a 'corps' and an ':lme' 4 3 This privilege could, however, remain as such only as long as the image was subordinated ro the text, like the body to the soul, and nowhere is this degree of subordination of art to history better illustrated than in this discourse of the numismatists. Medals were an object of curiosity par excellence because, out of all the various ancient and modern monuments, they were best suited to such a use. It was precisely this subjection of art to history which was criticized from the 1750s onwards by the new generation of antiquaries to which Caylus belonged. For him, the task of an antiquary was to regard ancient monuments solely 'as the complement to and the proofs of history or else as isolated texts requiring the longest sort of commentary', and when he presented his own particular method, he contrasted it with that of the 'man of letters who only studies monuments in order to discover their links with the accounts left by the ancients'. Though not neglecting these links 'where they have come to light quite naturally', Caylus above all wanted ro 'study faithfully the mind and hand of the artist, to see things through his eyes, follow him in the execution of his works, in short, consider monuments as the proof and expression of the taste which prevailed in a particular century in a particular land'. 44 However, once one begins to examine monuments and works of art no longer with a view to finding information about a history to which they are peripheral, but instead in order to discover traces of artistic activity and signs of the taste dominating a given period or country, the medal loses its privileged position. In effect, this new approach deprives it

of most of its instructiveness, the traces of the artists' work beingfar more apparent on engraved stones 4 l and above all on sculptures. It was therefore to these artefacts that antiquaries and collectors alike turned, while there was a corresponding decline in interest in medals. Overall, the proportion of collections containing antiques (not including medals and engraved stones) rose from 10 per cent in 1700-20 to 27 per cent in 1720-50, and stabilized at around 24 per cent from 1750 to 1790. The scholar! y brand of antiquity was replaced by a more artistic version.

Antiquarians and dilettantes

The fashion for natural history did not directly replace the vogue for medals, which had in fact already begun to lose ground before the majority of the public developed a passion for shells and minerals. It was the vogue for antiquities which first took up where the one for medals had left off, but these two fashions were by no means comparable in social terms. The vogue for antiques was at its strongest in court circles: in 1720-50, out of fifty-two collections of antiques, seventeen belonged to courtiers, eight to money dealers, who generally followed the court's example, and seven to scholars and antiquaries. After 1750 the situation remained virtually unchanged: out of 112 antique collections, thirty-six belonged to courtiers, twenty-five to money dealers and eighteen to artists, the remaining groups being of no particular significance. Moreover, taking into consideration all the collections extant in 1720-50, only paintings occupied a higher place than antiques. Only after 1750 were they overtaken by natural history objects, and it is here that the social dimension played a clear differentiating role between these two fashions. Natural history collections first appeared in intellectual circles, and in 1700-20, eleven out of the twenty-three natural history collections had been formed by scholars, this proportion falling slightly to fifteen out of forty for the following period. Only after 1750 did courtiers come to dominate this domain, with forty-six collections out of 175, and even so thirty collections remained in the hands of scholars, twenty-eight belonged to the bourgeoisie (members of the medical profession, booksellers, jewellers, etc.), twenty-two to money dealers, eighteen to members of the clergy (mostly curh from Parisian parishes) and fourteen to artists. The first thing that strikes one is that antiques were collected above all by the elites of wealth and prestige, while the fashion for natural history was spread by the intellectual elite to other social groups. Without any doubt, this split in tastes was partly triggered by economic factors, as antiques were generally far more costly than natural history objects. Yet this explanation is not totally satisfying, as the difference between the two types of collection corresponds to a contrast in attitudes to art and history

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amongst on the one side antiquaries, some of whom were at the same time art lovers or dilettantes, and philosophers on the other. CURIEUX, adj. pris subst. Un curiettx, en Peinture, est un homme qui amasse des dessins, des tableaux, des estampes, des marbres, des bronzes, des medailles, des vases, etc. Ce gout s'appelle Curiosite. Taus ceux qui s'en occupent ne sont pas connaisseurs; et c'est ce qui les rend souvent ridicules, comme le seront toujours ceux qui parlent de ce qu'ils n'entendent pas. Cependant la curiosite, cette envie de posseder, qui n'a presque jamais de bornes, derange presque toujours Ia fortune, et c'est en cela qu'elle est dangereuse ... _'46 A painting enthusiast (curieux) is someone who collects drawings, paintings, prints, marbles, bronzes, medals, vases, etc. This taste is known as curiosity (cttriosite). Note everyone who indulges in this is a connoisseur; and this is why enthusiasts are so often figures of fun, in common with all those who talk about things they do not understand. However, curiosity, this desire for possession, which is almost always without limits, is almost always deleterious to one's pocket, and it is this which makes it dangerous. The Encyclopedie thus condemns 'curiosite' out of hand, for it not only leads to rash spending, but also turns into figures of fun its adepts and all those who believe they need only amass sundry objects in order to become art connoisseurs, when in fact they are nothing of the sort and can never become so. This indeed is the most important element in this attack launched against the enthusiasts, placed here in the same category as dilettantes 47 As it does not enable them to attain the rank of connoisseur curiosity reveals itself to be merely a desire for possession, and more. As regards connoisseurs, the Encyclopedie could not be more definite: CONNAISSEUR, s.m. (Litter. Peint. Musiq., etc.) n'est pas la meme chose qu'un amateur. Exemple. Comzaisseur en fair d'ouvrages de Peinture, ou autres qui om le dessin pour base, renferme moins !'idee d\m gout decide pour cet art, qu\m discernement certain pour en juger. L'on n'est jamais parfait connaisseur en Peinture, sans etre Peinrre; il s'en faut meme beaucoup que tous les Peintres soient bons connaisseurs .... II n'y a point d'art qu'on ne puisse substituer dans cet article ala Peinture, que nous avons prise pour exemple; !'application sera egalement juste. 48 Not the same thing as a dilettante (amateur). For example, a connoisseur of paintings or drawings is not so much someone with a confirmed taste for this particular art form as someone with sufficient discernment to be able to judge it properly. One can never be a perfect connoisseur of painting

unless one is a painter; though few painters are good connoisseurs. All that has been said here about painting can equally be said about any other an form. By maintaining that one 'could never be a connoisseur of painting if one was not a painter', the Encyclopedie set itself against all the dilettantes, led by Caylus, who believed that the powers of discernment necessary for judging works of art were acquired through the union of an inborn or 'natural' taste, which was a 'gift', 49 and the study of artistic theory and practice. However, study of this kind was only possible if one assiduously frequented the works themselves. This is where we return full circle ro the antique collection, which enabled the art lover to educate himself. Of a collection of plaster casts, Mariette wrote, It is easy to see that with the aid of a collection such as this, which can be built up with little expense, and which can be greatly developed, one can become generally familiar with all that is beautiful. And what result should we not expect from it? Even though we are born with good sense, one cannot flatter oneself with being a good connoisseur if one has not, so to speak, familiarized oneself with the works upon which one is supposed to pass judgement. It is essential that one should have examined them for a great length of rime, that one should have compared the beautiful with the mediocre and the beautiful with the still more perfect, in order to come to sure and accurate conclusions.lO

If Ca ylus, Mariette and their friends believed it possible for a dilettantecollector to become a connoisseur, it is because they believed that the work of an artist comprised partly knowledge and reason. While not denying the fundamental role of enthusiasm and genius, 'de ce feu que les anciens croyaient communique par le trepied sacre', 51 they placed their main emphasis on the technical and cognitive aspects of art, on that which required study. This study simply involved history, since its subject was the art of the ancients, for although their legacy might not have been uniformly perfect, it constituted a model and a set of rules to follow. 'Man has never begun to draw up rules for something prior to its invention, but has based them, especially in the case of the different parts of poetry, on the works of the first genius to come to light; the study and meditation of these works have subsequently become the rules of epic poetry, as well as of every genre of poetry. There can be no doubt whatsoever that the mind has performed the same operation regarding painting.' 52 The simple fact that the ancients preceded us in time therefore sufficed to give their art an exemplary character. Although genius was certainly present in modern artists too, they were latecomers and, consequently, were obliged to use the pioneers as their guides. As age and historical ascendancy were treated with such respect, the

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study of ancient history acquired a particular meaning, since it was this study which led to a fuller comprehension of the various different aspects of the lives of the anciems and, accordingly of their art. Caylus thus reestablished links with the erudite tradition, though changing this brand of erudition, which placed art at rhe service of the interpretation of texts, into a type of archaeology, which subordinated the interpretation of texts ro the study of art. This formula is, perhaps, a little simplistic, as the ambition of Ca ylus and his friends was to bring about a sort of balance between historical interests and artistic preoccupations. Mariette wrote, Too often, scholars, being little moved by the beauties of art, seek only erudition in them, while those who contemplate them with artists' eyes admire the excellence of the workmanship without troubling with that which might be interesting for the comprehension of the fable and of history. Pleasure is therefore almost never complete, and yet what satisfaction and utility would one not gain from such an admirable curiosity if these two sorts of taste, which should never be sundered, were brought rogether.ll In short, the aim was to be both scholar and artistic dilettante. The respect for age also provided a basis for the claims of the lover of ancient art to be able to proffer advice and suggestions to artists who were, for their part, not antiquaries. He could offer them techniques known to the ancients, but since forgotten, as Caylus did with the encaustic method of painting, 54 and could also supply them with subjects gleaned from literary works of antiquity which the artists had no rime to read, having devoted all their time since their childhood tO the practice of art.S5 Once he had perfeeted his taste by making copies and drawings and frequenting painters, the art lover found himself 'able to discuss painting and painters with an accuracy and feeling based on the knowledge of nature and of its proportions compared with the elegant measures left by the Greeks in their fine statues'. 56 In this way, he became the artists' judge and adviser. Even though he declared himself to be of only modest importance, with a desire only to serve, he nevertheless placed himself in a position of superiority over them. It must be admitted that when Caylus spoke of the duties of a dilettante, he was painting the portrait of an ideal art lover who knew how to 'appuyer ses raisons', who was 'en etat de proposer des remedes', who found it possible to 'rendre convaincants les motifs des changements qu'il desire sur Ia couleur, !'accord, l'expression, Ia correction d'expression, l'antiquite, l'histoire, Ia fable, Ia coutume et Ia composition'.5 7 Yet ideal or nor, the dilettante was, in a certain manner, superior to the artist. He might lack genius, but he did possess the knowledge, and it was this knowledge that gave him the right to exert an influence on the artist, as long as he could

bear it out with reasonable arguments. Like that of paintings or drawings, the gallery of antiquities reveals itself in this light to have been an instrumem wielded by a certain public in order to gain social domination over the artists, since it is the gallery which, as we have seen, constituted the essential, if insufficient, element in the training of an art lover. It is the gallery which enables Caylus' ideal art lover to become a connoisseur and prove his good taste. 'It is in the choice of works that a dilettante makes his powers of discernment known, and shows whether or not he possesses good taste. His gallery is, so to speak, a court where he is judged without mercy: each object he has admitted into it constitutes a witness testifying either for or against him.' 58

Philosophers versus dilettantes

The theory of art espoused by Caylus and his circle was violently opposed by Diderot and Grimm. For their part, they emphasized not the cognitive and technical aspects of art but its inspiration and enthusiasm, Tim pulsion divine, mais aveugle',59 'le demon qui travaille au dedans'. 60 Genius here seems to have been completely dissociated from study, placed on the side of sensibility, a kind of natural force telling the artist what he should do but giving no reason for it. Grimm and Diderot also denied that age should be accorded any special status whatsoever or that the ancients should be given an exemplary role solely because they were the forerunners. This comes out in the criticism of the study of ancient hisrory which Grimm pretended to express in the form of a recognition of their decline: 'Poking fun at scholars is a waste of time; there are no longer any in France, and exchanging quotations has become decidedly unfashionable.' 61 Grimm repeated this several times; he even feigned a lament over the discredit into which learning had fallen: 'Our men of letters are nothing but pamphleteers now.' 62 This was, however, less a description of an actual situation than an appreciation dictated by his negative attitude towards historical study when not undertaken by philosophers. In effect, we know that learning was not as non-existent as Grimm liked to say; his contemporaries were aware of this too, and in a letter Barthelemy put forward a series of arguments designed to refute the view that men of letters in France were only concerned with trifles.63 It was in Diderot's aesthetic that the rejection of all special status accorded to age was most explicit, since according to irs terms ancient art owed its exemplary status to the fact that it was based on 'knowledge, study and a taste for nature' 64 Given that the ancients knew how to produce beautiful forms despite not having any antiques at their disposal, Diderot did not believe that the criterion enabling one to distinguish a beautiful form from one which was not was conformity with ancient art. This meant

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that inspiration should come not from the art of the ancients but from the beauties of nature, and that one's eyes should not constantly be turned towards the past but rather towards the eternally present. Because it blinded artists to nature, forcing them to copy ready-made examples, the belief in t:,e precedence of age was positively harmful. But, you will say to me, it is therefore impossible for our artists to equal the ancients. I am of the same opinion, as long as they continue to follow their present course; not studying nature, not seeking it, finding it beautiful uniquely in ancient imitations of it, however sublime these may be and however faithful their image of it can be. To remodel nature on antiquity is to proceed in the opposite direction to the ancients, who had no such antiquity themselves; it is ro work constantly from a copy.6' These few remarks are by no means intended to give an accurate picture of Diderot's aesthetic, nor of that to which he was opposed. They merely help to show that his attacks on Caylus bear witness not to their conflict of personalities (although this is well documented), but to their diametrically opposed doctrines, a rationalist and historicist one in the case of Ca ylus, and an emotivist and naturalist one in the case of his opponent. If one were to identify the Enlightenment thinkers with the Encyclopedie, one could say that Caylus belonged to the opposite school of thought, and we are fully aware of his distaste for 'icy flowers' and 'encyclopaedic metaphysics.'66 In his hostility to the Encyc/opedie, its attitude to religion was of no consequence whatsoever; he was telling the truth when he said, 'Ce point m' est indifferem.' 67 In other words, it was the privileged place reserved for ancient art because of its great age, an attachment ro a certain history and tradition, which appeared in Caylus' case to be one of the factors behind his resistance tO the Enlightenment thinkers. However, on top of this philosophical and aesthetic divergence of opinions came a further cleavage, this time concerning the relationship between an artist and his public. For Diderot's emotivisr and naturalist aesthetic left no room for the dilettante as he could never become a connoisseur. His elogy was that of philosopher with the task of apprising artists of their true worrh,68 and the philosopher's elogy differed from the connoisseur's judgement, for while connoisseurs made their judgements from the outside, making comparisons with pre-existing examples, philosophers sought their answers from within the artist and sought to disentangle his confused emotions. This was because while the connoisseur attributed the most importance to the artist's studies of monuments of antiquity, that is to histOrical reference, the philosopher saw the artist as someone who, with the aid of genius, did nothing more than obey 'nature's abiding laws and the observations of physics'. 69

Diderot and Grimm both came to reject the dilettantes' claims to be able to advise and judge artists because of the importance they attached to inspiration and to nature. 'Pigalle was asked the other day ... how one could become an expert on sculpture. He replied: "Everyone, with the exception of the dilettantes, is an expert on it"; an excellenc witticism, which ought to be inscribed in words of gold on the walls of our academies and theatres.' And Grimm went one step further by castigating 'a nation of sham connoisseurs, which now only looks at a work in order to pass judgement on it. It will no longer allow itself to be moved. It sets reasoned arguments and rules against genius ... .' 70 As for Diderot, it was in the Salon de 1767 that he developed his views on the relations between art on the one hand and antiquity and nature on the other, and included the most damning indictment of dilettantes which has ever been made: Ah, my friend, what accursed race is that of the dilettante .... It is beginning to die out here, where it flourished far roo long and brought about far too much harm. It is this race which decides the fate of men's reputations in an utterly irresponsible fashion; ... which possesses galleries at practically no cost to itself; which has ideas, or rather pretensions which cost it nothing; which places itself between the wealthy classes and the indigent artist ... ; which has secretly condemned the artist to beggary, in order to perpetuate his enslavement and dependency; which ceaselessly preaches that the slender means of artists and men of letters are a necessary stimulus to them, for if ever they added wealth to their talents, they would be reduced tO nothing ... ; which hinders and disturbs them with its unwelcome presence and the ineptitude of its advice. 71 The most deep-seated reasons for the Encyclopedie's attack on 'curiosite' should now be clear to see. For Diderot, curiosity was not an innocent and queer little habit of amassing objects. It was a 'desire to acquire' not only the sort of object with which the enthusiast filled his rooms but also, if not above all, a social position enabling one to exert a decisive influence on the lives of artists and on their art itself. As the collection, 'Ia galerie' constituted one of the pillars on which rested the claims of the enthusiasts to be able to fulfil the role of connoisseurs, it was in its turn condemned precisely because of these claims. However, the collection of antiques, paintings or drawings was not merely a socially recognized institution helping to establish a relationship of dependency between artist and art lover. It was also the vehicle for an implicit rationalist and historicist aesthetic, which justified the role of the dilettante and, in Diderot's eyes, served no other purpose. This explains why the condemnation of curiosity did not extend ro

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natural history collections, far from it. Diderot actually devoted an extremely laudatory article to them in the Encyclopedie, showing that when the enthusiast and the dilettante began ro form this sort of collection they changed back into respectable individuals as far as he was concernedn This was even more explicit in the article entitled 'Histoire Naturelle', where collectors were placed on the same footing as scholars. Some of their number observe nature's creations and reflect on their observations: their aim is ro perfect science and discover truth; others collect these very same creations and admire them; their aim is to display all these marvels so that they can be admired. They make perhaps just as large a contribution to the advancement of Nat!tral History as the former, as they facilitate observation by bringing together nature's creations in these same cabinets which grow daily in number .... 71 While the antiques enthusiast was suspected, if not downright accused, of attempting to use his collection as a means of foisting himself onto artists in the capacity of connoisseur, the owner of a natural history collection was seen as providing scholars with a useful aid, by placing before their eyes 'un abrege de la nature entiere' 74 This is why even the considerable expenditure, much reprimanded in the case of the former, was praised in the case of the latter, as being proof of his desire to improve himself. 'The high number of Natural History collections is absolute proof of the public's taste for this science; they can only be formed by dint of arduous searches and great expense, for the price of natural curios has now been pushed sharply upwards. The spending of time and money in this way implies a desire to improve oneself in the domain of Natural History, or at the very least demonstrates a taste for this science, a taste which is perpetuated by example and emulation.' 75 It would seem that this 'desire to improve oneself or to demonstrate one's taste for natural history was essentially laudable, though curiosity itself was condemned, because it was not thought to have given amateurs the upper hand over scholars. Not one single article on natural history even envisaged the possibility of natural history pieces being used in their turn to justify their owners' pretensions to the role of connoisseur, this time in the domain of the sciences. The complete absence of any mention of the 'desire to acquire' confirms our belief that it referred not ro the simple possession of things but rather to possession of social superiority. It is therefore as if knowledge of and admiration for nature were incapable of generating those social hierarchies which seemed to be such an integral part of a world dominated by one particular view of history whereby the high aesthetic value placed on the art of the ancients was entirely due to its great age.

5
Dealers, Connoisseurs and Enthusiasts in Eighteenth-cent ury Paris

The eighteenth century saw great changes in the literary genre consisting of catalogues written for sales of art or curios: 1 ro realize this, one only needs to look at the modifications which took place between 1730 and the revolutionary period in the way that paintings put up for sale were described.

The sale catalogue: order is brought to bear

In the first half of the century, notes tO paintings formed one continuous text in the catalogues; even the numbering was left out on occasion, and no order whatsoever was followed, be it alphabetical, geographical or chronological. This was true even in the case of Gersaint's catalogues, despite the fact that his contemporaries, and later on historians, held them up as quite exemplary. The numbering of the paintings was the sole refinement, and yet for a long time a suitable framework for classifying paintings had been in existence, this being the one used to classify painters, and Gersaint was fully aware of this fact. In 1744, in the first of his catalogues to include paintings, he talked to his readers of four schools of paintings: the Italian, subdivided into several local schools; the Flemish; the German; and the French. 2 These categories were used to classify the drawings and prints 3 but not, however, the paintings. The first to remedy this was Mariette in 1751,4 although it was a number of years before all the major catalogues adopted this system. The term 'trois ecoles' was already a set expression in the latter half of the century, included in catalogue titles, without it necessarily matching the classifications used in them, for if the need arose they would

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introduce the German school and, on at least one occasion, the Spanish one, 5 while the Italian school was often divided up into a whole series of different branches. In 1778 the distinction between the Dutch and Flemish schools appeared in the title of a catalogue for the very first time, 6 while at the same time it became usual to place the painters within each particular school 'selon l'ordre chronologique que l'Histoire nous a fourni'J This meant that canvases were situated in a kind of grid which gave their definitive position in time and in the geography of taste. This was only valid for certain suitable works, that is, those which could be attributed to named painters without any shadow of doubt, or at worst with only a few reservations. As for the remainder, of which only the identity of the school was known, which were anonymous and resisted all attempts at identification, or which were suspected of being copies, none could be included in this framework. This system of classification therefore meant that ail the paintings to be included in the catalogue had to be sorted beforehand into two groups, those with reliable attributions and those with doubtful ones. As late as the mid-1750s, however, this was not done, and the descriptions of originals and copies, works by known artists and anonymous ones were in no way kept separate, as if nobody attached any particular importance to these differences in status. The turning point would appear to have come with the Tallard sale catalogue of 1756. From then on, grouped together at the end of each paragraph devoted to a particular school were the notes for those canvases which were believed to have originated from there, but to which no artist's name could be attached, while the notes to anonymous works and copies were placed at the end of the catalogue or of the chapter headed 'Tableaux' 8 Sometimes, new headings were devised for these doubtful works such as 'Differents tableaux' or 'Differents maltres des trois ecoles'; at other times they were all grouped together under the same number at the bottom of the list. All these modifications give a clear indication of the difference between works with a right to a place in the history and works with neither hearth nor home, and it was these modifications, along with the introduction of a list of contents, which were responsible for the changes in the internal organization of the catalogue, even though some authors did remain faithful ro former habits, especially where less important sales were concerned. Only the date, 1752, of the description, 'Un Philosophe sur bois, peinrure d'Ostade' ,9 is surprising for in the 1730s and 17 40s, its absurd conciseness would very likely have shocked no one. Notes such as 'Philippe Wouvermans. Deux grands tableaux', 'Corneille Polembourg. Un tableau de moyenne grandeur tres beau' or 'D. Tesniere. Un tableau' accounted for nearly a quarter of those composing the 1737 catalogue of Mme de Verue, and the rest were of much the same ilk, 'Boulogne. U n tableau representant un concert. Un homme joue de Theorbe' being one of the most detailed

descriptions. 10 The 17 42 Carignan catalogue was broad! y similar, 11 and it was due to Mariette and Gersaint that notes later gained in precision. Picture size without surround became a compulsory feature, along with the type of medium used. Names were no longer spelt in a totally haphazard way, so that by 1752 only anonymous catalogues spoke of 'Adam et Zemer' instead of Adam Elsheimer and put 'Scalque' for Schalcken(?) and 'Venix' for Weenix. 12 A comparison of two descriptions of the same canvas, but written at an interval of thirty-six years gives a clear measure of the amount of progress achieved during this time. 1732: A picture six and a half feet high and five feet wide, including the gilded border, painted on canvas and showing a Philosopher holding a sheet of paper. Painted by Feti.ll 1768: Domenico Feti A three-quarter length, full-size painting of a seated man without a hat; his hair is short, and he has a moustache and a neat pointed beard; a wide white collar hides the top of his outfit. Three small figures can be seen, apparently listening some distance away. The background is composed of a pedestal, a portico, and various other edifices, above which a little sky can be glimpsed. It is painted on canvas, measuring five feet five inches high and four feet wide. It comes from the late M. de Ia Chataigneraye's gallery, and is described in his catalogue in article 2, page 12, bearing the title, a Philosopher holding a sheet of paper 14 Although the difference was by no means always as obvious as this, the trend towards more accurate and more detailed descriptions was a very real one: the longer the description the greater the status of the painting, and a picture accompanied by a short note mentioning only its subject was obviously a picture of little importance. Apart from being classified, works were therefore also placed in a hierarchy according tO their aesthetic value, their position, especially in the case of a masterpiece, being justified not only by the length of the description but also by its contents. Another superb picture, painted by Rubens, depicting an Adoration of the Magi. It is five feet and four inches high and seven feet and ten inches wide. The surround, which does full justice to the merit of the picture, is twelve inches wide. This picture is one of those works which it is difficult to describe adequately, and where we often lack the terms we need to express fully all its beauty. A simple glance would be far more eloquent and expressive than even the most studied discourse. I will thus confine myself to saying

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that it should be counted amongst the masterpieces where this great painter deployed all his huge genius in the sumpmousness of the layout, the expression of the different figures, the sharpness of the contours and variety of the faces and the exquisite taste of the drapes .... This work has been perfectly preserved, and has a wonderful finish. It deserves a place in a collection of the greatest repute, if not in one of the renowned galleries of the highest powers in the land .... 1' This example is just one of many which reveal that for Gersaint the aesthetic commentary on a painting was more important than the actual description. This was in general not the case for later writers, who always devoted more space to the purely descriptive part than to any eventual commentary. Peter Paul Rubens A Holy Family: the Virgin is seated in profile, and in her arms holds her son, who caresses her, and whom she contemplates with kindness. In front of the Virgin is StJohn, his eyes fixed on the Infant Jesus; next to her is St Joseph, who feeds a sheep. Behind the Virgin is St Elizabeth, her gaze fixed on the two children; she is standing up, leaning against a wicker crib containing swaddling clothes and blankets. There is no gallery which would not be embellished by this work. It has been drawn with great delicacy, the heads are most graceful and true to life, and the colour is frank and transparent. 16 A further difference, and perhaps the most important one, between the catalogues of the first and of the second halves of the century can be perceived in every one of the descriptions cited above. In the earlier examples, the descriptions always begin with a designation or with a short description of the subject, the artist's name, if this is known, appearing further down, usually in italics. In later examples, the description is preceded by the painter's forename and surname, written in large letters and separated from the main body of the text by a blank space, which helps them to stand out in, so to speak, an eye-catching way. This new layout made for added clarity and readability, but it was not simply the style of presentation which changed. In effect, the older style of catalogue had only given the subject of the painting as an attested fact, while the fact that the work was listed alongside copies, anonymous paintings and those with only doubtful or uncertain attributions had meant that a doubt was implicitly cast on the artist's name. Accordingly, the emphasis had been placed on all which could be directly apprehended visually, namely, the subject of the work and eventually its particular beauty, while the question of its origins, which belonged to a past and invisible world, was tacitly left to conjecture.

This was far from the case in catalogues written subsequent to the Taiiard sale. The prominent position of the artist's name implied that the attribution problem had been solved once and for all, and every painting assigned to a specific school, and placed in chronological order within it, was assumed to be of a painter known 'de fas;on moralemem certaine', as it was put at the time, in other words, with little or no room for doubt. If there was any question over the attribution, and if the attribution only went as far as to name the school, it was discussed at the end of the paragraph, and no name was given, and if a painting had a status which was not only different but inferior, this was betrayed by the location and actual form of irs description. This was even more obvious in the case of copies and anonymous, even dubious works, as their descriptions were placed under a special heading, or else were allotted the last numbers in the catalogue, which often corresponded not to one picture but to several lots at a time, or even to a whole group: 'Divers tableaux de differences grandeurs qui seront divises en plusieurs lots' (a handwritten note informs us that there were thirty-six) or 'trente tableaux de differents ma!tres des trois ecoles' 17 - yet another way of showing that these are inferior works denied all rights to individuality. Just as the juxtaposition of originals and copies, of anonymous works and those by identifiable artists, of problematic and straightforward works, seemed to bear witness to a certain lack of concern for attribution, so the various practices adopted after 1757 seemed to assert that the attitude to be taken towards a specific painting could only be determined once the question of its authorship had been tackled. The answer to this question was taken to be the gospel truth, with only a few specific reservations, which will be discussed later on, and it was immediately thrust upon the reader with the understanding that if the element of doubt had gone beyond the bounds of acceptability, the description of the work would have been placed elsewhere.

The dealer: the connoisseurs' spokesman

The internal Ia yout of the catalogue, along with the particular location of the description itself, therefore delineated the areas of certainty and doubt, but we still need to discover the identity of those who were responsible for establishing the dividing line between these two areas, and of those who took it upon themselves to assert that a painting was the work of a particular artist. In general, the catalogues dating from the first part of the century gave no clues to their identity, as those who attributed paintings to artists remained anonymous. Although we know that the authors of catalogues sometimes passed aesthetic judgements on pictures, this does not mean that they were the ones who made the attributions. The descriptions

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were normally written in the third person, which means that we cannot identify the catalogue author with the attributor unless additional proof can be found. There were a few exceptions to this rule, however, and it is with them that we shall begin, as they provide us with a valuable insight into what remains concealed more often than not. Gersaint: An excellent picture from Italy, painted on wood, sixteen inches high and eleven inches wide, depicting the Dream of St Joseph. This picture is highly reputed amongst the Curieux, and rightly so. Several of them attribute it to the famous Correggio, for it is sufficiently beautiful, and bears the hallmarks of grand taste and manner; but most attribute it to Camillo Procaccino, celebrated painter of his time. Its surround is well sculpted and gilded. 1S Faced with these two mutually exclusive opinions, Gersaint could have leaned towards one or the other, as Remy was to do later on, when he unhesitatingly attributed the work to Procaccini, 19 or else chosen to voice a third and different opinion. In fact, not only did he decide not to do this, but even went as far as to give over four pages of the catalogue to a justification of his refusal to take a stance in the 'grandes contestations sur ce Tableau'. Presented in what seems to us to be a logical order, and considered in rhe light of his other declarations on the same subject, Gersaint's arguments can be placed in the following four categories: 1 It is particularly difficult to 'give names with certitude to pictures whose masters are only known to us in general in a hisrorical light, their works being familiar to us solely thanks to prints, which are merely copies of them, and which inevitably distort an author's true manner, independently of the touch and effects of colour we are deprived of with prints.' We must add to this that even the knowledge 'of pictures painted, so to speak, before our very eyes ... becomes equivocal because of differences in taste and the contrasting manners the author has frequently adopted'.2o
2 Attribution is always a difficult task, and especially so when works by Italian masters 'of whom we possess, so to speak, virtually nothing' 21 are involved. 'Given our lack of experience in comparing the works of the very many skilful painters of Italy, whom we know so little, and of whom we possess but a few works, we would often be foolhardy indeed if we attempted to make attributions which could, at any moment, be challenged perfect! y legitimate! y. '22

we delude ourselves if we believe we can do so and thus acquire the title of connoisseur, denying it to anyone who does not share our opinion, and seeking co pass rapid, definitive judgement on everything we see, especially in such uncertain cases.n However, morality is not the issue here, for if Gersaint is unwilling to come down on one side or the other in the connoisseurs' dispute over the so-called Correggio or indeed over any canvas giving rise to a difference of opinion/ 4 it is because he has very definite ideas as to the relationship between a dealer in curios and his public. The passage where he explains himself deserves to be quoted in full because of its great import. In this catalogue of Callot's works, I have not only included the attested works of this master which have been recognized as such by the connoisseurs, but also those which seemed both to me and to many others to be of uncertain origin. There are even a few (despite being forgeries), which have made their fortune thanks to the Curieux, and which have imperceptibly acquired the right to be included amongst the works of this master. As we know, it is very difficult to disabuse an amateur who has amassed the ceuvre of an artist according to the ideas he has formed from certain pieces. Lest a fine example of the master, whose ceuvre he is collecting, escape him, he prefers to include a dozen works of uncertain origin rather than risk missing a genuine one; and he would consider it to be tantamount to a theft if one advised him to spurn these pieces, when they have been recognized by several other Curie:tx or been seen by him in one or two of their collections. This would only put him in a bad mood and start a quarrel; this is why I have not wished to come to any finn decision over these pieces and not sought to claim for myself the title of sovereign judge deaf to all appeals in this art and I have made it a rule to include in this catalogue several highly reputed works 25

3 While rhe first two arguments are of a technical nature, the third one seems at first glance to take a moral stance. 'It would be foolhardy and far too presumptuous to come down confidently on one side or the other; and

In Gersaint's eyes, it is therefore obvious that dealers and catalogue writers are in no way obliged to state which painter has produced which work, but need only reiterate the connoisseurs' opinions on the subject, and where these are divided, to give both sides their say. Even when they are perfectly aware that an artist's name is being attached to works not by him, they must conform to this practice, for the ceuvre of a painter do not become a watertight entity after his death: certain pieces can acquire the right to be included, even if they have sprung from the brush of another. Although Gersaint does not go into the logic of this right, it seems reasonable to suppose that it consists for him of a particular 'esprit' shared by all the works taken to belong to the same cettvre. He apparently shares the view of de Piles: 'Un habile homme peut facilement communiquer la

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maniere dont il execute ses Desseins, mais non pas Ia finesse de ses pensees.' 26 It is therefore not the hand which is important but the 'esprit', which accordingly becomes the deciding factor in the attribution of paintings, drawings or prints. Given that the 'esprit' does not constitute an infallible criterion, one cannot simply rely on verisimilitude, and in any case truth does remain inaccessible in particularly difficult cases where connoisseurs and even the artists themselves can commit errors. A certain scepticism can be detected both in Gersaint and de Piles as to the possibility of making faultless attributions, an attitude which constitutes a peculiar case of 'historical Pyrrhonism' 27 At the same rime, however, Gersaint expresses the belief that the work of assessing the 'esprit' must be left to the connoisseurs, the dealers bowing tO their superior judgement, and it is thus not his opinion which is voiced in the descriptions contained in his catalogues where paintings, drawings and prints are given attributions. When he does take up the pen it is to record the opinions of the connoisseurs and their final decisions. If the author is not to lose his modesty, and is to avoid all rash and hasty action, he must seek neither to set himself above the connoisseur nor to quarrel with him, and even when an attribution is known to be mistaken, he must bow before the connoisseur's ability in matters of 'esprit'.

4 It is precisely because the actual hand of the artist is subordinated to the 'esprit' that the identity of the particular artist concerned seems to be of secondary importance, if not altogether superfluous to requirements. As 'it is not the name which gives a painting its merit but rather a painting which establishes the reputation of the masrer,' 28 it is vital to learn how to judge the 'vrai merite' and the beauty of a work. 'A true art lover or, more accurately, a true connoisseur, takes less notice of the name of the painter than of the rarity and beauty of his works. Providing a master, whoever he may be, has proved his worth in the genre he has adopted, there is no reason why that connoisseur should not wish to acquire a few of his pictures.' 29 As he gives as his example the 'true connoisseur', Gersaint remains faithful to his stated position of simply being the collectors' mouthpiece, even though he knows that in so doing he is going against the views of the majority, who feel that the process of attribution cannot be subordinated to an assessment which, for want of a better word, we will term aesthetic. On the subject of a particular painting, he remarked, 'I feel that one ought to be concerned above all with the thing itself and with the true merit of its execution, rather than with the name of him who has created it. I will never tire of repeating this nor of trying to convince the Curiellx of it, in spite of my experiences which make me think that I will probably never succeed in persuading them of the truth of what I say.' 10
The attribution of a painting to a particular artist therefore consisted, as

far as Gersaint was concerned, in carrying out a technically difficult operation, the result of which could by no means always be assured. It also consisted, especially when this placed a question mark over an attribution already accepted by connoisseurs, in questioning the superiority of these same connoisseurs, in stirring up quarrels, in short, in behaving in a socially undesirable way. On top of all this, this was essentially a futile exercise, as beauty, and beauty alone, was what really counted in a work of art. We can now understand more fully the nature of Gersaint's catalogues as described earlier on. If he refrained from classifying paintings according to their schools and dates, if he juxtaposed works whose authors have been identified with reasonable certainty with anonymous, disputed works and copies, it was because he believed that the only justifiable hierarchy had ro be based on the beauty of each work. And this hierarchy was reflected in the length of the descriptions, and above all by the aesthetic commentaries. It is quite reasonable to assume that Gersaint's views were shared by the connaisseurs' of his generation as well as by fellow dealers from the first half of the century, even if the majority of the latter would have been incapable of formulating them; in fact members of both groups borrowed them, as Gersaint himself did in all probability, from de Piles or Dubos 51 Only if we accept that they all attached the utmost importance to a picture's beauty and saw its attribution as a secondary consideration can we gain a proper understanding of the types of catalogue which satisfied them. Given rhat this beauty was in the eye of the beholder, if the author of the catalogue managed to give an idea of ir, so much the better, even if it was by necessity only a vague one. If he did not, this did not particularly matter, as those going to see the painting would be able to judge for themselves. This explains why the catalogue could, if need be, be limited to a series of very brief descriptions, as these were only required tO list the paintings due to be on display at the auction. Despite appearances, Gersaint's catalogues, which we read with such pleasure, along with those of his colleagues, which are often little more than monotOnous, if not uneducated inventories, all share the same way of thinking, their differences stemming from the degrees of talent of their authors.

The dealer: an expert on attribution

The first signs of a break with Gersaint's attitude appeared in the catalogues Mariette devoted to paintings, starting with the one he compiled for the Tugny and Crozat collections.' 1 This was no real accident of fate, since Mariette was not only a dealer but also a recognized connoisseur, and was thus particular! y well placed for introducing innovations into catalogue writing. He ir was who began to classify works according to their schools.

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He it was who began to justify attributions in certain cases: 'Les bergers accourans dans I'etable de Betlehem et y adorant !'Enfant Jesus. Tableau qui a appartenu a Charles I, Roi d'Angleterre, et qui est peint par le Titien. II y en a une Estampe gravee du temps meme de I'Auteur.'' 1 As Charles I had been a legendary collector, the mention of the picture's provenance was in this case intended to prove its attribution to Titian, the same role being performed by the mention of the engraving. Other arguments were also used. When discussing a work by Veronese, Mariette noted that This is mentioned in Ridolfi's Life of Veronese, Part I, p. 324.'' 4 Elsewhere, he referred to the signature, which led him to attribute another painting to Frans Wouters, 'Peintre Flamand de !'ecole de Rubens, qui s'y est designe par les premieres lettres de son nom F. W.'" A further type of argument was employed in the Catalogue Coypel: 'Une tete d'Ap6tre, grande comme nature, qu'on ne peut donner qu'au Mole, tam la touche en est ferme et moelleuse.' 36 Remarks of this sort are not particularly common in Mariette's catalogues, but they nevertheless point to a new attitude where it is no longer enough simply to record the opinions of the connoisseurs: these must now be justified wherever possible. Still an exception with Mariette, this became a guiding principle for Remy in his 1755 Catalogue PasquieT. The foreword is entirely given over to the problem concerning us here, and for the first time we see a dealer shouldering the responsibility for the attributions he gives and detailing the criteria he uses. As it is most probable that the lack of any detailed scrutiny of the pictures dealt with by most of the catalogues presented to the public up to this present rime has led to copies being given the precious title of originals, originals from which in fact they were taken, it would be advisable to take a closer look at them: this would avoid the praises being sung of works carelessly attributed tO the gre<lt masters, whose names are too often taken in vain. This not only involves looking at the composition and recalling prints which depict them, but also, and most importantly, making a close study, as soon as we believe a picture to be the work of a well-known master, in order to ascertain whether it is his manner, his colouring, his touch and his delicate brushwork ['finesse de pinceau'], for it is this which constitutes the sure and certain guide to the discovery of genuine originals. If, on the other hand, only the organization is taken into account, this telling us at first glance the name of the author to whom the picture can be attributed, and if little attention is paid to the work in its entirety, where the touch, often bereft of all artistry, combined with a dry and arid colour, covered with oil or bitumen, and sometimes applied with the aim of deceiving, is its one and only merit, mistakes will be made on every occasion, and judgements will become uncertain. We would like to

think that each painting here has been given the name of the artist who has executed it. When there is no doubt about it whatsoever as to the true identity of their masters they are described as being painted by .... However, when it comes to works over which opinion is divided, these are described in such a way as to indicate that the decision is left in the hands of those who will be present at the sale. Wherever possible, the collections to which they belonged, the catalogues which have mentioned them and the prints which have been engraved of them have been listed: so that foreigners may recall pictures they may have seen on their travels in France or in the form of printsY Here, then, Remy begins with a criticism, albeit muted, of his predecessors, expressing the wish that they would attach more importance to the attribution of paintings described in their catalogues. In doing so, he adopts the view of all those enthusiasts who were just as interested, if not more, in the name of the painting's artist as in its 'reel merite'. He is, moreover, convinced that attributions can be made with a high degree of certainty. For him, the study of the colour, the touch, the 'finesse du pinceau' (as opposed, whether Remy is or is not aware, to the 'finesse des pensees' of the painter de Piles talks of) constitutes 'un vrai er sur guide pour conno!tre les veritables Originaux'. We are now a long way from the scepticism voiced by Dubos or Gersaint, which is why Remy is able to vouch for all the attributions he gives. When dealing with a work surrounded by doubts and differences of opinion, he does declare that he will leave the final decision to the connoisseurs, but even so does occasionally come down on one side or the other in cases of this kind. An instance of this is the Marriage of St Catherine, of which he writes: 'Ce tableau, qui est tres peint, a ete achete par feu M. Pasquier, pour etre de Paolo CaliaTi de Verone, dit Paul Veronese, et il peut etre de ses premieres annees'; or with regard to a Venus and Adonis: 'Ce tableau vient du Cabinet du Prince de Carignan, n 99 du Catalogue, annonce pour etre peint par Rubens, duquel il peut etre,' and again when he describes an Orpheus in the Underworld: 'Ce tableau est d'un merite trop superieur pour qu'on puisse dourer qu'il ne soit peint par Pierre-Paul Rubens.'3 8 In conclusion, while Gersaint claimed only to reiterate the opinions held by connoisseurs regarding particular works, Remy gave solely his own personal opinion, even if this meant giving no judgement at all in certain cases. The Catalogue Tallard demonstrates this change in attitudes cowards attribution even more clearly, as it contains examples of all the innovations we have instanced,39 and this same change is reflected in an even more obvious way in the widespread adoption towards 1757 of a form of words whereby a definite stance could be taken vis-a-vis even highly controversial works, without any need to commit oneself up to the hilt.

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Guido Reni, known as Le Guide 185. Lucretia: Half-length figure. This worthy painting is attributed toLe Guide; it is painted on canvas, and is thirty-four inches high and twentyseven wide: it is octagonal in shape. The footnote explains: Wherever I use the word attribue, or its equivalent, my intention is not to state with certainty whether a picture is a copy, or even whether it is not an original of the master to whom its owner, others or myself attribute it; but only to show that opinion is divided, and that given this uncertainty, I prefer to leave it to the dilettantes to be the judges of such a dispute, to which my decision would not, in any case, put an end. 40 This explanation is a highly revealing one. If Remy asserts that he is unwilling to take decisions in uncertain cases, it is because this would serve no purpose. For all that, while claiming to leave the role of judge tO art lovers, he actually assumes it on the quiet, by the simple technique of placing the disputed work, such as the Lucretia, in the category devoted to a particular school (the school of Bologna) and of preceding its description with the name of a painter (Guido Reni). The way both this description and other similar ones were constructed implies that Remy knew what he should confine himself to and was simply sparing the feelings of those holding views different to his own, for if he had not been convinced that the painting in question was by Guido Reni, he would have placed it under another name, or even relegated it tO the category of 'c10uvres des differents maitres'. In other words, despite the precautionary phrases he utters, he is in fact behind the attributions noted in the catalogue. Later on he fully accepts responsibility: 'Je ne crains pas avancer encore que tousles Tableaux annonces dans ce Catalogue SOnt veritablement des Maltres qui leur sont donnes, a !'exception d'un des deux du n 15, venant du Cabinet de M. de Julienne, et designe dans l'etar de ce Cabinet fait de son vivant pour etre de Breughel d'Enfer, et qui est de Stalbens.' 41 Similarly, le Brun declares: 'Our intention in placing a discourse at the beginning of this catalogue is to inform the art lover that when he sees a picture under the name of a particular master, he can select it with confidence,' 42 this type of formula becoming fairly common in the latter half of the century. In other words, art lovers are henceforth requested ro accept the judgement of the catalogue author, who assumes, as if he had a right to it, the 'titre fastueux de connaisseur'.

The war of attributions

Attributions are never made with impunity. While discussing the trade in curios, Gersaint had already complained of the 'base jealousy of this profession, particularly prevalent in this type of trade, which in any case is by no manner of means agreeable or amusing', 43 but the case where he .was able to deal with this subject at greater length shows that, at that tHne, dealers sought to eliminate their rivals by casting aspersions on their ability ro judge the 'merites reels' of a painting. The nature of these accusations changed in the second half of the century, being centred instead on the rival's inability to make correct attributions, or on his subservience to the owner and his heirs. As long as catalogue authors were not obliged to assume responsibility for the attributions they gave these constituted only minor misdemeanors, as demonstrated by the note written by Helle on his copy of the Catalogtte Coypel. This catalogue is the work of M. Mariette. In this sale, there were no genuine drawings by Raphael except for the two reserved by the King, which depict Our Saviour presenting his keys to St Peter and St Paul preaching at the door of the temple. M. Mariette was asked why he had said in his catalogue that certain drawings were by Raphael. He replied that as M. Coypel was one of his friends, he had not wished to destroy objects which he had undertaken to describe in order to highlight their qualities, especially since they had always been taken to be Raphael originals, and that not wanting to harm his estate, he had left the good reputation they had enjoyed for so long untouched! l refuse to pass judgement on the favours M. Mariette has done for M. Coypel. Art lovers will make the comments they feel his actions deserve, though will have to recognize the special zeal M. Mariette has shown towards his friend.H Helle does not seem to have been entirely convinced by the reasons put forward by Mariette, but he does not reject them and even seems to acknowledge their validity in the final sentence. Seen in the context of the period, Mariette's arguments actually appear quite coherent, even if he had declared in the foreword his intention to: 'fixer le plus sincerement qu'il ... a ere possible le nom de !'auteur' of each article. 41 Yet the drawings in question had 'toujours passe pour les originaux de Raphael' and Mariette was in no way obliged to contest this attribution, casting doubt on the unanimous verdict of the connoisseurs, as well as diminishing his friend's estate. One senses here that Helle was unsure of what attitude to take. His indulgence tOwards Mariette seems, at least in part, to have arisen from the high esteem in which this latter was held in dilettante circles, but it may

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also have reflected the confusion he felt, confronted with two separate ways of considering the role of the catalogue author and two separate attitudes ro the problem of attribution, of which Gersaint can be seen as the symbol of the first and Remy of the second. Be this as it may, Helle contented himself with the remark scribbled down on his copy of the catalogue and the matter ended there. 46 The latter half of the century saw a new turn in events, with Glomy's attacks on Remy being widely reported. 47 These attacks by Glomy on his former associate turned rival, were aimed at his incompetence in making attributions. 'Those who are envious of me ... ,' wrote Remy, 'claim that when they look closely at the sale catalogues compiled by me, uncertainty surrounds even those objects which a connoisseur should come to a decision about at a mere glance; they have repeated on several occasions that, in the catalogue written forM. Julienne, no. 3, p. 3, StJohn in the Desert, is said to be by Raphael, and that I am much to blame for stating it to be an original of this master, since I was sure that it was a copy.' Glomy's publicly voiced criticisms of Remy were therefore precisely those which Helle could have made, but did not, of Mariette. Equally, Remy's reply exactly matched that of Mariette. Having said that anyone else would have done the same, and having suggested, in passing, that his detractor was not, in facr, a competent judge of painting, Remy went on: 'M. Julienne had paid 6000 pounds for this picture. Every art lover is aware of this; moreover, it cannot be denied that this piece has as much merit as a fine old copy can. My description contains no affirmative statement of mine. Yet could I give an object of such great consequence so lowly a rank?' 48 This was a purely rhetorical question, as what were actually at stake were Julienne's reputation and the market value of the picture, which would have suffered a substantial fall, had this, the most prestigious attribution possible, been replaced by another. 49 Despite taking full responsibility for all the attributions contained in the catalogue, and being seen in the eyes of his readers as their author, Remy could not ignore the various different interests at stake. Nor was he the only one to find himself in this situation, a point which constituted the strongest argument in his defence: 'On the one hand the public is right in not wishing to be deceived; on the other, those who charge us to safeguard their interests do not accord us all the freedom we would like. For the honnete homme seeking ro do his duty, such a situation is extremely embarrassing; he finds himself between the devil and the deep blue sea.so Remy's reputation emerged unscathed from this affair. He saw through a hundred or so more sales between then and 1791, three of which, the Randon de Boisset, Blonde! de Gagny and the Prince de Conti ones, were the largest seen that century. The problem he had so clearly enunciated in his preface tO the Catalogue Gaignat had not, however, been resolved, and one wonders whether it ever was, even in later years. 51 This was the

problem that was faced by experts who found themselves confronted with the conflicting interests of the sellers and buyers. While the former did not wish to see the attributions of works in their possession replaced by ones diminishing either their value or their prestige, and sought to prevail upon the judgement of the expert to gain a favourable verdict, the latter wished ro be reassured that the purchases he had made were sound. The vendor therefore looked for a docile, tractable expert, while the purchaser would only place his confidence in one whom he knew not to be under the thumb of his adversary. Gersaint was cited as an example of one who had succeeded in striking a balance between the two, 52 but now he was dead, and times had changed, so that the only solution for buyers in the second half of the century was to employ their own experts, even if this still did not mean that they could absolutely rely on their advice.

The connoisseur: judge of beauty and expert on attributions

The collection belonging to Baron Crozat de Thiers was very well known. A catalogue had been drawn up for the use of visitOrs, where only twelve of the 379 paintings had shaky attributions. 5 ' Even so, when Diderot negotiated their purchase on behalf of Catherine II, he took tremendous precautions. This, Sir, is the exact situation. I have viewed the Thiers pictures. I have had them examined by a mao whose profession it has been for the past forty years to assess pictures. He is both artist and dealer, and has the reputation of being an honest mao. He has catalogued and made separate valuations for each one. The heirs appointed their own expert, who did the same for them. Their man is called Remi; mine is called Menageor. I now have the opinions of both Menageot and Remi. I have suspended all offers, as I have always hoped you would bring M. Troochin to Paris; that he would visit the gallery, where I can bring anyone I choose; that he would go there purely and simply as an art lover and connoisseur; that he would manifest no interest in either the heirs nor the purchasers; that he would make an assessment which we could then compare with the one already in my possession; that after this comparison he would be so good as to direct my offers, and that, these negotiations over, he would see to the packing and dispatching.s 1 This is just what happened. Fran\=ois Tronchin went to Paris, examined the Thiers pictures and drew up an estimate, of which he made the following comment.
If I have allowed myself to comment on each picture, it is because I do not

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fear to tell the truth to the august sovereign who is such a lover of truth; and because, with such a varied assortment of works, one must nor allow the suspicion to grow that the wrongly identified, altered or shoddily painted pictures have passed unnoticed, and that they have been taken for good ones and paid for as such. I prefer to be known as a severe critic than as roo indulgent an examiner. M. Diderot claims I have compiled a catalogue for you which sets everything to fire and the sword: it pleases me ro paint as black a picture as possible; ro describe 158 works as worthless, and yet find at the end of the day that Her Imperial Majesty has paid 460,000 pounds for a collection worth approximately 527,000 according to my calculations .... ' 1 Given the huge sums of money involved, Diderot's elaborate precautions were in noway surprising. Indeed he had ample reason for having suspicions, and Tronchin's catalogue shows exactly that they were indeed well founded, describing as it did, roughly 42 per cent of the works from the Thiers collection as completely valueless. Let us remark in passing that this extremely high proportion of disputed works in a collection which was nevertheless regarded as one of the most eminent in Paris, gives some idea of the number of dubious works to be found in the galleries owned by enthusiasts and the dealers' boutiques, works, that is, which were considered dubious by that century's standards, the only ones which interest us for the present. Advisers were always called upon when major transactions took place, as had been the case a century earlier. These events, however, were few and far between, taking place only when royalty or other great figures acquired entire collections. As for dilettantes of more modest ambitions, in the first half of the century they could safely rely on their own wits, as although they risked both money and prestige, they were above all required to know how to 'decouvrir ce qui est bon et ce qui est mauvais dans un meme Tableau'.' 6 This power of discernment, considered to be a most difficult quality to acquire, since it 'suppose de Ia penetration et de Ia finesse d'Esprit, avec une intelligence des Principes de Ia Peinture', was all they required in order to gain the reputation of being a connoisseur. In other words, a connoisseur was simply anyone who was not only sensitive to the effect of a fine picture, but also able to base his judgements on reason, showing that they flowed from an 'intelligence des Principes de Ia Peinture' 57 This concept of the connoisseur, based on 'theorie' and on the ability ro talk cogently about paintings, was not on! y to be found in de Piles but also Ia y just below surface of the works of Gersaint and Mariette. Caylus, too, expounded th1s same idea in his writings: 'You can see clearly that with regard to taste for antiquity, I am absolutely not talking about those driven by prejudice who pretend to treasure it without knowing it, in order to acquire a

deep and scholarly air. Rather, I am concerned with those who are capable of explaining the reasons for their admiration and of weighing up the beauties and imperfections of all works created by man.'5 8 In a differem passage, he also defined a dilettante as someone 'trained, that is, able to discuss painting and painters with a soundness and feeling based on the knowledge of nature and its proportions compared to the elegant measures left to us by the Greeks in their fine statues'.' 9 Although there were differences in other domains between de Piles and Caylus, the conditions they required potential connoisseurs to satisfy were very similar. Both demanded that they should be able to discuss art, whether ancient or modern, and capable both of expressing their feelings at seeing the works of art, and of providing reasonable explanations for these. As long as paintings continued to be bought for their beauty, with relatively little regard for the identity of their artists, connoisseurs of this ilk were entirely capable of deciding for themselves which ones they should buy. Their relationship with the dealers was one of social superiority and of greater knowledge, not necessarily of painting itself, but certainly of the language required to discuss it. However, as soon as people began to 'buy names instead of works', 60 even someone as competent as Diderot was shown to be incapable of verifying dealers' estimates, even though he was considerably better equipped for appreciating the merits of pictures and discussing them, and this is why he was forced to turn to Tronchin. Despite being a dilettante, Tronchin was practically a specialist in the art market: he corresponded with several dealers and collectors, took a keen interest in sales, visited a large number of galleries and, at the point where he enters this srory, had just sold his first collection to Catherine II and was busy building up his second. 61 To sum up, he was versed not only in the 'theorie' but also in the 'pratique', and a very special 'pratique' at that. Popular opinion had it that in order to acquire the 'pratique' needed to attribute paintings to artists it was first necessary to 'have viewed assiduously a great quantity of paimings from every school and all the principal masters belonging to them'. 62 Galleries therefore had to be visited, along with sales, whose role in the education of collectors was signalled from the mid-century onwards. 6 l Henceforth, it was necessary to follow the example of Aved who, according to Remy, 'was one of the most perfect connoisseurs in Europe. He had seen a prodigious number of paintings by every master. He had studied their touch and manner with scrupulous attention; and his memory was such that once he had seen something, he never forgot it.' 61 When one looks at a painting with a view to establishing its author, one does not look in the way one would if one was merely seeking to make a judgement which 'weighs up its beauties and imperfections'. One's gaze switches from the canvas to the painter, or more accurately to the workmanship behind the end result, to the 'touch and the manner'. Its

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meaning becomes less important than its substance, and the 'esprit' which presided over its creation surrenders its pre-eminence to the artist's dexterity. It is also necessary to memorize a painter's pictorial vocabulary in order to make comparisons between fresh new works and old familiar ones. This is why only daily contact with paintings over several years could provide the competence needed to make attributions, along with frequent journeys abroad, especially to the Low Countries, the source of the most sought-after works. Dealers whose families, unlike those of Joullain, le Brun and Mariette,65 had no links with the trade, spent long years preparing for their profession. Gersaint embarked on his chosen career in 1718, yet his first catalogue only came out in 1733, and he did not compile a picture catalogue until 1744.66 Helle arrived in Paris around 1735, and nine years later he was already sufficiently well known for Gersaint to call on him for assistance in drawing up the Lorangere catalogue, but he was to wait a further six years before co-signing one with Glomy 67 Remy joined the profession in 1737; eighteen years went by before he published his first catalogue.6s Most dealers had, in addition, received training as painters or engravers which, while not enabling them to produce a proper work of art, did make them more aware of the 'touch and manner'. Lastly, dealers were travellers, and a list of all those who made the annual pilgrimage to the Low Countries would have been very long indeed. In short, the members of this profession were in every way better prepared than dilettantes, save a few exceptions, to tackle the problem of attribution. When this became one of the major concerns in the art world, it naturally led to a change in the relationship between these two groups.

permitted to add that they also do so to that of the late M. Collins, painrer, in whom he had placed his confidence; he could not have chosen a better connoisseur. The low jealous talk to which one is exposed in the trade in painrings more than in any other today had no influence on the mind of M. Gaignat. Had he listened to other men, he would perhaps into traps which would have prevented him from following his .mclmanon, or which would have caused him to regret having done so, wh1ch is what has happened to more than one art lover ... 70 Aain, the preface to the Randon de Boisset catalogue, written by one of his fnends, contains these lines which, thirry years earlier would have been unthinkable. He [Randon de Boisset] consulted M. Remy over all his acquisitions. It is M. Boucher who had introduced him to M. Remy. Given his ardent wish to create a distinguished gallery, he could not have found anyone better known for his integrity in whom to place his confidence: the collections he has formed, the trust of the art lovers who both like and esteem him their haste in consulting him, all these elements cause him to be placed the rank of the foremost connoisseurs of painting.n One should not disregard this type of declaration imp! ying that it is the choice of a dealer as personal adviser which gives the most merit to collectors, despite their obvious goal of self-advertisement, for it is this very use of publicity, which was nor unsuccessful in the world of collectors, which most clearly encapsulates the new type of relationship between collectors and dealers, a relationship marked by a certain dependence of the former on the latter. It would seem that, increasingly, a true connoisseur of painting had to be a professional of one kind or another. On this point, Caylus held decidedly unfashionable views, and the more generally held opinion in the latter half of the century was far better expressed in the EncylopMie article entitled 'Connoisseur' (quoted above, p. 132) which stated 'One can never be a perfect connoisseur of painting unless one is a painter; though few painters are good connoisseurs. All that has been said here about painting can equally be said about any other art form.' 72 Relations between enthusiasts and dealers have never run smoothly, and among the latter were a certain number who were in fact aware of the of interests between the two groups. Gersaim, for instance, put enthusiasts on their guard 'against the true nature of the advice given by a dealer regarding objects he is trying to sell' 73 Tension and distrust only really emerged, however, in this new situation we have attempted to portray, in the last quarter of the century. It should be added that they were exacerbated by rivalry between individual dealers, who accused each other

The dealers and the collectors

With this shift in priorities, it was the dealers, thanks to their skill in attribution, who seemed to occupy the dominant position, even if their language did still derive from the one the enthusiasts used, and it was they who assumed the title of connoisseur or expert. This reversal in fortunes was nowhere better exemplified than in the new way of designating the role of the dealer in the building of a collection. While writing about Godefroy, Gersaint pointed out in passing that he was provided with a pension by the Prince of Carignan, the Comtesse de Verue and U:riget de La Faye to see to the upkeep of their galleries which, at that time, were the three largest ones.69 Twenty years later, in his foreword to the Catalogue Gaignat, Remy was not afraid to write the following: The paintings and bronzes which are to be found in this very curieux gallery ... do infinite honour to the memory of M. Gaignat; may we be

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of the most dire misdeeds: 'Dealers seek to uphold the reputation of those of their precursors who have fobbed art lovers off with bad pictures at exorbitant prices. They meet up in order tO increase the worth of these very same pictures by pushing up their prices at auctions; catalogues compiled by the dealers' accomplices are only written to deceive buyers.' 74 This particular note was written by a dealer, who had been the victim of this rivalry, on his copy of a catalogue, but it is a fact that opinions similar to this were frequently expressed.7 5 This explains why le Brun felt it necessary to devote a lengthy discourse to the defence and enhancement of the trade in pictures which shut away, so as tO say, in the obscurity of the schools which had produced them, would never have been brought to light, had it not been for the energetic searches carried out by men incited by their taste and knowledge to unearth them. These are the men who are responsible for the sort of circulation whereby there exists a system of loans of masterpieces between different nations .... It is to a certain number of them that we owe the regeneration (allow us to use this expression) of a large quantity of paintings which had been profaned by ignorance. Just to dot the i's and cross the t's, le Brun ends with this panegyric of the art dealer: 'Nobody can deny Gersaint and Collins a place amongst the ranks of learned men, ... anyone who can attain their heights will never be confused with the crowd of those who only contemplate the trade in general with a view to speculating and whose sole merit therefore is that of being intelligent calculators.'76 Joullain fils, writing some years later showed less optimism, deploring the ebb of the trust which was formerly said to have existed between art lovers and dealers, accusing the latter of having brought ruin upon themselves and expressing the questions which the former had to ask themselves in the following way: 'The art lover would prefer to let himself be guided by the advice of an impartial and enlightened artist or of a disinterested dealer and connoisseur. I like to think that this is at least his natural inclination. Bur where is this impartial artist to be found? Where can one hope to come across this disinterested dealer and connoisseur? Too often the victim of blind trust, the art lover has tried to rely on his own tastes .... n He does, in fact, continue to do so today, these questions still seemingly awaiting a reply. 78 This proves, if any extra proof were necessary, that the organization of the art market, as it exists in its current form came into being towards the middle of the eighteenth century. Our aim so far has been to show that change was not limited to the sale catalogue as a literary genre in the eighteenth century. These changes were, if fact, only symptoms of far more profound ones influencing the attitudes to paintings of both dealers and collectors, aesthetic appreciation falling to

second place behind the process of attribution in the list of priorities. In other words, the hierarchy of the questions posed to each work was completely overturned: in the second half of the century it was looked at and described in a very different way from what it had been in the first, and it was this which was reflected in the new layout of the catalogue. At the same time, the conditions which every aspiring connoisseur had to meet in order to gain recognition from collectors also underwent modifications. Henceforth, the privilege of being true connoisseurs was almost always reserved for the professionals, whether painters or dealers, as it was they who were able to attribute paintings, and this automatically assumed a thorough knowledge of them. lastly, the relationship between dealers and collectors of the second half of the century was different to that of the first, with the dilettante turning out to be dependent upon the dealer because this latter was the only one to possess the necessary skills for making correct attributions. Aesthetic appreciation and a certain type of theoretical discourse on painting continued to be the prerogative of the 'honnete homme', but attribution was now that of the dealer. This all seems to point to a cleavage between the 'esprit' and the 'main', which had together formed the subject of a body of knowledge on painting up to the first half of the century, even if the hand's subordination to the mind had meant that their relation was an essentially hierarchical one. This body of knowledge separated into two different parts in the 1750s, with on the one hand the aesthetics of art and its criticism, which were concerned with the 'esprit' or, in less archaic terms, with the meaning of works of art, and on the other, a heterogeneous assortment of knowledge with no fixed status, dealing with aspects of the 'main', the materiality of artistic production.

Collections and sociableness

Once again, these various different changes were only manifestations of a far more complex evolution, one which we can only briefly outline here. This initially consisted of an increase in the number of collectors, from around 150 in 1700-20 to around 500 between 1750 and 1790. Given that rhis is only a rough estimate, the true figures are, in all probability, considerably higher. This proliferation had the effect of rendering the connoisseurs' influence on enthusiasts as a whole far weaker than it had been at the beginning of the century, when apprentice enthusiasts would frequent them, and when they were recognized as oracles whose authority could be invoked in order to justify preferences and judgements. Potier, for instance, had connections with Beringhem, Torey and Clairambault, and regarded them as his preceptors when it came to engravings.79 When Dezallier d' Argenville gave advice to enthusiasts he cited connoisseurs

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who had been responsib le for his training, namely de Montarsis , de Piles, Loge, le Riche and lauthier. 8o A whole group of collectors revolved around the Comtesse de Verue, including the Prince de Carignan , Angran de Fonspertu is, Glucq de Saint-Por t, Jullienne , the Marquis de lassay, Leriget de Ia Faye and Montulle. 8 l Througho ut his life Mariette played the role of adviser and guide, especially for Ia live de Jully, while even in the years of the century, Seroux d'Aginco urt recalled his teachings. 82 In certam particular ly well-stocked galleries, moreover , such as that of Pierre Crozat, 83 meetings were more or less regularly held, during which the masterpie ces were discussed and, as a result, a new language and a new set of appreciat ive criteria were formulate d. The visits enthusias ts paid to one another, 84 along with their meetings, therefore contribut ed to the birth of a common sensibilit y and to the abolition of differences in taste which reflected the disparity of their social origins. Which advantages does a Curieux not derive from his wriosite in the normal course of events? He does not know what boredom is: if he tires of being in his own home his title of Curieux affords him entry to the most celebrated galleries, where he can go and find diversion; as a Curieux he becomes the equal of those who have succumbed to this noble passion and whose rank or condition is in fact superior to his own: as such, he is invited and received with pleasure in the assemblies they hold in order to relate their discoveries or acquisitions; he profits from and enjoys these new things with them and in this fashion is fruitfully diverted, while at the same time acquiring daily greater enlighten ment and knowledge. 85 Our knowledg e proves that in this portrait of the life of an enthusias t, Gersainr was in no way being roo idealist. These forms of sociabilit y continued to flourish after 1750. Some dilettante s met at the house of Mme Geoffrin, 86 others, in later years, at that belonging to le Brun and his wifeY However , with the rise in the total number of collectors, the members of all these informal groups accounted for only 10 or 15 per cent of this total, as opposed to 30 to 40 per cent in previous rimes. Ordinary art lovers acceded to the secrets ?f curiosity not in the circles where one discussed the beauty of works, but tn the auction rooms. Rare and infrequen t occurrences up to 1730, public sales became more numerous in the 1740s: between 1750 and 1760, five were held on average each year, and between 1761 and 1770, fifteen. The figure twenty was surpassed for the first time in 1772, and there were more than forty the following year, only falling to below thirty in the late 1780s.ss It is clear from several accounts, that dilettante s attended them assiduously, with the aim of purchasin g objects and feasting their eyes upon the sheer spectacle they provided, 89 as well as gaining

instructio n from them. It was this particular role of auctions which was emphasiz ed at the beginning of the nineteent h century by Gault de SaintGermain, who claimed to have taken an interest in curiosity for the past thirty years, and who had therefore witnessed the final years of the ancien regime. These sales, which have become such frequent occurrences today, are also excellent schools, and perhaps more general than conventional ones, in that they often provide an opportuni ty of comparing, appreciating and listening freely to the different opinions voiced as to the degree of esteem to be granted to each object on display; the authentici ty of the original paintings; the copies which are so very wounding for one's pride, which falls victim ro it, but so skilfully executed that they sometimes deceive even the most expert among us. It is in these sales that one grows acquainted with the masters of the different schools, that one learns to distinguish between their manner and that of the artists who resemble them most closely; lastly, by dim of making comparisons, one discovers the imitations, denegations, pastiches ... 9 Placed on show in the saleroom , the painting becomes a piece of merchand ise whose worth is measured less in words than in the price someone is prepared co pay in order to secure its possession. In these circumsta nces it is inevitable that the attitude of art lovers towards such works should be influence d by their market value and, in particular , by the fluctuations of this value, as soon as these begin to be detected. This was to happen quite late on. The Marquis de Coulange s had already noted at the end of the seventeen th century that a painting was like a gold bar,9t while Dubos remarked that 'the rivalry between these two sovereign s [Charles I, King of England, and Philip IV, King of Spain] caused the price of old masters to triple througho ut the whole of Europe. Arc treasures became real treasures in the world of commerce.'92 We do not, however, know of any instances of dilettante s speculatin g in works of art in the first half of the century, the Prince de Carignan being the only one whom we could, at a pinch, suspect of indulging in such practices. 9 l From the 1750s onwards, however, the belief that the price of works of art was about to undergo a steep rise spread rapidly. 94 There was general amazeme nt at the outcome of the Choiseul sale in 1772,9 5 and in the very same year, Grimm, discussing two paintings by Van loo which Mme Geoffrin had bought for twelve thousand livres, but which she sold to Catherine II for thirty thousand, remarked , with the air of someone who has just made a great discovery, that 'Clearly, buying paintings in order to sell them constitute s an excellent form of investme nt.' 96 Even more importan t, being intended for a far larger readershi p, were the Reflexion s sur Ia Peintttre et Ia Sculpture, which

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prefaced le Brun's Catalogue Poullain of 1780. Her.e, :he author attempted to demonstra te that 'when one purchases floe pamtmgs one knows they will be pleasant and precious possessions; and one also an which the civilized mao seeks constantly, namely that of mcreHsmg ones wealth.'97 There were, it would seem, a great many at that time who decided ro become rich by buying and then reselling paintings. Joullain in fact devoted a passage full of indignation against 'the most class of amateurs ... I refer to that class of amateurs which, possessmg no precise taste for anything in particular, pursue everything with an eye to speculation, buy in order to selJ.'98 There is no that as dealer, Joullam had good reason to dislike this unfair competitio n, ?ut the phenomen on which he berates was a very real one for all that: besides the professtona ls themselves , a whole host of middlemen , speculators and advisers for both parries in a transaction , became iovolve_d in the in curios, we still know roo little to be able to descnbe them m any greater detaiL

The 'grand gout' and the 'petits tableaux'

We have been able to note the rise of the dealers, in both social and intellectual terms and their undisputed claim to the 'titre fastueux des connoisseu rs' by the catalogues of the period, but this informatio n must now be placed in the context of the increase in the number of collectors and the resulting rise in prices, of the dominance of demand over offer and of the ever-growi ng role of money and public sales. We have, however also seen that the very conditions which each aspiring connOisseur had to were in the process of changing as well at this time. This phenomen on was not sim pi y a result of a changing art marker. but also, and above all, that of a change in taste itself. From our standpomt , the important event in this domain was the accession of Du_tch and Flemtsh works to a position at least on a par with, if not above, Italian ones. I?ealers doubtless did have a say in this turn of events, as they were responsible for bringing paintings out of the Low Countries, but we are here with the reasons behind the promotion of the Dutch and Flemish but with the attitude of the collectors to them. Dutch and Flemish painting appears to have received its 'letters of nobility' from the Comtesse de Verue's entourage the 1720s and 17)Qs. This, at least, is Remy's version, backed up by analysis of the contents of the collections belonging to members of this group 99 Pierre Crozat, however, to common with all his circle remained faithful to the Italians. 100 Towards the middle of the century, he noted 'tous nos cabinets ne sont ... remplis que de . . . petits tableaux Flamands et Hollandais ,' 101 and this new ':as_ to grow so much that Remy found himself having to defend Italian pamnng

when selling collections formed when it had been the dominant school. In 1757 he noted that 'les Tableaux d'lralie tombereot pour ainsi dire dans l'oubli' and explained it in the following fashion. A certain number of dealers 'qui presque tous etaient Flamands' had persuaded the Comtesse de Verue that 'she would often be deceived if she favoured the Italian school: they added that the Flemish and Dutch paintings did not share that disadvantage; that the time and skill required in the execution of finished work meant that copies were easily identified, and accordingly it was difficult to be deceived. This prejudice, false in every detail, has become firmly rooted in the minds of several Curieux.' Remy accordingly attempted to show them that 'if it is possible to be mistaken over paintings from Italy sometimes , it is even easier to be so over ones from the Low Countries.' 102 There seems to be no reason to challenge this version of affairs, rather, when one examines the list of disputed paintings in the first half of the century, one finds that most of these were Italian. In 1751, for instance, a certain dealer, M. Araignon by name, had taken 'a definite decision to part with all his paintings, with a view to abandoning all commerce, due to his age and infirmities' . He had therefore published a catalogue of them, whose title merits reproducin g: Vente a /'amiable. Catalogue d'une collection de Tableaux des plus grands Maistres ... Cette collection est compo.ree de TableaJtX de Titien, Paul Verone.re, Guide, Barochio, Cadociniani, Alexandre Veronese, Tintoret, Fetty, Carrache, Raphael, Poussin, Claude le Lorrain, et autres. Realizing the surprise caused, 'on hearing this list of famous masters, [by the news] that such paintings were to be found in rhe home of an ordinary individual', Araigoon claimed to be purveyor to the kings of France and Poland, ro the Due de Tallard and other collectors, JO; and went on to make the following appeal: The Curieztx should come in good faith; he [M. Araignonj has invited the finest connoisseu rs in Paris ro confirm that the paintings listed are originals and ro assess their going prices, so that nobody be deceived on either side.' An anonymou s reader annotated this catalogue, including its title, to which he added: 'with notes essential for all purchasers ', and voiced his misrrust from the outset: 'these connoisseu rs are very indulgent towards M. Araignon.' We will come back to these annotation s a little later. Meanwhile , let us take advantage of the fact that the Araignon catalogue allows us to detect criticisms of attribution s made in other catalogues. No. 15 A painting depicting a Virgin holding a sleeping Infant Jesus in her arms; this painting has twice been sold as a Correggio, and described as such in the catalogue of the late M. le Prince de Carignan; however, several connoisseurs believe it to be the work of L. Carracci: to avoid all discussion, it will be sold on its own merits . No. 21 A painting depicting the Holy Family, the Infant Jesus asleep and

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St Catherine on her knees, her hands joined, gazing upon him. This painting comes from the sale of the M. le d'Estrees and had been listed in the Catalogue and seen as an early TITIAN, resembling GEORGIONE, his Master: but as the connoisseurs cannot come to any agreement, it will be sold on its own merits. No. 27 A painting which was sold and listed in the catalogue of M. de Ia Chiitaigneraye as a Giacomo Bassano and listed as such in M. Pasquier's gallery; since it has come into my possession, opinions have been divided. To avoid all argument, it will be sold on its own merits. It shows Our Lord with the Pharisees, and comprises buildings and twelve figures, painted on wood. No. 48 A painting by the Chevalier Venderneo [?],depicting a Visitation; this painting is such a perfect imitation of the Chevalier Vandreverf, that its former owners doctored the signature by changing two of its letters: and as I have no wish to deceive anyone, I let it stand on irs own merits. No. 50 A painting by Mr Carlovanlo, depicting St Apollonia and her attributes: it is so fine that connoisseurs have always taken it to be by Pietro da Cortona. I have always remained silent over the matter until now, but now I declare that I had it commissioned; I believe its author will not reproach me for revealing the truth at last. Up to now, M. Araignon has been the one who has allowed us to see what went on behind the scenes in the art market, and we have come across some extraordinary tales of disputed attributions, falsified signatures, the production of false works by Italian masters. It confirms, incidentally, the conclusion we came to earlier, namely, that as long as a work merely had to be beautiful a Carl Van Loo could pass for a Pietro da Cortona, but that once attribution became more important than beauty, collectors had to be more demanding. The above-mentione d annotations, which show that M. Araignon' s reputation was not entire! y spotless, also bear this out, in fact. With regard to no. 1 ('An original painting by Raphael Urbina, depicting the Virgin and St Joseph with the Infant Jesus, landscape and buildings, one of the early works of the second manner of said Raphael, round in shape, 48 inches in circumference'), our anonymous annotator makes this comment: 'Suspect painting brought from Dresden where it was certainly not regarded as a Raphael. It is to be remarked that M. Araignon confuses the diameter with the circumference.' The flow of remarks continues, characterizing as an 'execrable copie' a supposedly original work by Frederico Barocci (no. 5), an accusation made also for 'un tableau original de Guidoreni' (no. 7). As for two landscapes by Paul Bril, he claims that both have been entirely repainted (no. 11 ), while a portrait of a lady, claimed tO be by Paolo Veronese (no. 17), is characterized as a mere copy, as is the case of a DucheJJ of Parma attributed to Titian (no. 18). No. 26 is said to be not the

work of Giacomo but of Francesco Bassano, and doubt is cast on no. 29, described as being by Feti. This vituperative flow ends with a warning: 'Mefiez-vous du babil hableur du Sr. Araignon.' 104 Obviously, it is the attribution of the Italian paintings which causes the most worry. Accordingly, one can suppose that one reason enthusiasts turned to works from the Low Countries was the wish to find reliable attributions. This becomes even more likely when one remembers that the fashion for collecting 'les petits tableaux flamands et hollandais' appears to have spread above all among the 'simples curieux'. While discussing a work by Rubens, Gersaint underlined the following difference in orientation. We confidently present this piece as a titillating one, painted intelligently and without restraint, which could be placed ro advantage in a gallery next to the works of the very greatest masters, and which should be a source of satisfaction to any true connoisseur. It would be even more suitable for those true lovers of painting who normally are attached more to a painter's good taste, to the talent of the composition and to the ardour of a swift execution than to laboriously painted works almost always accompanied by a frigidity and aridity which can be pleasing to no one.tol Eight years later, Remy and Glomy continued to note that 'Only a gallery containing paintings by Italy's great masters ... can hope to win the esteem of true Connoisseurs'; works from other schools which 'deserve to figure alongside the works by the foremost masters of the art' being solely those distinguished 'by the nobility of their compositions and the admirable harmony of their colours'. We must therefore correct our previous assertion, and suggest that the dividing line should pass not between the Italian and the northern European painters but between the 'grand gout' and the 'petits tableaux', between 'le genre noble et sublime' and 'les beautes superficielles et momentanees', 106 in other words, between historical painting, represented above all by the Italians, but also by Rubens and VanDyck, Poussin and le Sueur, and genre painting. The former attracted the 'vrais connoisseurs' and the latter the 'simples curieux'. Now it so happens that if some, as we have seen, attached an overriding importance to the aesthetic appreciation of a painting, others were primarily interested in the name of its artist. Moreover, the links between, on the one side, the pre-eminence of historical painting and the dominance of aesthetic appreciation, and on the other, interest in genre painting and the dominance of making attributions, did not come about by chance. Both types of painting needed to be looked at from a different angle; one concentrating on the image, the other on the work of the artist.

