Ancient Art and Its Commerce in Early Twentieth-century Europe: A Collection of Essays Written by the Participants of the John Marshall Archive Project 9781803272566, 9781803272573, 1803272562

Table of contents :
Cover
Pretitle
Title Page
Copyright Information
Contents
List of Figures and Plates
Introduction
Figure 0.2. Letter sent to John Marshall, declaring that the fragment of mosaic floor, formerly in Count Stroganoff’s collection, was of historical and archaeological interest for the Italian government and therefore banned from exportation (ph. JMA [PHP
Figure 0.3. Miniature bronze portrait bust of a Roman matron, once thought to be the empress Livia (MMA 52.11.6) (photographic prints formerly at Lewes House, now Ashmolean Museum. Image © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford).
Figure 0.4. John Marshall’s Letterbook. Oxford, Sackler Library (ph. Guido Petruccioli).
Figure 0.5. John Marshall’s index card file. British School at Rome (ph. Guido Petruccioli).
John Marshall – A Biographical Essay
Figure 1.1. John Marshall at his desk with his pet crow (negatives formerly at Lewes House, now Ashmolean Museum EPW/1/1/43 ‘Twin photos of John Marshall at desk with pet crow on shoulder’. Image © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford).
Collectors and the Agents of Ancient Art in Rome
Figure 2.1. Wolfgang Helbig (1839–1915), German archaeologist and purchasing agent for the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen.
Figure 2.2. Paul Arndt (1865–1937), German archaeologist and purchasing agent for several museums in Europe (ph. from Lullies & Schiering).
Figure 2.3. Standing marble lion, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, Copenhagen IN 2448.
Figure 2.4. Standing marble lion from Marathon, MMA 09.221.9 (ph. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, public domain).
Figure 2.5. Seated statue of an orator, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, Copenhagen IN 2685 (ph. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek).
Figure 2.9. The false Diadumenos, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek IN 1429 (ph. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek)..
Figure 2.7. Small boy with a cockerel, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek IN 2610 (ph. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek)..
Figure 2.8. Statue of the emperor Trajan, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek IN 2571 (ph. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek).
Figure 2.9. Bronze portrait of a Roman, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek IN 2758. (ph. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek).
The Photographs in John Marshall’s Archive
Figure 3.1. Female panther offered by George Yanacopuolos (329) (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0654 recto and verso).
Figure 3.2. Nike Paionios, plate 12 from the excavation publication by Ernst Curtius et al., Die Ausgrabungen zu Olympia, 1876. The sculpture is seen from the side, one of four photographs of the sculpture in the publication. The flying character of the s
Figure 3.3a. Lion offered to Marshall but acquired by Carl Jacobsen at auction in Paris in 1913 (288) (ph. JM [PHP]-08-0584). b. The same photograph but with the background whited out (288) (ph. JM [PHP]-08-0585). c. The lion seen from another perspective
Figure 3.4. Group of Rhodian vases offered in 1914 (581) (ph. JM [PHP]-15-1122).
Figure 3.5. Marble capital displayed in front of a dark patterned curtain, perhaps in the gallery of the supplier, one of the Canessa brothers (1156) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1417).
Figure 3.6. Himation figure in an aesthetic staging with black background and much less depth in the photograph (281) (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0577).
Figure 3.6a. Relief of a falling warrior (394) showing the relief in the open air, supported by stones to suit the camera (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0771). b. Relief of a falling warrior (394) mounted on a wall indoors on a wooden shelf or bracket (ph. JM [PHP]-10-
Figure 3.7. Fragments belonging to the grave relief acquired in 1911, and offered separately to Marshall a few months later (11). Here the fragments are presented on black velvet cloth (ph. JM [PHP]-01-0028).
John Marshall, The Met and the Historiography of ‘Greek Sculpture’
Figure 4.1. Plan of the Classical rooms at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, after 1926 (from Richter 1930b).
Figure 4.2. Plaster cast gallery. Dwight Memorial Art Building, Mount Holyoke College, South Hadley, MA (USA) (ph. JM [PHP]-21-1540 and 1541).
Figure 4.3 Plaster casts of the Chios head (MFA 10.70), detail of the mouth from different angles (ph. Cesare Faraglia, JM [PHP]-25-1786 to 1789).
Figure 4.4. Marble torso, copy of the so-called Pothos by Skopas (426). Museo Nazionale Romano, Terme 479 (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0848).
Figure 4.5. Head of a satyr, from a statue of the so-called Wine-Pouring Satyr by Praxiteles (18). MMA 08.258.43 (ph. JM [PHP]-01-0038).
Figure 4.6. Marble head of a youth, the so-called Petworth Athlete by Kresilas (21). MMA 11.210.2 (ph. The Metropolitan Museum, public domain).
Figure 4.7. Bronze reconstruction by Georg Römer of the Doryphoros by Polikleitos (ph. Guido Petruccioli).
Figure 4.8. Marble head of a youth, copy of a work attributed to Polykleitos (21). MMA 07.286.116 (ph. The Metropolitan Museum, public domain).
Figure 4.9. The so-called Protesilaos. MMA 25.116 (ph. The Metropolitan Museum, public domain).
Figure 4.10. View of the Peristyle Court in Wing K. New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art, circa 1926 (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0161).
Figure 4.4. Marble head of Harmodios from the Tyrannicides statue group by Kritios and Nesiotes (104). MMA 26.60.1 (ph. JM [PHP]-03-0215, 0217 and 0218).
Figure 4.6. Marble copy of the Crouching Aphrodite by Doidalsas (26). MMA 09.221.1 (ph. JM [PHP]-01-0052, 0053 and 0054).
Figure 4.8. Marble head of a bearded god (48). MMA 13.231.2 (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0096 and 0097).
Figure 4.14. Marble torso of Eros, Roman copy of a Greek original attributed to Praxiteles (92). MMA 24.97.14 (ph. JM [PHP]-03-0189 and 0190).
Figure 4.15. Headless statuette of a draped woman, copy of the Aspasia/Sosandra type (99). MMA 24.97.31 (ph. JM[PHP]-03-0204, 0205, 0206).
­John Marshall’s Dealings with Vases and Terracottas
Figure 7.1. Seven Geometric vases offered by C. A. Lembessis and acquired by The Metropolitan in 1910 (177). MMA 10.210.7; MMA 10.210.8; MMA 10.210.2; MMA 10.210.3; MMA 10.210.4; MMA 10.210.5 (ph. JM [PHP]-05-0356).
Figure 7.2. Arretine pottery and moulds exhibited at The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1927 (ph. Keystone View Company, gelatin silver print. Keystone-Mast Collection, UCR/California Museum of Photography, University of California, Riverside).
‘Non-antique’ Objects in the John Marshall Archive
Figure 8.1. Donatello (from a model by), Madonna and Child, the so-called Madonna di Verona (741) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1373).
Figure 8.2. Donatello (from a model by), Madonna and Child, the so-called Madonna di Verona (741) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1374).
Figure 8.3. Donatello (from a model by), Madonna and Child, the so-called Madonna di Verona (after Collections Camillo Castiglioni de Vienne. III Catalogue des tableaux, sculptures, meubles, orfèvreries, bijoux antiques, boîten or, tapisseries, tapis, éto
Figure 8.4. Four cannon barrels (754) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1393).
Figure 8.5. Embroidered ‘bed cover’ depicting episodes from the legend of Tristan (761) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1404).
Figure 8.6. File card referring to 761 (ph. JM [PHP]-31-1405).
Figure 8.7. Baroque carved ceiling (758) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1398).
Figure 8.8. St George from a Baroque carved ceiling (758) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1399)
Figure 8.9. Della Robbia workshop, heraldic shield, plausibly of the Attendolo Sforza family from Cotignola (737) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1369).
Figure 8.10. Andrea Bregno, Saint Andrew (713) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1330).
Figure 8.12. Monogrammist CB, Entombment of Christ (728) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1351).
Figure 8.13. Back of photograph in Figure 8.24 (728) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1351).
John Marshall’s Trading Network
Chart 9.1 The number and distribution of items offered to John Marshall between 1906 and 1928, ordered by seller.
Figure 9.1. Unfinished marble statue of a centaur (410) (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0810).
Figure 9.2. Colossal marble torso of a nude man (427) (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0849 to 0853; JM [PHP]-26-1827).
Map 1
Map 2
Plates
b. Seated marble lion (333) (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0660). Present whereabouts unknown.
Standing marble lion (335) (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0661, 0662, 0663, 0664). Present whereabouts unknown.
Small boy with a hare and grapes (345) (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0684).
Head of a statue of the emperor Trajan (1016) (ph. JM [PHP]-27-1934).
Fragment of a bronze portrait statue of a Roman (520) (ph. JMA [PHP]-14-1029 and 1030 recto and verso).
Fragments of the cuirass of a bronze statue (520)(ph. JM [PHP]-14-1031 recto and verso).
Marble head of a girl acquired by the Boston Museum of Fine Arts in 1910 (975). Photo by Edward J. Moore, photographer at the museum (ph. JM [PHP]-25-1761a).
Marble head of a youth dated to the second century AD acquired by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1914 (47; MMA 14.130.5). Photograph probably by Cesare Faraglia (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0092).
a. Portrait of Livia, acquired from Canessa by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1918 (65; MMA 18.145.45) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0129).
c. Torso acquired from A. Restoven for The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1918 or 1919 and de-accessioned in 1928 (69) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0133).
d. Torso acquired from A. Restoven by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1919 (70; MMA 19.192.85) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0134).
a. Head acquired from E. P. Triantaphyllos by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1917 (62; MMA 17.230.131) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0126).
c. Torso acquired from E. P. Triantaphyllos by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1919 (68; MMA 19.912.83) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0138).
a. Satyr with panther offered in Paris. The curtain behind is flattened and more care has been taken to mask the setting (378) (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0748).
c. Satyr in another setting with a smaller curtain fastened to a cupboard and wooden support at the base (378) (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0747).
a. Himation figure (281) offered by E. P. Triantaphyllos in 1913 (ph. JM [PHP]-08-0574).
b. Himation figure (281) from a different angle (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0575).
Two Cypriot heads offered by G. Yanakopoulos, one supported by a Portuguese dictionary (319) (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0642).
Marble female figure in courtyard (381) (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0753).
Grave relief acquired by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1910 (62; MAA 11.100.2), photographed in a transportation box (ph. JM [PHP]-01-0062).
Black-figure loutrophoros, Tübingen S10.1481, and marble funerary lekythos in a store room (544) (ph. JM [PHP]-15-1063).
Marble statue of seated Heracles (1373) (ph. JM [PHP]-32-2382).
Marble statue of seated Heracles (ph. British School at Rome, Barsanti Archive).
Headless torso of Aphrodite, ‘Syracuse’ type (300), photographed in dramatic light that places the statue outside of real time and space. In contrast to art photographs, in this image the outline of the statue was not cut out and pasted on a solid backgro
Photo of Roman portrait statue of young man in himation with a person, believed to be the dealer G. Yanacoupolos, next to it and another photo just showing the sculpture that was offered to Marshall, but eventually bought by Carl Jacobsen for the Ny Carl
a. Marble herm of a bearded god (372). Current location unknown (ph. JM[PHP]-10-0733 and 0734).
b. Marble herm of a bearded god, Zeus-Ammon type (373). Current location unknown (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0735 and 0736).
Head cut from a statue of Marciana, frontal view (60) (ph. JM [PH]-02-123). b. Notes on the back of the photograph of the head of Marciana (ph. JM [PHP]-02-123).
Bust of Caligula, frontal view and profile facing right (43) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0081 and 0082).
Head from a statue known to Marshall as ‘the Orator’, AD 69–98. Frontal and profile views (51) (ph. JM [PHP] 02-0107, 0109, 0108).
Head and shoulders from a portrait statue of a male, carved in granite, frontal view (54) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-112).
a. Portrait head of Mindia Matidia. Frontal view and profile facing left (61) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0124 and 0125).
b. Head cut from a statue of Sabina as Venus (72). Frontal view and profile facing right. The profile shows that the front of the hair was pieced (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0136 and 0137).
Life-size Augustan bronze portrait statue of a boy (137), with restored feet and plinth, since removed. MMA 14.130.1 (ph. JM [PHP]-04-0290).
a. Bronze statuette of a philosopher (126), missing its left foot (later re-united). MMA 10.231.1 (ph. JM [PHP]-04-0262 and JM [PHP]-04-0263).
b. Roman bronze portrait bust of an unknown man (124). MMA 14.40.696 (ph. JM [PHP]-04-0257 and JM [PHP]-04-0258).
Guide to the Reader
Ackowledgements
Introduction
Guido Petruccioli
Chapter 1
John Marshall – A Biographical Essay
Stephen Dyson
Chapter 2
Collectors and the Agents of Ancient Art in Rome
Mette Moltesen
Chapter 3
The Photographs in John Marshall’s Archive
Vinnie Nørskov
Chapter 4
John Marshall, The Met and the Historiography of ‘Greek Sculpture’
Guido Petruccioli
Chapter 5
Faces in Stone
Susan Walker
The Bronzes in the John Marshall Archive
Beryl Barr-Sharrar
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
­John Marshall’s Dealings with Vases and Terracottas
Vinnie Nørskov
Chapter 8
‘Non-antique’ Objects in the John Marshall Archive
Roberto Cobianchi
Chapter 9
John Marshall’s Trading Network
Guido Petruccioli
Chapter 10
Cultural Heritage Preservation during John Marshall’s Time
Francesca de Tomasi
Abbreviations and Bibliography

Citation preview

ANCIENT ART AND ITS COMMERCE IN EARLY TWENTIETH-CENTURY EUROPE

The John Marshall Archive

Ancient Art and its Commerce in Early Twentieth-Century Europe: The John Marshall Archive A collection of essays written by the participants of The John Marshall Archive Project

edited by

Guido Petruccioli

Archaeopress Publishing • OXFORD 2022

Archaeopress Publishing Ltd Summertown Pavilion 18–24 Middle Way Oxford OX2 7LG United Kingdom

© The individual authors and Archaeopress 2022

ISBN 978-1-80327-256-6 ISBN 978-1-80327-257-3 (ePdf)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owners. This book is available direct from Archaeopress or from our website www.archaeopress.com

CONTENTS List of figures and Plates����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� iii Guide to the Reader������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ ix Ackowledgements���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� x Introduction������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 1 Guido Petruccioli Chapter 1 John Marshall – A Biographical Essay��������������������������������������������������������������������������� 18 Stephen Dyson Chapter 2 Collectors and the Agents of Ancient Art in Rome�������������������������������������������������������� 33 Mette Moltesen Chapter 3 The Photographs in John Marshall’s Archive���������������������������������������������������������������� 54 Vinnie Nørskov Chapter 4 John Marshall, The Met and the Historiography of ‘Greek Sculpture’�������������������������� 72 Guido Petruccioli Chapter 5 Faces in Stone: A Case Study of Marble Portrait Sculptures of Roman Date Purchased by The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York via John Marshall����������������������������� 94 Susan Walker Chapter 6 The Bronzes in the John Marshall Archive�������������������������������������������������������������������104 Beryl Barr-Sharrar Chapter 7 ­John Marshall’s Dealings with Vases and Terracottas��������������������������������������������������121 Vinnie Nørskov Chapter 8 ‘Non-antique’ Objects in the John Marshall Archive����������������������������������������������������142 Roberto Cobianchi Chapter 9 John Marshall’s Trading Network��������������������������������������������������������������������������������162 Guido Petruccioli Chapter 10 Cultural Heritage Preservation during John Marshall’s Time: The Export of Antiquities from the Unification of Italy to the 1909 Law�������������������������������������189 Francesca de Tomasi Plates������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������I Abbreviations and Bibliography����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������278

LIST OF FIGURES AND PLATES Introduction Figure 0.1.

Life-size bronze torso, discovered in Central Italy. Since 1920 at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (MMA 20.194) (ph. The Metropolitan Museum, public domain).��������������������� 2

Figure 0.2.

Letter sent to John Marshall, declaring that the fragment of mosaic floor, formerly in Count Stroganoff ’s collection, was of historical and archaeological interest for the Italian government and therefore banned from exportation (ph. JMA [PHP]-22-1609 verso).�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 3

Figure 0.3.

Miniature bronze portrait bust of a Roman matron, once thought to be the empress Livia (MMA 52.11.6) (photographic prints formerly at Lewes House, now Ashmolean Museum. Image © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford). ����������������������������������������������������������������� 5

Figure 0.4.

John Marshall’s Letterbook. Oxford, Sackler Library (ph. Guido Petruccioli).������������������������������� 6

Figure 0.5. John Marshall’s index card file. British School at Rome (ph. Guido Petruccioli).��������������������������� 9

Chapter 1 John Marshall – A Biographical Essay Figure 1.1.

John Marshall at his desk with his pet crow (negatives formerly at Lewes House, now Ashmolean Museum EPW/1/1/43 ‘Twin photos of John Marshall at desk with pet crow on shoulder’. Image © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford).��������������������������������������������32

Chapter 2 Collectors and the Agents of Ancient Art in Rome Figure 2.1.

Wolfgang Helbig (1839–1915), German archaeologist and purchasing agent for the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen.�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������36

Figure 2.2.

Paul Arndt (1865–1937), German archaeologist and purchasing agent for several museums in Europe (ph. from Lullies & Schiering). �����������������������������������������������������������������������������������37

Figure 2.3.

Standing marble lion, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, Copenhagen IN 2448.������������������������������������������41

Figure 2.4.

Standing marble lion from Marathon, MMA 09.221.9 (ph. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, public domain).��������������������������������������������������������������42

Figure 2.5.

Seated statue of an orator, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, Copenhagen IN 2685 (ph. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek).������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������44

Figure 2.6.

The false Diadumenos, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek IN 1429 (ph. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek).. �������������47

Figure 2.7.

Small boy with a cockerel, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek IN 2610 (ph. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek)..���������49

Figure 2.8.

Statue of the emperor Trajan, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek IN 2571 (ph. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek).�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������51

Figure 2.9.

Bronze portrait of a Roman, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek IN 2758. (ph. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek). �����53

Chapter 3 The Photographs in John Marshall’s Archive Figure 3.1.

Female panther offered by George Yanacopuolos (329) (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0654 recto and verso).��55

Figure 3.2.

Nike Paionios, plate 12 from the excavation publication by Ernst Curtius et al., Die Ausgrabungen zu Olympia, 1876. The sculpture is seen from the side, one of four photographs of the sculpture in the publication. The flying character of the sculpture is enhanced by the side view, the black background and the cutting off of the base. Photo Heidelberg University Library (C 3237 A Grossfolio: 1).����������������������������������������������������59

Figure 3.3

a. Lion offered to Marshall but acquired by Carl Jacobsen at auction in Paris in 1913 (288) (ph. JM [PHP]-08-0584). b. The same photograph but with the background whited out (288) (ph. JM [PHP]-08-0585). c. The lion seen from another perspective, probably with the background whited out (288) (ph. JM [PHP]-08-0586).����������������������������������������������������������������60

Figure 3.4.

Group of Rhodian vases offered in 1914 (581) (ph. JM [PHP]-15-1122).���������������������������������������62

Figure 3.5. Marble capital displayed in front of a dark patterned curtain, perhaps in the gallery of the supplier, one of the Canessa brothers (1156) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1417). �����������������������������������������63 Figure 3.6.

Himation figure in an aesthetic staging with black background and much less depth in the photograph (281) (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0577).����������������������������������������������������������������������������������65

Figure 3.7

a. Relief of a falling warrior (394) showing the relief in the open air, supported by stones to suit the camera (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0771). b. Relief of a falling warrior (394) mounted on a wall indoors on a wooden shelf or bracket (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0772). c. Back of the photograph of the relief with falling warrior (394) (with Marshall’s notes) (ph. JM [PHP]10-0772 verso). d. Museum photo of the relief of a falling warrior now in the Art Institute of Chicago. Gift of Alfred E. Hamill, 1928.257. © 2017. The Art Institute of Chicago / Art Resource, NY/ Scala, Florence. http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/artwork/56166����������������66

Figure 3.8.

Fragments belonging to the grave relief acquired in 1911, and offered separately to Marshall a few months later (11). Here the fragments are presented on black velvet cloth (ph. JM [PHP]-01-0028).�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������67

Chapter 4 John Marshall, The Met and the Historiography of ‘Greek Sculpture’ Figure 4.1.

Plan of the Classical rooms at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, after 1926 (from Richter 1930b).������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������73

Figure 4.2.

Plaster cast gallery. Dwight Memorial Art Building, Mount Holyoke College, South Hadley, MA (USA) (ph. JM [PHP]-21-1540 and 1541).����������������������������������������������������������������������������76

Figure 4.3

Plaster casts of the Chios head (MFA 10.70), detail of the mouth from different angles (ph. Cesare Faraglia, JM [PHP]-25-1786 to 1789).�����������������������������������������������������������������������79

Figure 4.4.

Marble torso, copy of the so-called Pothos by Skopas (426). Museo Nazionale Romano, Terme 479 (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0848).��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������81

Figure 4.5.

Head of a satyr, from a statue of the so-called Wine-Pouring Satyr by Praxiteles (18). MMA 08.258.43 (ph. JM [PHP]-01-0038).���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������82

Figure 4.6.

Marble head of a youth, the so-called Petworth Athlete by Kresilas (21). MMA 11.210.2 (ph. The Metropolitan Museum, public domain).������������������������������������������������������������������������84

Figure 4.7.

Bronze reconstruction by Georg Römer of the Doryphoros by Polikleitos (ph. Guido Petruccioli).86

Figure 4.8.

Marble head of a youth, copy of a work attributed to Polykleitos (21). MMA 07.286.116 (ph. The Metropolitan Museum, public domain).������������������������������������������������������������������������87

Figure 4.9.

The so-called Protesilaos. MMA 25.116 (ph. The Metropolitan Museum, public domain).������������89

Figure 4.10. View of the Peristyle Court in Wing K. New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art, circa 1926 (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0161).�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������92

Chapter 5 Faces in Stone: A Case Study of Marble Portrait Sculptures of Roman Date Purchased by The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York via John Marshall Table 5.1.

Concordance of numbers between John Marshall Archive ID numbers, museum accession numbers and Zanker’s catalogue of 2016. �����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������102

Chapter 7 ­John Marshall’s Dealings with Vases and Terracottas Figure 7.1. Seven Geometric vases offered by C. A. Lembessis and acquired by The Metropolitan in 1910 (177). MMA 10.210.7; MMA 10.210.8; MMA 10.210.2; MMA 10.210.3; MMA 10.210.4; MMA 10.210.5 (ph. JM [PHP]-05-0356).�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������125 Figure 7.2. Arretine pottery and moulds exhibited at The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1927 (ph. Keystone View Company, gelatin silver print. Keystone-Mast Collection, UCR/California Museum of Photography, University of California, Riverside).��������������������������������������������������135

Chapter 8 ‘Non-antique’ Objects in the John Marshall Archive Figure 8.1.

Donatello (from a model by), Madonna and Child, the so-called Madonna di Verona (741) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1373).�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������144

Figure 8.2.

Donatello (from a model by), Madonna and Child, the so-called Madonna di Verona (741) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1374).�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������145

Figure 8.3.

Donatello (from a model by), Madonna and Child, the so-called Madonna di Verona (after Collections Camillo Castiglioni de Vienne. III Catalogue des tableaux, sculptures, meubles, orfèvreries, bijoux antiques, boîten or, tapisseries, tapis, étoffes, etc. Amsterdam 1926).����������������������������������������146

Figure 8.4.

Four cannon barrels (754) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1393).�������������������������������������������������������������������147

Figure 8.5.

Embroidered ‘bed cover’ depicting episodes from the legend of Tristan (761) (ph. JM [PHP]20-1404).����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������148

Figure 8.6.

File card referring to 761 (ph. JM [PHP]-31-1405).��������������������������������������������������������������������149

Figure 8.7.

Baroque carved ceiling (758) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1398).���������������������������������������������������������������153

Figure 8.8.

St George from a Baroque carved ceiling (758) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1399)�������������������������������������154

Figure 8.9.

Della Robbia workshop, heraldic shield, plausibly of the Attendolo Sforza family from Cotignola (737) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1369).��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������155

Figure 8.10. Andrea Bregno, Saint Andrew (713) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1330).������������������������������������������������������157 Figure 8.11. Circle of Cosimo Rosselli, Crucifix (707) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1322).���������������������������������������������158 Figure 8.12. Monogrammist CB, Entombment of Christ (728) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1351).����������������������������������158 Figure 8.13. Back of photograph in Figure 8.12 (728) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1351).�������������������������������������������158

Chapter 9 John Marshall’s Trading Network Chart 9.1

The number and distribution of items offered to John Marshall between 1906 and 1928, ordered by seller.����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������163

Figure 9.1.

Unfinished marble statue of a centaur (410) (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0810).����������������������������������������169

Figure 9.2.

