Krzysztof Pomian Collectors and Curiosities

L
COLLECTORS AND CURIOSITIES

Paris and VeniceJ 15 00-1800
Krzysztof Pomian
Translated by Elizabeth Wiles- Portier
Polity Press
First published as Collectionneurs, amateurs et cuneux,
copyright Editions Gallimard 1987.
The essay entitled 'Enrre le visible et !'invisible: Ia collection'
copyright Giulio Einaudi editorie, Torino, 1978.
This English translation copyright Polity Press 1990.
Published with the assistance of the French Ministry of Culture
and Communication
First published 1990 by Polity Press
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Bnttsh Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
Pomian, Krzysztof
Collectors and curiosities: Paris and Venice, 1500-1800.
!. France. Paris. Collecting. history. 2. Italy. Venice.
Collecting, history
I. Title II. Collecrionneurs, amateurs et curieux.
English
790.132094436
ISBN 0-7456-0680-6
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the Library of
Congress.
Typeset in 10 on ll
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by Witwell Ltd, Southport
Printed in Great Britain by
T.J. Press Ltd., Padstow, Cornwall
Contents
Foreword
1 THE COLLECTION: BETWEEN THE VISIBLE AND THE INVISIBLE
1.1 A Collection of Collections
1.2 Collections: the Invisible and the Visible
1.3 Usefulness and Meaning
1.4 Museums and Private Collections
2 THE AGE OF CURIOSITY
3 COLLECTIONS IN VENETIA IN THE HEYDAY OF CURIOSITY
3.1 Collections as Microcosms
3.2 The Galleries of Antiquities
3.3 Natural Curiosities
3.4 Paintings
4 MEDALS/SHELLS= ERUDITION/PHILOSOPHY
5 DEALERS, CONNOISSEURS AND ENTHUSIASTS IN
EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY PARIS
6 MAFFEI AND CAYLUS
7 COLLECTORS, NATURALISTS AND ANTIQUARIANS IN THE
VENETIAN REPUBLIC OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
7.1 Paintings, Drawings, Engravings
7.2 Objec(S from the Natural World
7.3 Historical Monuments
8 PRIVATE COLLECTIONS, PuBLIC MusEuMs
Notes
Index
7
11
20
26
34
45
65
69
78
99
106
121
139
169
185
192
217
239
258
276
334
Foreword
The collector? A harmless eccentric, who spends his days sorting out
stamps, impaling butterflies on pins or revelling in erotic engravings. Or,
quite the reverse, a wily speculator who buys up works of art for next to
nothing, only to sell them for fabulous sums, all the while claiming to be an
art lover. Or again, a man of good family who has inherited, along with a
stately home and antique furniture, a collection of pictures, the finest of
which he allows to be admired on the glossy pages of chic magazines. Three
different sketches, three very different viewpoints, but all anecdotal, for a
collector is only taken seriously when he manipulates large sums of money.
Only when a collection is made for investment purposes, is locked up in a
bank vault and is worth more than its weighr in gold does it impress;
anything else is perceived merely as a narcissistic and slightly frivolous
pastime - nothing more than a trifle.
The images of private collections and of collectors which are apparently
most firmly rooted in French opinion, may vary in degrees of generosity
and irony, but none ever attributes to its subject anything more than very
minor importance. This is in no way surprising, as srare patronage, whether
royal, imperial or republican, has, at any rate since the sixteenth century,
been far more significant than private patronage. Royal collections, which
fell, with the demise of the ancien regime, into state hands, acquired a status
in French cultural history that private ones had neither the means nor the
pedigree to rival. Thus it was that the state came to dominate art in France
for centuries, not only by overseeing its production and its preservation, but
also by undertaking to maintain and care for historical and scientific
artefacts. Today, therefore, even museums built around private collections
which include genuine masterpieces are looked down upon as the poor
relations of state-run ones.
Only in the last decades of the nineteenth century did private patronage
2 Foreword
begin to help national museums build up their treasures and fill in their
gaps, by commissioning works from artists not benefiting from state
sponsorship. This same era saw several private collections become state
property, usually after the death of their creator. This trend has recently
increased thanks to the introduction of new tax laws copied from other
countries. There are already some indications that the general public will, in
the long run, adopt a different attitude towards collectors. With the increase
in the number of donations as well as of museums either created from or
considerably enriched by private collections, not to mention efforts made by
exhibition organizers and critics to educate the public, collectors may
therefore be seen one day as 'central characters in the world of art' (Andre
Chaste!) if not that of culture more generally.
In countries where everyone is fully aware that the museums, both large
and small, have been founded thanks to private initiative and owe their
stocks tO private collections and to purchases financed by private individuals
and businesses, this opinion is already very widespread. In the United
States, for example, the collector is seen almost as a kindly monarch,
bestowing works of art or relics of the past upon his or her place of birth,
whether it be great or small. What is more, he makes sure that that is where
they stay, by presenting this birthplace with museums, institutions serving
both an educative and recreative purpose. Virtually every one of these
organizes exhibitions, lectures and film showings and functions as a library
and source of publications, all of which make them meeting-places where
the social fabric can be rewoven.
Recognition of the cultural role of collectors can be found much nearer
home. Italy, which waited many long years to become a nation state was,
from the fifteenth century onwards, particularly rich in private collectors,
several of whom gave the public access to their collections very early on. It
is in Italy that the role of private collections over the centuries in the
crystallization of civic loyalty and national feeling can best be seen. In fact,
it soon becomes clear that their role was actually a political one, as they had
a very real, albeit invisible, influence on urban life.
The same is true today of public museums. It is only due to help from the
state, in other words the taxpayers, that they are able not only to keep ticket
prices low in order to increase visitor numbers but also to press ahead with
the renovation of buildings, with conservation work and with purchases
that allow them to keep up with current artistic endeavour. They are,
however, equally dependent on private collections which, by helping them
to trace the vagaries of taste right up to the present day and beyond, appear
to complement them in a quite irreplaceable way.
Astonishment, praise and criticism have been aroused by collections ever
since their genesis. In the West, the Greeks were the first to make written
Foreword 3
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 collec-
tOrs, 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
4 Foreword
or even just of a few masterpieces. Luckily, this type of lopsided publication
is becoming rarer nowadays, though it has not died out completely.
Identifying the taste of collectors, which can be gauged from their choice
of objects, represents a different, and perhaps more important, aspect of the
study of collections. It is betrayed not only by the collections themselves but
also by artists' commissions, by fa\;ades, interior decor, architectural details,
pictures, frescoes, stuccowork, sculptures, furniture, fabrics, china and so on.
This explains why the boundary separating the collection from the decor
tends to disappear when taste is seen as the overriding concern. As a result,
documents are no longer consulted over questions of collection layout, the
significance of each piece or the selection of visitors to be allowed a glimpse.
This perspective also means that anything which cannot contribute to the
identification of taste fades into insignificance. Taste, isolated thus from
notions of the past, from religious or patriotic sentiment and from
questions of scientific interest, is reduced exclusively to a set of preferences
accorded to certain artistic propositions, and imprisoned in the 'aesthetic'
sphere, sometimes at the price of flagrant anachronism. It is, moreover,
viewed as purely individual. In studies of this type efforts may not even be
made to link differences in taste to those in generations, social strata,
degrees of culture or indeed in religious, ideological and political leanings,
by comparing collectors of the same nationality or age. Nor is it totally
unknown for historians to set themselves up as arbiters of taste and to judge
the collections under scrutiny according to their own preferences. It goes
without saying that in this way they deprive themselves of all means of
understanding the choices of those they claim to be studying.
When collections are treated solely as the guardians of works of art or as
testaments to taste, even if they seem initially to be the object of a study,
they will actual! y on! y be used to solve puzzles concerning an entire! y
different field. This process remains a perfectly legitimate one, as long as it
is remembered that collections play more than these two roles, and that if
the others are forgotten collections cannot be fully understood. Similarly, it
is quite acceptable to restrict oneself to artistic, scientific or hisrorical
collections according to the requirements of the history of those particular
domains, as long as it is borne in mind that in this case a multi-dimensional
phenomenon is being examined from one sometimes artificially isolated
aspect, and that important elements may well be missed. When the choice
of collections relevant to a particular viewpoint has been made from
collections belonging to a particular town, region or country, and from a
specific point in its history, it is obvious that only those characteristics
which correspond ro the questions being asked are taken into account. Most
of the time, unfortunately, these questions do not originate from theorizing
about the collection as an anthropological event but are handed down
wholesale from one generation of scholars to the next. At this stage there is
Foreword 5
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
6 Foreword
history of their 'consumption', the history of the classification of objects and
of the meaning vested in them, it comes into contact with intellectual
history, while the history of those who place them on display and those
who come and look at them intersects with social history. Placed at the
crossroads of several different currents of thought, the history of collections
would seem to offer a valuable line of pursuit to cultural historians.
The first article contained in this volume outlines a general theory in
which the collection is treated as an anthropological event, while the last
one traces the transition from private collection to public museum. They
both, especially the first, seek to provide theoretical justification for the
approaches employed in the remaining articles, which are devoted to
different aspects of the history of collections between the sixteenth century
and the end of the eighteenth, centred mainly on Paris and on the territory
of the former Venetian Republic. Therefore, while the same object is
examined at some points with the aid of a telescope, elsewhere, a
microscope is employed, since, in this way, a panoramic view of the
phenomenon of collections, from the Palaeolithic to modern times, can be
supplemented by studies of particular collections belonging to a specific
region, town or even individual, entering at moments into very great detail
indeed. This was, it seemed, a good way of avoiding both the Scylla of
empty generalizations and the Charybdis of mountains of unrelated facts.
All these articles were written between 1974 and 1983. All have been
published already, but in works which have not always been readily
obtainable. The ever-growing number of students of the history of
collections will, I hope, find it helpful to have a volume containing all of
them for the first time. If this book leads to a clearer definition of the field
of research as well as its relevance to all studies of culture, highlighting the
different possible approaches and the wealth waiting ro be discovered, it
will have fulfilled its purpose.
July 1986
1
The Collection: between the
Visible and the Invisible
It would take more than one large tome to list the contents of every
museum and private collection, even if these contents were only referred to
once, and by category. In Paris alone, there are apparently 150 museums,
not only the world-famous art galleries, but also museums devoted
exclusively to the army, to nature and hunting, the cinema, counterfeiting,
Freemasonry, the history of France, natural history, the history of man, old-
fashioned spyglasses and telescopes, the navy, musical instruments, gramo-
phones, 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.
8 The Co!lectioJl: between the Visible and the Invisible
Although they may well have served a definite purpose in their former
existence, museum and collection pieces no longer serve any at all, and as
such acquire the same quality as works of art, which are never produced
with any definite use in mind, but simply to adorn people, palaces, temples,
apartments, gardens, streets, squares and cemeteries. Even so, it cannot
really be said that museum and collection pieces serve a decorative purpose:
decoration is the art of using pictures and sculptures to break the monotony
of blank walls which are already there and in need of enhancement, whereas
walls are built or specially adapted in museums and in some of the larger
collections, for the specific purpose of displaying works. Collectors with
more modest means have showcases built, boxes and albums made or else
clear a space somewhere for objects to be placed, the aim every time
seemingly being the same, namely that of bringing objects together in order
to show them to others.
Museum and collection pieces may be neither useful nor decorative, yet
enormous care is nonetheless lavished on them. The risk of corrosion
caused by physical and chemical factors is reduced to a minimum by careful
monitoring of variables such as light, humidity, temperature and levels of
atmospheric pollution. Damaged objects are always restored to their former
glory whenever possible, and every effort is made to ensure that the public's
only contact with them is visual. The existence of a market where these
objects circulate at sometimes astronomical prices emphasizes their great
value; indeed when a self-portrait of Rembrandt was sold on 29 November
1974, at the Palais Galliera in Paris for the sum of 1,100,570 francs, one of
the expert journalists found this figure completely derisory.
1
A black
market, fed with stolen goods from private collections and museums,
operates alongside the official one, and in 1974 alone, 4785 old masters
went missing.
2
Besides these, thieves also go for objects which, although
less spectacular, are nonetheless valuable in the eyes of the collectors, which
means that along with museum curators, they too are constantly faced with
a major security problem. The presence of a police station within the
precincts of the Grand Palais in Paris, where the most prestigious works are
exhibited, exemplifies the extent of the surveillance system which has been
set up. Put in simple terms, collectOrs and curatOrs alike are forced to act as
if they were guarding treasure.
Given that this is the case, it might seem surprising that treasures like
these should still be on show to the public, unlike those which languish in
bank safes and strongrooms. Even more surprising is the fact that as often
as not their owners do not profit from them financially. True, some
collections are built up with a purely speculative end in mind, and most
private collections are dispersed upon the death of their owners, to the
benefit of their heirs. Yet this is by no means always the case, and one could
cite dozens of examples of collections which have been turned into
The Collection: between the Visible and the Invisible 9
museums. In Paris, the Cognacq-Jay, and Nissim de
Camondo Museums all started life this way, as did Geneva's Ariana
Museum, the Lazaro Galdiano in Madrid, the Federico Mares in Barcelona,
the Peggy Guggenheim Foundation in Venice, Boston's Gardner House and
New York's Frick Collection. The creation of a private collection cannot,
therefore, be reduced to outright and unambiguous hoarding, and the same
is, of course, even more true for museums. The objects these latter possess
are inalienable, and no move is ever made to sell them off, even when a
museum is afflicted by the very worst financial crisis imaginable. The only
known exception to this, since the beginning of the twentieth century, has
been the sale of pictures from the Hermitage Museum in Leningrad by the
Soviet government from 1929 to 1937.
3
Even museums which reserve the
right to sell certain pieces in their possession, such as the New York
Museum of Modern Art, only do so in order to acquire other works which
will widen the range of styles and movements the museum covers. Unlike
private collectors, museums do not seek to keep works out of circulation for
a limited period of time, but for always.
The world of private collections and museums seems to be one of endless
diversity, and yet the few remarks which have just been made, albeit
provisionally, reveal a certain unity, certain points in common shared by
every single one of those extremely heterogeneous objects which are
amassed in such great quantities in private homes and public buildings alike.
These remarks enable one to gain a clearer definition of the particular
institution which concerns this volume, namely the collection, an institution
which must satisfy the following criteria: a set of natural or artificial objects,
kept temporarily or permanently out of the economic circuit, afforded
special protection in enclosed places adapted specifically for that purpose
and put on display. This definition is obviously rigorously descriptive, and
one which immediately bars all exhibitions from the category of collection,
since they only represent the very briefest of moments in the process of
circulation or production of material goods. Excluded roo are the piles of
objects which chance alone has thrown together, as well as all hidden
treasures, regardless of their other characteristics. On the other hand, the
same definition does include most libraries and archives in the category of
collection, alongside museums and private collections, though this does
require a distinction to be made straightaway between archives and mere
repositories of documents which remain part of the administrative and
economic circuits of activity. The Polish dictionary of archives does, in fact,
furnish a view coinciding with our own definition: 'an institution called
upon to guard, collecr, sort, preserve, keep and render accessible documents
which, although they are no longer useful on a daily basis as before, and are
therefore considered superfluous in offices and stares, nonetheless merit
being preserved'
4
Libraries pose a slightly more complicated problem.
10 The Collection: between the Visible and the Invisible
Books are, it is true, sometimes regarded as objects, collected for their
beautiful bindings or illustrations, for instance, and in this case the issue is
simple, just as it is when a library acts as an archive or contains books
intended solely for entertainment. Certain libraries, however, only house
works of reference needed for the pursuit of some form of economic
activity, and these cannot come under the heading of collection.
This topic will be discussed later on, as will that of the coexistence in our
societies of two types of collections, the private collection and the museum.
The descriptive stage, which had enabled the collection to be defined,
appears otherwise to be something of a cul-de-sac, though it does harbour
an implicit paradox which now needs to be discussed, for it is an undoubted
paradox that objects which are kept temporarily or permanently out of the
circuit of economic activity should even so be afforded the kind of special
protection normally reserved for precious objects. The fact is that they are
precious objects, yet they paradoxically have an exchange value and no
practical or usage value. Indeed they could have no practical value as they
are bought not to be used but to be displayed. This could in itself be seen as a
very particular use, but at that point the term 'use' might end up devoid of
all meaning altogether. Any and every object can be used in many different
ways of course, but it seems important to maintain the difference between
these uses, however strange, and the very special behaviour reserved for
certain objects, when they are simply looked at and admired. This is the fate
of every item purchased for a collection, and even when it is carefully
preserved or repaired, the sole aim is to render it more presentable. It must
be remembered that when a work of art enters a museum or a collection, it
loses its usage value, if one is of the opinion that its ability to decorate
constitutes such a value, for it no longer serves that purpose in such an
environment. It can now be taken as read that objects which become
collection pieces have an exchange value but no practical value, yet the
origin of this exchange value still needs to be elucidated, and our next task is
to establish exactly what it is that makes these objects so precious in our
eyes.
Answers to this puzzle are frequently based on a sort of primitive
psychology which can conjure up any postulation it needs, such as the
existence of a property instinct or a tendency to hoard inherent in certain
individuals and probably all civilized beings, if not in the whole of mankind.
More seriously, it is claimed that certain collection pieces are sources of
aesthetic pleasure, and that others, or indeed the very same ones, constitute
the key ro greater historical or scientific knowledge. Lastly, it is observed that
their possession confers a certain prestige on their owners, since they serve
as proofs of their good taste, of their considerable intellectual curiosity,
or even of their wealth and generosity, if not all these qualities at the same
time. It is hardly surprising, or so the argument continues, that there are a
number of people who seek to own such pieces and are willing to sacrifice
some of their fortune in the process, while other similar individuals, this
time without sufficient means, seek at the very least the right to view them.
This in turn creates demand, which attributes value to potential collection
pieces rhe purchase of which gives rise to a new market. It also leads to
pressure being exerted on the state for it to provide visual access to these
objects for those who have nor the wherewithal to purchase for themselves
the aesthetic pleasure, the historical and scientific knowledge or even the
prestige they afford.
This explanation has its merits, but remains unsatisfactory. Aesthetic
pleasure is left undefined, the reason behind the urge to acquire historical
and scientific knowledge is not explored and we never learn precisely how
rhe possession of certain objects confers prestige. Even if all these answers
were given, an explanation would still need to be found for the presence of
collections in societies different to our own. The existence of a collection in
contexts differing slightly from those of private collections and museums
would immediately render the above explanation inapplicable, even if we
were fully to understand and accept it. In this case, it would, at the very best,
apply only to a local modification of a more general phenomenon; at worst,
it would be entirely irrelevant, and would turn out to be a very secondary
explanation of the behavioural trait which consists in considering collection
pieces as precious, and whose true motives remain a total mystery to us.
Accordingly, the real truth can only be ascertained if we leave the confines
of our society and embark on the quest for collections elsewhere.
1.1 A COLLECTION OF COLLECTIONS
The quest is not an arduous one. Piled up in tombs and temples are sets of
natural and artificial objects, kept temporarily or permanently out of the
economic circuit, afforded special protection and placed on display, and it is
time to take a closer look.
Funeral objects
Though not universal, the custom of burying the dead along with their
possessions is extremely widespread, and the existence of funeral objects,
sometimes precious, sometimes less so, has been proved as far back as
Neolithic times. In the most ancient city to be discovered so far, C::atal
Hliylik in Anatolia, which flourished between 6500 and 5700 BC, the
contents of the tombs already differed widely according to the gender and
12
The Collection: between the Visible and the Invisible
social status of the person buried there.
5
These differences were reinforced
later on in many civilizations, where tombs were filled with various
different examples of tools, weapons, articles of toiletry, jewellery and
ornaments, tapestries, musical instruments, works of art and so on.
Accounts of digs and exhibition catalogues provide countless descriptions of
the decoration and contents of tombs. An example from China, and a
particularly spectacular one at that, the description of the tomb of Princess
Tong-T'Ai dating from AD 706, will suffice to give a good idea of this.
The tumulus measuring some twelve metres high, rose up from the tomb
":'hich was in turn some twelve metres below ground. A slope measuring
Sixty metres m length, and decorated on each side by four recesses three
metres deep gave on to a corridor which opened on to an antechamber ten
metres further on, and this antechamber was linked by a passage more
than six metres long to the funeral chamber. A stone sarcophagus had
been placed within this chamber. Overall, the tomb measured some
fifteen metres long by five metres wide. It was excavated from August
1960 to April 1962. It was noticed, as is often the case, alas, with the large
tombs, that it had been visited by thieves ... In spite of the pillage, it still
contained over a thousand objects: eight hundred and seventy-eight
funeral statuettes, a great many vestimemary ornaments, ceramics, eight
objects made from gold in the passage, which the thieves must have
dropped as they left, around one hundred bronzes, one hundred and five
door embellishments, roughly thirty iron objects, including pieces of
harness, as well as a dozen jade pieces, also found in the passage. Seven
hundred and seventy-seven statuettes were made of painted terracotta;
sixty had 'Three Colour' glazing, while thirty more were made from wood
... No less exceptional were the murals decorating the walls of the tomb
and corridor. G
Two further facts need to be underlined. First of all, a whole series of
measures was taken to protect the tombs from pillage, that is the reuse in
this life of what is intended to remain with the dead forever in the life
beyond. Attempts were made to disguise the location of the tomb or to
make intruders lose their way, by building mazes or digging false graves.
Divine assistance was sought in the form of curses invoking heavenly wrath
upon the heads of possible robbers or profaners. Inspection and monitoring
systems were set up. Secondly, and very importantly, the objects were
placed in the tombs to be seen by those living in the next world. It is hard to
believe that the Chinese or the Scythians really expected their sacrificed
slaves to perform the usual tasks for their masters and their slaughtered
horses to carry horsemen. Moreover, it is a fact that human and animal
sacrifices were replaced almost everywhere by statuettes, and objects in
actual use by models. This phenomenon is explained by invoking economic
considerations: the tendency to hold on to what could still be of use.
However, this is a specious argument, as the replacement models were
often more difficult to execute than the original objects, and the materials
used often far rarer and therefore more precious. The advent of replace-
ment models would seem thus to have been dictated not by economic
motives but rather by the belief that funeral objects were not to be used but
perpetually gazed upon and admired.
Offerings
Our museums owe their name to the ancient temples of the Muses, though
the most famous of these, the Museum of Alexandria, did not owe its fame
to any collection of objects, but rather to its library and the team of scholars
who formed a community within its walls. There is, nevertheless, more
than one similarity between the Greek and Roman temples and our own
museums, for it was in these temples that offerings were amassed and
displayed. 'The object, which had been given to the god and received by him
in accordance with the rites, becomes tEpov or sacrum, and shares in the
majesty and inviolability of the gods. Stealing or moving it, preventing it
from fulfilling its funcrion or even simply touching it constitute acts of
sacrilege.' To talk of use in this context is in fact impossible. Once the object
crossed the threshold of the sacred enclosure, it entered into a domain
which was strictly opposed to utilitarian activities. Within this enclosure,
'one can neither extract stone, take earth, chop wood, build, cultivate nor
live.' Accordingly, objects could only play one single role, and were placed
on display either in the sacred buildings which they then adorned, or else in
buildings erected specially to house offerings, when these became so
numerous that they threatened to clutter up the places of worship. As well
as coming to pray, the pilgrims, who were also tourists, visited the temples
in order to admire the objects they contained. Indeed, a whole body of
literature, the most well-known being the work by Pausanias, was written
with the aim of describing the examples which were the most remarkable
because of their material, their size, the difficulty of their execution, the
extraordinary circumstances surrounding their placing in the temple or
because of yet other features which set them apart from the rest.
In theory, once an object had been offered to the gods it had to remain
forever in the temple in which it had been deposited. Every object was listed
in an inventory and protected from theft. Even when they deteriorated they
were not disposed of in any old way.
If they were made of silver or gold, the following course of action was
taken: a decree of the people resulting from a proposal from the priest or
holy treasurer, in accordance with advice from the council, ordered that
the offerings which were in a poor state be melted down into ingots or
amalgamated to form one single offering; the same procedure was
followed when dealing with all scraps of precious metal. If they proved to
be an encumbrance or were broken, less valuable objects were taken from
the temple and buried. Their dedication had consecrated them for
eternity, and they were in no circumstances to be put back into
circulation, so in order to shield them better from all secular use, they
were often broken on purpose, if they were not already broken. This
accounts for the piles of terracotta or bronze objects to be found in the
vicinity of certain sanctuaries, for example at Tegea, Cnidus and
Olympia.
7
Treasures amassed in temples as offerings did sometimes, however,
return to the economic circuit, converted, in other words, into money. In
spite of the belief that temples should not be touched even in times of war,
armies did not always resist the temptation of pillaging the riches of their
enemies, even when the enemies in question were Greek. Thus, when the
Phocaeans gained control of the sanctuary of Delphi, they sold off the gold
and silver offerings they found there in order to pay their mercenary army.
This action was looked upon as sacrilege, and when the Phocaeans were in
their turn conquered in 346 BC, they were forced to reimburse the temples
for all that they had stolen from them. There did exist a legal procedure for
lifting restrictions on sacred treasures. This required the vote of the people
to whom the temple belonged, and was resorted to when the country was in
danger, as was the case when the Athenians borrowed money from their
gods during the Peloponnesian War. This was in fact a loan granted by the
gods to the city and which had to be reimbursed with interest, and in 422 BC
the Athenians had run up a debt of 4750 talents to Athena Polias, 30 talents
to Athena Nike and 800 talents to the orher gods, meaning that, taking the
interest into account, they owed a total sum of around 7000 talents.
8
Gifts and booty
Objects kept out of the economic circuit accumulated not only in temples
but also in the seats of power. Tributes and booty flowed in, while
ambassadors would come armed with gifts, which would always be shown to
the courtiers and sometimes also to the crowds which gathered to witness
their official visits. These objects were stored under strict guard in treasure-
houses, and were rarely accessible, being exhibited solely during festivals or
ceremonies. Funeral corteges and coronation processions proved good
opportunities to display the splendour the country possessed, and the
dazzled public was given the chance to feast its eyes on all the
stones, fabrics, jewels, objets d'art made of precious metals and so on,
had been amassed. This was so not only in oriental monarchies but also 10
European countries during the Middle Ages, and we will come back to this
later.
We must now turn our attention to Rome, in which a general returning
there from a victorious campaign, would be granted the privilege of
displaying the men he had subjugated and the treasures he had seized. Thus,
'on the occasion of his third victory over the pirates, Asia, Pontus and the
nations and kings listed in the seventh book of this work ... Pompey
paraded a chess-board, along with its pieces made from stones,
which measured three feet wide and four feet long ... three dtmng-room
couches, dishes of gold and gemstones, sufficient for nine credence tables,
three gold statues of Minerva, Mars and Apollo, thirty-three pearl a
square mountain of gold with stags, lions fruit every, kind,
surrounded by a gold vine, a pearl grotto topped wtth a sundtal . . . . After
being carried round in triumphant display, some of the seized from
the enemy were offered to temples, where they were put on vtew; Pompey,
for example, dedicated wine cups and murrhine cups to Jupiter's temple on
the Capitoline. Others remained in the possession of the victorious general.
Booty seems to have formed the basis of private collections in Rome.
This, at any rate, was the opinion of Pliny the Elder: 'It was the victory of
Pompey over Mithridates that made fashion veer to pearls and gemstones.
The victories of Lucius Scipio and of Cnaeus Manlius had done the same for
chased silver garments of cloth of gold and dining couches inlaid with
bronze; and that of Mummius for Corinthian bronzes and fine paintings'.
9
It
is patently obvious that the objects which the great Roman collectors (as
well as either generals or proconsuls), Sulla, Julius Caesar and Verres,
amassed and put on display in their residences or else in the temples wh_ere
they had been placed as offerings, were booty; and. the story_ of ts a
good case in point. Only during the Emptre dtd collectmg gam
popularity that when Vitruvius designed a house he would reserve a speCial
place for housing pictures and sculptures. .
Two features characterizing the Roman collectors sttll need to be
outlined. The first of these was their supreme disdain for the usefulness of
the objects they amassed, the second their constant efforts to outbid each
other, risking in so doing not only their fortunes but also their
dignity. The best illustration of this comes in a passage from Plmy the
Elder, which is worth quoting despite its length.
An ex-consul drank from a murrhine cup for which he had given 70,000
sesterces, although it held just three pints. He was so fond of it that
would gnaw its rim; and yet the damage he thus caused only enhanced tts
value, and there is no other piece of murrhine ware even today that has a
higher price set upon it. The amount of money squandered by this same
man upon the other articles of this material in his possession can be
gauged from their number, which was so great that, when Nero took
them away from the man's children and displayed them, they filled a
private theatre .... When the ex-consul Titus Petronius was facing death,
he broke, to spite Nero, a murrhine dipper that had cost him 300,000
sesterces, thereby depriving the emperor's dining-room table of this
legacy. Nero, however, as was proper for an emperor, outdid everyone by
paying 1,000,000 sesterces for a single bowl. That one who was acclaimed
as a victorious general and as Father of his Country should have paid so
much in order to drink is a detail that we must formally record.
10
This seems to bear a curious resemblance to the potlatch of the North
American Indians, but whereas in Rome dignity was associated with the
ability to spend money in exchange for utterly useless objects, dignity for
the K wakiutl people, for example, is linked to the ability to give blankets,
chests, canoes or food to others without asking for anything in return. This
observation in turn raises two further questions. The first concerns the
presence of collections in societies which historians of this institution are
not accustomed to studying; the second, and more important, concerns the
relationship between the collection and competitive behaviour. This will be
discussed in more detail further on.
Relics and sacred objects
Relics, or objects supposed to have been in contact with a god or hero or to
constitute the remains of some great event in the mythical or far-distant
past, were equally well known in Greece and Rome. Pausanias describes a
great many of them, including the clay Prometheus used to fashion the first
man and woman, the rock Cronos devoured instead of his son, the egg from
which Castor and Pollux hatched, the remains of the tree at the foot of
which the Greeks made their sacrifices before setting off for the Trojan
War, and many others besides.
11
Pliny also mentions them from time to
time, one example being the sardonyx put on display in the temple of
Concord in Rome, and which was said to have belonged to Polycrates of
Samos, the hero of a famous tale.
12
It was Christianity with its cult of the
saints which was responsible for the cult of relics reaching its apogee. It
would be impossible to trace the hisrory of this cult within the covers of this
book, and for the purposes of our study we need only repeat that a relic was
any object said to have been in contact with a character from sacred history,
and whenever possible was an actual part of his body. However minute it
17
was, and whatever its nature, this object retained all the with whic.h
the saint had been invested during his lifetime, which explams how a relic
was able to sanctify the place where it was situated just as effectively as the
saint himself would have done. Some put a halt to the spread of disease and
restored sufferers to health; others protected towns and kingdoms from
their enemies. All guaranteed assistance from the saints with
prosperity, and all were, not surprisingly, regarded as most preCious of
treasures. When Queen Matilda returned to England 10 1125, after the
death of her husband, the Emperor Henry V, she brought with her a relic of
St James, and the events were described in the. following way by a
chronicler: 'Queen Matilda travelled to her father m England takmg the
hand of StJames with her and by this she did irreparable. d.amage to t.he
regnurn Francorurn.'l3 This was by no means an isolated optmon: FrederiCk
Barbarossa embarked on diplomatic negotiations in an attempt to recover
the relic, but the English refused to relinquish it. . .
Gifts of land were not sufficient in themselves to found a religious
establishment relics were also needed. Once they entered a church or abbey,
they would ever leave it as the result of a theft or, most
because they had been given to some powerful figure or other. In thts way
they became extremely numerous, and required catalogues to ?e drawn
The relics were contained in reliquaries, shown to the fatthful dunng
religious ceremonies and carried in processions. contact. the
miraculous powers of the relics even more effective, the not
content themselves with merely looking on, but touched the reltquanes and
kissed every inch of them. In northern France, between 1050 and 1550 it
was relics that the monks exhibited when collecting donations towards the
building of churches and abbeysl
4
Finally, relics were much coveted, often
obtained through theft, and this meant that the most famous of them had to
be guarded by soldiers.l5 Trading based on relics also. took place,. and the
Roman cemeteries functioned, dare one say it, as quarnes from which great
quantities of saintly relics were extracted for sale in the rest of

As well as relics, churches also kept and put on show other objects,
including natural curiosities and above all offerings: altars, chalices, ciboria,
chasubles, candelabras and tapestries sometimes retain even today the
names of their donors, while certain pictures even include the faces of them
and their families. Funeral monuments, stained-glass windows, jubes and
historiated capitals should all be added to the list, and doubtless items
too. Thus, besides being places of worship, each church also a
permanent exhibition of dozens of objects. This, however, IS so famd1ar a
subject that it needs no further elaboration.
Royal treasures
The objects gradually accumulating in the residences of those in power have
already been alluded to in our discussion on gifts and booty. Gifts and booty
were, however, not the only things to be found there. The Attalids of
Pergamum, to quote a well-known example, prized sculptures and pictures,
and they were not alone in doing so. However, we have chosen a number of
inventories from the Middle Ages in order to highlight the contents of the
homes of princes and kings in ancient times, as they give a fairly accurate
picture. The first striking feature of these inventories is that most of the
objects they list had some kind of use. In the case of regalia, rings and belts,
the use was a ceremonial one; in the case of crosses crucifixes images
reliquaries, altars, chalices, crooks, mitres and copes a
dishes, knives, seat covers and so on were all part of secular life. From time
to time, natural curiosities and various odd instruments, such as astrolabes
and globes, find their way into these collections, and it becomes obvious that
we are not dealing here with objects kept out of use and out of the economic
circuit. Two features should, nevertheless, prevent any rapid assumptions
being made. The first is the sheer number of objects: the inventory of King
Charles V of France, lists 3906 items, and such a huge quantity could not
possibly have been used all at the same time, however extended the court
may have been, and must therefore not have served any function at all. The
second is that in general, the objects were made from the precious metals
gold and silver, and decorated with precious stones such as sapphires,
rubies, onyx, amethysts, emeralds, diamonds and pearlsY This would
appear robe a further reason for supposing that most of these objects would
never be used in everyday life.
Involvement in the economic circuit does not necessarily mean an object
has to serve some practical purpose, since it can also stem from the
accumulation of objects where the aim is to build up capital. It cannot be
denied that in times of need princes dipped into their stares of treasure:
when Charles V had part of his collection of dishes taken to the Mint he was
neither the first nor the last to make use of this expedient. The inventories
themselves contain references to sales made in order to finance royal
expenditure elsewhere. The authors of the inventory of the jewels of King
Charles VI of France wrote the following caption concerning a certain small
gold crown with thirteen flowerets: '117 pearls were extracted from this
crown and given to a silversmith by the name of Charles Poupart, in
payment for a number of doublets and jewels he had made for the king for
his journey to St Orner where the King of England himself was to be
present.' ts And several other events of this kind could be cited. Philippe de
Valois sent a famous piece known as Le Grand Camee from the Sainte
Chapelle to Pope Clement VI as security for a loan,
1
9 and in 1253 the
Hohenstaufen family jewels were given as security, or possibly sold, to a
company of merchants and bankers for the sum of 2522 Genoese pounds,
the equivalent of two years' wages for a podesta in Genoa, one year's wages
for five hundred craftsmen, the price of the largest ship to be built at that
time, complete with crew and enough supplies to last for four months, 630
cows or 400 ordinary horses.
20
All these various equivalents, which indicate a treasure much less
valuable than that of Charles V, for example, help to illustrate just how
much wealth was stored up in the royal palaces. Yet it is impossible to
reduce the amassing of precious objects by royalty to the simple accumula-
tion of capital. Indeed, distinctions were apparently made at the time
between 'joyaux' and 'epargne' just as a distinction was made between
'joyaux' and 'vaisselle'. In view of this, our task is to determine whether and
in what circumstances the jewels were displayed, and in fact the inventories
make it clear that they were normally shut away in chests or cupboards,
these being placed in their turn in well-guarded chambers. They were taken
out mostly for various different ceremonies and festivals: at the death of the
king, the regalia were paraded during the funeral procession,
21
while they
were also displayed on solemn visits to the different towns of the realm,
along with ceremonial arms and armour, decorated harness and richly
embroidered cloths covered in gems. Here is King Charles VII of France,
entering Paris on 12 November 1437.
Le roy estoit arme de toutes piesses, sur ung biau coursier; et avoit ung
cheval couvert de velloux d'azur en coullour, seme de fleurs de lis
d'orfaverie. Er devant luy, son premier escuier d'escurie monte sur ung
coursier couvert de fin blancher couvert d' orfaverie semee de serfs [sic]
vollans. Et estoient quatre coursiers tous pareulx, dont il y avoit trois
chevalliers avec l'escuier, leurs coursiers pareillement couverrs que
l'escuier, et eulx en armes de tous harnois; et porroit !edit escuier, sur ung
bas ton, le harnois de teste du roy; et sur !edit harnois, une couronne d' or;
et au milieu, sur Ia houppe, une grosse fleur de lis doublee de fin or moult
riche, er son roy d'armes devanr luy porrant sa corte d'armes moult riche
de veloux azure a trois fleurs de lis de fin or de brodeure (et estoienr les
fleurs de lis brodees de grosses perles;) et ung autre escuier d'escuerie
monte sur ung genest, qui porroit une grande espee toute semee de fleurs
de lis de fin or d'orfaverie ... _22
The scene which has just been described is in no way exceptional, and it is
clear, even without constant reference to source material, not only that the
jewels were put on show, bur also that this was their chief function.
Our case rests here, even if it does seem to rest on a mere assortment of
20 The Co!lection: between the Visible and the Invisible
bric-a-brac. The so-called collections which have been described so far differ
in almost every aspect from ones which exist today, as well as from each
other. Established in widely differing locations, and of different natures and
origins, even the behaviour of their visitors or viewing public differs. True,
in each case there is a set of objects which, subject to certain reservations,
satisfy the conditions stipulated in our definition of a collection, yet by
assimilating such heterogeneous sets we perhaps risk resembling the
madman, created by the novelist Julio Corrazar, who firmly believed he was
surrounded by collections. For him, an office was nothing but a collection of
clerks, a school a collection of pupils, a barracks a collection of soldiers and a
prison one of prisoners. The moral of this anecdote is that no comparison of
institutions can be valid unless it is based not on external appearances but
on functional similarity.
1.2 COLLECTIONS: THE INVISIBLE AND THE VISIBLE
The objects which are shut up in tombs are, to the living, sacrificed. As gifts
to the dead, they should remain in their possession forever. No matter how
this sort of proceeding is justified - and it has been variously justified by
successive societies and in successive periods -the relationship between the
living and the dead has always and everywhere been perceived as an
exchange: the living give up not only the use but even the sight of certain
objects, in return for the benevolent neutrality, if not actual protection, of
the dead. Pursuing this idea to its extremes, the ancient Chinese invented
special offertory currencies, which 'constituted from the very outset
exchange values for use with the world beyond. As early as Neolithic times,
there existed imitations of stone and bone cowries, and tombs dating from
the third century BC contain considerable quantities of clay slabs symboliz-
ing gold'; paper money appeared later on.23 Obviously, this exchange
presupposed the division of human beings into two groups, those in this
world and the others in the next.
The same can be said of offerings, although in this case the dividing line
ran not between the living and the dead but between man and god. This
difference did, however, become blurred as the gods were actually deified
men while ancestors benefited from almost divine status. Whatever the
case, the important thing tO remember is that offerings placed in the temple
became the property of the gods. The gods stipulated that these objects
should not leave the sacred enclosure once they had entered it, except in the
very special circumstances discussed earlier on. It was therefore possible to
bury them in the /avissae, the pits where the objects cluttering up the
temple were deposited, as in this way they continued to be the property of
the gods. Moreover, instead of being sent to the temple, objects could be
ritually destroyed, and if this was deliberately done to dedicate them to the
gods, they remained true offerings. Herodotus recounts how Croesus 'burnt
on a great pyre couches covered with gold and silver, golden goblets, and
purple cloaks and tunics; by these means he hoped the better to win the aid
of the god of Delphi', to whom he also sent rich gifts.
24
Offerings also
formed parr of the exchange process, therefore, and along with prayers and
sacrifices guaranteed the favour of the divinity for whom they were
intended.
When objects were intended for gods or for the dead, they did not
necessarily have to be put on display. Funeral objects were not, nor were
offerings, except in certain societies, and this, of course, poses a problem, as
we have defined the collection as a set of objects ... put on display. But for
whom? We had implied that they were intended for the eyes of the living,
yet the inhabitants of the world beyond also had visual access to them, at
times when it was barred to the former. One possibility would be to
disregard the non-human gaze and to limit discussion to sets of objects
displayed to human eyes. This seems unnecessary, even though it does
complicate the picture somewhat, since objects remained visible to the gods
and even to the dead after having been physically destroyed, crushed and
burned. However, funeral objects and offerings should, in our view, be
considered as collections, as the important factor is not that they were
intended for gods or for the dead, but the acknowledgement of the existence
of a potential audience, in another temporal or spatial sphere, implicit in
the very act of placing the objects in a tomb or temple. This is the belief,
which could be expressed in actions alone, but which words have often been
used to describe, that another kind of observer can or does exist, who should
be allowed to rest his eyes on objects belonging to us.
We should now look more closely at what happens when the objects
intended for the gods, namely the offerings, are placed on public show. As
well as serving as intermediaries between mortals and immortals, they also
came to represent to visitors the fame of the gods, since they were proof
that this fame reached all four corners of the world: after all, even the
Hyperboreans sent offerings to Delphi .... In the same way, they
represented peoples who lived in far and remote if not fabulous lands. For
present-cia y visitors they were a reminder of past benefactors, along with
the circumstances surrounding the sending of offerings, and even of groups
and individuals who had been involved in bygone events. Some of the
offerings were testaments to the ability of certain craftsmen, sculptors or
painters to produce extraordinary works the likes of which are no longer
seen today. The weirdest, strangest, most spectacular offerings stood out
from the ranks of more commonplace articles, exciting the curiosity and
imagination of the visitors by challenging them to go beyond the simply
visual and co listen to or read more on the subject. Thus it was that stories
or anecdotes, some of which have come down to us through the works of
Herodotus, Pausanias, Pliny the Elder and several other authors, revolved
around offerings of this kind. These offerings could continue to function as
intermediaries for this world and the next, the sacred and the secular, while
at the same time constituting, at the very heart of the secular world,
symbols of the distant, the hidden, the absent. In other words, they acted as
go-betweens between those who gazed upon them and the invisible from
whence they came.
Objects found in places of worship, especially painted or sculpted images
of gods or saints, also played this role, by representing normally invisible
personages, living on the other side of the boundary separating the sacred
from the secular. These images were representative in that they were
supposed to be flat or three-dimensional replicas of features, giving the
onlooker an opportunity to associate a name or perhaps even a life history
with a face. In fact, the link between a model and its image can be
considered as being much stronger than that which consists merely of
resemblance, and images were therefore attributed a certain power, which
gave them a direct role in all that was sacred, and the capability to represent
not only the features of a person but also the active force that was his.
Phenomena of this sort are not hard to find: one only has to think of all the
miracle-performing Madonnas populating European churches and all those
images and statues from which miracles are still awaited. It is also an
accepted fact that objects did not need to resemble a sacred personage in any
way in order to represent him. This was particularly true of relics, which
owed their significance to having either been in contact with a saint or
constituted part of his body. However, relics represented not only the
sacred but also the past, or more exact! y they represented the sacred because
they were supposed to have come from a personage belonging to sacred
history. This explains why they were always accompanied by authenticating
documents, either sealed certificates attesting their origin or small strips of
parchment bearing brief explanations.
2
5 While those who saw these images
followed up this experience in the composition of a new theology or
hagiography, those who had studied relics went on to write history and,
from the twelfth century, when Guibert de Nogent wrote his De pignoribus
sanctorum, critical history. In short, images and relics too were intermediar-
ies between those who looked at and touched them and the invisible.
We arrive at the same conclusion when we analyse the objects hotly
fought over by wealthy Romans. There is no point in embarking on yet
another discussion of statues and paintings, of images that is, since it is
obvious that they represent the invisible. Indeed, the same can be said of
precious stones and pearls, of Corinthian vases, crystal ladles and dishes,
engraved silverware and so on. Gemstones in particular simultaneously
represented several different aspects or domains of what has been termed
en bloc the invisible. They encapsulated the whole of nature; 'Hence very
many people find that a single gemstone alone is enough to provide them
with a supreme and perfect aesthetic experience of the wonders of
Nature.'
2
6 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 surround-
ing 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 treasure-
houses 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
the invisible world in sculpted or painted images. It will be shown later on
that it was the role forced upon them, the role of guaranteeing communica-
tion between the two worlds into which the universe is cleft, which kept
these objects out of the economic circuit. Yet it will also be seen that it was
this very same role which caused them to be attributed such a high value
and meant that there was always a considerable temptation to reintroduce
them into the circuit, in return for usage values and goods, which is why
they had to be afforded special protection. Needless to say, they could not
guarantee communication between the two worlds unless they were
displayed to the inhabitants of both: only when this condition was met
could they become the intermediaries between their admirers and the world
they represented.
To avoid any misunderstanding, it must be emphasized straightaway that
the opposition between the visible and the invisible can take many and
diverse forms. The invisible is spatially distant, not only beyond the
horizon but also very high or very low. It is also temporally distant, either
in the past or in the future. In addition, it is beyond all physical space and
every expanse or else in a space structured totally differently. It is situated
in a time of its own, or outside any passing of time, in eternity itself. It can
sometimes have a corporeity or materiality other than that of the elements
of the visible world, and sometimes be a sort of pure antimateriality. At
times it will be an autonomy vis-a-vis certain or even all the restrictions
placed on the visible world, at others it will be an obeying of laws different
tO our own. Even so, these are, of course, merely empty compartments
capable of containing the most diverse of beings, from ancestors and gods to
the dead and to people different to ourselves, as well as events and
circumstances. The objects going from one exchange partner to another
between the visible and the invisible vary greatly according to the identity
of these partners. Just as the ways of transmitting messages to the invisible
can take varying forms, such as human and animal sacrifices, offerings,
libations and prayers, so the phenomena representing the invisible can
greatly vary, including heavenly apparitions, meteors, animals and plants
(sacred cows in India, and the Romans' sacred forests), striking changes in
the relief, such as mountains, and rivers.
Collections, or at any rate those which have been examined here, as we
have yet to interpret modern-day ones in Western societies, only represent
one of a number of measures adopted in order to guarantee communication
between the two worlds and the unity of the universe. This enables us to
understand more clearly why there is such diversity in the objects making
them up, in the places in which they are located and in the behaviour of
their visitors, as it reflects the diversity in the ways the visible can be
contrasted with the invisible. This diversity by no means rules out an
equivalence of functions, but rather is a symptom of it. All rhe collections
which have been discussed fulfilled one identical function, that of allowing
the objects they contained to play the role of intermediaries between their
onlookers, whoever they might be, and the inhabitants of the world to
which the former did not belong: the visible world, if the onlookers were
invisible and vice versa. However, this function diversified into a multitude
of equivalent functions, and for those reasons which have just been outlined.
The term 'collection' immediately implies the grouping together of a
certain number of objects. In this very work, the genus proximum is given
as 'a set of objects'. Yet how many objects are needed to form a collection?
In an abstract sense, it is clear that a question of this kind cannot possibly
have an answer, and with the exception of one or two special cases, which
need not be discussed here, such quantitive considerations do not need to be
bothered with. This is because the number of objects going to make up a
collection depends on several different factors, including the place where
they are amassed, the type of the particular society, the state of its
technology and its way of life, irs production capacity and ability to stock
the surplus, and the importance it attaches to the use of objects to establish
communication between the visible and invisible. This means that the
number necessarily varies considerably in time and space and can only be
used in very exceptional circumstances to distinguish a collection from a
mere heap of objects. It is its function which is the really important factor,
and the one which is expressed through observable characteristics which
were listed in the definition of the collection. Given this fact, we are forced
to accept that collections are also present in so-called primitive societies,
and to extend our discussion tO cover the churinga of the Australian
Aborigines and the vaygu'a of the Trobriand Islanders, which Malinowski
rightly compares to the crown jewels in Europe,3 as well as examples of
tools which are apparently conserved in Bambara villages and shown to
adolescents during initiation ceremonies and, of course, the statuettes,
masks, blankets and large items of copperware belonging to the peoples of
the north-west coast of America. All these objects are kept temporarily or
permanently out of the economic circuit, afforded special protection in
enclosed spaces adapted specifically for that purpose and put on display. All,
without exception, act as intermediaries between those who can see them
and an invisible world mentioned in myths, stories and accounts. Even
without a large number of examples, we can therefore show that the
collection is a universally widespread institution, though this should come
as no surprise, given that the opposition between the visible and the
invisible is a universal phenomenon.
1.3 USEFULNESS AND MEANING
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 understandable, 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 communication 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
transformations 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 representa-
tive 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 representative 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. Relation-
ships 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-documented 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
disappearance, 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 represent-
ing 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 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 warming-
up of the climate, Andre Leroi-Gourhan had discovered
a series of curios collected by the dwellers of the Grotte de l'Hyene (Arcy-
sur-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
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 wall-
paintings at Lascaux or the small pendants made from a fossiJH
29
U mil proof of the contrary is found, the inhabitants of the Grone de
l'H yene at Arcy-sur-Cure must therefore be given the title of the first
known collectors. The natural curiosities which they had gathered and cared
for were kept out of the circuit of economic activities, a circuit which at that
period consisted solely of tool-making and looking for food. Moreover, they
were given special protection, which explains why they could still be found
tens of thousands of years later. Lastly, in view of the particular character-
istics of the curios, which in particular possess strange forms which men of
that period would not have been capable of producing, there can be no doubt
whatsoever that they were put on display. They therefore present two
different qualities: they are eye-catching and a source of wonderment, while
their presence can only be explained with reference to the invisible.
Be this as it may, we are not primarily interested in origins as such, and
the very distant past has merely been examined with a view to determining
the date, albeit approximately, when objects representing the invisible first
appeared. Our real aim is to demonstrate the consequences on man's
general mode of existence of this upheaval - and upheaval is no exaggera-
tion - which constituted perhaps the greatest of all those which followed
the mastery of fire. Even if one agrees with Andre Leroi-Gourhan that
'their technical skill is merely a zoological event to be counted as one of the
specific characteristics of the anthropoids' J5 - and this point of view is
certainly not without foundation - the gathering and above all the
production of objects representing the invisible constitute proofs of the
emergence of culture in the true sense of the word. Animals have been
observed making use of tools in the wild, but nobody has ever seen them
paint or sculpt without having first of all been provided with the means ro
do so.
Whether or not one agrees with this likening of technical ability to a
zoological event the fact remains that the change which came about during
the Upper Palaeolithic must be seen as fundamental. Before then, the
material existence of man had been entirely restricted to the visible, the sole
link with the invisible being language, and possibly also funeral rites; if
other links existed no traces of them remain. The invisible and the visible,
two distinct domains, therefore remained on parallel and non-converging
planes. From the Upper Palaeolithic onwards, however, the invisible was
'projected' into the visible, being represented at the very heart of the latter
by a specific category of objects, not only natural curiosities but also
everything that was painted, sculpted, carved, shaped, embroidered and
decorated. This meant that the cleavage was now to be found within the
visible itself. On one side, there were things, objects which were useful in
that they could be consumed, could provide a means of subsistence, render
raw materials fit for consumption, or even act as protection from the
vagaries of the climate. All these objects were handled, all underwent or
brought about tangible modifications, and all gradually wore out. On the
other side were ranged the semiophores, objects which were of absolutely
no use, according to the above definition, but which, being endowed with
meaning, represented the invisible. They were put on display instead of
being handled, and were not subjected to wear and tear. The production
effort therefore now had two very different goals, one situated in the
visible, the other in the invisible, the aims being to maximize either
usefulness or meaning. Although these two goals did draw nearer to each
other in certain very special circumstances, more often than not they were
located at opposite points of the compass.
A closer look at the relationship between usefulness and meaning in
objects will help ro elucidate this point. There are three different possible
situations: a thing has usefulness but is devoid of all meaning; a semiophore
possesses only meaning, of which it is the vector, and has no usefulness at
all; or an object apparently has at the same time both usefulness and
meaning. Neither usefulness nor meaning can exist without an observer, as
they merely characterize the links which groups or individuals have,
through objects, with their visible or invisible environment. If one assumes
this to be the case, no object can possibly be simultaneously thing and
semiophore for the same observer, as it is only a thing when it is being used,
and in such a situation its meaning is of no account. If its meaning is given
priority, its usefulness dwindles to mere potentiality. While the formal
features of an object which enable it either to be useful or else bear meaning
can coexist, they imply two different and mutually exclusive types of
behaviour. In the first case, it is the hand which establishes the visible
relationship between this object and other, visible, objects, which it hits,
touches, rubs or curs. In the second case it is the gaze, given a linguistic
extension, either tacit or explicit, which establishes an invisible relationship
between the object and an invisible element. While the thing fulfils itself by
modifying that to which it is applied, and by becoming gradually worn out,
the semiophore reveals its meaning when it goes on display. This leads to
the formulation of two different conclusions: firstly, a semiophore fulfils its
ultimate purpose when it becomes a collection piece; secondly and most
importantly, usefulness and meaning are mutually exclusive, as the more an
object is charged with meaning the less useful it is, and vice versa.
An object is given value when it is protected, cared for or reproduced, and
our next task is therefore to attempt to identify the conditions it needs to
satisfy in order to obtain this value, a task made easier by the observations
contained in the previous paragraphs. In effect, if an object is to be
attributed value by an individual or group, it needs to be useful or have
meaning, nothing more, nothing less. Objects satisfying neither of these
conditions are valueless, mere scrap, in fact, not even objects at all. The
paradox, which had emerged at the beginning of this article can thus finally
be resolved: it is the meaning of collection pieces that determines their
exchange value. They are precious, that is they are assigned a value, because
they represent the invisible and therefore have a share in the superiority
and fertility it is unconsciously endowed with. In their capacity as
semiophores, they are kept out of the economic circuit because only in this
way can they fully divulge their meaning. So far so good. However, the
existence of a double basis for valuing does in itself pose a problem, as one
has to ask which conditions must prevail in order for things to be exchanged
for semiophores, given that these two categories are completely dissimilar
and apparently cannot possibly be compared. This is not the place to go
looking for answers; suffice it to say that societies do exist where exchanges
of this kind are inconceivable, ancient China being a good example. In an
article which did not deserve to be forgotten, Franz Steiner had, moreover,
attempted to develop a theory, based on his studies of various so-called
primitive societies, to account for economies where semiophores (he talks
of 'personal treasures') are not exchanged for things.36 These examples
show just how real a problem this is, and provide additional justification for
distinguishing things from semiophores. The latter can only gain a
semblance of usefulness if one accepts that they can be exchanged for the
former. Once this happens, the objects regarded by one group as semio-
phores, and accordingly kept out of the economic circuit, can be perceived
by another group within the same society as potential usage values, a fact
which encourages this group to try and return them to the economic circuit,
through theft or pillage if need be. The rule outlined earlier, which stated
that the greater the meaning the less the usefulness, seems in this light to
become invalid, as the more an object is charged with meaning the greater
its value, and this value is now expressed as the quantity of things which
could possibly be obtained in exchange. However, it does retain a certain
validity, as when one group sees something as a semiophore, another, or
indeed the same group but at a different moment, sees it as a potential usage
value. The more an object is attributed meaning, the less the interest which
is taken in its usefulness.
This phenomenon is not limited to objects. The pursuit of meaning and
the tendency to establish and strengthen links with the invisible always take
place to the detriment of usefulness. This can eventually lead on to suicidal
32
behaviour, as in the case of 12,000 Tupi Indians in Brazil, who left for the
'land without evil' in 1539, and arrived at the end of their journey ten years
later, a mere 300 strongY Such situations are only possible because the
invisible imposes itself on men with as great a force as that of the visible, if
not more, via language and semiophores of every sort. Obviously, such
extreme cases where one term of opposition is sacrificed to the other are
rare as an effort is normally made to strike a balance between the two
However, this balance is necessarily unstable, especially in
societies where the choice between usefulness and meaning becomes the
necessary outcome of a conflict.
The division into the useful and the meaningful, into things and
semiophores, where the former are subordinated t? the latter, because :hese
have links with the invisible, is not confined to objects. The same applies ro
human activities which are themselves classified according to the rung they
occupy on the ladder stretching up from utilitarian activities .to those w?ich
uniquely produce meaning. Man himself thus finds he 1s m a
hierarchy or in one of a number of hierarchies. At the top there lS mev1tably
a man or semiophore-men who represent the invisible: gods, God, ances-
tors, 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
33
various and hierarchized degrees. This is true even in so-called primitive
societies, where the social hierarchy is reduced to criteria of age and gender;
thus the initiated have exclusive right to the churinga. This explains why
collections in extremely hierarchized societies accumulated in the tombs of
those who had occupied a place at or near the top, in temples or palaces,
during their lifetime. It is now possible to say that they accumulated there
not because the inhabitants of temples and palaces were the only ones to
possess a 'taste' for them, but because the position of these people in the
hierarchy left them no choice to do otherwise. In traditional societies objects
were not amassed by individuals who had a liking for them but were
generated in centres of social importance. This is seen most clearly in
ancient China: 'Pearls are the yang of the yin: they dominate fire; jade is the
yin of the }'ang: it dominates water. Their transforming force is like that of
the divine powers. Let the son of the sky hoard pearls and jade; let the
feudal lords hoard metals and stones; let the grand officers keep dogs and
horses; let the subjects hoard cottons and silks. If not, he who is brave will
command and he who is wily will win all.' And the author from whom we
have borrowed this quotation from Ta Tai Li Ki (around 100 BC) makes the
following remark: To avoid any confusion between the different ranks,
everyone must treasure the values suited to his rank. The social hierarchy is
inseparable from the hierarchy of values.' 3
8
Obviously, a system of this
kind can only be maintained if things cannot be exchanged for semiophores,
nor semiophores of greater value for those of lesser value. In places where
these exchanges are authorized, access to elevated social positions is
possible if things, or the currency representing them, are sacrificed in order
to obtain semiophores. Violent or coercive means in these circumstances
can be employed to obtain objects whose possession enables someone to
occupy a coveted position. The greater the sacrifice in terms of usefulness,
the higher the position to which one accedes. This explains the conflictual
behaviour of which we gave examples when discussing ancient Rome.
Clearly, collections and collectors cannot be studied solely from the
standpoint of individual psychology, which uses notions such as 'taste',
'interest' or even 'aesthetic pleasure' ro explain everything. What actually
needs to be explained is why the question of taste is only relevant ro certain
objects and not others, why interest is taken in this object but not in that,
and why only certain works give pleasure. Individual personalities and
varying degrees of sensitivity only come into play if the organization of the
society provides opportunities for expressing individual differences. Before
assessing this aspect, it is first of all necessary to clarify the way in which
the society in question, or the groups which go to make it up, draws the line
between the visible and the invisible. Once this has been accomplished, it is
possible to establish exactly what that society sees as meaningful, which
objects it prizes the most and what type of behaviour these demand from
collectors. When this has been accomplished, it is possible to draw up a
'map' indicating the places where the invisible meets the visible and which
are inhabited by those who, because of their roles as representatives of the
invisible, amass and display semiophores.
We must now turn our attention back to museums and to private
collections in order to clear up a certain number of problems relating to
their history and functioning in the light of all that has just been said.
14 MUSEUMS AND PRIVATE COLLECTIONS
New attitudes towards the invisible, and towards the past, towards
unknown regions of the earth and nature in particular, first began to appear
in Western Europe in the second half of the fourteenth century.
The first image to be challenged was the traditional one of the past. With
the assimilation of Aristotle's works into university teaching, the opposi-
tion 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
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
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 long-
lasting, providing that they were in harmony with nature. This made him
an irreplaceable instrument for a prince aspiring not only to everlasting life
but also to glory, that is, to fame here below amongst his fellow men, a fame
which, if gained through heroic feats in battle alone would be but fleeting,
since these feats were rapidly forgotten. Only artists, whether painters,
sculptors or engravers, could render fame lasting. In a world where the
invisible was seen less as an eternal phenomenon than as a future one, it
was a positive duty of all princes seeking true glory to protect the arts. As a
result, they became both patrons and collectors, the place they occupied
requiring them to manifest good taste, attract artists to their court and
surround themselves with works of art. All those who occupied the upper
echelons of the hierarchy, and not just those of royal blood, were forced to
play the same role, their particular preferences showing through within the
confines imposed on them by their positions, so that if some took a special
interest in art, others had a preference for literature or the sciences. Some
revealed more traditionalist tendencies, others felt the desire to nurture and
foster innovations, and parsimony and generosity prevailed to varying
degrees.
46
Whatever the case, the duty of all who occupied positions of
power was to try and make the highest bid possible for objects which
included not just the works of artists but the artists themselves, whose price
was measured in degrees of meaning, and this meaning was guaranteed if
they could succeed in engaging artists and surrounding themselves with
their works.
A fourth category of semiophores need only be mentioned here. Making
its appearance in the seventeenth century, it too became a source of
collection pieces, and comprised scientific instruments. These instruments
obviously owed their existence to a change in attitude towards the invisible,
when man attempted to move back irs frontiers in nature, and in so doing
developed a whole new language to describe it. This was the language of
mathematical theory, which was to enable man, on the basis of what he
could see, to arrive at infallible conclusions on rhar which he could not. Here
too, a new social group formed, consisting of scientists; connections sprang
up between branches of this group scattered in various different countries,
academies sprang up, spontaneously at first and later under the auspices of
the powers that be, who were anxious to become patrons in this domain too.
The facts are, however so well known that no extra rime need be spent on
them.
In the Middle Ages collections gradually accumulated in churches and royal
treasure-houses. They consisted of relics, sacred objects, mirabilia and gifts,
along with works of art whose material was often considered more precious
than the beauty of their execution. In other words, two groups, the clergy
and those in power, monopolized semiophores, determined the degree of
access the public had to them and used them in order to reinforce rheir
position of domination. In the second half of the fourteenth century, a
process was set in motion which in the end would destroy this system and
replace it with another. New social groups sprang up, which owed their
existence to the monopoly they exerted over certain areas of knowledge and
know-how. The humanists were particularly skilled in the use of Latin, the
antiquarians possessed the greatest knowledge of the lives of the ancients,
the artists were most knowledgeable in the production of works of art and
scholars had the monopoly of the sciences. New semiophores, including
manuscripts and other sundry remains of antiquity, exotic and natural
curios, works of art and scientific instruments, began to come into
circulation and were absorbed into collections. To the members of these
groups they represented not only objects enabling them tO acquire new
knowledge or learn new techniques, in the way that artists study the works
of their predecessors, but were also emblematic of their social rank. This
explains why collections now began ro be found for the first time in the
libraries and studios of those men who were founts of both art and
knowledge.
In addition to this, and for the reasons outlined above, the men at the top
of the power hierarchy were required to manifest their artistic tastes,
possibly even their interest in the sciences, whether they were genuine or
not. They roo founded collections, therefore, or else ordered their servants
to do so in their stead, these collections being a mark of their superiority
and of their prominent position in the domain of meaning. They were
encouraged to do so by the artists and scholars themselves, both groups
being unable to operate properly withour support from those in power,
with the artists being especially dependent on official commissions. Nor
was this all, since the authorities liked to have these founts of art and
knowledge under their control for political ends, particularly for what we
would call propaganda today. Patronage and collection-building admirably
satisfied these various different requirements, albeit ambiguously, given
that when the great and powerful commissioned artists, supplied scientists
with research subjects and writers with the themes for their works, they
gave them the material conditions to carry out not only these commissioned
works but also those which had not been. The material conditions necessary
to artistic, scientific or literary production not only took the form of
pensions and stipends given to proteges, but also consisted in the provision
of access to all the semiophores necessary for the exercise of their
profession, and which were to be found in private collections of curios,
picture and sculpture galleries, libraries and deed registries. While, to both
intellectuals and artists, collections represented tools and the emblems of
social rank for the members of the intellectual and artistic milieu, those in
power regarded them as proof of their superiority, as well as the means by
which they could dominate this milieu.
So far, the most important weapon in the battle for semiophores has only
been mentioned in passing. The time has now come to give it its proper
share of attention- the lion's share. We are, of course, talking about money.
Its importance springs firstly from the fact that those in power who sought
to engage the services of artists and scholars as well as own collections had
to pay for the privilege. However, it also derives from the emergence,
alongside the twin hierarchies of power and of sacred (the clergy) and
secular (artistic and intellectual circles) knowledge, of a hierarchy of wealth,
which did not correspond to these first two. All three were themselves
arranged in a hierarchy, with power dominating knowledge, sacred
knowledge struggling to maintain its pre-eminence and domination over its
secular counterpart, while within the latter, different professions were
given different statuses. Wealth was situated at the very bottom, as it
consisted solely of the instruments of economic constraint, namely money
and the means of production. Once again, usefulness was subordinated to
meaning. In this light, it is easy to understand why the acquisition of
semiophores, the purchase of works of art and the founding of libraries or
collections, represented one way of turning usefulness into meaning and of
enabling someone occupying a lofty place in the hierarchy of wealth to
attain an equivalent position in the hierarchy of taste and learning. As we
have already seen, collection pieces were emblematic of social rank, if not of
superiority, and this meant that admission ro this exclusive milieu, which
depended on the withdrawal of part of one's wealth from the utilitarian
circuit, could be obtained through the purchase of semiophores.
Thus assured of demand, a market in works of art, antiquities and diverse
curios gradually developed during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
Alongside sales by private agreement between collectors :1nd others
arranged by specialist dealers, public auctions made their appearance. These
were better suited to the specific nature of the merchandise in question, that
is, collection objects, since they gave free rein to combative behaviour in
these encounters, where each bidder exposed simultaneously his taste, his
capacity to sacrifice wealth in order to satisfy it and the exact extent of this
wealth. The public auction of collection pieces thus constituted a privileged
place where the different hierarchies made their presence known, and
where that which was utilitarian was changed into meaning. Hardly
surprising, therefore, that the major sales where the contents of famous
collections were dispersed, as happened in Paris in the eighteenth century,
became highly fashionable occasions, commented on in letters and in the
press of the day.
One of the most important stages in the development of the system of
public auctions was marked by the appearance of printed catalogues of the
objects to be sold. The first work of this kind was published in Holland in
1616. It proves that there was, first on a local, later on an international
40 The Collection: between the Visible and tbe Invisible
scale, a substantial number of people interested in collection pieces who
could only acquire them through purchase. It also signified the emergence of
a new profession in direct communication with the collectors, namely that of
the auctioneers and experts responsible for establishing the authenticity of
the objects put up for sale. Lastly, it consisted of a type of discourse which, till
then, had been reserved for inventories, but which now began to infiltrate
the language, as objects now had to be classified and named with accuracy.
According to calculations based on the number of catalogues printed,
Amsterdam was the main auction centre up to the mid-eighteenth century,
this centre then shifting to London and later to Paris.
4
7 However, Italy was
the country which supplied most of the modern works of art and the
antiquities, having a virtual monopoly of the latter, while its monopoly of
paintings was challenged first by Holland, then by France. But in Italy
trading in an and antiquities did not take place in the auction room but in the
shops of the dealers. As for the objects, they came not only from the breakup
of established collections and contemporary artistic production, but also
from finds (especially in the case of hoards of money which turned up almost
everywhere), from journeys and expeditions, and from excavations, which
became increasingly popular from the eighteenth century onwards. Lastly,
new collection pieces were created when objects, providing, of course, they
were not demoted to the rank of rubbish, were elevated to the rank of
semiophore for the first time. The most dramatic example of this
transformation was the case of medieval works which, in the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries, were collected solely by students of the history of the
Middle Ages, and therefore, given that they were denied all aesthetic value,
enjoyed the status of historical sources at the most. Only at the beginning of
the eighteenth century in England, and around one hundred years after this
in France and Germany, did interest grow in medieval works of art, an
interest reflected in the growth of countless collections specializing in objects
from this period, as well as in a corresponding increase in prices.
The ever-increasing role of money in facilitating the ownership of
semiophores had a great many consequences. Certain categories of collec-
tion objects, and first and foremost pictures and ancient works of art, soon
became inaccessible to anybody without sufficient means to make high
enough bids. Accordingly, these people fell back on less costly pieces, such
as medals, prints, drawings, exotic curios and specimens of natural history.
However, each time a category of semiophores began to appear in the
collections of artists and intellectuals the rich and powerful also began to
take interest in them, resulting in a rise in prices and causing these
particular semiophores to become increasingly, if not entirely, inaccessible.
This led to the birth of a mechanism encouraging the transformation of
despised objects and items of rubbish into semiophores. These included
medieval artefacts, ones produced by non-European peoples, popular works
of art and objects used in societies distant in either space or time. The
market mechanism is, of course, not the only thing which determines which
of these objects should change in status and monetary value, and mere! y
encourages constant searches for new ones, with changes in historical and
scientific knowledge as well as in ideological presuppositions favouring one
category of objects rather than another. It is in this context that the new
disciplines of archaeology and its many branches, of palaeontology, the
history of an and of ethnography were born. These disciplines developed
research techniques designed to unearth fresh objects and at the same time
constructed theories enabling them to classify, date them and elicit from
them information of every sort.
There was an additional consequence of this growth in the role of money
in providing greater access to semiophores. In the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries, a whole section of the population found itself cut off
from the contents of flourishing private collections, which were opened
only to those whom their proprietors chose to admit, namely, people of
similar social rank, and the artists and scholars who were given permission
to study objects which they needed for their work but did nor actually own.
The only collections which remained accessible to everyone were those
owned by the churches. The display of modern secular art, of antiquities,
exoric and natural curios was restricted to the privileged few who presided
over the hierarchies of power, wealth, taste and knowledge. The people who
had no access to the new semiophores were the members of the 'middle
classes', whose lack of finance stood in the way of their ambitions to become
fully-fledged collectors, and their number increased in step with economic
growth and the spread of schooling. It was they, or their spokesmen, and in
particular the scientists, writers, scholars and artists who had not yet gained
the favour of the rich and powerful, who started to press for the opening up
of the collections which housed the various different semiophores (books
and manuscripts, historical sources, objects) they needed when exercising
their professions. And it was to their request that private individuals and
those in power responded, firstly by setting up public libraries in the
seventeenth century, later by opening museums, even if a certain number of
them were, in fact, morivated by religious considerations.
The first of the big public libraries was the Bodleian, inaugurated in
Oxford in 1602 and open to all the members of the university. The second
one, the Ambrosiana, was founded in Milan by Bishop Federico Borromeo,
and opened its doors in 1609. In 1620 it was the turn of the Angelica in
Rome, founded by Bishop Angelo Pocco. In Paris the first public library, or
more accurately a private library open to men of letters, belonged to De
Thou, while the first truly public one was founded by Cardinal Mazarin. The
number of institutions of this kind was to grow in the latter half of the
century, and it was at this time that the first museum made its appearance:
in 1675 Elias Ashmole left his collections to Oxford University for the use
of its students, and access was given to them in 1683. In 1734 a papal
foundation, the Museo Capitolino, was opened to the public, and in 1743,
Anne-Marie-Louise de' Medici offered the state of Tuscany the collections
which had been amassed over three centuries by her family, on condition
that they should be inalienable and always remain open to the public.
Collections bought from Sir Hans Sloane formed the basis of the British
Museum, which was created in 1753 by the British parliament, and from
then onwards the movement gathered momentum and spread to other
European countries. Before dealing briefly with the effects of this, however,
we should mention that the third institution of this type, namely archives,
only appeared later on. The Archives Nationales in France, which were for
a time the first and only such institution, were founded by the Convention
by decree in 1794.
The chief characteristic of museums is their permanence. Unlike private
collections, which are generally dispersed after the death of their creators
and suffer the consequences of any financial problems the latter may meet,
museums survive their founders and normally lead a peaceful existence. The
reason for this is that whatever their legal status, they are public
institutions; private museums are simply private collections which have
borrowed a title associating them with something they are not. They may
owe their existence to donations, state purchases of private collections, the
nationalization of former royal, noble or ecclesiastical properties, as was the
case in France during the Revolution. They may arise from the creation of
non-profit-making foundations, as was the case of the major American
museums, but every great museum started out as the result of a decision
made by the public authorities or by a community. These are the bodies
which either directly fund the conservation of the objects, see to their
display, ensure the replenishment of their stocks or else supervise them
indirectly by making sure they do not break the law. The fact that these
public museums are open to everybody also distinguishes them from
private collections. True, there are not many countries where museum entry
is completely free, but even when a charge is made for entry, it stirs up
many a guilty conscience, as if there was a firm belief that the access to
semiophores should be entirely free. This is why reductions are given to
certain categories of the population, depending on the particular country
concerned, and why at least once a week museums can be visited free of
charge. In this light, the price of the admission ticket is paid not so much in
return for a service but rather as a sort of donation, and there is no better
example of this than the Metropolitan Museum of New York, where each
visitor is told: 'Pay what you wish, but you must pay something.' The
relationship between visitors and museums therefore falls into the category
of the 'gift economy' and not simply that of the market economy. Gifts
have, moreover, played an extremely important role in the actual birth of
museums, as well as being largely responsible for the growth and enrich-
ment of their stocks. In some countries, museums even enjoy the right of
pre-emption when purchasing items in auctions, which means that they do
not necessarily have to make the highest bid.
We have emphasized the role of the pressure, exerted by people unable
either to own collections or to visit those belonging to the privileged few, in
the creation of libraries and museums. Had it not been the expression of a
far more profound requirement, however, this pressure would have had
much less effect. In order for the various subsets of society to be able to
communicate between each other, they must, among other things, all have
potential access to semiophores of the same kind. The reason for this is that
when the objects in one particular category of objects rather than another
are seen as semiophores and not as objects possessing only usage value, or
even just as rubbish, they are generally held, though often tacitly, to
represent the invisible. Where this happens, it is also accepted that the
invisible world they represent is a reality and not a fiction. It goes without
saying that everyone must agree on the nature of the particular invisible
world held as a reality, in other words, the same semiophores must be given
the same meaning. This is easier said than done: an antique cameo was a
semiophore for those who saw it as a relic as it remains one for those who
see it as a specimen of ancient art, yet because this means that the same
cameo has two different meanings, communication between the holders of
these two separate attitudes becomes difficult, if not impossible. Differences
of opinion over the meaning of objects and consequently over the nature of
the invisible can lead to social conflict: when, to quote a trivial example, the
sacredness of objects used in religious acts of worship is refuted, this is,
whether we know it or not, tantamount to denying the foundation of the
privileged position of the clergy, which accordingly loses its rai.ron d'etre.
On the other hand, if particular value is placed on objects from the past,
from other societies or from nature, it justifies the activities of all those
involved in unearthing, collecting, conserving and studying such objects.
Viewed from this angle, the museum can be seen as one of those institutions
whose role is to form a consensus of opinion around the technique of
opposing the visible and the invisible, which began to take shape towards
the end of the fourteenth century, and consequently around new social
hierarchies, where a place at the top required the enjoyment of a privileged
relationship with the invisible in its new definition. In other words, the
museums took up where the churches had left off, functioning as places
where all the members of a society could participate in the celebration of
the same form of worship. Accordingly, their numbers grew in the
nineteenth and twentieth centuries at the same pace as the disaffection of
the populations, especially the urban ones, with traditional religion. The
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 micro-
cosm 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
46 The Age of Curiosity
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 a quatre 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
The Age of Curiosity 47
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 begin-
ning to make its presence felt, with 'lunettes a puce ou microscopes qui
grossissent fort les objets' (microscopes). Both the 'lunettes de multiplica-
tion 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 sixty-
three 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
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 differ-
ences 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 phenom-
enon. 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 Kunst-
und Wunderkammer
5
this type of museum, exemplified here by Borel's,
therefore reached its apogee in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
It remains to be seen whether these Kunst- und Wunderkammern had
any real significance, and whether the vogue for them can justifiably be
regarded as symptomatic of major tendencies in erudite culture at that time.
Many pictures of the seventeenth century, especially from Antwerp, depict
rooms full of pictures, statues, antiques, medals, exotic objects (the weapons
and clothing of 'savages') and natural objects (corals, shells, minerals), and
some were supposed to reproduce the layout of private museums which had
actually existed and been known to the artists.
6
Many hours could be spent
analysing such documentation. Each collection resembling Borel's own was,
like his, a veritable 'microcosm', a 'compendium of the universe'. When one
of them was represented in a picture, it meant that it was possible to take in
the entire universe at a single glance, as this universe had been reduced to
the scale of the human eye. Yet though there was reduction, there was also
attention to detail and concern for the accurate rendition of all the objects,
and more especially of the pictures, which made it possible to identify them.
There seems to have been a desire to miniaturize the constituent parts of
the world in such a way as to allow the eye to take them all in at the same
time, without losing any of their most intimate features.
Compendium of the universe
An Art Lover's Gallery by Frans Francken II (Musee des Beaux-Arts,
Antwerp) shows a wall decorated with pictures, and below it a table bearing
an album of drawings, small pictures, medals with the effigies of famous
men, some coins, a small casket, shells and stones. Here, as in other similar
cases,
7
we are put in the place of the spectator facing natural specimens and
works of art. The latter reproduce nature in the form of landscapes,
introducing at the same time historical and religious dimensions which
invite the eye to extend its gaze inwards towards thought, transcending the
visible to reach the invisible, the present tO reach the past and the here
below to reach the beyond. A much richer spectacle is offered by pictures of
museums enlivened by a bouquet of brightly coloured flowers being visited
by men and women occasionally accompanied by animals such as dogs,
monkeys and parrots. Somerimes, as in the case of The Gallery of Cornelis
van der Geest, by Willem van Haecht (Rubens' House in Antwerp, since
1969), and very likely that also of Rubens' Studio by Cornelis de Baeilleur
(Pitti Palace, Florence),
8
figures from history are depicted in the gallery
they are known to have visited. At other times the figures remain unknown
to us, as they are in Hieronymus Janssens' Picture Gallery visited by
Dilettanti (Musee Girodet, Montargis),9 but this difference has no bearing
on our particular viewpoint. What is important here is the fact that all these
types of pictures depict the major categories of beings and objects which
together encompass the entire contents of the universe: the sacred and the
secular, the natural and the artificial, the animate and the inanimate, the far
and the near. And equally important is the fact that besides illustrating
these categories with objects which exemplify them, they show them being
looked at by people. In this way, the gaze becomes itself an object to be
looked at, just as the pictures representing something become in their turn
represented objects. Both gaze and representation are thus multiplied by
two, with the result that the image of a gallery, be it the most realist of
images, turns into an allegory of mao's apprehension of the works of art
and nature.
At the outset, interpreting pictures as allegories when they claim to be
realist, would seem an extremely hazardous enterprise. Yet their artists did
50 Tbe Age of Curiosity
not hesitate to correct reality, by placing in rooms pictures which we know
they did not contain or else bringing together in another room people
whom we know paid visits there on different occasions. It would seem that
the aim was not so much to create a faithful portrait of a particular room on
a particular date, but rather to convey the very essence of such a room,
showing it as a place where the universe, considered as a whole, became
visible through the intermediary of objects intended to represent the major
categories of beings and things, and even the classes subdividing these
categories. In other words, it is here that the universe became visible as a
single entity, for although it retained every single constituent part, it
underwent a process of miniaturization. Just as the still lifes painted with
the greatest respect for the physical aspect of the objects were nonetheless
heavily symbolic, so the representations of galleries were both realist and
endowed with allegorical meaning.
This view is borne out by the existence of numerous pictures which so
meticulously portray rooms that each separate object is exactly repro-
d.uced, only_ tO introduce into them allegorical, mythological or legendary
figures. This IS the case of the American savages planted in the centre of a
room, surrounded by animals, birds and fish mostly from their native New
Present ro_o are American artefacts with, it is true, several foreign
additions, along With specimens of American fauna and flora depicted in the
pictures decorating the walls, some of which also portray scenes from the
lives of the Indians, and statues of these latter placed in the niches (America.
Jan van Kessel the Elder; Bayerische Staatsgemaldesammlungen, Munich).
There can be no doubt whatsoever that this is an allegory of America
incarnated by the female savage seated in the foreground and surrounded by
symbols of wealth, and in fact this picture was one of a series depicting the
four contments.
10
Another and even more exuberant room, full of ancient
busts, pictures, scientific instruments including globes and a telescope, and
medals, harbours a half-naked nymph whom some say is meant to be Venus,
a Muse, and who is accompanied by a Cupid. This picture is an allegory
of Sight, and the same couple reappears in three other pictures of the same
series, painted by Peter Paul Rubens and Jan 'Velvet' Brueghell, and
dedicated to the Five Senses (Prado, Madrid). In the allegory of hearing, the
nymph sings and plays, listened to by the Cupid and by a stag, in a different
room to before where we can see several musical instruments and scores next
tO the pictures, globe and clock. In the allegory of the sense of smell, she is
seated with her companion amid the flowers of a garden, while in the allegory
of taste, we see her eating, fully dressed this time, in a room full of
eccentricities where she is served, in the absence of the Cupid, by a satyr.
Lastly, the allegory of touch is portrayed by the nymph giving a tender kiss to
the Cupid in one of Vulcan's caves, piled high with pictures, weapons and
armour and instruments. II
The Age of Curiosit)' 51
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
and that Rubens' and Brueghel's Tbe Allegory of Hearing features a clock in
the foreground. Finally, all the categories and classes discussed in this
chapter can be represented within the framework of the four elements (or
the four qualities which constitute them). This is a particularly ancient and
flexible framework, and one which not only enables beings and things,
temperaments, climates, seasons, ages of man and so on to be divided up in
a logical and exhaustive manner, bur also accommodates virrually all types
of classifications.
17
Hard! y surprising, therefore, if it often dictated the
Ia your of museums.
It remains to be seen what the figures of Venus and Cupid signified and
why they were used in preference to others. It also remains to be seen why
artists chose to portray these museums, for the desire to show off their
virtuosity by painting perfectly recognizable miniatures of pictures, objets
d'art and natural artefacts is not in itself sufficient reason, just as the wish to
liven up the allegories cannot adequately explain the presence of an unclad
woman in their midst. This presence can, however, be justified fully in a
painting by Willem van Haecht, Apelles' Atelier, which at first glance only
resembles our allegories because it, too, depicts an opulent gallery full of
fine pictures from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, natural curios
and globes (Maurirshuis, The Hague). The scene is that of Apelles busy
painting the portrait of Alexander's favourite, Campaspe. Neck and
shoulders bared, and one breast revealed, she stands before the painter,
surrounded by her followers, while Alexander watches both the artist and
his model. This extremely complex picture represents nor simply rhe
objects amassed in the gallery and admired by Alexander's courtiers, but
also the very act of representing and its end product, the emerging painting.