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When we examine attentive! y paintings of this genre [that is, those where 'we only see the imitation of different objects which would not attract us had we not already seen them in real life'], we pay most of our attention not to the object imitated but to the skill of the imitator. It is not so much the object which attracts our attention but the deftness of the artisan; we pay no more heed to the imitated object in the picture than we do to the one in real life ... 107 Although Dubos was primarily concerned here with landscapes bare of human figures and with stilllifes, it seems possible to transpose his remarks to fit all the 'petits tableaux flamands et hollandais', for even though they are peopled, their heroes would not have attracted a public had they been seen 'dans la nature'. It now becomes clear why the interest in these particular works went hand in hand with an interest in the 'deftness of the artisan' and in 'la maniere et la touche', which were accorded only secondary importance when historical painting was in vogue. It would therefore seem that it was the invasion of the small Dutch and Flemish works which constituted one of the main reasons behind the change of approach discussed above. It now only remains to be said that this change did not take place on an individual level and was by no means a transitory one. Rather, it was a social phenomenon. Not only did the generation of art lovers which sought the small works of the northern schools look for different qualities than their predecessors, or 'vrais connaisseurs', who had been attached to Italian painting, but they also had a different approach. It was in this context of changing taste and a new approach that the attribution of a painting could become more important than its aesthetic appreciation, and that the work of Italian painters could become suspect, being said to mislead without any difficulty anyone who was not sufficiently educated to understand them - in other words, the 'simples curieux', whose growing numbers exerted an ever-increasing pressure on both the market and the dealers. N evenheless, one could on! y place full confidence in attributions put forward by professionals if 'the art of guessing the author of a painting by recognizing the master's hand' ceased to be regarded as 'the most unreliable of all the arts, after medicine'.l 08 Dezallier d'Argenville, who took it upon himself to demolish this argument of Dubos and, indeed, of many others, was held in low esteem by the 'vrais connaisseurs', as remarks made by Mariette about his collection and books demonstrate. 109 However, he does seem to be highly representative of the ordinary dilettantes. His taste was eclectic, and in a description of himself, said 'all nations are equal in his eyes; a Flemish artist, or a French one in certain domains of painting, will often out match an Italian.' He disputed the intrinsic superiority of historical painting, while accepting that history was painting's most noble subject, as well as the most instructive, and one which required the greatest know-

ledge: 'It is claimed that a painter who has perfectly imitated nature, even if he has only depicted a cow ... is as perfect in his genre as Raphael is in his.' 11 For Dezallier, in other words, the most important thing was, to use Dubos' terminology, not so much the 'imitated object', as the 'deftness of the artisan'. Given that the preference he showed for the 'petits genres' and the northern schools 111 corresponded to the taste of the majority of collectors, his attack on Dubos was entire! y logical.

Let nobody say that it is impossible to have an absolutely infallible knowledge of paintings and drawings .... If this author I Dubos J had had some practical experience of painting, or else a little more knowledge of this art, he would have known that a single brushstroke, a particular way of painting trees in a picture reveals the identity of irs artist, and that the copyist inevitably puts too much of himself in it for him nor ro be betrayed. He consequently attempted to show that each painter had an 'ecriture pittoresque' enabling him to be recognized. 112 Dezallier therefore represented a new type of connoisseur, not yet a professional in the way that painters and dealers were, but nevertheless more than a simple dilettante, in that painting was his chosen area of study. A connoisseur, thanks to 'un peu d'habitude', 'was able to distinguish the works of the masters from those of their pupils or imitators'; for him 'the most essential aspect of one's knowledge of paintings [was] the ability to distinguish a copy from an original.' 113 Dezallier's lesson was heeded and ten vears after the appearance of his book, of whose success we are 'fully awa-re, Remy, while not yet claiming to be a connoisseur, drew on it in his prdace to the

Catalogue Pasquier. 114

The society where taste does not vary from category to category does not exist. In any event, the Paris of the eighteenth century harboured two contrasting tastes: that of the 'vrais connaisseurs', and that of the 'simples curieux'. The world of curiosity in the first half of the century was dominated by those who possessed a certain knowledge of paintings and who, as a result, could lay claim to the title of connoisseur. These were men who were capable of producing a discourse justifying the feelings aroused in them by these works, during which they would refer to the principles held to regulate the activity of every good artist and to the standards to which each was supposed to conform. The belief in the existence of such standards went hand in hand with a hierarchical conception of painting, the highest place being awarded to the 'genre noble et sublime' which was best represented by the Italians, along with certain northern painters. Ir also went hand in hand with the dominance of aesthetic appreciation, and it is easy to understand why this should have been so. The preferences of 'les

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simples curieux', however, went w the small genre paintings which, for the most part, were Dutch and Flemish, and attached overriding importance ro the identity of their authors, concentrating as they did on the work of the painter. As prices and the number of collectors increased, the popularity of the 'petits tableaux f!amands et hollandais' rook a hold in the loftiest social circles, the sceptical attitude towards attribution disappeared and the old brigade of connoisseurs ceased to monopolize curiosity. In the 1760s the dealers began to steal not only their dominant position but also their very title, and even if the opposition between the 'vrais connaisseurs ' and the 'simples curieux' did persist, nothing was ever the same again. At the same time, the aesthetic appreciation of paintings was subordinated tO attribution. But, and it is a very important 'but', only in the art market. It was tO find other areas in which ro retain its domination, and it was in these areas that neo-classicism prepared for victory and the Italians for a return in strength, at the very instant that the 'petits tableaux flamands et hollandais' were enjoying their new-found success in the marketplace. It was also from these areas that there sprang a new breed of connoisseur who was destined to depose the dealers: the art critics and historians.

6
Maffei and Caylus

The marquis and the count: born into titled families, Francesco Scipione, Marchese Maffei (1675-1755) and Anne-Claude -Philippe de TubieresGrimoard de Peste! de Levis, Comte de Caylus (1692-1765) in many ways led lives typical of members of their class. In their youth, they served with the campaigning armies and when they reached adulthood they travelled. Maffei explored Europe, having already visited most of Italy, while his counterpart also visited Italy, before leaving for the Levant as part of a French ambassador's entourage and later travelling to both England and the Low Countries. Throughout their lives they both frequented the powers of the land and freely came and went at court. They were, in short, grands seigneurs'. Yet, at the same time, they belonged w the republic of letters, the group which may, though somewhat anachronistically perhaps, be called the intelligentsia ' . 1 Both men cultivated literature. The Italian's work was indisputably superior to the 'bagatelles' 2 composed by the Frenchman, yet the latter did earn for himself considerable respect from his contemporar ies as an engraver. Having reached the age of roughly forty, the proven writer and talented artist both became scholars, but while the circumstances of Maffei's conversion are well known; those surrounding Caylus' remain much more mysterious. What is known is that from 1731 onwards he attended the Academie royale de peinture as honorary amateur and, from 1742, the Academie royale des inscriptions et des belles-lettres, which had received Maffei into its ranks eight years previously as honorary foreign member. Between 1744 and the year of his death he presented thirty-seven papers at this academie, while at the same time giving lectures at the Academie de peinture and publishing the seven very substantial volumes of his Recuei! d'antiquites. His contribution to the field of learning was thus in no way inferior to that of Maffei.

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The philosophers and the antiquarians

A further similarity in their lives, and the most important one for the purposes of this study, is the fact that both men were antiquarians. This meant that they devoted themselves tO the study of antiquity, and also that they were in no way philosophers, at least not in the eighteenth-century sense of the word, their methods of study and at times explicit statements showing them to be rather the very opposite. The source of this gulf between them and this brand of philosophy was not to be found in religion, although it may well have had some influence on Maffei. He it was who, during a stay in Paris, mourned over the 'sight of a great city in imminent danger of perdition', a sight which inspired him to write his Istoria teologica. 4 Caylus, for his part, had a much more relaxed view of religion, even if he did complain in his letters of 'the icy flowers' of 'encyclopaedic metaphysics', which he even qualified at times as 'dangerous'.o What characterized all of Maffei's work, from his Scienza chiarnata cavallereJca to the Arte rnagica annichi!ata, was his constant effort to modernize and illuminate, acting, as Venturi underlines with reference to De!l'irnpiego del danaro, not as a philosopher but as a historian. 6 At the end of the day, it was the treatment of history which really showed up the difference between rhe philosophers and the antiquarians. The hostility between these two types of intellectuals was far from recent. Leibnitz had said, 'Those who take pride in philosophizing and reasoning habitually pour scorn on the study of antiquity, antiquarians for their part making light of what they like to call philosophers' daydreams. Yet in all fairness, one should do justice to the merits of both.' Seeking tO reconcile the two sides he had attacked both the Cartesians, who reduced interest in the past to idle curiosity, and the scholars who were satisfied by the mere accumulation of facts.l But in the eighteenth century this antagonism had not died down in France, in spite of all attempts to bring about a truce, and the philosophers whom first Maffei then Caylus had to confront were indeed French. 'Those who compile history commonly lack a philosophical mind,' wrote Voltaire. 8 It is a fact that those whom Voltaire pejoratively called 'compilers of history' were essentially authors of works on ancient history. He explained elsewhere that Dealing with ancient history is simply a matter of compiling a handful of truths with a mountain of lies. This type of history can only be useful in the way a fable is, where major events become the constant subject of our pictures, poems and conversations, and allow us to derive some moral or other. We are taught about Alexander's exploits in the way we are about the labours of Hercules. All in all, I see the relationship between modern

and ancient history as being the same as that between old medals and today's currency: the former are shut away in private collections, while the latter circulates freely in the world for the benefit of man's commerce 9 The superiority of modern history over ancient is justified in this passage by two converging themes. The first concerns the impossibility of establishing facts and separating truth from lies in ancient history; a typical Pyrrhonist argument, often voiced at the time. Antiquarians challenged it by asserting that the study of source material, such as inscriptions, coins and all kinds of monuments, did allow them to read the fabulous accounts of the ancient historians with a critical eye, 10 and as Voltaire was well aware of this, he did not dwell on it. It was the uselessness of ancient history in practical life, and not its implausibility, that he sought to underline. Even if it did contain some truth, it would not matter, the difference between Alexander's exploits and the labours of Hercules remaining very 'academic', and he developed this point by claiming that ancient history could only interest painters, poets, moralists and members of salons. In this respect, it was put on the same footing as the fable, its sole quality being irs power to astonish and amaze, and once submitted to the stern gaze of the scholar even this quality would swiftly vanish, as ancient history disintegrated into a series of minor events of no possible interest whatsoever. As rhe domain of ivory-towered antiquarians, it could not possibly, unlike modern history, be of any importance to the present. Voltaire's attack was specifically aimed at Rollin, whose critical mind, it must be admitted, was not noticeably overdeveloped. However, the article from which this passage is drawn was published for the first time in 1744 in a collection whose title, La Merope franqaise avec quelqueJ petiteJ pieceJ de litterature, 11 immediately awakens our interest. It is hard to avoid the suspicion that the intended victim of this past master of the uncharitable allusion was really the author of Verona i!!tt.rtrata, and equally that of Merope. Voltaire may well have been attempting to blur all distinctions between compilers and antiquarians, between Maffei, implicitly mentioned, and the explicitly cited Rollin. He would thus have succeeded in tarnishing the Italian's reputation which, he felt, outshone his own. This interpretation is confirmed in a letter, published in the same collection, and addressed to Maffei by Voltaire, which proceeds, under the guise of compliments, to a textbook demolition of the former's tragedy. He ends it with a passage on history, which provides a good example of these poisonous praises.

]e voudrois, Monsieur, pouvoir vous suivre dans vos autres connoissances, comme j'ai eu le bonheur de vous imiter dans Ia Tragedie.

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Que n'ai-je pu me former sur votre gout dans Ia science de l'Histoire, non pas dans cette science vague et sterile des faits et des dares, qui se borne a sc,;avoir en que! tems mourut un homme inutile ou funeste au monde, science uniquement de Dictionnaire, qui chargeroit Ia memoire sans eclairer ]'esprit. Je veux parler de cette Histoire de !'esprit humain qui apprend a conno!tre les mceurs; qui nous trace de faute en faute, et de prejuge en prejuge les effets des passions des hommes; qui nous fait voir ce que !'ignorance ou un sc,;avoir mal entendu ont cause de maux; et qui suit surtout le fil du progres des arts, a travers ce choc effroyable de tant de Puissances, et ce bouleversement de tam d'Empires. Cest par !D. que l'Hisroire m'est precieuse; er elle me le devient davantage par Ia place que vous tiendrez parmi ceux qui on donne de nouveaux plaisirs et de nouvelles lumieres aux bommes .... 12 Here instead of setting ancient history against modern history, Voltaire contrasts the 'science des faits et des dates' with the 'histoire de !'esprit humain'. He does not, however, give a clear indication of the place he accords to Maffei these two types of history. Had Voltaire placed him on the side of the history of the human mind, he would merely have had to comment that their tastes in hisrory were the same. And had he regarded him as a staunch supporter of the science of dates and facts, in all logic, he would have had no call to regret not having taken him as his model. However, while giving no actual details, Voltaire manages to imply that his apprenticesh ip in the 'science de I'Histoire' has been based on a taste which differs from Maffei's, in that his own particular brand of history is concerned with the human spirit. He therefore consigns Maffei in insidious fashion tO the 'science vague et sterile des faits et des dates', which is nothing more than the study of old medals. To the insipid, insignificant, useless science of the antiquarian. Four years before Voltaire published his La Merope franc;aise, Chardin had shown two paintings at the Salon: Le Singe peintre and Le Singe antiqJtaire. In the second of these two pictures, a 'Monkey clad in a dressing gown looks at a medal through a magnifying glass. In the background, there is a medal display cabinet, from which the drawer second from the top has been removed and placed on the table. Illustrated books on medals can be seen piled up on a stool.' An engraving made of this painting by Surugue fils and displayed at the Salon of 1743 bore the following legend:
Dan.r le Dedale obscur de monHrnens antiq11e.r Homme docte, ,(grands fraiJ t'embarrasser? Notre siecle a de.r yeux vraiment philosophiques, 01/re assez de quai s'exercer.rl

The contrast of the 'Dedale obscur de monuments antiques' with the 'yeux philosophiqu es' is as unoriginal as the accompanyin g rhyme. It ts nonetheless interesting to discover rhe identity of (hardin's target in these paintings, if indeed he had a specific target, of which there is no firm evidence. We are, however, at liberty to think that Chardin was attacking Caylus, who enjoyed considerable influence at the Academie de peimure,. and who was an advocate of rhe 'grand art', drawing inspiration from anoent works. Although we do nor know what opinion Caylus held of (hardin's work, it is unlikely to have differed markedly from that of Mariette, with whom he shared most notably an admiration for Italian painting, and Mariette had but little esteem for (hardin, regarding him as nothing more than an imitator of Flemish artists.t4 Chardin could, however, count Diderot among his supporters, if not at head: Thus, after an interval of twenty years, and at an incomparably htgher pttch of verbal violence, d' Alembert, Diderot, Grimm and Marmoorel enacted against Caylus and his friends the very same battle wh.ich opposed Voltaire and Maffei. The former, convinced that 'only phdosophers can write history well', let slip no opportunity of questioning the validity and utility of the antiquaries' brand of knowledge,15 even going far as to ridicule it, under the guise of laments for the decline of learning m France. As had been the case of Voltaire and Maffei, this was a conflict of personalities , as Caylus despised Diderot and Diderot detested Caylus.l6 However, this conflict of personalities concealed a far more important confrontation , this time concerning the art of the ancients, especially that of the Greeks, which was regarded as exemplary by both sides in the dispute. In actual fact these two sides did not really exist, nor did the controversy, nor did the polemic, since Diderot attacked Caylus in the Correspondance litteraire without the latter's knowledge. Caylus represented the art lover who saw himself as a connoisseur, the owner of a gallery and one who could exercise a certain power over artists, and this is not the place to discuss any of these aspects alluded to by Diderot in his criticism of CaylusY Only two relevant points emerge here. Firstly, given that the art of the ancients must be regarded as a source of inspiration, there was the question of how to reach an understandin g of it. The answer Caylus gave was that it had to become the object of research enabling insight to be gained into the institutions, beliefs and history of the ancients, along with the techniques and materials they employed. This information could then be used to uncover the meaning of ancient monuments and, at the same time, discover the path to 'noble simplicity'. 18 For Diderot the answer lay in a sort of divination which would allow one to determine, by examining these monuments, the conditions which were necessary to their production and philosophy behind this process. 19 Here, then, was the first point of dtscord. The second concerned the entire period separating the Renaissance

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from antiquity. The question here was whether this period could be discussed as if it merely constituted a void, and whether it could be denied a place in the history of the arts. Diderot was tempted to rep! y in the affirmative, though his position was at times more finely shaded. 2 Caylus, on the other hand, was obviously convinced that this period could not be neglected, and in particular that artists should seek examples not only in the works of the ancients but also from among those of the sixteenth-centur y Italian painters who, according to him, came close to perfection. 21 One can draw several conclusions from these rapid comments. Firstly, it is clear that the conflict between philosophers and antiquaries remained acute in France at least until the 1760s, if not longer, the situation being greatly different in this respect to that in Italy. One can also conclude that this conflict was concerned with history, and more precisely, with links between the future, the present and the past. This is because philosophers viewed matters from a vantage point situated in the future, a future seen as a continual improvement on the present. They therefore considered history to consist of a series of human errors, defined as anything which had no value for the present, and contrasting series of advances culminating in the present. Consequently, historical research was only justified if it helped to eliminate errors which were still prevalent or if it highlighted the progress of the arts and sciences. The aim of the antiquarians, on the other hand, was to judge each period according to the ideas which flourished at the time, and this is why they turned to documents and monuments in order to learn about them. In their eyes, this study was legitimate and useful even if it brought to light facts which had no bearing on present-day problems. As the philosophers looked back at history from the future, theirs was a discontinuous history, in that it included periods which left no positive legacy, though as far as this is concerned, changes did take place at the end of the century. The antiquarians' brand of history, however, was continuous, for even if they denied objects dating from the period between the Renaissance and antiquity, all artistic worth, they did at least perceive there the sources of the Renaissance, sources which were to be protected and whose meaning had to be uncovered. 22

to the history of the art of the ancients.23 This constituted an important step towards making research involving objects independent of research involving texts, and archaeology independent of philology, and helped to create the conditions needed for figured monuments to enter into the ambit of historical research. A further step in this direction was accomplished in Verona il!ustrata, where Maffei based his assertions not only on document analysis but also on the direct examination of figured monuments. 24 In 1736 La religion de'gentili nel morire appeared, of which more later. Two years later Maffei published the first description of the Tazza Farnese, in the second volume of his Osservazioni letterarie, a description he was to reproduce in the Museum veronense. 25 Lastly, and despite his assertion that 'the figured representations of the ancients constitute a different genre than their writings; this is why the two must not be mixed up together in the same collection ... ,' 26 Maffei included many figured monuments in his museum, a number which was apparently high enough to attract the attention of the visitors away from the inscriptions. The task of redirecting antiquarian research towards the study of art, which Maffei had begun, was completed by Caylus. 'Ancient monuments can extend our knowledge most effectively,' wrote the latter in the preface to the first volume of the Recueil d'antiquith They can explain singular customs, shed light on obscure or ill-explained facts in the authors and provide visual evidence of how the arts have progressed. However, it must be recognized that the antiquaries have hardly ever considered them from the latter point of view, seeing them only as a supplement to or proof of history or else as isolated texts requiring longer commentaries.' 27 Caylus thus contrasted the historical and the artistic approaches of antiquarian research, and opted decisively for the second. In so doing, he was fully aware of being an innovator, even if he suspected or even knew that there had been one or two forerunners. Another passage, which gives an accurate description of Caylus' reasoning, shows even more clearly the contrast between the historical and artistic approaches. When I first started to engrave this series, I had most in mind the man of letters, who studies monuments solely with a view to discovering their links with the accounts left by the ancients. I traced these links whenever they came to light spontaneously and seemed both evident and sensible to me. However, being neither sufficiently learned nor sufficiently patient to use this method consistently throughout, I often chose to employ another in its stead, one which will, perhaps, interest lovers of the arts: it consists in the faithful study of the mind and hand of the artist, in the adoption of his own particular visions of things, and means following the course of execution of his work. In other words, I look at monuments as the proof and expression of the prevailing taste in a given country at a given period. 28

From the antiquity of the scholar to that of the artist

Maffei and Caylus were in complete agreement over the key points of the antiquarians' position, indeed the similarities between them were even more specific. Both, or more accurately one after the other, set antiquarian studies on a course which was completely different to their pre-eighteenthcentury one. As early as 1720, in his letter on the new museum of inscriptions, Maffei underlined the importance of their collection and study

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Monuments were henceforth to be treated as expressions of taste rather than approached through the accounts written by the ancients. Caylus went much further than simply taking pains over the description of the monuments and the identification of the figures and scenes they represented. He also, if not first of all, proceeded to analyse the techniques and materials employed, in an attempt to discover the 'recipes' used by the ancients - such as in the famous case of the use of encaustic in painting29 and to highlight the skill of the artists. There was therefore a slight difference in emphasis between Maffei, for whom monuments were as much 'proofs of history' as 'expressions of taste', and Caylus, for whom the taste aspect had greatest importance. In this respect, while Maffei always remained a man of letters, Caylus was first and foremost a man of things. Before illustrating and specifying this difference between the two men by means of an example, let us look at just one more point they had in common. This was their belief in the continuity of history, or in concrete terms, their attitude to the Middle Ages. It is clear to anyone reading Verona illustrata that Maffei was a medievalist. It is less well known that before embarking on the publication of his Recueil d'antiquites, Caylus had also worked on this period. He was responsible for a Memoire sur les fab!iaux, a work of literary history which took the definition of the conte as a basis for examining the accounts contained in a medieval manuscript from the abbey at Saint-Germain-des-Pres. The Memoire traced their influence on Italian writers, especially Boccaccio, as well as on Ia Fontaine and Moliere, mentioning in passing a painting by Spranger, whose subject is drawn from a fabliau.3 Caylus also published two sets of essays on Guillaume de Machaut, 31 took part in the discussion on certain satirical manuscripts from the Middle Ages, 32 and drafted a piece entitled De l'ancienne chevalerie et des anciens romans, devoted to the cycle of Arthurian legends. 33 All these short works bear witness to a considerable familiarity with medieval manuscripts and a thorough knowledge of the chronicles, which strongly remind us of Maffei. The similarities between our two authors were thus many and important. Yet they never met, despite having had at least two opportunities of doing so. In 1714 Ca ylus was in Verona from 13 to 17 December, and Maffei was there too, a week beforehand. I do not know whether he was still in residence there at that time, but I do know that when Caylus visited Vallisnieri's picture gallery in Padua, he met nobody from Veronese circles. 34 In January 1733 it was the turn of Maffei to visit Paris, where he instantly met with a huge success in fashionable society. In a letter to Bouhier, the magistrate of Dijon, at whose house Maffei had stopped on the way, 35 Mathieu Marais wrote: 'M. Maffei is in Paris; he does not know who to speak to next, as everyone wants to address him.' He took up his pen again a few months later, reporting: 'M. Maffei ... is working on his

magnum opus. I was lent his book Degli anfiteatri, printed in Verona in duodecimo in 1728. I am entirely satisfied with it, as it is full of science, scholarship, criticism, politeness, and could truly make me, and you too, long to be an antiquary.'l 6 Caylus was visibly not one of those who wished to meet Maffei or felt the urge to become antiquaries. There is nothing in the writings of either to suggest that they ever met. As Caylus was still very young in 1714 and Maffei had yet to become a European celebrity their first non-meeting requires no explanation. The second one, however, does deserve some attempt at one, and two factors can be seen to have been at work. First of all there was the discrepancy in their ages. Between 1733 and 1736, when Maffei was resident in Paris, Caylus was predominantly taken up with contemporary art and devoted himself to engraving, even if he did already take an interest in antiquity and the Middle Ages, and it was only in I 744 that he embarked on his learned publications. It is hardly surprising therefore that apart from his contacts in high society, where he could well have met Maffei - at the Cardinal de Polignac's, for instance- he mostly frequented artists and art lovers, such as Pierre Crozat and his friend MarietteY As it happens, and this is the second factor, Maffei's relations in France were not with the artistic circles in the capital, but with provincial scholars, including Bimard de La Bastie in Grenoble, Bouhier in Dijon, Caumont in Avignon, Le Bret and Thomassin de Mazaugues in Aix and Lebeuf in Auxerre.l 8 We are therefore dealing with two different networks here, though not entirely hermetic ones, given that certain figures, such as La Curne de Sainte Pala ye, acted as intermediaries.l9 We are even dealing here with more than simply two different networks, since two different types of antiquarian scholarship are involved, one preserving intact the learned tradition, with its twin poles of numismatics and epigraphy, the other looking increasingly towards figured monuments and the problems inherent in the hisrory of arr. Let us cast a rapid glance over Maffei's Paris stay. After his promising beginning, his relations with the academicians and other scholars seem to have deteriorated quite rapidly, to a degree which worried both Caumont and Bouhier as early as the autumn of 1734. 40 There then followed a period of silence, during which his friends wondered what he was up to, and then they learned in Aprill736 that he had in fact spent most of his time writing the twelve books of the Istot"ia teologica delle dottrine e delle opinioni corse nei cinque primi secoli della Chiesa, in proposito della divina grazia, di libero arbitrio e della prede.rtinazione ... , to quote the title sent by Maffei himself to Caumont:11 Maffei's anguish over the salvation of the Parisians, which led him to form 'a project so strange and so foreign to his studies as that consisting in writing on the matrers of grace and free wil1' 42 did not, however, prevent him from putting a little time aside for antiquities. And it was in the guise of a farewell to Paris that he published the slender volume

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earlier, La religion de'gentili nel morire ricavata da tm baJJO in Parigi, dedicated tO Cardinal de Polignac, rrftevo anttco che si whose 'superb collection of statues, busts, a collector from Rome, constitute a museum brought vases and mscnpt10ns, whtcb only few of irs kind can march', as Maffei put it.H

A museum of antiquities in Paris?

in this work, engraved after a drawing by Natoire, The of the Louvre alongside the exact plaster copies the tn was sttuated of the _whole of Trapn s column, as well as busts, heads, inscriptions and many statues by good French sculptors'. H According bas-reltefs,_ and a to Maffei, It constituted parr of an arch or historiated funeral monument of the type made for personages of a certain rank. 'It is one of the largest found, and marvellously well preserved, as nothing is missing, and norhing has been added, even though the figures protrude more rhan usual. '4o It to the nineteenth-cent ury archaeologists should be. explained that_ bas-rel!ef, Its remarkable state of preservation was due to who studted which is why it is now robe found among It was not the fact sculptures m the Louvre:" Maffei did not, however, suspect th: for the sltghtesr moment, and the same applied to everyone else at that trme, even though they all noted a certain number of features which rendered it a quite exceptional piece. Here is the description of the marble itself: Our marble is far finer than any other, first and foremost because of the excellence _of irs manner, which proves it dates from the finest naked figure possesses all the grace and perrod .. The wmged perfection of the drawmg. The inspiration for the weeping child would seem to have bee_n drawn from Correggio. The dying woman as well as the mourning, veiled mother or other relation, is given expression in rhe same way as all .the other figures, both through her naked parts and through her clothing- With a mastery far greater than that which we are accustomed to seeing in ancient sculptures. But this monument is given even greater value by that which it teaches us; if I am not mistaken, it beliefs concerning death, beliefs which I cannot recollect Illustrates bemg dealt. with either in the remains of antiquity or in the works of modern wrrters ... :'B .One is first struck by a whole series of aesthetic judgements contained in thts t_exr: such as 'the excellence of its manner', 'grace and perfection of the drawmg, a far greater command of expression than is normally to be found

in ancient bas-reliefs and lastly the evocation of Correggio, which shows that Maffei was struck by a certain modernity in the work, even though this by no means led him to doubt irs attribution to the ancients. In short, it is a thing of beauty. Yet Maffei is not primarily interested in this beauty, but rather in the pagan beliefs surrounding death. The remainder of the volume is taken up with suggestions as to the identity of the different figures and explanations of their gestures. He asserts that the people crowned with laurel are priests belonging to a special grade known as the coronati, and interprets the presence- a strange one, which it is more difficult to explain - of two men, playing the horn and trumpet, as an illustration of the ancients' belief that music chased away the evil spirits:19 We thus reach the end, from which we must cite a lengthy extract. Now it is clear to Your Excellency that if all the ancient inscriptions and bas-reliefs were brought together as I propose and debated over, this fine marble \vm!ld surely be awarded first place. There is no lack of other pieces in Paris which could add to the splendour of any museum. This kind of antiquity is a greater source of knowledge and amusement than any other; and furthermore it is the only one which, in almost every country, is habitually neglected and abandoned. One often needs only to bring together that which is dispersed to constitute a treasure. I have seen so many pieces here and there in this metropolis, and there are so many of them in the proximity that they would form a rich and noble collection, providing they were all put in one place and cleverly displayed. It is a positive certitude that relics such us these undoubtedly reach us about the customs, opinions and knowledge of the ancient times; it is equally sure that as they are hidden from the gaze of scholars, they do not provide the pleasure they could; and dispersed and neglected they constantly run the risk of becoming lost, destroyed or else succumbing to a thousand other accidents which have already led to the disappearance of most of the monuments documented two or three centuries ago. ' 0 Accordingly, Maffei suggested to Polignac that a museum of antiquities be opened in Paris, bringing together all the inscriptions and figured monuments under the same roof, where the latter would, in fact, be accorded pride of place. He also referred to experience gained in Turin and Verona in order to justify his proposal to bring to an end the state of neglect and abandonment of antiquities in Paris and presented a concrete solution to the question of where to site such a museum: As long as they are not ull given space in a secure place, their existence and state of preservation will always be under threat. The portico, or rather the gallery of the Palais Royal in the Tuileries, which is on the left when one enters the garden, would seem quire the ideal place. The entire

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length of rhe wall could be covered by a second wall made up of ancient inscribed or sculpted stones. Those which should be displayed separately on pedestals, in order that the figures and words on each side be visible, would be placed under the arcades and between the columns. They would all be protected by iron bars, since in this way they would be both open and enclosed. Pliny wrote that such things should be public. In this manner they will therefore be public, yet at the same rime protected, as a guard will keep constant watch over them.' 1 As far as we are concerned today, the most interesting and important part of Maffei's work is this particular project. This is so nor only because it shows that his interest in preserving monuments and organizing museums was a long-lasting one, but also because he forces us to ask why what had been possible in Turin, the capital of an absolute state - just as France was at that time- was impossible in Paris. The answer to such a question would require a thorough examination of the cultural policy of the French monarchy, and could not, in any case, be kept within the confines of this chapter. However, we can add to our file one or two elements which seem to be of some importance, without straying too far from the main subject. 'I have not yet been able to look over the dissertation he [Maffei] gave, upon leaving Paris, on the subject of a Gallic monument [sic!] in which he claims to see druids surrounded by torches and receiving the final farewells from a dying woman [sic!]. I mean by this that it is a work which does him no honour, and one which Dom Martin is preparing to disprove,' wrote Caumont to Bouhier. ' 2 Rumours such as these, distorting Maffei's ideas so grossly as to render them completely ridiculous, and discrediting his book, clearly indicate the degree of hostility he faced in certain Parisian circles. His museum project was undoubtedly a contributing factor. In 1739 Jacques Martin, a Benedictine, published the work heralded in Caumont's letter. Part of it consisted of a violent attack on Maffei's interpretatio n of the Louvre bas-relief and on the man himself. Martin asserted that the monument dated from the Augustan period- Maffei too believed it to have been produced during the 'miglior eta: - and sought to prove that it represented a Conc!amatio, 5 l with citations to back this up. However, only the end of his indictment of Maffei merits our attention: Is anyone fully aware of the use to which this scholar puts the fruits he claims to draw from his tireless study) He uses them to advise the Cardinal Minister [Polignac] to gather together all the ancient marbles to be found in and around this capital, and to house them, each in irs correct place, in one of the galleries of the Louvre, as according to him, the antiquaries will surely find in them the customs, habits, fashions and tastes of the ancients. On paper, it is an admirable piece of advice but will it be so in practice?

This is the question asked by our fiery Benedictine, and he gives the following revealing rep! y: What possible fruit can the republic of letters and the _nation draw from an impracticable suggestion, given that for more than_ stxty years a has been made for a place sufficiently vast and well Itt for one to dtspose comfortably the monuments which are crammed into the _Salle des Antiques in the louvre. In the meantime, the king has made thetr care responsibility of the Academic des belles-lettres, and the members of illustrious body have proposed to inform the public henceforth of thetr existence. One of them, in particular, in the first volume of the lvfemoires Academiques, undertook to discuss the bas-relief which tricked M. and which he could not appropriate without the aid of the compagme. Thus, it is only with his consent that pen has been put ro paper. 54 Once again, then, we come across the same old story of a conflict of personalities . Here, an academician, who had felt somewhat upset at Maffei's daring to 'appropriate' , without his permission, the Louvre basrelief and, with the support of the Academic, also vexed on behalf of one ?f its members, had hired the pen of the obliging Benedictine. True, Marttn had other interests to defend at the same time, as can be seen from the closing pages of his book, where he criticizes the edition of the. works of St Jerome published in Verona, in order to defend the by the Benedictines in Paris.'' Maffei's friends had reacted w1th md1gnauon- the term is used by Bouhiers6 - to Martin's bulky pamphlet which, Caum?nt heard from Paris, was not a success. Indeed the latter added the followtng comment: 'I needed, as one can easily understand, every last ounce of my stubbornness in order to continue reading it to the very end.' 57 Maffei, for his part, wrote to Bimard de La Bastie: 'I have written to the Grand Chancellor of France, who showed me great kindness in Paris, as well as to the Cardinal de Polignac, asking them to check the activities of those scoundrels in Paris who make this sort of written attack on me.' 58 All this would remain strictly anecdotal, were it nor for the fact that behind this conflict of personalities there lurked a major problem, namely the question of a public museum of antiquities in it clear that neither the authorities nor the Academ1e des mscnpnons showed any interest whatsoever in the creation of an this kind. The latter was patently satisfied with being given the respons1b1l1ty of running the Salle des Antiques at the Louvre, seeing admission there as .a corporate privilege. Its intention was not to room to the pub.hc but merely ro make known its contents by pubhshmg the commentane s they inspired its members to compose. It did n?t even allow .them to be discussed without due authorization . Whether thts frame of mmd changed

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in the course of the next few years, or whether, quite simply, Caylus could, without raising hackles, express ideas which would have been unacceptable coming from Maffei, is open to question. Whatever the truth of the matter, four years after the Italian's death, Ca ylus adopted in his turn the project of the museum of antiquities, and he did so with reference to the bas-relief of the Louvre, which thus forms the basis of the sole important encounter between our two antiquarians. It was in the third volume of his Recueil d'antiquites that Caylus raised the subject of the disputed bas-relief once more. As he explained to Father Paciaudi, 'It seemed to me that this fine monument deserved to be treated with a greater respect for detail and explained in a more simple way. This is what I have therefore attempted .. .' _s9 Having noticed that the Louvre antiques were 'in a considerable state of disorder and that the reproach made by M. Maffei on this subject to the nation [was] fully justified,'6o Caylus settled on the same dating as Martin- 'temps d'Auguste' -asserted, as did Maffei, that the central figure was not represented in death and identified the figures Maffei believed to be priests as 'Libitinaires ,6t this time following in the footsteps of Martin. None of this has any particular interest. The same cannot, however, be said of the examination ro which Caylus himself subjected the monument, a monument which, according to him, dated 'back to Rome's finest centuries as far as the arts are concerned. The bas-relief possesses drapes executed with consummate skill, and rendered with the utmost fidelity with regard to the nude forms; the heads and every other area of flesh are treated with all the precision and attractiveness of chisel-work; only the drawing allows one fully to appreciate the wisdom and appropriateness of the composition_'62 Unlike Maffei, Caylus did not tackle the bas-relief with a view to revealing La religion de'gentili nel morire. He did not see it as a 'preuve d'histoire' or rather only in so far as it allowed him to decode its meaning. Rather, his attention was focused on the work of the sculptor, the rendition of the drapes and the manner in which they clung to the forms they concealed, while at the same time hinting at their presence, on the accuracy with which the heads and other parts of the body were fashioned and on the organization of the whole. This may not be the best description of an ancient monument Caylus ever wrote, bur it nevertheless enables us to gain a clearer idea of the procedure used with a view to interpreting these types of monument as 'proofs and expressions of good taste'. Maffei and Caylus were therefore perceptibly different in that while the former was essentially a man of letters, the latter was first and foremost a man of things. Yet we have shown how each one, in his own way, sought to unite research into antiquities and the study of arc. It is at this precise point that they converged, not only when they discussed the same monument but also when they planned to conserve antiquities and place them in a museum

at the disposal of the public, for Caylus was completely in agreement with Maffei on this matter. He knowingly took an opposing view ro Martin and his paymasters. Moreover, as a zealous advocate of the conservation of antiqmues, cannot refute the reproaches made to us by M. Maffei concerning the neglect he has noticed in several of the collections belonging to our monarchs. Ir is an inexcusable abuse: I am in equal agreement over this scholar's advice that we should bring together inscriptions and other monuments in the king's possession, and I should very much like to see this come to pass. With regard to this same subject, M. Maffei reminds us of the establishment of this type which he founded in Verona, his birthplace. It is an incontrovertible fact that there is no surer way of winning fame: he also mentions a similar scheme to reunite such pieces which he planned and oversaw in Turin. This project, which would be of such use to the worlds both of the letters and the arts, undoubtedly deserves praise and applause. Rome has felt all its benefits, as it now boasts a Capitol which affords protection to the arts and antiquity, having followed the examples given by M. Maffei. 6 l This last sentence is not completely accurate, as while Maffei's example may have influenced the foundation of the Pio Clementino Museum, it certainly cannot have played any part in that of the Capitoline one, which had been in existence since the end of the fifteenth century. 64 This error, however, is itself an indication of Caylus' desire to prove the complete feasibility of Maffei's museum projects, and to show that they had already been put into practice not only in small towns, such as Verona or Turin, but also in a great capital city - in the only capital city which had always impressed the French. The support Caylus gives here to Maffei's scheme to found a public museum of antiquities in Paris, in other words, to give the public access to the monuments which were the property of the king, and then only accessible to quite a small number of visitors, shows that antiquarian research, in France as in Italy, was concerned to promote the creation of this new cultural institution. Unlike Italy, however, France saw no such museum appear under the ancien regime, despite many initiatives in this domain. One similarity between Maffei and Caylus still remains to be mentioned. It concerns their openness to contemporary art. It is clearly visible in Maffei's Verona illustrata as well as in his relations with Juvarra and Pompei, 6 5 while in the case of Caylus, it can be discerned in the lasting relations he had with those artists to whom he primarily addressed his works.G6 Both men favoured an art which, while modern, nevertheless remained faithful to the ancient models restored to their original purity, an art which took its inspiration from the drawings on engraved stones and

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from Greek statues. It is this shared attitude which caused them to admire the Louvre marble so much. It also enabled their historical interests and artistic preoccupations to meet in the programme of a museum designed, like the Recueil d'antiquites, not only to be useful to antiquarians, but also 'to give artists one or two notions of beautiful forms and to emphasize the need for an accuracy which is all too often concealed from them by roday's so-called taste, and its falsely brilliant touch.'6 7

7
Collectors, Naturalists and Antiquarians in the Venetian Republic of the Eighteenth Century

The shift in general cultural trends which occurred in the Venetian Republic towards the mid-eighteenth century consisted in the promotion both of works of art and of natural objects. For whole centuries, paintings had been exposed to dust, to candle smoke, sometimes to damp, always to variations in temperature and frequently to attempts at restoration, which at the best were clumsy and ar the worst downright harmful. They would sometimes be replaced by other works more in line with the fashion of the day, and not only risked theft, but even sale abroad, even if they were in the keeping of religious institutions and figured among the pitture pubbliche, whose custodians did not have the right to dispose of them as they wished. These vicissitudes were, however, considered perfectly normal, and the indignant protests by art lovers at the degradation of the nation's art treasures as a whole or else of a specific work of art had but little effect, as the powers that be contented themselves with reacting to each separate event as it happened. Six years after a quite exceptional snowfall caused extensive damage to the paintings in the Doges' Palace in 1683, thus forcing the authorities to have them restored, a curator was appointed to look after these paintings, together with others housed in the Rialto Palace. Yet his duties did not extend to the other public buildings and no second curator was employed to oversee them. 1 Similarly, when the abbess of the Santa Maria Maggiore monastery in Venice sold fourteen paintings without permission, of which only three were later recovered, the Magistrato sopra i Monasteri, in agreement with the Senate, gave orders on 7 September 1703, that an inventory be drawn up of all the paintings contained in that institution, and that the seal of the lion of St Mark be affixed on them as a sign of their inalienability. Nonetheless, this episode did not give rise to any wider-reaching conclusions. 2

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The protection of works of art: the duty of the state

In 1771, a painting said to be by Veronese was spirited away from a Treviso monastery, a copy being left in its place. This affair, which was actually highly complicate d, although the details are of little importance to us, 3 came to the notice of the public authorities in March 1772. The measures which were subsequent ly taken demonstra te the changes in their attitude to works of art all the more effectively in that the story has a happy ending, with the stolen painting being solemnly reinstated in its place of origin on 6 May 1773. In April of the same year, just as this affair was about to be resolved, a draft decision of considerab le import was submitted to the Inquisitori di Stato by Anton Maria Zanetti the Younger (1706-78), the 'custode' at the Biblioteca Marciana, where he drew up an inventory of all the statues and catalogued the manuscript s; he was the author of a work to which we shall later refer: Della pittura veneziana e delle opere pubbliche de'Venezia ni iVfaestri libri V ( 1771 ). 4 Instead of sending out a distress call in the form of a new publication , Zanetti sent an official letter containing detailed proposals. This would not, however, have succeeded in gerring the heavy administra tive machinery moving had those wielding this machinery not come to consider that the protection of works of art was the duty of the state. Zanetti began his letter by describing the damage suffered by the paintings he had studied in the churches, palaces and other public places he had visited while preparing his book, and went on to remind his readers of the illicit sale to the minister from Great Britain of three works by Veronese, which came from San Giacomo di Murano, as well as of the interventio n of the authorities in the Santa Maria Maggiore affair. Only then did he put forward his project. The precious and abundant body of public paintings is, perhaps, the rarest ornament of this powerful republic, and draws more admiration from foreigners than any other feature. The Senate has undertaken the care and conservation of the paintings in the public palaces of St Mark's and the Rialto, and has designated paid inspectors in several decrees. There remain the paintings in the churches, schools, oratories and other places, which are in constant danger of being lost or sold, no public authority being there to prevent this, and no inspectorate keeping watch over them. I therefore humbly propose that an accurate catalogue or inventory of selected paintings from the above-mentioned places particularly deserving public protection be commissioned. Also that the superintend ents or directors of these places should be informed through an order that all arbitrary movement or sale of these paintings listed in the catalogue is forbidden. As for necessary restoration, urgent repairs or other

eventualities, permission will have to be sought and obtained, once an approved expert has made an inspection and drawn up a report .... j These words had an almost instantaneo us effect. On 20 April 1773, the Inquisitori di Stato reiterated Zanetti's proposals in a letter to the Consiglio dei Dieci, replacing the examples of the stolen paintings with a reference to a highly topical event, namely, the Treviso affair. That very same day, the Consiglio dei Dieci pronounce d in its favour, and on 12 July Zanetti was appointed Ispettore aile pubbliche pitture and given the task of drawing up an 'exact catalogue containing all those famous paintings which are the works of illustrious and renowned artists and which are to be found in the churches, schools, monasterie s of the town, together with description s of their subjects and the names of their authors'. In accordance with Zanetti's suggestion s, it was decided that every institution should henceforth possess a copy of that part of the catalogue which concerned it, and that the superiors, wardens or heads should be responsible for ensuring that the listed works remain in place, the sale or exchange of these works being strictly forbidden, along with any restoration work carried out without the permission of the inspector. 6 Zanetti sent in the first of his six-monthl y reports as early as 30 August 1773, while in March 1774 he handed to the Inquisirori di Stato the catalogue of the 'quadri piit degni' to be found in public places in VeniceJ Nor were the mainland towns forgotten. In the space of only one week (24-31 July 1773) news of the Senate's decision to extend the system of protecting paintings set up in Venice tO the whole of the republic was successfully communic ated in a circular sent by the Inquisitori di Stato to the rectors of 'Bre.rcia, Padova, Crema, Bergamo, Salo, Verona, Vicenza, Rovigo, Udine, Treviso, Feltre, Bel/uno, Civida! di Friul, Coneglian, Chiozza, ecc. ecc.' An important text, written by Zanerti between these two dates for the Inquisitori di Stato, who had asked his advice, noted that in nearly all these towns existing description s and lives of painters would make the work of drawing up catalogues of publicly owned paintings much easier; and before outlining the practical side to the running of the inspectorat e, he suggested that the enthusiasm of amateurs and collectors of paintings should be harnessed (which emphasize s their role in the conservatio n of the nation's treasures), and that they should be charged with keeping watch over publicly owned paintings, a task which they would regard as a singular honour.s The circular of 31 July 1773, inspired by Zanetti, met with many different types of response, according to the situation which prevailed locally. In Padua, where the first inspector of public paintings was appointed as early as 18 August 1773, twenty years went by before this post found a suitably qualified occupant: Giovanni de Lazara (1744-1833 ), a collector and connoisseu r of art history, and the friend of, among others, Lanzi,

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Cicognara, Morelli and Canova. 9 This was, however, a delay of inordinate length. The podesta of Treviso, for instance, wrote the following to the Inquisitori de Stato: It is no secret that this town lacks both experienced artists and connoisseurs of painting and drawing. This explains why it was necessary to turn to art lovers and select one of their number for the post of inspector. Out of these, Don Ambrogio Rigamonti seemed to me to be the best and the most learned, judging not only from information from several inhabitants of the town but also from the assurances of the deputies themselves. Accordingly, I fixed my choice on him. This was, in fact, not a bad choice, as Don Ambrogio Rigamonti, incidentally the author of the Descrizione delle pitture piu celebri che si vedono esposte ne!le chiese ed altri luoghi pubblici di Treviso (1744, reedited in 1776), sent in at least two lists of pictures, one for Treviso itself, dated 1773, the other for its environs, dated 1777. 10 Elsewhere, with the exception of Crema and Conegliano, where the catalogues were completed in 1774, the setting-up of the inspectOrate of publicly owned paintings seems either to have taken several years - the reports from Bassano only arrived in 1793u -or else not to have been begun at all. Nothing was even mentioned on the subject in Verona, and it was only in 1803-4, in a radically altered political climate, that Saverio dalla Rosa produced his inventory of paintings and sculptures. 12 The printed descriptions of the public paintings were, of course, available in Verona from the first half of the century onwards, 13 as was the case in Vicenza 14 and Brescia, 15 and similar descriptions made their appearance later on in Treviso and Padua. It is to these books that Zanetti referred in his text. After 1773, others were published both in the towns already mentioned and in Bergamo, Bassano, Rovigo and Udine, and will be cited more than once later on. Nevertheless, however useful they may have been in other respects, unlike the catalogues drawn up by the inspectors, they had no official status and their composition had nothing to do with preparations for the organization of a system designed to protect publicly owned works against illicit sales and incompetent restorers. In this area, situations varied greatly from place to place but were in general far from encouraging. True, in 1725 the municipality of Bassano had succeeded in defeating a project to rransport three works by Giacomo da Ponte from the Palazzo Pretorio 16 tO Venice, where they were to adorn the walls of the public library. In Verona, on the other hand, Maffei denounced the disastrous attempt at restOring a picture by Veronese, 17 while in Bergamo there were complaints about sales of ancient paintings, where the originals had been replaced by modern works, and about changes in size, ill-suited frames, damaging cleaning and

over-shiny varnishes. 18 In 1755 attention was drawn to very similar abuses in Friuli, the Bellunese, Caroia and Cadore. 19 Although Zanetti's project was a semi-failure in most of the mainland towns, partly due to the fact that the Venetian authorities took no interest in the inspectors' reports even when they did receive them,2o this semifailure in no way means that the project itself was a bad one. Its sole defect in fact was the catalogue proposal, and the idea that protection should only be given to the 'insigni pitture che sono opere di celebri e rinomati professori ', as this introduced an arbitrary element into the selection criteria. We are still a long way here from the notion of a general inventory of historical and artistic monumeots. 21 Having said this, the proposal to set up an inspectorate of public paintings in each town, charged to list them all in a catalogue to prevent their removal, and most especially their change of owner, and to keep a close watch over their restoration, was nonetheless a break with the situation which had prevailed until then, as it imposed a new role on the state, thereby modifying the very status of the 'pitture pubbliche'. These latter had previously only been public in that they belonged not to private individuals but to institutions, and in that when they were displayed to visitors, in conditions which varied grearly, watch was kept over them both by their owners (members of a brotherhood or chapter, parish dignitaries, etc.) and by the town's inhabitants as a body. This watch was often roo casual to prevent the sale or the deterioration of a work, while the authorities, as we have seen, only rarely intervened. Now, however, in accordance with Zanetti's project, it was the responsibility of the powers that be to place limits on the owners' rights, by forbidding them to take any initiatives concerning a work unless they had the agreement of the authority appointed to monitor its condition and empowered to bring miscreant owners before a tribunal.

Venice: from the dispersed art gallery to public museums

This project therefore treated all the famous paintings by great masters as pieces of a single collection, accorded special protection and placed on display in enclosed spaces designed for the purpose. In other words, its aim was to create, first in Venice, later over the whole of the republic, a sort of dispersed art gallery. This was the great novelty, and despite the fact that it apparently had no equivalent in any country, this innovatory project was adopted and put into effect with surprising rapidity by authorities known more for their slowness and caution in the face of all change. Clearly, the cause had been heard before it was pleaded, and its espousal by the Venetian elite raised the issue of picture conservation to the level of an affair of state. Only a small step separated the Zanetti project from that of setting up a

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public picture gallery. This step was all the more easily made in that, with only a slight discrepancy in dates, the establishment of the public pictures inspectorate coincided with that of a proper picture restoration service. Since 1689 a painter had been responsible for restoring the works which adorned rhe public palaces, a responsibility assumed in 1724 by the Collegia dei Pittori, where the work was apportioned to a number of different artists. This arrangement was far from satisfactory and was therefore reformed in the late 1770s. 22 On 3 September 1778, a decree of the Senate, inspired by Pietro Edwards ( 1744-1821 ), gave it control of a laboratory with a permanent staff who specialized in picture restoration and whose activities were strictly regulated. 21 Restoration was thus entrusted to professionals, as Edwards had sought. He had emphasized 'the great difference between a painter of value and an experienced restorer of paintings' and underlined the fact that the craft of the restorer was 'still a new profession'. 24 On 23 December 1779, a new decree of the Senate presented the initial results of the experiment and raised the question of the foundation of a public art gallery. As this council is satisfied with the operations carried out up to now by the above-mentioned experts, under the control of Mr Edwards, the inspector, and which were in accordance with the tasks they had been assigned, the highly estimable work intended to put into effect the decree of 3 September 1778 will be pursued in the same manner. Moreover, having remarked that a number of the precious public paintings are housed in areas of the Public Palace where the lack of light, the unsuitable nature of the niches and the small number of visitors mean that they are in a state of abandonment and risk being lost, and desirous of exploiting to the utmost the advantages which were present at the inauguration of this enterprise, in other words desirous of contributing to the instruction and industry of its subjects, to the embellishment of the town and the national genius for this art, this council appeals to the praiseworthy zeal which reigns at meetings of the Magistrato al Sal and to the Savio Cassier del Collegia already charged by a previous decree to examine the question, to consider whether it would be feasible to assemble all these neglected paintings under the same roof, in a public art gallery, following the advice of the above-mentioned Mr Edwards, who has given ample proof of his expertise in such matters, in order to furnish subsequently anything he considers suitable and which is the outcome of public debate 25 Things were obviously ro be on a modest scale, as the type of public gallery envisaged by the Senate and placed under review, would merely have been for the display of pictures from the Doges' Palace which were still inaccessible. The very idea of confiscating works in the hands of religious institutions with the aim of bringing them together under

a single roof never even occurred to the senators. Hardly surprising, as they were not French revolutionaries. Yet, in their own way, they did manifest a desire to innovate and an openness to prevailing ideas, as, had it been created, their gallery would have been only the second public gallery apart from the Uffizi in Florence to be formed around a princely collection, the other public museums of that period containing mostly ancient sculptures and curiosities. Moreover, the list of benefits claimed to stem from the viewing of paintings is a corollary of the ideology which attributed to them a higher value on the grounds of a supposed utility. This utility was said to derive from the notion that by stimulating hopes for fresh masterpieces, these paintings stimulated the industry of the subjects, increased the republic's prestige and aroused national feeling. The decree therefore echoed the sentiments expressed in any number of texts seeking to attribute a vaguely utilitarian role to painting, sentiments encapsulated in the document sent at the request of the Senate by the Riformatori dello Studio di Padova. If not actually written, then at least inspired in the main by Edwards, this document also hinted at the expectations which were to be embodied in the decree of 3 September 1778. 26 The ideas of the artists, like those of the an lovers, thus came to be incorporated in the laws and institutions, and led to painting becoming an affair of state. At the same time as the conservation, restoration and display of paintings to visitors gradually entered into the ambit of the authorities, similar changes were taking place concerning natural objects. Antonio Vallisnieri the Younger ( 1708-77) had given the Venetian state the collections he had inherited from his illustrious father, who had died some years earlier. This donation had been accepted by a decree of the Senate on 2 January 1733, and, in recompense, Vallisnieri was appointed professor of simples at the University of Padua in 1734, and curator of the collections which were henceforth assimilated into this institution 27 It was therefore in this fashion that next tO his doubly secular botanical garden was established the Venetian Republic's first natural history museum, which was to continue growing during the 1750s and 1760s thanks to a number of donations and acquisitions. To it was appended a second museum in 1782, again in Padua, when Fra Angelo Ziliani (1734-1819) donated the ornithological collection he had built up in the Santo Convent to the Riformatori della Studio di Padova. This collection, one of the town's attractions, was elevated to the rank of Museum of the Republic, and amalgamated with the university one which had fallen into a state of decay since the death of Vallisnieri. It remained within the precincts of the Santo, however, until the demise of Fra Angelo. 28 At some point in its history, the University's school of chemistry acquired a collection of minerals.29 The public collections which sprang up in the sixteenth and seventeenth

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centuries in the Venetian Republic were collections of antiquities, such as statues coins and inscriptions, the sole exception being the botanical garden: In the eighteenth century, natural objects, along with seen as collection pieces rather than as decorative elements from artists, began to benefit from the protection of the authormes. As m rhe past, private individuals, collectors, art lovers and artists were the o"?es behind this change, awakening the concern of the powers that be, alarmmg them, submitting proposals to them or quite simply readymade collections, which meant they could not but react. Even 1f th1s had not led to the founding of a public museum in the case of paintings, t_he establishment of a system of protecting and restoring paintings in Vemce did amount to the organization there of a decentralized public art gallery which had nor previously existed. Before the first half of the eighteenth century, nobody had asked the state tO become the owner o_f a ?atural history collection, even though collections of this type had been m since the sixteenth century. Similarly, nobody had requested the state pnor to the 1770s to assume responsibility for the protection of pictures or even for the creation of a public art gallery. There can therefore be no doubt that the appearance of such projects was the result of new dema?ds made on the state which in accordance with the ideas of the day, was ob!tged to take care of public p;operty, encourage the dissemination of ne_w ideas and_ foster the development of the arts, business, industry and agnculture. It Illustrated, status moreover, and this is the aspect which most concerns us which both individuals and the authorities attributed ro pamtmgs and natural objects. While not utterly neglected, antiquities now_ occupied place in the hierarchy of objects. The only exception to this were works of art, especially statues, these alone being able to compete With and sometimes even rank higher than paintings.

7.1 PAINTINGS, DRAWINGS, ENGRAVINGS

Private art collections were mostly concentrated in Venice and Verona in the seventeenth century and first half of the eighteenth. After roughly 1750 and with a clear acceleration in the final third of the century, nearly ever; Venetian town saw an increase in the number of owners of fjalerie, quadrerie, raccolte, col!ezioni, stanze piene di quadri, terms wh1ch the authors of the period used to distinguish art collectors from those wh_o possessed paintings in order to decorate their walls. Between the begmnmg and the end of the century, the number of collectors defined in this way thus rose from nearly seventy to around 150. More than a third lived in Venice still wen_t to itself, which always remained in first place. 30 Second Verona, where the disappearance of a proportion of the thtrty collections

described by dal Pozzo in 1718 was compensated for by the creation of new ones, dalla Rosa counting forty there in 1803-4.3 1 The rise in the number of collections was even more marked in Padua, where a tiny handful at the beginning of the cenrury increased to twenty-six in 1765-76.' 2 Likewise in Brescia, Averoldi had described only one in 1700, but sixty years later, Carboni identified seven, and added another one to his list in 1776. 33 Boschini made no mention of any private collection in Vicenza in 1677, but we learn that there were at least six galerie in 1779.' 4 Bartoli described seven in Rovigo in 1793,3 5 while there were three in Bergamo in the 1780s 36 and the same number in Treviso at rhe very beginning of the nineteenth century,l 7 the remainder being scattered between Adria, Castelfranco, Chioggia and several other localities.l 8 Alongside these collections of paintings were others comprising above all, if not exclusively, drawings and engravings. It is difficult to evaluate their exact number, but they, too, seem to have multiplied over the course of the cenrury. Moschini, for instance, cited the names of twelve collectors of engravings in Venice, most of whom were active after 1750.39 In 1817 the same author mentioned two collections of engravings in Padua, of which Rossetti, forty years earlier, had known nothing. We do in fact know from other sources that one of these collections was indeed formed during the last quarter of the century, while the same is very probably true of the other 40 Out of the five collections of prints mentioned by dalla Rosa in Verona, only one, that belonging to Moscardo, dated from the seventeenth century, the remainder being of recent date. 41 Given the silence of Verci, it would seem that there were no collections of engravings in Bassano in the mid1780s, though there were at least two in the first half of the nineteenth century:12 Indeed, a number of examples indicate that collections such as these were dispersed among several centres of lesser importance. 4 l This was, however, by no means the case of collections of drawings, of which at least twelve are known to us, as they all appear to have been formed in Venice, with the exception of two Veronese collections dating back to the seventeenth century.44

The collections and the market

It was in the final decade of the seventeenth century in Amsterdam, the

beginning of the eighteenth century in London and in 1730 in Paris that the pace of the art and curiosity markets began to be dictated by public auctions, increasingly frequent events, which were advertised beforehand and usually involved the printing of catalogues. As these sales began to play an ever larger role and the sums paid increased, a real prestige accrued to the profession of rhe experts who were responsible for conducting the sale and

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drawing up the catalogue beforehand. This particular task consisted in the identification of the objects, in the attribution of a specific author to them when necessary, in the composition of a concise but accurate description of them and in the calculation of their artistic and monetary value:15 Nothing of the sort took place in Venice, where the collectors of paintings, drawings and engravings, along with antiquities and natural curios, continued to make their acquisitions throughout the eighteenth century in a market organized in the traditional way, where potential purchasers entered into direct negotiations with the seller, the final price being the outcome of bargaining rather than of bidding. The role of intermediary and expert in this type of transaction was carried out by artists, sometimes very great ones, as in the case of Algarotti, who turned to Tiepolo 46 for advice, when seeking paintings for the Dresden gallery, and Tomasso degli Obizzi, who called upon the services of Canova 47 In the final decades of the century, however, professional dealers in paintings and curios in general did make their appearance, in the shape of a few abbots who were half collectors, half dealers48 or else painters who had turned their hand to restoring works of art. The best known of these was Giovan Maria Sasso ( 1742-1803 ). He was a true expert, credited with a great many transactions and with having become a connoisseur 'whose boundless memory constituted a veritable index to the fine arts. When he saw a painting or an engraving, he was still able, even after ten or fifteen years had gone by, to describe it in its most minute derail, as well as to recount its exact history.' 49 It would seem that the market in collection pieces continued to run on traditional lines because the supply here was neither as strong nor as regular as in Amsterdam, London or Paris. As they were formed in a more stable social climate, Venetian collections were mostly handed down from generation to generation, belonging more to a gens than to any individual in particular. It was as if their contents, especially if they were paintings, were regarded as the visible embodiment of the position occupied by the family in the social hierarchy, and, as such, could not be sold. In 1773, in a text on the mainland towns which we have already mentioned, A. M. Zanetti made the following comment. In each of these towns, especially amongst the nobility, one comes across, and could name, lovers and connoisseurs of painting who have a considerable knowledge of the best works to be found in their towns. They are keenly aware how great an honour it is to possess works by famous painters. Proof of this is the universal acclaim which accompanied the return of the work by Paolo Veronese to the church of Treviso. Foreigners find it difficult, if not impossible, to purchase the paintings from these galleries as well as those housed in public places. 50

As this description of the behaviour of Venetian collectors who refuse to sell their works to foreigners is the work of Zanetti, who was so ardent an advocate of the protection of the nation's artistic heritage, we can take it to be fairly reliable. All the more so, since it was borne out by Rossetti who, a few years earlier, wrote in his guide to Padua: 'It is both remarkable and admirable that, for the most part, our nobility refuses to be deprived of its paintings, however great the sum offered for them; if this example was followed by the many other Italian towns, foreign nations would not be as well endowed with spoils from our country.' Here, the well-known leitmotif of foreigners plundering Italy was thus used to glorify the patriotism of the Paduan nobility which, unmoved by financial gain, was unwilling to be separated from its paintings. Eleven years afterwards, however, the author added the following passage to this remark: 'It is nonetheless true that Italy can enrich other nations without its stocks running dry. She is so well endowed with precious treasures and has always had such an abundance of excellent artists that she can more than repair any damage she may have suffered.' 51 This seems to be praise of a somewhat ambiguous kind, since it appears to exonerate in advance those who sell their collections by arguing that even if these leave the country Italy will be none the poorer, though this is perhaps making a case against Rossetti based on assumptions rather than facts. Whatever the truth of the matter, the facts show that both his and Zanetti's remarks were well founded, as the majority of the Venetian collections survived intact until, if not beyond, the fall of the republic. In Verona dalla Rosa found around twenty of the collections described by dal Pozzo, some of which were still around years later. 52 In Padua, out of the twenty-one collections mentioned by Rossetti in 1776, eleven survived to figure in Moschini's guide of 1817. 53 In Rovigo the art gallery of the Accademia dei Concordi, along with that of the seminary, still contains today the majority of the paintings which belonged to the eighteenth-century collectors, 54 just as the ones from the Carrara Gallery are still to be found in Bergamo." It is above all in Venice itself that collections, sometimes very old ones, seem ro have been dispersed the earliest, the most rapidly, and in the most spectacular fashion. Even in Venice, however, this process only really gained momentum in the first half of the nineteenth century. 56 In the eighteenth century the difference between Venice and the mainland towns was both economic and socio-cultural, consisting of the presence in Venice of a fairly large colony of foreigners; these comprised not only tourists but also residents, including wealthy merchants, diplomats and occasionally military men, based in Venice for long periods and representing a purchasing power which was even more striking in that in general they each had individually large sums of money at their disposalY This they used to build up collections which they subsequently sold in their

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own countries or else rook away with them at the end of their stay, while they sometimes also used to supply pieces to their masters or other royalty engaged in setting up galleries, as indeed did certain Venetian connoisseurs.58 They thus created a noticeable pressure on the art market, especially in the area of paintings, drawings and engravings, which were equally sought after by visitors passing through and art lovers living abroad. 59 Hence the extremely high prices of old paintings, especially of old masters, and hence tao the difficulty in finding drawings by well-known artists at a reasonable price6 and the 'incredible' dearness of engravings 61 A similar pressure was felr in the field of modern contemporary painting; several Venetian artists spent many years away from their town and even when they did live there, they often received commissions from abroad or from foreign residents in Venice 62 In the Venetian Republic of the eighteenth century, one sometimes became an art collector through birth, inheriting the family collection, sometimes through one's own efforts. Objects were both handed down and purchased, the rules of inheritance paralleled the rules of the marketplace, and collections dating from the past rubbed shoulders with ones of more recent date. This duality was not in itself particularly original. However, as we are about to find out, the origins of a collection are generally determined by the social position of its owner, something which is not unexpected, as well as by the deliberate choice of the artists represented in it and the preference accorded to certain themes. If one studies town by town or, if necessary, collection by collection, the variations in these different factors, one finishes up with a sort of map of the taste in paintings which prevailed in the Venetian Republic in the eighteenth century. Let us begin with Venice, 'Ia Dominance'.