Colossal marble torso of a nude man (427) (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0849 to 0853; JM [PHP]-261827).���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������176

Map 1�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������179 Map 2�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������181

Plates Marble lion from Trastevere (38). MMA 09.221.3 (ph. JM [PHP]-01-0072).�������������������������������������������������������� Ia Seated marble lion (333) (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0660). Present whereabouts unknown.��������������������������������������������� Ib Standing marble lion (335) (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0661, 0662, 0663, 0664). Present whereabouts unknown.���������������II

Small boy with a hare and grapes (345) (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0684).�����������������������������������������������������������������������IV Head of a statue of the emperor Trajan (1016) (ph. JM [PHP]-27-1934).��������������������������������������������������������������V Fragment of a bronze portrait statue of a Roman (520) (ph. JMA [PHP]-14-1029 and 1030 recto and verso).�������VI Fragments of the cuirass of a bronze statue (520)(ph. JM [PHP]-14-1031 recto and verso).�������������������������������� VII Marble head of a girl acquired by the Boston Museum of Fine Arts in 1910 (975). Photo by Edward J. Moore, photographer at the museum (ph. JM [PHP]-25-1761a).����������������������������������������VIII Marble head of a youth dated to the second century AD acquired by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1914 (47; MMA 14.130.5). Photograph probably by Cesare Faraglia (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0092).��������������������������� IX a. Portrait of Livia, acquired from Canessa by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1918 (65; MMA 18.145.45) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0129).�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������X b. Torso acquired from A. Restoven by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1918 (64; MMA 18.145.43) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0128).������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������X c. Torso acquired from A. Restoven for The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1918 or 1919 and deaccessioned in 1928 (69) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0133).����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������X d. Torso acquired from A. Restoven by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1919 (70; MMA 19.192.85) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0134).������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������X a. Head acquired from E. P. Triantaphyllos by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1917 (62; MMA 17.230.131) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0126).��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� XI b. Torso acquired from E. P. Triantaphyllos by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1918 (63; MMA 18.145.44) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0127).����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� XI c. Torso acquired from E. P. Triantaphyllos by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1919 (68; MMA 19.912.83) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0138).����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� XI a. Satyr with panther offered in Paris. The curtain behind is flattened and more care has been taken to mask the setting (378) (ph. JM [PHP]-100748). ������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������XII b. Satyr in a different setting with a rather carelessly draped curtain behind the sculpture (378) (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0749). ��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� XII c. Satyr in another setting with a smaller curtain fastened to a cupboard and wooden support at the base (378) (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0747).������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ XII a. Himation figure (281) offered by E. P. Triantaphyllos in 1913 (ph. JM [PHP]-08-0574).��������������������������������XIII b. Himation figure (281) from a different angle (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0575).���������������������������������������������������������XIII c. Himation figure (281) in an unsuccessful photograph. All three seem to derive from the same photo session (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0576).��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������XIII Two Cypriot heads offered by G. Yanakopoulos, one supported by a Portuguese dictionary (319) (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0642).��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������XIV Marble female figure in courtyard (381) (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0753).��������������������������������������������������������������������� XV Grave relief acquired by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1910 (62; MAA 11.100.2), photographed in a transportation box (ph. JM [PHP]-01-0062).�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������XVI Black-figure loutrophoros, Tübingen S10.1481, and marble funerary lekythos in a store room (544) (ph. JM [PHP]-15-1063).��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������XVII Marble statue of seated Heracles (1373) (ph. JM [PHP]-32-2382).���������������������������������������������������������������� XVIII Marble statue of seated Heracles (ph. British School at Rome, Barsanti Archive).���������������������������������������������XIX

Headless torso of Aphrodite, ‘Syracuse’ type (300), photographed in dramatic light that places the statue outside of real time and space. In contrast to art photographs, in this image the outline of the statue was not cut out and pasted on a solid background, nor was it masked out on the negative plate. Abstraction is achieved by placing the statue in cross-light in a very dark room (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0610 and JM [PHP]-090614).�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������XX Photo of Roman portrait statue of young man in himation with a person, believed to be the dealer G. Yanacoupolos, next to it and another photo just showing the sculpture that was offered to Marshall, but eventually bought by Carl Jacobsen for the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen (367). To save money, it was customary to pin several photographs together to a wooden board so that they could be photographed on one negative glass plate (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0719).������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� XXII Marble head of Harmodios from the Tyrannicides statue group by Kritios and Nesiotes (104). MMA 26.60.1 (ph. JM [PHP]-03-0215, 0217 and 0218).����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� XXIII Marble copy of the Crouching Aphrodite by Doidalsas (26). MMA 09.221.1 (ph. JM [PHP]-01-0052, 0053 and 0054).��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� XXIV Marble head of a bearded god (48). MMA 13.231.2 (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0096 and 0097).��������������������������������� XXV a. Marble herm of a bearded god (372). Current location unknown (ph. JM[PHP]-10-0733 and 0734).���������� XXVI b. Marble herm of a bearded god, Zeus-Ammon type (373). Current location unknown (ph. JM [PHP]-100735 and 0736).������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ XXVI Marble torso of Eros, Roman copy of a Greek original attributed to Praxiteles (92). MMA 24.97.14 (ph. JM [PHP]-03-0189 and 0190).��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������XXVII Headless statuette of a draped woman, copy of the Aspasia/Sosandra type (99). MMA 24.97.31 (ph. JM[PHP]-03-0204, 0205, 0206).����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������XXVIII Head cut from a statue of Marciana, frontal view (60) (ph. JM [PH]-02-123). b. Notes on the back of the photograph of the head of Marciana (ph. JM [PHP]-02-123).�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������XXIX Bust of Caligula, frontal view and profile facing right (43) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0081 and 0082).������������������������ XXX Head from a statue known to Marshall as ‘the Orator’, AD 69–98. Frontal and profile views (51) (ph. JM [PHP] 02-0107, 0109, 0108).�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������XXXII Notes on the back of the photograph of the head of ‘the Orator’ (left) (ph. JM [PHP)]-02-0110).���������������� XXXIII Head and shoulders from a portrait statue of a male, carved in granite, frontal view (54) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-112).���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� XXXIV a. Portrait head of Mindia Matidia. Frontal view and profile facing left (61) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0124 and 0125).��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������XXXV b. Head cut from a statue of Sabina as Venus (72). Frontal view and profile facing right. The profile shows that the front of the hair was pieced (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0136 and 0137).�������������������������������������������������������XXXV Life-size Augustan bronze portrait statue of a boy (137), with restored feet and plinth, since removed. MMA 14.130.1 (ph. JM [PHP]-04-0290).������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� XXXVI a. Bronze statuette of a philosopher (126), missing its left foot (later re-united). MMA 10.231.1 (ph. JM [PHP]-04-0262 and JM [PHP]-04-0263).�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� XXXVII b. Roman bronze portrait bust of an unknown man (124). MMA 14.40.696 (ph. JM [PHP]-04-0257 and JM [PHP]-04-0258).�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� XXXVII Etruscan bronze statuette of a woman with pointed shoes (121). MMA 17.190.2066 (ph. JM [PHP]-32-2343, JM [PHP]-32-2344, JM [PHP]-32-2345).���������������������������������������������������������XXXVIII Large bronze statuette of a dancing satyr (498). MMA 29.73 (ph. JM [PHP]-13-985).�������������������������������� XXXIX

Small Archaic bronze statuette of a smiting god, Zeus or Poseidon (143). MMA 21.88.52 (ph. JM [PHP]04-0303, JM [PHP]-04-0304, JM [PHP]-04-0305).�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� XL Small Roman bronze portrait bust of a man in a toga (125). MMA 13.225.1 (ph. JM [PHP]-04-0259, JM [PHP]-04-0260, JM [PHP]-04-0261).�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������XLII Small bronze statuette of a sleeping Eros (123). MMA 13.225.2 (ph. JM [PHP]-04-0254).������������������������������XLIV a. Decorative Roman bronze busts of a Jupiter and a satyr (57). MMA 17.230.2 and MMA 17.230.25 (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0118).�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� XLV b. Bronze components of a late Hellenistic kline (481) (ph. JM [PHP]-13-0950 and JM [PHP]-13-0952).���������� XLV Bronze statuette of a running Eros (122). New York, The Morgan Library & Museum (ph. JM [PHP]-040251, JM [PHP]-04-0252, JM [PHP]-04-0253).���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������XLVI Roman bronze portrait head of a woman wearing a hair net (654). Princeton, NJ, Princeton University Art Museum, 80-10 (ph. JM [PHP]-32-1242 and JM [PHP]-32-1243).��������������������������������������������������������������� XLVIII a. Set of four terracotta objects (192) acquired from E. P. Warren in 1921: a bell krater, a hydria, a stamnos and a rhyton. MMA 21.88.1; MMA 21.88.2; MMA 21.88.3; MMA 21.88.4 (ph. JM [PHP]-05-0379).���������� XLIX b. Bell krater (574) offered Marshall by the dealer G. Pepe in 1922, but eventually bought by The Metropolitan Museum of Art at an auction arranged by the Canessa Galleries in New York in 1924. MMA 24.97.96 (ph. JM [PHP]-15-1112).��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� XLIX Two photos of the proto-Attic amphora (247), one showing the vase without filling in of holes, the other fully restored. MMA 11.210.1 (ph. JM [PHP]-0485 and JM [PHP]-0490).����������������������������������������������������������� L Photograph with a selection of vases offered to Marshall (546). The Arretine cup in the upper row to the right was the only one acquired for The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1910 (ph. JM [PHP]-15-1067).����������� LII Photograph of a cast of one of the moulds (140) acquired by Marshall for The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1919. The card file (JM [DOC]0135) states that the mould is made of bronze, but the acquired mould was made of terracotta (MMA 19.192.20) (ph. JM [PHP]-04-0297).����������������������������������������������������� LIII Two red-figure kraters offered Marshall by Paul Hartwig (534). They turn out to have been part of the Woodyatt collection and perhaps this photograph was taken before they entered that collection. The one to the right is now in the Ny Carlsberg and the one to the left was last registered in the art market in 2003 at an auction at Christie’s (ph. JM [PHP]-15-1051).�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� LIV Lekythos attributed to the Berlin Painter (595), offered to Marshall in 1925 by the Canessa brothers. He did not buy it and eventually it was acquired by the University Museum of Pennsylvania from the dealer Joseph Brummer in 1926 (ph. JM [PHP]-16-1146).�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������LV Pinturicchio, Madonna and Child with St. Jerome (683) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1287).�������������������������������������������������LVI Benvenuto Cellini (already attributed to), Crucifix (732) (ph. JM [PHP]-33-1356).�������������������������������������������� LVII Donatello, Madonna and Child (743) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1375).�����������������������������������������������������������������������LVIII Donatello, Madonna and Child (744) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1376).������������������������������������������������������������������������� LIX a. Pietro Lorenzetti, Madonna and Child (689) (ph. JM [PHP]-31-1293).������������������������������������������������������������� LX b. Nineteenth-century forger, Madonna and Child (687) (ph. JM [PHP]-31-1291).������������������������������������������������� LX Nineteenth-century forger, Virgin of the Annunciation (688) (ph. JM [PHP]-31-1292).������������������������������������������ LXI a. Byzantine sarcophagus (717) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1336).���������������������������������������������������������������������������������LXII b. Andrea Ferrucci, St Catherine of Alexandria (722) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1345).�������������������������������������������������LXII c. Giovanni Antonio Amadeo (att.), group of three angels (723) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1346).�����������������������������������LXII a. Three Renaissance marble bases (714) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1332).������������������������������������������������������������������ LXIII

b. Three Renaissance marble bases in the Ferroni Collection (ph. Bologna, Fondazione Federico Zeri).����������� LXIII Master of Pratovechio, triptych (682) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1285).������������������������������������������������������������������������LXIV a. Madonna and Child (690) (ph. JM [PHP]-31-1294).��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������LXV b. Nineteenth-century forger, Profile Portrait of Young Lady (691). (ph. JM [PHP]-31-1295).�������������������������������LXV Nineteenth-century forger? Portrait of a Young Man in Armour (672) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1275).��������������������������LXVI Nineteenth-century forger? Madonna and Child (704) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1318).��������������������������������������������� LXVII Headless marble statue of Hermes (421) (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0837, JM [PHP]-11-0839, JM [PHP]-11-0840).��������������������������������������������������������������LXVIII Marble herm of a girl, similar to the bronze statue of the ‘Water Carrier’ from Herculaneum (417) (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0825, JM [PHP]-11-0826, JM [PHP]-11-0827, JM [PHP]-11-0828).����������������������������������������������� LXIX Miniature marble head of an athlete (997) (ph. JM [PHP]-26-1797, JM [PHP]-26-1806, JM [PHP]-26-1801).������������������������������������������������������������������LXX Marble statue of a man (437) (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0873).�������������������������������������������������������������������������������� LXXI Statue of Apollo from Palazzo Odescalchi in Rome. Budapest, Szépmüvészéti Múzeum. Inv. no. 6040 A (337) (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0666, JM [PHP]-09-0667, JM [PHP]-09-0668, JM [PHP]-09-0669).������������������������ LXXII Colossal marble torso of a nude man (427) (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0849 to 0853; JM [PHP]-26-1827).���������������������������������������������������������������������������������LXXIV Marble seated statue of a woman (428) (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0854, 0855 and 0856).���������������������������������������LXXVI Three-sided marble relief, so-called ‘Boston Throne’ (1130). MFA 08.205 (ph. JM [PHP]-32-2364, 2363, 2365).���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� LXXVIII Marble statue of an old woman, so-called Old Market Woman (8) MMA 09.39 (ph. JM [PHP]-01-0021).���LXXIX

Guide to the Reader The electronic database of the John Marshall Archive is accessible from the British School at Rome Digital Collections website at https://bsr.ac.uk/library-digital-collections/. Throughout this publication all authors have adopted the cataloguing system created by the John Marshall Archive Project team when the collection of Marshall’s photographs and writing was organised in the electronic database. Independently from Marshall’s own indexing system, each object was assigned a unique numerical ID (referred to throughout this book by numbers in bold within parentheses).

Ackowledgements The John Marshall Archive Project would like to thank the many institutions and individuals for facilitating and advising on the research process, and in particular the library and archive staff at the British School at Rome. The JMA Project and the printing of this book have been generously supported by: Christian Levett (2012 and 2014) British Academy (2014 and 2015) Peter & Ann Wiseman (2015) Above all, we extend our utmost gratitude to Prof Chris Wickham for his guidance and support in bringing the project to conclusion.

Introduction Guido Petruccioli In 2013 the British School at Rome launched a project to catalogue and assess a collection of photographs and documents in its archives. The collection was a bequest from an Englishman named John Marshall, who lived between the end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth. In previous decades scholars and artists had taken an interest in the collection, particularly enticed by the quality of its photographic prints and negatives. Yet it was only after a systematic review of the material and its linkage with documents located in the United Kingdom that the significance and potential of the archive became apparent. The photographs depict artworks, mostly Greek and Roman antiquities. Some artworks are immediately recognisable because they are now on display in The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. However, these photographs have not been taken in museum galleries and they do not look like the work of an amateur. Many seem to have been taken in a photographer’s studio and often depict sculptures from different angles, as only an art expert would have required. On the back of most prints a name, a year and a price are concisely handwritten. John Marshall worked as a purchasing agent for The Metropolitan for more than twenty years, and his mission was to buy antiquities for the Department of Greek and Roman Art. The photographs at the British School at Rome belong to his personal archive, in which he collated images of antiquities and art objects that had been offered to him. Contained in those photographs is the story of a devoted connoisseur, a rising American museum and a thriving art market. Who was John Marshall? John Marshall (1862–1928) – not to be confused with the homonymous (and far more notorious) American statesman John Marshall (1755–1835) or the British archaeologist John Hubert Marshall (1876–1958) – is known only to a few people. The reason for his anonymity is that Marshall’s name does not appear in the official literature, even though the antiquities he discovered are often highly renowned. In 1923, a slightly larger-than-life-size bronze torso (144) (Figure 0.1) appeared in the Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin among the most recent acquisitions by the Classical Art department of The Metropolitan, on New York’s Fifth Avenue.1 Gisela Richter, the author of the article, did not mention where the piece had been found, but noted that it was ‘so battered that one might well have despaired of bringing it back into shape’, perhaps to justify the unusually long delay in its publication three years after accession.2 This sensational acquisition had been known to Arduino Colasanti, the director general for Italian Antiquities and Beaux Arts, who however thought it still in the possession of a certain Bernardo Bona, director of the Mandela–Subiaco railway company. How, he wondered, could such an extraordinary object be allowed to leave Italy by any means, legal or illegal? A certain Mr N. N., entrusted with the task of investigating the matter, reported confidently to Colasanti: ‘It is a fact that the intermediary was the 1 2

MMA 20.194. Richter 1923. See also here, Chapter 6 (Barr-Sharrar).

Ancient Art and its Commerce in Early Twentieth-Century Europe (Archaeopress 2022): 1–17

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Figure 0.1. Life-size bronze torso, discovered in Central Italy. Since 1920 at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (MMA 20.194) (ph. The Metropolitan Museum, public domain).

notorious Mr Marschall [sic]’ and suggested that Messrs Bona and Marshall be summoned immediately.3 What happened afterwards is unknown; there is no documentary evidence that Marshall was even questioned on the matter. The fact that Marshall was referred to as ‘notorious’ – in Italian, famigerato has the same negative connotations – shows that he was well known to the authorities in his capacity of official agent for The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, a position he held between 1906 and the year of his death, 1928. During his more than twenty years of service, Marshall purchased in Rome and elsewhere, through a wide network of professional and amateur dealers, a qualitatively and quantitatively impressive collection of antiquities. Surprisingly, though, his name can be found only twice more in the thousands of surviving documents (now at Italy’s State Archive in Rome) written by the authorities in charge of monitoring the trade of antiquities in Italy and granting export licences for art objects. Marshall’s name first appeared in Italian governmental archives as the owner of a fragment of Roman floor, said to come from the Villa of Lucius Verus on the Via Cassia, and formerly in the collection of Count Gregory Stroganoff (1829–1910) (851).4 On 12 December 1912 Marshall wrote to Edward Robinson, director of The Metropolitan, to lament that the government had seized his fragment of Roman floor from the offices of the shipping company Roesler Franz, claiming that Stroganoff ’s heir had already promised it to the Italian state as a gift.5 Marshall was also notified that the fragment was officially declared a monument of national interest and therefore would have never been allowed to be legally exported (Figure 0.2). Eventually, Marshall had no choice but to sell it to the government for

3

ACS, M.P.I., D.G., AA.BB.AA, Div. I 1908–1924 Busta 1109, Fasc. 1. Now Rome, Museo Nazionale Romano, Terme, inv. No. 60327. ACS MIN. BB. CC. AA., Ufficio Centrale, BB.AA.AA.AA. AA.SS., Div. V, 4 Roma, Notifiche ecc., 202. I am very grateful to Varduì Kalpakcian and Simona Moretti for directing me to the Stroganoff dossier at Rome’s State Archive. On Count Stroganoff and his collection see here, Chapter 2 (Moltesen). 5 JMA, Oxford, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1912.12.12. 4

Introduction

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Figure 0.2. Letter sent to John Marshall, declaring that the fragment of mosaic floor, formerly in Count Stroganoff ’s collection, was of historical and archaeological interest for the Italian government and therefore banned from exportation (ph. JMA [PHP]-22-1609 verso).

2,000 lire, though he declared he had bought it for twice as much. It is now on display on the second floor of the Palazzo Massimo Museum in Rome, registered as a donation by John Marshall.6 Marshall’s name reappears again in 1916, when he applied for a licence to export a Roman bronze, with the help of an Italian lawyer (a certain Pio Morelli). Roberto Paribeni, at the time in charge of issuing export licences on behalf of the Italian government, saw this miniature portrait supposedly of the empress Livia at Morelli’s house and notified the Minister with great excitement: 6

Gasparri & Paris 2013, 488 no. 355 (entry by Riccardo Fusco).

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‘I can affirm with confidence that I have never seen a more beautiful bronze. It is a stunning portrait of old and decrepit Livia, perhaps showing the effects of the facial paralysis that turned her austere and superb face disproportionate. None of the other portraits of Livia, in my view, conveys a more becoming depiction of the woman’s pride, which perhaps can be described in equally appropriate terms only by the vibrant words of Tacitus: gravis noverca populi romani. Preservation is outstanding, pleasing very bright green patina, translucent and with the hue of malachite.’7 Paribeni ends his letter by communicating his intentions to deny the export licence and petitioning the Minister to initiate negotiations with Marshall for the accession of this ‘precious specimen’ into the state collections. At this point, just as with the bronze torso, the official documentation ends without revealing whether Marshall was ever questioned on the matter. Just as with the bronze torso, the bust of Livia was known to the authorities long before Marshall tried to export it. In May 1902 the archaeologist Friedrich Hauser, on behalf of its owner Edward Perry Warren, asked for permission to export it – with the help of the same lawyer, Pio Morelli.8 At the time Marshall was Warren’s secretary, and presumably Hauser dealt with him rather than directly with Warren. Permission was obviously denied, and Hauser was warned that the bust would not have been allowed to leave Rome without ministerial permission. Later, in 1908, Marshall considered buying it for The Metropolitan, but refrained, because of the ‘outrageous’ price Warren was asking.9 Nothing is known of the bust in the following eight years, during which it must have remained with Hauser in Rome. At some point after 1916, however, the bust made it to England, namely to Warren’s manor at Lewes, East Sussex (Figure 0.3). On Warren’s death, it was inherited by H. Asa Thomas, Warren’s last secretary. And it was not until 1952, when the Lewes estate was auctioned, that the bust was finally acquired by The Metropolitan and brought to New York, as Marshall once desired.10 These three anecdotes pertain to only a few of the many important archaeological objects The Metropolitan managed to muster during the first quarter of the twentieth century through a powerful enterprise based on a wide network of European collectors, consultant specialists, shipping companies and local figureheads hired to divert the attention of the authorities. John Marshall was the mastermind behind this international operation. How was a young man with no academic training, the son of a wine merchant from Liverpool, capable of putting together what became one of the largest and most comprehensive collections of ancient art in North America? His success as an agent was certainly founded on connoisseurship and entrepreneurial skills, but also on solid connections and, not least, enormous funding (see Stephen Dyson in Chapter 1). Marshall was a self-taught antiquities specialist, at a time in which Greek and Roman art was barely contemplated in the classics curriculum at English universities and photographs of art objects were scarce. His knowledge was built almost exclusively on first-hand observation. He visited archaeological sites in Italy, Greece and western Turkey and went to French and German museums, taking copious 7 ACS, M.P.I., D.G., AA.BB.AA, Div. I 1908–1924 Busta 738 (Roma 1916–1919), Fasc. 41: ‘Credo di poter affermare di non aver mai visto un bronzo più bello. E’ un mirabile ritratto di Livia già vecchia, malata, forse colpita da paresi facciale che le ha reso profondamente dissimetrico il volto austero e superbo. Niun altro dei ritratti noti di Livia mi sembra dare un’immagine della fiera donna così viva come questo bustino. Solo forse le vibranti parole di Tacito sulla gravis noverca populi Romani io riterrei ugualmente alte e degne. Perfetta la conservazione, mirabile la patina verde chiarissima, traslucida, di consistenza e di aspetto quasi di malachite.’ 8 JMA, Sackler, Note, 1910.03.15: John Marshall quotes a letter from F. Hauser to E. P. Warren. On Friedrich Hauser see also here, Chapter 2 (Moltesen). 9 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1908.02.08. 10 MMA 52.11.6. Alexander 1953. On the bust’s provenance see Zanker 2016: 190, 197–98 no. 71.