Above all, however, it represents desire.
When he ordered ["Apelles] to paint him a portrait of the nudity of
Campaspe, the most beautiful of all his concubines, and one he greatly
loved, certain obvious signs made it clear to Alexander that as he studied
her closely, Apelles had fallen in love with her beauty. This is why he
showed him the full measure of his affection and gave her to him, as if,
having been the friend of a king - and of King Alexander, too - it was
right that she should become the friend of a painter. Some thought that
the very famous Venus Dione was the portrait of this beautiful womaniB
The illustration of this legend, Apel!es' Atelier, is a hymn to the glory of
painting, an art capable of reproducing all things and all beings, and far
nobler than all the other arts. It is also an apology for desire, of which
Campaspe is at the same time both the object and the personification. This
is the desire to see and possess, desire channelled through the woman and
aimed at all the beings and all the things collected by Apelles in his atelier-
museum. This interpretation may seem a little far-fetched, but the same
theme of desire reappears in Frans Francken II's painting, Ulysses recogniz-
ing Achilles from among the Daughters of Lycomedes (Louvre, Paris),
which plays on how masculine and feminine characteristics oppose yet
complement each other. Here, Achilles betrays his true nature by taking
hold of the sword and shield, while the daughters of Lycomedes only have
eyes for the jewels. The scene takes place in a gallery where pictures, a vase
of flowers and various other different objects can be seen, and desire is
explicitly directed towards objects but not personified. Personification does
seem to take place in the two paintings of Tbe Toilet of Venus by J. van
Kessel (Baron Coppe Collection, Brussels; Fr. Sheid Collection, Cleydael
Castle, Antwerp), where Venus, half-naked, is accompanied by a Cupid and
stands amid shells, minerals, scientific instruments and pictures, with a
backdrop of shelves bearing busts and statues. All this immediately brings
to mind the allegories discussed above, but this time there is nothing to
suggest that allegory is involved. Even so, having just drawn comparisons
between Apel!es' Atelier and Ulysses recognizing Achilles from among the
Daugbters of Lycomedes it is difficult to avoid reaching the conclusion that
Venus, of whom Campaspe is but an avatar, can only be performing her
toilet in such an unlikely place as this, in the company, what is more, of a
Cupid, because this is the only way that the desire responsible for bringing
together rare objects in a cabinet can be represented allegorically. The
placing of the personification of desire in the midst of such objects, shows
that it is towards them that the desire is directed, and that it is this desire
which fuels the urge to seek out and amass them in order to form a
microcosm. The same applies to other female figures placed in the same
setting: it applies both to the Venus from the Lyons Allegory of Fire, and to
the nymph in the allegories of the five senses, who consequently represents
not only individual senses (a role which could have been filled by any figure
portrayed looking, playing an instrument or eating) but also incarnates and
makes visible the desire which is implicit in all openness to things and
beings and in every sensory or intellectual apprehension of the universe.
The quest for totality
Totality and desire, two themes which, though independent, often overlap
in the paintings included in our rapid survey, also crop up in the names
which, in French at least, are given to those who attempt to amass objects
and create museums. 'AMATEUR, s.m., Qui aime quelque chose. II ne se dit
point de l'amitie, ni des personnes. II est amateur de l'estude, des curiosites,
des tableaux, des coquilles, amateur de !a Musique, des Beaux-Arts, le peuple
est amateur de nouveautez.'
19
A little later, Furetiere's gloss was followed
54
by that of the Academie which, in its dictionary, subordinated the noun
'amateur' to the verb 'aimer' and explained: 'AMATEUR. s.m.v. Qui aime.
II ne se dit que pour marquer I' affection qu' on a pour les chases, et non
celle qu'on a pour les personnes. Amateur de la vertu, de Ia gloire des
lettres, des arts, amateur des bans !ivres, des tableaux, amateur des
nouveautez.'
20
Not only did the Academie's dictionary not give the word
amateur full autonomy, a status first granted in the 1717 edition, but it
also ignored curios and shells, as well as studies, which headed Furetiere's
list of examples. This is an important difference and reflects the conflict
between the intelligentsia and the literary spokesmen of the court, who
accused the former of being pedants.
21
In particular, those whose interest
in curios and shells was favourably looked on by Furetiere, since he
designated them as amateurs, were cruelly ridiculed by La Bruyere in a
chapter of his Caracteres, of which more later. The Academie tacitly
refused them the title of amateur, which it reserved for lovers of
paintings, that is, objects not used for study. In the Academie's and in
Bruyere's opinion, people taking an interest in shells and similar things of
that nature were merely curieux.
CURIEUX, EUSE. adj. et subst. Celuy qui veut tour s<;avoir, et rout
apprendre. Tous les hommes ont un desir curieux de s<;avoir I'advenir. II
se prend quelquefois en mauvaise part. C'est un indiscret qui est curieux
de s<;avoir les secrets d'aurruy, qui decachette les lettres. II ne faut point
erre curieux d'apprendre les affaires des Princes, quand ils les cachent.
Cervantes a escrit l'Hisroire du Curieux impertinent, qui vouloit
esprouver si sa femme lui etoit fidelle.
CURIEUX, se dit en bonne part de celuy qui a desir d'apprendre, de voir
Ies bonnes choses, les merveilles de !'art et de Ia nature. C'est un curieux
qui a voyage par route !'Europe, un curieux qui a feuillete rous les bons
Livres, rous Ies Livres rares. C' est un Ch ymiste curieux qui a fait de belles
experiences, de belles descouvertes.
CURIEUX, se dit aussi de celuy qui a ramasse Ies choses Ies plus rares, les
plus belles et les plus extraordinaires qu'il a pu trouver tant dans les arts
que dans Ia nature. C'est un curieux de Livres, de medailles, d'estampes, de
tableaux, de leurs, de coquilles, d'antiquites, de choses naturelles.
CURIEUX, se dit encore de Ia chose rare qui a ere tamassee ou remarquee
par l'homme curieux. Ce Livre est curieux, c'est-a-dire est rare, ou contient
bien des chases singulieres, que peu d'hommes s<;avent. Ce secret est
curieux. Cette experience, cette remarque est curieuse. Le cabinet de cet
homme est fort curieux, remply de chases curieuses.
On appelle les sciences curieuses, celles qui ne sont connues que de peu de
personnes, qui ant des secrets particuliers, comme Ia Chymie, une partie
de J'Optique, qui fait voir des chases extraordinaires avec des miroirs et
des lunettes; et plusieurs vaines sciences ou !'on pense voir l'advenir,
comme l'AstrologieJudiciaire, Ia Chiromance, Ia Geomance, et meme on y
joint Ia Cabale, la Magie, etc.
He who wishes to know and learn everything. Every man is curious
(curieux) to know his own fate. This term is sometimes used negatively.
He who is curious (curieux) to know the secrets of others, opening their
letters, is indiscreet. It is wrong to pry (etre curieux) into affairs Courtiers
do not make known. Cervantes wrote the story of the Inquisitive Man
(Curieux impertinent), who wanted to test his wife's faithfulness.
When those who have a thirst for learning and desire to look at the treasures
of art and nature are described as having an Inquiring Mind (curieux) it is
meant as a compliment. He who has travelled throughout Europe, and has
perused every fine and rare book has an Inquiring Mind (est un curieux).
Fine experiments and discoveries are the work of a keen (curieux) Chemist.
He who has gathered together the very rarest, most beautiful and most
extraordinary works of art and nature is an ENTHUSIAST (un curieux).
There are book, medal, print, paintings, flower, shell, antiquities and
natural objects enthusiasts ( Curieux).
The rarities which are collected or remarked by the enthusiast (curieux)
are also described as curiosities (curieux). This book is a curiosity
(curieux), that is, rare, or contains many singular things, unknown to
many. This secret is curious (curieux). This experiment, this comment is
curions (curieux). This man's museum is most curious (curieux), full of
curiosities (chases curieuses).
The curious sciences (sciences curieuses) are those which are known only
to a few, and have particular secrets, such as Chemistry, and a part of
Optics, where extraordinary sights are produced by means of mirrors and
glasses; also several vain sciences, said to reveal the future, such as
Astrology, Chiromancy, Geomancy and even Cabbala, Magic, etc.
55
A clearer idea of Furetiere's article emerges when one compares it wirh that
which the Academie included in its dictionary for the same word:
CURIEUX, EUSE. adj. Qui a beaucoup d'envie et de soin d'apprendre, de
voir, de posseder des chases nouvelles, rares, excellentes etc. Fort curieux.
extremement curieux. curieux de curieux de voir. if veut tout voir,
tout if est curieux. il est curieux de fleurs, de tulipes, curieux de
nouvelles. curieux de peintures, de tableaux, de medailles. curieux de
livres, de bustes. elle est curieuse en habits, curieuse en tinge.
Curieux, se dit aussi des chases, et signifie, Rare, nouveau, extraordinaire,
excellent dans son genre. Cette nouvelle est curieuse. cette remarque est
curieuse. un bijou curieux.
On dit, qu'Un livre est curieux, qu'un cabinet est curieux, pour dire, qu'Un
livre, qu'un cabinet est rempli de chases rares curieuses.
II se prend quelquefois en mauvaise part, et se dit d'un homme qui veut
indiscretement penetrer les secrets d'autruy. Vous venez escouter a ma
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 a faire amas de choses curieuses et rares ou celuy
qui a une grande connoissance de ces sortes de choses. Le cabinet d'un
curieux. C'est un homme qui est tous les jours avec les curieux.
He or she who is most eager and is at great pains to learn, see, possess
new, rare and excellent things. Very curious (curieux). Extremely curious
(curieux). Eager (curieux) to know. Eager (curieux) to see. He is a flower,
tulip enthusiast (curieux), interested (curieux) in the latest news. A
paintings, picture, medal enthusiast (curieux). Interested (curieux) in
books, busts. She is interested (curieuse) in clothes, in linen.
Objects can also be described as curious (curieux), meaning rare, new,
extraordinary, excellent of their kind. This news is curious (curieux). This
comment is curious (curieux). A curious (curieux) piece of jewellery.
Books and museums are described as curious (curieux), meaning that they
are full of rare and curious (curieux) things.
It is sometimes used negatively, and can serve to describe someone who
pries into rhe secrets of others. You have been listening at my door, you
are a busybody (curieux). Do not be so inquisitive (curieux) as to go
through my papers. He is a foolish busybody (curieux), a prying busybody
(curieux).
As a substantive, it designates someone who takes pleasure in collect-
ing 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
once one decides, dissatisfied with a knowledge of the common and the
normal, to seek greater knowledge of the singular, and accordingly searches
among natural and artistic artefacts for rare, exceptional and extraordinary
objects, objects supposed to have a special link with totality as they
constitute the source of additional information without which the
knowledge of the world as a whole, or of one or other of its domains, would
remain incomplete. This explains why they are known as 'objets curieux',
just as anyone taking an interest in them is called cutieux. When efforts are
made to extend one's knowledge beyond the obvious and the universally
familiar to things which are kept hidden from most people the same
adjectives apply, and it is precisely when a curieux individual attempts to
unveil such 'chases curieuses' as the secrets of others or the machinations of
princes in order to obtain a complete view of man, that he runs the risk of
crossing the boundary separating the permissible from the forbidden. He
who seeks to complete his representation of time by attempting to add to
his representation of the past and the present that of the future, is also
dubbed curieux, and this explains why premonitory gimmicks are given
special importance and why so many are drawn to practise the so-called
'vain sciences' in other words, the 'sciences curieuses'.
While the meaning of the word curieux differed only marginally from
one dictionary to the other, the same cannot be said of the value judgement
concerning the thing it designated. In Furetiere's view, this word 'se dit en
bonne part' nor only of a great traveller, scholar or the author of fine
experiments but also of someone who has filled rooms with the rarest, most
beautiful and most extraordinary things he has been able to find. In his
definition, 'curieux' is used pejoratively in only a very few isolated cases.
The Academie's dictionary, on the other hand, which only grants this word
a positive value when it is applied to something 'excellent en son genre',
strongly reproves the 'curieux' under a veil of impartiality, though avoiding
outright condemnation of them. It is highly likely that Bruyere had
something to do with this: he would appear to have been the source of the
references ro tulips and busts as examples of objects of which one can be
'curieux'.
A comparison of the articles on curiosite clearly shows up all the
differences between these two dictionaries. Furetiere:
CURIOSITE, s.f. Desir, passion de voir, d'apprendre les choses nouvelles,
secrettes, rares et curieuses. Il y a une bonne et une mauvaise curio .rite. II a
ere puny de sa curiosite. Sa curiosite luy a valu beaucoup.
CURIOSITE, se dit aussi de la chose meme qui est rare, secrette, curieuse.
II y a a Paris plusieurs cabinets remplis de belles curiositez. Ce Chymiste
nous a fait voir force curiositez, quantite de belles experiences de son art.
58 The Age of Curiosit)l
Desire, eagerness to see, learn about new, secret, rare and curious things.
CtJriOJ'ity (curiosite) can be both good and bad. He was punished for his
inquisitiveness (curiosite). He has benefited a great deal from his
curioJity (curiosite).
CURIOSITY is also used to describe the rare, secret or curious things
themselves. In Paris, there are several museums full of fine curiosities
(curiosites). This Chemist showed us many curiosities (curiosites) and
many fine experiments of his art.
The Academie:
CURIOSITE, s.f. Passion, desir, empressemem, de voir, d'apprendre, de
posseder des choses rares, singulieres, nouvelles etc. Grande curiosite.
louab!e curiosite. cutiosite blasmable. sote curiositi. curiosite irnperti-
nente. ettriosite defendiie. il eut la curio site de voyager. la curiosite de voir,
d'entendre etc. il a peu de curio site. trap de curio site. alter par curio site en
quelque lieu. satisfaire, contenter 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 empressement de sc;:avoir les secrets, les affaires d'autruy. Sa
curiosite le po1te a ouvrir toutes les lettres qui lui tombent entre les
mains. c'est avoir trop de curiosite que de vouloir penetrer 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, singular, new
things. Great curios it)' ( cu1iosite), praiseworthy cttriosit)' (curio site),
inqmszttveness (curiosite blasmable), foolish curiosity (curiosite).
Inquisitiveness (curio site impertinente). Forbidden curiosity ( ettriosite).
His inquiring mind (curiosite) led him to travel, see, listen, etc. He has
very little curiosity (curiosite). Too much curiosity (curiosite). To go
somewhere om of curiosit)' (curiosite). Satisfy one's curiositJ
1
(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 inquisitiveness (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 therefore a desire and a passion: a desire to see, learn or
possess rare, new, secret or remarkable things, in other words those things
The Age of Curiosit)'
59
which have a special relationship with totality and consequently provide a
means of attaining it. In short, we are dealing with the desire for totality,
and this is why it cannot better be represented than by Venus or a nymph,
half-naked and accompanied by a Cupid in an enthusiast's private museum.
If one analyses the vocabulary or carries out an interpretation of pictorial
documents one comes to the same conclusion. What the pictures do not say,
however, is that this desire for totality is ambivalent, and that curiosity can
be good or bad, praiseworthy or blameful. While Furetiere mostly sees it as
the former, the Academie takes the opposite line, as is particularly clear
from their descriptions of cabinets. In one definition 'remplis de belles
curiositez', in the other they are simply 'pleins de curiositez', while the
'belles experiences' in chemistry which, together with optics, was for
Furetiere and for Borel too, a 'science curieuse', warrant not a single
mention from the Academie. On the other hand, this same body places far
more emphasis than Furetiere on the dangers of curiosite, of its excesses, its
vanity, its foolishness and its impertinence.
This criticism, couched in terms of morality, if not savoir-vivre, of an
unbounding curiosity, accusing it of leading to interference in the affairs of
others, is merely an echo of a whole intellectual and institutional mecha-
nism put in place in order to check all manifestations of curiosity and
harness it to the service of the faith. It must be remembered that for many
centuries Christian thinkers regarded curiosity as a source of morral danger
for the soul and as such the object of extreme mistrust. St Augustine
suspected it of turning philosophers away from faith by encouraging them
to consult demons, and of preventing those who indulged in curiosity by
studying creatures, from raising themselves to the level of the immortal and
the lastingY Isidore of Seville actually went one step further, by imposing a
whole series of interdicts on it:
Have no curiosity for those things which lie hidden. Abstain from seeking
out all those which are far distant from human senses. Leave to one side,
like a secret, anything which the authority of the Holy Scriptures has not
caused you to learn. Seek not beyond that which is written, question not
the holy teachings. Do not desire to know that which it is forbidden to
know. Curiosity is a dangerous presumption. Curiosity is a harmful
science. It leads to heresy. It embroils the mind in sacrilegious fables
2
3
If by chance anyone had been tempted to accuse the author of the
Etymologies of disobeying his own commandments, he would no doubt
have replied that he was pursuing not curiosity but studiousness, and it was
this opposition between being curious and being studious which provided
the loophole St Thomas Aquinas needed in order to reconcile the
AristOtelian thesis, which held that the desire for knowledge was natural to
60
The Age of Cttriosity
man, with the belief that this desire should be carefully overseen,
channelled and given direction, since left to its own devices it would lead to
excesses: 'As regards knowledge there is a tension of opposites; the soul has
an urge ro know about things, which needs to be laudably tempered, lest we
stretch out to know beyond due measure.'
24
This, then, is the role of
studiousness: to curb curiosity and prevent man from overstepping the
boundaries set by God. Seen in this light it becomes a virtue, while curiosity
remains a vice capable of perverting intellectual and sense-knowledge, as
witnessed when attempts are made to know truth nor for its own sake but to
boast of this extra knowledge, forgetting God in the process and believing
that one has transcended one's earthly condition. This is what happens
when disorder takes hold of desire itself and when necessary study is
abandoned in favour of futile things, as in the case of the priests, mentioned
by Sc Jerome, who read comedies and pastoral poems instead of the gospels.
The same is true when 'a person studies to learn from an illicit source; such
is the case when he seeks ro foretell the future by recourse to demons. This
is superstitious curiosity.' Intellectual knowledge can also be perverted
when the study of the world is not subordinated to the knowledge of God,
when, in other words, creatures are taken as separate from the Crearor. Or
again, when a person attempts to grasp facts beyond his capacity, for by so
doing he may slip into error.
25
As for sense-knowledge, ir can be perverted
by curiosity when used to examine the actions of others, uniquely in order
to scorn, denigrate or trouble them needlessly
2
G
Modern science confronted with curiosity
This modest offering by no means deserves to be called a history of
curiosity. This history still needs co be told, though it cannot be so within
the framework of rhis particular article. Nevertheless, these few observa-
tions do give an idea of the considerable efforts made to curb and channel
the thirst for knowledge. This entailed convincing individuals that certain
areas of knowledge were robe avoided as being illicit, that certain questions
should not be asked, that certain interests should be kept hidden and that
certain methods of acquiring knowledge should in no circumstances be
employed. It was stressed, in other words, that certain limits could only be
crossed on pain of damnation: moral and religious limits were imposed on
knowledge from the outside, but which knowledge had to respect nonethe-
less, as it was neither autonomous nor self-fulfilling. Sense-knowledge is
supposed to contribute to bodily welfare, intellectual knowledge is meant to
contribute to the salvation of the soul. This is why knowledge of the truth
does not suffice: The good for man lies in knowing the truth, and his
sovereign good lies, not in knowing any sort of truth, but in the perfect
The Age of Curiosit)J 61
knowledge of the supreme truth, as Aristotle shows.'
27
It is surely nor
necessary to repeat that subordinating sense-knowledge to utilitarian ends
and to intellectual knowledge, subordinated in its turn to religious, moral
and social ends, did not only translate itself in discourse. It was inscribed
into the whole system of institutions, more particularly in the organization
of the university, especially che faculty of theology. The Church had a
monopoly over the definition of the boundaries between licit and illicit
knowledge, between permitted and prohibited questions, between the
accepted and forbidden methods of acquiring knowledge, and anyone lured
by unbridled curiosity ro the other side of chis boundary risked con-
demnation, and not simply in the form of words.
The irruption into official culture of formerly occult forms of knowledge
and of all the 'sciences curieuses' which the authentic theology guarded
against was evidence that the system of institutional curbs on curiosity was
breaking up by the end of the fifteenth century. It is a phenomenon which
has been remarkably described in what are now standard works, so I will not
linger over it. Borel's catalogue, which typifies a large body of very similar
texts, has been quoted from and commented on, along with the pictures
which have themselves been selected from a far greater number, precisely
because they constitute examples of the apology for unbounded curiosity.
Moreover, it should be stressed that learned culture in the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries consisted chiefly of the practice of curiosity in all
these many forms, and the moralists and philosophers simply confirm this
with their incessant attacks on it. This was true for Montaigne, for whom 'la
curiosite est vicieuse partour' and who saw in the 'divination es astres, es
esprits, es songes' a 'notable example de la forcenee curiosite de nostre
nature, s'amusam a preoccuper les choses futures, comme si elle n'avoit pas
assez affaire a digerer les presentes.'
28
And also for Pascal, for whom 'la
curiosite n'est que vanite.'
2
9 Bruyere shared this viewpoint, as evident from
his diatribe against curiosity, contained in the edition of Caracteres
published after the appearance of Furetiere's dictionary, but before that of
the Academie one. For him, curiosity was a purely social passion as it only
attached itself to 'some particular object which is rare and yet in fashion'.
Accordingly, he went on to demonstrate that curiosity had nothing to do
with knowledge and certainly not with knowledge of totality, explicitly
contradicting the claims of its panegyrists. Here is the tulip enthusiast in
front of his flower: 'he looks at the tulip and admires [ ... ] but God and
nature are not in his thoughts, for they do not go beyond the bulb of his
tulip.' The fruit enthusiast 'is fond only of a certain kind'; the medal or prim
enthusiasts only look for items they need to complete their series so that
they can boast about them. Others, 'deceived by their curiosity', 'are
unwilling to be ignorant of any branch of Lknowledge] L ... ], srudy them all
and master none.' In short, Bruyere highlighted the contrast between che
declared ambition, that of apprehending everything, and the final result,
entanglement in minor detail, resulting in ' ian absolute ignorance] of all
facts and principles'.3o
Although Bruyere's criticism of curiosity was quite ferocious, it was
necessarily ineffective because it reposed on moral and religious ideas which
had an ever-dwindling influence on the way knowledge was organized. It
was criticism which neither ridiculed nor cursed curiosity but rather tried to
define new limits for it and set up a new institutional framework capable of
curbing and channelling it which turned our to be most effective in the long
term. This was not done in the name of religion. Instead, the principles
supposedly governing from within knowledge itself were used to justify the
need to keep curiosity within well-defined limits. To this end, Descartes
condemned blind curiosity in favour of research carried our in accordance
with the rules of method. He even went as far as to say that seeking truth
without due regard being paid to these rules was worse than not seeking it
at all.3
1
The role of these rules was to make possible infallible discrimi-
nation between truth and error, and as such it was a cognitive and not a
moral role, as Descartes himself saw, and in his Discottrs de la methode, he
clearly separated the exposition of the rules to be observed in order ro know
something well from the description of the precepts governing one's
actions. Moreover, the limits these rules imposed on knowledge separated
those things which could be apprehended in a sure and certain manner from
those which could not, a division based once more on uniquely cognitive
criteria.
All these themes crop up again in a passage of the Recherche de Ia verite
par Ia !ttmiere natttre!le which, according to the full title of this pamphlet,
'penetrates into the secrets of the most curious of the sciences.' Contrary to
the opinion of Epistemon, who holds that: 'the desire for knowledge, which
is common to all men, is an evil which cannot be cured, for curiosity
increases with knowledge,' Eudoxus comments that: 'there are truths that
can be known in every matter sufficient to satisfy fully the curiosity of
healthy minds,' adding that 'the body of a dropsical patient is nor further
removed from irs normal condition than the mind of those who are
perpetually worked upon by an insatiable curiosity.' Epistemon, however,
interprets this opposition between 'healthy mind' and 'insatiable curiosity'
in an entirely traditional way, defining the limits beyond which curiosity
must not venture in moral terms: 'I have, it is true, heard in former times
that our desire could not extend naturally to things that seemed to us
impossible, and that it ought not to do so to those that are vicious or
useless.' Knowledge acquired within these limits, and which is therefore
legitimate, is so vast that nobody can exhaust it completely, and everybody
constantly wishes ro know more. It is in reply to this comment, and after an
exchange of polite remarks that Eudoxus introduces the essential distinc-
tions which clarify Descartes' point of view and reveal exactly how it differs
from the traditional one. The first of these distinctions is 'between the
sciences and those simple forms of knowledge which can be acquired
without the aid of reasoning, such as languages, history, geography, etc., or
to speak generally, everything that depends on experience alone'. This
eliminates from the field of legitimate interests of an honest man all
knowledge which, according to Descartes, merely encumbers one's memory.
A second distinction is made within science itself, between those branches
of knowledge which 'are deduced from common objects of which everyone
is cognizant' and those acquired 'from rare and well thought out experi-
ments'. 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
thirsty for knowledge, but the disorderliness of one's curiosity makes it
impossible to continue the search for truth in a steadfast manner.' 3
4
Thus, the second half of the seventeenth century saw the development of
an intellectual and institutional mechanism intended to curb and channel
curiosity which the old framework, constructed more than a thousand years
earlier, had been unable to control for the past two hundred years. Only the
intellectual dimension of this story has been highlighted in these last few
pages, and even that has been done in a fragmentary fashion through a few
examples chosen from a much larger corpus of work. Another study would
be needed to show how the formation of informal groups of scholars and
networks of correspondents, followed by the advent of structured academies
fully recognized by the public powers, along with scientific journals, was
accompanied, albeit slightly later, by the taming of curiosity. In other
words, certain questions which had begun to seem incongruous were
discarded, as were certain interests which were no longer considered
respectable in anyone aspiring to be a scholar, as well as certain experi-
ments and references which were no longer given any credibility. A lengthy
process, this change was far from automatic and was not exempt from rifts
and conflict. When it had eventually taken place the 'sciences curieuses'
which had been accepted into official culture at the end of the fifteenth
century found themselves excluded from it once again, this time not on! y by
the Church but also by the scientific institutions. As for the 'cabinets
curieux', created in order to make visible the whole of existence, these were
turned into natural history collections in the service of scientific debate.
Curiosity, as embodied in the Kunst- und Wunderkammer, in the library
of a scholar, the laboratory of a chemist practising hermetic philosophy or
of a physicist for whom optics remained a science of miracles, exuberant,
incoherent, muddled, assailed by contradictions, and pulling in all sorts of
different directions, enjoyed a temporary spell in power, an interim rule
between those of theology and science.
3
Collections in Venetia
in the Heyday of Curiosity
To Gianfranco and Sara Bertani
Paintings, sculptures, inscriptions, sometimes rarities and natural curios
too, not to mention relics - before the age of the museum, all these things
were displayed inside churches and official buildings, while outside, decor-
ated f a ~ a d e s , like those of private palaces, showed off frescoes, busts and
statues. This was the case in several European countries in the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries, as it was in Italian, and particularly Venetian, towns,
the sole difference in this respect being the quantity and quality of works
which had amassed there during the Renaissance. What did distinguish
them from the towns of northern Europe, however, was the presence of
ancient monuments, the finest of which in Venetia were undoubtedly the
arenas of Verona. These works and monuments, described in books by local
authors or by travellers, several of which were published at the time,
1
were
visited in the same way they are nowadays, and although a large proportion
of them were kept in places of worship, this did not mean that they were
looked at with religious rather rhan secular curiosity. True, the stare of the
pictures did often leave a great deal to be desired; according to Boschini
Titian's A.rsunta would have awoken pity in anyone with notions of tasre
2
-
which probably explains why foreign visirors failed to mention it - and
Maffei spoke indignantly of the lamentable treatment suffered by one of
Veronese's paintings.3 Nevertheless, in spire of all these vicissitudes, there
remained more than enough beautiful things to admire at one's leisure.
The churches and official buildings were therefore the guardians of
collections, that is, groups of natural or artificial objects kept temporarily or
permanently out of the circuit of economic activities, afforded special
protection in an enclosed place adapted specifically for that purpose and put
on display.
4
These collections were public, since they belonged not to an
66 Collections in Venetia in the HeJ'day of Curiosity
individual but to an institution and, most importantly of all, were open
either to everyone or to selected visitors only, depending on the circum-
stances. This is at any rate how the writers of the time distinguished them
from private collections. Sansovino would seem to have been the only one
to include the 'studi di anticaglie' in his work on the [ab1iche pubficbe','
thus forcing his continuatOrs to do so too. Boschini made a clear distinction
between the 'pitture publicbe' and those which were kept 'nelle case di molti
Cavalieri, et altri intendenti, et dilettanti di questa marauigliosa Dottrina
[painting],'
6
the same distinction being operated not only by dal Pozzo and
Lanceni but also by many others.
7
It was the public collection which gave a
town a good deal of its fame and lustre, which determined in the main its
image not only in the eyes of foreign visitors but also of the town's own
inhabitants, and which acted as a focal point for feelings of collective
identity.
These collections did, however, have serious lacunae. This was due to the
fact that they were the instruments either of a form of religious worship or
else of a cult, in which the city was both subject and object, especially in the
case of a city-republic like Venice. These two forms of praise did, however,
tend to merge into one, as in the case of the cult of St Mark. The problem
was that the contents were dictated by liturgical requirements, and these
favoured certain categories more than others. It meant, for instance, that
statues, ancient busts and antiquities in general were not much sought after,
except for those presenting a quite remarkable splendour, such as the vases
in the treasure-house of St Mark's basilica. These gaps would in due course
be filled thanks to private initiative. In February 1587 (1 586 more veneto),
and following the example of Cardinal Domenico Grimani sixty-four years
earlier, Patriarch Giovanni Grimani expressed his intention of leaving his
ancient marbles to the Most Serene Republic upon his death, and requested
that a place should be chosen which would be 'suitable for such a purpose, so
that once foreigners had seen the Arsenal and the other sights of the City,
they might also, amongst the things of note, see these antiquities displayed
in a public place.'
8
The Senate decided that Grimani's marbles should be
put in the anteroom of the library, which was itself the fruit of private
initiative. In August 1596, Federigo Contarini, the procurator of St Mark's,
who had been given the task of supervising the work, announced that it had
successfully reached completion, and that the 200 antique pieces, including
several he had himself donated, had been installed in the premises specially
set aside for the purpose. This 'antiquario publico' later acquired two
statues, left ro it by Zuanne Mocenigo, who died in 1598
9
Another
donation, from Giacomo Contarini, dates from the same period, but only
took effect in December 1713, with the extinction of the line of his male
descendan ts.
10
From the end of the sixteenth century, therefore, Venice possessed a
Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of Curiosity 67
public collection of ancient statues which contributed to the city's glory. Still
lacking, however, was a numismatic collection, but this was remedied
thanks, once more, to private initiative. In 1683, Senator Pietro Morosini
had bequeathed his ancient medals to the republic, and in the foreword to
the catalogue of this collection Charles Patin explained that these medals,
along with the orher antiquities, were to be carefully conserved by the
authorities:
It is incumbent on the Public Majesty to keep a careful watch over these
monuments of scholarly interest, these rich sources of learning and
example, from which young noblemen can derive instruction and wise old
men pleasure. It is only right and proper that the Public Majesty should
possess TREASURES of medals, such as those which are found amongst
sacred and secular remains, as well as of printed and manuscript writings,
of marble statues and inscriptions and of weapons, treasures which the
Most Serene Republic displays with such great splendour to both its own
people and to foreigners. It is clearly incumbent on the Public Majesty not
to allow itself to be outdone by any other power. Yet what Prince is there
who does not assemble and conserve these jewels of wisdom?
11
This appeal to protect numismatic monuments in the context of an
international battle for prestige, where it was important always to have the
upper hand, went unheeded. As for the Morosini collection, provided only
minimal protection in the Doges' Palace, part of it was stolen a few years
later.U Nevertheless, an example had been set, and at the beginning of the
eighteenth century, another senator, Domenico di Vincenzo Pasqualigo, left
his collection of Venetian coins, dating from the twelfth century ro his own
times, to the public library.13
Leaving aside for the moment the history of the collection of ancient
inscriptions which Verona's Accademia Filarmonica acquired in 1612, we
will now look briefly at the botanical garden opened in Padua in 1546.
Botanical gardens are, like decorative gardens, a form of collection, albeit a
rather special one. The Paduan garden was, from the outset, a public
institution, open to visitors and founded by a decree of the Senate of the
Venetian Republic of May 1545, but here, too, private initiative had been
behind the whole project, in the shape of Francesco Bonafede, a professor of
medicinal plants at the university.l
4
Now that we have examined the list of public collections founded in
Venetia in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, we can begin to make a
few general comments about them. The first remark one can make is that
no public collection was entirely given over to natural objects, indeed, these
were practically absent from them, apart from a few notable exceptions,
such as the unicorn horns in the treasure-house of St Mark's, one of which
68 Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of Curiosity
had been left to it in 1684 by Procurator Alessandro Contarini, who had
purchased it in France for a not unsubstantial sum.
15
It should also be noted
that there were no public art galleries, a fact which did not, moreover, apply
only to Venetia. It is true that Maffei's remark about a church in Verona: 'Jl
tempio di S. Giorgio per canto di pitture e una galleria, alia quale non sara
si' facile, ch'altra possa paragonarsi,'
16
could have been said about many
others too, yet pictures representing certain secular subjects found wall-
space neither in churches nor in official buildings. This was the case for all
portraits except official ones, as well as for genre paintings, landscapes and
paintings with mythological themes.
This situation helps to explain the importance of private collections,
which not only provided space for objects neglected by the public collections
of the period, though obviously not all, but also reflected more rapidly each
successive change in taste, historical interests and attitudes to nature. By so
doing, they eventually came to change the nature of the public collections:
the contents of a private collection today are, in general, those of a public
collection tomorrow. Nor is this all, as between the sixteenth and
eighteenth centuries private collections in Venetia and elsewhere were
semi-public in nature. The subjects of monographs or primed catalogues,
they were also described or mentioned in guides or works detailing the most
notable features of different towns. Their fame was spread far and wide by
passing travellers who visited them and later spoke of them in their printed
accounts and letters, and these writings will be extensively cited a little later
on. Private collections therefore increased their proprietors' reputations
within the republic of letters and even beyond that, while at the same time
they, along with their public counterparts, shaped the images of the towns
where they were to be housed. In a period notable for its learned travellers,
this was true even for a city like Venice, which certain! y was not lacking in
claims to fame, and according to Spon: 'It would take several whole volumes
to list all that is rare in Venice as far as curiosities such as medals, agates and
fine paintings are concerned; for it has far more beautiful pictures than any
other rown in Italy, including possibly Rome, while no town in the whole of
Europe can boast as many medal enthusiasts as Venice.'
17
Similarly, the
name of Verona was associated, especially in the last quarter of the
seventeenth century, with that of the Moscardo counts, the owners of a
museum well known in learned circles throughout Europe, and which we
will be discussing later on, while Vicenza had the reputation of being a town
with nothing to see
18
and it was said that in Padua, there were 'several
collections of curiosities and a fair number of people well versed in
antiquities'.
1
9
We will now confine ourselves to private collections, without forgetting
that they constitute but one pole which can never entirely be dissociated
from the opposing one comprising public collections. It is, in fact, the
Collections in Vemtia in the Heyday of Curiosity 69
relationship between the two which enables us to define the period covered
by rhis article. Beginning at the end of the sixteenth century, which also
marked the advent of the first 'antiquario pubblico' in Venice, its end can
justifiably be siwated in the 1720s, following the publication of Maffei's
project for a lapidary museum. It would be wrong to imply that this project
led to ruptures on a grand scale, yet it did, as we shall shortly see, reflect a
change in taste, in historical interests and attitudes to nature, and this
change had an effect on the principles governing the organization and even
the contents of collections.
3.1 COLLECTIONS AS MICROCOSMS
The entry of the Venetian collectors into the age of curiosity, around the
turn of the seventeenth century, was marked by the popularity of the
Kunst- und Wunderkammern.
20
These were collections with encyclopaedic
ambitions, intended as a miniature version of the universe, containing
specimens of every category of things and helping to render visible the
totality of the universe, which otherwise would remain hidden from human
eyes. There was a sufficient number of them to invalidate Schlosser's claim
that they were more or less non-existent in Italy;
21
in Venice, for instance,
Andrea Vendramin (1554-1629) built up a collection which passed after his
death to the Reynst brothers, who transported it to Amsterdam.
22
Judging
from the headings of the catalogue Vendramin himself drew up and
illustrated, the museum contained pictures; sculptures of divinities, oracles
and ancient idols; costumes of different lands; ancient instruments of
sacrifice including urns and lamps; medals of ancient Romans and famous
Venetians; Egyptian rings and seals decorated with scarabs, emblems and
other signs engraved in stones and gems; pure, mixed and composite
natural substances; whelks, shells and conches from various parts of the
world; minerals; strange things from India and other regions of the world,
both in east and west; illustrated books on chronology, prints, animals, fish
and birds- seemingly in the form of pictures, although Vendramin did also
receive live specimens
2
3 - plants and flowers; 'admirable antiquities from
the city of Rome and other things pleasing to the eye'; the works of authors
who had written about Christ the Redeemer; manuscripts.
24
Art and nature
Not unlike the title of the Italian translation of Pierio Valeriano's
Hieroglyphica, published in 1625,
25
the catalogue Andrea Vendramin
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,
2
6 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.
2
9
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 contempor-
ary tastes ('no l'e moderna').
3
' Martinoni looked at things from a different
angle, for in 1663, while he did not neglect the pictures and medals, he gave
over around a third of his account of the collection to a list of the
natural rarities and curios, highlighting their diversity and 'le meraviglie di
cose cosi rare, e pellegrine'.3
4
In Spon's opinion, voiced in 1675, it was 'un
des plus beaux cabinets du monde en medailles, agathes et tableaux fins,' Jj
while in 1698 Montfaucon gave as much space in his account to the medals
as to the natural things, while emphasizing that there had been many more
examples of each in the past.'
6
This comment would indicate that the collection was already on the wane
at the time of Montfaucon's visit, but luckily, we have in our possession a
description of it written by John Evelyn in 1645, its most glorious period. So
fascinated was the author by its wealth of curios of every son that he did not
even mention the magnificent paintings lining the wallsY
On Michaelmas day I went with my Lord Mowbray (eldest son to the Earle
of Arundel!, & a most worthy Person) to see the Collection of a Noble
Venetian Signor Rugini: he has a stately Palace, richly furnish'd, with
statues, heads of the Roman Empp, which are all plac'd in an ample roome:
In the next was a Cabiner of Medals both Latine & Greeke, with divers
curious shells, & two faire Pearles in 2 of them: but above all, he abounded
in things petrified, Walnuts, Eggs, in which the Yealk rattl'd, a Peare, a
piece of beefe, with the bones in it; an whole hedg-hog, a plaice on a
Wooden Trencher turned into Stone, & very perfect: Charcoale, a morsel of
Cork, yet retaining its levitie, Sponges, Gutts, & a piece of Taffity: Part
rolld up, with innumerable more; In another Cabinet, sustaind by 12 pillars
of oriental A chat, & raild about with Chrystal, he shew'd us severall noble
Intaglias, of Achat, especially a Tiberius's head, & a Woman in a Bath with
her dog: Some rare Corneliam, Onixes, Chry.rtals &c in one of which was a
drop of Water not Congeal\{ but plainly moving up & down as it was
[shaken]: but above all was a Diamond which had growing in it a very faire
Rubie; Then he shew'd us divers pieces of Amber wherein were several
!meets intomb'd, in particular one cut like an heart, that contain'd lin] it a
Salamander, without the least defect; & many curious pieces of Mosaic: The
fabrique of this Cabinet was very ingenious thick set with Achat.r, Turcoies,
& other precious stones, in the midst of which a dog in stone scratching his
Eare, very rarely cut, & Antique, & comparable to the greatest Curiositie I
had ever seene of that kind, for the accuratenesse of the work: The next
chamber had a Bedstead all inlayd with Acbats, Cbrystals, Carnelians,
Lazuli &c, esteemed worth 16000 Crounes.l
8
'Curious', 'rare', 'perfect', 'very ingenious', 'greatest ... ever seen': the
epithets used by Evelyn show how astonished he was at the diversity and
richness of the objects shown to him, as well as at the quality of
workmanship of the works produced by human hand and the exceptional
nature of the natural things. If one reads his account carefully and takes into
consideration a number of facts obtained elsewhere, it is possible to picture
72 Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of CU?iosity
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 (1599-
1656), 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 ragio-
nevolmente 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
Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of Curiosit;1 73
The Janus-like Kunst- und Wunderkammer
The pictorial cosmology of the Gualdo studio managed to unite the
Aristotelian, Ptolemaic and Thomist traditions, while referring also to the
hexamera. The spirit of Janus was alive in all the Kunst- und
Wmtderkammem of the seventeenth century, indeed in the whole of
culture, which was encapsulated by the former, and its presence was never
more completely betrayed than by the juxtaposition of certain objects below
this ceiling and next to the spheres. For not only were there quadrants and
solar clocks, which had strong associations with the Aristotelian and
Ptolemaic systems, but also mechanical clocks which had none,
46
and above
all 'certain spyglasses whose author, a famous mathematician, goes by the
name of Galileo' and an 'entire telescope in the form of a cylinder, which
the same Galilos Galilei gave to my uncle, one of the first ones'.
17
It is
impossible to know whether the phrase, 'hie astra videre datur' in the
above-mentioned epigram referred to the stars painted on the ceiling or to
those one could see through Galileo's telescope; perhaps it referred to both.
Whatever the case, this unimaginable encounter between an image of the
universe which had remained unchanged for two thousand years and the
recently invented instrument which would soon shatter it shows clearly
how far apart the limits of the curiosity culture were set.
There still remain many aspects of the decor of the studio to be discussed,
however. The four seasons were depicted in the four angles where the
ceiling met the walls,
48
and they must have been particular! y dear to Gualdo,
as the same theme was repeated in at least two other places. In one of these,
the seasons were personified by a young girl (spring), a woman (summer),
a robust young man (autumn) and an old man (winter), and were linked to
the corresponding signs of the zodiac.
4
9 In the other, a painting depicted the
'whole year' in the form of the chariots belonging to Flora (spring), Ceres
(summer), Pomona (autumn) and Janus (winter), upon each of which rode
several other gods.5 Just as the ceiling represented the spatial organization
of the whole universe, so this constituted an allegorical representation of
the universe as a temporal succession. Behind all the different images,
however, lay the same desire to embrace being in its entirety and place it
centre stage. This particular desire was the driving force behind efforts to
bring together specimens of every class of thing and being in the Jtudio:
paintings and prints, especially portraits;5
1
statuettes;5
2
glass phials;Sl
medals;
54
the 'mathematical, geometrical and astrological instruments'
discussed earlier; weapons;
55
natural things including petrifications, shells,
the horns and claws of assorted animals, ostrich eggs, objects brought back
from India by the Jesuits, the skeletons of marine animals and branches of
red coraJ.5
6
The studio also contained a libraryY
Far from being confined to the studio alone, the Gualdo collection
74 Collectiom in Venetia in the He;'day of Curiosity
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 Transylva-
nia.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
Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of Curiosit;1 75
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 declara-
tion also revealed the encyclopaedic scope of his ambitions, with his desire
to unite the products of nature and art and of past and present by choosing
the strangest things from each category, those which were not seen
ordinarily and which, for this very reason, seemed better representatives of
the creative powers at work in the universe.
By carrying our this programme for more than half a century, Moscardo
brought together both natural objects and antiquities of every son. These
included the inscriptions which so impressed Spon during his visit of
1675,
73
as well as the urns, vases, lamps, idols and weapons, some of which
attracted the attention of Mabillon
74
and Montfaucon_75 As for the meda)s
and coins, their number and rarity made them worthy of the best collections
in Europe.
76
In addition to these were some 138 pictures, mostly the work of
Venetian artists and religious in subject,
77
any number of drawings,?S and at
least a hundred portraits of princes and famous literary and military
figures.79 The overall impression made on a visitor who was neither
antiquary nor scholar has been preserved for posterity in the account by
Misson, dated 1687, in which he wrote: 'One finds there a gallery and six
chambers all filled with that which is most marvellous in Art and Nature.
... Paintings, Books, rings, animals, plants, fruit, metals, monstrous or
extravagant specimens, Works of every fashion. In a word, every curious or
sought-after thing one can possibly imagine, either because of its rarity, or
the delicacy and excellence of the workmanship,' before going on to fill
several pages with descriptions of the various different objects.
80
The
analogy with Evelyn's remarks is blatantly obvious.
The exuberant world of curiosity
It is impossible, unfortunately, to gain an accurate picture of the layout of
Moscardo's museum from his writings, as these take the form of a series of
scholarly essays, each on a different room, and divided into the following
three sections: antiquities; stones, minerals and earths; corals, shells,
animals, fruits and so on. The way the objects were divided up between
these three different sections does, however, reserve a few surprises.
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
mathematical instruments, paintings, clocks and on 'Indian shoes'
83
were
included in the third section. The addenda ro the 1672 edition pose the same
problem, for after describing the 'divers weapons, coins and seals of the
Princes della Scala', Moscardo went on to describe the pygmies and a little
later chameleons.
84
The least one can say is that his system of classification
was rather lax, yet it must be asked whether it really needed to be very
rigorous, if art, nature and rime really could be perceived best not through
their common and normal productions but through those which were
extraordinary and, by implication, unclassifiable.
This state of mind, which was very prevalent at that time, can best be
understood by studying an extract from the second edition of Moscardo's
work. In it, he devotes a chapter to stones in his collection which had been
brought back from the Holy Land. These included stones from Mary's
birthplace and from her sepulchre, stones from the site of the house of Sts
Martha and Mary Magdalene and from the site of the crib, a stone from the
place where St Stephen was stoned and another from the site where the
Cross stood. At the end of this survey, Moscardo concludes:
I end the description of the stones from the Holy Land with a stone
contained in this museum, taken from Lake Garda, next to the castle of
Sirmione in the diocese of Verona. This stone opens into two halves. In
one half, one can see a cross, formed by nature's hand in exactly the same
way as a skilful sculptor would have done: ir consists of two crossed pieces
of rounded wood, petrified in the stone. It could be believed that God has
even left the memory of the Most Holy Passion he suffered for mankind
in the heart of the moumains.
8
5
A work of nature, the stone cross was also a sign of the Passion; a
member of the mineral kingdom, it also referred to biblical history, and it
was for this very reason that it was included in the museum. The boundary
between the natural and the supernatural was thus smudged, the former
sometimes impregnated with the latter and natural objects apparently
capable of adopting every shape and form imaginable and of presenting
every characteristic, as these both depended on the supernatural meanings
with which these objects could be endowed. From the theological point of
view, there was therefore no gulf between the twin domains of the possible
and the impossible (impossible except where God directly intervened with a
clearly identifiable miracle). Everything and anything could happen, reality
often being stranger than fiction, and the division between the possible and
the impossible was not introduced either with reference to the new
science, which Moscardo did not even mention. The very idea that the laws
of nature might not tolerate even the slightest exception and might rule out
in advance the advent of certain beings or events was totally foreign to him.
For him, no limits could be imposed on nature; it was an exuberant
phenomenon, capable of producing objects, such as petrified fish,
8
6 purely
for fun, and able to copy forms created by God, like the conch 'shaped like
an ear'.
87
Moscardo therefore unquestioningly accepted all the conventional
facts wholesale, having no suitable intellectual instrument at hand with
which to question them, especially with regard to the mineral kingdom and
that of the living.
This is why the name of each mineral, stone or earth immediately
triggers a series of references. This is the case of chrysolite:
Isidore affirms that chrysolite looks like gold, with a hint of the colour of
sea water. Pliny held that the Indian chrysolites were the finest. Albert
the Great tells how it cures men afflicted with melancholy and protects
them from demons. Agricola recalls seeing with his very own eyes a block
made up of more than sixty chrysolites, though all square in shape.
88
This is also why the museum contains objects, such as the bezoar89 and
basilisk, whose value springs solely from their links with traditional
knowledge. The basilisk actually forms the subject of a chapter discussing
the large body of literarure devoted to it, and there is also a drawing of rhis
animal,9 accompanied by the following description:
Although it possesses all the characteristics and features attributed to rhe
real basilisk by every author, this drawing of the basilisk displayed in the
museum is not that of a real one. Rather, it is a counterfeit work, made from
a skate fish by sorcerers and charlatans, who then stand on platforms and
show it off to the common people as though it were a rrue basilisk.9
1
The interest of this oft-cited passage lies not in the warning against mock
basilisks manufactured by charlatans9
2
but in the belief in the existence of
the 'true basilisk' of tradition, just as unicorns which were different to
rhinoceros were also supposed to exist.93
In conclusion, Moscardo' s museum referred, as did the Kunst- und
Wunderkammern generally, to a universe peopled with strange beings and
objects, where anything could happen, and where, consequently, every
question could legitimately be posed. In other words, it was a universe to
which corresponded a type of curiosity no longer controlled by theology and
not yet controlled by science, both these domains tending to reject certain
questions as either blasphemous or impertinent, thus subjecting curiosity ro
a discipline and imposing certain limits on it. Given free reign during its
78 Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of Cu1iosity
brief interregnum, curiosity spontaneously 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 comprehen-
sible, 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
3.2 THE GALLERIES OF ANTIQUITIES
There were at least seventy collections of antiquities in Venetian towns
between the end of the sixteenth century and the first decades of the
eighteenth century. We know of thirty in Venice, eighteen in Verona,
eleven in Padua, three in Brescia, three in Rovigo, and one each in Feltre,
Treviso and Vicenza, and these figures imply that there were around 200
collectors, given rhat at least forty or fifty collections remained in the same
families for the whole of the period mentioned above, the equivalent of
three or four generations. This number should probably be much larger, as
the collections we have taken into account are mostly those which even then
had a certain reputation,% whereas the smaller ones containing medals, and
which were probably far more numerous, do not figure in any statistics. The
interest shown in objects from the Middle Ages can quickly be summarized:
Girolamo Gualdo the Younger owned a few paintings by Venetian
primitives
97
while Moscardo, as we saw earlier, possessed the Scaliger
family's weapons, coins and seals. All that is needed to complete the list is
the name of Domenico Pasqualigo, a collector of Venetian medals, and even
if a few more people interested in medieval curiosities could be found, the
overall total would remain virtually unchanged.98 Thus on the one hand,
there was a long-standing, massive and overwhelming cultural phenom-
enon, namely an interest in antiquities, while on the other there was
individual eccentricity, a by-product of local patriotism, which was very
widespread yet never sufficient in itself to raise the things it valued ro the
status of a collector's piece.
Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of Curiosity
Statues, sculptures, fragments
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 commonplace, which relegated statues to second
place, if not even lower, was just as valid a century earlier. This does not
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 approximately 150 supposedly ancient statues were
made up of 'teste' (seventy-three) 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.
10
9 Clearly, small objects and fragments ruled supreme in this
particular collection.
Let us now look at another scholarly collection which, unlike the Mantova
Benavides one, played an important cultural role in the seventeenth
century. Already in existence as far back as 1605 in Padua, this one belonged
to Lorenzo Pignoria (1571-1631) and had provided him with a considerable
amount of information which formed the basis of a great many of his
works, some of which were widely read, and after Pignoria's death a book
describing it was published.uo The list of Pignoria's acquisitions included
paintings and prints ('icones'); portraits of famous men, including many of
his friends; statues; ancient medals from Greece, Rome and elsewhere;
modern medals; seals; various different ancient utensils, such as different
weights and measures, keys, fibulae, rings, lamps, amulets; natural things
such as shells, stones, crystals; exotic objects from India and China.
111
This
did not, however, mean that Pignoria possessed a genuine Kunst- und
for he was first and foremost an antiquary and had never
seen his collection in terms of a microcosm, although distinctions can
obviously become very blurred in this area. What is important is that the
term 'statuae' is used to describe objects in Pignoria's museum which we
would call 'staruettes' because of their size, which can be deduced from the
engravings of them.
112
We are still in the realm of small objects.
Although we have seen that out of all the antiquities it was statues which
commanded the greatest social prestige, we have yet to determine their
exact importance in intellectual circles. While their exorbitant prices
explain their absence from many collections, they do not account for the
lack of interest shown in them by seventeenth-century scholars and
antiquaries. This lack of interest, already striking when compared with
attitudes in the latter half of the eighteenth century, becomes even more so
when one remembers that ancient statues were at the heart of a debate on
art, and more particularly on Venetian art, which had been accused of
deteriorating into mannerism due to its masters' ignorance of large classical
statuary. Boschini's reply tO this was firstly that every single example of
statues of this kind could be seen in Venice, either the original works
themselves or else copies of them, as in the case of the Belvedere Laocoon
and Torso, the portraits of the emperors, the He1cules Farnese and the
Venus owned by the Medicis.
1
13 This explains the praise he lavished on
Ruzzini's collection, which he believed was turning Venice into a second
Rome, and he went on to add that in any case the painter's principal task
was to imitate living nature and that the study of statuary should be of only
secondary importance.
1 14
This debate hard! y involved scholars and
antiquaries at all, as art and its problems did not fall within the a,mbit of
their professional concerns, even if some did take an interest in it on a
personal level.
Numismatic collections, testimony of universal history
While art was the domain of artists and their patrons, and of dilettantes and
professionals alike, antiquaries and scholars devoted themselves to the
study of history and consequently were fascinated not by statues but by
medals and inscriptions; history could not be learnt from books alone. In his
book, which was translated into Latin and Italian, and became even more
influential in Venetia when its author settled in Padua in 1677,
11
) Charles
Patin (1633-93) wrote: 'II faut recourir aux pieces qui Ia justifient, a qui Ia
malice et !'ignorance des hommes n'a pu donner d'atteinte. II en faut croire
les monumens du temps, dont les Medailles sont Ies marques les plus
assurees, et les plus frequentes.' For the sake of information let us add that,
'les monumens antiques qu'on conserve avec tam de soin dans les Cabinets
sous le titre de Medailles .. , n'estoient que de simples Monnoyes et qu'elles
n'ont acquis le titre de Medailles que par leur antiquite.'
116
Let us also
82 Collectiom in Venetia in the HeydaJI of Curiosity
emphasize that anyone embarking on the collection of ancient medals
enters into a world dominated by high numbers and where lengthy searches
need to be undertaken in order to obtain a complete series in a particular
category such as Greek or imperial medals or large bronze medals, or even-
one can always dream- every single Roman or every single ancient medal.
For some medals are rarer than others, and while some are so common they
feature in every collection, others are seldom seen.
117
One particular bronze medal of Otho was indeed considered to be so rare
that in his description of the Ruzzini collection Boschini devoted four lines
to it.
118
Spon was astonished to come across five specimens in the collection
belonging to Giannantonio Soderini (1640-91), though Wheler, his travel-
ling companion, claimed that there were actually only twot t9 It is probably
this very same medal that Giandomenico Tiepolo had engraved with a
legend underlining its importance, so proud was he of having it in his
gallery.
120
Medal collectors therefore had to overcome the hurdle of great
rarity, while juggling with the high numbers which were inevitably
involved, even when they set themselves strict limits: Carlo Torta,
chancellor of the university of Padua, collected only gold medals, yet even
with 300 he was nowhere near completing the series]2t
The correspondence of Apostolo Zeno ( 1668-1750) allows us to trace the
formation of a medal collection, involving as it did price-haggling, checks
for authenticity (forgeries and doctored medals often appeared on the
market), exchanges and the seeking of expert advice. The Zeno collection,
which was begun in 1708, contained around 5900 medals by 1726, including
700 Greek ones, and comprised 700 gold, 1400 silver, 1000 large bronze,
1600 medium bronze and 800 small bronze medalst2
2
Onorio Arrigoni
( 1668-1758), a fellow Venetian, made twenty-five journeys across ltal y in
search of medals and around 1740 had roughly twenty thousand in his
possession, not to mention other antiquities including weights, lamps, urns,
Egyptian statuettes, amulets and instruments of sacrifice.l2l The finest
medals and antiquities were to be found in the Orient, however. This is
borne out by the example of Giannantonio Soderini, who initially built up
his remarkable collection during travels in Egypt, the Holy Land, Turkey
and the Greek islands, before going on to Zara, where he took up a military
post of command.
124
In a similar fashion, a certain Marcantonio Diedo
astounded Zeno when he showed him the 'countless' medals statues
inscriptions, bas-reliefs, urns and other objects which he had b r m ~ g h t back
after travelling with the army as a prot,veditore, or supplier.m It was well
known in Venice that travellers returning from Greece or from the Levant
brought medals back with them, and for this reason enthusiasts would go
and purchase them as soon as the ship had docked; indeed Spon was himself
asked for some when he landed.
1
26
The twin obstacles of rarity and number arose from the fact that every
Collections in Venetia in tbe Heyday of Curiosity 83
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 imper-
ials; 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 import-
ant 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 (?575-
641) 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.
1
29
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
84 Collectiom in Venetia in the Heyday of Curiosity
Ancient history was, moreover, depicted differently to its modern counter-
part, 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, pyr-
amids, 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
Collectiom in Venetia in the Heyday of Curiosity 85
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, accord-
ing to the descriptions Pignoria had found in the ancient authors and
paintings by famous artists'.
1
40
Inscriptions, relics of local history
Although they varied in terms of wealth, in all other respects, numismatic
collections closely resembled one another throughout the whole of the
period dealt with here, even when they were located in different Venetian
towns. The reason for this was simple: they all drew on the same stock of
coins and could therefore only differ from one another in terms of quantity,
state of preservation and the presence - or absence - of particularly rare
specimens. This was not at all the case with ancient inscriptions. In the first
place, each one was unique. In addition, they circulated much less easily than
medals, partly because of their size and weight and partly because people
were reluctant to relinquish objects linked with the history of t:heir town or
region; it is a point we will come back to later. This explains why each
epigraphic collection comprised different elements, although in the region
studied in this chapter, the inscriptions found in collections within the same
town did actually come from that particular town or from its surrounding
area in most cases, the sole exception being Venice, where all the antiquities
were imported. The amount of interest shown in inscriptions also varied
from town to town, which means the topic must be dealt with on a
topographical 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 Mommsen who, in rhe fifth volume of his Corpus lnscriptio-
num Latinarum, detailed in an unparalleled fashion the epigraphical
anthologies and the collections of inscriptions to be found in each Venetian
town. Our paths rapidly diverge, however, as for us, inscriptions, like
medals, constitute elements of seventeenth-century culture, rather than
ancient history sources. Our principal concern lies with the attitudes
adopted towards them, the treatment meted out to them and the meaning
vested in them.
B1escia
Did the 'studio famosissimo de' Signori Averoldi', dating from the begin-
ning of the seventeenth century, contain inscriptions? The answer is
probably yes, as 'all the things to be found in it, save the medals, were
unearthed in this town or its region.'
141
This information comes from the
book by Ottavio Rossi, which bears eloquent witness to the interest shown
in local inscriptions. He reproduced a great number of them in the first
edition,
142
and the second, which appeared nearly eighty years afterwards,
contained even more.
14
3 Meanwhile, the collection started by Giulantonio
Averoldi (1651-1735) in the 1680s, if not earlier, counted among irs
exhibits forty marbles, all ancient, except for one from the time of
Charlemagne, as well as medals and various other antiquities.l44
Verona
Around 1590, Count Agostino Giusti (1546-1615) had his palace and
gardens altered in order to house statues, along with an epigraphic
collection.
145
The Giusti gardens, regarded as the finest in all Italy,
according to the Earl of Arundel,
146
drew considerable admiration from
many visitors appreciative 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
important collection of inscriptions in the seventeenth century was,
however, to be found in the Accademia Filarmonica's museum. This grew
up around the collection of Cesare Nichesola (1556-1612), a canon at
Verona cathedral and a prominent figure among Venetian antiquaries in
the sixteenth century. A friend of Pignoria,I
48
he was the only collector ro
have his name cited more than fifty years after his death in Moscardo's
history of Verona.l
49
Here, we will content ourselves with quoting the
major findings of L. Franzoni in his research into the history of the museum
at the Accademia Filarmonica.
Like his father Fabio, Cesare Nichesola spent large sums of money on the
antiquities he amassed in his Pontone villa, the inscriptions being placed in
the garden. So much in fact that after his death the villa and the collections
it paused were put up for sale in order to satisfy his creditors, and it was at
this point that the Venetian rectors of Verona suggested to the Accademia
Filarmonica that it might purchase Nichesola's inscriptions to prevent
them being dispersed. The necessary money was raised through a collection,
while Count Gio. Giacomo Giusti paid for the marbles to be transported by
river from Pontone to Verona. So it was that in 1612 the Accademia came to
own a museum wirh thirty-four ancient inscriptions. This number increased
over the years as pieces were added to it from other Veronese epigraphic
collections belonging to Federico Ceruti (1531-1611), Policarpo Palermo
(1565/6-1616) and Francesco India (1553-after 1613), so that by 1628 an
inventory of it mentioned '88 pezzi de pietre antiche diverse seg1zate et non
segnate'.
150
During the seventeenth century travellers sometimes visited the
Accademia's museum; Henschenius and Papebroch apparently saw it in
1660,
151
while in 1685 Mabillon and Germain were taken there by
Moscardo, !52 himself the owner of an epigraphic collection numbering
fifteen pieces according to Spon, but in actual fact somewhat larger. 153 1716
marked a new chapter in the history of the museum of the Accademia
Filarmonica when Maffei decided to enlarge it, reorganize it and open it to
the public
1
5
4
For reasons we will go into later, this initiative of Maffei does
not fall within our particular ambit.
Vicenza
Its only known epigraphic collection in the seventeenth century belonged to
Gualdo, and comprised twenty or so ancient inscriptions mostly very
fragmentary.m Unlike Verona, however, two lists of inscriptions which
could be seen in the town and its surrounding region were compiled at that
time, both of which remained in manuscript 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 (1641-1712), the
pupil of Sertorio Orsato and Charles Patin and quite a well-known figure in
scholarly antiquarian circles in the Venetian Republic at the end of the
seventeenth cenruryi57
Belluno
Belluno appears in the seventeenth century to have produced neither
epigraphic collections nor even records of inscriptions, the sole event
worthy of note in this area being the publication in 1620, thanks to Bishop
Luigi Lollino, of the book written many years previously by Pierio
Valeriano, and which was still in manuscript form when he died.
158
Feltre
In Feltre, however, Daniele Tomitano ( 1588-1658) had assembled a
collection of antiquities in his Vellaio villa which contained at least seven
inscriptions, judging from the survey of those to be found in the town and
the surrounding area carried out by Antonio Dal Corno (1683-1711).
159
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 com-
prised 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 (?1503-
87),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
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.
1
69
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 tradition-
ally 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 hiero-
glyphics.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 Collectiom in Venetia in the Heyday of Curio.rity
Francesco Vedova 'che alia Giurisprudenza haveJJe congiunta un'e.rquisita
notitia delle Lettere piu belli e delle Antichita della patria',
180
Luigi
Corradini, the owner of a gallery,
181
Giorgio Contarini,
182
and so on. Finally,
it should not be forgotten that Pignoria had lived in Rome for many years,
and had retained many solid friendships there. He was on extremely good
terms with Peiresc and the members of a whole circle which revolved
around him.
18
3 The author of works which were widely read in learned
circles, and an active member of the republic of letters, Pignoria stands out
from amongst the Venetian scholars of antiquity during the first three
decades of the seventeenth century.
This wave was followed by twenty empty years, for which the 1630
plague certainly must have been partially to blame. True, there was
Giovanni Filippo Tomasini (1595-1655), who knew Pignoria and wrote a
description of his library and collections, and who was in contact with
Giovanni de Lazara
184
Isolated facts of this sort, however, cannot constitute
a proper link between the generation of the beginning of the century and
the one which was active in the second half, with Sertorio Orsato as its
leader. Married to Irene Mantova Benavides, the sister of Andrea who was
the last of the Benavides to own the family collection,
18
' Orsato was
Cerchiari's master in epigraphy and influenced all those in Venetia who
took an interest in ancient inscriptions. He was a friend of Giovanni de
Lazara
18
6 and corresponded with a number of scholars and antiquaries living
in other Italian towns as well as abroad
187
Of all his disciples, both
indirectly and directly, Camillo Silvestri was the most notable, and it was he
who inherited Orsato's collection of inscriptions.
188
This collection went
from Padua to Rovigo before being sold by Carlo Silvestri, Camillo's son, to
Maffei for the Accademia Filarmonica's museum, where it joined
Nichesola's marbles.
18
9 Members of Camillo Silvestri's extremely extended
network of contacts included several names already familiar to us: Giul-
antonio 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.
1
9
From symbolic interpretation to methodical comparison
One striking difference between the pre-1630 generation and the post-1650
one was the considerable increase in specialization. The galleries of
antiquities of every kind, which had been so common at the beginning of
the century, were replaced, especially after 1670, by ones which concen-
trated on specific categories of ancient objects, most often medals, and more
seldom inscriptions, even if they did contain items from various other
categories as well. If Moscardo, who belonged to the same generation as
Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of Curio.rity 91
Orsato, seems an isolated figure, it is because he continued to represent the
exuberant and universal form of curiosity, even if he did gradually come to
concentrate on the history and study of antiquities. His brand of curiosity,
which could be seen in the antiquaries of rhe beginning of the century, was
no longer the driving force behind the research carried out by Orsato,
Cerchiari, Silvestri, Patin and other authors of catalogues of ancient coins, as
they were motivated instead by an altogether more disciplined and less
diffuse brand of curiosity.
When Ottavio Rossi, or someone with considerably more erudition and a
better-developed critical eye, namely Lorenzo Pignoria, interpreted ancient
monuments, it involved referring to ancient texts in order to explain the
form and sometimes also the material of each one or even, if the case arose,
the image and the series of letters it bore.
1
9
1
Implicit in this was the
recognition of the authority of the ancients in every matter concerning
them; objects could only be understood if the ancients' attitude to them
could be determined. Accordingly, given that each object was considered to
be directly associated with the ancients' discourse, each became a symbol,
that is, something visible and incomplete which was related to an invisible
totality. This meant that there could be no rules governing the way this
tOtality was related to other objects and the texts supposed to explain it, as
each type of object, if not each individual object, symbolized ir in irs own
unique fashion, which inspiration or intuition alone could help to divine. I92
As for those objects which none of the texts at hand could explain, they
necessarily came to symbolize mysteries; since they obviously referred to
beliefs held by the ancients, these beliefs therefore must be occult ones
which either had not been committed to writing or else had been concealed
behind the literal meanings of the texts. Studies were concentrated on these
occult beliefs and accordingly on the objects which were associated with
them, such as hieroglyphics, mummies, amulets, gnostic gemstones or
rings, as the unveiling of these occult beliefs was considered to have an
initiatory value and was the only way to become acquainted with the
ancients' opinions in the domain they elected as the most important. Even
so, some, such as Pignoria, remained cautious in this approach, while others,
like Father Athanasius Kircher or Giovanni Battista Ferrecio, to take a
Venetian-born author, were caught up in a whirlwind of exegetic frenzy and
honestly believed they had come across the solution to every enigma and
the key to every mystery.
1
93
This kind of approach, which embodied the exuberant curiosity we have
already seen at work, fell into disrepute in the latter half of the century.
Thanks largely to criticism voiced by the Pyrrhonists, the ancients'
discourse gradually lost authority, and what one saw became more reliable
than what one read, as the very way of looking was gradually changing, in
accordance with a new set of presuppositions. Instead of attempting to
become initiated in the mysteries of the ancients, scholars now increasingly
sought knowledge about them which could be cross-checked. Thus, in order
to come to conclusions over the beliefs, knowledge or customs of the
ancients, scholars began comparing objects within the same homogeneous
class, using one to explain the other, according to one carefully chosen
criterion. That criterion was typology, when the objects being compared
came from the same category, such as inscriptions or medals, chronology,
when they came from the same period, and geography, when they were all
from the same place. Symbolic interpretation was therefore gradually
superseded by the comparative method and a new set of rules which
determined the composition of the different classes and excluded a number
of comparisons as illegitimate. A certain number of questions were also
ruled out on the grounds that they were impertinent, which meant that
restrictions were imposed on curiosity. This change was accompanied by
another, where objects best suited to comparative study rose in value, while
interest in curios and occult beliefs dwindled.
It is obvious that these changes did not take place in so simple and
straightforward a fashion as this account implies. Resistance was met with,
conflicts and rifts appeared and attitudes changed at different paces in
different places. We have room only for one example of the complexities
involved in this process. Around 1335-44 the monks from the Santa
Giustina Cloister in Padua had discovered the following inscription:
VF
T LIVIUS
LIVIAE T.F.
QUARTAE L.
HALY
CONCORDIALI
PATAVI
SIBI ET SUI
OMNIBU
194
They believed this was a passage from livy himself, the most famous
citizen of Padua, and when human bones were exhumed from the same site
in 1413, people quite naturally thought that these were the remains of the
historian. The bones had consequently became the focus of veneration,
exactly like those of a saint, and the King of Naples, Alfonso of Aragon, had
even asked to be sent a fragment. All the Paduan historians shared this
view, and with quite remarkable unanimity they all made the same reading
of the inscription: VIVENS FECIT I TITUS LIVIUS I LIVIAE TITI
FILIAE I QUARTAE. LUCIUS I HALYS I CONCORDIALIS I PATAVI I
SIBI ET SUIS I OMNIBUS.
In his Monumenta Patavina of 1652 Sertorio Orsato was still faithful ro
this reading,
1
9
5
yet although he placed, as he said, 'his confidence in many
erudite authors, especially in Scardeone, with whom disagreement over the
affairs of the nation ... would, to my mind, show a great lack of respect for
history' ,1
96
he nevertheless had his doubts. This was because the text could
only be attributed to Livy if he was made responsible for a curious
grammatical error, where the name of Lucius Halys, believed to be the
historian's son-in-law, was put in the nominative case instead of the dative,
like that of his wife.197 Orsato felt this objection was worthy only of a
pedant, even though the stone was supposed to date from the Augustan
period, 'nel quale tutte le case arriuarono a! colma della perfezione'.
1
9
8
His
conviction was further strengthened by the unanimous opinion of his
predecessors. It is easy to imagine his astonishment when a German
epigrapher, Marquardus Gudius, whom he took to Livy's monument, where
the inscription had place of honour in the very centre, gave a new reading to
it which rejected the accepted one and at the same time eliminated the
error, something nobody had so far managed to do: VIVENS FECIT I
TITUS LIVIUS I LIVIAE TITI FILIAE I QUARTAE. LIBERTUS I
HAL YS I CONCORDIALIS I PAT A VI I SIBI ET SUIS I OMNIBUS.
1
9
9
As Orsato was, or rather feigned, not to be prepared to rob the historian
Livy of his inscription and give it to Titus Livius a freed slave, he posed
Gudius three questions: (1) Should not the word LIBERTUS have been
placed directly after the name of the former mistress? (2) Could a slave
have HALYS as a forename? (3) Could a LIBERTUS attain the position of
CONCORDIALIS, the highest priestly rank in Padua?
200
In order to answer
the first of these questions it was necessary to show that the same turn of
phrase could be found in other inscriptions dating from roughly the same
period as the 'Livian' one, and where a former slave owed his freedom to a
woman.
201
Next, an inscription was quoted in order to prove that some
slaves did answer to the name of HAL YS, and as this forename was written
there with an i, Orsato explained, with examples to back him up, that no
distinction was made between an i and a y.
202
He went on to use other
inscriptions to show that freed slaves did indeed attain the highest of ranks
in the colonies.2o3
In order to justify the interpretation Gudius gave to the 'Livian'
inscription, and which he adopted as his own without hesitation,
204
Orsato
therefore referred to thirteen other inscriptions similar to it in age, nature
and, in several cases, in place of origin roo. Had he not been held in the
thrall of the authority of his predecessors, he would have been able to carry
out this work much sooner, and with the same end result, but a spur from
outside was needed in order for him to interpret the remains of antiquity
not according to received knowledge handed down to him but by confront-
ing carefully and systematically one set of remains with another. It is
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 relation-
ship with the past thus became a mediate one.
The case of the 'Livian' inscription was special precisely because the
problems posed to Orsato by the new reading concerned the accession to
knowledge of the past via the present. This is borne out by the fact that
much of his text constitutes an attempt to render palatable a truth which
was certain to displease his fellow citizens, and it explains the wealth of
oratorical precautions and protestations of loyalty to the nation which, he
claimed, could only benefit from the truth being restored. In addition, it
accounts for the affirmation that the new reading of the inscription did not
prevent anyone from continuing to believe that the bones actually were
those of Livy, this being an important concession to public opinion.
205
As
Orsato's terminology itself bears witness, the affair was steeped in a very
special religion, going by the name of patriotism, and a cult such as this was
in no way peculiar to Padua, but could be detected in other Venetian towns
too. What is important as far as we are concerned is that inscriptions often
became focal points for it, this accounting to a large degree for the attitude
taken cowards them.
Epigraphy and patriotism
We have already seen that the collections of ancient inscriptions were, for
the most part, formed in the mainland rowns, and it was there that
epigraphic research took place. Numismatic collections, on the other hand,
were concentrated in Venice. The significance of this observation only
becomes apparent when one discovers that the collectors of ancient
inscriptions and the epigraphers sought almost to a man either to celebrate
their country's glory or else to study its history. Indeed, these two very
frequently went hand in hand, as illustrated by Ottavio Rossi's authorship
of a hisrory of Brescia along with a book on the illustrious deeds of its
citizens.206 Giulantonio Averoldi wrote a guide to the paintings of this very
same town, which we have already quoted, while we could also eire lodovico
Moscardo's history of Verona and Silvestro Castellini's annals of Vicenza as
examples of this double aim. Other examples would be Daniele Tomitano,
author of the annals of Feltre,2
7
Bartolomeo Burchelato, historian of
Treviso,208 Camillo Silvestri, author of the Historia agraria de Polesine
20
9
and lastly Lorenzo Pignoria and Serrorio Orsato/
10
this is not to mention
Scipione Maffei, the last and most famous of this long line, who set out to
write a guide for foreigners, never completed it, but instead published that
greatly erudite work, his Verona illustrata a quarter of a century later.
211
Staying on the same subject, one should perhaps recall here the titles -
extremely revealing - of the anthologies of inscriptions: Memorie
Bresciane, Aiarmora Berica, Monumenta Patavina. There is an obvious
conclusion tO be drawn here: if numismatics was closely linked with
universal history, epigraphy, while connected to the history which is that of
both Rome and Christianity, belonged overwhelmingly to local history, or,
more accurately, bridged the gap between the two. However, this did not
pertain to all regions, and the relationship between the study of medals and
that of inscriptions could vary considerably and even become inverted in
some places, especially beyond the limes.
This restriction could equally apply to a further opposition between
numismatic and epigraphic history which stemmed from the nature of the
documents they each drew upon. The end of the history of ancient medals
coincided with the reigns of Constantine or Charlemagne, that of the
modern ones beginning with the Renaissance, and a great void filled the
space between them, due to the medieval coins' failure to conform to the
canons of beauty which the numismatists thought were natural. The
condemnation by these canons of all that was reputedly 'gothic'
212
was a
widespread phenomenon, but one which ceased to apply where an object
dear tO a town, country or institution was concerned. Despite being gothic,
the tomb of Antenor in Padua was greatly revered, and the same was true of
the Scaligers' tombs in Verona.m This was not a factor when it came to
coins, as the mainland towns had nearly always used ones minted
elsewhere, unlike Venice, which had them struck in its name, and where it
was thus possible to plan and assemble a collection of the city's coins.
Inscriptions, however, constituted a continuous series stretching from
antiquity to the seventeenth century in each of these towns, and therefore
represented sources of prime importance for historians, who rapidly learnt
to use each and every one of them. While breaks and interruptions were
highlighted by numismatic history, epigraphic history tended to emphasize
the continuous occupation of a particular site or the survival of certain
names and institutions. The one signalled abrupt changes, the other a slow
evolution.
Collectors, epigraphist-historians 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
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
Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of Cttriosity
97
magnified. It was through the commemoration of the patria's great men
and major events in its history that one communed with one's fellow
citizens. In short, it was one's patria that was celebrated in a culr, and in this
cult collections of art and antiquities played a not inconsiderable role, for
they contained relics and as such provided valuable aid to the collective
memory. Indeed patriotism had a major influence in the formation of
collections of this type, and more generally in the interest taken in the
preservation and study of monuments.
However, these various breeds of urban patriotism, including the
Venetian one, spawned a new breed, Italian cultural patriotism. This was
expressed through attitudes to language and literature which, in our
particular domain, resulted in a common cult of the same founder heroes
such as Petrarch, portraits of whom could be found in many a gallery.m It
also found expression in the awareness of a common Roman past, whose
monuments had to be prevented from leaving the country in order that they
might remain in their original sites. The theme of an Italy despoiled by
foreigners is a recurring one in the letters of Aposrolo Zeno. Having
lavished p r a i s ~ on the manner in which the Nanis of Canareggio wke care
of the manuscripts in their possession, he adds 'If all the others had acted in
similar fashion, many precious manuscripts and important documents
would not have left Venice and finished up as far away as Holland and
England, while others would not have come to a sorry end in the boutiques
of secondhand dealers and goldsmiths.'
222
Elsewhere, he deplores the
removal of the Sabatini museum to France,
22
l or rejoices at the pope's
purchase of the Albani gallery, as this will ensure it remains in Italy.m
Zeno's letters give the impression of a certain resignation to the inevitable,
and yet in the very year he wrote the first of these, a pamphlet appeared
which explained how to save monuments from dispersion and destruction,
and this he had certainly read.
This was the famous letter addressed by Scipione Maffei to Countess
Adela'ide Felice Canossa Tesing de Seefeld, and its publication in 1720
signalled a change of direction in Venetian antiquarian studies. At odds with
ideas which were widespread in the latter half of the seventeenth century,
and which awarded pride of place to numismatics, Maffei gave priority to
inscriptions. One reason for this was that as veritable archives carved in
stone, they were more eloquent than medals, and therefore, if instructive
antiquities were to be favoured, it was natural that inscriptions should be
given most imporrance.
225
A further reason, and this was a very innovative
move on the parr of Maffei, was that they should be looked at in the same
way as bas-reliefs and other figurative monuments: 'Is it not true that we
sometimes come across ones which have been executed with such skill and
with such perfect and beautiful figures and such gracious draperies that they
constitute incomparable documents for the arts of drawing?'226 This can be
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 chro-
nology, 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 t o g ~ t h e r 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
and Silvestri is plain ro see. Instead of a purely erudite approach, a new
approach, at the same time erudite and artistic, was being gradually
adopted; the museum was given an explicit role to play in both national and '
local politics, and inscriptions were divided up into different classes
2
l
1
In i
the decade following the publication of his pamphlet, the decline in interest
in the objects which had so excited seventeenth-century antiquarians
became increasingly manifest. At the beginning of 1731, Apostolo Zeno
wrote in a letter: 'Here [in Venice] the taste for medals, which had earlier
flourished and spread so very greatly had now all but disappeared ... .'
2
l
2
One week later he returned to the same subject, and not for the last time
either:
233
'A study which is so useful is gradually disappearing from Italy,
while it is flourishing more than ever beyond our frontiers and overseas.'
2
3
4
He was, however, wrong on this last point, as similar changes were taking
place outside Italy as well. In Paris, for example, it was precise! y during the
1730s that collectors started to turn their attention away from medals
towards shells and other natural things instead. 235
3.3 NATURAL CURIOSITIES
The study of sacred and secular history was found far more interesting than
nature in the seventeenth century. In the Venetian Republic, as indeed
elsewhere, collections featuring antiquities or even just medals were far
more commonplace than those which were entirely given over to natural
objects, which had no part to play in general culture. Several doctors and
pharmacists collected ancient medals, but this did not make them profes-
sional 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
3
6
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
100 Collections in Venetia in tbe Heyday of Curiosity
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 g a r d e ~ 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
Collections in Venetia in tbe Heyday of Curiosity 101
by the name of Antonio Donati, evoked excursions on the lido made by
himself and three of his colleagues in order to study the flora.248
In the seventeenth century, herbaria were started up for two main
reasons: curiosity for plants and interest in their medicinal properties.
Donati examined plants, as well as stones and fish, with the eye of a
pharmacist, primarily concerned with their therapeutic properties, whether
real or supposed.
249
However, when it comes to the herbarium formed by an
infirmary monk working in the Venice hospitals, a certain Fra Fortunato da
Rovigo (1634-1701), which filled eight volumes, the result of forty years of
plant gathering, out of a total number of 2353 plant species probably only a
tiny proportion had any real pharmaceutical value.250 Similarly, when
lorenzo Patarol, who had no connection whatsoever with medicine, began
to neglect medals and turn instead to natural curios such as fossils stones
and crustaceans, and above all plants, he created a botanical garden based on
Tournefort's method, and was later the author of a work with the following
significant title: Institutiones rei herbariae cum classibus et generibus
plantarum ad mentem ]os. Pitton Tournefortii.
251
In eighty years gardens
had come a long way since the Clavis clavennae aperiem naturae thesaurum
in planctis which belonged to the canon of Treviso Giacomo-Antonio
Chiavenna, and where the plants were set Out in the alphabetical order of
the diseases they were supposed to cure.zsz
Just as plants began tO be looked upon and studied less and less from a
purely therapeutic viewpoint and more and more with a view to describ-
ing and classifying them, so doctors and pharmacists changed their
attitudes towards stones and minerals, shells and living creatures in
general. As late as the beginning of the seventeenth century, stones and
minerals were still included in the materia medica, as ordained by
Dioscorides, along with corals and certain gems,m and could be found in
all sorts of collections, such as the one owned by Melchior Zertelle, a
pharmacist in Venice who derived 'great pleasure from the things of rarity
which are beneficial to the human body'.