Venice According to Francis Haskell, the collections of paintings belonging to old patrician families only covered works earlier than the eighteenth century, later artists being either poorly represented or else not at all. Even the members of the newer nobility seemed primarily interested in older paimings.63 If it did attract Venetian aristocrats, contemporary painting did so above all because of its decorative value. Accordingly, out of the 172 works contained in the Palazzo San Stefano belonging tO the Pisani family, inventoried by Edwards in April 1809, only thirteen, most of them portraits, belonged to the eighteenth century, and chiefly ro its early years: On the other hand, it was the works of S. Ricci, Lazzarini and Pellegnm which made up a large proportion of the palace's decor, while the Villa Stra, of somewhat later date, since its main body was completed in 1736,

contained works by Nazzari, Zais, Maggiotto, Fontebasso, Pittoni, Diziani, Marieschi, Amigoni, Zucchi, Zugno, Rosalba Carriera and Piazzetta. Taking into account the places where they were hung, it would seem that recent paintings were not held in the same esteem here as older ones. They belonged to the sphere of entertainment rather than that of serious art, as borne out by the predominance of lyrical subjects, landscapes and the personification by mythological figures of the four elements. 64 Once again according to Haskell, only the Giovanelli, Venetian noblemen since 1668, had added works by Tiepolo, Piazzetta, Canaletto and Zuccarelli to their collection of old masters in the first half of the eighteenth century, and only one patrician stood out among his fellows because of the wide-ranging nature of his activities as a collector, and that was Zaccaria Sagredo (16541729), who assembled in his palace a large number of paintings (including ones by Piazzetta, Tiepolo, Canaletto), drawings (by Piazzetta, Tiepolo, Lazzarini and Diziani) and engravings.6 5 The most sustained interest in contemporary paintings was above all noticeable in collectors who did not belong to patrician circles in Venice, and who built up their collections through their own efforts, by purchasing and commissioning works; among them were the city's foreign residents. One of these, Joseph Smith (1674-1770, arrived in Venice around 1700), the British consul, sold the following works to the king of England in the last years of his life: fifty-four Canalettos, forty-two Marco Riccis, thirtyeight Rosalba Carrieras, thirty-six Zuccarellis, twenty-eight Sebastiana Riccis, nine Giuseppe Nogaris, six Carlevaris and four Pietro Longhis. 66 These were, moreover, just some of the paintings, drawings and engravings by contemporary Venetian artists housed in Smith's palace, along with an impressive collection of more ancient works. Given the absence of Tiepolo and a fairly slender interest in historical painting generally, 67 the presence, en masse, of Rosalba, Marco Ricci, Canaletto and Zuccarelli shows that with regard to Venetian painting of the period, Smith was above all attracted to the way it represented the visible world, as well as to its decorative value, of course, given that thirteen of the Canalettos and eleven of the Zuccarellis were furniture pictures. It also seems to have been their representation of the visible world which attracted Smith to the Flemish artists, of whom he possessed several works, while with the Italian old masters his preference was for religious subjects. 68 Smith's case is remarkable for several reasons. No foreigner has ever played such a many-faceted role in the cultural life of Venice over so long a period. And nobody has ever built up, as far as we know, a collection comparable to his. However, it is precisely because of its size that the Smith collection, like a magnifying glass, heightens tendencies which otherwise would be difficult tO detect, even though they were present in several collections of the period. A smaller collection, belonging to Marshal

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Schulenberg (1661-17 47, in the republic since 1715 ), and one which was less well known to contemporaries, even though it too was very rich, highlights tendencies in a similar fashion. This time, however, they are diametrically opposed to those of the Smith collection, as the Schulenburg contained a large number of works by Piazzetta, Pittoni and Gian Antonio Guardi, and showed a clear preference for historical painting. 6 9 Between these two extremes came other foreign collectors, such as Sigismond Streit (1687-1775 ),' 0 some even showing interest primarily in ancient works; we shall be discussing them a little later. Among the Venetian collectors were also those who belonged to what can only be described as the middle classes. Some represented a new generation of the intelligentsia, which drew its members from the new nobility, from the bourgeoisie and from the clergy. Others were professional people, such as doctors, lawyers and artists, or else merchants and businessmen, although the latter were extremely few in number. The taste of the first category, of those who were de facto intellectuals, though their official status was obviously different, is evident from the collections of three figures belonging to three successive generations spanning the length of the eighteenth century. The most ancient one of these belonged to Anton Maria Zanetti the Elder (1680-1767), the son of a doctor given the title of count six years before his death by the Empress Maria Theresa. Zanetti had established links with Pierre Crozat and Pierre-Jean Mariette before 1720, the latter remaining his friend for the rest of his life, and after visits to both London and Paris, he became the regular correspondent of several great foreign collectors and acted as their go-between in the transactions they entered into. Nor could they have found a more able one. Himself an artist, a talented engraver and cartoonist and a connoisseur of antiques - his engraved stones greatly surpassed those of Joseph Smith Zanetti was also one of the most important Venetian collectors of the time, both by virtue of the works he amassed and because of the influence he exerted through a network of friends which included everyone who counted in the world of art and curiosity. 71 The majority of the pictures he collected were contemporary. The works of his friends, Sebastiana and Marco Ricci, 72 figured largely, bm there were also two landscapes by Zuccarelli and several pastels and miniatures by Rosalba. In addition to these was a quite exceptional collection of prints, the jewel in its crown being the complete works of Rembrandt and Callot, not to mention a collection of drawings by the old masters as well as by contemporary artists, including 133 by Sebastiana and 141 by Marco Ricci.73 The second generation was best represented by Francesco Algarotti (1712-64), the son of a wealthy Venetian merchant, elevated to the rank of count by Frederick II, King of Prussia. Although he made only short and infrequent stays in the home rown he had left at the age of twenty, the

influence he exerted through his writings, the commissions he gave to arrists for works intended for the Dresden gallery and through the direct contact he had with them, was so great that it would be impossible to ignore it.'4 The collection he left at his death seems to reflect the preferences he had expressed elsewhere. Out of 179 attributed pictures, there were forty-three landscapes, vedute and architectural paintings, three animal portraits, five of flowers, while the rest comprised historical and religious works. Although not tremendously large, this proportion of paintings depicting elements of the visible world is nonetheless significant. Worth noting too, is the marked presence of contemporary Venetian painters- forty-nine works by eighteen artists- and in particular of Tiepolo, with thirteen pictures by him. When it comes to the drawings, the tale is much the same. 70 We move on to the third generation, represented, for instance, by Matteo Pinelli (1736-85 ), a publisher employed by the state who used his spare time to amass a huge library, a collection of coins, of which more later,76 and more than 640 paintings. Most of these were portraits, which numbered 210, and these reflected Pinelli's interest in history, especially that of Venice. Out of the remaining 430 works, 202 were religious, seventy-five were landscapes, sixty-two historical paintings, forty-nine featured still lifes, flowers, fruit and animals and fifteen were battle scenes. The modernity of Pinelli's taste can be judged from the fact that the landscapes and vedute outnumbered the historical paintings, and is confirmed by the presence of at least fifty works by contemporary artists, with five Lazzarinis and B. N azzaris, four Sebastiana Riccis, the same number of Piazzettas and Tiepolos, three Marco Riccis and three Pittonis, and two each by Marieschi, Canaletto and Pietro Longhi. The strong presence of Flemish artists should also be emphasized, and in particular a 'Quadfo con stregherie di bizafre invenzione. Vi sta scfitto Iheronimus Boehs.'77 The massive influx into collections of landscapes, stilllifes, flowers, fruit, animals, of representations of the visible world in other words, reflected the promotion of what had formerly been known as the 'minor genres', often to the detriment of historical and religious painting. These changes in the thematic structure of collections did not necessarily open them up to contemporary painting, these two phenomena not necessarily being synonymous. This is borne out by a collection- anonymous, unfortunately- of drawings, which was formed in Venice before the 1780s and is dominated by contemporary artists. Its subjects are uniquely historical and religious, and there is not a single capriccio, landscape or veduta. 78 Thematic preferences are thus one thing and attitudes to contemporary painting quite another, the two only converging in very specific cases, such as where an attachment to older painting is accompanied by a continuing preference for religious and hisrorical subjects. It is just such a refusal to accept any kind of innovation that seems to have manifested itself in the collectors who

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belonged to Venetian patrician circles, this stance being opposed by those who opted either for contemporary painting, or for an overhaul of thematic tastes or even both at the same time: attitudes towards contemporary painting were particular! y revealing of profound differences in taste. It remains to be seen whether this duality was restricted to Venice or whether it also existed in the mainland towns.

Brescia, Padua, Rovigo

Around 1760, three of the seven collections supposedly located in Brescia, according tO the catalogues published by Carboni 7 9 contained works by the following contemporary painters: Pittoni and Solimena (six each), Balestra and Gian Battista Tiepolo (four), Canaletto, Piazzetta and an anonymous artist (two), Cignaroli, Antonio Guardi, Sebastiana Ricci, Rotari, Zais and Zuccarelli, not counting those who were actually resident in Brescia. In actual fact, out of the thirty-two works by these artists twenty-seven belonged to just two of the collections, owned by the Barbizonis and Avogadris, including all the Pittonis, of which each owned three, all the Solimenas, five of which belonged to the Avogadris, the three Tiepolos, the Piazzettas, Canalettos and vedute. It has to be said that with 263 and more than 175 pictures respectively, these two collections contained more than the other five put together, as these only contained ninety, seventy-nine (plus thirty furniture pictures), forty-eight, forty-one and thirty-four paintings respectively. Nonetheless, as in the case of the Gaifanis' collection, which ranked fourth, around six per cent of the contents of each was composed of contemporary works, demonstrating that it was not the size of the collection which determined the presence of this type of painting. The nature of their contents does seem, however, to have been a decisive factor. In the Maffei collection, which comprised ninety works, none later than the seventeenth century, fifty-eight paintings, that is more than half, were given over to religious and historico-mythological subjects, compared with the Gaifani collection where the proportion was approximately a third (twenty-six out of seventy-nine), the Barbizoni (95 out of 263) and the Avogadri (67 out of 175).lt is true, however, that the same proportion was to be found in the collection belonging to Bishop Molino, who had weaknesses for 'Borgognone' battles, bambocciate - he had four - and for Flemish painting, but none whatsoever for contemporary works. The percentage of landscapes, stilllifes, flowers, fruit, animals and genre scenes is, perhaps, more significant, as the figure of slightly under twenty-five per cent for the Maffei collection (twenty our of ninety) is in marked contrast to the figures of over fifty per cent for the Gaifani (forty-five out of seventynine), around forty per cent for the Barbizoni (1 03 out of 263) and even to

the figure of just over twenty-five per cent for the Avogardi collection (45 out of more than 175 ), where 'diversi quadretti d'animali di conte Giorgio Durazzo' and 'moltissimi altri quadri Fiamminghi piccoli e grandi' have not been included in the total. so Although these are only rough figures, they do seem ro point to the existence of two different trends in taste in Brescia, similar to those detected by Haskell in Venice, one remaining loyal to traditional painting and preferring religious and historical subjects, the other welcoming innovation and showing an interest in landscapes, stilllifes, flowers, fruit, animals and genre scenes. This, at any rate, is the image the collectors themselves gave of their preferences, either deliberately or unintentionally, given that they personally provided Carboni with their catalogues.si We come next to house interiors in Padua around 1765 and 1776, as described by Rossetti, who gave the names of the authors of the most interesting works tO be seen there, sometimes detailing their subjects. This selection obviously conflicts at times with that operated by the owners of the paintings, bur the very fact that they opened their homes to him some ten years later, when he came ro revise his book indicates that they did not have too much to reproach him with. 82 Here, out of the thirty-five descriptions of interiors, only eight mention works by contemporary painters. Moreover, in the home of Abbot Poleni, the son of Giovanni Poleni, a famous scholar and friend of Joseph Smith, the portraits by Rosalba appear to have constituted part of the decor, 8 3 while three other people, who also happened to be collectors, only possessed one single recent picture each - a Balestra, a Piazzetta and a G. B. Tiepolo 84 - which does not suggest a particularly keen interest in contemporary painting. As for the four remaining interiors, it was the Berzi family which posed the problem: 'These worthy merchants possess a number of very fine works, namely vedute by the famous Antonio Canal, known as Canaletto, a Venetian. They also own ones by Antonio Pellegrini as well as several pastels by Rosalba Carriera, a Venetian of considerable fame outside Italy too. Madame Catherine, a member of the same family, owns several paintings by this eminent artist.' 8 5 There is nothing in this description, which was, moreover, omitted from the 1776 edition, to suggest that the Berzis were collectors, but whether they were or not, they owed their reputation solely to the fact that they had amassed a number of contemporary pictures. Given that this was regarded as exceptional behaviour in this respect, it can be assumed that had there been any similar cases, these would not have gone unnoticed. A few years prior to 1765, a noble Paduan, Giorgio Brigo, had built up a collection of paintings including works by Piazzetta and Rosalba, to which one work by Pellegrini, another Rosalba and two pictures by Cignaroli were added between 1765 and 1776 86 In the home of Count Capodilista, however, 'a great connoisseur of painting', works by Marco Ricci, Nogari and Nazzari

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could be seen, these being joined at a later date by one by Solimena, which the count had kept in Venice during his lifetime, and the collection remained intact until the nineteenth century. 87 Lastly, two paintings by Trevisani, four by Pellegrini and two small landscapes by Zuccarelli88 formed part of a collection, dispersed before 1776, which belonged to a priest by the name of Milesi. The abbot of the Santa Giustina Convent possessed, among other ancient and modern works, at least three landscapes by Marco Ricci, two of which were apparently attributed to Salvator Rosa, two religious paintings by Marco and Sebastiana Ricci attributed to the 'school of Salvator Rosa'- at any rate it was with these attributions that they entered the museum- as well as a Pittoni which continues to raise doubts even today. 89 Cases of this nature were certainly more common, especially when it came to flowers, fruit, animals, landscapes, battles and genre scenes, while we know of Marco Ricci seascapes attributed in Bassano and Bologna to Magnasco and Tempesta9 There is no doubt that a certain amount of prudence must be exercised when it comes to interpreting old guides, catalogues or inventories, whose attributions have long since been refuted, yet one can nonetheless assume that, with the exception of Count Capodilista, Paduan lovers of contemporary painting, like their Venetian counterparts, did not belong to ancient families, where paintings were handed down from generation tO generation, but comprised instead merchants, priests and one nobleman who had built up his collection himself, in other words, they were newcomers to the world of art. These lovers who were always in the minority, seem, moreover, to have been less numerous in the late 1770s than in the early 1760s. In neighbouring Rovigo, the trend seems to have been quite the reverse. In 1740, the Accademia dei Concordi, founded by the local nobility, decided to commission portraits of the town's most notable figures from the past from the best-known painters in Venice, in particular G. B. Tiepolo, B. Nazzari and Piazzetta, who both painted three portraits, Pittoni, A. Longhi and several other famous artists, including Pietro Rotari and Giuseppe Maria Crespi.9 1 An interest in contemporary painting had probably already emerged in Rovigo, and certain works mentioned by Bartoli in 1793 had probably been purchased directly from their creators. What is for certain is that the Casilinis in Santa Trinita owned six landscapes by Marco Ricci; the Durazzos had a 'veduta della Piazza de'Rovigo' by Canaletto along with four landscapes by Nazzario Nazzari; the Grottos had a Pittoni 'delfe sue prime case'; the Lentas a Virgin by Tiepolo; the Manfredinis a porta San Giovanni an ASJumption by Pittoni and the Manfredinis presso San Rocco eight historical pictures by Trevisani. Four other works by this last painter, along with a Tiepolo, belonged to the Marangonis, and another Tiepolo was owned by the Venezzes.9 2 A Madonna and Child commissioned from Piazzetta by Canon Ludovico Campo, the treasurer of the Accademia dei

Concordi, was put on display at the palace of Nicolo Campo in 1793.93 Whatever the date these pictures arrived in Rovigo, when they did so it was in startling quantity, and we have not yet even mentioned all those which were pan of collections. If these too are taken into account, we find that contemporary paintings were present in eleven of the twenty-five Rovigo interiors described by Bartoli. As soon as one turns to the collections, however, one immediately notices a profound difference between those belonging to Don Girolamo Biscaccia Carrara and the Casilini a! Duomo family on the one side and those owned by the Campanaris, Muttonis and Silvestris on the other. Contemporary pictures were completely absent from the first collection mentioned, while out of the sixty-two works making up the second, only three, one painred by Lazzarini and two by Diziani, were of recent date. Indeed, the Casilini family had a marked and lasting preference for traditional painting, and the 1824 catalogue of its collection shows that out of the 172 works comprising it, 140 of which were attributed to specific artists, only eight were painted by artists who lived on into the eighteenth century, and only two of these died after 1750. It is also worth noting that 112 had religious themes, twenty-four were portraits and twelve historical paintings. Altogether, there were only eight landscapes and genre scenes, three battles and two flower pictures.94 This pronounced backward-looking slant was completely foreign to the Campanari collection, with its two Tiepolos, two Lazzarinis, its Balestra (of doubtful attribution, however), its Marco Ricci, Nogari, Pittoni, Bortoloni and Ghislandi, in all, ten recent works out of a total of sixty-seven, without counting the copy of Piazzetta's Madonna and Child which had been executed by the owner of this collection.9> It was just as foreign w the Muttoni collection where, among the thirty-eight pictures described and which Bartoli considered the most precious, were four Pittonis, three Balestras and 'due belle vedutine di luoghi preSJo Roma' by van Wittel.96 Lastly, in the collection built up by Rinaldo Silvestri (1729- after 1793) out of 124 paintings -actually more, as Bartoli did not include 'varii quadri de fiori' - thirty-four were by eighteenth-century artists, with eight by Piazzetta, four by Pittoni, three by Diziani and the same number by G. Nogari, two by Balestra, Sebastiana Ricci, G. B. Tiepolo, Zais and Buffetti and one from each of the following: Amigoni, Canaletto, Cignaroli, Lazzarini, Rotari and Trevisani9 7 In Rovigo, a cleavage in taste, similar to the one described in Brescia, made its appearance against a far more pronounced backdrop of contemporary painting, the difference being that in Rovigo, unlike Brescia, the thematic make-up of the collections did not vary noticeably, with religious and historical paintings accounting for more than half of the Campanari and Silvestri collections (forty-two works out of sixty-seven and 74 out of 124 respectively), and nearly half of the Casilini collection (twenty-six out of sixty-two).

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In several ways, the Campanari, Mutton i and Silvestri collections resembled that of Giovanni Vianelli, a canon of Chioggia cathedral, a collecti on which comprised seventy -three works painted in the eightee nth-cen tury out of a total of 232 pictures (including twenty-five anonym ous ones). The eightee nth-cen tury ones included eleven paintin gs and a book of sketches by Rosalba, nine by Pellegrini, six by Tiepolo and the same number by Balestra, five by Piazzerra and the same number by Marco Ricci, four by Carlevaris and by Sebastiana Ricci, three by Francesco Guardi, two by Zuccarelli and B. Nazzari, as well as single works by Bencovich, Cignaro li, Marchesini and Trevisani. Like the Rovigo collections, nearly half of this one comprised religious and historical pictures ( 112 out of 232), along with forty-two portrait s, heads and busts and twenty- eight landscapes, the latter thus outnum bering the seventeen historical paintings. 98

Verona The contras t, which is already perceptible when Brescia, and Rovigo in particular, are compared with Padua, becomes striking when these first two towns are compared with Verona, where Venetia n paintin g seems to have met with fierce resistance. There was, nevertheless, no forewa rning of this in the openin g decades of the century: Lazzarini and Trevisa ni were represe nted in the collections described by dal Pozzo,9 9 while Pittoni and Sebastiana Ricci each carried out commissions for the churches in the town. Indeed, dalla Rosa mentio ns a Veronese pupil of the latter and attribut es two altar pictures to him. 100 Between 1724 and 1725, at the request of Scipione Maffei, Tiepolo produced a set of drawings of the antiquit ies contained in the Bevilacqua collection for his Verona illustrata, which contains lofty praise of the 'per/etta correzzione', 'francbezza', 'espress ion delle sembianze' and above all the 'gusto antico' of Tiepolo's work. 101 It was apparen tly during this particular sojourn in Verona that Tiepolo painted the only work to have been commissioned from him in this town, to which he only returne d in 1761, in order to paint the frescoes in the Canossa Palace. 102 The list of Venetia n works commissioned by the Veronese is comple ted by one picture by Bencovich and two by Piazzetta, and with only one exception, all were painted prior to 1730. 103 In addition to this, one can count the number of contem porary Venetian paintin gs in the possess ion of private individuals on the fingers of one hand. There were none at all in the collection belonging to Anton Maria Lorgna (1735-9 6), sold in 1781 to Count Giovanni Emilei (1749-1 802), 104 and only one, a Sebastiana Ricci, out of the 354 works of the Canossa collection, of which an invento ry was

drawn up in the same year,l 05 while the Serpini collection included just two Zuccarelli landscapes.l 06 As for Giovanni Girolam o Orti (1769-1845 ), the proud owner of a 'scelta raccolta de quadri modern i tra i quali uno di Gio Batta Tiepolo', 107 the compos ition of which is unfortu nately unknow n to us, it is possible that he did own a few other Venetia n paintin gs. Let us add that in the portrai t collection belonging to Rafaelle Mosconi (1671-1730), which went to the Gazola family after his death, where it remain ed until the ninetee nth century, eightee nth century paintin g was represe nted by portraits by Fabio Canal, Lazzarini, P. Longhi, Pittoni, Sebastiana Ricci, Trevisa ni and Visentini, and althoug h this collection was only comple ted after the death of its founder, the quantit y and quality of absent painter s is nonetheless impressive. tos The impress ion that the Veronese did indeed turn their backs on eightee nth century Venetia n paintin g was borne our by subsequent events. In the art gallery belonging to Giovanni Albarelli (1765-1821), for instance, which was catalogued in 1815, only two out of 300 pictures, an Amigon i and a Lazzarini, were Venetian. 109 The Pompe i collection is said to have contained a Pittoni, 110 but this figures neither in the invento ry drawn up in 1835 after the death of Alessandro Pompe i nor in that drawn up in 1850 after the demise of Giulio Pompei , even though both do list several Venetia n works. The earlier one counts five out of a total of seventy -five, including two 'vedute "della maniera de Guardi" ', two more 'della scuola de Canaletto' and a landscape 'sullo stile de Zuccharelti'. 11 1 This figure rises to twenty- one out of 247 in the second catalogue, with six by or attribut ed to Longhi, three by Marco Ricci, including one attribut ed to Salvato r Rosa, four copies of Zuccarelli, five views of Venice, including three anonym ous works and two others painted 'ad imitazione del Canaletto', and two 'piccole vedutine' by Guardi.l 12 All this is unimpr essive in terms of both quality the Venetia n works are minor ones, often of doubtful authent icity and appear only to have been seen as part of the decor - and even quantity , especially if the Pompe i collection is compared with the Vianelli or Silvestri ones. The flagrant under-r epresen tation of eightee nth-cen tury Venetia n painting in the Pompe i collection becomes even more so when this collecti on is contras ted with one in Verona owned by Antoni o Tanara ; dating from the same period, this one contained three works from Sebastiana Ricci, Rosalba Carriera and Zuccarelli, two from Amigoni, Canaletto, Piazzetta, Marco Ricci and Tiepolo, and single works from Bencovich, Lazzari ni and Pellegrini: a grand total of twenty-five Venetia n paintin gs our of 162.1!3 The Tanara collection was not, however, formed in Verona, but arrived there in 1825 in the shape of a legacy from Vicenza, where it had belonge d to the Balzi Salvioni family. This is the likely explana tion for its profile's being so very differen t from that of Verone se collections in the first half of

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the nineteen th century, whether they be those of Giulio Pompei, Andrea Monga (four Venetia n works out of 185) or of Cesare Bernasconi (eight out of 152). 114 What lay behind this rejection of Venetia n painting ? A lack of interest in artistic innovati on in general or instead latent hostility towards Venice? Both, in all probability, though in what measure it is impossib le to say. Without any doubt, a backward-looking tendency prevaile d in a large proporti on of Verones e collections in the latter half of the eighteen th century, if not as early as the 1730s, which saw the demise of the last survivin g member s of the generati on of collectors for whom dal Pozzo acted as spokesm an. In 1732, in his Verona illustrata, Maffei passed no commen t on the ten or so art galleries he mention ed, as if seeking to imply that nothing new could be said on the subject. In addition, he showed a definite preferen ce for painters such as Balestra, Tiepolo, Marches ini and the very young Cignaroli, proof of a resolutely contemp orary taste and an indication to his fellow collectors of the path he would have liked to have seen them follow.m All the evidence seems to show that this attempt at renewin g Verones e artistic culture was anything but crowned with success. Of the forty-one interiors containi ng painting s listed by dalla Rosa, only two are said to contain 'quadri moderni et antichi' while the expressi on 'raccolta de quadri antichi' appears seven times. 116 What is more, those modern painters whose works were to be found in private houses, were Balestra, Simone Brentan a, Marchesini, Solimena and Torelli, all of whom were active at the beginnin g of the century and dead by 1745. None of their successors was represen ted, except for Giambe ttino Cignaroli, mention ed in several places as the author of frescoes, though his painting s are referred to only once, and Francesco Lorenzi, while the works of Pietro Rotari, who took up residence in St Petersbu rg in 1756, were kept in his family home. 117 The artists working in Verona itself in the eighteen th century do not, therefor e, seem to have been given any greater represen tation in the private collections there than their colleagues from Venice, an impress ion borne out by the small number of inventor ies we know ofl 18 This backward-looking tendency was not necessarily the result of a conscious decision. Rather, it was the almost inevitable consequence of collections being inherite d by people who conserved them and handed them down in their turn without adding any contemp orary works to them. Neverth eless, the dearth of commissions, especially of public commiss ions made to Venetia n painters , leads one to suppose that the almost total absence of contemp orary pieces from private collections was the result of a climate which, in Verona, was not particula rly favourable to them. In the absence of any in-depth research into collections of painting s in Verona in the eighteen th century, we will confine ourselves to the conclusion that contemp orary painting , whether Venetia n or Veronese, primaril y attracted

the member s of families which previous ly had never taken any real interest in art. These included the Emilei al Pigna, who commiss ioned two painting s from Cignaroli, the Orti, the Serpini al Duomo, owners of the largest collection of ancient and modern prints in Verona and of a substant ial collection of drawings, and the Spolverini al Giardino, whose residence was decorated with modern painting s, notably one by Lorenzi. 11 9 In this respect, the situation in Verona therefor e resembl ed that described by Francis Haskell, though in a more exaggerated form, given the undoubtedly lower number of new art lovers. On the mainlan d, Rovigo and Verona represen t two diametrically opposin g attitudes to contemp orary Venetia n painting , one of acceptance, one of rejection. The remainin g towns were somewh ere between the two. Brescia resembles Rovigo, as does Bergamo, where collectors fell into raptures over Zuccarelli and where Count Giovann i Carrara, the town's most influential art lover, was in contact with Tiepolo. 120 Vicenza would have to be situated somewh ere towards the centre, though perhaps a little closer to Rovigo. It is there that a work by Pirtoni was described as being in the possessi on of Pietro Caldagno, while Angelo Vecchia's 'superbe galeria' containe d one by Tiepolo,l21 who also carried out several commiss ions for public buildings and painted frescoes to decorate a number of private palaces. 122 Other, later, signs of the presence of contemp orary Venetia n painting in Vicenza, include the Balzi Salvioni collection, mention ed above, and the legacy made in 1825 to the municipal museum by Paolina Porto Godi who, out of eighty-n ine pictures, left at least two by Pittoni and two by Marco Ricci. 12 3 Padua also appears to occupy a central position. Howeve r, while its private collections resembl ed those in Verona rather than those in Rovigo in terms of contents , the men who financed commissions for decorating public buildings, the Santo in particular, had a differen t attitude to contemp orary Venetia n painting.t24 Obviously, our map of tastes is anything but simple. Contem porary Venetia n painting provoke d differen t reactions in every town, reflected in the varying proporti ons of dilettant es and collectors who accepted or rejected it. Just to complicate matters, the same person might commission frescoes yet feel unable to order painting s from an artist, as if he accepted the painter wearing his decorato r's hat, but was unwilling to include his works in his collection (illustra ted by the Canossas' dealings with Tiepolo in Verona) , while trends in private collections were not necessarily reflected in public commiss ions, even within the same town. Lastly, the changes occurring over this period should not be neglected as much as they have been here, even if, taking Verona as an example, their effects seem to have been far from spectacular. If they were properly taken into account, it would be possible to trace the gradual fading, if not the complet e disappea rance, of the initial incompa tibility between certain painters , which made such a

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strong impress ion in the first half of the century that Canalett o dilettant es were prevente d from liking Tiepolo and vice versa. This incompa tibility gave way to a sort of retroacti ve kinship which grew from a common sense of belongin g to a finished era. It goes without saying that a collector active in the closing years of the century perceived painting s in a differen t way to his predeces sors in the 1730s, for example , who continue d to feel keenly oppositi on which had since vanished . Howeve r, we have not been able to take changes such as these into account in this study. Despite these reservat ions, the fact remains that contemp orary Venetia n painting created divisions between dilettant es and collectors just as much in Venice as in the mainlan d towns, reflectin g there disagree ments which conflicting choices operated on a single corpus of works expresse d more clearly than any discourse could. The fact also remains that there was a clear dividing line between towns whose numerou s collections were formed in a sometim es very distant past and where interest in contemp orary painting was restricte d to newcom ers to the art world who accordingly had but little influence, and towns where it was the latter who had a decisive say in matters thanks to their number or wealth, or quite simply to the absence of any competi tion. Also apparen t, though this time concern ing the republic as a whole, was the division of collections into two classes. Haskell drew attention to this in Venice, and we have already noted its presence in all the mainlan d towns. This division concerned the difference between collections handed down as legacies and others built up by their present owners. A town of inheritor -collecto rs, Verona therefor e offers a strong contrast with Rovigo, a town dominat ed by art collectors of recent date.

scale that they affected both the contents and characte r of art collections them to a historical perspect ive and causing them to pamfmg s by the 'primitiv es', the link between these two ideas being obvious. In the Venetia n Republic the oldest collection to have been oro-anized on historica l lines seems to have been the one belongin g to Carlo Lodoli ( 16901761 ), a _Franciscan, architec tural theorist and educator. His pupils included Algarow and Andrea Memmo ( 1729-93 ), who described the life and outlined the ideas of his master in a book publishe d twenty-f ive years after the latter's death. This is what he has to say on the subject of Lodoli' s collection. To give an example of his conception of those arts which I have no hesitation in calling the younger sisters of architecture - since they are nothmg more than imitation and their chief purpose is to provide decoration for it- I will describe what his gallery contained in the way of them. This will also help to prove that it was impossible for him not to possess the same exquisite taste in architecture too, and that he could !dentify each stage in the development of this art and judge the merit of ItS artiStS. Being only a poor brother, he could never have managed to purchase a set of works by the most famous painters; unfortunately for those who are nor wealthy, they fetch such extravagant sums that we must often be content with admiring them in other people's houses. He therefore decided to form a collection which would be different to those ro which we are accustomed, but perhaps more useful, in the belief that pictures should show each stage of the progression of the art of drawing from its Renaissance in Italy as far as Titian, Raphael, Correggio, Buonarotti and Paolo Veronese ... _m collected two types of objects, painting s and the 'srone pieces of archJtecture he had amassed in order to further knowled ge either of the manner of differen t periods or else of some new and unusual inventio n, regardless of whether it was sensible or quite outrageous'I28 The stones were kept in the garden, while the painting s had been arranged by Lodoli according to schools and in chronological order. 'His collection opened wJth the remams of a work by some Greek artist', followed by the works of the 'very earliest Venetian s who had learnt the art of painting from the Greeks' and which were anonym ous. The true beginnin gs of the Venetia n school were represen ted, among others, by Gentile de Fabriano the Vivarinis, Carpaccio and the three Bellinis. In another room, one follow the 'develop ment of the Lombard school', starting with a rare work by Squarcione. There were also 'several pieces' from the Florenti ne school notably by Cimabue and Giotto, as well as works in smaller numbers the Roman, Bolognese, German and Flemish schools.I29

Historical collections of paintings

Many promote rs of contemp orary painting were promine nt figures in intellect ual circles, whateve r their official social status. Member s of these circles also included those foreigne rs who had made a substant ial contribu tion to the recognit ion of contemp orary painting during the first half of the century, even if they had never written a single line in their entire lives. A frequent importe r of books setting out new ideas, and G. B. Pasquali 's partner in several publishi ng ventures , often large-scale ones,] oseph Smith was in contact with Maffei, Algarott i, the two Zanettis , Poleni and others, of which more later. 125 In his more modest fashion, a certain Sigismo nd Streit made the acquaintance of professo rs at the Univers ity of Padua (where he moved in 1750) and of Vallisnieri the Younge r in particula r, to whom he left his natural history collection in 1758. 126 It was in this same milieu, with its opennes s to intellectual artistic innovati on, that two new ideas were born, ideas which were eventual ly adopted on such a universa l

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Memmo presents the idea of creating such a collection as a makeshift solution forced upon the 'povero frate', by the lack of the necessary wherewithal to purchase masterpieces. Moreover, he explains that Lodoli managed to acquire the pieces in his collection because those who had the benefit of his advice on architectural matters, 'feeling themselves to be indebted co him as a result, gave him drawings or paintings in order co enrich and, as he put it, sweeten his gallery' 1 ' 0 Without wishing to cast doubt on this account, we should not forget Lodoli's well-documented friendship with Maffei, who was well known for advocating a historical approach to art and for his ami-Vasari stance. This was reflected in his insistence on the continuity of Italian artistic history and in his toleram attitude to the works of the Middle Ages, which he believed should be judged in the light of the ideas of that period and with regard to their relevance to the 'primitives'. 1l 1 Nor should we forget the links he had with a whole cultural milieu in Padua, of whose deep interest in history, especially the Middle Ages, we will see evidence later. His collection was therefore the product of scholarly curiosity combined with a passion for art, both for the ancient art he studied in his visits to churches and palaces and which 'provided him with knowledge of every single piece of sculpture or paiming, even if it was hidden away in private, almost lowly, dwellings' and for contemporary art, as 'it pleased him to watch at work famous painters with whom he had established friendships.' 132 Seen in this light, lodoli appears simply to have put into practice the teachings of Maffei, that historian of ancient art and critic sympathetic to the art of his contemporarIes. It was within this very same Paduan milieu that another collection was formed, based on the same principles as Lodoli's. Its founder, a historian of the University of Padua, named Abbot Jacopo Facciolati ( 1682-1769), was a friend of his, and a fellow habitue of Smith's palazzo. 135 When Grosley visited him at his home, he saw a collection as scholar! y as it is singular. It is a series of pictures which, so as to speak, traces the history of painting since its renaissance in Europe. It commences with Greek paintings, the imitation of which formed the apprenticeship of the very first painters in Italy. They depict Madonnas copied in a base fashion, with no taste for drawing, the aridity and platitude of their execution matching in every way that of the crudely illuminated wood-block prints our peasants use to decorate their huts. This art develops little by little in the following painters, and after Giotto, Mantegna and the Bellinis we finally come to Raphael and Titian ... 111 While emphasizing the superiority of Facciolati's collection compared with other Italian collections where he claims one sees only 'disiectcl

membra picturae', Grosley was obviously ill at ease when he met this divergence between historical and artistic criteria, where the first attributed value to objects to which the second did not. Nor was he the only one to have had this problem, which was resolved later, with the discovery of the beauty of the 'primitives' and of medieval art in general, following lengthy examination of it and much explicative work. 1 " In 1771, ten years after Lodoli's death, Anton Maria Zanetti the Younger made the hisrorical approach to Venetian painting official, if one can put it that way. Even though the title of his book on the subject does not itself indicate its historical nature, the preface could nor possibly be more explicit on this matter.
I shall try to be a good historian and follow the example of the very best historians by introducing comments on the various different styles of our painters from time to time, trying to analyse as clearly as I can each part separately, in order that it may be of some use. My work is a history of Venetian art and artists, in that it deals with this an and this art onlyHG The structure of the work is just as explicit. The first book opens with the mosaics in St Mark's and goes as far as the end of the fifteenth century. Book II begins with Giorgione, 'the first of our citizens to raise painting up from the lowly status it had previously been confined to', 137 and he is joined by Titian, Tintoretto, Veronese andJacopo Bassano, Book III being reserved for the disciples and successors of these great masters and Book IV for the mannerists, whose works which were characterized by a distancing from nature and tradition, were symptomatic for Zanetti of the decadence of art. 08 Last of all, the fifth book deals with contemporary painting, whose summits were, according to Zanetti, reached by Tiepolo, the final representative of the grand style. Zanetti's overall position was made up of several different components, which others have already shown to be interdependent.119 These included the rejection of mannerism, the reinsertion into history of the 'primitives', whose works he considered to be in accordance with reason, yet at the same time incapable of providing either pleasure or amazement,Ho one further illustration of the discrepancy between historical and artistic criteria - and the re-evaluation of contemporary painting seen from an almost neo-classical viewpoint. As far as our particular topic is concerned, it is also important to underline his role in the publication of two volumes Delle anticbe .rtatue g1eche e romane cbe nell'antiJala della !ibtetia di San Marco, e in a!tri !uogbi pubblici di Venezia si trovano, which made a substantial contribution to the spread of the cult of ancient sculpture.t41 First conceived by Anton Maria Zanetti the Elder as early as the 1720s, and one of the finest jewels in the crown of Venetian publishing in the eighteenth century, the book was actually written by the two cousins, who

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executed the drawings of the statues chosen for inclusion and accompanied these with scholarly commentarie s. 142 Thirty years later, the author of Della pittura t'eneziana recalled in his preface: 'I spent my youth studying ancient statues, and in rime I began to master the art of good drawing quite sarisfactorily.' 14 ; This helps us to understand his critical attitude ro mannerism, as well as the praise he lavished at the end of his book on the collection of casts of ancient statues amassed by a Venetian patrician, Abbot Filippo Farsetti (1703-74) - yet another of Lodoli's pupils 144 - and housed in his palace.

Pictures by the 'primitives' and ancient statuary

From the sixteenth century onwards, Venetian painters had often been reproached with paying only scant attention tO ancient statuary, of which their city had no examples. Some of them, including Boschini, replied to this criticism by asserting that the imitation of living nature was more important than that of ancient masterpieces, copies of which were in fact to be found in Venice 145 Before the arrival of the Farsetti collection in the 1760s, however, it cannot have been an easy task to track them down, as when Zanetti hailed its arrival, he exclaimed: 'Foreigners will no longer be able to tell the Venetians that they would be better if they had seen the statues in Rome, as he [Farsetti] has obtained copies taken directly from the originals, and not just the ones in the Capitol's large collection but others too from all over Rome and from the highly renowned gallery in Florence too.' 146 According to Zanetti, the study of these 'erudite forme' (a significant term) would enable young Venetians ro learn 'how to use good drawing ro render nature itself, perfecting its already flawless beauty'. He explained what he meant by these words by making it clear that the aim of this study was tO succeed in 'faithfully imitating the symmetry and grace of the contours of these figures: the form of the heads and other extremities, in order to go on, armed with confidence and a solid grounding, to the freer and more animated studies which are the crowning glory of our school'. 117 These are the essential features of the academic teaching programme of the fine arts. The Farserri collection did indeed justify both the enthusiasm of its visitors who, like Goethe, felt themselves transported back to the splendours of ancient times, 148 as well as the panegyrics lavished on irs creator both during his lifetime and well after his death 14 9 Its 253 plaster casts, which included ninety-three statues, thirty-three busts, twenty-nine heads, sixty-three figured bas-reliefs, thirteen ornamental bas-reliefs and twentytwo figurines,]j 0 brought Venice reproduction s of the most famous works of ancient statuary, such as the Laocoon, the Medicis' Ven11s, the Apollo,

Antinous and Torso from the Belvedere, the Wrestlers from the Uffizi, as well as Satyrs, Fauns and Centaurs. The same collection also contained 178 terracott.a objects, several bronzes and marbles, along with copies of of modern sculpture, most notably Michelangelo's Redeemer, Bermm s Neptune and Giambologna 's Mercury.l5l The 125 paintings which also formed part of the collection were of but little interest. Nearly half of were Flemish, and the rest were Italian, twenty-eight re!Igwus pictures for the majority of these, and twenty-four flowe.r, frurt and animal studies constituting rhe largest proporof the Flemish works. Eighteenth-c entury Venetian painting was not I? favour, and there were only five specimens of it, two by Carlevaris and smgle works by Lazzarini, Marco Ricci and Zuccarelli.t52 r_oughly forty years, beginning in the lifetime of Filippo Farsetri, contiOUI?g under the watchful eye of his heir, Daniele Farsetti (1725-87), and endmg under that of the latter's son, Anton Francesco, who left forSt in 1804 after having sold the family collections,l53 the casts of ancient statues constituted the most precious element of these collections and played an important role in artistic life in Venice. In 1805 they the Empe:or of Austria and donated to the city's AcademyJH The sigmficance of thrs role, to which the Farsetti collection owes its reputation, stemmed from the fact that it functioned somewhat as an art school,. in that. artists :-vere given the opportunity to study and copy the works It contamed. This accounts for Zanetti's hope that there would be a rebirth of the fine arts in Venice. Although this turned out ro be a forlorn one very artist, Canova, did acquire at least part of his skill by the Farsettt His very first works were bought by Filippo Farserti and went to )Om the casts of the ancient works, at least two of which, the Wrestlers and the Belvedere Antinous, he copied.t55 Zanetti was not the only one who sought both the reinsertion of the 'primitives', and even of works from the Middle Ages, into rhe history of art and the. promotion of ancient statues to the level of models for contemporary arttsts. Other people shared the same aims, including Maffei and in the 1820s did they turn out to lead to incompatible aesthetiC choiCes. When, in the closing decades of the eighteenth century, colle.ctors to one or other of these aims, it was chiefly due to the Impossibrllty of amassmg both paintings and antiquities with artistic worth, except in the case of particularly wealthy individuals. In other words thi_s concentration on a single aim was quite simply dictated by the prices of ObjeCtS. . Among the ,Venetian collections organized according to historical dtc.tates, let us first .mention the one owned by John Strange (1732-99), a Bmon who was resident there from 1774 to 1790, and whose links with a whole group of Venetian naturalists we will come to later. Formed with the

?Y

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help of Giovan Maria Sasso, whose services he employed, Strange's collection of paintings was, according to Abbot della Lena, 'fa storia visibile della Pittu1a Veneziana', the 'primitives' being especially well represented. 1' 7 Della Lena also talks of the 'Storia visibile detl'Arte' with regard to the print collection belonging to Count Durazzo, the imperial ambassador to Venice between 1764 and 1784. 158 Later on, in the 1780s, Girolamo Manfrin (d. 1802), a nouveatt riche businessman, 'opened a gallery comprising several rooms filled with paintings by the most renowned artists, ranging from the very earliest painters to those of the present day: he had hoped, providing death did not strike him too soon, to display works from different periods according to their different schools and dares, so that we might recognize at a glance the faults and splendours of this art throughout the different periods.' m The aim once more was therefore to make the history of arr a visible one. A similar aim appears to have been behind the activities of Giovanni de Lazara who, from 1776 onwards, set about building up a collection of around 2000 prints arranged chronologically 160 It is, however, the sole collection of this type that we know of outside Venice. In Padua, on the other hand, there was obvious interest in the 'primitives', as their works were to be found there in several collections, most notably in that of the Capodilistas. 161 The same was true of Vicenza, witness the legacies of Paolina de Porto Godi (1825) and Carlo Vicentini dal Giglio (1834), 162 and of Rovigo, where Bartoli describes, though wrongly attributes, a painting by Quirizio de Murano in the Campanari collection. 16 3 It is in Verona, despite rhe presence of a large number of their works in that town, chat the 'primitives' seem, however, to have aroused the least interest in collectors in the last decades of the eighteenth century. We should add, however, that towards 1820, the Canossas' gallery, which was apparently arranged in historical order, did contain a certain number, as did the gallery, newly formed by Francesco Caldana, which housed 'a set of examples of the school of Verona from its beginnings to its decline'. 164 The majority of the collections of antiquities which were to be found in the Venetian Republic during the eighteenth century were not expressions of taste, and owed their existence not ro a specific aesthetic viewpoint but rather to that curiosity which is peculiar to historians. The minority did, however, include the collections of engraved stones belonging to Joseph Smith and Anton Maria Zanetti the Elder, of whom more later, while that which belonged to Girolamo Zulian ( 1730-95 ), a Venetian patrician, who most notably served as his city's ambassador to Rome and Constantinople, could without hesitation be considered to be neo-classical. During his time in Rome, Zulian had amassed around seventy ancient vases, which were later joined by engraved stones, marbles and bronzes, all of which were placed in the archaeological museum of the Biblioteca Marciana in 1795, in

215 165 accordance with his will. These objects were important because they belonged to the same collection as the plaster casts of Canova's statues, to which a special room in the Zulian palace in Padua had been given over.l66 There were, in addition, several original pieces by this artist, and their number would certainly have been greater had their price not soared far beyond Zulian's reach. 167 It is this integration of ancient and contemporary art, characterized by considerable admiration of Canova, who became his protege during his very first stay in Rome, that makes Zulian an example of the neo-classical collecror. Alongside a historical approach to painting, which embraced rhe work of the 'primitives', Zanetti showed a tendency to promote the aesthetic qualities of ancient sculpture, henceforth considered as the only model of perfect beauty. In general, however, these traits were rarely reflected in the same collection, although they did both surface in the one owned by Tomasso degli Obizzi (1750-1803). This was kept in his Catajo castle near Padua and subsequently, in accordance with his will and after numerous adventures, fell into the hands of the Habsburg archdukes, a fate which led to its dispersal. 168 A man of many interests, especially in the fields of numismatics, history and the natural sciences, Tomasso degli Obizzi, who was in correspondence with several scholars, artists, collectors and dealers, including P. Arduino, A. Fortis, L. Lanzi, T. Correr, ]. Morelli and A. Canova, to name but the best known, was certainly a most unusual individual. Sometimes portrayed as a feudal lord completely behind the times, content with managing his inheritance and with no apparent tastes of his own, 169 he has recent! y been accorded a place in the museological avant-garde of his time 170 In the absence of the monograph he so much deserves, we will simply give a few facts here which it would be difficult to dispute. While it cannot be denied that Tomasso degli Obizzi did inherit numerous objects which he included in his collection, he did make some additions to ir of his own, devoting, in fact, much of his rime to enriching and shaping it. Even before 1776 he had received a sarcophagus, complete with mummy, from Edward Wortley Montagu,t 71 and he went on ro organize his own excavations in search of inscriptions, 172 and made several purchases. Letters sent to him by Giovan Maria Sasso show him to have been in contact with other dealers in art and curios, in particular Abbot della Lena, 173 and as we shall see, these were not his on! y partners. Out of this great acquisitive drive sprang a mighty collection, comprising more than 100 statues, twelve torsos, 182 busts, thirty heads, more than thirty urns, sixty-four bas-reliefs and 125 inscriptions. In addition, there were fifteen chests containing minor objects, including several thousand medals, cameos and rings, lamps, fibulae, vases and ivory, bronze and alabaster staruettes. 174 Alongside these were objects associated with Christian worship

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such as candlesticks, crosses, censers, reliquaries, sometimes complete with relics, altar cloths, ciboria, chalices, as well as around 200 musical instruments, armour, keys, iron gauntlets, horse visors, ancient pistols, halberds, swords, rifles, lances, hunting horns and so on. Nor should we forget to mention the paintings - including 104 portraits of famous men - the engravings, vases of porcelain and various different types of ceramic, and natural objects.m The collection established by Tomasso degli Obizzi only reflects encyclopaedic ambitions on the surface, and does not bear the slightest resemblance to a Kunst- und WunderkammerY 6 In actual fact, it was basically the collection of a historian interested in the relics of the past, not unlike that of Teodoro Correr, of whom more later. Including it in a survey of different attitudes to art has nonetheless not been an entirely pointless exercise, even if we do return ro it when we come tO discuss hisrory, as it illustrates the meeting of the 'primitives' and ancient sculpture, brought about by a new esteem for medieval objects (easily discerned among those listed above) which in no way diminished the interest in antiquities. Thus it is that the medals belonging to Tomasso degli Obizzi dated not only from ancient times but also from every subsequent period, including the late Empire, Byzantium, Venice and the Venetian Republic, and continuing right up to modern times. 177 It will become apparent later on that at the end of the eighteenth century a series of this kind was by no means uncommon. The presence of a fairly large number of works by Tuscan and north Italian 'primitives', some of which dated back to the fourteenth century, among the Catajo paintings was uncommon, however. 178 It is not known whether they were purchased by Tomasso degli Obizzi himself or whether he inherited them. Annoying though this gap in our knowledge may be, it is of no great consequence. Far more important is the fact that they were put on display, as we know from the catalogue written by Filippo Aurelio Visconti, who visited Carajo in 1799 or a short rime afterwardsY 9 Elsewhere, in the castle's church, where the altar was adorned by a Madonna 'alia Greca', were to be found '23 quadri di pittura Greca incassati nel muro'.tso Whether these were recent icons or far older pictures painted on gold is only rarely specified in the inventories. We can therefore conclude that Tomasso degli Obizzi readily tolerated this type of painting, as he would have been at complete liberty to rid himself of them had he wished. Moreover, we know that he was interested in illuminated manuscripts and the work of the 'primitives' as late as 1802, when Sasso, seemingly in reply to a question, explained to him: 'These old paintings by Vivarino are of more value to art historians than to dealers. Even so, they please me since my mind not constantly taken up by business but often turns to pleasure and to the love of art.' 181 In 1787 Tomasso degli Obizzi offered to exchange his old paintings for some works belonging to Gavin

Hamilton, while in 1795, he charged Canova to look for ancient marbles for him in Rome, and more especially to buy pieces which had belonged ro Piranesi 183 In short, his interests in rhe 'primitives' and in antiques surfaced at the same time, and he made room for both in his collection, the former serving as reminders of the past history of art, the latter as incarnations of the beauty intended ro inspire both present and future generations.

7.2 OBJECTS FROM THE NATURAL WORLD

Living and dried plants, minerals, fossils, shells, specimens of fauna, machines and scientific instruments: before 1750 the collectors interested in such objects in the Venetian Republic could be counted on the fingers of one hand. After this date, however, their numbers began to grow, reaching over sixty in the last decades of the century, no other group of collectors ever increasing at such a pace. What is more, this is taking into consideration only those who occupied centre stage, for a further cohort remained in the wings because of the modesty, and thus invisibility of their collections, just as the case had been for the owners of small collections of coins and medals a century earlier. This growth in the interest in natural hisrory was marched by rhe definitive end to its monopoly by doctors and pharmacists. By the end of rhe century these accounted for rough! y only a quarter of all collectors of natural objects, new recruits now being drawn mostly from high society or from the ranks of the clergy, some of whom were actually professional naturalists. They devoted most of their time to collecting, preserving, studying and describing natural objects, activities which were henceforth accorded a recognized and respected social role, just as the role of antiquary had been a century before.

Natural history, sociableness and politics

Being a naturalist involved spending most of one's rime examining nature, either by carrying our experiments in a laboratory or by travelling to see things in their natural habitat and surroundings. A genuine boran y dilettante collected plants wherever he believed he would find unknown specimens, which is why Jean-Franc;ois Seguier (1703-84) covered the length and breadth of the area around Verona, dogged by exhaustion and appalling weather, braving slippery and vertiginous paths on the edges of precipices, as well as the hostility of shepherds who suspected him of indulging in dangerous magic practices. As the seasons changed, return visits were also made to these spots by Seguier, in order to identify species

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which flowered at different timesl 84 Similarly, two geologists, Giovanni Arduino (1714-95 ) and Alberto Fortis (1741-18 03) scaled steep mountain sides in order to determin e the composit ion of the rock and bring back maps or sketches, as well as specimen s of stones, minerals, fossils and, in their notes, observati ons on the lifestyle of the local inhabitan ts, especially in the case of journeys to distant parts. In short, as Fortis put it, 'naturalis ts ... are today's errant knights.' IS) More often than not, these botanical or geological excursions were not undertake n alone. In 1737 Seguier collected plants in the company of Giacomo Spada (1680-17 49), the priest of Grezzana in the Verona region, and of Giovanni Antonio Cavazzini, a 'speziale' in Verona, while in later years he was assisted by Caspar Bordoni and Giulio Cesare Moreni, yet another Veronese pharmaci st. 186 In 1764 a doctor and owner of a printing press in Verona, by the name of Antonio Turra 1730-96) , organized a plant collecting expeditio n on Monte Baldo, ":Jth Marco Guiseppe Cornaro (1727-79 ), then Bishop of Torcello, and appomted to the see of Vicenza in 1767.18 7 In 1785 Fortis and Giovanni Battista Gazola (1757-18 34) from Verona even went as far as to take a number of ladies with them into the mountain s in search of fossils. 188 For nature had become fashionable, and botany was now a topic of conversat ion in the salons. 1 89 Indeed, the 'vi!legiature', ridiculed by Goldonit9o as periods of futile amuseme nt, also presented opportun ities for collecting natural objects in the nearby countrysi de, 191 discussing geological topicsi92 and writing works on natural history. 19.3 new of nature was thus gained against a background of soCial mtercours e, wh1le the collections, pieces of fresh informati on, discoveries and hypothes es resulted from travels far away or excursions into the local countrys1de provided subjects for both oral and written exchanges. patterns of these exchanges formed the basis of the networks along whKh travelled texts and objects, and which we shall be discussing a little later. knowledge was all the more importan t in that a fair proportio n of the soCial elite of the Venetian Republic saw natural history as much more than .a mere distractio n or the satisfaction of intellectual curiosity, even if thts aspect never disappear ed. It had gained an almost political character , seen as a means of improvin g living condition s and fighting prejudices, and would now be required to play both an economic and an educative role.. . .. The best proof of this is the title of the journal launched by Gnselm1 m 1764: Gioma!e d'Ita!ia spettante aile scienze natura!i, e principa!mente al!'Agricoltura, a!l'Indttstria e a! Comercio. This that while never complete ly dissociated from medicine, the natural sciences were hencefort h bound particular ly tightly to the productio n of goods. Their to specific individuals and, in particular , to their health, tended to fall mto second place, the emphasis being put instead on their role in the increase of public contentm ent. Accordingly, a special place was now reserved for the

narural sciences on the map of knowledge, which accounts for their gradual restructur ing, where botany was forced to cede its dominan t position to mineralog y, which itself was steadily changing into geology, while zoology, previousl y pursued by only a very few, aroused increasing interest. Here were both new disciplines and new objects, including the cultivatio n of plants, the rearing of animals, peat bogs, thermal springs, the riches of the subsoil. With the waning attraction of the exotic came a new interest in what Ia y at one's very own doorstep 1 94 In the preface introduci ng his natural history of the Euganean Hills to the public, Antonio Carlo Dondi Orologio (1751-18 01) wrote: 'We uavel in foreign lands yet do not know our own. Foreigner s come and collect all kinds of fossils in our hills and yet we refuse to let ourselves be persuaded that a journey amongst our own people, in what we might refer to as our own home, could be useful, interestin g and honourab le.' It is worth pointing out the theme of patriotism here, as well as the triple benefits, economic, intellectual and social, he sees in travelling in one's own country. The author emphasiz es that such advocacy in no way represent s the condemnatio n of travel to distant parts. I simply regret that nobody should yet have had the useful idea of assembling exclusively the products of our hills which offer very fine and varied examples of every sort, and of classifying them carefully and methodically in order to form a Gabinetto Nazionale. Several learned naturalists have, at various times, collected certain specific objects, but solei y because they were attracted by the distinctive features of a thing considered for its own sake or else because it matched a theory they adhered to; never in order to form rhe complete collection we need so much 1 9' This void was filled neither by rhe naturali:.,ts who studied the products of the Euganean Hills, nor even by John StraP,se, ro whom nonethele ss 'we owe a great deal, as all that he has succeeded in can be viewed by the public in our Museum of Natural Hisrory !that is, in the former Vallisnier i collection]; and it is the on! y collection Iof '"'bjects J from our mountain s which exists today.' Dondi Orologio therefore gave himself the task of 'forming a Gabinetto Naziona!e with a well-ord.::red collection of specimen s from them [the mountain s] and of devoting a work of natural history to them'. The outline of this book begins wid-; a descriptio n of the state of agricultur e in the Euganean Hills. Only then does the author turn to lithology , dwelling on certain features which could be ma1-: profitable , such as the basalt columns and thermal springs. 196 Here, tlk epistemic and utilitarian viewpoin ts are complete ly indissociable. Here we have an illustratio n of the change in attitude of the collectors of

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natural objects in the latter half of the eighteenth century, most of whom, as we shall see, were interested less by objects from faraway places than by those to be found in the immediate vicinity and who planned their collections accordingly. These therefore acquired a role of some importance, for providing they were exhaustive and methodical, they represented an inventory of the area's resources and made their use a practical proposition. Hence Dondi's call for a 'Gabinetto Nazionale' and his insistence on the need for including in it every single thing to be found in a particular region. Hence also the inclusion in a work on mineralogy of descriptions of the agriculture and of the thermal springs. Hence, lastly, the considerable degree of passion which animated arguments on topics at first glance as unexciting as the presence or absence in a particular area of substances likely to be of economic interest. Ten years after the publication of Dondi's book, and four years after his Saggio de littologia ettganect which contained a method of classifying minerals from the Euganean Hills placed in the 'Gabinetto Nazionale' the author was ro form, 197 a certain Paduan abbot, Basile Terzi, published a short work in which he claimed to have discovered various types of natural resources, in particular marble quarries and coal seams.L 98 A layman's study of geology, this work was immediately criticized in an anonymous work, (written in fact by Fortis), to which Terzi replied citing Buffon and Valmont de Bomare as his authorities 199 It was at this point that Dondi, whose works had not even been mentioned, descended into the arena in order to show that not even a single genuine marble quarry, let alone a coal seam, could possibly be found in the Euganean Hills, and that Terzi knew not the slightest thing about science, borrowed its terms without understanding them and indulged in speculation in matters where only experience could decide2 0 We will leave out the eight [Jic!] letters in which Terzi rebutted these accusations, along with those of Fortis who, meanwhile, had launched three more scathing attacks on the poor abbot, characterizing him as a paladin of obscurantism 20 LHowever, we should underline the significance in cultural terms of such controversy, in that it proved that with this new interest in natural resources great attention was paid to the interpretation of these signs which were constituted by minerals found in a specific region and brought together in a collection. The debate concerned the legitimacy of coming to conclusions as to the geological structure of a particular region and the resources harboured in its subsoil simply by looking at the landscape and specimens collected from it- Terzi's method- rather than by calling on people with specific knowledge in the interpretation of natural objects and in the language needed to describe them. In other words, Dondi and Fortis defended a profession, that of the naturalist-geolog ist, which was gradually becoming established, and whose members alone were supposed

to possess the knowledge required to make pronouncement s as to what lay beneath the surface of the earth, including any eventual natural resources. True, these subjects concerned everyone, but it was for precisely this reason that they needed to be dealt with competently. Ir is because the natural sciences touched on matters concerning everybody that they formed pan of the general culture, and as such needed to be accessible to the public. The birth of the profession of naturalist therefore went hand in hand with efforts to publicize results obtained by science, along with its terminology and methodology. The propaganda effort undertaken by the men of the Enlightenment, for this is what it amounted to, made use nor only of books and journals, bur also of various forms of extra-curricular teaching, as we can judge from the prospectus of a course on natural history which Don Giovanni Serafino Volta (1754-1842), one of the most dominant figures on the naturalist scene in Verona, offered to the nobility and citizens of the town in 1790.2 2 Divided into three pans, each corresponding to the mineral, vegetable and animal kingdoms, the forty lessons making up this course were intended ro explain to the audience the methods and instruments used in chemistry. They also aimed ro provide a grounding in mineralogy, botany, and zoology, with a view to expounding the Linnaean sytem, Bergmann's theory of selective attraction and Scheele's discoveries, as well as making people aware of the new chemical terminology used by Moreau, Fourcroy, Berthollet and Lavoisier. In addition to all this, there were all the possible applications of science to be discussed, and Volta accordingly dealt with the methods of beer- and wine-making and with that of remedying the deficiences of the former; with spirits of wine and their uses 'nella chimica farmaceutica, ed economica; with vegetable matter and its 'preparazioni /armaceutiche per !a materia medica, ed economiche pe1 l'arte della Tintura'; with the 'fondamenti de!l'Ornitologia, e della cognizione pratica dei Volatili' and so on 203 Once again, the epistemic and utilitarian viewpoints are indissociable. Volta did not mention collections of natural objects in his course programme, yet as the author of a catalogue of a museum containing minerals, petrified objects, a herbarium with 1500 plants, 200 blocks of different woods, exotic fruit and a very complete series of shells, 204 he was already involved in the work which was to lead in 1796 to the publication of the Ittiolitologia veroneJe, which we will be discussing later on. It is thus apparent that not only did Dondi Orologio combine, in explicit fashion, the study of the natural sciences and the building of collections, but Volta did roo, together with all the other naturalists we will be dealing with in the following pages. It comes as no surprise that the new role accorded to the natural sciences in the Venetian Republic in the second half of the eighteenth century led to the purpose of collections being defined in a

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similar fashion. Their role henceforth was to promote knowledge of nature and contribute to a more efficient use of the republic's natural resources, though it remains to be seen to what extent these ideas were applied and what influence they had on both the actual contents of collections and the criteria employed in their classification.

Plants: a new approach The tradition of private botanical gardens, which began in the sixteenth century, if not at the end of the fifteenth, lasted throughout the whole of the eighteenth century. The most famous garden was most probably the one created by Filippo Farsetti around 1750 in his Santa Maria di Sala villa, which was maintained by his descendants until 1804 20 5 This 'co!lezione de Piame F.sotiche e Indigene' 206 owed its reputation both to its richness and to the fact that botany lovers were allowed access to it. Naming a new species after its founder, Antonio Turra wrote that the Farsetti garden was a 'garden whose perfection surpasses the means of a simple individual, adorned with countless plants, especially exotic ones, some even originating from South and North America, a garden always open to lovers of botany'. 207 ln Venice, around 1760, Giacomo Morosini, a patrician and wellknown collector of minerals and fossils, who was in contact with the best naturalists of the day, owned a botanical garden which he seems to have inherited from Giovanni Francesco Morosini (1658-1739). 208 A third botanical garden survived the whole of the eighteenth century in Venice despite several ups and downs. It belonged to Lorenzo Patarol ( 167 4-1727) who 'explored the Venetian lagoons studying all their plant species, bringing back examples from every corner and planting them in his garden, which he tended with his own hands'. Bequeathed to Count Sebastiano Rizzo, the garden subsequently passed into the hands of his son, Francesco, who entirely renovated it. 'He now acquires very numerous series of plants, almost all from foreign climes, sparing no thought for his purse; since the Tournefort method is no longer appropriate, he has abandoned it in favour of the more modern Linnaean one.' 20 9 During his travels in the Venetian Republic in 1736, Pier Antonio Micheli, a Florentine botanist, visited several small botanical gardens in Verona. 210 Nine years later, Seguier mentioned the garden owed by Maffei who, he said, wished to create another one, devoted to botany, in the courtyard of the Accademia Filarmonica, in close association with the Museo Lapidario. 211 Between 1767 and 1779, in nearby Vicenza, Bishop Marco Giuseppe Cornaro, already owner of a botanical garden in his Merlengo villa, possessed a second one, which Antonio Turra was charged to look after. 212 When Goethe stopped over in Vicenza in 1786,213 this

garden was no longer in existence, but lists were published in 1794 and in 1802 of plants represented in a Vicenza botanical garden owned by Count Antonio Maria Thiene. 214 Small botanical gardens were also to be found in Chioggia in the final decades of the eighteenth century and opening years of the nineteenth, these being cared for by Bartolomeo Bottari ( 1732-89), Giuseppe Fabris (1735-94) and Giuseppe Vianelli ( 1720-1803 ),m all three doctors and at the same time naturalists. The same was true of Vegliano, in the province of Padua, where the parish priest, Girolamo Romano (17651841), was a namral history dilettante, 216 and of Padua itself, where Elisabetta Milesi Colombo cultivated rare exotic plants. 217 Lastly, the Iicea in Verona acquired a botanical garden in 1798, similar gardens also springing up in Brescia in 1808, and in Venice, Treviso, Vicenza and Bergamo in 1810.218 It was, however, the herbaria and the descriptions of flora which best illustrated the spread of interest in plants and the increased knowledge of them, not to mention the new independence of botany from pharmacy and medicine. This does not mean that there were but few doctors and pharmacisrs among the ranks of plant lovers, nor that the herbaria they composed, such as that of the Veronese doctor, Sebastiana Rotari ( 16671742), 219 and an anonymous Erbario Farmacetttico of 1730, 220 departed from the tradition of the medicinal herbarium. The majority of herbaria and descriptions of flora, however, were not so much intended as a guide to the makers of remedies, but rather as inventories of the plants growing in a given region, where their uses, including their therapeutic properties, would perhaps also be given a mention. Thus, a posthumous work by GianGirolamo Zannichelli described the plants growing on the beaches near Venice, 221 Seguier's books dealt with those found around Verona, and more particularly on the Monte Baldo and Lake Garda, 222 Francesco Roncalli (1692-1763), a doctor from Brescia, included an alphabetical list of plants found locally in one of his works 223 and Giuseppe Agosti (171 5-86), a Jesuit, listed those growing in Belluno. 224 Likewise, Bottari and Fabris devoted their herbaria ro plants from Chioggia, 225 while Turra gave over part of his to ones from Vicenza,220 so that although this series of names does not claim to be exhaustive, it does show that the Venetian botanists managed to cover every inch of the territory during the course of the eighteenth century, and demonstrates the size of the inventory of local flora drawn up as they worked.m Far more than simple inventory-taking was involved, however. As time went by, plants were placed in alphabetical order only when brief catalogues were drawn up, 228 more methodical systems of classification taking over otherwise. In this respect, Gian-Giacomo Zannichelli (1695-1759), who justified at some length his preference for the alphabetical order in the preface to his father's book, and with frequent references to Tournefort, still

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belonged to the old school, someth ing to do, perhap s, with his profes sion as pharmacist.229 For his part, Seguier followed the metho d devised by Tourn efort- who was, in fact, well known in the region 23with Antoin e Jussieu's correc tions,m - but by the last decades of the century , even if herbar ia in the style of Bauhin could still be found, m the Linnae an system was definit ely gainin g in popula rity. This seems due to Turra's efforts, more than anyone else's, for althou gh his herbar ium entitle d Vegetabilia Italiae indigena methodo Linnaeano disposta ... remain ed in manus cript form,2ll his Florae italicae prodromus, written toward s the mid-1760s, althou gh on! y publish ed in 1780,23 4 was widely read and establi shed its author 's reputa tion.m We know of one copy bearin g annota tions by someo ne who collected plants with him near Vicenza and wrote down the places where they grew, their similar ities and differences and changes in their appear ance according ro the rime of year. A second copy of the same work, a gift by the author to Anton Carlo Dondi Orologio, who added 5 30 names of plants ro the 1718 it already contain ed, later becam e the proper ty of the priest of Vegliano, Don Girola mo Roman o. 236 In Turra's book plants are classified according to the 'sexuale Linnaei systema', which was to be found at the end of the centur y not only in publications by natura lists but even in notes kept by diletta ntes, such as the Principii di storia naturale by a Verone se priest, Luigi Zoppi (1765-1811),237 and other similar manuscripts. The replac ement of alphabetical order, which was not really an order at all but merely a form of layout, by a methodical approa ch to plants and, within this, of one system by anothe r, was first and foremo st a change in approa ch. Whene ver one particu lar metho d domin ates plant study, certain organs are given more import ance, in this case, the visible ones, since both Tourne fort and Linnaeus deman ded that the microscope should not be used when identif ying the features which determ ined the positio n of each plant in the system. Tourn efort considered that it was the type of flower which determ ined which species a plant belong ed to, while for Linnae us it was the 'fructification parts', which require d a much closer examin ation of the plant. Both method s therefo re require d the natura list to learn to look at plants in such as way as to fasten upon the pertine nt characteristic s and ignore the rest. They also needed to learn the langua ge necessary to define the positio n of each plant in both a pertin ent and an unamb iguous way 238 The disciplined and selective way botani sts following in the footste ps of Tourn efort and Linnaeus looked at plants, as well as the language, both concise and precise, they employ ed, could equally be applied to animal s, minera ls and fossils. Accordingly, botany provid ed a thorou gh ground ing in the natura l sciences in the eighte enth century , a time when many natural ists who started out with an interes t in plants later turned to other branch es of science.