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Figure 0.3. Miniature bronze portrait bust of a Roman matron, once thought to be the empress Livia (MMA 52.11.6) (photographic prints formerly at Lewes House, now Ashmolean Museum. Image © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford).

notes on individual pieces and entire collections. He studied potential acquisitions with enthusiasm, consulting his private library for comparanda and sometimes establishing epistolary debates with highcalibre scholars. Most of all, he seems to have enjoyed searching for rare and unique antiquities, which he studiously researched. Very rarely, though, were the results of his studies consolidated into text – Marshall published only two articles and a few reports in his lifetime. To fund his mission, Marshall received a yearly stipend and an impressive amount of money to purchase the antiquities he thought worthy. The industrialist Jacob S. Rogers (1824–1901) had endowed The Metropolitan upon his death with approximately $4.5 million, intended to be used for the purchase of ‘rare and desirable objects’.11 Until 1924, part of the accumulated interest of the Rogers Fund was the steady source financing John Marshall’s purchases, as much as $200,000 a year (roughly $6 million in today’s terms) – enough to buy antiquities by the container load.12 No other collector at the time was capable of investing so much in purchasing art, or indeed willing to do so. In the following two years, the amounts from the Rogers Fund invested in antiquities became smaller and smaller, ending entirely in 1926, perhaps because the number of antiquities consigned to The Metropolitan dropped drastically and the money was channelled to other departments. Apart from one exception in 1930, the Rogers Fund never invested in acquiring antiquities thereafter. The reduction of the portion of the Rogers Fund allocated to the department of Greek and Roman Art was somehow counter-balanced by occasional borrowings from the Fletcher Fund that was established in 1917.13 After Marshall, the department of Greek and Roman Art at The Metropolitan ceased having an agent in Europe on a stipendiary basis and

11

Picón et al. 2007: 7. It is reported on the MMA website that in 1904 the ‘endowment fund yielded over $200,000’: https://www.metmuseum.org/ blogs/now-at-the-met/features/2011/this-weekend-in-met-history-july-2. 13 de Forest 1917. 12

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Figure 0.4. John Marshall’s Letterbook. Oxford, Sackler Library (ph. Guido Petruccioli).

new acquisitions became sporadic. Marshall’s role was important to The Metropolitan above all because of his personal abilities. The John Marshall Archive The title of the John Marshall Archive (from now on abbreviated as JMA) describes a collection of documents pertaining to John Marshall and his activity as an art agent that are currently at the British School at Rome and the Sackler Library at Oxford. The Sackler Library holds seventy-two notebooks and three boxes of notes, letters and other written documents belonging to both Marshall and Warren. Thoughts on ancient art and museum collections, transcriptions of articles and books, Latin and Greek handwritten lexica, long quotations from ancient texts, reports on transactions with art dealers, addresses, descriptions of objects and prices, all are mixed together with no apparent order. Among the volumes there is a letterbook (Figure 0.4), in which are recorded summaries of letters and cables Marshall sent to Edward Robinson between 3 July 1907 and 26

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November 1913, and the reports he wrote to T. D. Duncan (treasurer of The Metropolitan) between 25 March 1908 and 2 January 1914. Some of the telegrams are ciphered – a common procedure adopted at the time to save money on transmission costs.14 Cables were charged by the word and so messages were encoded in strings of five-digit letters or numbers corresponding to whole sentences. Telegraphic ciphers proliferated, containing thousands of phrases and sentences for commercial or general correspondence, such as the Anglo-American telegraphic code created in 1891. The code used by Marshall and his correspondent is yet to be identified. Annotations scattered in the remaining notebooks are dated to the period between 18 February 1908 and 4 May 1923. Marshall does not seem to have kept a diary, although he did write daily entries on the travels he made and the people he met between 12 October and 6 December 1913, and again between 15 October and 20 June 1916. Writings that can be dated to the following years are few: two notes dated to 1917, three to 1918, one to 1919 and one from 1923. No document written by Marshall and dated to the last five years of his life can be found at the Sackler Library. On 15 February 1928, Marshall died in Rome of heart failure. It is likely that Warren inherited his notebooks, which he brought to England before his own death on 28 December of the same year. Subsequently, the collated documents of both Warren and Marshall came into the care of their friend Sir John Beazley (Lincoln Professor of Classical Archaeology and Art at Oxford from 1925 to 1956) and remained stored in his office, where they were inherited by succeeding professors until August 1972, when Prof. Martin Robertson entrusted the collection to the Ashmolean Library (later incorporated within the new Sackler Library) for safekeeping. This is the most likely reconstruction of the events as suggested by Dr Graham Piddock, librarian in charge at the Sackler until 2017.15 Provenience, provenance and the intrinsic limitations of the evidence An important issue pertaining to the reliability of documentary sources, including the JMA, is the extent to which any information given by Marshall himself or by the sellers pertaining to their alleged provenience (original finding location) and provenance (subsequent ownership) can be trusted. With the exception of a few objects published in excavation reports and archaeological bulletins, the antiquities that were sold on the market had no certified provenience. Sometimes objects were said to come from a more or less confined geographical region (Rome or Campania, for example), were attributed to ancient monuments (the Gardens of Maecenas on the Esquiline) or were said to have been found in modern neighbourhoods (Trastevere in Rome). An indication of provenience was crucial to the valuation of antiquities from both the dealer’s and the collector’s perspective: plausible and documented origins imbued an object with potential historical and archaeological significance, and might also have avoided legal difficulties. Often, though, dealers took advantage of the general lack of certified evidence to attribute finding locations to antiquities of unknown origins. Places or circumstances of discovery usually included well-known locations or largescale building projects happening at the time, such as the construction of the railway connecting Rome with Ostia, begun in December 1918 and completed in August 1924.

14 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–DUN, 1911.06.17; 1911.06.19; 1911.07.04; 1912.01.17; MAR–ROB, 1907.12.14; 1909.02.08; 1909.06.11; 1909.12.15; 1910.01.03; 1910.05.27; 1911.01.07; 1911.03.06; 1911.12.19; 1912.11.12; 1912.12.16; 1913.02.08; 1913.05.13; 1913.06.17. 15 To Dr Piddock I extend the deepest gratitude in the name of the John Marshall Archive Research Project team for his support.

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Episodes of workmen stealing finds from archaeological areas or one of Rome’s building sites are indeed attested.16 Paul Hartwig bought the famous Flavian reliefs belonging to a large public building of the Flavian period (perhaps the Tempum Gentis Flaviae) from terrace-makers working on the Quirinal hill.17 Similarly, Ludwig Pollak found Laocoon’s missing right arm from the statue group now at the Vatican during one of his regular visits to a stoneworker’s shop on the Via Labicana.18 Many more were the cases of dealers capitalising on the widespread rumours to trace back the origin of the marbles they sold to places such as the Roman Forum or the Palatine hill. Among the most popular spurious proveniences were contemporary foundations to build Rome’s new infrastructure, such as the Tiber’s embankments. Occasional findings of mostly ancient marbles and stones from the Tiber date back to the sixteenth century,19 and during the building works between 1876 and 1926 the discovery of antiquities by the archaeological service was regularly reported.20 At the same time, the Tiber and its environs became a plausible finding location for many forgeries, or else ancient objects that had been illegally excavated elsewhere.21 Similarly, fabricating the provenance of an object by attributing it to previous illustrious owners was a common procedure to increase the object’s intrinsic value. The older the collection, the more difficult it was to verify the veracity of ownership claims, especially if the supposed owner, such as Count Gregory Stroganoff, published only a minimal part of the many art objects he had ever bought and sold.22 In the end, one must remember that even those dealers from whom Marshall bought – often intermediaries who received objects from small farmers, workmen or other dealers – might not have known precisely the provenience of the objects they sold. Ultimately, always with their own interests at heart, dealers were willing to go as far as fabricating fictitious proveniences to secure a sale, increase their profit, throw off suspicions of illegal activities, or simply protect their network of providers and intermediaries. It seems that Marshall rarely believed what dealers told him and often referred to objects as being ‘said to be from…’ – a formula still commonly used in museum reports. The same formula was used by Gisela Richter in her Catalogue of Greek Sculptures (1954) for most of the pieces whose alleged provenience she accepted with caution. Likewise, in the absence of reliable evidence – such as archaeological reports or governmental documents – every declaration of provenience should be treated as rumour, hint or even mere guesswork. Marshall’s photographic collection Marshall had expressed to Warren the wish to entrust his collection of photographs and photographic negatives to the British School at Rome. Perhaps he thought that his photographs, along with no fewer than eight hundred books he donated to the library, would have been particularly useful to the members 16

See, for example, ACS, M.P.I., D.G., AA.BB.AA, Div. I 1908–1912 Busta 74, Fasc. 1627: a marble head sold by the dealer Basile to Mr Luigi Grassi of Florence in 1908. On Luigi Grassi see here, Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). Basile was accused of having purchased the head from two workmen, Messers Calonio and Carletti, who at the time were working on the excavations of the Roman Forum. 17 Hartwig 1904; Paris 1994. 18 Pollak 1905; Merkel Guldan 1988: 55–57; Liverani & Nesselrath 2006: 192 no. 90. 19 Lanciani 1988: 35–37. 20 For a list of objects whose provenience from the Tiber can be certified because they were found in the context of official excavations or public works, see Notizie degli scavi di antichità: Indici Generali 1876–1930 (1935) 95–96. 21 Mau 1895: 38. 22 Pollak & Munõz 1911–1912.

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Figure 0.5. John Marshall’s index card file. British School at Rome (ph. Guido Petruccioli).

of the School and to other British scholars working there.23 The prints, which were officially acquired by the British School at Rome in 1928, depict art objects – ancient and post-classical – which, in one way or another, pertained to Marshall’s task as an agent for The Metropolitan. Sadly, Marshall was not the most efficient of archivists; in his collection of photographs many objects that we know he purchased on behalf of The Metropolitan are not represented. Approximately three-quarters of the photographic prints have inventory numbers written on the back. Each inventory number consists of a letter, a Roman numeral and a sequential number (for example, A. I. 1). The letter defined whether the object was purchased by the MMA (A), was offered to Marshall but not acquired (B), was a post-antique object offered (C), or was never offered to Marshall and was probably in the JMA for comparative and research purposes (D) – some sort of photographic database of comparanda. We named the last category the ‘Study Collection’. The Roman numeral defined the material category of the object: marble and stone (I), bronze (II), terracotta (III) and other miscellaneous materials, including precious metals (IV). Forgeries, or objects of dubious authenticity, were marked with the subcategory ‘a’ (Ia, IIa, IIIa and IVa). Finally, the sequential number referred to the position of the photograph inside the box in which it was originally stored. For each of the 767 inventoried objects, an index card was compiled with all the information that was available to Marshall, including a brief description, the name of the seller and year of offer, price requested, and sometimes the provenance of the object and the number of photographic prints available. Most of these index cards are still in Marshall’s original wooden box at the British School at Rome (Figure 0.5).

23

British School at Rome (1928) Twenty-eighth annual report to the subscribers. 1927–1928. Rome, British School at Rome: 1, 3.

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Chronological sequence is not followed strictly in Marshall’s photographic inventory, as objects offered earlier sometimes have higher inventory numbers than those offered or acquired later. It also seems that Marshall started his cataloguing system in 1913 and was not consistent in his record-keeping. Different handwriting and several spelling mistakes suggest that he was aided in compiling his archive by a nonEnglish speaker, most likely his personal assistant Annie Rivier. In format, Marshall’s card file system is similar to that used by the Brummer Gallery Records, created by the dealers Joseph, Imre and Ernest Brummer, and containing entries for over fourteen thousand works that went through their New York and Paris galleries between 1916 and 1947.24 The cards also feature the same information – description, seller name, purchase price, year of offer – in addition to the name of the buyer and the sale price. Besides the great difference in size, the two archives differ quite starkly in the importance that they give to photography. To Brummer’s cards were attached small photographic prints – a reference thumbnail – depicting each work from the front. Marshall’s collection of photographs, however, contains prints of varying formats, from quarter plate (8 × 10 cm) or smaller to poster size (50 × 60 cm), with average dimensions of 18 × 24 cm. Most often, Marshall had photographs of objects taken from different angles, sometimes both before and after their restoration. The photographs also differ in quality: some pictures he had commissioned from professional photographers, others were snapshots he received from collectors and dealers. The former are ‘dressedup’, broadly lit depictions of artworks, generally placed against a solid dark backdrop to isolate their contours. Soft lighting from above or the side emphasised the volume of objects without dramatising the contrast between bright and shaded areas. It was essential to be able to reproduce as wide a range of tones and as many surface details as possible. The points of reference here were photographs by mid-nineteenth-century photographers such as Giorgio Sommer, Giacomo Brogi, James Anderson, Nicholas Longworth Powers or the Alinari brothers.25 These photographs were meant to be objective depictions of what artworks looked like. Any other visual element around the object was quite literally hidden, with the result that such objects most often look as if they are weightlessly floating. This is still the standard followed by professional photographers to document artworks, although a black background is now considered passé. More foreign to the scholarly trained eye are those amateurish snapshots, of low quality and usually printed on small pieces of photographic paper, depicting objects individually or in groups, against makeshift backdrops or resting on the top of furniture. These are more revealing, yet more challenging, photographs. The edges of the frames, where the back wall of a sitting room appears behind a stretchedout tablecloth, or a book is used as a shim for a piece of sculpture, offer exciting clues to the keen observer. Their challenge lies in the nature of the medium itself – photography – and its potential for conjuring elaborate narratives (see Vinnie Nørskov in Chapter 3). For as tricky as it may be, one should not dismiss these photographs as simply cheap, shabby and confusing. At first sight, one might question the deliberate nature of such snapshots and attribute any secondary visual element in the frame to chance, carelessness or haste. Often photographers did not even bother 24

Freely accessible via the Metropolitan Museum of Art website, www.metmuseum.org. On the Brummer Gallery see Brennan 2015. 25 Miraglia & Pohlman 1992; Berselli 1995; Cammilli 2001; Gronchi 2016: 33–47.

Introduction

11

to place the objects in front of a solid background. Yet they could eventually hide unwanted details by masking the negatives, or by cropping or painting over the final prints, which they sometimes did. There is plenty of evidence arguing that these images are far from being sloppy snapshots. And our investigation should go beyond the immediate, to understand what they meant to those who commissioned such images, the intent of their creators and what they were supposed to communicate (or suggest) to the viewer. By acknowledging the deliberateness of these ‘staged’ photographs, one can read them as one would analyse sophisticated pieces of advertising. Eventually it may become clear why sometimes archaeological terracottas of different provenience, age and typology were photographed together as a collection, neatly arranged in rows as if displayed in a cupboard. To what purpose, if not to suggest to the viewer how it would feel to own such a varied collection? For the same reason, marble statues were sometimes photographed as centrepieces of fancy living-rooms, and the most prestigious art galleries in Europe were located inside elegantly furnished palazzi. Dealers were masters of deception and harnessed the false sense of truthfulness that photography could give to mislead collectors. They photographed antiquities, still covered in dirt and incrustations, inside warehouses or gardens, so as to suggest that they had been newly unearthed, and to urge buyers to act fast before their competition. In the same way, forgeries were sometimes photographed to be made to look like genuine pieces. Finally, there is one category of photographs in John Marshall’s collection whose additional informative value lies in their physicality. These are photographic prints that make this connection between dealer and collector more tangible, by means of text handwritten on the image itself or on the back. The terms of interaction between image and text and their mutual influence has been the interest of photography historians since Roland Barthes introduced the topic in ‘Rhetoric of the Image’ in 1964. According to Barthes, these photographs should be considered as compositions, made of textual and visual elements working together to generate meanings that can be either immediate or implicit. Any other point of view disregards their full informative potential. The John Marshall Archive and the Metropolitan Museum of Art Marble sculpture is the largest category, amounting to almost half (45%) of the total number of objects offered to Marshall that are recorded in the photographic inventory or mentioned in Marshall’s letterbook, followed by terracotta (20%), bronze (15%) and other materials (20%). In this book we agreed to tackle the evidence according to the criteria that Marshall used to subdivide artworks in his register, each author concentrating on one form of material: myself (Chapter 4) and Susan Walker (Chapter 5) on marble sculptures, Beryl Barr-Sharrar (Chapter 6) on bronze and Vinnie Nørskov (Chapter 7) on terracotta. One of the distinguishing features of Marshall’s catalogue is the variety of objects represented, ranging sometimes widely in typology, subject matter, provenience and workmanship. In particular, Marshall’s archive includes objects that, because of their lack of historical value, poor aesthetic qualities or poor state of preservation, would not be considered worthy of a museum gallery or an art book. Because of its unedited nature, the JMA offers a more realistic idea of the sorts of antiquities available on the market at the time, and thus depicts more completely how diverse ancient art actually was then. An example of the impact of nineteenth-century art-historical values on the construction of the idea of ancient art is the fascination of the period for the work of Greek masters mentioned in ancient Greek and Latin texts. In fact, these Greek ‘masterpieces’ have survived in the form of Roman copies, but in relatively small numbers in comparison to funerary monuments, works of ideal statuary and architectural sculpture, whose authors remain unknown. Marshall was familiar with most of those sculptures that had

12

Guido Petruccioli

been identified as the work of artists of the calibre of Kritios and Nesiotes, Pheidias, Skopas, Praxiteles, Kresilas and Polykleitos. Yet the selection criteria Marshall used, as well as the way in which those sculptures were eventually displayed in the newly built galleries of The Metropolitan, do not give more importance to Greek ‘masterpieces’ than to other types of anonymous creations (see Guido Petruccioli in Chapter 4). A similar desire to connect sculptural remains with notable figures mentioned in the literary sources animated the earliest studies of Roman portraiture, whose primary goal was to identify the individuals represented or, when a certain identification was not possible, give them an approximate date. For a long time, since the sixteenth century, Roman portraits had been collected and studied as historical documents, a sort of compendium to ancient texts. On behalf of The Metropolitan Marshall bought thirty portraits: four of emperors and twenty-six of male and female Roman citizens without a name. Almost all of them are without provenience; they have little archaeological or historical significance. Marshall, contrary to the common judgement of his time, valued Roman portraits for their aesthetic qualities and their craftsmanship (see Susan Walker in Chapter 5). The latest catalogue of The Metropolitan’s ancient bronze collection was published by Gisela Richter (1882–1972) in 1915, and thus does not include any of Marshall’s acquisitions for the following thirteen years.26 Although virtually all The Metropolitan’s holdings have been published in the Bulletin, only a handful of bronzes recur in art books and articles. The absence of a publication that includes all the bronzes acquired by Marshall made the need for Beryl Barr-Sharrar’s comprehensive survey of them more urgent than ever (Chapter 6). Terracotta statuettes and painted Greek vases had been among the most popular antiquities collected when Marshall began accompanying Warren in his purchasing tours of Europe in the 1890s. It was in the field of Greek vases that Marshall made his first steps in antiquities hunting. If one were to put together all the vases that Warren sold or donated to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts and other institutions in Chicago, Bowdoin, Philadelphia, Bryn Mawr, Providence and Leipzig, many of which Marshall had found, it would make an awesome sight.27 As in the case of stone sculptures and bronze objects, Marshall’s main objective was to fill in the gaps in The Metropolitan’s collection and expand its breadth. With the terracotta statuettes and painted vases he collected, Marshall has shown himself to be among the best connoisseurs on the subject, even though on several occasions he was duped by the many forgeries, false restorations and racketeering schemes of the time, as Vinnie Nørskov shows (Chapter 7). Roberto Cobianchi (Chapter 8) studied the collection of objects dating between the fifth and nineteenth centuries that were offered to Marshall. Although of no interest to the department of Classical Art, some of these post-antique objects were nonetheless purchased by The Metropolitan, evidently on Marshall’s suggestion. Since many of the European collectors and dealers putting forward such objects were the same as those dealing with antiquities, it is clear that all art was traded through one network only. The very eclectic nature of the post-antique objects that were made available to Marshall gives a snapshot of the diverse interests of contemporary collectors and their sophisticated taste for assembling and mixing works from different periods.

26

Richter 1915b. For a survey and study of the impact of Warren’s collections on the reception of Classical art in North America, see Murley 2012: 202–54. 27

Introduction

13

The anatomy of the antiquities trade The first twenty years of the twentieth century was a watershed in the history of the art market, because the two main sources of antiquities – historical collections and new archaeological excavations – had by then become hard to access legally.28 The fin-de-siècle aristocratic collectors had died and their collections were soon after auctioned off and dismembered, with only a few pieces occasionally reappearing for sale. By the time Marshall moved to Rome on assignment for The Metropolitan, the Italian state had taken over all major archaeological campaigns and introduced new and more restrictive, as well as economically disadvantageous, policies that virtually eliminated all private excavations. The types of individuals interested in antiquities, and their social agendas, were also changing as the old-timer gentlemen indulging in cultured pastimes of this sort had died or lost their affluence. A new generation of foreign high-end antiquities collectors was rising: determined and wealthy enough to be considered competition for Marshall and The Metropolitan. Although quite knowledgeable in classical art, they usually partnered with well-known archaeologists to scout the market and purchase objects on their behalf (see Mette Moltesen in Chapter 2): Warren had Friedrich Hauser (1859–1917), Carl Jacobsen (1842–1914) had Wolfgang Helbig (1839–1915), Giovanni Barracco (1829–1914) had the Czech art historian and connoisseur Ludwig Pollak (1868–1943), while Paul Hartwig (1859–1919) was a freelancer. Advising collectors on the side was common practice among scholars at the time, and was not yet considered shameful. Hauser, Helbig, Pollak, Hartwig and indeed Marshall knew one another well and frequently met in Rome. But friends easily became rivals, as they often competed for the same pieces. The fiercest and most powerful of Marshall’s rivals was, beyond doubt, the partnership of the Danish beer-maker and philanthropist Carl Jacobsen and the German scholar Wolfgang Helbig. They exchanged detailed letters, in which they discussed new acquisitions and tales about antiquities.29 By 1920, though, not only the Jacobsen–Helbig duo but virtually all of Marshall’s competitors in Rome were dead. By then, the Boston Museum of Fine Arts had long stopped buying antiquities on a regular basis from Warren. Only Pollak, who after the death of Barracco continued working for various European clients, managed to outlive everyone. So Marshall had fewer rivals by the end of his career and was able to operate under somewhat reduced pressure. Among the evidence available to the study of the antiquities trade at the beginning of the twentieth century are the writings of Pollak himself. Handwritten in twenty-five notebooks in German Gothic calligraphy, Pollak’s diaries cover a period between 1886 and 1934, reporting his discoveries on the market, prices paid, provenances and thoughts about or discussions of individual dealers.30 During the last three years of his life, Pollak also wrote his memoirs, which include many anecdotes about cultural institutions, antiquity dealers, intellectual circles, artists, architects and craftsmen, foreign collectors who came regularly to Rome shopping for antiquities, prices of excavated objects and the many forgeries that were circulating at the time.31 The manuscripts are held at the Museo Barracco in Rome, where Pollak served as director between 1914 and his death, waiting to be fully transcribed. Margarete Merkel Guldan has written two monographs on Pollak’s writings, including references and lengthy excerpts from the original texts. She also undertook the herculean task of indexing all the volumes of his diaries, creating

28

Cagiano de Azevedo 2010: 57. Moltesen 2012. 30 Merkel Guldan 1988. 31 Pollak 1994; Hagg 1996. 29

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Guido Petruccioli

a solid starting point for further exploration of this source that, because of Pollak’s calligraphy, remains accessible to a very few.32 Stories about significant examples of antiquities or anecdotes about memorable dealers and collectors also appear in literary accounts published several decades after the events.33 They often omit or exaggerate details or report them in a partisan way, and indulge in humorous tales based on hearsay and no corroborating evidence.34 But the most entertaining accounts are in family memoirs. Augusto Jandolo (1873–1952) wrote openly about the collectors he worked for and the objects he and his family sold to them.35 John Marshall was among their clients. Several of Jandolo’s literary accounts, however, broadly disagree with Marshall’s own notes. The deeds of the famous Neapolitan family of dealers the Canessas are also well known through the anecdotal and tendentious – but very entertaining – memoirs of their nephew Guglielmo.36 In the notebooks of Pollak, the Jacobsen–Helbig correspondence (held in the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek of Copenhagen) and, indeed, Marshall’s own notes, many individuals are named. Only a few are known international dealers: Paul Arndt (1865–1937) of Munich, Jacob Hirsch (1874–1955) from Switzerland, Feuardent Frères of Paris, the aforementioned Brummer Gallery, or the Canessa family, who owned galleries in Naples, Paris and New York. The rest are presented in this book for the first time. Marshall’s archive, although in itself scanty in biographical references, remains the richest data set available, from which it is possible to reconstruct the full extent of his social network (see Guido Petruccioli in Chapter 9). Heritage laws, nation-building and curbing antiquities exportation A description of John Marshall’s world would not be complete if not placed in its wider cultural context, in light of pre-World War I rising nationalistic sentiments and the establishment of heritage protection laws in Italy and Greece. In Italy in particular, the first decade of the twentieth century was characterised by ever-increasing efforts to preserve cultural heritage as a way of bolstering national identity. It was a question of ideology: Italy’s national identity was founded on its unique, outstanding and priceless cultural history. Although the Italian government apprehensively accepted the commercialisation of antiquities as long as they remained on Italian soil, it could not tolerate a foreign country owning significant pieces of its history. Before the institution of more restrictive regulations concerning the export of antiquities, dealers and collectors could easily overcome bureaucratic and legal obstacles and ship antiquities out of Italy. A few dramatic episodes happening at the end of the nineteenth century, involving important antiquities that were allowed to leave the country legally, brought to the attention of Italian public institutions the necessity for new laws. A case in point is the Monteleone chariot, discovered on 8 February 1902 and brought to Paris, where it was purchased by The Metropolitan the following year.37 A national scandal exploded in Italy when the arrival of the chariot in New York became public. The Italian parliament initiated an investigation and the Head of State Giovanni Giolitti and Minister of Public Education Vittorio Emanuele Orlando were pointed to as directly responsible.38 32

Merkel Guldan 1988: 311–83. See for example Muñoz 1944: 133–50 on Count Gregory Stroganoff and his circle of Italian and foreign collectors in Rome, with whom the author must have been in contact in his late twenties. 34 See for example Bellini 1947 and Batini 1962. 35 Jandolo 1935, 1938, 1947, 1949. 36 Canessa 1966. 37 MMA 03.23.1. 38 See La Ferla 2007: 3–4. 33

Introduction

15

In the previous thirty years, the task of national heritage preservation had been passionately debated in the Italian parliament, which was divided on the issue into two opposing factions. One considered antiquities, like any other private property, as a marketable good and believed that any governmental regulation of the trade was irreconcilable with their liberal ideals. The opposition sustained the primacy of nationalistic over private interests and pressed for a set of laws for the preservation of Italy’s cultural heritage. At the dawn of the twentieth century, liberalism had lost many supporters in the Italian parliament, and eventually a new set of laws was passed rapidly, on 12 June 1902 (see Francesca de Tomasi in Chapter 10). Guarding Italy’s artistic and archaeological patrimony were the officials who monitored the antiquities market and controlled the exportation of the nation’s historical heritage. Far from being mere bureaucrats, these archaeologists and art historians had been trained in Italian universities and chose to pursue careers in national museums and offices of the Ministry. Marshall must have known well the archaeologist Roberto Paribeni (1876–1956), who passionately opposed the exportation of the bronze bust of the so-called Livia mentioned above.39 Director of the Museo Nazionale Romano between 1908 and 1928, and later director general of the Ministry of Antiquities and Beaux Arts, Paribeni was an ardent patriot and firm believer in the preservation of Italy’s national heritage.40 At the same time, he understood the antiquities trade well, recognising that, when it came to granting export permits, too restrictive a regimen would have alienated dealers and given them a pretext to take objects abroad illegally. While preventing unique artworks from leaving Italy, Paribeni granted export licences for ordinary antiquities. Alternatively, as Marshall eventually did with the Stroganoff mosaic, dealers had the opportunity to sell to a national museum those antiquities for which export was denied.41 The economy of the antiquities trade and future lines of enquiry One aspect that Marshall’s archive discloses better than any other known source is the financial significance of the antiquities trade. Generally, private museums and institutions do not reveal how much they paid for their individual acquisitions, and most scholars of classical antiquities do not consider monetary value as being of any relevance to the history of an art object. The fact that Marshall kept records of how much he paid for each individual object and his frequent remarks about prices suggest that money was indeed a very influential factor in his choices.42 One of the primary criteria defining the artistic significance of a piece is its rarity. Hence, prices can tell us indirectly what types of objects were commonly circulating in the art market at any given time. Marshall’s records suggest that, in comparison to other art objects sold on the Italian market, antiquities were generally cheaper and less in demand. This is also confirmed by the fact that no dealer in Italy specialised in antiquities. The relative cheapness of antiquities in comparison with other artworks in other media or from later periods – such as paintings or modern art – is largely still true today. Collectors and dealers frequently sell items from their collection to buy something more desirable, so many objects reappear in the market a decade or more after they were first put on sale. Prices paid for the same object over time can then be used as raw data to assess patterns in the economy of the art trade, expanding and updating the work of Gerard Reitlinger.43 Prices also make us better appreciate the exceptionality of some art works, since at the time monetary value quantified artistic significance. Marshall’s expenditure