254
By the end of the century,
even when collections of natural things were formed by pharmacists or
doctors, they were no longer exclusively linked to the making of medicines
and entered instead into the field of natural history. Those belonging to
another Venetian pharmacist, Giovanni Girolamo Zannichelli (1662-
1729) are good examples of this, as rhe number of fossils, molluscs,
crustaceans, plants, stones, metals and minerals he amassed was such that
all could not possibly have advanced him in his professional activities.
Rather, they were brought together in order to allow comparisons,
descriptions and classifications to be made.m
let now look more closely at collections of natural things and examine
the way they evolved as time passed. The one which belonged to Francesco
Calzolari the Elder at the end of the sixteenth century seems to have been
very much associated with his professional activities. The small volume
describing it resembles advertising literature, with the conventional rhetori-
cal 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 engrav-
ing did not illustrate it, showing one single room only, where animals
were suspended from the ceiling and which was lined on three sides with
cupboards used as perches by stuffed birds. Jars filled the upper parts of
these cupboards, the space below being taken up with drawers. Vases
stood on the wooden floor.
The Calzolari collection was a collection of rare and singular objects,m
governed by a curiosity which held to the same principles which were found
in the more encyclopaedic curiosity of a figure such as Moscardo, even though
in this case it was limited tO natural things. It is for this reason that it would
not be useful to linger over the objects making up the collection, some of
which have already been discussed. Suffice it to say that the collection
belonging ro Francesco Calzolari the Younger was already quite separate
from the business of pharmacy, although several of his contemporaries
subordinated theirs to this profession. It is easy to perceive the link here
between this divorce and the increase in the quantity and diversity of items
included in collections. This increase in turn bears witness to the internal
dynamics of curiosity, which drove collectors to accumulate more and
more in the hope of exhausting nature's srock, thereby leading to the
compilation of inventories intended to cover the whole of nature. This
process itself led to a tension between those natural objects which were in fact
discovered and the conceptual framework adopted in order to identify,
describe and classify them.
Before the period when this tension began to trouble a great many people,
several collections of natural things sprang up which owed their existence
solely to a brand of exuberant, undisciplined and credulous curiosity. When
Andrea Mantova Benavides completed his grandfather's collection towards
the middle of the century, the additions included a 'whole Crocodile' which
wept over the men it had just devoured,
2
'9 'a petrified piece of watermelon
from Moum Carmel which appeared upon the said mountain transformed by
miracle into stone by glorious St Benedict', giant teeth and bones,
260
'a black
horn from the unicorn animal, to fight poisons'
261
and several similar
objects. At the end of the century, the Paduan palace of Abbot Matteo Priuli,
who owned not so much a collection but rather an accumulation of bric-a-
brac, housed the following noteworthy pieces: 'a serpent's tongue set in
silver' and 'basilisk's tongue in two pieces' alongside 'a round crystal
microscope' (probably a magnifying glass),Z
62
not to mention 'two basilisk
skeletons in pieces' and 'the claw of a large animal',
26
l which we have already
come across in the house of Girolamo Gualdo the Younger.
Later still, at the beginning of the eighteenth century, Fra Petronio da
Verona, a Capuchin friar working in hospitals in Padua, Venice and his
native town, formed a collection of objects from the sea, and left a set of
drawings accompanied with explanatory notes. He generally borrowed
nomenclatures from Belon and Rondelet, even Pliny, and these, like the
drawings, showed that for him the sea was an element where replicas of
terrestrial things could be found, such as sea cows, sea elephants and so
on.
264
But the duality expressed in the juxtaposition of the traditional
representation of the sky and of the telescope or of a basilisk and
magnifying glass, can also be detected in Fra Petronio's inventory. The
legend of one drawing reads: Priapus rnMinus Rondeletii; spetie d'Aicio-
nio, seu Holothuria Zanichelli.'
26
' The first reference is to an author of
the sixteenth century, the second to a contemporary. More significantly,
the first characterizes a living creature according to its resemblance to a
part of a human body, while the second designates it by a name whose
Greek roots bear no visual associations. This single sentence thus manages
ro capture two different perceptions, one based on physical similarities,
the other on abstract classification, traditional knowledge juxtaposed with
new scientific knowledge.
It was the latter of these two forms of knowledge that lay behind the
collection of a professor at the University of Padua and naturalist of
distinction, Antonio Vallisnieri (166 1-1730). It was the fruit of field
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.' 2
67
Vallisnieri clearly adopted the same attitude in this matter as his two
friends Maffei and Zeno.
Vallisnieri's museum contained several types of natural things, each
represented by a large number of specimens. Thus, the petrified objects of
the sea included stones, metals, minerals, lava, strange petrifications,
volcanic stones, and were followed by a different sort of stone, that found
within the organs of animals and men, such as bezoars and gallstones. Next
came birds' eggs and nests, as well as their skeletons, then the skulls, horns
and teeth of quadrupeds, specimens of the human anaromy, surgical
instruments, sea fish and sea monsters, seashells, snakes, tOrtoises, insects
'in incredible quantities', dried plants, sponges, fruits from all over India
and fungi
2
6
8
In addition to all these, a substantial collection of antiquities
given by a member of the noble Venetian Correggio family and by Gasparo
Mantova Benavides could also be seen.269
The Vallisnieri Museum was intended tO participate in the crusade
against ignorance led by the leaders of the Enlightenment, and two
examples brilliantly illustrate precisely this didactic function. The first
consisted in presenting proofs of 'nature's little tricks', in order to
demonstrate the work of chance, the role of 'the accidental union of certain
particles' which were capable of imitating the shapes of artefacts or living
beings.
270
This world was a very different one ro those of Calzolari or
Moscardo, as is highlighted even more clearly by the example of the
basilisk.
Among the serpents was a basilisk which Vallisnieri knew noc to be a
natural and genuine specimen but which he kept in order to disabuse
those who thought it was and to make it clear to them that it had been
cleverly made from a Ray-fish. This is the case of all the basilisks we
admire in galleries and which form the subject of fables told by the
gullible. But our Philosopher made use of such things to reveal and
confound all deceptions and make visitors to his museum aware of them.
In this manner he revealed monstrous deceptions perpetrated in other
museums where much was made of miraculous works of nature, of
Collections in Venetia in the Heyda)' of Curiosit)l 105
basilisks, fabulous hydras, petrified bread and fungi and other similar
nonsense.
271
Although its beginnings were in the seventeenth century, Vallisnieri's
collection no longer actually belonged to the same period as those described
in previous pages, even though some of these were created at the same time.
The overwhelming presence of objects such as various different stones,
birds' eggs and nests and above all insects, all signalling a profound change
in direction, is the first aspect which sets it apart from the rest. This does
nor mean that Vallisnieri was left unmoved by rare things which, after all,
still awake our curiosity even today, but his centre of interest did shift
cowards objects which, although commonplace, did reveal strange anatomi-
cal or behavioural traits when subjected to close analysis. It was believed
that this apparent and localized strangeness could nevertheless be explained
by global necessities, absent at first sight, but discoverable by dint of
consistent and methodical study. Nature gradually revealed herself tO be the
very incarnation of order and regularity when subjected to this type of
study, even though things and beings did occasionally stray from the
straight and narrow. From now on, however, no particular meaning could
be invested in those inanimate forms which sometimes seemed to resemble
artefacts or living beings. Discipline was therefore imposed on curiosity,
forcing it to proceed with method, while some formerly admissible
questions were now judged to be unacceptable. In Vallisnieri, this rejection
of the attitude traditionally held by naturalists and the collectors of natural
things went hand in hand with the desire to broadcast and inculcate his
own, flushing out all imposture and destroying everything he considered to
be mere invention. It would not be unreasonable ro suppose that he freely
expressed his feelings and ideas when he showed off his collection pieces.
Caylus had this to say following a visit paid to him in 1714: 'II nous expliqua
tout ce qu'il a dans son cabinet, soit sur les meraux soir sur les planres avec
une attention infinie parce qu'il vir que nous y prenions gout.'
272
In the Venetian Republic and elsewhere too, many cultivated people
would soon discover in themselves a pronounced taste for natural history,
following in the footsteps of Lorenzo Patarol, who happened, moreover, to
be a friend of Vallisnieri,
273
and who not only began to collect natural things
himself but also made many converts, explaining to his friends and
correspondents that 'non e inferiore questa diletto a que!lo delle
medaglie.'
274
We can see that the changes in the attitudes towards history
and towards nature occurred simultaneously, and that the 1720s marked the
beginning of a new era for both.
3.4 PAINTINGS
A great many inhabitants of Venetian towns probably possessed paintings
in the seventeenth century; indeed, they seem to have been such an
essential feature of the homes of the nobility that it would appear that not
to own an adequate number would have been utter! y unacceptable in a
town-dwelling patrician. In 1648 Ridolfi spoke of nine owners of paintings
in Bergamo, nineteen in Brescia, sixteen in Padua, 160 in Venice, fifteen in
Verona and six in Vicenza,
275
and this list is certainly far from complete; at
the end of the century, for instance, Paglia counted forty-eight in Brescia.
276
Possessing paintings and collecting them are, however, two very different
things. In the first of these cases, it is simply a question of covering blank
walls, and the pictures therefore perform an essentially decorative role. In
the second, walls are sometimes specifically built in order to provide extra
space for works whose number and choice demonstrate that theirs is not so
much a decorative role but one consisting in drawing attention to and
raising questions about painting itself. The boundary between the two is
necessarily a little blurred, as in the period under discussion here, and
indeed for many years afterwards, a painting was never purely decorative,
in that it always represented something, while any picture hung on a wall
automatically played a decorative role.
Nevertheless, there did exist a very real difference between an owner and
a collector of paintings, of which people were definitely aware in the
seventeenth century. Thus, when Boschini mentioned seventy-five picture
owners in Venice in 1660, he only went into any detail in the case of twenty
or so galleries,
277
and his list strongly resembles that drawn up by
Martinoni who included twenty-five collectors of paintings in his edition of
Sansovino's book three years later.
278
Dal Pozzo gave over space in his work
to the thirty galleries to be found in the latter half of the seventeenth
century in Verona,2
7
9 but there was certain! y a much larger number of
picture owners living in that town at that time. Similarly, Averoldi's book,
which was written at exactly the same date as Paglia's, described only one
collection of paintings in Brescia.
280
True, the description was written by
the collector himself, but this does nothing to explain why the same
initiative was not taken by others too, if indeed there were any; perhaps it
was purely coincidence or perhaps they had quite simply nothing of any
real interest to say. Whatever the reason, the fact remains that a distinction
was definitely made between owners and collectors of paintings in the
seventeenth century, and we shall proceed likewise, considering as picture
collectors all those who were regarded as such by their contemporaries, as
well as all those who owned such extensive collections that their works
could not in all honesty be ascribed a purely decorative role. Thus, although
a certain Alessandro Savorgnan from Venice was never mentioned either by
Boschini or Martinoni, we will treat him as a collector because alongside
clocks, weapons, bas-reliefs and medals, he possessed 1111 pictures.2s1
Now that this has been settled, it is easy to see that in the seventeenth
century, Venetian collections of paintings were largely concentrated in two
towns, Venice itself and Verona. The Paduans' taste for antiquities seems to
have curbed any enthusiasm for painting, and while the Mantova
Benavides' collecrion was extremely rich in prints, and also contained
paintings and drawings, the latter were mostly portraits.282 We can,
moreover, find no trace of any collection of paintings, however small, in
Padua, and the same applies to Rovigo - although the Silvestri collection
did include paintings - as well as to Treviso, where they were to 'go forth
and multiply' in the course of the next century.283 As for Vicenza, where
there were six collections of or including paintings in the first half of the
seventeenth century, these sank into utter oblivion after 1660. Since the
case of Brescia has already been discussed, only two towns remain to be
looked at. About ten collectors were to be found in Verona at the beginning
of the century, and by the start of the following century, this number had
swelled to approximately thirty, while in the case of Venice, the cor-
responding figures were roughly twenty for the early 1600s and between
thirty and forty a hundred years later. These deliberately vague figures can
only give a rough idea of the situation bur one which nonetheless enables us
to see that although paintings were commonly to be found in the houses of
the nobility they formed the basis of collections much more rarely than
antiquities.
The market in pictures
One reason for this was that collections of paintings required greater
investment than those comprising other objects, and when Verona's two
most famous collections of the first part of the seventeenth century, those
belonging to Crisroforo and Francesco Muselli and to Pietro Curtoni, were
sold in the 1660s, they fetched 22,000 and 10,000 ducats respectively, the
lowness of the second figure being due to the withdrawal from the
collection prior to the sale of the most famous piece, a portrait of a lady by
RaphaeJ.2
84
Moscardo tells how Spinola of Genoa purchased Veronese's La.rt
Supper in the artist's native town for 7000 ducats, and although this was a
quite exceptional picture,
285
payments of tens and indeed hundreds of ducats
for a masterpiece were in no way exorbitant. On average, a picture from the
Muselli collection was worth 176 ducats, and one from the Curtoni
collection 50 ducats, and these figures are borne our by the inventories
drawn up after the demise of various collectors, as the examples in table 1
show
286
108 Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of CuriositJ'
Table I
Daniele Dolfin Inventory, Canossa Inventory,
Estimated Venice, 1681 Verona, 1687
Prices No of paintings % No of paintings %
200 ducats and over 7 5 16 4
100-199 ducats 5 4 28 7
50-99 ducats 8 6 56 14.5
10-49 ducats 26 20 254 66
Less than 10 ducats 86 64 31 8
Lack of information 2 2 0.5
Total 134 100 387 100
These two collections are not entirely comparable in that Canossa's was
almost three times as big as Dolfin's, and one inventory was drawn up six
years after the first. What is more, the highest estimates were attributed to
paintings from the Canossa collections on the whole, although the Dolfin
collection included one piece valued at 1000 ducats while estimates in the
former only reached 600 ducats at the most. Our of the twelve paintings in
the Dolfin collection with an estimated value of 100 ducats or more, seven
were by Tintoretto (one valued at 300, three at 250 and three at 150 ducats),
while the five remaining ones were by Jose Ribeira (1000), Francesco
Albani (350), Cavalier Cairo (300), Forabosco (120) and Guercino (100), all
active in the first half and even at the beginning of the second half of the
seventeenth century. The fifteen paintings valued at 200 ducats or more in
the Canossa collection were, however, the work of much earlier artists, none
of whom continued on beyond the first half of the seventeenth century,
many in fact living at the beginning of the previous century: Raphael (600),
Veronese (600), Palma the Elder (400), Cavalier Cairo (300), Alessandro
Turchi (300), Sante Peranda (300), Castiglione (260 and 200), Guido Reni
(250), Rubens (250), Dossi? (250), Durer (220), Brusasorzi (200), Lucas
van Leyden (200) and one anonymous painter (200). These figures give an
indication of the status of different painters, albeit a relative one, in that we
know nothing about the size of the canvases nor their state of preservation.
They also bear out what was said earlier concerning the prices fetched by
masterpieces.
There is absolutely no need to give any further examples nor to embark
on lengthy discussions over the purchasing power of the Venetian ducat in
the latter half of the seventeenth century in order to come to the
conclusion that paintings were expensive. This was so even when they
were commissioned from the painters, prices ranging from 10 to 200
ducats in the last quarter of the seventeenth century in Verona, and
even then for relatively little-known painters2
87
The older the painting
the higher the price, and after having seen the Wedding at Cana by
Veronese in the refectory of the cloisters on the island of San Giorgio,
Monconys observed in 1664 that: 'II [Veronese] ne s'en fir payer que cent
pistoles, quoy qu'a present on en donneroit bien trois milles aces Peres de
s.Benoist, s'ils le vouloient vendre,' while again according to Monconys, a
Venus by the same painter was valued at 15,000 ecus.
288
That very same
year Boschini, in order to demonstrate the superiority of painting over
gold, cited two paintings by Tintoretto in the Madonna dell'Orto church in
Venice, for each of which 50 ducats were paid immediately after com-
pletion, 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.
2
9 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.
2
9
5
It was in the latter half of the eighteenth century,
110
if not the beginning of the nineteenth, that several great Venetian
collections, some of them very old, went on sale,29
6
and back in the
seventeenth century, the number of paintings truly available in the
marketplace was far lower than the number of canvases which were actually
produced. Obviously, this phenomenon was not unique to the Venetian
Republic in the seventeenth century, but this ratio did undergo variations,
and the gap between the two figures seems to have been wider at that rime
than later on, and helps to explain the strategies evolved by those who were
new to the world of collecting or by collectOrs of relatively modest means.
This phenomenon above all explains the interest taken in copies used as
substitutes for inaccessible originals. Some inventories provide evidence of
their existence, several of them containing substantial numbers of them, as
did the one drawn up in 1655 for Tirabosco, a Venetian man of letters,
which listed thirty-three copies out of a total of 168 pictures. It is worth
noting that copies could sell for very considerable amounts, averaging out at
11 ducats, the highest figure, 30 ducats, being fetched by a copy of
Veronese.
297
As well as copies, one quite often came across works described
as 'scuola di' or 'maniera di' in inventories, and lasr but not least forgeries,
executed by artists who often earned their living as dealers. One such
painter was Pietro Vecchia, who was responsible for a forgery of a
Giorgione self-portrait, among others, while another was his occasional
accomplice, Nicolo Renieri.
298
Operating on a more modest scale, a painter
from Bassano, Gian Battista Volpato, who was given the task of restoring
the altars in Feltrino's churches, left copies in place of the originals; more
than ten years went by before the affair came to light in 1686 and the forger
convicted.
2
99
Given all the fraudulent activities intended to increase the size of stacks
of canvases supposedly painted by famous artists, activities of which dealers
and artists, in their capacity as experts, were completely aware, being often
involved themselves, it is easy to grasp the acuteness of the problem of
attribution and the controversy surrounding certain paintings. Echoes of
some arguments have carried down the centuries, the following passage
from one of dal Pozzo's descriptions showing that connoisseurs were far
from unanimous over this particular picture: 'Un Ganimedo a cauallo d'un
aquila, tenuto da alctmi di Guido, e da altri venire da Rafaello, o dal
Correggio.'
300
Opinions here differed over the artist, the school and the
period, the differences between the various dates implied by the conflicting
attributions being quite considerable, given that Raphael and Correggio
were active half a century before Guido Reni began work as an artist. It is
clear that dal Pozzo himself was unable to come down on either side of the
fence, as he would surely have done so otherwise. A different passage by the
same author bears witness to the difficulties caused by imitations and
copies: 'Gio Cerchini was a pupil of Alessandro Turchi, known as
l'Orbetto ... and imitated him so accurately that many connoisseurs made
incorrect judgements and took copies for the originals when attempting to
distinguish pupil from master.' JOI It seems reasonable to suppose that
several works by Cerchini pass even today as works by Alessandro Turchi,
as there is always a considerable element of guesswork involved in the
attribution game. 302
Venetians and foreigners
Paintings by 'old' masters, that is, artists alive fifty or more years earlier,
303
apparently made only very rare appearances on the market, and purchases
were made in their owners' homes, artist-dealers acting as advisers for
sellers and buyers and serving as go-betweens.'
04
As soon as they had built
up a certain reputation, active painters worked exclusively on commission,
with the result that most of the works in the marketplace were of poorer
quality, coming mostly from ateliers, or else being imitations and copies,
while alongside these were works by painters foreign to Venetia, or rather
to the Venetian school of painting, some of them Flemish, others Italian,
whose canvases were brought to Venice to be sold there. Boschini recounts
with great gusto, and not a litrle malice, the trials and tribulations of a
foreign dealer attempting to sell pictures of fruit and flowers, buildings and
landscapes, on the Rialto market, while the Venetian art lovers make
unfavourable comparisons with local productions. He ends with a piece of
gentle advice for the poor dealer:
Fradelo, no se porta !'aqua a! mar;
Ne cristali a Muran per negociar;
Ne quadri dove e '! fonte del dessegno.
Credeme a mi; tole sto bon consegio,
Che no 'l ve costa niente, e 'I val a.rsae:
Mue paese; ande in altra Citae,
Che in ogni liogo fare certo megio_;o>
Boschini does not solely justify this rejection of foreign painting by
affirming that Venice is the 'fame del dessegno'. True, the poem constantly
echoes the desire to glorify his native land through its artists and their
works; it even claims that the Venetians hold pride of place in the world of
painting3
6
and that their 'manner' is the eighth wonder of the world, this
last remark being attributed to a Tuscan,l
07
and not surprisingly, given that
these claims are included mainly as a challenge to Vasari who was supposed
to have made them on behalf of the Tuscans. It is also from an aesthetic
stance that Boschini rejects foreign painting.
112
Dei Veneziani questa e !'opinion:
Che chi no sa formar un gran quadran,
El rest a sia fandonie e cantafole.
Che per canto de far far meze figure,
!doli, cimiterii e sacrificii,
Bassi rilievi, statue con capricii
De fruti a fiori, e antighita de mure;
Oseli morti e con varii istrumenti,
Trofei, con armadure de piu sorte,
Chitare, libri e scheletri de morte,
Con ossi de animali spuzzolenti,
Tutte queste xe robe, che a Venezia
Puochi ghe inclina: perche in quanta a l'Arte
(Come che ho dito) l'e minime parte;
E per questa puochissimo i le aprezia.3os
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 e
ben jato.'
310
Rather, it is the lack of status afforded to the subjects
represented, still lifes, edifices or landscapes, as this means they are
automatically inferior ro those depicted in Venetian painting, since a
painting's status is determined by the status of the subjects it represents.
The Venetian attitude to the flowers, fruirs, armour, musical instruments
and other objects mentioned in the above passage, is as follows.
Tute ste cose le stimemo un ,;iente;
Stimemo le figure che se muove,
In agiere un Mercurio, un Marte, un Giove,
E far dei scurzi da pitor valente.
Far ati e positure come vive,
Che se muova con spirito e fracasso:
Come sarave un Rugier, un Gradasso,
Con que! furor, che l'Ariosto scrive.lll
This argument is also used to belittle paintings of animals, for which
Boschini perceives, not without some distaste, a certain vogue.
So pero che ghe xe certi sugeti,
Che c1ede de condir le galarie
Con ragni, con formigole e stampie,
E i le stima piu dolce dei confeti.
Un Leguro, una Rana, un Scarpion,
Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of Curio.ritJI
Una i\.fosca, un Zenzal, una Fa1jala
Ha da far drento a un stttdio e pampa, e pala,
E concorer con Paulo e con Zorzon?
Se t;ede ben che '!gusto xe coroto,
De chi spende le dopie e tra via !'oro,
Cambiando in vermi cusi gran tesoro.'
Pitura, vate a vesti da coroto.l
1
2
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 temp-
tations 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
Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of
Flemish artists. In Venice, virtually every subject was borrowed from
biblical history, mythology and epic poeuy. There were very few land-
while no still lifes, pictures of flowers, fruit, animals or genre
ptctures whatsoever were mentioned. The story is a little different in
Verona, as although there too the majority of paintings had historical
subjects, the collections nevertheless contained a fair number of landscapes
battles, still lifes and genre scenes.lll '
As soon as one compares the description of a collection with its
inventory,m it becomes apparent that the judgement of seventeenth-
critics was coloured by patriotic feeling, and that they were thus
to concentrate on their town's 'homegrown talent'. This feeling, to
they openly confessed in their works,'
16
led them to neglect foreign
pamters unless these were responsible for a particular masterpiece or had
become legendary in their own right, their pictures thereby proving
the good taste of therr owners and the amount of money which had been
sacrificed in order to acquire such coveted possessions. Normative
presuppositions and social rank also coloured the views of the critics. In his
descriptions of the galleries belonging to members of the Venetian elite
Boschini, for instance, was more or less forced ro concentrate on those
elements which, confirming his opinions, he could allow himself to praise,
and consequently said nothing about the rest. The differences between
B?schini's Venice and dal Pozzo's Verona accordingly reflected in part the
between their opinions on art, dal Pozzo's opinions being
mirrored m the paintings making up his personal collection, where out of
the 111 canvases considered worthy of mention twenty-two were land-
scapes}17 The differences of opinion themselves could be explained by the
fact that Boschini never left Venice, whereas dal Pozzo spent a great
proportion of his life in distant parts, as well as by the fact that their social
positions were not the same and that they were not exact contemporaries,
dal Pozzo's book being published fifty-eight years after Boschini's.
.Because wri.ters of period dre'; attention to the types of objects they
w1shed to seem collectrons and constdered worthy of attention, rather than
to what was actually to be found hanging on gallery and museum walls, the
Images they have left us of picture collections in Venice and Verona must be
trear.ed with a certain amount of caution, and the same most probably
applte.s tO other towns and other writers. As we do not have at our disposal
a suffroendy representative range of inventories, this image can on! y be
countered with a hypothetical reconstruction based on the facts which are
available to us. This reconstruction sheds light on a certain number of
aspects, and allows us to affirm that the attitude of the Venetian collectors
to works by foreign artists was by no means as negative as would first
appear: It i.s nevertheless true that, to the best of our knowledge, none
speoaltzed 111 works produced by a foreign school (there was apparently no
Collectiom in Venetia in the Heyday of Curiosity 115
Venetian or Veronese equivalent of Paolo della Sera), while the majority of
paintings listed in the inventories belonged to the Venetian school. All
these changes seem therefore to have been confined to the fringes, but then
it was there that matters of taste were dictated more often than nor.
Wherever it has been possible to identify paintings, a far from negligible
proportion (roughly 10 to 30 per cent, depending on the collection), has
been found to be of foreign origin.
318
It should be stressed that we do not
know for certain exactly which painters were labelled as foreigners, and in
some cases the percentage can vary substantially according to whether
Correggio and Parmigiano happened to be seen as Venetians or nor.3
1
9 One
also needs to decide how the French and Flemish painters who settled in the
Venetian Republic should be labelled. Whatever the case, the inventories
clearly show that the Venetian collectors were far more open to foreign
influence and far more inclined ro purchase imported works than docu-
ments of the period would seem to imply. Collectors in Verona would
appear to have been more attracted to foreign works of art than their
Venetian counterparts, although this is a point which requires closer study.
Foreign works accounted for 54 per cent of the Muselli collection and 38 per
cent of the Curtoni one, percentages considerably higher than any
encountered in Venice. Of a later collection, the Canossa, 30 per cent was
composed of foreign canvases, similar in this respect to two Venetian
collections, the rather exceptional one (as we shall immediately see) owned
by Gasparo Chechel, and the one which belonged to the Bergonzis, which
was already well known in the 1640s and was apparently considerably
enlarged by its last owner.
320
In the absence of the results of research
currently being carried our, one can nonetheless suppose that other
Venetian collections were just as receptive in the final decades of the
seventeenth century to foreign works as the Bergonzi one was.
Present in the greatest numbers were the northern Europeans and more
particular! y the Flemish. The interest of the Gasparo Chechel inventory lies
precise! y in the fact that it describes a collection where pictures of Flemish
origin abounded; indeed they were the only foreign pictures it contained.
This was probably due to time spent by Chechel in Augsburg, and to his
marriage to a German (or Flemish) woman,m and explains why his
collection was probably an exception in the Venice of the period preceding
his death in 1657. It did, however, resemble those of Muselli and Curtoni,
where 27 per cent and 18 per cent respectively of the paintings were
Flemish. A little later, at the turn of the century, the Bergonzi collection too
had a strong Flemish flavour. All of these inventories most frequent! y
mention Brueghel (most certainly 'Velvet' Brueghel, sometimes dis-
tinguished from Brueghel the 'Elder'), Rubens, VanDyck, Paul Bril, as well
as two Germans, Diirer- by far the best known in Venetia- and Holbein;
the Dutch were apparently neglected. Given that all this is based on
116
Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of Curiorit)'
attributions made at the time, it is reasonable to assume that several
paintings supposedly the work of these prestigious artists were in fact the
work of far more modest individuals.
While it would be impossible to speak with total accuracy, we can say that
the northerners as a whole were responsible for roughly half the canvases
of foreign origin found in collections in Venice and Verona. The other half
came from other parts of Italy, the Bolognese painters, such as Albani,
Carracci, Guercino and most of all Guido Reni being especially popular; the
latter was present not only through the paintings attributed to him but also
through very many copies and imitations.
122
It would seem that the other
Italian schools of painting were less well known. From time to time we
come across the name of a Roman or Neapolitan but with no trace of any
sustained interest for them in the background as there was for the
Bolognese. Finally, the Tuscans were virtually absent, except for one or two
pictures attributed to Raphael and Leonardo da Vinci. It is as if the Venetian
collectors sought from foreign works that which was lacking in their
homegrown painters, as if, in other words, they were looking for painting
different to their own, such as landscapes, fruit and flowers, edifices,
animals and genre scenes. In the long term, this openness to foreign, and in
particular to Flemish, painting, seems to have caused tastes to change
course, with paintings which had been excluded from that noble genre par
excellence, namely historical painting, gaining new status. In this sense,
Boschini was to identify the defence of the pre-eminence of Venetian
painting with that of the primacy of historical painting.
The decline of the hierarchy of genres
Most of the dwellings where paintings were to be found contained examples
of what were considered to be the minor genres, and rare are the
inventories which do not mention them. In overall percentage terms,
however, they did not represent a very high proportion of the total number
of pictures possessed in the first decades of the seventeenth century, and
theirs was seemingly an essentially decorative role. Not a single picture of
fruit and flowers, not a single still life or genre scene was present in the
Museiii and Curtoni collections, and only one or two landscapes. It has to be
admitted that the documents furnishing us with information on these
collections are not strictly speaking inventories, since they appear to list
just the works in the gallery or studio,
1
2! neglecting ail those to be found in
the lived-in part of the house. Yet dal Pozzo's own descriptions were not
inventories either, being selective even within the very gallery itself, as we
have seen regarding the Canossa collection, though they still managed to
mention quite a number of landscapes as well as other subjects absent from
Table 2
Name of
collector
Vincenzo Grimani Calergi
Giovanni Pierro Tirabosco
Michele Pietra
Gasparo Chechel
Giovanni Grimani Calergi
Daniele Dolfin
Giorgio Bergonzi
Date of
inventory
1646
1655
1656
1657
1664
1681
1709
Number of Landscapes
paintings and 'minor
genres
(as % of total)
180 8
168 14
486 6
142 21
164 24
134 0
556 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 paint-
ings.32G Another explanation may lie in the Dolfins' social status, theirs
being a well-known senatorial family. The policy of commissioning works
118
followed by Venetian senators, including the descendants of this family,
leads one to think that they were particularly attached as a group to
historical painting,
327
and that Boschini had them in mind when he wrote:
'Di Veneziani questa e !'opinion: Che chi no sa formar un gran quadran, E!
res to sia fandonie e cantafole.' If it could be proved that the collectors
belonging to senatorial circles in the latter half of the seventeenth century
were particularly reticent towards acquiring landscapes and the 'minor
genres' in general, it would have to follow that the vogue for such pictures
was sustained by groups figuring lower down on the social ladder, but more
open to foreign influence and more prepared to innovate.
Let us now return to the hypothesis of an increase in the proportion of
Venetian collections given over to the 'minor genres'. If a comparison is
made between the two collectors from the Grimani Calergi family, whose
deaths were separated by an interval of eighteen years, this increase is easy
to see. Although the overall number of pieces drops slightly, the percentage
of the type of picture we are interested in here is three times higher for the
second than for the first, the inventories indicating that this is due to the
purchase of many canvases depicting landscapes, fruit and flowers and so
on. The collection of Giorgio Bergonzi is, on this question, even more
revealing, as a third of it comprises pictures of landscapes, flowers, fruit,
animals and battles, its general orientation thus being an exaggerated
version of that of dal Pozzo's. Indeed, it contains works by a number of
artists mentioned in descriptions of Veronese collections drawn up by the
latter, including Borgognone, Calza, Cremonese, Salvator Rosa and Antonio
Tempesta.
328
The fact that there are several canvases for each one, indicates
that there was a steady search for certain names and certain themes. If we
draw attention to a well-attested interest for fruit and flowers as well as
representations of animals
329
and to the presence of Gaspard van Witte!,
with five vedute,
330
then all these factors taken tOgether add up to a portrait
of a resolutely modern collection diametrically opposed to the model
Boschini attempted to impose half a cemury earlier, in that it is orientated
more towards nature, a foretaste of a trend which would only really come to
maturity later on. Although one cannot say with any certainty whether the
Giorgio Bergonzi collection represented a significant proportion of
Venetian collections from the same period and whether or not it resembled
ones formed by members of the same social circle, by merchants in other
words, it is nevertheless worthwhile considering these questions.
We have already seen that a picture collector was someone who, not
coment with decorating walls already in existence, had new ones specially
built, in order to set out the canvases he had acquired. In practical terms this
meant that he had to set aside one or several rooms in his house for
displaying his collection, and fit out not only the lived-in part but also a
studio, gallery, sometimes even a porrico.33l It is clear from reading
inventories where prices and the amount of space occupied are given for
each picture, that studios and galleries were used to house the most
prestigious and highly prized works, whose role was not to decorate but to
form part of the actual collection itself. In the Dolfin collection, for instance,
the twelve pictures valued at 100 ducats or more were all found 'nella
Galeria', while the others which were placed there were also more costly
than those found elsewhere in the house.
332
Similarly, in the Canossa
collection, twenty-six of the forty-three paintings of an estimated worth of
100 ducats or more were hung in the gallery, eleven in the second room,
which was apparently its extension, while the remaining six are dispersed
more or less everywhere.333
Having said this, it is clear that the status accorded by collectors to
landscapes and 'minor genres' cannot be defined solely by taking into
account the increase in their numbers in Venetian collections, even if this
could be properly confirmed. It is necessary to establish whether they had a
purely decorative role or whether they were hung on the walls of the
studios and galleries, as part of the collection itself. In the home of the
Marquis of Canossa, there was only one landscape among the 130 pictures
to be found 'nella prima camera terena detta Galeria sopra Adice', and that
was a StJohn preaching in the Desert by Civetta, valued at 160 ducats. This
was accompanied by an animal picture by Giovanni Battista Castiglioni,
valued at 200 ducats. Works of this kind were more numerous in other
rooms, while 'nel camerino dove mangiava il Signor Marchese' were placed
ten pictures which included two family portraits, five landscapes and three
animal pictures featuring geese and hens, a turkey and a dog.334 In other
words, 'minor genre' pictures played a purely decorative role in the Marquis
of Canossa's household.
The same goes for the homes of V incenzo Grim ani Calergi and Michele
Pietra. The gallery of the former contained only three landscapes out of a
total of fifty pictures, the rest, along with representations of fruit and
flowers, being hung elsewhere.
335
In the Pietra studio there were seventy-
eight 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
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:
122 Medals I Shells= Erudition/ Philosoph)'
'You are right to be astonished by the lack of taste for antiquities which
prevails in Paris. A few medal collections can still be found; but as for
broken pots, nobody, is, so to speak, following in my footsteps ... .'5 These
'few medal collections' were indeed still to be found in Paris: we ourselves
know of thirty-nine which were in existence between 1750 and 1790.
However, the most important of these, owned by Cleves, d'Ennery and
Pellerin, had been formed at the beginning of the century,
6
and all of them
put together represented only a tiny fraction of the 467 we have identified
in Paris for the same period. This means Grimm was right when he
commented in 1765 that]. Pellerin, whose book he was describing to his
readers, possessed 'a medal collection of a size unusual for a private
individual, particularly in France, where this taste is not very widespread'.
7
This comment is confirmed by L.-V. Thiery, who described in 1786 the
ninety-two most important collections in the capital, but only made explicit
mention of five containing medals.
8
The lists we have just cited are certainly not exhaustive, and the picture
each gives is distorted by the specific interests of the person who compiled
it: there were, for instance, more than five of the ninety-two collections
known to Thiery which contained medals. Nevertheless, every single one
shows a similar trend and bears out the conclusions we have reached from
our studies of around 70 per cent of all collectors active from 1700 to 1790.
It is easy to explain the difference between the figures arrived at at the time
and our own, since we take into consideration every collector we manage to
identify, and not solely the celebrities of the day, and divide the century into
three parts of different length, considering collections which existed during
the same period as contemporary, rather than concentrating on a single
year, as the lists did. In spite of the differences in method, we all come to the
same conclusion, namely that after 1720, and above all after 1730, private
collectors began to turn away from medals. We will see straightaway that
natural history was henceforth increasingly to arrest their attention.
The rise of shells, the fall of medals
'When I perceived that in France the taste for shells, which belong to the
domain of Natural History, was growing in popularity, I was impelled to
return tO Holland in order to select all I could find of this sort which was
rare or beautiful.' This is the explanation Gersaint gave of his actions in the
preface to his Catalogue raisonne des coquilles, published in 1736. He also
made a significant promise: 'If I perceive that the Public declares itself in
favour of these amusements ... I will do my utmost to provide it from time
to time, regarding all that comes under the heading of Natural History and
not simply this part of it, with collections which may by their remarkable
Medals/ Shells= Erudition/ Philosophy 123
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 collec-
tions 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,
1
9 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
124 Medals/ Shells= Erudition/ Philosoph)'
collectors in the eighteenth century, and this means calling on a few
additional facts. Between 1700-20 and 1750-90, the number of collections
in Paris had risen from 149 to 467. Although these figures are still not
definitive, they leave no doubt as to the prevailing trend. This increase in
number was accompanied by profound changes in the socio-professional
make-up of the collecting population. Prior to 1720, 26 per cent of collectors
were courtiers, with 15 per cent members of the legal profession, 12 per
cent scholars and antiquaries, 11 per cent members of the clergy, a further
11 per cent artists and 8 per cenr money dealers. After 1750, although
courtiers continued to dominate with 22 per cent, they were now followed
by money-handlers (16 per cent), artists (12 per cent), members of the
bourgeoisie (10 per cent), scholars and antiquaries (9 per cent). For the sake
of brevity, we have left out other social categories, and only retained those
at the top of the league, this being enough to show the rise of the money
dealers and bourgeoisie, as well as to a lesser extent, that of the artists,
accompanied by a decline in the number of representatives of the legal
profession, of the clergy and also of scholars and antiquaries. In 1700-20,
virtually all medal collectors (forty-six out of fifty-eight, to be precise) were
courtiers, clergymen, scholars and antiquaries and members of the legal
profession. In the light of this, one could be tempted to explain the lack of
interest in medals in the latter half of the century by the fact that a large
proportion of collectors at that period belonged to social groups where
objects of this kind had never been held in esteem. This would still leave us
with the task of explaining why they were not interested in them, however,
and even if we knew the answer to this question, the proposed explanation
would still nor suffice. This is because it would seem reasonable to suppose
that the collectors belonging tO the groups which dominated the world of
curiosity in the early years of the century, both in terms of numbers and
social prestige, would have been able to impose their tastes and interests on
the newcomers. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Indeed,
the very opposite took place, the courtiers, scholars and antiquaries,
members of the clergy and of the legal profession all turning away from
medals themselves. Before 1720 medals were to be found in fourteen
collections out of the thirty-eight owned by courtiers, this ratio being in the
order of thirteen to seventeen for the clergy, twelve to eighteen for the
scholars and antiquaries and seven to twenty-two for members of the legal
profession. After 1750 it changed to twelve to one hundred for courtiers,
two to twenty-nine for clergymen, four to forty for scholars and antiquaries
and four to thirty-four for the legal profession. The task is therefore to
ascertain why those who were interested in medals at the beginning of the
century turned away from them in the latter half of it, or rather, to
understand the change in behaviour of two categories of collectors: the
courtiers on the one hand and the scholars and antiquaries on the other. The
clergy all belonged at the same time either to court circles or else to the
republic of letters, meaning that their ecclesiastical calling itself is of no
relevance to us here.
Medals: history and aesthetics
Out of all the vestiges of antiquity, medals were the most easily accessible.
Their small size made transport easy, and many were thus brought from
Holland, Italy and the Levant, in spite of the dangers which habitually
awaited travellers, such as shipwrecks, pirates, bandits and customs
officers. 2o Considerable numbers of medals were also to be found buried in
the ground: ' ... in my rooms I still have the remains of an antique vase ...
which some peasants ... had found ... and broken into, thinking that it
contained some sort of treasure. Inside were around twenty-five pounds of
Roman medals of various Emperors and Empresses, from Hadrian to
Posrumus; I bought them from the founders of Villedieu along with the
fragments of the vase ... .'
21
Several other similar finds could equally be
cited. Such finds continued to be made in the second half of the century,
22
when medals had ceased to be the object of curiosity par excellence, and
although the dearth of actual figures makes it difficult to be absolutely
categorical on this point, it seems that change in attitude on the part of the
collectors was not the result of any dearth in supplies. The answer must
therefore lie with the demand.
This word Curieux is very ambiguous indeed and its meaning should be
determined once and for all. In effect, if this term applies to any man who
builds up a collection of Medals, the man of Letters becomes confused
with that ordinary mortal, the simple man of taste, who only seeks and
values in Medals the beauties of ancient engraving. The true scholar is no
longer differentiated in any way from him who merely seeks to appear to
be and whose wealth permits him to satisfy his vanity, since both collect
Medals, even though to very different ends. Their Collections are
therefore entirely dissimilar, and the studious man who toils uniquely for
his proper instruction will assemble objects with care, objects which will
be neglected by him who seeks to flatter his self-esteem or his taste,
rather than to form his mind and perfect his knowledge.
23
The speaker here is obviously the scholar, the 'man of Letters', convinced
of the superiority of a scholarly collection, intended tO be an aid to study,
over that which is entirely dictated by aesthetic criteria. Between the two
types of collectors, the scholars and the rest, there is a sort of latent r i v a ~ r y ,
which surfaces in the value judgement the scholar passes on those seekmg
126 Medals/ Shells= Erudition/ Philosophy
merely to 'flatter their self-esteem or their taste'. Both groups attempt to
impose their particular concepts of collections, and thereby play the role of
arbiters in numismatic curiosity. The allusion to 'wealth' allows us to define
the social position of the scholars' opponents as that of courtiers. In the
1739 edition of Pere Joubert's Science des nudailles, this debate between the
spokesmen of the two camps can be followed, since the advice its author
gives to collectors is contradicted by his editor, de Ia Bastie. When
discussing the difference between ancient and recent medals, Joubert
explains: 'The moderns are all those which have been made during roughly
the last three hundred years. For out of the medals we have from the reign
of Charlemagne to the fifteenth century, the curieux deign only to collect
those which complete the series originating from the Greek empire, and
which we could say, to repeat the view of one of our curieux, constitute
nothing more than an ugly interval between the ancient and the modern,
which no longer provides either satisfaction or pleasure for the eye or the
mind. This means that if one listened ro one's taste antiquity would be
deemed to end with Theodosius at the end of the fourth century.'
24
We can
see that Joubert placed himself on the side of the man of taste, and that his
choice of the end of the fourth century as the limit of the ancient world,
which also represents the end of beauty, was dictated by aesthetic criteria.
The Middle Ages, this 'ugly interval between the ancient and the modern',
were thus excluded from the field of interest of a collector wishing to be
guided solely by his own tastes. For de Ia Bastie, on the other hand, whose
commentary on the word 'curieux' has just been cited, medieval medals
were interesting not because of their beauty but because they constituted
historical sources. 'Those who are curious only when it comes to the beauty
of the design and creation, will doubtless not take the trouble to collect the
medals and coins struck between the reign of Charlemagne and the rebirth
of the arts; but the curious who are lovers of literature and do nor wish to
neglecr anything which might help to shed light on the history of the
Middle Ages, will collect them with great relish and find instruction on
divers points of which we would know nothing were it not for the aid of
these monuments.'
2
; The presence of medieval medals would therefore
indicate that we are dealing with a collection governed above all by
historical preoccupations; when the aesthetic point of view was paramount,
only ancient and modern medals were accorded places. The contrast
between history and aesthetics therefore grafted itself onto the rivalry
between scholars and courtiers, although we have just seen that the
aesthetic perspective did lead to history being carved up to a certain extent,
and to choices being operated amongst the monuments of the past. In short
we are still looking at a history of sorts, but one which differed from that
practised by scholars, and one at which we should now take a closer look.
26
In the eyes of the collectors, the beauty of the medals stemmed above all
from the noble and long-lasting material from which they were made.
Collections were made of large bronze imperial medals or else ones made of
gold and silver.27 The aesthetic pleasure emanating from a medal arose first
and foremost, however, from the beauty of their engraving, but this beauty
was inevitably accompanied by the need to find an explanation for this
engraving. This was provided by the accompanying inscription. 'One
derives pleasure from owning the rarest and best-preserved [medals], from
recognizing the genuine ones, identifying the forged ones and plunging into
the mysteries surrounding the figures they represent.'
28
This would seem to
have nothing to do with aesthetic pleasure, but to be concerned with
satisfaction of quire a different nature. To succumb to such a view would,
however, mean committing a serious anachronism based on the arbitrary
premise that aesthetic pleasure is always and everywhere the same, when in
fact the very opposite is true. 'I have several times been astonished,' writes
Dubos,
that painters who are so concerned that we should recognize the figures
they use to affect us and who must encounter so many difficulties in
rendering them recognizable with the aid of only a simple paintbrush, do
not add a brief inscription to their historical paintings. Three-quarters of
the people who look at them, and who are moreover entirely capable of
doing the works full justice, are not sufficiently educated to guess the
subject of the painting. For them, it simply depicts a fine and pleasing
person, but one who speaks in an unknown tongue: the painting rapidly
becomes uninteresting, since the duration of pleasure, when the mind
takes no part, is short indeed
29
For what was a medal if not a depiction of history struck onto metal and
accompanied by a short inscription allowing one to recognize, either
immediately or indirectly, the figure or the scene represented there, and
consequent! y ro prolong the visual pleasure with an activity of the mind?
This activity of the mind in fact consisted of nothing other than a reflection
on history, which turned out, as we have seen, to be an essential component
of the pleasure a collector derived from medals. For here, this pleasure was
felt to derive from an explanation or interpretation, the result, in other
words, of the establishment 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 Halicarnassus, 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 Medals/ Shells= Erudition/ Philosophy
way, the medal enthusiast acquired a complete historical and philological
culture. He developed a certain image of the hisrory of antiquity which in
fact corresponded to the image the ancients had themselves, since it was
their very point of view, their appreciation of events and their criteria he
adopted. For him, they constituted his authorities, even if he did criticize
them over certain points of detail, in that while the texts were needed in
order to explain and classify the medals, their veracity could be checked if
they were directly compared with the medals themselves: ' ... they help us
to distinguish between truth and fiction, to supply history with proofs, to
dispel its mists, to piece together its fragments, explain the obscure
passages of the authors, recognize the anachronisms and to shed light on
the geography.''
1
A complex pattern of cross-references was thus
established between texts and medals, allowing mutual explanation. Even
so, he who used medals to pursue historical research, even if he was busy
writing a 'histoire metallique' or a 'his to ire prouvee par les medailles'' did
not automatically become a complete historian. Instead, he remained an
antiquary, for the history of Greece and Rome was supposed to have been
written down once and for all by the ancients themselves.3
2
In other words,
the numismatists of the seventeenth century and beginning of the
eighteenth were incapable of integrating the facts they amassed into a
meaningful whole, and this applied to every scholar of that period too. In
the field of research itself, they behaved like collectors of facts, gradually
accumulating them without arriving at any overview.33 Their particular
brand of history was identical to that which the scholars of the same period
practised in their compilation of dictionaries, annals, chronological and
genealogical tables.
Monuments to glory, hisrorical sources
This is not the place to analyse this crisis of historical thinking, which came
to a head at the end of the seventeenth and beginning of the eighteenth
centuries, and which has, moreover, been discussed elsewhere.'
4
Suffice it to
say that these two centuries of research had unearthed a huge body of facts
which could no longer be catered for within the framework of traditional
history, namely the history of kings, consuls and emperors. For instance,
the numismatic academy, which met at the home of the Due d'Aumont, set
out to 'illustrate ... the history of the Romans through ancient inscriptions
and medals and, on that subject, describe the lives of the emperors with
reference to the medals struck during their reigns ... , all this with a view to
forming a corpus of Roman history, or at the very least a more complete
and accurate history of the emperors than the one we have had until
now.'
35
This version of ancient history, centred on the lives of monarchs,
Medals/ Shells= Erudition/ Philosoph)' 129
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, thirry-
seven 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
130 Medals/ Shells= Erudition/ Philosoph)!
therefore meant in a certain manner becoming initiated in the cult of the
monarchy or of the state, and at the same time acquiring the means to study
their history. It would seem that it is this double role pia yed by the medal, a
role particularly noticeable in the case of modern medals, which explains
why those interested in numismatics were recruited both from court circles
and from among scholars and antiquaries.
In short, medals were collected by anyone with a historical leaning,
whether their particular view of hisrory entire! y neglected aesthetic
considerations in favour of evidence of past events, or whether it concen-
trated exclusively on that which was beautiful, thereby giving place to two
further viewpoints, one which saw medals as sources and another which
saw them as monuments to the glory of princes ancient and modern. That
medals were capable of satisfying two such different, if not opposing
interests, was due to the fact that they brought together an image and a text,
the 'Pourtraicture' and the 'Escriture', to borrow the terms used by M. de
Bagarris.'o While the former gave them superiority over inscriptions and
narratives, given that 'quand on a Ia vraie peinture des choses un coup d'ceil
fait plus que tous les commentaires',
41
the latter gave them an advantage
over engraved stones and sculptures because of the 'certitude historique' of
the legends which only medals bore
42
In a word, medals alone possessed
both a 'corps' and an ':lme'
4
3 This privilege could, however, remain as such
only as long as the image was subordinated ro the text, like the body to the
soul, and nowhere is this degree of subordination of art to history better
illustrated than in this discourse of the numismatists. Medals were an object
of curiosity par excellence because, out of all the various ancient and modern
monuments, they were best suited to such a use. It was precisely this
subjection of art to history which was criticized from the 1750s onwards by
the new generation of antiquaries to which Caylus belonged. For him, the
task of an antiquary was to regard ancient monuments solely 'as the
complement to and the proofs of history or else as isolated texts requiring
the longest sort of commentary', and when he presented his own particular
method, he contrasted it with that of the 'man of letters who only studies
monuments in order to discover their links with the accounts left by the
ancients'. Though not neglecting these links 'where they have come to light
quite naturally', Caylus above all wanted ro 'study faithfully the mind and
hand of the artist, to see things through his eyes, follow him in the
execution of his works, in short, consider monuments as the proof and
expression of the taste which prevailed in a particular century in a
particular land'.
44
However, once one begins to examine monuments and
works of art no longer with a view to finding information about a history to
which they are peripheral, but instead in order to discover traces of artistic
activity and signs of the taste dominating a given period or country, the
medal loses its privileged position. In effect, this new approach deprives it
Medals I Shells= Erudition/ Philo sop b); 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.
Antiquarians and dilettantes
The fashion for natural history did not directly replace the vogue for
medals, which had in fact already begun to lose ground before the majority
of the public developed a passion for shells and minerals. It was the vogue
for antiquities which first took up where the one for medals had left off, but
these two fashions were by no means comparable in social terms. The vogue
for antiques was at its strongest in court circles: in 1720-50, out of fifty-two
collections of antiques, seventeen belonged to courtiers, eight to money
dealers, who generally followed the court's example, and seven to scholars
and antiquaries. After 1750 the situation remained virtually unchanged: out
of 112 antique collections, thirty-six belonged to courtiers, twenty-five to
money dealers and eighteen to artists, the remaining groups being of no
particular significance. Moreover, taking into consideration all the collec-
tions extant in 1720-50, only paintings occupied a higher place than
antiques. Only after 1750 were they overtaken by natural history objects,
and it is here that the social dimension played a clear differentiating role
between these two fashions. Natural history collections first appeared in
intellectual circles, and in 1700-20, eleven out of the twenty-three natural
history collections had been formed by scholars, this proportion falling
slightly to fifteen out of forty for the following period. Only after 1750 did
courtiers come to dominate this domain, with forty-six collections out of
175, and even so thirty collections remained in the hands of scholars,
twenty-eight belonged to the bourgeoisie (members of the medical profes-
sion, booksellers, jewellers, etc.), twenty-two to money dealers, eighteen to
members of the clergy (mostly curh from Parisian parishes) and fourteen
to artists. The first thing that strikes one is that antiques were collected
above all by the elites of wealth and prestige, while the fashion for natural
history was spread by the intellectual elite to other social groups. Without
any doubt, this split in tastes was partly triggered by economic factors, as
antiques were generally far more costly than natural history objects. Yet
this explanation is not totally satisfying, as the difference between the two
types of collection corresponds to a contrast in attitudes to art and history
132 Medals/ Shells= Erudition/ Phi!oJOphy
amongst on the one side antiquaries, some of whom were at the same time
art lovers or dilettantes, and philosophers on the other.
CURIEUX, adj. pris subst. Un curiettx, en Peinture, est un homme qui
amasse des dessins, des tableaux, des estampes, des marbres, des bronzes,
des medailles, des vases, etc. Ce gout s'appelle Curiosite. Taus ceux qui
s'en occupent ne sont pas connaisseurs; et c'est ce qui les rend souvent
ridicules, comme le seront toujours ceux qui parlent de ce qu'ils
n'entendent pas. Cependant la curiosite, cette envie de posseder, qui n'a
presque jamais de bornes, derange presque toujours Ia fortune, et c'est en
cela qu'elle est dangereuse ... _'46
A painting enthusiast (curieux) is someone who collects drawings,
paintings, prints, marbles, bronzes, medals, vases, etc. This taste is known
as curiosity (cttriosite). Note everyone who indulges in this is a con-
noisseur; and this is why enthusiasts are so often figures of fun, in
common with all those who talk about things they do not understand.
However, curiosity, this desire for possession, which is almost always
without limits, is almost always deleterious to one's pocket, and it is this
which makes it dangerous.
The Encyclopedie thus condemns 'curiosite' out of hand, for it not only
leads to rash spending, but also turns into figures of fun its adepts and all
those who believe they need only amass sundry objects in order to become
art connoisseurs, when in fact they are nothing of the sort and can never
become so. This indeed is the most important element in this attack
launched against the enthusiasts, placed here in the same category as
dilettantes
47
As it does not enable them to attain the rank of connoisseur
curiosity reveals itself to be merely a desire for possession, and n o t h i n ~
more. As regards connoisseurs, the Encyclopedie could not be more definite:
CONNAISSEUR, s.m. (Litter. Peint. Musiq., etc.) n'est pas la meme
chose qu'un amateur. Exemple. Comzaisseur en fair d'ouvrages de
Peinture, ou autres qui om le dessin pour base, renferme moins !'idee d\m
gout decide pour cet art, qu\m discernement certain pour en juger. L'on
n'est jamais parfait connaisseur en Peinture, sans etre Peinrre; il s'en faut
meme beaucoup que tous les Peintres soient bons connaisseurs .... II n'y
a point d'art qu'on ne puisse substituer dans cet article ala Peinture, que
nous avons prise pour exemple; !'application sera egalement juste.
48
Not the same thing as a dilettante (amateur). For example, a connoisseur of
paintings or drawings is not so much someone with a confirmed taste for
this particular art form as someone with sufficient discernment to be able
to judge it properly. One can never be a perfect connoisseur of painting
Medals I Shells= Erudition/ Philosophy 133
unless one is a painter; though few painters are good connoisseurs. All
that has been said here about painting can equally be said about any other
an form.
By maintaining that one 'could never be a connoisseur of painting if one
was not a painter', the Encyclopedie set itself against all the dilettantes, led
by Caylus, who believed that the powers of discernment necessary for
judging works of art were acquired through the union of an inborn or
'natural' taste, which was a 'gift',
4
9 and the study of artistic theory and
practice. However, study of this kind was only possible if one assiduously
frequented the works themselves. This is where we return full circle ro the
antique collection, which enabled the art lover to educate himself. Of a
collection of plaster casts, Mariette wrote,
It is easy to see that with the aid of a collection such as this, which can be
built up with little expense, and which can be greatly developed, one can
become generally familiar with all that is beautiful. And what result
should we not expect from it? Even though we are born with good sense,
one cannot flatter oneself with being a good connoisseur if one has not, so
to speak, familiarized oneself with the works upon which one is supposed
to pass judgement. It is essential that one should have examined them for
a great length of rime, that one should have compared the beautiful with
the mediocre and the beautiful with the still more perfect, in order to
come to sure and accurate conclusions.lO
If Ca ylus, Mariette and their friends believed it possible for a dilettante-
collector 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 Medals I Shells= Eruditio11j Philosophy
study of ancient history acquired a particular meaning, since it was this
study which led to a fuller comprehension of the various different aspects of
the lives of the anciems and, accordingly of their art. Caylus thus re-
established links with the erudite tradition, though changing this brand of
erudition, which placed art at rhe service of the interpretation of texts, into
a type of archaeology, which subordinated the interpretation of texts ro the
study of art. This formula is, perhaps, a little simplistic, as the ambition of
Ca ylus and his friends was to bring about a sort of balance between
historical interests and artistic preoccupations. Mariette wrote,
Too often, scholars, being little moved by the beauties of art, seek only
erudition in them, while those who contemplate them with artists' eyes
admire the excellence of the workmanship without troubling with that
which might be interesting for the comprehension of the fable and of
history. Pleasure is therefore almost never complete, and yet what
satisfaction and utility would one not gain from such an admirable
curiosity if these two sorts of taste, which should never be sundered, were
brought rogether.ll
In short, the aim was to be both scholar and artistic dilettante.
The respect for age also provided a basis for the claims of the lover of
ancient art to be able to proffer advice and suggestions to artists who were,
for their part, not antiquaries. He could offer them techniques known to the
ancients, but since forgotten, as Caylus did with the encaustic method of
painting,
54
and could also supply them with subjects gleaned from literary
works of antiquity which the artists had no rime to read, having devoted all
their time since their childhood tO the practice of art.S5 Once he had
perfeeted his taste by making copies and drawings and frequenting painters,
the art lover found himself 'able to discuss painting and painters with an
accuracy and feeling based on the knowledge of nature and of its propor-
tions 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
Medals/ Shells= Erudition/ PhiloJOphy 135
bear it out with reasonable arguments. Like that of paintings or drawings,
the gallery of antiquities reveals itself in this light to have been an
instrumem wielded by a certain public in order to gain social domination
over the artists, since it is the gallery which, as we have seen, constituted the
essential, if insufficient, element in the training of an art lover. It is the
gallery which enables Caylus' ideal art lover to become a connoisseur and
prove his good taste. 'It is in the choice of works that a dilettante makes his
powers of discernment known, and shows whether or not he possesses good
taste. His gallery is, so to speak, a court where he is judged without mercy:
each object he has admitted into it constitutes a witness testifying either for
or against him.' 58
Philosophers versus dilettantes
The theory of art espoused by Caylus and his circle was violently opposed
by Diderot and Grimm. For their part, they emphasized not the cognitive
and technical aspects of art but its inspiration and enthusiasm, Tim pulsion
divine, mais aveugle',59 'le demon qui travaille au dedans'.
60
Genius here
seems to have been completely dissociated from study, placed on the side of
sensibility, a kind of natural force telling the artist what he should do but
giving no reason for it. Grimm and Diderot also denied that age should be
accorded any special status whatsoever or that the ancients should be given
an exemplary role solely because they were the forerunners. This comes out
in the criticism of the study of ancient hisrory which Grimm pretended to
express in the form of a recognition of their decline: 'Poking fun at scholars
is a waste of time; there are no longer any in France, and exchanging
quotations has become decidedly unfashionable.'
61
Grimm repeated this
several times; he even feigned a lament over the discredit into which
learning had fallen: 'Our men of letters are nothing but pamphleteers
now.' 62 This was, however, less a description of an actual situation than an
appreciation dictated by his negative attitude towards historical study when
not undertaken by philosophers. In effect, we know that learning was not as
non-existent as Grimm liked to say; his contemporaries were aware of this
too, and in a letter Barthelemy put forward a series of arguments designed
to refute the view that men of letters in France were only concerned with
trifles.63 It was in Diderot's aesthetic that the rejection of all special status
accorded to age was most explicit, since according to irs terms ancient art
owed its exemplary status to the fact that it was based on 'knowledge, study
and a taste for nature'
64
Given that the ancients knew how to produce
beautiful forms despite not having any antiques at their disposal, Diderot
did not believe that the criterion enabling one to distinguish a beautiful
form from one which was not was conformity with ancient art. This meant
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.
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 philo-
sophical 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 t h ~
philosopher with the task of apprising artists of their true worrh,68 and the
philosopher's elogy differed from the connoisseur's judgement, for while
connoisseurs made their judgements from the outside, making comparisons
with pre-existing examples, philosophers sought their answers from within
the artist and sought to disentangle his confused emotions. This was
because while the connoisseur attributed the most importance to the artist's
studies of monuments of antiquity, that is to histOrical reference, the
philosopher saw the artist as someone who, with the aid of genius, did
nothing more than obey 'nature's abiding laws and the observations of
physics'.
69
Diderot and Grimm both came to reject the dilettantes' claims to be able
to advise and judge artists because of the importance they attached to
inspiration and to nature. 'Pigalle was asked the other day ... how one
could become an expert on sculpture. He replied: "Everyone, with the
exception of the dilettantes, is an expert on it"; an excellenc witticism,
which ought to be inscribed in words of gold on the walls of our academies
and theatres.' And Grimm went one step further by castigating 'a nation of
sham connoisseurs, which now only looks at a work in order to pass
judgement on it. It will no longer allow itself to be moved. It sets reasoned
arguments and rules against genius ... .'
70
As for Diderot, it was in the
Salon de 1767 that he developed his views on the relations between art on
the one hand and antiquity and nature on the other, and included the most
damning indictment of dilettantes which has ever been made:
Ah, my friend, what accursed race is that of the dilettante .... It is
beginning to die out here, where it flourished far roo long and brought
about far too much harm. It is this race which decides the fate of men's
reputations in an utterly irresponsible fashion; ... which possesses
galleries at practically no cost to itself; which has ideas, or rather
pretensions which cost it nothing; which places itself between the
wealthy classes and the indigent artist ... ; which has secretly con-
demned 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 Medals I Shells= Erudition/ Philosophy
natural history collections, far from it. Diderot actually devoted an
extremely laudatory article to them in the Encyclopedie, showing that when
the enthusiast and the dilettante began ro form this sort of collection they
changed back into respectable individuals as far as he was concernedn This
was even more explicit in the article entitled 'Histoire Naturelle', where
collectors were placed on the same footing as scholars.
Some of their number observe nature's creations and reflect on their
observations: their aim is ro perfect science and discover truth; others
collect these very same creations and admire them; their aim is to display
all these marvels so that they can be admired. They make perhaps just as
large a contribution to the advancement of Nat!tral History as the former,
as they facilitate observation by bringing together nature's creations in
these same cabinets which grow daily in number ....
71
While the antiques enthusiast was suspected, if not downright accused, of
attempting to use his collection as a means of foisting himself onto artists in
the capacity of connoisseur, the owner of a natural history collection was
seen as providing scholars with a useful aid, by placing before their eyes 'un
abrege de la nature entiere'
74
This is why even the considerable expendi-
ture, much reprimanded in the case of the former, was praised in the case of
the latter, as being proof of his desire to improve himself. 'The high
number of Natural History collections is absolute proof of the public's taste
for this science; they can only be formed by dint of arduous searches and
great expense, for the price of natural curios has now been pushed sharply
upwards. The spending of time and money in this way implies a desire to
improve oneself in the domain of Natural History, or at the very least
demonstrates a taste for this science, a taste which is perpetuated by
example and emulation.'
7
5
It would seem that this 'desire to improve oneself or to demonstrate
one's taste for natural history was essentially laudable, though curiosity
itself was condemned, because it was not thought to have given amateurs
the upper hand over scholars. Not one single article on natural history even
envisaged the possibility of natural history pieces being used in their turn to
justify their owners' pretensions to the role of connoisseur, this time in the
domain of the sciences. The complete absence of any mention of the 'desire
to acquire' confirms our belief that it referred not ro the simple possession
of things but rather to possession of social superiority. It is therefore as if
knowledge of and admiration for nature were incapable of generating those
social hierarchies which seemed to be such an integral part of a world
dominated by one particular view of history whereby the high aesthetic
value placed on the art of the ancients was entirely due to its great age.
5
Dealers, Connoisseurs and
Enthusiasts in Eighteenth-century
Paris
The eighteenth century saw great changes in the literary genre consisting of
catalogues written for sales of art or curios:
1
ro realize this, one only needs
to look at the modifications which took place between 1730 and the
revolutionary period in the way that paintings put up for sale were
described.
The sale catalogue: order is brought to bear
In the first half of the century, notes tO paintings formed one continuous
text in the catalogues; even the numbering was left out on occasion, and no
order whatsoever was followed, be it alphabetical, geographical or chrono-
logical. This was true even in the case of Gersaint's catalogues, despite the
fact that his contemporaries, and later on historians, held them up as quite
exemplary. The numbering of the paintings was the sole refinement, and
yet for a long time a suitable framework for classifying paintings had been
in existence, this being the one used to classify painters, and Gersaint was
fully aware of this fact. In 1744, in the first of his catalogues to include
paintings, he talked to his readers of four schools of paintings: the Italian,
subdivided into several local schools; the Flemish; the German; and the
French. 2 These categories were used to classify the drawings and prints
3
but
not, however, the paintings. The first to remedy this was Mariette in 1751,
4
although it was a number of years before all the major catalogues adopted
this system. The term 'trois ecoles' was already a set expression in the latter
half of the century, included in catalogue titles, without it necessarily
matching the classifications used in them, for if the need arose they would
140 Dealers, Connoisseurs and Enthusiasts
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
Dealers, Connoisseurs and Enthusiasts 141
descriptions.
10
The 17 42 Carignan catalogue was broad! y similar,
11
and it
was due to Mariette and Gersaint that notes later gained in precision.
Picture size without surround became a compulsory feature, along with the
type of medium used. Names were no longer spelt in a totally haphazard
way, so that by 1752 only anonymous catalogues spoke of 'Adam et Zemer'
instead of Adam Elsheimer and put 'Scalque' for Schalcken(?) and 'Venix'
for Weenix.
12
A comparison of two descriptions of the same canvas, but
written at an interval of thirty-six years gives a clear measure of the amount
of progress achieved during this time.
1732:
A picture six and a half feet high and five feet wide, including the gilded
border, painted on canvas and showing a Philosopher holding a sheet of
paper. Painted by Feti.ll
1768:
Domenico Feti
A three-quarter length, full-size painting of a seated man without a hat;
his hair is short, and he has a moustache and a neat pointed beard; a wide
white collar hides the top of his outfit. Three small figures can be seen,
apparently listening some distance away. The background is composed of
a pedestal, a portico, and various other edifices, above which a little sky
can be glimpsed. It is painted on canvas, measuring five feet five inches
high and four feet wide. It comes from the late M. de Ia Chataigneraye's
gallery, and is described in his catalogue in article 2, page 12, bearing the
title, a Philosopher holding a sheet of paper
14
Although the difference was by no means always as obvious as this, the
trend towards more accurate and more detailed descriptions was a very real
one: the longer the description the greater the status of the painting, and a
picture accompanied by a short note mentioning only its subject was
obviously a picture of little importance. Apart from being classified, works
were therefore also placed in a hierarchy according tO their aesthetic value,
their position, especially in the case of a masterpiece, being justified not
only by the length of the description but also by its contents.
Another superb picture, painted by Rubens, depicting an Adoration of the
Magi. It is five feet and four inches high and seven feet and ten inches
wide. The surround, which does full justice to the merit of the picture, is
twelve inches wide.
This picture is one of those works which it is difficult to describe
adequately, and where we often lack the terms we need to express fully all
its beauty. A simple glance would be far more eloquent and expressive
than even the most studied discourse. I will thus confine myself to saying
that it should be counted amongst the masterpieces where this great
painter deployed all his huge genius in the sumpmousness of the layout,
the expression of the different figures, the sharpness of the contours and
variety of the faces and the exquisite taste of the drapes .... This work
has been perfectly preserved, and has a wonderful finish. It deserves a
place in a collection of the greatest repute, if not in one of the renowned
galleries of the highest powers in the land ....
1
'
This example is just one of many which reveal that for Gersaint the
aesthetic commentary on a painting was more important than the actual
description. This was in general not the case for later writers, who always
devoted more space to the purely descriptive part than to any eventual
commentary.
Peter Paul Rubens
A Holy Family: the Virgin is seated in profile, and in her arms holds her
son, who caresses her, and whom she contemplates with kindness. In
front of the Virgin is StJohn, his eyes fixed on the Infant Jesus; next to
her is St Joseph, who feeds a sheep. Behind the Virgin is St Elizabeth, her
gaze fixed on the two children; she is standing up, leaning against a
wicker crib containing swaddling clothes and blankets.
There is no gallery which would not be embellished by this work. It has
been drawn with great delicacy, the heads are most graceful and true to
life, and the colour is frank and transparent.
16
A further difference, and perhaps the most important one, between the
catalogues of the first and of the second halves of the century can be
perceived in every one of the descriptions cited above. In the earlier
examples, the descriptions always begin with a designation or with a short
description of the subject, the artist's name, if this is known, appearing
further down, usually in italics. In later examples, the description is
preceded by the painter's forename and surname, written in large letters
and separated from the main body of the text by a blank space, which helps
them to stand out in, so to speak, an eye-catching way. This new layout
made for added clarity and readability, but it was not simply the style of
presentation which changed. In effect, the older style of catalogue had only
given the subject of the painting as an attested fact, while the fact that the
work was listed alongside copies, anonymous paintings and those with only
doubtful or uncertain attributions had meant that a doubt was implicitly cast
on the artist's name. Accordingly, the emphasis had been placed on all
which could be directly apprehended visually, namely, the subject of the
work and eventually its particular beauty, while the question of its origins,
which belonged to a past and invisible world, was tacitly left to conjecture.
This was far from the case in catalogues written subsequent to the Taiiard
sale. The prominent position of the artist's name implied that the
attribution problem had been solved once and for all, and every painting
assigned to a specific school, and placed in chronological order within it, was
assumed to be of a painter known 'de fas;on moralemem certaine', as it was
put at the time, in other words, with little or no room for doubt. If there was
any question over the attribution, and if the attribution only went as far as
to name the school, it was discussed at the end of the paragraph, and no
name was given, and if a painting had a status which was not only different
but inferior, this was betrayed by the location and actual form of irs
description. This was even more obvious in the case of copies and
anonymous, even dubious works, as their descriptions were placed under a
special heading, or else were allotted the last numbers in the catalogue,
which often corresponded not to one picture but to several lots at a time, or
even to a whole group: 'Divers tableaux de differences grandeurs qui seront
divises en plusieurs lots' (a handwritten note informs us that there were
thirty-six) or 'trente tableaux de differents ma!tres des trois ecoles'
17
- yet
another way of showing that these are inferior works denied all rights to
individuality. Just as the juxtaposition of originals and copies, of anonymous
works and those by identifiable artists, of problematic and straightforward
works, seemed to bear witness to a certain lack of concern for attribution, so
the various practices adopted after 1757 seemed to assert that the attitude to
be taken towards a specific painting could only be determined once the
question of its authorship had been tackled. The answer to this question was
taken to be the gospel truth, with only a few specific reservations, which
will be discussed later on, and it was immediately thrust upon the reader
with the understanding that if the element of doubt had gone beyond the
bounds of acceptability, the description of the work would have been placed
elsewhere.
The dealer: the connoisseurs' spokesman
The internal Ia yout of the catalogue, along with the particular location of
the description itself, therefore delineated the areas of certainty and doubt,
but we still need to discover the identity of those who were responsible for
establishing the dividing line between these two areas, and of those who
took it upon themselves to assert that a painting was the work of a
particular artist. In general, the catalogues dating from the first part of the
century gave no clues to their identity, as those who attributed paintings to
artists remained anonymous. Although we know that the authors of
catalogues sometimes passed aesthetic judgements on pictures, this does not
mean that they were the ones who made the attributions. The descriptions
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.
1
S
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,
1
9 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
Deafen, ConnoiSJeur.r and Enthusiasts 145
we delude ourselves if we believe we can do so and thus acquire the title of
connoisseur, denying it to anyone who does not share our opinion, and
seeking co pass rapid, definitive judgement on everything we see, especially
in such uncertain cases.n However, morality is not the issue here, for if
Gersaint is unwilling to come down on one side or the other in the
connoisseurs' dispute over the so-called Correggio or indeed over any
canvas giving rise to a difference of opinion/
4
it is because he has very
definite ideas as to the relationship between a dealer in curios and his
public. The passage where he explains himself deserves to be quoted in full
because of its great import.
In this catalogue of Callot's works, I have not only included the attested
works of this master which have been recognized as such by the
connoisseurs, but also those which seemed both to me and to many others
to be of uncertain origin. There are even a few (despite being forgeries),
which have made their fortune thanks to the Curieux, and which have
imperceptibly acquired the right to be included amongst the works of this
master. As we know, it is very difficult to disabuse an amateur who has
amassed the ceuvre of an artist according to the ideas he has formed from
certain pieces. Lest a fine example of the master, whose ceuvre he is
collecting, escape him, he prefers to include a dozen works of uncertain
origin rather than risk missing a genuine one; and he would consider it to
be tantamount to a theft if one advised him to spurn these pieces, when
they have been recognized by several other Curie:tx or been seen by him
in one or two of their collections. This would only put him in a bad mood
and start a quarrel; this is why I have not wished to come to any finn
decision over these pieces and not sought to claim for myself the title of
sovereign judge deaf to all appeals in this art and I have made it a rule to
include in this catalogue several highly reputed works
25
In Gersaint's eyes, it is therefore obvious that dealers and catalogue
writers are in no way obliged to state which painter has produced which
work, but need only reiterate the connoisseurs' opinions on the subject, and
where these are divided, to give both sides their say. Even when they are
perfectly aware that an artist's name is being attached to works not by him,
they must conform to this practice, for the ceuvre of a painter do not
become a watertight entity after his death: certain pieces can acquire the
right to be included, even if they have sprung from the brush of another.
Although Gersaint does not go into the logic of this right, it seems
reasonable to suppose that it consists for him of a particular 'esprit' shared
by all the works taken to belong to the same cettvre. He apparently shares
the view of de Piles: 'Un habile homme peut facilement communiquer la
146 Dealers, Con1ZoiJSeurs mzd Entbttsiaxt.r
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 con-
noisseurs 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 connois-
seur's ability in matters of 'esprit'.
4 It is precisely because the actual hand of the artist is subordinated to the
'esprit' that the identity of the particular artist concerned seems to be of
secondary importance, if not altogether superfluous to requirements. As 'it
is not the name which gives a painting its merit but rather a painting which
establishes the reputation of the masrer,'
28
it is vital to learn how to judge
the 'vrai merite' and the beauty of a work. 'A true art lover or, more
accurately, a true connoisseur, takes less notice of the name of the painter
than of the rarity and beauty of his works. Providing a master, whoever he
may be, has proved his worth in the genre he has adopted, there is no
reason why that connoisseur should not wish to acquire a few of his
pictures.'
29
As he gives as his example the 'true connoisseur', Gersaint
remains faithful to his stated position of simply being the collectors'
mouthpiece, even though he knows that in so doing he is going against the
views of the majority, who feel that the process of attribution cannot be
subordinated to an assessment which, for want of a better word, we will
term aesthetic. On the subject of a particular painting, he remarked, 'I feel
that one ought to be concerned above all with the thing itself and with the
true merit of its execution, rather than with the name of him who has
created it. I will never tire of repeating this nor of trying to convince the
Curiellx of it, in spite of my experiences which make me think that I will
probably never succeed in persuading them of the truth of what I say.'
10
The attribution of a painting to a particular artist therefore consisted, as
Deafen, ConnoiJSettr.r and Entbu.riasts 147
far as Gersaint was concerned, in carrying out a technically difficult
operation, the result of which could by no means always be assured. It also
consisted, especially when this placed a question mark over an attribution
already accepted by connoisseurs, in questioning the superiority of these
same connoisseurs, in stirring up quarrels, in short, in behaving in a socially
undesirable way. On top of all this, this was essentially a futile exercise, as
beauty, and beauty alone, was what really counted in a work of art. We can
now understand more fully the nature of Gersaint's catalogues as described
earlier on. If he refrained from classifying paintings according to their
schools and dates, if he juxtaposed works whose authors have been
identified with reasonable certainty with anonymous, disputed works and
copies, it was because he believed that the only justifiable hierarchy had ro
be based on the beauty of each work. And this hierarchy was reflected in the
length of the descriptions, and above all by the aesthetic commentaries. It is
quite reasonable to assume that Gersaint's views were shared by the ' v ~ a i s
connaisseurs' of his generation as well as by fellow dealers from the first
half of the century, even if the majority of the latter would have been
incapable of formulating them; in fact members of both groups borrowed
them, as Gersaint himself did in all probability, from de Piles or Dubos
51
Only if we accept that they all attached the utmost importance to a picture's
beauty and saw its attribution as a secondary consideration can we gain a
proper understanding of the types of catalogue which satisfied them. Given
rhat this beauty was in the eye of the beholder, if the author of the catalogue
managed to give an idea of ir, so much the better, even if it was by necessity
only a vague one. If he did not, this did not particularly matter, as those
going to see the painting would be able to judge for themselves. This
explains why the catalogue could, if need be, be limited to a series of very
brief descriptions, as these were only required tO list the paintings due to be
on display at the auction. Despite appearances, Gersaint's catalogues, which
we read with such pleasure, along with those of his colleagues, which are
often little more than monotOnous, if not uneducated inventories, all share
the same way of thinking, their differences stemming from the degrees of
talent of their authors.
The dealer: an expert on attribution
The first signs of a break with Gersaint's attitude appeared in the catalogues
Mariette devoted to paintings, starting with the one he compiled for the
Tugny and Crozat collections.'
1
This was no real accident of fate, since
Mariette was not only a dealer but also a recognized connoisseur, and was
thus particular! y well placed for introducing innovations into catalogue
writing. He ir was who began to classify works according to their schools.
148 Dealers, Comzoisseun and Enthusiasts
He it was who began to justify attributions in certain cases: 'Les bergers
accourans dans I'etable de Betlehem et y adorant !'Enfant Jesus. Tableau qui
a appartenu a Charles I, Roi d'Angleterre, et qui est peint par le Titien. II y
en a une Estampe gravee du temps meme de I'Auteur.''
1
As Charles I had
been a legendary collector, the mention of the picture's provenance was in
this case intended to prove its attribution to Titian, the same role being
performed by the mention of the engraving. Other arguments were also
used. When discussing a work by Veronese, Mariette noted that This is
mentioned in Ridolfi's Life of Veronese, Part I, p. 324.''
4
Elsewhere, he
referred to the signature, which led him to attribute another painting to
Frans Wouters, 'Peintre Flamand de !'ecole de Rubens, qui s'y est designe
par les premieres lettres de son nom F. W.'" A further type of argument
was employed in the Catalogue Coypel: 'Une tete d'Ap6tre, grande comme
nature, qu'on ne peut donner qu'au Mole, tam la touche en est ferme et
moelleuse.'
36
Remarks of this sort are not particularly common in Mar-
iette's catalogues, but they nevertheless point to a new attitude where it is
no longer enough simply to record the opinions of the connoisseurs: these
must now be justified wherever possible.
Still an exception with Mariette, this became a guiding principle for
Remy in his 1755 Catalogue PasquieT. The foreword is entirely given over
to the problem concerning us here, and for the first time we see a dealer
shouldering the responsibility for the attributions he gives and detailing the
criteria he uses.
As it is most probable that the lack of any detailed scrutiny of the pictures
dealt with by most of the catalogues presented to the public up to this
present rime has led to copies being given the precious title of originals,
originals from which in fact they were taken, it would be advisable to take
a closer look at them: this would avoid the praises being sung of works
carelessly attributed tO the gre<lt masters, whose names are too often
taken in vain.
This not only involves looking at the composition and recalling prints
which depict them, but also, and most importantly, making a close study,
as soon as we believe a picture to be the work of a well-known master, in
order to ascertain whether it is his manner, his colouring, his touch and
his delicate brushwork ['finesse de pinceau'], for it is this which
constitutes the sure and certain guide to the discovery of genuine
originals. If, on the other hand, only the organization is taken into
account, this telling us at first glance the name of the author to whom the
picture can be attributed, and if little attention is paid to the work in its
entirety, where the touch, often bereft of all artistry, combined with a dry
and arid colour, covered with oil or bitumen, and sometimes applied with
the aim of deceiving, is its one and only merit, mistakes will be made on
every occasion, and judgements will become uncertain. We would like to
think that each painting here has been given the name of the artist who
has executed it. When there is no doubt about it whatsoever as to the true
identity of their masters they are described as being painted by ....
However, when it comes to works over which opinion is divided, these
are described in such a way as to indicate that the decision is left in the
hands of those who will be present at the sale. Wherever possible, the
collections to which they belonged, the catalogues which have mentioned
them and the prints which have been engraved of them have been listed:
so that foreigners may recall pictures they may have seen on their travels
in France or in the form of printsY
Here, then, Remy begins with a criticism, albeit muted, of his predeces-
sors, 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.
Guido Reni, known as Le Guide
185. Lucretia: Half-length figure. This worthy painting is attributed toLe
Guide; it is painted on canvas, and is thirty-four inches high and twenty-
seven wide: it is octagonal in shape.
The footnote explains:
Wherever I use the word attribue, or its equivalent, my intention is not to
state with certainty whether a picture is a copy, or even whether it is not
an original of the master to whom its owner, others or myself attribute it;
but only to show that opinion is divided, and that given this uncertainty, I
prefer to leave it to the dilettantes to be the judges of such a dispute, to
which my decision would not, in any case, put an end.
40
This explanation is a highly revealing one. If Remy asserts that he is
unwilling to take decisions in uncertain cases, it is because this would serve
no purpose. For all that, while claiming to leave the role of judge tO art
lovers, he actually assumes it on the quiet, by the simple technique of
placing the disputed work, such as the Lucretia, in the category devoted to a
particular school (the school of Bologna) and of preceding its description
with the name of a painter (Guido Reni). The way both this description and
other similar ones were constructed implies that Remy knew what he
should confine himself to and was simply sparing the feelings of those
holding views different to his own, for if he had not been convinced that the
painting in question was by Guido Reni, he would have placed it under
another name, or even relegated it tO the category of 'c10uvres des differents
maitres'. In other words, despite the precautionary phrases he utters, he is
in fact behind the attributions noted in the catalogue. Later on he fully
accepts responsibility: 'Je ne crains pas avancer encore que tousles Tableaux
annonces dans ce Catalogue SOnt veritablement des Maltres qui leur sont
donnes, a !'exception d'un des deux du n 15, venant du Cabinet de M. de
Julienne, et designe dans l'etar de ce Cabinet fait de son vivant pour etre de
Breughel d'Enfer, et qui est de Stalbens.'