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Zoological collections were far rarer than botanical garden s and herbar ia because at that time techniq ues only existed for conser ving the hard parts of animals. This was such an import ant proble m for natural ists of the period that in the catalogue of animal s in his Zoologia Adriatica Abbot Giusep pe Olivi ( 1769-9 6) made a distinc tion betwee n the 'objects which natural ly remain in a good state of preser vation , that is, they posess solid integuments' and the 'transi ent and natura lly perisha ble objects 2 9 '. l As a consequence, zoological collections tended to concen trate on the insects of a particu lar region, as in the case of Turra's 240 or, going on to the ninete enth century, the one owned by one Bened etto da Campo in Verona , who 'forme d a rich and choice collection of almost all the insects of our provin ce and classified and arrang ed them so well that one could wish tO see them remain intact for many years'. 241 Some collectors, such as Abbot Dorign y in Verona 242 or, at the close of the centur y,]. Lambioi in Belluno 43 ,2 restric ted themse lves to butterf lies, and G. S. Volta's publica tion of a book devoted to these creatur es, with advice as to their captur e and preserv ation, 244 gives reason to think that these cases were by no means uncom mon. Two higher forms of animal life were also repres ented in collect ions: the one formed by Fra Angelo Ziliani in the Santo Conve nt in Padua, and which we have already mentio ned, contain ed quite a large numbe r of birds. Embal med by Fra Angelo, these birds mostly came from the local countryside. 245 The second higher life form consisted of marine specim ens, which could be studied and described immed iately after capture , althou gh collections only included the solid parts, such as the skeleto ns and shells. 246 Follow ing the pionee ring work by Vitalia no Donari , 247 several natural ists, all from Chioggia, carried out researc h into the vegeta ble and animal specim ens to be found in the lagoon and Adriatic. Hence the claim by Abbot Stefan o Chiere ghin (17 45-182 0) to have gather ed 1772 in the lagoon and the Gulf of Venice, and the nine volumes of drawin gs of aquatic animal s he left, along with three volumes of text 248 Hence also the career of Abbot Giusep pe Olivi who, after his appren ticeshi p with Chioggian natural ists of the old school, and in particu lar with Abbot Fabris, with whom he formed a marine natura l history collection, collaborated with Fortis, Nicolo de Rio and Dondi Orologio, publish ing four years before his prema ture death the Zoologia Adriatica, the fruit of seven years of toil. This work is a very good illustra tion of the twin epistem ic and utilitar ian approa ches which dominated natura l sciences at the time, for while it is an examp le of the most advanced researc h of the day, taking the Linnae an system as its basis in order to rectify its mistak es, fill in any gaps and accom modate the fauna of the Adriatic, it also includes passag es on the regional econom 24 y 9 Before turning our attenti on to inanim ate natura l objects , let us spare a few lines for the collections of scientific instrum ents, which both multip lied and diversified, reflect ing the growin g import ance of observ ation

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and experimentation, The largest of these collections was to be found at the University of Padua, where Giovanni Poleni ( 1683-1761 ), professor of experimental philosophy since 1739, as well as being an antiquary and architect, set up a display of machines for physics experiments/ 50 a display mentioned in the guides to the town, along with the astronomical observatory with its telescopes, spyglasses and clocks, 251 Private collections of scientific instruments could be found in Brescia, where one had been in the possession of the Martinengo de Barco family since the seventeenth century, 252 in Verona, where G, R Gazola owned a physics museum, which he later gave to the !iceo, 253 and lastly in Venice, where Abbot Antonio Traversi had amassed in his college a considerable number of machines to study mechanics, mathematics, aerometry, hydrostatics, magnetism and 'mechanical and artificial' electricity, as well as astronomical instruments 254

The marine bodies on the mountains Plants, animals and machines were however present only in a minority of collections of natural objects in the Venetian Republic of the eighteenth century, This particular brand of collector was actually chiefly interested in minerals and fossils, and those without any at all were extremely few and far between. It was not hard to come by them, as the region, especially the hills and mountains near Verona and Vicenza, was known for the variety of its rock types and for the presence of several deposits of fossils, the most famous of which was and still is that of Bolca, where fossilized fish in an often amazing state of preservation can be found 255 Here, more than elsewhere, nature itself presented the curious with the task, if one can put it that way, of accounting for the nature and origin of these foreign bodies, these being directly linked to the origin of the mountains. Nothing illustrates the change in attitude towards nature in the eighteenth-century Venetian Republic better than the history of the solutions put forward to this problem, part of the history of mineral and fossil collections, The first generation of Venetian collectors interested in a scientific way in minerals and fossils was made up of Scipione Maffei and Sebastiano Rotari from Verona, Antonio Vallisnieri from Padua and Lorenzo Patarol from Venice, all of whom we have already come across, as well as Giambattista della Valle, a pharmacist from Vicenza. In 1708 Maffei sent Vallisnieri a case of 'stones' containing fish from Bolca, and this consignment was not the only one, 256 Eight years later, and again for Vallisnieri, Rotari drew up a description of the site_ 257 The fossilized fish collections belonging ro these two Veronese certainly date from this period. 258 For his part Patarol, again a collector of minerals and fossils and a friend of Vallisnieri, wrote in a letter of 177.4 that his friend della Valle had gone to

Bolca three times and that at that spot he 'had amassed a considerable number of fine objects, including around 150 fish, so beautiful, large and well preserved that they would never be outshone by a gallery belonging to a noble prince,' 25 9 This awakening of the interest in fossils followed a lengthy dispute between Europe's leading scholars concerning the 'theory of the Earth' and in particular the Flood, 260 and resulted in its being fought on less speculative ground, Vallisnieri's book, published in 1721, participated in this dispute and did indeed deal with the Flood, but its central problem concerned the presence of marine bodies in the mmmtains.26t This opened up a new debate on this subject in the Venetian Republic, and one which was to flourish there right up to the end of the century, Each of these five collections had a very different fate. In 1755, for instance, the della Valle one became part of the University of Padua's Natural History Museum 2(>2 itself built up around the Vallisnieri collection, The Patarol collection was purchased by Tomasso degli Obizzi, 261 while the one formed by Maffei ended up among Seguier's possessions after the death of its owner, bound for Nfmes_ Over the years it had been substantially added to, 264 and was just one of a whole group of Veronese collections, This group included one Rotari had built up and which had, at least until 1820, remained in the same family, 26 \ another formed by Andrea Gazola (16951776), one owned by Giulio Cesare Moreni since 1755 and the collection which had belonged to Giacomo Spada. 266 Spada, who contributed in 1737 to the debate on marine life forms, drawing on Vallisnieri's book in an attempt to quash the notion of fossils being merely 'nature's little games' and prove their antediluvian origin,Z 67 published a catalogue of his collection in 1739, At that time, this contained several hundred ammonites, nautili, belemnites, shells and complete fish fossils, as well as minerals, 268 It underwent rapid growth, as one can judge from the second edition of the catalogue, published five years later, 26 9 and after Spada's demise became part of the Maffei collection. Every gallery and museum, whether it belongs to a prince or to a personage renowned for his nobility, writings, feats of arms or wealth, is now required to contain a large showcase filled with fish, crustaceans and other petrified marine specimens found in the mountains. As the intrinsic value of most of them does not justify so honourable a position, it would seem that their owners consider them to be of a rare merit, encouraging those in search of the key to nature's secrets to determine the origins of these deposits of the sea, by what fortune they were carried from the sea to the mountains and what enchantments, if we may put it rhus, changed them into stone, making eternal the memory of the exile which forced them to die in lands so strange to them 27 D

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This is how Abbot Anton-Lazar Moro begins his book which, in 1740, rekindled the debate in the Venetian Republic over the presence of marine bodies on the mountains. It is not possible ro go into his arguments here, but suffice it to say that Moro used the emergence of islands from the sea bed to devise a Plutonist theory of the formation of mountains under the pressure of subterranean heat 271 The same process was used to explain rhe present location of fossilized marine bodies. Marine plants and animals, whose remains or relics are today to be found both on and below the surface of certain mountains, and which were born, found nourishment and reached maturity before these mountains were lifted up above the surface of the sea, were carried to the sites where they now lie in a petrified state when these mountains, leaving the bosom of the earth covered by water, were raised up to the heights at which we know them now272 Maffei warmly welcomed Moro's opinions. In the only book of his of an entirely scientific nature, he devoted one chapter to a resume of them, and used them to tackle the enigma of the formation of the Bolca deposits. According to Maffei, its origins lay in a catastrophe caused by subterranean heat, which suddenly left the fish on dry land.m Not content to quote global theories aimed at solving the general problem of the presence of marine bodies in the mountains, Maffei therefore put forward a solution to the specific question of the Bolca fossilized fish. These deposits were visited in September 1740 by Giovanni Arduino, who made a drawing in perspective of them, indicating the fossil-bearing strata, and this was published by Spada in the second edition of his catalogue.U 1 One of the most learned Italian scholars of his times, whose life, divided as it was between geological research and his activities as an engineer, is a perfect illustration of the twin orientations, epistemic and utilitarian, of eighteenth-century science, Arduino formed a link between the generation of the naturalist-collectors of the 1730s to 1750s and that which arrived in force around 1765. 275 In Venice itself, the members of this second generation included Arduino, John Strange, Giacomo Morosini, Father Guido Vio (d. 1782), a Romualdian monk from Murano, regarded by Fortis as one of his mentors, Father Placido Zurla from the same order, Girolamo Ascanio Molin ( 1735-1813 ), a Venetian patrician who also collected works of art and Abbot Antonio Traversi, whom we have already mentioned, and who was the owner of a collection 'of saline and alkaline substances, of sulphates, limestones and various different types of carbonate salts, marbles, spars and quartzes, barites, simple and composite siliceous stones, volcanic products, petrified plants and animals, bituminous and inflammable substances, metallic substances, marine products, semiprecious stones

as well as naturally polished woods and other products of nature'. 276 In 1765, Rossetti mentioned only two collections in Padua containing minerals and fossils, those belonging to Francesco Leonessa, the town's most eminent doctor, and to the Lateran canons. Neither was alluded to in the 1776 edition. 277 Collections of this type became slightly more common tOwards the end of the century; we could cite those formed by Dondi Orologio and his adversary Abbot Terzi, both of which were essentially mineralogical, as well as the one possessed by Tomasso degli Obizzi in Catajo, the collection at Valdagno owned by Girolamo Festari (1738-1801), a doctor who was in charge of the springs at Recoaro and the friend of Fortis, Strange and Arduino, 278 and finally the collection in Padua itself which was created by Nicolo de Rio, described in the following fashion by Moschini in 1817: It is set out according to the method propounded by the famous Haiiy (Comparative table, etc.) ... We reserve our greatest admiration for a fine rounded beryl, the so-called 'sunsrone' and a large maxillary tooth from a masrodon. It also contains several types of marble, specimens of alabaster, quartz crystals, lead molybdate, sulphurated mercury, fine copper, carbonate crystals, recently discovered in France, etc. [as well as) several small ropographical collections intended to show the lithology of the Euganean Hills.279 Mineral and fossil collectors were undoubtedly active in most of the minor centres of the Venetian Republic in the closing decades of the century, though we know of but two: Antonio Gaidon ( 1738-1829), an architect from Bassano, 280 and a certain Lieutenant-Colonel Milanovitch from Rovigo. 2 8 1 In this same town, Canon Girolamo Silvestri (1728-68) took an interest in geology, which he discussed with Arduino, as well as in the practical problems of the economy of the Polesine, in livestock rearing, peat bogs, maize growing and so on, but we do not know whether his collections also contained natural objects. 282 It also seems reasonable to suppose that a certain Jacopo Odoardi had built up a fossil collection, as he would otherwise not have been able to write an essay on the marine bodies to be found in the Feltre district,283 and that similar collections existed in Treviso and Castelfranco, where the Scotti and Ricati families, together with their entourage, cultivated the natural sciences. 284

The naturalistic culture in Vicenza and Verona

As far as collecting and studying minerals and fossils was concerned, none of the republic's towns, nor even Venice, was as important as Vicenza and

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Verona, where most of the collectors of such objects were to be found, along with the richest collections. In and around Vicenza, these numbered at least twelve, and were formed by monks or priests, such as Paolo Calvi ( 171681 ), a historian and antiquary better known as Angiolgabriello di Santa Maria, Gaetano Pedoni (1744-1809) and Giuliano Serpe (1731-1801), by doctors, such as Antonio Mastini (1717-1805), Antonio Turra and Francesco Orazio Scortegagna ( 1767-1851 ), by society figures like Fortis, nominally an abbot, Count Arnaldo I Tornieri ( 1739-1829) who purchased Calvi's collection after his death, Luigi Castellini ( 1770-1824) from Castelgomberto, Girolamo Barettoni (1730-1807) and a certain Maraschini (1774-1825), whose position in society is unknown to us285 In order to gain a clearer picture of these Vicenza collections, let us take the one belonging to Don Giuliano Serpe as an example, since Serpe was the only one to have taken the trouble to print a list of the categories he used to classify the objects he amassed. These categories were themselves grouped inro six different classes. To the first belonged the earths, coals, lava and other volcanic products, minerals, hard stones, concretions, crystals, amounting to a total of sixteen categories. The five remaining classes catered for fossils: 'calcined elephant bones', fossilized teeth, fish from Bolca and other sites, insects trapped in schist, vertebrae of different species, along with univalve, bivalve and multivalve shells belonging to seventeen, twelve and five different families respectively. The origins of the objects are consistently noted, these being the Vicenza and Verona regions, except in one or two cases, such as the geodes 'di carattere esotico', minerals and fossils from Germany and the 'elephant bones' from Cherso, Ossero and Dalmatia, very probably gifts from Fortis, Serpe's neighbour in Arzignano. This list of categories is followed by an appendix, of which one passage merits inclusion here. I also possess a series of natural sea shells which corresponds to the above-mentioned petrified sea creatures; note should be taken of several precious specimens of foreign sea urchins, as well as of the large, rare pearl snail from the Jamaica seas, which Rumpius calls Cochlea olea. There is also a large, rare winged murex from the seas off the coast of the African Congo, as well as various other types of polyps which can be compared with the collection's petrified specimens. At first glance just another inventory, this passage actually refers to the much debated problem, of which more later, of the presence in tropical waters of living species which could be found in fossilized form in the mountains around Vicenza and Verona. Serpe was obviously abreast of all the brest scientific questions, as the list of authors he drew on to classify objects in his collection shows he knew of relatively recent publications

relating to the natural sciences. 286 In this light, like Spada's catalogues forty years before, Serpe's modest text bears witness to the vigour of the veritable culture which grew up around the collection and study of natural specimens. In the Venetian Republic the true capital of this culture was Verona. This was due firstly to the presence of a relatively large public interested in the natural sciences - Volta's lectures are proof of this - of whom collectors represented only a small proportion. Secondly, at least fifteen of these collectors had a passion for fossils and sometimes also for other natural objects roo. Thirdly, this group included a large number of members of the local nobility: Count Alessandro Burri, who added Moreni's herbarium to his minerals and fossils; the Marquis Ottavio de Canossa who for his part purchased the fossil collection for which Moreni was also responsible; the Marquis Giacomo Dionisi, a canon as well as philologist and antiquary, and someone we will be discussing later; Count G. B. Gazola; Giovanni Girolamo Orti Manara, from very ancient noble stock; Count Girolamo Peverelli; the Rotari counts; and Count Ignazio Ronconi. Three abbots, G. S. Volta, Giuseppe Tommaselli (1733-1818), a chemist, meteorologist, agronomist and antiquary and Giuseppe Venturi (1766-1841), mainly an antiquary but whose collection included, among other things, 'divers objects of natural history and astronomy', also belonged to this circle of natural science lovers, as well as two laymen: Gaspare Bordoni, 'per.rona molto letterata e buon poeta' and Vincenzo Bozza, a pharmacist and chemist. 287 The composition of this group seeking to promote natural sciences in Verona illustrates the considerable prestige they enjoyed and also helped them to gain an important place not only in the rown's intellectual life but also in its social and fashionable one. With the death of Maffei and the departure of Seguier, only tile Bordonis, Morenis and the descendants of Sebastiana Rotari seem to have kept alive in Verona the tradition of collecting the Bolca minerals and fossils. Fresh interest came in the 1770s. It was at the beginning of this decade that Ottavio di Canossa bought Moreni's collection, so that one enjoying such repute should not become lost to Verona as Maffei's had been. 288 It was also at this time that Alessandro Burri began to form a collection, organizing excavations at Bolca in 1776, having obtained permission from the Maffei family, which owned the deposits. 289 Other collections of fossilized fish also appear to date from this period. In particular, 1770 appears to be the approximate date at which Vincenzo Bozza began to build his own. Containing roughly 700 specimens of fossilized fish, the fruits of twenty years of searches, Bozza's collection also included every type of petrified object to be found in the Verona region, as well as a series of European and exotic shells, with specimens of 150 different species and a series of minerals. 290 For around fifteen years, this was Verona's most important collection,

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and as such was described by several foreign visitors. Its catalogue was drawn up by Fortis, whose article, published in 1786, rekindled the discussion over Bolca, calling attention to the resemblance of three fossilized fish to living species found in Tahitian waters and even going so far as to assert - in the final passage, whose authorship he later denied that most of the fish found at Bolca were similar to certain current inhabitants of the tropical seas. This assertion was, moreover, not without global implications, as in the same article, Fortis drew attention to the important role the Bolca deposits could play in the solving of major geological puzzles. 'We have never', he wrote, 'examined this curious site in any detail; we never imagined that the fish found there beneath the ground could serve as a focal point for all those endeavouring to make sense of the chaos of the ancient revolutions which shook the whole of our globe.'29t Around 1784 it was the turn of one of Fortis' friends, Giovanni Battista Gazola, to begin a collection. Four years later it already contained approximate! y 400 fossilized fish, and with the purchases of the collections belonging toJacopo Dionisii and Bozza in 1789 and 1791 respectively, this figure reached 1200 in 1792. Five years later, the French rook Verona and as a reprisal confiscated and sent back to France the most precious pieces of the town's collections. Gazola was forced to cede his own in its entirety to the natural history museum in Paris, whence it never returned. He formed another one in a relatively short space of time, however, mainly through the purchase of the Ronconi collection and as a result of excavations carried out at Bolca. In his Ittiolitologia veronese Volta gives a description of this reconstituted collection accompanied by several engravings,292 and this allows us to ricture a major private natural history museum at the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth centuries. The objects were set out in five rooms, plus a library and a display of machines. The first one 'displays on the walls, complete with Greek-style embellishments, all the marbles from the region of Verona - around 600 rectangular pieces - without counting the larger stone slabs arranged opposite the mirrors whose frames were formed by the aforesaid embellishments.' Along the walls of the same room there were also glass-fronted cabinets, each divided into two distinct levels the upper one allowing the eye to take in at one glance a copious series of natural shells, nor only from the sea bur also from land and from rivers, and from every corner of the world, set our in accordance with the linnaean method, their labels giving their technical names and origins. The lower one contains rhe genera and different species of fossilized shells placed directly below their natural counterparts, which is why this precious collection is not only visually surprising but also very useful and instructive.

On display in the second, smaller room, behind glass was 'a substantial collection of European insects set out according to nature's own system and described with care, attractively mingled with a collection of birds, some embalmed and under belljars, others painted on the walls'. Next came the two rooms housing the 'display of fossilized fish'. Placed in glass cases, perfectly visible, these were divided up into classes based on the Linnaean system, and given the description and engravings it would appear that each case corresponded with a particular class and was divided into two compartments, so that each type could be placed opposite its counterpart. At the very bottom of the cases in the first of the rooms of the fossilized fish display, were 'bulky pieces of fossilized ivory from the Romagnano excavations'; while in the second each case containing fish was flanked by two smaller ones, 'where the series of natural marine plants and zoophytes is matched with the series of impressions of the same plants dug up in the Vertena quarry, as well as zoophytoliths from the neighbouring mountains'. The fifth room contained a collection of minerals 'divided into four classes derived from our theory of mineralogy and placed in a corresponding number of cases'. Each specimen was given a systematic description attached to its support. Every gemstone, from the diamond to the aquamarine, is present; among the semiprecious stones one can see the large pieces of opal from Hungary, adularia from the St Gotthard, carnelian from rhe orient, as well as jasper from Egypt, hydroliths from Piedmont and even the rarest of agates from Germany. In the class of metals, are robe found the gold of Transylvania, granulated platinum from the Pinto, native silver and copper from Hungary, yellow lead from Carinthia and red from Siberia, opalescent iron from the Elbe and the Dauphine province, tungsric pewter from England, coloured native arsenic from Bohemia, bismuth and peacock ore from Saxony, crystallized cobalt from Germany, France's native antimony and coloured antimony from Hungary, mineralized and calciferous zinc from Carinthia, native and oxydized manganese from divers places and nickel in irs metallic form from the TyroJ.2 9 l

From the extraordinary to the normal

An exception in terms of size and the costly way the objects were displayed, the Gazola Museum was in other ways perfectly comparable with the other collections of natural productions around at that time. Like them, it reflected the desire to make nature's great diversity and wealth visible by putting all the objects which had resulted from it on display, on condition that their conservation was feasible. There was also a wish to render nature intelligible, to show how its simple and universal principles operated.

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Providing one had sufficient means, the first of these wishes resulted in the accumulation of objects, as if the collector lived in hope of possessing specimens of every living species one day, while the second gave rise to the practice of classifying objects and to procedm:es aimed at bridling the apparent diversity and revealing an order, if not that of nature itself, at least that of the human spirit - in other words, a methodical order. It was an order of this kind that the layout of the exhibition was intended to reflect, as well as it could, through the arrangement of the objects, whose proximity or distance was by no means to be arbitrary, and also through their descriptions, which were meant to define the place of each one in the general order of things. Nature, as portrayed by a well-ordered collection, was no longer exuberant and incoherent. Instead, it was disciplined and orderly. A little more than a century before the formation of the Gazola Museum, Moscardo published the description of his own one. 294 A simple comparison of one with the other enables one to gauge the changes in attitude towards nature and more particular! y towards the criteria governing the choice of objects deemed worthy of inclusion in collections, as far as these can be identified from the contents and organization of these collections. First of all, it is clear that there was a shift in emphasis from the extraordinary to the normal, and away from the object which owed its importance to its unique properties, to the one which reflected the normal mechanisms of nature. In scholar! y culture, the quest for miracles therefore became the search for laws. There next came a shift in attention away from the exceptional to the commonplace. Although people continued to be struck by the eccentricity of certain objects, they now focused their attention on easily found objects, whose essential characteristic was that they were neither rare nor strange, but rather commonplace and banal. This was the case of stones, insects, birds, plants and sea plants and animals, of which specimens abounded in their thousands. last of all, there was the move in emphasis away from the exotic to the native, from the distant to the close at hand. This does not mean that the distant and the exotic had lost their attraction, but rather that all that was to be found nearby was even more interesting. Every natural history collection discussed here was made up in the main of objects originally from the same region, if nor from the immediate environs. Accordingly, the inhabitants of Chioggia specialized in marine fauna and flora and the Paduans in objects from the Euganean Hills, while the nearby mountains kept the collections of Verona and Vicenza well stocked. Thus, the activities of both botanists and natural history lovers also involved the selection of different areas to be covered and the assessment of their resources, in a twofold approach which was both epistemic and utilitarian. In the context of this triple transfer of attention from the extraordinary to the regular, from the exceptional to the commonplace and from the exotic to the native, fossils posed a problem. The very terminology

employed by Volta and Serpe is proof of this, as they only qualified as 'natural' those species actually living, not because they regarded fossils as the result of some artifice, of course, but because they saw in them the effects of a distant, exceptional and extraordinary event. It cannot be denied that the way the shells, crabs and molluscs from the Adriatic, as well as the plants, were laid out in the Gazola Museum forced visitOrs tO compare current! y living creatures with fossilized species and see that they were identical, and Serpe did much the same thing, though on much more modest a scale. However, specifically on the subject of the Adriatic, this identicalness was questioned by Olivi. If one compares these fossils [from the Vicenza hills and Bassano and Friuli localities] with the specimens in the present catalogue, one finds: (1) that the majority of the former did not live in the Adriatic; (2) that the majority of the latter are not found in the mountains; (3) and that, accordingly, either the Adriatic never covered the foothills of the Alps, or else it covered them at a time when they were already flooded by another sea, or again when the Adriatic was in flood, it was not in the same state as it is today, in terms of both climate and size and, accordingly in terms too of the nature of its inhabitantsZ9> Collections and texts alike, therefore, raised the question of the continuity between the present and past of both the Earth and its living creatures or that of the revolutions at the surface of the globe, which in fact amounted to the same thing. This very same question applied, in an even more acute form, to the fossilized fish from Bolca. The article published in 1786, bearing the signature of Fortis, attested to the presence among them of species still extant in tropical seas. Two years later, Bozza found that such species were indeed to be found at Bolca alongside European species and, in order to explain such a strange coexistence, claimed that the great Flood had mixed together the waters of all the oceans and the fish of every species. 296 Bozza's article drew a reply from Volta, who in fact repeated the same arguments, intending to base them strictly on simple facts and reasonings. The facts were provided by the collections in Verona, where Volta claimed to have identified 100 species which, after comparison with actual living species described in works on ichthyology, turned out to correspond to fish found in the seas of Europe, Asia, Africa and of the two Americas, as well as m European and exotic freshwaters. His reasoning ran as follows.
If, therefore, fish from every part of the globe, both sea- and freshwater are buried on Mount Bolca, as recorded in the adjoining catalogue, is it not natural to imagine that, as we read in the Holy Scriptures, a general

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flooding of our planet formed, from the waters of the seas and rivers, a single, swirling ocean, a destroyer of all life, in which the force of the currents and the inner movement of the floods mixed together earth and every creature which lived, then as now, in the seas and waters which do not communicate with one another and in different climates? Volta found this argument all the more convincing in that the Plutonist hypothesis was able to explain neither the presence of so great a variety of fish in a single place nor the fact that they were deposited in limestone. 297 Volta was therefore 'continuist' as far as living creatures were concerned. For him, the only difference between past and present was in the geographical distribution of species which had coexisted in times past, and he saw behind this a global cause, namely the Flood. Every one of these points was contested, firstly by Abbot Domenico Testa, whose interest in fossilized fish had been stimulated by a visit to the Gazola Museum, and secondly by Fortis. Both cast doubts on the validity of identifying fossil fish with living species, and especially with exotic species. Both agreed that even if fish from warm climates could be found at Bolca, then rather than having recourse ro a cataclysm on a global scale, their presence should be explained by local causes, such as a change in temperature of the waters at Bolca. For Testa, this could well have been rhe result of volcanic activity, and he attributed the formation of the fishes' graveyard to the eruption of a volcano. Fortis, on the other hand, who had carried out studies in the field, unlike Testa, emphasized the sedimentary nature of the rock at Bolca, which invalidated the volcano hypothesis. 298

in his eyes, the 'rapidita volcanica' provided a far better explanation of the formation of the Bolca deposit than the 'lentezza marina'. 303 It was simply too bad for those mineralogists who persisted in drawing attention tO the sedimentary nature of the Bolca rocks.l 04 Practically octogenarian by this time, Giovanni Arduino did not intervene in the triangular argument between Testa, Fortis and the Veronese naturalists. In actual fact, he had voiced his opinions concerning Bolca some considerable time earlier. Among these [the hills around Verona], Mount Bolca is extreme! y well known because of the fossilized marine fish and exotic plants to be found there in the fossil strata of a fine, sandy, limestone rock, and entirely surrounded by substances of volcanic origin. It is obviously a fragment of seabed which has been thrust up during the violent upward movement of these substances caused by an underwater volcanic force, and it has been left at a steep angle, as we can tell from its many stratifications which are far from horizontapos It is, however, clear that these opinions were those of a geologist who was not going to give a verdict as to either the identity of the fossil fish or the presence in their midst of species now living in warm seas, the very subjects which were at the heart of the debate. Even so, Arduino did not lack ideas on the order in which living creatures had succeeded one another. In 1760 he wrote to Vallisnieri the Younger: For the more enlightened observers, however, I also have in my collection no less marvellous things, namely examples of the different degrees of perfection of these very same species of petrified aquatic animals. The cruder and less perfect ones come from the lowest strata of the mountains, which I refer to as secondary strata in my letters ... but become increasingly perfect as we move up to the higher strata, reflecting the order in which they were formed, so that in the final strata, the ones, that is, that form the tertiary hills and mountains, we see the most perfect species, which resemble all those we find in the seas today.3 6 Had it been applied to the problems surrounding Bolca, this approach could have given the debate a different emphasis, as implicit in this passage was the idea that certain species disappeared over time and were replaced by new ones bearing an increasing resemblance to those of today. This idea did not rely on a single and, therefore, extraordinary flood, but rather on a series of cataclysms of this type, each one explaining a particular change in the fauna and flora, and each seemingly part of the normal mechanisms of nature.

The Bolca fish and the changes in the Earth's surface In the face of Bozza, Volta and indeed all the 'Naturalisti veroneJi', whose common stance was expressed by these two authors,2 9 9 Testa and Fortis attempted to explain the Bolca deposits not by a distant, exceptional and extraordinary happening, such as the Flood, but by the normal and regular activity of nature, which was still taking place. Their disagreement over the role of volcanoes in the formation of these deposits in actual fact concerned the length of time it lasted. From the very outset, Testa asked himself in his letters just when such a happening could have taken place, to which Fortis replied that it probably took place 4000 years ago.l 00 Later on, in his third letter which included an attack on Volta, Testa conjectured 'that the burial of the Bolca fish could have taken place sometime between 2207 and 1500 BC, a period of slightly more than seven centuries.' 10 l However, as Cuvier's example makes clear,l 02 a brief time-scale in geology requires the invocation of catastrophic changes. This is why Testa turned to the volcano theory, for,

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Arduino developed all these ideas in a document, unfortunately left unfinished and without a date, entitled Risposta allegorico-rornanzesca di Voniangi Riduano, Osservatore Longobardo, al Celebre 01ittologo Viaggiatore Sigr Giovanni Giacomo Ferber del Collegia Metallico di Svezia sopra Ia genesi della presente faccia della Terra. The title is a significant one, because of its insistence on the literary character of the exercise, the ironical self-presentation of the author as 'LongobaTdo' (allusion to a certain vogue for the Middle Ages which reigned at the time?) and above all because of the explanation of the genetic nature of the approach he adopted. The opening lines of the work are equally significant. ... Illustrious Ferber, quit those Greek and Roman medals, monuments to transient episodes in history, and leave their study to the indolent antiquary who spends his entire life in his rooms, slouched over wormeaten books. Observe and enrich your already abundant collection with those which Vulcan and Neptune, those two eternal and powerful rulers, have liberally dispersed throughout the Earth's stratified entrails. It is these which will allow observers to learn of their occupations and invasions, as well as all that they have been capable of accomplishing, with the succour of old Father Time, sometimes separately, sometimes locked in furious combat. It is throughout this interminable conflict that certain species disappeared and others came into existence. Species which had already disappeared were replaced by new ones, whose development and survival benefited from favourable physical conditions of which their precursors had been deprived. Their remains, buried and borne along amid the strata, are the monuments to these successive changes in the species. The sight of so many of them among the early and marbled strata of each part of the Earth, and the absence of any equivalent of them in the seas today, confirms the belief of the naturalists that they are utterly extinct. This very same conflict also produced minerals, both volcanic and sedimentary, which in their turn constitute signs or medals left by the great events of the past. He who wishes to learn the true version of the great history of our planet, as well as the many periods of tremendous catastrophes and changes it has undergone, has no choice but to study these signs and medals attentively. And also the diversity, number, development, substances, correspondences and all the other characteristics of the ferruginous, sandy

or stony strata which compose the mountains and all other parts of the Earth. 107 As well as being additional proofs of the importance of collections, especially collections of minerals and fossils, to the pursuit of the natural sciences in the eighteenth century, the above-quoted texts also highlight something the Bolca controversy only intimated. This is the inclusion of the time factor into the thinking of geologists, or rather the advent of a new temporalness in their thinking and very perception which, as Arduino wrote, 'distinguishes at a single glance these later works of Neptune from those I have situated in the first period .... ' A fresh approach to geological events, whereby they were placed in chronological order, was required if scholars were to tackle the problems of continuity and discuss the revolutions on the surface of the globe, local and global causes and the role of the waters and volcanoes. However, when the question of time was raised, it was inevitable that the question of absolute dating would be also, and at that time, it could only be given a completely fanciful reply. Unlike Fortis and Testa, who displayed a certain naivety, Arduino was fully aware of this, and divided the history of nature into four periods 'whose length we cannot know, given the absence of dates in the Book of Nature'. 308 Fortunately, the question of time could be restricted to that of relative chronology, and this was now solvable, since a tutored eye could now tell from a certain succession of strata or corresponding series of minerals or fossils which events had preceded others. Thanks to this new approach, a well-organized collection became a visible history of the Earth, just as a similar collection of paintings now became a visible history of painting.

7.3 HISTORICAL MONUMENTS

It was around 1720 that collections of historical monuments in the Venetian Republic began to diverge from the model to which they had conformed until that time. The main features of this model, which had appeared as early as the sixteenth century, were an almost exclusive interest in antiquity, the preference shown by antiquaries for inscriptions and medals, rather than for figured monuments and, among these monuments, for small objects rather than for large statuary. An additional feature of this model was the attraction exerted by curious, rare and enigmatic things, although this did gradually wane in the last decades of the seventeenth century, and the de facto linking of numismatics with universal history, while epigraphy formed the link between the latter and local history, and as a result was invested with political meaning.39 Obviously, a number of collections based on this model survived throughout the whole of the century, while more or

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less everywhere the collection of inscriptions and the compilation of anthologies of inscriptions, often left in manuscript form,lto continued. We will cite as examples of the latter just two works which were published: an anthology by G. D. Bertoli devoted to antiquities from Aquileia,l 11 and the list of inscriptions from Vicenza and its environs compiled by J T. Faccioli. 312 On the other hand, it was only in the fourth, if not the fifth decade that catalogues were published for a number of important medal collections, whose origins were far more ancient, such as those which belonged to Tiepolo,lll Onorio Arrigonil 14 and the Pisanis, the latter having previously been the property of the Corrers.l 15 Continuity therefore did prevail, but a continuity accompanied by changes in emphasis, which eventually led to ruptures.

From the baroque tradition to classicism

Foremost among the innovators, whose initiatives, the seeds of which were sown around 1720 but only came to fruition a quarter of a century later, had a fairly rapid effect on every aspect of antiquarian studies and opened up paths down which others were to venture, was undoubtedly the medievalist and museologist, Scipione Maffei. Medievalist, in that he helped not only to change opinions on the past history of art, but also - and the first deed rendered the second feasible - to arouse interest in the Middle Ages in general as a period occupying a place of cardinal importance in the history of the Venetian Republic Published in 1732, Verona illustrata underlined the continuity of history, especially in irs linguistic and artistic dimensions, 316 by showing that the roots of the present were firmly anchored in the Middle Ages. Maffei's brand of history, reliant on epigraphic documents and on the study of monuments, therefore contrasted with that of the seventeenth-century numismatists, who viewed the Middle Ages as a black hole but, as we shall see further on, completely revised this opinion in the 1740s. Wearing his museologist's hat, Maffei initially intended his lapidary museum to be a simple variation on the theme of the collection of inscriptions of local interest. From 1716 onwards, however, the project began to take on added breadth; Maffei began to talk in 1719 of a 'Museo universale e publico' ,m the programme of this type of institution being the one he set out in his famous Notizia di nuovo museo d'iscrizioni a Ver01za. 318 The initial building work was completed in 1724, with the erection in the courtyard of Verona's Accademia Filarmonica of a wall in which were embedded approximately 230 inscriptions. Maffei was not entirely satisfied with the results which, instead of realizing his ambitious programme, merely increased the number of stones amassed in the

Accademia's courtyard and gave them greater protection.l 19 Many long years of work were therefore to go by before he finally saw his ideas bear fruit. Moreover, he actually modified these ideas to a considerable degree during his lifetime. To start with, beginning with the period when he was busy preparing the publication of his Verona illustrata, with requests that Tiepolo draw the antiquities of the Bevilacqua collection, Maffei manifested a growing interest in figured monuments, both bas-reliefs 320 and cameos,m and he henceforth expected his museum not only to contribute to the study of history, but also to encourage contemporary artists to imitate their ancient precursors once more.m In addition to this, it was only in the 1730s that he settled on the definitive architectural design of his museum and found in the shape of Alessandro Pompei (1705-72) an architect willing and able to realize it. 123 In its second version, first open to visitors in 1745, Verona's lapidary museum was more than just a collection of inscriptions supposed to have some sort of connection with town history, since it contained many which had none whatsoever, having been brought straight from foreign pans for display purposes. This desire to transcend the local and reach for the universal is even more apparent in the MuseJtm veronense, the book where Maffei listed not only the monuments he had amassed in Verona but also those he had studied elsewhere, especially in Turin and Vienna.l 24 The term veronense in the title of this work therefore has quite a different meaning to the similar determiners in the Memorie bre.rciane, the Marmora berica or the Momtmenta patavina. Moreover, and not entirely unconnected with Maffei's universalist ambitions, was the fact that the museum also contained a number of figured monuments. In terms of both its contents and architecture, it therefore provided a contrast to the baroque tradition and heralded a return to classicism.m Known even to those who never visited Verona, thanks to Maffei's book, his museum was a considerable influence in the Venetian Republic, numerous rowns in Italy, as well as abroad.l26 This was, however, only one of a number of those projects which were embarked on around 1720, bur only came to maturity twenty or twenty-five years later. They included the book by the two Anton Maria Zanettis, entitled Delle antiche statue greche et romane, published in 1740 and 1743, as well as Dactyliotheca Zanettiana by Anton Maria Zanetti the Elder, which appeared in 1751. 327 Preparations for this work did, it is true, only begin in 1743, once the previously mentioned work had been completed. However, Zanetti's collection of engraved stones itself dated from the early 1720s.l 2 S Not unlike Maffei's initiatives and propositions in this respect, Zanetti's editorial activities had a manifestly anti-baroque message, and greatly contributed to the return to classicism. We have already touched on this topic with regard to the work devoted to ancient statues, but it is nonetheless worthwhile emphasizing here the role of collections of

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engraved stones which were not only symptomatic of this change in taste but were also instrumental in it, on condition that they included pieces which were interesting not because of their mysterious inscriptions but because of the quality of their drawings. It is precisely this shift in attention away from 'erudite stones' and towards small, figured monuments, which is illustrated by the Zanetti collection, all the more so when it is compared with that of Antonio which were published in 1702, and which uniquely Capello, the contents compnsed amulets, talismans and abraxas. ' 29 This was a collection which enigmas in order to provide scholarly exegetes with an opportunity to put their great wisdom to the test. The Zanetti collection however, amassed works of art with a view ro providing pleasure, via thei: publication, to those unable to see the gemstones for themselves. It was also to offer artists models to imitate, and in this respect it is that another promoter of early Venetian neo-classicism, Joseph Smtth, also formed a collection of engraved stones. 13 The parallel between is also striking, as each helped in his own particular way and to direct the Interest shown in ancient objects towards works of art and thereby modify the very principles governing antiquarian culture. Maffei and Zanetti were both part of the movement which led to the inversion of the practice of scholars in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries who by used images or objects to increase their understanding of texts, so the second half of the eighteenrh century, it was the texts which contributed to the understanding of objecrs and images. An antiquarian culture with strong philological overtones was therefore transformed into an antiquarian culture with archaeological and artistic overtones, before the return in strength of philology at the beginning of the nineteenth century. While it is true that this change in course was chiefly steered by Caylus in Paris and by Winckelmann in Rome, the fact remains that Maffei and Zanetti were foremost among those who initiated it.

Oriental curiosities, finds and excavations

During the period under scrutiny here, many Venetian towns boasted at least one archaeological collection where, alongside the inscriptions and medals, statues or fragments of statues, busts, heads, statuettes, funeral u.rns, amulets, glass vases, fragments of glass, amphorae, lamps, fibulae, keys, arms and divers utensils were placed. Such were the objects which were to be found in substantial quantities in the Capello collection in Venice, 331 pan of which was bought from the Duke of Mantua, and which was preserved throughout the entire century. Its last owner, Antonio Capello ( 1736-after 1806), was an example, like Girolamo Zulian and a

number of others, of antiquarian curiosity placed in the service of contemporary art. Not only was his visiting card designed by Canova but he also commissioned Gianantonio Selva (1751-1819), a friend of the sculptor and a representative of neo-classical architecture, to decorate one of the rooms in his apartment in the Procuratie Nove 'with the !Canova] plaster casts he owned, especially the bas-reliefs where he depicts the early events of the Trojan War and the most memorable of Socrates' deeds; and in order to make a greater contribution to his country's heritage he provided the young students of the art of drawing with examples to imitate, leaving each the opportunity of benefiting from them as best they could.' 1 l 2 With the exception of the Canova plaster casts, objects of the very same type formed the contents of the collection created by the Senator Bernardo Nani (1712-61) and considerably added to by his brother Jacopo ( 1725-97). With its several hundred antiquities - most notably 180 inscriptions collected between 1700 and 1761, mostly in Dalmatia and the Peloponnese -alongside which were 'inscriptions and the monuments of the late Empire and the Christian era and the orientalia, it constituted without doubt the largest Venetian collection of its type in the second half of the eighteenth century.lll It was also the best known, thanks to around thirty publications devoted to the monuments it contained: to a particular marble or votive basrelief, to a particular papyrus, ivory or to coins, or even to a whole class of objecrs linked by their common origin. 114 This abundant literature devoted to the Nani collection shows that unlike the one belonging to Antonio Capello, this one reflected preoccupations which were archaeological and learned rather than artistic. Even so, it did include a number of works of art and, among these, large Greek and Roman statues, one of which was 'a Greek statue of a young girl in Paros marble', which 'had lain forgotten for many a long year until the Illustrious Cavalier Giacopo Nani saw it and placed it in his famous museum, submitting it to the judgement of Canova, who lavishly praised this new acquisition'.m This is an illustration both of the collector in his role of saviour of works of art and of the weight attached to Canova's powers of judgement, he being the ultimate authority in questions of ancient sculpture. ln the Venetian Republic of the eighteenth century, there is no lack of proof of the interest in the Orient, particularly in China, in the shape of carnival costumes, theatre pia ys, operas and furniture, examples of which could be seen at the Ca' Rezzonico, as well as sundry lacquered objects or their less costly imitations.ll 6 Towards the middle of the century villas began to be decorated with chinoiseries, while a few decades later, the inclusion of a 'Chinese room' became practically de rigueur. 337 Giandomenico Tiepolo's frescoes, painted in 1757 in the fore.rteria of the Villa Valmarana in Vicenza, constitute the best-known example of these images of China which, placed near scenes of rustic life and carnival times, seemed

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to belong to a world of play and disguise, intended to amuse: rather than to 38 instruct. ' It is perhaps this link between the idea of a pleasant and frivolous and objects of oriental origin which explains why pastime and these apparently nobody decided to form an entire collection of them, and why so tO be found in collections. There were, in fact, just two few Arab mscnptions m the Maffei museum in Verona,m while in the same city towards 1730 a certain Domenico Vallarsi, among the divers scholar! y curios possessed a large Chinese printed Mappamundi'. 140 It is also possible that the La_teran. Canons in Padua owned oriental objects amongst their 'fdo!J cmd Dtvmtttes of several ancient and modern nations'.34t Two collections, however, did reflect an interest in exotic objects on the pan of their founders, and these were one belonging ro Antonio Vallisnieri, subsequently the property of the University of Padua, and another owned the Nanis, and which we only mention here because of this specific Interest. The Vallisnieri collection conrained curios and artefacts of Persian Chinese and American origin, in particular objects made by Indians of South America and a Sogdian calendar dating from the fifteenth 3 2 century. " The Nani collection, for its part, contained eight statues supposedly from India, Tibet and China, as well as a Christian codex written on palm leaves. 343 It also comprised around a hundred 'Kufic' coins struck and sundry Arab, Turk and Tartar dynasties as well a; by the by Chnstwn kings, such as Roger II of Sicily and Alfonso of Castile not co mention twenty odd 'vetri cttfici', glasses bearing inscriptions, mos;ly with the names of the Fatimid caliphs. 144 Last of all, this collection contained orienral manuscripts, another forty of which were placed in the Pinelli library. 14 \ After this digression into exotic objects, let us look now at the collections of antiquities scattered around the mainland towns, from Treviso, home of the Scott is and Crespanis, with their Roman stones and coins, w. to Brescia where Quirini lived, 147 and then on to Bergamo, where moves were made found a museum of ancient monuments around I 743. 148 Similar collections existed in Adria, in the homes of Ottavio (1697 -1749) and Francesco Girolamo Bacchi (1748-1810) and of Luigi Andrea Grotto (1708-73).349 One was also to be found in Rovigo, in rhe possession of Canon Girolamo Silvestri, whose contacts with Arduino have already been mentioned and Rinaldo, a lover of painting, belonged to the who_, a.long _with his famrly s tlurd generation of archaeologists, historians and collectors. A series of drawings which were made ar his request between 1750 and 1775 enable us to visualize his collection, and though part of ir came from his Camillo (1694-1719), and from his father, Carlo (1694-1754), considerable additions to it. no Even though it does not made he himself come up to today's standards, the description he gives of a find made near Rovigo shows that his was definitely the eye of an archaeologist interested

o!

not only by objects suitable for collection but also by the structures and remains revealed during excavations and which enabled the original state of the site to be reconstructed.35t We have already discussed Tomasso degli Obizzi's collection, so let us move on to rwo Paduan ones which, towards 1765, belonged to Francesco Leonessa, the town's foremost doctor and to the Lateran canons. 352 In Vicenza Count Arnaldi Arnalda I Tornieri (1739-1829) had amassed a substantial collection of antiquities which also included 6000 medals and a large number of inscriptions.m In VeronaJacopo Muselli (1697-1768) built up a genuine museum of antiquities of every sort, just as Count Jacopo Verita (1744-1827) was to do some rime later, as well as Giovanni Fontana and Abbot Giuseppe Venturi, though on a far more modest scale." 4 Several objects which once belonged tO these three men are today in the possession of the Museo Archeologico di Teatro Romano in Verona. Those owned by Muselli, some of which are also now in this museum, also figure among the prints of a book he published in 1756; 'we can be sure,' he asserts, 'that we will not find anything among these which has been drawn a capriccio or else whose true form has been changed in any way whatsoever.' 355 This is a concern for accuracy which yet again reveals an archaeologist interested first and foremost by the way the object itself was rendered. J acopo Muselli had inherited part of his collection from his uncle, Gian Francesco (1677-1757), archpriest of Verona cathedral, and in whose home had finished up several antiquities which had previously belonged ro Francesco Bianchini ( 1662-1729), a native of Verona who had spent his life in Rome, where his archaeological discoveries had won him celebrity. 356 Another parr of Jacopo Muselli's collection was, however, made up of objects found during excavations he had carried out on the site of an ancient necropolis near Verona. Muselli has left behind him an account of these excavations in which he gives the location of the site in relation to the town, describes the different types of tombs and the way the objects found in them are laid our, suggests a dating system based on coins unearthed there, and even goes as far as to indicate that the people buried in the cemetery were paupers as no gold coins and only one silver one were found there.l 57 In the second half of the century other Venetian antiquaries embarked on excavations, either in order to find out more about a monument or else to search for objects. In Verona, for instance, following a discovery made during a dig, Giovanni Fontana organized excavations in the Roman theatre between 1757 and 1760. 358 The Roman theatre in Vicenza, the layout of which had already been traced in 1720 by Count Octavio Zago (1654-1737), was excavated in 1773 by Ottavio Bertotti Scamozzi (1719-90),359 while in 1778-89, Tornieri organized digs in various different parts of the town in search of antiquiries.l 60 All this was part of a cultural movement which embraced rhe whole of Italy. The high points of this movement included the

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discoveries of Herculaneum (1711) and Pompeii (1748), but it was also given momentum by the excavations in Rome and by the fascination for the Etruscans which was aroused by the publication of Dempster's De Etruria rega!is in 1723. 361 This movement was also represented in the Venetian Republic by one book, published by Maffei in 1728, on amphitheatres, especially the one in Verona, 362 and another written by Ottavio Bocchi on the Roman theatre in Adria, 363 as well as by the posthumous publication in Verona of the work Francesco Bianchini had devoted to the excavations he arranged on the Palatine, 364 by Giovanni Poleni's supplement to the collections of antiquities compiled by Graevius and Gronovius and by commentaries on Vitruvius also by this author. 365 The antiquaries of the first half of the century were prolific authors, those of the latter half seem to have published fewer weighty tomes. They did, of course, continue excavating and collecting, conscientiously protecting all the objects brought to light, as if they had taken to heart this dictum of Tornieri's: 'Each ancient piece, however small, deserves to be preserved.'3 66 However, antiquity was not the only period to attract their attention, as they had now discovered the Middle Ages, and this discovery took effect in the field of numismatics, which accordingly acquired fresh meanings.

History and numismatics

Out of the fifty or so collectors of antiquities we know of in the Venetian Republic of the eighteenth century, more than thirty were either partially or exclusively interested in coins and medals. Sometimes they owned collections of ancient coins which were not noticeably different from those a century or more earlier, even if they had actually only been formed a short time ago; this, however, was not always the case as a fairly large number had been handed down from one generation to the next. Here, as elsewhere, however, a certain continuity was accompanied by shifts in interests, if not complete breaks with tradition. One of the changes with the least impact included an increase in the number of collectors attracted in particular to medals bearing effigies of illustrious figures, such as the holders of high office and the heroes of memorable exploits, as well as writers, artists and scholars. These collectors included Nicolo Balbi, whose collection subsequently fell into the hands of the Pisanis,l67 Tomasso Giuseppe Farsetti (1720-92), who bequeathed his to the Biblioteca Marciana,lGs Benedetto Valmarana,3 69 Pinelli,3 70 degli Obizzi,m Tornierim and Jacopo Muse IIi. Although Muselli apparently never really grouped his medals into one or several series organized according to this principle, he did class the illustrious men represented in his collection in alphabetical and chronologi-

cal order, as well as according to their office, nationality and so on. There is every indication that universal history amounted to a succession of great men, completed by a succession of major happenings as far as he was concerned.m In this sense, he, along with all the other collectors who set out their collections in the same way, at least on paper, exemplified the way in which the notion of history as a discontinuous phenomenon, punctuated by exceptional, rare and extraordinary events and individuals persisted over a very long period. No purpose is served in dwelling on the contrast between those who exclusively used series of medals to illustrate history and those who, while not ignoring them, considered that only a highly varied series of monuments could enable one to comprehend the essential nature of history, namely its ceaseless variations. Towards 1700, Apostolo Zeno (1668-1750) began to amass medals portraying poets, in order to illustrate a work of literary history he was working on, but this highly specific collection was abandoned quite rapidly in favour of a large one of ancient coins.J7 4 later on, Count Gian Maria Mazzuchelli ( 1707-65 ), from Brescia, formed a collection of medals devoted to men celebrated in scientific and literary circles. He subsequently published it in two folio volumes, in which the frontispiece clearly echoes the vision of society and hisrory underpinning this project. At the foot of the page on the right, an old man with wings bearing a scythe, a clepsydra in his right hand, has been knocked to the ground. A winged figure with an aegis on his breast and a helmet topped with a bird, has placed his foot on him, and is about to strike him with his lance. Further up the page, a winged female is blowing a trumpet, while a pyramid and a temple uniting the sphere and the triangle rise up from the bottom of the page. In short, Minerva overcomes Saturn, wisdom triumphing over time and death and bestowing the glory which is the key to long, if not eternal life. In the left half of the engraving instruments are figured which enable one to conquer glory, with a pair of compasses, a set square, a telescope and a model of the universe at the bottom, and at the top, pyramids whose sides are decorated with medals, the putti actually in the middle of attaching these to the one on the left. Glory belongs to men of letters and learning. The book itself consists of a series of plates each featuring several medals; the accompanying notes give a description of the figures they celebrate. Among the several hundreds of famous men and women, from Moses to authors still alive at the time of publication, are representatives of every tendency, denomination and party, all united thus in glory. Present are both the heretics and the reformers: Calvin, Fare!, Knox, Luther and Zwingli, but present too are the inquisitors and the champions of the battle against Protestantism. Nobody therefore is absent from the roll-call, providing he or she has been honoured through a medal. The problem is that in this exercise in glorification an entire period of history is made ro seem utterly

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bereft of famous people. Wrote Mazzuchelli, 'We make a huge leap from the first to the thirteenth century. The first medal we display after this very long period was struck in honour of Giovanni da Scio, a member of rhe Dominican Order who lived around 1230.' Other representatives of the late Middle Ages include Jacques de Vitry, St Thomas Aquinas, Ottaviano Ubaldini, Dante, Cecco d'Ascoli, Andrea Dandolo, Wyclif, Petrarch, Boccaccio and Salutati. There nevertheless remains the gulf of some twelve centuries which, like the list of prominent figures from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, reveals the necessarily discontinuous nature of numismatic history in a particularly flagrant fashion. This can be seen with regard not only ro ancient times but to the recent period too. Mazzuchelli cites as modern celebrities, Bacon, Bayle, Clarke, Descartes, Galileo, Linnaeus, Locke, Maffei, Malebranche, Malpighi, Maupertuis, Montesquieu, Muratori, Newton, Pascal and Voltaire. Remarkable by their absence, however, are Leibnitz, his absence being particularly inexplicable, and Rousseau and Spinoza, their absence being more comprehensible. The book ends with several indexes compiled according to nationality, rank, sciences and the arts, one even dealing with 'sectarians'Y 5 Although he remained within the framework of the traditional numismatic representation of history, Mazzuchelli concentrated his medalcollecting activities on the heroes of the republic of letters and accordingly only applied the principles which governed the approach of his predecessors and some of his contemporaries to universal history to 'literary history'. Although the idea of viewing history through its heroes and major events had become somewhat anachronistic in this domain by the middle of the eighteenth century, it remained entirely valid when applied to science, art and literature. The ideas expressed in the collection and in the book were therefore not obsolete, even if his interests in medals devoted to men of letters and scholarship did prevent him from taking into account the most important change which took place in numismatics in his time, a change which was eventually ro alter the very framework of its representation of history. This was the advent of the Middle Ages into the field of interest of the collectors of medals and coins and into that of antiquaries interested in their country's past. The first signs of this change appeared as early as the last decades of the seventeenth century. The papers of Giovanni de Lazara the Elder (1621-90) included a work entirely devoted to the Paduan and Venetian seals he had amassed, and to Paduan coins of the Middle Ages. Engravings had been made of several pieces from this collection, and de Lazara hoped to have others engraved too, as we can see from the lists of the Sigilli spettanti a Padova da far intagliare and Sigilli da far intagliareY 6 It is therefore reasonable to suppose that he envisaged the publication of his seals and coins, though even if such a project was devised, it was certainly never

carried out. At the beginning of the eighteenth century, medieval Venetian coins and seals were to be found in several other collections in Padua, Venice and perhaps elsewhere too. In 1662, for instance, Giovanni de Lazara purchased a medieval seal from Sertorio Orsato, which can be seen today in the museum in Padua, 377 yet never published a single word on this subject, even though he did write a work on ancient coins. Accordingly, for a long time, there was a discrepancy between the practice of certain collectors and the image they gave to the public of their collections, since they spoke only about ancient objects and kept quiet about all those that dated from the Middle Ages. In 1728 a Venetian senator, Domenico di Vincenzo Pasqualigo (d. ?1746) finished compiling an anthology of learned essays on the coins in his collection, 178 a collection which - and herein lies its originality - was composed of Venetian coins, from the most ancient to the most recent, as well as lead bullae and tesserae, also Venetian, medals from various different countries, Italian coins and a number of antiques. 379 The immediately striking feature of this list is the fact that none of the coins was ancient, and that the focal points of the collection were Venice and Ita! y. The Pasqualigo collection, formed in the 1720s, if not earlier, was, in fact, one of the first Venetian numismatic collections to have such emphasis, just as the essays its founder wrote were among the first Venetian publications to be devoted to the coins of the Middle Ages, even though they only appeared in print between 1737 and 1743. These discussed three of the oldest Venetian currencies, as well as the coins issued under Doge Domenico Michie! (twelfth century), as well as Visigoth and Lombard coins 380 - themes which would soon be taken up by a whole new body of literature.

Numismatics and the discovery of the Middle Ages

The 1730s saw a rapid growth in the number of signs indicating the numismatists' shift in attention towards the Middle Ages. At the beginning of this decade, Apostolo Zeno began tO put together a series of Venetian grossi rnatapani and build up a collection of oselle, buying 500 medieval seals in 173 3 for fifty Roman crowns, and selling them four years later. 381 In 1738 Muratori embarked on the publication of the Antiquitates italicae Medii Aevi, the second volume of which contained essays on coins 382 and found attentive readers in the Venetian Republic. Six years later, Giovanni Brunacci (1711-72), a Paduan abbot, published a history of the minting of coins in his town during the Middle Ages 383 based on the collection he had formed, but also drawing on the collections of de Lazara and of the Papafavas, who also seem to have been interested for a long time in medieval Paduan coins. For his part, Brunacci was in contact with Onorio

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Arrigoni and Aposrolo Zeno,l 84 as well as with Marco Foscarini, a historian of Venetian literature and future doge, to whom his book was dedicated.JSs The Brunacci collection did not solely comprise coins. Abbot Giovanni Brunacci, a scholar and learned historian and antiquary, has in his possession an extensive collection of medals from the Middle Ages, from the Byzantine Empire, as well as from divers foreign and Italian princes, and several seals belonging to our bishops and other important objects. He has assembled all these things in order to illustrate the secular and ecclesiastical history of this town and diocese, long awaited by scholars. I could also mention other monuments and countless parchments, both originals and copies taken from archive material which are to be found under his roof, but they are not my concern. Lovers of painting will, however, have the pleasure of seeing several examples of very old paintings which appear to date from the thirteenth century or thereabouts; despite their recent date, we already find them strange and executed in that clumsy manner which some claim was usual at that time. He also possesses a small work by our Andrea Mantegna .... \86 This description given by Rossetti in the 1765 edition of his guide is a good illustration of the link between the awakening in interest in medieval numismatics and in the Middle Ages in general on the one hand and, on the other, a certain new esteem for the paintings of the 'primitives'. The de Lazaras, who collected medieval coins throughout the eighteenth century,387 belonged, like Brunacci, to the same world as Facciolati and Lodoli. Five years after Brunacci's book, Giangiuseppe Liruti (1689-1780), from Villafredda in Friuli, the author of several works on local history,lss published an essay on the currency which was in use in the Duchy of Friuli between the decline of the Roman Empire and the fifteenth century. It contained a historical commentary on his collection of medieval coins, where we learn in passing that a similar collection had been formed by one 'Signor Agricola, Gentiluomo udinese'. 389 This work was followed by others on the very first Venetian coins. Their author, Girolamo Zanetti, concentrated his studies on the pieces in the collection belonging to Antonio de Savorgnan,l 90 though he did cite at least once the one owned by Giovanni Soranza. 391 The latter half of the century saw an increase in the number of collections in Venice entirely or partly comprising coins of local denominations. A series held to be one of the most complete was to be found in the home of the Pisanis, 392 two further ones of equal renown being the work of Lauro de Giovanni Dandolo (1746-1805)393 and Girolamo Ascanio Molin.' 94 We should also mention the Tiepolo collection, to which Venetian coins were added during the final decades of the century, as well as the ones owned by Gasparo Moro, the Gradenigo family and the Mocenigo broth-

ers. 395 Of all the major Venetian collectors interested in numismatics, only Pietro Persico (1745-1802) seems to have confined his interest to ancient coins.l9 6 A closer look at the collection formed by Matteo Pinelli, of which there exists a reliable catalogue, will provide us with a more accurate picture of a typical Venetian numismatic collection. It consisted of a series of Venetian coins from the period stretching from the eleventh to the eighteenth century, in all, some 1669 pieces, including 221 gold coins and 1161 silver ones, the rest being copper. In addition, there were forty-five silver coins and seven copper ones struck in towns later subjugated by Venice and by the Aquileian patriarchs. 'An additional and quite remarkable ornament to this collection is a complete series of portraits of doges and their wives, numbering 168 . . . bearing their names and dates. They have been executed with great artistry and with the finest of taste by Sig. Francesco Maggiotto, a Venetian painter.' Seventy-one lead bullae, dating from 1192 to the eighteenth century, and which were normally attached to letters sent by the doges, matched the set of coins, along with a 'Series of medals of illustrious Venetian figures and other medals of the Republic of Venice', comprising 356 pieces in all. 'Enhancing this series of medals are ten portraits by Francesco Maggiotto, already mentioned, which are not unlike those of the doges described earlier, and which represent the five Venetian popes, as well as the five patriarchs of Venice who were cardinals.' This was the real heart of Pinelli's numismatic collection, for although his 'series of medals of illustrious men and others struck to commemorate special occasions' contained far more pieces than the coin series, it seems only to have had a secondary role, the genuinely important items being those which were connected with Venice.397 We can quite easily skip over several collections of the second half of the eighteenth century in the mainland towns which contained in varying proportions specimens of medieval numismatics; suffice it to mention the series of seals, 'liturgical instruments and objects' and Byzantine and Venetian coins in the possession of Tomasso degli Obizzi, who amassed considerable quantities of them. 398 However, we must not ignore the case of Verona where, as in Venice and Padua, the interest in the Middle Ages was expressed not only in the collections of objects from this period but also in the burgeoning of research, which depended at least in part on these collections. In 1756, for instance, Jacopo Muselli wrote a work, left in manuscript form despite being obviously intended for publication, which contained a description of the medieval and modern sections of his numismatic collection. This included a list of all the coins it comprised, from the medieval to the contemporary ones - the most recent English coins dated from 1733- drawn up in alphabetical order according to the names of their places of origin. This part of the book was completed by two indexes -

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provinces, towns and localities whence they originated, and names of princes figuring on them - and was followed by the list of the lead bullae used by the popes, by Charlemagne and by various doges from Venice, along with their seals, the stampmarks of sixty-five of these seals being reproduced alongside this list. l9 9 A member of a later generation, Gian Giacomo Dionisi (1724-1809), a canon, antiquary and coin collector, who was incomparably more important to the culture of his rime than Muselli had been, published a number of works, the ones most worthy of note being his histories of miming in Verona, and prepared an edition of La Divina Commedia. 400 Around him revolved figures of lesser calibre, such as antiquaries, local history specialists and connoisseurs of Dante, whose work enjoyed a new wave of interest at the end of the century.40J In the context of seventeenth-century antiquarian culture coins, which connected with universal history, were contrasted with inscriptions, whJCh were responsible for the integration of universal hisrory into local history: both were held to be by far the best sources for students of antiquity. The changes which began in the 1720s, however, not only caused both to cede this role to figured monuments but also took coins as the link between local and universal hisrory, altering the definition of each in the process. This is because numismatics could not assume its new role unless the Middle Ages were taken into account, and this meant that history, as represented through coins, was no longer interrupted by a void of several centuries but was characterized instead by a new continuity. Nor did this continuity exactly match that illustrated by the inscriptions, as it was now based on the length of the regimes in whose name the coins were struck, and on the techniques required for their production: numismatic history was essentially an institutional history. Moreover, by minting a coin a town showed that it was now a place history should take note of, and that it had attained a certain rank, which explains the imponance now given to the question of whether a particular town possessed a mint and in what radius its coins circulated. This importance was reflected in the essays contained in the Raccoita delle rnonete e zecche d'Italia 402 and in many large and small volumes, such as one by Francesco Girolamo Bocchi who, with regard to a silver coin unearthed in Adria in the sixteenth century, attempted, 'with the aid of clear and irrefragable documents, to make known the fact that Adria could rival several other famous towns in Italy even after Constantine and in the Middle Ages (though not in every period, and despite inrerruptions)'.403 Numismatic history became a vehicle for local patriotism. Even though medieval coins were accorded a new status as historical sources, which went hand in hand with their metamorphosis into collection pieces, this by no means implied a willingness to consider them on the same footing as ancient coins: 'The crudeness and barbarism of ours', wrote Liruti, while commenting on a piece from his collection, 'are ample proof to

anyone who has handled many things of this type that it was struck during the long-distant centuries of barbarism of the most obscure and uncouth nature ever to have oppressed our Italy and which, brought by the Goths and other peoples, reach its height during the time of the Lombards ... .' 404 In other words, Liruti refused to attribute any artistic worth whatsoever to this coin, thereby apparently dissociating this worth entirely from documentary worth. This dissociation did not only occur when coins from 'barbaric' periods were involved, but rather was a constant feature of medieval numismatics. 'Although it comes from a miserable period, although it is of a base metal and of crude and pitiful execution, as was normal for those times, the medal of Michael and Basil, Emperors of Constantinople ... seems to me to warrant particular study .. .',405 wrote Zanetti on the subject of a Byzantine coin, while Moschini said of Pasqualigo that he left 'quite a rare collection of coins, even though they were only Venetian ones'. 40 6 The essential difference between antiquity and the Middle Ages, and between these and the period which began with the Renaissance, is precise! y this absence of artistic worth peculiar to medieval objects, except for a few rare examples so highly charged with patriotism, that this even coloured the way in which they were judged. Medieval objects were instructive bur could not arouse any admiration; they were to be studied but not emulated, and fell not within the ambit of artists but within that of historians.

The twin poles of antiquarian culture

Having completed this analysis, it would appear that Venetian antiquarian culture was influenced by two different, if not conflicting tendencies. The first of these was centred on an antiquity seen from an increasingly ethical and aesthetic perspective, which gave figured monuments not only a documentary but also an artistic and a moral value, seeing them as the most reliable sources for students of ancient history and the best examples to follow. The second tendency looked towards the Middle Ages from an increasingly hisrorical perspective. In other words, it no longer condemned the medieval period out of hand as a rebarbative one. The advocates of the first tendency placed medieval objects, unless they were relics of the country's glorious past, on the level of distractions, erecting Gothic pavilions alongside their Chinese display rooms. The advocates of the second continued to hold ancient works of art as models and standards of good taste, so that relations between the two groups were not symmetrical, given that those who were interested in the Middle Ages also recognized the aesthetic superiority of ancient art, officially consecrated moreover by the public institutions - in particular by the academies and museums -

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while the collection of medieval objects was left to private individuals. Lastly,. the first tendency continually sought out the universal, only accordmg exemplary status to that which sprang directly from nature itself. The medievalists, on the other hand, attributed a certain value to the particular, to local specificities resulting from long traditions. The first was cosmopolitan, the second patriotic. Even though they are contrasted in a schematic and systematic fashion here, these two different movements, which underwent many changes between the 1720s and the 1830s, and which took several different forms are none the less real and can even be personified. In the cultural world of Venice and Venetia in the second half of the eighteenth century, the first tendency was represented by Angelo Querini ( 1721-96) and the second by Teodoro Currer (1_750-.1830). Sharing same social background and having both.' :1p t? a certam pomt, followed the cursus honorum of every Venetian It nevertheless seems at first sight impossible to compare the two tn any way, because of the three decades separating their births. This interval is in fact less important than might first appear, since no real break occurred in the history of the Venetian Republic between the times when Querini and Correr reached adulthood, and both abandoned public activities date, in 1775 and 1780 respectively. In 1777 Querini, at almost .the by Grrolamo Festari, travelled to Switzerland, where he paid VISits to a famous geologist, Horace de Saussure, an equally famous botanist by the name of Albert Haller, the founder of physiognomy, Johann Kaspar Lavater and, most imporrant of all, to Voltaire. Correr seems never to have Venice, and this constitutes the first significant difference. However, it 1s on.l Y. when one compares their historical and artistic preferences that .and Correr turn out to represent the two opposing poles of the antrquanan culture of their time.107 'Mr Querini is furiously for the ancients' wrote Giustiniana Wynne, ?f Rosenberg (173 7-91) in a description of the villa he possessed at Alticchtero on the banks of the River Brenta,48 and both the interior of the house and the surrounding grounds were indeed filled with remains from antiquity. Inside could be seen a collection of antique curios, 'more remarkable because of their choice and rarity than because of their number' comprising lamps, rings, fibulae, cinerary urns, a 'series of Etruscan vases of eve:y shape and sort' and another made up of 'the strangest and most anctent of Etruscan, Egyptian and Indian vases' as well as several small 409 busts. Outside, in the garden, were statues including, one of Marins, large busts of the Caesars, of Plato, Scylla, Demosthenes and Scipio (whose ashes were supposed to be contained in one of the urns), allegorical bas-reliefs and sarcophagi. All these objects were present not only because of their beauty but also because they bore a message: 'I confess to you, Sir, that this antiquity's language of predilection, seemed to me at the outset obscure and

tiresome: have become accustomed to it, and each mythological sign I glimpse in an ancient or modern work elevates my mind to the most sublime moral philosophy.'4 10 Engravings depicting an ornithological collection, cards, plans, town views, portraits of philosophers and sages (not to mention the busts of Voltaire, Rousseau and Catherine II), a screen covered in topographical maps of the Republic of Venice and statistics concerning its population and economy: the decor of the Querini residence was not intended solely to please: 'there is no ornament in this house which is not also useful,' 411 which was not subordinated to didactic ends, which was not supposed to teach moral philosophy or knowledge likely to increase the well-being of man. The same principle governed most of the monuments set out in the garden: the altar of Friendship, the statue of Ceres erected to commemorate the Venetian Senate's creation of a magistrate responsible for agriculture; the temple of Apollo where 'the elogy of rural life and scorn for the false gaiety of splendour and of show are gaily expressed' 412 It also governed the botanical garden which was not an 'immense collection of plants in the manner of Tournefort and Linnaeus' but merely a 'precious selection of plants useful in pharmacy and medicine which poor peasants and all who ask can use for no charge. As they are divided into twenty-two classes according ro the best-known properties and marked with both their botanical and common names, the gardener can recognize and use them more easily.' 413 Given the impossibility of studying one by one all the elements of the garden planned by Querini, each of which had in all probability a complex symbolism of masonic inspiration,' 14 let us confine ourselves to finding examples to illustrate the bipolarity behind the way the grounds of Alticchiero were organized. The civic virtues and 'sublime moral philosophy' represented by several ancient monuments were set opposite the Chinese pavilion, 'truly baroque and grotesque but ... nonetheless quite drole and pleasam'.m In a similar fashion, though in a different style, the statue of Saturn devouring a child faced a statue of Rhea clutching a child in her arms: 'nothing as explicit or interesting as this symbol of Time, the destroyer of all things, and Nature which continually reproduces everything through love, bringing together the elements of matter its enemy disperses'.416 This explains why a labyrinth, the image of life, decorated with busts supposed to depict both the four seasons and the four ages of man, leads onto 'Young's wood' the wood of death, with its portals adorned with the portraits of Heraclitus and Democritus. 417 It is in 'Young's wood' that the sarcophagi were situated, including one restored by Canova and a Christian one dating from the fourteenth century. Here roo were a botanical clock and the statue of Time. Near this statue could be seen two monuments which 'in truth are merely Venetian' but

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which 'because of their antiquity and links with famous events ... could be of interest to scholars who like the middle ages, or to those seeking to increase their knowled ge of the history of this Republic.' 418 These comprised a 'base and most badly sculpted column', a monume nt to the 'revoluti on' in ideas about the fourteen th century led by the Tiepolos and Querinis, along with another erected to commem orate an event later acknowledged to be fictitious and for this reason 'worthy of inclusion in the ruins of time, which destroys both truth and falsehood'. 41 9 Querini therefor e did not place monume nts from the Venetia n Middle Ages on the side of nature, the side of antiquity, but on the side of time, but transien t and not lasting time; not in the labyrint h of life but in the wood of death. Everyth ing leads us to believe that Teodoro Correr was diametri cally opposed to Querini in this respect, neither making professi ons of faith nor organizi ng gardens where each object had a message. He simply left behind him a collection of manuscr ipts, books, painting s, engravin gs, objects made from wood, bronze, ivory and various other material s, seals, coins, weapons and narural specime ns which filled three state rooms and around twenty other rooms in his residence, although we do not know the exact layout. 420 This extreme ly rich collection was characte rized by its homoge neity, Correr being intereste d solely by monume nts and docume nts linked in some way with Venetian history. Even the antiquiti es he acquired seem to have been importa nt in his eyes because they had formerly belonged to eminent fellow countrym en, one example being the gemston es from Zanetti's set of engrave d stones.m This preferen ce for the historica l or docume ntary value of objects was translate d into the care lavished over the numism atic section of his collection, particula rly over his set of Venetian coins, 422 and in the number of works by Pietro Longhi, the eighteen th-centu ry painter who was best represen ted in Correr's gallery, the obvious explana tion being that he depicted scenes of Venetia n life.42J Correr's activities were not met by universa l acclaim, many apparen tly accusing him of accumulating any manner of objects without exercising the least discernm ent, and without any real aims or criteria. These detracto rs were still vocal thirty years after his death, 424 and one can understa nd their reaction s, for anyone who had grown up with the notion that, except in a few rare cases, an object only deserved inclusion in a collection if it had some aesthetic value and was pleasing to the eye, must have felt disconcerted by a collector who was motivate d by the desire to rescue relics of the nation's past quite simply because they were relics. So ecumenical an attitude towards objects, one which Tomass o degli Obizzi, Correr's chief rival at the turn of the century, seems to have shared, was acceptable in scholars and in antiquar ies intereste d in monume nts of local history and consequ ently in the relics of the Middle Ages long before its importa nce was realized by a public of any real size. This same public, however ,

accustomed to the cult of antiquity alone, could only accept this as a private aberrati on betrayin g an absence ?f taste. and an. mabtlny to distingu ish good from bad. It is these reacoon s whtch consmu te the best evidence of the original ity of the Correr collectton and of. the way tt overturn ed eighteen th-centu ry antiquar ian culture by. choosmg. a tradition al and medieval emphasi s, and thereby heraldm g a turnmg- pomt in the history of society and taste.

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8
Private Collections, Public Museums

One only needs to draw up a list of the major museums in Venice, together with the dates when they were founded, to realize that they all began life at different periods in history. The core collection of the treasure-house of St Mark's basilica, for example, was established at the beginning of the thirteenth century, the origins of the Sale d'Armi dei Consiglio di Dieci go back to the fourteenth century, the Archaeological Museum dates back ro the sixteenth century, while the Academy's galleries, founded on 12 February 1807, are therefore the fruits of the eighteenth century, like the Pinacoteca Manfrediniana and Correr Museum. This particular museum was moreover founded slightly later than the galleries, and the nature of its very contents was determined to a large degree by the fall of the republic: in 1866 the Risorgimento Museum was added to it. 1868 saw rhe opening of the Pinacoteca Querini-Stampalia, and 1897 that of the Gallery of Modern Art. The 1920s brought the Oriental Museum ( 1923) and the Franchetti Gallery at the Ca' d'Oro (1927), as well as the Natural Science Museum, which was given autonomy from the Correr Museum in 1924, just like the Museum of Glass and Glass-making and rhe Museum of Eighteenth-century Venice at theCa' Rezzonico in 1932 and 1935 respectively. 1951 was the year in which the Peggy Guggenheim Collection was given a permanent home in the Venier dei Leoni Palace.

