Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Polity Press
Contents
Foreword
INVISIBLE
3.1
3.2
3.3
3.4
Collections as Microcosms
The Galleries of Antiquities
Natural Curiosities
Paintings
7
11
20
26
34
45
65
69
78
99
106
121
139
169
185
192
217
239
258
Notes
276
Index
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.
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
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
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.
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
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.
10
11
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
12
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
13
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
14
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
dazzled public was given the chance to feast its eyes on all the preci~us
stones, fabrics, jewels, objets d'art made of precious metals and so on, wht~h
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 preci?~s 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 crow~s, a
square mountain of gold with stags, lions an~ fruit o~ every, kind,
surrounded by a gold vine, a pearl grotto topped wtth a sundtal . . . . After
being carried round in triumphant display, some of the object~ 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 Ve~res ts a
good case in point. Only during the Emptre dtd collectmg gam su~h
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 p~rsonal
dignity. The best illustration of this comes in a passage from Plmy the
Elder, which is worth quoting despite its length.
15
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 ~e
would gnaw its rim; and yet the damage he thus caused only enhanced tts
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
was, and whatever its nature, this object retained all the gr~ce 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 alon~ with
prosperity, and all were, not surprisingly, regarded as th~ 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 o~ly ever leave it as the result of a theft or, most excepti~nally,
because they had been given to some powerful figure or other. In thts way
they became extremely numerous, and required catalogues to
drawn ~1p.
The relics were contained in reliquaries, shown to the fatthful dunng
religious ceremonies and carried in processions. ~s contact. render~d the
miraculous powers of the relics even more effective, the fatt~ful ~td 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 Euro~e. 16
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 oth~r items
too. Thus, besides being places of worship, each church also constlt~t.ed a
permanent exhibition of dozens of objects. This, however, IS so famd1ar a
subject that it needs no further elaboration.
16
?e
17
18
Royal treasures
19
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
20
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.
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
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
21
22
en bloc the invisible. They encapsulated the whole of nature; 'Hence very
23
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
24
25
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.
26
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
27
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
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 Melka Kamoun~, in Ethiopia, in a level one million five hundred
thousand years old.l 1 Man would seem to have acquired mastery of fire
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
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
28
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
29
'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.
30
31
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
extr~mes. 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 ~l~ced. 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
32
33
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
34
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,
35
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
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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
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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:
41
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
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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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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
48
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.
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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
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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.
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.
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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.
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:
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).
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
57
58
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
59
60
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
61
62
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
63
64
3
Collections in Venetia
in the Heyday of Curiosity
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:
66
67
68
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.
69
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
70
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
71
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
72
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
73
74
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.
75
76
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:
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:
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
77
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:
78
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
79
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
80
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
Wunderkamme1~ 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.
81
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
82
83
84
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
h~r 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
85
86
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
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
87
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
88
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
Belluno
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
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
89
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',
90
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
91
92
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.
93
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.
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
94
95
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
96
97
98
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 tog~ther 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
99
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
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 garde~ 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
100
101
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
102
103
104
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.
basilisks, fabulous hydras, petrified bread and fungi and other similar
nonsense. 271
105
106
3.4 PAINTINGS
107
108
Table I
Estimated
Prices
5
8
26
86
2
4
6
20
64
Total
134
100
Canossa Inventory,
Verona, 1687
No of paintings %
16
28
56
254
2
4
7
14.5
66
8
0.5
387
100
31
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
109
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,
110
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
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
111
112
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.
113
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
114
115
116
117
Table 2
Name of
collector
Date of
inventory
Number of
paintings
Landscapes
and 'minor
genres
(as % of total)
1646
1655
1656
1657
1664
1681
1709
180
168
486
142
164
134
556
8
14
6
21
24
0
34
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
118
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
119
120
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:
'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.
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
122
123
124
125
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.
126
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,
127
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
128
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
129
130
131
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.
amongst on the one side antiquaries, some of whom were at the same time
art lovers or dilettantes, and philosophers on the other.
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.
132
133
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
134
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
135
136
Medals/Shells= Erudition/Philosophy
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.
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
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 th~
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
137
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
138
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.
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
140
141
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
142
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.
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.
143
144
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
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
145
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
147
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'.
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148
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
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
149
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.