41
Similarly, le Brun declares: 'Our
intention in placing a discourse at the beginning of this catalogue is to
inform the art lover that when he sees a picture under the name of a
particular master, he can select it with confidence,'
42
this type of formula
becoming fairly common in the latter half of the century. In other words,
art lovers are henceforth requested ro accept the judgement of the catalogue
author, who assumes, as if he had a right to it, the 'titre fastueux de
connaisseur'.
The war of attributions
Attributions are never made with impunity. While discussing the trade in
curios, Gersaint had already complained of the 'base jealousy of this
profession, particularly prevalent in this type of trade, which in any case is
by no manner of means agreeable or amusing',
43
but the case where he .was
able to deal with this subject at greater length shows that, at that tHne,
dealers sought to eliminate their rivals by casting aspersions on their ability
ro judge the 'merites reels' of a painting. The nature of these accusations
changed in the second half of the century, being centred instead on the
rival's inability to make correct attributions, or on his subservience to the
owner and his heirs. As long as catalogue authors were not obliged to
assume responsibility for the attributions they gave these constituted only
minor misdemeanors, as demonstrated by the note written by Helle on his
copy of the Catalogtte Coypel.
This catalogue is the work of M. Mariette.
In this sale, there were no genuine drawings by Raphael except for the
two reserved by the King, which depict Our Saviour presenting his keys
to St Peter and St Paul preaching at the door of the temple. M. Mariette
was asked why he had said in his catalogue that certain drawings were by
Raphael. He replied that as M. Coypel was one of his friends, he had not
wished to destroy objects which he had undertaken to describe in order to
highlight their qualities, especially since they had always been taken to be
Raphael originals, and that not wanting to harm his estate, he had left the
good reputation they had enjoyed for so long untouched!
l refuse to pass judgement on the favours M. Mariette has done for M.
Coypel. Art lovers will make the comments they feel his actions deserve,
though will have to recognize the special zeal M. Mariette has shown
towards his friend.H
Helle does not seem to have been entirely convinced by the reasons put
forward by Mariette, but he does not reject them and even seems to
acknowledge their validity in the final sentence. Seen in the context of the
period, Mariette's arguments actually appear quite coherent, even if he had
declared in the foreword his intention to: 'fixer le plus sincerement qu'il ...
a ere possible le nom de !'auteur' of each article.
41
Yet the drawings in
question had 'toujours passe pour les originaux de Raphael' and Mariette
was in no way obliged to contest this attribution, casting doubt on the
unanimous verdict of the connoisseurs, as well as diminishing his friend's
estate. One senses here that Helle was unsure of what attitude to take. His
indulgence tOwards Mariette seems, at least in part, to have arisen from the
high esteem in which this latter was held in dilettante circles, but it may
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.
4
6
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.
4
9
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, 5
2
but now he was dead, and times had
changed, so that the only solution for buyers in the second half of the
century was to employ their own experts, even if this still did not mean that
they could absolutely rely on their advice.
The connoisseur: judge of beauty and expert on attributions
The collection belonging to Baron Crozat de Thiers was very well known. A
catalogue had been drawn up for the use of visitOrs, where only twelve of
the 379 paintings had shaky attributions.
5
' Even so, when Diderot
negotiated their purchase on behalf of Catherine II, he took tremendous
precautions.
This, Sir, is the exact situation. I have viewed the Thiers pictures. I have
had them examined by a mao whose profession it has been for the past
forty years to assess pictures. He is both artist and dealer, and has the
reputation of being an honest mao. He has catalogued and made separate
valuations for each one. The heirs appointed their own expert, who did
the same for them. Their man is called Remi; mine is called Menageor. I
now have the opinions of both Menageot and Remi. I have suspended all
offers, as I have always hoped you would bring M. Troochin to Paris; that
he would visit the gallery, where I can bring anyone I choose; that he
would go there purely and simply as an art lover and connoisseur; that he
would manifest no interest in either the heirs nor the purchasers; that he
would make an assessment which we could then compare with the one
already in my possession; that after this comparison he would be so good
as to direct my offers, and that, these negotiations over, he would see to
the packing and dispatching.s
1
This is just what happened. Fran\=ois Tronchin went to Paris, examined
the Thiers pictures and drew up an estimate, of which he made the
following comment.
If I have allowed myself to comment on each picture, it is because I do not
fear to tell the truth to the august sovereign who is such a lover of truth;
and because, with such a varied assortment of works, one must nor allow
the suspicion to grow that the wrongly identified, altered or shoddily
painted pictures have passed unnoticed, and that they have been taken for
good ones and paid for as such. I prefer to be known as a severe critic than
as roo indulgent an examiner. M. Diderot claims I have compiled a
catalogue for you which sets everything to fire and the sword: it pleases
me ro paint as black a picture as possible; ro describe 158 works as
worthless, and yet find at the end of the day that Her Imperial Majesty
has paid 460,000 pounds for a collection worth approximately 527,000
according to my calculations .... '
1
Given the huge sums of money involved, Diderot's elaborate precautions
were in noway surprising. Indeed he had ample reason for having suspicions,
and Tronchin's catalogue shows exactly that they were indeed well founded,
describing as it did, roughly 42 per cent of the works from the Thiers
collection as completely valueless. Let us remark in passing that this
extremely high proportion of disputed works in a collection which was
nevertheless regarded as one of the most eminent in Paris, gives some idea of
the number of dubious works to be found in the galleries owned by
enthusiasts and the dealers' boutiques, works, that is, which were considered
dubious by that century's standards, the only ones which interest us for the
present.
Advisers were always called upon when major transactions took place, as
had been the case a century earlier. These events, however, were few and far
between, taking place only when royalty or other great figures acquired
entire collections. As for dilettantes of more modest ambitions, in the first
half of the century they could safely rely on their own wits, as although they
risked both money and prestige, they were above all required to know how
to 'decouvrir ce qui est bon et ce qui est mauvais dans un meme Tableau'.'
6
This power of discernment, considered to be a most difficult quality to
acquire, since it 'suppose de Ia penetration et de Ia finesse d'Esprit, avec une
intelligence des Principes de Ia Peinture', was all they required in order to
gain the reputation of being a connoisseur. In other words, a connoisseur
was simply anyone who was not only sensitive to the effect of a fine picture,
but also able to base his judgements on reason, showing that they flowed
from an 'intelligence des Principes de Ia Peinture'
57
This concept of the
connoisseur, based on 'theorie' and on the ability ro talk cogently about
paintings, was not on! y to be found in de Piles but also Ia y just below t l ~ e
surface of the works of Gersaint and Mariette. Caylus, too, expounded th1s
same idea in his writings: 'You can see clearly that with regard to taste for
antiquity, I am absolutely not talking about those driven by prejudice who
pretend to treasure it without knowing it, in order to acquire a
deep and scholarly air. Rather, I am concerned with those who are capable
of explaining the reasons for their admiration and of weighing up the
beauties and imperfections of all works created by man.'5
8
In a differem
passage, he also defined a dilettante as someone 'trained, that is, able to
discuss painting and painters with a soundness and feeling based on the
knowledge of nature and its proportions compared to the elegant measures
left to us by the Greeks in their fine statues'.'
9
Although there were
differences in other domains between de Piles and Caylus, the conditions
they required potential connoisseurs to satisfy were very similar. Both
demanded that they should be able to discuss art, whether ancient or
modern, and capable both of expressing their feelings at seeing the works of
art, and of providing reasonable explanations for these.
As long as paintings continued to be bought for their beauty, with
relatively little regard for the identity of their artists, connoisseurs of this
ilk were entirely capable of deciding for themselves which ones they should
buy. Their relationship with the dealers was one of social superiority and of
greater knowledge, not necessarily of painting itself, but certainly of the
language required to discuss it. However, as soon as people began to 'buy
names instead of works',
60
even someone as competent as Diderot was
shown to be incapable of verifying dealers' estimates, even though he was
considerably better equipped for appreciating the merits of pictures and
discussing them, and this is why he was forced to turn to Tronchin. Despite
being a dilettante, Tronchin was practically a specialist in the art market: he
corresponded with several dealers and collectors, took a keen interest in
sales, visited a large number of galleries and, at the point where he enters
this srory, had just sold his first collection to Catherine II and was busy
building up his second.
61
To sum up, he was versed not only in the 'theorie'
but also in the 'pratique', and a very special 'pratique' at that. Popular
opinion had it that in order to acquire the 'pratique' needed to attribute
paintings to artists it was first necessary to 'have viewed assiduously a great
quantity of paimings from every school and all the principal masters
belonging to them'.
62
Galleries therefore had to be visited, along with sales,
whose role in the education of collectors was signalled from the mid-century
onwards.
6
l Henceforth, it was necessary to follow the example of Aved
who, according to Remy, 'was one of the most perfect connoisseurs in
Europe. He had seen a prodigious number of paintings by every master. He
had studied their touch and manner with scrupulous attention; and his
memory was such that once he had seen something, he never forgot it.'
61
When one looks at a painting with a view to establishing its author, one
does not look in the way one would if one was merely seeking to make a
judgement which 'weighs up its beauties and imperfections'. One's gaze
switches from the canvas to the painter, or more accurately to the
workmanship behind the end result, to the 'touch and the manner'. Its
156
Dealers, Connoi.rseurs and Enthusiasts
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 1744.6
6
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.
The dealers and the collectors
With this shift in priorities, it was the dealers, thanks to their skill in
attribution, who seemed to occupy the dominant position, even if their
language did still derive from the one the enthusiasts used, and it was they
who assumed the title of connoisseur or expert. This reversal in fortunes
was nowhere better exemplified than in the new way of designating the role
of the dealer in the building of a collection. While writing about Godefroy,
Gersaint pointed out in passing that he was provided with a pension by the
Prince of Carignan, the Comtesse de Verue and U:riget de La Faye to see to
the upkeep of their galleries which, at that time, were the three largest
ones.69 Twenty years later, in his foreword to the Catalogue Gaignat, Remy
was not afraid to write the following:
The paintings and bronzes which are to be found in this very curieux
gallery ... do infinite honour to the memory of M. Gaignat; may we be
Dealers, Connoisseurs and Enthusiasts
157
permitted to add that they also do so to that of the late M. Collins,
painrer, in whom he had placed his confidence; he could not have chosen
a better connoisseur. The low jealous talk to which one is exposed in the
trade in painrings more than in any other today had no influence on the
mind of M. Gaignat. Had he listened to other men, he would perhaps
into traps which would have prevented him from following
his .mclmanon, or which would have caused him to regret having done so,
wh1ch is what has happened to more than one art lover ... 70
Aain, the preface to the Randon de Boisset catalogue, written by one of his
fnends, contains these lines which, thirry years earlier would have been
unthinkable.
He [Randon de Boisset] consulted M. Remy over all his acquisitions. It is
M. Boucher who had introduced him to M. Remy. Given his ardent wish
to create a distinguished gallery, he could not have found anyone better
known for his integrity in whom to place his confidence: the collections
he has formed, the trust of the art lovers who both like and esteem him
their haste in consulting him, all these elements cause him to be placed
the rank of the foremost connoisseurs of painting.n
One should not disregard this type of declaration imp! ying that it is the
choice of a dealer as personal adviser which gives the most merit to
collectors, despite their obvious goal of self-advertisement, for it is this very
use of publicity, which was nor unsuccessful in the world of collectors, which
most clearly encapsulates the new type of relationship between collectors
and dealers, a relationship marked by a certain dependence of the former on
the latter. It would seem that, increasingly, a true connoisseur of painting
had to be a professional of one kind or another. On this point, Caylus held
decidedly unfashionable views, and the more generally held opinion in the
latter half of the century was far better expressed in the EncylopMie article
entitled 'Connoisseur' (quoted above, p. 132) which stated 'One can never be
a perfect connoisseur of painting unless one is a painter; though few
painters are good connoisseurs. All that has been said here about painting
can equally be said about any other art form.'
72
Relations between enthusiasts and dealers have never run smoothly, and
among the latter were a certain number who were in fact aware of the
of interests between the two groups. Gersaim, for instance, put
enthusiasts on their guard 'against the true nature of the advice given by a
dealer regarding objects he is trying to sell'
73
Tension and distrust only
really emerged, however, in this new situation we have attempted to
portray, in the last quarter of the century. It should be added that they were
exacerbated by rivalry between individual dealers, who accused each other
of the most dire misdeeds: 'Dealers seek to uphold the reputation of those
of their precursors who have fobbed art lovers off with bad pictures at
exorbitant prices. They meet up in order tO increase the worth of these very
same pictures by pushing up their prices at auctions; catalogues compiled by
the dealers' accomplices are only written to deceive buyers.'
74
This
particular note was written by a dealer, who had been the victim of this
rivalry, on his copy of a catalogue, but it is a fact that opinions similar to
this were frequently expressed.7
5
This explains why le Brun felt it necessary
to devote a lengthy discourse to the defence and enhancement of the trade
in pictures which
shut away, so as tO say, in the obscurity of the schools which had produced
them, would never have been brought to light, had it not been for the
energetic searches carried out by men incited by their taste and know-
ledge 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
Dealers, Connoisseur.r and Enthusiasts
159
second place behind the process of attribution in the list of priorities. In
other words, the hierarchy of the questions posed to each work was
completely overturned: in the second half of the century it was looked at
and described in a very different way from what it had been in the first, and
it was this which was reflected in the new layout of the catalogue. At the
same time, the conditions which every aspiring connoisseur had to meet in
order to gain recognition from collectors also underwent modifications.
Henceforth, the privilege of being true connoisseurs was almost always
reserved for the professionals, whether painters or dealers, as it was they
who were able to attribute paintings, and this automatically assumed a
thorough knowledge of them. lastly, the relationship between dealers and
collectors of the second half of the century was different to that of the first,
with the dilettante turning out to be dependent upon the dealer because this
latter was the only one to possess the necessary skills for making correct
attributions. Aesthetic appreciation and a certain type of theoretical
discourse on painting continued to be the prerogative of the 'honnete
homme', but attribution was now that of the dealer. This all seems to point
to a cleavage between the 'esprit' and the 'main', which had together formed
the subject of a body of knowledge on painting up to the first half of the
century, even if the hand's subordination to the mind had meant that their
relation was an essentially hierarchical one. This body of knowledge
separated into two different parts in the 1750s, with on the one hand the
aesthetics of art and its criticism, which were concerned with the 'esprit' or,
in less archaic terms, with the meaning of works of art, and on the other, a
heterogeneous assortment of knowledge with no fixed status, dealing with
aspects of the 'main', the materiality of artistic production.
Collections and sociableness
Once again, these various different changes were only manifestations of a
far more complex evolution, one which we can only briefly outline here.
This initially consisted of an increase in the number of collectors, from
around 150 in 1700-20 to around 500 between 1750 and 1790. Given that
rhis is only a rough estimate, the true figures are, in all probability,
considerably higher. This proliferation had the effect of rendering the
connoisseurs' influence on enthusiasts as a whole far weaker than it had
been at the beginning of the century, when apprentice enthusiasts would
frequent them, and when they were recognized as oracles whose authority
could be invoked in order to justify preferences and judgements. Potier, for
instance, had connections with Beringhem, Torey and Clairambault, and
regarded them as his preceptors when it came to engravings.79 When
Dezallier d' Argenville gave advice to enthusiasts he cited connoisseurs
160
who had been responsible for his training, namely de Montarsis, de Piles,
Loge, le Riche and lauthier.
8
o A whole group of collectors revolved around
the Comtesse de Verue, including the Prince de Carignan, Angran de
Fonspertuis, Glucq de Saint-Port, Jullienne, the Marquis de lassay, Leriget
de Ia Faye and Montulle.
8
l Throughout his life Mariette played the role of
adviser and guide, especially for Ia live de Jully, while even in the c l o s i ~ g
years of the century, Seroux d'Agincourt recalled his teachings.
82
In certam
particularly well-stocked galleries, moreover, such as that of Pierre Crozat,
83
meetings were more or less regularly held, during which the masterpieces
were discussed and, as a result, a new language and a new set of appreciative
criteria were formulated. The visits enthusiasts paid to one another,
84
along
with their meetings, therefore contributed to the birth of a common
sensibility and to the abolition of differences in taste which reflected the
disparity of their social origins.
Which advantages does a Curieux not derive from his wriosite in the
normal course of events? He does not know what boredom is: if he tires
of being in his own home his title of Curieux affords him entry to the
most celebrated galleries, where he can go and find diversion; as a Curieux
he becomes the equal of those who have succumbed to this noble passion
and whose rank or condition is in fact superior to his own: as such, he is
invited and received with pleasure in the assemblies they hold in order to
relate their discoveries or acquisitions; he profits from and enjoys these
new things with them and in this fashion is fruitfully diverted, while at
the same time acquiring daily greater enlightenment and knowledge.
85
Our knowledge proves that in this portrait of the life of an enthusiast,
Gersainr was in no way being roo idealist.
These forms of sociability continued to flourish after 1750. Some
dilettantes 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 infrequent 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 dilettantes attended them
assiduously, with the aim of purchasing objects and feasting their eyes
upon the sheer spectacle they provided,
89
as well as gaining
Deafen, ConnoiJSettrs and Enthusiasts 161
instruction from them. It was this particular role of auctions which was
emphasized at the beginning of the nineteenth century by Gault de Saint-
Germain, who claimed to have taken an interest in curiosity for the past
thirty years, and who had therefore witnessed the final years of the ancien
regime.
These sales, which have become such frequent occurrences today, are also
excellent schools, and perhaps more general than conventional ones, in
that they often provide an opportunity 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 authenticity 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
merchandise whose worth is measured less in words than in the price
someone is prepared co pay in order to secure its possession. In these
circumstances it is inevitable that the attitude of art lovers towards such
works should be influenced 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 Coulanges had already noted at the
end of the seventeenth century that a painting was like a gold bar,9t while
Dubos remarked that 'the rivalry between these two sovereigns [Charles I,
1
King of England, and Philip IV, King of Spain] caused the price of old
masters to triple throughout the whole of Europe. Arc treasures became real
treasures in the world of commerce.'92 We do not, however, know of any
instances of dilettantes speculating 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 amazement 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 constitutes an excellent form
of investment.'
96
Even more important, being intended for a far larger
readership, were the Reflexions sur Ia Peintttre et Ia Sculpture, which
162
prefaced le Brun's Catalogue Poullain of 1780. Her.e, :he author attempted
to demonstrate that 'when one purchases floe pamtmgs one knows they
will be pleasant and precious possessions; and one also an
which the civilized mao seeks constantly, namely that of mcreHsmg ones
wealth.'97 There were, it would seem, a great many at that time who decided
ro become rich by buying and then reselling paintings. Joullain in fact
devoted a passage full of indignation against 'the most class
of amateurs ... I refer to that class of amateurs which, possessmg no
precise taste for anything in particular, pursue everything with an eye to
speculation, buy in order to selJ.'9
8
There is no that as dealer, Joullam
had good reason to dislike this unfair competition, ?ut the phenomenon
which he berates was a very real one for all that: besides the professtonals
themselves, a whole host of middlemen, speculators and advisers for both
parries in a transaction, became iovolve_d in the in curios, we
still know roo little to be able to descnbe them m any greater detaiL
The 'grand gout' and the 'petits tableaux'
We have been able to note the rise of the dealers, in both social and
intellectual terms and their undisputed claim to the 'titre fastueux des
connoisseurs' by the catalogues of the period, but this information
must now be placed in the context of the increase in the number of
collectors and the resulting rise in prices, of the dominance of demand over
offer and of the ever-growing role of money and public sales. We have,
however also seen that the very conditions which each aspiring connOisseur
had to were in the process of changing as well at this time. This
phenomenon was not sim pi y a result of a changing art marker. but also, and
above all, that of a change in taste itself. From our standpomt, the
important event in this domain was the accession of Du_tch and Flemtsh
works to a position at least on a par with, if not above, Italian ones. I?ealers
doubtless did have a say in this turn of events, as they were responsible for
bringing paintings out of the Low Countries, but we are here
with the reasons behind the promotion of the Dutch and Flemish but with
the attitude of the collectors to them.
Dutch and Flemish painting appears to have received its 'letters of
nobility' from the Comtesse de Verue's entourage the 1720s and 17)Qs.
This, at least, is Remy's version, backed up by analysis of the contents of the
collections belonging to members of this group
99
Pierre Crozat, however, to
common with all his circle remained faithful to the Italians.
100
Towards the
middle of the century, he noted 'tous nos cabinets ne sont ... remplis que de
. . . petits tableaux Flamands et Hollandais,'
101
and this new ':as_ to
grow so much that Remy found himself having to defend Italian pamnng
Dealers, ConnoiSJeur.r and Enthusiasts 163
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 reproducing: 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, Alexan-
dre 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 connoisseurs 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 anonymous 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
connoisseurs are very indulgent towards M. Araignon.' We will come back
to these annotations a little later. Meanwhile, let us take advantage of the
fact that the Araignon catalogue allows us to detect criticisms of attributions
made in other catalogues.
No. 15 A painting depicting a Virgin holding a sleeping Infant Jesus in
her arms; this painting has twice been sold as a Correggio, and described
as such in the catalogue of the late M. le Prince de Carignan; however,
several connoisseurs believe it to be the work of L. Carracci: to avoid all
discussion, it will be sold on its own merits .
No. 21 A painting depicting the Holy Family, the Infant Jesus asleep and
164 Dealers, ComzoiJSeurs and Enthusiasts
St Catherine on her knees, her hands joined, gazing upon him. This
painting comes from the sale of the M. le M a n ~ c h a l d'Estrees and had
been listed in the Catalogue and seen as an early TITIAN, resembling
GEORGIONE, his Master: but as the connoisseurs cannot come to any
agreement, it will be sold on its own merits.
No. 27 A painting which was sold and listed in the catalogue of M. de Ia
Chiitaigneraye as a Giacomo Bassano and listed as such in M. Pasquier's
gallery; since it has come into my possession, opinions have been divided.
To avoid all argument, it will be sold on its own merits. It shows Our Lord
with the Pharisees, and comprises buildings and twelve figures, painted
on wood.
No. 48 A painting by the Chevalier Venderneo [?],depicting a Visitation;
this painting is such a perfect imitation of the Chevalier Vandreverf, that
its former owners doctored the signature by changing two of its letters:
and as I have no wish to deceive anyone, I let it stand on irs own merits.
No. 50 A painting by Mr Carlovanlo, depicting St Apollonia and her
attributes: it is so fine that connoisseurs have always taken it to be by
Pietro da Cortona. I have always remained silent over the matter until
now, but now I declare that I had it commissioned; I believe its author will
not reproach me for revealing the truth at last.
Up to now, M. Araignon has been the one who has allowed us to see what
went on behind the scenes in the art market, and we have come across some
extraordinary tales of disputed attributions, falsified signatures, the produc-
tion 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-mentioned 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, character-
izing as an 'execrable copie' a supposedly original work by Frederico Barocci
(no. 5), an accusation made also for 'un tableau original de Guidoreni'
(no. 7). As for two landscapes by Paul Bril, he claims that both have been
entirely repainted (no. 11 ), while a portrait of a lady, claimed tO be by Paolo
Veronese (no. 17), is characterized as a mere copy, as is the case of a
DucheJJ of Parma attributed to Titian (no. 18). No. 26 is said to be not the
work of Giacomo but of Francesco Bassano, and doubt is cast on no. 29,
described as being by Feti. This vituperative flow ends with a warning:
'Mefiez-vous du babil hableur du Sr. Araignon.'
1
04
Obviously, it is the attribution of the Italian paintings which causes the
most worry. Accordingly, one can suppose that one reason enthusiasts
turned to works from the Low Countries was the wish to find reliable
attributions. This becomes even more likely when one remembers that the
fashion for collecting 'les petits tableaux flamands et hollandais' appears to
have spread above all among the 'simples curieux'. While discussing a work
by Rubens, Gersaint underlined the following difference in orientation.
We confidently present this piece as a titillating one, painted intelligently
and without restraint, which could be placed ro advantage in a gallery
next to the works of the very greatest masters, and which should be a
source of satisfaction to any true connoisseur. It would be even more
suitable for those true lovers of painting who normally are attached more
to a painter's good taste, to the talent of the composition and to the
ardour of a swift execution than to laboriously painted works almost
always accompanied by a frigidity and aridity which can be pleasing to no
one.tol
Eight years later, Remy and Glomy continued to note that 'Only a gallery
containing paintings by Italy's great masters ... can hope to win the esteem
of true Connoisseurs'; works from other schools which 'deserve to figure
alongside the works by the foremost masters of the art' being solely those
distinguished 'by the nobility of their compositions and the admirable
harmony of their colours'. We must therefore correct our previous asser-
tion, 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 paint-
ing, 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.
When we examine attentive! y paintings of this genre [that is, those
where 'we only see the imitation of different objects which would not
attract us had we not already seen them in real life'], we pay most of our
attention not to the object imitated but to the skill of the imitator. It is not
so much the object which attracts our attention but the deftness of the
artisan; we pay no more heed to the imitated object in the picture than we
do to the one in real life ...
107
Although Dubos was primarily concerned here with landscapes bare of
human figures and with stilllifes, it seems possible to transpose his remarks
to fit all the 'petits tableaux flamands et hollandais', for even though they are
peopled, their heroes would not have attracted a public had they been seen
'dans la nature'. It now becomes clear why the interest in these particular
works went hand in hand with an interest in the 'deftness of the artisan' and
in 'la maniere et la touche', which were accorded only secondary importance
when historical painting was in vogue. It would therefore seem that it was the
invasion of the small Dutch and Flemish works which constituted one of the
main reasons behind the change of approach discussed above. It now only
remains to be said that this change did not take place on an individual level
and was by no means a transitory one. Rather, it was a social phenomenon.
Not only did the generation of art lovers which sought the small works of the
northern schools look for different qualities than their predecessors, or 'vrais
connaisseurs', who had been attached to Italian painting, but they also had a
different approach. It was in this context of changing taste and a new
approach that the attribution of a painting could become more important
than its aesthetic appreciation, and that the work of Italian painters could
become suspect, being said to mislead without any difficulty anyone who was
not sufficiently educated to understand them - in other words, the 'simples
curieux', whose growing numbers exerted an ever-increasing pressure on
both the market and the dealers.
N evenheless, one could on! y place full confidence in attributions put
forward by professionals if 'the art of guessing the author of a painting by
recognizing the master's hand' ceased to be regarded as 'the most unreliable
of all the arts, after medicine'.l
08
Dezallier d'Argenville, who took it upon
himself to demolish this argument of Dubos and, indeed, of many others,
was held in low esteem by the 'vrais connaisseurs', as remarks made by
Mariette about his collection and books demonstrate.
109
However, he does
seem to be highly representative of the ordinary dilettantes. His taste was
eclectic, and in a description of himself, said 'all nations are equal in his
eyes; a Flemish artist, or a French one in certain domains of painting, will
often out match an Italian.' He disputed the intrinsic superiority of historical
painting, while accepting that history was painting's most noble subject, as
well as the most instructive, and one which required the greatest know-
167
ledge: 'It is claimed that a painter who has perfectly imitated nature, even if
he has only depicted a cow ... is as perfect in his genre as Raphael is in
his.'
11
For Dezallier, in other words, the most important thing was, to use
Dubos' terminology, not so much the 'imitated object', as the 'deftness of
the artisan'. Given that the preference he showed for the 'petits genres' and
the northern schools
111
corresponded to the taste of the majority of
collectors, his attack on Dubos was entire! y logical.
Let nobody say that it is impossible to have an absolutely infallible
knowledge of paintings and drawings .... If this author I Dubos J had had
some practical experience of painting, or else a little more knowledge of
this art, he would have known that a single brushstroke, a particular way
of painting trees in a picture reveals the identity of irs artist, and that the
copyist inevitably puts too much of himself in it for him nor ro be
betrayed.
He consequently attempted to show that each painter had an 'ecriture
pittoresque' enabling him to be recognized.
112
Dezallier therefore
represented a new type of connoisseur, not yet a professional in the way
that painters and dealers were, but nevertheless more than a simple
dilettante, in that painting was his chosen area of study. A connoisseur,
thanks to 'un peu d'habitude', 'was able to distinguish the works of the
masters from those of their pupils or imitators'; for him 'the most essential
aspect of one's knowledge of paintings [was] the ability to distinguish a
copy from an original.'
113
Dezallier's lesson was heeded and ten vears after
the appearance of his book, of whose success we are 'fully awa-re, Remy,
while not yet claiming to be a connoisseur, drew on it in his prdace to the
Catalogue Pasquier. 114
The society where taste does not vary from category to category does not
exist. In any event, the Paris of the eighteenth century harboured two
contrasting tastes: that of the 'vrais connaisseurs', and that of the 'simples
curieux'. The world of curiosity in the first half of the century was
dominated by those who possessed a certain knowledge of paintings and
who, as a result, could lay claim to the title of connoisseur. These were men
who were capable of producing a discourse justifying the feelings aroused in
them by these works, during which they would refer to the principles held
to regulate the activity of every good artist and to the standards to which
each was supposed to conform. The belief in the existence of such standards
went hand in hand with a hierarchical conception of painting, the highest
place being awarded to the 'genre noble et sublime' which was best
represented by the Italians, along with certain northern painters. Ir also
went hand in hand with the dominance of aesthetic appreciation, and it is
easy to understand why this should have been so. The preferences of 'les
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 attri-
bution. 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 Tubieres-
Grimoard 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 contemporaries 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 Maffei and Cayfus
The philosophers and the antiquarians
A further similarity in their lives, and the most important one for the
purposes of this study, is the fact that both men were antiquarians. This
meant that they devoted themselves tO the study of antiquity, and also that
they were in no way philosophers, at least not in the eighteenth-century
sense of the word, their methods of study and at times explicit statements
showing them to be rather the very opposite. The source of this gulf
between them and this brand of philosophy was not to be found in religion,
although it may well have had some influence on Maffei. He it was who,
during a stay in Paris, mourned over the 'sight of a great city in imminent
danger of perdition', a sight which inspired him to write his Istoria
teologica.
4
Caylus, for his part, had a much more relaxed view of religion,
even if he did complain in his letters of 'the icy flowers' of 'encyclopaedic
metaphysics', which he even qualified at times as 'dangerous'.o What
characterized all of Maffei's work, from his Scienza chiarnata cavallereJca to
the Arte rnagica annichi!ata, was his constant effort to modernize and
illuminate, acting, as Venturi underlines with reference to De!l'irnpiego del
danaro, not as a philosopher but as a historian.
6
At the end of the day, it was
the treatment of history which really showed up the difference between rhe
philosophers and the antiquarians.
The hostility between these two types of intellectuals was far from
recent. Leibnitz had said, 'Those who take pride in philosophizing and
reasoning habitually pour scorn on the study of antiquity, antiquarians for
their part making light of what they like to call philosophers' daydreams.
Yet in all fairness, one should do justice to the merits of both.' Seeking tO
reconcile the two sides he had attacked both the Cartesians, who reduced
interest in the past to idle curiosity, and the scholars who were satisfied by
the mere accumulation of facts.l But in the eighteenth century this
antagonism had not died down in France, in spite of all attempts to bring
about a truce, and the philosophers whom first Maffei then Caylus had to
confront were indeed French.
'Those who compile history commonly lack a philosophical mind,' wrote
Voltaire.
8
It is a fact that those whom Voltaire pejoratively called 'compilers
of history' were essentially authors of works on ancient history. He
explained elsewhere that
Dealing with ancient history is simply a matter of compiling a handful of
truths with a mountain of lies. This type of history can only be useful in
the way a fable is, where major events become the constant subject of our
pictures, poems and conversations, and allow us to derive some moral or
other. We are taught about Alexander's exploits in the way we are about
the labours of Hercules. All in all, I see the relationship between modern
Maffei and CaylttJ
171
and ancient history as being the same as that between old medals and
today's currency: the former are shut away in private collections, while
the latter circulates freely in the world for the benefit of man's
commerce
9
The superiority of modern history over ancient is justified in this passage
by two converging themes. The first concerns the impossibility of establish-
ing facts and separating truth from lies in ancient history; a typical
Pyrrhonist argument, often voiced at the time. Antiquarians challenged it
by asserting that the study of source material, such as inscriptions, coins and
all kinds of monuments, did allow them to read the fabulous accounts of the
ancient historians with a critical eye,
10
and as Voltaire was well aware of
this, he did not dwell on it. It was the uselessness of ancient history in
practical life, and not its implausibility, that he sought to underline. Even if
it did contain some truth, it would not matter, the difference between
Alexander's exploits and the labours of Hercules remaining very 'academic',
and he developed this point by claiming that ancient history could only
interest painters, poets, moralists and members of salons. In this respect, it
was put on the same footing as the fable, its sole quality being irs power to
astonish and amaze, and once submitted to the stern gaze of the scholar
even this quality would swiftly vanish, as ancient history disintegrated into
a series of minor events of no possible interest whatsoever. As rhe domain
of ivory-towered antiquarians, it could not possibly, unlike modern history,
be of any importance to the present.
Voltaire's attack was specifically aimed at Rollin, whose critical mind, it
must be admitted, was not noticeably overdeveloped. However, the article
from which this passage is drawn was published for the first time in 1744 in
a collection whose title, La Merope franqaise avec quelqueJ petiteJ pieceJ de
litterature,
11
immediately awakens our interest. It is hard to avoid the
suspicion that the intended victim of this past master of the uncharitable
allusion was really the author of Verona i!!tt.rtrata, and equally that of
Merope. Voltaire may well have been attempting to blur all distinctions
between compilers and antiquarians, between Maffei, implicitly mentioned,
and the explicitly cited Rollin. He would thus have succeeded in tarnishing
the Italian's reputation which, he felt, outshone his own. This inter-
pretation is confirmed in a letter, published in the same collection, and
addressed to Maffei by Voltaire, which proceeds, under the guise of
compliments, to a textbook demolition of the former's tragedy. He ends it
with a passage on history, which provides a good example of these
poisonous praises.
]e voudrois, Monsieur, pouvoir vous suivre dans vos autres connoissances,
comme j'ai eu le bonheur de vous imiter dans Ia Tragedie.
172 Maffei and Cay/us
Que n'ai-je pu me former sur votre gout dans Ia science de l'Histoire,
non pas dans cette science vague et sterile des faits et des dares, qui se
borne a sc,;avoir en que! tems mourut un homme inutile ou funeste au
monde, science uniquement de Dictionnaire, qui chargeroit Ia memoire
sans eclairer ]'esprit.
Je veux parler de cette Histoire de !'esprit humain qui apprend a
conno!tre les mceurs; qui nous trace de faute en faute, et de prejuge en
prejuge les effets des passions des hommes; qui nous fait voir ce que
!'ignorance ou un sc,;avoir mal entendu ont cause de maux; et qui suit sur-
tout le fil du progres des arts, a travers ce choc effroyable de tant de
Puissances, et ce bouleversement de tam d'Empires.
Cest par !D. que l'Hisroire m'est precieuse; er elle me le devient
davantage par Ia place que vous tiendrez parmi ceux qui on donne de
nouveaux plaisirs et de nouvelles lumieres aux bommes .... 1
2
Here instead of setting ancient history against modern history, Voltaire
contrasts the 'science des faits et des dates' with the 'histoire de !'esprit
humain'. He does not, however, give a clear indication of the place he
accords to Maffei these two types of history. Had Voltaire placed
him on the side of the history of the human mind, he would merely have
had to comment that their tastes in hisrory were the same. And had he
regarded him as a staunch supporter of the science of dates and facts, in all
logic, he would have had no call to regret not having taken him as his
model. However, while giving no actual details, Voltaire manages to imply
that his apprenticeship in the 'science de I'Histoire' has been based on a
taste which differs from Maffei's, in that his own particular brand of history
is concerned with the human spirit. He therefore consigns Maffei in
insidious fashion tO the 'science vague et sterile des faits et des dates', which
is nothing more than the study of old medals. To the insipid, insignificant,
useless science of the antiquarian.
Four years before Voltaire published his La Merope franc;aise, Chardin
had shown two paintings at the Salon: Le Singe peintre and Le Singe
antiqJtaire. In the second of these two pictures, a 'Monkey clad in a dressing
gown looks at a medal through a magnifying glass. In the background, there
is a medal display cabinet, from which the drawer second from the top has
been removed and placed on the table. Illustrated books on medals can be
seen piled up on a stool.' An engraving made of this painting by Surugue fils
and displayed at the Salon of 1743 bore the following legend:
Dan.r le Dedale obscur de monHrnens antiq11e.r
Homme docte, ,(grands fraiJ t'embarrasser?
Notre siecle a de.r yeux vraiment philosophiques,
01/re assez de quai s'exercer.rl
Maffei and Cay/us 173
The contrast of the 'Dedale obscur de monuments antiques' with the
'yeux philosophiques' is as unoriginal as the accompanying
rhyme. It ts nonetheless interesting to discover rhe identity of (hardin's
target in these paintings, if indeed he had a specific target, of which there is
no firm evidence. We are, however, at liberty to think that Chardin was
attacking Caylus, who enjoyed considerable influence at the Academie de
peimure,. and who was an advocate of rhe 'grand art', drawing inspiration
from anoent works. Although we do nor know what opinion Caylus held of
(hardin's work, it is unlikely to have differed markedly from that of
Mariette, with whom he shared most notably an admiration for Italian
painting, and Mariette had but little esteem for (hardin, regarding him as
nothing more than an imitator of Flemish artists.t4
Chardin could, however, count Diderot among his supporters, if not at
head: Thus, after an interval of twenty years, and at an incomparably
htgher pttch of verbal violence, d' Alembert, Diderot, Grimm and
Marmoorel enacted against Caylus and his friends the very same battle
wh.ich opposed Voltaire and Maffei. The former, convinced that 'only
phdosophers can write history well', let slip no opportunity of questioning
the validity and utility of the antiquaries' brand of knowledge,15 even going
far as to ridicule it, under the guise of laments for the decline of learning
m France. As had been the case of Voltaire and Maffei, this was a conflict of
personalities, as Caylus despised Diderot and Diderot detested Caylus.l6
However, this conflict of personalities concealed a far more important
confrontation, this time concerning the art of the ancients, especially that of
the Greeks, which was regarded as exemplary by both sides in the dispute.
In actual fact these two sides did not really exist, nor did the controversy,
nor did the polemic, since Diderot attacked Caylus in the Correspondance
litteraire without the latter's knowledge. Caylus represented the art lover
who saw himself as a connoisseur, the owner of a gallery and one who could
exercise a certain power over artists, and this is not the place to discuss any
of these aspects alluded to by Diderot in his criticism of CaylusY Only two
relevant points emerge here. Firstly, given that the art of the ancients must
be regarded as a source of inspiration, there was the question of how to
reach an understanding of it. The answer Caylus gave was that it had to
become the object of research enabling insight to be gained into the
institutions, beliefs and history of the ancients, along with the techniques
and materials they employed. This information could then be used to
uncover the meaning of ancient monuments and, at the same time, discover
the path to 'noble simplicity'.
18
For Diderot the answer lay in a sort of
divination which would allow one to determine, by examining these
monuments, the conditions which were necessary to their production and
philosophy behind this process.
1
9 Here, then, was the first point of
dtscord. The second concerned the entire period separating the Renaissance
174 Maffei and Caylus
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-century
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 ~ f a 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
From the antiquity of the scholar to that of the artist
Maffei and Caylus were in complete agreement over the key points of the
antiquarians' position, indeed the similarities between them were even
more specific. Both, or more accurately one after the other, set antiquarian
studies on a course which was completely different to their pre-eighteenth-
century one. As early as 1720, in his letter on the new museum of
inscriptions, Maffei underlined the importance of their collection and study
Maffei and Caylus 175
to the history of the art of the ancients.23 This constituted an important step
towards making research involving objects independent of research involv-
ing texts, and archaeology independent of philology, and helped to create
the conditions needed for figured monuments to enter into the ambit of
historical research. A further step in this direction was accomplished in
Verona il!ustrata, where Maffei based his assertions not only on document
analysis but also on the direct examination of figured monuments.
24
In 1736
La religion de'gentili nel morire appeared, of which more later. Two years
later Maffei published the first description of the Tazza Farnese, in the
second volume of his Osservazioni letterarie, a description he was to
reproduce in the Museum veronense.
25
Lastly, and despite his assertion that
'the figured representations of the ancients constitute a different genre than
their writings; this is why the two must not be mixed up together in the
same collection ... ,'
26
Maffei included many figured monuments in his
museum, a number which was apparently high enough to attract the
attention of the visitors away from the inscriptions.
The task of redirecting antiquarian research towards the study of art,
which Maffei had begun, was completed by Caylus. 'Ancient monuments
can extend our knowledge most effectively,' wrote the latter in the preface
to the first volume of the Recueil d'antiquith They can explain singular
customs, shed light on obscure or ill-explained facts in the authors and
provide visual evidence of how the arts have progressed. However, it must
be recognized that the antiquaries have hardly ever considered them from
the latter point of view, seeing them only as a supplement to or proof of
history or else as isolated texts requiring longer commentaries.'
27
Caylus
thus contrasted the historical and the artistic approaches of antiquarian
research, and opted decisively for the second. In so doing, he was fully aware
of being an innovator, even if he suspected or even knew that there had
been one or two forerunners. Another passage, which gives an accurate
description of Caylus' reasoning, shows even more clearly the contrast
between the historical and artistic approaches.
When I first started to engrave this series, I had most in mind the man of
letters, who studies monuments solely with a view to discovering their
links with the accounts left by the ancients. I traced these links whenever
they came to light spontaneously and seemed both evident and sensible to
me. However, being neither sufficiently learned nor sufficiently patient to
use this method consistently throughout, I often chose to employ another
in its stead, one which will, perhaps, interest lovers of the arts: it consists in
the faithful study of the mind and hand of the artist, in the adoption of his
own particular visions of things, and means following the course of
execution of his work. In other words, I look at monuments as the proof and
expression of the prevailing taste in a given country at a given period.
28
Monuments were henceforth to be treated as expressions of taste rather
than approached through the accounts written by the ancients. Caylus went
much further than simply taking pains over the description of the
monuments and the identification of the figures and scenes they
represented. He also, if not first of all, proceeded to analyse the techniques
and materials employed, in an attempt to discover the 'recipes' used by the
ancients - such as in the famous case of the use of encaustic in painting29 -
and to highlight the skill of the artists. There was therefore a slight
difference in emphasis between Maffei, for whom monuments were as
much 'proofs of history' as 'expressions of taste', and Caylus, for whom the
taste aspect had greatest importance. In this respect, while Maffei always
remained a man of letters, Caylus was first and foremost a man of things.
Before illustrating and specifying this difference between the two men by
means of an example, let us look at just one more point they had in
common. This was their belief in the continuity of history, or in concrete
terms, their attitude to the Middle Ages. It is clear to anyone reading
Verona illustrata that Maffei was a medievalist. It is less well known that
before embarking on the publication of his Recueil d'antiquites, Caylus had
also worked on this period. He was responsible for a Memoire sur les
fab!iaux, a work of literary history which took the definition of the conte as
a basis for examining the accounts contained in a medieval manuscript from
the abbey at Saint-Germain-des-Pres. The Memoire traced their influence
on Italian writers, especially Boccaccio, as well as on Ia Fontaine and
Moliere, mentioning in passing a painting by Spranger, whose subject is
drawn from a fabliau.3 Caylus also published two sets of essays on
Guillaume de Machaut,
31
took part in the discussion on certain satirical
manuscripts from the Middle Ages,
32
and drafted a piece entitled De
l'ancienne chevalerie et des anciens romans, devoted to the cycle of
Arthurian legends.
33
All these short works bear witness to a considerable
familiarity with medieval manuscripts and a thorough knowledge of the
chronicles, which strongly remind us of Maffei.
The similarities between our two authors were thus many and important.
Yet they never met, despite having had at least two opportunities of doing
so. In 1714 Ca ylus was in Verona from 13 to 17 December, and Maffei was
there too, a week beforehand. I do not know whether he was still in
residence there at that time, but I do know that when Caylus visited
Vallisnieri's picture gallery in Padua, he met nobody from Veronese
circles.
34
In January 1733 it was the turn of Maffei to visit Paris, where he
instantly met with a huge success in fashionable society. In a letter to
Bouhier, the magistrate of Dijon, at whose house Maffei had stopped on the
way,
35
Mathieu Marais wrote: 'M. Maffei is in Paris; he does not know who
to speak to next, as everyone wants to address him.' He took up his pen
again a few months later, reporting: 'M. Maffei ... is working on his
i'vfajfei and Caylus 177
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 inter-
mediaries.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 numis-
matics 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
178
ii.J?tjfei and CcqlttJ
earlier, La religion de'gentili nel morire ricavata da tm baJJO
rrftevo anttco che si in Parigi, dedicated tO Cardinal de Polignac,
a collector whose 'superb collection of statues, busts,
vases and mscnpt10ns, brought from Rome, constitute a museum
whtcb only few of irs kind can march', as Maffei put it.H
A museum of antiquities in Paris?
The in this work, engraved after a drawing by Natoire,
was sttuated tn the of the Louvre alongside the exact plaster copies
of the _whole of Trapn s column, as well as busts, heads, inscriptions and
bas-reltefs,_ and a many statues by good French sculptors'. H According
to Maffei, It constituted parr of an arch or historiated funeral monument of
the type made for personages of a certain rank. 'It is one of the largest
found, and marvellously well preserved, as nothing is missing, and norhing
has been added, even though the figures protrude more rhan usual. '4o It
should be. explained that_ to the nineteenth-century archaeologists
who studted bas-rel!ef, Its remarkable state of preservation was due to
the fact It was not

which is why it is now robe found among
th: sculptures m the Louvre:" Maffei did not, however, suspect
for the sltghtesr moment, and the same applied to everyone else at that
trme, even though they all noted a certain number of features which
rendered it a quite exceptional piece.
Here is the description of the marble itself:
Our marble is far finer than any other, first and foremost because of the
excellence _of irs manner, which proves it dates from the finest
perrod .. The wmged naked figure possesses all the grace and
perfection of the drawmg. The inspiration for the weeping child would
seem to have bee_n drawn from Correggio. The dying woman as well as
the mourning, veiled mother or other relation, is given expression in rhe
same way as all .the other figures, both through her naked parts and
through her clothing- With a mastery far greater than that which we are
accustomed to seeing in ancient sculptures. But this monument is given
even greater value by that which it teaches us; if I am not mistaken, it
Illustrates beliefs concerning death, beliefs which I cannot recollect
bemg dealt. with either in the remains of antiquity or in the works of
modern wrrters ... :'B
.One is first struck by a whole series of aesthetic judgements contained in
thts t_exr: such as 'the excellence of its manner', 'grace and perfection of the
drawmg, a far greater command of expression than is normally to be found
lYiaf/ei and Caylus 179
in ancient bas-reliefs and lastly the evocation of Correggio, which shows
that Maffei was struck by a certain modernity in the work, even though this
by no means led him to doubt irs attribution to the ancients. In short, it is a
thing of beauty. Yet Maffei is not primarily interested in this beauty, but
rather in the pagan beliefs surrounding death. The remainder of the volume
is taken up with suggestions as to the identity of the different figures and
explanations of their gestures. He asserts that the people crowned with
laurel are priests belonging to a special grade known as the coronati, and
interprets the presence- a strange one, which it is more difficult to explain
- of two men, playing the horn and trumpet, as an illustration of the
ancients' belief that music chased away the evil spirits:
19
We thus reach the end, from which we must cite a lengthy extract.
Now it is clear to Your Excellency that if all the ancient inscriptions and
bas-reliefs were brought together as I propose and debated over, this fine
marble \vm!ld surely be awarded first place. There is no lack of other
pieces in Paris which could add to the splendour of any museum. This
kind of antiquity is a greater source of knowledge and amusement than
any other; and furthermore it is the only one which, in almost every
country, is habitually neglected and abandoned. One often needs only to
bring together that which is dispersed to constitute a treasure. I have seen
so many pieces here and there in this metropolis, and there are so many
of them in the proximity that they would form a rich and noble collection,
providing they were all put in one place and cleverly displayed. It is a
positive certitude that relics such us these undoubtedly reach us about the
customs, opinions and knowledge of the ancient times; it is equally sure
that as they are hidden from the gaze of scholars, they do not provide the
pleasure they could; and dispersed and neglected they constantly run the
risk of becoming lost, destroyed or else succumbing to a thousand other
accidents which have already led to the disappearance of most of the
monuments documented two or three centuries ago. '
0
Accordingly, Maffei suggested to Polignac that a museum of antiquities
be opened in Paris, bringing together all the inscriptions and figured
monuments under the same roof, where the latter would, in fact, be
accorded pride of place. He also referred to experience gained in Turin and
Verona in order to justify his proposal to bring to an end the state of neglect
and abandonment of antiquities in Paris and presented a concrete solution
to the question of where to site such a museum:
As long as they are not ull given space in a secure place, their existence
and state of preservation will always be under threat. The portico, or
rather the gallery of the Palais Royal in the Tuileries, which is on the left
when one enters the garden, would seem quire the ideal place. The entire
180 Maffei ,md Ca)1/us
length of rhe wall could be covered by a second wall made up of ancient
inscribed or sculpted stones. Those which should be displayed separately
on pedestals, in order that the figures and words on each side be visible,
would be placed under the arcades and between the columns. They would
all be protected by iron bars, since in this way they would be both open
and enclosed. Pliny wrote that such things should be public. In this
manner they will therefore be public, yet at the same rime protected, as a
guard will keep constant watch over them.'
1
As far as we are concerned today, the most interesting and important
part of Maffei's work is this particular project. This is so nor only because it
shows that his interest in preserving monuments and organizing museums
was a long-lasting one, but also because he forces us to ask why what had
been possible in Turin, the capital of an absolute state - just as France was
at that time- was impossible in Paris. The answer to such a question would
require a thorough examination of the cultural policy of the French
monarchy, and could not, in any case, be kept within the confines of this
chapter. However, we can add to our file one or two elements which seem to
be of some importance, without straying too far from the main subject.
'I have not yet been able to look over the dissertation he [Maffei] gave,
upon leaving Paris, on the subject of a Gallic monument [sic!] in which he
claims to see druids surrounded by torches and receiving the final farewells
from a dying woman [sic!]. I mean by this that it is a work which does him
no honour, and one which Dom Martin is preparing to disprove,' wrote
Caumont to Bouhier. '
2
Rumours such as these, distorting Maffei's ideas so
grossly as to render them completely ridiculous, and discrediting his book,
clearly indicate the degree of hostility he faced in certain Parisian circles.
His museum project was undoubtedly a contributing factor. In 1739 Jacques
Martin, a Benedictine, published the work heralded in Caumont's letter.
Part of it consisted of a violent attack on Maffei's interpretation of the
Louvre bas-relief and on the man himself. Martin asserted that the
monument dated from the Augustan period- Maffei too believed it to have
been produced during the 'miglior eta: - and sought to prove that it
represented a Conc!amatio,
5
l with citations to back this up. However, only
the end of his indictment of Maffei merits our attention:
Is anyone fully aware of the use to which this scholar puts the fruits he
claims to draw from his tireless study) He uses them to advise the
Cardinal Minister [Polignac] to gather together all the ancient marbles to
be found in and around this capital, and to house them, each in irs correct
place, in one of the galleries of the Louvre, as according to him, the
antiquaries will surely find in them the customs, habits, fashions and
tastes of the ancients. On paper, it is an admirable piece of advice but will
it be so in practice?
This is the question asked by our fiery Benedictine, and he gives the
following revealing rep! y:
What possible fruit can the republic of letters and the _nation draw from
an impracticable suggestion, given that for more than_ stxty years a
has been made for a place sufficiently vast and well Itt for one to dtspose
comfortably the monuments which are crammed into the _Salle des
Antiques in the louvre. In the meantime, the king has made thetr care
responsibility of the Academic des belles-lettres, and the members of
illustrious body have proposed to inform the public henceforth of thetr
existence. One of them, in particular, in the first volume of the lvfemoires
Academiques, undertook to discuss the bas-relief which tricked M.
and which he could not appropriate without the aid of the compagme.
Thus, it is only with his consent that pen has been put ro paper.
54
Once again, then, we come across the same old story of a conflict of
personalities. Here, an academician, who had felt somewhat upset at
Maffei's daring to 'appropriate', without his permission, the Louvre bas-
relief and, with the support of the Academic, also vexed on behalf of one ?f
its members, had hired the pen of the obliging Benedictine. True, Marttn
had other interests to defend at the same time, as can be seen from the
closing pages of his book, where he criticizes the edition of the. works of St
Jerome published in Verona, in order to defend the by the
Benedictines in Paris.'' Maffei's friends had reacted w1th md1gnauon- the
term is used by Bouhiers6 - to Martin's bulky pamphlet which, Caum?nt
heard from Paris, was not a success. Indeed the latter added the followtng
comment: 'I needed, as one can easily understand, every last ounce of my
stubbornness in order to continue reading it to the very end.'
57
Maffei, for
his part, wrote to Bimard de La Bastie: 'I have written to the Grand
Chancellor of France, who showed me great kindness in Paris, as well as to
the Cardinal de Polignac, asking them to check the activities of those
scoundrels in Paris who make this sort of written attack on me.'
58
All this would remain strictly anecdotal, were it nor for the fact that
behind this conflict of personalities there lurked a major problem, namely
the question of a public museum of antiquities in
it clear that neither the authorities nor the Academ1e des mscnpnons
showed any interest whatsoever in the creation of an this
kind. The latter was patently satisfied with being given the respons1b1l1ty of
running the Salle des Antiques at the Louvre, seeing admission there as .a
corporate privilege. Its intention was not to room to the pub.hc
but merely ro make known its contents by pubhshmg the commentanes
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
Maffei and Caylus
in the course of the next few years, or whether, quite simply, Caylus could,
without raising hackles, express ideas which would have been unacceptable
coming from Maffei, is open to question. Whatever the truth of the matter,
four years after the Italian's death, Ca ylus adopted in his turn the project of
the museum of antiquities, and he did so with reference to the bas-relief of
the Louvre, which thus forms the basis of the sole important encounter
between our two antiquarians.
It was in the third volume of his Recueil d'antiquites that Caylus raised
the subject of the disputed bas-relief once more. As he explained to Father
Paciaudi, 'It seemed to me that this fine monument deserved to be treated
with a greater respect for detail and explained in a more simple way. This is
what I have therefore attempted .. .' _s9 Having noticed that the Louvre
antiques were 'in a considerable state of disorder and that the reproach
made by M. Maffei on this subject to the nation [was] fully justified,'6o
Caylus settled on the same dating as Martin- 'temps d'Auguste' -asserted,
as did Maffei, that the central figure was not represented in death and
identified the figures Maffei believed to be priests as 'Libitinaires ,6t this
time following in the footsteps of Martin. None of this has any particular
interest. The same cannot, however, be said of the examination ro which
Caylus himself subjected the monument, a monument which, according to
him, dated 'back to Rome's finest centuries as far as the arts are concerned.
The bas-relief possesses drapes executed with consummate skill, and
rendered with the utmost fidelity with regard to the nude forms; the heads
and every other area of flesh are treated with all the precision and
attractiveness of chisel-work; only the drawing allows one fully to
appreciate the wisdom and appropriateness of the composition_'62
Unlike Maffei, Caylus did not tackle the bas-relief with a view to
revealing La religion de'gentili nel morire. He did not see it as a 'preuve
d'histoire' or rather only in so far as it allowed him to decode its meaning.
Rather, his attention was focused on the work of the sculptor, the rendition
of the drapes and the manner in which they clung to the forms they
concealed, while at the same time hinting at their presence, on the accuracy
with which the heads and other parts of the body were fashioned and on the
organization of the whole. This may not be the best description of an
ancient monument Caylus ever wrote, bur it nevertheless enables us to gain
a clearer idea of the procedure used with a view to interpreting these types
of monument as 'proofs and expressions of good taste'.
Maffei and Caylus were therefore perceptibly different in that while the
former was essentially a man of letters, the latter was first and foremost a
man of things. Yet we have shown how each one, in his own way, sought to
unite research into antiquities and the study of arc. It is at this precise point
that they converged, not only when they discussed the same monument but
also when they planned to conserve antiquities and place them in a museum
at the disposal of the public, for Caylus was completely in agreement with
Maffei on this matter. He knowingly took an opposing view ro Martin and
his paymasters.
Moreover, as a zealous advocate of the conservation of antiqmues,
cannot refute the reproaches made to us by M. Maffei concerning the
neglect he has noticed in several of the collections belonging to our
monarchs. Ir is an inexcusable abuse: I am in equal agreement over this
scholar's advice that we should bring together inscriptions and other
monuments in the king's possession, and I should very much like to see
this come to pass. With regard to this same subject, M. Maffei reminds us
of the establishment of this type which he founded in Verona, his
birthplace. It is an incontrovertible fact that there is no surer way of
winning fame: he also mentions a similar scheme to reunite such pieces
which he planned and oversaw in Turin. This project, which would be of
such use to the worlds both of the letters and the arts, undoubtedly
deserves praise and applause. Rome has felt all its benefits, as it now
boasts a Capitol which affords protection to the arts and antiquity, having
followed the examples given by M. Maffei.
6
l
This last sentence is not completely accurate, as while Maffei's example
may have influenced the foundation of the Pio Clementino Museum, it
certainly cannot have played any part in that of the Capitoline one, which
had been in existence since the end of the fifteenth century.
64
This error,
however, is itself an indication of Caylus' desire to prove the complete
feasibility of Maffei's museum projects, and to show that they had already
been put into practice not only in small towns, such as Verona or Turin, but
also in a great capital city - in the only capital city which had always
impressed the French. The support Caylus gives here to Maffei's scheme to
found a public museum of antiquities in Paris, in other words, to give the
public access to the monuments which were the property of the king, and
then only accessible to quite a small number of visitors, shows that
antiquarian research, in France as in Italy, was concerned to promote the
creation of this new cultural institution. Unlike Italy, however, France saw
no such museum appear under the ancien regime, despite many initiatives
in this domain.
One similarity between Maffei and Caylus still remains to be mentioned.
It concerns their openness to contemporary art. It is clearly visible in
Maffei's Verona illustrata as well as in his relations with Juvarra and
Pompei,
6
5 while in the case of Caylus, it can be discerned in the lasting
relations he had with those artists to whom he primarily addressed his
works.G6 Both men favoured an art which, while modern, nevertheless
remained faithful to the ancient models restored to their original purity, an
art which took its inspiration from the drawings on engraved stones and
from Greek statues. It is this shared attitude which caused them to admire
the Louvre marble so much. It also enabled their historical interests and
artistic preoccupations to meet in the programme of a museum designed,
like the Recueil d'antiquites, not only to be useful to antiquarians, but also
'to give artists one or two notions of beautiful forms and to emphasize the
need for an accuracy which is all too often concealed from them by roday's
so-called taste, and its falsely brilliant touch.'6
7
7
Collectors, Naturalists and
Antiquarians in the Venetian
Republic of the Eighteenth Century
The shift in general cultural trends which occurred in the Venetian
Republic towards the mid-eighteenth century consisted in the promotion
both of works of art and of natural objects.
For whole centuries, paintings had been exposed to dust, to candle smoke,
sometimes to damp, always to variations in temperature and frequently to
attempts at restoration, which at the best were clumsy and ar the worst
downright harmful. They would sometimes be replaced by other works
more in line with the fashion of the day, and not only risked theft, but even
sale abroad, even if they were in the keeping of religious institutions and
figured among the pitture pubbliche, whose custodians did not have the
right to dispose of them as they wished. These vicissitudes were, however,
considered perfectly normal, and the indignant protests by art lovers at the
degradation of the nation's art treasures as a whole or else of a specific work
of art had but little effect, as the powers that be contented themselves with
reacting to each separate event as it happened. Six years after a quite
exceptional snowfall caused extensive damage to the paintings in the
Doges' Palace in 1683, thus forcing the authorities to have them restored, a
curator was appointed to look after these paintings, together with others
housed in the Rialto Palace. Yet his duties did not extend to the other public
buildings and no second curator was employed to oversee them.
1
Similarly,
when the abbess of the Santa Maria Maggiore monastery in Venice sold
fourteen paintings without permission, of which only three were later
recovered, the Magistrato sopra i Monasteri, in agreement with the Senate,
gave orders on 7 September 1703, that an inventory be drawn up of all the
paintings contained in that institution, and that the seal of the lion of St
Mark be affixed on them as a sign of their inalienability. Nonetheless, this
episode did not give rise to any wider-reaching conclusions.
2
186 Collectors, Naturalist.!' aJZd A ntiquarian.r
The protection of works of art: the duty of the state
In 1771, a painting said to be by Veronese was spirited away from a Treviso
monastery, a copy being left in its place. This affair, which was actually
highly complicated, although the details are of little importance to us,
3
came
to the notice of the public authorities in March 1772. The measures which
were subsequently taken demonstrate the changes in their attitude to works
of art all the more effectively in that the story has a happy ending, with the
stolen painting being solemnly reinstated in its place of origin on 6 May
1773. In April of the same year, just as this affair was about to be resolved, a
draft decision of considerable import was submitted to the Inquisitori di
Stato by Anton Maria Zanetti the Younger (1706-78), the 'custode' at the
Biblioteca Marciana, where he drew up an inventory of all the statues and
catalogued the manuscripts; he was the author of a work to which we shall
later refer: Della pittura veneziana e delle opere pubbliche de'Veneziani
iVfaestri libri V ( 1771 ).
4
Instead of sending out a distress call in the form of a
new publication, Zanetti sent an official letter containing detailed proposals.
This would not, however, have succeeded in gerring the heavy administrative
machinery moving had those wielding this machinery not come to consider
that the protection of works of art was the duty of the state.
Zanetti began his letter by describing the damage suffered by the
paintings he had studied in the churches, palaces and other public places he
had visited while preparing his book, and went on to remind his readers of
the illicit sale to the minister from Great Britain of three works by
Veronese, which came from San Giacomo di Murano, as well as of the
intervention of the authorities in the Santa Maria Maggiore affair. Only
then did he put forward his project.
The precious and abundant body of public paintings is, perhaps, the rarest
ornament of this powerful republic, and draws more admiration from
foreigners than any other feature.
The Senate has undertaken the care and conservation of the paintings
in the public palaces of St Mark's and the Rialto, and has designated paid
inspectors in several decrees.
There remain the paintings in the churches, schools, oratories and
other places, which are in constant danger of being lost or sold, no public
authority being there to prevent this, and no inspectorate keeping watch
over them.
I therefore humbly propose that an accurate catalogue or inventory of
selected paintings from the above-mentioned places particularly deserv-
ing public protection be commissioned. Also that the superintendents or
directors of these places should be informed through an order that all
arbitrary movement or sale of these paintings listed in the catalogue is
forbidden. As for necessary restoration, urgent repairs or other
Collectors, Naturalists and Antiquarians 187
eventualities, permission will have to be sought and obtained, once an
approved expert has made an inspection and drawn up a report .... j
These words had an almost instantaneous effect. On 20 April 1773, the
Inquisitori di Stato reiterated Zanetti's proposals in a letter to the Consiglio
dei Dieci, replacing the examples of the stolen paintings with a reference to
a highly topical event, namely, the Treviso affair. That very same day, the
Consiglio dei Dieci pronounced in its favour, and on 12 July Zanetti was
appointed Ispettore aile pubbliche pitture and given the task of drawing up
an 'exact catalogue containing all those famous paintings which are the
works of illustrious and renowned artists and which are to be found in the
churches, schools, monasteries of the town, together with descriptions of
their subjects and the names of their authors'. In accordance with Zanetti's
suggestions, it was decided that every institution should henceforth possess
a copy of that part of the catalogue which concerned it, and that the
superiors, wardens or heads should be responsible for ensuring that the
listed works remain in place, the sale or exchange of these works being
strictly forbidden, along with any restoration work carried out without the
permission of the inspector.
6
Zanetti sent in the first of his six-monthly
reports as early as 30 August 1773, while in March 1774 he handed to the
Inquisirori di Stato the catalogue of the 'quadri piit degni' to be found in
public places in VeniceJ
Nor were the mainland towns forgotten. In the space of only one week
(24-31 July 1773) news of the Senate's decision to extend the system of
protecting paintings set up in Venice tO the whole of the republic was
successfully communicated in a circular sent by the Inquisitori di Stato to the
rectors of 'Bre.rcia, Padova, Crema, Bergamo, Salo, Verona, Vicenza, Rovigo,
Udine, Treviso, Feltre, Bel/uno, Civida! di Friul, Coneglian, Chiozza, ecc. ecc.'
An important text, written by Zanerti between these two dates for the
Inquisitori di Stato, who had asked his advice, noted that in nearly all these
towns existing descriptions and lives of painters would make the work of
drawing up catalogues of publicly owned paintings much easier; and before
outlining the practical side to the running of the inspectorate, he suggested
that the enthusiasm of amateurs and collectors of paintings should be
harnessed (which emphasizes their role in the conservation of the nation's
treasures), and that they should be charged with keeping watch over publicly
owned paintings, a task which they would regard as a singular honour.s
The circular of 31 July 1773, inspired by Zanetti, met with many different
types of response, according to the situation which prevailed locally. In
Padua, where the first inspector of public paintings was appointed as early
as 18 August 1773, twenty years went by before this post found a suitably
qualified occupant: Giovanni de Lazara (1744-1833 ), a collector and
connoisseur of art history, and the friend of, among others, Lanzi,
188 Collectors, Naturalists and Antiquariam
Cicognara, Morelli and Canova.
9
This was, however, a delay of inordinate
length. The podesta of Treviso, for instance, wrote the following to the
Inquisitori de Stato:
It is no secret that this town lacks both experienced artists and
connoisseurs of painting and drawing. This explains why it was necessary
to turn to art lovers and select one of their number for the post of
inspector. Out of these, Don Ambrogio Rigamonti seemed to me to be the
best and the most learned, judging not only from information from
several inhabitants of the town but also from the assurances of the
deputies themselves. Accordingly, I fixed my choice on him.
This was, in fact, not a bad choice, as Don Ambrogio Rigamonti,
incidentally the author of the Descrizione delle pitture piu celebri che si
vedono esposte ne!le chiese ed altri luoghi pubblici di Treviso (1744, re-
edited in 1776), sent in at least two lists of pictures, one for Treviso itself,
dated 1773, the other for its environs, dated 1777.
10
Elsewhere, with the exception of Crema and Conegliano, where the
catalogues were completed in 1774, the setting-up of the inspectOrate of
publicly owned paintings seems either to have taken several years - the
reports from Bassano only arrived in 1793u -or else not to have been
begun at all. Nothing was even mentioned on the subject in Verona, and it
was only in 1803-4, in a radically altered political climate, that Saverio dalla
Rosa produced his inventory of paintings and sculptures.
12
The printed
descriptions of the public paintings were, of course, available in Verona
from the first half of the century onwards,
1
3 as was the case in Vicenza
14
and
Brescia,
15
and similar descriptions made their appearance later on in
Treviso and Padua. It is to these books that Zanetti referred in his text.
After 1773, others were published both in the towns already mentioned and
in Bergamo, Bassano, Rovigo and Udine, and will be cited more than once
later on. Nevertheless, however useful they may have been in other
respects, unlike the catalogues drawn up by the inspectors, they had no
official status and their composition had nothing to do with preparations
for the organization of a system designed to protect publicly owned works
against illicit sales and incompetent restorers. In this area, situations varied
greatly from place to place but were in general far from encouraging. True,
in 1725 the municipality of Bassano had succeeded in defeating a project to
rransport three works by Giacomo da Ponte from the Palazzo Pretorio
16
tO
Venice, where they were to adorn the walls of the public library. In Verona,
on the other hand, Maffei denounced the disastrous attempt at restOring a
picture by Veronese,
17
while in Bergamo there were complaints about sales
of ancient paintings, where the originals had been replaced by modern
works, and about changes in size, ill-suited frames, damaging cleaning and
r
over-shiny varnishes.
18
In 1755 attention was drawn to very similar abuses
in Friuli, the Bellunese, Caroia and Cadore.
1
9
Although Zanetti's project was a semi-failure in most of the mainland
towns, partly due to the fact that the Venetian authorities took no interest
in the inspectors' reports even when they did receive them,2o this semi-
failure in no way means that the project itself was a bad one. Its sole defect
in fact was the catalogue proposal, and the idea that protection should only
be given to the 'insigni pitture che sono opere di celebri e rinomati
professori ', as this introduced an arbitrary element into the selection
criteria. We are still a long way here from the notion of a general inventory
of historical and artistic monumeots.
21
Having said this, the proposal to set
up an inspectorate of public paintings in each town, charged to list them all
in a catalogue to prevent their removal, and most especially their change of
owner, and to keep a close watch over their restoration, was nonetheless a
break with the situation which had prevailed until then, as it imposed a new
role on the state, thereby modifying the very status of the 'pitture
pubbliche'. These latter had previously only been public in that they
belonged not to private individuals but to institutions, and in that when
they were displayed to visitors, in conditions which varied grearly, watch
was kept over them both by their owners (members of a brotherhood or
chapter, parish dignitaries, etc.) and by the town's inhabitants as a body.
This watch was often roo casual to prevent the sale or the deterioration of a
work, while the authorities, as we have seen, only rarely intervened. Now,
however, in accordance with Zanetti's project, it was the responsibility of
the powers that be to place limits on the owners' rights, by forbidding them
to take any initiatives concerning a work unless they had the agreement of
the authority appointed to monitor its condition and empowered to bring
miscreant owners before a tribunal.
Venice: from the dispersed art gallery to public museums
This project therefore treated all the famous paintings by great masters as
pieces of a single collection, accorded special protection and placed on
display in enclosed spaces designed for the purpose. In other words, its aim
was to create, first in Venice, later over the whole of the republic, a sort of
dispersed art gallery. This was the great novelty, and despite the fact that it
apparently had no equivalent in any country, this innovatory project was
adopted and put into effect with surprising rapidity by authorities known
more for their slowness and caution in the face of all change. Clearly, the
cause had been heard before it was pleaded, and its espousal by the Venetian
elite raised the issue of picture conservation to the level of an affair of state.
Only a small step separated the Zanetti project from that of setting up a
190 Collectors, Naturalists and Antiquariam
public picture gallery. This step was all the more easily made in that, with
only a slight discrepancy in dates, the establishment of the public pictures
inspectorate coincided with that of a proper picture restoration service.
Since 1689 a painter had been responsible for restoring the works which
adorned rhe public palaces, a responsibility assumed in 1724 by the Collegia
dei Pittori, where the work was apportioned to a number of different artists.
This arrangement was far from satisfactory and was therefore reformed in
the late 1770s.
22
On 3 September 1778, a decree of the Senate, inspired by
Pietro Edwards ( 1744-1821 ), gave it control of a laboratory with a
permanent staff who specialized in picture restoration and whose activities
were strictly regulated.
21
Restoration was thus entrusted to professionals, as
Edwards had sought. He had emphasized 'the great difference between a
painter of value and an experienced restorer of paintings' and underlined
the fact that the craft of the restorer was 'still a new profession'.
24
On 23
December 1779, a new decree of the Senate presented the initial results of
the experiment and raised the question of the foundation of a public art
gallery.
As this council is satisfied with the operations carried out up to now by
the above-mentioned experts, under the control of Mr Edwards, the
inspector, and which were in accordance with the tasks they had been
assigned, the highly estimable work intended to put into effect the decree
of 3 September 1778 will be pursued in the same manner. Moreover,
having remarked that a number of the precious public paintings are
housed in areas of the Public Palace where the lack of light, the unsuitable
nature of the niches and the small number of visitors mean that they are
in a state of abandonment and risk being lost, and desirous of exploiting
to the utmost the advantages which were present at the inauguration of
this enterprise, in other words desirous of contributing to the instruction
and industry of its subjects, to the embellishment of the town and the
national genius for this art, this council appeals to the praiseworthy zeal
which reigns at meetings of the Magistrato al Sal and to the Savio Cassier
del Collegia already charged by a previous decree to examine the question,
to consider whether it would be feasible to assemble all these neglected
paintings under the same roof, in a public art gallery, following the advice
of the above-mentioned Mr Edwards, who has given ample proof of his
expertise in such matters, in order to furnish subsequently anything he
considers suitable and which is the outcome of public debate
25
Things were obviously ro be on a modest scale, as the type of public
gallery envisaged by the Senate and placed under review, would merely
have been for the display of pictures from the Doges' Palace which were
still inaccessible. The very idea of confiscating works in the hands of
religious institutions with the aim of bringing them together under
-.-
Collectors, Naturalists and Antiquariam
191
a single roof never even occurred to the senators. Hardly surprising, as
they were not French revolutionaries. Yet, in their own way, they did
manifest a desire to innovate and an openness to prevailing ideas, as, had
it been created, their gallery would have been only the second public
gallery apart from the Uffizi in Florence to be formed around a princely
collection, the other public museums of that period containing mostly
ancient sculptures and curiosities. Moreover, the list of benefits claimed to
stem from the viewing of paintings is a corollary of the ideology which
attributed to them a higher value on the grounds of a supposed utility.
This utility was said to derive from the notion that by stimulating hopes
for fresh masterpieces, these paintings stimulated the industry of the
subjects, increased the republic's prestige and aroused national feeling. The
decree therefore echoed the sentiments expressed in any number of texts
seeking to attribute a vaguely utilitarian role to painting, sentiments
encapsulated in the document sent at the request of the Senate by the
Riformatori dello Studio di Padova. If not actually written, then at least
inspired in the main by Edwards, this document also hinted at the
expectations which were to be embodied in the decree of 3 September
1778.
26
The ideas of the artists, like those of the an lovers, thus came to be
incorporated in the laws and institutions, and led to painting becoming an
affair of state.
At the same time as the conservation, restoration and display of
paintings to visitors gradually entered into the ambit of the authorities,
similar changes were taking place concerning natural objects. Antonio
Vallisnieri the Younger ( 1708-77) had given the Venetian state the
collections he had inherited from his illustrious father, who had died some
years earlier. This donation had been accepted by a decree of the Senate on 2
January 1733, and, in recompense, Vallisnieri was appointed professor of
simples at the University of Padua in 1734, and curator of the collections
which were henceforth assimilated into this institution
27
It was therefore in
this fashion that next tO his doubly secular botanical garden was established
the Venetian Republic's first natural history museum, which was to
continue growing during the 1750s and 1760s thanks to a number of
donations and acquisitions. To it was appended a second museum in 1782,
again in Padua, when Fra Angelo Ziliani (1734-1819) donated the ornitho-
logical collection he had built up in the Santo Convent to the Riformatori
della Studio di Padova. This collection, one of the town's attractions, was
elevated to the rank of Museum of the Republic, and amalgamated with the
university one which had fallen into a state of decay since the death of
Vallisnieri. It remained within the precincts of the Santo, however, until the
demise of Fra Angelo.
28
At some point in its history, the University's school
of chemistry acquired a collection of minerals.29
The public collections which sprang up in the sixteenth and seventeenth
192 Collectors, Naturalists and Antiquarians
centuries in the Venetian Republic were collections of antiquities, such as
statues coins and inscriptions, the sole exception being the botanical
garden: In the eighteenth century, natural objects, along with
seen as collection pieces rather than as decorative elements
from artists, began to benefit from the protection of the authormes. As m
rhe past, private individuals, collectors, art lovers and artists were the o"?es
behind this change, awakening the concern of the powers that be, alarmmg
them, submitting proposals to them or quite simply ready-
made collections, which meant they could not but react. Even 1f th1s had not
led to the founding of a public museum in the case of paintings, t_he
establishment of a system of protecting and restoring paintings in Vemce
did amount to the organization there of a decentralized public art gallery
which had nor previously existed. Before the first half of the eighteenth
century, nobody had asked the state tO become the owner o_f a ?atural
history collection, even though collections of this type had been m
since the sixteenth century. Similarly, nobody had requested the state pnor
to the 1770s to assume responsibility for the protection of pictures or even
for the creation of a public art gallery. There can therefore be no doubt that
the appearance of such projects was the result of new dema?ds made on the
state which in accordance with the ideas of the day, was ob!tged to take care
of public p;operty, encourage the dissemination of ne_w ideas and_ foster the
development of the arts, business, industry and agnculture. It Illustrated,
moreover, and this is the aspect which most concerns us status
which both individuals and the authorities attributed ro pamtmgs and
natural objects. While not utterly neglected, antiquities now_ occupied
place in the hierarchy of objects. The only exception to this were
works of art, especially statues, these alone being able to compete With and
sometimes even rank higher than paintings.
7.1 PAINTINGS, DRAWINGS, ENGRAVINGS
Private art collections were mostly concentrated in Venice and Verona in
the seventeenth century and first half of the eighteenth. After roughly
1750 and with a clear acceleration in the final third of the century, nearly
ever; Venetian town saw an increase in the number of owners of fjalerie,
quadrerie, raccolte, col!ezioni, stanze piene di quadri, terms wh1ch the
authors of the period used to distinguish art collectors from those wh_o
possessed paintings in order to decorate their walls. Between the begmnmg
and the end of the century, the number of collectors defined in this way thus
rose from nearly seventy to around 150. More than a third lived in Venice
itself, which always remained in first place.
30
Second still wen_t to
Verona, where the disappearance of a proportion of the thtrty collections
Collectors, Naturalists and Antiqttariam
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 1780s36
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 other40
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 mid-
1780s, 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.4l This
was, however, by no means the case of collections of drawings, of which at
least twelve are known to us, as they all appear to have been formed in
Venice, with the exception of two Veronese collections dating back to the
seventeenth century.44
The collections and the market
It was in the final decade of the seventeenth century in Amsterdam, the
beginning of the eighteenth century in London and in 1730 in Paris that the
pace of the art and curiosity markets began to be dictated by public auctions,
increasingly frequent events, which were advertised beforehand and usually
involved the printing of catalogues. As these sales began to play an ever
larger role and the sums paid increased, a real prestige accrued to the
profession of rhe experts who were responsible for conducting the sale and
194 Collector.r, Natura!i.rt.r and Antiquariam
drawing up the catalogue beforehand. This particular task consisted in the
identification of the objects, in the attribution of a specific author to them
when necessary, in the composition of a concise but accurate description of
them and in the calculation of their artistic and monetary value:
15
Nothing
of the sort took place in Venice, where the collectors of paintings, drawings
and engravings, along with antiquities and natural curios, continued to
make their acquisitions throughout the eighteenth century in a market
organized in the traditional way, where potential purchasers entered into
direct negotiations with the seller, the final price being the outcome of
bargaining rather than of bidding. The role of intermediary and expert in
this type of transaction was carried out by artists, sometimes very great
ones, as in the case of Algarotti, who turned to Tiepolo
46
for advice, when
seeking paintings for the Dresden gallery, and Tomasso degli Obizzi, who
called upon the services of Canova
47
In the final decades of the century,
however, professional dealers in paintings and curios in general did make
their appearance, in the shape of a few abbots who were half collectors, half
dealers48 or else painters who had turned their hand to restoring works of
art. The best known of these was Giovan Maria Sasso ( 1742-1803 ). He was
a true expert, credited with a great many transactions and with having
become a connoisseur 'whose boundless memory constituted a veritable
index to the fine arts. When he saw a painting or an engraving, he was still
able, even after ten or fifteen years had gone by, to describe it in its most
minute derail, as well as to recount its exact history.'
49
It would seem that the market in collection pieces continued to run on
traditional lines because the supply here was neither as strong nor as
regular as in Amsterdam, London or Paris. As they were formed in a more
stable social climate, Venetian collections were mostly handed down from
generation to generation, belonging more to a gens than to any individual
in particular. It was as if their contents, especially if they were paintings,
were regarded as the visible embodiment of the position occupied by the
family in the social hierarchy, and, as such, could not be sold. In 1773, in a
text on the mainland towns which we have already mentioned, A. M.
Zanetti made the following comment.
In each of these towns, especially amongst the nobility, one comes across,
and could name, lovers and connoisseurs of painting who have a
considerable knowledge of the best works to be found in their towns.
They are keenly aware how great an honour it is to possess works by
famous painters. Proof of this is the universal acclaim which accompanied
the return of the work by Paolo Veronese to the church of Treviso.
Foreigners find it difficult, if not impossible, to purchase the paintings
from these galleries as well as those housed in public places.
50
...,----
Co!!ectorJ, Natztra!i.rts and A ntiquariam 195
As this description of the behaviour of Venetian collectors who refuse to
sell their works to foreigners is the work of Zanetti, who was so ardent an
advocate of the protection of the nation's artistic heritage, we can take it to
be fairly reliable. All the more so, since it was borne out by Rossetti who, a
few years earlier, wrote in his guide to Padua: 'It is both remarkable and
admirable that, for the most part, our nobility refuses to be deprived of its
paintings, however great the sum offered for them; if this example was
followed by the many other Italian towns, foreign nations would not be as
well endowed with spoils from our country.' Here, the well-known leitmotif
of foreigners plundering Italy was thus used to glorify the patriotism of the
Paduan nobility which, unmoved by financial gain, was unwilling to be
separated from its paintings. Eleven years afterwards, however, the author
added the following passage to this remark: 'It is nonetheless true that Italy
can enrich other nations without its stocks running dry. She is so well
endowed with precious treasures and has always had such an abundance of
excellent artists that she can more than repair any damage she may have
suffered.'
51
This seems to be praise of a somewhat ambiguous kind, since it
appears to exonerate in advance those who sell their collections by arguing
that even if these leave the country Italy will be none the poorer, though
this is perhaps making a case against Rossetti based on assumptions rather
than facts.
Whatever the truth of the matter, the facts show that both his and
Zanetti's remarks were well founded, as the majority of the Venetian
collections survived intact until, if not beyond, the fall of the republic. In
Verona dalla Rosa found around twenty of the collections described by dal
Pozzo, some of which were still around years later.
52
In Padua, out of the
twenty-one collections mentioned by Rossetti in 1776, eleven survived to
figure in Moschini's guide of 1817.