Distinguishing features of a collection

All these facts and dates, except for the last one, have been taken from the Lorenzetti Guide; in other words, they are familiar to any tourist who takes the trouble ro visit Venice properly. The history of Venice's collections, which these facts and dates encapsulate, has by no means been neglected,

especially within the walls of the Ateneo Veneto. On 30 January 1879 one of the Ateneo's members, Francesco Fappani, gave a talk on the history of collections in Venice, the text of which can be found in his Elenco dei Musei, delle Pinacoteche e delle varie co!fezioni pubb!iche e private, che un tempo esistettero, e che e.riJtono oggidi' in Venezia e nella .rua Provincia, on which he worked for twelve years and left in manuscript form. In doing this he was, in actual fact, following in the wake of Marco Foscarini, Giannantonio Moschini and Emmanuele Cicogna, all of whom had rightly considered this history to be an important component of the history of the arts and letters in Venice, and of Venetian life in general. Our interest in it, therefore, merely represents the continuation of a long tradition, and our aim is not so much to bring forgotten or unknown facts tO light bur to arrive at some general conclusions regarding collections taken as political, or even anthropological phenomena. For this reason, we will be basing most of our arguments on well-known facts, and will constantly refer back to the list of Venetian museums arranged in chronological order, since this enables us to take in at a glance the entire history of public collections as it unfolded in Venice from the very earliest times right up to the present day, leaving at each of its major turning-points a new type of museum, and thus becoming woven into the very fabric of the city. As to whether a history of this kind can, despite its obvious specificity and the narrow confines within which it moves, provide a satisfactory basis for significant conclusions with a sufficiently wide application, this will become clear from the results obtained. For the time being, we will merely say that it is so rich that the risk of being bogged down in local anecdote is not great enough to outweigh the advantages of adopting a rigorous approach intended to do away with the factual bric-a-brac engendered by a disregard for chronology and the unity of place, and replace it with a homogeneous body of knowledge. For all that, we are quite at liberty to make comparisons and indeed will not hesitate to do so. Before rounding off this introductory section, a few more remarks still need to be made regarding the criteria which enable the historian, during the course of his work, to distinguish a collection from a mere heap of objects. This work consists, of course, of the study of source material, such as inventories, catalogues, descriptions left by visitors, travel accounts and guides, correspondence, memoirs, accountancy documents and so on. The characteristics of the objects cannot be used as criteria in quite the same manner, as one only needs to make a tour of the museums and private collections in any given city to realize that they can contain virtually every known sort of natural and artificial object. This was just as much the case in the past, although rhe number of types known to collectors and the methods of classifying them were different then.

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The chief distinguishing feature of a collection is the fact that the objects of which it is comprised are kept either temporarily or permanently out of the circuit of utilitarian activities. A set of objects assembled in a shop or boutique in order to be sold does not, therefore, constitute a collection, and the same applies to sets of instruments intended for the production of materials or finished products. We have here a criterion which is both easy to apply and unambiguous, but it is not the sole condition which has to be mer if we are to begin to talk about a collection. We must therefore add that, in order to constitute a collection, a set of objects must also be afforded special protection. This requirement is easy to understand, as objects one does not protect from physical wear and tear or from theft are effectively treated as if they were worthless, nothing more than scrap. To all intents and purposes, scrap is indeed excluded from the circuit of utilitarian activities and therefore satisfies the first criterion we laid down, yet we cannot place scrap in the category of colleCtions. The formation of a collection thus requires solutions to be found to the problems of preservation and possibly of the restoration of the pieces composing it. Even with this second criterion, however, we do not arrive at an adequate definition, for all the above conditions can be met by a hoard of coins shut away in the basement in a sealed clay pot, given that it has been removed from the circuit of utilitarian activities and afforded special protection. The same can be said of a set of paintings guarded in a bank strongroom. The main difference between treasures of this kind and a collection is that the latter is placed on display in an enclosed space specially designed for the purpose. Placed on display, it is introduced into a circuit of non-utilitarian exchanges where the value attributed to it by irs owner is confirmed or invalidated by people other than him. This depends on a public (which can be defined in a multitude of ways) being given access to the collection, and on the existence of suitable premises along with a successfulla your scheme enabling the pieces to be seen properly. The formation of a collection intended for mortal beings (some are occasionally intended for the gods, but this does not fall within our ambit) therefore means finding away of displaying the pieces it comprises, in terms of presentation, lighting, the passage of visitors from one piece to another and so on. In every single case, thought must also be given to the type of premises used, since they not only provide protection against theft and damage from the environment, but also bestow unity on a multiplicity of objects, a unity which allows them all to be perceived as constituent elements of the same whole. Hence the importance of the architecture and furniture which determine the nature of these premises and perform the same role for a collection as a frame does for a painting. The discovery that a set of objects mentioned in source material satisfies the above conditions, amounts to the recognition of this set as a collection. It is particularly important to proceed in this manner when sets of objects

amassed in the homes of private individuals are involved, as their functions are easily misinterpreted if they are not properly identified. It will not be necessary to adopt this procedure here, however, as this essay simply requires us to show that with sufficient documentation it is possible to distinguish a collection from a mass of objects with a different finality.

The formation of public museums: four distinct patterns

Now that these preliminaries have been settled, let us return to the list given at the beginning of this chapter and use examples from it in order to illustrate four different patterns of public museum formation. The first pattern, which we shall call the 'traditional' one, is represented by every institution which gives rise, in the course of its normal activities, to the birth of a collection accessible either to all the public or to certain specified categories, in accordance with a timetable settled in advance, or else on particularly solemn occasions. This is exactly the case of the treasure of St Mark's, from its creation in the thirteenth century to the fall of the Venetian Republic. Placed on display five times a year on the main altar of the basilica, it was also opened very exceptionally to foreign personalities: John Evelyn, for instance, was able to visit it in 1645, being part of the retinue of the French ambassador, while Montfaucon was similar! y favoured in 1698. The treasurehouse of St Mark's therefore functioned as a museum for a very long period before being officially recognized as such in 1832. However, it did so only intermittent! y, being closed to the public most of the time. Its role as museum was a secondary one, and dependent on its primary one of sanctuary and treasure-house. It was first and foremost a storeroom for objects which, either relics or emblems of power, had to be displayed above all within the context of ecclesiastical and political ceremonies befitting their dignity, which celebrated both St Mark and the nation. In a similar fashion, and provided no dreadful catastrophe occurred, every church where paintings, monuments and objets d'art had accumulated throughout the centuries became the home of a collection to which the public had access. It is precisely this historico-artisric facet of places of worship which is stressed in so many of the guides, descriptions of towns and travellers' accounts, such as Martinelli's brief work, written in 1705 and entitled Il ritratto ovvero le case piit notabili di Venezia diviso in due parti. Nella prima si descrivono brievemente tutte le Chiese della Citta, con le Memorie piit illustri, Depositi, Epitaffi, Iscrizioni, Sculture, e Pitture piit cospicue, con le dichiarazioni, e Autori de esse .... Some churches were actually even classed as museums, and A. M. Zanetti the Younger, for instance, wrote in 1771 that Santa Maria Maggiore 'puo chiamar.ri ... una compiuta galleria di pitture veneziane'.

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The collections open to the public did not only accumulate spontaneously in churches. They were also quite frequently to be found in the palaces of princes and kings dutybound to surround themselves with rare and beautiful things, amass them in large quantities and show them off. Since it was dictated by the rank they occupied in society and the role they had to assume, this obligation led to the formation or conservation of collections even when the individuals concerned had no personal interest in them. This type of collection, the emanation of power, was represented in Venice by the one housed in the Sale d'Armi dei Consiglio di Dieci in the Doges' Palace. Originally intended as an armoury, but subsequently used as a place where trophies, works of art and gifts made to the republic by princes and foreign dignitaries were guarded, these state rooms were the ones chosen to house the collection of ancient coins donated to the state by Pietro Morosini in 1683. Under strict guard, the Sale d' Armi were opened from time to time to famous visitors who had been given special permission. Thus, like the treasure-house of St Mark's, they served for part of the time as a museum. Last of all, there were those collections which were open to the public and grew up in teaching establishments, including the Academy of Fine Arts (from 1750 onwards) and, most importantly, the University of Padua where a botanical garden was set up in 1546. This garden, which was enlarged in the eighteenth century by the addition of ornithological and mineralogical collections, was visited and described by many naturalists and the guidebooks of the day recommended visiting it. The foundation of the University's natural history museum, based on the collections of Antonio Vallisnieri which his son had donated in 1733, and comprising in particular a substantial amount of archaeological equipment, followed a different pattern of public museum formation, which will be discussed later on. The transformation into a museum of a treasure-house which, even if it retains its former name, still changes in status, or else of a collection amassed in a palace or castle, always involves the loss of the liturgical, ceremonial, decorative or utilitarian role which had originally been pia yed by their contents. In some cases, this happens quite imperceptibly and progressively. Objects cease to fulfil their initial functions because they are no longer fashionable or have suffered damage, or else because the development of new techniques has rendered them obsolete. Yet they are conserved because of their historical or artistic value, until the day when it is decided to display them to the public. For instance, the weapons and suits of armour kept in the Doges' Palace since the fourteenth century had lost all semblance of usefulness several centuries later, but then became a collection put on show to the public- initially a hand-picked public- well before they were placed in the Arsenal Museum, whence they returned in 1917 to their original home. The history of the St Mark's treasure-house was even more

eventful, as it suffered tremendous destruction after the fall of the republic, and was only reopened after complete restructuring. Outside Venice, the traditional pattern was followed by a number of institutions, including the Uffizi in Florence, the Ambrosiana in Milan, the Munich Art Gallery, the Vatican Museums, the Crown collections in Great Britain (Hampton Court, Windsor Castle, etc.), the Hermitage in Leningrad, as well as the treasures housed in countless churches in a number of differem European coumries. All these institutions have a long history, some dating back as far as the Middle Ages, in the case of church treasures, others, in the case of the museums, as far back as the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries; even the Hermitage, the most recent among them, was already in existence in the first half of the eighteenth century. All were emanations of temporal or spiritual power, and all were opened early on to the public- the last to be so was the Hermirage in 1852- even if the notion of public was considerably more restrictive than it is today, and the conditions of access very different. Often tumultuous, the history of these institutions is reflected both in their contents, frequently made up of different strata laid down in successive periods which have undergone a process of sedimentation lasting several centuries, and in their buildings, several of which are histOrical monuments intended from the very ourset to house the works on show there today. 'Traditional' museums therefore differ in several respects from those formed according to a different, 'revolutionary', pattern. The latter, which were founded by decree, absorbed works from extremely diverse origins seized by the state from the homes of their former owners, and were housed in buildings completely unconnected with these works, generally disused places of worship converted for the purpose. In Venice, this pattern is represented by the Academy's galleries, which were solemnly inaugurated on 10 August 1817, after ten years of preparations and the reconstruction, overseen by Giannantonio Selva, of the former Church and School of the Charity and the Convent of the Lateran Canons. The majority of the paintings on display came from churches and convents. The galleries were, of course, formed around a core, in this case composed of the collections belonging to the Academy of Fine Arts, which included paintings and plaster casts of anciem sculptures. These casts had belonged to Abbot Filippo Farsetti and had been purchased by the Austrian government in 1805. Apart from these, and the acquisition in 1816 of the Girolamo Molin legacy, the galleries received several donations from collectOrs - in particular, 188 pictures from Girolamo Contarini in 1838 - and also enriched their stocks by purchasing certain works, which brings us back to the two patterns of public museum formation we will be dealing with later. Having said this, one must nevertheless recognize that behind the foundation of the galleries was a centralizing and modernizing system of

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state control. The decree of 12 February 1807, by which the new Academy of Fine Arts was set up together with an art gallery, implemented in Venice the statutes granted to the academies of Bologna and Milan in 1803, and in this domain the Austrians appear to have pursued the policy embarked on by the Kingdom of Italy. Under this system, works had been distributed according to political objectives, these consisting in the main of favouring the capital to the detriment of the provincial towns. This meant that Venetian paintings were sent to the Brera gallery in Milan, the aim apparently being to bring rogether the finest works by the most eminent representatives of the local 'schools'. Examples of these schools were, however, to be displayed in greater number in their places of origin, which explains the initial homogeneity of the Academy's collections, composed solely of works by Venetian painters, in spite of attempts to exchange some of these for different ones. It is useless to dwell on the fact that this pattern of public museum formation was a direct result of the practices and ideology of the French Revolution, which the Napoleonic state inherited and which was profoundly influenced by Enlightenment thought, with its anticlerical, if not antireligious slant, and its belief in the benefits of a strong, philosophybased power. This is why the family of museums to which the Academy galleries belong is only represented in those countries which have undergone revolutionary upheaval, even when this has been the result of foreign conquest, either at the turn of the nineteenth century or else in the wake of the Bolshevist and Maoist revolutions. The chief precursor is obviously the Louvre, opened in 1793 and subsequently emulated by other French museums in the provinces together with others founded under Napoleon in various European countries. The most notable example of the latter, the Prado, was the result, at least on paper, of a decree signed by Joseph Bonaparte in 1809. At the beginning, these museums housed almost exclusively ancient sculpture and examples of post-Renaissance painting and sculpture. Later on, they broadened their scope to include other periods and other domains. In the twentieth century, the revolutionary pattern governed the creation of the majority of museums in the Soviet Union, in certain of its satellite states and also in China. The Anglo-Saxon world, however, contains no example whatsoever of this type. Neither the traditional- nor the revolutionary-type museums exist in any great number in either Venice, Europe as a whole or the United States. Rather, in Venice, if not everywhere, one finds museums based on a third pattern one could term 'evergetic', to make an adjective out of the name given to city benefactors in ancient times. These are, in fact, private collections left to their founders' home towns, to the state or else to an educational or religious institution, so that the public may have access to them. The oldest example of this in Venice, if not in modern Europe, is the

Archaeological Museum, which grew, thanks to the 'statuario publico', from the donations of Giovanni and Domenico Grimani in 1523 and 1587 and was enriched between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries by the legacies of several Venetian collectors. If we compare it with the St Mark's treasurehouse and the Sale d'Armi dei Consiglio di Dieci, the public museum created in the sixteenth century in the antechamber of St Mark's library obviously constitutes a new type, being once again the gift of a generous benefactor. New in terms not only of its origins but also of irs contents, since these no longer comprise curiosities, relics or objects whose value comes from the material they are made from, but works of art brought together simply because they date from antiquity. Other museums of the same type, though with differing contents, were to make an appearance later on, including the Correr Museum in Venice itself, the Querini-Stampalia Art Gallery, the Franchetti Gallery at the ca d'Oro and the Peggy Guggenheim Collection. Padua boasted the Natural History Museum, which has already been mentioned, Verona the Lapidary Museum created by the Accademia Filarmonica at the beginning of the seventeenth century, and which was greatly enlarged and completely reorganized by Maffei in the first half of the eighteenth century. At the same time, the museums founded according to the traditional and revolutionary patterns saw their initial stocks increase in size thanks to donations from collectors: we have already noted the numismatic collection Pierro Morosini bequeathed ro the Sale d'Armi in the Doges' Palace, as well as the Molin and Conrarini legacies received by the Academy's galleries, and these were certainly nor isolated cases. There were a great many museums based on the evergetic model outside the Venetian Republic, so many in fact that any attempt to list them results in a volume of a size approaching that of a telephone directory. It is possible, however, to detect a number of common features. Some, like the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, founded in the second half of the seventeenth century, belong to the same generation as traditional-type museums, but the majority were founded much more recently; their 'dates of birth' span the whole of the nineteenth century, though they are particularly concentrated at the turn of the twentieth century. In the majority of cases they were the creations of industrialists, tradesmen and financiers who owed their prosperity to the current economic expansion, and who used part of their time and money to set up collections and arrange for these to be taken care of after their deaths. In Europe, however, evergetic museums have only ever played second fiddle to the large national museums based on the traditional or revolutionary patterns. In the United States, where they have no such rivals, it is a different story, and as a result, they can be found at every level, from the tiny museum of only local importance ro those that are known the world over, such the Smithsonian

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Institution and National Gallery in Washington, the Metropolitan Museum and Museum of Modern Art in New York, as well as the ones to be found in all the major American cities, a number of universities and so on. For want of a better term, we shall baptize the fourth pattern of public museum formation the 'commercial' model. This applies to every museum formed when an institution either buys separately all the pieces intended to fill it or else purchases entire collections. The first of these eventualities is illustrated in Venice by the Modern Art Gallery, which owes its existence to the acquisition of works displayed during the international biennial art events. As for the second one, a good example would be the Oriental Museum, which grew out of the collections formed at the end of the nineteenth century by Henri de Bourbon-Parme, Count of Bardi, sold after his demise to a Viennese antiquary and returned to Italy as part of the reparations paid by Austria after World War I. The best-known museum of this type is undoubtedly the British Museum, which was founded around the collection purchased in 1753 from the executOrs of the will of Sir Hans Sloane for 20,000, after a ruling by the British parliament. It would be quite superfluous to add that museums, whatever their origins, enlarge their initial stocks not only through gifts bur also through purchases. These latter can sometimes be made indirectly, as in the case of a museum organizing or financing archaeological digs the results of which are then added to its collections. These, then, are the four patterns of public museum formation, and it seems highly improbable that museums have been established other than through the effects of tradition, the decrees of a revolutionary power, the action of a generous group or individual or through purchases. Nevertheless, although the origins of a museum are important, they do not completely determine its fate, unless, of course, it remains completely frozen in time. Every museum, regardless of the way it started life, develops by receiving gifts and making purchases, either with money from benefactors or else with central, regional or local government funds set aside for that purpose. In this sense, the activities of every museum follow the evergetic or commercial patterns, with the exception of countries under complete state control, whose inhabitants, citizens in name only, cannot exercise any possible influence over the institutions. The division of public museums into four different formation patterns does not therefore enable us to evolve any proper museum typology. Its interest lies, in fact, elsewhere, since it allows us to relate museum hisrory to general history, or more accurately, to political, cultural, social and economic history. This is particularly obvious as regards the history of museums in Venice, since this highlights, as we have just seen, the links of these museums with those in power and underlines the role of benefactors in their creation and development. We should perhaps note that benefaction

in the Venetian Republic, the motives of which the various wills, from that of Giacomo Contarini (1596) to that of Teodoro Correr (1830), clearly explain, was essentially a political phenomenon, a demonstration of attachment to the nation to which one sought to express gratitude and praise through the bequest of one's collection to the public. During the period of the republic, the benefactors mostly consisted of the patricians, who held the reins of power and possessed full citizenship, while in the nineteenth century, this role was mainly played by the descendants of ancient patrician families. This link between citizenship and benefaction is not peculiar to Venice. In general, the greater the degree of participation by individuals in the affairs of the state, the more they show a propensity to place their possessions at the disposal of the community. The fact that evergetic-type museums were absent, except in very rare cases, from absolute monarchies and under the ancien regime, and do not exist in any of roday's totalitarian states is proof of this. Not only do they not form in political environments of this kind but existing museums, created following different patterns or, quite simply, bequests made in the past, only receive gifts from private individuals in quite exceptional circumstances. Museums of the evergetic pattern, on the other hand, do exist in oligarchies and are quite numerous in democracies. As both the examples from the ancient Venetian Republic and those from the United States show, they benefit above all from increases in personal freedom in the particular regions in which they are to be found. This all helps to show the importance of private collections not only to the formation of public museums but also to their running, as well as illustrating the links between the two. While private collections sometimes help to enrich museums which come into existence following the traditional pattern or else as the result of a decision by the powers that be, they are also, on occasion, turned into new museums thanks to donations or foundations, and the time has now come to take a closer look at the dividing line between public and private and at the relationship between them. The boundary between public and private The exact position of the dividing line between public and private has shifted with the centuries. Nowadays, there is a tendency to identify public property with state property, but this is only acceptable if one considers the state not only to be one representative of the general interest but also its sole representative, two presuppositions which are questionable to say the least. Whatever the case, the most widely accepted meaning of the term public applies solely to that which has a link with society as a whole and with every member of the people, though the definition of a people has also

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varied considerably down the centuries. One has only to take this particular definition of the word public to see that in the Middle Ages, and for a long time afterwards, the collections which accumulated in ecclesiastical buildings, especially in places of worship, were public, in that they belonged to the Christian people represented by an institution which, in the West, embraced all the members of each society and indeed sought to embrace the whole of humanity. Moreover, and this is particularly important, they were, though with certain restrictions it is true, on view to everyone. Royal or princely collections were private, on the other hand, as their owners, as individuals, could dispose of them as they wished, which meant that they only showed them to those they wished. It was to take the work of many centuries, in the legal and political fields, to determine and incorporate into the very fabric of the institutions the difference between the king's status as an individual and the monarchy as a legal entity and the corresponding distinction between the king's private property and that of the public, which belonged to the Crown, and of which he was merely the caretaker, dutybound to pass it on in good condition to his heirs. This process, which even changed the status of the royal collections, reached completion sometime between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries, depending on the particular European country concerned. At the same time the definition of the people, which had previously been very narrow, was extended to include all those who spoke the same language, inhabited the same territory and owed allegiance to the same state, regardless of whether or not they enjoyed political rights. This meant that the srate could pose as a coextension of the people and claim to be the sole legitimate representative of the general interest. It is in this way that the situation which prevailed in the Middle Ages was completely overturned. From the point of view of the state-oriented ideologies, the churches were henceforth synonymous with private institutions, dividing up the subjects or citizens according to religious criteria. The collections belonging to the Catholic Church followed exactly the opposite course to that of the royal collections, for while they had previously been recognized as public, they were now seen as private ones, or even as public property illegitimately requisitioned by a private institution. Seen from this angle, as it was during the French Revolution and its sequel, nothing prevented the state from returning to the public that to which it had a right, expropriating the church and housing the 'nationalized' objects in disused places of worship or else in buildings built specifically as museums. This is rhe bare outline of the history which, in Venice, led to the setting up of the Academy galleries, filled when a disused church, together with several new buildings, was stocked with paintings taken from the churches. However, the new definition of the term public, which this operation presupposes, and which did not include ecclesiastical property, was

introduced to the city by a foreign army exporting revolutionary principles. Up to the end of the eighteenth century, the siruation had been somewhat different, for it had been the Venetian collections which were housed in the churches and palaces of the republic which had been regarded as public. This can be clearly seen in old descriptions of the 'pubb!iche pitture' beginning with Sansovino ( 1581) and the successive editors of his book (Stringa, 1604; Martinoni, 1663 ). Descriptions continued to be written by Boschini (1674) whose work was revised sixty years later in 1733 by A.M. Zanetti the Elder, and even by A. M. Zanetti the Younger ( 1771), to mention but the most important aurhors. It was with this traditional type of public collection that private collections were contrasted, and these private collections appeared in the Venetian Republic earlier than elsewhere, the two oldest ones dating from the latter half of the fourteenth century. At the beginning of the fifteenth century, there were at least six Venetian collectors, two of whom lived in Crete. At this time Florence was apparently the only town in Europe to boast a greater number of collectors; we know of eleven today. A century later, there were already several dozen in Venice, and in the second half of the sixteenth century, Hubert Goltzius, a Flemish numismatist and engraver, produced a list bearing the names of twenty-five ancient coin collectors in Venice which, according to him, placed that city in third place in Italy, after Rome (seventy-one) and Naples (forty-seven), but ahead of Genoa (seventeen), Milan (sixteen), Florence, Bologna and Padua (eleven). At the end of the seventeenth century, Martinoni mentioned thirty-one collectors, but as in the case of Goltzius, this only accounted for the visible part of a group which was undoubtedly much larger, even though it is impossible to make an accurate assessment. Indeed, the latter will only ever be achieved by dint of a vast amount of research concentrated on the thousands of inventories stored in Venice's archives. It would be extremely useful on various counts to know the exact number of active collectors in Venice decade by decade, from the beginning of the fifteenth century to the end of the eighteenth. It would allow one to measure the extent of this phenomenon and to see how it evolved as the years went by. It would be possible to make a sociological analysis, albeit a rather rough and ready one, of the changes in taste and in scientific and historical interests. Nevertheless, the results of any research of this kind would by no means undermine the assertion that collectors, whatever their number, never constituted, in Venice as elsewhere, any more than a small minority of the population. The advent and growth of this minority nonetheless had a considerable influence on the evolution of European culture. The very first collectors in Venice, Florence and elsewhere, grounded in the humanists' texts and inspired by Petrarch, were fascinated by antiquity.

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Their fervent wish was to have, touch, study and examine at their leisure ancient objects, such as inscriptions, engraved stones, statues and coins. These objects which, except for a few particularly spectacular examples, had lain buried beneath the ground, and which accordingly were classed as rubbish, now acquired a historical, artistic and market value, since people could be found who were willing to pay, and pay dearly, to obtain them. This prompted people to start looking for such objects in Italy itself, on the islands, in Dalmatia and in Greece, on behalf of the waiting collectors in Venice. It was the beginning of a movement which was to last several centuries. With the discovery of new, unexpected and often inexplicable artefacts during the search for ancient objects, fresh explanations had to be found; this led to the publication of new scholarly works, which in their turn stimulated new research and so on. The result of this constant oscillation between text and object was the gradual accumulation of a new body of knowledge dealing with even the most diverse aspects of the life and times of the ancients. Its choice of documents and methods of interpretation changed with time, but its dominant position in artistic and literary culture was nor challenged until the nineteenth century. The constitution of this body of knowledge went hand in hand with the changes in taste which now advocated that the medieval model should be shunned and the antique model emulated, even if it was impossible to agree what form this emulation should take (this became the source of interminable arguments). It also went hand in hand with the inauguration of a new presentation of history which differed on several important points from those of the Middle Ages, and finally with the advent of a new rhetoric and new moral philosophy, which constituted the synthesis of the Christian requirement for charity towards one's neighbour in exchange for the salvation of one's soul, and the requirement for generosity towards one's fellow citizens and native town, in exchange for glory, the earthly substitute for immortality. In Venice at the end of the sixteenth century, the entry on stage of the modern private collector - the individual who collects even though he is neither king nor prince, and therefore not forced to do so because of rank accompanied by the advent of benefaction, the product of this same civic moral philosophy, resulted in the creation of the 'antiquario publico' an innovation of great importance following a series of gifts to the republic. The public collections which were already in existence contained relics, precious objects, paintings and curiosities, but lacked antiques capable of fulfilling the role of exemplary works of art, the ancient vases in Sr Mark's treasure-house serving as reliquaries. In other words, at the end of the sixteenth century the public collections in Venice continued to reflect a taste and interests which were no longer the concern of cultured men, who now focused their attention on antiquities. Therefore, when they donated the

ancient statues destined for the anteroom of the library of St Mark's, the collectors were making up for ground lost by official institutions in keeping up with changing public tastes, and in doing so thrust Venice into Europe's cultural avant-garde. The attribution of value to things previously held to be valueless, if indeed any attention was paid to them at all, took place on several occasions in the history of modern Europe, though obviously its protagonists were not always humanist collectors and the objects concerned were not always antiquities. Moreover, even antiquities underwent promotions and revisions; whereas Federigo Contarini donated statues to the republic at the end of the sixteenth century, roughly one hundred years later, Pietro Morosini made a donation of coins, the typical constituents of a scholarly collection. Although antiquity never lost its exemplary status, by the second half of the seventeenth century it was no longer seen primarily as a period to be imitated in every aspect of secular life. The principal aim was now to gain knowledge of it through the remains it had left behind, though in an encyclopaedic way and without any order of importance being imposed on its various different aspects. Towards the middle of the eighteenth century, the idea that it was art which gave expression to the 'spirit' of antiquity and which therefore explained its privileged position in history, gained momentum. Accordingly, the large statues which, since the fifteenth century, had never ceased to win admiration and serve as a source of inspiration, now won the favour of the scholars, while the smaller objects which had formerly sent scholars into raptures, slipped into obscurity. In Venice, this resulted in the creation of the Academy of Fine Arts and in the formation of a large collection of plaster casts intended to enable young artists to familiarize themselves with ancient sculpture. This, of course, was the Farsetti collection, which rose to fame in the final decades of the eighteenth century, and which we have already had cause to mention. The same process affecred other classes of objects, such as those produced by nature. Apart from ones which were regarded as useful, such as medicinal plants, the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were primarily interested in rare, exceptional, extraordinary, exotic and monstrous things. Nature attracted those who sought meanings rather than laws, messages rather than consistency, small matter whether these came from God or from demons. The collections of this period faithfully reflect this unbounded curiosity, which was only brought to heel by the new brand of post-Galilean science. In Venetia, this turning-point came about at the beginning of the eighteenth century, with Patarol and Zannichelli in Venice itself and, most importantly, with Vallisnieri in Padua. Henceforth, interest began to be shown in the banal, the repetitive and the easily accessible, and in everything which had previously been ignored, such as the insects to be found in the countryside, the plants growing in the neighbourhood, stones

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from nearby mountains and the shells and algae deposited on the beaches by the Adriatic. They now no longer attracted attention solely because of potential therapeutic properties, as had been the case with the seventeenthcentury naturalist-pharmacists, bur also because they represented a source of the objective knowledge needed for the compilation of an exhaustive inventory of nature. The number of collectors of natural history specimens steadily increased from the beginning of the seventeenth century onwards, while the works devoted to the subject also grew in quantity, not to mention the public lectures on it and the controversies it gave rise to. The Museo Civico di Scienze Naturali in Venice was a late offspring of this promotion of natural history, which had already spawned several public museums, such as that of the University of Padua, in the eighteenth century. Our third example of previously worthless objects attributed worth, or rather of devalued objects having their value restored, concerns the rediscovery of the artistic value of medieval monuments which, for many centuries, had interested only historians spurred on by local patriotism to study the period of 'Gothic barbarism'. This purely historical interest in things medieval, illustrated by the collection of Venetian coins donated to the republic at the beginning of the eighteenth century by Domenico Pasqualigo, had already caused Maffei to discover the genuine aesthetic value of certain medieval monuments in Verona (the Scaliger tombs). Towards the middle of the eighteenth century, we find paintings by the primitives in the Paduan collection belonging to Abbot Facciolatti, as well as in one belonging to someone of the utmost importance in the cultural life of Venice at this time, Fra Carlo Lodoli. A little later, A.M. Zanetti extolled the virtues of Carpaccio, while towards the end of the century, Milizia insisted on the superiority of Gothic as opposed to baroque architecture. Venice and Venetia therefore took part in the European movement to upgrade medieval art, a movement which can be traced in England, Germany and France, and which has left in every Western country paintings inspired by the miniatures, neo-Gothic buildings and monuments restored in accordance with the principles of Viollet-le-Duc. Spread over some 150 years, this movement, like humanism, underwent several internal transformations, which we cannot dwell on here. Suffice it to say, as a conclusion, that by altering the perception of Gothic architecture, it affected the very image of Venice, as Ruskin's The Stones of Venice illustrates. The final example of this series, although we could have cited still more, is the attribution of value to non-European art, beginning with Chinese art in the eighteenth century, although this was given only minor importance, and continuing with Japanese art in the latter half of the nineteenth century, followed by African, Oceanic and American Indian art and so on. This phenomenon, which had a profound influence on the evolution of European art and decorative arts as a whole, led to the creation of several

collections, some of which, like the one owned by the Count of Bardi in Venice, were later turned into museums. Every one of these changes in taste, or more accurate! y these shifts in artistic and historical preoccupations, altered not only the corpus of objects endowed with meaning and therefore with value, but also the framework within which they were displayed and the principles governing their layout. The emergence of the private collector as a cultural type was accompanied by a change in the layout of interiors, since a place was now set aside for a scrittoio, studio/a or Jtudio: the place where the collection pieces were assembled. As early as the sixteenth century, this role had also been given to the garden, where statues were placed, and to the inner walls of the where busts, bas-reliefs and inscripcourtyard, sometimes also the tions were inserted. The gallery was the next innovation, though judging from Scamozzi's remarks, it only became popular in Venetia in the course of the seventeenth century. From this time onwards, therefore, all the main components of collection architecture had become established: a gallery for arranging paintings or statues, along with an extra room reserved for masterpieces, the descendant of the studio/a. These were the elements which were to be used to organize the space not only of newly built public museums, following the example of the Uffizi in Florence, with its differentiation between gallery and tribune, but also of ecclesiastical buildings converted into museums. Several examples of these conversions exist in both Venice itself and in Venetia, the most striking one being the Castelvecchio Museum in Verona, converted by Carlo Scarpa.

Private collections and cultural innovation

The history of artistic and historical preoccupations in Venice, Venetia and modern Europe as a whole, of which several notable episodes have just been mentioned, can be likened to a wave train, each wave leaving a well-defined centre constituted by a group of collectors, and spreading to different countries, at times affecting domains at a considerable remove from the original one. Though they may only be transient in themselves, these waves leave permanent marks on the cultural landscape, carving out lasting s1gnarures here and there, in the shape of public museums, mostly the evergetic type, as one can see from the list of Venetian museums extending from the Archaeological Museum and the Correr Museum ro the Peggy Guggenheim Collection. These waves do more than simply leaving behind them museums containing objects to which they have given or restored value, and thereby caused to rise or return to the surface for, with a backlash effect, their passage alters the meaning of objects which already enjoy high esteem.

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No further elaboration is necessary to prove the truth of this statement: one has only to acknowledge that when it was recognized that art, in the true sense of the word, and not only 'bizarre productions' had existed in the Middle Ages, the significance of ancient art had to be redefined, since this no longer constituted the norm and sole manifestation of beauty. This change in significance broadened the very definition of ancient art to include both more primitive works and ones from the late Empire, thus endowing them with a value they had not previously had. Similar shifts took place in the definition of modern an which were especially advantageous to the baroque style and to mannerism. Art historians and the readers of scholar! y works were not the only ones involved; the mass of people who simply went to look at the works were also affected, as the new ideas also filtered down into the guides and catalogues. They were the inspiration behind temporary exhibitions and led curators to bring out certain pieces from their storerooms and have others restored. They even had an indirect effect on the appearance of these pieces, as the meaning invested in them had some influence on the type of restoration carried out on them. This meant that rather than their original and elusive appearance, they were given the one they were imagined to have had. Not only did the way in which they were looked at change, bur also, to a certain extent, an itself, a fact which the whole of hisrory should have tried to take into account, as far as documentary evidence allowed. We are, it should be stressed, talking about art from the past, of which neither the physical aspect nor the semiotic dimension is static, contrary to firmly established preconceptions. Although the four patterns of public museum formation encompass the legal, political and socio-economic aspects of the relationship between public museums and private collections, they take no account of the objects which move from the latter to the former. In the light of the history we have just outlined, we can see that the relationship between these twin public and private poles, which have coexisted throughout modern times, seems to consist of a permanent tension between a certain conservatism on one side and attempts at innovation on the other. The case of Venice is quite typical in this respect, and shows how, over a very long period, public collections greatly lagged behind the artistic, historical and scientific interests of groups of collectors, groups which were initially very small, but became progressively larger. Up to the end of the eighteenth century, donations from private individuals were the only means by which public collections were able to make up a little of the ground they had lost, even if they did not bring them entirely into line with current tastes. Purchases, the first of which seems to have been that of the Farsetti collection, were not used as a means until the nineteenth century. At length, therefore, innovatory waves, originating from groups of collectors, altered the

contents of public museums, bringing them in succession statues and ancient coins, natural objects, relics of the nation's past, chinoiseries and so on. Elsewhere, it was a different story, although there is nothing which really invalidates the general conclusion that private collections were among the most important sources of cultural innovation from the fifteenth century onwards. Indeed it is highly likely that they have remained so in the majority of countries, if not all, to this very day. Throughout the whole of this account, we have seen that any discussion of collections must touch on political, economic and social problems. Moreover, one of the examples quoted earlier shows that collections are also linked with the natural sciences just as they are with history and art. If, instead of studying one collection in particular, one examines the phenomenon of collecting in a specific country during a well-defined period, one is forced to admit that this activity is not restricted to any one domain in particular. Rather, it is characterized by its position at the intersection of various different domains, by its multi-disciplinary nature. In other words, the collections of a given country at a given time are, taken as a whole, the coextension of that country's culture at that particular time. They incarnate this culture and make it visible to us.

Notes to pp. 17-33

277

14.

Notes

15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

CHAPTER I THE COLLECTION: BETWEEN THE VISIBLE AND THE INVISfBLE

First published in Enciclopedia Einaudi, vol. III, Turin, 1978, pp. 330-64. Reproduced in Libre, 3 (1978), pp. 3-56. Souren Melikian, 'The discreet art of selling a Rembrandt', Intem,1tional Herald Tribune, 1 Dec. 1974. Le Monde, 3 Feb. 1976. Henri Mercillon and Pierre Gregory, Tart et l'imp6t', Le Monde, 11 Nov. 1975. A. Buchalski, K. Konarski, A. Wolff, Pol.rki Slownik A1chiwalny (Polish dictionary of archives), Warsaw, 1952. James Mellaarr, (atal Hiiyiik, 1me des premieres cite.r du monde, s.l., 1971, pp. 207-9 Tresor.r d'art chinois, nicente.r decouve1tes archeologiques de Ia Republique populaire de Chine, exhibition catalogue, Petit Palais, Paris, May-Sept. 1973. Th. Homolle, Donarium, in Ch. Daremberg ;md Edm. Salio, Dictiomzaire des antiquites grecques et romaines, vol. II, pan I, Paris, 1892, pp. 363-82. Cf. also H. Thedenat, Favissae, ibid., vol. II, part II, Paris, 1896, pp. 1024-5. E. Cavaignac, Etudes mr l'histoire fincmcihe d'Athime.r all Ve Jiec!e. Le trhor d'Athimes de 480 a 404, Paris, 1908. Pliny the Elder, NatMal HiJtory, XXXVII, 12-14; translated by W. H. S. Jones, Loeb, 1963. Ibid, XXXVII, 18-20. Cf. foreword by James G. Frazer to his translation of Pausanias, Description of He/las, London, 1898, vol. I, pp. XXXVI-XXXVII. Pliny the Elder, Natural Hi.rtory, XXXVII, 3-4. Ann,des Sa11cti Disiboldi, 1125, MGH, SS, val. XVII, p. 23, quoted in K.

23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36

2
.'>

6
7

8 9 10 11 12 13

37 38

Leyser, 'Frederic Barbarossa, Henry II and the hand of St James', English Historical Review, no. CCCLVI, July 1975, p. 491, n. 3. [Translator's note: The kingdom of the Franks was often referred to by its Latin name in this period.] P. Heliot and M.-L Chastang, 'Quetes et voyages de reliques au profit des eglises frans;aises du Moyen Age', Revue d'histoire ecclesiastique, vol. LIX (1964), no. 4 and LX (1965), no. 1. Hubert Silvestre, 'Commerce et val de reliques au Moyen Age', Revue beige de philologie et d'histoire, vol. XXX (1952), pp. 721-39. Jean Guiraud, Questions d'histoire et d'archeologie chnitienne, Paris, 1906, pp. 235-61. lnventaire du mobifier de Charles V, roi de France, published by Jules Labarre, Paris, 1879. Choix de pieces inedites relatives au regne de Charles VI, published by L. Douet D'Arcq, Paris, 1864, val. II, p. 350. Ernest Babelon, Catalogue des camees antiques et modernes d<! Ia Bibliotheque nationale, Paris, 1897, no. 264. Eugene H. Byrne, 'Some medieval gems and relative values' Speculum, 10 (1935), pp. 177-87. Lord Twining, European Regalia, London, 1967, p. 279. Le Heraut Berry, Chronique dtt roi Chades VII, Bib!. nat., ms. fr. 5052, in Bernard Guenee and Frans;oise Lehoux, Les Entrees royales de 1328 a 1515, Paris, 1968, p. 73. Hou Ching-Lang, Monnaies d'offrande et Ia notion de tresorerie dam Ia religion chinoise, Paris, 1975, p. 127. Herodotus, I, 49-51; translated by A. D. Godley, Loeb, 1920. H. Leclercq, Reliques et reliquaires, in Dictionnaire d'archeofogie chretienne et de liturgie, vol. XIV, cols 2338-43 . Pliny the Elder, Natural History, XXXVII, 1. Ibid., XXXVII, 61. Ibid., XXXIV, 6-8. lnventaire du mobilier de Charles V, p. 93, no. 618. Bronislaw Malinowski, Argonauts of the Western Pacific, London , 1922, pp. 86-91. Yves Coppens, 'La grande avenrure paleomologique est-africaine', Le Courrier du C.N.R.S., no. 16, Apr. 1975, pp. 36-7. J Desmond Clark, 'Africa in prehistory: peripheral or paramount?', Man (N.S.), 10, 1975, p. 190. Hommes de Ia prehistoire, exhibition catalogue, Musee Borely, Marseilles, May-Sept. 1974. Andre Leroi-Gourhan, Prebistoire de !'art occidental, Paris, 1971, p. 35. Idem, Le Geste et fa parole, Paris, 1964, vol. I, p. 152. Franz Steiner, 'Notes on comparative economics', British journal of Sociology, 5, 1954, pp. 118-29. I thank Mr W. G. L. Randles for bringing this article to my attention. Helene Clastres, La Terre sans mal, Paris, 1975. Edouard Mestre, 'Monnaies metalliques et valeurs d'echange en Chine', Les Annates sociologiques, D series, fasc. 2, 1937, p. 39.

278
39 40

Notes to pp. 34-47

Louis Reau, Les Monume nts ddtmits de !'art franrai.r, Paris, 1959, vol. I, pp. 65ff. L D. Reynolds and N. G. Wilson, Scribes and Scholars. A Gttide to the Transmission of Greek and Latin Literature, Oxford, 1974, R. Weiss, The Renai.rsance Discovery of Classical Antiquity , Oxford, 1969. Claude Faucher, Recueil de l'origine de Ia !ang11e et de fa pohie fram;oise (1581), published by]. G. Espiner-Scott, Paris, 1938, pp. 21-2. Hubert Goltz, C. ]uliiJJ Caesar sive Historiae Imperato rum Caesarttmque Romanor um ex Antiquis Numisma tibus Restitutae, Bruges, 1563, f0 aaaii-cc. Linda Van Norden, 'Sir Henry Spelman and the Chronology of the Elisabeth an College of Antiquaries' The Hu11tington LibrarJ' Qttmterly, 13, 1950, pp. 131-60. Joan Evans, A History of the Society of A miquaries, Oxford, 1956, p. 16. E.-T. Hamy, Les Origines dzt mMee d'Ethnographie, Histoire et Documen ts, Paris, 1890. Julius Von Schlosser, Die Kunst- und Wttnderk ammem der Spiitrenaissance, Leipzig, 1908. Krzyszto f Pomian, 'Medals/S hells = 'Eruditio n/Philoso phy', see above, pp. 121-38. Francis Haskell, Patrons and Painten A Stud;' in the Relations between Italian Art and Society in the Age of the Baroque, London, 1963 (new edition: New Haven-L ondon, 1980). This calculation is based on Fritz Lugt, Repe1'toire des catalogttes de ventes publiques interessant l'a1t ou fa curio.rite. Premiere periode: vers 1600-182 5, The Hague, 1938.

Notes to pp. 48-51

279

41 42 43

44

45 46

47

9
CHAPTER 2 THE AGE Of CURIOSITY

10
11

First published m Scienze, ctedenze occulte, livelli di cu!titl'a, Olschki, Florence, 1982, pp. 535-57. Reproduced in Le Temps de Ia Reflexion , III (1982), pp. 337-59. Les A ntiquitez, Raretez, Plantes, Mineraux et atttres chases considerables de !a ville et du comte de Castres . .. Avec !e roolle des principaux cabinets et a1ttres raretez de !'Europe, comrne aussi fe catalogue des chases rares de maistre Pierre Borel, . .. autheur de ce livre, Castres, by A. Colomiez, 1649; The Roo!le des principattx cabinets curieux, pp. 124-31. The Catalogue (of which it is the second, longer edition), pp. 132-49. For further informat ion on Borel, read the Dictiomzaire de biographie franraise, vol. VI, col. 1096. 2 Quoted in J. Ceard, La Nature et les prodiges. L'in.rolite au XVIe si?x!e, en F1ance, Geneva, 1977, p. 297. 3 Among Borel's writings, let us noce Bibliotheca chimica, seu Catalogtts libmrum pbilosophico1um hermetic omm . .. , Paris 1654; De Vero Tefescop ii inventore, cum brevi onmittm conspicil!iorum historia ... AcceSJ'it etiam centuria observationum micmcos picantm [sic!], The Hague, 1655; Vitae Renati Cartesii, summi philosophi, compend ium, Paris, 1656; Discottrs 110tn'eatt pro1tvant Ia plura!ite des mondes, q11e les a.rtres sont des terres

12

13 14 15 16

habitees et fa terre zme estoile, qu'elle est hors du centre du monde dam le troisieJme ciel et se tourne devant !e solei! qtti est fixe, et atttres chases treswriettses, Geneva, 1657. Cf. the remarkab le and little-kno wn books by H. Daudin: De Linne a]ussiett. iVUthode de classification et idee de serie en botanique et en zoologie (174090), Paris, 1926, and Cuvier et Lamarck. Les classes zoo!ogiques et !'idee de serie animate (1790-1830), Paris, 1926, 2 vols. Cf.]. Von Schlosser, Die Kttmt- und Wunderk ammem der Spiitrenaissance, Leipzig, 1908; B. J. Balsiger, The Kunst- ttnd Wttnderkammer: A Catalogue rais01me of Collecting in Germany, France and England, 1565-1750 (Univ. of Pittsburg h, Ph.D., 1970), Universit y Microfilms, Anne Arbor, Mich., 1971, 2 vols. For all of the following, cf. S. Sperh-Ho lrerhoff, Les Peintres flamands de cabinets d'amateurs, Brussels, 1957, which contains reproductions and detailed analyses of several paintings to be discussed later. I shall only cite the most recent publications concerning these works. Cf., for example, Frans Francken II, View of an Enthusiast's Galfery at the beginning of the Seventee nth Century (The Duke of Northum berland, Syon House, Brentford, Middlesex) or Johannes Georg Hainz, Gallery of Curiositie s (Gotha, Schlossmuseum, Schloss Friedenst ein). Reproduced and comment ed on in Albert Dzire1 aux PaJ's-Bas. Son voyage (1520-1), son influence , exhibition catalogue, Brussels, 1977, nos 426 and 181. Cf. Rubens et la pittura fiamming a del Seicento nelfe collezioni pubbliche fiorentine, exhibitio n catalogue, Florence, 1977, no. 1. Cf. Le Siecle de Rubem dans !es collectiom publiqttes franraises, exhibitio n catalogue, Paris, 1977, no. 63. Cf. L'Arnerique vue par !'Europe, exhibitio n catalogue, Paris, 1976, no. 109. Cf. Pedro Pablo Rubens (1577-1640). Exposici6n homenaje, Madrid, 1977, nos 108-12. Cf. MIISeo del Prado, catalogue of paintings , Madrid, 1972, nos 1403 and 1404. Le Siec!e de Rubens ... , no. 14. Natures mortes. Catalogue du Ia collection dtt musee des Beaux-Ar ts de Strasbourg, Strasbourg, 1964, no. 16. Cf. Albert Dztrer aux Pays-Bas, no. 181 and Natures mortes ... du musee des Beattx-Arts de St1asbourg, no. 28. Cf., for example, Lubin Baugin, Nature morte a f'echiquie1 (Musee du Louvre, Paris); Philippe de Champai gne, Vanite (Musee de Tesse, Le Mans); Simon Renard de Saint-An dre, Vanite (France, private collection) in Peintres de f!eMs en France du XVIIe au XIXe siec!e, exhibition catalogue, Paris, 1979, nos 5, 11, 24. Note that Baugin's painting was regarded as an allegory of the five senses, and that Les Cinq Sens by Jacques Linard (Musee des Beaux-Ar ts, Strasbourg; ibid., no. 15) could have passed as a still life. Cf. also Pieter Boel, Alfegorie de.r vanitds du monde (Musee des Beaux-Arts, Lille) and the importan t comment ary in Le Siecle de Rubens . .. , no. 8. Lastly, S. Renard de Saint-Andre, Vanite (Musee des Beaux-Arts, Strasbourg). Natures mortes du musee des Beaux-Ar ts de Stra.rboMg, no. 58.

280
17 18 19

Notes to pp. 52-64

Cf. L. Berti, Il Principe della Studio/a. Francesco I dei Medici e Ia fine del Rinascimento fiorentino, Florence, 1967, in particular pp. 61ff. Letter from G. B. Adriani to Giorgio Vasari (1567) in G. Vasari, Opere, ed. G. Milanesi, Florence, 1906 (re-edit. 1973) vol. I, p. 35. Antoine Furetiere, Dictionnaire Universe!, Contenant generalement taus les Mots Fran(ois tant vieux que modemes, et les Termes de toutes les Sciences et des Arts ... , The Hague and Rotterdam, 1690. Dictionnaire de l'Acadhnie Ft-an(oise, Paris, 1694. Cf. K. Pomian, 'Utopia i poznanie historyczne. !dear republique des lettres i narodziny postulatu obiektywno5ci historyka', Studia Filozoficzne, 1 (40), 1965, pp. 21-75. St Augustine, De vera religione, 7 and 52; P. L., vol. XXXIV, cols 126 and 146. Cf. also Confess., X, XXXIV and XXXV (on curiositas.). Also P. Courcelle, Les Confessions de saint Augustin dam fa tradition litteraire, Etudes augustiniennes, Paris, 1963, pp. 101-9. Isidore of Seville, Synonyma de !amentatione animae peccatricis, ll, 71; P. L., vol. XXCIII, col. 861. StThomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, 2a 2ae 166, 2 ad 3, translated by Th. Gilby, Eyre and Spottiswoode, London Blackfriars, 1972. Ibid., 2a 2ae 167, 1c and cf. also 162, 4 ad 4. Ibid., 2a 2ae 167, 2 ad 3. Ibid., 2a 2ae 167, 1 ad 1. Michel de Montaigne, Essais, I, XI, Paris, Gallimard, Bibliotheque de Ia Pleiade, 1953, p. 61. Cf. also I, XXXII; II, XII; III, V. Ibid., pp. 214, 254, 538, 610, 972. Blaise Pascal, PenSties, no. 152; ed. L. Brunschvicg, in CEuvreJ, Paris, G. E. F., 1925, vol. XIII, p. 76. Jean De La Bruyere, Les Caracteres, chapter. De la mode, in CEuvre.r, Paris, G. E. F., 1865, vol. II, pp. 135-42. Cf. Rene Descartes, Regulae ad directionem ingenii, IV; A. T. X 371. Idem., La Recherche de la verite par fa lumiere naturelle; A. T. X 449-504. Nicolas Malebranche, De fa recherche de la verite, IV, III and IV; ed. G. Lewis, Paris, 1945, vol. II, pp. 14-22. Bernard Lamy, Entretiens sur les sciences . .. , Paris, 1684, pp. 34-5. I am very grateful to Mr Fernando Gil, who brought my attention to this text.

Notes to pp. 65-8

281

3
4

20 21

22

23 24 25 26 27 28

8 9

29 30 31 32 33 34

10 II

CHAPTER 3 COLLECTIONS IN VENETIA IN THE HEYDAY OF CURIOSITY

12 13 14 15

First published in G. Arnaldi and M. Pastori Stocchi, eds, Storia della cultura veneta, Vicenza, Neri Pozza, 1983, vol. 4jl, pp. 493-547. I should like to express my gratitude to Mme Andrea Ballarin and MM. Lanfranco Franzoni and Licisco Magagnato for the suggestions and advice which were so helpful to me when carrying out this research.

16 17

Cf. J. Shlosser Magnino, La letteratura artistica, 3rd Italian ed. revised by Otto Kurz, Florence, 1977, pp. 555. Breve Istruzione per intendere in qualche modo !e maniere de gli Auttori Veneziani in Le ricche miniere della pittura veneziana. Compendiosa informazione di Marco Boschini. Non .rolo delle pubbliche di Venezia ma de!l'lso!e ancora circonvicine, Venice, 1674 (unnumbered pages). S. Maffei, Verona itlustrata. Parte terza contiene le notizie delle cose in questa citta piu osservabili, Verona, 1732, pp. 175-6. With regard to this definition cf. K. Pomian, 'The Collection: between the Visible and the Invisible', see above, pp. 7-44. Cf. F. Sansovino, Venetia citta nobilissima et singolare, Venice, 1581, and the 1604 and 1663 editions with the additions by G. Stringa and G. Martinoni, I. VIII, Delle fabriche publiche. M. Boschini, I gioie!li pittoreschi. VirtttoJo omamento della Citta di Vicema; cioe l'Endice di tutte le Pitture pttb!iche della stessa Citta, Venice, 1677, 'Al Lettore' (unnumbered pages). Cf. Le Vite de'Pittori, de G!i Scttltori et A1chitetti Veronesi Raccolte da 1/a?j Autori stampati, e manuscritti, e de altri partico!ari mernorie. Con fa narratiua delle Pitture, e Scu!ture, che s'atf1o1/ano nelle Chiese, case et a!tri !uoghi publici e prittati di Verona e JUO Teritorio. Dal Signor Fr. Bartolomeo Co: Dal Pozzo . .. , Verona, 1718; l G. B. Lanceni], Ricreazione pittorica asia Notizia Uni1/ersale delle Pitture nefle Chiese, e Luoghi Pubblici di Verona, Verona, 1720. R. Gallo, 'Le donazioni alia Serenissima di Domenico e Giovanni Grimani', Archivio 1/eneto, series 5, vol. L-LI ( 1952), p. 52. Ibid., pp. 57ff. The term 'antiquario publico' is used in Mocenigo's will cited ibid., p. 58. On Federigo Contarini cf. also G. Cozzi, 'Federico Contarini: un antiquario veneziano tra Rinascimento e Conrroriforma', Boll. del!'Ist. di Storia della Societa e della Stato veneziano, III (1961), pp. 190-220 and especially pp. 211. Cf. also for all this M. Perry, 'The Statuario Publico of the Venetian Republic', Saggi e memorie di Storia defl'arte, 8 (1972), pp. 78ff. Cf. G. Valentinelli, Manni scolpiti del Mttseo ttrcheo!ogico della Marciana, Praro, 1865, p. XVII. [Ch. Patin], Themu1ws N11mismatum AntiqttorttJn et Recentiomm ex Aura, Argento etA ere, Ab lllu.rt1i.rs. et Eccelentiss, D. D. Petro Mauroceno. Senat01'e Veneto; Sereni.rsimae Reipublicae LegatuJ, Venice, 1683, foreword (unnumbered pages). Cf. E. Cicogna, Saggio di bibfiografica veneziana, Venice, 1847, no. 5147. Cf. G. Moschini, Della letteratttra veneziana del secolo XVIII fino a nostri giomi, vol. II, Venice, 1806, p. 77. Cf. U niversitit degli Studi di Padova, Guida del!'orto botanico, Padua, 1977. Cf. under the direction of H. R. Hahnloser, ll te.roro di San .Ma1'Co, vol. II, If tesoro e il museo, Florence, 1971, nos 111-14. The horn purchased by Alessandro Contarini is numbered 113. S. Maffei, Vemua, p. 175. J. Spun and G. Wheler, Voyage d'Jtalie, de Dafmatie, de Grece et dtt L:Jvcmt, Fait attx annee.r 1675 et 1676, The Hague, 1724, vol. I, p. 1 1L

282
18

Notes to pp. 68-70

'Decirne [May 1700] Vicentiam petimus, ubi nil mst tritum et vulgatum observatur', B. de Montfaucon, Dia1ium italicum sive monumentorum vetentm, bibliothecarum, musaeorum, etc. N otitiae singulares in itinerario italico collectae, Paris, 1702, p. 437. This is the voice of a Frenchman; the English made their pilgrimages to Vicenza in order to admire Palladia's works. M. Misson, No;weau vo;age d'Italie, The Hague, 1702, vol. I, p. 188. Cf. above, pp. 45-64. Cf.]. Von Schlosser, Raccolte d'arte e di rneravigfie del tardo Rina.rcimento (1908), Florence, 1974, pp. lOlff. Cf. E. Jacobs, 'Das Museo Vendramin und die Sammlung Reynst', Repertorillm fur Ktmstwissemchaft, 46 (1925 ), pp. 15-39; T. Boren ius, 'More about the Vendramin collection', The Burlington Magazine, LX (1932), pp. 140-5. 'Un quadro d'un coruo d'India che me fu dona to uiuo'- 'Quadri con l'Aquarelle de Animali cauatti dal naturale quadrupedi et volatili'. T. Borenius, The Pictttre Gallery of Andrea Vendramin, London, 1923, pp. 20-1. Ibid, pp. 3-4. I Ieroglifici, overo Commentarii delle occulte significationi degli Egitij, et cdtre Nationi, compo.rte daf!'Eccefente Signor Giovanni Pierio Valeriano da Balzano di Befluno. et da lui in cinquantaotto libri divisi, nei qua!i con l'occasione di leroglifici si tratta della natura di molti Animali Terrertri, Maritimi e Volatili; delle Piante, dell'Herbe. de'Fiori e de 'Frutti; delle Pietre, delle Gioie e lvletalli; de 'Font . de'Fiumi, de'Mari, e dell'Acque tutte, de'Cie!i, delle Stelle, e de Pianeti; delle iHonete e Medaglie, de Vestimenti et Arme; degl'lnstrumellti Musicali, Bellici, et IISatili: de'Nmneri, de'Segni, de'Cerri, de'Sogni, e delle Favale, et altre case c11riose e degne . ... Fabrica non Jo!o utile e Difettevole peri Studiosi ma necessatia ancora a Pittori, Scttftori, eta quelli che di Statue. di lviedaglie, et altre Antichita .ri dilettano ... , Venice, 1625. Quoted from A. Buzzati, Bibliografia bellunese, Venice, 1890, no. 22. Cf. Marc'Antonio Michie!, Notizia d'opere di disegno, ed.]. Morelli, Bassano, 1800; ed. G. Frizzoni, Bologna, 1884. For the Grimanis, cf. R. Gallo, Le donazioni. For Gabrielle Vendramin, cf. A. Rava, 'II "Camerino delle Amicaglie" di Gabrielle Vendramin', Nuo1'0 Archivio Veneto, vol. XXXIX (1920), pp. 155-81. The text of the will is quoted in G. V<llentinelli, Manni scolpiti, p. XVII, no. 2. For the date of the formation of the collection, cf. the quotations from Manfredi ( 1602) and Stringa ( 1604) in G. Cozzi. 'Federico Contarini', pp. 21314. As to its composition, cf. M. T. Cipollato, 'L'eredita di Federigo Contarini: gli invemari della collezione e degli oggetti domestici', Boll. dell !Jt. di Storia della Societa e de!lo Stato veneziano, III (1961), pp. 221-53, especially 225-37. Cf. M. T. Cipollato, pp. 221-3. V. Scamozzi, L'idea della atchitettura rmiuersale divisa in X libri Venice 1615 I, III, xix, p. 305. ' ' ' Cf. L Franzoni, 'Pietro Rotari e gli antichi marmi del museo Trevisani', Rivista di archeo!ogia, IV (1980), p. 71. M. Boschini, La carta del navegar pittore.rco, ed. A. Pallucchini, Venice, Rome,
1966, pp. 608-9. 34 35 36 37

Notes to pp. 71-4

283

F. Sansovino and G. Martinoni, Venezia citta nobilissima e singolare, Venice,

1663, p. 374. ]. Spon and G. Wheler, Voyage d'ltalie, voL I, p. 44. B. de Montfaucon, Diariurn italicum, pp. 62-3. Scamozzi, toe. cit., speaks of '120 quadri de buona grandezza, di mano de piu eccelenti maestri'. Cf. also S. Savini Branca, Il collezionismo Veneziano ne/'600, Florence, 1965, pp. 272-5. The Diary of john Evelyn, ed. E. S. de Beer, Oxford, 1955, voL II, pp. 470-1. Cf. the remarkable preface written by L Puppi to his edition of Girolamo Gualdo the Younger, 1650. It Giardino di Cha Gualdo, Florence, 1972. Raccolta delle inscrittioni cossi antiche come modeme quadri e pitture statue bronzi marmi medaglie gemme minere animali petriti libri instrumenti mathematici che si trovano in Pustorla nella casa et horti, che sono di me Girolamo de Gualdo, Emilio. D. che sirue anco per lnventario MDCXLIII Net meso di Dicembre 27. MS Marciana ita!. IV 133 =5103. L. Panizza, ed., If M11seo Gualdo di Vicenza nei secoli XVJ-XVll. descritto da Nicolo Basilio (1644), Vicenza, 1854 (Nozze Bollina - di Thiene) (unnumbered pages). Cf. Raccolta delle inscrittioni, fo 17ff. (first), f0 21ff. (second), f0 24ff. (third piece). Ibid., f 0 35. Ibid., f0 196. Ibid., f0 35. Ibid., ffO 93-9. Ibid., f0 93. Ibid., fO 34. Ibid., ffO 43-4 Ibid., ffO 44-5. Ibid., ffO 35-40,74,77. Ibid., ffO 50ff. Ibid., f0 57. Ibid., ffO 81-93. Ibid., ffO 76-7. Ibid., ff' 66ff. Ibid., ffD 99ff. Cf. ibid., ffO 11, 12, 14, 15, 16, 48, 56, 162. Ibid., ffO 162ff. Ibid., ffO 166-7, 169. Ibid., f 0 25 Ibid' f0 69 Cf. L. Puppi, It Giardino, p. XXXVI, no. 97. Raccolta delle inscrittioni, W 40, 184ff. Cf. B. Morsolin, 'II Museo Gualdo in Vicenza', Nuovo Archivio Veneto, voL VIII (1894), p. 7. Cf. Mary S. Hervey, The Life, CorreJ-pondence and Collectiom of Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel, Cambridge, 1921, pp. 450-1.

19 20 21 22

38 39 40

23

24 25

41

42 43 -14 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66

26 27

28 29

30 31 32 :13

284
67 68

Notes to pp. 74-7

94 95

Notes to pp. 78-80

285

Cf. Tbe Diary of ]olm Evelyn, vol. II, pp. 481-4. Notable visitors included Spon (1675), Mabillon and Germain (1685), Misson (1687), Montfauco n (1700). They will be quoted later. Let us also mention the fruitless attempt by Caylus in 1714. Comte de Caylus, Voyage d'Italie, 17141715, ed. Armilda A. Pons, Paris, 1914, p. 64. 69 Cf. S. Maffei, Verona illustrata, pp. 230-1. 70 For the history of the Moscardo collection in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, cf. G. Marchini, Antiquari e collezioni archeologicbe dell'Ottocento veronese, Verona, 1972, pp. 41-6. 71 Note ovvero memorie del Mttseo di Lodovico MoJCardo Nobile Veronese Academico Filharmonico ... , Padua, 1656 (unnumbe red ;ages). ' 72 The first to draw attention to this was J. Spon. Cf. J. Spon and G. Wheler, Voyage d'Italie, vol. II, p. 220. Also S. Maffei, Verona, p. 230. 73 Cf. J. Spon and G. Wheler, foe. cit. 74 Cf. J. Mabillon and M. Germain, Iter italicum litterarium, Paris, 1687, pp. 24-

96

97 98

5.

75 76

77
78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90

91 92

93

Cf. B. de Montfauco n, Diarium ita!icum, pp. 438. The Moscardo museum constituted one of the finest numismati c collections in Europe, in Jo. Foy-Vailla nt, Numismat a aerea Imperato1um, Augustam m et Caesarum in Coloniis, Municipiis, et Urbibtts jure Latio Donatis, Ex omni modulo percussa, Paris, 1688, [0 b III. List in Note ovvero memorie del M:1seo . .. , 2nd, enlarged edn, Verona, 1672, pp 468-71. Ibid., pp. 472-3. Ibid., p. 474. M. Misson, Nouveau voyage d'lta!ie, vol. I, pp. 160ff. Note ovvero memorie, 1656 edn, pp. 122-3. Ibid., pp. 249-50. Ibid., pp. 296-300. Note ovvero memorie, 1672 edn, pp. 435, 436, 438-9. Ibid., p. 448. Note ovvero memorie, 1656 edn, p. 171. Ibid., p. 205. Ibid., p. 133. Ibid., p. 140. With regard to this, cf. A. Forti, 'Del Drago che si trovava nella raccolta Moscardo e di un probabile arrefice di tali mistificazioni: Leone Tartaglini da Fojano', Madonna Verona, vol. VIII (1914), pp. 25-51. Note ovvero memorie, 1656 edn, p. 234. Cf. A. Forti, It Basilica esisteme a! Museo Cit;ico di Storia Naturale a Venezia e g!i affini simulacri finol'a conoscit1ti- Coutribti!o alta .rtoria della Ciarlataneria, Venice, 1929 (separate publication taken from Atti del R. Istittt!o Veneto di SS.LL.AA., vol. LXXXVII I, part 2); idem, 'Imorno ad un "Draco ex Raja effictus Aldrov" che esiste nel Museo Civico di Verona e circa le varie notizie che si hanno di simili mostri specialme me dai manoscritt i Aldrovand iani', Madonna Ve1'0na, vol. I (1907), pp. 57-73. Note memorie, 1656 edn, pp. 235-7.