39

Bruni 2012: 588–98. Romanelli 1956; Munzi 2016. 41 See BullArte 8 (1914) 284. 42 On this matter, see also Susan Walker’s remarks in Chapter 5. 43 Reitlinger 1982. 40

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Guido Petruccioli

reports to The Metropolitan covering the years 1908–1913 give a range of market prices that antiquities could fetch, against which the prices of exceptional pieces can be compared. For example, painted vases were cheaper than objects in bronze or marble sculptures.44 This holds true nowadays too. Red- or black-figure Athenian pottery ranged between 350 and 800 lire.45 Prices rose steeply for vases in an exceptional state of preservation, for those identified as the work of a particular Greek artist and for those coming from an illustrious collection. The highest-priced ceramic object in Marshall’s archive is the red-figure calyx-krater attributed to the Nekyia painter, for which he paid £480 (= 12,000 francs/lire).46 Greek, Roman and Etruscan bronze figurines – along with coins, vessels and incised mirrors – were among the antiquities collected by most amateurs, because of their suitability for domestic settings, where they were traditionally displayed as decorative pieces. Beside the overwhelming popularity of certain subjects – naked Venuses have always been hugely popular – the value of bronze antiquities was generally determined by their size. A small (7 cm high) early Archaic statuette of a runner was 100 lire;47 the statuette of an ephebe, 14 cm high, 800 lire.48 Larger pieces were more expensive: a Venus (12.4 cm high without her lower legs) was bought for £70 (= 1,750 francs/lire),49 a complete statuette of a sacrificing priest from Macedonia (131) (24.8 cm high) was £140 (= 3,500 francs/lire),50 a Tyche of Antiochia (only 10.4 cm high, but supposedly from the Kircherian collection) was also 3,500 francs.51 A quite rare assemblage of fourteen Etruscan bronze statuettes of farm animals, ranging in size between 5 and 7 cm, and a cart (128) was bought by Marshall for 7,250 lire.52 This was low given the rarity of the group, but it shows how much size mattered for pricing. Large pieces of extraordinary craftsmanship did fetch much higher prices, such as £880 (= 22,000 francs/lire) for a sleeping cupid (123 ; Plate XLIV) and £900 (= 22,500 francs/lire) for the statuette of a Greek philosopher at the time identified as Hermarchos (126; Plate XXXVII a)).53 Thus completeness, traceable provenance, archaeological relevance or the historical significance of the subject depicted would contribute to defining the market value of each individual piece. Unfortunately, there is not enough evidence in Marshall’s records to make a reliable assessment of market prices for other categories of objects in bronze, such as vessels, mirrors, tripods or weapons. We can certainly, however, say more about marble sculptures. The price of Roman marble portrait heads ranged between 1,750 and 4,000 francs/lire.54 The portrait head of a man sporting long flowing hair at the back (13) was 7,500 francs/lire, perhaps on account of the rarity of his hairstyle.55 The very fine portrait head of Marciana (60; Plate XXIX) also had a very high 44 Marshall traded in British pounds, Italian lire and French francs. Lire and francs were used interchangeably as their exchange rate was approximately 1:1 throughout the first three decades of the twentieth century. Similarly, the GBP to lire or franc rate remained at 1:25. 45 See for example the black-figure oinochoe (MMA 09.221.45): 350 lire; red-figure kylix (MMA 09.221.38): 400 lire; red-figure krater attributed to the Opileios painter (MMA 09.221.48): 600 francs; large eye kylix (MMA 09.221.39): 800 lire. 46 MMA 08.258.21. 47 MMA 08.258.6. 48 MMA 12.235.1. 49 MMA 11.140.10. 50 MMA 13.227.6. 51 MMA 13.227.8. 52 MMA 09.221.20a–n. 53 MMA 13.225.2; MMA 10.231.1. 54 MMA 10.210.22; MMA 13.229.4. 55 MMA 13.229.5. See also here, Chapter 5 (Walker)

Introduction

17

price of 15,000 francs/lire, perhaps because it came from Greece and not Rome, where imperial portraits surfaced less frequently.56 Prices for marble portrait busts ranged between 5,000 francs/lire for a piece missing its bust foot (352)57 and 15,000–16,000 francs/lire (5) if fully preserved.58 The first-century AD portrait bust of an old man (3 , front and back cover) was bought for 23,500 lire, not only because of its ideal condition and craftsmanship, but also because Marshall knew that early imperial ‘veristic’ private portraits were hard to come by.59 The most valuable antiquities, though, were life-size or larger marble sculptures, including some remarkable pieces that Marshall bought at very high prices: for example, the Old Market Woman (8 Plate LXXIX) was 36,000 lire,60 the larger than life-size seated torso of Herakles (1373 Plate XVIII) was 44,000 lire.61 Classical or Hellenistic Greek originals were worth more than Roman copies: a fourth-century BC lion (38) was 60,000 lire,62 a fourth-century Attic stele (10, 11, 32) 115,000 francs.63 Perhaps the most expensive acquisition of all was the statue of the so-called Protesilaos that was sold to Marshall in 1925 – if we are to believe Ludwig Pollak – for £8,500 (= 212,500 francs/lire) (Figure 4.9); 64 a very high price indeed, but not outrageous in comparison to the ‘Girl of Anzio’ (still considered a Hellenistic original by some) that the Italian government bought for 450,000 lire in 1909.65 *** This book is a collection of essays by the international group of scholars who took part in the John Marshall Archive Research Project. Our goal was to recount the achievements of John Marshall, provider of antiquities for The Metropolitan Museum of Art, and give a comprehensive description of the historical context in which he operated. We wrote this book as an introduction to and framing for the John Marshall Archive, to inform readers on contextual issues and advise them on how to interrogate the primary evidence. We aimed to show how the JMA can be a rich source of information on antiquities and other postantique art objects circulating on the market at the beginning of the twentieth century. In fact, since the vast majority of the antiquities for sale at that time did not come from documented archaeological excavations, the JMA is often the only source available. Thus, we call upon a re-evaluation of all the historical documents, which too many archaeologists generally ignore or too quickly dismiss. People make history, and this book gives due credit to Marshall and his social network for their indirect impact on the historiography of classical art. We explore here the contemporary perception of the classical past that informed his decisions and, in turn, how a century later, Marshall’s undertakings are still of great interest.

56

MMA 20.200. MMA 12.232.3. 58 MMA 13.115.2; MMA 10.231.2. 59 MMA 12.233. 60 MMA 09.39. 61 MMA 11.55. 62 MMA 09.221.3. 63 MMA 11.100.2. 64 MMA 25.116. See here Chapter 4 (Petruccioli). 65 Rome, MNR, Terme, inv. No. 50170. See also L’opera delle Sovrintendenze dei Monumenti, delle Gallerie, dei Musei e degli Scavi (Quinquennio 1909–14). In Cronaca delle Belle Arti 1.10 (1914): 75. 57

Chapter 1

John Marshall – A Biographical Essay Stephen Dyson John Marshall exists for us today under two distinct and different personae. The first Marshall is the bright handsome youth who attracted the attention of the flamboyant, gay American connoisseur Edward (Ned) Perry Warren. They became partners, presumably lovers. That phase of ‘perfect partnership’ was captured in an early photograph. With their similar dress, moustaches and hairstyles, each holding a similar small dog, they appear as alter egos. Marshall acted as secretary at Warren’s English residence Lewes House and seemingly was the centre of the distinctive gay lifestyle that developed there. The older Marshall, who is the focus of this project, was a very different man. He was an established, respected operator in the complicated antiquities market of late nineteenth- to early twentieth-century Rome. He worked out of an elegant apartment on the Via Sistina (see Map 1, no. 14), where he attracted a cosmopolitan community of scholars, connoisseurs and art dealers. He was, among his other roles and activities in those years, the chief acquisition agent for classical antiquities for The Metropolitan Museum of Art, at a time when the foundations of that collection were being laid. Marshall’s relation to Warren also changed during those years. Warren was no longer deeply involved in the antiquities market. His associations with the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, for which he had been a lead collector, had soured. His interests now focused more on gay identity. He spent more time at his retreat in Maine. Lewes House was no longer central to their relationship. Indeed, for Marshall it had become a processing and restoration centre for his own antiquities business.1 Those collecting activities required that Marshall spend more time in Rome. Finally, in 1908 Marshall had married. However, Warren and Marshall remained friends and Marshall, his wife and Warren were ultimately united in death in the cemetery at Bagni di Lucca in Tuscany. Marshall’s classical education John Marshall was born in Liverpool on 10 September 1862, the second son of John Whitehead Marshall and Priscilla Lunt Marshall. His father was a wine merchant. His was a pious family and it was hoped that John would join the clergy. It was a path that the younger John was still considering during his early days at Oxford.2 He received the foundations of his classical education at Liverpool College, a new institution, founded to provide a good education and a sound religious training for the children of ‘good families’ who did not attend one of the great ‘public schools’. 1

A certain Mr Bridgman was usually hired for restoration in marble at Lewes: JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–DUN, 1910.02.09. Lewes cabinet maker George Justice took care of boxing and packing: JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAN-DUN, 1910.07.01. For bronze restoration Warren was serviced by the renowned French restorer Léon André: see e.g. JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR-DUN, 1908.08.08. 2 Sox 1991: 40

Ancient Art and its Commerce in Early Twentieth-Century Europe (Archaeopress 2022): 18–32

John Marshall – A Biographical Essay

19

Marshall chose to attend New College, Oxford. In spite of its name, it is one of the oldest colleges in Oxford, having been founded in 1379.3 Down to the mid-nineteenth century it was a sleepy place. That had changed by the time Marshall arrived in 1881. New College had instituted an improved tutorial system and added new facilities for students. Marshall chose to pursue the classical curriculum (Mods/Greats), which still stood at the centre of an Oxford education. By 1885 he had earned firsts in both Mods and Greats. The double first in Mods and Greats was no mean achievement for a young man educated at Liverpool College. Oxford also provided him with access to an active gay community. From his first days there he would have encountered gay sexuality. Passionate male friendships were common features of English public school life, and continued in the almost exclusively male world of 1880s Oxford. That form of sexual expression was given ideological support by the identification with classical Greece so central to academic and cultural life at Oxford.4 Since we know so little about Marshall’s life at Oxford, we cannot determine to what degree he identified with that gay, aesthetic world in his early undergraduate years. It is doubtful that Liverpool College would have had the strong gay community found at Eton or Harrow. He does appear to have had at least one male lover before he met Warren in 1884 and a close friendship developed between them. After a certain period of persuasion and negotiation, Marshall and Warren became a ‘pair’, a relationship that lasted for decades. The young Marshall already projected a complex personality. The term ‘faun’ was applied to him, fitting a persona that could be moody, demanding, passionate and playful.5 Edward Perry Warren Much has been written about Edward Perry Warren and the Lewes House community, so that only a summary is needed here. Warren came out of a very successful New England manufacturing family, which used its money to break into the Boston cultural elite. They moved from Maine to Boston. His brother Samuel managed the family business. Both brothers became active in the efforts to establish a major art museum in Boston. Warren attended Harvard College. There he fell under the influence of the art historian Charles Eliot Norton, who promoted among generations of Harvard undergraduates the redeeming qualities of art and especially of Greek art in an age of growing cultural vulgarity.6 He inspired connoisseurs like Warren and Bernard Berenson (1865–1959), as well as ‘men of business’ who created great collections and founded important cultural institutions like the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. Norton remained an inspiration to Warren for the rest of his life. Warren decided to follow Norton’s teachings and live the aesthetic life. The family business provided him with an independent income. He became, like so many cultured Americans of that generation, an exile in Europe. The aesthetics fitted with his developing sexual orientation, which combined gay and 3

Ryan 1979. Levey 1978: 162–68; Green 1989: 85–89, 95–97; Dowling 1994. 5 Green 1989: 95–97. 6 Turner 1999. 4

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Stephen Dyson

Hellenic identities. He promoted his distinctive brand of aestheticism with Hellenic gay practice at its centre. Finally, and most importantly for this study, he became a collector, museum patron and dealer. This was the moment when the American elite was creating not only private art collections but also public museums. The Boston Museum of Fine Arts (MFA) and The Metropolitan Museum of Art were both founded in 1870. As part of their cultural missions, those institutions were expected to create classical collections. Since little classical art was to be found in America, those museums had to operate in the international art market. They needed the services of skilled agents like E. P. Warren and John Marshall. Warren was a natural fit for the MFA. He was well known on the Boston cultural scene. His brother Sam was deeply involved with the MFA, first as a trustee and then as president. By the later 1880s, Ned had established himself as a connoisseur collector in Rome. He had good contacts in the antiquities market and was friendly with such key agents as Wolfgang Helbig. Their relationship was complex and self-serving: Helbig’s contacts and expertise might have been useful to Warren, but Helbig was also Jacobsen’s agent and thus one of Warren’s competitors. Warren became associated with the MFA at an important time in that institution’s development. That dynamism was embodied in the person of Edward Robinson (1858–1931), a pioneering classical archaeologist and museum professional, who was made curator of classical art in 1887 and appointed director in 1902.7 The first key period for MFA classical acquisitions was the years 1894–1904. Warren was most active during the first five. By the end of the ‘golden years’, Warren had become the greatest patron of classical art in the history of the museum. Some of his acquisitions were controversial, such as the so-called Boston Throne, whose authenticity is still debated today. Others were on the scabrous side, for he enjoyed shocking the ‘proper Bostonians’. He capped his history of controversial donations with a gift of his collection of pornographic art. It was hardly appreciated and banned from viewers until very recently. The year 1909 brought a crisis in his relations with his family. Dissatisfied with the financial arrangements, which provided his income from the profits of the family business, he went to court to demand changes. The next year saw the suicide of his brother Sam, the result of strains connected with the lawsuit and his recent dismissal as President of his beloved MFA. However, Warren maintained his Maine connection, returning regularly to his estate. In his later years he spent long periods of time there, enjoying the Maine scene.8 One beneficiary of that Maine connection was Bowdoin College, the core of whose classical collection consisted of gifts from Warren. The Warren–Marshall partnership While Warren and Marshall came from different worlds, they did have certain points of common identity. Both were in a sense Oxford outsiders, Warren as an American and Marshall as a young man from Liverpool who had not attended one of the major public schools. His family was prosperous, but was ‘in trade’, not part of the old money that counted so much at Oxford. Warren was rich, but it was a wealth based on New England manufacturing. 7 8

Beazley 1941: 333; Green 1989: 135. Burdett & Goddard 1941: 74.

John Marshall – A Biographical Essay

21

Upon graduation Marshall further strengthened his connection with Warren by signing on as his private secretary. It was for Marshall a fortunate development. His career options were limited. He no longer considered a career as a clergyman. His double first opened the possibility of a career as an Oxford tutor and he was urged to apply for a fellowship at Merton College, but chose not to pursue it. Teaching classics at secondary level had no appeal for him. He did not want to join his father in ‘trade’. In contrast, the future that Warren offered was very appealing.9 While he was first in Warren’s eyes, however, he was clearly not that popular among other members of the Lewes House set. As private secretary and close personal friend, Marshall accompanied Warren on many of his travels in Europe and America. It must have been a most enlightening experience for Marshall, who had seen little of the European continent before then. Initially his social skills were not those of a first-line operator in the international antiquities world and his mastery of the key continental languages was rudimentary. That changed as he worked beside Warren. He was also training himself as a top-level connoisseur at a time when the educated ‘amateur’ often was as important and influential in the art market as the trained professional. The Greek vase expert John Beazley, whose archaeological expertise was also largely self-taught, admitted in his understated way that Marshall ‘knew something about Greek art’. Warren himself was early to acknowledge the superiority of Marshall’s skills as a classical archaeologist.10 There is nothing to indicate that Marshall had either much interest in or knowledge of Greek art before he met Warren. The subject was not much studied during his undergraduate days at Oxford. Through gay/aesthete circles at Oxford, his friendship with Warren and the time spent at Lewes, he would have been exposed to the Hellenic aestheticism that was central to Warren’s approach to Greek art. It held a certain appeal to Marshall, but was not at the core of his identity. Marshall became a man of culture with excellent taste and a fine library. He learned from Warren to move easily in cultivated circles. However, his core goal was to become an ‘archaeological expert’ who could make his way confidently and successfully through the maze of the contemporary antiquities market. In this respect he resembled Berenson. Significantly, both men became well known for their extensive photographic archives. Warren naturally took the lead in developing their collecting enterprises. He had the money and the connections, as well as the great passion for Greek art. However, he soon came to appreciate Marshall’s increasingly refined judgement and his knowledge of the market. As early as 1889, when Warren was in Rome acquiring antiquities, even with the expertise of that expert dealer Helbig on hand, he turned to Marshall for the final judgement on a key purchase.11 Marshall’s first antiquities acquisition trip took place in 1891. He combined dealing with self-education and the cultivation of important contacts. The pursuit of Egyptian fabrics led him to Germany, where he studied the great museum collections intensely. It was in Munich that he first met the rising American

9

Burdett & Goddard 1941: 109. Green 1989: 121. 11 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 117–18; Sox 1991: 43. 10

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classical archaeologist Edward Robinson, later to become one of the most important figures in his professional life.12 Another key moment in the Marshall–Warren antiquities partnership came with the sale of the van Branteghem collection of Greek vases, which took place in Paris in May 1892.13 There Warren introduced Marshall to the world of high-powered international sales.14 Among their prizes was a kylix by Euphronios, which entered the collection of the MFA.15 Marshall then went on his own to explore the markets in Capua and Rome.16 He passed the test of connoisseurship, but Warren still had reservations. While he already respected Marshall’s judgement on antiquities, he was concerned about his excitable temperament in dealing with the ‘cool’ world of the dealers.17 While Lewes House remained their base, both Marshall and Warren led a peripatetic lifestyle, an existence made possible by Warren’s money and their lack of professional or family attachments. While their Rome apartment was in many respects their second home, Paris and Munich became regular stopping places. Though Marshall spent much time in the German cities, he was especially drawn to Paris, its museums and its communities of scholars, dealers and aesthetes.18 Marshall’s first steps By the fall of 1892, Marshall was operating on his own in Italy.19 His correspondence with Warren includes references to the fate of the Ludovisi collection, to his meeting such distinguished archaeologists as Rodolfo Lanciani and Helbig, and to the purchase of Greek vases from Etruscan collections and sites.20 Gems were objects of great interest for collectors like Warren. Their early letters often mention the gem collection of Count Tyskiewicz, a Polish nobleman living in Rome. Warren came to respect him highly as a collector. When the count’s collection went on sale, Warren purchased many items.21 In the field of gem collecting, as in other areas of connoisseurship, Marshall quickly developed concerns about Warren’s gullibility. He increasingly saw himself as a scholarly expert with a good eye, who would cover for Warren’s mistakes. Marshall also exchanged opinions with Prof. Furtwängler, who was very knowledgeable on gems and published a valuable study on the subject, Die Antiken Gemmen (1900). Marshall took one of Warren’s gem purchases to the Geological Museum in London and asked about the authenticity of the stone. The geologists indicated that it was not genuine. Marshall then tracked down the London dealer who had sold Warren the bogus gem. When confronted, he sardonically told Marshall that he could produce more such gems for Warren.22 12

Burdett & Goddard 1941: 134–35, 148. Branteghem 1892. 14 Green 1989: 12–15. 15 MFA 95.27. Sox 1991: 50. 16 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 154. 17 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 173. 18 Curtius 1941: 413. 19 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 158–60. 20 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 160. 21 Beazley 1941: 336; Burdett & Goddard 1941: 162–66, 206–08. 22 Sox 1991: 64. 13

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Forgeries were not limited to gems, but also were to be found among the sculptures and vases on the market. Warren’s old associate Helbig educated Marshall on the problems to be encountered in assessing vase collections, where pieces were often heavily restored or even forged.23 The detection of forgeries became an obsession for Marshall, who developed a fearsome ability to spot forgeries and identify their sources. However, at times even he would be fooled.24 The growing collections of the MFA were constant reference points during those years. Most important for its future was the possibility that the famous Ludovisi collection would go on the international market.25 Marshall studied the collection carefully and identified certain pieces like the Ludovisi Throne that would make important additions to the Boston collection.26 Warren even established a partnership with the Danish collector Carl Jacobsen to make a joint bid on the Ludovisi collection.27 Another topic that appears early in their communications and would continue to concern Marshall throughout his career as an antiquities dealer was the cultivation of agents who could get items through Italian customs.28 Marshall became a master of this side of the business, one of the reasons why The Metropolitan would later want him as its agent. Since the actions were clandestine and often illegal, he rarely talked about them in detail. Nevertheless, he occasionally provided insights into people and processes. One operative was described as a ‘rogue’ but in this context trustworthy, for ‘the dirtier the business the more secure you are in trusting to the honour of certain Italians’.29 Warren was especially interested in acquiring high-quality works of Greek art. However, the market in Rome for original Greek objects was drying up. Marshall argued that he would have to go to Greece itself, to the islands and to the Greek diaspora areas of western Turkey, and master the markets there. Warren agreed. From December 1895 to March 1896 and again in early 1897, Marshall made extended sojourns in Greece. He did not limit himself to Athens, but went on extensive tours through a still very primitive Greece hinterland.30 He came to know important dealers like Margaritis, but learned to work with suppliers on the local level too. He also travelled to Smyrna, where he established another group of contacts who could supply artefacts from eastern Greek sites.31 Marshall and the Boston Museum of Fine Arts His apprenticeship under Warren also introduced Marshall to the expanding world of American museums, especially those at Boston and New York. Marshall himself did not actually visit the United States until 1895.32 At that time Warren introduced him to leading figures among the Boston cultural elite. They made a visit to Charles Eliot Norton (1827–1908) at his summer home. There Marshall would have come to know the Harvard professor who had shaped Warren and his generation of archaeologists,

23

Burdett & Goddard 1941: 166–67. Beazley 1941: 338; Sox 1991: 65–66. 25 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 166. 26 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 171. 27 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 209–10; Sox 1991: 57; Moltesen 2012: 156–57. 28 On Marshall’s network of dealers, see here Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). 29 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 170–71. 30 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 193–205. 31 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 206. 32 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 71. 24

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art historians and aesthetes.33 Marshall evidently made a good impression and began to establish his own network in the city. It was significant that a decade later he married a Bostonian, not a New York woman. It was most likely through the Warren connection that Marshall came to know Robinson, the man who would shape the later years of his professional life, increasingly well. Robinson was an early product of the Harvard/Charles Eliot Norton world. He entered Harvard to study law, but under Norton’s influence he turned to archaeology. After graduation he undertook extended periods of study in Greece and Germany. In 1895 he joined the Classical department of the MFA. He came to the MFA at a key moment of transition in the aims and operations of the Classical department. The MFA, like other fledgling American art museums, then possessed few genuine examples of Greek and Roman art. The classical collection was developing around a few originals and a large, comprehensive collection of plaster casts. The mission of the latter was to provide the public with a comprehensive picture of the development of classical art. That educational mission had strong supporters among the power brokers in the museum.34 It also had the support of the new classical curator.35 In contrast, original objects were few, the random gifts of nineteenth-century travellers and other Bostonian institutions, such as the Athenaeum, which were redefining their collections’ policies. Those emphases and priorities changed significantly in the American museum world during the late nineteenth century. Interest in classical archaeology increased. More emphasis was placed on the acquisition of original works of art, from Renaissance paintings to Greek sculpture. By comparison, the casts lost favour and were gradually marginalised and removed. The MFA followed down that path. Robinson was more sympathetic to the casts than many in the museum world, but he was also a ‘new professional’ who could create a quality collection of genuine classical art at the MFA.36 In those developments the Warren brothers played key roles. Samuel Warren was President of the MFA and in an excellent position to shape acquisition policy. Ned from his Rome base could acquire key pieces. The Warrens had money and were connected to others with money. Important works of ancient art were regularly acquired and sent to Boston. By the turn of the century, the MFA had the best collection of Greek and Roman art in North America. Marshall was in an excellent position to observe the creation of the MFA collection. He helped Ned work the antiquities markets. He also knew the key people in Warren’s North American circle, including his immediate family. His friendship with Robinson deepened and he appears to have played some advisory role in developing the MFA collection. Robinson’s promotion to the position of director of the MFA certainly reinforced Marshall’s position. However, Marshall would have remained as a secondary adviser if dramatic changes had not taken place at the MFA on both the Warren and Robinson fronts. The trustees at the museum had decided to construct a new museum building, and for the immediate future that would consume much of the available financial resources. The glory days of collecting were over. Moreover, tensions were growing within the Warren family. They culminated in Ned bringing legal action related to the handling of the family finances, and Sam committing suicide. 33