5
3 In Rovigo the art gallery of the
Accademia dei Concordi, along with that of the seminary, still contains today
the majority of the paintings which belonged to the eighteenth-century
collectors, 5
4
just as the ones from the Carrara Gallery are still to be found in
Bergamo." It is above all in Venice itself that collections, sometimes very old
ones, seem ro have been dispersed the earliest, the most rapidly, and in the
most spectacular fashion. Even in Venice, however, this process only really
gained momentum in the first half of the nineteenth century.
56
In the eighteenth century the difference between Venice and the
mainland towns was both economic and socio-cultural, consisting of the
presence in Venice of a fairly large colony of foreigners; these comprised
not only tourists but also residents, including wealthy merchants, diplomats
and occasionally military men, based in Venice for long periods and
representing a purchasing power which was even more striking in that in
general they each had individually large sums of money at their disposalY
This they used to build up collections which they subsequently sold in their
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 con-
noisseurs.58 They thus created a noticeable pressure on the art market,
especially in the area of paintings, drawings and engravings, which were
equally sought after by visitors passing through and art lovers living
abroad. 59 Hence the extremely high prices of old paintings, especially of old
masters, and hence tao the difficulty in finding drawings by well-known
artists at a reasonable price6 and the 'incredible' dearness of engravings
61
A similar pressure was felr in the field of modern contemporary painting;
several Venetian artists spent many years away from their town and even
when they did live there, they often received commissions from abroad or
from foreign residents in Venice
62
In the Venetian Republic of the eighteenth century, one sometimes
became an art collector through birth, inheriting the family collection,
sometimes through one's own efforts. Objects were both handed down and
purchased, the rules of inheritance paralleled the rules of the marketplace,
and collections dating from the past rubbed shoulders with ones of more
recent date. This duality was not in itself particularly original. However, as
we are about to find out, the origins of a collection are generally determined
by the social position of its owner, something which is not unexpected, as
well as by the deliberate choice of the artists represented in it and the
preference accorded to certain themes. If one studies town by town or, if
necessary, collection by collection, the variations in these different factors,
one finishes up with a sort of map of the taste in paintings which prevailed
in the Venetian Republic in the eighteenth century. Let us begin with
Venice, 'Ia Dominance'.
Venice
According to Francis Haskell, the collections of paintings belonging to old
patrician families only covered works earlier than the eighteenth century,
later artists being either poorly represented or else not at all. Even the
members of the newer nobility seemed primarily interested in older
paimings.63 If it did attract Venetian aristocrats, contemporary painting did
so above all because of its decorative value. Accordingly, out of the 172
works contained in the Palazzo San Stefano belonging tO the Pisani family,
inventoried by Edwards in April 1809, only thirteen, most of them
portraits, belonged to the eighteenth century, and chiefly ro its early years:
On the other hand, it was the works of S. Ricci, Lazzarini and Pellegnm
which made up a large proportion of the palace's decor, while the Villa Stra,
of somewhat later date, since its main body was completed in 1736,
- . - ~
contained works by Nazzari, Zais, Maggiotto, Fontebasso, Pittoni, Diziani,
Marieschi, Amigoni, Zucchi, Zugno, Rosalba Carriera and Piazzetta. Taking
into account the places where they were hung, it would seem that recent
paintings were not held in the same esteem here as older ones. They
belonged to the sphere of entertainment rather than that of serious art, as
borne out by the predominance of lyrical subjects, landscapes and the
personification by mythological figures of the four elements.
64
Once again
according to Haskell, only the Giovanelli, Venetian noblemen since 1668,
had added works by Tiepolo, Piazzetta, Canaletto and Zuccarelli to their
collection of old masters in the first half of the eighteenth century, and only
one patrician stood out among his fellows because of the wide-ranging
nature of his activities as a collector, and that was Zaccaria Sagredo (1654-
1729), who assembled in his palace a large number of paintings (including
ones by Piazzetta, Tiepolo, Canaletto), drawings (by Piazzetta, Tiepolo,
Lazzarini and Diziani) and engravings.6
5
The most sustained interest in contemporary paintings was above all
noticeable in collectors who did not belong to patrician circles in Venice,
and who built up their collections through their own efforts, by purchasing
and commissioning works; among them were the city's foreign residents.
One of these, Joseph Smith (1674-1770, arrived in Venice around 1700),
the British consul, sold the following works to the king of England in the
last years of his life: fifty-four Canalettos, forty-two Marco Riccis, thirty-
eight Rosalba Carrieras, thirty-six Zuccarellis, twenty-eight Sebastiana
Riccis, nine Giuseppe Nogaris, six Carlevaris and four Pietro Longhis.
66
These were, moreover, just some of the paintings, drawings and engravings
by contemporary Venetian artists housed in Smith's palace, along with an
impressive collection of more ancient works. Given the absence of Tiepolo
and a fairly slender interest in historical painting generally,
67
the presence,
en masse, of Rosalba, Marco Ricci, Canaletto and Zuccarelli shows that with
regard to Venetian painting of the period, Smith was above all attracted to
the way it represented the visible world, as well as to its decorative value, of
course, given that thirteen of the Canalettos and eleven of the Zuccarellis
were furniture pictures. It also seems to have been their representation of
the visible world which attracted Smith to the Flemish artists, of whom he
possessed several works, while with the Italian old masters his preference
was for religious subjects.
68
Smith's case is remarkable for several reasons. No foreigner has ever
played such a many-faceted role in the cultural life of Venice over so long a
period. And nobody has ever built up, as far as we know, a collection
comparable to his. However, it is precisely because of its size that the Smith
collection, like a magnifying glass, heightens tendencies which otherwise
would be difficult tO detect, even though they were present in several
collections of the period. A smaller collection, belonging to Marshal
198 Collectors, Naturalists and Antiquafiam
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 belong-
ing 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
Co!!ecton, Naturalists and Antiquarians 199
influence he exerted through his writings, the commissions he gave to arrists
for works intended for the Dresden gallery and through the direct contact he
had with them, was so great that it would be impossible to ignore it.'4 The
collection he left at his death seems to reflect the preferences he had
expressed elsewhere. Out of 179 attributed pictures, there were forty-three
landscapes, vedute and architectural paintings, three animal portraits, five of
flowers, while the rest comprised historical and religious works. Although
not tremendously large, this proportion of paintings depicting elements of
the visible world is nonetheless significant. Worth noting too, is the marked
presence of contemporary Venetian painters- forty-nine works by eighteen
artists- and in particular of Tiepolo, with thirteen pictures by him. When it
comes to the drawings, the tale is much the same.
70
We move on to the third generation, represented, for instance, by Matteo
Pinelli (1736-85 ), a publisher employed by the state who used his spare
time to amass a huge library, a collection of coins, of which more later,76 and
more than 640 paintings. Most of these were portraits, which numbered
210, and these reflected Pinelli's interest in history, especially that of
Venice. Out of the remaining 430 works, 202 were religious, seventy-five
were landscapes, sixty-two historical paintings, forty-nine featured still
lifes, flowers, fruit and animals and fifteen were battle scenes. The
modernity of Pinelli's taste can be judged from the fact that the landscapes
and vedute outnumbered the historical paintings, and is confirmed by the
presence of at least fifty works by contemporary artists, with five Lazzarinis
and B. N azzaris, four Sebastiana Riccis, the same number of Piazzettas and
Tiepolos, three Marco Riccis and three Pittonis, and two each by Marieschi,
Canaletto and Pietro Longhi. The strong presence of Flemish artists should
also be emphasized, and in particular a 'Quadfo con stregherie di bizafre
invenzione. Vi sta scfitto Iheronimus Boehs.'77
The massive influx into collections of landscapes, stilllifes, flowers, fruit,
animals, of representations of the visible world in other words, reflected the
promotion of what had formerly been known as the 'minor genres', often to
the detriment of historical and religious painting. These changes in the
thematic structure of collections did not necessarily open them up to
contemporary painting, these two phenomena not necessarily being syn-
onymous. This is borne out by a collection- anonymous, unfortunately- of
drawings, which was formed in Venice before the 1780s and is dominated
by contemporary artists. Its subjects are uniquely historical and religious,
and there is not a single capriccio, landscape or veduta.
78
Thematic
preferences are thus one thing and attitudes to contemporary painting quite
another, the two only converging in very specific cases, such as where an
attachment to older painting is accompanied by a continuing preference for
religious and hisrorical subjects. It is just such a refusal to accept any kind of
innovation that seems to have manifested itself in the collectors who
belonged to Venetian patrician circles, this stance being opposed by those
who opted either for contemporary painting, or for an overhaul of thematic
tastes or even both at the same time: attitudes towards contemporary
painting were particular! y revealing of profound differences in taste. It
remains to be seen whether this duality was restricted to Venice or whether
it also existed in the mainland towns.
Brescia, Padua, Rovigo
Around 1760, three of the seven collections supposedly located in Brescia,
according tO the catalogues published by Carboni
7
9 contained works by the
following contemporary painters: Pittoni and Solimena (six each), Balestra
and Gian Battista Tiepolo (four), Canaletto, Piazzetta and an anonymous
artist (two), Cignaroli, Antonio Guardi, Sebastiana Ricci, Rotari, Zais and
Zuccarelli, not counting those who were actually resident in Brescia. In
actual fact, out of the thirty-two works by these artists twenty-seven
belonged to just two of the collections, owned by the Barbizonis and
A vogadris, including all the Pittonis, of which each owned three, all the
Solimenas, five of which belonged to the Avogadris, the three Tiepolos, the
Piazzettas, Canalettos and vedute. It has to be said that with 263 and more
than 175 pictures respectively, these two collections contained more than
the other five put together, as these only contained ninety, seventy-nine
(plus thirty furniture pictures), forty-eight, forty-one and thirty-four
paintings respectively. Nonetheless, as in the case of the Gaifanis' collec-
tion, which ranked fourth, around six per cent of the contents of each was
composed of contemporary works, demonstrating that it was not the size of
the collection which determined the presence of this type of painting.
The nature of their contents does seem, however, to have been a decisive
factor. In the Maffei collection, which comprised ninety works, none later
than the seventeenth century, fifty-eight paintings, that is more than half,
were given over to religious and historico-mythological subjects, compared
with the Gaifani collection where the proportion was approximately a third
(twenty-six out of seventy-nine), the Barbizoni (95 out of 263) and the
Avogadri (67 out of 175).lt is true, however, that the same proportion was
to be found in the collection belonging to Bishop Molino, who had
weaknesses for 'Borgognone' battles, bambocciate - he had four - and for
Flemish painting, but none whatsoever for contemporary works. The
percentage of landscapes, stilllifes, flowers, fruit, animals and genre scenes
is, perhaps, more significant, as the figure of slightly under twenty-five per
cent for the Maffei collection (twenty our of ninety) is in marked contrast to
the figures of over fifty per cent for the Gaifani (forty-five out of seventy-
nine), around forty per cent for the Barbizoni (1 03 out of 263) and even to
the figure of just over twenty-five per cent for the Avogardi collection (45
out of more than 175 ), where 'diversi quadretti d'animali di conte Giorgio
Durazzo' and 'moltissimi altri quadri Fiamminghi piccoli e grandi' have not
been included in the total. so
Although these are only rough figures, they do seem ro point to the
existence of two different trends in taste in Brescia, similar to those detected
by Haskell in Venice, one remaining loyal to traditional painting and
preferring religious and historical subjects, the other welcoming innovation
and showing an interest in landscapes, stilllifes, flowers, fruit, animals and
genre scenes. This, at any rate, is the image the collectors themselves gave
of their preferences, either deliberately or unintentionally, given that they
personally provided Carboni with their catalogues.si
We come next to house interiors in Padua around 1765 and 1776, as
described by Rossetti, who gave the names of the authors of the most
interesting works tO be seen there, sometimes detailing their subjects. This
selection obviously conflicts at times with that operated by the owners of the
paintings, bur the very fact that they opened their homes to him some ten
years later, when he came ro revise his book indicates that they did not have
too much to reproach him with.
82
Here, out of the thirty-five descriptions of
interiors, only eight mention works by contemporary painters. Moreover, in
the home of Abbot Poleni, the son of Giovanni Poleni, a famous scholar and
friend of Joseph Smith, the portraits by Rosalba appear to have constituted
part of the decor,
8
3 while three other people, who also happened to be
collectors, only possessed one single recent picture each - a Balestra, a
Piazzetta and a G. B. Tiepolo
84
- which does not suggest a particularly keen
interest in contemporary painting. As for the four remaining interiors, it
was the Berzi family which posed the problem: 'These worthy merchants
possess a number of very fine works, namely vedute by the famous Antonio
Canal, known as Canaletto, a Venetian. They also own ones by Antonio
Pellegrini as well as several pastels by Rosalba Carriera, a Venetian of
considerable fame outside Italy too. Madame Catherine, a member of the
same family, owns several paintings by this eminent artist.'
8
5 There is
nothing in this description, which was, moreover, omitted from the 1776
edition, to suggest that the Berzis were collectors, but whether they were or
not, they owed their reputation solely to the fact that they had amassed a
number of contemporary pictures. Given that this was regarded as excep-
tional 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
202 Collectors, Natttralists and Antiquarians
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 Zuccarelli
88
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
Collectors, Naturalists and Antiquarians
203
Concordi, was put on display at the palace of Nicolo Campo in 1793.93
Whatever the date these pictures arrived in Rovigo, when they did so it
was in startling quantity, and we have not yet even mentioned all those which
were pan of collections. If these too are taken into account, we find that
contemporary paintings were present in eleven of the twenty-five Rovigo
interiors described by Bartoli. As soon as one turns to the collections,
however, one immediately notices a profound difference between those
belonging to Don Girolamo Biscaccia Carrara and the Casilini a! Duomo
family on the one side and those owned by the Campanaris, Muttonis and
Silvestris on the other. Contemporary pictures were completely absent from
the first collection mentioned, while out of the sixty-two works making up
the second, only three, one painred by Lazzarini and two by Diziani, were of
recent date. Indeed, the Casilini family had a marked and lasting preference
for traditional painting, and the 1824 catalogue of its collection shows that
out of the 172 works comprising it, 140 of which were attributed to specific
artists, only eight were painted by artists who lived on into the eighteenth
century, and only two of these died after 1750. It is also worth noting that 112
had religious themes, twenty-four were portraits and twelve historical
paintings. Altogether, there were only eight landscapes and genre scenes,
three battles and two flower pictures.94
This pronounced backward-looking slant was completely foreign to the
Campanari collection, with its two Tiepolos, two Lazzarinis, its Balestra (of
doubtful attribution, however), its Marco Ricci, Nogari, Pittoni, Bortoloni
and Ghislandi, in all, ten recent works out of a total of sixty-seven, without
counting the copy of Piazzetta's Madonna and Child which had been
executed by the owner of this collection.9> It was just as foreign w the
Muttoni collection where, among the thirty-eight pictures described and
which Bartoli considered the most precious, were four Pittonis, three
Balestras and 'due belle vedutine di luoghi preSJo Roma' by van Wittel.96
Lastly, in the collection built up by Rinaldo Silvestri (1729- after 1793) out
of 124 paintings -actually more, as Bartoli did not include 'varii quadri de
fiori' - thirty-four were by eighteenth-century artists, with eight by
Piazzetta, four by Pittoni, three by Diziani and the same number by G.
Nogari, two by Balestra, Sebastiana Ricci, G. B. Tiepolo, Zais and Buffetti
and one from each of the following: Amigoni, Canaletto, Cignaroli,
Lazzarini, Rotari and Trevisani9
7
In Rovigo, a cleavage in taste, similar to
the one described in Brescia, made its appearance against a far more
pronounced backdrop of contemporary painting, the difference being that
in Rovigo, unlike Brescia, the thematic make-up of the collections did not
vary noticeably, with religious and historical paintings accounting for more
than half of the Campanari and Silvestri collections (forty-two works out of
sixty-seven and 74 out of 124 respectively), and nearly half of the Casilini
collection (twenty-six out of sixty-two).
204 Collectors, NaturaliJt.r and Antiquarian.>
In several ways, the Campanari, Muttoni and Silvestri collections resem-
bled that of Giovanni Vianelli, a canon of Chioggia cathedral, a collection
which comprised seventy-three works painted in the eighteenth-century
out of a total of 232 pictures (including twenty-five anonymous ones). The
eighteenth-century ones included eleven paintings 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, Cignaroli,
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 portraits, heads and busts and twenty-eight landscapes, the latter
thus outnumbering the seventeen historical paintings.
98
Verona
The contrast, 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 Venetian painting seems to have
met with fierce resistance. There was, nevertheless, no forewarning of this
in the opening decades of the century: Lazzarini and Trevisani were
represented 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 mentions a Veronese pupil of the latter and attributes
two altar pictures to him.
100
Between 1724 and 1725, at the request of
Scipione Maffei, Tiepolo produced a set of drawings of the antiquities
contained in the Bevilacqua collection for his Verona illustrata, which
contains lofty praise of the 'per/etta correzzione', 'francbezza', 'espression
delle sembianze' and above all the 'gusto antico' of Tiepolo's work.
101
It was
apparently 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 returned in 1761, in order to paint the frescoes in the Canossa
Palace.
102
The list of Venetian works commissioned by the Veronese is completed
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 contemporary Venetian paintings in the possession of
private individuals on the fingers of one hand. There were none at all in the
collection belonging to Anton Maria Lorgna (1735-96), sold in 1781 to
Count Giovanni Emilei (1749-1802),
104
and only one, a Sebastiana Ricci,
out of the 354 works of the Canossa collection, of which an inventory was
Collectors, Naturalist.> and Antiquarians 205
drawn up in the same year,l
05
while the Serpini collection included just two
Zuccarelli landscapes.l
06
As for Giovanni Girolamo Orti (1769-1845 ), the
proud owner of a 'scelta raccolta de quadri moderni tra i quali uno di Gio
Batta Tiepolo',
107
the composition of which is unfortunately unknown to us,
it is possible that he did own a few other Venetian paintings. Let us add that
in the portrait collection belonging to Rafaelle Mosconi (1671-1730), which
went to the Gazola family after his death, where it remained until the
nineteenth century, eighteenth century painting was represented by por-
traits by Fabio Canal, Lazzarini, P. Longhi, Pittoni, Sebastiana Ricci,
Trevisani and Visentini, and although this collection was only completed
after the death of its founder, the quantity and quality of absent painters is
nonetheless impressive. tos
The impression that the Veronese did indeed turn their backs on
eighteenth century Venetian painting was borne our by subsequent events.
In the art gallery belonging to Giovanni Albarelli (1765-1821), for instance,
which was catalogued in 1815, only two out of 300 pictures, an Amigoni and
a Lazzarini, were Venetian.
109
The Pompei collection is said to have
contained a Pittoni,
110
but this figures neither in the inventory drawn up in
1835 after the death of Alessandro Pompei nor in that drawn up in 1850
after the demise of Giulio Pompei, even though both do list several
Venetian works. The earlier one counts five out of a total of seventy-five,
including two 'vedute "della maniera de Guardi" ', two more 'della scuola de
Canaletto' and a landscape 'sullo stile de Zuccharelti'.
11 1
This figure rises to
twenty-one out of 247 in the second catalogue, with six by or attributed to
Longhi, three by Marco Ricci, including one attributed to Salvator Rosa,
four copies of Zuccarelli, five views of Venice, including three anonymous
works and two others painted 'ad imitazione del Canaletto', and two 'piccole
vedutine' by Guardi.l
12
All this is unimpressive in terms of both quality -
the Venetian works are minor ones, often of doubtful authenticity and
appear only to have been seen as part of the decor - and even quantity,
especially if the Pompei collection is compared with the Vianelli or Silvestri
ones.
The flagrant under-representation of eighteenth-century Venetian paint-
ing in the Pompei collection becomes even more so when this collection is
contrasted with one in Verona owned by Antonio Tanara; dating from the
same period, this one contained three works from Sebastiana Ricci, Rosalba
Carriera and Zuccarelli, two from Amigoni, Canaletto, Piazzetta, Marco
Ricci and Tiepolo, and single works from Bencovich, Lazzarini and
Pellegrini: a grand total of twenty-five Venetian paintings our of 162.1!3
The Tanara collection was not, however, formed in Verona, but arrived
there in 1825 in the shape of a legacy from Vicenza, where it had belonged
to the Balzi Salvioni family. This is the likely explanation for its profile's
being so very different from that of Veronese collections in the first half of
the nineteenth century, whether they be those of Giulio Pompei, Andrea
Monga (four Venetian works out of 185) or of Cesare Bernasconi (eight out
of 152).
114
What lay behind this rejection of Venetian painting? A lack of interest in
artistic innovation in general or instead latent hostility towards Venice?
Both, in all probability, though in what measure it is impossible to say.
Without any doubt, a backward-looking tendency prevailed in a large
proportion of Veronese collections in the latter half of the eighteenth
century, if not as early as the 1730s, which saw the demise of the last
surviving members of the generation of collectors for whom dal Pozzo acted
as spokesman. In 1732, in his Verona illustrata, Maffei passed no comment
on the ten or so art galleries he mentioned, as if seeking to imply that
nothing new could be said on the subject. In addition, he showed a definite
preference for painters such as Balestra, Tiepolo, Marchesini and the very
young Cignaroli, proof of a resolutely contemporary taste and an indication
to his fellow collectors of the path he would have liked to have seen them
follow.m All the evidence seems to show that this attempt at renewing
Veronese artistic culture was anything but crowned with success.
Of the forty-one interiors containing paintings listed by dalla Rosa, only
two are said to contain 'quadri moderni et antichi' while the expression
'raccolta de quadri antichi' appears seven times.
116
What is more, those
modern painters whose works were to be found in private houses, were
Balestra, Simone Brentana, Marchesini, Solimena and Torelli, all of whom
were active at the beginning of the century and dead by 1745. None of their
successors was represented, except for Giambettino Cignaroli, mentioned in
several places as the author of frescoes, though his paintings are referred to
only once, and Francesco Lorenzi, while the works of Pietro Rotari, who
took up residence in St Petersburg in 1756, were kept in his family home.
117
The artists working in Verona itself in the eighteenth century do not,
therefore, seem to have been given any greater representation in the
private collections there than their colleagues from Venice, an impression
borne out by the small number of inventories we know ofl
18
This backward-looking tendency was not necessarily the result of a
conscious decision. Rather, it was the almost inevitable consequence of
collections being inherited by people who conserved them and handed them
down in their turn without adding any contemporary works to them.
Nevertheless, the dearth of commissions, especially of public commissions
made to Venetian painters, leads one to suppose that the almost total
absence of contemporary pieces from private collections was the result of a
climate which, in Verona, was not particularly favourable to them. In the
absence of any in-depth research into collections of paintings in Verona in
the eighteenth century, we will confine ourselves to the conclusion that
contemporary painting, whether Venetian or Veronese, primarily attracted
the members of families which previously had never taken any real interest
in art. These included the Emilei al Pigna, who commissioned two paintings
from Cignaroli, the Orti, the Serpini al Duomo, owners of the largest
collection of ancient and modern prints in Verona and of a substantial
collection of drawings, and the Spolverini al Giardino, whose residence was
decorated with modern paintings, notably one by Lorenzi.
11
9 In this respect,
the situation in Verona therefore resembled that described by Francis
Haskell, though in a more exaggerated form, given the undoubtedly lower
number of new art lovers.
On the mainland, Rovigo and Verona represent two diametrically
opposing attitudes to contemporary Venetian painting, one of acceptance,
one of rejection. The remaining towns were somewhere between the two.
Brescia resembles Rovigo, as does Bergamo, where collectors fell into
raptures over Zuccarelli and where Count Giovanni Carrara, the town's
most influential art lover, was in contact with Tiepolo.
120
Vicenza would
have to be situated somewhere towards the centre, though perhaps a little
closer to Rovigo. It is there that a work by Pirtoni was described as being in
the possession of Pietro Caldagno, while Angelo Vecchia's 'superbe galeria'
contained one by Tiepolo,l21 who also carried out several commissions for
public buildings and painted frescoes to decorate a number of private
palaces.
122
Other, later, signs of the presence of contemporary Venetian
painting in Vicenza, include the Balzi Salvioni collection, mentioned above,
and the legacy made in 1825 to the municipal museum by Paolina Porto
Godi who, out of eighty-nine pictures, left at least two by Pittoni and two by
Marco Ricci.
12
3 Padua also appears to occupy a central position. However,
while its private collections resembled 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 different attitude
to contemporary Venetian painting.t24
Obviously, our map of tastes is anything but simple. Contemporary
Venetian painting provoked different reactions in every town, reflected in
the varying proportions of dilettantes and collectors who accepted or
rejected it. Just to complicate matters, the same person might commission
frescoes yet feel unable to order paintings from an artist, as if he accepted
the painter wearing his decorator's hat, but was unwilling to include his
works in his collection (illustrated by the Canossas' dealings with Tiepolo in
Verona), while trends in private collections were not necessarily reflected in
public commissions, 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 complete disappearance, of
the initial incompatibility between certain painters, which made such a
strong impression in the first half of the century that Canaletto dilettantes
were prevented from liking Tiepolo and vice versa. This incompatibility
gave way to a sort of retroactive kinship which grew from a common sense
of belonging to a finished era. It goes without saying that a collector active
in the closing years of the century perceived paintings in a different way to
his predecessors in the 1730s, for example, who continued to feel keenly
opposition which had since vanished. However, we have not been able to
take changes such as these into account in this study.
Despite these reservations, the fact remains that contemporary Venetian
painting created divisions between dilettantes and collectors just as much in
Venice as in the mainland towns, reflecting there disagreements which
conflicting choices operated on a single corpus of works expressed more
clearly than any discourse could. The fact also remains that there was a clear
dividing line between towns whose numerous collections were formed in a
sometimes very distant past and where interest in contemporary painting
was restricted to newcomers 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 competition. Also apparent, though this time concerning 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
mainland towns. This division concerned the difference between collections
handed down as legacies and others built up by their present owners. A
town of inheritor-collectors, Verona therefore offers a strong contrast with
Rovigo, a town dominated by art collectors of recent date.
Historical collections of paintings
Many promoters of contemporary painting were prominent figures in
intellectual circles, whatever their official social status. Members of these
circles also included those foreigners who had made a substantial contribu-
tion to the recognition of contemporary painting during the first half of the
century, even if they had never written a single line in their entire lives. A
frequent importer of books setting out new ideas, and G. B. Pasquali's
partner in several publishing ventures, often large-scale ones,] oseph Smith
was in contact with Maffei, Algarotti, the two Zanettis, Poleni and others,
of which more later.
125
In his more modest fashion, a certain Sigismond
Streit made the acquaintance of professors at the University of Padua
(where he moved in 1750) and of Vallisnieri the Younger in particular, to
whom he left his natural history collection in 1758.
126
It was in this same
milieu, with its openness to intellectual artistic innovation, that two new
ideas were born, ideas which were eventually adopted on such a universal
Collectors, Natttralists and Antiquarians
209
scale that they affected both the contents and character of art collections
them to a historical perspective and causing them to
pamfmgs by the 'primitives', the link between these two ideas being
obvious.
In the Venetian Republic the oldest collection to have been oro-anized on
historical lines seems to have been the one belonging to Carlo Lodoli ( 1690-
1761 ), a _Franciscan, architectural 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 published twenty-five years after the latter's
death. This is what he has to say on the subject of Lodoli' s collection.
To give an example of his conception of those arts which I have no
hesitation in calling the younger sisters of architecture - since they are
nothmg more than imitation and their chief purpose is to provide
decoration for it- I will describe what his gallery contained in the way of
them. This will also help to prove that it was impossible for him not to
possess the same exquisite taste in architecture too, and that he could
!dentify each stage in the development of this art and judge the merit of
ItS artiStS.
Being only a poor brother, he could never have managed to purchase a
set of works by the most famous painters; unfortunately for those who
are nor wealthy, they fetch such extravagant sums that we must often be
content with admiring them in other people's houses. He therefore
decided to form a collection which would be different to those ro which
we are accustomed, but perhaps more useful, in the belief that pictures
should show each stage of the progression of the art of drawing from its
Renaissance in Italy as far as Titian, Raphael, Correggio, Buonarotti and
Paolo Veronese ... _m
collected two types of objects, paintings and the 'srone pieces of
archJtecture he had amassed in order to further knowledge either of the
manner of different periods or else of some new and unusual invention,
regardless of whether it was sensible or quite outrageous'I28 The stones
were kept in the garden, while the paintings had been arranged by Lodoli
according to schools and in chronological order. 'His collection opened
wJth the remams of a work by some Greek artist', followed by the works of
the 'very earliest Venetians who had learnt the art of painting from the
Greeks' and which were anonymous. The true beginnings of the Venetian
school were represented, among others, by Gentile de Fabriano the
Vivarinis, Carpaccio and the three Bellinis. In another room, one
follow the 'development of the Lombard school', starting with a rare work
by Squarcione. There were also 'several pieces' from the Florentine school
notably by Cimabue and Giotto, as well as works in smaller numbers
the Roman, Bolognese, German and Flemish schools.I29
Memmo presents the idea of creating such a collection as a makeshift
solution forced upon the 'povero frate', by the lack of the necessary
wherewithal to purchase masterpieces. Moreover, he explains that Lodoli
managed to acquire the pieces in his collection because those who had the
benefit of his advice on architectural matters, 'feeling themselves to be
indebted co him as a result, gave him drawings or paintings in order co
enrich and, as he put it, sweeten his gallery'
1
'
0
Without wishing to cast
doubt on this account, we should not forget Lodoli's well-documented
friendship with Maffei, who was well known for advocating a historical
approach to art and for his ami-Vasari stance. This was reflected in his
insistence on the continuity of Italian artistic history and in his toleram
attitude to the works of the Middle Ages, which he believed should be
judged in the light of the ideas of that period and with regard to their
relevance to the 'primitives'.
1
l
1
Nor should we forget the links he had with a
whole cultural milieu in Padua, of whose deep interest in history, especially
the Middle Ages, we will see evidence later. His collection was therefore the
product of scholarly curiosity combined with a passion for art, both for the
ancient art he studied in his visits to churches and palaces and which
'provided him with knowledge of every single piece of sculpture or
paiming, even if it was hidden away in private, almost lowly, dwellings' -
and for contemporary art, as 'it pleased him to watch at work famous
painters with whom he had established friendships.'
132
Seen in this light,
lodoli appears simply to have put into practice the teachings of Maffei, that
historian of ancient art and critic sympathetic to the art of his contemporar-
Ies.
It was within this very same Paduan milieu that another collection was
formed, based on the same principles as Lodoli's. Its founder, a historian of
the University of Padua, named Abbot Jacopo Facciolati ( 1682-1769), was a
friend of his, and a fellow habitue of Smith's palazzo.
135
When Grosley
visited him at his home, he saw
a collection as scholar! y as it is singular. It is a series of pictures which, so
as to speak, traces the history of painting since its renaissance in Europe.
It commences with Greek paintings, the imitation of which formed the
apprenticeship of the very first painters in Italy. They depict Madonnas
copied in a base fashion, with no taste for drawing, the aridity and
platitude of their execution matching in every way that of the crudely
illuminated wood-block prints our peasants use to decorate their huts.
This art develops little by little in the following painters, and after Giotto,
Mantegna and the Bellinis we finally come to Raphael and Titian ...
111
While emphasizing the superiority of Facciolati's collection compared
with other Italian collections where he claims one sees only 'disiectcl
Colfecton, Naturali.rts and Antiquarians
211
membra picturae', Grosley was obviously ill at ease when he met this
divergence between historical and artistic criteria, where the first attributed
value to objects to which the second did not. Nor was he the only one to
have had this problem, which was resolved later, with the discovery of the
beauty of the 'primitives' and of medieval art in general, following lengthy
examination of it and much explicative work.
1
"
In 1771, ten years after Lodoli's death, Anton Maria Zanetti the Younger
made the hisrorical approach to Venetian painting official, if one can put it
that way. Even though the title of his book on the subject does not itself
indicate its historical nature, the preface could nor possibly be more explicit
on this matter.
I shall try to be a good historian and follow the example of the very best
historians by introducing comments on the various different styles of our
painters from time to time, trying to analyse as clearly as I can each part
separately, in order that it may be of some use. My work is a history of
Venetian art and artists, in that it deals with this an and this art onlyHG
The structure of the work is just as explicit. The first book opens with the
mosaics in St Mark's and goes as far as the end of the fifteenth century.
Book II begins with Giorgione, 'the first of our citizens to raise painting up
from the lowly status it had previously been confined to',
1
3
7
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 represen-
tative of the grand style. Zanetti's overall position was made up of several
different components, which others have already shown to be interdepen-
dent.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 Collectors, Naturalists and Antiqumians
executed the drawings of the statues chosen for inclusion and accompanied
these with scholarly commentaries.
142
Thirty years later, the author of Della
pittura t'eneziana recalled in his preface: 'I spent my youth studying ancient
statues, and in rime I began to master the art of good drawing quite
sarisfactorily.'
14
; This helps us to understand his critical attitude ro
mannerism, as well as the praise he lavished at the end of his book on the
collection of casts of ancient statues amassed by a Venetian patrician, Abbot
Filippo Farsetti (1703-74) - yet another of Lodoli's pupils
144
- and housed
in his palace.
Pictures by the 'primitives' and ancient statuary
From the sixteenth century onwards, Venetian painters had often been re-
proached with paying only scant attention tO ancient statuary, of which
their city had no examples. Some of them, including Boschini, replied to
this criticism by asserting that the imitation of living nature was more
important than that of ancient masterpieces, copies of which were in fact to
be found in Venice
145
Before the arrival of the Farsetti collection in the
1760s, however, it cannot have been an easy task to track them down, as
when Zanetti hailed its arrival, he exclaimed: 'Foreigners will no longer be
able to tell the Venetians that they would be better if they had seen the
statues in Rome, as he [Farsetti] has obtained copies taken directly from the
originals, and not just the ones in the Capitol's large collection but others
too from all over Rome and from the highly renowned gallery in Florence
too.'
146
According to Zanetti, the study of these 'erudite forme' (a significant
term) would enable young Venetians ro learn 'how to use good drawing ro
render nature itself, perfecting its already flawless beauty'. He explained
what he meant by these words by making it clear that the aim of this study
was tO succeed in 'faithfully imitating the symmetry and grace of the
contours of these figures: the form of the heads and other extremities, in
order to go on, armed with confidence and a solid grounding, to the freer
and more animated studies which are the crowning glory of our school'.
1
1
7
These are the essential features of the academic teaching programme of the
fine arts.
The Farserri collection did indeed justify both the enthusiasm of its
visitors who, like Goethe, felt themselves transported back to the splen-
dours of ancient times,
148
as well as the panegyrics lavished on irs creator
both during his lifetime and well after his death
14
9 Its 253 plaster casts,
which included ninety-three statues, thirty-three busts, twenty-nine heads,
sixty-three figured bas-reliefs, thirteen ornamental bas-reliefs and twenty-
two figurines,]j
0
brought Venice reproductions of the most famous works of
ancient statuary, such as the Laocoon, the Medicis' Ven11s, the Apollo,
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
of modern sculpture, most notably Michelangelo's Redeemer,
Bermm s Neptune and Giambologna's Mercury.l5l The 125 paintings which
also formed part of the collection were of but little interest. Nearly half of
were Flemish, and the rest were Italian, twenty-eight
re!Igwus pictures for the majority of these, and twenty-four
flowe.r, frurt and animal studies constituting rhe largest propor-
of the Flemish works. Eighteenth-century Venetian painting was not
I? favour, and there were only five specimens of it, two by Carlevaris and
smgle works by Lazzarini, Marco Ricci and Zuccarelli.t52
r_oughly forty years, beginning in the lifetime of Filippo Farsetri,
contiOUI?g under the watchful eye of his heir, Daniele Farsetti (1725-87),
and endmg under that of the latter's son, Anton Francesco, who left forSt
in 1804 after having sold the family collections,l53 the casts of
ancient statues constituted the most precious element of these collections
and played an important role in artistic life in Venice. In 1805 they
?Y the Empe:or of Austria and donated to the city's AcademyJH
The sigmficance of thrs role, to which the Farsetti collection owes its
reputation, stemmed from the fact that it functioned somewhat as an art
school,. in that. artists :-vere given the opportunity to study and copy the
works It contamed. This accounts for Zanetti's hope that there would be a
rebirth of the fine arts in Venice. Although this turned out ro be a forlorn
one very artist, Canova, did acquire at least part of his skill by
the Farsettt His very first works were bought by Filippo
Farserti and went to )Om the casts of the ancient works, at least two of
which, the Wrestlers and the Belvedere Antinous, he copied.t55
Zanetti was not the only one who sought both the reinsertion of the
'primitives', and even of works from the Middle Ages, into rhe history of art
and the. promotion of ancient statues to the level of models for contempor-
ary arttsts. Other people shared the same aims, including Maffei and

in the 1820s did they turn out to lead to incompatible
aesthetiC choiCes. When, in the closing decades of the eighteenth century,
colle.ctors to one or other of these aims, it was chiefly due to
the Impossibrllty of amassmg both paintings and antiquities with artistic
worth, except in the case of particularly wealthy individuals. In other words
thi_s concentration on a single aim was quite simply dictated by the prices of
ObjeCtS.
. Among the ,Venetian collections organized according to historical
dtc.tates, let us first .mention the one owned by John Strange (1732-99), a
Bmon who was resident there from 1774 to 1790, and whose links with a
whole group of Venetian naturalists we will come to later. Formed with the
help of Giovan Maria Sasso, whose services he employed, Strange's
collection of paintings was, according to Abbot della Lena, 'fa storia visibile
della Pittu1a Veneziana', the 'primitives' being especially well
represented.
1
'
7
Della Lena also talks of the 'Storia visibile detl'Arte' with
regard to the print collection belonging to Count Durazzo, the imperial
ambassador to Venice between 1764 and 1784.
158
Later on, in the 1780s,
Girolamo Manfrin (d. 1802), a nouveatt riche businessman, 'opened a
gallery comprising several rooms filled with paintings by the most
renowned artists, ranging from the very earliest painters to those of the
present day: he had hoped, providing death did not strike him too soon, to
display works from different periods according to their different schools
and dares, so that we might recognize at a glance the faults and splendours
of this art throughout the different periods.' m The aim once more was
therefore to make the history of arr a visible one.
A similar aim appears to have been behind the activities of Giovanni de
Lazara who, from 1776 onwards, set about building up a collection of around
2000 prints arranged chronologically
160
It is, however, the sole collection of
this type that we know of outside Venice. In Padua, on the other hand, there
was obvious interest in the 'primitives', as their works were to be found
there in several collections, most notably in that of the Capodilistas.
161
The
same was true of Vicenza, witness the legacies of Paolina de Porto Godi
(1825) and Carlo Vicentini dal Giglio (1834),
162
and of Rovigo, where
Bartoli describes, though wrongly attributes, a painting by Quirizio de
Murano in the Campanari collection.
16
3 It is in Verona, despite rhe presence
of a large number of their works in that town, chat the 'primitives' seem,
however, to have aroused the least interest in collectors in the last decades
of the eighteenth century. We should add, however, that towards 1820, the
Canossas' gallery, which was apparently arranged in historical order, did
contain a certain number, as did the gallery, newly formed by Francesco
Caldana, which housed 'a set of examples of the school of Verona from its
beginnings to its decline'.
164
The majority of the collections of antiquities which were to be found in
the Venetian Republic during the eighteenth century were not expressions
of taste, and owed their existence not ro a specific aesthetic viewpoint but
rather to that curiosity which is peculiar to historians. The minority did,
however, include the collections of engraved stones belonging to Joseph
Smith and Anton Maria Zanetti the Elder, of whom more later, while that
which belonged to Girolamo Zulian ( 1730-95 ), a Venetian patrician, who
most notably served as his city's ambassador to Rome and Constantinople,
could without hesitation be considered to be neo-classical. During his time
in Rome, Zulian had amassed around seventy ancient vases, which were
later joined by engraved stones, marbles and bronzes, all of which were
placed in the archaeological museum of the Biblioteca Marciana in 1795, in
215
accordance with his will.
165
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,
16
9 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
such as candlesticks, crosses, censers, reliquaries, sometimes complete with
relics, altar cloths, ciboria, chalices, as well as around 200 musical instru-
ments, armour, keys, iron gauntlets, horse visors, ancient pistols, halberds,
swords, rifles, lances, hunting horns and so on. Nor should we forget to
mention the paintings - including 104 portraits of famous men - the
engravings, vases of porcelain and various different types of ceramic, and
natural objects.m
The collection established by Tomasso degli Obizzi only reflects
encyclopaedic ambitions on the surface, and does not bear the slightest
resemblance to a Kunst- und WunderkammerY
6
In actual fact, it was
basically the collection of a historian interested in the relics of the past, not
unlike that of Teodoro Correr, of whom more later. Including it in a survey
of different attitudes to art has nonetheless not been an entirely pointless
exercise, even if we do return ro it when we come tO discuss hisrory, as it
illustrates the meeting of the 'primitives' and ancient sculpture, brought
about by a new esteem for medieval objects (easily discerned among those
listed above) which in no way diminished the interest in antiquities. Thus it
is that the medals belonging to Tomasso degli Obizzi dated not only from
ancient times but also from every subsequent period, including the late
Empire, Byzantium, Venice and the Venetian Republic, and continuing
right up to modern times.
177
It will become apparent later on that at the end
of the eighteenth century a series of this kind was by no means uncommon.
The presence of a fairly large number of works by Tuscan and north
Italian 'primitives', some of which dated back to the fourteenth century,
among the Catajo paintings was uncommon, however.
178
It is not known
whether they were purchased by Tomasso degli Obizzi himself or whether
he inherited them. Annoying though this gap in our knowledge may be, it is
of no great consequence. Far more important is the fact that they were put
on display, as we know from the catalogue written by Filippo Aurelio
Visconti, who visited Carajo in 1799 or a short rime afterwardsY
9
Elsewhere, in the castle's church, where the altar was adorned by a
Madonna 'alia Greca', were to be found '23 quadri di pittura Greca incassati
nel muro'.tso Whether these were recent icons or far older pictures painted
on gold is only rarely specified in the inventories. We can therefore
conclude that Tomasso degli Obizzi readily tolerated this type of painting,
as he would have been at complete liberty to rid himself of them had he
wished. Moreover, we know that he was interested in illuminated manu-
scripts and the work of the 'primitives' as late as 1802, when Sasso,
seemingly in reply to a question, explained to him: 'These old paintings by
Vivarino are of more value to art historians than to dealers. Even so, they
please me since my mind i ~ not constantly taken up by business but often
turns to pleasure and to the love of art.'
181
In 1787 Tomasso degli Obizzi
offered to exchange his old paintings for some works belonging to Gavin
Collectors, Natmalists and Antiquarians
217
Hamilton,
182
while in 1795, he charged Canova to look for ancient marbles
for him in Rome, and more especially to buy pieces which had belonged ro
Piranesi
183
In short, his interests in rhe 'primitives' and in antiques surfaced
at the same time, and he made room for both in his collection, the former
serving as reminders of the past history of art, the latter as incarnations of
the beauty intended ro inspire both present and future generations.
7.2 OBJECTS FROM THE NATURAL WORLD
Living and dried plants, minerals, fossils, shells, specimens of fauna,
machines and scientific instruments: before 1750 the collectors interested in
such objects in the Venetian Republic could be counted on the fingers of one
hand. After this date, however, their numbers began to grow, reaching over
sixty in the last decades of the century, no other group of collectors ever
increasing at such a pace. What is more, this is taking into consideration
only those who occupied centre stage, for a further cohort remained in the
wings because of the modesty, and thus invisibility of their collections, just
as the case had been for the owners of small collections of coins and medals
a century earlier. This growth in the interest in natural hisrory was marched
by rhe definitive end to its monopoly by doctors and pharmacists. By the
end of rhe century these accounted for rough! y only a quarter of all
collectors of natural objects, new recruits now being drawn mostly from
high society or from the ranks of the clergy, some of whom were actually
professional naturalists. They devoted most of their time to collecting,
preserving, studying and describing natural objects, activities which were
henceforth accorded a recognized and respected social role, just as the role
of antiquary had been a century before.
Natural history, sociableness and politics
Being a naturalist involved spending most of one's rime examining nature,
either by carrying our experiments in a laboratory or by travelling to see
things in their natural habitat and surroundings. A genuine boran y
dilettante collected plants wherever he believed he would find unknown
specimens, which is why Jean-Franc;ois Seguier (1703-84) covered the
length and breadth of the area around Verona, dogged by exhaustion and
appalling weather, braving slippery and vertiginous paths on the edges of
precipices, as well as the hostility of shepherds who suspected him of
indulging in dangerous magic practices. As the seasons changed, return
visits were also made to these spots by Seguier, in order to identify species
218
Collectors, Natm'alists and Antiquarians
which flowered at different timesl
84
Similarly, two geologists, Giovanni
Arduino (1714-95) and Alberto Fortis (1741-1803) scaled steep mountain
sides in order to determine the composition of the rock and bring back maps
or sketches, as well as specimens of stones, minerals, fossils and, in their
notes, observations on the lifestyle of the local inhabitants, especially in the
case of journeys to distant parts. In short, as Fortis put it, 'naturalists ... are
today's errant knights.' IS) More often than not, these botanical or geological
excursions were not undertaken alone. In 1737 Seguier collected plants in
the company of Giacomo Spada (1680-1749), the priest of Grezzana in the
Verona region, and of Giovanni Antonio Cavazzini, a 'speziale' in Verona,
while in later years he was assisted by Caspar Bordoni and Giulio Cesare
Moreni, yet another Veronese pharmacist.
186
In 1764 a doctor and owner of
a printing press in Verona, by the name of Antonio Turra 1730-96),
organized a plant collecting expedition on Monte Baldo, ":Jth Marco
Guiseppe Cornaro (1727-79), then Bishop of Torcello, and appomted to the
see of Vicenza in 1767.18
7
In 1785 Fortis and Giovanni Battista Gazola
(1757-1834) from Verona even went as far as to take a number of ladies
with them into the mountains in search of fossils.
188
For nature had become fashionable, and botany was now a topic of
conversation in the salons.
1
8
9
Indeed, the 'vi!legiature', ridiculed by
Goldonit9o as periods of futile amusement, also presented opportunities for
collecting natural objects in the nearby countryside,
191
discussing geological
topicsi92 and writing works on natural history.
19
.
3
new of
nature was thus gained against a background of soCial mtercourse, wh1le the
collections, pieces of fresh information, discoveries and hypotheses
resulted from travels far away or excursions into the local countrys1de
provided subjects for both oral and written exchanges. patterns of these
exchanges formed the basis of the networks along whKh travelled
texts and objects, and which we shall be discussing a little later.
knowledge was all the more important in that a fair proportion of the soCial
elite of the Venetian Republic saw natural history as much more than .a
mere distraction or the satisfaction of intellectual curiosity, even if thts
aspect never disappeared. It had gained an almost political character, seen as
a means of improving living conditions and fighting prejudices, and would
now be required to play both an economic and an educative role.. . ..
The best proof of this is the title of the journal launched by Gnselm1 m
1764: Gioma!e d'Ita!ia spettante aile scienze natura!i, e principa!mente
al!'Agricoltura, a!l'Indttstria e a! Comercio. This that while never
completely dissociated from medicine, the natural sciences were henceforth
bound particularly tightly to the production of goods. Their to
specific individuals and, in particular, to their health, tended to fall mto
second place, the emphasis being put instead on their role in the increase of
public contentment. Accordingly, a special place was now reserved for the
Collector.r, NatMalists and Antiqttarians 219
narural sciences on the map of knowledge, which accounts for their gradual
restructuring, where botany was forced to cede its dominant position to
mineralogy, which itself was steadily changing into geology, while zoology,
previously pursued by only a very few, aroused increasing interest. Here
were both new disciplines and new objects, including the cultivation 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 introducing his natural history of the Euganean Hills to
the public, Antonio Carlo Dondi Orologio (1751-1801) wrote: 'We uavel in
foreign lands yet do not know our own. Foreigners 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, interesting and honourable.' 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 emphasizes that such advocacy in no way represents the con-
demnation of travel to distant parts.
I simply regret that nobody should yet have had the useful idea of
assembling exclusively the products of our hills which offer very fine and
varied examples of every sort, and of classifying them carefully and
methodically in order to form a Gabinetto Nazionale. Several learned
naturalists have, at various times, collected certain specific objects, but
solei y because they were attracted by the distinctive features of a thing
considered for its own sake or else because it matched a theory they
adhered to; never in order to form rhe complete collection we need so
much
1
9'
This void was filled neither by rhe naturali:.,ts who studied the products of
the Euganean Hills, nor even by John StraP,se, ro whom nonetheless '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 Vallisnieri
collection]; and it is the on! y collection I of '"'bjects J from our mountains
which exists today.' Dondi Orologio therefore gave himself the task of
'forming a Gabinetto Naziona!e with a well-ord.::red collection of specimens
from them [the mountains] and of devoting a work of natural history to
them'. The outline of this book begins wid-; a description of the state of
agriculture 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.
1
96 Here, tlk epistemic and
utilitarian viewpoints are completely indissociable.
Here we have an illustration of the change in attitude of the collectors of
220 Collectors, NaturaliJtJ cmd Antiquariam
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 under-
standing them and indulged in speculation in matters where only experi-
ence 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
L However, 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-geologist, which was
gradually becoming established, and whose members alone were supposed
Collectors, NaturaliJtJ and Antiquariam 221
to possess the knowledge required to make pronouncements as to what lay
beneath the surface of the earth, including any eventual natural resources.
True, these subjects concerned everyone, but it was for precisely this reason
that they needed to be dealt with competently.
Ir is because the natural sciences touched on matters concerning every-
body that they formed pan of the general culture, and as such needed to be
accessible to the public. The birth of the profession of naturalist therefore
went hand in hand with efforts to publicize results obtained by science,
along with its terminology and methodology. The propaganda effort
undertaken by the men of the Enlightenment, for this is what it amounted
to, made use nor only of books and journals, bur also of various forms of
extra-curricular teaching, as we can judge from the prospectus of a course on
natural history which Don Giovanni Serafino Volta (1754-1842), one of the
most dominant figures on the naturalist scene in Verona, offered to the
nobility and citizens of the town in 1790.2
2
Divided into three pans, each corresponding to the mineral, vegetable
and animal kingdoms, the forty lessons making up this course were
intended ro explain to the audience the methods and instruments used in
chemistry. They also aimed ro provide a grounding in mineralogy, botany,
and zoology, with a view to expounding the Linnaean sytem, Bergmann's
theory of selective attraction and Scheele's discoveries, as well as making
people aware of the new chemical terminology used by Moreau, Fourcroy,
Berthollet and Lavoisier. In addition to all this, there were all the possible
applications of science to be discussed, and Volta accordingly dealt with the
methods of beer- and wine-making and with that of remedying the
deficiences of the former; with spirits of wine and their uses 'nella chimica
farmaceutica, ed economica; with vegetable matter and its 'preparazioni
/armaceutiche per !a materia medica, ed economiche pe1 l'arte della
Tintura'; with the 'fondamenti de!l'Ornitologia, e della cognizione pratica
dei Volatili' and so on
203
Once again, the epistemic and utilitarian
viewpoints are indissociable.
Volta did not mention collections of natural objects in his course
programme, yet as the author of a catalogue of a museum containing
minerals, petrified objects, a herbarium with 1500 plants, 200 blocks of
different woods, exotic fruit and a very complete series of shells,
204
he was
already involved in the work which was to lead in 1796 to the publication of
the Ittiolitologia veroneJe, which we will be discussing later on. It is thus
apparent that not only did Dondi Orologio combine, in explicit fashion, the
study of the natural sciences and the building of collections, but Volta did
roo, together with all the other naturalists we will be dealing with in the
following pages. It comes as no surprise that the new role accorded to the
natural sciences in the Venetian Republic in the second half of the
eighteenth century led to the purpose of collections being defined in a
similar fashion. Their role henceforth was to promote knowledge of nature
and contribute to a more efficient use of the republic's natural resources,
though it remains to be seen to what extent these ideas were applied and
what influence they had on both the actual contents of collections and the
criteria employed in their classification.
Plants: a new approach
The tradition of private botanical gardens, which began in the sixteenth
century, if not at the end of the fifteenth, lasted throughout the whole of the
eighteenth century. The most famous garden was most probably the one
created by Filippo Farsetti around 1750 in his Santa Maria di Sala villa,
which was maintained by his descendants until 1804
20
5 This 'co!lezione de
Piame F.sotiche e Indigene'
206
owed its reputation both to its richness and to
the fact that botany lovers were allowed access to it. Naming a new species
after its founder, Antonio Turra wrote that the Farsetti garden was a
'garden whose perfection surpasses the means of a simple individual,
adorned with countless plants, especially exotic ones, some even originating
from South and North America, a garden always open to lovers of
botany'.
207
ln Venice, around 1760, Giacomo Morosini, a patrician and well-
known collector of minerals and fossils, who was in contact with the best
naturalists of the day, owned a botanical garden which he seems to have
inherited from Giovanni Francesco Morosini (1658-1739).
208
A third
botanical garden survived the whole of the eighteenth century in Venice
despite several ups and downs. It belonged to Lorenzo Patarol ( 167 4-1727)
who 'explored the Venetian lagoons studying all their plant species,
bringing back examples from every corner and planting them in his garden,
which he tended with his own hands'. Bequeathed to Count Sebastiano
Rizzo, the garden subsequently passed into the hands of his son, Francesco,
who entirely renovated it. 'He now acquires very numerous series of plants,
almost all from foreign climes, sparing no thought for his purse; since the
Tournefort method is no longer appropriate, he has abandoned it in favour
of the more modern Linnaean one.'
20
9
During his travels in the Venetian Republic in 1736, Pier Antonio
Micheli, a Florentine botanist, visited several small botanical gardens in
Verona.
210
Nine years later, Seguier mentioned the garden owed by Maffei
who, he said, wished to create another one, devoted to botany, in the
courtyard of the Accademia Filarmonica, in close association with the
Museo Lapidario.
211
Between 1767 and 1779, in nearby Vicenza, Bishop
Marco Giuseppe Cornaro, already owner of a botanical garden in his
Merlengo villa, possessed a second one, which Antonio Turra was charged
to look after.
212
When Goethe stopped over in Vicenza in 1786,213 this
Collectors, Natttralists and Antiqttariam 223
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 (1765-
1841), 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 ( 1667-
1742),
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 Gian-
Girolamo 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
224 Collectors, Natttralists and Antiquariam
belonged to the old school, something to do, perhaps, with his profession as
pharmacist.229 For his part, Seguier followed the method devised by
Tournefort- who was, in fact, well known in the region
2
3- with Antoine
Jussieu's corrections,m - but by the last decades of the century, even if
herbaria in the style of Bauhin could still be found,m the Linnaean system
was definitely gaining in popularity. This seems due to Turra's efforts,
more than anyone else's, for although his herbarium entitled Vegetabilia
Italiae indigena methodo Linnaeano disposta ... remained in manuscript
form,2ll his Florae italicae prodromus, written towards the mid-1760s,
although on! y published in 1780,23
4
was widely read and established its
author's reputation.m We know of one copy bearing annotations by
someone who collected plants with him near Vicenza and wrote down the
places where they grew, their similarities and differences and changes in
their appearance according ro the rime of year. A second copy of the same
work, a gift by the author to Anton Carlo Dondi Orologio, who added 5 30
names of plants ro the 1718 it already contained, later became the property
of the priest of Vegliano, Don Girolamo Romano.
236
In Turra's book plants
are classified according to the 'sexuale Linnaei systema', which was to be
found at the end of the century not only in publications by naturalists but
even in notes kept by dilettantes, such as the Principii di storia naturale by a
Veronese priest, Luigi Zoppi (1765-1811),237 and other similar manu-
scripts.
The replacement of alphabetical order, which was not really an order at
all but merely a form of layout, by a methodical approach to plants and,
within this, of one system by another, was first and foremost a change in
approach. Whenever one particular method dominates plant study, certain
organs are given more importance, in this case, the visible ones, since both
Tournefort and Linnaeus demanded that the microscope should not be used
when identifying the features which determined the position of each plant
in the system. Tournefort considered that it was the type of flower which
determined which species a plant belonged to, while for Linnaeus it was the
'fructification parts', which required a much closer examination of the plant.
Both methods therefore required the naturalist to learn to look at plants in
such as way as to fasten upon the pertinent characteristics and ignore the
rest. They also needed to learn the language necessary to define the position
of each plant in both a pertinent and an unambiguous way
238
The
disciplined and selective way botanists following in the footsteps of
Tournefort and Linnaeus looked at plants, as well as the language, both
concise and precise, they employed, could equally be applied to animals,
minerals and fossils. Accordingly, botany provided a thorough grounding in
the natural sciences in the eighteenth century, a time when many
naturalists who started out with an interest in plants later turned to other
branches of science.
Collector.r, Natttralists and Antiquarians 225
Zoological collections were far rarer than botanical gardens and herbaria
because at that time techniques only existed for conserving the hard parts of
animals. This was such an important problem for naturalists of the period
that in the catalogue of animals in his Zoologia Adriatica Abbot Giuseppe
Olivi ( 1769-96) made a distinction between the 'objects which naturally
remain in a good state of preservation, that is, they posess solid integu-
ments' and the 'transient and naturally perishable objects'.
2
l
9
As a conse-
quence, zoological collections tended to concentrate on the insects of a
particular region, as in the case of Turra's
240
or, going on to the nineteenth
century, the one owned by one Benedetto da Campo in Verona, who
'formed a rich and choice collection of almost all the insects of our province
and classified and arranged them so well that one could wish tO see them
remain intact for many years'.
241
Some collectors, such as Abbot Dorigny in
Verona
242
or, at the close of the century,]. Lambioi in Belluno,2
43
restricted
themselves to butterflies, and G. S. Volta's publication of a book devoted to
these creatures, with advice as to their capture and preservation,
244
gives
reason to think that these cases were by no means uncommon.
Two higher forms of animal life were also represented in collections: the
one formed by Fra Angelo Ziliani in the Santo Convent in Padua, and which
we have already mentioned, contained quite a large number of birds.
Embalmed by Fra Angelo, these birds mostly came from the local
countryside.
245
The second higher life form consisted of marine specimens,
which could be studied and described immediately after capture, although
collections only included the solid parts, such as the skeletons and shells.
246
Following the pioneering work by Vitaliano Donari,
247
several naturalists,
all from Chioggia, carried out research into the vegetable and animal
specimens to be found in the lagoon and Adriatic. Hence the claim by Abbot
Stefano Chiereghin (17 45-1820) to have gathered 1772 in the lagoon and
the Gulf of Venice, and the nine volumes of drawings of aquatic animals he
left, along with three volumes of text
248
Hence also the career of Abbot
Giuseppe Olivi who, after his apprenticeship with Chioggian naturalists of
the old school, and in particular with Abbot Fabris, with whom he formed a
marine natural history collection, collaborated with Fortis, Nicolo de Rio
and Dondi Orologio, publishing four years before his premature death the
Zoologia Adriatica, the fruit of seven years of toil. This work is a very good
illustration of the twin epistemic and utilitarian approaches which domi-
nated natural sciences at the time, for while it is an example of the most
advanced research of the day, taking the Linnaean system as its basis in
order to rectify its mistakes, fill in any gaps and accommodate the fauna of
the Adriatic, it also includes passages on the regional economy
24
9
Before turning our attention to inanimate natural objects, let us spare
a few lines for the collections of scientific instruments, which both multiplied
and diversified, reflecting the growing importance of observation
226 Co/leeton-, Natttralists and
and experimentation, The largest of these collections was to be found at the
University of Padua, where Giovanni Poleni ( 1683-1761 ), professor of
experimental philosophy since 1739, as well as being an antiquary and
architect, set up a display of machines for physics experiments/
50
a display
mentioned in the guides to the town, along with the astronomical
observatory with its telescopes, spyglasses and clocks,
251
Private collections
of scientific instruments could be found in Brescia, where one had been in
the possession of the Martinengo de Barco family since the seventeenth
century,
252
in Verona, where G, R Gazola owned a physics museum, which
he later gave to the !iceo,
253
and lastly in Venice, where Abbot Antonio
Traversi had amassed in his college a considerable number of machines to
study mechanics, mathematics, aerometry, hydrostatics, magnetism and
'mechanical and artificial' electricity, as well as astronomical instruments
254
The marine bodies on the mountains
Plants, animals and machines were however present only in a minority of
collections of natural objects in the Venetian Republic of the eighteenth
century, This particular brand of collector was actually chiefly interested in
minerals and fossils, and those without any at all were extremely few and
far between. It was not hard to come by them, as the region, especially the
hills and mountains near Verona and Vicenza, was known for the variety of
its rock types and for the presence of several deposits of fossils, the most
famous of which was and still is that of Bolca, where fossilized fish in an
often amazing state of preservation can be found
255
Here, more than
elsewhere, nature itself presented the curious with the task, if one can put it
that way, of accounting for the nature and origin of these foreign bodies,
these being directly linked to the origin of the mountains. Nothing
illustrates the change in attitude towards nature in the eighteenth-century
Venetian Republic better than the history of the solutions put forward to
this problem, part of the history of mineral and fossil collections,
The first generation of Venetian collectors interested in a scientific way
in minerals and fossils was made up of Scipione Maffei and Sebastiano
Rotari from Verona, Antonio Vallisnieri from Padua and Lorenzo Patarol
from Venice, all of whom we have already come across, as well as
Giambattista della Valle, a pharmacist from Vicenza. In 1708 Maffei sent
Vallisnieri a case of 'stones' containing fish from Bolca, and this consign-
ment was not the only one,
256
Eight years later, and again for Vallisnieri,
Rotari drew up a description of the site_
257
The fossilized fish collections
belonging ro these two Veronese certainly date from this period.
258
For his
part Patarol, again a collector of minerals and fossils and a friend of
Vallisnieri, wrote in a letter of 177.4 that his friend della Valle had gone to
Collectors, Naturalists and Antiqttariam 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 (1695-
1776), 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 Co/leeton, Nctturalists and Antiqttariam
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, mar-
bles, spars and quartzes, barites, simple and composite siliceous stones,
volcanic products, petrified plants and animals, bituminous and inflam-
mable substances, metallic substances, marine products, semiprecious stones
Collector.r .. Naturalists and Antiquariam 229
as well as naturally polished woods and other products of nature'.
276
In 1765, Rossetti mentioned only two collections in Padua containing
minerals and fossils, those belonging to Francesco Leonessa, the town's
most eminent doctor, and to the Lateran canons. Neither was alluded to in
the 1776 edition.
277
Collections of this type became slightly more common
tOwards the end of the century; we could cite those formed by Dondi
Orologio and his adversary Abbot Terzi, both of which were essentially
mineralogical, as well as the one possessed by Tomasso degli Obizzi in
Catajo, the collection at Valdagno owned by Girolamo Festari (1738-1801),
a doctor who was in charge of the springs at Recoaro and the friend of
Fortis, Strange and Arduino,
278
and finally the collection in Padua itself
which was created by Nicolo de Rio, described in the following fashion by
Moschini in 1817:
It is set out according to the method propounded by the famous Haiiy
(Comparative table, etc.) ... We reserve our greatest admiration for a
fine rounded beryl, the so-called 'sunsrone' and a large maxillary tooth
from a masrodon. It also contains several types of marble, specimens of
alabaster, quartz crystals, lead molybdate, sulphurated mercury, fine
copper, carbonate crystals, recently discovered in France, etc. [as well as)
several small ropographical collections intended to show the lithology of
the Euganean Hills.279
Mineral and fossil collectors were undoubtedly active in most of the
minor centres of the Venetian Republic in the closing decades of the
century, though we know of but two: Antonio Gaidon ( 1738-1829), an
architect from Bassano,
280
and a certain Lieutenant-Colonel Milanovitch
from Rovigo.
2
8
1
In this same town, Canon Girolamo Silvestri (1728-68)
took an interest in geology, which he discussed with Arduino, as well as in
the practical problems of the economy of the Polesine, in livestock rearing,
peat bogs, maize growing and so on, but we do not know whether his
collections also contained natural objects.
282
It also seems reasonable to
suppose that a certain Jacopo Odoardi had built up a fossil collection, as he
would otherwise not have been able to write an essay on the marine bodies
to be found in the Feltre district,283 and that similar collections existed in
Treviso and Castelfranco, where the Scotti and Ricati families, together
with their entourage, cultivated the natural sciences.
2
8
4
The naturalistic culture in Vicenza and Verona
As far as collecting and studying minerals and fossils was concerned, none
of the republic's towns, nor even Venice, was as important as Vicenza and
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 ( 1716-
81 ), 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, amount-
ing 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 con-
sistently noted, these being the Vicenza and Verona regions, except in one or
two cases, such as the geodes 'di carattere esotico', minerals and fossils from
Germany and the 'elephant bones' from Cherso, Ossero and Dalmatia, very
probably gifts from Fortis, Serpe's neighbour in Arzignano.
This list of categories is followed by an appendix, of which one passage
merits inclusion here.
I also possess a series of natural sea shells which corresponds to the
above-mentioned petrified sea creatures; note should be taken of several
precious specimens of foreign sea urchins, as well as of the large, rare
pearl snail from the Jamaica seas, which Rumpius calls Cochlea olea.
There is also a large, rare winged murex from the seas off the coast of the
African Congo, as well as various other types of polyps which can be
compared with the collection's petrified specimens.
At first glance just another inventory, this passage actually refers to the
much debated problem, of which more later, of the presence in tropical
waters of living species which could be found in fossilized form in the
mountains around Vicenza and Verona. Serpe was obviously abreast of all
the brest scientific questions, as the list of authors he drew on to classify
objects in his collection shows he knew of relatively recent publications
relating to the natural sciences.
286
In this light, like Spada's catalogues forty
years before, Serpe's modest text bears witness to the vigour of the veritable
culture which grew up around the collection and study of natural specimens.
In the Venetian Republic the true capital of this culture was Verona. This
was due firstly to the presence of a relatively large public interested in the
natural sciences - Volta's lectures are proof of this - of whom collectors
represented only a small proportion. Secondly, at least fifteen of these
collectors had a passion for fossils and sometimes also for other natural
objects roo. Thirdly, this group included a large number of members of the
local nobility: Count Alessandro Burri, who added Moreni's herbarium to
his minerals and fossils; the Marquis Ottavio de Canossa who for his part
purchased the fossil collection for which Moreni was also responsible; the
Marquis Giacomo Dionisi, a canon as well as philologist and antiquary, and
someone we will be discussing later; Count G. B. Gazola; Giovanni
Girolamo Orti Manara, from very ancient noble stock; Count Girolamo
Peverelli; the Rotari counts; and Count Ignazio Ronconi. Three abbots, G. S.
Volta, Giuseppe Tommaselli (1733-1818), a chemist, meteorologist, agro-
nomist 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,
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 approx-
imate! 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 embellish-
ments.' Along the walls of the same room there were also glass-fronted
cabinets, each divided into two distinct levels
the upper one allowing the eye to take in at one glance a copious series of
natural shells, nor only from the sea bur also from land and from rivers,
and from every corner of the world, set our in accordance with the
linnaean method, their labels giving their technical names and origins.
The lower one contains rhe genera and different species of fossilized
shells placed directly below their natural counterparts, which is why this
precious collection is not only visually surprising but also very useful and
instructive.
On display in the second, smaller room, behind glass was 'a substantial
collection of European insects set out according to nature's own system and
described with care, attractively mingled with a collection of birds, some
embalmed and under belljars, others painted on the walls'. Next came the
two rooms housing the 'display of fossilized fish'. Placed in glass cases,
perfectly visible, these were divided up into classes based on the Linnaean
system, and given the description and engravings it would appear that each
case corresponded with a particular class and was divided into two
compartments, so that each type could be placed opposite its counterpart.
At the very bottom of the cases in the first of the rooms of the fossilized
fish display, were 'bulky pieces of fossilized ivory from the Romagnano
excavations'; while in the second each case containing fish was flanked by
two smaller ones, 'where the series of natural marine plants and zoophytes
is matched with the series of impressions of the same plants dug up in the
Vertena quarry, as well as zoophytoliths from the neighbouring mountains'.
The fifth room contained a collection of minerals 'divided into four
classes derived from our theory of mineralogy and placed in a correspond-
ing number of cases'. Each specimen was given a systematic description
attached to its support.
Every gemstone, from the diamond to the aquamarine, is present; among
the semiprecious stones one can see the large pieces of opal from
Hungary, adularia from the St Gotthard, carnelian from rhe orient, as
well as jasper from Egypt, hydroliths from Piedmont and even the rarest
of agates from Germany. In the class of metals, are robe found the n ~ t t i v e
gold of Transylvania, granulated platinum from the Pinto, native silver
and copper from Hungary, yellow lead from Carinthia and red from
Siberia, opalescent iron from the Elbe and the Dauphine province,
tungsric pewter from England, coloured native arsenic from Bohemia,
bismuth and peacock ore from Saxony, crystallized cobalt from Germany,
France's native antimony and coloured antimony from Hungary, miner-
alized and calciferous zinc from Carinthia, native and oxydized manga-
nese from divers places and nickel in irs metallic form from the TyroJ.2
9
l
From the extraordinary to the normal
An exception in terms of size and the costly way the objects were displayed,
the Gazola Museum was in other ways perfectly comparable with the other
collections of natural productions around at that time. Like them, it
reflected the desire to make nature's great diversity and wealth visible by
putting all the objects which had resulted from it on display, on condition
that their conservation was feasible. There was also a wish to render nature
intelligible, to show how its simple and universal principles operated.
234 Co/leeton, Naturalists and Antiquariam
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 descrip-
tions, 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
Collectors, Naturalists and Antiquarian.r 235
employed by Volta and Serpe is proof of this, as they only qualified as
'natural' those species actually living, not because they regarded fossils as
the result of some artifice, of course, but because they saw in them the
effects of a distant, exceptional and extraordinary event. It cannot be denied
that the way the shells, crabs and molluscs from the Adriatic, as well as the
plants, were laid out in the Gazola Museum forced visitOrs tO compare
current! y living creatures with fossilized species and see that they were
identical, and Serpe did much the same thing, though on much more modest
a scale. However, specifically on the subject of the Adriatic, this identical-
ness was questioned by Olivi.
If one compares these fossils [from the Vicenza hills and Bassano and
Friuli localities] with the specimens in the present catalogue, one finds:
(1) that the majority of the former did not live in the Adriatic; (2) that
the majority of the latter are not found in the mountains; (3) and that,
accordingly, either the Adriatic never covered the foothills of the Alps, or
else it covered them at a time when they were already flooded by another
sea, or again when the Adriatic was in flood, it was not in the same state
as it is today, in terms of both climate and size and, accordingly in terms
too of the nature of its inhabitantsZ9>
Collections and texts alike, therefore, raised the question of the continuity
between the present and past of both the Earth and its living creatures or
that of the revolutions at the surface of the globe, which in fact amounted to
the same thing.
This very same question applied, in an even more acute form, to the
fossilized fish from Bolca. The article published in 1786, bearing the
signature of Fortis, attested to the presence among them of species still
extant in tropical seas. Two years later, Bozza found that such species were
indeed to be found at Bolca alongside European species and, in order to
explain such a strange coexistence, claimed that the great Flood had mixed
together the waters of all the oceans and the fish of every species.
2
96 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 Collectors, Naturalists and A ntiquarianJ
flooding of our planet formed, from the waters of the seas and rivers, a
single, swirling ocean, a destroyer of all life, in which the force of the
currents and the inner movement of the floods mixed together earth and
every creature which lived, then as now, in the seas and waters which do
not communicate with one another and in different climates?
Volta found this argument all the more convincing in that the Plutonist
hypothesis was able to explain neither the presence of so great a variety of
fish in a single place nor the fact that they were deposited in limestone.
297
Volta was therefore 'continuist' as far as living creatures were concerned.
For him, the only difference between past and present was in the
geographical distribution of species which had coexisted in times past, and
he saw behind this a global cause, namely the Flood. Every one of these
points was contested, firstly by Abbot Domenico Testa, whose interest in
fossilized fish had been stimulated by a visit to the Gazola Museum, and
secondly by Fortis. Both cast doubts on the validity of identifying fossil fish
with living species, and especially with exotic species. Both agreed that even
if fish from warm climates could be found at Bolca, then rather than having
recourse ro a cataclysm on a global scale, their presence should be explained
by local causes, such as a change in temperature of the waters at Bolca. For
Testa, this could well have been rhe result of volcanic activity, and he
attributed the formation of the fishes' graveyard to the eruption of a
volcano. Fortis, on the other hand, who had carried out studies in the field,
unlike Testa, emphasized the sedimentary nature of the rock at Bolca, which
invalidated the volcano hypothesis.
298
The Bolca fish and the changes in the Earth's surface
In the face of Bozza, Volta and indeed all the 'Naturalisti veroneJi', whose
common stance was expressed by these two authors,2
9
9 Testa and Fortis
attempted to explain the Bolca deposits not by a distant, exceptional and
extraordinary happening, such as the Flood, but by the normal and regular
activity of nature, which was still taking place. Their disagreement over the
role of volcanoes in the formation of these deposits in actual fact concerned
the length of time it lasted. From the very outset, Testa asked himself in his
letters just when such a happening could have taken place, to which Fortis
replied that it probably took place 4000 years ago.l
00
Later on, in his third
letter which included an attack on Volta, Testa conjectured 'that the burial
of the Bolca fish could have taken place sometime between 2207 and 1500
BC, a period of slightly more than seven centuries.'
10
l However, as Cuvier's
example makes clear,l
02
a brief time-scale in geology requires the invocation
of catastrophic changes. This is why Testa turned to the volcano theory, for,
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 inter-
vene in the triangular argument between Testa, Fortis and the Veronese
naturalists. In actual fact, he had voiced his opinions concerning Bolca some
considerable time earlier.
Among these [the hills around Verona], Mount Bolca is extreme! y well
known because of the fossilized marine fish and exotic plants to be found
there in the fossil strata of a fine, sandy, limestone rock, and entirely
surrounded by substances of volcanic origin. It is obviously a fragment of
seabed which has been thrust up during the violent upward movement of
these substances caused by an underwater volcanic force, and it has been
left at a steep angle, as we can tell from its many stratifications which are
far from horizontapos
It is, however, clear that these opinions were those of a geologist who was
not going to give a verdict as to either the identity of the fossil fish or the
presence in their midst of species now living in warm seas, the very subjects
which were at the heart of the debate.
Even so, Arduino did not lack ideas on the order in which living creatures
had succeeded one another. In 1760 he wrote to Vallisnieri the Younger:
For the more enlightened observers, however, I also have in my collection
no less marvellous things, namely examples of the different degrees of
perfection of these very same species of petrified aquatic animals. The
cruder and less perfect ones come from the lowest strata of the
mountains, which I refer to as secondary strata in my letters ... but
become increasingly perfect as we move up to the higher strata, reflecting
the order in which they were formed, so that in the final strata, the ones,
that is, that form the tertiary hills and mountains, we see the most perfect
species, which resemble all those we find in the seas today.3
6
Had it been applied to the problems surrounding Bolca, this approach could
have given the debate a different emphasis, as implicit in this passage was
the idea that certain species disappeared over time and were replaced by
new ones bearing an increasing resemblance to those of today. This idea did
not rely on a single and, therefore, extraordinary flood, but rather on a
series of cataclysms of this type, each one explaining a particular change in
the fauna and flora, and each seemingly part of the normal mechanisms of
nature.
238 Collectors, Naturalists cmd Antiquariam
Arduino developed all these ideas in a document, unfortunately left
unfinished and without a date, entitled Risposta allegorico-rornanzesca di
Voniangi Riduano, Osservatore Longobardo, al Celebre 01ittologo
Viaggiatore Sigr Giovanni Giacomo Ferber del Collegia Metallico di Svezia
sopra Ia genesi della presente faccia della Terra. The title is a significant
one, because of its insistence on the literary character of the exercise, the
ironical self-presentation of the author as 'LongobaTdo' (allusion to a certain
vogue for the Middle Ages which reigned at the time?) and above all
because of the explanation of the genetic nature of the approach he adopted.
The opening lines of the work are equally significant.
... Illustrious Ferber, quit those Greek and Roman medals, monuments
to transient episodes in history, and leave their study to the indolent
antiquary who spends his entire life in his rooms, slouched over worm-
eaten 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 sedimen-
tary, 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
Collectors. Naturalists and AntiquMians 239
or stony strata which compose the mountains and all other parts of the
Earth.
107
As well as being additional proofs of the importance of collections,
especially collections of minerals and fossils, to the pursuit of the natural
sciences in the eighteenth century, the above-quoted texts also highlight
something the Bolca controversy only intimated. This is the inclusion of the
time factor into the thinking of geologists, or rather the advent of a new
temporalness in their thinking and very perception which, as Arduino
wrote, 'distinguishes at a single glance these later works of Neptune from
those I have situated in the first period .... ' A fresh approach to geological
events, whereby they were placed in chronological order, was required if
scholars were to tackle the problems of continuity and discuss the
revolutions on the surface of the globe, local and global causes and the role
of the waters and volcanoes. However, when the question of time was
raised, it was inevitable that the question of absolute dating would be also,
and at that time, it could only be given a completely fanciful reply. Unlike
Fortis and Testa, who displayed a certain naivety, Arduino was fully aware
of this, and divided the history of nature into four periods 'whose length we
cannot know, given the absence of dates in the Book of Nature'.
308
Fortunately, the question of time could be restricted to that of relative
chronology, and this was now solvable, since a tutored eye could now tell
from a certain succession of strata or corresponding series of minerals or
fossils which events had preceded others. Thanks to this new approach, a
well-organized collection became a visible history of the Earth, just as a
similar collection of paintings now became a visible history of painting.
7.3 HISTORICAL MONUMENTS
It was around 1720 that collections of historical monuments in the Venetian
Republic began to diverge from the model to which they had conformed
until that time. The main features of this model, which had appeared as
early as the sixteenth century, were an almost exclusive interest in
antiquity, the preference shown by antiquaries for inscriptions and medals,
rather than for figured monuments and, among these monuments, for small
objects rather than for large statuary. An additional feature of this model
was the attraction exerted by curious, rare and enigmatic things, although
this did gradually wane in the last decades of the seventeenth century, and
the de facto linking of numismatics with universal history, while epigraphy
formed the link between the latter and local history, and as a result was
invested with political meaning.39 Obviously, a number of collections based
on this model survived throughout the whole of the century, while more or
less everywhere the collection of inscriptions and the compilation of
anthologies of inscriptions, often left in manuscript form,lto continued. We
will cite as examples of the latter just two works which were published: an
anthology by G. D. Bertoli devoted to antiquities from Aquileia,l
11
and the
list of inscriptions from Vicenza and its environs compiled by J T.
Faccioli.
312
On the other hand, it was only in the fourth, if not the fifth
decade that catalogues were published for a number of important medal
collections, whose origins were far more ancient, such as those which
belonged to Tiepolo,lll Onorio Arrigonil
14
and the Pisanis, the latter having
previously been the property of the Corrers.l
1
5 Continuity therefore did
prevail, but a continuity accompanied by changes in emphasis, which
eventually led to ruptures.
From the baroque tradition to classicism
Foremost among the innovators, whose initiatives, the seeds of which were
sown around 1720 but only came to fruition a quarter of a century later, had
a fairly rapid effect on every aspect of antiquarian studies and opened up
paths down which others were to venture, was undoubtedly the medievalist
and museologist, Scipione Maffei. Medievalist, in that he helped not only to
change opinions on the past history of art, but also - and the first deed
rendered the second feasible - to arouse interest in the Middle Ages in
general as a period occupying a place of cardinal importance in the history
of the Venetian Republic Published in 1732, Verona illustrata underlined
the continuity of history, especially in irs linguistic and artistic
dimensions,
316
by showing that the roots of the present were firmly
anchored in the Middle Ages. Maffei's brand of history, reliant on
epigraphic documents and on the study of monuments, therefore contrasted
with that of the seventeenth-century numismatists, who viewed the Middle
Ages as a black hole but, as we shall see further on, completely revised this
opinion in the 1740s.
Wearing his museologist's hat, Maffei initially intended his lapidary
museum to be a simple variation on the theme of the collection of
inscriptions of local interest. From 1716 onwards, however, the project
began to take on added breadth; Maffei began to talk in 1719 of a 'Museo
universale e publico' ,m the programme of this type of institution being the
one he set out in his famous Notizia di nuovo museo d'iscrizioni a
Ver01za.
318
The initial building work was completed in 1724, with the
erection in the courtyard of Verona's Accademia Filarmonica of a wall in
which were embedded approximately 230 inscriptions. Maffei was not
entirely satisfied with the results which, instead of realizing his ambitious
programme, merely increased the number of stones amassed in the
Collectu; ' Natur,tfi.rts and Antiquarians 241
Accademia's courtyard and gave them greater protection.l
19
Many long
years of work were therefore to go by before he finally saw his ideas bear
fruit. Moreover, he actually modified these ideas to a considerable degree
during his lifetime. To start with, beginning with the period when he was
busy preparing the publication of his Verona illustrata, with requests that
Tiepolo draw the antiquities of the Bevilacqua collection, Maffei manifested
a growing interest in figured monuments, both bas-reliefs
320
and cameos,m
and he henceforth expected his museum not only to contribute to the study
of history, but also to encourage contemporary artists to imitate their
ancient precursors once more.m In addition to this, it was only in the 1730s
that he settled on the definitive architectural design of his museum and
found in the shape of Alessandro Pompei (1705-72) an architect willing
and able to realize it.
123
In its second version, first open to visitors in 1745,
Verona's lapidary museum was more than just a collection of inscriptions
supposed to have some sort of connection with town history, since it
contained many which had none whatsoever, having been brought straight
from foreign pans for display purposes. This desire to transcend the local
and reach for the universal is even more apparent in the MuseJtm
veronense, the book where Maffei listed not only the monuments he had
amassed in Verona but also those he had studied elsewhere, especially in
Turin and Vienna.l
24
The term veronense in the title of this work therefore
has quite a different meaning to the similar determiners in the Memorie
bre.rciane, the Marmora berica or the Momtmenta patavina. Moreover, and
not entirely unconnected with Maffei's universalist ambitions, was the fact
that the museum also contained a number of figured monuments. In terms
of both its contents and architecture, it therefore provided a contrast to the
baroque tradition and heralded a return to classicism.m Known even to
those who never visited Verona, thanks to Maffei's book, his museum was a
considerable influence in the Venetian Republic, numerous rowns in Italy,
as well as abroad.l26
This was, however, only one of a number of those projects which were
embarked on around 1720, bur only came to maturity twenty or twenty-five
years later. They included the book by the two Anton Maria Zanettis,
entitled Delle antiche statue greche et romane, published in 1740 and 1743,
as well as Dactyliotheca Zanettiana by Anton Maria Zanetti the Elder,
which appeared in 1751.