99 100 101 102

103 104

105

106 107

108 109 110 111

In his Note ovvero memorie, 1672 edn, Moscardo publishes a text by Arhanasiu s Kircher on hieroglyph ics, pp. 372ff. 'Anzi fa vastita del Mondo tutto I Di tua magion dentro le sog!ie illu.rtri I In nuovo Microcosmo ha gia ridutto', is what we read in a poem extolling Moscardo, published along with others at the front of Note ovvero memorte (unnumbe red pages). This is the comment made by Ch. Patin after citing the names of nineteen medal collectors in Venice: 'Plures, fateor, sunt mihi incogniti, qui gloriae tuae studenres, 0 Adriatici maris Regina, numismat um eruditioni, investigati oni ac possession i operam navant', Introductio ad Historiam Numi.rmatum, Amsterdam , 1687, p. 247. Cf. 1650. Il Giardino di Cha Gualdo, ed. cit, pp. 7ff. This was a general state of affairs at this period. Cf. N. Edelman, Attitudes of Seventeenth-Century France toward the Middle Ages, New York, 1946; P. Frankl, Tbe Gothic. Literary Sources and Interpretations through. Centuries Princeton, N. )., 1960; K. Pomian, 'Kolekcjon erstwo 1 fllozoha nowoiytne go muzeum)', Archiwum Historii Fi!ozofii i Myfli Spoiecznej, voL XXI (1975), pp. 21-86. Cf. L. Franzoni, 'Pietro Rotari', p. 71-2. . . Cf. A. Zeno, Lett ere, Venice, 1785, no. 94; vol. I, pp. 221 ff. (letter to Fontanmt of 2 March 1704); B. de Montfauco n, Diarium italicum, pp. . . . Cf. L. Franzoni, 'Pietro Rotari', p. 70ff. It is there that Monresqm eu vtsJted tt. Cf. idem, La galleria Bevilacqua a Verona e l'Adorante di Berlino, Verona, 1964 (separate publicatio n taken from Studi storici veronesi, vol XIV, idem, Per una storia del collezionismo. Verona: !a gallerta Bevtlacqua, Milan, 1970. Cf. L. Moscardo, Historia di Verona, Verona, 1668, pp. 536, 542-3. Ch. Patin, Histoire des medailles ou introduction la connaissance de cette science, Paris, 1695, p. 3: 'Les grands Seigneurs seuls peuvent parer leurs Palais de ces Statues, a mesure du prix qui excede la mediocre fortune des Parriculier s ... .' M. Foscarini, Della letteratura veneziana ed altri sc1itti intorno ad essa, Venice, 1854, p. 395 (the first edition of Della letteratura veneziana dates from 1752). Cf. M. T. Cipollato, 'L'eredita di Federigo Contarini' , especially PP 230-1; L. Franzoni Per una storia del collezionismo, pp. 161ff. For the l;istory of the Mantova Benavides collection, cf. L. Polacca, 'II museo di scienze archeologi che e d'arte dell'Unive rsita di Padova', Atti dell'lstituto Veneto di SS.LL.AA., vol. CXXV (1966-7), pp. 421-4; Irena Favaretto, ed., 'Inventario delle amichita di casa Mantova Benavides - 1695', Bolletino del Museo Civico di Padova, vol. LI (1972), pp. 35-164. I. Favaretto, introductio n to the text of the inventory, ibid., pp. 59-60. I. Favaretto ed., 'lnventario .. .', pp. 73-4, 119. Cf. G. F. To:nasini, V. C. Laurentii Pignorii Pat. Canonici Taruisini Historici et Philologi Eruditissimi Bibliotheca et Mu.reum, Venice, 1632. . . Pignoria reveals a curiosity for exotica. He even added the followmg to hts edition of V. Cartari's Immagini delli dei degl'Anttcht . . .: Dt.rcorso mtorno

286

NoteJ to pp. 81-3

aile deita dell'Indie Orientali et Occidentali, con le foro Figure tratte da g!'originali, che si comeruano ne!le Gal/erie de'Principi et ne'Musei delle Persone priuate ... I quote the 1674 Venice edition. Cf. also F. Ambrosini, Paesi e mari ignoti. America e colonialismo emopeo nella cultura veneziana (secoli XVI-XVII), Venice, 1982, pp. 173ff. These engravings can be found in Pignoria's various different works. We even have a list of them in G. F. Tomasini, V. C. Laurentii ... , pp. 20-l. Cf. M. Boschini, La carta del navegar pittoresco, pp. 163-4. Cf. ibid., p. 167. Ch. Patin, Histoire des medailles, pp. 12-13. The book was published in Italian as Pratica delle medag!ie, Venice, 1673; the Latin translation was cited earlier, see note 96. Patin brought his numismatic collection with him to Padua, and its catalogue can be found in Thesaurus Numismatu m e Musaeo Caroli Patini Doctoris Medici Parisiensis, s.l., 1672. Idem, Histoire deJ medailleJ, pp. 36-7. Cf. ibid., pp. 180-1, 194 which list the rarest medals. In the catalogue of his collection, as well as in that of Pietro Morosini's collection, Patin often emphasizes the rarity of a particular piece. M. Boschini, La carla del navegar pittoresco, p. 609: 'La Medagia d'Oton, cusl bramada I Dai Prencipi del Mondo, che e si rara 1 La Ia ghe xe, e la ghe xe si cara I Co' si Ia fusse un'opulente intrada.' Quoted in J. Morelli, Dissertazio11e intomo ad a!cuni viaggiatori eruditi veneziani poco noti, in Operette, vol. II, Venice, 1820, pp. 130-2. Cf. E. A Cicogna, Saggio di bibliografia veneziana, no. 5210. For a description of this collection, cf. G. A Averoldi, Le scefte pittU!e di Brescia additate a! forestiere, Brescia, 1700, p. 251. Torra also collected agates and cameos, paintings, shells, ancient marble srarues, porcelain, weapons and armour, ancient musical instruments . A. Zeno, Lettere, no. 700; voL IV, p. 154 (letter to Giandomeni co Bertoli dated 7 Dec 1726). Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Delle iset-izioni veneziane, vol. III, Venice, 1830, p. 247. Cf.]. Morelli, Dissertazione, pp. 123ff. A. Zeno, Lettere, no. 776; vol. IV, pp. 322-3 (letter to Giandomeni co Boldini dated 12 Jan. 1731 from Venice). ]. Spon and G. Wheler, Voyage d'Italie, vol. II, pp. 369-70. Cf. A!usei Tbeupo!i antiqua nttmiJmata olim co!!ecta a Joanne Domenico Theupolo. Aucta et edita e Laurentia equite et D. Marci Procuratore et Federico Senatore fratribtt.f Theupolis, Venice, 1736, 2 vols, with continuous pagination. Ch. Patin, Hi.rtoire des medai!les, p. 104. Cf. [Ch. Patin], Thesaurus 11ttmismatum ... Petro lv1auroceno ... Serenissimae Reipublicae legatliS, p. 35. Cf. Cbristinae Augttstae Suevorum, Gothorum, Vandalorumque Reginae, lmperatomm , Caesamm, Augustarumqtte d Pompeo ttSque ad Carofltm !Hagnum Numismattt m Aereomm Seriem, ac Nttmerum. Ex Paterno .Musaeo exbibet Alexander de Lazara, Padua, 1669. Cf. K. Pomian, L'Ordre temp.r, Paris, 1984, pp. Iliff.
132 133 134 135 136 13 7

NoteJ to pp. 83-7

287

112 113 114 115

138 139

116 117

118

140 141 142 143

119 120 121

122 123 124 125 126 127

144 145 146 147

148 149 150

128 129 130

151 152 15 3

154

131

Cf. Ch. Patin, Histoire des medai!les, p. 118. Cf. T. Borenius, The Picture Gallet] of Andrea Vendramin, p. 3. Cf. L. Moscardo, Note ovvero memorie, 1672 edn, pp. 465-7. First edition, Venice, 1702. The work was subsequentl y re-edited three times. Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Saggio di bibliogra/ia veneziana, no. 517 4. I have borrowed this list from Ch. Patin, Histoire des medaille.r, pp. 12-14. Cf. Prodromus iconicus sculptilium gemmamm, Basilidiani, A rrmlectici, at que Ta!ismani Generis de Musaeo Antonii Capello, senatoris veneti, Venice, 1702. On this collection, extremely rich in antiquities, cf. B. de Montfaucon, Diarium italicum, p. 63. On the links between the figure of Venus and the universe of curiosity in the seventeenth century, cf. above, pp. 52-3. This concerns the frontispiece engraved by Cornelis Galle the Elder, in the manner of Rubens for the book by H. Goltzius, Romanae et Graecae Antiquitatis Momtmenta e priscis numismatib m eruta, first edn, Antwerp, 1632. On the same theme, cf. Gods and Heroes. Baroque Images of Antiquity, exhibition catalogue, Wildenstein Gallery, New York, 1968, no. 49. Cf. G. F. Tomasini, V. C. LaMentii . .. , p. 19. 0. Rossi, Le Memorie Bresciane. Opera istorica et simbolica, Brescia, 1616, pp. 58-9; one object from this collection is mentioned, p. ]65. Cf. Ibid., pp. 248-68 (Marmi diversi antichi ritrovati in Brescia) and pp. 269312 (Marmi antichi sparsi peril territorio bresciano). Idem, Le memorie storiche bresciane, Brescia, 1693. The edition was prepared by a local antiquary Fortunato Vinacessi. It publishes 439 inscriptions (pp. 231-324), 176 of which were added after the 1616 edition. Cf. CIL V, p. 437, no. XXXIII. Cf. G. A. Averoldi, Le scelte pittttre, pp. 277-93. Cf. L. Franzoni, Le iscrizioni tomane del Gi,trdino Giusti, s.l., n.d. LMilan, 1981] Cf. Mary F. S. Hervey, The Life ... of Thoma!' Howard, p. 451. Cf. The Dia1J' of john Evelyn, vol. II, p. 487 (1646); The Diary of D. Papebroch ( 1660) in M. Battistini, 'I padri bollandisti Henschenio e Papebrochio nel Veneto nel1660', Archivio Veneto, series 5, vol. IX (1931), pp. 115-17. Cf. L. Pignoria, Le Origini de Padova, Padua, 1625, p. 66. Cf. L. Moscardo, Historia di Verona, p. 456. This is the version given by L. Franzoni in Origine e st01'ia del Mttseo lapidario ma/feiano in II Museo Maf/eiano riaperto a! pubblico, Verona, 1982, pp. 29-72; here p. 37. I am gratef11l to Professor Franzoni for communicat ing this work in its then unpublished form. Cf. M. Battistini, 'I padri bollandisti .. .', p. 115. Cf.]. Mabillon and M. Germain, Iter italicum, pp. 24-5. Cf. J. Spon and G. Wheler, Vo)'age d'Italie, vol. II, p. 220, also Lucia Donaduzzi Marcon, 'Le i scrizioni del Museo Moscardo di Verona', Epigraphica, vol. IX (1949), pp. 98-108 and G. Marchini, Antiqttari, pp. 45-6. Cf. L. Franzoni, Origine e storia del MMeo lapidario maf/eiano, pp. 39ff Cf. also. L. Franzoni, 'L'opera di Scipione Maffei e d'Alessandr o Pompei per i1

288

Notes to pp. 87-8

Museo pubblico veronese', Atti e Memorie de!l'Accademia di Agricoltura, Sctenze e Lettere ds Verona, series VI, vol. XXVII (1975-6), pp. 193-218. Cf. G. Gualdo che Younger, Raccolta delle inscrittioni, W 11 (one inscription), 12 (two), 14 (two), 15 (four), 16 (four), 48 (four), 56 (two), 162 (one). S. Padua, 1652, pp. 276-7, cites eight inscriptions Orsaro: Monumenta belongmg to this collectton, mcluding two Greek ones. Cf. An.giolgabriello Di Santa Maria, Biblioteca e Storia di quegli scrittori cosi della cttta come del territorio di Vicenza . .. , Vicenza, 1782, vol. VI, pp. LXIILXIII. Cf. ibid., PP. CCXXI-CCXXV and N. C. Papadopoli, Historia gymnasii patavmt, Vemce, 1726, vol. II, pp. 144-5. Cf. also]. Mabillon and M. Germain Iter italicum, p. 26 and G. A. Averoldi, Le scelte pitture, p. 249. handwntten anthology by Cerchiari, Marmora Berica sive antiquitates urbis et agri vicentini expositae suisque iconibus omatae can be found in the Biblioteca Bertolliana, Vincenza, shelf-mark 22.9.5. Cf. Joannis Pieri Valeriani Beltunensis Antiquitatum Bellunensittm sermones quatuor . .. , Venice, 1620. Pierio quotes around forty inscriptions found more or less everywhere; it is not an anthology of ones from Belluno and its environs. Cf. A. Dal Corno, Memorie istoriche di Feltre. Con diversi avvenimenti nella e nell'Italiaaccaduti, Venice, 1710, pp. 136, 150-9 (Catalogo Marca delle ptu sllustrt Iscnztoni Antiche e Modeme, raccolte e in parte dichiarite dali'Autore). Cf. A. A. Michieli, 'Vaniloqui e scorribande erudite d'un secentista trivigiano (Bartolomeo Burchelati)', Atti del Istituto Veneto di SS.LL.AA., vol. CXII (1953-4), pp. 306-52. Cf. M. Zorzi, Vita del Signor Conte Camillo Silvestri, nobile di Rovigo e padre della Romana ErudtZzone. Adornata di varie osservazioni a! suo Museo spettanti e copiosa di molte aft,e notizie istoriche, critiche, e letterarie, Padua, 1720, pp. 35ff., 49ff. Cf. L. Franzoni, Antiquari e collezionisti del Cinquecento, in G. Arnaldi and M. Pastore Stocchi, Storia della cultura veneta, vol. 3/III, Vicenza, 1981, pp. 20766, especially 225-34. S: Orsato, Monumenta Patavina, pp. 49-70 where he reproduces sixty-one mscnpnons and Elda Zorzi, 'Un antiquario padovano del sec. XVI: Alessandro Maggi da Bassano', Bolletino del Museo Civico di Padova, vol. LI (1952) pp. ' 41-98. Cf. S. Orsato, Monumenta Patavina, pp. 254-5, 261-3, 274. I. Salomonio, Agri patavini lnscriptiones sacrae et prophanae, Padua, 1696, pp. 80ff. L. Franzoni, Antiquari et collezionisti del cinquecento, p. 329. CIL V, p. 265, no. IX. Cf. the catalogue cited above, note 130, and also: F. Sansovino and G. Venezia, p. 376. Lazara's collection is mentioned, along with those Marti of Ch. Patm, S. Gruzonus and C. Torta, by]. Foy-Vaillant, Numismata aerea. L. ll C:iardino, p. XLII, no. 137, cites the handwritten inventory of the numtsmatiC and sphragistic collection belonging to Giovanni de Lazara: BCP 1474. 166 167

Notes to pp. 89-90

289

155

156

Cf. S. Orsato, Monumenta Patavina, pp. 170-1; I. Salomonio, Agri patavini, pp. 79-80. Cf. G. A. Volpi, Vita del conte Sertorio Orsato, in S. Orsato, Marmi eruditi oz,vero Lettere sopra afcune anticbe i.rcrizirmi, Padua, 1719, pp. IXff.; S. Orsato, !vfonumenta Patavina, pp. 210-12, 248-9. The other epigraphic collections mentioned in this work are those belonging to G. Galvano (pp. 356), F. Orsato (p. 139), G. della Torre (pp. 160-1), G. Rodio (pp. 178 and 282), N. Corradino (pp. 188-9), G. F. Tomasino (pp. 235-7), B. Fichetto (pp. 290l).

157

168

169

158

159

170 171 172 173

160

161

174 175

162

163

176 177

164

178 179 180 181 182

165

183

In addition to the books by Orsato and Salomonio, already cited, cf. G. F. Tomasino, Urbis patavini inscriptiones saC1ae et propbanae, Padua, 1649; Idem, Territorii patavini inscriptiones sacrae et prophanae, Padua, 1654; I. Salomonio, Urbi.r patavini inscriptiones Jacrae et profanae, Padua, 170 I. Between 1612 and 1616, G. B. Lisca and Cozza de Cozzis drew up an Auctarium monumentorum, containing reproductions of inscriptions inVerona, which was published in Onuphrii Panvini Veronemis Antiquitatttm Veronensium libri VIII, Verona, 1648, pp. 237ff. For the exact date of writing, cf. L. Franzoni, Origine e storia del Mu.reo lapidario maffeiano, which also deals with other collections of Veronese inscriptions. Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Delle i.rcrizioni veneziane, Venice, 1824, vol. I, pp. 11ff. Cf. G. D. Bertoli, Antichita d'Aqrtileia, Venice, 1739; CIL V, pp. 83-5, no. XXXI. Cf. M. Foscarini, Della letteratura veneziana, p. 398; CIL V, pp. 220ff. Cf ibid., pp. 400-1; L. Franzoni, Antiquari e collezioni.rti nel Cinquecento, pp. 213-14 and examples inS. Orsato, Mommzenta Patavina, pp. 247 (antiquities brought to Padua from Greece), 248-9 (inscriptions brought from Aquileia). Cf. also CIL V, p. 266, no. XIV. Cf. A. Zeno, Lett ere, no. 94; vol. I, pp. 221 ff. (to Fontanini, 2 March 1704) and the four Greek inscriptions reproduced ibid, on pp. 300-1. Through the intermediary of Paolo Gualdo, the uncle of Girolamo the Younger. Cf. Pignoria's notes in V. Cartari, lmmagini delli dei, p. 323 and L Puppi, p. XXIII. Cf. G. F. Tomasino, Lamentii PignMii . .. Bibliotheca et lvfusaeum, pp. 2-5. Cf. Jv!usaeum Calceolarimn veronensis a Be1;edicto Ceruto Medico incaeptum. Et ab Andrea Chiocco Med. PhJ.rico Excellenti.r.r. Co!legii luculenter descriptttm et perfectum, Verona, 1622, pp. 294-8. Cf. G. F. Tomasino, Laurentii Pignorii ... , p. 19. Cf. G. Benzoni, 'Giovanni Bonifacio (1547-1635), erudito uomo di Iegge e .. devoto', Studi Veneziani, vol. IX (1967), p. 250. Cf. L. Pignoria, Le origini di Padova, pp. 59, 123. Pignoria's notes in V. Cartari, Immagini delli dei, pp. 315 and also 307 and 314. Cf. In Georgii Contareni obittnn carmina, s.l., n.d. [Venice, 1617], pp. 28 and 35 (texts by Pignoria). A. Chiocco also p<>rticipated in this collective volume (pp. 12-15). The friendship with Peiresc is referred to by Pignoria in his notes in V. Cartari, Immagini de!li dei, pp. 288, 325, 36-1.

290
184

Note.r to pp. 90-4

207 208

N ote.r to pp. 94-7

291

Cf. G. F. Tomasino, Urbis patavini imcriptiones, p. 389 (expression of gratitude to Giovanni de Lazara for his help). 185 This was underlined by his biographer. Cf. G. A. Volpi, Vita del conte Se1torio Orsato, p. X. 186 Cf. ibid., p. XI. The first letter in the posthumous edition of Marrni eruditi ( 1719) is moreover addressed to Giovanni de Lazara, ibid., pp. 3ff., whose medals are cited pp. 194ff., 205ff. 187 Cf. G. A. Volpi, Vita, p. X. 188 Cf. S. OrsJto, Gli marmi eruditi, p. 101. 189 Cf. L. Franzoni, Origine e .rtoria del Museo lapidario rnaffeiano, p. 32. 190 Cf. M. Zorzi, Vita del SignM Conte Camillo SilveJtri, pp. 88ff. 191 The contrast between Rossi and Pignoria is well illustrated by the list the latter placed at the beginning of his Origini di Padova, p. 7: 'Auton de i quczli per enere falsi, e .rupposti e inventori di cose non vere, io non mi J'01W .rervito. 192 Cf. E. H. Gombrich, leones Symbolicae. Philosophies of Symbolism and thei1 Bearing 011 Art, in idem, Symbolic Images. Stztdie.r in the art of the Renaissance, London, 1972, pp. 123ff. 193 The length of the title of the book by Ferrecio is very eloquent: Mmae Lapidariae: Antiqztorum in rnarmoribus carmina, seu Deorum Donaria, Homimmzque Illustrium obliteratcz j'vlomrmenta et deperdita Epitaphia: cum rerttm perpetramm publici.r incisi.r lapidibus, qui!ms Templomm, A rae, Votiva in tabellis. lcomtm Styiobatae. mortuorum sepulchra, Facinortfm que Diagliphica notata iuJ"Sunt: Visa in Umis, Vasc!tlis, LowfiJ-, Lt<cemis, Cofttmnis, Obeliscis, plumbeis Laminis, tabulisque Aenei.r signa carminum: Quae omnia Labia!i sculpta stylo, et variis locis repo.rita. atque inventa. ln.rcriptiones AntiquissimaJ explanant, expendtmtque memoriae excerptcte notis hi.rtoricis, in quibus reconditctmm omnium rerum Gentilittm, tam Sacrarmn quam Propbanarmn, Publico Privatoque fure perhibetttr mentis, triplicique cognite Indice: Auctore Joanne Bapti.rta Ferrecio, Verona, 1672. The contrast between Pignoria and Kircher is underlined by B. de Momfaucon, L'Antiquite expliquee et reprhemee en figures, vol. II, part 2, Paris, 1719, p. 332. 194 S. Orsaro, Gli mcn'1ni eruditi o11ero lettere .ropra alcune anticbe i.rcrizioni, Padua, 1659 lrecte: 1669], pp. 142ff. This concerns inscription CIL V, no. 2865. The daring of the discovery cited here is Mommsen's. 195 Cf. S. Orsato, Monumenta Patavina, pp. 25-34 and Gli marmi eruditi, p. 153. 196 Idem, Gfi marmi eruditi, ibid., Ioc. cit. 197 Ibid., p. 154. 198 Ibid., pp. 151-5 199 Ibid., p. 156. 200 Ibid., p. 1GO. 201 Ibid., p. 161 and the inscriptions cited pp. 161-5. 202 Ibid., pp. 168-9. 203 Ibid., pp. I 70ff. 201 Ibid., pp. 178-9 205 Ibid., pp. 148-9. 206 Cf. C. Cozzanda, Delict !ibreria breJciana, Brescia, 1685, p. 283.

209 210

211 212

213

Cf. M. Gaggio, Notizie genealogiche delle famiglie nobili di Feltre, Felrre, 1936, p. 380. Cf. B. Burchelati, Commentariorum Memorabilium multipliciJ- historiae ta1visinae lucupleJ promptuarium. Libris quatuo-r distributttrll historico, antiq11ario, poetae, philosopho, in primis autem christiana ac funebrium iucmzdum atque utile, Treviso, 1616. Cf. A. A. Michieli, 'Vaniloqui e scorribande', p. 328. Cf. M. Zorzi, Vita del Signo1 Conte Camillo Silvestri, p. 88. Pignoria is not only author of Origini di Padova, bur also editor of a curious short work by V. Contarini on Antenor, the Trojan founder of Padua. Cf. L. Pignoria, L'Anten01'e, Padua, 1625. Cf. also S. Orsato, lrtoria di Padova, Padua, 1678; the second part of this work remained in manuscript form. Cf. L. Simeoni, Gli Jtudi storici ed archeologici di Scipione Maffei, in Studi maffeiani, Turin, 1909, pp. 728ff. 'Ce mot de Gothique est assez commun chez les Curieux, et c'est ainsi qu'on appelle tout ce qui parait ancien et mal fait:' Ch. Patin, Hhtoire des medai!!es, p. Ill. Cf. also the works cited in note 98 above. Antenor's romb is represented in L. Pignoria, L'Antenore, p. 36 and S. Orsaro, Monmnenta Patavina, p. 3.19 where it features among the supposed ancient inscriptions. However, Orsato does not deny the historical authenticity of Antenor, restricting his criticism ro the tomb, ibid., pp. 343ff. The Scaliger tomb is represented in 0. Panvinio, A ntiquitatum Vemnensium /ibri VIII,

214

from p. 96. Archivio Academia Filharmonica, Reg. 43 degli Atti (gia segnato Libra XI), ff 0 34v-3Gr. I am indebted to Professor L. Franzoni, who introduced me to this text and provided me with a typed transcription of it. 215 Cf. 0. Rossi, Le Memorie Bresciane, 1616 edn, pp. 48 and 148. 216 Cf. G. Bertondelli, Historia delta cittci di Feltre, Venice, 1673, p. 114. 217 Cf. A. dal Corno, Memorie istoriche di Felt1e, p. 155. 2 I 8 Cf. S. Orsato, Monumenta Patavina, pp. 294ff. 219 Cf. idem, J'v[armi emditi, p. 10 I. 220 Cf. L. Moscardo, HiJtoria di Verona, pp. 416-17. This concerns the Cen,t in casa di Simone, which currently hangs in the Sabaude Gallery, Turin. 221 As is the case in Pignoria's gallery, for example, cf. G. F. Tomasino, Laurentii Pignorii ... Bihliotbeca et Mu.raeum, p. 19; at the home of the Manrova Benavides, cf. I Favaretto, ed., Inventario, no. 136, p. 99 and no. 142, p. 101; at 0 the home of G. Gualdo the Younger, cf. Raccolta delle iscrittioni, f 37. Cf. also S. Savini Branca, p. 133 (N. Crasso's inventory, 1656). This cult of the hero was best reflected in the collections of portraits of famous men and women. As, for example, in the home of L. Moscardo. cf. Note overo memorie, 1672 edn, pp. 465-7,474. Cf. also B. Dal Pozzo, Le Vite de'Pittori, p. 291 (Fattnri collection; thirty-seven portraits of famous men and women), p. 292 (Mosconi collection: 262 portraits), pp. 308-9 (Dal Pozzo collection: twenty portraits) and M. Boschini, La carta del navegar pittoresco, p. 610 (collection belonging to Count Bencio). 222 A. Zeno, Lettere, no. 527; vol. II, p. 206 (toP. C. Zeno, 16 Nov. 1720) and cf. no. 593, vol. II, p. 3M (to Murarori, 8 Feb. 1723).

292
223 224 225

Notes to

pp. 97-100

Notes to

pp. 101-5

293

226 227 228 229 230 231 232 23)

234
235 236

237. 238.

239

240 241

242 24.) 244

245

246 247

Cf. ibid., no. 769; vol. IV, p. 308 (to G. F. Baldini, 25 May 1731). Cf. ibid., no. 812, vol. IV, pp. 388-9 (to the above, 5 Dec. 1733). Cf. S. Maffei, Traduttori italiani asia notizia de'tolgarizzamenti d'Antichi Scrittori Latini, e Greci, che sana in lttce. Aggiunto it volga1izzamento d'a!Ctme insigni lscrizioni Greche; E !a Notizia del nuovo Musuo d'Iscrizioni in Verona. Col paragone fra !e lscrizioni, e !e iHedaglie, Venice, 1720, pp. 173-4. Ibid., p. 176. Cf. ibid., pp. 183-90. Cf. ibid., pp. 196ff. Ibid., p. 197. Ibid., pp. 197-8. Ibid., pp. 207-8. A. Zeno, Lettere, no. 776; vol. IV, pp. 322-3 (to G. F. Baldini, 12Jan. 1731). Cf. ibid., nos. 860,929, 1023; vol. V, pp. 71-2 (to G. D. Bertoli, 8Jan. 1734), 215 (to Baldini, 5 May 17.)6); vol. VI, p. 9 (to G.B. Parisotti, 2Jan. 1739). Ibid., no. 777; vol. IV, p. 325 (to Bertoli, 19 Jan. 1731). Erudition/Philosophy', above pp. 21-38. Cf. K. Pomian, Pharmacopea sive De vera Pbarmaca conficiendi & jJreparandi Metbodo [. . .] Q1tae lviethodJtJ a p!acitis non solum Priscorum l'vfedicorum, qui in Gr,tecia f!oruemnt, & p1aecipue Galeni huim artis paretiHimi depromptct fttit: Sed utiam a mandatis illomm, qui A1abiam decorartmt, & maxime MeStte, qtti hac in arte nemini fuit seczmdtt.r . .. , Venice, 1617. Cf. S. Maffei, Verona il!ustrata, part 2, pp. 224- 5; L. Franzoni, Origine e storia dellviuseo !apidario maffeiano, p. 31. P. A. Scardo, Botanica in ltalia. fdateriali per Ia Jtoria di questa .rcienza, del R. Istituto Veneto di SS.LL.AA., vol. XXV, no. 4), Venice, 1895 p. 55. Mentioned, along with the garden belonging to F. Nutio, G. F. Morosini and G. Duodo, by P. Coronelli, Guida de'Forestieri per Sllccintamente osservare tutto if pit! riguardevo!e nella citta di Venetia, Venice, 1697, unnumbered pages. Also mentioned by Caylus, Voyage d'Italie, p. 84, who visited it. Cf. P.A. Saccardo, Botanica in ltalia, p. 114. Cf. Catalogus -variorum plantarum hortolo ]oh. Behm, Venice, 1669 and Fasciculits sive elench11s herbarum summa studio ac delectatione cultus a M. Nutio pharmacopolo veneto, Venice, 1678, P. A. Saccardo, pp. 32 and 118. Mentioned in particular by Arundel in his notes for Evelyn. Cf. Mary S. Hervey, The Life ... of Thorna.r Howard, p. 451. Cf. F. Sansovino and F. Martinoni, Venezia citta nobiliJJinza e singolare, pp. 369-70. Cf. F. Pona, Si!eno, avera Bellezze dell Luogo de!f'lllmo Sig. Co. Gio. Giacomo Giusti, Verona, 1620, p. 73. This grotto is also mentioned in Papebroch's journal. Cf. M. Battistini, 'I padri bollandisti', p. 116. Cf. E. Battisti, L'amirinaJcimento, Milan, 1962, pp. 164-5 and especially 1824. On coral and fire, ibid, p. 168. We should add that a branch of coral is included in Jan Bruegel's Allegory of Fire (Pinacoteca Ambrosiana, inv. 68). F. Sansovino and G. Martinoni, Venezia citta nobi!i.rJima e singolare, p. 370. Cf. P. A. Saccardo, Botanica i17 It alia, paHim; A. Schwarz, eel., Per una .rtoria

248

249 250

251 252 253 254 255

256

257

258

259 260 261 262 263 264

265 266 267 268 269 270 271

della farmacia e del farmacista in Italia. Venezia e Veneto, Bologna, 1981, p. 54. Cf. G. Glizzi, 'Calzolari, Francesco', Dizionario Biografico deg!i Italiani, vol. XVII, pp. 65-7; A. Donati, Trattato de'semplici, pietre, e pesci marini, che nascono nel lito di Venetia. La maggior parte non conosciuti da Teofrasto, Dioscoride, Plinio, Galena, et altri Scrittori .. ., Venice, 1631, p. 2. Cf. for example A. Donati, Trattato de'semplici . .. , pp. 12, 24-6 and passim. Cf. C. Massalongo, 'In memoria di Fra Fortunato da Rovigo', Madonna Verona, vol. XI (1917), pp. 34-6, This herbarium can now be seen in the Museo Civico di Scienze Naturali in Verona. Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Delle iscrizioni veneziane, vol. V, pp. 113 and 116-7. On the Chiavenna book, which appeared in Treviso in 1648, cf. Biographie universelle ancienne et moderne, vol. VIII, pp. 373-4. Cf. J. Evans, Magical jewels of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance particularly in England (1922), New York, 1976, pp. 15-16, 140ff. A. Donati, Trattato de'semp!ici, p. 117. Cf. Variorum fossilium apparatus, ex collectaneis I H Zannichellii, et in ipsius pharmacopolio publicae eruditioni venetiis exhibitus, Venice, 1720; Enum.eratio rerum naturalium quae in Musaeo Zannichelliano asservantur, VeniCe, 1736. Cf. De reconditis, et praecipuis co!Lectaneis ab honestissimo et sole-rtissimo Francisco Calceolario veronensi in Musaeo adservatis, Joannis Baptistae Olivi Medici testificatio, Venice, 1584. Here is the subtitle: In quo multa ad natura/em moralemque Philosophiam Spectantia, non paucam ad rem Medicam pertinentia erudite proponuntur et explicantur supellectile quae artefici plane manu in aes incisae studiosi exhibentur. For the title, d. above, note 177. In the elogy to him, we read that Ca1zolari 'in hoc quidem Musaeo quicquid rarum, et singulare in se habet natura, magnanis.rma impensa ex variis mundi regionibus coaceruauit': Ibid., p. 2. I. Favaretro, ed., 'Jnventario .. .', p. 91. Ibid., nos. 127, 129-31, p. 98. . Ibid., p. 100. Cf. C. A. Levi, Le Collezioni veneziane d'arte e d'antichita dal secolo XVI at nostri giomi, Venice, 1900, vol. II, p. 119. Ibid., pp. 121-2. Cf. Produzioni Marine cioe Cochle, Altioni, Turbinetti, Coralloide, Madrepore, e simili. Raccolte, e diliniate de me Fra Petronio da Verona ... , Venice, 1724. Biblioteca Civica, Verona, MS 2047. 0 165. Ibid., Cf. C. Lodoli, Notizie della vita, e degli studj del Kavalier Antonio Vallisnieri, in A. Vallisnieri, Opere fisico-mediche, vol. I, Venice, 1733, p. XV. Ibid., p. LIII. Ibid., pp. LIII-L VI. Ibid., p. LVII. Cf. also L. Polacca, pp. 425-7. Ibid., p. LVI. Ibid., Joe. cit.

294
272 273 274
275

Notes to pp.105-9
Caylus, pp. 56-7. Cf. L. Patarol, Osservazioni intomo alia Nascita, vita, costumi, mutazioni, e sviluppi detla Cantaride de Gig!i (1712), in A. Vallisnieri, vol. I, pp. 255ff. L. Patarol, to G. D. Bertoli, 28 Dec. 1723. Cited in E. A. Cicogna, Detle tsctnrom veneztcme, vol. V, p. 119, in the notes. Cf. C. Ridolfi, Le Meravigfie detl'Mte o vera le Vite degli i!!ustri Pittori veneti e della stato (1648), ed. D. Von Hadeln, Berlin, 1914-24, 2 vols. Cf. F. Paglia, If Giardino della Pittura, ed. C. Borelli, Brescia, 1967, 2 vols. This work, drawn up between 1663 and 1675 was continually corrected and revised up to the author's death in 1714. Ibid., pp. 11ff. Cf. M. Boschini, La cat'ta del navegar pittoresco, the index under 'Venezia, Palazzi, Case, Collezioni', pp. 800ff. Cf. F. Sansovino and G. Martinoni, Venezia citta nobilissima e singo!are, pp. 374-8. Cf. B. dal Pozzo, Le Vite de'Pittori, pp. 28lff.: 'Galeria di Quadri che s'attrouano nelle Case particolari di questa Citta'. di Brescia, pp. 243-7: 'Nota de'Quadri di Cf. G. A. Averoldi, Le scelte li quali s'attrovano neUe Stanze in Casa suoi, gl'Autori de nome Pittura, con il del Conte Pietro de Testio Lane'. Cf. C. A. Levi, Le Collezioni veneziane, vol. II, pp. 81-117 and vol. I, p. LXXXI. Cf. I. Favaretro, 'Inventario .. .', pp. 54-5: this collection contained ninetyeight paintings and drawings and 130 prints and engravings. In Padua, paintings are noted in the collections belonging to C. Torta and G. della Torre. Cf. respectively G. A. Averoldi, Le scelte pitt11re di Brescia, p. 251, and S. Orsaro, j'vfonttmenta Patavina, pp. 160-1. For Silvestri, cf. M. Zorzi, Vita del Signor Conte Camillo Silvestri, p. 74. In the eighteenth century, this was to be the largest picture gallery in Rovigo, cf. F. Bertoli, Le pitture, sculture ed architetture della citta di Rovigo, Venice, 1793, pp. 236-59. For Treviso, cf. D. M. Federici, lvfemorie Trevigiane su!!e opere di disegno, Venice, 1803, vol. II, pp. 223ff., which says nothing about the seventeenth century. Let us add finally that F. Scanelli does not mention any private collections of paintings other than in Venice and Verona. In Vicenza, Treviso and Brescia he only describes publicly owned paintings. Cf. I! 1Hicrocomzo de!Ja Pittura Cesena ' , 1647. Cf. G. Campori, Raccofta di cataloghi ed inventarii inediti di quadri, statue, disegni . .. , Modena, 1870, pp. l75ff., 192ff. On these collections cf. also L. Franzoni, If Co!lezionismo dal Cinquecento al!'Ottocento, in Cu!tura e Vita Civile a Verona, Verona, 1979, pp. 615-20. Cf. L. Moscardo, Historia di Verona, pp. 416-17, where we also learn that, when visiting his museum, Spinola rold Moscardo that he was ready co pay any price for this painting. Cf. the Dolfin inventory, in S. Savini Branca, II co!lezioniJmo vemziano, pp. 159-65 and the Canossa inventory, in Maria Simonetta Tisato Premi, 'Il Canossa collezionisti di quadri secondo un inedito inventario del secolo XVII' ' Studi storici veronesi, vol. XXVIII-XXIX (1978-9), pp. 108-79. e Seicento del fine Ia tra Verona a operanti pittori Cf. L. Rognini, Regesti dei

Notes to pp. 109-11

295

288 289

276

290

277
278

291

279 280

292 293 294

281 282 283

295 296

297 298 299 300

284

301 302

285

286

303

304

287

l'inizio del Settecento, in L. Magagnato, ed., La pittura a Vetona tra Sei e Settecento, exhibition catalogue, Verona, 1978, pp. 281ff. des voyages de monsieur de lv!onconys . .. , Lyons, 1666, vol. II, p. 414 and cf. also p. 425. Cf. M. Boschini, Bteve lnstruzione per intendere in qualche modo le maniere de gli Autto1i veneziani, in idem, Le ricche miniere della pittura veneziana, unnumbered pages. Cf. Mary F. S. Hervey, The Life ... of Thomas Howat'd, p. 410; E. K. Waterhouse, 'Paintings from Venice for Seventeenth-Cent ury England: some records of a forgotten transaction, Italian Studies, vol. VIII (1952), pp. 1-23. Cf. M. Muraro, 'Studiosi, collezionisti e opere d'arte venete dalle lettere al cardinale Leopolda de'Medici', Saggi e memorie di Storia dell'Arte, vol. IV (1965), pp. 67-81; Gloria Chiarini de Anna, Leopolda de'lvfedici e la formazione della .r11a racco!ta de di.regni, in Anna Forlani Tempesta and Anna Maria Petrioli Tofani, eds, Omaggio a Leopolda de'lvfedici, exhibition catalogue, Florence, 1976, vol, I, pp. 26-39. Cf. E. Jacobs, 'Das Museo Vendramin', pp. 23ff. Cf. M. Muraro, 'Studiosi ... Leopolda de'Medici', pp. 74., and for all this S. Savini Branca II collezionismo veneziano, especially pp. 61ff. Cf. G. Campori, Raccolta di cataloghi, pp. 178 and 195. It should be noted, however, that three paintings by Falkenburg from the Muselli collection were added to dal Pozzo's. Cf. ibid., p. 186 and B. dal Pozzo, le Vite de'Pittori, p. 308. L. Magagnato, Saggio bio-bibliografico, indice analitico ragionale e scelta di tavole, in B. dal Pozzo, Le Vite de'Pittori, reprint, Verona, 1967, p. XXIII. Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Saggio di bibiografica veneziana, nos. 5087, 5093, 5094, 5099, 5105, 5122, 5143, 5169, 5175, 5176, 5187, 5193, 5197, 5210, 5218. All these publications deal with collections already or about to be dispersed in the 1840s. Cf. the inventory of Giovanni Pietro Tirabosco: S. Savini Branca, II co!fezionismo veneziano, pp. 125-30. Cf. idem, ibid., pp. 52ff. Cf. L Alberon, Le arti figurative in collective work, Stotia di Bassana, Bassano del Grappa, 1980, pp. 507-8. B. dal Pozzo, Le Vite de'Pittori, p. 283. The painting belonged to the Marquis of Canossa according to the inventory established after his death, where it was attributed without any hesiration to Guido Reni and valued at 250 ducats. Cf. M. S. Tisaro Premi, 'II Canossa collezionisti', p. 151, no. 162. B. da1 Pozzo, Le Vite de'Pittori, p. 173. Cf. Mary Secret, Being Bernard Berenson, London, 1980, and the reviews of this book: Anita Brookner, 'The master of the attributions', Times Literary Supplement, 18 Jan. 1980 and S. Schama, 'Berenson's Elixir', The London Review of Books, 1 May 1980. For Dal Pozzo, for example, an Alessandro Turchi (towards 1578-1649) or a Claudio Ridolfi (1570-1644) are not 'moderni'. Cf. Le Vite de'Pittori, pp. 2856. Cf. also M. Boschini, La carta delnavegar pittoresco, p. 591. Cf. M. Muraro, 'Studiosi, collezionisti ... Leopolda de'Medici', especially pp. 69ff.; S. Savini Branca, II collezioniJmo veneziano, pp. 47ff.

296
305 306 307 308 309 310 311 312 313 314 315

Notes to pp. 111-17

Cf. M. Boschini, La carta del navegar pitoresco, pp. 255ff. The quotation comes from p. 260. Cf. ibid., pp. 158-9. Cf. ibid., p. 169. Ibid., p. 263. Ibid., p. 256. Ibid., loc. cit. Ibid., p. 263. Ibid., p. 264. Cf. ibid., pp. 260-1, editor's nore. Cf. S. Savini Branca, II collezionismo veneziano, pp. 79ff., l79ff. and L. Magagnato, Saggio bio-bib!iografico, pp. XXI-XXII. This applies ro the Canossa collection, for example cf. B. dal Pozzo, Le Vite de'Pittori, pp. 282-3, which mentions seventeen paintings, and the 1687 inventory in M. S. Tisata Premi, 'II Canossa collezionisti', which contains 387 numbers. We have already noted this in Boschini. Cf. also the praise for Verona at the beginning of dal Pozzo's book, and for Brescia and its antiquities in Averoldi's book. Cf. B. dal Pozzo, Le Vite de'Pittori, pp. 305-9 and Magagnato, 1! percono critico, in La pittura a Verona tra Sei e Settecento, pp. I3ff. especially p. 22. For Venice, the inventories of Giovanni Pierro Tirabosco, Michele Pietra, Gasparo Chechel, Daniele Dolfin, Giorgio Bergonzi were used, these inventories being taken from S. Savini Branca, II collezionismo veneziano, pp. !25-30, 134-40, 140-7, 159-65, 165-78. The reasons for this choice are given below. For Verona, the Canossa inventory, already cited, and the 1695 Barbieri inventory were used, these coming from [A. Avenal], 'La galleria Barbieri nelli anni 1695 e 1729', Madonna Verona, vo!. VII (1913), pp. 189-202. Unfortunately, the paintings in this inventory are often anonymous. In the seventeenth century, these painters were sometimes placed in the Venetian school. Thus, for example, in theJabach collections. Cf. Dessins de fa en 1671 pam Ia collection royale, Paris, 1978, pp. 6ff. collection ]a bach For the Muselli and Curroni collections, the estimates are based on the lists published by G. Campori, Raccolta di cataloghi, pp. 178-92 and 196-202. On the Bergonzi collection, cf. S. Savini Branca, I! collezioni.rmo veneziano, pp. 186ff. Cf. S. Savini Branca, ll collezionismo veneziano, p. 140. The latter can be found in the following inventories: Tirabosco, nos. 1, 34, 56, 88, 94; Bergonzi, nos. 255,287, 345; Canossa, no. 124; Barbieri, nos, 156,264. Cf. also B. dal Pozzo, Le Vite de Pittori, pp. 289, 292, 295, 307. In the case of the Muselli collection, this results from the title of the document: Inventario delle pittme che s'attrovano in Verona nella Galleria del Sigt. Christoforo Muse!li, G. Campori, Raccolta di cataloghi, p. 178. Cf. La pittura a Verona tra Sei e Settecento, and in particular the article by S. Marinelli, Lo stile 'eroico' e !'arcadia, especially pp. 54ff. For the Grimani Calergi, Dolfin and Bergonzi collections, cf. the references in S. Savini Branca, II coltezionisrno venezLmo, pp. 227-8, 213-14, 188-91. For
326 327

Notes to pp. 117-22

297

328 329 330 331

332

316

333
334 335 336 337

317 318

M. Pietra, cf. M. Boschini La Carta del navegar pittoresco, pp. 584-5. This happens in five different cases. Cf. S. Savini Branca, II collezionismo veneziano, pp. 161, 162, 163. Cf. Fr. Haskell, Patrons and Painters. A Study in the Relations Between Italian Art and Society in the Age of the Baroque, New Haven -London, 1980, pp. 256ff. Cf. the Bergonzi inventory, nos. 100, 109, 176, 197, 198, 204,217-19, 223-6, 235, 242, 295, 321-5, 387. Cf. ibid., nos. 132,133,140,181,202,203,208,2 48,249,257,303,316,317, 331, 332, 337, 358,454. Cf. ibid, nos. 101, 105, 231, 232, 356. Cf. V. Scamozzi, L'idea delta architettura, pp. 305, 328ff. and the description of the palace owned by Girolamo Cavazza in F. Sansovino and G. Martinoni, Venezia Citta nobi!issima e singolare, pp. 393ff. Cf. S. Savini Branca, II collezionismo veneziano, pp. 159-65 and in particular 161-2 (the gallery). Cf. M.S. Tisata Premi, 'II Canossa collezionisti', pp. 144-50 (the gallery), 1503 (the second room). Ibid., p. 156. Cf. S. Savini Branca, If collezionismo veneziano, pp. 116-2! and in particular p. 119 (the gallery). Cf. ibid., pp. 137-8 ('Studio de'quadri originali'). Cf. ibid., pp. 165-71 ('Camara sopra li due Rij') and pp. 171-2 (Portico').

CHAPTER 4 MEDALS/SHELLS = ERUDITION/PHILOSOPHY

319

First published in Studies on Voltaire and the eighteenth century, vol. CLICLIV, 1976, pp. 1677-703. ]. Span, Recherche des antiquites et curiositris de la ville de Lyon. Avec un Memoire des Principaux Antiquaires et Curieux de !'Europe, Lyons, 1673, pp. 212-18. 2 P. Bizot, Histoire mhallique de Ia Republique de Hollande, Paris, 1687, Preface; Le Livre commode des adresses de Paris pour 1692 par Abraham du Pradel (Nicola.r de Blegny), published by E. Fournier, Paris, 1878, pp. 216-31. 3 Ch.-C. Baudelot de Dairval, De l'utilite des voyages et des avantageJ que Ia savam, Rauen, 1727, vol. II, pp. 412-34. recherche des antiquitez procure 4 A.-J. Dezallier d'Argenville, 'Lettre sur le choix et !'arrangement d'un cabinet curieux', Merwre de France, June 1727, pp. 1294-330.

320

321 322

323

5 CorreJpondance inedite du comte de Cay/us avec le P. Paciaudi, theatin ( 17 5765 ), suivie de celles de !'abbe Barthelemy et de P. lvfariette avec le me me,
published by Ch.Nisard, Paris, 1877, vol. I, p. 144; letter dated 11 Feb. 1760. 6 On the collection belonging to P.-D. de Cleves, cf. an essay by Abbot ].-]. Barthelemy cited in M. Badolle, L'Abbe ]ean-]acque.r Barthelemy et l'hellenisme en France dam Ia seconde moitie dtt X VIlle siec!e, Paris, s.d., p. 67, note. On that owned by Michelet d'Ennery, cf. Ch.-Ph. Campion de Tersan,

324 325

298

Notes to pp. 122-6

Catalogue des medailles antiques et modernes ... du cabinet de .M. Ennery, Paris, 1788. On that belonging to ]. Pellerin d. Michaud, Biographie universelle, vol. XXXII, pp. 400-1. M. Grimm, Correspondance litthaire, philosoph ique et critique, published by M. Tourneux, Paris, 1877 onwards, vol. VI, p. 266. L-V. Thiery, Guide des amateun et des etrangers voyageurs a Paris, Paris, 1786, 2 vols. The figures are given in accordance with the table of contents. E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue raisonmf des coquilles et autres curiositeJ naturelles, Paris, 17 36, pp. V and VI. A.-J. Dezallier d'Argenville, L'Histoire Naturelle eclaircie dans deux de ses parties principales. La Lithologie et Ia Concbyliofogie ... , Paris, 1742, pp. 198-210. The list is incomplete: 'le respect ne permet pas de nommer ici plusieurs Dames', p. 210. Idem, op. cit., Paris, 1757, pp. 112-32. A.-R. de Liesville, Noms des collectionneurs d'bistoire nature!le in 1767, Caen, 1867; this is a reprint of the list published in Concbyfiologie nouvelle et portative ... , Paris, 1767. A.-J. Dezallier d'Argenville, La Conchyfiologie ou Histoire Naturelfe des coquilles de mer, d'eau douce, terrestres et fossiles ... , Paris, 1780, vol. I, pp. 199-270. I have not counted the number of collections listed here, and which had ceased to exist by 1780. M. Grimm, Correspondance litteraire, vol. IV, p. 42. Ibid., pp. 163-72. Ibid., vol. V, p. 212. E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue d'une collection considerable de diverses curiosites en tous genres contenues dans fes cabinets de feu .M. Bonnier de fa .Masson . .. , Paris, 1744; Bib!. nat., cabinet des Estampes, Yd. 10. L.- V. Thiery, Guide des amateurs. Cf. E. Lamy, Les Cabinets d'histoire naturelfe en France au XVIIIe siede et le Cabinet du Roi (1635-1793), Paris, 1930. Y. Laissus, 'Les cabinets d'hisroire naturelle', in Enseignem ent et diffusion des sciences en France au XVJIIe siecle, under the supervision of R. Taton, Paris, 1964, pp. 659. Cf. H. Omont, .Missions archeologiques jran0aises en Orient aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siecles, Paris, 1902, S. Rocheblave, Essai sur fe comte de Caylus, Paris, 1889, pp. 109ff. 'Lettre ecrite a Monsieur Hearne, sur Ia dissertation dont il est parle dans les Memoires du mois de Fevrier 1713. Par Mr de Ia Roque', Journal de Trevoux, XIII, Sept. 1713, p. 1540. Cf., for example, Correspondance inedite du comte de Caylus, vol. I, p. 456; letter of 8 Apr. 1764. La Science des medailles antiques et modemes, par le P. Joubert, avec des remarques historiques et c1itiques de .M. de La Bastie, Paris, 17 39, vol. I, p. 33. Ibid., vol. I, pp. 4-5. Ibid., vol. I, p. 25. On the link between the negative attitude towards the Middle Ages and the pre-emine nce of the aesthetic standpoin t, cf. K. Pomian, 'Kolekcjonerstwo i filozofia (Narodzin y nowoczesnego muzeum)', Archiwum Historii Filozofii i

Notes to pp. 127-33

299

7 8 9 10

27

28 29 30 31 32 33 34

11 12

13

14 15 16 17

35 36 37 38

39

18 19

40

11 12 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52

20

21

22 23 24 25 26

.Myfli Spoleczenej, vol. XXI ( 1975 ), pp. 29-86 and]. Voss, Das .Mitte!alter im historischen Denken Frankreichs, Munich, 1972, pp. 183ff. One example taken from ten others: Abbot Rothelin, 'est assez avance dans une collection qu'il a enrrepris de faire des Medailles Imperiales en Or et en Argent', Ch.-C. Baudelot de Dairval, De f'utifite des voyages, vol. II, p. 431. P. Bizot, loc. cit. ].-B. Dubos, Reflexions c1itiques sttr fa poesie et fa peinture, Utrecht, 1732, vol, I, pp. 48-9. Joubert, La Science des medailles, vol. II, p. 108. P. Bizot, Joe. cit. Cf. A. Momigliano, 'Ancient history and the antiquarian', in Contributo a!la Storia deg!i Studi C!aJSici, Rome, 1955. Cf. E. Babelon, Les Origines et l'bistoire de l'enseigne ment de fa numtsrnatique, Paris, 1908, p. 12. Cf. K. Pomian, 'Dziejopisarstwo erudyt6w i kryzys historiozofii w drugiej po!owie XVII wieku', Archiwum HiJtorii Filozofii i lv1.yfli Spolecznej, vol. XVIII, 1972, pp. 243-67. E. Spanheim, Relation de fa Cour de France en 1690, Paris-Lyons, 1900, p. 263. P. Bizot, Joe. cit. Ibid. Ch. Perrault, Mhnoires de ma vie. Quoted in]. Jacquiot, .Medaifles et jetons de Louis XIV d'apres le manuscrit de Londres. Add. 31-908, Paris, 1968, vol. I, p. XCVII. Cf. also E. Spanheim , Relation de Ia Cour, pp. 93-4. Cf. Medailles sur les Principaux Evenemen s du Regne de Louis le Grand avec Explication Historique, par l'Acadhnie Royale des Inscriptions et des lvledailles, Paris, 1702. Antoine Rascas, sieur de Bagarris, De la necessite de /'usage des .Medailles dans les .Monnoyes, Paris, 1611, quoted in]. Jacquior, Medailles et jetons, vol. I, p. XXXV. B. de Montfaucon, Antiquite expliquee et representee en figures, prospectus, Paris, 1717, p. 2. M. Ph. Levesque de Gravelles, Recueil de pierres gravees antiques, Paris, 1732, vol. I, pp. IV-V. Encyclopedie ou Dictionnaire Raisomze des Sciences, des Arts et des Metiers, vol. X, article 'Medaille', p. 239. Cay1us, Recueil d'antiquites egyptienneJ, etrusques, grecques et romaines, vol. I, Paris, 1752, Preface. Cf.]. Winckelmann, DescriptionJ des pierres gmvees du feu baron de Stosch, Florence, 1760. Encyclopedie . .. , vol. IV, p. 577. Cf. Encyclopedie . .. , vol. I, article 'Amateur', p. 137. Encyclopedie ... , vol. III, p. 898. Comte de Caylus, Vies des Artistes du XVIIIe sii;c/e. DiJcours sHrla Peinture et fa Sculpture, published by A. Fontaine, Paris, 1910, p. 121. P.-J. Mariette, Traite des pierres gravees, Paris, 1750, vol. I, pp. 93-4. Caylus, Vies des Artistes ... , p. 81. Cf. pp. 130-1 on genius and enthusiasm. Ibid., p. 161.

300
53 54 55

Note.r to pp. 134-9

P.-J. Mariette, Traite des pierres gravies, vol. I, pp. 49-50. Cf. Caylus and Majault, Mhnoire sur Ia peinture a !'encallftique et sur !a peinture a eire, Geneva, 1755. Comte de Caylus, Notweaux sujet.r de et de sculpture, Paris, 1755; idem, Tableaux tires de l'lliade, de l'Odys.ree d'Homere et de l'Eneide de Virgile; avec les observation.r generales mr le costume, Paris, 1757. Idem, Vies des ArtiJtes ... , p. 123. Ibid., pp. 123-4. P.-J Mariette, Traite des pierres gravies, vol. I, p. 54. M. Grimm, Correspondance litteraire, vol. V, p. 250. D. Diderot, Sttr fa sculpture, Bouchardon, et Cay/us; CEttvres completes, chronological edition, Paris, 1969-73, 15 vols; vol. V, p. 296. M. Grimm, Correspondance litteraire, vol. III, p. 205. Ibid, vol. IV, p. 315-16 Abbot ].-]. Barthelemy to P. Paciaudi, letter dated 31 Jan. 1764; Corre.rpondance inedite du comte de Cay!tts, vol. II, p. 273. D. Diderot, Salon de 1765; CEuvres completes, vol. VI, p 212. Idem, Salon de 1767; ibid., vol. VII, p. 40. Correspond,mce inedite d!t comte de Cay!ttS, vol. I, pp. 441-2, 190. Ibid., p. 238 Cf. also vol. II, p. 330. D. Diderot, Sur Ia .rctt!pture, Bouchardon. et Caylus, vol. V, p. 296. Ibid. M. Grimm, Correspondance littemire, vol. IV, p. 432. D. Diderot, Salon de 1767; op. cit., vol. VII, pp. 31-2. Cf. also]. Seznec, Essais Sitr Diderot et l'Antiquite, Oxford, 1957, especially pp. 79ff. EnC)'clopedie, vol. II, article 'Cabinet d'Histoire Naturelle'. Ibid., vol. VIII, article 'Histoire Naturelle', p. 228. Ibid., p. 229 and vol. II, article 'Cabinet d'Histoire Naturelle'. Ibid., vol. VIII, article 'Histoire Naturelle', p. 228. 2

Note.r to pp. 139-41

301

Cf. E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue raisonne ... du cabinet de feu M. Quentin de Lorangere ... , 1744 (Lugt 590), pp. S-6. 3 Cf. P.-J. Mariette, Description sommaire des desseins des grands maistres d'ltalie, de Pays-Bas et de France du Cabinet de Feu M. Crozat . .. , 1741 (Lugt 536). As for the prints, even if there is no set way of arranging them, according to Gersaint, 'voici cependant !'usage le plus suivi et l'ordre 1e plus nature!. Quand on tend a former un Cabinet complet, c'est d'en faire les recueils par Ecoles, suivant les Peintres et leurs Eleves.' E.-F. Gersaint, Catlogue Lorangere, pp. 46-7. Cf. P.-J. Mariette, Cat/ague de tableaux et sculptures . .. dtt cabinet de feu M.le President de Tugny et de celui de M. Crozat, 1751 (Lugt 762). Cf. ].-F. Boileau, Catalogue des tableaux qtti composent le cabinet de Monseigneur le due de Choiseul ... , 1772 (Lugt 2020). The Spanish school was placed after the German one and represented by two paintings by Velazquez and two by Murillo (nos. 115-18). Usually, however, if the Spanish school was mentioned at all, it was associated either with the Genoese or the Neapolitan ones. On the knowledge of Spanish painting in France in the eighteenth century, cf. G. Rouches, 'Les premieres publications sur Ia peinture espagnole', Bulletin de la Societe de !'histoire de !'art fram;ais, 1930, pp. 35-48. Cf. J.-B.-P. LeBrun, Catalogue de tableaux des ecoles hollandaise, flamande et fran(oise . .. du cabinet de M. Gras, 1778 (Luge 2835). This has been re-edited: E. Dacier, Catalogues de ventes et livrets de salons illustres par Gabriel de Saint-Aubin, vol. IV, Paris, 1913. J.-B.-P. LeBrun, Catalogue raisonne des tableaux . .. qui composent le cabinet de feu M. Poullain, 1780 (Lugt 3106), p. III. CF. P. Remy and J.-B. Glomy, Catalogue raisonne des tableaux ... qui composent le cabinet de feu M. le due de Tallard, 1756 (Lugt 910). 1752 (Luge 789), no. 24.

56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75

4 5

7 8

9 Catalogue deJ' tableaux . .. compos am le Cabinet de Feu Monsieur Davaux . .. ,

10
Catalogue des tableaux de !a Comtesse de Verrue, 1737 (Lugt 470), nos. 24, 66,

CHAPTER 5 DEALERS, CONNOISSEURS AND ENTHUSJASTS JN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY PARIS

First published in Revue de /'art, 43 ( 1979), pp. 23-36. On the sales catalogues, cf. A. Thibaudeau, Lettre sur Ia cMiosite et fes curieux, inCh. Blanc, Le Tresor de Ia Cttriosite tire des catalogues de vente, Paris, 1857, vol. L F. Boucher, 'Quelques exemples de Ia valeur documentaire des catalogues de vente anciens', Bulletiu de fa Societe de !'histoire de !'art 1938, pp. 113-23; F. Lugt, Trouvailles er recherches dans les anciens catalogues de ventes', ibid., pp. 123-6. The titles of the catalogues will be given here in their abridged form: as the place of publication is always Paris, it will not be mentioned. Each catalogue title will be followed by the number attributed to it in F. Lugt, Repertoire des cata!ogttes de vente.r pttb!iques interessant !'art oN Ia ct<riosite. Premiere periode: vers 1600-1825, The Hague, 1938.

99, resumption of sale no. 23. The only description with more detail is the resumption of sale no. 65. This catalogue, which was not primed at that time, is only known through copies. It was published in Ch. Blanc, Le Tresor de !a Curiosite, vol. I, pp. 1-16. 11 LPoilly?J, Catalogue des tableaux du cabinet de feu ... Prince de Carignan, 1742 (Luge 559). 12 Catalogue de tableattx de cabinet o1iginaux, tres bien conditionnes, 1752 (Lugt 790), nos. 3, 12, 15. The spelling of the names of the minor painters remained variable for a long time afterwards. Cf. F. Boucher, 'Quelques exemples', article cited, pp. 114-15. 13 Catalogue des tableaux des pius grands maftres d'Ita!ie, Flandre et Hollande, dtt cabinet de feu M. de !a Chataigneraye . .. , 1732 (Lugt 419), p. 12, paragraph 2. 14 P. Remy, Catalogue de tableaux . .. qui composent le cabinet de Monsieur de Merva!, 1768 (Luge 1681), no. 13.

302
15 16 17

Notes to pp. 142-8

E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue raisomui des tableaux . .. p1'0venant de Ia succession de feu M. Charles Godefroy .. . , 1748 (Lugt 674), no. 13, pp. 11-13. J.-B.-P. le Brun, Catalogue Poul!ain, no. 22. F. Basan, Catalogue des tableaux du Cabinet de feu M. Louis Michel Vanloo, 1772 (Lugt 2086), no. 82. Handwritten comment on the copy in the Bib!. nat. Est. Yd. 2090. J.-B.-P. LeBrun, Catalogue d'tme belle collection de tableaux de t1'0is eco!es, 1780 (Lugt 3193), no. 198. E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue raisonne des difjerens effets ... contenus dans le Cabinet de feu Af. Charles de La Roque, 1745 (Lugt 619), no. 64. Cf. P. Remy, Catalogue raisonne des tableaux du cabinet de feu M. Peilhon, 1763 (Lugt 1295 ), no. 5. (Procaccini was not Camillo but Giulio Cesare.) E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue La Roque, pp. 26-7. Ibid., p. 26. E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue raisonne des bijoux . .. provenans de fa succession de M. Angran, vicomte de Fonspettt<is, 1747 (Lugt 677), p. 197. E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue La Roqt<e, p. 26. This is the case for a Saint John in the Desert which '!a plus grande partie des Connoisseurs attribue au Pesarez'. E.-F. Gersaint, Fompertuis, no. 433. It is with this attribution, and without the slightest reservation, that this painting previously figured in: [Poilly' ], Catalogue Carignan, p. 19, paragraph 1, and afterwards in: P. Remy and J.-B. Glomy Catalogue Tallard, no. 74. Similarly, Gersaint does not pronounce himself over a 'Christ descendu de !a Croix accompagne de !a Vierge er de deux Anges' painted 'dans le gout de Morillos [Murillol'; Catalogue Godefroy, no. 3. E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue Lotangere, p. VIII. R. de Piles, Abrege de fa vie des peintres, Avec des reflexions Sf(1' !eMS Otwrages, et un Traite du Peintre parfait; de Ia Connoissance des Des.reins; de !'Uti!ite des Estampes, Paris, 1715, p. 96. On this work, cf. B. Teyssedre, L'Hi.rtoire de l'art vue du Grand Siecle, Paris, 1964. De Piles distinguishes between three different sorts of copies. 'And the third sort, which is executed faithfully and with great ease, with a light and skilful touch, and which, above all, dares from the same period as the original, troubles even the greatest of connoisseurs, who often risk pronouncing in favour of resemblance rather than truth' Abrege, p. 97. Having cited rhe anecdote of Jules Romain, who failed to recognize his own work, de Piles draws the following conclusion: 'This is how truth can sometimes hide itself from even the most profound of sciences and how one can be mistaken about a fact without necessarily being mistaken in one's judgement.' Ibid., p. 102. E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue Lorangete, p. 9. Idem, Catalogue Fonspertuis, pp. 159-60. Ibid., p. 173. Cf. ].-B. Dubos, Ref!exions critiques sur Ia poesie et Ia peinture, Paris, 1733, vol. II, pp. 383ff. Le Catalogue des tableaux, des buste.r et autre.r ouvrages ... du cabinet de M. le Comte de Pontchartrain, 1747 (Luge 678), also drawn up by Mariette, still adheres to the old model; the pieces in it are not even numbered. P.-J. Mariette, Catalogue Tugny et Crozat, no. 45. 34 35 36

Notes to pp. 148-52

303

37

18 19 20 21 22 23 24

38 39

40

41 42 43 44

25 26

45 46

27

47 48

28 29 30 31 32

33

Ibid., no. 62; the same arguments is used regarding a painting by Cantarini, no. 83. Ibid., no. 163 P.-J. Mariette, Catalogue de tableaux . .. du cabinet de feu M. Coype! . .. , 1753 (Lugt 811), no. 16. P. Remy, Cata!ogt<e de tableaux . .. du Cabinet de feu M. Pasquier, 1755 (Lugt 870), pp. 5-6. The catalogue bears no signature, but it figures in sundry Listes des catalogues que P. Remy a faits seul ott en societe, pour les venteJ. For example, in that which appears in P. Remy, Catalogue raisonne des tab!eattx ... qui composent !e Cabinet de feu M. Boucher, 1771 (Lugt 1895). Idem, Catalogue Pasquier, nos. 8, 34, 23. It is possible that while drawing up the Catalogue Tal!ard Remy and Glomy were influenced by Mariette who is known to have participated in irs preparation. Cf. Helle's comments written in the copy of the Catalogue Ta!!ard, Bib!. nat. Est. Yd. 35. P. Remy, Catalogue raisonne des tableaux ... qui composent differents cabinets, 1757 (Luge 979). In particular, this volume contains the Catalogue des tableaux qui composent le Cabinet de M. le ***, from which the quotation is taken, p. 122. P. Remy, Catalogtte raisonne des tableaux . .. qui composent le Cabinet de feu .M. Gaignat, 1768 (Lugr 1724), p. VI. J.-B.-P. le Brun, Catalogue d'une belle collection de tableaux . .. de trois eco!es, 1778 (Lugt 2923), p. 4. E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue Godefroy, p. 30. P.-J. Mariette, Abecedario, published by Ph. de Chennevieres and A. de Montaiglon, Paris, 1851-60, 6 vols; vol. II, p. 36. Corrections made to copy of Catalogue Coypel, Bib!. nat. Est. Yd. 24. P.-J. Mariette, Catalogue COJ'pel, preface. Reproduced in idem, Abecedario, vol. II, p. 35. This concerns six drawings, of which two (Catalogue Coype!, nos 228 and 229) were bought by the king, one (no. 232) was bought by Joullain, and three (nos. 230, 231 and 233) by the Due de Tallard (cf. rhe copy at the Bib!. nat. Est. Yd. 24). The latter were attributed to Raphael in the Catalogue Tallard (cf. nos 209,210, 214) no doubts whatsoever being voiced as to this attribution, which was also wholeheartedly accepted by the author of the notes on the copy at the Bib!. nat. Est. Yd. 35. Cf. M. Grimm, Correspondance litteraire, philosophique et critique, published by M. Tourneux, Paris, 1877 onwards; vol. VII, pp. 238-9. P. Remy, Catalogue Gaignat, p. IX. It is true that Remy says 'rien de positif de sa part' about rhis painting. Here is the description: 'Raphael Sancio d'Urbin3 Saint Jean dans le Desert, peinr sur bois qui porte 14 pouces 6 !ignes de haut sur 13 pouces de large. - Ce tableau, de puis plus de vingt annees, tienr place dans ce Cabinet; il est considere pour etre le petit du grand qui est au Palais Royal; on peut dire aussi qu'il fait !'admiration de beaucoup d'Amateurs er d'Artistes. L'Estampe se trouve gravee par Chereau, dans l'CEuvre de Crozat, n 19.' P. Remy, Catalogue raisonne des tableaux . .. apres le deces de M. de Julienne ... , 1767 (Lugt 1603).

304
49

Notes to

pp. 152-5

Note.r to pp. 155-9

305

50 51 52

53 54

55 56 57 58 59 60 61

62 63

Mariette, while discussing a painting attributed by its owners to Raphael, and which he believes to be by Fra Bartolomeo, comments that it is feared he might be right, this causing the price of the work to drop; letter to Bottari, dated 26 Oct. 1764. Cf. on the same picture, the letters to the same person dated 16 Dec. 1764 and 5 Jan. 1765. Raccolta di lettere sulfa pittura, scultura ed archittetura scritte dai piu celebri personaggi dei secoli XV, XVI e XVII, publicata da M. Gio. Bottari e continuata fino ai nostri giorni da Stefano Ticozzi, Milan, 1822, vol. V, pp. 406-7, 410ff. Elsewhere, Mariette mentions certain counts of Canossa, who sought to pass a painting by Andrea Schiavone off as a Raphael, in order to fetch a higher price; letter to Bottari, 1 Oct. 1757; ibid., vol. III, p. 522. P. Remy, Catalogue Gaignat, p. IX. Cf. M.-J. Friedlander, De l'mt et du connaisseur, trans!., Paris, 1969, pp. 204ff. 'Personne n'a mieux entendu qui lui [Gersainr] !'art de conduire une Vente d'effets curieux, en faisant l'avantage des Interesses; il avoit conserver Ia confiance des Acquereurs, par Ia sincerite avec laquelle il exposoit chaque Morceau, et quoiqu'il n'oubliat rien pour faire valoir les Pieces dignes de remarques, comme il ne disoit rien que de vrai, on etoit oblige de convenir de Ia perfection de ce dont il faisoit l'eloge.' P.-C.-A. Helle and J.-B. Glomy, Catalogue raisonne de toutes les pieces qui forment l'CEuvre de Rembrandt, Paris, 1751, p. VIII. [La Curne de Saint-Palaye ], Catalogue des tableaux du cabinet de M. Crozat, baron de Thiers, Paris, 1755. Diderot, letter to R. Tronchin, 13 or 14 Aug. 1771; D. Diderot, Correspondance, collected, established and annotated by G. Rorh, vol. XV, Paris, 1964, pp. 90-1. F. Tronchin to General Betski, 9 Feb. 1772; D. Diderot, Correspondance, vol. XVI, Paris, 1970, p. 81. R. de Piles, Abrege de fa vie des peintres, p. 91. Ibid., pp. 92-3. Comte de Caylus, Vies des Artistes du XVII!e siecle, Discours sur Ia Peinture et Ia Sculpture, published by A. Fontaine, Paris, 1910, p. 82. Ibid., p. 123. Mariette to Bottari, 26 Ocr. 1764: Raccolta di lettere sulfa pittttra, vol. V, p. 407. Cf. H. Tronchin, Le Comeiller Franqois Tronchin et ses amis Voltaire, Diderot, Grimm, etc., d'apres les documents inedits, Paris, 1895, pp. 248; De Geneve a !'Hermitage. Les collections de Tronchin, exhibition catalogue, Musee Rath, Geneva, 1974. R. de Piles, Abrege, p. 94. 'On peut dire que ces ventes [les ventes Lorangere et de Ia Roque, faites par Gersaint] ont forme de nouveaux Amateurs, et ont tire Ia curiosite des Estampes de l'espece de letargie dans laquelle (qu'on nous permette dele dire) elle sembloit plongee.' P.-C.-A. Helle and].-B. Glomy, Catalogue raisonne . .. de l'CEuvre de Rembrandt, pp. IX-X. On the vogue for prints, cf. also Mariette to Paciaudi, 8 Feb. 1765; Correspondance inedite du comte de Cay/us avec le P. Paciaudi, theatin (1757-65), suivie de celles de !'abbe Barthelemy

64 65

66

67

68 69 70 71
72

73 74 75

76 77

78

79

et de P. Mariette a11ec !e meme, published by Ch. Nisard, Paris, 1877, vol. II, p. 324. P. Remy, Catalogue raisonne de tablea11x . .. composent le cabinet de feu M. A11ed, 1766 (Lugt 1563), p. VIII. Cf. P. Portalis and H. Beraldi, Les grave!ln au dix-huitieme siecle, vol. II, Paris, 1881, pp. 474-97. Gilberte Emile-Male, 'Jean-Baptiste Pierre LeBrun (17481813) - son role dans !'his to ire de Ia restauration des tableaux du Louvre', Memoires de Ia Federation des Societes historiques de Paris et de l'Ile-deFrance, vol. VIII, 1956, pp. 371-417. Le Cabinet d'un Grand Amateut P.-]. i'vfcaiette, 1694-1774, exhibition catalogue, Musee du Louvre, Paris, 1967 (especially pp. 168ff.). Cf. E. Dacier and A. Vuaflart, Jean de Julienne et les gra11e1trs de Wattea!t aft XVIlle siecle, vol. I, Paris, 1929, pp. 106. and Catalogue des Desseins, EstampeJ et Planche.> qui ont ete apportes d'Hollande et de FlandreJ par les Sieurs Genaint et Jourdan, 1733 (Lugt 429). Livre-journal de Lazare Duvaux, marchand-bijoutier otdinaire du Roy 17481758, published by L. Courajod, Paris, 187) (reprint: Paris, 1965), preface by L. Courajod, vol. I, pp. C-CIII. P. Remy, CatalogNe Gaignat, p. X. E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue Godefroy, Foreword. P. Remy, Catalogue Gaignat, Foreword, pp. VI-VII. On Collins, cf. L. Courajod, Li11re-joumal de Lazare Duvaux, vol, I, pp. LXXXVI-LXXXVIII. P. Rem y, Catalogue de.r tableaJtx ... du cabinet de feu M. Rand on de Bois set, 1777 (Lugt 2652), preface by M. de Sireuil, p. X. Encyclopedie au Dictionnaire Rttisonne des Sciences, des Art.r et de.r lvietier.r, vol. III, article 'Connaisseur', p. 898 and regarding the controversy surrounding the notion of connoisseur, cf. 'Medals/Shells = Erudition/Philosophy', above pp. 121-38. E.-F. Gersaint, Cttta!ogue Godefroy, pp. 33-4. Cited by A. Thibaudeau, Lettre sur Ia curiosite, pp. C-CI; he attributes these comments to J.-B. Glomy. Cf. an extract from the Chronique Jcandaleuse cited by L. Courajod, Livrejournal de Lazare Duva!tx, vol. I, pp. XCVII-C. The campaign of denigration in 1771, preceding the Conti sale, must not be forgotten. Cf. G. Capon and R. Yve-Plessis, Vie privee d!t ptince de Conty de Bourbon (17J71776j, Paris, 1907, pp. 333ff. J.-B.-P. le Brun, Catalogue raisomu! d'une tres belle collection de tableaux . .. provencmt dtt cabinet de M. f Lebeufl, 1783 (Lugt 3550), pp. 4-7. F.-C. Joullain, fils, Reflexions st<r Ia peinture et Ia gravMe, accompc:gnee_r cotate dissertation Jur le commerce de Ia curiosite et leJ 11entes en general, Metz, 1786, p. 117. 'Etablir si tel tableau est reellement l'ceuvre de Rembrandt, en interrogeant une autorite, un expert desimeresse et consciencieux, est une necessite premiere. Mais 01\ trouver un connaisseur savant er honnete' Cest bien difficile et c'est Ia tout le probleme.' M.-J. Friedlander, De L'art et du connaisJeur, pp. 207-8. P.-C.-A. Helle and J-B. Glomy, Catalogue raisonne des tableaux. deHins et

306

Note.r to

pp. 160-1

N oteJ to

pp. 161-2

307

80 81

82

83 84

85 86

87 88 89

90

91

92 93

estampes ... qui composent le cabi11et de feu M. Potier, 1757 (Lugt 944), preface. Cf. A.-J. Dezallier d'Argenville, 'Lettre sur le choix et !'arrangement d'tm cabinet curieux', iHercure de France, June 1727, pp. 1294-330. The Prince de Carignan, Glucq de Saint-Port, the Marquis de Lassay and J.-B. de Montulle figure in the will of the Comtesse de Verue, who leaves them her paintings. Mireille Rambaud, ed., DocmnentJ' d11 lvlin11tier Celltral concernant l'histoire de l'mt I 1700-1750), vol. II, 1971, pp. 888-9. On the relations between the Comtesse de Verne and Angran de Fonspertuis, cf. E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue Fompertuis, no. 424. Uriget de Ia Faye was a friend of Glucq, while Julienne advised the Comtesse de Verue on her purchases and was in contact de ]tdienne, with the Prince de Carignan; cf. E. Dacier and A. Vuaflart, vol. I, pp. 205 and 235. Cf. Le Cabinet d'un Grand Amateur, p. 18 and Seroux d'Agincourr, quoted by G. Previtali, La forttma dei primitit:i. Dal Vasari a! neoc!assici, Turin, 1964, p. 169, no. 1. Cf. P.-J. Mariette, Description sommaire des de.rseins . .. du Cabinet de Feu AI. Crozat, 1741, Preface, p. XI; d. idem, Abecedario, vol. II, p. 48. L'Abecedctrio by Mariette shows that he had visited a great many Parisian colleCtions. Cf. also J.-G. Wille, lvlhnoi?es et journal, published by G. Duplessis, Paris, 1857, 2 vols, passim. E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue Lorangere, pp. 2-3. Cf. Marmontel, Memoires, published by M. Tourneux, Paris, I 891, vol. II, pp. !OJ ff. ].-N. Dufort, Count of Cheverny, hlemoire.r mr le.r regnes de LouiJ XV et de LouiJ XVI et sur Ia Revolution, published by R. de Crevecoeur, Paris, 1886, vol. I, p. 179. Le Cabinet d'm1 Grand Amatettr, p. 177, no. 308. Sottvenirs de iHme Louise-Elisabeth Vigee Le Brtm, vol. I, Paris, 1835, pp. 87ff. Calculations based on F. Lugt, Repertoire des catalogues de ventes. The number of annotated sale catalogues, which tell us the names of those who took part in sales, is too great for them all to be named here. Cf. also P.-J. Mariette, Abecedario, paHim; ].-G. Wille, i'vfhnorie.r et journal, pa.rsirn; F.-C. Joullain, fils, Rejlexions sur fa peiut!ae, pp. 124-6. P.-M. Gault de Saint-Germain, Guide des amatellr.r de !a peintMe dans le.r collections generale.r et pmtictt!iere.r, le.r m,tgasim et le.r vente.r, Paris, 1816, p. 30. It should be added that the dealers influenced the taste of the art lovers through sale catalogues which were read and collected. Cf., for examples, ms. Bib!. nat. n. acq. fr. 1681 (a catalogue of catalogues which belonged to Paignon Dijonval) or the false anthologies, for example, ms. Bib!. nat. n. acq. fr. 4665 or Bib!. nat. Est. Yd. 2174 or Yd. 2090. ctu X Vlle Quoted from: E. Bonnaffe, DictiomMire de.r Amateurs sir':cle, Paris, 1884, p. 75. ].-B. Dubas, Reflexions critiques, vol. II, p. 152. On the sales of paintings carried out by the Prince de Carignan, in 1729 and 1730, cf. Mireille Rambaud, Doc11ment.r du l'vfinlttier Central, vol. I, Paris, 1964, pp. 565-7 and 572. When one learns of the state of the prince's finances, pursued as he was by creditors, one cannot avoid thinking that for him, the paintings represented goods which could be profitably sold. Cf. on the finances

94

95

96 97 98 99

100

of the Prince de Carignan: E.-].-F. Barbier, journal hi.rtorique et cmecdotique de XV, published for the Societe de l'hisroire de France by A. de regne de Villegille, Paris, 1847, vol. I, pp. 442-3; vol. II, pp. 290-1 and Mhnoires du d11c mr Ia co11r de Loui.r XV ( 17 35-17 58), published by L. Dussieux and de E. Soulie, Paris, 1860, vol. III, pp. 365-6; vol. IX, pp. 498-9, 510-12; vol. XV, p. 44. Cf. P.-C.-A. Helle and ].-B. Glomy, Catalogue d'tm cabinet de diverses cmiosites ... , 1772 (Lugt 798); handwritten comments on copy held in Bib!. nat. Est. Yd. 23: 'II est vrai de dire que les morceaux du premier ordre lprints are under discussion"] n'ont plus a present de prix fixe, attendu que tous les amateurs les recherchent avec empressement.' P.-J. Mariette, Abecedario, vol. IV, pp. 357-8 (note added after 1755); vol. V, pp. 109 and 139 (notes added after Tallard sale). Mariette to Paciaudi, 9 Aug. 1767; Correspondance inedite du comte de Cay/us, vol. II, pp. 349-50. Cf. Correspondance inedite de Ia mttrquise Du Deffand, published by M. de Lescure, Paris, 1865, vol. II, pp. 209 and 238 (letters to H. Walpole of 6 Jan. and 14 Apr. 1772). M. Grimm, Correspondance litterai1e, vol. IX pp. 496-7. Diderot to Falconer, 17 Apr. 1772; D. Diderot, Corre.rpondance, vol. XII, Paris, 1965, p. 50. M. Grimm, Correspondance litteraire, vol. X, p. 118. J.-B.-P. le Brun, Catalogue Poullain, p. XV. C.-F. Joullain, fils, Reflexions .rttr fa peinture, pp. 114-5. Among the paintings we are able to identify in the Catalogue Vente, are 108 Flemish ones and twenty-seven Italian; there were 132 Flemish works and 135 Italian at the home of the Prince de Carignan, according to the sale catalogue and the number of paintings sold in 1729 and 1730. 'On trouvera dans cette collection - says Gersaim, on the subject of Fonspertuis - de ces beaux Morceaux dus au pinceau des Ma!tres pour lesquels il parolt qu'on a aujourd'hui le plus de penchant, comme de Claude Lorrain, de Rubens, de Berghem, de Brughel, de VanderVelde, de Teniers, de Wauvermans, de Paul Bril, de Van Ostade, de Netscher, de Gerard Dow, de Chevalier Vander Verf, de Metzu, de Rembrandt, de Vander Meulen, etc.' E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue Fompertuis, pp. 156-7. At the time of the sale there were 95 Italian paintings as opposed to 141 from northern schools in the Julienne collection. This backs up Mariette's impressions, Abecedario, vol. III, pp. 15-16. Cf. Margret Sruffmann, 'Les tableaux de Ia collection Pierre Crozat. Historique et destinee d'un ensemble celebre etablis en partant d'un inventaire apres deces inedit (1740)', Gazette de.r Beaux-ArtJ,]uly-Sept. 1968, pp. 5-114 and, for the drawings, P.-J. Mariette, De.rcriptio11 .rommaire des desseins ... dtt Cabinet de Pel/ M. CroZet! (Italian drawings 780 numbers; drawings from the Low Countries 177 numbers). On Mariette, cf. Le Cabinet d'tm Grand Amateur, p. 22 and letter to Temanza dated 12 Dec. 1769: 'On compte les curieux qui, comme moi, donnenr Ia preference aux ouvrages des ma!tres italiens sur ceux des peinrres qu'ont produits les Pays-Bas. Ceux-ci om pris un tel credit qu'on se les arrache et qu'on y prodigue !'or et !'argent, tandis qu'tm tableau ou un dessin d'ltalie n'est regarde qu'avec une sorre d'indifference. Cela

308

NoteJ to pp. 162-9

ne m'empeche pas de suivre mon gout.' E. Muntz, LeJ Archives des arts. ReCIIei! de documents imfdits ou pe11 comzus, Paris, IS90, p. 13.3. P. Remy and J.-B. G1omy, Catalogue Tallard, p. 3. R. Remy, Catalog11e 1ai.romze de tableaux ... qui composent dijjerentJ cabinets, p. 3. In the case of the Due de Tallard, this is exact. Cf. P.-J. Mariette, Abecedario, vol. V, p. 109. Moreover, nos 1 and IS in the Catalogue Araignon reappear in the Catalogue Tallard as nos 14 and 23, where their attributions, to Raphael and Titian respectively, are not contested. We have used the Bib!. nat. Est. Yd 2147 copy, which contains a 'Copie des annotations contemporaines d'un exemplaire du catalogue Araignon decouvert en 1924 par M. Jean Schemit'. E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue Godefroy, no. 34. P. Remy andJ-B. Glomy, C;talogue Tallard, pp. 2-4. J-B. Dubos, Reflexiom critiques, vol. I, p. 67. Ibid., vol. II, p. 381. Cf. P.-J. Mariette, Abecedario, vol. II, pp. 60-1. A.-J. Dezallier d'Argenville, Abrege de Ia 11ie des pl11s fameux jwintres avec leurs portraits graves en tt1i!le douce, les indict1tio17J de leurs principaux cctractere et Ia maniere de connoftre les O!Wrages. Quelques Reflexiom Sltr de.rJeins de.1 grands mai'tres. Paris, 1745, pp. VIII-IX. Cf. R. Vallet, L'histoire de !'art vue par tm amateur du XVIIIe siecle: Deztdlier d'Argenllitle et son Abrege de fa vie des peintres (1745-1757). D.E.S. at the Faculte des lettres et sciences humains, University of Clerrnont-Ferrand, 1967. A.-J. Dezallier d'Argenville, Abrege de !a vie des peintres, pp. XIX-XX. Ibid., pp. XXXI and XL Remy seems to have had links with Dezallier d'Argenville, whose catalogue he compiled, with a lengthy preface in honour of the deceased. Cf. P. Remy, raisonne deJ" ttibleartx . .. et autres cmiosites, apre.r !e dices de je11 AL Deza!ier d'A ';genvil!e, 1766 (Lugt 1509).