Dyson 1998: 33–37. Burdett & Goddard 1941: 192; Dyson 2010. 35 Green 1989: 135, 171. 36 On the history of the collection of plaster casts at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, see here Chapter 4 (Petruccioli). 34

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At the MFA, grave policy tensions had developed between Robinson and the museum’s board. By 1905 they had become so serious that Robinson felt it necessary to tender his resignation as the museum’s director. Such a respected professional was not destined to remain unemployed for long. Almost immediately The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York hired him as curator of its classical collection and its assistant director. In 1910 he was made director. Marshall and the Metropolitan The Metropolitan was entering a period of great expansion. New York had become a more wealthy and dynamic city than Boston. The Metropolitan had already attracted rich patrons like J. P. Morgan. Collections were to be expanded, and among the most dynamic of those would be Greek and Roman art. They had in Robinson the most experienced classical curator in North America. They needed a European purchasing agent like E. P. Warren. Almost immediately, Robinson moved to make Marshall his chief adviser and purchasing agent, as he sought to expand The Metropolitan’s classical collections. Marshall in turn had already educated himself in the museum and its collections. In 1903 he told Warren that The Metropolitan’s picture collection was better than Boston’s, but its holdings in antiquities were poor.37 Marshall had other qualities that would have appealed to Robinson. He presented more of the manner of an informed antiquities professional, qualities the ‘new professional’ Robinson appreciated. Marshall did not have anything like Warren’s sometimes flamboyant ‘gay agenda’. That would have had at best a mixed reaction among the New York elite. Robinson certainly knew that Marshall was feeling a certain restlessness and concern about his heavy financial dependence on Warren. In 1906, Robinson appointed Marshall as the chief classical acquisitions agent for The Metropolitan. The financial arrangements were relatively straightforward. Marshall received a Letter of Credit and regularly reported his expenditures to the museum’s treasurer. He was given a monthly salary of £50 for his services.38 Extraordinary acquisitions had to be authorised by the Museum Acquisitions Committee. Special patrons were available to help with very expensive purchases. J. P. Morgan (1837–1913) was the most important of those.39 For special, more costly classical purchases they turned to a pupil of Charles Eliot Norton, James Loeb (1867–1933), banker, private scholar and patron of American classical studies. That complex relationship did not always work smoothly. At one point, Marshall had the opportunity to buy the famous statue of Athena belonging to Count Stroganoff. The opportunity was lost because Robinson was not in favour of it and Mr Loeb eventually decided not to pay for it. It remained Marshall’s biggest regret.40 Marshall became the expeditor of Robinson’s classical acquisition strategy, which was articulated in the January 1907 issue of the Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin. There Robinson announced the arrival in New York of 124 objects, which represented the ‘first fruits of the plan which was put into effect last winter for developing the Museum’s collection of classical art’.41 37

Sox 1991: 77. JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–DUN, 1908.07.21 and 1909.03.27. 39 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1908.02.29, 1908.03.19, 1908.04.07, 1908.07.16, 1909.02.09. The relief was eventually bought by the government and is now on display in Rome, Museo Nazionale Romano, Palazzo Massimo alle Terme, inv. No. 374071. 40 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1908.01.31, 1908.02.17, 1908.02.18, 1908.02.21, 1908.02.29. See also here, Chapter 2 (Moltesen). 41 Robinson 1907: 5. 38

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The collection that Robinson and Marshall took over was a motley assemblage. As with the MFA, the centre of the classical exhibitions was the large collection of casts. The museum’s holdings of originals centred on the Cesnola Collection of Cypriot art. It was especially weak in ancient sculpture, which was seen as the mainstay of any classical collection.42 The development of the classical collection soon turned from casts to originals. The flamboyant Baron Luigi Palma di Cesnola (1832–1904) was replaced by the new professional Robinson, who concentrated on the acquisition of important, original works of classical art. The position of the Classical department was further enhanced when Robinson moved into the directorship. He continued the vigorous expansion of the classical collection. However, unlike many of his generation, he continued to defend the value of the casts as a vehicle for providing the public with a comprehensive vision of classical art. Robinson’s place in the Classical department was taken by a young English woman, Gisela Richter (1882–1972). She came from a cultured, international background. Her mother was American, while her father, Paul Richter, was a distinguished German art historian. In her youth she lived in both Italy and England. She received a solid classical education at Girton College, Cambridge, and developed her archaeological expertise at the British School in Athens. She approached classical art with a formalist, historical approach, well suited to museum archaeology.43 Up until World War I the museum continued to buy vigorously on the antiquities market. Its practice was to gather the purchases made in Europe and once a year dispatch a shipment to America.44 Certain key acquisitions were immediately highlighted in the Bulletin of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Such rapid publication sometimes embarrassed Marshall, who would rather not have works whose acquisition and export history had best not receive too great a scrutiny suddenly featured in a Metropolitan publication.45 Such concerns were warranted, for Gisela Richer was an energetic publisher of articles, handbooks and specialised studies. Her works provide a good overview of the rapid growth of the classical collection, but little sense of provenance.46 A vague ‘said to have come from Athens’ or from ‘a tomb at Cumae’ or from the ‘contents of three tombs from Tarentum’ was all that was said about the origins of a piece.47 Robinson might remark about a new sculptural acquisition that the surface texture indicated that it was fresh out of the ground, but said nothing about the location of that ground.48 Marshall’s scholarly aspirations Marshall was diligently using his opportunities to make himself into one of the most knowledgeable and respected archaeological connoisseurs of the era. That serious pursuit of scholarship is evident in his letters, notes and notebooks. He delighted in visiting museums and collections, large and small. He recorded his observations in detail, often accompanying his written notes with sketches. While he came to know well certain genres like Greek sculpture, he did not have Beazley’s obsessive interest in one particular subfield. That broader range of interests was necessary for a savant-dealer. 42

Richter 1909a: 62. See also here, Chapter 4 (Petruccioli). de Grummond 1996: 958. 44 Richter 1910c. 45 See, for example, JMA, Sackler, Telegram, MAR–ROB, 1909.02.02, in which Marshall advises Robinson not to publish any information about the most recent dispatch. 46 On the provenience and provenance of objects see here, Introduction (Petruccioli). 47 Richter 1909a: 64; 1912b: 93; 1921: 12. 48 Robinson 1912. 43

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His knowledge and scholarly seriousness were respected. However, he would work long hours in the library with little to show for it. Marshall did not publish much. The demands of the antiquities trade limited the opportunities for scholarly writing. He had high standards and a ‘writer’s block’ would haunt him throughout his career.49 There was much reading and reflection, and many drafts. In the Sackler archives at Oxford are preserved some twenty versions of his article on the Chios head. Few studies made it into print. One of his few publications was the long article on the so-called Chios head that he published in the Jahrbuch des Kaiserlich Deutschen Archaeologischen Instituts.50 The subject was a female marble head, most likely an original of the classical period, found on Chios. Marshall had heard about the piece and travelled to Asia Minor (Plate VIII). He immediately recognised it as an important work of classical sculpture, perhaps even a creation of Praxiteles.51 He purchased it for Warren.52 By 1910 it was in the collection of the MFA.53 Forgeries Marshall worked in an era before the development of the scientific dating and materials analysis techniques used today to detect forgeries. His was still the age of the connoisseur, who combined a highly cultivated eye and an extensive knowledge of ancient material culture. Marshall, with his extensive knowledge of ancient art and archaeology, his access to the best scholarly libraries, his contacts in the market and his extensive photographic archives, approached issues of attribution and authenticity in a manner similar to Berenson in Renaissance painting. Marshall had been introduced early to issues related to the authenticity of archaeological objects. In 1896 Warren purchased a set of sculptures, very similar in style and subject to the famous Ludovisi Throne. He sold it to the MFA, where it was dubbed the Boston Throne (Plate LXXVIII).54 Almost immediately, questions were raised about its authenticity. Since Marshall was Warren’s archaeological adviser, he was drawn into the controversy. Marshall’s definitive defence of the piece came in a 1910 article in The Burlington Magazine.55 It is a densely argued scholarly essay, which displayed sophisticated stylistic analysis, extensive knowledge of classical art and a mastery of the scholarship. While he remained uncertain as to the work’s likely provenance, he was certain about its authenticity.56 The prevailing view today supports Marshall’s position that the piece is genuine, although doubts remain.57 Terracottas, large and small, were another area where issues of authenticity appeared early and often. An important focus of museum collecting in this era were the so-called Tanagra figurines. Those graceful female figurines had great appeal for both museums and private collectors. Tanagras were among the first important group of objects acquired by The Metropolitan under the Robinson–Marshall partnership. That was also a field of collecting where the worlds of the dealers and the forgers closely intersected. Since 49

Sox 1991: 97, 153. Marshall 1909. 51 Beazley 1941: 357. See also here, Chapter 3 (Nørskov) and Chapter 4 (Petruccioli). 52 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 215–16. 53 MFA 10.70. 54 Beazley 1941: 342. 55 Marshall 1910b. 56 Marshall 1910b; Sox 1991: 152. See also JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–WAR, undated. 57 Sox 1987: 62–64; 1991: 58–61, 152, 250–51. 50

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the Tanagras were mould made, forgery was relatively easy. Marshall was drawn into that controversial area early. He had spent time in Greece and Asia Minor making direct contact with those who faked figurines for the antiquities market. That knowledge proved useful in Rome. One of the most important collections of Tanagras there belonged to Count Gregory Stroganoff. Marshall’s refined eye and solid knowledge of terracottas made him suspect the authenticity of many items in the Stroganoff collection. Further research proved his reservations to be correct.58 The most notorious series of forgeries associated with the name of John Marshall were not miniature Tanagras but the imposing ‘Etruscan warriors’. During the early 1910s he received word of a major find of large terracotta warriors. They supposedly came from an Etruscan temple site located between Orvieto and Bolsena.59 Marshall learned about these and other ‘Etruscan’ pieces from a contact named Pietro Stettiner, who was a post office employee but also an antiquities dealer. Marshall moved quickly (too quickly, it turned out) and acquired several of these sculptures for The Metropolitan. The first shipment arrived in New York in February 1916; others soon followed. Richter and Robinson were enthusiastic about pieces that would bring fame to the museum’s Etruscan collection. However, Marshall felt increasing concerns. He urged Robinson to be cautious and not to display or publish the pieces until a number of issues had been clarified. There was the obvious question of how such large and important antiquities had been exported. The chaos prevalent in Rome, as Italy prepared to enter into war, probably aided the process. Still, the Italian government would look with disfavour on such an export. More importantly from an archaeological point of view, Marshall had not been to the site where they were supposedly found, and in this transaction was apparently working through antiquities channels outside what might have been at the time his familiar networks.60 The third terracotta acquisition was the so-called Colossal Warrior, which again was supposed to have come from the Orvieto area. Although Marshall took a health cure in the area, he was unable to locate the site from which it supposedly came. However, caution and concern were set aside. By early 1921 the Met had paid $40,000 for the piece and it was shipped to New York.61 Marshall’s reservations were ignored and in 1933 the warriors went on display. For many years they were a central feature of the museum’s classical exhibits. In 1937, Richter produced a scholarly publication on the pieces. It was only in the late 1950s with the development of thermo-luminescent dating that they were definitely proven to be forgeries. Indeed, the identity of the forgers was made known: the Riccardi brothers of Orvieto.62 Marshall and Auguste Rodin Marshall’s activities at The Metropolitan were not limited to the acquisition of antiquities. He and Warren had been long-time friends of the French sculptor Auguste Rodin. Rodin had visited Lewes and Warren had commissioned his sculpture Le Baiser (The Kiss). That sculpture had a mixed reception both locally in Lewes and on the international scene. Museum officials in both Boston and Kansas City felt it 58

Sox 1991: 66–67. Sox 1991: 119. 60 De Puma 2013: 95–97. 61 Sox 1991: 120. 62 On the Riccardi brothers and their relationship with Marshall see here, Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). 59

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to be somewhat too racy for American audiences. It was finally acquired by the Tate.63 Later Rodin was to visit the Marshalls in Rome.64 That sculptor and his works attracted the early attention of The Metropolitan, which set out to develop a Rodin collection. As part of that effort a committee was formed in 1910 to recommend acquisitions. It included Robinson and the American sculptor Daniel Chester French. The third person was Marshall, who was commissioned to visit Rodin in his study and provide a list of recommended purchases. That Marshall did. Some of his recommendations were followed; others were not.65 Marshall in Rome The centre of Marshall’s operations remained Rome, in the later nineteenth century a city in dynamic change. In 1870 the sleepy papal city had become the capital of a unified Italy. Its population rapidly expanded and a major development boom got underway. One by-product of that increased construction was the recovery of massive quantities of both ancient architectural remains and portable antiquities. That dynamic world of archaeological discovery is captured best in the writings of Rodolfo Lanciani.66 Due to those developments, to a long-established antiquarian community and to its central place in the Mediterranean, Rome became a major centre for antiquities dealing. Its various foreign scholarly institutes, especially the German Archaeological Institute, attracted archaeological scholars who sometimes became involved in the antiquities trade. The city was an attractive home for cultured exiles and ex-pats, some of whom created important archaeological collections or dealt in antiquities. The most famous of those scholarly dealers was Wolfgang Helbig.67 Helbig and Warren were close friends and associates. Both thought big. Marshall certainly learned much from observing Helbig. However, he did not have the same resources at his command. Moreover, by the time he became a major figure in the antiquities trade, both the world of dealers and the more general antiquities market had changed. With more personal financial stability and in his new position as The Metropolitan’s special agent, Marshall started to play a new role in Roman society. On 5 November 1907 he married Mary Bliss, a cousin of E. P. Warren’s. Mary had been in their circle for a while. In 1900 Warren dedicated to her a short story that he had published.68 She had stayed at Lewes House in 1903. Observers present commented that she might be after either Marshall or Warren.69 Marshall became the husband she was seeking. The wedding took place in Lexington, Massachusetts. Warren was not among the guests. Mary had been born in 1856, the daughter of Henry P. Bliss, a merchant in Boston, and Delia M. Warren Bliss. By the time of the marriage when Mary was 51, both of her parents were deceased.70

63

Sox 1991: 225. Burdett & Goddard 1941: 257–74; Sox 1991: 111–14. 65 Vincent 1981: 25–33; Sox 1991: 114–15. 66 Lanciani 1988. 67 On Wolfgang Helbig, see here Chapter 2 (Moltesen). 68 Sox 1991: 75. 69 Sox 1991: 76. 70 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 243. 64

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Berenson greeted the news with consternation and expressions of sympathy for Warren.71 Others seemed less surprised. Unlike the provocative Warren, Marshall had been relatively discreet about his sexuality. He was clearly seeking a life rather more separated from Warren. The marriage also enhanced the ‘sense of respectability’ associated with Marshall, a factor not without importance in the more conservative New York world in which he was now moving. The couple established themselves in an elegant apartment at Via Sistina 60, close to the Spanish Steps (see Map 1, no. 16) and later Via Gregoriana 25 (see Map 1, below no. 13). The view from the Marshall abodes was described by visitors as one of the most beautiful in Rome. There gathered important figures in the archaeological and antiquarian worlds. The young Bernard Ashmole from the British School met with him regularly.72 Marshall maintained an excellent library and kept abreast of literary trends. The German archaeologist Ludwig Curtius recalled their discussion of James Joyce’s controversial novel Ulysses.73 While little is known about Mary, Marshall himself described her as ‘always simple and graceful’ and as one who ‘never tries to be witty’. She was a popular hostess.74 She also had her practical side and was good with accounts, important in Marshall’s business of antiquities dealing.75 The marriage lasted until Mary’s death in 1925. After her death Warren acknowledged that Marshall found a level of satisfaction with her that he had never achieved at Lewes.76 The antiquities trade was changing both in Rome and in the Mediterranean. The building boom in Rome had slowed down. That meant that fewer finds were coming out of the ground. However, financial problems continued to force Roman aristocratic families to put objects on the market. Moreover, Rome was the focal point for objects coming from throughout Italy and beyond. Bureaucratic regulations related to antiquities exports became tighter and the authorities were better informed about the market. Diligent government archaeologists like Felice Barnabei (1842–1922) battled the clandestine excavators and the dealers, playing on the growing concerns about the loss of archaeological patrimony. The dealer community naturally counter-attacked, with Warren joining Helbig in efforts to discredit Barnabei. In the end Barnabei was cleared, although his official position was compromised.77 The actions of Helbig and Warren did not win them favour with Italian officialdom. Marshall, who needed a passable working relationship with the authorities, probably felt a need to distance himself from the more flamboyant Warren and Helbig. Their way of operating belonged to an antiquities world that was now passing. Observers of the Warren–Marshall relationship cited 1902 as the year when their joint activities really began to lessen.78 Marshall naturally said little about his operating methods, for he wanted to keep most of that world hidden. Matthew Pritchard (1865–1936), another protégé of Warren’s and associate of Marshall’s, 71

Samuels 1987: 53. Ashmole 1994: 42–44. 73 Curtius 1941: 413. 74 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 274. 75 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 241. 76 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 397. 77 Moltesen 2012: 77–82. 78 Sox 1991: 67–70. 72

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described a world of coded telegrams and pliant diplomats who smuggled pieces out in legation bags.79 Certainly, Marshall’s vigorous dealing and his ability to get objects from Italy to New York attracted official attention. In 1908, shortly after he had become The Metropolitan’s official agent, he was questioned by Italian detectives.80 It is testimony to his skills as an operative that Marshall remained a successful exporter of antiquities until his death. He operated not only in Italy, but also in Greece, which had its own strong antiquities laws. The markets tightened and the provenance of objects had to be ever more veiled to avoid state controls. Demand increased and prices rose. All these factors fed the impulse to create fakes. Sophisticated artisans in stone and terracotta were still available, some working in restoration and conservation. While the extensive restorations common in the eighteenth century were no longer in fashion, a certain level of cleaning and restoration was necessary before important pieces could be displayed or put on the market. It was tempting for such artisans to move from restoration to the creation of wholly new objects, which were then passed off as originals. The final years By the early 1920s, Marshall had become a popular and respected figure in Rome. One of the rare photographs of him from the era shows a casually elegant figure, working at his desk with a tame bird perched on his shoulder (Figure 1.1). Not all those familiar with Marshall regarded him as the smooth and amiable antiquities operator. John Beazley, who knew Marshall well, described him as ‘passionate, impatient, intolerant, irreconcilable if offended, not adept at concealing his feelings and pretty good at making enemies’.81 Bernard Ashmole remembered a more benign Marshall, who had perhaps mellowed as his life grew more secure. They became friends and Marshall served as godfather to Ashmole’s daughter.82 With his wife’s death in 1925, Marshall and Warren drew closer. Warren spent two months with him in the winter just before Marshall’s death.83 One of Warren’s last services to him was to help him through one bout of illness.84 Marshall had persistent thoughts about resigning from his position with The Metropolitan. They were reinforced by Warren, who wanted to restore the relationship with his old friend.85 However, Marshall could not persuade himself to take the final action. Marshall died of heart failure on 15 February 1928. Even up until the moment of death he had continued to pursue his professional activities. He had just returned from a conference in Munich, where he had joined such archaeological authorities as Ashmole, Beazley and Franz Studniczka in a discussion of a number of works of dubious authenticity that were coming out of Italy.86

79

Sox 1991: 173. See JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1908.04.07: ‘P.S. I am not quite sure as to what precisely occasioned this action of the Questura. Helbig thought it was the Antinous. I thought it was a general dread of Mr. M. By frightening me they thought to keep him quiet. But one friend did suggest it was occasioned by the robbing of the Aldobrandini bust and yesterday the papers reported that the rediscovery of it was made just before the detectives were withdrawn. This now seems the most likely explanation. It has been rather trying.’ 81 Beazley 1941: 338. 82 Ashmole 1994: 42–45. 83 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 399. 84 Curtius 1941: 412. 85 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 252–56. 86 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 398. 80

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Figure 1.1. John Marshall at his desk with his pet crow (negatives formerly at Lewes House, now Ashmolean Museum EPW/1/1/43 ‘Twin photos of John Marshall at desk with pet crow on shoulder’. Image © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford).

As Beazley remarked, Warren bore the death of his close friend with fortitude, but thereafter gave the appearance of one awaiting his own demise. That came late in 1928.87 In the end, Warren joined John and Mary Marshall in the cemetery at Bagni di Lucca.88 Ludwig Curtius described Warren and Marshall as ‘the last of the great antique art collectors of the previous century in a tradition that ultimately went back to Ludwig I of Bavaria’.89 They were figures linked to the past of classical archaeology, but also representative of an important, transitional moment in the development of the discipline. They were masters of the then emerging fields of scholarship in art history and archaeology. Warren used archaeology to validate personal, lifestyle agendas in a tradition that went back to Winckelmann. Marshall had some roots in that tradition. However, he represented a distinctive aspect of the new archaeological professionalism. He had antiquarian mastery, but it was developed and used to serve new market forces, public museums and more bourgeoisie collectors rather than kings and higher nobility. He was a traditional scholar, yet also in many respects a modern one.90 It is significant that a photographic archive is his most important scholarly memorial.

87

Burdett & Goddard 1941: 83. Burdett & Goddard 1941: 399. 89 Curtius 1941: 413. 90 On Marshall and his place within contemporary scholarship see here Chapter 4 (Petruccioli). 88

Chapter 2

Collectors and the Agents of Ancient Art in Rome (Plates I–VII)

Mette Moltesen The Marshall archive is a treasure trove for anyone interested in the formation of museums of ancient art in the early twentieth century, and especially in the functioning of the principal art market in Rome. Here we find all its protagonists: collectors, dealers and agents, many like Marshall resident in the Eternal City. The letters and photos in the archive provide information on the objects acquired by Marshall not only for The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, but also for other museums such as the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen. The first generation of collectors The wealthy American Edward Perry Warren (known as Ned) met the middle-class Englishman John Marshall at Oxford, where both studied classics in 1889; they set up house in the village of Lewes as friends and lovers, but also as collector and secretary. Their partnership became a great collecting endeavour in which they brought exquisite works of art home to be studied and restored, and then often passed on to the Museum of Fine Arts (MFA) in Boston.1 When Warren and Marshall first ventured into the market for ancient art in Rome in 1892, they were novices joining an existing group of European collectors who had succeeded in amassing large collections of ancient art. Soon they were regarded as serious competitors because of their good taste and ample supply of money, and this continued and intensified when Marshall became the agent for The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1906. Sponsored by a group of very wealthy philanthropists, Marshall came to represent a collection that set out to buy antiquities on a previously unimaginable scale. By this time, several of the first generation of collectors, van Branteghem, Tyszkiewicz, Somzée and Stroganoff, many of them of noble birth, had already sold their collections and Carl Jacobsen, perhaps the most important player on the market, was beginning to realise that he would no longer be able to compete with the overwhelming power of American dollars. By the closing years of the nineteenth century, most of this generation of collectors had died and their collections were auctioned off and dispersed, though some pieces resurfaced regularly on the market. Michal Tyszkiewicz (1828–1897) was a Lithuanian nobleman who lived most of his life outside his own country, settling in Rome from 1865.2 He was an avid collector of ancient art but had a peculiar attitude towards his collections: once he had made an acquisition and studied the object closely, taking into consideration the opinion of other scholars as well, he tired of the object in question and sold it on. These collecting manias only lasted a couple of years. This was a stroke of luck for Jacobsen, who started his large collection of ancient Roman portraits by acquiring the portraits from the so-called Licinian tomb, 1 2

On the Warren–Marshall partnership see here, Chapter 1 (Dyson). Tyszkiewicz 1898; Pollak 1994: 189–93; Moltesen 2012: 148–50.