150
151
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
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.
152
153
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
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
154
155
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.
156
157
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 i~
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
conflic~ 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
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
158
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
159
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 closi~g
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.
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.
160
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
161
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
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.
162
163
St Catherine on her knees, her hands joined, gazing upon him. This
painting comes from the sale of the M. le Man~chal 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.
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.
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
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.
164
165
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.
166
167
168
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.
170
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
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
171
172
173
174
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 ~fa 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.
175
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
176
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
177
179
178
whtcb only few of irs kind can march', as Maffei put it.H
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
181
This is the question asked by our fiery Benedictine, and he gives the
following revealing rep! y:
180
What possible fruit can the republic of letters and the _nation draw from
an impracticable suggestion, given that for more than_ stxty years a ~earch
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 t~e
responsibility of the Academic des belles-lettres, and the members of th~s
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. Maff~i,
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 ~ne pu~hshe_d 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 Pari~. ~artin's. text.m~kes
it clear that neither the authorities nor the Academ1e des mscnpnons
showed any interest whatsoever in the creation of an institutio~ ?~ this
kind. The latter was patently satisfied with being given the respons1b1l1ty of
running the Salle des Antiques at the Louvre, seeing it~ admission there as .a
corporate privilege. Its intention was not to ope~ t~IS 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
182
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.
183
184
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
186
187
188
189
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.
190
191
192
193
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
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
...,----
195
194
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
-.-~
196
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,
197
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
198
199
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
200
201
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
202
203
204
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
205
206
207
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
208
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.
209
scale that they affected both the contents and characte r of art collections
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
L~doli 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 t~eir 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 ~ould
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 fro~
the Roman, Bolognese, German and Flemish schools.I29
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.
210
211
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
212
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.
213
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
mast~r~Ieces 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
rh~n:, sixt~-one, were Flemish, and the rest were Italian, twenty-eight
re!Igwus pictures acc~unring for the majority of these, and twenty-four
l~ndscapes, flowe.r, frurt and animal studies constituting rhe largest propor~wn of 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
F~r 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
Pet~rsburg 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 wer~
purch~se~
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
h?~~ one very gre~t artist, Canova, did acquire at least part of his skill by
vtsttln~ the Farsettt p.al~ce. 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
Caylus.~ 56 O~ly in the 1820s did they turn out to lead to incompatible
aesthetiC choiCes. When, in the closing decades of the eighteenth century,
colle.ctors b~g.a? to abando~ 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
214
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
216
217
182
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.
218
219
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
220
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
221
222
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
223
224
225
226
Antiq1~arians
227
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
228
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
229
230
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.
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,
231
232
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
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.
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.
233
234
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
235
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
236
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?
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.
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
237
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.
238
or stony strata which compose the mountains and all other parts of the
Earth. 107
... 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
239
240
241
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
Capello, the contents o~ which were published in 1702, and which uniquely
compnsed amulets, talismans and abraxas. ' 29 This was a collection which
am~ssed 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
i~te~~ed to offer artists models to imitate, and in this respect it is
sig~lflCant that another promoter of early Venetian neo-classicism, Joseph
Smtth, also formed a collection of engraved stones. 13 The parallel between
Zan~tti and ~affei is also striking, as each helped in his own particular way
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
used images or objects to increase their understanding of texts, so tl~at by
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.
242
243
244
245
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
o!
246
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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248
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
249
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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251
252
253
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.
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255
256
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
,
257
accustomed to the cult of antiquity alone, could only accept this ~ttit~~e 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 lo~al,
tradition al and medieval emphasi s, and thereby heraldm g a turnmg- pomt
in the history of society and taste.
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.
259
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.
260
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
261
--263
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
262
264
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
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266
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.
267
268
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
269
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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27l
272
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
courtyard, sometimes also the fa~;ades, where busts, bas-reliefs and inscriptions 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.
273
274
275
14.
Notes
15
16
17
18
19
20
First published in Enciclopedia Einaudi, vol. III, Turin, 1978, pp. 330-64.
Reproduced in Libre, 3 (1978), pp. 3-56.
2
.'>
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
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278
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
9
CHAPTER 2 THE AGE Of CURIOSITY
10
11
12
13
14
15
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279
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
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
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.