327
Preparations for this work did, it is true, only
begin in 1743, once the previously mentioned work had been completed.
However, Zanetti's collection of engraved stones itself dated from the early
1720s.l
2
S Not unlike Maffei's initiatives and propositions in this respect,
Zanetti's editorial activities had a manifestly anti-baroque message, and
greatly contributed to the return to classicism. We have already touched on
this topic with regard to the work devoted to ancient statues, but it is
nonetheless worthwhile emphasizing here the role of collections of
242
Co!!ecton, NaturaliJtJ and Antiquariam
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 which were published in 1702, and which uniquely
compnsed amulets, talismans and abraxas. '
29
This was a collection which
enigmas in order to provide scholarly exegetes with an oppor-
tunity to put their great wisdom to the test. The Zanetti collection
however, amassed works of art with a view ro providing pleasure, via thei:
publication, to those unable to see the gemstones for themselves. It was also
to offer artists models to imitate, and in this respect it is
that another promoter of early Venetian neo-classicism, Joseph
Smtth, also formed a collection of engraved stones.
1
3 The parallel between
and 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 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 anti-
quarian culture with archaeological and artistic overtones, before the return
in strength of philology at the beginning of the nineteenth century. While
it is true that this change in course was chiefly steered by Caylus in Paris
and by Winckelmann in Rome, the fact remains that Maffei and Zanetti
were foremost among those who initiated it.
Oriental curiosities, finds and excavations
During the period under scrutiny here, many Venetian towns boasted at
least one archaeological collection where, alongside the inscriptions and
medals, statues or fragments of statues, busts, heads, statuettes, funeral
u.rns, amulets, glass vases, fragments of glass, amphorae, lamps, fibulae,
keys, arms and divers utensils were placed. Such were the objects
which were to be found in substantial quantities in the Capello collection in
Venice,
331
pan of which was bought from the Duke of Mantua, and which
was preserved throughout the entire century. Its last owner, Antonio
Capello ( 1736-after 1806), was an example, like Girolamo Zulian and a
Co/leeton, N atura!ist.r and A ntiquariam 243
number of others, of antiquarian curiosity placed in the service of
contemporary art. Not only was his visiting card designed by Canova but he
also commissioned Gianantonio Selva (1751-1819), a friend of the sculptor
and a representative of neo-classical architecture, to decorate one of the
rooms in his apartment in the Procuratie Nove 'with the !Canova] plaster
casts he owned, especially the bas-reliefs where he depicts the early events
of the Trojan War and the most memorable of Socrates' deeds; and in order
to make a greater contribution to his country's heritage he provided the
young students of the art of drawing with examples to imitate, leaving each
the opportunity of benefiting from them as best they could.'
1
l
2
With the exception of the Canova plaster casts, objects of the very same
type formed the contents of the collection created by the Senator Bernardo
Nani (1712-61) and considerably added to by his brother Jacopo ( 1725-97).
With its several hundred antiquities - most notably 180 inscriptions
collected between 1700 and 1761, mostly in Dalmatia and the Peloponnese
-alongside which were 'inscriptions and the monuments of the late Empire
and the Christian era and the orientalia, it constituted without doubt the
largest Venetian collection of its type in the second half of the eighteenth
century.lll It was also the best known, thanks to around thirty publications
devoted to the monuments it contained: to a particular marble or votive bas-
relief, to a particular papyrus, ivory or to coins, or even to a whole class of
objecrs linked by their common origin.
114
This abundant literature devoted
to the Nani collection shows that unlike the one belonging to Antonio
Capello, this one reflected preoccupations which were archaeological and
learned rather than artistic. Even so, it did include a number of works of art
and, among these, large Greek and Roman statues, one of which was 'a
Greek statue of a young girl in Paros marble', which 'had lain forgotten for
many a long year until the Illustrious Cavalier Giacopo Nani saw it and
placed it in his famous museum, submitting it to the judgement of Canova,
who lavishly praised this new acquisition'.m This is an illustration both of
the collector in his role of saviour of works of art and of the weight attached
to Canova's powers of judgement, he being the ultimate authority in
questions of ancient sculpture.
ln the Venetian Republic of the eighteenth century, there is no lack of
proof of the interest in the Orient, particularly in China, in the shape of
carnival costumes, theatre pia ys, operas and furniture, examples of which
could be seen at the Ca' Rezzonico, as well as sundry lacquered objects or
their less costly imitations.ll
6
Towards the middle of the century villas
began to be decorated with chinoiseries, while a few decades later, the
inclusion of a 'Chinese room' became practically de rigueur.
337
Gian-
domenico Tiepolo's frescoes, painted in 1757 in the fore.rteria of the Villa
Valmarana in Vicenza, constitute the best-known example of these images
of China which, placed near scenes of rustic life and carnival times, seemed
244
Collector.r, NatJJralists and A ntiquaria
to belong to a world of play and disguise, intended to amuse: rather than to
instruct. '
38
It is perhaps this link between the idea of a pleasant and frivolous
pastime and these and objects of oriental origin which explains why
apparently nobody decided to form an entire collection of them, and why so
few o! tO be found in collections. There were, in fact, just two
Arab mscnptions m the Maffei museum in Verona,m while in the same city
towards 1730 a certain Domenico Vallarsi, among the divers scholar! y curios
possessed a large Chinese printed Mappamundi'.
140
It is also possible that the
La_teran. Canons in Padua owned oriental objects amongst their 'fdo!J cmd
Dtvmtttes of several ancient and modern nations'.34t
Two collections, however, did reflect an interest in exotic objects on the
pan of their founders, and these were one belonging ro Antonio Vallisnieri,
subsequently the property of the University of Padua, and another owned
the Nanis, and which we only mention here because of this specific
Interest. The Vallisnieri collection conrained curios and artefacts of Persian
Chinese and American origin, in particular objects made by
Indians of South America and a Sogdian calendar dating from the fifteenth
century.
3
"
2
The Nani collection, for its part, contained eight statues
supposedly from India, Tibet and China, as well as a Christian codex written
on palm leaves.
343
It also comprised around a hundred 'Kufic' coins struck
by and sundry Arab, Turk and Tartar dynasties as well a; by the
Chnstwn kings, such as Roger II of Sicily and Alfonso of Castile not co
mention twenty odd 'vetri cttfici', glasses bearing inscriptions, mos;ly with
the names of the Fatimid caliphs.
144
Last of all, this collection contained
orienral manuscripts, another forty of which were placed in the Pinelli
library.
14
\
After this digression into exotic objects, let us look now at the collections
of antiquities scattered around the mainland towns, from Treviso, home of
the Scott is and Crespanis, with their Roman stones and coins, w. to Brescia
where Quirini lived,
147
and then on to Bergamo, where moves were made
found a museum of ancient monuments around I 743.
148
Similar collections
existed in Adria, in the homes of Ottavio (1697 -1749) and Francesco
Girolamo Bacchi (1748-1810) and of Luigi Andrea Grotto (1708-73).349
One was also to be found in Rovigo, in rhe possession of Canon Girolamo
Silvestri, whose contacts with Arduino have already been mentioned and
who_, a.long _with his Rinaldo, a lover of painting, belonged to the
famrly s tlurd generation of archaeologists, historians and collectors. A
series of drawings which were made ar his request between 1750 and 1775
enable us to visualize his collection, and though part of ir came from his
Camillo (1694-1719), and from his father, Carlo (1694-1754),
he himself made considerable additions to it. no Even though it does not
come up to today's standards, the description he gives of a find made near
Rovigo shows that his was definitely the eye of an archaeologist interested
Collectors, Natu1alists and Antiquarians 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
246 Collectors, N atJralists and A ntiqJarians
discoveries of Herculaneum (1711) and Pompeii (1748), but it was also
given momentum by the excavations in Rome and by the fascination for the
Etruscans which was aroused by the publication of Dempster's De Etruria
rega!is in 1723.
361
This movement was also represented in the Venetian
Republic by one book, published by Maffei in 1728, on amphitheatres,
especially the one in Verona,
362
and another written by Ottavio Bocchi on
the Roman theatre in Adria,
363
as well as by the posthumous publication in
Verona of the work Francesco Bianchini had devoted to the excavations he
arranged on the Palatine,
364
by Giovanni Poleni's supplement to the
collections of antiquities compiled by Graevius and Gronovius and by
commentaries on Vitruvius also by this author.
365
The antiquaries of the
first half of the century were prolific authors, those of the latter half seem
to have published fewer weighty tomes. They did, of course, continue
excavating and collecting, conscientiously protecting all the objects brought
to light, as if they had taken to heart this dictum of Tornieri's: 'Each ancient
piece, however small, deserves to be preserved.'3
66
However, antiquity was
not the only period to attract their attention, as they had now discovered
the Middle Ages, and this discovery took effect in the field of numismatics,
which accordingly acquired fresh meanings.
History and numismatics
Out of the fifty or so collectors of antiquities we know of in the Venetian
Republic of the eighteenth century, more than thirty were either partially
or exclusively interested in coins and medals. Sometimes they owned
collections of ancient coins which were not noticeably different from those a
century or more earlier, even if they had actually only been formed a short
time ago; this, however, was not always the case as a fairly large number
had been handed down from one generation to the next. Here, as elsewhere,
however, a certain continuity was accompanied by shifts in interests, if not
complete breaks with tradition. One of the changes with the least impact
included an increase in the number of collectors attracted in particular to
medals bearing effigies of illustrious figures, such as the holders of high
office and the heroes of memorable exploits, as well as writers, artists and
scholars. These collectors included Nicolo Balbi, whose collection
subsequently fell into the hands of the Pisanis,l67 Tomasso Giuseppe
Farsetti (1720-92), who bequeathed his to the Biblioteca Marciana,lGs
Benedetto Valmarana,3
69
Pinelli,3
70
degli Obizzi,m Tornierim and Jacopo
Muse IIi.
Although Muselli apparently never really grouped his medals into one or
several series organized according to this principle, he did class the
illustrious men represented in his collection in alphabetical and chronologi-
Collectors, NatJralists and AntiqJarians 247
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
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 numis-
matic 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 numis-
matic representation of history, Mazzuchelli concentrated his medal-
collecting activities on the heroes of the republic of letters and accordingly
only applied the principles which governed the approach of his predeces-
sors and some of his contemporaries to universal history to 'literary
history'. Although the idea of viewing history through its heroes and major
events had become somewhat anachronistic in this domain by the middle of
the eighteenth century, it remained entirely valid when applied to science,
art and literature. The ideas expressed in the collection and in the book were
therefore not obsolete, even if his interests in medals devoted to men of
letters and scholarship did prevent him from taking into account the most
important change which took place in numismatics in his time, a change
which was eventually ro alter the very framework of its representation of
history. This was the advent of the Middle Ages into the field of interest of
the collectors of medals and coins and into that of antiquaries interested in
their country's past.
The first signs of this change appeared as early as the last decades of the
seventeenth century. The papers of Giovanni de Lazara the Elder (1621-90)
included a work entirely devoted to the Paduan and Venetian seals he had
amassed, and to Paduan coins of the Middle Ages. Engravings had been
made of several pieces from this collection, and de Lazara hoped to have
others engraved too, as we can see from the lists of the Sigilli spettanti a
Padova da far intagliare and Sigilli da far intagliareY
6
It is therefore
reasonable to suppose that he envisaged the publication of his seals and
coins, though even if such a project was devised, it was certainly never
carried out. At the beginning of the eighteenth century, medieval Venetian
coins and seals were to be found in several other collections in Padua,
Venice and perhaps elsewhere too. In 1662, for instance, Giovanni de
Lazara purchased a medieval seal from Sertorio Orsato, which can be seen
today in the museum in Padua,
377
yet never published a single word on this
subject, even though he did write a work on ancient coins. Accordingly, for a
long time, there was a discrepancy between the practice of certain collectors
and the image they gave to the public of their collections, since they spoke
only about ancient objects and kept quiet about all those that dated from the
Middle Ages.
In 1728 a Venetian senator, Domenico di Vincenzo Pasqualigo (d. ?1746)
finished compiling an anthology of learned essays on the coins in his
collection,
178
a collection which - and herein lies its originality - was
composed of Venetian coins, from the most ancient to the most recent, as
well as lead bullae and tesserae, also Venetian, medals from various different
countries, Italian coins and a number of antiques.
379
The immediately
striking feature of this list is the fact that none of the coins was ancient, and
that the focal points of the collection were Venice and Ita! y. The Pasqualigo
collection, formed in the 1720s, if not earlier, was, in fact, one of the first
Venetian numismatic collections to have such emphasis, just as the essays its
founder wrote were among the first Venetian publications to be devoted to
the coins of the Middle Ages, even though they only appeared in print
between 1737 and 1743. These discussed three of the oldest Venetian
currencies, as well as the coins issued under Doge Domenico Michie! (twelfth
century), as well as Visigoth and Lombard coins
380
- themes which would
soon be taken up by a whole new body of literature.
Numismatics and the discovery of the Middle Ages
The 1730s saw a rapid growth in the number of signs indicating the
numismatists' shift in attention towards the Middle Ages. At the beginning
of this decade, Apostolo Zeno began tO put together a series of Venetian
grossi rnatapani and build up a collection of oselle, buying 500 medieval
seals in 173 3 for fifty Roman crowns, and selling them four years later.
381
In
1738 Muratori embarked on the publication of the Antiquitates italicae
Medii Aevi, the second volume of which contained essays on coins
382
and
found attentive readers in the Venetian Republic. Six years later, Giovanni
Brunacci (1711-72), a Paduan abbot, published a history of the minting of
coins in his town during the Middle Ages
383
based on the collection he had
formed, but also drawing on the collections of de Lazara and of the
Papafavas, who also seem to have been interested for a long time in
medieval Paduan coins. For his part, Brunacci was in contact with Onorio
Arrigoni and Aposrolo Zeno,l
84
as well as with Marco Foscarini, a historian
of Venetian literature and future doge, to whom his book was dedicated.JSs
The Brunacci collection did not solely comprise coins.
Abbot Giovanni Brunacci, a scholar and learned historian and antiquary,
has in his possession an extensive collection of medals from the Middle
Ages, from the Byzantine Empire, as well as from divers foreign and
Italian princes, and several seals belonging to our bishops and other
important objects. He has assembled all these things in order to illustrate
the secular and ecclesiastical history of this town and diocese, long
awaited by scholars. I could also mention other monuments and countless
parchments, both originals and copies taken from archive material which
are to be found under his roof, but they are not my concern. Lovers of
painting will, however, have the pleasure of seeing several examples of
very old paintings which appear to date from the thirteenth century or
thereabouts; despite their recent date, we already find them strange and
executed in that clumsy manner which some claim was usual at that time.
He also possesses a small work by our Andrea Mantegna .... \86
This description given by Rossetti in the 1765 edition of his guide is a
good illustration of the link between the awakening in interest in medieval
numismatics and in the Middle Ages in general on the one hand and, on the
other, a certain new esteem for the paintings of the 'primitives'. The de
Lazaras, who collected medieval coins throughout the eighteenth century,387
belonged, like Brunacci, to the same world as Facciolati and Lodoli.
Five years after Brunacci's book, Giangiuseppe Liruti (1689-1780), from
Villafredda in Friuli, the author of several works on local history,lss
published an essay on the currency which was in use in the Duchy of Friuli
between the decline of the Roman Empire and the fifteenth century. It
contained a historical commentary on his collection of medieval coins,
where we learn in passing that a similar collection had been formed by one
'Signor Agricola, Gentiluomo udinese'.
389
This work was followed by others
on the very first Venetian coins. Their author, Girolamo Zanetti, concen-
trated his studies on the pieces in the collection belonging to Antonio de
Savorgnan,l
90
though he did cite at least once the one owned by Giovanni
Soranza.
391
The latter half of the century saw an increase in the number of
collections in Venice entirely or partly comprising coins of local denomina-
tions. A series held to be one of the most complete was to be found in the
home of the Pisanis,
392
two further ones of equal renown being the work of
Lauro de Giovanni Dandolo (1746-1805)393 and Girolamo Ascanio
Molin.'
94
We should also mention the Tiepolo collection, to which Venetian
coins were added during the final decades of the century, as well as the ones
owned by Gasparo Moro, the Gradenigo family and the Mocenigo broth-
Collectors, Naturalists and Antiquariam 251
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, J acopo 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 -
252
provinces, towns and localities whence they originated, and names of
princes figuring on them - and was followed by the list of the lead bullae
used by the popes, by Charlemagne and by various doges from Venice,
along with their seals, the stampmarks of sixty-five of these seals being
reproduced alongside this list. l9
9
A member of a later generation, Gian
Giacomo Dionisi (1724-1809), a canon, antiquary and coin collector, who
was incomparably more important to the culture of his rime than Muselli
had been, published a number of works, the ones most worthy of note being
his histories of miming in Verona, and prepared an edition of La Divina
Commedia.
400
Around him revolved figures of lesser calibre, such as
antiquaries, local history specialists and connoisseurs of Dante, whose work
enjoyed a new wave of interest at the end of the century.40J
In the context of seventeenth-century antiquarian culture coins, which
w e ~ e connected with universal history, were contrasted with inscriptions,
whJCh were responsible for the integration of universal hisrory into local
history: both were held to be by far the best sources for students of
antiquity. The changes which began in the 1720s, however, not only caused
both to cede this role to figured monuments but also took coins as the link
between local and universal hisrory, altering the definition of each in the
process. This is because numismatics could not assume its new role unless
the Middle Ages were taken into account, and this meant that history, as
represented through coins, was no longer interrupted by a void of several
centuries but was characterized instead by a new continuity. Nor did this
continuity exactly match that illustrated by the inscriptions, as it was now
based on the length of the regimes in whose name the coins were struck,
and on the techniques required for their production: numismatic history
was essentially an institutional history. Moreover, by minting a coin a town
showed that it was now a place history should take note of, and that it had
attained a certain rank, which explains the imponance now given to the
question of whether a particular town possessed a mint and in what radius
its coins circulated. This importance was reflected in the essays contained in
the Raccoita delle rnonete e zecche d'Italia
402
and in many large and small
volumes, such as one by Francesco Girolamo Bocchi who, with regard to a
silver coin unearthed in Adria in the sixteenth century, attempted, 'with the
aid of clear and irrefragable documents, to make known the fact that Adria
could rival several other famous towns in Italy even after Constantine and
in the Middle Ages (though not in every period, and despite inrerrup-
tions)'.403 Numismatic history became a vehicle for local patriotism.
Even though medieval coins were accorded a new status as historical
sources, which went hand in hand with their metamorphosis into collection
pieces, this by no means implied a willingness to consider them on the same
footing as ancient coins: 'The crudeness and barbarism of ours', wrote
Liruti, while commenting on a piece from his collection, 'are ample proof to
Collectors, Naturalists and Antiq#ariam 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.
The twin poles of antiquarian culture
Having completed this analysis, it would appear that Venetian antiquarian
culture was influenced by two different, if not conflicting tendencies. The
first of these was centred on an antiquity seen from an increasingly ethical
and aesthetic perspective, which gave figured monuments not only a
documentary but also an artistic and a moral value, seeing them as the most
reliable sources for students of ancient history and the best examples to
follow. The second tendency looked towards the Middle Ages from an
increasingly hisrorical perspective. In other words, it no longer condemned
the medieval period out of hand as a rebarbative one. The advocates of the
first tendency placed medieval objects, unless they were relics of the
country's glorious past, on the level of distractions, erecting Gothic
pavilions alongside their Chinese display rooms. The advocates of the
second continued to hold ancient works of art as models and standards of
good taste, so that relations between the two groups were not symmetrical,
given that those who were interested in the Middle Ages also recognized
the aesthetic superiority of ancient art, officially consecrated moreover by
the public institutions - in particular by the academies and museums -
254
Collectors, Natm'alists and Antiqttariam
while the collection of medieval objects was left to private individuals.
Lastly,. the first tendency continually sought out the universal, only
accordmg exemplary status to that which sprang directly from nature itself.
The medievalists, on the other hand, attributed a certain value to the
particular, to local specificities resulting from long traditions. The first was
cosmopolitan, the second patriotic.
Even though they are contrasted in a schematic and systematic fashion
here, these two different movements, which underwent many changes
between the 1720s and the 1830s, and which took several different forms
are none the less real and can even be personified. In the cultural world of
Venice and Venetia in the second half of the eighteenth century, the first
tendency was represented by Angelo Querini ( 1721-96) and the second by
Teodoro Currer (1_750-.1830). Sharing same social background and having
both.' :1p t? a certam pomt, followed the cursus honorum of every Venetian
It nevertheless seems at first sight impossible to compare the two
tn any way, because of the three decades separating their births. This
interval is in fact less important than might first appear, since no real break
occurred in the history of the Venetian Republic between the times when
Querini and Correr reached adulthood, and both abandoned public activities
at almost .the date, in 1775 and 1780 respectively. In 1777 Querini,
by Grrolamo Festari, travelled to Switzerland, where he paid
VISits to a famous geologist, Horace de Saussure, an equally famous botanist
by the name of Albert Haller, the founder of physiognomy, Johann Kaspar
Lavater and, most imporrant of all, to Voltaire. Correr seems never to have
Venice, and this constitutes the first significant difference. However, it
1s on.l Y. when one compares their historical and artistic preferences that
.and Correr turn out to represent the two opposing poles of the
antrquanan culture of their time.107
'Mr Querini is furiously for the ancients' wrote Giustiniana Wynne,
?f Rosenberg (173 7-91) in a description of the villa he possessed
at Alticchtero on the banks of the River Brenta,48 and both the interior of
the house and the surrounding grounds were indeed filled with remains
from antiquity. Inside could be seen a collection of antique curios, 'more
remarkable because of their choice and rarity than because of their number'
comprising lamps, rings, fibulae, cinerary urns, a 'series of Etruscan vases of
eve:y shape and sort' and another made up of 'the strangest and most
anctent of Etruscan, Egyptian and Indian vases' as well as several small
busts.
409
Outside, in the garden, were statues including, one of Marins, large
busts of the Caesars, of Plato, Scylla, Demosthenes and Scipio (whose ashes
were supposed to be contained in one of the urns), allegorical bas-reliefs and
sarcophagi. All these objects were present not only because of their beauty
but also because they bore a message: 'I confess to you, Sir, that this
antiquity's language of predilection, seemed to me at the outset obscure and
Co/leeton, Naturalists and Antiquarians 255
tiresome: have become accustomed to it, and each mythological sign I
glimpse in an ancient or modern work elevates my mind to the most
sublime moral philosophy.'4
10
Engravings depicting an ornithological collection, cards, plans, town
views, portraits of philosophers and sages (not to mention the busts of
Voltaire, Rousseau and Catherine II), a screen covered in topographical
maps of the Republic of Venice and statistics concerning its population and
economy: the decor of the Querini residence was not intended solely to
please: 'there is no ornament in this house which is not also useful,'
411
which was not subordinated to didactic ends, which was not supposed to
teach moral philosophy or knowledge likely to increase the well-being of
man. The same principle governed most of the monuments set out in the
garden: the altar of Friendship, the statue of Ceres erected to commemorate
the Venetian Senate's creation of a magistrate responsible for agriculture;
the temple of Apollo where 'the elogy of rural life and scorn for the false
gaiety of splendour and of show are gaily expressed'
412
It also governed the
botanical garden which was not an 'immense collection of plants in the
manner of Tournefort and Linnaeus' but merely a 'precious selection of
plants useful in pharmacy and medicine which poor peasants and all who
ask can use for no charge. As they are divided into twenty-two classes
according ro the best-known properties and marked with both their
botanical and common names, the gardener can recognize and use them
more easily.'
413
Given the impossibility of studying one by one all the elements of the
garden planned by Querini, each of which had in all probability a complex
symbolism of masonic inspiration,'
14
let us confine ourselves to finding
examples to illustrate the bipolarity behind the way the grounds of
Alticchiero were organized. The civic virtues and 'sublime moral philo-
sophy' represented by several ancient monuments were set opposite the
Chinese pavilion, 'truly baroque and grotesque but ... nonetheless quite
drole and pleasam'.m In a similar fashion, though in a different style, the
statue of Saturn devouring a child faced a statue of Rhea clutching a child in
her arms: 'nothing as explicit or interesting as this symbol of Time, the
destroyer of all things, and Nature which continually reproduces everything
through love, bringing together the elements of matter its enemy dis-
perses'.416 This explains why a labyrinth, the image of life, decorated with
busts supposed to depict both the four seasons and the four ages of man,
leads onto 'Young's wood' the wood of death, with its portals adorned with
the portraits of Heraclitus and Democritus.
417
It is in 'Young's wood' that the sarcophagi were situated, including one
restored by Canova and a Christian one dating from the fourteenth century.
Here roo were a botanical clock and the statue of Time. Near this statue
could be seen two monuments which 'in truth are merely Venetian' but
256 Collectors, Naturalists and A JZtiquariam
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 knowledge of the history of this Republic.'
418
These com-
prised a 'base and most badly sculpted column', a monument to the
'revolution' in ideas about the fourteenth century led by the Tiepolos and
Querinis, along with another erected to commemorate 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 therefore
did not place monuments from the Venetian Middle Ages on the side of
nature, the side of antiquity, but on the side of time, but transient and not
lasting time; not in the labyrinth of life but in the wood of death.
Everything leads us to believe that Teodoro Correr was diametrically
opposed to Querini in this respect, neither making professions of faith nor
organizing gardens where each object had a message. He simply left behind
him a collection of manuscripts, books, paintings, engravings, objects made
from wood, bronze, ivory and various other materials, seals, coins, weapons
and narural specimens which filled three state rooms and around twenty
other rooms in his residence, although we do not know the exact layout.
420
This extremely rich collection was characterized by its homogeneity, Correr
being interested solely by monuments and documents linked in some way
with Venetian history. Even the antiquities he acquired seem to have been
important in his eyes because they had formerly belonged to eminent fellow
countrymen, one example being the gemstones from Zanetti's set of
engraved stones.m This preference for the historical or documentary value
of objects was translated into the care lavished over the numismatic section
of his collection, particularly over his set of Venetian coins,
422
and in the
number of works by Pietro Longhi, the eighteenth-century painter who was
best represented in Correr's gallery, the obvious explanation being that he
depicted scenes of Venetian life.42J
Correr's activities were not met by universal acclaim, many apparently
accusing him of accumulating any manner of objects without exercising the
least discernment, and without any real aims or criteria. These detractors
were still vocal thirty years after his death,
424
and one can understand their
reactions, 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 dis-
concerted by a collector who was motivated 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 Tomasso degli Obizzi, Correr's chief
rival at the turn of the century, seems to have shared, was acceptable in
scholars and in antiquaries interested in monuments of local history and
consequently in the relics of the Middle Ages long before its importance
was realized by a public of any real size. This same public, however,
Collectors, Naturalists and Antiquariam
257
accustomed to the cult of antiquity alone, could only accept this as a
private aberration betraying an absence ?f taste. and an. mabtlny to
distinguish good from bad. It is these reacoons whtch consmute the best
evidence of the originality of the Correr collectton and of. the way tt
overturned eighteenth-century antiquarian culture by. choosmg. a
traditional and medieval emphasis, and thereby heraldmg 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.
Distinguishing features of a collection
All these facts and dates, except for the last one, have been taken from the
Lorenzetti Guide; in other words, they are familiar to any tourist who takes
the trouble ro visit Venice properly. The history of Venice's collections,
which these facts and dates encapsulate, has by no means been neglected,
Private Collections, Public Museums 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 Private Collections, Public MuseJtms
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 preserva-
tion and possibly of the restoration of the pieces composing it.
Even with this second criterion, however, we do not arrive at an adequate
definition, for all the above conditions can be met by a hoard of coins shut
away in the basement in a sealed clay pot, given that it has been removed
from the circuit of utilitarian activities and afforded special protection. The
same can be said of a set of paintings guarded in a bank strongroom. The main
difference between treasures of this kind and a collection is that the latter is
placed on display in an enclosed space specially designed for the purpose.
Placed on display, it is introduced into a circuit of non-utilitarian exchanges
where the value attributed to it by irs owner is confirmed or invalidated by
people other than him. This depends on a public (which can be defined in a
multitude of ways) being given access to the collection, and on the existence
of suitable premises along with a successfulla your scheme enabling the pieces
to be seen properly. The formation of a collection intended for mortal beings
(some are occasionally intended for the gods, but this does not fall within our
ambit) therefore means finding away of displaying the pieces it comprises, in
terms of presentation, lighting, the passage of visitors from one piece to
another and so on. In every single case, thought must also be given to the type
of premises used, since they not only provide protection against theft and
damage from the environment, but also bestow unity on a multiplicity of
objects, a unity which allows them all to be perceived as constituent elements
of the same whole. Hence the importance of the architecture and furniture
which determine the nature of these premises and perform the same role for
a collection as a frame does for a painting.
The discovery that a set of objects mentioned in source material satisfies
the above conditions, amounts to the recognition of this set as a collection.
It is particularly important to proceed in this manner when sets of objects
amassed in the homes of private individuals are involved, as their functions
are easily misinterpreted if they are not properly identified. It will not be
necessary to adopt this procedure here, however, as this essay simply
requires us to show that with sufficient documentation it is possible to
distinguish a collection from a mass of objects with a different finality.
The formation of public museums: four distinct patterns
Now that these preliminaries have been settled, let us return to the list
given at the beginning of this chapter and use examples from it in order to
illustrate four different patterns of public museum formation.
The first pattern, which we shall call the 'traditional' one, is represented by
every institution which gives rise, in the course of its normal activities, to the
birth of a collection accessible either to all the public or to certain specified
categories, in accordance with a timetable settled in advance, or else on
particularly solemn occasions. This is exactly the case of the treasure of St
Mark's, from its creation in the thirteenth century to the fall of the Venetian
Republic. Placed on display five times a year on the main altar of the basilica,
it was also opened very exceptionally to foreign personalities: John Evelyn,
for instance, was able to visit it in 1645, being part of the retinue of the French
ambassador, while Montfaucon was similar! y favoured in 1698. The treasure-
house of St Mark's therefore functioned as a museum for a very long period
before being officially recognized as such in 1832. However, it did so only
intermittent! y, being closed to the public most of the time. Its role as museum
was a secondary one, and dependent on its primary one of sanctuary and
treasure-house. It was first and foremost a storeroom for objects which,
either relics or emblems of power, had to be displayed above all within the
context of ecclesiastical and political ceremonies befitting their dignity,
which celebrated both St Mark and the nation.
In a similar fashion, and provided no dreadful catastrophe occurred, every
church where paintings, monuments and objets d'art had accumulated
throughout the centuries became the home of a collection to which the
public had access. It is precisely this historico-artisric facet of places of
worship which is stressed in so many of the guides, descriptions of towns
and travellers' accounts, such as Martinelli's brief work, written in 1705 and
entitled Il ritratto ovvero le case piit notabili di Venezia diviso in due parti.
Nella prima si descrivono brievemente tutte le Chiese della Citta, con le
Memorie piit illustri, Depositi, Epitaffi, Iscrizioni, Sculture, e Pitture piit
cospicue, con le dichiarazioni, e Autori de esse .... Some churches were
actually even classed as museums, and A. M. Zanetti the Younger, for
instance, wrote in 1771 that Santa Maria Maggiore 'puo chiamar.ri ... una
compiuta galleria di pitture veneziane'.
262 Private Collections, Public Museums
The collections open to the public did not only accumulate sponta-
neously in churches. They were also quite frequently to be found in the
palaces of princes and kings dutybound to surround themselves with rare
and beautiful things, amass them in large quantities and show them off.
Since it was dictated by the rank they occupied in society and the role they
had to assume, this obligation led to the formation or conservation of
collections even when the individuals concerned had no personal interest
in them. This type of collection, the emanation of power, was represented
in Venice by the one housed in the Sale d'Armi dei Consiglio di Dieci in
the Doges' Palace. Originally intended as an armoury, but subsequently
used as a place where trophies, works of art and gifts made to the republic
by princes and foreign dignitaries were guarded, these state rooms were
the ones chosen to house the collection of ancient coins donated to the
state by Pietro Morosini in 1683. Under strict guard, the Sale d' Armi were
opened from time to time to famous visitors who had been given special
permission. Thus, like the treasure-house of St Mark's, they served for
part of the time as a museum.
Last of all, there were those collections which were open to the public and
grew up in teaching establishments, including the Academy of Fine Arts
(from 1750 onwards) and, most importantly, the University of Padua
where a botanical garden was set up in 1546. This garden, which was
enlarged in the eighteenth century by the addition of ornithological and
mineralogical collections, was visited and described by many naturalists and
the guidebooks of the day recommended visiting it. The foundation of the
University's natural history museum, based on the collections of Antonio
Vallisnieri which his son had donated in 1733, and comprising in particular
a substantial amount of archaeological equipment, followed a different
pattern of public museum formation, which will be discussed later on.
The transformation into a museum of a treasure-house which, even if it
retains its former name, still changes in status, or else of a collection
amassed in a palace or castle, always involves the loss of the liturgical,
ceremonial, decorative or utilitarian role which had originally been pia yed
by their contents. In some cases, this happens quite imperceptibly and
progressively. Objects cease to fulfil their initial functions because they are
no longer fashionable or have suffered damage, or else because the
development of new techniques has rendered them obsolete. Yet they are
conserved because of their historical or artistic value, until the day when it is
decided to display them to the public. For instance, the weapons and suits of
armour kept in the Doges' Palace since the fourteenth century had lost all
semblance of usefulness several centuries later, but then became a collection
put on show to the public- initially a hand-picked public- well before they
were placed in the Arsenal Museum, whence they returned in 1917 to their
original home. The history of the St Mark's treasure-house was even more
---
eventful, as it suffered tremendous destruction after the fall of the republic,
and was only reopened after complete restructuring.
Outside Venice, the traditional pattern was followed by a number of
institutions, including the Uffizi in Florence, the Ambrosiana in Milan, the
Munich Art Gallery, the Vatican Museums, the Crown collections in Great
Britain (Hampton Court, Windsor Castle, etc.), the Hermitage in Lenin-
grad, as well as the treasures housed in countless churches in a number of
differem European coumries. All these institutions have a long history,
some dating back as far as the Middle Ages, in the case of church treasures,
others, in the case of the museums, as far back as the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries; even the Hermitage, the most recent among them,
was already in existence in the first half of the eighteenth century. All were
emanations of temporal or spiritual power, and all were opened early on to
the public- the last to be so was the Hermirage in 1852- even if the notion
of public was considerably more restrictive than it is today, and the
conditions of access very different. Often tumultuous, the history of these
institutions is reflected both in their contents, frequently made up of
different strata laid down in successive periods which have undergone a
process of sedimentation lasting several centuries, and in their buildings,
several of which are histOrical monuments intended from the very ourset to
house the works on show there today.
'Traditional' museums therefore differ in several respects from those
formed according to a different, 'revolutionary', pattern. The latter, which
were founded by decree, absorbed works from extremely diverse origins
seized by the state from the homes of their former owners, and were housed
in buildings completely unconnected with these works, generally disused
places of worship converted for the purpose. In Venice, this pattern is
represented by the Academy's galleries, which were solemnly inaugurated
on 10 August 1817, after ten years of preparations and the reconstruction,
overseen by Giannantonio Selva, of the former Church and School of the
Charity and the Convent of the Lateran Canons. The majority of the
paintings on display came from churches and convents. The galleries were,
of course, formed around a core, in this case composed of the collections
belonging to the Academy of Fine Arts, which included paintings and
plaster casts of anciem sculptures. These casts had belonged to Abbot
Filippo Farsetti and had been purchased by the Austrian government in
1805. Apart from these, and the acquisition in 1816 of the Girolamo Molin
legacy, the galleries received several donations from collectOrs - in
particular, 188 pictures from Girolamo Contarini in 1838 - and also
enriched their stocks by purchasing certain works, which brings us back to
the two patterns of public museum formation we will be dealing with later.
Having said this, one must nevertheless recognize that behind the
foundation of the galleries was a centralizing and modernizing system of
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 pro-
foundly influenced by Enlightenment thought, with its anticlerical, if not
antireligious slant, and its belief in the benefits of a strong, philosophy-
based power. This is why the family of museums to which the Academy
galleries belong is only represented in those countries which have under-
gone 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
Private Collectiom, Public Museum.r 265
Archaeological Museum, which grew, thanks to the 'statuario publico', from
the donations of Giovanni and Domenico Grimani in 1523 and 1587 and
was enriched between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries by the legacies
of several Venetian collectors. If we compare it with the St Mark's treasure-
house and the Sale d'Armi dei Consiglio di Dieci, the public museum created
in the sixteenth century in the antechamber of St Mark's library obviously
constitutes a new type, being once again the gift of a generous benefactor.
New in terms not only of its origins but also of irs contents, since these no
longer comprise curiosities, relics or objects whose value comes from the
material they are made from, but works of art brought together simply
because they date from antiquity.
Other museums of the same type, though with differing contents, were to
make an appearance later on, including the Correr Museum in Venice itself,
the Querini-Stampalia Art Gallery, the Franchetti Gallery at the ca d'Oro
and the Peggy Guggenheim Collection. Padua boasted the Natural History
Museum, which has already been mentioned, Verona the Lapidary Museum
created by the Accademia Filarmonica at the beginning of the seventeenth
century, and which was greatly enlarged and completely reorganized by
Maffei in the first half of the eighteenth century. At the same time, the
museums founded according to the traditional and revolutionary patterns
saw their initial stocks increase in size thanks to donations from collectors:
we have already noted the numismatic collection Pierro Morosini
bequeathed ro the Sale d'Armi in the Doges' Palace, as well as the Molin and
Conrarini legacies received by the Academy's galleries, and these were
certainly nor isolated cases.
There were a great many museums based on the evergetic model outside
the Venetian Republic, so many in fact that any attempt to list them results
in a volume of a size approaching that of a telephone directory. It is
possible, however, to detect a number of common features. Some, like the
Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, founded in the second half of the
seventeenth century, belong to the same generation as traditional-type
museums, but the majority were founded much more recently; their 'dates
of birth' span the whole of the nineteenth century, though they are
particularly concentrated at the turn of the twentieth century. In the
majority of cases they were the creations of industrialists, tradesmen and
financiers who owed their prosperity to the current economic expansion,
and who used part of their time and money to set up collections and arrange
for these to be taken care of after their deaths. In Europe, however,
evergetic museums have only ever played second fiddle to the large national
museums based on the traditional or revolutionary patterns. In the United
States, where they have no such rivals, it is a different story, and as a result,
they can be found at every level, from the tiny museum of only local
importance ro those that are known the world over, such the Smithsonian
266 Private Collections, Pttblic Mttsettms
Institution and National Gallery in Washington, the Metropolitan Museum
and Museum of Modern Art in New York, as well as the ones to be found in
all the major American cities, a number of universities and so on.
For want of a better term, we shall baptize the fourth pattern of public
museum formation the 'commercial' model. This applies to every museum
formed when an institution either buys separately all the pieces intended to
fill it or else purchases entire collections. The first of these eventualities is
illustrated in Venice by the Modern Art Gallery, which owes its existence to
the acquisition of works displayed during the international biennial art
events. As for the second one, a good example would be the Oriental
Museum, which grew out of the collections formed at the end of the
nineteenth century by Henri de Bourbon-Parme, Count of Bardi, sold after
his demise to a Viennese antiquary and returned to Italy as part of the
reparations paid by Austria after World War I. The best-known museum of
this type is undoubtedly the British Museum, which was founded around the
collection purchased in 1753 from the executOrs of the will of Sir Hans
Sloane for 20,000, after a ruling by the British parliament. It would be
quite superfluous to add that museums, whatever their origins, enlarge their
initial stocks not only through gifts bur also through purchases. These latter
can sometimes be made indirectly, as in the case of a museum organizing or
financing archaeological digs the results of which are then added to its
collections.
These, then, are the four patterns of public museum formation, and it
seems highly improbable that museums have been established other than
through the effects of tradition, the decrees of a revolutionary power, the
action of a generous group or individual or through purchases. Neverthe-
less, although the origins of a museum are important, they do not
completely determine its fate, unless, of course, it remains completely
frozen in time. Every museum, regardless of the way it started life, develops
by receiving gifts and making purchases, either with money from benefac-
tors or else with central, regional or local government funds set aside for
that purpose. In this sense, the activities of every museum follow the
evergetic or commercial patterns, with the exception of countries under
complete state control, whose inhabitants, citizens in name only, cannot
exercise any possible influence over the institutions.
The division of public museums into four different formation patterns
does not therefore enable us to evolve any proper museum typology. Its
interest lies, in fact, elsewhere, since it allows us to relate museum hisrory to
general history, or more accurately, to political, cultural, social and econ-
omic history. This is particularly obvious as regards the history of museums
in Venice, since this highlights, as we have just seen, the links of these
museums with those in power and underlines the role of benefactors in
their creation and development. We should perhaps note that benefaction
Private Collectiom, Public Mttsettms 267
in the Venetian Republic, the motives of which the various wills, from that
of Giacomo Contarini (1596) to that of Teodoro Correr (1830), clearly
explain, was essentially a political phenomenon, a demonstration of
attachment to the nation to which one sought to express gratitude and
praise through the bequest of one's collection to the public. During the
period of the republic, the benefactors mostly consisted of the patricians,
who held the reins of power and possessed full citizenship, while in the
nineteenth century, this role was mainly played by the descendants of
ancient patrician families.
This link between citizenship and benefaction is not peculiar to Venice.
In general, the greater the degree of participation by individuals in the
affairs of the state, the more they show a propensity to place their
possessions at the disposal of the community. The fact that evergetic-type
museums were absent, except in very rare cases, from absolute monarchies
and under the ancien regime, and do not exist in any of roday's totalitarian
states is proof of this. Not only do they not form in political environments
of this kind but existing museums, created following different patterns or,
quite simply, bequests made in the past, only receive gifts from private
individuals in quite exceptional circumstances. Museums of the evergetic
pattern, on the other hand, do exist in oligarchies and are quite numerous in
democracies. As both the examples from the ancient Venetian Republic and
those from the United States show, they benefit above all from increases in
personal freedom in the particular regions in which they are to be found.
This all helps to show the importance of private collections not only to
the formation of public museums but also to their running, as well as
illustrating the links between the two. While private collections sometimes
help to enrich museums which come into existence following the traditional
pattern or else as the result of a decision by the powers that be, they are
also, on occasion, turned into new museums thanks to donations or
foundations, and the time has now come to take a closer look at the dividing
line between public and private and at the relationship between them.
The boundary between public and private
The exact position of the dividing line between public and private has
shifted with the centuries. Nowadays, there is a tendency to identify public
property with state property, but this is only acceptable if one considers the
state not only to be one representative of the general interest but also its
sole representative, two presuppositions which are questionable to say the
least. Whatever the case, the most widely accepted meaning of the term
public applies solely to that which has a link with society as a whole and
with every member of the people, though the definition of a people has also
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 build-
ings, 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 incorpor-
ate 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 representa-
tive 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 institu-
tions, dividing up the subjects or citizens according to religious criteria. The
collections belonging to the Catholic Church followed exactly the opposite
course to that of the royal collections, for while they had previously been
recognized as public, they were now seen as private ones, or even as public
property illegitimately requisitioned by a private institution. Seen from this
angle, as it was during the French Revolution and its sequel, nothing
prevented the state from returning to the public that to which it had a right,
expropriating the church and housing the 'nationalized' objects in disused
places of worship or else in buildings built specifically as museums.
This is rhe bare outline of the history which, in Venice, led to the setting
up of the Academy galleries, filled when a disused church, together with
several new buildings, was stocked with paintings taken from the churches.
However, the new definition of the term public, which this operation
presupposes, and which did not include ecclesiastical property, was
introduced to the city by a foreign army exporting revolutionary principles.
Up to the end of the eighteenth century, the siruation had been somewhat
different, for it had been the Venetian collections which were housed in the
churches and palaces of the republic which had been regarded as public.
This can be clearly seen in old descriptions of the 'pubb!iche pitture'
beginning with Sansovino ( 1581) and the successive editors of his book
(Stringa, 1604; Martinoni, 1663 ). Descriptions continued to be written by
Boschini (1674) whose work was revised sixty years later in 1733 by A.M.
Zanetti the Elder, and even by A. M. Zanetti the Younger ( 1771), to
mention but the most important aurhors.
It was with this traditional type of public collection that private
collections were contrasted, and these private collections appeared in the
Venetian Republic earlier than elsewhere, the two oldest ones dating from
the latter half of the fourteenth century. At the beginning of the fifteenth
century, there were at least six Venetian collectors, two of whom lived in
Crete. At this time Florence was apparently the only town in Europe to
boast a greater number of collectors; we know of eleven today. A century
later, there were already several dozen in Venice, and in the second half of
the sixteenth century, Hubert Goltzius, a Flemish numismatist and
engraver, produced a list bearing the names of twenty-five ancient coin
collectors in Venice which, according to him, placed that city in third place
in Italy, after Rome (seventy-one) and Naples (forty-seven), but ahead of
Genoa (seventeen), Milan (sixteen), Florence, Bologna and Padua (eleven).
At the end of the seventeenth century, Martinoni mentioned thirty-one
collectors, but as in the case of Goltzius, this only accounted for the visible
part of a group which was undoubtedly much larger, even though it is
impossible to make an accurate assessment. Indeed, the latter will only ever
be achieved by dint of a vast amount of research concentrated on the
thousands of inventories stored in Venice's archives.
It would be extremely useful on various counts to know the exact number
of active collectors in Venice decade by decade, from the beginning of the
fifteenth century to the end of the eighteenth. It would allow one to
measure the extent of this phenomenon and to see how it evolved as the
years went by. It would be possible to make a sociological analysis, albeit a
rather rough and ready one, of the changes in taste and in scientific and
historical interests. Nevertheless, the results of any research of this kind
would by no means undermine the assertion that collectors, whatever their
number, never constituted, in Venice as elsewhere, any more than a small
minority of the population. The advent and growth of this minority
nonetheless had a considerable influence on the evolution of European
culture.
The very first collectors in Venice, Florence and elsewhere, grounded in
the humanists' texts and inspired by Petrarch, were fascinated by antiquity.
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
Private Collections, Public Museums 27l
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
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 seventeenth-
century 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
Private Collections, Public Museums
273
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 where busts, bas-reliefs and inscrip-
tions were inserted. The gallery was the next innovation, though judging
from Scamozzi's remarks, it only became popular in Venetia in the course of
the seventeenth century. From this time onwards, therefore, all the main
components of collection architecture had become established: a gallery for
arranging paintings or statues, along with an extra room reserved for
masterpieces, the descendant of the studio/a. These were the elements
which were to be used to organize the space not only of newly built public
museums, following the example of the Uffizi in Florence, with its
differentiation between gallery and tribune, but also of ecclesiastical
buildings converted into museums. Several examples of these conversions
exist in both Venice itself and in Venetia, the most striking one being the
Castelvecchio Museum in Verona, converted by Carlo Scarpa.
Private collections and cultural innovation
The history of artistic and historical preoccupations in Venice, Venetia and
modern Europe as a whole, of which several notable episodes have just been
mentioned, can be likened to a wave train, each wave leaving a well-defined
centre constituted by a group of collectors, and spreading to different
countries, at times affecting domains at a considerable remove from the
original one. Though they may only be transient in themselves, these waves
leave permanent marks on the cultural landscape, carving out lasting
s1gnarures here and there, in the shape of public museums, mostly the
evergetic type, as one can see from the list of Venetian museums extending
from the Archaeological Museum and the Correr Museum ro the Peggy
Guggenheim Collection. These waves do more than simply leaving behind
them museums containing objects to which they have given or restored
value, and thereby caused to rise or return to the surface for, with a backlash
effect, their passage alters the meaning of objects which already enjoy high
esteem.
274 Private Collections, Public MttJeums
No further elaboration is necessary to prove the truth of this statement:
one has only to acknowledge that when it was recognized that art, in the
true sense of the word, and not only 'bizarre productions' had existed in the
Middle Ages, the significance of ancient art had to be redefined, since this
no longer constituted the norm and sole manifestation of beauty. This
change in significance broadened the very definition of ancient art to
include both more primitive works and ones from the late Empire, thus
endowing them with a value they had not previously had. Similar shifts
took place in the definition of modern an which were especially advant-
ageous to the baroque style and to mannerism.
Art historians and the readers of scholar! y works were not the only ones
involved; the mass of people who simply went to look at the works were
also affected, as the new ideas also filtered down into the guides and
catalogues. They were the inspiration behind temporary exhibitions and led
curators to bring out certain pieces from their storerooms and have others
restored. They even had an indirect effect on the appearance of these pieces,
as the meaning invested in them had some influence on the type of
restoration carried out on them. This meant that rather than their original
and elusive appearance, they were given the one they were imagined to
have had. Not only did the way in which they were looked at change, bur
also, to a certain extent, an itself, a fact which the whole of hisrory should
have tried to take into account, as far as documentary evidence allowed. We
are, it should be stressed, talking about art from the past, of which neither
the physical aspect nor the semiotic dimension is static, contrary to firmly
established preconceptions.
Although the four patterns of public museum formation encompass the
legal, political and socio-economic aspects of the relationship between
public museums and private collections, they take no account of the objects
which move from the latter to the former. In the light of the history we
have just outlined, we can see that the relationship between these twin
public and private poles, which have coexisted throughout modern times,
seems to consist of a permanent tension between a certain conservatism on
one side and attempts at innovation on the other. The case of Venice is
quite typical in this respect, and shows how, over a very long period, public
collections greatly lagged behind the artistic, historical and scientific
interests of groups of collectors, groups which were initially very small, but
became progressively larger. Up to the end of the eighteenth century,
donations from private individuals were the only means by which public
collections were able to make up a little of the ground they had lost, even if
they did not bring them entirely into line with current tastes. Purchases, the
first of which seems to have been that of the Farsetti collection, were not
used as a means until the nineteenth century. At length, therefore,
innovatory waves, originating from groups of collectors, altered the
Private Collectiom, Public Mttsettms 275
contents of public museums, bringing them in succession statues and
ancient coins, natural objects, relics of the nation's past, chinoiseries and so
on. Elsewhere, it was a different story, although there is nothing which
really invalidates the general conclusion that private collections were
among the most important sources of cultural innovation from the fifteenth
century onwards. Indeed it is highly likely that they have remained so in the
majority of countries, if not all, to this very day.
Throughout the whole of this account, we have seen that any discussion
of collections must touch on political, economic and social problems.
Moreover, one of the examples quoted earlier shows that collections are also
linked with the natural sciences just as they are with history and art. If,
instead of studying one collection in particular, one examines the phenom-
enon of collecting in a specific country during a well-defined period, one is
forced to admit that this activity is not restricted to any one domain in
particular. Rather, it is characterized by its position at the intersection of
various different domains, by its multi-disciplinary nature. In other words,
the collections of a given country at a given time are, taken as a whole, the
coextension of that country's culture at that particular time. They incarnate
this culture and make it visible to us.
Notes
CHAPTER I THE COLLECTION: BETWEEN THE VISIBLE AND THE INVISfBLE
First published in Enciclopedia Einaudi, vol. III, Turin, 1978, pp. 330-64.
Reproduced in Libre, 3 (1978), pp. 3-56.
Souren Melikian, 'The discreet art of selling a Rembrandt', Intem,1tional
Herald Tribune, 1 Dec. 1974.
2 Le Monde, 3 Feb. 1976.
.'> Henri Mercillon and Pierre Gregory, Tart et l'imp6t', Le Monde, 11 Nov.
1975.
4 A. Buchalski, K. Konarski, A. Wolff, Pol.rki Slownik A1chiwalny (Polish
dictionary of archives), Warsaw, 1952.
5 James Mellaarr, (atal Hiiyiik, 1me des premieres cite.r du monde, s.l., 1971, pp.
207-9
6 Tresor.r d'art chinois, nicente.r decouve1tes archeologiques de Ia Republique
populaire de Chine, exhibition catalogue, Petit Palais, Paris, May-Sept. 1973.
7 Th. Homolle, Donarium, in Ch. Daremberg ;md Edm. Salio, Dictiomzaire des
antiquites grecques et romaines, vol. II, pan I, Paris, 1892, pp. 363-82. Cf. also
H. Thedenat, Favissae, ibid., vol. II, part II, Paris, 1896, pp. 1024-5.
8 E. Cavaignac, Etudes mr l'histoire fincmcihe d'Athime.r all Ve Jiec!e. Le trhor
d'Athimes de 480 a 404, Paris, 1908.
9 Pliny the Elder, NatMal HiJtory, XXXVII, 12-14; translated by W. H. S.
Jones, Loeb, 1963.
10 Ibid, XXXVII, 18-20.
11 Cf. foreword by James G. Frazer to his translation of Pausanias, Description of
He/las, London, 1898, vol. I, pp. XXXVI-XXXVII.
12 Pliny the Elder, Natural Hi.rtory, XXXVII, 3-4.
13 Ann,des Sa11cti Disiboldi, 1125, MGH, SS, val. XVII, p. 23, quoted in K.
Notes to pp. 17-33 277
Leyser, 'Frederic Barbarossa, Henry II and the hand of St James', English
Historical Review, no. CCCL VI, July 1975, p. 491, n. 3. [Translator's note: The
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14. P. Heliot and M.-L Chastang, 'Quetes et voyages de reliques au profit des
eglises frans;aises du Moyen Age', Revue d'histoire ecclesiastique, vol. LIX
(1964), no. 4 and LX (1965), no. 1.
15 Hubert Silvestre, 'Commerce et val de reliques au Moyen Age', Revue beige de
philologie et d'histoire, vol. XXX (1952), pp. 721-39.
16 Jean Guiraud, Questions d'histoire et d'archeologie chnitienne, Paris, 1906, pp.
235-61.
17 lnventaire du mobifier de Charles V, roi de France, published by Jules Labarre,
Paris, 1879.
18 Choix de pieces inedites relatives au regne de Charles VI, published by L.
Douet D'Arcq, Paris, 1864, val. II, p. 350.
19 Ernest Babelon, Catalogue des camees antiques et modernes d<! Ia Bibliotheque
nationale, Paris, 1897, no. 264.
20 Eugene H. Byrne, 'Some medieval gems and relative values' Speculum, 10
(1935), pp. 177-87.
21 Lord Twining, European Regalia, London, 1967, p. 279.
22 Le Heraut Berry, Chronique dtt roi Chades VII, Bib!. nat., ms. fr. 5052, in
Bernard Guenee and Frans;oise Lehoux, Les Entrees royales de 1328
a 1515, Paris, 1968, p. 73.
23 Hou Ching-Lang, Monnaies d'offrande et Ia notion de tresorerie dam Ia
religion chinoise, Paris, 1975, p. 127.
24 Herodotus, I, 49-51; translated by A. D. Godley, Loeb, 1920.
25 H. Leclercq, Reliques et reliquaires, in Dictionnaire d'archeofogie chretienne
et de liturgie, vol. XIV, cols 2338-43 .
26 Pliny the Elder, Natural History, XXXVII, 1.
27 Ibid., XXXVII, 61.
28 Ibid., XXXIV, 6-8.
29 lnventaire du mobilier de Charles V, p. 93, no. 618.
30 Bronislaw Malinowski, Argonauts of the Western Pacific, London , 1922, pp.
86-91.
31 Yves Coppens, 'La grande avenrure paleomologique est-africaine', Le Courrier
du C.N.R.S., no. 16, Apr. 1975, pp. 36-7.
32 J Desmond Clark, 'Africa in prehistory: peripheral or paramount?', Man
(N.S.), 10, 1975, p. 190.
33 Hommes de Ia prehistoire, exhibition catalogue, Musee Borely, Marseilles,
May-Sept. 1974.
34 Andre Leroi-Gourhan, Prebistoire de !'art occidental, Paris, 1971, p. 35.
35 Idem, Le Geste et fa parole, Paris, 1964, vol. I, p. 152.
36 Franz Steiner, 'Notes on comparative economics', British journal of Sociology,
5, 1954, pp. 118-29. I thank Mr W. G. L. Randles for bringing this article to
my attention.
37 Helene Clastres, La Terre sans mal, Paris, 1975.
38 Edouard Mestre, 'Monnaies metalliques et valeurs d'echange en Chine', Les
Annates sociologiques, D series, fasc. 2, 1937, p. 39.
278
Notes to pp. 34-47
39 Louis Reau, Les Monuments ddtmits de !'art franrai.r, Paris, 1959, vol. I, pp.
65ff.
40 L D. Reynolds and N. G. Wilson, Scribes and Scholars. A Gttide to the
Transmission of Greek and Latin Literature, Oxford, 1974, R. Weiss, The
Renai.rsance Discovery of Classical Antiquity, Oxford, 1969.
41 Claude Faucher, Recueil de l'origine de Ia !ang11e et de fa pohie fram;oise
(1581), published by]. G. Espiner-Scott, Paris, 1938, pp. 21-2.
42 Hubert Goltz, C. ]uliiJJ Caesar sive Historiae Imperatorum Caesarttmque
Romanorum ex Antiquis Numismatibus Restitutae, Bruges, 1563, f
0
aaaii-cc.
43 Linda Van Norden, 'Sir Henry Spelman and the Chronology of the
Elisabethan College of Antiquaries' The Hu11tington LibrarJ' Qttmterly, 13,
1950, pp. 131-60. Joan Evans, A History of the Society of A miquaries, Oxford,
1956, p. 16.
44 E.-T. Hamy, Les Origines dzt mMee d'Ethnographie, Histoire et Documents,
Paris, 1890. Julius Von Schlosser, Die Kunst- und Wttnderkammem der
Spiitrenaissance, Leipzig, 1908.
45 Krzysztof Pomian, 'Medals/Shells = 'Erudition/Philosophy', see above, pp.
121-38.
46 Francis Haskell, Patrons and Painten A Stud;' in the Relations between
Italian Art and Society in the Age of the Baroque, London, 1963 (new edition:
New Haven-London, 1980).
47 This calculation is based on Fritz Lugt, Repe1'toire des catalogttes de ventes
publiques interessant l'a1t ou fa curio.rite. Premiere periode: vers 1600-1825,
The Hague, 1938.
CHAPTER 2 THE AGE Of CURIOSITY
First published m Scienze, ctedenze occulte, livelli di cu!titl'a, Olschki,
Florence, 1982, pp. 535-57. Reproduced in Le Temps de Ia Reflexion, III
(1982), pp. 337-59.
Les A ntiquitez, Raretez, Plantes, Mineraux et atttres chases considerables de !a
ville et du comte de Castres . .. Avec !e roolle des principaux cabinets et a1ttres
raretez de !'Europe, comrne aussi fe catalogue des chases rares de maistre
Pierre Borel, . .. autheur de ce livre, Castres, by A. Colomiez, 1649; The Roo!le
des principattx cabinets curieux, pp. 124-31. The Catalogue (of which it is the
second, longer edition), pp. 132-49. For further information on Borel, read the
Dictiomzaire de biographie franraise, vol. VI, col. 1096.
2 Quoted in J. Ceard, La Nature et les prodiges. L'in.rolite au XVIe si?x!e, en
F1ance, Geneva, 1977, p. 297.
3 Among Borel's writings, let us noce Bibliotheca chimica, seu Catalogtts
libmrum pbilosophico1um hermeticomm . .. , Paris 1654; De Vero Tefescopii
inventore, cum brevi onmittm conspicil!iorum historia ... AcceSJ'it etiam
centuria observationum micmcospicantm [sic!], The Hague, 1655; Vitae
Renati Cartesii, summi philosophi, compendium, Paris, 1656; Discottrs
110tn'eatt pro1tvant Ia plura!ite des mondes, q11e les a.rtres sont des terres
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 tres-
wriettses, Geneva, 1657.
4 Cf. the remarkable and little-known books by H. Daudin: De Linne a ]ussiett.
iVUthode de classification et idee de serie en botanique et en zoologie (1740-
90), Paris, 1926, and Cuvier et Lamarck. Les classes zoo!ogiques et !'idee de
serie animate (1790-1830), Paris, 1926, 2 vols.
5 Cf.]. Von Schlosser, Die Kttmt- und Wunderkammem 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
Pittsburgh, Ph.D., 1970), University Microfilms, Anne Arbor, Mich., 1971, 2
vols.
6 For all of the following, cf. S. Sperh-Holrerhoff, 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.
7 Cf., for example, Frans Francken II, View of an Enthusiast's Galfery at the
beginning of the Seventeenth Century (The Duke of Northumberland, Syon
House, Brentford, Middlesex) or Johannes Georg Hainz, Gallery of Curiosities
(Gotha, Schlossmuseum, Schloss Friedenstein). Reproduced and commented
on in Albert Dzire1 aux PaJ's-Bas. Son voyage (1520-1), son influence,
exhibition catalogue, Brussels, 1977, nos 426 and 181.
8 Cf. Rubens et la pittura fiamminga del Seicento nelfe collezioni pubbliche
fiorentine, exhibition catalogue, Florence, 1977, no. 1.
9 Cf. Le Siecle de Rubem dans !es collectiom publiqttes franraises, exhibition
catalogue, Paris, 1977, no. 63.
10 Cf. L'Arnerique vue par !'Europe, exhibition catalogue, Paris, 1976, no. 109.
11 Cf. Pedro Pablo Rubens (1577-1640). Exposici6n homenaje, Madrid, 1977,
nos 108-12.
12 Cf. MIISeo del Prado, catalogue of paintings, Madrid, 1972, nos 1403 and 1404.
13 Le Siec!e de Rubens ... , no. 14.
14 Natures mortes. Catalogue du Ia collection dtt musee des Beaux-Arts de
Strasbourg, Strasbourg, 1964, no. 16.
15 Cf. Albert Dztrer aux Pays-Bas, no. 181 and Natures mortes ... du musee des
Beattx-Arts de St1asbourg, no. 28.
16 Cf., for example, Lubin Baugin, Nature morte a f'echiquie1 (Musee du Louvre,
Paris); Philippe de Champaigne, Vanite (Musee de Tesse, Le Mans); Simon
Renard de Saint-Andre, 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-Arts,
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
important commentary 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-Arts de Stra.rboMg, no. 58.
280 Notes to pp. 52-64
17 Cf. L. Berti, Il Principe della Studio/a. Francesco I dei Medici e Ia fine del
Rinascimento fiorentino, Florence, 1967, in particular pp. 61ff.
18 Letter from G. B. Adriani to Giorgio Vasari (1567) in G. Vasari, Opere, ed. G.
Milanesi, Florence, 1906 (re-edit. 1973) vol. I, p. 35.
19 Antoine Furetiere, Dictionnaire Universe!, Contenant generalement taus les
Mots Fran(ois tant vieux que modemes, et les Termes de toutes les Sciences et
des Arts ... , The Hague and Rotterdam, 1690.
20 Dictionnaire de l'Acadhnie Ft-an(oise, Paris, 1694.
21 Cf. K. Pomian, 'Utopia i poznanie historyczne. !dear republique des lettres i
narodziny postulatu obiektywno5ci historyka', Studia Filozoficzne, 1 (40),
1965, pp. 21-75.
22 St Augustine, De vera religione, 7 and 52; P. L., vol. XXXIV, cols 126 and 146.
Cf. also Confess., X, XXXIV and XXXV (on curiositas.). Also P. Courcelle,
Les Confessions de saint Augustin dam fa tradition litteraire, Etudes augusti-
niennes, Paris, 1963, pp. 101-9.
23 Isidore of Seville, Synonyma de !amentatione animae peccatricis, ll, 71; P. L.,
vol. XXCIII, col. 861.
24 StThomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, 2a 2ae 166, 2 ad 3, translated by Th.
Gilby, Eyre and Spottiswoode, London Blackfriars, 1972.
25 Ibid., 2a 2ae 167, 1c and cf. also 162, 4 ad 4.
26 Ibid., 2a 2ae 167, 2 ad 3.
27 Ibid., 2a 2ae 167, 1 ad 1.
28 Michel de Montaigne, Essais, I, XI, Paris, Gallimard, Bibliotheque de Ia
Pleiade, 1953, p. 61. Cf. also I, XXXII; II, XII; III, V. Ibid., pp. 214, 254, 538,
610, 972.
29 Blaise Pascal, PenSties, no. 152; ed. L. Brunschvicg, in CEuvreJ, Paris, G. E. F.,
1925, vol. XIII, p. 76.
30 Jean De La Bruyere, Les Caracteres, chapter. De la mode, in CEuvre.r, Paris, G.
E. F., 1865, vol. II, pp. 135-42.
31 Cf. Rene Descartes, Regulae ad directionem ingenii, IV; A. T. X 371.
32 Idem., La Recherche de la verite par fa lumiere naturelle; A. T. X 449-504.
33 Nicolas Malebranche, De fa recherche de la verite, IV, III and IV; ed. G. Lewis,
Paris, 1945, vol. II, pp. 14-22.
34 Bernard Lamy, Entretiens sur les sciences . .. , Paris, 1684, pp. 34-5. I am very
grateful to Mr Fernando Gil, who brought my attention to this text.
CHAPTER 3 COLLECTIONS IN VENETIA IN THE HEYDAY OF CURIOSITY
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.
Cf. J. Shlosser Magnino, La letteratura artistica, 3rd Italian ed. revised by Otto
Kurz, Florence, 1977, pp. 555.
2 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 P i t t t ~ r e pubbliche di Venezia
ma de!l'lso!e ancora circonvicine, Venice, 1674 (unnumbered pages).
3 S. Maffei, Verona itlustrata. Parte terza contiene le notizie delle cose in questa
citta piu osservabili, Verona, 1732, pp. 175-6.
4 With regard to this definition cf. K. Pomian, 'The Collection: between the
Visible and the Invisible', see above, pp. 7-44.
5 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.
6 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).
7 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.
8 R. Gallo, 'Le donazioni alia Serenissima di Domenico e Giovanni Grimani',
Archivio 1/eneto, series 5, vol. L-LI ( 1952), p. 52.
9 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.
10 Cf. G. Valentinelli, Manni scolpiti del Mttseo ttrcheo!ogico della Marciana,
Praro, 1865, p. XVII.
II [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).
12 Cf. E. Cicogna, Saggio di bibfiografica veneziana, Venice, 1847, no. 5147.
13 Cf. G. Moschini, Della letteratttra veneziana del secolo XVIII fino a nostri
giomi, vol. II, Venice, 1806, p. 77.
14 Cf. U niversitit degli Studi di Padova, Guida del!'orto botanico, Padua, 1977.
15 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.
16 S. Maffei, Vemua, p. 175.
17 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
1
L
18 'Decirne [May 1700] Vicentiam petimus, ubi nil mst tritum et vulgatum
observatur', B. de Montfaucon, Dia1ium italicum sive monumentorum
vetentm, bibliothecarum, musaeorum, etc. N otitiae singulares in itinerario
italico collectae, Paris, 1702, p. 437. This is the voice of a Frenchman; the
English made their pilgrimages to Vicenza in order to admire Palladia's
works.
19 M. Misson, No;weau vo;age d'Italie, The Hague, 1702, vol. I, p. 188.
20 Cf. above, pp. 45-64.
21 Cf.]. Von Schlosser, Raccolte d'arte e di rneravigfie del tardo Rina.rcimento
(1908), Florence, 1974, pp. lOlff.
22 Cf. E. Jacobs, 'Das Museo Vendramin und die Sammlung Reynst', Repertor-
illm fur Ktmstwissemchaft, 46 (1925 ), pp. 15-39; T. Boren ius, 'More about the
Vendramin collection', The Burlington Magazine, LX (1932), pp. 140-5.
23 'Un quadro d'un coruo d'India che me fu dona to uiuo'- 'Quadri con l'Aquarelle
de Animali cauatti dal naturale quadrupedi et volatili'. T. Borenius, The Pictttre
Gallery of Andrea Vendramin, London, 1923, pp. 20-1.
24 Ibid, pp. 3-4.
25 I Ieroglifici, overo Commentarii delle occulte significationi degli Egitij, et cdtre
Nationi, compo.rte daf!'Eccefente Signor Giovanni Pierio Valeriano da Balzano
di Befluno. et da lui in cinquantaotto libri divisi, nei qua!i con l'occasione di
leroglifici si tratta della natura di molti Animali Terrertri, Maritimi e Volatili;
delle Piante, dell'Herbe. de'Fiori e de 'Frutti; delle Pietre, delle Gioie e lvletalli;
de 'Font .. de'Fiumi, de'Mari, e dell'Acque tutte, de'Cie!i, delle Stelle, e de Pianeti;
delle iHonete e Medaglie, de Vestimenti et Arme; degl'lnstrumellti Musicali,
Bellici, et IISatili: de'Nmneri, de'Segni, de'Cerri, de'Sogni, e delle Favale, et
altre case c11riose e degne . ... Fabrica non Jo!o utile e Difettevole peri Studiosi
ma necessatia ancora a Pittori, Scttftori, eta quelli che di Statue. di lviedaglie, et
altre Antichita .ri dilettano ... , Venice, 1625. Quoted from A. Buzzati,
Bibliografia bellunese, Venice, 1890, no. 22.
26 Cf. Marc'Antonio Michie!, Notizia d'opere di disegno, ed.]. Morelli, Bassano,
1800; ed. G. Frizzoni, Bologna, 1884.
27 For the Grimanis, cf. R. Gallo, Le donazioni. For Gabrielle Vendramin, cf. A.
Rava, 'II "Camerino delle Amicaglie" di Gabrielle Vendramin', Nuo1'0
Archivio Veneto, vol. XXXIX (1920), pp. 155-81.
28 The text of the will is quoted in G. V<llentinelli, Manni scolpiti, p. XVII, no. 2.
29 For the date of the formation of the collection, cf. the quotations from
Manfredi ( 1602) and Stringa ( 1604) in G. Cozzi. 'Federico Contarini', pp. 213-
14. As to its composition, cf. M. T. Cipollato, 'L'eredita di Federigo Contarini:
gli invemari della collezione e degli oggetti domestici', Boll. dell !Jt. di Storia
della Societa e de!lo Stato veneziano, III (1961), pp. 221-53, especially 225-37.
30 Cf. M. T. Cipollato, pp. 221-3.
31 V. Scamozzi, L'idea della atchitettura rmiuersale divisa in X libri Venice 1615
I, III, xix, p. 305. ' ' '
32 Cf. L Franzoni, 'Pietro Rotari e gli antichi marmi del museo Trevisani',
Rivista di archeo!ogia, IV (1980), p. 71.
:13 M. Boschini, La carta del navegar pittore.rco, ed. A. Pallucchini, Venice, Rome,
1966, pp. 608-9.
34 F. Sansovino and G. Martinoni, Venezia citta nobilissima e singolare, Venice,
1663, p. 374.
35 ]. Spon and G. Wheler, Voyage d'ltalie, voL I, p. 44.
36 B. de Montfaucon, Diariurn italicum, pp. 62-3.
3 7 Scamozzi, toe. cit., speaks of '120 quadri de buona grandezza, di mano de piu
eccelenti maestri'. Cf. also S. Savini Branca, Il collezionismo Veneziano ne/'600,
Florence, 1965, pp. 272-5.
38 The Diary of john Evelyn, ed. E. S. de Beer, Oxford, 1955, voL II, pp. 470-1.
39 Cf. the remarkable preface written by L Puppi to his edition of Girolamo
Gualdo the Younger, 1650. It Giardino di Cha Gualdo, Florence, 1972.
40 Raccolta delle inscrittioni cossi antiche come modeme quadri e pitture statue
bronzi marmi medaglie gemme minere animali petriti libri instrumenti
mathematici che si trovano in Pustorla nella casa et horti, che sono di me
Girolamo de Gualdo, Emilio. D. che sirue anco per lnventario MDCXLIII Net
meso di Dicembre 27. MS Marciana ita!. IV 133 = 5103.
41 L. Panizza, ed., If M11seo Gualdo di Vicenza nei secoli XVJ-XVll. descritto da
Nicolo Basilio (1644), Vicenza, 1854 (Nozze Bollina - di Thiene)
(unnumbered pages).
42 Cf. Raccolta delle inscrittioni, fo 17ff. (first), f
0
21ff. (second), f
0
24ff. (third
piece).
43 Ibid., f
0
35.
-14 Ibid., f
0
196.
45 Ibid., f
0
35.
46 Ibid., ffO 93-9.
47 Ibid., f
0
93.
48 Ibid., fO 34.
49 Ibid., ffO 43-4
50 Ibid., ffO 44-5.
51 Ibid., ffO 35-40,74,77.
52 Ibid., ffO 50ff.
53 Ibid., f
0
57.
54 Ibid., ffO 81-93.
55 Ibid., ffO 76-7.
56 Ibid., ff' 66ff.
57 Ibid., ffD 99ff.
58 Cf. ibid., ffO 11, 12, 14, 15, 16, 48, 56, 162.
59 Ibid., ffO 162ff.
60 Ibid., ffO 166-7, 169.
61 Ibid., f
0
25
62 Ibid' f
0
69
63 Cf. L. Puppi, It Giardino, p. XXXVI, no. 97.
64 Raccolta delle inscrittioni, W 40, 184ff.
65 Cf. B. Morsolin, 'II Museo Gualdo in Vicenza', Nuovo Archivio Veneto, voL
VIII (1894), p. 7.
66 Cf. Mary S. Hervey, The Life, CorreJ-pondence and Collectiom of Thomas
Howard, Earl of Arundel, Cambridge, 1921, pp. 450-1.
284
Notes to pp. 74-7
67 Cf. Tbe Diary of ]olm Evelyn, vol. II, pp. 481-4.
68 Notable visitors included Spon (1675), Mabillon and Germain (1685), Misson
(1687), Montfaucon (1700). They will be quoted later. Let us also mention the
fruitless attempt by Caylus in 1714. Comte de Caylus, Voyage d'Italie, 1714-
1715, ed. Armilda A. Pons, Paris, 1914, p. 64.
69 Cf. S. Maffei, Verona illustrata, pp. 230-1.
70 For the history of the Moscardo collection in the eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries, cf. G. Marchini, Antiquari e collezioni archeologicbe dell'Ottocento
veronese, Verona, 1972, pp. 41-6.
71 Note ovvero memorie del Mttseo di Lodovico MoJCardo Nobile Veronese
Academico Filharmonico ... , Padua, 1656 (unnumbered ;ages). '
72 The first to draw attention to this was J. Spon. Cf. J. Spon and G. Wheler,
Voyage d'Italie, vol. II, p. 220. Also S. Maffei, Verona, p. 230.
73 Cf. J. Spon and G. Wheler, foe. cit.
74 Cf. J. Mabillon and M. Germain, Iter italicum litterarium, Paris, 1687, pp. 24-
5.
75 Cf. B. de Montfaucon, Diarium ita!icum, pp. 438.
76 The Moscardo museum constituted one of the finest numismatic collections in
Europe, in Jo. Foy-Vaillant, Numismata aerea Imperato1um, Augustamm et
Caesarum in Coloniis, Municipiis, et Urbibtts jure Latio Donatis, Ex omni
modulo percussa, Paris, 1688, [
0
b III.
77 List in Note ovvero memorie del M:1seo . .. , 2nd, enlarged edn, Verona, 1672,
pp 468-71.
78 Ibid., pp. 472-3.
79 Ibid., p. 474.
80 M. Misson, Nouveau voyage d'lta!ie, vol. I, pp. 160ff.
81 Note ovvero memorie, 1656 edn, pp. 122-3.
82 Ibid., pp. 249-50.
83 Ibid., pp. 296-300.
84 Note ovvero memorie, 1672 edn, pp. 435, 436, 438-9.
85 Ibid., p. 448.
86 Note ovvero memorie, 1656 edn, p. 171.
87 Ibid., p. 205.
88 Ibid., p. 133.
89 Ibid., p. 140.
90 With regard to this, cf. A. Forti, 'Del Drago che si trovava nella raccolta
Moscardo e di un probabile arrefice di tali mistificazioni: Leone Tartaglini da
Fojano', Madonna Verona, vol. VIII (1914), pp. 25-51.
91 Note ovvero memorie, 1656 edn, p. 234.
92 Cf. A. Forti, It Basilica esisteme a! Museo Cit;ico di Storia Naturale a Venezia e
g!i affini simulacri finol'a conoscit1ti- Coutribti!o alta .rtoria della Ciarlataneria,
Venice, 1929 (separate publication taken from Atti del R. Istittt!o Veneto di
SS.LL.AA., vol. LXXXVIII, part 2); idem, 'Imorno ad un "Draco ex Raja
effictus Aldrov" che esiste nel Museo Civico di Verona e circa le varie notizie
che si hanno di simili mostri specialmeme dai manoscritti Aldrovandiani',
Madonna Ve1'0na, vol. I (1907), pp. 57-73.
93 Note memorie, 1656 edn, pp. 235-7.
94 In his Note ovvero memorie, 1672 edn, Moscardo publishes a text by
Arhanasius Kircher on hieroglyphics, pp. 372ff.
95 'Anzi fa vastita del Mondo tutto I Di tua magion dentro le sog!ie illu.rtri I In
nuovo Microcosmo ha gia ridutto', is what we read in a poem extolling
Moscardo, published along with others at the front of Note ovvero memorte
(unnumbered pages).
96 This is the comment made by Ch. Patin after citing the names of nineteen
medal collectors in Venice: 'Plures, fateor, sunt mihi incogniti, qui gloriae tuae
studenres,
0
Adriatici maris Regina, numismatum eruditioni, investigationi ac
possessioni operam navant', Introductio ad Historiam Numi.rmatum,
Amsterdam, 1687, p. 247.
97 Cf. 1650. Il Giardino di Cha Gualdo, ed. cit, pp. 7ff.
98 This was a general state of affairs at this period. Cf. N. Edelman, Attitudes of
Seventeenth-Century France toward the Middle Ages, New York, 1946; P.
Frankl, Tbe Gothic. Literary Sources and Interpretations through.
Centuries Princeton, N. )., 1960; K. Pomian, 'Kolekcjonerstwo 1 fllozoha
nowoiytnego muzeum)', Archiwum Historii Fi!ozofii i Myfli
Spoiecznej, voL XXI (1975), pp. 21-86.
99 Cf. L. Franzoni, 'Pietro Rotari', p. 71-2.
. .
100 Cf. A. Zeno, Lett ere, Venice, 1785, no. 94; vol. I, pp. 221 ff. (letter to Fontanmt
of 2 March 1704); B. de Montfaucon, Diarium italicum, pp. . . .
101 Cf. L. Franzoni, 'Pietro Rotari', p. 70ff. It is there that Monresqmeu vtsJted tt.
102 Cf. idem, La galleria Bevilacqua a Verona e l'Adorante di Berlino, Verona,
1964 (separate publication taken from Studi storici veronesi, vol XIV,
idem, Per una storia del collezionismo. Verona: !a gallerta Bevtlacqua, Milan,
1970.
103 Cf. L. Moscardo, Historia di Verona, Verona, 1668, pp. 536, 542-3.
104 Ch. Patin, Histoire des medailles ou introduction a la connaissance de cette
science, Paris, 1695, p. 3: 'Les grands Seigneurs seuls peuvent parer leurs
Palais de ces Statues, a mesure du prix qui excede la mediocre fortune des
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
Parriculiers ... .'
M. Foscarini, Della letteratura veneziana ed altri sc1itti intorno ad essa,
Venice, 1854, p. 395 (the first edition of Della letteratura veneziana dates from
1752).
Cf. M. T. Cipollato, 'L'eredita di Federigo Contarini', especially PP 230-1; L.
Franzoni Per una storia del collezionismo, pp. 161ff.
For the l;istory of the Mantova Benavides collection, cf. L. Polacca, 'II museo di
scienze archeologiche e d'arte dell'Universita di Padova', Atti dell'lstituto
Veneto di SS.LL.AA., vol. CXXV (1966-7), pp. 421-4; Irena Favaretto, ed.,
'Inventario delle amichita di casa Mantova Benavides - 1695', Bolletino del
Museo Civico di Padova, vol. LI (1972), pp. 35-164.
I. Favaretto, introduction to the text of the inventory, ibid., pp. 59-60.
I. Favaretto ed., 'lnventario .. .', pp. 73-4, 119.
Cf. G. F. To:nasini, V. C. Laurentii Pignorii Pat. Canonici Taruisini Historici et
Philologi Eruditissimi Bibliotheca et Mu.reum, Venice, 1632. . .
Pignoria reveals a curiosity for exotica. He even added the followmg to hts
edition of V. Cartari's Immagini delli dei degl'Anttcht . . . : Dt.rcorso mtorno
286 NoteJ to pp. 81-3
aile deita dell'Indie Orientali et Occidentali, con le foro Figure tratte da
g!'originali, che si comeruano ne!le Gal/erie de'Principi et ne'Musei delle
Persone priuate ... I quote the 1674 Venice edition. Cf. also F. Ambrosini,
Paesi e mari ignoti. America e colonialismo emopeo nella cultura veneziana
(secoli XVI-XVII), Venice, 1982, pp. 173ff.
112 These engravings can be found in Pignoria's various different works. We even
have a list of them in G. F. Tomasini, V. C. Laurentii ... , pp. 20-l.
113 Cf. M. Boschini, La carta del navegar pittoresco, pp. 163-4.
114 Cf. ibid., p. 167.
115 Ch. Patin, Histoire des medailles, pp. 12-13. The book was published in Italian
as Pratica delle medag!ie, Venice, 1673; the Latin translation was cited earlier,
see note 96. Patin brought his numismatic collection with him to Padua, and
its catalogue can be found in Thesaurus Numismatum e Musaeo Caroli Patini
Doctoris Medici Parisiensis, s.l., 1672.
116 Idem, Histoire deJ medailleJ, pp. 36-7.
117 Cf. ibid., pp. 180-1, 194 which list the rarest medals. In the catalogue of his
collection, as well as in that of Pietro Morosini's collection, Patin often
emphasizes the rarity of a particular piece.