Ancient Art and its Commerce in Early Twentieth-Century Europe (Archaeopress 2022): 33–53

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sold by Tyszkiewicz because he wanted to collect Greek bronzes. Only a year afterwards, Jacobsen was able to buy his collection of Greek sculpture. Tyszkiewicz lived at Via Gregoriana 24 (see Map 1, no. 14); collectors and agents would meet at his house to discuss the week’s finds. His main interest was in glyptic art and gems, of which he assembled a succession of three fine collections. After his death, his collections were auctioned in Paris and the finest pieces were bought by Warren at Lewes House and later transferred to the MFA in Boston.3 Several Belgian industrialists were also great collectors of ancient art. Alphonse van Branteghem (1844– 1911) was a lawyer for the Borax company, which had mines in Turkey, and this enabled him to amass a large collection, especially of Greek vases and terracottas; he lived for many years in Istanbul and later in London.4 When the Borax company went bankrupt in 1892, he sold his collection at auction in Paris; here Warren bought a kylix by Euphronios, the first step in his own and Marshall’s careers as serious collectors and intermediaries for American museums.5 Léon Somzée (1837–1901) worked as an engineer in the energy sector in several European countries.6 He was the director of gasworks in Italy and Belgium, and was involved with railways and mines, but was also an inventor and politician. He collected ancient art, especially sculpture, and acquired sculptures from Tyszkiewicz, from the Ludovisi and Borghese collections and often from Eliseo Borghi.7 He exhibited his collection at the Burlington Arts Club in 1892 and filled most of the Belgian pavilion at the world exhibition in Paris in 1900. Shortly before his death in 1901, he sold his Greek vases, Italian ceramics and tapestries. In 1904 his heirs sold the works of the Middle Ages, Italian Renaissance, furniture, textiles, porcelain and paintings;8 the rest was auctioned in 1907. One fine statue of Antinous was bought by Carl Jacobsen,9 while most of the marble and bronze sculptures were acquired for the Museum in Brussels and a few by his compatriot and fellow collector the industrialist Raoul Waroqué (1870–1917). Gregory Stroganoff (1829–1910) was a Russian nobleman who moved to Rome.10 His family was extremely wealthy and had a monopoly on trade with the Urals and Siberia. Stroganoff was a great connoisseur and assembled a large collection comprising not just antiquities, but also Egyptian, Byzantine and Russian art, porcelain and Dutch paintings. He bought a small house in Via Gregoriana that he turned into a small palazzo with a façade on Via Sistina (see Map 1, no. 16). It was here, on the kitchen stairs, that Ludwig Pollak discovered the statue of Athena from the group of Athena and Marsyas.11 When Stroganoff died, his heir, Princess Maria Scherbatoff, donated many of his finest Russian and Oriental works to the Hermitage, as he had wished, but kept the Greek and Roman sculptures. Eventually, she fell into serious debt and sold most of the collection. Together with a son and daughter, she was killed by the Bolsheviks. In Denmark, Carl Jacobsen (1842–1914) was a successful second-generation brewer who started collecting in 1882 and became one of the greatest buyers on the market for ancient art in Rome in the 3

Fröhner 1898. Tsingarida 2002. 5 Branteghem 1892. 6 Evers 2002. 7 On Eliseo Borghi, see here, Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). 8 Somzée 1904. 9 Copenhagen, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek IN 960; Johansen 1994b: 122–25 no. 46. 10 Pollak 1994: 209–11. 11 Pollak 1994: 223–27. 4

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years 1887–1914.12 From the very beginning he opened his museum to the public and worked tirelessly to educate the citizens of Copenhagen to appreciate the beauty and superiority of ancient art.13 He built a museum in the centre of Copenhagen for his collections of ancient art (1906) and for that of contemporary French and Danish sculpture (1897), naming it after the Glyptothek in Munich created by King Ludwig of Bavaria in 1830, which also specialised in sculpture.14 The name Glyptotek is a modern construction based on the Greek word for a collection of cut stones. The only local Italian competitor to these collectors was Giovanni Barracco (1829–1914), a nobleman of southern Italian descent, from 1886 a member of the senate who worked to protect the monuments of Rome.15 Barracco was a great collector of ancient sculpture, not just Greek and Roman but also Near Eastern, Egyptian, Cypriot and Palmyrene. His purveyor was Wolfgang Helbig (1839–1915), who had to manoeuvre with great care between him and Carl Jacobsen, as both had the same predilection for ancient sculpture and interest in establishing their museums. In 1904 Barracco, who never married, donated his collection to the city of Rome and had the architect Gaetano Koch (1849–1910) build a museum for it, the Museo di Scultura Antica, on Corso Vittorio Emanuele II. Ludwig Pollak (1868–1943) was his close collaborator and became the museum’s first director.16 The Barracco Museum was razed to the ground in 1938 and since 1948 its collections have been housed in a small palazzo (Farnesina ai Baullari) located about 100 metres to the south. The archaeologist-agents In the early years of the twentieth century, the market for ancient art was controlled by a group of very wealthy and powerful philanthropists and collecting institutions such as the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen and The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York; while the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston was concentrating its money on a new museum building, other American museums were also beginning to acquire ancient art. John Marshall joined a group of brilliant German scholars working as art agents in Rome. They had studied classical archaeology at the most prestigious universities in Germany alongside the most prominent professors of the time. For various reasons, they chose to work outside the academic world and funded their studies by acting as intermediaries between museum collectors and art dealers. They wrote scholarly works, especially catalogues, and did not consider it unethical to earn money from the art trade, but maintained that this was one way of contributing to a widespread understanding of the classical past. The oldest of these agents, Wolfgang Helbig (1839–1915) (Figure 2.1), was born in Dresden and studied classical archaeology in Dresden and Göttingen.17 As assistant director of the German Archaeological Institute in Rome from 1865 to 1887, he was able to follow the massive construction projects in Rome and publish the archaeological finds made there for the journals of the Institute. Through his wife Nadine (1847–1922), a Russian princess, he had connections to Roman high society and was familiar with all the aristocrats and their collections; when they were in financial difficulties he helped them to sell sculptures 12

Glamann 1996; Moltesen 2012. From 1882 to 1890 Carl Jacobsen himself wrote a short guide to his collection every year enlarging it with the new acquisitions, and in 1898 and 1907 he published proper catalogues. 14 Jacobsen 1906. 15 Pollak 1994: 195–97; Nota et al. 2000: 7–52. 16 O. Rossini in Nota et al. 2000: 71–98. Pollak’s great library and part of his collection were donated to the Museo Barracco in 1952. 17 Lullies & Schiering 1988: 71–72; Helbig’s short memoir, Eine Skizze meines wissenschaftlichen Bildungsganges, was published in Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek. Helbig Museet, Fortegnelse over Genstandene ved Carl Jacobsen, 1911: 3–16. 13

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Figure 2.1. Wolfgang Helbig (1839– 1915), German archaeologist and purchasing agent for the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen.

to Jacobsen and other clients outside Italy.18 After his years at the German Institute he settled in the Villa Lante at the very top of the Gianicolo hill. For 25 years and for a fixed salary of 5,000 francs, he acted as agent for Carl Jacobsen’s Glyptotek, securing more than 900 works of ancient art for the museum, primarily Roman sculpture and Etruscan pieces. From the substantial correspondence between Jacobsen and Helbig – they wrote to each other more than once a week – we learn that Helbig was also in close contact with Marshall, though this is not reflected by the letters in his archive; they probably communicated directly and not by post.19 Helbig often made deals with Marshall to avoid competing for certain objects and was still considered the grand old man of the ancient art world in Rome at this time. From 1887 to 1895, Helbig worked closely with the art dealer Francesco Martinetti (1833–1895), who was also a competent restorer, especially of ancient bronzes.20 Another close associate was Tyszkiewicz: the three were considered a kind of consortium, with Helbig being the scholar, Martinetti the restorer and Tyszkiewicz the buyer or seller, as the case might be.21 In the 1880s Helbig was instrumental in helping his friend Martinetti to sell a series of fine bronzes to the director of The Metropolitan Museum 18

Moltesen 2012: 35–62. The Jacobsen–Helbig correspondence is written in German and is currently being made accessible on the internet. The letters cited are translated by the author. 20 Guarducci 1980: 472–86; Molinari 1990; Moltesen 2012: 143–45. 21 Guarducci 1980: 472–86 – Guarducci expressed a passionate hatred for Helbig; Pollak 1994: 221. 19

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37

Figure 2.2. Paul Arndt (1865–1937), German archaeologist and purchasing agent for several museums in Europe (ph. from Lullies & Schiering).

of Art, Henry Marquand, including the Cybele with her cart drawn by lions and the so-called Camillus, which Marquand donated to the museum in 1897.22 Strangely, Marshall only mentions in his correspondence with Jacobsen a single acquisition from Helbig himself, a small male portrait that he bought merely to thank Helbig for having done his best to help him acquire the so-called Terme Niobid in 1906.23 There are two pieces (462 and 646) in the JMA that bear Helbig’s name on the back of the photographs. Both are forgeries or suspicious. Paul Arndt (1865–1937) studied classical archaeology in Munich, where he lived for most of his life24 (Figure 2.2). His greatest achievement was to continue the work of his university professor, H. Brunn (1822–1894), who in the early days of photography had understood the importance of this medium for students of ancient art, who were rarely able to travel to visit Europe’s large museum collections. Whereas 22 MMA 97.22.24 (Bronze statuette of Cybele on a cart drawn by lions): Richter 1930b: 307–08, Figure 218; MMA 97.22.25 (Bronze statue of a Camillus (acolyte): Richter 1930b: 307 Figure 217; Picón et al. 2007: 316; JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1908.12.23 and 1908.12.30. 23 MMA 07.286.113 (Marble portrait of a veiled man, 7.6 cm, perhaps from a sarcophagus). 24 Lullies & Schiering 1988: 158–59; Curtius 1950: 209-10; Moltesen in press.

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Prof. Brunn had lectured on ancient sculpture using etchings and drawings rendered in copperplate, it was now possible to work with good photographs. Together with the Munich publisher Friedrich Bruckmann (1814–1898), Arndt continued the series Denkmäler griechischer und römischer Skulptur and Griechischer und römischer Porträts (BR-BR 1888–1900) and started his own Photographische Einzelaufnahmen griechischer und römischer Skulpturen (EA) with his friend and colleague Walter Amelung (1865–1927), aimed at creating a complete photographic archive of all the world’s Greek and Roman sculptures.25 Though never completed, it reached 4,200 examples before Arndt died in 1937 and the work has been of enormous importance for the study of ancient sculpture ever since. In many cases, these old photographs are still the best available to show details of the works; they also portray the sculptures in a condition before excessive cleaning was performed. This project gave Arndt an opportunity to travel on photo campaigns to lesser-known collections in Spain, England and northern Italy, where he also met art dealers of lesser renown than those in Rome. Although he always complained about his finances, Arndt became a wealthy man when his father died in 1904, enabling him to build a very large house in Munich where his library and archive – his Apparatus – was open to colleagues and students.26 Arndt travelled extensively in Greece and established excellent contacts with Greek art dealers to whom he also lent money on account, helping them to sell many fine original Greek sculptures to the Glyptotek and other large European museums. Here he benefited from the advantage of shipping the objects from Greece to Trieste, a free port, and then directly by rail to Munich or Paris, thus avoiding the bureaucracy and high export duties in Rome. In Munich, his customers could view the art works, and we know that Marshall often went to see the objects for sale. According to the correspondence between Marshall and Robinson, Arndt effectively had a monopoly on trade with Greek dealers in the early twentieth century, at a time when Jacobsen was the most important buyer on the market. Arndt supplied Jacobsen with over one hundred works of ancient sculpture and wrote the first true catalogue for the sculptures in 1896–1912.27 He acted as assistant to Brunn’s successor, Adolf Furtwängler (1853–1907), with whom he had a very strained relationship; however, he never had a fixed position and was always envious of Helbig, who worked for Jacobsen on a fixed salary. In 1901, Arndt sent a letter to the director of The Metropolitan of Art, Luigi Palma di Cesnola, offering to act as a representative of The Metropolitan in Rome (the position that later went to John Marshall), including a letter of recommendation from Jacobsen. When Marshall died, Arndt tried his luck again, but by then the museum no longer wanted a permanent representative in Europe. As we shall see, Arndt was also involved in some of the affairs of Marshall and The Metropolitan, though strangely the JMA contains very few documents relating directly to him, possibly because the two men were not on particularly good terms. When Marshall died, Arndt wrote to Robinson: “Mr. Marshall was never a friend of mine, he has been against me nearly every time our paths have crossed: but I do willingly acknowledge the extraordinary merit he has earned for your museum.”28 25

The project is explained in detail in Photographische Einzelaufnahmen Antiker Skulpturen Series I, 1893: 1–11. In Himmelreichgasse no. 3. After Arndt’s death, Georg Lippold secured his archive for the University of Erlangen, where it is still kept but has never been studied. I am grateful to the Keeper of the Museum and Archive Dr Martin Boss and to Professor of Classical Archaeology Hartmut Matthäus for letting me study in the archive and for offering me help and guidance. 27 Arndt 1896–1912. 28 P. Arndt to E. Robinson, 29 February 1928, in the archive of The Metropolitan Museum of Art. I am grateful to Carlos Picon and Joan Mertens for having been able to consult the Arndt letters during an Andrew Mellon fellowship to the Met. in 2008. 26

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In his later years Arndt tried very hard to persuade The Metropolitan to buy his large collection of gems, but did not succeed; the collection ended up in the Staatliche Münzsammlung in Munich.29 Paul Hartwig (1859–1919), a classical archaeologist from Dresden, was a great aesthete and particularly knowledgeable about Greek vases. He became famous for his pioneering work Griechische Meisterschale, which evolved from a group of vases that he had acquired in Rome and that were later sold to Johns Hopkins University. He himself recounts that the publication was stopped by British customs for containing obscene pictures.30 He travelled widely and was on friendly terms with art dealers in Greece, from whom he bought several fine archaic and classical sculptures for the Glyptotek,31 as well as many works for the Glyptothek in Munich and the British Museum in London. Hartwig was deeply involved in the discovery of the so-called Boston Throne, which he described in a letter to Jacobsen just days after it was found and of which he was at one time the co-owner.32 This also emerges from an interesting document in the JMA telling the story of the discovery.33 From 1901, he took up permanent residence in Rome, at Via Alessandrina 17 (see Map 2, PH), where he settled as an art dealer often backed by Arndt, as confirmed by a letter from Marshall.34 In 1904 he was forced to leave Rome for a period after an accusation of paedophilia. Ever since the years when Marshall collaborated with Warren they had purchased extensively from Hartwig, and in 1905 he was involved in the acquisition of the so-called Eirene statue for The Metropolitan (1108),35 for which he also secured many other pieces (2, 13, 16, 20, 28, 44, 46, 75, 126, 130, 171, 185, 258, 352). Friedrich Hauser (1859–1917) was a classical archaeologist from Stuttgart in Germany who for many years acted as a paid agent for E. P. Warren.36 According to Pollak, he was a man of means who from 1896 settled at Piazza Sforza Cesarini 41 in Rome, near the Barracco Museum, where his close friend Hartwig joined him for some time until they became bitter enemies. He was extremely learned, not only about antiquities but also about ancient literature, and was an able draughtsman. He specialised in Greek vase painting and worked for several of Furtwängler’s large vase publications.37 In 1913 he complained of being blackmailed in Rome and was advised by the Italian police to leave the country.38 For Marshall he acquired many vases and fragments of vases.39 Ludwig Pollak (1868–1943) was born to a Jewish family in Prague. He studied classics in Prague and later in Vienna, and is the only one of the art agents to have left us his memoirs, providing a wealth of information on the world of ancient art in Rome.40 In 1894 he moved to Rome, where he lived until he was deported, though with long interruptions; he died in Auschwitz in 1943.41 Pollak was a great connoisseur, especially of bronzes and gems, and acted as adviser to Giovanni Barracco, whom he assisted with his collection of ancient sculpture in Rome. Pollak wrote the catalogues for several private 29

Zazoff & Zazoff 1983: 230–39. Lullies & Schiering 1988: 130–31; Curtius 1950: 186. 31 He was instrumental in acquiring more than 40 works of ancient art for the Glyptotek, among them several masterpieces such as the two archaic lions from Loutraki, IN 1296 and IN 1297. 32 P. Hartwig to C. Jacobsen, 3 October 1894 in the archive of the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek; Moltesen 1990, 2012: 109–10. 33 JMA, Sackler, Overview of the acquisition, MAR–?, without date; two letters MAR–WAR without date. 34 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB 1909.12.30. 35 MMA 06.311; Curtius 1950: 186; Pollak 1994: 98. 36 Lullies & Schiering 1988: 132–33. 37 Curtius 1950: 185: Pollak 1994: 98. 38 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–?, 1913.11.05. 39 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–FUR, 1913.11.05. 40 Pollak 1994. 41 He was forced to join the Austrian army during World War I and only returned to Rome in 1919. 30

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collections and was often asked for advice by his colleagues. From the beginning Pollak was eager to sell to Jacobsen, but was advised by him that Helbig had a monopoly on the trade in Rome; he therefore turned to Arndt and sold through him or sent the sculptures via Prof. Klein in Prague. Pollak found numerous fine portraits for Jacobsen’s collection. From Marshall’s correspondence we learn that Pollak was active in selling artefacts, primarily bronzes, to The Metropolitan, especially from 1907 to 1915 (40, 101, 143, 196, 201, 202, 213, 216, 226, 264, 289, 344).42 Competing for objects In the early part of the twentieth century there was an increasing number of purchasing institutions, but the number of valuable antiquities decreased because fewer construction projects were underway in Rome and the remaining aristocratic collections, such as those belonging to the Ludovisi and Borghese families, were acquired by the Italian government. As a result, Marshall and other agents often found themselves competing for the same pieces or joined in temporary alliances to prevent others from creating a monopoly.43 Particularly telling is Marshall’s ambivalent relationship with Helbig and Arndt. Helbig worked for Jacobsen and Marshall for The Metropolitan, so they were constantly competing for the best objects, albeit in a very gentlemanly fashion, giving each other room to manoeuvre and even helping one another to value sculptures and to keep other buyers at bay. Marshall’s archive informs us that in 1909 he was offered at least three, possibly four, marble statues of lions. They were all of Greek workmanship and must once have adorned the tombs of Greek citizens of the fifth and fourth centuries BC. The finest is a large dog-like beast with a small head crouching on its front paws (38) that was offered for sale by the Roman art dealers Ernesto and Elio Jandolo (Plate I a.).44 It was found near Porta Portese in Rome, indicating that the lion statue had been brought to Rome already in the Roman period and may originally have been placed in the Gardens of Caesar in Trastevere.45 It was acquired by Marshall for The Metropolitan at the same time as the famous Old Market Woman (8) and he remarked: ‘This lion is worth a workhouse full of old women carrying hens. It is the grandest piece of its sort I have ever seen....’46 The lion was sent to Lewes House where it was restored with cement, as the conservators did at Lewes in order to ensure that such pieces survived their transportation to America. At the same time, two other lions were offered for sale by the Greek art dealer Kostas Lembessis, both of the Athenian type of the fourth century BC as we know them from the city’s Kerameikos cemetery. The first is a seated lion (335)47 – allegedly from Marathon in Attica – the other a standing lion, or a little more than half of one (333) (Plate I b). At the very same time, however, Helbig offered Jacobsen a lion statue, also owned by Lembessis, which was perhaps the same piece. Jacobsen bought it for 8,000 francs, but when it arrived he was not happy with it because it was so ruined and returned it to Lembessis.48 42

In fact, Pollak sold twenty-seven art works to the Metropolitan Museum: Merkel Guldan 1988: 208 n. 255. In the 1890s Warren and Jacobsen made a plan to divide the Ludovisi collection among themselves (see Moltesen 1990),, and for years Jacobsen and Marshall talked about buying and dividing the Lansdowne collection. 44 MMA 09.221.3; Richter 1954: 70, cat. 72, pl. 58–59; Picón et al. 2007: 131, 433, no. 144; JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR-ROB, 1908.12.14. ‘A very fine lion in the hands of the other Jandolos [i.e. Ernesto and Elio Jandolo]’; Pollak 1994: 162 gives the price as 64,000 lire. 45 Cima 2015: 4–7. 46 JMA Sackler, Letter, MAR-ROB, 1909.02.15. 47 Vermeule 1968: 100 (ex Branteghem); 1972: 51 n 8 (ex Branteghem-Marathon with Lembessis in Paris), pl. 12, Figure 4. 48 Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek IN 2433 de-accessioned; C. Jacobsen to W. Helbig, 1909.09.12; 1909.09.28. Even more confusing is the 43

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41

A month later, Arndt offered Jacobsen another lion, this time a wonderful crouching lion with inlaid eyes that belonged to the Greek dealer Yanakopoulos (Figure 2.6). The price was 40,000 francs, but Jacobsen thought this far too high and bought the lion directly from the dealer for 20,000 francs, which naturally annoyed Arndt very much.49 There were yet other lions in circulation: Marshall wrote to T. D. Duncan that Yanakopoulos had a lion for sale in Paris – for 18,000 francs – which he said he must buy, probably as a way into the Greek market.50 This lion is a fine piece, also allegedly from Marathon, and was acquired by Marshall for The Metropolitan (Figure 2.4).51 In stance and size the latter is so similar to the Copenhagen lion that it could be its companion piece.52 We know of other instances of such mirror-image lions placed on a tomb as a pair. Unfortunately, the lion’s face is ruined and from the correspondence we learn that Marshall came up with the idea of asking

Figure 2.3. Standing marble lion, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, Copenhagen IN 2448 (ph. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek).

fact that at the same time Arndt offered Jacobsen a fourth-century Greek lion statue missing its hindquarters from Triantaphyllos for 40,000 lire: P. Arndt to C. Jacobsen, 1909.05.08. 49 Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek IN 2448; Moltesen 1995: 78–79, no. 22, c. 330 BC. That there were even more lions in circulation is shown by the fact that six fragments of a larger Greek lion, IN 3627 a–f, arrived together with IN 2448. 50 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–DUN, 1909.08.18. 51 MMA 09.221.9; Richter 1954: 82, cat. 145, pl. 105 c–d, 106. 52 IN 2448 is 57 cm high and 125 cm long; MMA 09.221.9 is 71 cm high (plinth 7 cm) and 130 cm long.

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Figure

2.4.

Standing marble lion from Marathon, MMA (ph. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, public domain).

09.221.9

(ph. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek). Jacobsen for a plaster cast of his lion’s face to use for a restoration.53 The plaster cast was apparently made, but never used. It would be interesting to know whether there had been excavations in the necropolis of Marathon, since so many lion statues were chief characters in what Vermeule called an ‘artistic migration’ from there.54 The lion stories also show that Greek art dealers worked together, perhaps forming a consortium backed by Arndt. This emerges very clearly from a letter sent by Marshall to Robinson on 13 January 1910, in which he lamented the fact that for some time Arndt had had the absolute monopoly on trade with Greek dealers and feels that he himself had been excluded, as all the good pieces were sent to Munich.55

53 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1909.12.21; ‘...the smaller lion. This I shall send as I get from Jacobsen a cast of the head of the companion piece, which he has recently bought.’ 54 Vermeule 1968: 50; Travlos 1988: 216–57 makes no mention of excavations at Marathon in those years. 55 J. Marshall to E. Robinson in the archive of The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

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Statues from Villa Patrizi The complicated nature of the trade in ancient sculpture in Rome is shown by the vicissitudes of the statues found when the grounds of the Villa Patrizi on the Via Nomentana were developed to make room for the Ministry of Public Works. In 1903–1904, four statues were found and brought to the landowner, Prince Patrizi: two seated male statues without heads, a standing woman and a seated nymph.56 He showed them to Hartwig, who called in Arndt. Arndt had them photographed and offered the two female statues to Jacobsen.57 Subsequently all four were bought by Antonio and Alessandro Jandolo,58 who refused to sell them separately. Jacobsen was very keen to acquire the standing female statue (1108), as was Marshall, who asked Helbig to have Jacobsen back off. This was achieved without difficulty, as the sixty-five-year-old Jacobsen was then on his honeymoon with a twenty-five-year-old ballet dancer.59 But the other statues from Villa Patrizi were not forgotten and ironically enough one of the male statues ended up in the Glyptotek after several detours. This is the statue of a seated orator – perhaps Metrodoros – that had passed through two private collections before reaching the Glyptotek in 1920 (Figure 2.5).60 The other male figure, a portrait statue of a seated poet signed by the sculptor Zeuxis (58), was acquired by The Metropolitan in 1909.61 It had also passed through a private collection first. These statues probably once stood in a Roman villa, where the two male statues representing a poet and an orator may have been part of a group of Greek intellectuals of the sort often found in the Roman period.62 The end of Jacobsen’s collaboration with Arndt came in 1909. He had long felt that Arndt was too expensive, as we have seen regarding the lion statue, but nevertheless bought some of his finest Greek sculptures from him that very year: the statue of a Greek dog63 – also offered to Marshall – and the fine statue of a floating woman from a temple at Hermione in the Argolid.64 However, the acquisition of the so-called Eilende Frau, which Marshall recognised as a ‘Niobid from the Florence group’, highly recommended by Arndt, was a great disappointment to Jacobsen. He felt it was far beneath the standards of his collection and sent it back to Munich.65 Arndt was furious and called in several experts to guarantee the statue’s excellence, but Jacobsen was so disappointed that he broke off all contact from then onwards. However, Arndt soon sold the statue to Anton Hekler at the museum in Budapest and here it is exhibited today as a Roman copy of a Hellenistic statue representing Isis Pelagia, the patron of sailors.66 After Arndt’s exit from the Glyptotek, Paul Hartwig quickly offered to fill the vacuum, although he himself had been instrumental in obtaining the fateful statue for Arndt, as we know from a document in the JMA.67

56

NSc 1903: 60; 1904, 225–26; BullCom 1903: 290; 1904: 201. Arndt offers all four to Jacobsen 1905.07.29, but Jacobsen doubts it would be possible to export Eirene and finds the seated philosopher too poor for the Glyptotek and Munich, and the Zeuxis even worse. C. Jacobsen to P. Arndt, 1905.03.08. 58 On Antonio and Alessandro Jandolo, see here, Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). 59 MMA 06.311; Richter 1954: 65, cat. 98, pl. 80; Picón et al. 2007: 140, 435, no. 158. See also here, Chapter 4 (Petruccioli). 60 Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, IN 2685; Johansen 1992: 104–05, no. 41. 61 MMA 09.221.4; Richter 1954: 99, no. 190, pl. 133; Picón et al. 2007: 218, 454, no. 253. JMA Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1908.12.14; Letter, MAR–HAR, 1907.08.27. 62 Zanker 1995: 204–05. 63 Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, IN 2447, Greece in the Classical period 1995: 72, no. 20. 64 Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, IN 2432, Greece in the Classical period 1995: 60–61, no. 9. 65 An extensive and very animated correspondence in the archives of the Glyptotek and in the University of Erlangen. 66 Szilagyi 2003: 86–87; Goette et al. 2019: 29–38. 67 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–?, 1909.02.13. 57

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Figure 2.5. Seated statue of an orator, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, Copenhagen IN 2685 (ph. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek).