3
4
8
9
10
II
12
13
14
15
16
17
281
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 Pittt~re 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
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19
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22
23
24
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27
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30
31
32
:13
283
38
39
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43
-14
45
46
47
48
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51
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56
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58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
284
67
68
94
95
96
97
98
5.
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
285
99
100
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105
106
107
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286
112
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138
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152
15 3
154
287
288
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
289
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
290
184
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
291
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).
214
292
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
23)
234
235
236
237.
238.
239
240
241
242
24.)
244
245
246
247
Notes to
pp. 97-100
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).
Cf. K. Pomian, 'Medals/Shells~ Erudition/Philosophy', above pp. 21-38.
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,
Venice, 1895 (~Memorie del R. Istituto Veneto di SS.LL.AA., vol. XXV, no. 4),
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
Notes to
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
pp. 101-5
293
294
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
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'.
Cf. G. A. Averoldi, Le scelte pittt~re di Brescia, pp. 243-7: 'Nota de'Quadri di
Pittura, con il nome de gl'Autori suoi, li quali s'attrovano neUe Stanze in Casa
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
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
295
296
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
297
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
recherche des antiquitez procure a~tx savam, Rauen, 1727, vol. II, pp. 412-34.
4 A.-J. Dezallier d'Argenville, 'Lettre sur le choix et !'arrangement d'un cabinet
curieux', Merwre de France, June 1727, pp. 1294-330.
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,
298
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
11
12
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
299
.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
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
301
4
5
7
8
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 fran~aises 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).
Catalogue des tableaux de !a Comtesse de Verrue, 1737 (Lugt 470), nos. 24, 66,
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
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
303
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 Fran~ois 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
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
Notes to
pp. 152-5
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
305
et de P. Mariette a11ec !e meme, published by Ch. Nisard, Paris, 1877, vol. II,
p. 324.
P. Remy, Catalogue raisonne de tablea11x . .. q~ti 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 Louis-Fran~ois 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
d'~tne 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
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
Note.r to
pp. 160-1
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
with the Prince de Carignan; cf. E. Dacier and A. Vuaflart, ]et~n de ]tdienne,
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.
Quoted from: E. Bonnaffe, DictiomMire de.r Amateurs fran~ais ctu X Vlle
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
N oteJ to
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
pp. 161-2
307
308
101
102
103
104
I OS
106
I 07
!OS
109
ItO
111
112
113
114
5
6
7
S
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
CHAPTER (i l\!AFFEI AND CA YLUS
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
E~~topeo 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.
17
1S
19
20
21
22
23
309
310
izzame11ti d'Antichi Scrittori Latini, e Greci, cbe sono in !uce, Venice, 1720, p.
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
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, 1576~ 1590~ 1656~ 1684a, 2137a, 2290~ 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.
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
311
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.
312
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
CHAPTER 7 COLLECTORS, NATURALISTS AND ANTIQUARIANS
IN THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
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
15
16
17
18
19
313
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
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
315
2.
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
316
51
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
7)
74
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
l 00
I01
317
[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 i!!t~strata, 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 iH~<.reo 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', Stt~di 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
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
11-1
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
111
1-12
143
144
319
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
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
321
322
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
323
324
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
325
ne
268
269
270
271
272
273
326
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
327
32tl
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
)23
324
325
326
327
328
329
530
Notes to
pp. 240-2
Notes to
331
332
333
334
335
336
33 7
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
3-16
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
pp. 242-5
329
330
355
356
3'57
3'58
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
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 am~i 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
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
331
332
401
402
403
404
105
406
407
408
409
410
111
412
413
411
415
416
417
418
419
120
421
422
12)
424
Notes to
pp. 252-6
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
Alricchiero', in collective work, Firemen' e fa cuftura antiqut~ria. G!i antecedcmti
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.
Notes to
pp. 258-75
333
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
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
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
336
Index
337
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
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
c~trie11x
338
Index
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
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
nat~~re!!e 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
Index
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
339
340
Index
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
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
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 illustrate~ 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
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
Index
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
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
343
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
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
345
Index
Scotti family 229, 244
Scythians 12
Seefeld, Countess Adela'ide de 97-8
Seguier,Jean-Fran~ois 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
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
346
Index
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
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
347
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