118 M. Boschini, La carla del navegar pittoresco, p. 609: 'La Medagia d'Oton, cusl
bramada I Dai Prencipi del Mondo, che e si rara 1 La Ia ghe xe, e la ghe xe si
cara I Co' si Ia fusse un'opulente intrada.'
119 Quoted in J. Morelli, Dissertazio11e intomo ad a!cuni viaggiatori eruditi
veneziani poco noti, in Operette, vol. II, Venice, 1820, pp. 130-2.
120 Cf. E. A Cicogna, Saggio di bibliografia veneziana, no. 5210.
121 For a description of this collection, cf. G. A Averoldi, Le scefte pittU!e di
Brescia additate a! forestiere, Brescia, 1700, p. 251. Torra also collected agates
and cameos, paintings, shells, ancient marble srarues, porcelain, weapons and
armour, ancient musical instruments.
122 A. Zeno, Lettere, no. 700; voL IV, p. 154 (letter to Giandomenico Bertoli dated
7 Dec 1726).
123 Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Delle iset-izioni veneziane, vol. III, Venice, 1830, p. 247.
124 Cf.]. Morelli, Dissertazione, pp. 123ff.
125 A. Zeno, Lettere, no. 776; vol. IV, pp. 322-3 (letter to Giandomenico Boldini
dated 12 Jan. 1731 from Venice).
126 ]. Spon and G. Wheler, Voyage d'Italie, vol. II, pp. 369-70.
127 Cf. A!usei Tbeupo!i antiqua nttmiJmata olim co!!ecta a Joanne Domenico
Theupolo. Aucta et edita e Laurentia equite et D. Marci Procuratore et
Federico Senatore fratribtt.f Theupolis, Venice, 1736, 2 vols, with continuous
pagination.
128 Ch. Patin, Hi.rtoire des medai!les, p. 104.
129 Cf. [Ch. Patin], Thesaurus 11ttmismatum ... Petro lv1auroceno ... Sere-
nissimae Reipublicae legatliS, p. 35.
130 Cf. Cbristinae Augttstae Suevorum, Gothorum, Vandalorumque Reginae,
lmperatomm, Caesamm, Augustarumqtte d Pompeo ttSque ad Carofltm
!Hagnum Numismatttm Aereomm Seriem, ac Nttmerum. Ex Paterno .Musaeo
exbibet Alexander de Lazara, Padua, 1669.
131 Cf. K. Pomian, L'Ordre d ~ t temp.r, Paris, 1984, pp. Iliff.
NoteJ to pp. 83-7
287
132 Cf. Ch. Patin, Histoire des medai!les, p. 118.
133 Cf. T. Borenius, The Picture Gallet] of Andrea Vendramin, p. 3.
134 Cf. L. Moscardo, Note ovvero memorie, 1672 edn, pp. 465-7.
135 First edition, Venice, 1702. The work was subsequently re-edited three times.
Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Saggio di bibliogra/ia veneziana, no. 517 4.
136 I have borrowed this list from Ch. Patin, Histoire des medaille.r, pp. 12-14.
13 7 Cf. Prodromus iconicus sculptilium gemmamm, Basilidiani, A rrmlectici, at que
Ta!ismani Generis de Musaeo Antonii Capello, senatoris veneti, Venice, 1702.
On this collection, extremely rich in antiquities, cf. B. de Montfaucon, Diarium
italicum, p. 63.
138 On the links between the figure of Venus and the universe of curiosity in the
seventeenth century, cf. above, pp. 52-3.
139 This concerns the frontispiece engraved by Cornelis Galle the Elder, in the
manner of Rubens for the book by H. Goltzius, Romanae et Graecae
Antiquitatis Momtmenta e priscis numismatibm eruta, first edn, Antwerp,
1632. On the same theme, cf. Gods and Heroes. Baroque Images of Antiquity,
exhibition catalogue, Wildenstein Gallery, New York, 1968, no. 49.
140 Cf. G. F. Tomasini, V. C. LaMentii . .. , p. 19.
141 0. Rossi, Le Memorie Bresciane. Opera istorica et simbolica, Brescia, 1616, pp.
58-9; one object from this collection is mentioned, p. ]65.
142 Cf. Ibid., pp. 248-68 (Marmi diversi antichi ritrovati in Brescia) and pp. 269-
312 (Marmi antichi sparsi peril territorio bresciano).
143 Idem, Le memorie storiche bresciane, Brescia, 1693. The edition was prepared
by a local antiquary Fortunato Vinacessi. It publishes 439 inscriptions (pp.
231-324), 176 of which were added after the 1616 edition. Cf. CIL V, p. 437,
no. XXXIII.
144 Cf. G. A. Averoldi, Le scelte pittttre, pp. 277-93.
145 Cf. L. Franzoni, Le iscrizioni tomane del Gi,trdino Giusti, s.l., n.d. L Milan,
1981]
146 Cf. Mary F. S. Hervey, The Life ... of Thoma!' Howard, p. 451.
147 Cf. The Dia1J' of john Evelyn, vol. II, p. 487 (1646); The Diary of D. Papebroch
( 1660) in M. Battistini, 'I padri bollandisti Henschenio e Papebrochio nel
Veneto nel1660', Archivio Veneto, series 5, vol. IX (1931), pp. 115-17.
148 Cf. L. Pignoria, Le Origini de Padova, Padua, 1625, p. 66.
149 Cf. L. Moscardo, Historia di Verona, p. 456.
150 This is the version given by L. Franzoni in Origine e st01'ia del Mttseo
lapidario ma/feiano in II Museo Maf/eiano riaperto a! pubblico, Verona, 1982,
pp. 29-72; here p. 3 7. I am gratef11l to Professor Franzoni for communicating
this work in its then unpublished form.
151 Cf. M. Battistini, 'I padri bollandisti .. .', p. 115.
152 Cf.]. Mabillon and M. Germain, Iter italicum, pp. 24-5.
15 3 Cf. J. Spon and G. Wheler, Vo)'age d'Italie, vol. II, p. 220, also Lucia Donaduzzi
Marcon, 'Le i scrizioni del Museo Moscardo di Verona', Epigraphica, vol. IX
(1949), pp. 98-108 and G. Marchini, Antiqttari, pp. 45-6.
154 Cf. L. Franzoni, Origine e storia del MMeo lapidario maf/eiano, pp. 39ff Cf.
also. L. Franzoni, 'L'opera di Scipione Maffei e d'Alessandro Pompei per i1
288
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
Notes to pp. 87-8
Museo pubblico veronese', Atti e Memorie de!l'Accademia di Agricoltura,
Sctenze e Lettere ds Verona, series VI, vol. XXVII (1975-6), pp. 193-218.
Cf. G. Gualdo che Younger, Raccolta delle inscrittioni, W 11 (one inscription),
12 (two), 14 (two), 15 (four), 16 (four), 48 (four), 56 (two), 162 (one). S.
Orsaro: Monumenta Padua, 1652, pp. 276-7, cites eight inscriptions
belongmg to this collectton, mcluding two Greek ones.
Cf. An.giolgabriello Di Santa Maria, Biblioteca e Storia di quegli scrittori cosi
della cttta come del territorio di Vicenza . .. , Vicenza, 1782, vol. VI, pp. LXII-
LXIII.
Cf. ibid., PP. CCXXI-CCXXV and N. C. Papadopoli, Historia gymnasii
patavmt, Vemce, 1726, vol. II, pp. 144-5. Cf. also]. Mabillon and M. Germain
Iter italicum, p. 26 and G. A. Averoldi, Le scelte pitture, p. 249.
handwntten anthology by Cerchiari, Marmora Berica sive antiquitates urbis et
agri vicentini expositae suisque iconibus omatae can be found in the Biblioteca
Bertolliana, Vincenza, shelf-mark 22.9.5.
Cf. Joannis Pieri Valeriani Beltunensis Antiquitatum Bellunensittm sermones
quatuor . .. , Venice, 1620. Pierio quotes around forty inscriptions found more
or less everywhere; it is not an anthology of ones from Belluno and its
environs.
Cf. A. Dal Corno, Memorie istoriche di Feltre. Con diversi avvenimenti nella
Marca e nell'Italiaaccaduti, Venice, 1710, pp. 136, 150-9 (Catalogo
delle ptu sllustrt Iscnztoni Antiche e Modeme, raccolte e in parte dichiarite
dali'Autore).
Cf. A. A. Michieli, 'Vaniloqui e scorribande erudite d'un secentista trivigiano
(Bartolomeo Burchelati)', Atti del Istituto Veneto di SS.LL.AA., vol. CXII
(1953-4), pp. 306-52.
Cf. M. Zorzi, Vita del Signor Conte Camillo Silvestri, nobile di Rovigo e padre
della Romana ErudtZzone. Adornata di varie osservazioni a! suo Museo
spettanti e copiosa di molte aft,e notizie istoriche, critiche, e letterarie, Padua,
1720, pp. 35ff., 49ff.
Cf. L. Franzoni, Antiquari e collezionisti del Cinquecento, in G. Arnaldi and M.
Pastore Stocchi, Storia della cultura veneta, vol. 3/III, Vicenza, 1981, pp. 207-
66, especially 225-34.
S: Orsato, Monumenta Patavina, pp. 49-70 where he reproduces sixty-one
mscnpnons and Elda Zorzi, 'Un antiquario padovano del sec. XVI: Alessandro
Maggi da Bassano', Bolletino del Museo Civico di Padova, vol. LI (1952) pp.
41-98. '
Cf. S. Orsato, Monumenta Patavina, pp. 254-5, 261-3, 274. I. Salomonio, Agri
patavini lnscriptiones sacrae et prophanae, Padua, 1696, pp. 80ff. L. Franzoni,
Antiquari et collezionisti del cinquecento, p. 329. CIL V, p. 265, no. IX.
Cf. the catalogue cited above, note 130, and also: F. Sansovino and G.
Marti Venezia, p. 3 76. Lazara's collection is mentioned, along with those
of Ch. Patm, S. Gruzonus and C. Torta, by]. Foy-Vaillant, Numismata aerea. L.
ll C:iardino, p. XLII, no. 137, cites the handwritten inventory of the
numtsmatiC and sphragistic collection belonging to Giovanni de Lazara: BCP
1474.
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
Cf. S. Orsato, Monumenta Patavina, pp. 170-1; I. Salomonio, Agri patavini,
pp. 79-80.
Cf. G. A. Volpi, Vita del conte Sertorio Orsato, in S. Orsato, Marmi eruditi
oz,vero Lettere sopra afcune anticbe i.rcrizirmi, Padua, 1719, pp. IXff.; S.
Orsato, !vfonumenta Patavina, pp. 210-12, 248-9. The other epigraphic
collections mentioned in this work are those belonging to G. Galvano (pp. 35-
6), F. Orsato (p. 139), G. della Torre (pp. 160-1), G. Rodio (pp. 178 and 282),
N. Corradino (pp. 188-9), G. F. Tomasino (pp. 235-7), B. Fichetto (pp. 290-
l).
In addition to the books by Orsato and Salomonio, already cited, cf. G. F.
Tomasino, Urbis patavini inscriptiones saC1ae et propbanae, Padua, 1649;
Idem, Territorii patavini inscriptiones sacrae et prophanae, Padua, 1654; I.
Salomonio, Urbi.r patavini inscriptiones Jacrae et profanae, Padua, 170 I.
Between 1612 and 1616, G. B. Lisca and Cozza de Cozzis drew up an
Auctarium monumentorum, containing reproductions of inscriptions inVer-
ona, which was published in Onuphrii Panvini Veronemis Antiquitatttm
Veronensium libri VIII, Verona, 1648, pp. 237ff. For the exact date of writing,
cf. L. Franzoni, Origine e storia del Mu.reo lapidario maffeiano, which also
deals with other collections of Veronese inscriptions.
Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Delle i.rcrizioni veneziane, Venice, 1824, vol. I, pp. 11ff.
Cf. G. D. Bertoli, Antichita d'Aqrtileia, Venice, 1739; CIL V, pp. 83-5, no.
XXXI.
Cf. M. Foscarini, Della letteratura veneziana, p. 398; CIL V, pp. 220ff.
Cf ibid., pp. 400-1; L. Franzoni, Antiquari e collezioni.rti nel Cinquecento, pp.
213-14 and examples inS. Orsato, Mommzenta Patavina, pp. 247 (antiquities
brought to Padua from Greece), 248-9 (inscriptions brought from Aquileia).
Cf. also CIL V, p. 266, no. XIV.
Cf. A. Zeno, Lett ere, no. 94; vol. I, pp. 221 ff. (to Fontanini, 2 March 1704) and
the four Greek inscriptions reproduced ibid, on pp. 300-1.
Through the intermediary of Paolo Gualdo, the uncle of Girolamo the
Younger. Cf. Pignoria's notes in V. Cartari, lmmagini delli dei, p. 323 and L
Puppi, p. XXIII.
Cf. G. F. Tomasino, Lamentii PignMii . .. Bibliotheca et lvfusaeum, pp. 2-5.
Cf. Jv!usaeum Calceolarimn veronensis a Be1;edicto Ceruto Medico incaeptum.
Et ab Andrea Chiocco Med. PhJ.rico Excellenti.r.r. Co!legii luculenter des-
criptttm et perfectum, Verona, 1622, pp. 294-8.
Cf. G. F. Tomasino, Laurentii Pignorii ... , p. 19.
Cf. G. Benzoni, 'Giovanni Bonifacio (1547-1635), erudito uomo di Iegge e ..
devoto', Studi Veneziani, vol. IX (1967), p. 250.
Cf. L. Pignoria, Le origini di Padova, pp. 59, 123.
Pignoria's notes in V. Cartari, Immagini delli dei, pp. 315 and also 307 and
314.
Cf. In Georgii Contareni obittnn carmina, s.l., n.d. [Venice, 1617], pp. 28 and
35 (texts by Pignoria). A. Chiocco also p<>rticipated in this collective volume
(pp. 12-15).
The friendship with Peiresc is referred to by Pignoria in his notes in V.
Cartari, Immagini de!li dei, pp. 288, 325, 36-1.
290
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
201
205
206
Note.r to pp. 90-4
Cf. G. F. Tomasino, Urbis patavini imcriptiones, p. 389 (expression of
gratitude to Giovanni de Lazara for his help).
This was underlined by his biographer. Cf. G. A. Volpi, Vita del conte Se1torio
Orsato, p. X.
Cf. ibid., p. XI. The first letter in the posthumous edition of Marrni eruditi
( 1719) is moreover addressed to Giovanni de Lazara, ibid., pp. 3ff., whose
medals are cited pp. 194ff., 205ff.
Cf. G. A. Volpi, Vita, p. X.
Cf. S. OrsJto, Gli marmi eruditi, p. 101.
Cf. L. Franzoni, Origine e .rtoria del Museo lapidario rnaffeiano, p. 32.
Cf. M. Zorzi, Vita del SignM Conte Camillo SilveJtri, pp. 88ff.
The contrast between Rossi and Pignoria is well illustrated by the list the
latter placed at the beginning of his Origini di Padova, p. 7: 'Auton de i quczli
per enere falsi, e .rupposti e inventori di cose non vere, io non mi J'01W .rervito.
Cf. E. H. Gombrich, leones Symbolicae. Philosophies of Symbolism and thei1
Bearing 011 Art, in idem, Symbolic Images. Stztdie.r in the art of the
Renaissance, London, 1972, pp. 123ff.
The length of the title of the book by Ferrecio is very eloquent: Mmae
Lapidariae: Antiqztorum in rnarmoribus carmina, seu Deorum Donaria,
Homimmzque Illustrium obliteratcz j'vlomrmenta et deperdita Epitaphia: cum
rerttm perpetramm publici.r incisi.r lapidibus, qui!ms Templomm, A rae,
Votiva in tabellis. lcomtm Styiobatae. mortuorum sepulchra, Facinortfm que
Diagliphica notata iuJ"Sunt: Visa in Umis, Vasc!tlis, LowfiJ-, Lt<cemis, Cof-
ttmnis, Obeliscis, plumbeis Laminis, tabulisque Aenei.r signa carminum: Quae
omnia Labia!i sculpta stylo, et variis locis repo.rita. atque inventa. ln.rcriptio-
nes AntiquissimaJ explanant, expendtmtque memoriae excerptcte notis
hi.rtoricis, in quibus reconditctmm omnium rerum Gentilittm, tam Sacrarmn
quam Propbanarmn, Publico Privatoque fure perhibetttr mentis, triplicique
cognite Indice: Auctore Joanne Bapti.rta Ferrecio, Verona, 1672. The contrast
between Pignoria and Kircher is underlined by B. de Momfaucon,
L'Antiquite expliquee et reprhemee en figures, vol. II, part 2, Paris, 1719,
p. 332.
S. Orsaro, Gli mcn'1ni eruditi o11ero lettere .ropra alcune anticbe i.rcrizioni,
Padua, 1659 lrecte: 1669], pp. 142ff. This concerns inscription CIL V, no.
2865. The daring of the discovery cited here is Mommsen's.
Cf. S. Orsato, Monumenta Patavina, pp. 25-34 and Gli marmi eruditi, p. 153.
Idem, Gfi marmi eruditi, ibid., Ioc. cit.
Ibid., p. 154.
Ibid., pp. 151-5
Ibid., p. 156.
Ibid., p. 1 GO.
Ibid., p. 161 and the inscriptions cited pp. 161-5.
Ibid., pp. 168-9.
Ibid., pp. I 70ff.
Ibid., pp. 178-9
Ibid., pp. 148-9.
Cf. C. Cozzanda, Delict !ibreria breJciana, Brescia, 1685, p. 283.
N ote.r to pp. 94-7 291
207 Cf. M. Gaggio, Notizie genealogiche delle famiglie nobili di Feltre, Felrre,
1936, p. 380.
208 Cf. B. Burchelati, Commentariorum Memorabilium multipliciJ- historiae
ta1visinae lucupleJ promptuarium. Libris quatuo-r distributttrll historico,
antiq11ario, poetae, philosopho, in primis autem christiana ac funebrium
iucmzdum atque utile, Treviso, 1616. Cf. A. A. Michieli, 'Vaniloqui e
scorribande', p. 328.
209 Cf. M. Zorzi, Vita del Signo1 Conte Camillo Silvestri, p. 88.
210 Pignoria is not only author of Origini di Padova, bur also editor of a curious
short work by V. Contarini on Antenor, the Trojan founder of Padua. Cf. L.
Pignoria, L'Anten01'e, Padua, 1625. Cf. also S. Orsato, lrtoria di Padova, Padua,
1678; the second part of this work remained in manuscript form.
211 Cf. L. Simeoni, Gli Jtudi storici ed archeologici di Scipione Maffei, in Studi
maffeiani, Turin, 1909, pp. 728ff.
212 'Ce mot de Gothique est assez commun chez les Curieux, et c'est ainsi qu'on
appelle tout ce qui parait ancien et mal fait:' Ch. Patin, Hhtoire des medai!!es,
p. Ill. Cf. also the works cited in note 98 above.
213 Antenor's romb is represented in L. Pignoria, L'Antenore, p. 36 and S. Orsaro,
Monmnenta Patavina, p. 3.19 where it features among the supposed ancient
inscriptions. However, Orsato does not deny the historical authenticity of
Antenor, restricting his criticism ro the tomb, ibid., pp. 343ff. The Scaliger
tomb is represented in 0. Panvinio, A ntiquitatum Vemnensium /ibri VIII,
from p. 96.
214 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
the home of G. Gualdo the Younger, cf. Raccolta delle iscrittioni, f
0
37. Cf. also
S. Savini Branca, p. 133 (N. Crasso's inventory, 1656). This cult of the hero
was best reflected in the collections of portraits of famous men and women.
As, for example, in the home of L. Moscardo. cf. Note overo memorie, 1672
edn, pp. 465-7,474. Cf. also B. Dal Pozzo, Le Vite de'Pittori, p. 291 (Fattnri
collection; thirty-seven portraits of famous men and women), p. 292 (Mosconi
collection: 262 portraits), pp. 308-9 (Dal Pozzo collection: twenty portraits)
and M. Boschini, La carta del navegar pittoresco, p. 610 (collection belonging
to Count Bencio).
222 A. Zeno, Lettere, no. 527; vol. II, p. 206 (toP. C. Zeno, 16 Nov. 1720) and cf.
no. 593, vol. II, p. 3M (to Murarori, 8 Feb. 1723).
292
223
224
225
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, 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 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 182-
4. 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. 3 70.
Cf. P. A. Saccardo, Botanica i17 It alia, paHim; A. Schwarz, eel., Per una .rtoria
della farmacia e del farmacista in Italia. Venezia e Veneto, Bologna, 1981, p.
54.
248 Cf. G. Glizzi, 'Calzolari, Francesco', Dizionario Biografico deg!i Italiani, vol.
XVII, pp. 65-7; A. Donati, Trattato de'semplici, pietre, e pesci marini, che
nascono nel lito di Venetia. La maggior parte non conosciuti da Teofrasto,
Dioscoride, Plinio, Galena, et altri Scrittori .. . , Venice, 1631, p. 2.
249 Cf. for example A. Donati, Trattato de'semplici . .. , pp. 12, 24-6 and passim.
250 Cf. C. Massalongo, 'In memoria di Fra Fortunato da Rovigo', Madonna
Verona, vol. XI (1917), pp. 34-6, This herbarium can now be seen in the
Museo Civico di Scienze Naturali in Verona.
251 Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Delle iscrizioni veneziane, vol. V, pp. 113 and 116-7.
252 On the Chiavenna book, which appeared in Treviso in 1648, cf. Biographie
universelle ancienne et moderne, vol. VIII, pp. 373-4.
253 Cf. J. Evans, Magical jewels of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance
particularly in England (1922), New York, 1976, pp. 15-16, 140ff.
254 A. Donati, Trattato de'semp!ici, p. 117.
255 Cf. Variorum fossilium apparatus, ex collectaneis I H Zannichellii, et in ipsius
pharmacopolio publicae eruditioni venetiis exhibitus, Venice, 1720; Enum.er-
atio rerum naturalium quae in Musaeo Zannichelliano asservantur, VeniCe,
1736.
256 Cf. De reconditis, et praecipuis co!Lectaneis ab honestissimo et sole-rtissimo
Francisco Calceolario veronensi in Musaeo adservatis, Joannis Baptistae Olivi
Medici testificatio, Venice, 1584.
257 Here is the subtitle: In quo multa ad natura/em moralemque Philosophiam
Spectantia, non paucam ad rem Medicam pertinentia erudite proponuntur et
explicantur supellectile quae artefici plane manu in aes incisae studiosi
exhibentur. For the title, d. above, note 177.
258 In the elogy to him, we read that Ca1zolari 'in hoc quidem Musaeo quicquid
rarum, et singulare in se habet natura, magnanis.rma impensa ex variis mundi
regionibus coaceruauit': Ibid., p. 2.
259 I. Favaretro, ed., 'Jnventario .. .', p. 91.
260 Ibid., nos. 127, 129-31, p. 98.
261 Ibid., p. 100.
.
262 Cf. C. A. Levi, Le Collezioni veneziane d'arte e d'antichita dal secolo XVI at
nostri giomi, Venice, 1900, vol. II, p. 119.
263 Ibid., pp. 121-2.
264 Cf. Produzioni Marine cioe Cochle, Altioni, Turbinetti, Coralloide, Madrepore,
e simili. Raccolte, e diliniate de me Fra Petronio da Verona ... , Venice, 1724.
Biblioteca Civica, Verona, MS 2047.
265 Ibid.,
0
165.
266 Cf. C. Lodoli, Notizie della vita, e degli studj del Kavalier Antonio Vallisnieri,
in A. Vallisnieri, Opere fisico-mediche, vol. I, Venice, 1733, p. XV.
267 Ibid., p. LIII.
268 Ibid., pp. LIII-L VI.
269 Ibid., p. LVII. Cf. also L. Polacca, pp. 425-7.
270 Ibid., p. LVI.
271 Ibid., Joe. cit.
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 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 ninety-
eight 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. '
Cf. L. Rognini, Regesti dei pittori operanti a Verona tra Ia fine del Seicento e
Notes to pp. 109-11 295
l'inizio del Settecento, in L. Magagnato, ed., La pittura a Vetona tra Sei e
Settecento, exhibition catalogue, Verona, 1978, pp. 281ff.
288 des voyages de monsieur de lv!onconys . .. , Lyons, 1666, vol. II, p. 414
and cf. also p. 425.
289 Cf. M. Boschini, Bteve lnstruzione per intendere in qualche modo le maniere
de gli Autto1i veneziani, in idem, Le ricche miniere della pittura veneziana,
unnumbered pages.
290 Cf. Mary F. S. Hervey, The Life ... of Thomas Howat'd, p. 410; E. K.
Waterhouse, 'Paintings from Venice for Seventeenth-Century England: some
records of a forgotten transaction, Italian Studies, vol. VIII (1952), pp. 1-23.
291 Cf. M. Muraro, 'Studiosi, collezionisti e opere d'arte venete dalle lettere al
cardinale Leopolda de'Medici', Saggi e memorie di Storia dell'Arte, vol. IV
(1965), pp. 67-81; Gloria Chiarini de Anna, Leopolda de'lvfedici e la
formazione della .r11a racco!ta de di.regni, in Anna Forlani Tempesta and Anna
Maria Petrioli Tofani, eds, Omaggio a Leopolda de'lvfedici, exhibition cata-
logue, Florence, 1976, vol, I, pp. 26-39.
292 Cf. E. Jacobs, 'Das Museo Vendramin', pp. 23ff.
293 Cf. M. Muraro, 'Studiosi ... Leopolda de'Medici', pp. 74., and for all this S.
Savini Branca II collezionismo veneziano, especially pp. 61ff.
294 Cf. G. Campori, Raccolta di cataloghi, pp. 178 and 195. It should be noted,
however, that three paintings by Falkenburg from the Muselli collection were
added to dal Pozzo's. Cf. ibid., p. 186 and B. dal Pozzo, le Vite de'Pittori, p. 308.
295 L. Magagnato, Saggio bio-bibliografico, indice analitico ragionale e scelta di
tavole, in B. dal Pozzo, Le Vite de'Pittori, reprint, Verona, 1967, p. XXIII.
296 Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Saggio di bibiografica veneziana, nos. 5087, 5093, 5094,
5099, 5105, 5122, 5143, 5169, 5175, 5176, 5187, 5193, 5197, 5210, 5218. All
these publications deal with collections already or about to be dispersed in the
1840s.
297 Cf. the inventory of Giovanni Pietro Tirabosco: S. Savini Branca, II co!fezio-
nismo veneziano, pp. 125-30.
298 Cf. idem, ibid., pp. 52ff.
299 Cf. L Alberon, Le arti figurative in collective work, Stotia di Bass ana, Bassano
del Grappa, 1980, pp. 507-8.
300 B. dal Pozzo, Le Vite de'Pittori, p. 283. The painting belonged to the Marquis
of Canossa according to the inventory established after his death, where it was
attributed without any hesiration to Guido Reni and valued at 250 ducats. Cf.
M. S. Tisaro Premi, 'II Canossa collezionisti', p. 151, no. 162.
301 B. da1 Pozzo, Le Vite de'Pittori, p. 173.
302 Cf. Mary Secret, Being Bernard Berenson, London, 1980, and the reviews of
this book: Anita Brookner, 'The master of the attributions', Times Literary
Supplement, 18 Jan. 1980 and S. Schama, 'Berenson's Elixir', The London
Review of Books, 1 May 1980.
303 For Dal Pozzo, for example, an Alessandro Turchi (towards 1578-1649) or a
Claudio Ridolfi (1570-1644) are not 'moderni'. Cf. Le Vite de'Pittori, pp. 285-
6. Cf. also M. Boschini, La carta delnavegar pittoresco, p. 591.
304 Cf. M. Muraro, 'Studiosi, collezionisti ... Leopolda de'Medici', especially pp.
69ff.; S. Savini Branca, II collezioniJmo veneziano, pp. 47ff.
296
Notes to pp. 111-17
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
Cf. M. Boschini, La carta del nave gar pitoresco, pp. 255ff. The quotation comes
from p. 260.
Cf. ibid., pp. 158-9.
Cf. ibid., p. 169.
Ibid., p. 263.
Ibid., p. 256.
Ibid., loc. cit.
Ibid., p. 263.
Ibid., p. 264.
Cf. ibid., pp. 260-1, editor's nore.
Cf. S. Savini Branca, II collezionismo veneziano, pp. 79ff., l79ff. and L.
Magagnato, Saggio bio-bib!iografico, pp. XXI-XXII.
This applies ro the Canossa collection, for example cf. B. dal Pozzo, Le Vite
de'Pittori, pp. 282-3, which mentions seventeen paintings, and the 1687
inventory in M. S. Tisata Premi, 'II Canossa collezionisti', which contains 387
numbers.
We have already noted this in Boschini. Cf. also the praise for Verona at the
beginning of dal Pozzo's book, and for Brescia and its antiquities in Averoldi's
book.
Cf. B. dal Pozzo, Le Vite de'Pittori, pp. 305-9 and Magagnato, 1! percono
critico, in La pittura a Verona tra Sei e Settecento, pp. I3ff. especially p. 22.
For Venice, the inventories of Giovanni Pierro Tirabosco, Michele Pietra,
Gasparo Chechel, Daniele Dolfin, Giorgio Bergonzi were used, these inventor-
ies being taken from S. Savini Branca, II collezionismo veneziano, pp. !25-30,
134-40, 140-7, 159-65, 165-78. The reasons for this choice are given below.
For Verona, the Canossa inventory, already cited, and the 1695 Barbieri
inventory were used, these coming from [A. Avenal], 'La galleria Barbieri
nelli anni 1695 e 1729', Madonna Verona, vo!. VII (1913), pp. 189-202.
Unfortunately, the paintings in this inventory are often anonymous.
In the seventeenth century, these painters were sometimes placed in the
Venetian school. Thus, for example, in theJabach collections. Cf. Dessins de fa
collection ]a bach en 1671 pam Ia collection roy ale, Paris, 1978, pp. 6ff.
For the Muselli and Curroni collections, the estimates are based on the lists
published by G. Campori, Raccolta di cataloghi, pp. 178-92 and 196-202. On
the Bergonzi collection, cf. S. Savini Branca, I! collezioni.rmo veneziano, pp.
186ff.
Cf. S. Savini Branca, ll collezionismo veneziano, p. 140.
The latter can be found in the following inventories: Tirabosco, nos. 1, 34, 56,
88, 94; Bergonzi, nos. 255,287, 345; Canossa, no. 124; Barbieri, nos, 156,264.
Cf. also B. dal Pozzo, Le Vite de Pittori, pp. 289, 292, 295, 307.
In the case of the Muselli collection, this results from the title of the
document: Inventario delle pittme che s'attrovano in Verona nella Galleria del
Sigt. Christoforo Muse!li, G. Campori, Raccolta di cataloghi, p. 178.
Cf. La pittura a Verona tra Sei e Settecento, and in particular the article by S.
Marinelli, Lo stile 'eroico' e !'arcadia, especially pp. 54ff.
For the Grimani Calergi, Dolfin and Bergonzi collections, cf. the references in
S. Savini Branca, II coltezionisrno venezLmo, pp. 227-8, 213-14, 188-91. For
Notes to pp. 117-22 297
M. Pietra, cf. M. Boschini La Carta del navegar pittoresco, pp. 584-5.
326 This happens in five different cases. Cf. S. Savini Branca, II collezionismo
veneziano, pp. 161, 162, 163.
327 Cf. Fr. Haskell, Patrons and Painters. A Study in the Relations Between Italian
Art and Society in the Age of the Baroque, New Haven -London, 1980, pp.
256ff.
328 Cf. the Bergonzi inventory, nos. 100, 109, 176, 197, 198, 204,217-19, 223-6,
235, 242, 295, 321-5, 387.
329 Cf. ibid., nos. 132,133,140,181,202,203,208,248,249,257,303,316,317,
331, 332, 337, 358,454.
330 Cf. ibid, nos. 101, 105, 231, 232, 356.
331 Cf. V. Scamozzi, L'idea delta architettura, pp. 305, 328ff. and the description of
the palace owned by Girolamo Cavazza in F. Sansovino and G. Martinoni,
Venezia Citta nobi!issima e singolare, pp. 393ff.
332 Cf. S. Savini Branca, II collezionismo veneziano, pp. 159-65 and in particular
161-2 (the gallery).
333 Cf. M.S. Tisata Premi, 'II Canossa collezionisti', pp. 144-50 (the gallery), 150-
3 (the second room).
334 Ibid., p. 156.
335 Cf. S. Savini Branca, If collezionismo veneziano, pp. 116-2! and in particular
p. 119 (the gallery).
336 Cf. ibid., pp. 137-8 ('Studio de'quadri originali').
337 Cf. ibid., pp. 165-71 ('Camara sopra li due Rij') and pp. 171-2 (Portico').
CHAPTER 4 MEDALS/SHELLS = ERUDITION/PHILOSOPHY
First published in Studies on Voltaire and the eighteenth century, vol. CLI-
CLIV, 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 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 57-
65 ), 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'helle-
nisme 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,
Catalogue des medailles antiques et modernes ... du cabinet de .M. Ennery,
Paris, 1788. On that belonging to ]. Pellerin d. Michaud, Biographie
universelle, vol. XXXII, pp. 400-1.
7 M. Grimm, Correspondance litthaire, philosophique et critique, published by
M. Tourneux, Paris, 1877 onwards, vol. VI, p. 266.
8 L-V. Thiery, Guide des amateun et des etrangers voyageurs a Paris, Paris,
1786, 2 vols. The figures are given in accordance with the table of contents.
9 E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue raisonmf des coquilles et autres curiositeJ naturelles,
Paris, 17 36, pp. V and VI.
10 A.-J. Dezallier d'Argenville, L'Histoire Naturelle eclaircie dans deux de ses
parties principales. La Lithologie et Ia Concbyliofogie ... , Paris, 1742, pp.
198-210. The list is incomplete: 'le respect ne permet pas de nommer ici
plusieurs Dames', p. 210.
11 Idem, op. cit., Paris, 1757, pp. 112-32.
12 A.-R. de Liesville, Noms des collectionneurs d'bistoire nature!le in 1767, Caen,
1867; this is a reprint of the list published in Concbyfiologie nouvelle et
portative ... , Paris, 1767.
13 A.-J. Dezallier d'Argenville, La Conchyfiologie ou Histoire Naturelfe des
coquilles de mer, d'eau douce, terrestres et fossiles ... , Paris, 1780, vol. I, pp.
199-270. I have not counted the number of collections listed here, and which
had ceased to exist by 1780.
14 M. Grimm, Correspondance litteraire, vol. IV, p. 42.
15 Ibid., pp. 163-72.
16 Ibid., vol. V, p. 212.
17 E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue d'une collection considerable de diverses curiosites
en tous genres contenues dans fes cabinets de feu .M. Bonnier de fa .Masson . .. ,
Paris, 1744; Bib!. nat., cabinet des Estampes, Yd. 10.
18 L.-V. Thiery, Guide des amateurs.
19 Cf. E. Lamy, Les Cabinets d'histoire naturelfe en France au XVIIIe siede et le
Cabinet du Roi (1635-1793), Paris, 1930. Y. Laissus, 'Les cabinets d'hisroire
naturelle', in Enseignement et diffusion des sciences en France au XVJIIe
siecle, under the supervision of R. Taton, Paris, 1964, pp. 659.
20 Cf. H. Omont, .Missions archeologiques jran0aises en Orient aux XVIIe et
XVIIIe siecles, Paris, 1902, S. Rocheblave, Essai sur fe comte de Caylus, Paris,
1889, pp. 109ff.
21 'Lettre ecrite a Monsieur Hearne, sur Ia dissertation dont il est parle dans les
Memoires du mois de Fevrier 1713. Par Mr de Ia Roque', Journal de Trevoux,
XIII, Sept. 1713, p. 1540.
22 Cf., for example, Correspondance inedite du comte de Caylus, vol. I, p. 456;
letter of 8 Apr. 1764.
23 La Science des medailles antiques et modemes, par le P. Joubert, avec des
remarques historiques et c1itiques de .M. de La Bas tie, Paris, 17 39, vol. I, p. 3 3.
24 Ibid., vol. I, pp. 4-5.
25 Ibid., vol. I, p. 25.
26 On the link between the negative attitude towards the Middle Ages and the
pre-eminence of the aesthetic standpoint, cf. K. Pomian, 'Kolekcjonerstwo i
filozofia (Narodziny nowoczesnego muzeum)', Archiwum Historii Filozofii i
Notes to pp. 127-33 299
.Myfli Spoleczenej, vol. XXI ( 1975 ), pp. 29-86 and]. Voss, Das .Mitte!alter im
historischen Denken Frankreichs, Munich, 1972, pp. 183ff.
27 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.
28 P. Bizot, loc. cit.
29 ].-B. Dubos, Reflexions c1itiques sttr fa poesie et fa peinture, Utrecht, 1732,
vol, I, pp. 48-9.
30 Joubert, La Science des medailles, vol. II, p. 108.
31 P. Bizot, Joe. cit.
32 Cf. A. Momigliano, 'Ancient history and the antiquarian', in Contributo a!la
Storia deg!i Studi C!aJSici, Rome, 1955.
33 Cf. E. Babelon, Les Origines et l'bistoire de l'enseignement de fa numts-
rnatique, Paris, 1908, p. 12.
34 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.
35 E. Spanheim, Relation de fa Cour de France en 1690, Paris-Lyons, 1900, p. 263.
36 P. Bizot, Joe. cit.
37 Ibid.
38 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.
39 Cf. Medailles sur les Principaux Evenemens du Regne de Louis le Grand avec
Explication Historique, par l'Acadhnie Royale des Inscriptions et des
lvledailles, Paris, 1702.
40 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.
11 B. de Montfaucon, Antiquite expliquee et representee en figures, prospectus,
Paris, 1717, p. 2.
12 M. Ph. Levesque de Gravelles, Recueil de pierres gravees antiques, Paris, 1732,
vol. I, pp. IV-V.
43 Encyclopedie ou Dictionnaire Raisomze des Sciences, des Arts et des Metiers,
vol. X, article 'Medaille', p. 239.
44 Cay1us, Recueil d'antiquites egyptienneJ, etrusques, grecques et romaines, vol.
I, Paris, 1752, Preface.
45 Cf.]. Winckelmann, DescriptionJ des pierres gmvees du feu baron de Stosch,
Florence, 1760.
46 Encyclopedie . .. , vol. IV, p. 577.
47 Cf. Encyclopedie . .. , vol. I, article 'Amateur', p. 137.
48 Encyclopedie ... , vol. III, p. 898.
49 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.
50 P.-J. Mariette, Traite des pierres gravees, Paris, 1750, vol. I, pp. 93-4.
51 Caylus, Vies des Artistes ... , p. 81. Cf. pp. 130-1 on genius and enthusiasm.
52 Ibid., p. 161.
300 Note.r to pp. 134-9
53 P.-J. Mariette, Traite des pierres gravies, vol. I, pp. 49-50.
54 Cf. Caylus and Majault, Mhnoire sur Ia peinture a !'encallftique et sur !a
peinture a eire, Geneva, 1755.
55 Comte de Caylus, Notweaux sujet.r de et de sculpture, Paris, 1755;
idem, Tableaux tires de l'lliade, de l'Odys.ree d'Homere et de l'Eneide de
Virgile; avec les observation.r generales mr le costume, Paris, 1757.
56 Idem, Vies des ArtiJtes ... , p. 123.
57 Ibid., pp. 123-4.
58 P.-J Mariette, Traite des pierres gravies, vol. I, p. 54.
59 M. Grimm, Correspondance litteraire, vol. V, p. 250.
60 D. Diderot, Sttr fa sculpture, Bouchardon, et Cay/us; CEttvres completes,
chronological edition, Paris, 1969-73, 15 vols; vol. V, p. 296.
61 M. Grimm, Correspondance litteraire, vol. III, p. 205.
62 Ibid, vol. IV, p. 315-16
63 Abbot ].-]. Barthelemy to P. Paciaudi, letter dated 31 Jan. 1764; Cor-
re.rpondance inedite du comte de Cay!tts, vol. II, p. 273.
64 D. Diderot, Salon de 1765; CEuvres completes, vol. VI, p 212.
65 Idem, Salon de 1767; ibid., vol. VII, p. 40.
66 Correspond,mce inedite d!t comte de Cay!ttS, vol. I, pp. 441-2, 190.
67 Ibid., p. 238 Cf. also vol. II, p. 330.
68 D. Diderot, Sur Ia .rctt!pture, Bouchardon. et Caylus, vol. V, p. 296.
69 Ibid.
70 M. Grimm, Correspondance littemire, vol. IV, p. 432.
71 D. Diderot, Salon de 1767; op. cit., vol. VII, pp. 31-2. Cf. also]. Seznec, Essais
Sitr Diderot et l'Antiquite, Oxford, 1957, especially pp. 79ff.
72 EnC)'clopedie, vol. II, article 'Cabinet d'Histoire Naturelle'.
73 Ibid., vol. VIII, article 'Histoire Naturelle', p. 228.
74 Ibid., p. 229 and vol. II, article 'Cabinet d'Histoire Naturelle'.
75 Ibid., vol. VIII, article 'Histoire Naturelle', p. 228.
CHAPTER 5 DEALERS, CONNOISSEURS AND ENTHUSJASTS JN
EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY PARIS
First published in Revue de /'art, 43 ( 1979), pp. 23-36.
On the sales catalogues, cf. A. Thibaudeau, Lettre sur Ia cMiosite et fes curieux,
inCh. Blanc, Le Tresor de Ia Cttriosite tire des catalogues de vente, Paris, 1857,
vol. L F. Boucher, 'Quelques exemples de Ia valeur documentaire des catalogues
de vente anciens', Bulletiu de fa Societe de !'histoire de !'art 1938, pp.
113-23; F. Lugt, Trouvailles er recherches dans les anciens catalogues de
ventes', ibid., pp. 123-6. The titles of the catalogues will be given here in their
abridged form: as the place of publication is always Paris, it will not be
mentioned. Each catalogue title will be followed by the number attributed to it
in F. Lugt, Repertoire des cata!ogttes de vente.r pttb!iques interessant !'art oN Ia
ct<riosite. Premiere periode: vers 1600-1825, The Hague, 1938.
Note.r to pp. 139-41 301
2 Cf. E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue raisonne ... du cabinet de feu M. Quentin de
Lorangere ... , 1744 (Lugt 590), pp. S-6.
3 Cf. P.-J. Mariette, Description sommaire des desseins des grands maistres
d'ltalie, de Pays-Bas et de France du Cabinet de Feu M. Crozat . .. , 1741 (Lugt
536). As for the prints, even if there is no set way of arranging them,
according to Gersaint, 'voici cependant !'usage le plus suivi et l'ordre 1e plus
nature!. Quand on tend a former un Cabinet complet, c'est d'en faire les
recueils par Ecoles, suivant les Peintres et leurs Eleves.' E.-F. Gersaint,
Catlogue Lorangere, pp. 46-7.
4 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).
5 Cf. ].-F. Boileau, Catalogue des tableaux qtti composent le cabinet de
Monseigneur le due de Choiseul ... , 1772 (Lugt 2020). The Spanish school
was placed after the German one and represented by two paintings by
Velazquez and two by Murillo (nos. 115-18). Usually, however, if the Spanish
school was mentioned at all, it was associated either with the Genoese or the
Neapolitan ones. On the knowledge of Spanish painting in France in the
eighteenth century, cf. G. Rouches, 'Les premieres publications sur
Ia peinture espagnole', Bulletin de la Societe de !'histoire de !'art fram;ais, 1930,
pp. 35-48.
6 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.
7 J.-B.-P. LeBrun, Catalogue raisonne des tableaux . .. qui composent le cabinet
de feu M. Poullain, 1780 (Lugt 3106), p. III.
8 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).
9 Catalogue deJ' tableaux . .. compos am le Cabinet de Feu Monsieur Davaux . .. ,
1752 (Luge 789), no. 24.
10 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.
15 E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue raisomui des tableaux . .. p1'0venant de Ia succession
de feu M. Charles Godefroy .. . , 1748 (Lugt 674), no. 13, pp. 11-13.
16 J.-B.-P. le Brun, Catalogue Poul!ain, no. 22.
17 F. Basan, Catalogue des tableaux du Cabinet de feu M. Louis Michel Vanloo,
1772 (Lugt 2086), no. 82. Handwritten comment on the copy in the Bib!. nat.
Est. Yd. 2090. J.-B.-P. LeBrun, Catalogue d'tme belle collection de tableaux de
t1'0is eco!es, 1780 (Lugt 3193), no. 198.
18 E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue raisonne des difjerens effets ... contenus dans le
Cabinet de feu Af. Charles de La Roque, 1745 (Lugt 619), no. 64.
19 Cf. P. Remy, Catalogue raisonne des tableaux du cabinet de feu M. Peilhon,
1763 (Lugt 1295 ), no. 5. (Procaccini was not Camillo but Giulio Cesare.)
20 E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue La Roque, pp. 26-7.
21 Ibid., p. 26.
22 E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue raisonne des bijoux . .. provenans de fa succession de
M. Angran, vicomte de Fonspettt<is, 1747 (Lugt 677), p. 197.
23 E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue La Roqt<e, p. 26.
24 This is the case for a Saint John in the Desert which '!a plus grande partie des
Connoisseurs attribue au Pesarez'. E.-F. Gersaint, Fompertuis, no.
433. It is with this attribution, and without the slightest reservation, that this
painting previously figured in: [Poilly' ], Catalogue Carignan, p. 19, paragraph
1, and afterwards in: P. Remy and J.-B. Glomy Catalogue Tallard, no. 74.
Similarly, Gersaint does not pronounce himself over a 'Christ descendu de !a
Croix accompagne de !a Vierge er de deux Anges' painted 'dans le gout de
Morillos [Murillol'; Catalogue Godefroy, no. 3.
25 E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue Lotangere, p. VIII.
26 R. de Piles, Abrege de fa vie des peintres, Avec des reflexions Sf(1' !eMS
Otwrages, et un Traite du Peintre parfait; de Ia Connoissance des Des.reins; de
!'Uti!ite des Estampes, Paris, 1715, p. 96. On this work, cf. B. Teyssedre,
L'Hi.rtoire de l'art vue du Grand Siecle, Paris, 1964.
27 De Piles distinguishes between three different sorts of copies. 'And the third
sort, which is executed faithfully and with great ease, with a light and skilful
touch, and which, above all, dares from the same period as the original,
troubles even the greatest of connoisseurs, who often risk pronouncing in
favour of resemblance rather than truth' Abrege, p. 97. Having cited rhe
anecdote of Jules Romain, who failed to recognize his own work, de Piles
draws the following conclusion: 'This is how truth can sometimes hide itself
from even the most profound of sciences and how one can be mistaken about a
fact without necessarily being mistaken in one's judgement.' Ibid., p. 102.
28 E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue Lorangete, p. 9.
29 Idem, Catalogue Fonspertuis, pp. 159-60.
30 Ibid., p. 173.
31 Cf. ].-B. Dubos, Ref!exions critiques sur Ia poesie et Ia peinture, Paris, 1733,
vol. II, pp. 383ff.
32 Le Catalogue des tableaux, des buste.r et autre.r ouvrages ... du cabinet de M. le
Comte de Pontchartrain, 1747 (Luge 678), also drawn up by Mariette, still
adheres to the old model; the pieces in it are not even numbered.
33 P.-J. Mariette, Catalogue Tugny et Crozat, no. 45.
Notes to pp. 148-52 303
34 Ibid., no. 62; the same arguments is used regarding a painting by Cantarini, no.
83.
35 Ibid., no. 163
36 P.-J. Mariette, Catalogue de tableaux . .. du cabinet de feu M. Coype! . .. , 1753
(Lugt 811), no. 16.
3 7 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).
38 Idem, Catalogue Pasquier, nos. 8, 34, 23.
39 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.
40 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.
41 P. Remy, Catalogtte raisonne des tableaux . .. qui composent le Cabinet de feu
.M. Gaignat, 1768 (Lugr 1724), p. VI.
42 J.-B.-P. le Brun, Catalogue d'une belle collection de tableaux . .. de trois eco!es,
1778 (Lugt 2923), p. 4.
43 E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue Godefroy, p. 30.
44 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.
45 P.-J. Mariette, Catalogue COJ'pel, preface. Reproduced in idem, Abecedario,
vol. II, p. 35.
46 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.
47 Cf. M. Grimm, Correspondance litteraire, philosophique et critique, published
by M. Tourneux, Paris, 1877 onwards; vol. VII, pp. 238-9.
48 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'Urbin-
3 Saint Jean dans le Desert, peinr sur bois qui porte 14 pouces 6 !ignes de haut
sur 13 pouces de large. - Ce tableau, de puis plus de vingt annees, tienr place
dans ce Cabinet; il est considere pour etre le petit du grand qui est au Palais
Royal; on peut dire aussi qu'il fait !'admiration de beaucoup d'Amateurs er
d'Artistes. L'Estampe se trouve gravee par Chereau, dans l'CEuvre de
Crozat, n 19.' P. Remy, Catalogue raisonne des tableaux . .. apres le deces de
M. de Julienne ... , 1767 (Lugt 1603).
49 Mariette, while discussing a painting attributed by its owners to Raphael, and
which he believes to be by Fra Bartolomeo, comments that it is feared he
might be right, this causing the price of the work to drop; letter to Bottari,
dated 26 Oct. 1764. Cf. on the same picture, the letters to the same person
dated 16 Dec. 1764 and 5 Jan. 1765. Raccolta di lettere sulfa pittura, scultura ed
archittetura scritte dai piu celebri personaggi dei secoli XV, XVI e XVII,
publicata da M. Gio. Bottari e continuata fino ai nostri giorni da Stefano
Ticozzi, Milan, 1822, vol. V, pp. 406-7, 410ff. Elsewhere, Mariette mentions
certain counts of Canossa, who sought to pass a painting by Andrea Schiavone
off as a Raphael, in order to fetch a higher price; letter to Bottari, 1 Oct. 1757;
ibid., vol. III, p. 522.
50 P. Remy, Catalogue Gaignat, p. IX.
51 Cf. M.-J. Friedlander, De l'mt et du connaisseur, trans!., Paris, 1969, pp. 204ff.
52 'Personne n'a mieux entendu qui lui [Gersainr] !'art de conduire une Vente
d'effets curieux, en faisant l'avantage des Interesses; il avoit conserver Ia
confiance des Acquereurs, par Ia sincerite avec laquelle il exposoit chaque
Morceau, et quoiqu'il n'oubliat rien pour faire valoir les Pieces dignes de
remarques, comme il ne disoit rien que de vrai, on etoit oblige de convenir de
Ia perfection de ce dont il faisoit l'eloge.' P.-C.-A. Helle and J.-B. Glomy,
Catalogue raisonne de toutes les pieces qui forment l'CEuvre de Rembrandt,
Paris, 1751, p. VIII.
53 [La Curne de Saint-Palaye ], Catalogue des tableaux du cabinet de M. Crozat,
baron de Thiers, Paris, 1755.
54 Diderot, letter to R. Tronchin, 13 or 14 Aug. 1771; D. Diderot, Cor-
respondance, collected, established and annotated by G. Rorh, vol. XV, Paris,
1964, pp. 90-1.
55 F. Tronchin to General Betski, 9 Feb. 1772; D. Diderot, Correspondance, vol.
XVI, Paris, 1970, p. 81.
56 R. de Piles, Abrege de fa vie des peintres, p. 91.
57 Ibid., pp. 92-3.
58 Comte de Caylus, Vies des Artistes du XVII!e siecle, Discours sur Ia Peinture
et Ia Sculpture, published by A. Fontaine, Paris, 1910, p. 82.
59 Ibid., p. 123.
60 Mariette to Bottari, 26 Ocr. 1764: Raccolta di lettere sulfa pittttra, vol. V, p.
407.
61 Cf. H. Tronchin, Le Comeiller Franqois Tronchin et ses amis Voltaire,
Diderot, Grimm, etc., d'apres les documents inedits, Paris, 1895, pp. 248; De
Geneve a !'Hermitage. Les collections de Tronchin, exhibition
catalogue, Musee Rath, Geneva, 1974.
62 R. de Piles, Abrege, p. 94.
63 'On peut dire que ces ventes [les ventes Lorangere et de Ia Roque, faites par
Gersaint] ont forme de nouveaux Amateurs, et ont tire Ia curiosite des
Estampes de l'espece de letargie dans laquelle (qu'on nous permette dele dire)
elle sembloit plongee.' P.-C.-A. Helle and].-B. Glomy, Catalogue raisonne . ..
de l'CEuvre de Rembrandt, pp. IX-X. On the vogue for prints, cf. also Mariette
to Paciaudi, 8 Feb. 1765; Correspondance inedite du comte de Cay/us avec le
P. Paciaudi, theatin (1757-65), suivie de celles de !'abbe Barthelemy
Note.r to pp. 155-9 305
et de P. Mariette a11ec !e meme, published by Ch. Nisard, Paris, 1877, vol. II,
p. 324.
64 P. Remy, Catalogue raisonne de tablea11x . .. composent le cabinet de feu
M. A11ed, 1766 (Lugt 1563), p. VIII.
65 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 (1748-
1813) - 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-de-
France, 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.).
66 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).
67 Livre-journal de Lazare Duvaux, marchand-bijoutier otdinaire du Roy 1748-
1758, published by L. Courajod, Paris, 187) (reprint: Paris, 1965), preface by
L. Courajod, vol. I, pp. C-CIII.
68 P. Remy, CatalogNe Gaignat, p. X.
69 E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue Godefroy, Foreword.
70 P. Remy, Catalogue Gaignat, Foreword, pp. VI-VII. On Collins, cf. L.
Courajod, Li11re-joumal de Lazare Duvaux, vol, I, pp. LXXXVI-LXXXVIII.
71 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.
72 Encyclopedie au Dictionnaire Rttisonne des Sciences, des Art.r et de.r lvietier.r,
vol. III, article 'Connaisseur', p. 898 and regarding the controversy surround-
ing the notion of connoisseur, cf. 'Medals/Shells = Erudition/Philosophy',
above pp. 121-38.
73 E.-F. Gersaint, Cttta!ogue Godefroy, pp. 33-4.
74 Cited by A. Thibaudeau, Lettre sur Ia curiosite, pp. C-CI; he attributes these
comments to J.-B. Glomy.
75 Cf. an extract from the Chronique Jcandaleuse cited by L. Courajod, Livre-
journal de Lazare Duva!tx, vol. I, pp. XCVII-C. The campaign of denigration
in 1771, preceding the Conti sale, must not be forgotten. Cf. G. Capon and R.
Yve-Plessis, Vie privee d!t ptince de Conty de Bourbon (17J7-
1776j, Paris, 1907, pp. 333ff.
76 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.
77 F.-C. Joullain, fils, Reflexions st<r Ia peinture et Ia gravMe, accompc:gnee_r
cotate dissertation Jur le commerce de Ia curiosite et leJ 11entes en
general, Metz, 1786, p. 117.
78 '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.
79 P.-C.-A. Helle and J-B. Glomy, Catalogue raisonne des tableaux. deHins et
306 Note.r to pp. 160-1
estampes ... qui composent le cabi11et de feu M. Potier, 1757 (Lugt 944),
preface.
80 Cf. A.-J. Dezallier d'Argenville, 'Lettre sur le choix et !'arrangement d'tm
cabinet curieux', iHercure de France, June 1727, pp. 1294-330.
81 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, de ]tdienne,
vol. I, pp. 205 and 235.
82 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.
83 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.
84 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.
85 E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue Lorangere, pp. 2-3.
86 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.
87 Sottvenirs de iHme Louise-Elisabeth Vigee Le Brtm, vol. I, Paris, 1835, pp. 87ff.
88 Calculations based on F. Lugt, Repertoire des catalogues de ventes.
89 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.
90 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.
91 Quoted from: E. Bonnaffe, DictiomMire de.r Amateurs ctu X Vlle
sir':cle, Paris, 1884, p. 75.
92 ].-B. Dubas, Reflexions critiques, vol. II, p. 152.
93 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 5 72. 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 pp. 161-2 307
of the Prince de Carignan: E.-].-F. Barbier, journal hi.rtorique et cmecdotique de
regne de XV, published for the Societe de l'hisroire de France by A. de
Villegille, Paris, 1847, vol. I, pp. 442-3; vol. II, pp. 290-1 and Mhnoires du d11c
de mr Ia co11r de Loui.r XV ( 17 35-17 58), published by L. Dussieux and
E. Soulie, Paris, 1860, vol. III, pp. 365-6; vol. IX, pp. 498-9, 510-12; vol. XV,
p. 44.
94 Cf. P.-C.-A. Helle and ].-B. Glomy, Catalogue d'tm cabinet de diverses
cmiosites ... , 1772 (Lugt 798); handwritten comments on copy held in Bib!.
nat. Est. Yd. 23: 'II est vrai de dire que les morceaux du premier ordre lprints
are under discussion"] n'ont plus a present de prix fixe, attendu que tous les
amateurs les recherchent avec empressement.' P.-J. Mariette, Abecedario, vol.
IV, pp. 357-8 (note added after 1755); vol. V, pp. 109 and 139 (notes added
after Tallard sale). Mariette to Paciaudi, 9 Aug. 1767; Correspondance inedite
du comte de Cay/us, vol. II, pp. 349-50.
95 Cf. Correspondance inedite de Ia mttrquise Du Deffand, published by M. de
Lescure, Paris, 1865, vol. II, pp. 209 and 238 (letters to H. Walpole of 6 Jan.
and 14 Apr. 1772). M. Grimm, Correspondance litterai1e, vol. IX pp. 496-7.
Diderot to Falconer, 17 Apr. 1772; D. Diderot, Corre.rpondance, vol. XII, Paris,
1965, p. 50.
96 M. Grimm, Correspondance litteraire, vol. X, p. 118.
97 J.-B.-P. le Brun, Catalogue Poullain, p. XV.
98 C.-F. Joullain, fils, Reflexions .rttr fa peinture, pp. 114-5.
99 Among the paintings we are able to identify in the Catalogue Vente, are 108
Flemish ones and twenty-seven Italian; there were 132 Flemish works and 135
Italian at the home of the Prince de Carignan, according to the sale catalogue
and the number of paintings sold in 1729 and 1730. 'On trouvera dans cette
collection - says Gersaim, on the subject of Fonspertuis - de ces beaux
Morceaux dus au pinceau des Ma!tres pour lesquels il parolt qu'on a
aujourd'hui le plus de penchant, comme de Claude Lorrain, de Rubens, de
Berghem, de Brughel, de VanderVelde, de Teniers, de Wauvermans, de Paul
Bril, de Van Ostade, de Netscher, de Gerard Dow, de Chevalier Vander Verf,
de Metzu, de Rembrandt, de Vander Meulen, etc.' E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue
Fompertuis, pp. 156-7. At the time of the sale there were 95 Italian paintings
as opposed to 141 from northern schools in the Julienne collection. This backs
up Mariette's impressions, Abecedario, vol. III, pp. 15-16.
100 Cf. Margret Sruffmann, 'Les tableaux de Ia collection Pierre Crozat. Historique
et destinee d'un ensemble celebre etablis en partant d'un inventaire apres
deces inedit (1740)', Gazette de.r Beaux-ArtJ,]uly-Sept. 1968, pp. 5-114 and,
for the drawings, P.-J. Mariette, De.rcriptio11 .rommaire des desseins ... dtt
Cabinet de Pel/ M. CroZet! (Italian drawings 780 numbers; drawings from the
Low Countries 177 numbers). On Mariette, cf. Le Cabinet d'tm Grand
Amateur, p. 22 and letter to Temanza dated 12 Dec. 1769: 'On compte les
curieux qui, comme moi, donnenr Ia preference aux ouvrages des ma!tres
italiens sur ceux des peinrres qu'ont produits les Pays-Bas. Ceux-ci om pris un
tel credit qu'on se les arrache et qu'on y prodigue !'or et !'argent, tandis qu'tm
tableau ou un dessin d'ltalie n'est regarde qu'avec une sorre d'indifference. Cela
308 NoteJ to pp. 162-9
ne m'empeche pas de suivre mon gout.' E. Muntz, LeJ Archives des arts.
ReCIIei! de documents imfdits ou pe11 comzus, Paris, IS90, p. 13.3.
101 P. Remy and J.-B. G1omy, Catalogue Tallard, p. 3.
102 R. Remy, Catalog11e 1ai.romze de tableaux ... qui composent dijjerentJ
cabinets, p. 3.
103 In the case of the Due de Tallard, this is exact. Cf. P.-J. Mariette, Abecedario,
vol. V, p. 109. Moreover, nos 1 and IS in the Catalogue Araignon reappear in
the Catalogue Tallard as nos 14 and 23, where their attributions, to Raphael
and Titian respectively, are not contested.
104 We have used the Bib!. nat. Est. Yd 2147 copy, which contains a 'Copie des
annotations contemporaines d'un exemplaire du catalogue Araignon decouvert
en 1924 par M. Jean Schemit'.
I OS E.-F. Gersaint, Catalogue Godefroy, no. 34.
106 P. Remy andJ-B. Glomy, C;talogue Tallard, pp. 2-4.
I 07 J-B. Dubos, Reflexiom critiques, vol. I, p. 67.
!OS Ibid., vol. II, p. 381.
109 Cf. P.-J. Mariette, Abecedario, vol. II, pp. 60-1.
ItO A.-J. Dezallier d'Argenville, Abrege de Ia 11ie des pl11s fameux jwintres avec
leurs portraits graves en tt1i!le douce, les indict1tio17J de leurs principaux
O!Wrages. Quelques Reflexiom Sltr cctractere et Ia maniere de connoftre les
de.rJeins de.1 grands mai'tres. Paris, 1745, pp. VIII-IX.
111 Cf. R. Vallet, L'histoire de !'art vue par tm amateur du XVIIIe siecle: Deztdlier
d'Argenllitle et son Abrege de fa vie des peintres (1745-1757). D.E.S. at the
Faculte des lettres et sciences humains, University of Clerrnont-Ferrand, 1967.
112 A.-J. Dezallier d'Argenville, Abrege de !a vie des peintres, pp. XIX-XX.
113 Ibid., pp. XXXI and XL
114 Remy seems to have had links with Dezallier d'Argenville, whose catalogue he
compiled, with a lengthy preface in honour of the deceased. Cf. P. Remy,
raisonne deJ" ttibleartx . .. et autres cmiosites, apre.r !e dices de je11
AL Deza!ier d'A ';genvil!e, 1766 (Lugt 1509).
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. Gasper-
oni, Scipione Maffei e Verona settecentesca, Verona, 1955 and G. Silvestri, Un
del Settecento: Scipio11e LHaffei, Treviso, 1954. On Caylus: S.
Rocheblave, Essai sur le comte de Cayl11s, Paris, 1S89.
2 One of Mariette's terms. Cf. P.-J. Mariette, Abecedario, eds Ph. de
Chennevieres and A. de Montaiglon, Paris, 1851-60; vol. I, p. 341.
3 Cf. G. B. Giuliari, La Capitola1e Biblioteca di Verona, Verona, 18SS. L.
NoteJ to pp. 170-5 309
Simeoni, 'Gli studi storici ed archeologici di Scipione Maffei', in collective
work, Studi Maffeiani, Turin, 1909, pp. 669-774.
4 Letter written by Maffei, cited by Caumont in his letter to Bouhier on 6 Apr.
1736, in Conespondance litteraire du President Bouhier, fasc. VI: Lettres du
marquis de Caumont (1732-1736), ed. H. Duranton, Saint-Etienne, 1979, no.
64, p. 122.
5 Correspondance inedite du comte de Caylus avec le Pere Paciaudi, theatin
(1757-1765), ed. Ch. Nisard, Paris, 1S77, vol. I, pp. 190 and 441-2.
6 Cf. F. Venturi, Settecento riformatore, voL I, De Muratori a Beccaria, Turin,
1969, pp. 120-35 and 375-7.
7 Cf. K. Pomian, 'Le carresianisme, les erudits et l'histoire', Archiwum Historii
Filozofii i Myfli Spolecznej, vol. XII ( 1966), pp. 175-204; idem, 'Dziejopisars-
two erudyt6w i kryzys historiozofii w drugiej polowie XVII wieku' (L'historio-
graphie erudite et Ia crise de Ia philosophie de l'histoire dans Ia deuxieme
moitie du XVIIe siecle'), ibid., vol. XVIII (1972), pp. 243-67).
S Voltaire, Remarques sur !'histoire (1742), in CEuvres historiques, ed. R.
Pomeau, Paris, Gallimard, Bibliotheque de la Pleiade, 196S, p. 43.
9 Idem Nouvelles considerations sur l'histoire ( 1744), ibid., p. 49.
10 Cf. the article by A. Momigliano which is still essential reading, 'Ancient
history and the antiquarian', Contributo a!la storia degli studi classici, Rome,
1955, pp. 67-106.
11 Cf. Voltaire, CEuvres historiques, p. 1695.
12 Quoted from [S. Maffei], La Merope. Tragedia con Annotazioni de!l'Autore, e
con fa sua Risposta alla Lettera de Sig. di Voltaire, Verona, 1745, pp. 172-4.
13 P. Rosenberg, Chardin, 1699-1779, exhibition catalogue, Paris, 1979, nos 66
and 57, pp. 221-4.
14 Cf. P.-J. Mariette, Abecedario, vol. I, pp. 359-60 quoted in P. Rosenberg, p. Sl.
15 Cf. Correspondance litteraire, phi!osophique et critique par Grimm, Diderot,
Raynal, Meister, etc., ed. M. Tourneux, Paris, 1S77 onwards, vol. IV, p. 247 and
the passages attacking antiquaries vol. III, p. 205; vol. IV, pp. 140-2, 315-6;
vol. VIII, p. 307.
16 Cf. for all this J. Seznec, Essais sur Diderot et l'Antiquite, Oxford, 1957,
especially chapter V ('Le Singe antiquaire'), pp. 79ff.
17 Cf. 'Medals/Shells= Erudition/Philosophy', above, pp. 121-3S.
1S Cf. Comte de Caylus, Recueil d'Antiquites egyptiennes, etrusques, grecques et
romaines, Paris, 1752-64, 6 vols, For the 'noble simplicite' as an artistic ideal,
cf. ibid., vol. I, p. XI; vol. II, p. 126; vol. III, p. S2.
19 Cf. D. Diderot, Sur Ia sculpture, Bouchardon et Cay/us (1763), in CEuvres
completes, chronological edition, vol. V. pp. 2S9-97.
20 For this more nuanced position, cf. the letter from Diderot to
Tronchin of 18 Dec. 1776; Correspondance, ed. G. Roth and]. Varloot, voL
XV, pp. 3S-9.
21 Cf. Caylus, Recueil, vol. II, p. 59.
22 This only applies to the eighteenth century. For a more subtle analysis, cf.
above pp. 95, 20Sff., 24Sff.
23 Cf. S. Maffei, Notizia del nuovo Museo d'lscrizioni in Verona, col paragone fra
le Iscrizioni, e !e Medaglie, in Traduttori italiani o sia notizia de'volgar-
izzame11ti d'Antichi Scrittori Latini, e Greci, cbe sono in !uce, Venice, 1720, p.
176.
24 Cf. on this topic, G. Previtali, La fortuna dei primitivi. Da! Vasari ai neo-
classici, Turin, 1964, pp. 79-84.
25 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.
26 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.
27 Caylus, Recueil, vol. I, p. II.
28 Ibid., pp. VI-VII.
29 Cf. Caylus and Majaulr, Memoire sur Ia peinture a l'encaustique et sur Ia
peinture a 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).
30 Cf. Caylus, Memoire sur les fabliaux, in Histoire de l'Academie royale des
insoiptiom et bel!es-lettres, vol. XX, 1753, pp. 352-76.
31 Cf. idem, Premier rnemoire SU1' Guillaume de Machaut, ibid., pp. 399-414 and
Second memoire sur Guillaume de Machaut, ibid., pp. 415-39.
32 Cf. Histoi1e de l'Academie myale des inscriptions et belles-lett?'es, vol. XXI,
Paris, 1754, pp. 191 and 197.
33 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.
34 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, 1714-
1715, ed. A.-A. Pons, Paris, 1914, pp. 61-6.
35 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.
36 Letter of 22 Oct. 1733, ibid., p. 534.
37 Cf. Le Cabinet d'ztn grand amateur, P.-]. Mariette 1694-1774, exhibition
catalogue, Paris, 1967, nos 298-314, pp. 175ff.
38 All these people were addressees of letters written by Maffei and brought
together in S. Maffei, Galliae Antiqttitates quaedam. selectae atque in plures
epistolas distributae, Paris, 1733; he visited them all during his visit to Paris.
For the correspondence between Maffei and Bouhier, d. F. Weil,]ean Bouhier
et sa correspondance, I, Inventaire (1693-1746), Paris, 1975, nos 1463, 1522a,
1560, 1684a, 2137a, 2352, 2676.
39 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.
also L. Gossman, Medievalism and the Ideologies of the Enlightenment. The
World and Work of La Curne de Sainte Palaye, Baltimore, Ma., 1968.
40 For the record, we should mention the work by A. Spagnolo, Scipione Maffei e
if mo vi,tggio a /'estero (1732-1736), Verona, 1903, out of date today. Cf. also
Correspondance !itteraire du President Bouhier, fasc. 6, nos 30, 34, 36, 3 7,
dating from 24 Sept. to 14 Nov. 1734. In letter no. 36, which bears no date,
Caumont writes: 'Tout ce qui concerne le marquis Maffei se nduit a de fausses
imputations eta des airs de hauteur qu'on !'accuse de prendre avec les autres
savants, defaut qui me parait bien eloigne de son caractere; on m'a mande aussi
qu'il n'avait pas rendu les visites aux membres de cette academie, avec Ia
regularite convenable.' Ibid., p. 69.
41 Cf. Correspondance litteraire dtt President Bouhier, fasc. 6, no. 48, Bouhier to
Caumont, 17 May 1735: 'Pouvez-vous me dire des nouvelles de M. Maffei? Il y
a un siecle que je n'en ai Est-il toujours a Paris ou non? Je n'emends pas
dire qu'il y ait fort reussi.' These complaints continue to be voiced in letters 49,
52, 56. Caumom replies 5 Ocr. 1735 (no. 57): 'II y a un siecle que je n'ai eu des
nouvelles du marquis Maffei.Je sais seulement qu'il est toujours a Paris, queM.
Seguier est avec lui, et qu'il s'occupe mysterieusemem de quelque ouvrage
important. C'est tout ce que je sais.' Ibid., pp. 91 and 117. Cf. also letter no. 62
from Caumom to Bouhier and in particular his long and important letter no.
64 dated 6 Apr. 1736, with lengthy quotations from a letter of Maffei's, ibid.,
pp. 121-2.
42 Bouhier to Caumom, no. 65; 17 Apr. 1736; ibid., p. 123.
43 S. Maffei, La religion de'gentili nel morire ricavata da un ba.rso ri/evo antico
che si conJwva in Parigi, Paris, 1736, p. 4.
44 Ibid., p. 5.
4 5 Ibid., Joe. cit.
46 This concerns the marble M.R. 1641, H : 0, 83-L : 2m., which, in the
inventory of the Louvre sculptures of 1692 (Arch. Nat. o' 1977', f
0
9b"-10) is
simply designated as 'un grand bas-relief. In the 1722 inventory (Arch. Nat. 0
1
1969b, fa 351 ), it is however designated as 'un grand bas-relief antique'. The
first person who expressed his doubts as to its authenticity was E. Q. Viscomi,
Notice des statues, bustes et bas-reliefs de Ia galerie des Antiques, ed. year XI,
p. 123; he saw in our marble 'une imitation de !'antique executee au
commencement du XVIe siecle'. This opinion was reiterated by F. De Clarac,
Musee de sculpture antique et modeme ou description hist01'ique et grapbique
du Lozwre et de toutes ses parties, vol. II, parr 1, Paris, 1841, no. 182, plate 154,
pp. 770-l.
47 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, Venezia-
nische Bildhauer der Renainance, Vienna, 1921, p. 262, fig. 212.
312 Notes to pp. 178-85
48 S. Maffei, La religion de'genti!i, p. 6.
49 Cf. ibid., pp. 8-9.
50 Ibid., pp. 11-12.
51 Ibid.,pp. 12-13.
52 Correspondance !itteraire dtt President Botthier, fasc. 6, no. 70, 5 Sepr. 1736, p.
131.
53 Cf.]. Martin, Explication de divers monttmens singtt!iers, qui ant rapport a Ia
religion des plu.r anciens pettp!es, avec J'examen de Ia derniere Edition des
Ottvrages de S. Jerome, et ttn Traite mr I'Astrologie judiciaire, Paris, 1739, pp.
1-54.
54 Ibid., pp. 53-4.
55 Cf. ibid., pp. 374-426.
56 Cf. Correspondance litteraire dtt President Bottbie1, fasc. 7, no. 119, 29 Sept.
1739, p. 210.
57 Ibid., no. 121, 16 Nov. 1739, p. 212.
58 S. Maffei, Epistolario, vol. II, p. 963 (letter of 17 July 1740) and cf. also letter
no. 865 ro Annibale Olivieri, 8 Aug. 1740, p. 973.
59 Correspondance inedite dtt comte de Cay/us avec !e Pere Paciattdi, vol. I, p. 15
(letter dated 27 Sept. 1758).
60 Caylus, Rectteil, vol. III, p. 267. The monument is reproduced ibid., plate
LXXIII.
61 Cf. ibid., pp. 267-70.
62 Ibid., pp. 270-1.
63 Ibid., p. 271.
64 Cf. Fr. Haskell and N. Penny, Taste and the Antiqtte. The Lure of Classical
Scttlpture 1500-1900, New Haven-London, 1981, pp. 8 and 62ff.
65 Cf. L. Magagnato, La pittttra veronese del Settecento e Scipione Maffei, in coiL,
Arte e Cttttura in Verona net Settecento, Verona, 1981, pp. 67-72; L. Franzoni,
Topera di Scipione Maffei e di Alessandro Pompei per il Museo Pubblico
Veronese', Attie Memorie dell'Accademia di Agricottura Scienze e Lettere di
Verona, vol. XXVII (1975-6), pp. 193-218.
66 Cf. the comments scattered throughout the Recttei! and in Caylus, Vies
d'artistes dtt XVIIIe siecle, ed. A. Fontaine, Paris, 1910.
67 Caylus, Rectteil, vol. I, p. XIII.
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
salvagua1dia del patrimonio artistico 11ei secoli XVII e XVIll, Venice, 1974,
pp. 19ff. '
2 R. Fulin, L'Arca di Noe, pp. 85ff., and L. Olivato, Pmvvedimenti, p. 50.
3 R. Fulin, L'Arca di Noe, pp. 90-1, 114-19.
4 Cf. M. Perry, The Statuario Publico of the Venetian Republic', Saggi e
Memorie di Storia deli'Arte, 8 (1972), pp. 89ff.
5 Cited in R. Fulin, L'Arca di Noe, pp. 93-6.
6 Ibid., pp. 98ff. (in the note) and L. Olivato, Provvedimenti, pp. 55ff.
7 R. Fulin, L'Arca di Noe, pp. 99-101, and L Olivato, Provvedimenti, pp. 59ff.
8 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).
9 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
10 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.
11 A. de Nicoll) Salmazo, La catalogazione, p. 33, n. 6.
12 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.
13 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.
14 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.
15 Cf. G. A. Averoldi, Le sce!te pitture di Brescia additate a/ forestiere, Brescia,
1700.
16 G. B. Verci, Notizia intomo alia vita e atle opere de'Pittori SCJtltori ed
Intagliatori della Citta di Bassano, Venice, 1785, pp. 83-4.
17 S. Maffei, Verona i!lttstrata. Parte terza contiene notizie delle co.re in questa
citta pill osservabili, Verona, 1732, pp. 175-6.
18 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.
19 L. Olivato, 'Per la sroria del restauro e della conservazione delle opere d'arte a
314
Notes to pp. 189-93
Venezia nel '700', Attie Memorie dell'Accademia Patavina di Scienze Lettere
ed Arti, LXXXII, part 2 (1969-70), pp. 53-62, document 1, p. 61.
20 A. de Nicolo Salmazo, 'Richieste e segnalazioni di restauri delle "Pubbliche
Pitture" di Padova nelle relazioni degli ispettori della Repubblica di Venezia',
Arte Veneta, XXXII (1978), pp. 448-52.
21 Idem, La catalogazione, pp. 61-2.
22 L. Olivato, Pmvvedimenti, pp. 30ff. and A. Conti, Storia del restauro e della
conservazione delle opere d'arte, s.l., n.d. [but Milan, 1973], pp. 145ff.
23 L. Olivato, Provvedimenti, pp. 73ff. and A. Conti, Storia del restauro, pp.
150.
24 L. Olivato, Provvedimenti, document 52, p. 159 and, on this document, ibid.,
pp. 71-3.
25 Ibid., document 54, pp. 168-9.
26 Ibid., p. 163 and document 53, p. 165ff.
27 L. Polacca, 'II museo di scienze archeologiche e d'arte dell'Universita de
Padova', Atti de!l'Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti, CXXV (1966-7),
p. 428.
28 V. Giormani, 'Fra'Ange1o Ziliani e il museo ornitologico dell'Universita di
Padova a! Santo', It Santo, XXI (1981), pp. 82-103.
29 First mentioned in G. B. Rossetti, II Fora.rtiere illuminato per !e pitture,
scu!tttre ed architetture della citta di Padova, ovvero descrizione delle case piu
rare della stessa citta con a!tre curiose notizie, Padua, s.d. [but I 7861, p. 272. Cf.
also P. Brandolese, Pitture Sculture Atchitetture ed alt1e case notabi!i di
Padova nuovamente descritte, Padua, 1795, p. 191.
30 'Venezia non teme forse per questa caso [di dipinte tele de maestri ecce!enti}
di avere citta, che fa s01passi, e forse pochissime se ne ritrovano, che Ia
pareggino .. .', G. A. Moschini, Della !etteratura venezi,ma del secolo XVIII
fino a'nostri giorni, Venice, 1806, vol. II, p. 104. F. Haskell, Patrons and
Painters. A Stud; of the Relations Between Italian Art and Society in the Age
of the Baroqtte, new edition, New Haven-London, 1980, pp. 245ff. Idem,
'Some Collectors of Venetian Art at the End of the Eighteenth Century. Della
Lena's "Esposizione istorica dello Spoglio, che di tempo in tempo si fece di
Pitture in Venezia", in collective work, Studies in Renaissance and Baroqt-te
Art presented to Anthony Blunt, London-New York, 1967, pp. 173-8.
31 To the collections memioned by S. dalla Rosa, Catastico, we add some others
he neglected, such as that owned by Betterle. Cf. G. P. Marchini, 'La pinacoteca
Betterle aS. Elena', Vita vetonese, XXX (1977), pp. 252-5.
32 Cf. G. B. Rossetti, Descrizione delle pittttre, .rcufture, ed architetture di Padova
con alcune osservazioni intorno ad es.re ed altre curiose notizie, Padua, 1765,
pp. 310ff. and 2nd edn, 1776, pp. 322ff. The 1786 posthumous edition does not
make any mention of private collections.
. '13 G. A. Averoldi, Le sce!te pitture, pp. 243ff. and G. B. Carboni, Le pitture e
scuftme di Btescia che sono esposte a! pubblico. Con appendice di alczme private
Gafle1ie, Brescia, 1760, pp. 145ff. Cf. also B. Passamani, Per una storia della
pittura e del gusto a Brescia nel Settecento, in collective work, BreJcia pittorica
1700-1760: l'immagine del sacra, exhibition catalogue, Brescia, 198 I, pp. 7-25.
34 M. Boschini, I gioie!fi pittoreschi, and P. Baldurini, E. Arnaldi, 0. Vecchia, L.
Buffetti, Descrizione delle architetture, pitture e scolture in Vicenza con alcune
o.rservazioni, Vicenza, 1779, pp. 46.
35 F. Bartoli, Le pitture sculture ed architetture della citta di Roz
1
igo, Venice,
1793, pp. 173.
.
36 F. M. Tassis, Vite de'Pittori, Scultori ed Architetti Bergamascht, Bergamo,
1793, vol. I, pp. 42 and 208; vol. II, p. 72.
37 D. M. Federici, Memorie Trevigiane delle Opere di disegno. Dal mille e cento
al mille ottocento per servire alia storia delle belle arti in Italia, Venice, 1803,
vol. II, pp. 223ff.
38 Cf. for Bassano, G. B. Verci, Notizia intomo alia vita ... di Ba.rsano, pp. 3 7,
86-7, 192, 260, 269; for the Treviso province (Oderno, Conegliano, Caste1-
franco, Crespano): D. M. Federici, Memorie Trevigiane, pp. 224-5; for
Chioggia: Catalogo di quadri esistenti in casa il Signor Dn Giovanm. Dr
Vianelli, canonico della cattedrale di Chioggia, Venice, 1790; it cites a collector
of paintings in Adria.
39 G. A. Moschini, Della !etteratura veneziana, vol. II, pp. 80, 95, 100, 102.
40 Idem, Guida per Ia citta di Padova a/!'amico delle belle arti, Venice, 1817, ?P
175-6 and 183, and A. Meneghelli, Delconte Giovanni de Lazara ca1;aftere
geroso!imitano e de'suoi stud}, Padua, 1833, p. 9. However, unlike 1776, there
is no mention of the print collection belonging to the Dottons. Ib1d., p. 12.
41 S. dalla Rosa, Catastico, W 352, 354, 355, 359, 364.
42 Cf. collective work, Di Bassano e dei Bassanesi il!ustri, Bassano, 1847, pp. 151-
2.
43 D. M. Federici, Memorie Trevigiane, vol. II, p. 224.
44 For Verona, cf. S. dalla Rosa, Catastico, W 355 and 365; for Venice, cf. G. A.
Moschini, Della !etteratura veneziana, vol. II, pp. 105-6 and Fr. Haskell,
Patrons and Painters, pp. 322ff.
45 Cf. 'Dealers, Connoisseurs and Enthusiasts in Eighteenth-century Paris', above
pp. 139-68.