Like Marshall, Helbig and Hartwig settled permanently in Rome. We do not know whether they met socially, but they did meet with dealers and at auctions. Thanks to his wife Nadine, Helbig moved in the highest circles of the aristocracy, but also knew the German intellectuals in whose company Hartwig was also to be found. The two were by now in a rather fragile state of health, and we learn that Mary Marshall always had a nurse or companion with her and that the couple often took cures at various spas. In 1909 Helbig was also unwell, suffering from rheumatism, and went to take the waters at Bad Kissingen, where he met John Marshall and the Greek art dealer Kostas Lembessis; it was here that Lembessis offered the lion to Jacobsen through Helbig.68 68

W. Helbig to C. Jacobsen, 1909.08.11.

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In the first decade of the twentieth century, Jacobsen and Marshall were the most important buyers on the art market and they competed for two of the most significant and famous statues found in Rome in that period, namely the Terme Niobid (279, 358) 69 and the statue of Athena from the group of Athena and Marsyas.70 Although the two men competed for several years, they were outnumbered and unfortunately both unsuccessful. The Niobid was turned over to the Italian government and remained in Italy in the National Museum, and the Athena was sold to a new museum, the Liebighaus in Frankfurt. Nonetheless, these stories, which are long and complex enough to deserve a detailed description elsewhere, show us how the agents worked and the lengths to which they were prepared to go to secure the best works of art for ‘their’ museums. The problem of forgeries There was a constant danger from forgeries that were so cleverly made that agents, scholars and museum curators found themselves in disagreement on the originality of certain pieces. It became, as Jacobsen said, a sport ‘à la mode’ for specialists to expose forgeries owned by others, pointing fingers at whoever had been conned. Adolf Furtwängler in Munich, who was regarded as the foremost specialist in ancient sculpture at the time and had effectively defined the different styles of Greek sculpture in his seminal work Meisterwerke der Griechischen Plastik (1893), was particularly harsh in condemning other collectors’ acquisitions. In 1899 he published the first book entirely devoted to forgeries of ancient sculpture.71 It is common knowledge that a forgery is a child of its time and only lasts for one generation before being detected. Every forgery is created under the influence of the style and fashion of the day, and is unmasked once that style changes. In the years around 1895–1900, when the market for ancient art was flourishing in Rome, competition among collectors grew. At the same time the great bank scandals had resulted in fewer building works and therefore fewer excavations, leading to enormous price rises for antiquities.72 This in turn led to the emergence of cleverly manufactured forgeries, especially of marble sculptures. Apparently there were so many forgeries in circulation that in 1913 Jacobsen remarked to Helbig that half of the objects offered for sale were false.73 Most of these sculptures were rather small and often inspired by famous ancient works of art; thus in 1901 Carl Jacobsen bought a head of the Barberini Supplicant type, a famous statue that he had tried to acquire for years and that is now in the Louvre.74 Upon its arrival he found the style of the head very questionable, the patina came off when washed and the surface presented small spots of sinter made by placing iron oxide in small holes in the surface made with a warm nail. Jacobsen decided to return it to the seller. The head had been acquired from the president of the Collegio della Missione and had allegedly been found in the Domus Aurea, apparently a guarantee of authenticity, and the intermediary, Helbig, was quite sure that the president would give the money back rather than risk a scandal. However, a new president had been appointed in the meantime and he only gave Jacobsen the opportunity to choose another piece from his collection.

69 Rome, MNR, Palazzo Massimo alle Terme, inv. No. 72274; Giuliano 1979: 176–89; Moltesen 2012: 116. JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB 1909.01.02. 70 Frankfurt, Liebighaus, inv. No. 195; Bol & Daltrop 1983: 20–28; Pollak 1994: 223–27. 71 Furtwängler 1899. 72 Moltesen 2012: 68–69. 73 C. Jacobsen to W. Helbig, 31.10.1913. 74 The Barberini Supplicant was acquired by the Louvre in 1935, MA 2433, according to Pollak for a sum of 500,000 lire: Pollak 1994: 159; Pasquier & Martinez 2007: 102–03.

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It was always important to give forgeries a good provenance and none could be better than the Domus Aurea, where excavations were underway at the time. Interestingly, several fake copies of this particular statue type – the Barberini Supplicant – appeared on the art market right up until the 1950s.75 At the same time, a whole series of heads in the same style were sent to Paris and Munich, showing that a very able forger was at work.76 This event led to the meeting of a group of museum directors and conservators, who convened in Copenhagen with the sole purpose of examining forgeries and discussing how to tackle the problem.77 They rightly argued that only by studying the forgeries themselves, discussing them and defining their flaws could one learn to distinguish clearly between the very fine forgeries on the market and the originals. The fact that such a secret society had been formed already in 1898 shows the seriousness of the problem. Jacobsen believed that, instead of hiding the forgeries that had fooled one as many collectors did, they should be shown to colleagues to train their eyes to detect anomalies that could unmask the deceit. Arndt even suggested that Jacobsen create a gallery in his museum containing only forgeries as a way of educating the public. As host of the meeting, Jacobsen was willing to show his own forgeries at the Glyptotek, especially the so-called Carlsberg Diadumenos (Figure 2.6), one of the very few full-size marble statues made at the time: forgeries were often either portraits or reliefs that required less marble and less work.78 This statue was acquired in 1896 from the estate of Francesco Martinetti and shortly after its arrival in Copenhagen, Ludwig Pollak paid a visit and discovered a series of anomalies that showed that, though well made, it was a forgery.79 It is very seldom that we can identify the author of a forgery, but in this case we are helped by a letter from Marshall to an unknown recipient in the Marshall archive: Malpieri a sculptor who worked at 40 fr a day for D’Epinay who signed his works.80 Afterwards Malpieri worked for himself.81 He made a nude statue of a man which was bought on Helbig’s advice by Francesco Martinetti. Francesco suspected its authenticity and hid it. Afterwards it was bought from his ‘Nachlass’…. This story was told me tonight Jan 19th 1898. He [Pollak] heard it yesterday from a source which he does not suspect, a man who at least has no interest in lying on the matter. Pollak did not tell him that he connected it with Jacobsen’s Diadumenos. The Diadumenos according to Helbig’s account came in a box marked Formiae (or Formia) was the property of Francesco, was sold by him to Jacobsen though not paid for till after his death, to Angelo [Martinetti]. I heard of the Diadumenos when I was in Rome with Matt [Pritchard] (or before) as having been sold by Francesco Martinetti to Jak.82 It would be interesting to know whether there are other forgeries by the same hand. In my own studies of the statue, I had previously suggested that the forger was Pacifico Piroli, a restorer with a workshop at Via Quattro Fontane 28 (Map 2, no. 19) who admitted to having put the different parts of the statue together 75

Paul 1981: 162–63; Türr 1984: 124–28, perhaps made in the same workshop. W. Helbig to C. Jacobsen, 1902.07.06. 77 Fifth meeting of the Verband von Museums-Beamten zur Abwehr von Fälschungen und unlauterem Geschäftsgebaren, Copenhagen 15–18 September 1902. 78 Letter from W. Helbig to C. Jacobsen, 1896.12.16. 79 Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek IN 1429; Moltesen 1981: 51–69; 2005, Figure 9, 411–12, no. 223. 80 Prosper D’Epinay (1836–1914) was a French sculptor, painter and cartoonist working in the naturalistic classicising style of the Salon. 81 There are several Italian artists of the same name in the late nineteenth century; Romolo Malpieri, born in 1831, and Roniolo Malpieri, born in 1832, were sculptors. 82 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–?, 1898.01.19. 76

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Figure 2.6. The false Diadumenos, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek IN 1429 (ph. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek)..

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and given it an artificial patina.83 There is often a reason for making a particular forgery. In this case, an obvious choice for a model was a Diadumenos – an athlete tying a band around his head – identified with the description of a famous statue by the Greek artist Polykleitos and as such widely acclaimed, which had been discovered in 1894 on the island of Delos. This was especially so as another copy of a similar type, the Anadumenos Farnese, had been sold to the British Museum for 40,000 francs in 1889. It is no surprise that a forger would take this type as his model. In Copenhagen, Jacobsen became so disappointed with his statue that he placed it outdoors in his garden, where it stood until recently and therefore has suffered considerable damage. Another clever forgery is the statue of a small Boy with a Cockerel that Jacobsen bought from Alfredo Barsanti in Rome in 1912 (Figure 2.7).84 Even before Jacobsen reached home, Helbig had written to Jacobsen offering a counterpart, the statue of a little boy holding a hare and a bunch of grapes, which was also offered to John Marshall (345) by Barsanti (Plate IV). In the meantime, the Boy with a Cockerel had arrived in Copenhagen and Jacobsen immediately judged it to be a forgery, supported by his assistant, Frederik Poulsen, and his conservators. In a state of great agitation, he wrote to Helbig that he would have photographs taken of the statue and sent to the Association Against Forgeries that a number of European museum directors had established some years earlier.85 His intention was to spread the word that Barsanti traded in forgeries.86 Jacobsen’s letter may have crossed paths with one from Helbig saying that he was holding back the photographs of the second statue – the Boy with a Hare and Grapes – because he had doubts about its authenticity. Helbig had noted a discrepancy between the hair, which is nearly archaic in style, and the very free body, but was not completely certain; he was also very reluctant to offend Barsanti, who was one of the more decent art dealers. By his next letter, Helbig had apparently consulted Friedrich Hauser, who had seen the Boy with a Cockerel and found no fault with it and who informed him that Marshall had considered buying it, but had had to leave Rome for London in order to undergo surgery.87 On 23 April of the same year, Helbig received Jacobsen’s letter condemning the Boy with a Cockerel. This led him to inform Jacobsen that the other statue – the Boy with a Hare and Grapes – was definitely a forgery, allegedly a modern work by the young count Cozza, who he said ‘is superior to all previous forgers with his fine chisel work and knowledge of chemistry’.88 By the time of his next letter, Helbig had spoken to Marshall, who considered the Boy with a Cockerel statue to be genuine and had said as much to Barsanti, backed by other specialists such as Friedrich Hauser and now also Ludwig Pollak and Paul Hartwig. But though Jacobsen found many details that seemed wrong, such as the freshness of the cockerel’s head and the artificial sinter on the surface, he began to waver and decided to send the statue for scrutiny to Franz Studniczka in Leipzig to hear his verdict. In a long letter, Studniczka admitted that he had been wrong and now considered the statue genuine.89 Some time later, Helbig recounted that Barsanti said he had obtained the two statues of putti –

83

Pacifico Piroli in a letter sent to C. Jacobsen via W. Helbig, Danish translation in Moltesen 1981: 60. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek IN 2610; Paul 1962: 95–96; 1981: 67, 160; Türr 1984: 131–32; Imperial Rome III, 2005: 413–14, no. 224; Pollak 1994: 162. On Alfredo Barsanti, see here, Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). 85 The Verband von Museums-Beamten zur Abwehr von Fälschungen und unlauterem Geschäftsgebaren first met in 1898. 86 C. Jacobsen to W. Helbig, 1912.04.19. 87 W. Helbig to C. Jacobsen, 1912.04.17. 88 W. Helbig to C. Jacobsen, 1912.04.23. 89 F. Studniczka to C. Jacobsen, 1912.06.29. 84

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Figure 2.7. Small boy with a cockerel, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek IN 2610 (ph. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek)..

the two little boys – from a fountain in a columbarium near Porta Maggiore.90 Nevertheless, in 1951 the statue of a Boy with a Cockerel was described in the catalogue as a forgery.91 Helbig regarded Warren and Hauser as the foremost specialists in the detection of forgeries because they used scientific methods in their analysis and were therefore more objective, ‘while the subjective 90 91

W. Helbig to C. Jacobsen 1913.05.27. This could also be, of course, a false provenance. Poulsen 1951: 131, Cat. 173b.

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theories play the greatest role for Furtwängler. Woe! the statuary type which in the rendering of the eyes or the ears differed from the norm that Furtwängler has set for the art school in question! Then either the Roman copyist must bear the brunt, or if he could not be blamed for the deviation, the statue or the head had to be declared a forgery.’92 Considering Marshall’s rather superior attitude towards Jacobsen for letting himself be fooled by the Diadumenos, it is ironic that in his later years Marshall himself became involved in the two greatest forgery scandals of the twentieth century: the Dossena affair and the acquisition by The Metropolitan of the ‘Etruscan’ terracotta warriors.93 It is no wonder that Rome was the primary place for manufacturing false marble sculpture: the city had a host of sculptors trained in the workshops of Thorvaldsen and Canova, and a living neoclassical tradition. Many of the forgeries are said to have been made by sculptors, such as Pacifico Piroli, who worked on the Vittoriano, the monument to King Victor Emmanuel II inaugurated in 1911.94 On the same visit to Barsanti, Jacobsen bought a statue of a young girl dressed as Omphale (468).95 Omphale was a mythical queen, the lover of the young Hercules whom she forced to exchange clothes with her. The little girl wears a long peplos with a belt tied in a Hercules knot high under her arms and the lion skin around her shoulders, with the curly mane over her head. Omphale is normally represented as an adult woman, often with a portrait head when the statue is used as a grave marker. However, in this case she is rendered as a child, as is also the case with some statues of Hercules; the work was probably placed in a sanctuary in the middle of the first century AD. As the Boy with a Cockerel and the Omphale girl were bought together, Jacobsen was inclined to send both of them back. The question was what to do with the Omphale statue, which seemed genuine enough: according to Barsanti it had been found in the Villa Patrizi and was sold at an auction in Florence.96 As we know, other statues were found on the grounds of the Villa Patrizi and passed through various private collections. The statue of Omphale is a genuine Roman work, in fact, not a bad piece at all, though Marshall in a letter to Robinson called it a work to despise.97 Marshall could often be very harsh in his judgement of offers that he rejected. With the same letter that mentions the Omphale, he sent a photo of a portrait of Plato in the possession of Paul Hartwig: ‘In work it is a secondary thing: but it is a portrait of Plato and moreover better than the copies in Berlin and the Vatican. I do not advise it.’ Jacobsen bought it anyway, and in a collection strong in marble portraits it has an important place.98 Yet for the aesthete Marshall it was not beautiful enough. In the same letter, he mentioned a statue of the emperor Trajan owned by Ettore and Elio Jandolo (1016) (Plate V): ‘arms and lower part of legs missing, also nose and lips. Price 80,000 lire. No photo obtainable yet: but this piece is dreadfully ugly and at least 10 times too high in price.’ Jacobsen bought the statue for 30,000 lire and it is a good portrait of the emperor in heroic nudity (Figure 2.8).99

92

W. Helbig to C. Jacobsen, 1902.03.14. On the Etruscan warriors, see here Chapter 1 (Dyson) and Chapter 7 (Nørskov). 94 This was true, e.g., of Pacifico Piroli. 95 Copenhagen, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, IN 2600. Moltesen 2005: 214–15 no. 101. 96 Jandolo & Tavazzi 1910. Elia Volpi (1858–1938) was an antiquarian in Florence. 97 JMA Letter, Sackler, MAR–ROB, 1909.12.21. 98 Copenhagen, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, IN 2553; Johansen 1992: 34–35 no. 8. 99 Copenhagen, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, IN 2571; Johansen 1994a: 92–95 no. 33; Pollak 1994: 163. 93

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Figure 2.8. Statue of the emperor Trajan, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek IN 2571 (ph. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek).

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A Greek bronze portrait statue The JMA gives us some very important information about an offer made to Marshall that he rejected; the object in question later entered the Glyptotek. This is the handsome bronze portrait of a mature man (520; Figures 2.14–2.16). The head and three fragments of a cuirass were offered to Marshall by the Greek dealer Rousios Lekas, accompanied by a long description in Greek.100 The head, but not the fragments, was acquired by the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in 1926 through Arndt.101 The bronze surface was covered in incrustations, as is evident in the sales photographs, which also show that the head had been ripped violently from the body of a statue. The largest of the two fragments belong to the shoulder and upper right arm, with part of the leather cuirass down to the waist where the belt can be seen. At the edge of the shoulder, the cuirass is decorated with tassels and the upper arm seems to be covered by a sleeve. Over the shoulder is an epomis (strap) decorated with a thunderbolt and a lion’s head. The other fragment is part of the ependytes (overmantle) with tassels, probably from over the thigh, a little of the chiton (tunic) showing underneath; a further small fragment also has tassels. The man’s hairstyle dates to the first century BC, the short strands of hair over the forehead pointing towards the Julio-Claudian emperors, while the facial expression, with flaring nostrils, strong chin and wrinkled forehead, displays a Hellenistic pathos. The individual portrayed was probably a famous Roman general: Appius Claudius Pulcher and L. Domitius Ahenobarbus or even the young Octavian have been suggested. The portrait was sold as coming from Eleusis, but later its provenance was suggested to have been Megara.102 In 1934, the then director of the Glyptotek, Frederik Poulsen, published the head, stating that ‘of the pertaining body one part is in the National Museum in Athens the other in the art trade, a sad example of the damage which export prohibition and illegal trade can do to re-discovered art works and archaeological scholarship’.103 Unfortunately, the three fragments in our photo have gone missing, but the National Museum in Athens holds two fragments of a bronze statue (or perhaps of two statues) found in 1925 in a well in Megara by A. Arvanitopoulou, who believed them to be fragments of the himation or chiton of an emperor.104 In 2010 these fragments were published by G. Despinis. They are both parts of a cuirass with pteryges (flaps) and tassels, and Despinis assures us that they come from two different equestrian statues. Though he had never seen the three fragments pictured here, he concluded that the bronze head in the Glyptotek belonged to one of the two statues.105 Given the find at Megara of the base of an equestrian statue dedicated to Julius Caesar and Plutarch’s description of battles in the area (Brutus 8. 6–7), Despinis ventured to suggest that two equestrian statues were erected at Megara in around 40 BC to commemorate Julius Caesar and Q. Fufius Calenus, one of his generals, who had been sent by Caesar to force the Greeks into submission. The early years of the twentieth century saw a massive transfer of classical antiquities from Greece and Italy. Well-funded museums, their collections catalogued and exhibited by scholarly curators, controlled the market, and to streamline their acquisition programmes they relied on a small group of brilliant 100

JMA, BSR, LEK–MAR, 1924.11. I am grateful to Stella Skaltsa for providing me with a translation into English. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, IN 2758; Johansen 1992: 112–13 no. 44; Lahusen & Formigli 2001: 99 no. 47, 152, 460–62, 464, 499; Lahusen 2010: 224, Figure 10.6; Daehner & Lapatin 2015: 268–69. 102 Wilhelm Von Massow in Gnomon 1 (1925): 112 refers to a notice in the German press of the discovery of a Lysippean bronze statue in Megara. It is the cuirass and arm of a Roman emperor statue. 103 Poulsen 1934: 25–26, Figures 38–39. Poulsen also wrote the text for the head in Arndt-Bruckmann, Griechische und römische Porträts 1061–63. 104 Bulletin Correspondence Hellenique 49, 1925: 441. 105 Despinis, 2010, 2011: 156. Despinis knows of the fragments, but has not been able to find them. 101

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Figure 2.9. Bronze portrait of a Roman, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek IN 2758. (ph. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek).

experts, like Marshall, on the ground. Their contributions to the formation of the large collections of antiquities have, in many cases, not been recognised. Through this patchwork of information on ancient sculptures put up for sale in the early twentieth century, I hope to have demonstrated how important the Marshall archive will be in the future for scholars, providing information on all aspects of the market for ancient art and museum collecting.

Chapter 3

The Photographs in John Marshall’s Archive (Plates VIII–XXII) Vinnie Nørskov On the back of one of the photographs in John Marshall’s archive, the dealer Georges Yanacopoulos wrote the following note: ‘Here is the photograph of an animal, a masterpiece that we have already proposed to Mr Marshall in Rome of Attic provenience, life-sized, Yanacopoulos’ (329).1 On the front of the photograph is a large marble feline placed on a wooden chest in front of a wall and what looks like a drainpipe (Figure 3.1). The presence of straw in another picture of the same animal opens up questions of place and time – is it a courtyard, a depot, a workshop? Has the animal just been unpacked? Or is it being prepared for packing? The dealer’s note on the back transforms the photograph into an advertisement, a kind of sales catalogue. The object in the image is for sale. The text emphasises the quality of the sculpture, calling it a masterpiece, even if it is missing all four legs and is partly battered. This is not an art photograph, nor an archaeological photo. It is a snapshot and clearly part of the dealer’s exchange of information and offer, in this case very explicitly through the writing on the photograph itself. Photographic images are used as an effective communication tool in the dealer’s negotiation process. They are not just images of artefacts offered for sale, but clearly objects in their own right that have a much more important role than merely being two-dimensional images. In this chapter, I aim to investigate the character and role of photographs in Marshall’s dealings in antiquities. There has been an increase in research on the relationship between archaeology and photographs2 and the materiality of photographs and photographs as objects.3 I take as a point of departure the notion that photographs are not only visual representations of objects, but also material objects in their own right. The visual representation, or the image on the photographic object, has been essential to the documentary role of photographs in archaeology and this has traditionally also been the prime focus when studying photographs used by the art market: their existence in art dealers’ archives provides important evidence for the establishment and reconstruction of provenance and object biographies.4 This aspect is explored in many of the chapters in this volume. In this chapter, however, I want to take a closer look at how objects are represented. By considering the images as constructed performances, I explore the scenography and suggest different readings of the images depending on how the objects are staged. The other aspect of the photographs, their materiality as objects, is essential for understanding their important role in the art market. The physical photograph is the material product of the performance of staging the image. Two elements are important: the technical production of the photograph and the latter’s later use. Traditionally, research into the materiality of photographs has focused on technology of production. The John Marshall Archive (JMA) contains an astounding variety of photos, from high1 ‘Voici la photographie d’un animal chef d’oeuvre que nous avons déjà propose à Mr. Marshall à Roma provenant d’Attique grandeur naturelle, Yanacopoulos’ (translated by Susan Walker). 2 Shanks 1997; Lyons 2005; Bohrer 2011; Shepherd 2015. 3 A summary of the many strings of this theoretical turn is provided by Edwards & Hart 2004. See also Breitbach 2011; Carabott et al. 2015; Volpe 2009. 4 Brennan 2015.

Ancient Art and its Commerce in Early Twentieth-Century Europe (Archaeopress 2022): 54–71

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Figure 3.1. Female panther offered by George Yanacopuolos (329) (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0654 recto and verso).

quality studio photos to amateur snapshots of a very different quality. In the early twentieth century the technology of photography was already a well-established and professionalised business. However, after the so-called Kodak revolution in 1888, the technology had become available to a much larger group of people.5 It generated intense interest and several active movements that used photography to document family events, but also surroundings, monuments, cities, life.6 These photographic survey movements developed what has become known as record photographs, based upon the inscriptive power of the photograph to objectively record the past into the present. The development was followed by heated debates questioning the objectivity of the photographs, on the one hand because the technology made it possible to emphasise specific elements in the historical record influencing the message or content of the image; and on the other because the aesthetic aspirations of the photographers could likewise manipulate the visual expressions.7 Marshall’s photographic archive contributes to this area of research, presenting the use of photography for the purpose of advertisement by dealers of art and antiquities. The production and exchange of photographs make them active agents in the network and as such interact with the meaning-making processes unfolding in the transactions that we normally conceptualise as the art market, but that are part of the intellectual engagement with the ancient past that still has an impact on contemporary research in archaeology.8 After a short presentation of the archive, I will discuss the implications of this technological development for the use of photographs by art dealers, and then proceed to discuss the representational modes in the images and the way these modes influence how objects are perceived.