NoteJ to pp. 170-5

309

101 102 103

5
6 7

104

I OS 106 I 07 !OS 109 ItO

S 9 10

111

11 12 13 14 15

112

113
114

16
CHAPTER (i l\!AFFEI AND CA YLUS

17 1S

First published in Nuovi st!idi maffeiani. Atti del convegno Scipione lvfajjei e i! A-Ius eo Maffeiano, Verona, 19SS, pp. 1S7 -205. One thing which makes Maffei and Caylus more alike is the absence of worthwhile monographs devoted to either of them. Cf. however, G. Gasperoni, Scipione Maffei e Verona settecentesca, Verona, 1955 and G. Silvestri, Un del Settecento: Scipio11e LHaffei, Treviso, 1954. On Caylus: S. Rocheblave, Essai sur le comte de Cayl11s, Paris, 1S89. 2 One of Mariette's terms. Cf. P.-J. Mariette, Abecedario, eds Ph. de Chennevieres and A. de Montaiglon, Paris, 1851-60; vol. I, p. 341. 3 Cf. G. B. Giuliari, La Capitola1e Biblioteca di Verona, Verona, 18SS. L.

19 20

21 22 23

Simeoni, 'Gli studi storici ed archeologici di Scipione Maffei', in collective work, Studi Maffeiani, Turin, 1909, pp. 669-774. Letter written by Maffei, cited by Caumont in his letter to Bouhier on 6 Apr. 1736, in Conespondance litteraire du President Bouhier, fasc. VI: Lettres du marquis de Caumont (1732-1736), ed. H. Duranton, Saint-Etienne, 1979, no. 64, p. 122. Correspondance inedite du comte de Caylus avec le Pere Paciaudi, theatin (1757-1765), ed. Ch. Nisard, Paris, 1S77, vol. I, pp. 190 and 441-2. Cf. F. Venturi, Settecento riformatore, voL I, De Muratori a Beccaria, Turin, 1969, pp. 120-35 and 375-7. Cf. K. Pomian, 'Le carresianisme, les erudits et l'histoire', Archiwum Historii Filozofii i Myfli Spolecznej, vol. XII ( 1966), pp. 175-204; idem, 'Dziejopisarstwo erudyt6w i kryzys historiozofii w drugiej polowie XVII wieku' (L'historiographie erudite et Ia crise de Ia philosophie de l'histoire dans Ia deuxieme moitie du XVIIe siecle'), ibid., vol. XVIII (1972), pp. 243-67). Voltaire, Remarques sur !'histoire (1742), in CEuvres historiques, ed. R. Pomeau, Paris, Gallimard, Bibliotheque de la Pleiade, 196S, p. 43. Idem Nouvelles considerations sur l'histoire ( 1744), ibid., p. 49. Cf. the article by A. Momigliano which is still essential reading, 'Ancient history and the antiquarian', Contributo a!la storia degli studi classici, Rome, 1955, pp. 67-106. Cf. Voltaire, CEuvres historiques, p. 1695. Quoted from [S. Maffei], La Merope. Tragedia con Annotazioni de!l'Autore, e con fa sua Risposta alla Lettera de Sig. di Voltaire, Verona, 1745, pp. 172-4. P. Rosenberg, Chardin, 1699-1779, exhibition catalogue, Paris, 1979, nos 66 and 57, pp. 221-4. Cf. P.-J. Mariette, Abecedario, vol. I, pp. 359-60 quoted in P. Rosenberg, p. Sl. Cf. Correspondance litteraire, phi!osophique et critique par Grimm, Diderot, Raynal, Meister, etc., ed. M. Tourneux, Paris, 1S77 onwards, vol. IV, p. 247 and the passages attacking antiquaries vol. III, p. 205; vol. IV, pp. 140-2, 315-6; vol. VIII, p. 307. Cf. for all this J. Seznec, Essais sur Diderot et l'Antiquite, Oxford, 1957, especially chapter V ('Le Singe antiquaire'), pp. 79ff. Cf. 'Medals/Shells= Erudition/Philosophy', above, pp. 121-3S. Cf. Comte de Caylus, Recueil d'Antiquites egyptiennes, etrusques, grecques et romaines, Paris, 1752-64, 6 vols, For the 'noble simplicite' as an artistic ideal, cf. ibid., vol. I, p. XI; vol. II, p. 126; vol. III, p. S2. Cf. D. Diderot, Sur Ia sculpture, Bouchardon et Cay/us (1763), in CEuvres completes, chronological edition, vol. V. pp. 2S9-97. For this more nuanced position, cf. the letter from Diderot to Tronchin of 18 Dec. 1776; Correspondance, ed. G. Roth and]. Varloot, voL XV, pp. 3S-9. Cf. Caylus, Recueil, vol. II, p. 59. This only applies to the eighteenth century. For a more subtle analysis, cf. above pp. 95, 20Sff., 24Sff. Cf. S. Maffei, Notizia del nuovo Museo d'lscrizioni in Verona, col paragone fra le Iscrizioni, e !e Medaglie, in Traduttori italiani o sia notizia de'volgar-

310

Notes to pp. 175-7

izzame11ti d'Antichi Scrittori Latini, e Greci, cbe sono in !uce, Venice, 1720, p.
176. Cf. on this topic, G. Previtali, La fortuna dei primitivi. Da! Vasari ai neoclassici, Turin, 1964, pp. 79-84. Cf. N. Dacos, ed., II Tesoto di Lorenzo if Magnifico, vol. I, Le gemme, exhibition catalogue, Florence, 1973, no. 43, pp. 69-72. In Museum veronense ... , Verona, 17 49, p. CCXLV, Maffei also published a cameo of rhe museum in Vienna. Cited in G. P. Marchini, 'II Museum Veronense nell'edizione del Maffei e nei cataloghi successivi', Studi storici veronesi Luigi Simeoni, vol. XXII-XXIII (1972-3), p. 274, no. 72. Caylus, Recueil, vol. I, p. II. Ibid., pp. VI-VII. Cf. Caylus and Majaulr, Memoire sur Ia peinture a l'encaustique et sur Ia peinture eire, Geneva, 1755, For the experiments on other materials cf. Caylus, Recueil, voL I, pp. 238ff. (copper), 297ff. (glass); vol. III, pp. 195ff. (glass); voL IV, pp. 343ff. (casts); voL V. pp. 207ff. (glass). Cf. Caylus, Memoire sur les fabliaux, in Histoire de l'Academie royale des insoiptiom et bel!es-lettres, vol. XX, 1753, pp. 352-76. Cf. idem, Premier rnemoire SU1' Guillaume de Machaut, ibid., pp. 399-414 and Second memoire sur Guillaume de Machaut, ibid., pp. 415-39. Cf. Histoi1e de l'Academie myale des inscriptions et belles-lett?'es, vol. XXI, Paris, 1754, pp. 191 and 197. Cf. Caylus, De l'ancienne chevalerie et des anciens romans, Paris, 1813. Irs summary was published in Histoire de l'Acadernie ro;,ale des inscriptiom et belles-lettres, voL XXIII, Paris, 1756, p. 236. For Maffei's stay in Verona at the beginning of Dec. 1714, cf. S. Maffei, Epistolario, ed., C. Garibotto, Verona, 1955, voL I, p. 208 (letter to Vallisnieri dated 4 Dec. 1714). For Caylus, cf. Count de Caylus, Voyage en Italie, 17141715, ed. A.-A. Pons, Paris, 1914, pp. 61-6. Letter of 28 Feb. 1733, in M. Marais, ]oumal et Memoires smla Regence et le regne de Louis XV (1715-1737), ed. Lescure, vol. IV, Paris, 1868, p. 468. Letter of 22 Oct. 1733, ibid., p. 534. Cf. Le Cabinet d'ztn grand amateur, P.-]. Mariette 1694-1774, exhibition catalogue, Paris, 1967, nos 298-314, pp. 175ff. All these people were addressees of letters written by Maffei and brought together in S. Maffei, Galliae Antiqttitates quaedam. selectae atque in plures epistolas distributae, Paris, 1733; he visited them all during his visit to Paris. For the correspondence between Maffei and Bouhier, d. F. Weil,]ean Bouhier et sa correspondance, I, Inventaire (1693-1746), Paris, 1975, nos 1463, 1522a, 1560, 1684a, 2137a, 2352, 2676. For the relations between Saime-Palaye, Caumom and Bouhier, cf. Co? respondance litteraire du President Bouhier, Ease. 7: Lettres dtt marquis de Cattmont (1736-1745), ed. H. Duramon, Saim-Etienne, 1979, no. 88 (Caumont to Bouhier, 29 June 1737) and passim. In addition, Sainte-Palaye sold his collection of antiquities to Caylus, cf. Cay1us, Reczteil, vol. II, p. 99. Cf.

Notes to pp. 177-8

311

24 25

40

26

27 28 29

41

30 31 32 33

42 43 44 45 46

34

35 36 37 38

also L. Gossman, Medievalism and the Ideologies of the Enlightenment. The World and Work of La Curne de Sainte Palaye, Baltimore, Ma., 1968. For the record, we should mention the work by A. Spagnolo, Scipione Maffei e if mo vi,tggio a /'estero (1732-1736), Verona, 1903, out of date today. Cf. also Correspondance !itteraire du President Bouhier, fasc. 6, nos 30, 34, 36, 3 7, dating from 24 Sept. to 14 Nov. 1734. In letter no. 36, which bears no date, Caumont writes: 'Tout ce qui concerne le marquis Maffei se nduit a de fausses imputations eta des airs de hauteur qu'on !'accuse de prendre avec les autres savants, defaut qui me parait bien eloigne de son caractere; on m'a mande aussi qu'il n'avait pas rendu les visites aux membres de cette academie, avec Ia regularite convenable.' Ibid., p. 69. Cf. Correspondance litteraire dtt President Bouhier, fasc. 6, no. 48, Bouhier to Caumont, 17 May 1735: 'Pouvez-vous me dire des nouvelles de M. Maffei? Il y a un siecle que je n'en ai Est-il toujours a Paris ou non? Je n'emends pas dire qu'il y ait fort reussi.' These complaints continue to be voiced in letters 49, 52, 56. Caumom replies 5 Ocr. 1735 (no. 57): 'II y a un siecle que je n'ai eu des nouvelles du marquis Maffei.Je sais seulement qu'il est toujours aParis, queM. Seguier est avec lui, et qu'il s'occupe mysterieusemem de quelque ouvrage important. C'est tout ce que je sais.' Ibid., pp. 91 and 117. Cf. also letter no. 62 from Caumom to Bouhier and in particular his long and important letter no. 64 dated 6 Apr. 1736, with lengthy quotations from a letter of Maffei's, ibid., pp. 121-2. Bouhier to Caumom, no. 65; 17 Apr. 1736; ibid., p. 123. S. Maffei, La religion de'gentili nel morire ricavata da un ba.rso ri/evo antico che si conJwva in Parigi, Paris, 1736, p. 4. Ibid., p. 5. Ibid., Joe. cit. This concerns the marble M.R. 1641, H : 0, 83-L : 2m., which, in the inventory of the Louvre sculptures of 1692 (Arch. Nat. o' 1977', f0 9b"-10) is 1 simply designated as 'un grand bas-relief. In the 1722 inventory (Arch. Nat. 0 1969b, fa 351 ), it is however designated as 'un grand bas-relief antique'. The first person who expressed his doubts as to its authenticity was E. Q. Viscomi, Notice des statues, bustes et bas-reliefs de Ia galerie des Antiques, ed. year XI, p. 123; he saw in our marble 'une imitation de !'antique executee au commencement du XVIe siecle'. This opinion was reiterated by F. De Clarac,

Musee de sculpture antique et modeme ou description hist01'ique et grapbique du Lozwre et de toutes ses parties, vol. II, parr 1, Paris, 1841, no. 182, plate 154,
47 pp. 770-l. In 1887 our marble was still among the antique sculptures in the Salle de l'Empereur. Cf. A. Courajod, Alexandre Lenoir. son jottrnal et le musee des Monuments j?-anrais, Paris, 1887, vol. III, pp. 102-3. E. Cuq, article 'Funus', in Ch. Daremberg and E. Saglio, Dictionnaire des antiqttitti.r grecqttes et ,omaines, voL II, part 2, Paris, 1896, p. 1387, notes that the marble 'est aujourd'hui place parmi les ceuvres de Ia Renaissance'. It is still there today. A. Venturi, Storia dell'arte italiana, vol. X, p. 434, fig. 331, amibuted this marble to Zuan Maria Padovano, known as 'il Mosco'. Attribution accepted by L. Planiscig, Venezianische Bildhauer der Renainance, Vienna, 1921, p. 262, fig. 212.

39

312
48 49 50 51 52 53

Notes to pp. 178-85

S. Maffei, La religion de'genti!i, p. 6. Cf. ibid., pp. 8-9. Ibid., pp. 11-12. Ibid.,pp. 12-13. Correspondance !itteraire dtt President Botthier, fasc. 6, no. 70, 5 Sepr. 1736, p. 131. Cf.]. Martin, Explication de divers monttmens singtt!iers, qui ant rapport a Ia religion des plu.r anciens pettp!es, avec J'examen de Ia derniere Edition des Ottvrages de S. Jerome, et ttn Traite mr I'Astrologie judiciaire, Paris, 1739, pp. 1-54. Ibid., pp. 53-4. Cf. ibid., pp. 374-426. Cf. Correspondance litteraire dtt President Bottbie1, fasc. 7, no. 119, 29 Sept. 1739, p. 210. Ibid., no. 121, 16 Nov. 1739, p. 212. S. Maffei, Epistolario, vol. II, p. 963 (letter of 17 July 1740) and cf. also letter no. 865 ro Annibale Olivieri, 8 Aug. 1740, p. 973. Correspondance inedite dtt comte de Cay/us avec !e Pere Paciattdi, vol. I, p. 15 (letter dated 27 Sept. 1758). Caylus, Rectteil, vol. III, p. 267. The monument is reproduced ibid., plate LXXIII. Cf. ibid., pp. 267-70. Ibid., pp. 270-1. Ibid., p. 271. Cf. Fr. Haskell and N. Penny, Taste and the Antiqtte. The Lure of Classical Scttlpture 1500-1900, New Haven-London, 1981, pp. 8 and 62ff. Cf. L. Magagnato, La pittttra veronese del Settecento e Scipione Maffei, in coiL, Arte e Cttttura in Verona net Settecento, Verona, 1981, pp. 67-72; L. Franzoni, Topera di Scipione Maffei e di Alessandro Pompei per il Museo Pubblico Veronese', Attie Memorie dell'Accademia di Agricottura Scienze e Lettere di Verona, vol. XXVII (1975-6), pp. 193-218. Cf. the comments scattered throughout the Recttei! and in Caylus, Vies d'artistes dtt XVIIIe siecle, ed. A. Fontaine, Paris, 1910. Caylus, Rectteil, vol. I, p. XIII.

Notes to pp. 185-9

313

2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65

10

11 12

13

66 67

14
CHAPTER 7 COLLECTORS, NATURALISTS AND ANTIQUARIANS IN THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY

15 16 17 18 19

First published in G. Arnaldi and M. Pastore Stocchi, eds, Storia della cttltttra veneta, Vicenza, Neri Pozza, 1986, vol. 5/II, pp. 1-70. R. Fulin, L'Arca di Noe di Giovanni da Ponte detto it Bassano in idem, Studi nell'archivio degli Inqttisitori di Stato, Venice, 1868, pp. 79-119, especially p. 93, n. I, and L Oliva to, Provvedimenti della Repttbblica Veneta per Ia

salvagua1dia del patrimonio artistico 11ei secoli XVII e XVIll, Venice, 1974, pp. 19ff. ' R. Fulin, L'Arca di Noe, pp. 85ff., and L. Olivato, Pmvvedimenti, p. 50. R. Fulin, L'Arca di Noe, pp. 90-1, 114-19. Cf. M. Perry, The Statuario Publico of the Venetian Republic', Saggi e Memorie di Storia deli'Arte, 8 (1972), pp. 89ff. Cited in R. Fulin, L'Arca di Noe, pp. 93-6. Ibid., pp. 98ff. (in the note) and L. Olivato, Provvedimenti, pp. 55ff. R. Fulin, L'Arca di Noe, pp. 99-101, and L Olivato, Provvedimenti, pp. 59ff. R. Fulin, L'Arca di Noe, pp. 105-6, note (for the circular of the Inquisitori di Stato) and p. !04 note (for Zanetti's proposals). A. de Nicolo Salmazo, 'La catalogazione del patrimonio artisrico nel XVIII secolo, 1793-1795: Giovanni de Lazara e l'elenco delle pubbliche pitture della provincia di Padova', Bolletino del Museo Civico di Padova, LXII (1973), pp. 29-103 A. Rigamonti, Descrizione delle pilt insigni singolare e cospicue pitture cbe sono state ritmvate o 1iviste in molte ville e luogbi di questa 110stro tenitorio di Treviso. Rapporto agli lnqttisitol'i di Stato 2 Aprile 1777, G. Netto, ed., Treviso, 1977, no. 1. A. de Nicoll) Salmazo, La catalogazione, p. 33, n. 6. S. Dalla Rosa, Catastico delle PittUI'e e Scoltttre esistenti nelle Chie.re e luogbi pubblici di Verona, 1803-4, Biblioteca Civica di Verona (from now on B. C. Ver), MS 1008. I have used the typewritten transcript belonging to the Castelvecchio museum. On S. dalla Rosa, cf. lastly M. Locquaniti, Saverio Dalla Rosa e /e vicende della vagabonda veronese pinacoteca, in L Magagnato, ed., Progetto per ttn mttseo secondo. Dipinti restaurati delle collezioni del Comttne di Verona esposti alta Gran Gua?'dia, Verona, 1979, pp. 119-32. Cf. Le Vite de'Pittori, de Gti Scultori ed Arcbitetti VeroneJi Raccolte de 11arii Atttori stampati, e manoscritti, e de a!tri particolari memo1ie. Con/a na1rativa delle Pitture, e Sculture, che s'attrovano nelle Cbiese, case et altri fuoghi p!tblici e privati di Verona e mo teritorio. dal Signor Fr. Bartolomeo Co. Dal Pozzo ... , Verona, 1718. lG. B. Lanceni], Ric1eazione pittorica asia Notizia Universale delle Pittttre nelle Chiese, e Luoghi Pttblici di Verona, Verona, 1720. Cf. M. Boschini, I gioiel!i pitto1eschi. Virtuoso omamemo della citt,/ di Vicenza, cioe f'Endice di tutte !e pittu1e publicbe della .rteJsa citta, Vicenza, 1677. Cf. G. A. Averoldi, Le sce!te pitture di Brescia additate a/ forestiere, Brescia, 1700. G. B. Verci, Notizia intomo alia vita e atle opere de'Pittori SCJtltori ed Intagliatori della Citta di Bassano, Venice, 1785, pp. 83-4. S. Maffei, Verona i!lttstrata. Parte terza contiene notizie delle co.re in questa citta pill osservabili, Verona, 1732, pp. 175-6. A. Pasta, Le pitture notabili di Be1gamo che sono esposte alia vista del Pttbb/ico, Bergamo, 1775, pp. 9-10, 11, 13-14, 66-7, 123. L. Olivato, 'Per la sroria del restauro e della conservazione delle opere d'arte a

314

Notes to pp. 189-93

Venezia nel '700', Attie Memor ie dell'Accademia Patavin a di Scienze Lettere ed Arti, LXXXII, part 2 (1969- 70), pp. 53-62, docum ent 1, p. 61. 20 A. de Nicolo Salmazo, 'Richie ste e segnalazioni di restaur i delle "Pubbliche Pitture " di Padova nelle relazioni degli ispetto ri della Repubblica di Venezia', Arte Veneta, XXXI I (1978), pp. 448-52 . 21 Idem, La catalogazione, pp. 61-2. 22 L. Olivato, Pmvve dimen ti, pp. 30ff. and A. Conti, Storia del restauro e della conservazione delle opere d'arte, s.l., n.d. [but Milan, 1973], pp. 145ff. 23 L. Olivato, Provve diment i, pp. 73ff. and A. Conti, Storia del restauro, pp. 150. 24 L. Olivato, Provve diment i, docum ent 52, p. 159 and, on this document, ibid., pp. 71-3. 25 Ibid., docum ent 54, pp. 168-9. 26 Ibid., p. 163 and document 53, p. 165ff. 27 L. Polacca, 'II museo di scienze archeologiche e d'arte dell'Un iversit a de Padova', Atti de!l'Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti, CXXV (1966- 7), p. 428. 28 V. Giormani, 'Fra'Ange1o Ziliani e il museo ornitol ogico dell'Un iversit a di Padova a! Santo', It Santo, XXI (1981), pp. 82-103 . 29 First mentio ned in G. B. Rossetti, II Fora.rtiere illuminato per !e pitture, scu!tttre ed architetture della citta di Padova, ovvero descriz ione delle case piu rare della stessa citta con a!tre curiose notizie, Padua, s.d. [but I 7861, p. 272. Cf. also P. Brandolese, Pitture Sculture Atchite tture ed alt1e case notabi!i di Padova nuovam ente descritte, Padua, 1795, p. 191. 30 'Venezia non teme forse per questa caso [di dipinte tele de maestri ecce!enti} di avere citta, che fa s01passi, e forse pochissime se ne ritrovano, che Ia pareggino .. .', G. A. Moschini, Della !etteratura venezi, ma del secolo XVIII fino a'nostri giorni, Venice, 1806, vol. II, p. 104. F. Haskell, Patrons and Painters. A Stud; of the Relations Betwee n Italian Art and Society in the Age of the Baroqtte, new edition, New Haven -Londo n, 1980, pp. 245ff. Idem, 'Some Collectors of Veneti an Art at the End of the Eighte enth Century. Della Lena's "Esposizione istorica dello Spoglio, che di tempo in tempo si fece di Pitture in Venez ia", in collective work, Studies in Renais sance and Baroqt-te Art presen ted to Antho ny Blunt, Londo n-New York, 1967, pp. 173-8. 31 To the collections memio ned by S. dalla Rosa, Catasti co, we add some others he neglected, such as that owned by Betterle. Cf. G. P. March ini, 'La pinacoteca Betterl e aS. Elena', Vita vetonese, XXX (1977), pp. 252-5. 32 Cf. G. B. Rosset ti, Descrizione delle pittttre, .rcuftur e, ed architetture di Padova con alcune osservazioni intorno ad es.re ed altre curiose notizie, Padua, 1765, pp. 310ff. and 2nd edn, 1776, pp. 322ff. The 1786 posthu mous edition does not make any mentio n of private collections. .'13 G. A. Averoldi, Le sce!te pitture , pp. 243ff. and G. B. Carboni, Le pitture e scuftme di Btescia che sono esposte a! pubblico. Con append ice di alczme private Gafle1ie, Brescia, 1760, pp. 145ff. Cf. also B. Passam ani, Per una storia della pittura e del gusto a Brescia nel Settecento, in collective work, BreJcia pittorica 1700-1760: l'imma gine del sacra, exhibition catalogue, Brescia , 198 I, pp. 7-25. 34 M. Boschini, I gioie!fi pittoreschi, and P. Baldurini, E. Arnaldi, 0. Vecchia, L.

Notes to pp. 193-5

315

35 36 37

38

39 40

41 42 43 44

2.

Buffetti, Descrizione delle architetture, pitture e scoltur e in Vicenza con alcune o.rservazioni, Vicenza, 1779, pp. 46. F. Bartoli, Le pitture sculture ed architetture della citta di Roz1igo, Venice, 1793, pp. 173. . F. M. Tassis, Vite de'Pittori, Scultori ed Archit etti Bergam ascht, Bergamo, 1793, vol. I, pp. 42 and 208; vol. II, p. 72. D. M. Federici, Memor ie Trevigiane delle Opere di disegno . Dal mille e cento al mille ottocento per servire alia storia delle belle arti in Italia, Venice, 1803, vol. II, pp. 223ff. Cf. for Bassano, G. B. Verci, Notizia intomo alia vita ... di Ba.rsano, pp. 37, 86-7, 192, 260, 269; for the Trevis o provin ce (Odern o, Conegliano, Caste1franco, Crespano): D. M. Federici, Memorie Trevig iane, pp. 224-5; for Chioggia: Catalogo di quadri esistenti in casa il Signor Dn Giovanm. Dr Vianelli, canonico della cattedrale di Chioggia, Venice, 1790; it cites a collector of paintin gs in Adria. G. A. Moschini, Della !etteratura veneziana, vol. II, pp. 80, 95, 100, 102. Idem, Guida per Ia citta di Padova a/!'amico delle belle arti, Venice, 1817, ?P 175-6 and 183, and A. Meneghelli, Delco nte Giovan ni de Lazara ca1;aftere geroso!imitano e de'suoi stud}, Padua, 1833, p. 9. Howev er, unlike 1776, there is no mentio n of the print collection belong ing to the Dotton s. Ib1d., p. 12. S. dalla Rosa, Catastico, W 352, 354, 355, 359, 364. Cf. collective work, Di Bassano e dei Bassanesi il!ustri, Bassan o, 1847, pp. 151-

45 46 47

48 49

50 51 52

53

D. M. Federici, Memor ie Trevigiane, vol. II, p. 224. For Verona, cf. S. dalla Rosa, Catastico, W 355 and 365; for Venice, cf. G. A. Moschini, Della !etteratura veneziana, vol. II, pp. 105-6 and Fr. Haskell, Patrons and Painters, pp. 322ff. Cf. 'Dealers, Connoisseurs and Enthus iasts in Eighte enth-c entury Paris', above pp. 139-68. Cf. L. Ferrari, 'Gli acquisti dell'Aigarotti pel Regio Museo di Dresda ', L'Arte, Ill (1900), pp. 150-4. . Cf. L. Rizzoli, 'Alcune lettere di Antoni o Canova al March ese Tomas so degl1 Obizzi e Ia Musa Melpo mene del R. Museo Archeologico di Venezia', Atti del R. [stituto Veneto de Scienze, Lettere ed Arti, LXXX II (1922- 3), pp. 401-12 , especially letters, I, II and IV from 1795. Fr. Haskell, Patrons and Painters, pp. 373. G. della Lena, E.rposizione storica della Spogfio, cbe di tempo in tempo .ri fece di Pittu.re in Venezia, in Fr. Haskell, Some Collectors, p. 178. On Sasso, cf. L. Olivato, 'Gli affari sono affari: Giovan Maria Sasso tratta con Tomas so degli Obizzi', Arte veneta, XXXV III ( 1974), pp. 298-304. R. Fulin, L'Arca di Noe, p. 104n. G. B. Rossetti, Descrizione, 1765 edn, p. 310; 1776 edn, p. 322 . L. Magagnato, 'Saggio bio-bib1iografico e indice analitico ragionaro'_ in B.. Dal Pozzo, Le Vite de'pittori, Verona, 1967, p. XXIII and entry entitle d Collezioni', pp. 109-16. Cf. G. B. Rossetti, Descrizione, !765 and 1776 edn, cited above, n. 32, and G. A. Moschini, Guida, pp. 17lff.

316
51

Note.r to pp. 195-9

Cf. G. M. Pilo, 'II legato Silvestri e le pubbliche guadrerie rodigine: l'Accademia dei Concordi e Ia Pinacoteca del Seminario', Ateneo Veneto; new series, V (1967), pp. 180-5. A. Romagnolo , ed., La Pinacoteca del Accademia dei Concordi, Rovigo, 1981. Cf. A. Pinelli, II co11te G. Carrara e Ia s11a Galleria sewndo i! Catalog a del 1796, Bergamo, 1922. Cf. E. Cicogna, S<1ggio di bib!iografia veneziana, Venice, 1847, nos. 5087, 5093, 5094, 5105,5122, 5143,5169, 5175, 5193,5197, 5210,5218. All these publications deal with collections already or about to be dispersed in the 1840s. Fr. Haskell, Patrons <1nd Painters, pp. 299ff. G. della Lena, Esposizione, paras. II- VI, VIII, XI-XVI; pp. 174-6. Lord Bute, for example, cf. ibid., para. IX, and P.-J. Mariette, cf. Le Cabinet d'tm Grand Amatem P.-]. lvfariette, 1694-1774. De.rsin.r dt< XVe at< XVIIle siede, exhibition catalogue, Paris, 1967, pp. 180-2. N. Ivanoff, 'Alcune lettere inedite di Tomasso Temanza a Pierre-Jean Mariette', Atti dell'Jstitttto veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti, LXVIII (195960), pp. 93-124, especially letters II, V, VII, X. 'Delle Stampe ora si fa ricerca grande a prezzi incredibili', S. Dalla Rosa, Catastico, f0 364; cf. also G. A. Moschini, Della !etteratttra, vol. II, p. 100. Fr. Haskell, PatmnJ and Painters, pp. 276ff. Ibid., pp. 261-2. R. Gallo, 'Una famiglia patrizia. I Pisani ed i palazzi diS. Stefano e di Stra', Archivio J;eJzeto, XXIV-XXV (1944), pp. 65-228, especially doc. I, pp. 20417, doc. II, pp. 218-20, doc. V, pp. 225-8. Fr. Haskell, Patrons and Painters, pp. 265-7. Calculations based on F. Vivian, 11 console Smitb mercante e col!ezionista, Vicenza, 1971, appendix A, pp. 173ff. Ibid., pp. 19ff., especially p. 39. Fr. Haskell, Patron.r and Pai11ters, pp. 229ff. F. Vivian, 1! console Smith, appendix B, pp. 198ff. Fr. Haskell, Patron.r and Painters, pp. 310ff. A. Binion, 'From Schulenburg's Gallery and Records', Burlington Magazine, 1970, pp. 297-303. E. Antoniazzi Rossi, 'Ulteriori considerazioni sull'inventar io della collezione del Maresciallo von Schulenburg', Arte zemta, XXXI (1977), pp. 126-34. Fr. Haskell, Patrons and Painters, pp. ) 15ff. E. Schleier, 'Sigismund Streit', in A. Bettagno, ed., Canaletto, DiJegni - Dipiuti - Incisioni, Vicenza, 1983, pp. 79ff. Fr. Haskell, Patron.r and Painters, pp. 34lff. A. Bettagno, 'Introductio n', in Caricatttre di Anton iVfaria Zanetti, Vicenza, 1969, pp. 11-26. Idem, 'Prechazion i .ru Anton Zanetti it Vecchio e SebMtiano e Marco Ricci', in collective work, Atti del Congre.r.ro Internaziona!e di Studi s11 Seba.rtiano Ricci e if mo tempo, Udine, 1975, pp. 85-95 G. Lorenzetti, Un dilettante incisore veneziano del XVIII seco!o: Anton Maria Zanetti di Gerolamo, Venice, 1917, pp. 73-7 (= R. Deputazion e veneta di Storia Patria. Miscellanea di storia veneta, series III, vol, XII). Fr. Haskell, Patrons and pp. 347ff., and L Ferrari, 'Gli acquisti dell'Algarotti', op. cit., above, no. 46. 75

Notes to pp. 199-204

317

55 56

76 77

78 79 80 81

57 58 59

60

82

61 62 63 64

65 66 67 68 69

83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90

91

70

92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99

71 72

7)

74

l 00 I01

[C. A. Selva], Catalogo dei qt<adri dei disegni e dei libri che trattano de!l'arte de! di.regno della galleria de! fu Sig. Conte A!garotti in Venezia, s.J., n.d. [but Venice after 1766]. Cf. Bib!iotheca Maphaei Pine!ti veneti magna jam studio co!tecta a Jacobo More!!io deJcripta et annotationib us Venice, 1787, 6 vols. All this according to lJ. Morelli], Cata!ogo dei quadri 1'acco!ti da! Jt< .riguor Matteo Pinelli. Ed ora po.rti in vendita in Venezi<l 1785, s.J., n.d. [but Venice, 1785]. A. Bettagno, ed., Disegni di tma col!ezione veneziana del Settecento, Vicenza, 1966, Bettagno's introduction, especially p. 17. G. B. Carboni, Le pitture di Brescia, pp. 145ff., especially 164-85. Ibid., pp. 182-5. Ibid., p. XVI: 'e.rsendo Jtato gemi!mente graziato de'rispettiz;j Cata!oghi dei Pezzi di Pittura che !e compongon o imieme coi nomi deg!i At<tori, rni sono determinato a pubb!icarli tali quali gli ho ricevuti'. G. B. Rossetti, Descrizione; the 1776 edition differs from rhe 1765 one because it is a revised version; it does not mention collections that disappeared during that interval, and includes those which have since been formed. Ibid., 1765 edn, pp. 340-1. Ibid., 1765 edn, pp. 325 and 331; 1776 edn, pp. 336 and 339. Ibid., 1765 edn, p. 312. Ibid, 1765 edn, pp. 314-15; 1776 edn, pp. 326-7. Ibid., 1765 edn, p. 318; 1776 edn, p. 320 Ibid., 1765 edn, p. 337. Cf. L. Grossato, ed., It civico di Padova. Dipinti e swlt11re da! XIV ,tf XIX seco/o, Venice, 1967, nos. 198 (p. 126), 187, 202, 189, 190 (pp. 146-9). G. M. Pilo, ed., Alarco Ricci, exhibition catalogue, Venice, 1963, nos. 9 (p. 20), 10 (p. 22), 12 and 13 (p. 24) and in particular 14 and 15 (p. 26), 23 (p. 36) and 24 (p. 38). U. Ruggieri, 'Le collezioni pittoriche rodigine', in collective work, L'Accademia dei Concordi di Rovigo, Vicenza, 1972, p. 29 onwards, and especially T. Romagnolo, 'I primi dipinti della Pinacoteca dei Concordi', poleJani, 3 (1978), pp. 5-12. F. Bartoli, Le pitture ... di Rovigo, pp. 198-200,20 3-4, 206-12, 262-4. Ibid., p. 186 and T. Romagnolo, 'I primi dipinti', p. 9. Cf. Col!ezione dei qtladri eJistenti nella famiglia CaJi!ini a! Duomo di Rovigo, Rovigo, 1824. F. Bartoli, Le pitture ... di Rovigo, pp. 179-89. Ibid., pp. 216-20. Ibid., pp. 2 36-59. Calculations based on Cata!ogo di qu,tdri e.ri.rtenti in cttSa ... Vianet!i, op. cit. B. dal Pozzo, Le z;ite de'pittori veroneJi, pp. 286 and 296. S. Marinelli, 'Gregorio Lazarini' and 'Angelo Trevisani', in L. Magagnato, ed., La pittura a Veron<! tra Sei e Settecento, exhibition catalogue, Verona, 1978, pp. 126 and 191. S. Marinelli, 'Sebastiano Ricci' and 'Giambattista Pittoni', ibid., pp. 127 and 226. S. dalla Rosa, Catastico, f0 116. S. Maffei, Verona i!!uJtrata, pp. 215ff. and on the Bevilacqua collection L.

318

Notes to pp. 204-6

Franzoni, Per una storia del collezionismo, Verona: fa galleria Bevilacqua, Milan, 1970. S. Marinelli, 'Giambattista Tiepolo', in L. Magagnaro, ed., La pittura a Verona, pp. 217-20. S. Marinelli, 'Federico Bencovich', ibid., p. 215. For Piazzetta, S. Dalla Rosa, Catastico, f0 180. Cf. also F. Dal Forno, Case e palazzi di Verona, Verona, 1973 (where on pp. 171-2 only Tiepolo is mentioned for the frescoes in the Canossa palace). G. F. Viviani, ed., La villa nel Veronese, Verona, 1975 (mention is made only of Rosalba Carriera's pastels in the Villa Serego, p. 428). F. Flores d'Arcais, 'La pittura nelle chiese e monasteri di Verona', in G. Borelli, ed., Chiese e monasteri di Verona, Verona, 1980 (on pp. 526-7 mentions S. Ricci, A. Pellegrini and the Pittoni painting). G. Borelli, ed., Chiese e monasteri del territorio veronese, Verona, 1981, p. 570 (one painting of the school of Tiepolo, one by Pittoni). A. Avena, 'La quadreria di A. M. Lorgna' in collective work, Anton Maria Lor-gna, Verona, 1936; the inventory on pp. 9-11, has fifty numbers. A. AL vena?], 'La galleria Canossa nel 1781', Madonna Verona, VII (1913 ), pp. 98-108. The Ricci painting figures in the 'Camera prima della Galleria verso I'Adige', no. 54. A. Avena, L'Istituzione del Museo Civico di Verona. Cronistoria artistica degli anni 1797-1865, Verona, 1907, p. 6 of the separate publication. S. dalla Rosa, Catastico, f0 356. G. P. Marchini, 'II collezionismo d'arte a Verona nel Settecemo: Ia pinacoteca Mosconi', Studi storici veronesi Luigi Simeoni, XXX-XXXI (1980-1), pp. 222-49, doc. I, pp. 237-42. P. Caliari, La pinacoteca Albarelli, F. dal Forno, ed., Verona, 1975. S. Marinelli, 'Giambattista Pittoni', p. 226. A. Avena, L'lstituzione, appendix III, pp. 75-7 of separate publication, nos, 27-8, 35-6, 41. Ibid., appendix IV, pp. 78-87, nos 29(2), 55, 63(2), 71, 80(2), 98(2), 99, Ill, 131 ('Paesaggio istoriato con Rebecca dipinto di Marco Ricci ed attribuito erroneamente a Salvator Rosa'), 140(2), 147, 177, 186(2), 187. Cf. F. dal Forno, 'Pinacoteca Tanara gia Conti Balzi Salvioni e gia Come Ignazio Bevilacqua Lazise', Atti e Memo1ie dell'Accademia di Agricoltura, Scienze e Lettere di Verona, XXIV (1972-3), pp. 261-79. Cf. A. Avena, 'Catalogo della Pinacoteca Monga', Madonna Verona, VIII (1914), pp. 117-39. Descrizione dei dipinti raccolti dal Dr Cesare Bernasconi nella sua casa di Verona, Verona, 1851. Cf. I.. Magagnato, 'II percorso critico', in idem, ed., La pittura a Verona, pp. 1330, especially p. 25 onwards and Idem, 'La pittura veronese del Settecento e Scipione Maffei', in Atti del Com;egno Arte e Cultura in Verona net Settecento, Verona, 1981, pp. 67-72. S. dalla Rosa, Catastico, W 340, 341, 343, 344, 346, 360, 366 (quadri antichi), 348, 356 (modemi), 364, 366 (antichi e modemi). Ibid., f0 360. We thus find fifteen Veronese paintings from the eighteenth century out of the 354 in the Canossa gallery, one out of the seventy-five in the collection

Notes to pp. 207-12

319

102 103

119 120 121 122

123

104 105

124 125 126 127

106 107 108

128 129

130
131 132 133 134 135

109 110 111 112

113
11-1

136
137 138 139 140
111

115

116
117

1-12

118

143 144

owned by Alessandro Pompei and three out of the 247 in the Giulio Pompei collection. Cf. A. A[ vena? J, 'La Galleria Canossa', and idem, L'lstituzione, appendices III and IV. S. dalla Rosa, Catastico, ffO 344, 356, 362, 364-5. F. M. Tassi, Vite de Pittori, Scultori ed Architetti Bergamaschi, F. Mazzini, ed., Milan, 1970, vol. II, pp. 136ff., 364, 374, 379. P. Baldarini eta!., Desctizione ... di Vicenza, pp. 51, 114. 0. Bertotti-Scamozzi, II Forestiere istmito nelle case piu rare di architettura. E di alcune Pitture della citta di Vicenza, Vicenza, 1761, pp. 26, 39, 102; we should add Balestra and S. Ricci (p. 102) and Cignaroli (p. 117). L. Puppi, 'I Tie polo a Vicenza e le statue dei "Nani" di villa Valmarana aS. Bastiano', Atti dell'Istituto veneto di Scienze. Lettere ed Arti, CXXVI (1967-8), pp. 227-8. Catalog a dei doni fatti al Civico .Mus eo di Vicenza . .. , Vicenza, 1866, p. 3 and F. Barbieri, If Museo Civico di Vicenza. Dipinti e Sculture dal XVI al XVIII secolo, Venice, 1962, pp. 184, 186, 217,219. Cf. A. Sartori, Documenti per !a storia dell'arte a Padova, Vicenza, 1976, passim. F. Vivian, I! console Smith, pp. 95ff. V. Giormani, 'Fra'Angelo Ziliani', appendix I, p. 94. A. Memmo, Elementi di a1chitettura Lodoliana o sia l'arte del fabbricare con solidita scientifica e con eleganza non capricciosa, Rome, 1786, p. 56 and cf. E. Kaufmann, jun., 'Memmo's Lodoli', Art Bulletin, XLVI (1964), pp. 169-75. A. Memmo, JJ!ementi, p. 59. Ibid., pp 56-8. Ibid., pp. 59-60. G. Previtali, La fortuna dei primitiz;i. Dal Vasmi ai neoclassici, Turin, 196-1, pp. 79ff. and 220-1. A. Memmo, Elementi, p. 56. F. Vivian, Il console Smith, pp. 76, 99, 105. P. J. Grosley, Observations on Italy and on the Italians. London, 177-1, vol. II, p. 164; cf. G. Previtali, La fortuna dei primitivi, pp. 218-20. Cf. L. Vemuri, II g;1sto dei primitivi (1926), Turin, 1972, pp. 102ff. . . A. M. Zanetti, Della Pittura Veneziana e delle Opere Pubbliche de'Veneztam .Maestri libri V, Venice, 1771, p. VIII. Ibid., pp. 89ff Ibid., pp. 299ff., 323. . Ibid., pp. 19, 35 and cf. G. Previtali, La fortuna dei primitivt, p. 93. Cf. N. Ivanoff, 'Anton Maria Zanetti, critico d'arte', Atti de/l'Istztuto teneto dt Scienze, Lettere ed Arti, CXI (1952-3), pp. 29-48. Cf. A. M. Zanetti, Delle antiche statue gteche e romane che nell'antisa!a della !ibreria di San Marco e in altri luogbi pubblici di Venezia si trovano, Venice, 1740-3 G. Lorenzetti, Un dilettante, pp. 66ff., and on the inventory of the Marciana statues by A. M. Zanetti the Younger: M. Perry, 'The Statuario Publico', pp. 90ff. A. M. Zanetti, Della PittMa, p. XII. Fr. Haskell, Patrons a11d Painters, pp. 362ff.

320
145 146 147 148 149

Notes to pp. 212-15

Cf. 'Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of Curiosity', above, pp. 81-112.

Notes to pp. 215-18

321

A. M. Zanetti, Della Pittura, p. 487.

Ibid., p. 488. Cf.]. W. Goethe, Viaggio in ltalia, Florence, 1955, p. 123. Cf. N. Lastesio, De Musaeo Philippi FMsetti Patricii Veneti Epistola ad c!ariJSirnam Co1'tonensem Academiam, Venice, 1764. P. A. Paravia, Def!e lodi de!FA.b. Filippo Fa1'Setti Patrizio Veneziano Orazione, Venice, 1829. Museo della casa eccelentissima Farsetti in Venezia, s.l., n.d. Statues mentioned by P. A. Paravia, Delle lodi .. . , pp. 15-17. 'Catalogo de'quadri esistenti nella Galleria della casa eccelentissima Farsetti in Venezia', in ivluseo della casa . .. Farsetti, pp. 31ff. Cf. G. Dandolo, La caduta della Repubb!ica di Venezia, Venice, 1855, pp. 11516 (Daniele Farsetti), 119 (Anton Francesco Farsetti). E. Bassi, ed., Venezia nell'eta di Canova 1780-1830, exhibition catalogue, Venice, 1978, no. 8, pp. 16-17. Ibid., no. 9, p. 17 and nos 73-4, p. 58. P. A. Paravia, Delle lodi . .. , p. 18. Cf. 'Maffei and Caylus', above, pp. 169-84. G. della Lena, Esposizione, para. VIII, p. J 75. Ibid., para. XII, Joe. cit. C. A. Moschini, Della letteratura venezimza, vol. II, p. 107. G. Previrali, La fortuna dei primitivi, pp. 153ff. Ibid., pp. 156ff. and 243. G. B. Rossetti, Descrizione ... di Padova, 1765 edn, p. 318; 1776 edn, p. 320. F. Barbieri, I! Museo Civico di Vicenza. Dipinti e .rcu!ture da! XIV a! XV seco!o, Vicenza, 1962, pp. 161, 196-7, 21.'>, 218 (Paolina Porto Godi) and pp. 22, 140, 151, 180, 184, 195,222, 227 (Carlo Vicentini dal Giglio). F. Bartoli, Le pitture di Rovigo, pp. 181-3. A. Romagnolo, ed., La pinacoteca . . . dei Concordi, p. 24. Al vena 1 ], 'La galleria Canossa', and G. B. da Persico, Descrizione di Verona e della .rua provincia, Verona, 1820, vol. I, pp. 79, 130-l. G. A. Moschini, Della !etteratttra veneziana, vol. II., p. 95ff. I. Favaretto, 'G. Zulian e Ia sua collezione de vasi italioti ed etruschi nel Museo Archeologico di Venezia', Atti dell'lstituto veneto di Scienze, Lett ere ed Arti, CXXIII ( 1964-5 ), pp. 26ff. R. Bratti, 'Antonio Canova nella sua vita arristica privata (da un carteggio inedito)', Nuovo Arcbivio Veneto, 33 (1917), pp. 281-90. Cf. The Age of Neoclassicism, exhibition catalogue, London, 1972, nos 307 (pp. 199-200) and 314 (pp. 202-3). L. Rizzoli, 'II castello di Catajo nel Padovano e il testamento del Marchese Tommaso degli Obizzi (3 giugno 1803)', Archit;io Veneto-Tridentino, IV (1923), pp. 127-46. By, for instance, G. Fiocco, 'Le pitture venete del Castello di Konopiste', Arte veneta, II (1918), pp. 7-29. Cf. L. Olivato Puppi, 'Alle origini del museo moderno. Museo privato come funzione pubblica nella corrispondenza inedita di collezionisti veneti fra'700 e'SOO' in Fr. Haskell, ed., Sa!oni, Gal!erie, Musei e Ia foro infbrenza ml!o 171 172 173 174 175 176

150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162

177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185

163

164
165

186

187 188 189

166 167 168

190 191

169 170

svi!uppo deli'arte dei seco!i XIX e XX (= Atti del XXIV Congresso Internazionale di Scoria dell'Arte), Bologna, 1979, pp. 29-36. P. Paulino a San Bartholomaeo, Mt<miograpbia MttJei Obiciani, Padua, 1789, p. 14. C. Cavedoni, Indicazione dei principali monttmenti antichi del rea/e museo estense del Catajo, Modena, 1842, p. 8. Cf. L. Olivato, 'Gli affari sono affari', p. 300. C. Cavedoni, Indicazione, pp. 6-7. Cf. the inventory drawn up of the collection of Tomasso degli Obizzi on 28 June 1803 after his death; Biblioteca Civica di Padova, MS B.P. 1386 IV. On this point, I agree with L. Oliva to Puppi, 'Aile origini del museo moderno', p. 33. For the distinctive features of the Kunst- und Wunderkammem, cf. 'The Age of Curiosity', above, pp. 45-64. MS B.P. 1386 IV, fED 3-52 (description of numismatic collection). Cf. M. Meiss, 'Italian Primitives at Konopisre', The Art Bulletin, March 1946, pp. 1-16. G. Previtali, La fortuna dei primitivi, p. 244. Cf. F. A. Visconti, 'Catalogo', in Documenti inediti per servire alia .rtoria dei Musei d'Italia, vol. II, Rome, 1879, pp. 235-65; vol. III, Rome, 1880, pp. 28-80. L. Rizzoli, 'II castello del Catajo', document IV, pp. 145-6. L. Olivato, 'Gli affari sono affari', document III, p. 304. Cf. C. A. Levi, Le Col!ezioni veneziane d'a1te e d'antichita del seco!o XVI ai nost1i giorni, Venice, 1900, vol. I, p. XCIII. L. Rizzoli, 'Alcune lettere di Canova', p. 403 and letters I and II, p. 408. J.-Fr. Seguier, Plantae Veronenses seu Stirpium quae in agro veronense reperiuntur Methodica synopsis . .. , Verona, 1745, vol. I, pp. XXIIIff. Cited in T. Metterle, 'II ventennio arzignanese de Alberto Fortis ( 1778-1798) e Ia comunita di Arzignano alia caduta della Repubblica di Venezia', in collective work, Valle del Chiampo, Antologia 1975, p. 124. J.-Fr. Seguier, Plantae Veronenses, vol. I, p. XXXV. Idem, Plantarum quae in Agro veronense reperiuntur supplementum seu vo!umen tertium, Verona, 1745, pp. X and XIV. A. de Tuoni, 'Volfango Goethe a Vicenza e !a sua visita a! dottor Antonio Turra', Ateneo Veneto, 128 (1941), p. 247. A. Fortis, Delle oJJa d'e!efanti e d'altre cMiosita naturali de'monti di Romagnano nel Veronese, Vicenza, 1786, pp. 6-7. B. Brunelli Bonetti, 'Padova, Vicenza e Verona nelle note di viaggio di un francese del Settecento', Attie Memorie della R. Accademia di Scienze, Lettere ed A 1ti in Padova, LVII (1940-1), p. 110. Cf. C. Goldoni, La villegiatura. John Strange rhus formed a mineral collection during a stay at the Abbano spa in the summer of 1771. Cf. 'Lettera geologica di Sua Eccelenza il Sig. Gio. Strange Residente per S. M. Brittanica presso Ia Sereniss. Repubblica di Venezia scritta al Dot tor Gio. Targioni Tozzetti', in collective work, Dei Volcani o monti ignivomi piit noti, e distintamente del Vesuvio osservazioni fisiche e Notizie lstoriche de Uomini Insigni di varj tempi, raccolte con diligenza, Leghorn, 1779, vol. II, p. 38. Cf. also A. Fortis, Delle ossa d'elefanti, pp. 5-6.

322
192 193

N oteJ to pp. 218-22

A lerrer from G. Arduino to Girolamo Silvestri dared November 1758 refers to these discussions: B. C. Ver., Fondo Arduino, file 757. A. C. Dondi Orologio, P1odromo in /orrna di lettera del!'lstoria Naturale de'Monti Euganei, Padua, 1780, and dated: 'Dalla mia viltegiatura della Giara, it 12 Maggio 1780'. Cf. F. Venturi, Venezia ne! .recondo Settece11to, Turin, 1980, pp. 49ff., 109ff. and passim. A. C. Dondi Orologio, Prodromo, pp. 7 and I 0. Ibid., pp. 11-12, 19-21, 28-9, 32-44. For Strange's collection, donated to the Natural History Museum at the University of Padua in 1772-cf. V. Giormani, 'Fra'Angelo Ziliani', appendix I, p. 94 - there is a catalogue: 'Catalogo Ragionato di varie Produzioni Naturali del Regno Lapideo, reccolte in un viaggio peri Colli Euganei nel Mese di Luglio 1771 da Sua Eccellenza il Sig. Giovanni Strange', in collective work, Dei Volcani, vol. II, pp. 59-98. Cf. A C. Dondi Orologio, 'Saggio di littologia euganea osia distribuzione metodica, e ragionata delle produzioni fossili di Monti Euganei', Saggi scientifici e letterarii dell'Accademia di Padova, vol. II, Padua, 1789, pp. 16484. B. Terzi, hiemoria intomo alle prodm:ioni forsili di Monti Euganei, Padua, 1791. B. Terzi, Rirpo.rta di ... al!'articolo inserito ne! foglio di Cesena contm la Memoria intomo aile produzioni natm'clii dei Monti Euganei, Padua, 1791. Lett era del nu1rchese Antonio Carlo Dondi Orologio diretta a! Reuerendis.rimo Padre Abbate D. BaJile Terzi ... sopra !a di lui Memoria intomo alle produzioni fos.ri!i de'Monti Euganei, Padua, 1791. Cf. Prima risposta di RJSi!e Terzi ... alia lettera del Signor Marche.re Antonio Dondi Omlogio ... wpra !a Memoria intomo all produzi011i fossi!i de '1\Ionti Euga;zei. Padua, 1791. The eight letters begun with this one extended from 24 July to 20 Nov. 1791. In September of the same year, the work written by A. Fortis appeared, Tre !ettere al Signo1 Conte Nicolo da Rio sopra le sei !ettne sinora Mcite del P. D. BaJilio Terzi . .. a! Marchese Antonio Dondi Orologio intomo aile produzioni fo.rsili de'Monti Eugcmei, Cesena, 1791. Cono di Storia naturale, e chimica proposto a fetterario trattenimento di 40 Nobili, e Cittadini di Veronct dal Sig. Professore Canonico Don Giovanni Serafino Voitel. Per l'anno 1790, s.l., n.d., B. C. Ver. 153.4. Ibid., nos I, VII, XIV, XVIII, XXIV, XXXIII. Cf. G. S. Volta, Prospetto del Museo Belfisoniano. C!assificato e compendiosamente descritto, Pavia, 1787. Cf. E. Vio, La villa Far.retti a Santa Ma1ia di Sa/a, Venice, 1967. Expression used by A. F. Farsetti, Elenco botanico del giardino di Sa/,, j>er /'Amzo AIDCCXVI, s.I., n.d., in the dedication. It was the second catalogue. The first was: Catalogo delle piante che eshtono nef gimdino del nobil ttomo A 11fo1zio Francesco Far.retti nella me< villa di Sa/a, Venice, 1793. A. Turra, Fc<rsetia Novum Gen11s. Accedunt A11imadversiones quaedam hotcmicae, Venice, 1765, p. -1. 208

Notes to pp. 222-3

323

194 195 196

209 210

211 212

213

197

214

198 199 200

215 216 217 218 219

201

220

221

202

222

223 224

203 204 205 206

225

226
227

207

228

P. A. Saccardo, Botanica in ltalia. Materiali per fa storia di questa scienza, part 2, Venice, 1901 (= Memorie del R. Istituto veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Ani, vol. XXVI, no. 5), p. 76. G. A Moschini, Della letteratura veneziana, vol. II, p. 110. Cf. R. Pampanini, 'II viaggio del botanico fiorentino Pier Antonio Micheli a Verona ed a Monte Baldo nel autunno del 1736', Madonna Verona, XVIII (1924), pp. 14-16. . ].-Fr. Seguier, Plantae veronenses, vol. I, pp. XL VII-XL VIII. On Cornaro, cf. P. A. Saccardo, Botanica in Italia, Venice, 1895 (= Memone del R. Isrituto veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti, vol. XXV, no. 4), p. 56, and on his contacts with Turra, A. de Tuoni, 'Volfango Goethe', p. 246. Cf.}. W. Goethe cited by A. de Tuoni, ibid., p. 235. B. Tecchi, Goethe in ltalia (e particolarmente a Vicenza) con le giornale del soggtorno vtcentmo . Vicenza, 1967. Nomenclatura plantarum horti Thienaei Vicetiae 1794 tempo1e autunnalr:, s.l., n.d. and Series plantarum quae studio et diligentia in horto botan;co nobtft.l' Comitis vicentini Antonii Mariae Thienaei modo coluntur anno MDCCCII, s.L, n.d. The two works are attributed to Turra by S. Rumor, G!i rcrittori vicentini del seco!o decimoottavo e decimonono, vol. III, Venice, 1908, pp. 256-8. Cf. P. A Saccardo, Botanica in Italia, part 2, p. 22 and I. Tiozzo, I No.rtri. Note biografiche intorno a Cbioggioti degni di ricordo, Chioggia, 1928, pp. 148-9. Cf. P. A. Saccardo, Botanica in Italia, part 2, p. 149. Cf. G. A. Moschini, Guida per Ia citta di Padova, p. 190. Cf. P. A. Saccardo, Botanica in ltalia, part I, pp. 207-8. Cf. M. Minio, "Arcani delle pianre di Monte Baldo" '. Codice erbario veronese del sec. XVIII', Atti del Accademia defl'Agricoltut'cl, Scienze e Lettere dt Verona, CVI (1930), pp. 9-26. Cf. S. Chiesa and G. G. Lorenzoni, 'Erbario e collezioni dell'Istituto di Botanica e Fisiologia vegetale', in collective work, Cotlezioni scientifiche dei mttSei ed Orto Botanico, Padua, 1970, p. 23. Istoria delle piante cbe nascono ne'lidi intorno a Venezia. Opem po.1tuma de Gian-Giro!amo Zannichelli accresciuta da G'ian.Jacopo figliuolo dello stesso ... , Venice, 1735. . . Cf. J.-Fr. Seguier, Plc<ntae ueronense.r. Cf. collective work, Storia di Brescia, vol. III: Itt dommaztone veneta ( 15961797), Brescia, 1964, p. 1003. Cf. Iosephi Agosti s.i. ... de Re Botanica T1'clctatuJ in quo praeter genera/em methodum. et hystoria plantarum, eae stirpes peculiariter recensuntur. quae m agro Bel!unensi et Fidentino vel sponte cre.rcu-nt vel arte excoluntur ... , Belluno, 1770. Quoted from A. Buzzati, Bibliografia betlunese, Belluno, 1890, no. 411. Cf. P. A. Saccardo, Botanica in ltafia, part 1, pp. 36-70. I. Tiozzo, I Nostri, pp. 148-9. Cf. P. A. Saccardo, Botanica in ltalia, part 2, p. 110. Cf. P. A Saccardo, Della .rtoria e letteraturc< della Flora veneta, Milan, 1869._ As is the case for J.-Fr. Seguier, Catalogus plantamm quae in agro z;eronenSI reperiuntur, Verona, 17 45.