46 Cf. L. Ferrari, 'Gli acquisti dell'Aigarotti pel Regio Museo di Dresda', L'Arte,
Ill (1900), pp. 150-4.
.
47 Cf. L. Rizzoli, 'Alcune lettere di Antonio Canova al Marchese Tomasso degl1
Obizzi e Ia Musa Melpomene del R. Museo Archeologico di Venezia', Atti del
R. [stituto Veneto de Scienze, Lettere ed Arti, LXXXII (1922-3), pp. 401-12,
especially letters, I, II and IV from 1795.
48 Fr. Haskell, Patrons and Painters, pp. 373.
49 G. della Lena, E.rposizione storica della Spogfio, cbe di tempo in tempo .ri fece
di Pittu.re in Venezia, in Fr. Haskell, Some Collectors, p. 178. On Sasso, cf. L.
Olivato, 'Gli affari sono affari: Giovan Maria Sasso tratta con Tomasso degli
Obizzi', Arte veneta, XXXVIII ( 1974), pp. 298-304.
50 R. Fulin, L'Arca di Noe, p. 104n.
51 G. B. Rossetti, Descrizione, 1765 edn, p. 310; 1776 edn, p. 322 .
52 L. Magagnato, 'Saggio bio-bib1iografico e indice analitico ragionaro'_ in B .. Dal
Pozzo, Le Vite de'pittori, Verona, 1967, p. XXIII and entry entitled Col-
lezioni', pp. 109-16.
53 Cf. G. B. Rossetti, Descrizione, !765 and 1776 edn, cited above, n. 32, and G. A.
Moschini, Guida, pp. 17lff.
316
Note.r to pp. 195-9
51 Cf. G. M. Pilo, 'II legato Silvestri e le pubbliche guadrerie rodigine:
l'Accademia dei Concordi e Ia Pinacoteca del Seminario', Ateneo Veneto; new
series, V (1967), pp. 180-5. A. Romagnolo, ed., La Pinacoteca del Accademia
dei Concordi, Rovigo, 1981.
55 Cf. A. Pinelli, II co11te G. Carrara e Ia s11a Galleria sewndo i! Catalog a del 1796,
Bergamo, 1922.
56 Cf. E. Cicogna, S<1ggio di bib!iografia veneziana, Venice, 1847, nos. 5087, 5093,
5094, 5105,5122,5143,5169,5175, 5193,5197,5210,5218.
All these publications deal with collections already or about to be dispersed in
the 1840s.
57 Fr. Haskell, Patrons <1nd Painters, pp. 299ff.
58 G. della Lena, Esposizione, paras. II-VI, VIII, XI-XVI; pp. 174-6.
59 Lord Bute, for example, cf. ibid., para. IX, and P.-J. Mariette, cf. Le Cabinet
d'tm Grand Amatem P.-]. lvfariette, 1694-1774. De.rsin.r dt< XVe at< XVIIle
siede, exhibition catalogue, Paris, 1967, pp. 180-2.
60 N. Ivanoff, 'Alcune lettere inedite di Tomasso Temanza a Pierre-Jean
Mariette', Atti dell'Jstitttto veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti, LXVIII (1959-
60), pp. 93-124, especially letters II, V, VII, X.
61 'Delle Stampe ora si fa ricerca grande a prezzi incredibili', S. Dalla Rosa,
Catastico, f
0
364; cf. also G. A. Moschini, Della !etteratttra, vol. II, p. 100.
62 Fr. Haskell, PatmnJ and Painters, pp. 276ff.
63 Ibid., pp. 261-2.
64 R. Gallo, 'Una famiglia patrizia. I Pisani ed i palazzi diS. Stefano e di Stra',
Archivio J;eJzeto, XXIV-XXV (1944), pp. 65-228, especially doc. I, pp. 204-
17, doc. II, pp. 218-20, doc. V, pp. 225-8.
65 Fr. Haskell, Patrons and Painters, pp. 265-7.
66 Calculations based on F. Vivian, 11 console Smitb mercante e col!ezionista,
Vicenza, 1971, appendix A, pp. 173ff.
67 Ibid., pp. 19ff., especially p. 39. Fr. Haskell, Patron.r and Pai11ters, pp. 229ff.
68 F. Vivian, 1! console Smith, appendix B, pp. 198ff.
69 Fr. Haskell, Patron.r and Painters, pp. 310ff. A. Binion, 'From Schulenburg's
Gallery and Records', Burlington Magazine, 1970, pp. 297-303. E. Antoniazzi
Rossi, 'Ulteriori considerazioni sull'inventario della collezione del Maresciallo
von Schulenburg', Arte zemta, XXXI (1977), pp. 126-34.
70 Fr. Haskell, Patrons and Painters, pp. ) 15ff. E. Schleier, 'Sigismund Streit', in
A. Bettagno, ed., Canaletto, DiJegni - Dipiuti - Incisioni, Vicenza, 1983, pp.
79ff.
71 Fr. Haskell, Patron.r and Painters, pp. 34lff. A. Bettagno, 'Introduction', in
Caricatttre di Anton iVfaria Zanetti, Vicenza, 1969, pp. 11-26.
72 Idem, 'Prechazioni .ru Anton Zanetti it Vecchio e SebMtiano e Marco
Ricci', in collective work, Atti del Congre.r.ro Internaziona!e di Studi s11
Seba.rtiano Ricci e if mo tempo, Udine, 1975, pp. 85-95
7) G. Lorenzetti, Un dilettante incisore veneziano del XVIII seco!o: Anton Maria
Zanetti di Gerolamo, Venice, 1917, pp. 73-7 (= R. Deputazione veneta di
Storia Patria. Miscellanea di storia veneta, series III, vol, XII).
74 Fr. Haskell, Patrons and pp. 347ff., and L Ferrari, 'Gli acquisti
dell'Algarotti', op. cit., above, no. 46.
Notes to pp. 199-204 317
75 [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].
76 Cf. Bib!iotheca Maphaei Pine!ti veneti magna jam studio co!tecta a Jacobo
More!!io deJcripta et annotationibus Venice, 1787, 6 vols.
77 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].
78 A. Bettagno, ed., Disegni di tma col!ezione veneziana del Settecento, Vicenza,
1966, Bettagno's introduction, especially p. 17.
79 G. B. Carboni, Le pitture di Brescia, pp. 145ff., especially 164-85.
80 Ibid., pp. 182-5.
81 Ibid., p. XVI: 'e.rsendo Jtato gemi!mente graziato de'rispettiz;j Cata!oghi dei
Pezzi di Pittura che !e compongono imieme coi nomi deg!i At<tori, rni sono
determinato a pubb!icarli tali quali gli ho ricevuti'.
82 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.
83 Ibid., 1765 edn, pp. 340-1.
84 Ibid., 1765 edn, pp. 325 and 331; 1776 edn, pp. 336 and 339.
85 Ibid., 1765 edn, p. 312.
86 Ibid, 1765 edn, pp. 314-15; 1776 edn, pp. 326-7.
87 Ibid., 1765 edn, p. 318; 1776 edn, p. 320
88 Ibid., 1765 edn, p. 337.
89 Cf. L. Grossato, ed., It civico di Padova. Dipinti e swlt11re da! XIV ,tf
XIX seco/o, Venice, 1967, nos. 198 (p. 126), 187, 202, 189, 190 (pp. 146-9).
90 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).
91 U. Ruggieri, 'Le collezioni pittoriche rodigine', in collective work, L'Accademia
dei Concordi di Rovigo, Vicenza, 1972, p. 29 onwards, and especially T.
Romagnolo, 'I primi dipinti della Pinacoteca dei Concordi', poleJani, 3
(1978), pp. 5-12.
92 F. Bartoli, Le pitture ... di Rovigo, pp. 198-200,203-4, 206-12, 262-4.
93 Ibid., p. 186 and T. Romagnolo, 'I primi dipinti', p. 9.
94 Cf. Col!ezione dei qtladri eJistenti nella famiglia CaJi!ini a! Duomo di Rovigo,
Rovigo, 1824.
95 F. Bartoli, Le pitture ... di Rovigo, pp. 179-89.
96 Ibid., pp. 216-20.
97 Ibid., pp. 2 36-59.
98 Calculations based on Cata!ogo di qu,tdri e.ri.rtenti in cttSa ... Vianet!i, op. cit.
99 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.
l 00 S. Marinelli, 'Sebastiano Ricci' and 'Giambattista Pittoni', ibid., pp. 127 and
226. S. dalla Rosa, Catastico, f
0
116.
I 01 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
Notes to pp. 204-6
Franzoni, Per una storia del collezionismo, Verona: fa galleria Bevilacqua,
Milan, 1970.
S. Marinelli, 'Giambattista Tiepolo', in L. Magagnaro, ed., La pittura a Verona,
pp. 217-20.
S. Marinelli, 'Federico Bencovich', ibid., p. 215. For Piazzetta, S. Dalla Rosa,
Catastico, f
0
180. Cf. also F. Dal Forno, Case e palazzi di Verona, Verona, 1973
(where on pp. 171-2 only Tiepolo is mentioned for the frescoes in the Canossa
palace). G. F. Viviani, ed., La villa nel Veronese, Verona, 1975 (mention is
made only of Rosalba Carriera's pastels in the Villa Serego, p. 428). F. Flores
d'Arcais, 'La pittura nelle chiese e monasteri di Verona', in G. Borelli, ed.,
Chiese e monasteri di Verona, Verona, 1980 (on pp. 526-7 mentions S. Ricci,
A. Pellegrini and the Pittoni painting). G. Borelli, ed., Chiese e monasteri del
territorio veronese, Verona, 1981, p. 570 (one painting of the school of
Tiepolo, one by Pittoni).
A. Avena, 'La quadreria di A. M. Lorgna' in collective work, Anton Maria
Lor-gna, Verona, 1936; the inventory on pp. 9-11, has fifty numbers.
A. AL vena?], 'La galleria Canossa nel 1781', Madonna Verona, VII (1913 ), pp.
98-108. The Ricci painting figures in the 'Camera prima della Galleria verso
I'Adige', no. 54.
A. Avena, L'Istituzione del Museo Civico di Verona. Cronistoria artistica degli
anni 1797-1865, Verona, 1907, p. 6 of the separate publication.
S. dalla Rosa, Catastico, f
0
3 56.
G. P. Marchini, 'II collezionismo d'arte a Verona nel Settecemo: Ia pinacoteca
Mosconi', Studi storici veronesi Luigi Simeoni, XXX-XXXI (1980-1), pp.
222-49, doc. I, pp. 237-42.
P. Caliari, La pinacoteca Albarelli, F. dal Forno, ed., Verona, 1975.
S. Marinelli, 'Giambattista Pittoni', p. 226.
A. Avena, L'lstituzione, appendix III, pp. 75-7 of separate publication, nos,
27-8, 35-6, 41.
Ibid., appendix IV, pp. 78-87, nos 29(2), 55, 63(2), 71, 80(2), 98(2), 99, Ill,
131 ('Paesaggio istoriato con Rebecca dipinto di Marco Ricci ed attribuito
erroneamente a Salvator Rosa'), 140(2), 147, 177, 186(2), 187.
Cf. F. dal Forno, 'Pinacoteca Tanara gia Conti Balzi Salvioni e gia Come
Ignazio Bevilacqua Lazise', Atti e Memo1ie dell'Accademia di Agricoltura,
Scienze e Lettere di Verona, XXIV (1972-3), pp. 261-79.
Cf. A. Avena, 'Catalogo della Pinacoteca Monga', Madonna Verona, VIII
(1914), pp. 117-39. Descrizione dei dipinti raccolti dal Dr Cesare Bernasconi
nella sua casa di Verona, Verona, 1851.
Cf. I.. Magagnato, 'II percorso critico', in idem, ed., La pittura a Verona, pp. 13-
30, especially p. 25 onwards and Idem, 'La pittura veronese del Settecento e
Scipione Maffei', in Atti del Com;egno Arte e Cultura in Verona net
Settecento, Verona, 1981, pp. 67-72.
S. dalla Rosa, Catastico, W 340, 341, 343, 344, 346, 360, 366 (quadri antichi),
348, 356 (modemi), 364, 366 (antichi e modemi).
Ibid., f
0
360.
We thus find fifteen Veronese paintings from the eighteenth century out of
the 354 in the Canossa gallery, one out of the seventy-five in the collection
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
Notes to pp. 207-12 319
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
Notes to pp. 212-15
Cf. 'Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of Curiosity', above, pp. 81-112.
A. M. Zanetti, Della Pittura, p. 487.
Ibid., p. 488.
Cf.]. W. Goethe, Viaggio in ltalia, Florence, 1955, p. 123.
Cf. N. Lastesio, De Musaeo Philippi FMsetti Patricii Veneti Epistola ad
c!ariJSirnam Co1'tonensem Academiam, Venice, 1764. P. A. Paravia, Def!e lodi
de!FA.b. Filippo Fa1'Setti Patrizio Veneziano Orazione, Venice, 1829.
Museo della casa eccelentissima Farsetti in Venezia, s.l., n.d.
Statues mentioned by P. A. Paravia, Delle lodi .. . , pp. 15-17.
'Catalogo de'quadri esistenti nella Galleria della casa eccelentissima Farsetti in
Venezia', in ivluseo della casa . .. Farsetti, pp. 31ff.
Cf. G. Dandolo, La caduta della Repubb!ica di Venezia, Venice, 1855, pp. 115-
16 (Daniele Farsetti), 119 (Anton Francesco Farsetti).
E. Bassi, ed., Venezia nell'eta di Canova 1780-1830, exhibition catalogue,
Venice, 1978, no. 8, pp. 16-17.
Ibid., no. 9, p. 17 and nos 73-4, p. 58. P. A. Paravia, Delle lodi . .. , p. 18.
Cf. 'Maffei and Caylus', above, pp. 169-84.
G. della Lena, Esposizione, para. VIII, p. J 75.
Ibid., para. XII, Joe. cit.
C. A. Moschini, Della letteratura venezimza, vol. II, p. 107.
G. Previrali, La fortuna dei primitivi, pp. 153ff.
Ibid., pp. 156ff. and 243. G. B. Rossetti, Descrizione ... di Padova, 1765 edn,
p. 318; 1776 edn, p. 320.
F. Barbieri, I! Museo Civico di Vicenza. Dipinti e .rcu!ture da! XIV a! XV
seco!o, Vicenza, 1962, pp. 161, 196-7, 21.'>, 218 (Paolina Porto Godi) and pp.
22, 140, 151, 180, 184, 195,222, 227 (Carlo Vicentini dal Giglio).
F. Bartoli, Le pitture di Rovigo, pp. 181-3. A. Romagnolo, ed., La pinacoteca
. . . dei Concordi, p. 24.
Al vena
1
], 'La galleria Canossa', and G. B. da Persico, Descrizione di Verona e
della .rua provincia, Verona, 1820, vol. I, pp. 79, 130-l.
G. A. Moschini, Della !etteratttra veneziana, vol. II., p. 95ff. I. Favaretto, 'G.
Zulian e Ia sua collezione de vasi italioti ed etruschi nel Museo Archeologico di
Venezia', Atti dell'lstituto veneto di Scienze, Lett ere ed Arti, CXXIII ( 1964-5 ),
pp. 26ff.
R. Bratti, 'Antonio Canova nella sua vita arristica privata (da un carteggio
inedito)', Nuovo Arcbivio Veneto, 33 (1917), pp. 281-90.
Cf. The Age of Neoclassicism, exhibition catalogue, London, 1972, nos 307
(pp. 199-200) and 314 (pp. 202-3).
L. Rizzoli, 'II castello di Catajo nel Padovano e il testamento del Marchese
Tommaso degli Obizzi (3 giugno 1803)', Archit;io Veneto-Tridentino, IV
(1923), pp. 127-46.
By, for instance, G. Fiocco, 'Le pitture venete del Castello di Konopiste', Arte
veneta, II (1918), pp. 7-29.
Cf. L. Olivato Puppi, 'Alle origini del museo moderno. Museo privato come
funzione pubblica nella corrispondenza inedita di collezionisti veneti fra'700
e'SOO' in Fr. Haskell, ed., Sa!oni, Gal!erie, Musei e Ia foro infbrenza ml!o
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
Notes to pp. 215-18 321
svi!uppo deli'arte dei seco!i XIX e XX (= Atti del XXIV Congresso
Internazionale di Scoria dell'Arte), Bologna, 1979, pp. 29-36.
P. Paulino a San Bartholomaeo, Mt<miograpbia MttJei Obiciani, Padua, 1789,
p. 14.
C. Cavedoni, Indicazione dei principali monttmenti antichi del rea/e museo
estense del Catajo, Modena, 1842, p. 8.
Cf. L. Olivato, 'Gli affari sono affari', p. 300.
C. Cavedoni, Indicazione, pp. 6-7.
Cf. the inventory drawn up of the collection of Tomasso degli Obizzi on 28
June 1803 after his death; Biblioteca Civica di Padova, MS B.P. 1386 IV.
On this point, I agree with L. Oliva to Puppi, 'Aile origini del museo moderno',
p. 33. For the distinctive features of the Kunst- und Wunderkammem, cf. 'The
Age of Curiosity', above, pp. 45-64.
MS B.P. 1386 IV, fED 3-52 (description of numismatic collection).
Cf. M. Meiss, 'Italian Primitives at Konopisre', The Art Bulletin, March 1946,
pp. 1-16. G. Previtali, La fortuna dei primitivi, p. 244.
Cf. F. A. Visconti, 'Catalogo', in Documenti inediti per servire alia .rtoria dei
Musei d'Italia, vol. II, Rome, 1879, pp. 235-65; vol. III, Rome, 1880, pp. 28-80.
L. Rizzoli, 'II castello del Catajo', document IV, pp. 145-6.
L. Olivato, 'Gli affari sono affari', document III, p. 304.
Cf. C. A. Levi, Le Col!ezioni veneziane d'a1te e d'antichita del seco!o XVI ai
nost1i giorni, Venice, 1900, vol. I, p. XCIII.
L. Rizzoli, 'Alcune lettere di Canova', p. 403 and letters I and II, p. 408.
J.-Fr. Seguier, Plantae Veronenses seu Stirpium quae in agro veronense
reperiuntur Methodica synopsis . .. , Verona, 1745, vol. I, pp. XXIIIff.
Cited in T. Metterle, 'II ventennio arzignanese de Alberto Fortis ( 1778-1798)
e Ia comunita di Arzignano alia caduta della Repubblica di Venezia', in
collective work, Valle del Chiampo, Antologia 1975, p. 124 .
J.-Fr. Seguier, Plantae Veronenses, vol. I, p. XXXV. Idem, Plantarum quae in
Agro veronense reperiuntur supplementum seu vo!umen tertium, Verona,
1745, pp. X and XIV.
A. de Tuoni, 'Volfango Goethe a Vicenza e !a sua visita a! dottor Antonio
Turra', Ateneo Veneto, 128 (1941), p. 247.
A. Fortis, Delle oJJa d'e!efanti e d'altre cMiosita naturali de'monti di
Romagnano nel Veronese, Vicenza, 1786, pp. 6-7.
B. Brunelli Bonetti, 'Padova, Vicenza e Verona nelle note di viaggio di un
francese del Settecento', Attie Memorie della R. Accademia di Scienze, Lettere
ed A 1ti in Pad ova, LVII (1940-1), p. 110.
Cf. C. Goldoni, La villegiatura.
John Strange rhus formed a mineral collection during a stay at the Abbano spa in
the summer of 1771. Cf. 'Lettera geologica di Sua Eccelenza il Sig. Gio. Strange
Residente per S. M. Brittanica presso Ia Sereniss. Repubblica di Venezia scritta al
Dot tor Gio. Targioni Tozzetti', in collective work, Dei Volcani o monti ignivomi
piit noti, e distintamente del Vesuvio osservazioni fisiche e Notizie lstoriche de
Uomini Insigni di varj tempi, raccolte con diligenza, Leghorn, 1779, vol. II, p. 38.
Cf. also A. Fortis, Delle ossa d'elefanti, pp. 5-6.
322
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
N oteJ to pp. 218-22
A lerrer from G. Arduino to Girolamo Silvestri dared November 1758 refers to
these discussions: B. C. Ver., Fondo Arduino, file 757.
A. C. Dondi Orologio, P1odromo in /orrna di lettera del!'lstoria Naturale
de'Monti Euganei, Padua, 1780, and dated: 'Dalla mia viltegiatura della Giara,
it 12 Maggio 1780'.
Cf. F. Venturi, Venezia ne! .recondo Settece11to, Turin, 1980, pp. 49ff., 109ff.
and passim.
A. C. Dondi Orologio, Prodromo, pp. 7 and I 0.
Ibid., pp. 11-12, 19-21, 28-9, 32-44. For Strange's collection, donated to the
Natural History Museum at the University of Padua in 1772-cf. V.
Giormani, 'Fra'Angelo Ziliani', appendix I, p. 94 - there is a catalogue:
'Catalogo Ragionato di varie Produzioni Naturali del Regno Lapideo, reccolte
in un viaggio peri Colli Euganei nel Mese di Luglio 1771 da Sua Eccellenza il
Sig. Giovanni Strange', in collective work, Dei Volcani, vol. II, pp. 59-98.
Cf. A C. Dondi Orologio, 'Saggio di littologia euganea osia distribuzione
metodica, e ragionata delle produzioni fossili di Monti Euganei', Saggi
scientifici e letterarii dell'Accademia di Padova, vol. II, Padua, 1789, pp. 164-
84.
B. Terzi, hiemoria intomo alle prodm:ioni forsili di Monti Euganei, Padua,
1791.
B. Terzi, Rirpo.rta di ... al!'articolo inserito ne! foglio di Cesena contm la
Memoria intomo aile produzioni natm'clii dei Monti Euganei, Padua, 1791.
Lett era del nu1rchese Antonio Carlo Dondi Orologio diretta a! Reuerendis.rimo
Padre Abbate D. BaJile Terzi ... sopra !a di lui Memoria intomo alle
produzioni fos.ri!i de'Monti Euganei, Padua, 1791.
Cf. Prima risposta di RJSi!e Terzi ... alia lettera del Signor Marche.re
Antonio Dondi Omlogio ... wpra !a Memoria intomo all produzi011i fossi!i
de '1\Ionti Euga;zei. Padua, 1791. The eight letters begun with this one
extended from 24 July to 20 Nov. 1791. In September of the same year, the
work written by A. Fortis appeared, Tre !ettere al Signo1 Conte Nicolo da
Rio sopra le sei !ettne sinora Mcite del P. D. BaJilio Terzi . .. a! Marchese
Antonio Dondi Orologio intomo aile produzioni fo.rsili de'Monti Eugcmei,
Cesena, 1791.
Cono di Storia naturale, e chimica proposto a fetterario trattenimento di 40
Nobili, e Cittadini di Veronct dal Sig. Professore Canonico Don Giovanni
Serafino Voitel. Per l'anno 1790, s.l., n.d., B. C. Ver. 153.4.
Ibid., nos I, VII, XIV, XVIII, XXIV, XXXIII.
Cf. G. S. Volta, Prospetto del Museo Belfisoniano. C!assificato e com-
pendiosamente descritto, Pavia, 1787.
Cf. E. Vio, La villa Far.retti a Santa Ma1ia di Sa/a, Venice, 1967.
Expression used by A. F. Farsetti, Elenco botanico del giardino di Sa/,, j>er
/'Amzo AIDCCXVI, s.I., n.d., in the dedication. It was the second catalogue. The
first was: Catalogo delle piante che eshtono nef gimdino del nobil ttomo
A 11fo1zio Francesco Far.retti nella me< villa di Sa/a, Venice, 1793.
A. Turra, Fc<rsetia Novum Gen11s. Accedunt A11imadversiones quaedam
hotcmicae, Venice, 1765, p. -1.
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
P. A. Saccardo, Botanica in ltalia. Materiali per fa storia di questa scienza, part
2, Venice, 1901 (= Memorie del R. Istituto veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Ani,
vol. XXVI, no. 5), p. 76.
G. A Moschini, Della letteratura veneziana, vol. II, p. 110.
Cf. R. Pampanini, 'II viaggio del botanico fiorentino Pier Antonio Micheli a
Verona ed a Monte Baldo nel autunno del 1736', Madonna Verona, XVIII
(1924), pp. 14-16.
].-Fr. Seguier, Plantae veronenses, vol. I, pp. XL VII-XL VIII. .
On Cornaro, cf. P. A. Saccardo, Botanica in Italia, Venice, 1895 (= Memone del
R. Isrituto veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti, vol. XXV, no. 4), p. 56, and on
his contacts with Turra, A. de Tuoni, 'Volfango Goethe', p. 246.
Cf.}. W. Goethe cited by A. de Tuoni, ibid., p. 235. B. Tecchi, Goethe in ltalia
(e particolarmente a Vicenza) con le giornale del soggtorno vtcentmo
Vicenza, 1967. .
Nomenclatura plantarum horti Thienaei Vicetiae 1794 tempo1e autunnalr:,
s.l., n.d. and Series plantarum quae studio et diligentia in horto botan;co nobtft.l'
Comitis vicentini Antonii Mariae Thienaei modo coluntur anno MDCCCII, s.L,
n.d. The two works are attributed to Turra by S. Rumor, G!i rcrittori vicentini
del seco!o decimoottavo e decimonono, vol. III, Venice, 1908, pp. 256-8.
Cf. P. A Saccardo, Botanica in Italia, part 2, p. 22 and I. Tiozzo, I No.rtri. Note
biografiche intorno a Cbioggioti degni di ricordo, Chioggia, 1928, pp. 148-9.
Cf. P. A. Saccardo, Botanica in Italia, part 2, p. 149.
Cf. G. A. Moschini, Guida per Ia citta di Padova, p. 190.
Cf. P. A. Saccardo, Botanica in ltalia, part I, pp. 207-8.
Cf. M. Minio, "Arcani delle pianre di Monte Baldo" '. Codice erbario veronese
del sec. XVIII', Atti del Accademia defl'Agricoltut'cl, Scienze e Lettere dt
Verona, CVI (1930), pp. 9-26.
Cf. S. Chiesa and G. G. Lorenzoni, 'Erbario e collezioni dell'Istituto di Botanica
e Fisiologia vegetale', in collective work, Cotlezioni scientifiche dei mttSei ed
Orto Botanico, Padua, 1970, p. 23.
Istoria delle piante cbe nascono ne'lidi intorno a Venezia. Opem po.1tuma de
Gian-Giro!amo Zannichelli accresciuta da G'ian.Jacopo figliuolo dello stesso
... , Venice, 1735.
Cf. J.-Fr. Seguier, Plc<ntae ueronense.r. . .
Cf. collective work, Storia di Brescia, vol. III: Itt dommaztone veneta ( 1596-
1797), Brescia, 1964, p. 1003.
Cf. Iosephi Agosti s.i . ... de Re Botanica T1'clctatuJ in quo praeter genera/em
methodum. et hystoria plantarum, eae stirpes peculiariter recensuntur. quae m
agro Bel!unensi et Fidentino vel sponte cre.rcu-nt vel arte excoluntur ... ,
Belluno, 1770. Quoted from A. Buzzati, Bibliografia betlunese, Belluno, 1890,
no. 411.
Cf. P. A. Saccardo, Botanica in ltafia, part 1, pp. 36-70. I. Tiozzo, I Nostri, pp.
148-9.
Cf. P. A. Saccardo, Botanica in ltalia, part 2, p. 110.
Cf. P. A Saccardo, Della .rtoria e letteraturc< della Flora veneta, Milan, 1869._
As is the case for J.-Fr. Seguier, Catalogus plantamm quae in agro z;eronenSI
reperiuntur, Verona, 17 45.
324
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
Notes to pp. 224-6
Cf. G.-G. Zannichelli, Istoria delle piante, preface.
From 1730 onwards, L. Patarol planted his botanical garden in accordance
with Tournefort's system of classification; among his unpublished works are
two botanical ones which follow Tournefon's ideas. Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Delle
Iscrizioni Veneziane, vol. V, Venice, 1842, pp. 113, 116-17, C. Martinelli
(1653-1734), Venetian patrician and amateur botanist, corresponded with
Tournefort. Cf. P. A. Saccardo, Botanica in Italia, part 1, p. 105.
].-Fr. Seguier, Plantae vero1wuer, vol. I, pp. Liff.
This is the case of an anonymous herbarium from Belluno. Cf. P. A. Saccardo,
Botanica in ltalia, part 2, p. 46.
Cf. A. de Tuoni, 'Volfango Goethe', p. 247.
A. Turra, Florae italicae prodromur, Vicenza, 1780. The dedication is dated
Jan. 1768.
Thus, for Goethe, Turra is first and foremost a botanist and the author of the
Florae italicae prodromus. Cf. A. de Tuoni, 'Volfango Goethe', p. 235 and B.
Tecchi, Goethe in ltalia, pp. 31-7 (Reise) and 43-5 (Tagebiicher).
This concerns copies at the Bertolliana Library in Vicenza: Gonz. 9.6.20 and
Gonz. 9.6.21.
Cf. L. Zoppi, Principii di istoria naturale, 6 vols; B. C. Ver. MS 757.
Cf. H. Daudin, De Linne a Lamarck. Methodes de c!a.rsification et idee de serie
en botanique et en zoo!ogie (1740-1790), Paris, 1926, pp. 32ff.
G. Olivi, Zoologia Adriatica ossia catalogo ragionato degli Animali del Golfo e
delle Lagune di Venezia; preceduto da una dissertazione sulfa Storia Fisica e
Naturale del Golfo; e accompagnato da iHemorie ed Osservttzioni di Fisica
Storia Naturale ed Economica, Bassano, 1792, p. 50.
A. Turra, Florae italicae prodromus; Insecta vicentina, pp. 3-16 (separate
pagination).
Cf. B. da Persico, Descrizione di Verona, vol. I, p. 186.
Cf. B. Brunelli Bonetti, 'Padova, Vicenza e Verona', p. 112.
Cf. S. Chiesa and G. G. Lorenzoni, 'Erbario', p. 24.
Cf. G. S. Volta, Memoria suite farfalle in cui si contengono alcune nozioni
generali sulfa storia naturale delle medesime, sul metoda di raccogliede e
distribuirle in ordine sistematico ... e sulfa maniera di conservarle, Milan,
1782.
V. Giormani, 'Fra' Angelo Ziliani', p. 88, no. 32.
Cf. H. Daudin, De Linne a Lama1'Ck, pp. 48ff.
V. Donati, Della Storia Naturale marina dell'Adriatico, Venice, 1750.
Here is its title: Descrizione d e ~ Crostacei dei Testacei e dei Pesci che abitano
le Lagune del Golfo Veneto. rappre.rantati in figure a chiaroscuro ed in colori,
divisa in tre pa1ti, 1. de' Crostacei, o.r.riano Granchi, Aste1ie ed Echini, 2. de'
Testacei, ossiano Concbig!ie, 3. de' Pesci. Quoted in I. Tiozzo, I Nostri, pp.
153-5 .
G. Olivi, Zoologia Adriatica, introductory essay and pp. 53-5, 88, 121-2.
Cf. G. Poleni, 'Catalogus machinarum quae philosophicis experimentis
inserviunt', in]. Facciolati, Fasti Gymnasii Patavini, Padua, 1757, p. 413ff.
Cf. G. B. Rossetti, It Forastiere illuminato, pp. 267, 271-2 and P. Brandolese,
Pitture ... di Padova, p. 143.
252 Cf. A. Ferretti Torricelli, Catalogo degli strumenti scientifici delle collezioni
dei Civici Musei di storia e arte e dell'Ateneo di Brescia, in collective wurk,
Aspetti della Jocieta bresciana nel Settecento, exhibition catalogue, Brescia,
1981, pp. 199ff
253 Cf. S. dalla Rosa, Cata.rtiw, f
0
346.
254 G. A. Moschini, Della !etteratura veneziana, vol. II, pp. 111-12.
255 Cf. L. Sorbini, I foJ'Sili di Bolca, Verona, 1981. Idem, La collezione Baja di pe.rci
e piallte fossili di Bo!ca, Verona, 1983.
256 On Vallisnieri, see above, pp. 103-5.
257 Letters from Maffei to Vallisnieri dated 9 and 20 June 1708 in S. Maffei,
Epistolario, C. Garibotto, ed., Milan, 1955, vol. I, p. 39.
258 Rotari's letter 'Descrizione di varj Crostacei, e produzioni di Mare, che si
rrovano su' Monti di Verona. E segnatamente de' Pesci Marini, Erbe, e lnsetti
che dal Monte detto di Bolca, infra pietra in !amine divisibili schiacciati, e come
a seco imbalsamati si cavano', 20 Nov. 1716 in A. Vallisnieri, De' carpi marini
che SJ.t' manti .ri trovano, della foro origine e de!lo stato del mondo davanti il
Di!uvio. nel Di!ut;io e dopo if Di!Jwio lettere criticbe, Venice, 1721, pp. 1-IJ..
259 L. Pawrol to G. D. Bertoli, 8 July 1724 cited in E. A. Cicogna, Delle Iscrizioni
veneziane, op. cit., vol. V, p. 119.
260 Cf. P. Rossi, I segni del tempo. Storia della terrae storia dell nazioni da Hooke
a Vico, Milan, 1979.
261 A. Vallisnieri, De' carpi marini.
262 Cf. V. Giormani, 'Fra'Angelo Ziliani', appendix I, p. 94.
263 Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Delle lscrizioni Veneziane, vol. V, p. 120.
264 Cf. L. Sorbini, 'Scipione Maffei ed i fossili di Bolca', in Nuovi studi muffeicmi,
Verona, 1985, pp. 87-96. I am indebted to Professor Sorbini, who provided me
with a typewritten version of his article.
265 Cf. G. B. da Persico, De.rcrizione di Verona, vol. I, p. 81.
266 [G. S. Volta], Ittio!itologia z;eronese del Museo Bozziano ora anesso a que!lo
del Conte Giovambattista Gazola e di altri gabinetti di fos sili verone.ri, Verona,
1796, part 2, pp. II-IV (each part has its own pagination).
267 G. G. Spada, Di.rsertazione Ot'e si proua, cbe li Petrificati Carpi A!ari11i, che nei
1Honti adiacenti a Verona si trovano, non .rono Scherzi di Natuta, ne Di!uviani;
ma Antedeluviani, Verona, 1737.
268 Cata!ogu.r Lapidum VeronensiNm 'low{J.oec/>w ldest propria forma praeditztm
qui apud loannem Iacoburn Spadanz Gretianae Archipresbyterum AsservantM,
Verona, 1739.
269 Co1pormn Lapidefactorum agri veronensis CatalogttS quae c1pud Joan. ]acobum
Spadam C,:retianae Archipresb)'terum asservantltf. Editio altera multo a11ctio1,
Clli accedunt A Jlnotatione.r. et i\1armortnn quae in eadem agro reperiuntm
Elencbm, Verona, 17 44.
270 A.-L. Moro, De Cro.rtacei e degli altri marini carpi che si trovano su'mo11ti libri
due, Venice, 1740, pp. 1-2.
271 Cf. P. Rossi, I .reg ni del tempo, pp. l 04ff.
272 A.-L. Moro, De Crostt1cei, p. 231.
273 Della fonnazione de'fu!rnini trattclto del Sig. !Vfarchese Scipione Maffei
raccolto de varie .rue Lettere. In a!cune delle quali .ri tratta anche deg!'Imetti
326 Notes to pp. 228-31
rigenerantisi e de'Pesci di ma1e su i manti, e piit a fungo de!l'Elettricitta,
Verona, 1747, pp. 118ff., 124-5.
274 G. G. Spada, Corporttm !apidefactorum ... Catalogm. G. Arduino's original
draft, which lies in the Biblioteca Civica in Verona, was published by G.
Stegagno, II veronese Giovanni Arduino e if suo contributo a! progre.r.ro della
scienza geologica, Verona, 1929, table V. Cf. also l. Sorbini, I fossili di Bolca,
figs. 10 and 11, pp. 29-30.
275 Cf. M. Gliozzi, 'Arduino', in Dizionario Biografico degli ltaliani, vol. III, pp.
64-6.
276 G. A. Moschini, Della lette1'atura veneziana, vol, II, pp. 80, 108-9. On
G. Morosini, cf. G. Arduino, Afemoria epistolare sopra varie produzioni
tJttlcaniche. minerali e fos.rili. Tratta del Nuovo Giomale d'lta!ia, Venice,
1782, p. 6. On the relationship between Fortis, Guido Vio and]. Strange, cf.
T. Metterle, Dal conte Azzolino ad Alberto Fortis: cinque .recoli di storia a!
monastero di San Pietro a! C01to. Precisazioni biog1'afiche sulfa giovinezza
del Fortis dal 1741 a! 1778, in collective work, Valle del Chiampo. Amologia
1974, p. 234. T. Metterle, If ventennio arzignanese di . .. Fo1tis, p. 145, n. 37.
G. Strange 'Lettera geologica', p. 39.
277 G. B. Rossetti, Dese1izione . .. di Padova, pp. 185-7, 333.
278 G. Arduino, Memoria epi.rtolare, pp. 9 and 15. G. Strange, 'Lettera geologica',
p. 39. T. Metterle, If ventemzio arzignanese, pp. 127 and 145, n. 38.
279 G. A. Moschini, Guida per fa citta di Padova, p. 187.
280 Fortis sent him minerals. Cf. T. Metterle, Dal conte Azzolino ad Alberto
Fortis, p. 231.
281 F. Bartoli, Le pitture ... di Rovigo, p. 215.
282 Cf. E. Zerbinatti, 'Interessi per l'epigrafia amica e testimonianze archeologiche
in due inediti di Girolamo Silvestri', Padusa. Bolletino di Centro Polesano di
Studi Storici Archeologici ed Etnografici, XIV (1978), pp. 67ff. and 69, n. 27 in
particular.
283 Cf.]. Odoardi, De'corpi marini che nel Fe/trese distretto si t1ovano, Venice,
1767 (= NtiOtJa Raccolta Calogeriana, vol. VIII, pp. 103-96). Quoted from
Buzzatti, Bibliografia belftmese, no. 367.
284 Cf. M. Brusatin, Venezia nel Settecento: stato, architettura, territorio, Turin,
1980, pp. 140ff., 314ff.
285 Cf. M. Mamese, Memorie storiche della chiesa vicelltina, vol. V (1700-1866)
Da! prima Settecento a! amzessio11e del Veneto al Regno d'ltalia, Vicenza,
1982, pp. 815, 832-3, 837-9. R. Fabiani, 'La Sezione di Scoria Naturale del
Museo Civico di Vicenza', Bo!letino del MMeo Civiw di Vicenza, fasc. III and
IV (1910), pp. 3-5.
286 lndice delle Prod11zioni naturali alia Terra, non cbe Orgcmico-Marine
petrefatte e concbig!ie, le q11ali si ritrovano l'aCcolte e metodicamente disposte
appresso don Giuliano Serpe in Arzignano, Vicentino Distretto, Vicenza,
1788.
287 All these people feature in G. S. Volta, lttio!itologia t;erone.re, with the
exception of Tommaselli and Venturi. For these two, cf. G. P. Marchini.
Antiquari e collezionisti dell'Ottocento veronese, Verona, 1972, p. 67, n. 25
and document 3A, p. 20 l.
Notes to pp. 231-40
288 G. S. Volta, Ittiolitologia veroneJe, part 2, pp. III-IV.
289 Ibid., p. CCLXXVIII.
290 Ibid, pp. VIII-IX.
327
291 'Extrait d\me lettre de M. !'Abbe Fortis de Veronne Lsic] 24 septembre
1785 aM. le Comte de Cassini ... sur les differentes petrifications', journal de
Ph)'Sique, 28 (1786), p. 162.
292 Reproduced by L. Sorbini, I foSJili di Bolca, pp. 34-5, figs. 12 and 13. Idem, La
collezione Baja, pp. 12-13, figs 3 and 4.
293 G. S. Volta, lttiolitologia veronese, pp. LVIII-LXI.
294 Cf. 'Collections in Venetia in the Heyday of Curiosity', above, pp. 74-8.
295 G. Olivi, Zoologia Adriatica, p. 134.
296 Cf. V. Bozza, De!l'universale rivoluzione sofferta dal globo terracqueo. Lettera
a! D. Orazio Rota, Verona, 1788.
297 Degl'impietrimenti del territ01'io veronese ed in particolare dei pesci foSJili del
celebre monte Bolca per servire di continuazione all'argomento delle
rivoluzioni tenacquee. Lettera del signor canonico Don Gio. Serafino Volta a!
Signor Vince1no Bozza, s.l., n.d., but dated Mantua, 27 Oct. 1789, pp. 18
(quotation), 20-4 (reply to Plutonists).
298 Cf. the first letter from D. Testa in G. B. Gazola, Lette1e recentemente
pubblicate .rui pe.rci foJsili veronesi con annotazioni inedite agli estratti delle
medesime, Verona, 1794, pp. 5, 33ff., 45ff., and [A. Fortis J, Tre lettere Jli i
pe.rci fos.rili di Bolca, Venice, 1793, especially pp. 16ff., 29, 34ff.
299 Cf. L. Sorbini, l fos sili di Bolca, p. 31.
300 Letter from Testa, in G. B. Gazo1a, Lettere, p. Slff.[A. Fortis), Tre lettere, pp.
83-4.
301 D. Testa, Terza lett era .rtt i pesci foSJi!i del .Monte Bolca, s.l., n.d., but dated 25
Nov. 1793, p. XLIV.
302 Cf. G. Cuvier, Discours sur les r<f.volutiom de Ia JUtjace du globe et les
changements qu'el!es ont produits dam !e regne cmimal, Paris, 1812. Cuvier
was a member of the agricultural academy in Verona. Cf. L. Sorbini, I fossili di
Bolca, p. 43, n. 36.
303 Testa to Fortis in LA. Fortis l, Tre lettere, pp. 61-2.
304 Ibid., p. 68 and Fonis' reply, pp. 84ff.
305 G. Arduino, Memoria epistolare, p. 12.
306 Letter of 7 July 1760 published by G. Stegagno, I! veronese Giovanni Arduino,
pp. 12-13 and the facsimile reproduction, table II.
307 B. C. Ver., Fondo Arduino, file 759.
308 Ibid., Joe. cit.
309 Cf. 'Collections in Venetia', above, pp. 81-99.
310 Cf. CIL Vj1 pp. 80-1 (Aquileia), 172 (Zuglio), 186 (Oderzo), 201 (Treviso),
205 (Altino), 220 (Adria), 267 (Padua), 305-6 (Vicenza), 326-7 (Verona),
437-8 (Brescia).
311 G. D. Bartoli, Antichita d'Aquileia profane e sacre ... Venice, 1739.
312 G. T. Faccioli, Lapidarium Vicentinum, Vicenza, 1776-1804, 3 vols.
313 Cf. Musei Theupoli antiqua numismata olim collecta a joanne Dominica
Theupolo aucta et edita a Lat11'entio equite et D. Ma1ci procuratore et Federico
32tl Notes to pp. 240-2
Senatore fratribus Theupolis, Venice, 1736.
314 Cf. Nurnismata quaedam cujurc111nque et metalli Murei Honorii
Arrigonii veneti u.rum juventutis rei 1/Itrlmldriae Treviso, 1711-5,
3 vols.
315 A. Mazzo1eni, In numirmata ae1ea maximi moduli e i\-!ti.reo Pisano
olim Corrario commentarii, Bergamo, 1710. Idem, In mtmismata ae1ea sectiora
maximi module e iVIuseo Pisano o!im Corrario Animadteniones, Bergamo,
1711-4.
316 Cf. L. Simeoni, 'Gli smdi srorici ed archeologici di Scipione Maffei', in
collective work, Studi maffeiani, Turin, 1909, pp. 742-3 and L. Magagnato,
'Nota introduttiva', in S. Maffei, Verona illust1ata, reprint, vol. II, Verona,
1975, p. VIII.
317 Letter to G. Vincio1i dared 28 Sept. 1719 inS. Maffei, Epirtolario, vol. I, p. 318.
318 Cf. S. Maffei, Traduttori italiano o sia notizia de'11olgarizzamenti d'Antichi
Scrittori Latini, e Greci, cbe .rono in luce. Aggizmto if volgarizamento d'alcune
insigni l.rcrizioni Creche: E Ia Notizia del 1liiOVO Museo d'Iscrizioni in
Verona, col Paragone fr !e lscrizioni, e le Medaglie, Venice, 1720, pp.
165-213.
319 Cf. L Franzoni, 'Origine e storia del Museo Lapidario Maffeiano', in collective
work, II L'vlu.reo iVIaffeiano riaperto a/ pubb!ico, Verona, 1982, p. 39.
320 S. Maffei, La religion de'gentili ne/ morire ricavata da 1m ba.r.ro rilievo cmtico
che J'i conserva in Prigi, Paris, 17.36.
321 S. Maffei, ed., Osservaziom Letterarie cbe po.r.rono Jervir di continuazione a!
de 'Letterti d'Ita!ia, vol. II, Venice, 1739, p. 339 (Tazza Faroese
publication).
322 Cf. L. Franzoni, 'Origine e sroria', p. 52.
)23 Ibid., pp. 44ff. M. Brusarin, Venezia ne! Settece11to, pp. 295ff.
324 S. Maffei, i'vfuse11m veronen.re, boc est Antiqliamm imcriptionum atque
anglyphorum col/ectio, mi taurinensis adjungitur et vindobonensis; accedunt
monumenta id gen11s p!urima nondum tmlgatcl et ubiwmque co!!ecta, Verona,
1749, and cf. G. P. Marchini, 'II Museum veronense nell'edizione del Maffei e
nei cataloghi successivi', St11di .rtorici 11eronni Luigi Simeoni, XXII-XXIII
(1972-3), pp. 257-321.
325 Cf. A. Sandrini, 'II Lapidarium Veronense e le origini dell'archirerrura
museale', Studi storici 11eronesi Luigi Simeoni, XXXII ( 1982), pp. 153-60.
326 Cf. G. M. Canova, 'II Museo Maffeiano nella sroria della museologia', Attie
Memorie de!l'Accademia di Agrico!tura. Scienze e Lettere di Verona, CLII
( 1975-6), pp. 177-91. Cf. also collective work, Nuovi studi maffeiani.
327 Gemmae antiquae /lntonii Mariae Zanetti. Hieroll)'mi fi!im. Ant. Fmnciscus
Goriu.r notis latinis it!ustravit. ltalice ea.r nota.r reddit Hieronymus Franci.rcliJ
Zanettius, Alexandri fiiiltS . .. , Venice, 1750.
328 Cf. G. Lorenzetti, Un dilettante inci.rore veneziano, pp. 78ff.
329 Cf. Prodomus lconiettJ sw!pti/imn gemmamm, Basi!idiani. Amulectici, atque
Tli.Pnni generis, de Mmaeo Antonii Capello senatoris t/eneti, Venice, 1702.
530 Cf. Dactyliotheca Smitbim;a, Venice, 1767, 2 vols, and F. Vivian, II console
Smith, pp. 89-91.
331 Cf. the inventory of Antonio II Capello dated 27 Sept. 1747 in C. A. Levi, Le
Collezioni veneziane, voL II, pp. 199-219.
332 G. A. Moschini, Della letteratura veneziana, vol. II, pp. 93-4. Venezia nell'eta
di Canova, p. 67 and nos. 84-101, pp. 68ff.
333 [F. Driuzzo ], Collezione di tutte !e antichita che si comervano nel Mus eo
Naniano di Venezia divisa per c!assi in due parti aggiuntevi le classi di tutte !e
medaglie, Venice, 1815. It is possible to see the layout of the objects thanks to
the engravings brought together in Indice e tavole dei marmi anticbi scritti e
figurati componenti if Museo Nani, s.L, n.d. ll791).
334 G. A. Moschini, Della letteratttra veneziana, vol. II, p. 92 and E. A. Cicogna,
Saggio di bibfiografia veneziana, nos 5149-69. Cf. also a mock anthology,
Disegni e rami d'alcune antichita del Museo Naniano, Marciana Library,
Venice, 119.D.132-3 with a subject index and a list of the Opere, opusculi e
notizie stampate sui Museo e dov'e citato.
335 F. Driuzzo, Museo Naniano, no. 181, p. 22.
336 Cf. H. Honour, Chinoiserie. The Vision of Cathay, London, 1973, pp. 119ff.
33 7 Cf. a letter dated April 1783 cited by M. Petrocchi, Il tram onto della
Repubblica di Venezia e l'assolutismo i!luminato, Venice, 1950, p. 46.
338 Cf. L. Puppi, 'Tiepolo a Vicenza', pp. 235ff.
339 S. Maffei, ivfuseum veronense, p. CLXXXVII.
340 Idem, Verona i!lustrata, p. 252.
341 G. B. Rossetti, Desc1izione .. . di Padova, 1765 edn, p. 187.
342 Cf. L Polacco, 'Il Mus eo ... dell'U niversira' di Padova', p. 428.
343 P. Paulino da San Bartolomeo, iVfonumenti Indici del MIISeo Naniano
i!lustrati, Padua, 1799.
344 S. Assemani, Mus eo cufico Naniano illustrato, Padua, 1787-8.
345 Cf. idem, Catalogo de'Codici Manuscritti Orientali della Biblioteca Naniana,
vol. I, Padua, 1787; vol. II, Padua, 1792.]. Morelli, Biblioteca Maphaei Pinelli,
nos 7859-94.
3-16 D. M. Federici, Memorie Trevigia,ze, vol. II, pp. 223ff.
347 Cf. C. Stella, 'Il Quirini erudiro e collezionisra antiquario', in collective work,
lconografia e immagini queriniane, exhibition catalogue, Brescia, 1980, pp.
135-6.
348 Cf. the letter from A. Zeno toP. A. Serassi of 26 Ocr. 1743 in A. Zeno, Lettere,
Venice, 1785, vol. IV, p. 223.
349 Cf. E. Zerbinatti, 'lnteressi per l'epigrafia anrica', p. 63, nos 9 and 10.
350 Cf. E. Zerbinarti, Il museo rodigino dei Silvestri in una raccolta de disegni
inediti del Settecento, Rovigo, 1982
351 Cf. rhe text published by E. Zerbinatti, 'Interessi per l'epigrafia antica', part 2,
Padusa, XV (1979), pp. 186-7.
352 G. B. Rossetti, Descrizione ... di Padova, 1765 edn, pp. 185-7 and 333.
3 53 II Mus eo Tomieri illustrato ( dalla Cronaca manuscritta del Conte A rna!di
Arnalda I" Tomieri che Ji conserve alla Berto!iana), G. Bonaccioli, ed.,
Vicenza, 1902, pp. 78 (medal inventory) and 15, 17ff., 27ff., 42-3 and passim
(the inscriptions).
354 Cf. G. P. Marchini, Antiquari e collezioni archeologiche, pp. 119ff. (Muselli),
73ff. and 203ff. (Verira), 47ff., and 195-7 (Fontana), 6lff. and 201 (Venturi).
330 Notes to 245-8
355 Antiquitatis reliqttiae Marchione Jacobo lviusellio co!!ectae Tabu/is incisae et
brevis explicationibus illustratae, Verona, 1756, preface.
356 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.
3'57 J. 1\iuselli, Antiquitatis reliquiae.
3'58 Cf. G. P. Marchini, Antiquari e co!lezioni archeologiche, pp. 49ff.
359 Cf. G. P. Marchini, Teatro Romano di Berga. Uno scavo di cento fa a
Vicenza, Verona, s.d. L 1979l
360 A. Tornieri, II Museo Tomieri illustmto, pp. 16, 27-8, 56.
361 Cf. a good overview of this movement in the collective work, L'lrn.magine
dell'antico fra Settecento e Ottocento, exhibition catalogue, Bologna, 1983.
362 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.
363 Cf. 0. Bocchi, Orse1vazioni sopra un antico teatro scoperto in Adria, Venice,
1739.
364 Cf. F. Bianchini, Del Palazzo de Cesari opera posthuma, Verona, 1738.
365 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.
366 A. Tornieri, If .Museo Tornieri i!lustrato, p. 55.
367 C. Gallo, Una famiglia patrizia. I Pismzi, p. 116.
368 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.
369 G. A. Moschini, Della letteratMa veneziana, vol. II, p. 89.
370 ]. Morelli, Bibliotheca Maphaei Pinelli, vol. V, pp. 350ff., 356ff.
3 71 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.
3 72 A. Tornieri, I! Mus eo Tomieri illztJtrato, p. 78.
3 73 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 dis-
posittts. 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.
374 Cf. F. Negri, Vita di Aposto!o Zeno, Venice, 1826, pp. 98, 325-6, 354.
375 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.
376 Cf. Sigilli JHonete e Medag!ie d'Uomini 1/!ustri Padovani del Mu.reo del Co.
Gio. de Lazara Cat'. di San Stefano della stesso fatte incidere in rame ed
Notes to pp. 249-52 331
i!lurtrate con annotazioni circa !'anna 1680, Biblioteca Civica di Padova, MS
B.P. 1474/1-XV, fasc. VI.
377 L. Rizzoli, jun., 1 Sigilli del ivfuseo Bottacin di Padova, Padua, 1903, p. 31, no.
XX.
378 G. A. Moschini, Della letteratlt1a veneziana, vol. II, p. 77.
379 Cf. V. Lazari, 'Delle raccolta numismatica', p. 309.
380 Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Saggio di bibliografia IJeneziana, nos. 5171-3.
381 Cf. F. Negri, Vita eli Aposto!o Zeno, pp. 327ff.
382 Cf. LL. Murarori], Antiquitates italicae Medii Aevi sive dissertationes de
moribus, ritibus, re!igione, regimine, rnagistratibus, legibu.1, studiis leterarum,
artibus, lingua, militia, principibus, libertate, servitute, foederibu.r
aliisque faciem et mores italici populi referentibus post declinationem Romani
Imperii ad annum 11sque MD ... , Milan, 17 38-42, 6 vols. Cf. vol. II, essays
XXVII and XXVIII.
383 Joannis Brunatii, De Re Nummaria Patavinomm, Venice, 1744.
384 Ibid., pp. 71, 87, 89, 92, 110, 131.
385 Cf. M. Zorato, 'Brunacci, Giovanni', in Dizionario Biografico deg!i Italiani, vol.
XIV, pp. 518-23.
386 G. B. Rossetti, Descrizione ... di Padova, 176'5 edn, pp. 315-16.
387 Cf. Sigilli, 1\>fonete e Medaglie, MS B.P. 1474, fasc. I which dates from after
1744; w 13, 19, 26.
388 Cf. F. di Maurano, Cenni biografici dei letterati ed artisti friu!ani del .recolo
XIV af XIX, Udine, 1884, pp. 114-15.
389 G. G. Liruti, Della moneta propria, e forastiera ch 'ebbe co no nel ducat a di
Friuli dalla decadenza dell'Imperio Romano sine a! secolo XV dissertazione
... Nella quala .ri da un saggio della Primiti11a Moneta Veneziana, Venice,
1749, p. 62. Liruti's coins are reproduced plates I-X.
390 Cf. E. A. Cicogna, Saggio di bibliografia veneziana, nos 519'5-7.
391 G. Zanetti, Del!'origine e della antichita della moneta veneziana ragio-
namento, Venice, 1750, p. 46.
392 Cf. C. Gallo, Una famig!ia patrizia, pp. I 1 '5-16.
393 Cf. G. Dandolo, l..<t wduta della Repubblica, pp. 98-9.
394 Ibid., pp. 158-9 and V. Lazari, 'Della raccolta numismarica', pp. 309-10.
395 G. A. Moschini, Della !etteratura veueziana, vol. II, pp. 81, 88-90.
396 Cf. ibid., p. 81 and the letter from B. Vaerini to Tomasso degli Obizzi dared II
Dec. 1802 in L Rizzoli, jun., 'Perla storia della numismarica. Alcune lettere
dirette a! marchese Tommaso degli Obizzi (1750-1803 )', Bolletino italiano di
Numisrnatica, 1908, pp. 109-12.
397 J. Morelli, Bibliotheca Maphaei Pinelli, vol. V, pp. 34lff., 348ff., 355, 356ff.
398 Cf. inventory drawn up after the death of Tomasso degli Obizzi, MS B.P. 1386
IV, ffO 58ff., I 04, 11 '5ff.
399 Monetae, Bullae, Sigi!la a Marchione Jacobo Muse!!io co!lectae et ab eadem
breviter descriptae, Veronae anna MDCCLVI, B. C. Ver., MS 983.
400 Cf. G. G. Dionisi, De!l'origi11e e dei progreSJi della zecca in Verona, ave si
spiegano a!cune lettre imp res sc sulfa stta antica moneta non intese da! sig.
Muratori, Verona, 1776. Idem, Della zecca di Verona e det!e sue antiche
monete, Bologna, 1785. Ed. Dante Alighieri, La Divina Commedia, Parma,
332
401
402
403
404
105
406
407
408
409
410
111
412
413
411
415
416
417
418
419
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 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.
120 Testamento di Teodo1'0 CorTer I gennaro 1830, Venice, 1879, p. 6.
421 V. Lazari, Notizia delle opere d'Mte e d'antichita delia Racco!ta Correr di
Venezia, Venice, 1859, p. V.
422 G. A. Moschini, Delta !etterdtura t;eneziana, vol. II, p. 88.
12) Cf. Fr. Haskell, Patrons ,md Painten, p. )83
424 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
CHAPTER 8 PRIVATE COLLECTIONS. PUBLIC i\lUSEUMS
First published in Ateneo veneto, CLXXI (=XXII, new series), vol. 22, nos. 1-
2, 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
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
163-4, 193
Index 335
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
Blonde! de Gagny sale 142
Bocchi, Francesco Girolamo 244, 252
Bocchi, Ottavio 244, 246
Bolca fossilized fish 226, 228, 231, 232,
235-8
Bologna
numismatic collections 269
school of 113, 116
Bonafede, Francesco 67
Bonaparre, Joseph 264
Bonhier 180, 181
Bonifacio, Giovanni 89
Bonnet, Charles
ObJervations .ru1 quelques auteurs
d'bistoire uaturelle 123
Bonnier de Ia Mosson collection 123
Bordoni family 231
Bordoni, Caspar 218
Bordoni, Gaspare 231
Borel, Pierre 45-8, 59
Amiquitez, Raretez, Plantes,
Miueraux . .. 45, 61
Borgognone, Ambrogio 118
Borromeo, Bishop Federico 41
Boschini, Marco 65, 66, 70, 79, 81, 82,
106, 107, 109, 111-13, 114, 116, 118,
193, 212, 269
Boston 9
botanical gardens, see gardens
Bottari, Bartolomeo 223
Bouhier,]. 176, 177
Bozza, Vincenzo 231, 231-2,235
Brescia
collections in 86, 96, 106, 107
<lntiquities 78, 244
inscriptions 86
paintings 193, 200-4, 207
scientific instruments 226
histories of 94
1\Jemorie Bre.rciane 95
state protection of works of an 188
Bret, Le 177
Brigo, Giorgio 201
Bril, Paul liS
Brueghel,] an 'Velvet' 115
Fiw Senses 50, 51, 52
The Allegory of Fire (Musee des
Beaux-Arts, Lyons) 51, 53
336 Index
The Allegory of Fire (Pinacoteca
Ambrosiana, Milan) 51
The Four Elernent.r 51
Brun, Jean-Baptiste-Pierre le 150, 156,
158, 160
Catalogue Poullain 161-2
Brunacci, Abbot Giovanni 249-50
Brusasorzi 1 OS
Burchelato, Bartolomeo 88
history of Treviso 94
Burri, Count Alessandro 231
cabinets 59
(adore 189
Cairo, Cavalier 108
Caldagno, Pietro 207
Ca!dana, Francesco 214
Callot 145
Calvi, Paolo 230
Calza 118
Calzolari, Francesco, the Elder 100,
101-2
Calzolari, Francesco, the Younger 75,
102
Campanari collection 203-4
Campo, Benedetto da 225
Campo, Canon Ludovico 202-3
Campo, Nicolo 203
Canossa, Marquis Ottavio di 119, 2.'>1
Canossa collection 108, 115, 16, 119,
204-5, 214
Canova, Antonio 188, 194, 213, 215,
217,243
Capello, Antonio 242-3
Capodi1ista, Count 201-2
Capodilista collection 214
Carboni, G. B. 193, 200, 201
Cardan 46
Carignan, Prince de 141, 149, 156, !60,
161, 163
Carnia 189
Carracci I 16
Carrar, Count Giovanni 207
Carrara, Don Girolamo Biscaccia 203
Casilini al Duomo collection 203
Casilini in Santa Trinitit collection 202
Castelfranco 193, 229
Castellini, Luigi 230
Castellini, Silvestro
Annali di Vicenza 87, 94
Castiglioni, Giovanni Battista 108, 119
<;:atal Hi.iyi.ik 11-12
Catherine II, Tsarina of Russia 153,
155, 161
Caumont 177, 180, 181
Cavazzini, Antonio 218
Caylus, Anne-Claude-Philippe de
Tubieres-Grimoard de Peste! de
Levis, Comte de :io5, 12i-f]jo,
133, 134-5, 136, 154-5, 157, 169-84,
213,242
attacked by (hardin 173
De l'anciemze chevalerie et des
anciens romans 17 6
and Diderot 173-4
Memoire sur le.r /abliattx 176
proposed museum of antiquities in
Paris 182-4
Recueil d'antiqttites 175, 176, 182,
184
religious views 170
visit to Verona 176, 177
Cerchiari, Gian 87, 90, 91
Cerchini, Gio 110-11
Ceruti, Benedetto
JVfusaeurn Calceolaritun 8')
Ceruti, Federico 87
Cerutto, Benedetto 1 02
Cervantes Saavedra, Miguel de
Tbe Inqui.ritil!e Alcm 55
Chardin, Jean Baptiste Simeon
Le Singe antiquaire 172-.3
Charles I, King of England 148, 161
Charles V, King of France 18, 19, 23
Charles VI, King of France 18
Charles VII, King of France 19
Chataignera ye, M. de Ia 164
Chechel, Gasparo 115, 117
Chiavenna, Giacomo-Antonio 101
Chiereghin, Abbot Stefano 225
China
funeral objects 12, 20
public museums 264
Chiocco, Andrea 102
i\,lusaeum Cctlceo!arium 89
Chioggia 199, 223, 234
Choiseul sale 161
Christianity
Index 337
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

defined 54-7, 132
simples curieux' 166, 167-8
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
n a t ~ ~ r e ! ! e 62-3
Dezallier d'Argenville, A.-J. 121, 123,
159-60, 1 66-7
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
Dorigny, Abbor 225
Dossi, Dosso Giovanni Luteri 108
Dresden Gallery 194, 199
Dubos, J.-B. 127, 147, 149, 161, 165-7
Durazzo, Count 214
Durazzo collection 202
Diirer, Albrecht 108, 115
Dyck, Sir Anthony Van 115
Edwards, Pierro 190-1, 196
Emilei family 207
Emilei, Count Giovanni 204
Encyclopedie 132-8, 157
engravings, .ree paintings, drawings
and engravings
Ennery, Michelet de 122
epigraphy
and history 239
and patriotism 94-9
Este, d', court 35
Estrees, M. le Marechal d' 164
Evelyn,John 71, 74, 79, 261
Fabris, Giuseppe 223, 225
Facciolati, Abbot Jacopo 210-1 1, 250,
272
Faccioli, J. T. 240
Fappani, Francesco
Elenco dei j'vfuJei delle Pinacotecbe
... 259
Farsetti, Anton Francesco 2 1 3
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
Index 339
dealers and sale catalogues 145-6
natural curiosities 104-5
paintings 110-11
state protection of works of art 186
Furtis, Alberto 215,218,220,225,228,
229, 2)0, 2.12, 235, 236, 237, 239
Foscarini, Marco 250, 259
France 1-2, 36, 47-8
Archives Nationales 42
see also Paris
Franchetti Gallery 265
Francken, Frans, II
An Art Lover'.r Gallery 49
UlJ'He.r recognizing Acbil!es 53
Franzoni, L. 79, 87
Friuli 189
funeral objects 11-13, 20, 21, 23, 27-8,
32-3
Furetiere, Antoine
Dictionnaire Uni1'er.rel 53-5, 57-8,
59, 61
Gaidon, Antonio 229
Gaifani collection 200
Gaignat 156-7
Galileo 73
gardens
botanical67, 99-100, 101, 222, 255
Padua 67, 191, 192, 262
Venice 191
farsetti garden 222
Giusti gardens 86
grottoes 1 00
Querini garden 254-6
Venetian 99-101, 191
Gault de Saint-Germain, P.-M. 161
Gazola family 205
Gazola, Andrea 227
Gazola, Count Giovanni Battista 218,
226, 231' 232
Gazola Museum 232-1, 235, 236
gemstones 22-3, 85
Geneva 9
Genoa 269
Geoffrin, Mme 160
Germain, M. 87
Gersaint, E.-F. 139, 111, 142, 144,
145-7, 149, 151, 152, 153, 154, 156,
157, 158, 160, 165
Catalogite raisonne des coqttil!es
122-3
Giglio, Carlo Vicentini dal 214
Giovanelli family 197
Giusti, Count Agostino 86
Giusti, Count Gio. Giacomo 87
Giusti gardens 86, 100
Glomy, J.-B. 152, 156, 165
Glucq de Saint-Port 160
Godefroy 156
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von 212,
222-3
Goldini, C. 218
Goltzius, Hubert 35, 269
Gradenigo family 250
Graevius,]. G. 246
Greeks
relics and sacred objects 16
religious offerings 13-14
Grimani, Cardinal Domenico 66, 265
Grimani, Patriarch Giovanni 66, 70,
96, 265
Grimani Calergi, Giovanni 117
Grimani Calergi, Vincenzo 117, 119
Grim ani Calergi collection 117, 118
Grimm, M. 122, 123, 135, 137, 161,
173
Griselini
Giomale d'ltalia spettante aile
J cienz e naturali . . . 218
Gronovius, J. 246
Grosley, P. J. 210-11
Grotto, Luigi Andrea 244
Grotto collection 202
Gualdo 89
Gualdo, Emilio 72
Gualdo, Girolamo, the Elder 72
Gualdo, Girolamo, the Younger 72, 74,
78, 87, 103
Gualdo, Giuseppe 72
Gualdo collection 72, 73-4, 78
Gudius, Marquardus 93
Guercino 108, 113, ll6
Haecht, Willem van
Apel!es' Atelier 52-3
The Galler)' of Carne/is van der
GeeJt 49
Hainz, Johannes Georg
340
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 . ,
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 341
Arte magica annicbilata 170
botanical garden 222
Degli anfiteatri 177, 246
Delf'impiego del danaro 170
Istoria teologica 170, 177
La religion de 'gent iii nel morire 175,
177-8
Lapidary Museum 244, 265
letter to Countess Adela'ide de
Seefeld 97-8
medievalism 240, 272
i\'luseo zmit,ersale e publico 240- I
1'1-fuseum veroneme 175, 241
museums of antiquities in Verona
and Turin 179,183
natural history collection 226, 227,
228
Notizia di 111101!0 mmeo d'iscrizioni
a Verona 240
OJJervcr:::ioni letterarie 175
proposed museum of antiquities in
Paris I 78-84
religious views I 70
Scienza cbiamata cavalleresca 170
universalist ambitions 241
Verona 74, 94-5, 175, 176,
I83, 204, 206, 240-I
visit to Paris I 76, 177-8
Malebranche, Nicolas 63
M;!linmvski, B. 25
Manfredinis a porta San Giovanni 202
Manfredinis presso San Rocco 202
Manfrin, Girolamo 214
Manrova Benavides, Andrea 80, 90,
103
Mantova Benavides, Gasparo 104
1fantova Benavides, Irene 90
Mantova Benavides, Marco SO
Mantova Benavides collection 107
Mantua, Duke of 70, 79
manuscripts 38
Marais, Mathieu I 76-7
Marangoni collection 202
Maraschini 230
Mariette, Pierre-Jean 133, 134, I 39,
141, 147-8, ISO, IS!, 152, 154, 156,
160, IG6, 173, 177, 198
Marmontel, J. F. I 73
Marrin, Dom Jacques 180-1, 182
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 1 77
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 3 7-8, 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
Moreni family 231
Moreni, Giulio Cesare 218, 227, 231
Mora, Abbot Anton-Lazar 227-8
Moro, Gasparo 250
Morosini, Giacomo 222, 228
Morosini, Giovanni Francesco 100, 222
Morosini, Senator Pietro 67, 83, 262,
265, 271
Moscardo, Lodovico 74-5, 84, 87, 90-1,
99, 107, 193, 234
Historia di Verona 87, 94, 96
Moscardo collection 68, 74-8
Moschini, Giannantonio 193, 194, 229,
253,259
Mosconi, Rafaelle 205
Munich 263
Muselli, Gian Francesco 245
Muse IIi, Jacopo 245, 246-7, 251-2
Muselli collection 107, 109, 115,
116-17
Muttoni collection 203-4
Nani, Senator Bernardo 243, 244
Nani, Giovanni Battista 100
Nani, Jacopo 243, 244
Naples 269
Napoleon I, Emperor 264
natural history collections 36, 271
Bolca fossilized fish 226, 228, 231,
232, 235-8
commonplace and native objects 234,
271-2
fossils 226-9, 234-8
gardens, see gardens
herbaria 100-1, 223-4
Kunst- tmd Wunderkammer 45-7,
99-5
Linnean classification system 222,
224, 225
minerals 226-9, 239
Paris 121-5, 131, 138
plants 217-18, 222-6
Tournefort's classification system
222, 224
Venetia 99-105, 191, 192, 217-39
zoological 225
naturalists, profession of 221
New York 9, 42, 266
Nichesola, Cesare 86-7, 89, 96, 99-100
Nis, Daniel 109
Nogent, Guiberr de
De pignoribttS sanctomm 22
North American Indians 16, 25
numismatic collections 36, 269
history and numismatics 125-8, 239,
246-9, 252
medieval coins and medals 246-53
Paris 121-31
Racco!ta delle monete e zeccbe
d'Italia 252
Venetia 81-5, 94-5, 97
Obizzi, Tomasso degli 194, 215-17,
227,229,245,246,251,256
objets curieux 57
Odoardi, Jacopo 229
Oldavai habitations 27
Olivi, Abbot Giuseppe
Zoologia Adriatica 225, 235
Olivi, Giovanni Battista 102
Orleans, Duke of 109
Orsato, Sertorio 87, 89, 90, 91, 91, 98,
249
i\Jonumenta Patavina 93-4, 95, 96
Orti family 207
Orti Manara, Count Giovanni
Girolamo 205, 231
Oxford 11, 42,265
Paciaudi, Father 121-2, 182
Padua I 06, 107
bones of Livy 92
collections in
antiquities 78, 245
Benavides collection 80, 103
botanical gardens 67, 100, 191,
192, 223, 262
inscriptions 88-9
natural history 229, 234
numismatic 269
ornithological 191
paintings 19), 200-4,207,214
Pignoria collection 80-1
public collections 194
Lateran canons 244, 245
Mon11menta Patuvma 93-4, 95, 96
Natural History Museum 191,265
Santa Giustina Cloister, inscription
92-4
state protection of works of art
187-8
tomb of Antenor 95
University of 262, 272
Vallisnieri Museum 103-5
Paglia, F. 106
paintings, drawings and engravings
131, 132, 133
allegory and personification 50-3,
72, 73, 85
artists' role 36-7
attribution of works 145-56
and aesthetic appreciation 158-9,
164-6, 168
auetion room sales 39-40, 160-1,
193-6
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
Index
Louvre 264
natural history collections 121-5,
131, 138
Nissim de Camondo Museum 9
proposed museum of antiquities
178-84
343
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
Descrizione delle pitt ure ... di
Treviso 188
Rio, Nicolo de 225, 229
Rizzo, Count Sebastiano 222
Rizzo, Francesco 222
Rollin 171
Romano, Don Girolamo 22), 224
Romans
as collectors 15-16, 22
relics and sacred objects 16
Rome
Angelica Library 41
Museo Capirolino 12
numismatic collections 269
Pio Clememino Museum 183
Vatican Museums 263
Roncalli, Francesco 223
Ronconi, Count Ignazio 231
Ronconi collection 232
Rondelet, Guillaume 46-7
Rosa, Salvator I 18
Rosa, Saverio dalla 188, 193, 194, 201,
206
Rosenberg, Giustiniana \XIynne,
Countess of 254
Rossetti, G. B. 193, 195, 20I, 229, 250
Rossi, Ottavio 86, 91, 94
Rotari, Sebastiana 223, 226, 227, 231
Rotari family 231
Rovigo 107
Accademia dei Concordi 194, 202
collections in
antiquities 78, 241i-5
inscriptions 88
natural history collections 229
paintings 193, 200-4, 207, 208, 214
Rovigo, Fra Fortunato da 101
Rubens, Sir Peter Paull08, 115, 141-2
Pit;e Sen.res 50
Orpheus in the Underworld 149
The AllegorJ' of Hearing 52
Venus and Adoni.r 149
Ruskin, John
The Stones of Venice 272
Ruzzini, Carlo 70-2
Ruzzini collection 70-2, 79, 81, 82
Sabanti museum 97
sacred objects, .ree relics and sacred
objects
Sagredo, Zaccaria 197
Sansovino, F. 66, 89, l 06, 269
Santo family 207
Sasso, Giovan Maria 194, 214, 2 I 5, 2 I 6
Saussure, Horace de 254
Savorgnan, Alessandro 106-7
Savorgnan, Giovanni de 250
Scamozzi, Ottavio Berrorti 245 27'\
Schlosser, J. Von 69 ' .
Schulenberg, Marshal 197-8
sciences cttrieJtses 57, 59, 6!
scientific instruments collections of ) 7
225-6 ' . '
Scortegagna, Francesco Orazio 230
Index 345
Scotti family 229, 244
Scythians 12
Seefeld, Countess Adela'ide de 97-8
217-18,222,
223, 224, 227, 231
Selva, Gianantonio 243, 263
Sera, Paolo de Ia 109, 115
Serpe, Giuliano 230-1, 235
Serpini collection 205, 207
Silvestri, Count Camillo 88, 90, 91, 96,
99, 244
Histotia agraria de Pole.rine 94
Silvestri, Carlo 90, 244
Silvestri, Canon Girolamo 229, 244
Silvestri, Rinaldo 203, 244
Silvestri collection 107, 203-4, 205
Sloane, Sir Hans 42, 266
Smith, Joseph 197, 198, 201, 208, 210,
214, 242
social hierarchy 32-3, 38-9
Soderini, Giannantonio 82
Spada, Giacomo 218, 227, 228, 231
specialization 90-4
typology 92
Spolverini family 207
Span,]. 68, 7I, 75, 79, 82, 87, 121
Steiner, Franz 31
Sroskopf, Sebastian
The Great Vanit)' 51
Strange, John 213-I4, 219, 228, 229
Streit, Sigismond 198, 208
Surugue fils 172
symbolic interpretation 90-2
Tallard, Due de I63
Tallard sale catalogues I40, 143, 149
Tanara, Antonio 205
Tempesta, Antonio 118
Terzi, Abbot Basile 220, 229
Testa, Abbot Domenico 236-7, 239
Thiene, Count Antonio Maria 223
Thiers, Baron Crozat de, collection
catalogue 15 3-4
Thiery, L.-V. 122, 123
Tiepolo, G. B. 194
illustrations to Vemna illust1'ata 204,
241
lvfuseo Tiepolo 83
numismatic collection 240, 250
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
herbaria 101
inscriptions 88
natural history 229
public 194
Descrizione delle pitture piu celebri
... di Treviso 188
state protection of works of an 188
Trobriand Islanders 25
Tronchin, 153-4, 155
Tugny sale catalogue 147
Tupi Indians 32
Turchi, Alessandro (l'Orbetto) 108,
110-11, 113
Turin 179, 183
Turra, Antonio 218, 222, 223, 225, 230
Florae italicae prodromus 224
Vegetabilia Italiae indigena metbodo
Linnaeano disposta ... 224
typology 92
Udine 188
Union of Soviet Socialist Republics 264
United Kingdom
Crown collections 263
Society of Antiquaries 35
346 Index
see a!Jo London
United States of America 2, 265-6
usefulness and meaning in objects 30-3
Vaillant,]. 121
vain sciences 57
Valeriano, Pierio 88
Hieroglyphica 69
Vallarsi, Domenico 244
Valle, Giambanista della 226, 227
Vallisnieri, Anronio 103-5, 226-7, 244,
262, 271
Vallisnieri, Antonio, the Younger 191,
208, 237
Vallisnieri collection 219
Valmarana, Benedetto 246
Valmarana family 100
Valois, Philippe de 18
value, attribution of 31, 40, 271-2
Vasari, Giorgio 83, Ill
Vecchia, Angelo 207
Vecchia, Pietro 110
Vedova, Francesco 90
Vegliano 223
Vendramin, Andrea 69-70, 84, 109
Vendramin, Gabrielle 70
Venetia 65-120
art market 193-6, 194
Benavides collection 80, I 03
Biblioteca Marciana 186
collections in
antiquities 78-99
Belluno 88
Brescia 78, 86
changing attitude towards 97-8
epigraphy and patriotism 94-9
Feltre 78, 88
historical monuments 239-5 7
inscriptions 81, 85-90, 91, 92-4,
95-6, 97-8
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
Venice 78, 89-90
Verona 78, 86-7
V icenza 78, 87
archaeological 242-6
botanical gardens 67, 99-100, I 01,
255
dispersal of 194-5
foreign collectors 197-8, 208,
213-14
natural history 67, 99-105, 192,
217-39
natural history, gardens 99-101
minerals and fossils 226-9, 239
Padua 229
plants 222-6
Verona 221, 229-33, 236-9
Vicenza 229-33
zoological collections 22 5
numismatic 67, 94-5, 97, 246-53
paintings 106-20, 192-217
Bergamo 207
Brescia 200-4, 207
contemporary works 203
foreign painters 111-16
forgeries 110-11
hierarchy of genres 116-20
historical collections 208-12
inherited collections 196
market in pictures 107-11
'minor genres' 199, 20 I, 202
old masters Ill, 203
Padua 200-4, 207, 214
patriotism 96, 114
'primitives' 209, 2ll, 212-17,
250, 272
Rovigo 200-4, 207, 208, 214
state protection of works of art
186-92
subject matter 112-14, 116-20
Venice 196-200
Verona 107-20, 204-8, 214
Vicenza 207, 214
private 65-6. 68, 192-217
public 66-9, 191-2, 194
scientific instruments 225-6, 226
eighteenth-century collectors
185-257
epigraphy and patriotism 94-9
foreign collectors 197-8
Index 347
herbaria I 00-1
Kmz.rt- zmd Wttnderkammer 69-78,
99
Moscardo collection 68, 78, 84, 87
MttSeo Tiepolo 83
natural history museum 191
Pignoria collection 80-1, 85
private gifts and bequests 66-7
Ruzzini collection 70-2, 79, 81, 82
St Mark, cult of 66
St Mark's 67-8
specialization 90-4
state protection of works of art 185,
186-92
picture restoration 190, I 92
symbolic interpretation 90-2
Vallisnieri Museum 103-5
Vendramin collection 69-70, 84
Zeno collection 82
Venezze collection 202
Venice 106, 258-61
Academy (of Fine Arts) 258, 262,
263-4, 265, 268-9, 271
Archaeological Museum 258, 264-5,
273
benefaction as political phenomenon
267
Capello Museum 85
collections in
botanical gardens 100, 191, 223
dispersal of 194-5
inscriptions 89-90
numismatic 94, 269
paintings I 07-20, 196-200
private 192, 193, 269
Collegio dei Pittori 190
Correr Museum 258, 265, 267, 273
Francherri Gallery 258, 265
Gallery of Modern Art 258, 266
Museo Civico di Scienze Naturali 272
Museum of Eighteenth-century
Venice 258
Museum of Glass and Glass-making
258
Natural Science Museum 258
Oriental Museum 258, 266
Peggy Guggenheim Collection 9,
258, 265, 273
Pinacoteca Manfrediniana 258
Pinacoteca Querini-Stampalia 258,
265
proposed public collection of
paintings 190-1
Risorgimento Museum 258
St Mark's 258, 261, 262-3, 265, 270
antiqttario publico 66
Sale d'Armi dei Consiglio di Dieci
258, 262, 265
Santo Cataneo gardens 100
Venturi, Abbot Giuseppe 231, 245
Venturi, F. 170
Verci 193
Verita, Counr Jacopo 245
Verona 98-9, 106
Accademia Filarmonica 67, 86-7, 90,
96, 222, 240-1, 265
arenas 65
Canossa Palace 204
collections in
antiquities 78, 79, 245
botanical gardens 222-3
inscriptions 86-7
natural history 221, 227, 229-33,
234, 236-9
paintings 107-20, 204-8, 214
private 192, 193
public 194
Giusti gardens 86, 100
medievalism 251-2
Moscardo collection 68, 74-8
Moscardo's history of 94, 96
Museo Archeologico di Teatro
Romano 245
Museo Lapidario 222, 240-1, 244,
265
museum of antiquities 179, 183
Scaligers' romb 95
srate protection of works of art J 88
Verona il!ttstrata 71, 94-5, 175, 176,
183, 204, 206, 240-1
Verona, Fra Petronio da 103
Veronese (Paolo Caliari) 65, 1 08,
113, 194
Last Supper 96, I 07
iHarriage of St Catherine 149
Venus I 09
348 Index
Wedding at Cana 109
Verue, Comtesse de 140-1, 156, 160,
162-3
Vianelli collection 205
Vianelli, Giovanni 204
Vianelli, Giuseppe 223
Vicenza 100, 106, 107
Castellani's annals of 94
collections in
antiquities 78
inscriptions 87
natural history 229-33, 234
paintings 207, 214
private 193
inscriptions listed 240
Vio, Father Guido 228
Visconti, Filippo Aurelio 216
Vitruvius 15, 246
Volpato, Gian Battista 110
Volta, Giovanni Serafino 221, 225, 231,
235-6
lttiolitologia veronese 232-3
Volraire, F. M.A. de 173
La Merope fram;aise 170-2
Washington D.C. 265-6
Wheler, G. 82
: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-Girolamo 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
Index by Ann Barrett

Krzysztof Pomian Collectors and Curiosities

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COLLECTORS AND CURIOSITIES

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