324
229 230

Notes to pp. 224-6

Cf. G.-G. Zannichelli, Istoria delle piante, preface. From 1730 onwards, L. Patarol planted his botanical garden in accordance with Tournefort's system of classification; among his unpublished works are two botanical ones which follow Tournefon's ideas. Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Delle Iscrizioni Veneziane, vol. V, Venice, 1842, pp. 113, 116-17, C. Martinelli (1653-1734), Venetian patrician and amateur botanist, corresponded with Tournefort. Cf. P. A. Saccardo, Botanica in Italia, part 1, p. 105. ].-Fr. Seguier, Plantae vero1wuer, vol. I, pp. Liff. This is the case of an anonymous herbarium from Belluno. Cf. P. A. Saccardo, Botanica in ltalia, part 2, p. 46. Cf. A. de Tuoni, 'Volfango Goethe', p. 247. A. Turra, Florae italicae prodromur, Vicenza, 1780. The dedication is dated Jan. 1768. Thus, for Goethe, Turra is first and foremost a botanist and the author of the Florae italicae prodromus. Cf. A. de Tuoni, 'Volfango Goethe', p. 235 and B. Tecchi, Goethe in ltalia, pp. 31-7 (Reise) and 43-5 (Tagebiicher). This concerns copies at the Bertolliana Library in Vicenza: Gonz. 9.6.20 and Gonz. 9.6.21. Cf. L. Zoppi, Principii di istoria naturale, 6 vols; B. C. Ver. MS 757. Cf. H. Daudin, De Linne a Lamarck. Methodes de c!a.rsification et idee de serie en botanique et en zoo!ogie (1740-1790), Paris, 1926, pp. 32ff. G. Olivi, Zoologia Adriatica ossia catalogo ragionato degli Animali del Golfo e delle Lagune di Venezia; preceduto da una dissertazione sulfa Storia Fisica e Naturale del Golfo; e accompagnato da iHemorie ed Osservttzioni di Fisica Storia Naturale ed Economica, Bassano, 1792, p. 50. A. Turra, Florae italicae prodromus; Insecta vicentina, pp. 3-16 (separate pagination). Cf. B. da Persico, Descrizione di Verona, vol. I, p. 186. Cf. B. Brunelli Bonetti, 'Padova, Vicenza e Verona', p. 112. Cf. S. Chiesa and G. G. Lorenzoni, 'Erbario', p. 24. Cf. G. S. Volta, Memoria suite farfalle in cui si contengono alcune nozioni generali sulfa storia naturale delle medesime, sul metoda di raccogliede e distribuirle in ordine sistematico ... e sulfa maniera di conservarle, Milan, 1782. V. Giormani, 'Fra' Angelo Ziliani', p. 88, no. 32. Cf. H. Daudin, De Linne a Lama1'Ck, pp. 48ff. V. Donati, Della Storia Naturale marina dell'Adriatico, Venice, 1750. Here is its title: Descrizione Crostacei dei Testacei e dei Pesci che abitano le Lagune del Golfo Veneto. rappre.rantati in figure a chiaroscuro ed in colori, divisa in tre pa1ti, 1. de' Crostacei, o.r.riano Granchi, Aste1ie ed Echini, 2. de' Testacei, ossiano Concbig!ie, 3. de' Pesci. Quoted in I. Tiozzo, I Nostri, pp. 153-5 . G. Olivi, Zoologia Adriatica, introductory essay and pp. 53-5, 88, 121-2. Cf. G. Poleni, 'Catalogus machinarum quae philosophicis experimentis inserviunt', in]. Facciolati, Fasti Gymnasii Patavini, Padua, 1757, p. 413ff. Cf. G. B. Rossetti, It Forastiere illuminato, pp. 267, 271-2 and P. Brandolese, Pitture ... di Padova, p. 143. 252

Notes to pp. 226-8

325

231 232 233 234 235

253 254 255 256 257 258

236 237 238 239

259 260 261 262 263 264

240 241 242 243 244

265 266

267

245 246 247 248

268

269

249 250 251

270

271 272 273

Cf. A. Ferretti Torricelli, Catalogo degli strumenti scientifici delle collezioni dei Civici Musei di storia e arte e dell'Ateneo di Brescia, in collective wurk, Aspetti della Jocieta bresciana nel Settecento, exhibition catalogue, Brescia, 1981, pp. 199ff Cf. S. dalla Rosa, Cata.rtiw, f 0 346. G. A. Moschini, Della !etteratura veneziana, vol. II, pp. 111-12. Cf. L. Sorbini, I foJ'Sili di Bolca, Verona, 1981. Idem, La collezione Baja di pe.rci e piallte fossili di Bo!ca, Verona, 1983. On Vallisnieri, see above, pp. 103-5. Letters from Maffei to Vallisnieri dated 9 and 20 June 1708 in S. Maffei, Epistolario, C. Garibotto, ed., Milan, 1955, vol. I, p. 39. Rotari's letter 'Descrizione di varj Crostacei, e produzioni di Mare, che si rrovano su' Monti di Verona. E segnatamente de' Pesci Marini, Erbe, e lnsetti che dal Monte detto di Bolca, infra pietra in !amine divisibili schiacciati, e come a seco imbalsamati si cavano', 20 Nov. 1716 in A. Vallisnieri, De' carpi marini che SJ.t' manti .ri trovano, della foro origine e de!lo stato del mondo davanti il Di!uvio. nel Di!ut;io e dopo if Di!Jwio lettere criticbe, Venice, 1721, pp. 1-IJ.. L. Pawrol to G. D. Bertoli, 8 July 1724 cited in E. A. Cicogna, Delle Iscrizioni veneziane, op. cit., vol. V, p. 119. Cf. P. Rossi, I segni del tempo. Storia della terrae storia dell nazioni da Hooke a Vico, Milan, 1979. A. Vallisnieri, De' carpi marini. Cf. V. Giormani, 'Fra'Angelo Ziliani', appendix I, p. 94. Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Delle lscrizioni Veneziane, vol. V, p. 120. Cf. L. Sorbini, 'Scipione Maffei ed i fossili di Bolca', in Nuovi studi muffeicmi, Verona, 1985, pp. 87-96. I am indebted to Professor Sorbini, who provided me with a typewritten version of his article. Cf. G. B. da Persico, De.rcrizione di Verona, vol. I, p. 81. [G. S. Volta], Ittio!itologia z;eronese del Museo Bozziano ora anesso a que!lo del Conte Giovambattista Gazola e di altri gabinetti di fos sili verone.ri, Verona, 1796, part 2, pp. II-IV (each part has its own pagination). G. G. Spada, Di.rsertazione Ot'e si proua, cbe li Petrificati Carpi A!ari11i, che nei 1Honti adiacenti a Verona si trovano, non .rono Scherzi di Natuta, Di!uviani; ma Antedeluviani, Verona, 1737. Cata!ogu.r Lapidum VeronensiNm 'low{J.oec/>w ldest propria forma praeditztm qui apud loannem Iacoburn Spadanz Gretianae Archipresbyterum AsservantM, Verona, 1739. Co1pormn Lapidefactorum agri veronensis CatalogttS quae c1pud Joan. ]acobum Spadam C,:retianae Archipresb)'terum asservantltf. Editio altera multo a11ctio1, Clli accedunt A Jlnotatione.r. et i\1armortnn quae in eadem agro reperiuntm Elencbm, Verona, 17 44. A.-L. Moro, De Cro.rtacei e degli altri marini carpi che si trovano su'mo11ti libri due, Venice, 1740, pp. 1-2. Cf. P. Rossi, I .reg ni del tempo, pp. l 04ff. A.-L. Moro, De Crostt1cei, p. 231. Della fonnazione de'fu!rnini trattclto del Sig. !Vfarchese Scipione Maffei raccolto de varie .rue Lettere. In a!cune delle quali .ri tratta anche deg!'Imetti

ne

326

Notes to pp. 228-31

rigenerantisi e de'Pesci di ma1e su i manti, e piit a fungo de!l'Elettricitta, Verona, 1747, pp. 118ff., 124-5. G. G. Spada, Corporttm !apidefactorum ... Catalogm. G. Arduino's original draft, which lies in the Biblioteca Civica in Verona, was published by G. Stegagno, II veronese Giovanni Arduino e if suo contributo a! progre.r.ro della scienza geologica, Verona, 1929, table V. Cf. also l. Sorbini, I fossili di Bolca, figs. 10 and 11, pp. 29-30. Cf. M. Gliozzi, 'Arduino', in Dizionario Biografico degli ltaliani, vol. III, pp. 64-6. G. A. Moschini, Della lette1'atura veneziana, vol, II, pp. 80, 108-9. On G. Morosini, cf. G. Arduino, Afemoria epistolare sopra varie produzioni tJttlcaniche. minerali e fos.rili. Tratta del Nuovo Giomale d'lta!ia, Venice, 1782, p. 6. On the relationship between Fortis, Guido Vio and]. Strange, cf. T. Metterle, Dal conte Azzolino ad Alberto Fortis: cinque .recoli di storia a! monastero di San Pietro a! C01to. Precisazioni biog1'afiche sulfa giovinezza del Fortis dal 1741 a! 1778, in collective work, Valle del Chiampo. Amologia 1974, p. 234. T. Metterle, If ventennio arzignanese di . .. Fo1tis, p. 145, n. 37. G. Strange 'Lettera geologica', p. 39. G. B. Rossetti, Dese1izione . .. di Padova, pp. 185-7, 333. G. Arduino, Memoria epi.rtolare, pp. 9 and 15. G. Strange, 'Lettera geologica', p. 39. T. Metterle, If ventemzio arzignanese, pp. 127 and 145, n. 38. G. A. Moschini, Guida per fa citta di Padova, p. 187. Fortis sent him minerals. Cf. T. Metterle, Dal conte Azzolino ad Alberto Fortis, p. 231. F. Bartoli, Le pitture ... di Rovigo, p. 215. Cf. E. Zerbinatti, 'Interessi per l'epigrafia amica e testimonianze archeologiche in due inediti di Girolamo Silvestri', Padusa. Bolletino di Centro Polesano di Studi Storici Archeologici ed Etnografici, XIV (1978), pp. 67ff. and 69, n. 27 in particular. Cf.]. Odoardi, De'corpi marini che nel Fe/trese distretto si t1ovano, Venice, 1767 (= NtiOtJa Raccolta Calogeriana, vol. VIII, pp. 103-96). Quoted from Buzzatti, Bibliografia belftmese, no. 367. Cf. M. Brusatin, Venezia nel Settecento: stato, architettura, territorio, Turin, 1980, pp. 140ff., 314ff. Cf. M. Mamese, Memorie storiche della chiesa vicelltina, vol. V (1700-1866) Da! prima Settecento a! amzessio11e del Veneto al Regno d'ltalia, Vicenza, 1982, pp. 815, 832-3, 837-9. R. Fabiani, 'La Sezione di Scoria Naturale del Museo Civico di Vicenza', Bo!letino del MMeo Civiw di Vicenza, fasc. III and IV (1910), pp. 3-5. lndice delle Prod11zioni naturali alia Terra, non cbe Orgcmico-Marine petrefatte e concbig!ie, le q11ali si ritrovano l'aCcolte e metodicamente disposte appresso don Giuliano Serpe in Arzignano, Vicentino Distretto, Vicenza, 1788. All these people feature in G. S. Volta, lttio!itologia t;erone.re, with the exception of Tommaselli and Venturi. For these two, cf. G. P. Marchini. Antiquari e collezionisti dell'Ottocento veronese, Verona, 1972, p. 67, n. 25 and document 3A, p. 20 l.
288 289 290 291

Notes to pp. 231-40

327

274

292 293 294 295 296 297

275 276

277 278 279 280 281 282

298

299 300 301 302

283

284 285

303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310

286

287

311 312 313

G. S. Volta, Ittiolitologia veroneJe, part 2, pp. III-IV. Ibid., p. CCLXXVIII. Ibid, pp. VIII-IX. 'Extrait d\me lettre de M. !'Abbe Fortis de Veronne Lsic] 24 septembre 1785 aM. le Comte de Cassini ... sur les differentes petrifications', journal de Ph)'Sique, 28 (1786), p. 162. Reproduced by L. Sorbini, I foSJili di Bolca, pp. 34-5, figs. 12 and 13. Idem, La collezione Baja, pp. 12-13, figs 3 and 4. G. S. Volta, lttiolitologia veronese, pp. LVIII-LXI. Cf. 'Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of Curiosity', above, pp. 74-8. G. Olivi, Zoologia Adriatica, p. 134. Cf. V. Bozza, De!l'universale rivoluzione sofferta dal globo terracqueo. Lettera a! D. Orazio Rota, Verona, 1788. Degl'impietrimenti del territ01'io veronese ed in particolare dei pesci foSJili del celebre monte Bolca per servire di continuazione all'argomento delle rivoluzioni tenacquee. Lettera del signor canonico Don Gio. Serafino Volta a! Signor Vince1no Bozza, s.l., n.d., but dated Mantua, 27 Oct. 1789, pp. 18 (quotation), 20-4 (reply to Plutonists). Cf. the first letter from D. Testa in G. B. Gazola, Lette1e recentemente pubblicate .rui pe.rci foJsili veronesi con annotazioni inedite agli estratti delle medesime, Verona, 1794, pp. 5, 33ff., 45ff., and [A. Fortis J, Tre lettere Jli i pe.rci fos.rili di Bolca, Venice, 1793, especially pp. 16ff., 29, 34ff. Cf. L. Sorbini, l fos sili di Bolca, p. 31. Letter from Testa, in G. B. Gazo1a, Lettere, p. Slff.[A. Fortis), Tre lettere, pp. 83-4. D. Testa, Terza lett era .rtt i pesci foSJi!i del .Monte Bolca, s.l., n.d., but dated 25 Nov. 1793, p. XLIV. Cf. G. Cuvier, Discours sur les r<f.volutiom de Ia JUtjace du globe et les changements qu'el!es ont produits dam !e regne cmimal, Paris, 1812. Cuvier was a member of the agricultural academy in Verona. Cf. L. Sorbini, I fossili di Bolca, p. 43, n. 36. Testa to Fortis in LA. Fortis l, Tre lettere, pp. 61-2. Ibid., p. 68 and Fonis' reply, pp. 84ff. G. Arduino, Memoria epistolare, p. 12. Letter of 7 July 1760 published by G. Stegagno, I! veronese Giovanni Arduino, pp. 12-13 and the facsimile reproduction, table II. B. C. Ver., Fondo Arduino, file 759. Ibid., Joe. cit. Cf. 'Collections in Venetia', above, pp. 81-99. Cf. CIL Vj1 pp. 80-1 (Aquileia), 172 (Zuglio), 186 (Oderzo), 201 (Treviso), 205 (Altino), 220 (Adria), 267 (Padua), 305-6 (Vicenza), 326-7 (Verona), 437-8 (Brescia). G. D. Bartoli, Antichita d'Aquileia profane e sacre ... Venice, 1739. G. T. Faccioli, Lapidarium Vicentinum, Vicenza, 1776-1804, 3 vols. Cf. Musei Theupoli antiqua numismata olim collecta a joanne Dominica Theupolo aucta et edita a Lat11'entio equite et D. Ma1ci procuratore et Federico

32tl
314

Notes to

pp. 240-2
331 332 333

Notes to

pp. 242-5

329

315

316

317 318

319 320 321

322

)23 324

325 326

327

328 329 530

Senatore fratribus Theupolis, Venice, 1736. et metalli Murei Honorii Cf. Nurnismata quaedam cujurc111nque Treviso, 1711-5, Arrigonii veneti u.rum juventutis rei 1/Itrlmldriae 3 vols. maximi moduli e i\-!ti.reo Pisano A. Mazzo1eni, In numirmata ae1ea olim Corrario commentarii, Bergamo, 1710. Idem, In mtmismata ae1ea sectiora maximi module e iVIuseo Pisano o!im Corrario Animadteniones, Bergamo, 1711-4. Cf. L. Simeoni, 'Gli smdi srorici ed archeologici di Scipione Maffei', in collective work, Studi maffeiani, Turin, 1909, pp. 742-3 and L. Magagnato, 'Nota introduttiva', in S. Maffei, Verona illust1ata, reprint, vol. II, Verona, 1975, p. VIII. Letter to G. Vincio1i dared 28 Sept. 1719 inS. Maffei, Epirtolario, vol. I, p. 318. Cf. S. Maffei, Traduttori italiano o sia notizia de'11olgarizzamenti d'Antichi Scrittori Latini, e Greci, cbe .rono in luce. Aggizmto if volgarizamento d'alcune insigni l.rcrizioni Creche: E Ia Notizia del 1liiOVO Museo d'Iscrizioni in Verona, col Paragone fr !e lscrizioni, e le Medaglie, Venice, 1720, pp. 165-213. Cf. L Franzoni, 'Origine e storia del Museo Lapidario Maffeiano', in collective work, II L'vlu.reo iVIaffeiano riaperto a/ pubb!ico, Verona, 1982, p. 39. S. Maffei, La religion de'gentili ne/ morire ricavata da 1m ba.r.ro rilievo cmtico che J'i conserva in Prigi, Paris, 17.36. S. Maffei, ed., Osservaziom Letterarie cbe po.r.rono Jervir di continuazione a! de 'Letterti d'Ita!ia, vol. II, Venice, 1739, p. 339 (Tazza Faroese publication). Cf. L. Franzoni, 'Origine e sroria', p. 52. Ibid., pp. 44ff. M. Brusarin, Venezia ne! Settece11to, pp. 295ff. S. Maffei, i'vfuse11m veronen.re, boc est Antiqliamm imcriptionum atque anglyphorum col/ectio, mi taurinensis adjungitur et vindobonensis; accedunt monumenta id gen11s p!urima nondum tmlgatcl et ubiwmque co!!ecta, Verona, 1749, and cf. G. P. Marchini, 'II Museum veronense nell'edizione del Maffei e nei cataloghi successivi', St11di .rtorici 11eronni Luigi Simeoni, XXII-XXIII (1972-3), pp. 257-321. Cf. A. Sandrini, 'II Lapidarium Veronense e le origini dell'archirerrura museale', Studi storici 11eronesi Luigi Simeoni, XXXII ( 1982), pp. 153-60. Cf. G. M. Canova, 'II Museo Maffeiano nella sroria della museologia', Attie Memorie de!l'Accademia di Agrico!tura. Scienze e Lettere di Verona, CLII ( 1975-6), pp. 177-91. Cf. also collective work, Nuovi studi maffeiani. Gemmae antiquae /lntonii Mariae Zanetti. Hieroll)'mi fi!im. Ant. Fmnciscus Goriu.r notis latinis it!ustravit. ltalice ea.r nota.r reddit Hieronymus Franci.rcliJ Zanettius, Alexandri fiiiltS . .. , Venice, 1750. Cf. G. Lorenzetti, Un dilettante inci.rore veneziano, pp. 78ff. Cf. Prodomus lconiettJ sw!pti/imn gemmamm, Basi!idiani. Amulectici, atque Tli.Pnni generis, de Mmaeo Antonii Capello senatoris t/eneti, Venice, 1702. Cf. Dactyliotheca Smitbim;a, Venice, 1767, 2 vols, and F. Vivian, II console Smith, pp. 89-91.

334

335 336 33 7 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345

3-16 347

348 349 350 351 352

353

354

Cf. the inventory of Antonio II Capello dated 27 Sept. 1747 in C. A. Levi, Le Collezioni veneziane, voL II, pp. 199-219. G. A. Moschini, Della letteratura veneziana, vol. II, pp. 93-4. Venezia nell'eta di Canova, p. 67 and nos. 84-101, pp. 68ff. [F. Driuzzo ], Collezione di tutte !e antichita che si comervano nel Mus eo Naniano di Venezia divisa per c!assi in due parti aggiuntevi le classi di tutte !e medaglie, Venice, 1815. It is possible to see the layout of the objects thanks to the engravings brought together in Indice e tavole dei marmi anticbi scritti e figurati componenti if Museo Nani, s.L, n.d. ll791). G. A. Moschini, Della letteratttra veneziana, vol. II, p. 92 and E. A. Cicogna, Saggio di bibfiografia veneziana, nos 5149-69. Cf. also a mock anthology, Disegni e rami d'alcune antichita del Museo Naniano, Marciana Library, Venice, 119.D.132-3 with a subject index and a list of the Opere, opusculi e notizie stampate sui Museo e dov'e citato. F. Driuzzo, Museo Naniano, no. 181, p. 22. Cf. H. Honour, Chinoiserie. The Vision of Cathay, London, 1973, pp. 119ff. Cf. a letter dated April 1783 cited by M. Petrocchi, Il tram onto della Repubblica di Venezia e l'assolutismo i!luminato, Venice, 1950, p. 46. Cf. L. Puppi, 'Tiepolo a Vicenza', pp. 235ff. S. Maffei, ivfuseum veronense, p. CLXXXVII. Idem, Verona i!lustrata, p. 252. G. B. Rossetti, Desc1izione .. . di Padova, 1765 edn, p. 187. Cf. L Polacco, 'Il Mus eo ... dell'U niversira' di Padova', p. 428. P. Paulino da San Bartolomeo, iVfonumenti Indici del MIISeo Naniano i!lustrati, Padua, 1799. S. Assemani, Mus eo cufico Naniano illustrato, Padua, 1787-8. Cf. idem, Catalogo de'Codici Manuscritti Orientali della Biblioteca Naniana, vol. I, Padua, 1787; vol. II, Padua, 1792.]. Morelli, Biblioteca Maphaei Pinelli, nos 7859-94. D. M. Federici, Memorie Trevigia,ze, vol. II, pp. 223ff. Cf. C. Stella, 'Il Quirini erudiro e collezionisra antiquario', in collective work, lconografia e immagini queriniane, exhibition catalogue, Brescia, 1980, pp. 135-6. Cf. the letter from A. Zeno toP. A. Serassi of 26 Ocr. 1743 in A. Zeno, Lettere, Venice, 1785, vol. IV, p. 223. Cf. E. Zerbinatti, 'lnteressi per l'epigrafia anrica', p. 63, nos 9 and 10. Cf. E. Zerbinarti, Il museo rodigino dei Silvestri in una raccolta de disegni inediti del Settecento, Rovigo, 1982 Cf. rhe text published by E. Zerbinatti, 'Interessi per l'epigrafia antica', part 2, Padusa, XV (1979), pp. 186-7. G. B. Rossetti, Descrizione ... di Padova, 1765 edn, pp. 185-7 and 333. II Mus eo Tomieri illustrato (dalla Cronaca manuscritta del Conte A rna!di Arnalda I" Tomieri che Ji conserve alla Berto!iana), G. Bonaccioli, ed., Vicenza, 1902, pp. 78 (medal inventory) and 15, 17ff., 27ff., 42-3 and passim (the inscriptions). Cf. G. P. Marchini, Antiquari e collezioni archeologiche, pp. 119ff. (Muselli), 73ff. and 203ff. (Verira), 47ff., and 195-7 (Fontana), 6lff. and 201 (Venturi).

330
355 356

Notes to 245-8
Antiquitatis reliqttiae Marchione Jacobo lviusellio co!!ectae Tabu/is incisae et brevis explicationibus illustratae, Verona, 1756, preface. Cf. S. Rotta, 'Bianchini' article in Dizionario Biografico degli Ita!iani and Bianchini's will in G. B. Giulliari, La Capita/are Bib!ioteca di Verona, Verona, 1888, document XX, pp. XXIVff. J. 1\iuselli, Antiquitatis reliquiae. Cf. G. P. Marchini, Antiquari e co!lezioni archeologiche, pp. 49ff. Cf. G. P. Marchini, Teatro Romano di Berga. Uno scavo di cento fa a Vicenza, Verona, s.d. L1979l A. Tornieri, II Museo Tomieri illustmto, pp. 16, 27-8, 56. Cf. a good overview of this movement in the collective work, L'lrn.magine dell'antico fra Settecento e Ottocento, exhibition catalogue, Bologna, 1983. Cf. S. Maffei, De gli Anfiteatri e J'ingolarmente del veronese, librt due, de'qua!i si Hatta quanta appartiene all'istoria e quanta all'architettu1a, Verona, 1728. Cf. 0. Bocchi, Orse1vazioni sopra un antico teatro scoperto in Adria, Venice, 1739. Cf. F. Bianchini, Del Palazzo de Cesari opera posthuma, Verona, 1738. Cf. Utriusque thesami antiquitatum romanorum IJ. G. Graevio <#!Clore] graecammque {]. G'ronovio auctore} nova sttpplementa congesta ab Joanne Po!eno, Venice, 1737, 5 vols. Exercitationes Vitruvianae primae hoc est Joannis Po!eni commenttuius critictts de M. Vitrmii Po!lionir ... librorum editionibus necnon de eonmdem editoribus atque de aliis qui Vitnwittm ... explicamnt et i!lustrarunt ... , Padua and Venice, 1739-41. A. Tornieri, If .Museo Tornieri i!lustrato, p. 55. C. Gallo, Una famiglia patrizia. I Pismzi, p. 116. Cf. V. Lazari, 'Della raccolta numismatica della Imp. Reg. Libreria di San Marco', Sitzzmgsberichte der philos.-historischen C!aSJe der Kais. Akademie der Wi.r.renschaften, XXVI (1856), p. 309. G. A. Moschini, Della letteratMa veneziana, vol. II, p. 89. ]. Morelli, Bibliotheca Maphaei Pinelli, vol. V, pp. 350ff., 356ff. Cf. the inventory drawn up after the death of Tomasso degli Obizzi, Bib1ioteca Civica di Padova, MS B.P. 1386 IV, W 17, 22ff., 35ff., 45. A. Tornieri, I! Mus eo Tomieri illztJtrato, p. 78. Cf. Nurnismata antiqua a Jacobo Musellio co!lecta, Verona, 1750, 4 vols. ]. Muselli, Vite de varii uorneni illustri ed iscrizioni delle !oro medaglie ne! hiMeo Mttselliano comervate, B. C. Ver., MS 873,2 vols. Idem, Index ge11eralis numismatum omnium i!lustrium virorttm quae in Museo Muse!liano asservantur. In prima parte alfabetico ordine. In a!tera chronologico disposittts. Anno MDCCLXIII, B. C. Ver., MS 955. Idem, Indice alfabetico cronologico degli Uomini i!!ustri e fatti memorabili ne! mondo avvenuti, B. C. Ver., MS 899-900. Cf. F. Negri, Vita di Aposto!o Zeno, Venice, 1826, pp. 98, 325-6, 354. lYlmettm lYiazzuche!liam11n, seu numismata virorum doctrina prae.rtantium, qttae apud ]o. Mariam Comitem Mazzucbe!lum Brixiae servantur . .. , Venice, 1761-3; citation from vol. I, p. 35. Cf. Sigilli JHonete e Medag!ie d'Uomini 1/!ustri Padovani del Mu.reo del Co. Gio. de Lazara Cat'. di San Stefano della stesso fatte incidere in rame ed

Notes to pp. 249-52

331

377 378 379 380 381 382

3'57 3'58 359 360 361 362 363 364 365

383 384 385 386 387 388 389

366 367 368

369 370 371

390 391

392
393 394 395 396

372 373

397 398 399 400

374 375

376

i!lurtrate con annotazioni circa !'anna 1680, Biblioteca Civica di Padova, MS B.P. 1474/1-XV, fasc. VI. L. Rizzoli, jun., 1 Sigilli del ivfuseo Bottacin di Padova, Padua, 1903, p. 31, no. XX. G. A. Moschini, Della letteratlt1a veneziana, vol. II, p. 77. Cf. V. Lazari, 'Delle raccolta numismatica', p. 309. Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Saggio di bibliografia IJeneziana, nos. 5171-3. Cf. F. Negri, Vita eli Aposto!o Zeno, pp. 327ff. Cf. LL. Murarori], Antiquitates italicae Medii Aevi sive dissertationes de moribus, ritibus, re!igione, regimine, rnagistratibus, legibu.1, studiis leterarum, principibus, libertate, servitute, foederibu.r artibus, lingua, militia, aliisque faciem et mores italici populi referentibus post declinationem Romani Imperii ad annum 11sque MD ... , Milan, 17 38-42, 6 vols. Cf. vol. II, essays XXVII and XXVIII. Joannis Brunatii, De Re Nummaria Patavinomm, Venice, 1744. Ibid., pp. 71, 87, 89, 92, 110, 131. Cf. M. Zorato, 'Brunacci, Giovanni', in Dizionario Biografico deg!i Italiani, vol. XIV, pp. 518-23. G. B. Rossetti, Descrizione ... di Padova, 176'5 edn, pp. 315-16. Cf. Sigilli, 1\>fonete e Medaglie, MS B.P. 1474, fasc. I which dates from after 1744; w 13, 19, 26. Cf. F. di Maurano, Cenni biografici dei letterati ed artisti friu!ani del .recolo XIV af XIX, Udine, 1884, pp. 114-15. G. G. Liruti, Della moneta propria, e forastiera ch 'ebbe co no nel ducat a di Friuli dalla decadenza dell'Imperio Romano sine a! secolo XV dissertazione ... Nella quala .ri da un saggio della Primiti11a Moneta Veneziana, Venice, 1749, p. 62. Liruti's coins are reproduced plates I-X. Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Saggio di bibliografia veneziana, nos 519'5-7. G. Zanetti, Del!'origine e della antichita della moneta veneziana ragionamento, Venice, 1750, p. 46. Cf. C. Gallo, Una famig!ia patrizia, pp. I 1'5-16. Cf. G. Dandolo, l..<t wduta della Repubblica, pp. 98-9. Ibid., pp. 158-9 and V. Lazari, 'Della raccolta numismarica', pp. 309-10. G. A. Moschini, Della !etteratura veueziana, vol. II, pp. 81, 88-90. Cf. ibid., p. 81 and the letter from B. Vaerini to Tomasso degli Obizzi dared II Dec. 1802 in L Rizzoli, jun., 'Perla storia della numismarica. Alcune lettere dirette a! marchese Tommaso degli Obizzi (1750-1803 )', Bolletino italiano di Numisrnatica, 1908, pp. 109-12. J. Morelli, Bibliotheca Maphaei Pinelli, vol. V, pp. 34lff., 348ff., 355, 356ff. Cf. inventory drawn up after the death of Tomasso degli Obizzi, MS B.P. 1386 IV, ffO 58ff., I 04, 11 '5ff. Monetae, Bullae, Sigi!la a Marchione Jacobo Muse!!io co!lectae et ab eadem breviter descriptae, Veronae anna MDCCLVI, B. C. Ver., MS 983. Cf. G. G. Dionisi, De!l'origi11e e dei progreSJi della zecca in Verona, ave si spiegano a!cune lettre imp res sc sulfa stta antica moneta non intese da! sig. Muratori, Verona, 1776. Idem, Della zecca di Verona e det!e sue antiche monete, Bologna, 1785. Ed. Dante Alighieri, La Divina Commedia, Parma,

332

Notes to

pp. 252-6

Notes to

pp. 258-75

333

401 402

403

404 105 406 407

408 409

410
111 412 413 411

415 416 417

418 419 120 421

422 12)
424

1795, 3 vols. Dionisi also collected fossils; in 1789 his collection was added to the collection owned by G. B. Gazola; cf. l G. S. Volta], Ittio!itologia veronese, parr 2, p. LVIII. Dionisi's collection of antiquities was still extant in 1820. Cf. G. B. da Persico, Desnizione di Verona, vol. I, p. 200. Cf. G. P. Marchini, /lntiquari e collezioni archeo!ogiche, pp. 17-18, 56-7. Cf. De moneti.r Ita!iae variorum il!J<Jtrum 11irorum dinertationes quarurn pttrs nunc primtmt in !ucem prodit Philtppus Arge!atus . .. col!egit, recenmit auxit, necnon indicibus !owpletissimis exornauit, Milan, 1750-9, 6 vols. G. A. Zanetti, Nuova racco!ta delle monete e zecche d'Ita!ia, Bologna, 1775-89, 5 vols. F. G. Bacchi, Dinertazione .ropra 1111 a11tica moneta in argenta di.rotterata in Ad1iane! !ermine del Jeco!o XVI ... , Adria, 1809, p. 10. It will be noticed that, since the sixteenth century, this piece must have been in one collection or another. G. G. Liruti, Della moneta, p. 137. G. Zanetti, A S. E. Signor Alarchese Satorgnan ... , s.l., n.d. [Venice, 1767l G. A. Moschini, Della !etteratura veneziana, vol. II, p. 77. Cf. Fr. Haskell, Patron.r and Painten, pp. 368ff. (Querini), 381ff. (Correr). B. Brunelli Bonetti, 'Un riformatore mancato. Angelo Querini', Arc/;ivio Veneto, XLVIII-XLIX (195 I), pp. 185-200. [G. Wynne, Countess of Rosenberg l, A!ticchiero, Padua, 1787, p. 5. Ibid., p. 65. Ibid., pp. 20-1. Ibid., p. 4. Ibid, p. 20. Ibid, p. 18. Cf. M. Ericani, 'La scoria e !'utopia nel giardino del senatore Querini ad G!i antecedcmti Alricchiero', in collective work, Firemen' e fa cuftura e if contesto, Rome, 1983, pp. 171-85 + 28 ill. lG. Wynne], A!ticchie1'0, p. 40. Ibid., pp. 51-2. Ibid., p. 52. The presence of all the ingredients of the theme of melancholy will not have escaped notice. Cf. R. Klibansky, E. Panofsky, F. Sax!, Satllm and i'Yleianchol)'. St11die.r in the Hi.rtory of Nattmd Philosoph)', Religion and Art, London, 19G4. [G. Wynne[, A!ticchiero, p 55. Ibid, p. 56. Testamento di Teodo1'0 CorTer I gennaro 1830, Venice, 1879, p. 6. V. Lazari, Notizia delle opere d'Mte e d'antichita delia Racco!ta Correr di Venezia, Venice, 1859, p. V. G. A. Moschini, Delta !etterdtura t;eneziana, vol. II, p. 88. Cf. Fr. Haskell, Patrons ,md Painten, p. )83 Cf. V. Lazari, Noti:::iu, pp. V-VI and also G. Dandulo, La caduta della Repubblica, pp. 97-8.

CHAPTER 8 PRIVATE COLLECTIONS. PUBLIC i\lUSEUMS

First published in Ateneo veneto, CLXXI (=XXII, new series), vol. 22, nos. 12, 1984, pp 17-36. In drafting this article, I particularly drew on the following publications: R. Alai, A'fttsei ArchitettHra Tecnic,t, Milan, 1962. E. Bassi, ed., eta!, Venezia neli'et,) di Canova, exhibition catalogue, Venice, 1978. Le ricche miniere delta pittma veneziana. Compendiosa infonnazione di JV!ctrco Boschini. Non JO!o delle Pitture pubbliche di Venezia ma del!'iwle ancora circonvicine, Venice, 1674. A. Conti, Storia del restamo e della conservazione delle opere d'arte, s.l., n.d. Testame11to I gennaro 1830 di Teodoro Coner, Venice, 1879. L. Franzoni, 'Origine e storia del Musco Lapidario Maffeiano', in II lv!uwo i\Iaffeiano riaperto a! pubblico, Verona, 1982. Fr. Haskell and N. Penny, Taste and the Antique. The Llt1'e of Classical Sculptttre 1500-1900, New Haven-London, 1982. G. Lorenzetti, Venezia e it suo estuario, Trieste, 1974. S. Marconi Moschini, Gailerie del!'Accademia di Venezia. Opere d'a1te dei .reco/i XIV e XV, Rome, 1955 (lntroduzione. Forrnazione e vicende delle Gal/erie de!!'Accademia). M. Perry, 'The Statuario Publico of the Venetian Republic', Saggi e AiemOJ'ie di stori,t de!!'arte, vol. VIII, 1972. L. Polacca, 'Il museo di scienze archeologiche e d'arre dell'universita di Padova', Atti del!'lstituto Veneto di SS.LL.AA., vol. CXXV, 1966-7. G. Previtali, La fortuna dei primitivi. Dal VaJ'ari aineoclassici, Turin, 1964. F. Sansovino, Venetia citta nobi!iJsima e .ringo/are, Venice, 1581 (and the 1601 and 1663 editions). P. Veyne, Le Pain et fe cirque, Paris, 1976. A.M. Zanetti, Della Pittztra veneziana e delle Opere Pubb!icbe de'Veneziaui !v1aest1i !ibri V, Venice, 1771.

Index
attributions 143-56 dealers' obligations 145-7 Aumont, Due d' 128 Aved, M. 155 Averoldi, Giulantonio 86, 90, 94, 106, 193 A vogadris collection 200, 201 Baeilleur, Cornelis de Rubens' Studio 49 Bagarris, M. de 130 Balbi, Nicolo 246 Balzi Salvioni collection 205, 207 Bambara 25 Barbaroussa, Frederick 17 Barbizuni collection 200 Barcelona 9 Bardi, Henri de Bourbon-Parme, Count of 266, 273 Barettoni, Girolamo 230 Barthelemy, Abbot J.-J 135 Barroli, F. 193, 203, 214 Bassano, Alessandro Maggi de 88 Bassano 188, 193, 229 Bastie, de La 126 Baudelot de Dairval, Ch.-C De l'tttilite deJ voyages 121 Bellunese 189 Belluno 88, 223 Belvedere Laocoon 81 Belvedere Tono 81 Bembo, Gian Mateo 96 Bergamo botanical gardens 223 Carrara Gallery 195 collections in 106, 188, 207, 244 Bergonzi,Giorgio 117,118,119 Bergonzi collection 115, 117, 118, 119 Beringhem 159 Bernasconi, Cesare 206 Bertoli, G. D. 240 Berzi family 201 Bevilacqua, Count Mario 79, 80 Bevilacqua collection 204, 241 Bianchini, Francesco 245, 246 Biblioteca Marciana 246 Bimard de La Bastie 177, 181 Bizor, P. 121 Blegny, N. de 121

335

Index

Aborigines 25 Adria 193, 244 Agincourt, Seroux d' 160 Agosti, Giuseppe 223 Albani, Francesco 108, 116 Albani gallery 97 Albarelli, Giovanni 205 Alembert,]. le Rand d' 173 Alexandria, Museum of 13 Alfonso of Aragon, King of Naples 92 Algarorri, Francesco 194, 198-9, 208, 209 allegory and personification 50-3, 72, 73,85 Alvarez, Monsieur 109 amateur defined 53-4, 56 Amsterdam 40, 69, 193, 194 Angelico, Angelo 74 Angiolgabriello di Santa Maria (Paolo Calvi) 230 Angran de Fonspertuis 160 antiquaries 80-1, 97-8, 131 antiquities 34-6, 131-2 collections in Venetia 78-99, 239-57 inscriptions 81, 85-90, 91-4, 95-6, 97-8 numismatic 81-5, 9!J-5, 97 statues and sculptures 66-7, 79-81, 96 oriental curiosities 242-6 return ro classicism 240-2 .ree also epigraphy; inscriptions

Antwerp 48-9 Aquinas, St Thomas 59-60 Araignon, M. 163-5 archaeology 266 and Venetian collections 242-6 archives 42 Arcy-sur-Cure, Grotre de l'Hyene 28-9 Arduino, Giovanni 218, 228, 229, 237-9, 244 Riposta allegorico-romanzesca di Vouiangi Rid:t"1W ... 238-9 Arduino, P. 215 Arrigoni, Onorio 82, 240, 249-50 art collections, see paintings, drawings and engravings art historians 3, 41, 98 an market dealers 194 development of 39-40 public auctions 39-40, 160-1, 193-6 sale catalogues 3, 39-40, 139-59, 163-4, 193 artists, role of 36-7 Arundel, Earl of 86, I 09 Ashmole, Elias 42 Attalids of Pergamum 18 attribution of works 145-56 and aesthetic appreciation 158-9, 164-6, 168 auction sales 39-40, 160-1, 193-6 sale catalogues 3, 39-40, 139-59, 163-4, 193

Blonde! de Gagny sale 142 Bocchi, Francesco Girolamo 244, 252 Bocchi, Ottavio 244, 246 Bolca fossilized fish 226, 228, 231, 232, 235-8 Bologna numismatic collections 269 school of 113, 116 Bonafede, Francesco 67 Bonaparre, Joseph 264 Bonhier 180, 181 Bonifacio, Giovanni 89 Bonnet, Charles ObJervations .ru1 quelques auteurs d'bistoire uaturelle 123 Bonnier de Ia Mosson collection 123 Bordoni family 231 Bordoni, Caspar 218 Bordoni, Gaspare 231 Borel, Pierre 45-8, 59 Amiquitez, Raretez, Plantes, Miueraux . .. 45, 61 Borgognone, Ambrogio 118 Borromeo, Bishop Federico 41 Boschini, Marco 65, 66, 70, 79, 81, 82, 106, 107, 109, 111-13, 114, 116, 118, 193, 212, 269 Boston 9 botanical gardens, see gardens Bottari, Bartolomeo 223 Bouhier,]. 176, 177 Bozza, Vincenzo 231, 231-2,235 Brescia collections in 86, 96, 106, 107 <lntiquities 78, 244 botanical gardens 223 inscriptions 86 paintings 193, 200-4, 207 scientific instruments 226 histories of 94 1\Jemorie Bre.rciane 95 state protection of works of an 188 Bret, Le 177 Brigo, Giorgio 201 Bril, Paul liS Brueghel,] an 'Velvet' 115 Fiw Senses 50, 51, 52 The Allegory of Fire (Musee des Beaux-Arts, Lyons) 51, 53

336

Index
Annali di Vicenza 87, 94 Castiglioni, Giovanni Battista 108, 119 <;:atal Hi.iyi.ik 11-12 Catherine II, Tsarina of Russia 153, 155, 161 Caumont 177, 180, 181 Cavazzini, Antonio 218 Caylus, Anne-Claude-Philippe de Tubieres-Grimoard de Peste! de Levis, Comte de :io5, 12i-f]jo, 133, 134-5, 136, 154-5, 157, 169-84, 213,242 attacked by (hardin 173 De l'anciemze chevalerie et des anciens romans 17 6 and Diderot 173-4 Memoire sur le.r /abliattx 176 proposed museum of antiquities in Paris 182-4 Recueil d'antiqttites 175, 176, 182, 184 religious views 170 visit to Verona 176, 177 Cerchiari, Gian 87, 90, 91 Cerchini, Gio 110-11 Ceruti, Benedetto JVfusaeurn Calceolaritun 8') Ceruti, Federico 87 Cerutto, Benedetto 102 Cervantes Saavedra, Miguel de Tbe Inqui.ritil!e Alcm 55 Chardin, Jean Baptiste Simeon Le Singe antiquaire 172-.3 Charles I, King of England 148, 161 Charles V, King of France 18, 19, 23 Charles VI, King of France 18 Charles VII, King of France 19 Chataignera ye, M. de Ia 164 Chechel, Gasparo 115, 117 Chiavenna, Giacomo-Antonio 101 Chiereghin, Abbot Stefano 225 China funeral objects 12, 20 public museums 264 Chiocco, Andrea 102 i\,lusaeum Cctlceo!arium 89 Chioggia 199, 223, 234 Choiseul sale 161 Christianity

Index
Christian thinking on curiosite 59-61 collections in churches 41 relics and sacred objects 16-17, 22, 37 Christina, Queen of Sweden 79 Cicogna, Emmanuele 259 Cicognara 188 Civetra 119 Clairambault 159 classification attributions 143-56, 159, 164-5, 168 sale catalogues 39-43, 139-43, 158-9, 193 trois ecoles 139-40 typology 92 Clement VI, Pope 18 Cleves, P.-D. de 122 coins, collections of, see under numismatic collections Colberr, Jean Baptiste 129 collections as anthropological event 6 antiquities 34-6 attribution of value 31, 40, 271-2 booty 14-IG defined 9-10, 259-61 funeral objects ll-13, 20, 21, 23, 27-8, 32-3 gifts and bequests 14-16, 66-7 historical dimension 5-G, 84-5, 94-9 inventories and written descriptions 2-3 and patriotism 94-9 primitive societies 25 private and cultural innovation 273-5 and public collections 267-73 semi-public 68 public 2, 267-73 .ree alro public museums purpose of objects in 7-8, 30-3 relics and sacred objects JG-17, 37 religious offerings 13-14, 20-2, 23 royal treasures 18-20 as semiophores 4-5, 30-40 and sociableness 159-62 and social hierarchy 32-3, 38-9 symbolic nature of objects in 20-14

337

The Allegory of Fire (Pinacoteca Ambrosiana, Milan) 51 The Four Elernent.r 51 Brun, Jean-Baptiste-Pierre le 150, 156, 158, 160 Catalogue Poullain 161-2 Brunacci, Abbot Giovanni 249-50 Brusasorzi 1OS Burchelato, Bartolomeo 88 history of Treviso 94 Burri, Count Alessandro 231 cabinets 59 (adore 189 Cairo, Cavalier 108 Caldagno, Pietro 207 Ca!dana, Francesco 214 Callot 145 Calvi, Paolo 230 Calza 118 Calzolari, Francesco, the Elder 100, 101-2 Calzolari, Francesco, the Younger 75, 102 Campanari collection 203-4 Campo, Benedetto da 225 Campo, Canon Ludovico 202-3 Campo, Nicolo 203 Canossa, Marquis Ottavio di 119, 2.'>1 Canossa collection 108, 115, 16, 119, 204-5, 214 Canova, Antonio 188, 194, 213, 215, 217,243 Capello, Antonio 242-3 Capodi1ista, Count 201-2 Capodilista collection 214 Carboni, G. B. 193, 200, 201 Cardan 46 Carignan, Prince de 141, 149, 156, !60, 161, 163 Carnia 189 Carracci I 16 Carrar, Count Giovanni 207 Carrara, Don Girolamo Biscaccia 203 Casilini al Duomo collection 203 Casilini in Santa Trinitit collection 202 Castelfranco 193, 229 Castellini, Luigi 230 Castellini, Silvestro

and taste 4, 33 usefulness and meaning in objects 30-3 visible and invisible linked by 5, 20-33, 34, 43 collectors cultural role 2 and dealers 156-9 Collins 158 Colombo, Elisabem. Milesi 223 Concbyliologie nottvel!e et portative 123 Conegliano 188 connoisseurs attributions by 15 3-6 dealers as connoisseurs 156, 159 relationship with 15 5 defined 132-3, 154 of painting 167-8 'vrais connaisseurs' 167 Contarini family 265 Contarini, Procurator Alessandro 68 Contarini, Domenico 96 Contarini, Federigo 66, 70, 79, 80, 271 Contarini, Giacomo 66, 70, 267 Contarini, Giorgio 88, 90 Contarini, Girolamo 263 Contarini, Nicolo 100 copies 146 Cornaro, Marco Giuseppe 218, 222-3 Corradini, Luigi 90 Correggio family I 04 Correggio, Antonio Allegri 110, 115 Corrcr family 240 Currer, Teodoro 215, 216, 254, 256-7, 267 Correr Museum 258, 265, 273 Correspolld,mce literaire 123 Coulanges, Marquis de 161 Coypel, M. 148, 151 Crema 188 Cremonese 118 Crespani family 244 Crozat, Pierre 160, 162, 177, 198 Croz<lt collection 109, 147 defined 54-7, 132 simples curieux' 166, 167-8

338
wriosite, 45-64 attacks upon 59-62 Christian thinking on 59-61 defined 57-9 Kumt- und Wt.mderkarnmer 48-9, 64 and modern science 60-4 Curne de Sainte Palaye, La 177 Curtoni collection 107, 109, 115, 116-17 Cuvier, G. 236

Index
Dorigny, Abbor 225 Dossi, Dosso Giovanni Luteri 108 Dresden Gallery 194, 199 Dubos, J.-B. 127, 147, 149, 161, 165-7 Durazzo, Count 214 Durazzo collection 202 Diirer, Albrecht 108, 115 Dyck, Sir Anthony Van 115 Edwards, Pierro 190-1, 196 Emilei family 207 Emilei, Count Giovanni 204 Encyclopedie 132-8, 157 engravings, .ree paintings, drawings and engravings Ennery, Michelet de 122 epigraphy and history 239 and patriotism 94-9 Este, d', court 35 Estrees, M. le Marechal d' 164 Evelyn,John 71, 74, 79, 261 Fabris, Giuseppe 223, 225 Facciolati, Abbot Jacopo 210-1 1, 250,
272

Index
dealers and sale catalogues 145-6 natural curiosities 104-5 paintings 110-11 state protection of works of art 186 Furtis, Alberto 215,218,220,225,228, 229, 2)0, 2.12, 235, 236, 237, 239 Foscarini, Marco 250, 259 France 1-2, 36, 47-8 Archives Nationales 42 see also Paris Franchetti Gallery 265 Francken, Frans, II An Art Lover'.r Gallery 49 UlJ'He.r recognizing Acbil!es 53 Franzoni, L. 79, 87 Friuli 189 funeral objects 11-13, 20, 21, 23, 27-8, 32-3 Furetiere, Antoine Dictionnaire Uni1'er.rel 53-5, 57-8, 59, 61 Gaidon, Antonio 229 Gaifani collection 200 Gaignat 156-7 Galileo 73 gardens botanical67, 99-100, 101, 222, 255 Padua 67, 191, 192, 262 Venice 191 farsetti garden 222 Giusti gardens 86 grottoes 100 Querini garden 254-6 Venetian 99-101, 191 Gault de Saint-Germain, P.-M. 161 Gazola family 205 Gazola, Andrea 227 Gazola, Count Giovanni Battista 218, 226, 231' 232 Gazola Museum 232-1, 235, 236 gemstones 22-3, 85 Geneva 9 Genoa 269 Geoffrin, Mme 160 Germain, M. 87 Gersaint, E.-F. 139, 111, 142, 144, 145-7, 149, 151, 152, 153, 154, 156, 157, 158, 160, 165

339

Dal Corno, Antonio 88 Dal Pozzo, B. 66, 106, 109, 110, 113, 114, 116-17, 193,204,206 Dandolo, Lauro de Giovanni 250 Daubenton Liste des !ivres d'histoire natitre!le 123 De Thou 41 dealers 3, 144-59, 194 attributions by 144-56 and collectors 156-9 connoisseurs' relationship with 155-6 and sale catalogues 115-7 Dempster, T. De Etruria rega!is 246 Descartes, Rene 47, 62 Discottrs de Ia lvfethode 62 Recherche de Ia verite par la !ttmiere 62-3 Dezallier d'Argenville, A.-J. 121, 123, 159-60, 166-7 Diderot, Denis 132-8, 135, 136, 153-4, 155, 173 and Caylus 173-4 Correspondance litteraire 173 Diedo, Marcantonio 82 dilettantes 131-8, 166 defined 155 Dionisi, Gian Giacomo 231, 252 Dionisii, Jacopo 232 Dolfin, Daniele 108, 117-18, 119 Donati, Antonio 101 Donati, Vitaliano 225 Dondi Orologio, Antonio Carlo 219-21, 221, 225, 229 Saggio de !itto!ogia eugenea 220

Faccioli, J. T. 240 Fappani, Francesco Elenco dei j'vfuJei delle Pinacotecbe ... 259 Farsetti, Anton Francesco 2 13 Farsetti, Daniele 213 Farsetti, Abbot Filippo 212-13, 222, 263 Farsetti, Tomasso Giuseppe 246 Farsetti collection 271, 274 Faucher, Claude 35 Feltre 78, 88, 96 Tomitano's annals of 94 Ferrara, Duke of 96 Ferrecio, Giovanni Battista 91 Festari, Girolamo 229, 254 Feti. Domenico 141 Ficherri, Giovanni Battista 89 Florence 269 Uffizi Gallery 191, 263 Fontana, Giovanni 245 Forabosco I 08 forgeries

Catalogite raisonne des coqttil!es 122-3 Giglio, Carlo Vicentini dal 214 Giovanelli family 197 Giusti, Count Agostino 86 Giusti, Count Gio. Giacomo 87 Giusti gardens 86, 100 Glomy, J.-B. 152, 156, 165 Glucq de Saint-Port 160 Godefroy 156 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von 212, 222-3 Goldini, C. 218 Goltzius, Hubert 35, 269 Gradenigo family 250 Graevius,]. G. 246 Greeks relics and sacred objects 16 religious offerings 13-14 Grimani, Cardinal Domenico 66, 265 Grimani, Patriarch Giovanni 66, 70, 96, 265 Grimani Calergi, Giovanni 117 Grimani Calergi, Vincenzo 117, 119 Grim ani Calergi collection 117, 118 Grimm, M. 122, 123, 135, 137, 161, 173 Griselini Giomale d'ltalia spettante aile J cienz e naturali . . . 218 Gronovius, J. 246 Grosley, P. J. 210-11 Grotto, Luigi Andrea 244 Grotto collection 202 Gualdo 89 Gualdo, Emilio 72 Gualdo, Girolamo, the Elder 72 Gualdo, Girolamo, the Younger 72, 74, 78, 87, 103 Gualdo, Giuseppe 72 Gualdo collection 72, 73-4, 78 Gudius, Marquardus 93 Guercino 108, 113, ll6
Haecht, Willem van Apel!es' Atelier 52-3 The Galler)' of Carne/is van der GeeJt 49 Hainz, Johannes Georg

340
Museum of Curiositie.r 51 Haller, Albert 254 Hamilron, Gavin 216-17 Haskell, Francis 196, 197, 207, 208 Helle, P. CA. 151, 152, 156 Henschenius 87 herbaria 100-1, 223-4 Herculaneum, discovery of 246 Hercules Famese 81 Herodotus 21, 22 Hohenstaufen family 19 Holbein, Hans 115 Holland 39-40

Index
La Bruyere, J de 54 Caracteres 61-2 La Faye, Leriget de 156, 160 La Giudecca botanical gardens 100 lambioi, J 225 Lamy, Bernard 63-4 Lanceni, G. V. 66 language as source of the invisible 26-7 Lanzi, l. 187, 215 Lascaux wall-paintings 29 Lassay, Marquis de 160 Lauthier 160 Lavater, Johann Kaspar 254 Lazara, Giovanni de, the Elder 88-9, 90, 248-9 Lazara, Giovanni de, the Younger 187-8, 214, 250 lebeuf 177 Leibnirz, G. W. von I 70 Lena, Abbot della 214, 215 leningrad, Hermitage 9, 263 Leonardo da Vinci 116 Leonessa, Francesco 229, 245 Leroi-Gourhan, Andre 28-9 libraries 9-10, I 3, 11 liruti, Giangiuseppe 250, 252-3 Live de Jully, Ia 160 Livy, monument attributed to 92-4 Lodoli, Fra Carlo 209, 250, 272 loge 160 Lollino, Bishop Luigi 88, 89 London 40, 193, 194 British Museum 42, 266 see also United Kingdom Lorangere catalogue I 56 Lorgna, Anton Maria 204 Louis XIV, King of France medals struck by 129-30 Lucas van Leyden 108 Lunel- Vie!, Mas des Caves 28 Mabillon, J. 75, 87 Madrid 9, 264 Maffei, Francesco Scipione, Marchese 65, 68, 69, 90, 98-9, 104, 169-84, 188, 204, 208, 2IO, 2.13, 23 I, 242 Accademia Filarmonica 87, 90 art collecrion 200

Index
Arte magica annicbilata 170 botanical garden 222 Degli anfiteatri 177, 246 Delf'impiego del danaro 170 Istoria teologica 170, 177 La religion de 'gent iii nel morire 175, 177-8 Lapidary Museum 244, 265 letter to Countess Adela'ide de Seefeld 97-8 medievalism 240, 272 i\'luseo zmit,ersale e publico 240- I 1'1-fuseum veroneme 175, 241 museums of antiquities in Verona and Turin 179,183 natural history collection 226, 227, 228 Notizia di 111101!0 mmeo d'iscrizioni a Verona 240 OJJervcr:::ioni letterarie 175 proposed museum of antiquities in Paris I 78-84 religious views I 70 Scienza cbiamata cavalleresca 170 universalist ambitions 241 Verona 74, 94-5, 175, 176, I83, 204, 206, 240-I visit to Paris I 76, 177-8 Malebranche, Nicolas 63 M;!linmvski, B. 25 Manfredinis a porta San Giovanni 202 Manfredinis presso San Rocco 202 Manfrin, Girolamo 214 Manrova Benavides, Andrea 80, 90, 103 Mantova Benavides, Gasparo 104 1fantova Benavides, Irene 90 Mantova Benavides, Marco SO Mantova Benavides collection 107 Mantua, Duke of 70, 79 manuscripts 38 Marais, Mathieu I 76-7 Marangoni collection 202 Maraschini 230 Mariette, Pierre-Jean 133, 134, I 39, 141, 147-8, ISO, IS!, 152, 154, 156, 160, IG6, 173, 177, 198 Marmontel, J. F. I 73 Marrin, Dom Jacques 180-1, 182

341

India, Francesco 87 inscriptions anthologies of 95 collections in Venetia 81, 85-90, 91-4, 95-6, 97-8 Santa Giustina Cloister (Padua) 92-4 universal and local history 252 Verona's lapidary museum 240-1 Isidore of Seville 59 Italy 2, 40, 97-9 Janssens, Hieronymus Picture Galler)' viJited bJ Dilettanti 49 Joubert, Pere Science des medail!eJ 126 Joullain !56 Joullain, F.-C., fils 158, 162 Julienne, M. I 50, I 52 J ullienne 160 Kessel, Jan van, the Elder America 50 Kessel, Jan van The Four Elements 51 The Toilet of Venus 53 Kircher, Father Athanasius 91 Kunst- und \f/zmderkammer 48-9 64 80 . , Gualdo collection 72, 73-4, 78 Moscardo collection 75-8 natural curiosities 45-7, 99-5 Ruzzini collection 70-2, 79 Venetia 69-78, 99 Kwakiurl people I6

Martinelli 89 Ilritratto ovz;ero Ie cOJ"e piit notabili di Venezia ... 261 Martinengo de Barco family 226 Martinoni,G. 70-1,106,107,113,269 Mastini, Antonio 230 Matilda, Queen of England 17 Matthias I Corvinus, King of Hungary 35 Mazarin, Cardinal 4I Mazaugues, Thomassin de 177 Mazzuchelli, Count Gian Maria 247-8 medals collections of, Jee numismatic collections used for political ends 129-30 Medici court 35 Medici, Anne-Marie-Louise de' 42 Medici, Leopolda de' l 09 Medici Venus 81 medieval objects collections in Paris 126 collections in Venetia 78 numismatic collections 246-53 rediscovery of interest in 37-8, 40, 272 Melka Kontoure habitations 27 Memmo, Andrea 209-10 Micheli, Pier Antonio 222 Michie!, Marcantonio 70, 78 Milan 41, 263, 264, 269 Milanovitch, Lieutenant-Colonel 229 Milesi 202 Milizia 272 Mirandola, Prince della 109 Mocenigo, Zuanne 66 Mocenigo brothers 250-1 Molin, Girolamo Ascanio 89, 228, 250, 26.), 265 Molino, Bishop 200 Mommsen, T. Corpus Inscriptiommt Lath;amm 86 Monconys 109 Monga, Andrea 206 Montaigne, Michel Eyquem de 61 Montarsis, de 160 Montfaucon, B. De 71, 75, 79, 261 Montulle,J-B. de !GO Morelli,J.188,215

342

Index
Nis, Daniel 109 Nogent, Guiberr de De pignoribttS sanctomm 22 North American Indians 16, 25 numismatic collections 36, 269 history and numismatics 125-8, 239, 246-9, 252 medieval coins and medals 246-53 Paris 121-31 Racco!ta delle monete e zeccbe d'Italia 252 Venetia 81-5, 94-5, 97 Obizzi, Tomasso degli 194, 215-17, 227,229,245,246,251,256 objets curieux 57 Odoardi, Jacopo 229 Oldavai habitations 27 Olivi, Abbot Giuseppe Zoologia Adriatica 225, 235 Olivi, Giovanni Battista 102 oriental curiosities 242-6 Orleans, Duke of 109 Orsato, Sertorio 87, 89, 90, 91, 91, 98, 249 i\Jonumenta Patavina 93-4, 95, 96 Orti family 207 Orti Manara, Count Giovanni Girolamo 205, 231 Oxford 11, 42,265 Paciaudi, Father 121-2, 182 Padua I 06, 107 bones of Livy 92 collections in antiquities 78, 245 Benavides collection 80, 103 botanical gardens 67, 100, 191, 192, 223, 262 inscriptions 88-9 natural history 229, 234 numismatic 269 ornithological 191 paintings 19), 200-4,207,214 Pignoria collection 80-1 public collections 194 scientific instruments 226 Lateran canons 244, 245 Mon11menta Patuvma 93-4, 95, 96 Natural History Museum 191,265 Santa Giustina Cloister, inscription 92-4 state protection of works of art 187-8 tomb of Antenor 95 University of 262, 272 Vallisnieri Museum 103-5 Paglia, F. 106 paintings, drawings and engravings 131, 132, 133 allegory and personification 50-3, 72, 73, 85 artists' role 36-7 attribution of works 145-56 and aesthetic appreciation 158-9, 164-6, 168 auetion room sales 39-40, 160-1, 193-6 sale catalogues 3, 39-40, 139-59, 163-4, 193 collections depicted in 48, 49-5 3 connoisseurs 167-8 contemporary works 197, 203 dealers 143-50 relationship with collectors 158 decorative and representative roles

Index

343

Moreni family 231 Moreni, Giulio Cesare 218, 227, 231 Mora, Abbot Anton-Lazar 227-8 Moro, Gasparo 250 Morosini, Giacomo 222, 228 Morosini, Giovanni Francesco 100, 222 Morosini, Senator Pietro 67, 83, 262, 265, 271 Moscardo, Lodovico 74-5, 84, 87, 90-1, 99, 107, 193, 234 Historia di Verona 87, 94, 96 Moscardo collection 68, 74-8 Moschini, Giannantonio 193, 194, 229, 253,259 Mosconi, Rafaelle 205 Munich 263 Muselli, Gian Francesco 245 Muse IIi, Jacopo 245, 246-7, 251-2 Muselli collection 107, 109, 115, 116-17 Muttoni collection 203-4 Nani, Senator Bernardo 243, 244 Nani, Giovanni Battista 100 Nani, Jacopo 243, 244 Naples 269 Napoleon I, Emperor 264 natural history collections 36, 271 Bolca fossilized fish 226, 228, 231, 232, 235-8 commonplace and native objects 234, 271-2 fossils 226-9, 234-8 gardens, see gardens herbaria 100-1, 223-4 Kunst- tmd Wunderkammer 45-7, 99-5 Linnean classification system 222, 224, 225 minerals 226-9, 239 Paris 121-5, 131, 138 plants 217-18, 222-6 Tournefort's classification system 222, 224 Venetia 99-105, 191, 192, 217-39 zoological 225 naturalists, profession of 221 New York 9, 42, 266 Nichesola, Cesare 86-7, 89, 96, 99-100

lOG
Dutch and Flemish works !62-3 market in, see art market 'minor genres' 199, 201, 202 old masters 197, 203 owners and collectors 106, 118 Paris, collections in 123 'primitives' 209,211, 212-17,250, 272 status of 36-7 Venetia, collections in, see Venetia Palermo, Policarpo 87 Palfer, Giovanni Giorgio 89 Palma the Elder 108 Papafava collection 249 Papebroch 87 Paris 7, 40 art market 193, 194 Cognacg-Jay Museum 9 collecting population 124-5 Grand Palais 8 Jacquemart-Andre Museum 9

Louvre 264 natural history collections 121-5, 131, 138 Nissim de Camondo Museum 9 numismatic collections 121-31 proposed museum of antiquities 178-84 Parmigiano, Francesco Mazzola 115 Pascal, Blaise 61 Pasguali, G. B. 208 Pasqualigo, Domenico di Vincenzo 67, 78, 249, 253 Patarol, Lorenzo 101, 105, 222, 226-7, 271 Imtitutiones rei herbariae ... 101 Series Augttstorum, Augmtarum, Caesarum et Tyrannor11m ... 84 Patin, Charles 67, 81, 83, 87, 90, 91 patriotism 94-9 Pausanias 13, 22 Pedoni, Gaetano 230 Peiresc, N. C. F. de 90 Pellerin, J. 122 Perande, Sante 108 Persico, Pietro 251 Peverelli, Count Girolamo 231 Philip IV, King of Spain 161 Pietra, Michele 117, 119 Pigalle 137 Pignoria, Lorenzo 74, 80-1, 85, 87, 89-90, 91, 94 Piles, R. de 145-6, 147, 154, 155, 160 Pinelli, Matteo 74, 199, 246, 251 Pinelli library 244 Pisani family 196 medal collection 240, 246, 250 Pliny the Elder 15-16,22,46-7 Pocco, Bishop Angelo 41 Poleni, Abbot 201 Poleni, Giovanni 201, 208, 226, 246 Polignac, Cardinal de 177, 178, 179-81 Pompei, Alessandro 205, 241 Pompei, Giulio 205, 206 Pompei collection 205, 206 Pompeii, discovery of 246 Porto Godi, Paolina de 207, 214 Potier 159 primitive societies, collections in 25 Priuli, Abbot Matteo 103

344

Index
Roncalli, Francesco 223 Ronconi, Count Ignazio 231 Ronconi collection 232 Rondelet, Guillaume 46-7 Rosa, Salvator I 18 Rosa, Saverio dalla 188, 193, 194, 201, 206 Rosenberg, Giustiniana \XIynne, Countess of 254 Rossetti, G. B. 193, 195, 20I, 229, 250 Rossi, Ottavio 86, 91, 94 Rotari, Sebastiana 223, 226, 227, 231 Rotari family 231 Rovigo 107 Accademia dei Concordi 194, 202 collections in antiquities 78, 24 1i-5 inscriptions 88 natural history collections 229 paintings 193, 200-4, 207, 208, 214 state protection of works of art 188 Rovigo, Fra Fortunato da 101 Rubens, Sir Peter Paull08, 115, 141-2 Pit;e Sen.res 50 Orpheus in the Underworld 149 The AllegorJ' of Hearing 52 Venus and Adoni.r 149 Ruskin, John The Stones of Venice 272 Ruzzini, Carlo 70-2 Ruzzini collection 70-2, 79, 81, 82 Sabanti museum 97 sacred objects, .ree relics and sacred objects Sagredo, Zaccaria 197 Sansovino, F. 66, 89, l 06, 269 Santo family 207 Sasso, Giovan Maria 194, 214, 2 I 5, 2 I 6 Saussure, Horace de 254 Savorgnan, Alessandro 106-7 Savorgnan, Giovanni de 250 Scamozzi, Ottavio Berrorti 245 27'\ ' . Schlosser, J. Von 69 Schulenberg, Marshal 197-8 sciences cttrieJtses 57, 59, 6! scientific instruments collections of ) 7 225-6 ' . ' Scortegagna, Francesco Orazio 230

Index
Scotti family 229, 244 Scythians 12 Seefeld, Countess Adela'ide de 97-8 217-18,222, 223, 224, 227, 231 Selva, Gianantonio 243, 263 Sera, Paolo de Ia 109, 115 Serpe, Giuliano 230-1, 235 Serpini collection 205, 207 Silvestri, Count Camillo 88, 90, 91, 96, 99, 244 Histotia agraria de Pole.rine 94 Silvestri, Carlo 90, 244 Silvestri, Canon Girolamo 229, 244 Silvestri, Rinaldo 203, 244 Silvestri collection 107, 203-4, 205 Sloane, Sir Hans 42, 266 Smith, Joseph 197, 198, 201, 208, 210, 214, 242 social hierarchy 32-3, 38-9 Soderini, Giannantonio 82 Spada, Giacomo 218, 227, 228, 231 specialization 90-4 typology 92 Spolverini family 207 Span,]. 68, 7I, 75, 79, 82, 87, 121 Steiner, Franz 31 Sroskopf, Sebastian The Great Vanit)' 51 Strange, John 213-I4, 219, 228, 229 Streit, Sigismond 198, 208 Surugue fils 172 symbolic interpretation 90-2 Tallard, Due de I63 Tallard sale catalogues I40, 143, 149 Tanara, Antonio 205 Tempesta, Antonio 118 Terzi, Abbot Basile 220, 229 Testa, Abbot Domenico 236-7, 239 Thiene, Count Antonio Maria 223 Thiers, Baron Crozat de, collection catalogue 15 3-4 Thiery, L.-V. 122, 123 Tiepolo, G. B. 194 illustrations to Vemna illust1'ata 204, 241 lvfuseo Tiepolo 83 numismatic collection 240, 250

345

public museums 41 churches as 261 formation of 261-7 politics and benefaction as political phenomenon 267 distribution of works 264 private collections left as 264-6 public and private collections 267-73 in teaching establishments 262 Pyrrhonists 91 Querini, Angelo 244, 254-6 Querini-Stampalia Art Gallery 265 Randon de Boisset sale 142, 157 Raphael I07, 108, 110, I I6 relics and sacred objects I 6- I 7, 3 7 bones of Livy 92 Gualdo collection 74 religious offerings I 3-14, 20-2, 23 Remy,P. 144,148-9,150,152,155, 156-7, 162-3, 165, I67 Reni, Guido I08, 110, 113, 116, ISO Renieri, Nicolo I 10 Reynst brothers 69. I 09 Ribeira, Jose 108 Ricati family 229 Riche, le 160 Ridolfi, C. 106, 113 Life of Veronese 148 lvfaraviglie de!f'arte I09 Rigamonti, Don Ambrogio 188

Tiepolo, Giandomenico 82 Villa Valmarana frescoes 243-4 Timoretto, Jacopo Robusti 108, 109, 113 Tirabosco, Giovanni Pietro 110, 117 Titian 113 Assunta 65 Tomasini, Giovanni Filippo 90 Tomitano, Daniele 88 annals of Feltre 94 Tommaselli, Abbot Giuseppe 231 Tong- T'Ai, Princess, tomb of 12 Torey 159 Tornieri, Count Arnaldi Arnaldo I 230, 245, 246 Torra, Carlo 82, 90 travel, influence of 36 Traversi, Abbot Antonio 226, 228 Trevisani, Bernardo 79, 80, 89 Trevisani, Francesco 79, 80 Treviso 107, 187 Burchelato's history of 94 collections in 193 antiquities 78, 244 botanical gardens 223 herbaria 101 inscriptions 88 natural history 229 public 194

Descrizione delle pitture piu celebri ... di Treviso 188

state protection of works of an 188 Trobriand Islanders 25 Tronchin, 153-4, 155 Tugny sale catalogue 147 Tupi Indians 32 Turchi, Alessandro (l'Orbetto) 108, 110-11, 113 Turin 179, 183 Turra, Antonio 218, 222, 223, 225, 230 Florae italicae prodromus 224

Descrizione delle pitt ure ... di Treviso 188

Rio, Nicolo de 225, 229 Rizzo, Count Sebastiano 222 Rizzo, Francesco 222 Rollin 171 Romano, Don Girolamo 22), 224 Romans as collectors 15-16, 22 relics and sacred objects 16 Rome Angelica Library 41 Museo Capirolino 12 numismatic collections 269 Pio Clememino Museum 183 Vatican Museums 263

Vegetabilia Italiae indigena metbodo Linnaeano disposta ... 224

typology 92 Udine 188 Union of Soviet Socialist Republics 264 United Kingdom Crown collections 263 Society of Antiquaries 35

346

Index
Venice 78, 89-90 Verona 78, 86-7 V icenza 78, 87 archaeological 242-6 botanical gardens 67, 99-100, I 01, 255 dispersal of 194-5 foreign collectors 197-8, 208, 213-14 natural history 67, 99-105, 192, 217-39 natural history, gardens 99-101 minerals and fossils 226-9, 239 Padua 229 plants 222-6 Verona 221, 229-33, 236-9 Vicenza 229-33 zoological collections 22 5 numismatic 67, 94-5, 97, 246-53 paintings 106-20, 192-217 Bergamo 207 Brescia 200-4, 207 contemporary works 203 foreign painters 111-16 forgeries 110-11 hierarchy of genres 116-20 historical collections 208-12 inherited collections 196 market in pictures 107-11 'minor genres' 199, 20 I, 202 old masters Ill, 203 Padua 200-4, 207, 214 patriotism 96, 114 'primitives' 209, 2ll, 212-17, 250, 272 Rovigo 200-4, 207, 208, 214 state protection of works of art 186-92 subject matter 112-14, 116-20 Venice 196-200 Verona 107-20, 204-8, 214 Vicenza 207, 214 private 65-6. 68, 192-217 public 66-9, 191-2, 194 scientific instruments 225-6, 226 eighteenth-century collectors 185-257 epigraphy and patriotism 94-9 foreign collectors 197-8

Index
Gualdo collection 72, 73-4, 78 herbaria I 00-1 Kmz.rt- zmd Wttnderkammer 69-78, 99 Moscardo collection 68, 78, 84, 87 MttSeo Tiepolo 83 natural history museum 191 Pignoria collection 80-1, 85 private gifts and bequests 66-7 Ruzzini collection 70-2, 79, 81, 82 St Mark, cult of 66 St Mark's 67-8 specialization 90-4 state protection of works of art 185, 186-92 picture restoration 190, I 92 symbolic interpretation 90-2 Vallisnieri Museum 103-5 Vendramin collection 69-70, 84 Zeno collection 82 Venezze collection 202 Venice 106, 258-61 Academy (of Fine Arts) 258, 262, 263-4, 265, 268-9, 271 Archaeological Museum 258, 264-5, 273 benefaction as political phenomenon 267 Capello Museum 85 collections in botanical gardens 100, 191, 223 dispersal of 194-5 inscriptions 89-90 numismatic 94, 269 paintings I 07-20, 196-200 private 192, 193, 269 Collegio dei Pittori 190 Correr Museum 258, 265, 267, 273 Francherri Gallery 258, 265 Gallery of Modern Art 258, 266 Museo Civico di Scienze Naturali 272 Museum of Eighteenth-century Venice 258 Museum of Glass and Glass-making 258 Natural Science Museum 258 Oriental Museum 258, 266 Peggy Guggenheim Collection 9, 258, 265, 273

347

see a!Jo London United States of America 2, 265-6 usefulness and meaning in objects 30-3

Vaillant,]. 121 vain sciences 57 Valeriano, Pierio 88 Hieroglyphica 69 Vallarsi, Domenico 244 Valle, Giambanista della 226, 227 Vallisnieri, Anronio 103-5, 226-7, 244, 262, 271 Vallisnieri, Antonio, the Younger 191, 208, 237 Vallisnieri collection 219 Valmarana, Benedetto 246 Valmarana family 100 Valois, Philippe de 18 value, attribution of 31, 40, 271-2 Vasari, Giorgio 83, Ill Vecchia, Angelo 207 Vecchia, Pietro 110 Vedova, Francesco 90 Vegliano 223 Vendramin, Andrea 69-70, 84, 109 Vendramin, Gabrielle 70 Venetia 65-120 art market 193-6, 194 Benavides collection 80, I 03 Biblioteca Marciana 186 collections in antiquities 78-99 Belluno 88 Brescia 78, 86 changing attitude towards 97-8 epigraphy and patriotism 94-9 Feltre 78, 88 historical monuments 239-5 7 inscriptions 81, 85-90, 91, 92-4, 95-6, 97-8 numismatic collections 81-5 oriental curiosities 242-6 Padua 78, 88-9 return to classicism 240-2 Rovigo 78, 88 specialization 90-4 statues and sculptures 66-7, 79-81, 96 Treviso 78, 88

Pinacoteca Manfrediniana 258 Pinacoteca Querini-Stampalia 258, 265 proposed public collection of paintings 190-1 Risorgimento Museum 258 St Mark's 258, 261, 262-3, 265, 270 antiqttario publico 66 Sale d'Armi dei Consiglio di Dieci 258, 262, 265 Santo Cataneo gardens 100 Venturi, Abbot Giuseppe 231, 245 Venturi, F. 170 Verci 193 Verita, Counr Jacopo 245 Verona 98-9, 106 Accademia Filarmonica 67, 86-7, 90, 96, 222, 240-1, 265 arenas 65 Canossa Palace 204 collections in antiquities 78, 79, 245 botanical gardens 222-3 inscriptions 86-7 natural history 221, 227, 229-33, 234, 236-9 paintings 107-20, 204-8, 214 private 192, 193 public 194 scientific instruments 226 Giusti gardens 86, 100 medievalism 251-2 Moscardo collection 68, 74-8 Moscardo's history of 94, 96 Museo Archeologico di Teatro Romano 245 Museo Lapidario 222, 240-1, 244, 265 museum of antiquities 179, 183 Scaligers' romb 95 srate protection of works of art J88 Verona il!ttstrata 71, 94-5, 175, 176, 183, 204, 206, 240-1 Verona, Fra Petronio da 103 Veronese (Paolo Caliari) 65, 108, 113, 194 Last Supper 96, I 07 iHarriage of St Catherine 149 Venus I 09

348

Index
:JC ' _. Winckelmann , Johann Joachim/242 Witte!, Gaspard van 118 Wortley Montagu, Edward 215
Zago, Count Octavia 245 Zanetti, Anton Maria 194-5, 253, 272 Zanetti, Amon Maria, the Elder 198, 208, 211, 214, 215, 269 Delle antiche Jfattte greche et romane ... 211-12, 241 Zanetti, Amon Maria, the Younger 186, 189, 208, 211, 213, 261, 269 Della pittura veneziana ... 186-7 Delle antiche statue greche et romane . .. 211-12, 241 Zanetti, Girolamo 250 Zanetti collection 242 Zannichelli 271 Zannichelli, Gian-Giacomo 223-4 Zannichelli, Gian-Girolam o 223 Zannichelli, Giovanni Girolamo 101 Zeno, Apostolo 82, 90, 97, 99, 104, 247, 249, 250 Zettelle, Melchior 101 Ziliani, Fra Angelo 191, 225 zoological collections 225 Zoppi, Luigi 224 Zulian, Girolamo 214-15 Zurla, Father Placido 228

Wedding at Cana 109 Verue, Comtesse de 140-1, 156, 160, 162-3 Vianelli collection 205 Vianelli, Giovanni 204 Vianelli, Giuseppe 223 Vicenza 100, 106, 107 Castellani's annals of 94 collections in antiquities 78 botanical gardens 223 inscriptions 87 natural history 229-33, 234 paintings 207, 214 private 193 inscriptions listed 240 state protection of works of art 188 Vio, Father Guido 228 Visconti, Filippo Aurelio 216 Vitruvius 15, 246 Volpato, Gian Battista 110 Volta, Giovanni Serafino 221, 225, 231, 235-6 lttiolitologia veronese 232-3 Volraire, F. M.A. de 173 La Merope fram;aise 170-2
Washington D.C. 265-6 Wheler, G. 82

Index by Ann Barrett