5

Fineman 2004. James 1988; Edwards 2009. 7 See especially Edwards 2009: 3–8. 8 Leahy 2009. 6

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The archive The first published investigation of the photographs in the JMA was undertaken by Alistair Crawford, photographer, artist and art historian and first Archive Research Fellow at the British School at Rome (BSR) in 1997–2000, working with the BSR photographic collections.9 Crawford registered 2509 photographs arranged into twenty-five categories, adding a small collection of art photographs and glass plate negatives that he identified as the work of the Roman photographer Cesare Faraglia. Studying the photographs as images, they constitute a very varied corpus as concerns the quality of the images, both in terms of materiality, aesthetics and not least performance, meaning the way the objects are staged for photography. According to Crawford, the photographs comprise Marshall’s personal ‘reference material, the material he regarded as the finest and therefore the best to judge others by’.10 However, on examining the photographs more closely, it becomes clear that this is not a choice collection of the objects he praised as the finest. More accurately, it is a random collection of those objects that Marshall had received or ordered reproductions of, and it is not an archive representing all of his dealings. There is a large number of the objects he acquired for The Metropolitan Museum of Art that are not represented in the archive. Dealers’ photographic archives have never been the subject of specific research.11 Their main use has been in the quest for provenance. Thus important art dealers’ archives have been digitised in recent years and now serve as a rich resource for tracking the provenance of art objects; an example is the archive of Joseph Brummer.12 The photographs in the archives are used to identify objects now in museums or private collections and are often merely a tool to establish documentation on the history of the artefacts illustrated. They are sources in a positivistic research tradition regarded as objective truth, where they can provide objects with authenticity and historical background. However, going further into the photographs, they can be understood as a new contextualisation of the objects: the visual representation combined with the material of the photographic object provides more information on the processes of dealing with the objects. Some photographs reveal a number of interconnections with other actors through the writing on them or the setting; I have termed these ‘re-contextualised photographs’. They may contain several layers of contextual information and relations, both intentional and unintentional. Another group of photographs feature isolated objects placed in front of plain backdrops, and thus I refer to them here as ‘de-contextualised photographs’. In addition, the JMA offers an opportunity to ask questions about the role of photographs in Marshall’s activities and social relations. In 2017, the BSR received a number of folders and boxes with material from another dealer, Alfredo Barsanti (1877–1946), one of the leading figures in Rome in the first half of the twentieth century.13 Barsanti’s photo archive was kept by the family, organised by his son Mario Barsanti from whom there are papers from the 1960s, and later by Claudia Barsanti, Alfredo’s greatniece. The archive comprises twenty-two boxes with folders of photos, as well as a number of bundles

9

Crawford 2003. Crawford 2003: 100. 11 Dealers’ archives have generally not been studied in their own right, an exception being the Brummer Gallery Archive in The Metropolitan; see Brennan 2015. 12 The Brummer Galleries Record has been digitised by the Watson Library of The Metropolitan: http://libmma.contentdm.oclc. org/cdm/landingpage/collection/p16028coll9. See also Brennan 2015. 13 Cannata 2011: 20; Pollak 1994: 141–42; Jandolo 1939: 299–305. See also here, Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). 10

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of extra copies of the photographs organised thematically.14 The photographs have been punched for the folder. In general, Barsanti’s archive contains a much larger percentage of high-quality photographs than Marshall’s. I shall return to the difference between the two collections at the conclusion of this chapter. Technological challenges By the beginning of the twentieth century, photography had already developed into a widespread practice with both a professional and an amateur tradition or movement. By the end of the nineteenth century, the professionalisation of photographs of objects led to art-historical discussions about the correct way of representing sculpture, spurred by among others Heinrich Wöllfin’s critique of the dominant practices of photographers in failing to present sculptures so that their true nature was captured in the photograph.15 As was observed by G. Rodenwaldt in 1935, photographs of ancient sculpture were deeply influenced by shifting aesthetic preferences and often misrepresented the sculptures due to technological challenges with lightening and foreshortening caused by the position of the photographer.16 In an article on the documentary photography of sculpture, Mary Bergstein exemplifies this point with the so-called Chios head, bought by Warren in 1900, published by Marshall in 1909 and presented as a gift to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts by Nathaniel Thayer in 1910 (975) (Plate VIII).17 The archive features two types of photographs of the original, one with a very deep black background in a softening light taken by the photographer at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, Edward J. Moore, in 1910 (Plate VIII).18 Here the sculpture is placed out of space and time in an atmosphere with confused lightening that does not emphasise contrast and shadows, but blurs the contours of the sculpture, presenting a soft visual appearance. The other photographs have a more atmospheric background but also express a very soft, warm aesthetic quality. All the photographs of the Chios head are characterised by a strong pictorial expression, the primary aesthetic movement during this period.19 Among the photographs in the archive is also one of a plaster cast of the head taken by the Roman photographer Cesare Faraglia.20 Faraglia was the official photographer of the Vatican Museums and worked as a freelance documentary photographer for many governmental institutions as well as high-end art dealers. Faraglia also took the photographs for Pollak’s publication of Barsanti’s bronze collection.21 Following the tradition of Talbot, plaster casts of ancient sculpture lend themselves perfectly to the aesthetic visual expressions that could be obtained in photographic media, and there are more examples of photographs of casts in the JMA. Pictorialism is seen to support the concept of these archaeological objects as artworks. As will be apparent in the following account, ancient sculptures were conceptualised, presented and sold as works of art, whereas other kinds of objects were presented in a more documentary style by record photographs. Yet a large number of photographs show a different character through a form of snapshot, which does not provide the aesthetics of the pictorial nor the concise information of the record photos.

14 The material was investigated during two days in February 2018 and I am deeply grateful to the British School at Rome for giving me the possibility to include the first presentation of the material in this chapter. 15 Wölfflin 2013 (translations of essays from 1896, 1897 and 1915 by Geraldine A. Johnson). See also Hamill & Luke 2017: 2–4. 16 Rodenwaldt 1935; Bergstein 1992: 485, n. 54. 17 MFA 10.70. Bergstein 1992: 484–8. See also here, Chapter 4 (Petruccioli). 18 JMA 25-1761A. Bergstein is responsible for the identification of this as by E. J. Moore, see Bergstein 1992: 285, n. 53. 19 Edwards 2009: 5. The same is the case with photographs of the head published by Auguste Rodin but provided by E. P. Warren in 1904, see Rodin 1904. 20 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–FUR, undated drafts of a letter. 21 Pollak 1994: 142.

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De-contextualising the past In 1844, Henry Fox Talbot’s highly influential volume The Pencil of Nature stressed that classical sculpture lent itself to being an ideal model for the camera: ‘Statues, busts, and other specimens of sculpture, are generally well represented by the Photographic Art; and also very rapidly, in consequence of their whiteness.’22 The black background enhances the whiteness of the sculpture and allows the whiteness of the marble to be easily fixed on the paper. In a photograph of a marble head of a youth in Marshall’s archive (47, Plate IX), the head is shown against a black background.23 This approach was introduced into archaeological publications as early as the 1870s. Among the first instances are the excavation series from the German campaigns at Olympia, where the sculptures were published in a special volume of excellent quality, using photographs in a much more sophisticated way than previously.24 For instance, the Nike Paionios is presented here devoid of surroundings, caught in a timeless moment – the sculpture is shown as if detached from the ground by cutting out the lower part so we cannot see the base or stand (Figure 3.2). The style moved ancient sculpture from the archaeological sphere of the documentary record photograph with the ambition of objectivity into the aesthetic sphere of a work of art.25 This is the traditional archaeological/art-historical type of photograph that is still commonly used today, but has been contested in archaeological publications over and over again.26 It is clear from the archives of Marshall and Barsanti that this style was preferred by art dealers for sculpture considered to be of high quality. There are many such photographs in Marshall’s archive, and they are generally printed on thick albumen paper. A number of these high-quality photos were presumably taken by Cesare Faraglia, who was used by many of the archaeological institutes in Rome in the late nineteenth to early twentieth centuries.27 Another favoured photographer was Edward Reeves of Lewes, Sussex, who must have photographed the objects when they passed through Lewes House. The Barsanti archive also contains a large number of sculptures photographed with a very thick black background. Barsanti used several professional companies besides Faraglia, especially Laboratorio Fotografico Michele Como, Vasari and Foto Boccardi in Rome. The black background emphasises the contours of the sculptures and their formal values. The importance of these aesthetic paradigms to the process of trading antiquities is evident from another example in the JMA. Here we find three photographs of a marble sculpture of a lion offered to Marshall by Baron Acton, but now in the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen (288, Figure 3.3a–c).28 Jacobsen bought the lion at the auction of the collection of Octave Borelli (1849–1911), a French lawyer living in Cairo, who was involved in a re-organisation of the Egyptian legal system in the 1880s.29 He left Egypt in 1900 to move back to France. I cannot explain here the role of British Baron Acton, who lived in Rome, but presumably he acted on behalf of Borelli who was the owner. The first photograph shows the lion 22

Talbot 1844: 23 (text for a photograph of the bust of Patroclos, pl. V). MMA 14.130.5. Richter 1954: 70, no. 71 (compares it with a head in the Glyptotek showing Pan, inv. no. 1743, bought in 1900 via Paul Arndt in Munich; Moltesen 2005: 172–73, n. 76). 24 Curtius et al. 1876. 25 See Bohrer 2011: 113–16 and 141–42 for a comparison between normative scientific photographs from the Olympia excavations and the aesthetic images from Die Funde aus Olympia. 26 See especially Bergstein 1992 and Hamill & Luke 2017. 27 Pollak 1994: 142 28 Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, inv. No. IN 1498, Jørgensen 2009: 210–11. 29 Garcin 1980. Borelli’s collection was sold at auction two years after his death: Collection Borelli 1913. The experts at the sale were the Canessa brothers. 23

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Figure 3.2. Nike Paionios, plate 12 from the excavation publication by Ernst Curtius et al., Die Ausgrabungen zu Olympia, 1876. The sculpture is seen from the side, one of four photographs of the sculpture in the publication. The flying character of the sculpture is enhanced by the side view, the black background and the cutting off of the base. Photo Heidelberg University Library (C 3237 A Grossfolio: 1).

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a

b

c Figure 3.3a. Lion offered to Marshall but acquired by Carl Jacobsen at auction in Paris in 1913 (288) (ph. JM [PHP]08-0584). b. The same photograph but with the background whited out (288) (ph. JM [PHP]-08-0585). c. The lion seen from another perspective, probably with the background whited out (288) (ph. JM [PHP]-08-0586).

mounted on a wall against a natural backdrop with trees and a house, the other has a white background. Borelli divided his collection between two estates in Paris and near Saint Tropez and the photograph must have been taken at one of these locations.30 The photograph with the natural background is not mounted, but that with the white background is mounted on rather thick, stiff cardboard, providing a black frame around the lion. The original is identical, but the background has been removed so that we can see the object clearly, not disturbed by other elements such as nature or the environment. The wall is still present though. In the photos in the auction catalogue, the lion is photographed somewhere else, or at least the wall is missing.31 So when presenting the lion as an object for sale, the photograph aims to show it removed from reality in the realm or sphere of a ‘museum piece’: a unique art work that is 30 31

Garcin 1980: 87. The information derives from an unpublished manuscript written by Borelli in 1911. Collection Borelli 1913: lot 154, pl. IVa–c.

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to be contemplated aesthetically for its sheer magnificence. When selling, the context is removed to neutralise the setting and make it an art object. This is the tendency that we see developing in the last decades of the nineteenth century and the first decades of the twentieth, in auction catalogues as well as in archaeological publications: objects are to be isolated, de-contextualised; we should not be able to recognise where and when they are photographed; it is the object in itself, in a timeless space, that is illustrated. The qualities and values of the object are not related to any archaeological or collecting context, but are presented as an integral part of the art object. However, many of the photographs in Marshall’s archive lack such isolation of the objects represented: these are not extrapolated from their contextual setting, and we can see the scenography, the staging and the performance taking place before us. Re-contextualised objects While de-contextualised photographs are removed from reality, presented in a timeless space emphasising the universal value of art and an aesthetic concept of culture that grew out of the eighteenth-century aesthetic theories of Emmanuel Kant and David Hume,32 the re-contextualised photographs open up a variety of different narratives. I have divided these into three categories: assembled, staged and excavated objects. Assembled objects Many photographs show an assemblage of objects grouped together. One example is a group of Geometric Greek vases placed on a table and offered to The Metropolitan in 1910; another a group of pots offered by the Greek dealer Evanghelos P. Triantaphyllos (581, Figure 3.4). An initial thought is that the objects might be the contents of a tomb or some other archaeological context, but in many such photos in the archive the objects were surely not found together. This is also true of this photo with pieces from Rhodes of different periods. We know that Marshall was not really interested in archaeological contexts but rather in the objects themselves – so the photo is not ‘composed’ to meet his needs. From a dealer’s perspective, however, an assemblage of objects could be a practical and economical way of presenting several pieces in a single photograph. This is mostly true of pottery and smaller terracotta pieces, glass and so on. Here we are reminded of Talbot’s ‘guide’. He introduces different kind of photographs – and his words about a set of china read: From the specimen here given it is sufficiently manifest, that the whole cabinet of a Virtuoso and collector of old China might be depicted on paper in little more time than it would take him to make a written inventory describing it in the usual way. The more strange and fantastic the forms of his old teapots, the more advantage in having their pictures given instead of their descriptions. … The articles represented on this plate are numerous: but, however numerous the objects— however complicated the arrangement—the Camera depicts them all at once. 33

32

Dutton 2005. Talbot 1844: pl. III. This kind of photograph is not described in later guides, as for instance the Eastman Kodak Company guide from 1922: now the focus is on portraiture of humans and photographing movements. See http://archive.org/stream/ howtomakegoodpic00eastiala#page/112/mode/2up.

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Figure 3.4. Group of Rhodian vases offered in 1914 (581) (ph. JM [PHP]-15-1122).

Clearly this idea is taken up by the dealers: offering their pieces as groups of objects, easily presented without the need for long descriptions. In this way, they can showcase their assortments – like a virtual display case that can be easily distributed to clients. The photos narrate the dealer’s ability to offer a large variety of objects from different periods or even locations. Marshall also has groups of objects acquired by the museum but offered to him from different sources photographed together, as seen in a group of marble and bronze fragments bought in 1923 (80, 81 and 154). Marshall’s cards mention five different suppliers, and this points to the photographs being taken by him, perhaps as documentation for the annual consignment to The Metropolitan.34 The same is also true of archaeological publications. Heinrich Schliemann pioneered the practice of taking photographs of large numbers of objects together when he published the finds from Troy in 1874. He presented objects as an exhibition, grouping them according to types but also aesthetically following guidelines of symmetry, balance and the practical challenge of fitting the largest possible number of objects into one picture. His images were heavily criticised for their poor technical quality, but it might also have influenced the reception of the publication that the objects were ordinary archaeological finds and not what could be called art objects or masterpieces.35 These objects are staged to some extent, but in the next group the staging element becomes much more dominant.

34 The objects were supplied by Giovanni Fabriani in 1923, Restoven in 1918, Paul Hartwig in 1923, Ettore Jandolo in 1922 and Miss Kopf, who in 1923 supplied five of the ten objects distributed in all three photographs. 35 Adam 1990; Lyons 2005: 44–47.

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Staged objects The processes of how objects are staged can be observed in various photographs and, deliberately or otherwise, draw the viewer into the photographer’s realm. We can talk about the scenography or performance in the image. The most important attribute in the staged images is dark drapery. The drapery is necessary when the photographer aims to neutralise the background. Yet in several photographs the image has not been cropped to eliminate what lies beyond the edges of the backdrop: thus the architecture of the room, the setting, becomes visible. The dark drapery contributes to the architectural design and performance, functioning as a kind of theatrical backdrop setting the scene, contributing to the framing of the object, as exemplified in Figure 3.5 by the presentation of a capital on a high table with a dark cloth behind it, while to the left we are given a glimpse of the room, a sofa, a portrait and some objects on shelves (1156). What appears to be the same piece of Figure 3.5. Marble capital displayed in front of a dark patterned cloth turns up in several smaller patterned curtain, perhaps in the gallery of the supplier, one of square photographs, which are all printed the Canessa brothers (1156) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1417). with a white border (Plate X–XI). The cloth calls to mind soft furnishings typical of a bourgeois apartment of the early twentieth century. Where are we here? A private setting of a collector’s home, a gallery, a dealer’s home? The photographs are from the years 1917–1920 and come from three different suppliers: Triantaphyllos, who resided in Paris, with three pieces from 1917–1919 (62, 63, 68); the Canessa brothers with a head offered in 1918 (65); and the sculptor Alfredo Restoven with four fragments of male figures offered in 1918–1920 (64, 69, 70, 71). Most of the sculptures were bought by The Metropolitan.36 One possibility is that the photos were taken in a place where Marshall gathered the objects for transportation to New York, for instance his apartment in Rome, as most of the pieces with this background were acquired by the museum. Another possibility is that all objects went through the same dealer at a certain point, for instance the Canessa brothers.37 However, another way of seeing these photos is as a materialisation of the network of dealers that seems to have been deeply intertwined – the

36

On these dealers, see here Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). I thank Guido Petruccioli for suggesting this to me. This idea is supported by the photograph of the capital, an object offered by the Canessa brothers but not acquired by The Metropolitan. The relevant card file in the JMA is missing. 37

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photographs with the information about suppliers testify to the mobility of the antiquities that changed hands quickly or were offered by different dealers. The scenography is clearly visible in other examples showing full-figure sculptures, such as a satyr with a panther offered to The Metropolitan (378, Plate XII). A sculpture of the same type was bought by Carl Jacobsen in 1896 from the art dealer Bardini in Florence.38 On Marshall’s card file it says ‘Paris, 70.000 francs’. The figure was not bought by the museum. It seems to have belonged to different private collections and was offered for sale at Christie’s in New York in 2014, but failed to sell; its present whereabouts are thus unknown.39 The three photographs show three different perspectives, displaying the sculpture from various angles. The curtain is differently creased, and this background, together with the varying light, influences the visual expression of the sculpture, which may be flatter or more threedimensional. In the picture taken slightly from the left of the statue (Figure 3.9c), the camera was placed so that the tip of the head reached above the curtain behind, breaking the frame formed by the hanging cloth. Again, we can look into the room behind and see a door in one of the photographs; the same setup reappears in another photo in the archive, but with the door open. This is clearly secondary to the presentation of the sculpture as a commercial object, but for a viewer today, the set-up carries historically significant information. Another example is a group of photographs showing a male figure in a himation (281, Plate XIII). The third image (Plate XIII c) should be defined as unsuccessful from a representational point of view, cutting the sculpture at the lower legs. One wonders why Marshall kept this photograph. There is also a photo of the same sculpture de-contextualised (Figure 3.6); significantly, the first group of photos provides more information than the ‘professional’ photo mounted on thicker paper, also in the archive, where the sculpture is seen from the front with no disruptive elements around it, nearly floating on a black background. The instability of the figure, the state of preservation and the quality of the carving are discernible in the two first photographs (Plate XIII a–b), whereas the formal values of the sculpture are emphasised in the museum photograph. Many of the photographs show the immediacy of staging: all sorts of objects are used to give objects the right position, conveying the impression that the photographer just took what was readily at hand. The objects used for support vary: anything can be used to make the artefacts stand in an upright position, providing a connection to the instant when the photograph was taken. The himation figure rests on a pile of bricks, supporting the statue where the legs are broken off. Another example shows two Cypriot portraits/sculptures propped on a book (319): Da Motta, Grammatica ingleza (Plate XIV). The book is an English grammar written in Portuguese and this raises a number of questions: where was the photo taken? Who was the person living there? These questions cannot easily be answered but trigger our imagination, and they also direct our attention away from the object represented towards the story behind the photograph. Some photographs in the archive seem to have been taken in the houses of collectors, qualifying as snapshots created without much staging. One photograph shows what seems to be an internal courtyard with a female statue placed on a capital in a niche or portico (381, Plate XV). The statue was offered to Marshall in 1920 by Guido Fallani in Florence.40 Two other photographs in the archive show the statue 38

Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, inv. No. IN 1511, see Moltesen 2002: 298–300; Poulsen 1951: 346–47, no. 487. Christie’s New York, Antiquities 5 June 2014, lot 121; see also the comment on a blog: https://nordonart.wordpress. com/2014/05/30/top-ten-antiquities-at-christies-with-questionable-provenance. 40 Probably the restorer Guido Fallani, whose father Agostino founded the company that has survived until today as Fallani and Sons, California: http://www.antique-restorers.com/about-us. 39

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Figure 3.6. Himation figure in an aesthetic staging with black background and much less depth in the photograph (281) (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0577).

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a

b

c

d

Figure 3.7a. Relief of a falling warrior (394) showing the relief in the open air, supported by stones to suit the camera (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0771). b. Relief of a falling warrior (394) mounted on a wall indoors on a wooden shelf or bracket (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0772). c. Back of the photograph of the relief with falling warrior (394) (with Marshall’s notes) (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0772 verso). d. Museum photo of the relief of a falling warrior now in the Art Institute of Chicago. Gift of Alfred E. Hamill, 1928.257. © 2017. The Art Institute of Chicago / Art Resource, NY/ Scala, Florence. http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/artwork/56166

on a table covered with black drapery, but the courtyard setting invites us into another room, a southern interior with a large majolica jug with plants, fragments of other objects, heads, a small statuette and a relief with a griffin. By zooming in on the sculpture and in the right light, we can see the measurement of the sculpture written on the photo: 0.70 cm. Thus, the print again carries more information than just the image. Excavated objects The last group of re-contextualised objects consists of those staged as archaeological finds and here the connection to a specific temporal situation is part of the staging, indeed part of the intent. These are not excavation photos where we see objects in the actual excavation context, but there are features hinting at their recent unearthing. The proximity to an archaeological setting is insinuated in the photograph of a relief of the falling warrior Kapaneus offered to Marshall in 1922, according to the card file (394, Figure 3.7a-d). It is photographed outdoors, with rocks or a wall behind it, supported by a piece of wood to hold it steady. A second

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Figure 3.8. Fragments belonging to the grave relief acquired in 1911, and offered separately to Marshall a few months later (11). Here the fragments are presented on black velvet cloth (ph. JM [PHP]-01-0028).

photograph is found in the archive, showing the relief indoors, in a wooden frame, which was perhaps built for support and easier transportation. The second print carries informative text on the back, beside the measurements of the object: offered in Athens before 1925, was then at Zomboulakis, refused as doubtful Hirsch 1925 Cp. BB M607 relief in Villa Albani, 60x62 cm 1927 nov. 29 in New York? Parsons Place, see Miss Richter’s letter of that date41 These handwritten remarks reveal part of the journey made by the relief, initially owned by the art dealer Theodoros Zoumboulakis, who opened an antiquities gallery in Athens in 1912 that still exists as an art gallery today.42 Marshall saw either the object itself or the first photograph, whose outdoor setting implies that it was taken just after the find, but he did not believe it to be ancient.43 He seems to have been offered the relief in 1925 by the German-Swiss art dealer Jacob Hirsch, who owned the company Ars Classica in Lucerne and Geneva between the two world wars. Marshall did not buy the relief, but knew that it eventually made its way to New York in 1927, where Miss Richter must also have seen it. Parsons Place probably refers to the house of Harold Woodbury Parsons (1882–1967), a close acquaintance of 41 The reference BB M607 to the relief in Villa Albani 20 (see Raff 2016, curatorial entry, para 7, n. 11: https://publications.artic. edu/roman/reader/romanart/section/498/498_anchor/p-498-7) refers to the large German project of publishing large black-andwhite photographs of Greek and Roman sculptures by Heinrich von Brunn and Paul Arndt, by the publisher F. Bruckmann between 1865 and 1937 (see here Chapter 2, Moltesen). 42 See the history of the gallery on its homepage: http://www.zoumboulakis.gr/hd/istoriki-anadromi-31679. htm?lang=en&path=-881695164. 43 Two marble fragments of a lion and bull and a fragmentary sphinx made of porous limestone were offered to Marshall by Zoumboulakis in 1924 (424 and 594), and maybe he was also shown the Kapaneus relief on this occasion. There is a question mark on the card file in front of the year 1922. The sphinx was acquired for the museum in 1926 (MMA 26.13); the lion and bull fragments were part of an Archaic pediment and eventually went to The Metropolitan in 1942 (MMA 42.11.35).

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Marshall and a member of the Lewes House brotherhood.44 The relief was eventually bought by the businessman Alfred E. Hamill and presented as a gift to the Art Institute in Chicago in 1928 (Figure 3.14d). On photographs in the museum archives from 1939, the museum was able to determine that the sculpture had been immersed in salt water. The incrustations were later removed, but this has not been documented.45 According to A. D. Fraser, Hirsch bought the relief from fishermen who had found it near Salamis together with another that went to Berlin. Fraser probably obtained this information through personal communications with Hirsch. Nevertheless, Katarina Raff questions its validity in a recent indepth publication on the relief, based on information from John R. Hall, who denies the existence of a large harbour in Salamis that would have been used for sizeable shipments of this kind of sculpture. Instead, the harbour at Piraeus is suggested because of finds of several similar reliefs.46 Based on stylistic analysis, the relief is interpreted as made for Roman collectors, the sculptor copying part of the ornament of the shield of the large Athena Parthenos sculpted by Phidias. The photographs in Marshall’s archive reflect this history without solving the question of the actual find spot. The setting of the relief in natural surroundings in the first image and the wooden support in the second are, however, clear references to the narrative of the trade, illustrating different temporal phases in the process from the alleged find spot in the sea, as visible in the incrustations, to transportation and the presentation of the sculpture as an archaeological find seeking a new home. In other cases, the JMA photographs show the journey more explicitly because they document the packing for transportation, as with the grave relief bought by The Metropolitan (32, Plate XVI) 47 from the Greek dealer Yanacopoulos in 1911 for 112,500 francs.48 There is a long description sent by Marshall to Edward Robinson, probably from Paris from where the object was shipped, showing the complex negotiations between the seller and a large number of interested dealers: The preservation could not be better. To make sure of getting it the original dealer cut off the child’s head and the man’s, but so that they can be replaced without any save the slightest damage showing. He also cut off or broke off the fingers of the right hand of the mother: but they join beautifully to the background and to each other. The thing lay first on the floor of a small room, ill-lighted. They tried to lift it upright in its box, but the workmen thought it impossible and in the end they lifted it on a slope of about 60 degrees and so left it. I went to see it some half a dozen times. They asked 200,000 fr. Arndt who had been there already ten days with Zahn of Berlin had offered 80,000 down and been refused. I saw that one could not get it for less than 100,000. Hirsch came to see it, but I threatened that I would make no offer if they showed it him. There were the Paris dealers too [u.w.] about it. I saw a letter of Jacobsen asking them to hold it till he came, and Berlin had written to have the piece sent to them to take or to leave at 150,000 (fr. or m.?). 100,000 is a terrible price and 115,000 even more terrible. But it is, I think, a crack piece of its sort. If you leave out the Ilissos relief, there is, I think, no other big grave relief, which excels it in Athens, and outside Athens there is nothing to equal it. 49 44

Sox 1991: 211-248. See Raff 2016 for a full publication and technical report of the relief. 46 Fraser 1939: 447. The relief in Berlin: Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Antikensammlung, Sk 1842. For further literature see Raff 2016 in the online catalogue of the Art Institute of Chicago: http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/artwork/56166 (9.7.2016), especially footnote 1 and 2 for the reinterpretation of possible find spot. 47 MMA 11.100.2. Richter 1954: 56-7, no. 83. 48 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1911.01. 49 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1910.12.16. The shipment is attested in a letter to Robinson, JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR– ROB, 1911.1.1. 45

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Marshall is clearly seeing the object in the box on the photograph that has been constructed for transportation – this is a piece that the dealer can sell in Paris even without taking it out of the packaging, although Marshall would have liked to have a complete look at it. The parts that were mentioned as cut off were mounted in the photograph. Marshall’s statement that the dealer had cut them off to secure the piece is not readily understandable – the most obvious reason would be that they had been cut off in the course of excavation and removal from the site to prevent damage during the process. Perhaps by ‘securing’ he meant ‘making sure we get it and the authorities don’t confiscate it’, on account of the fact that a ‘fragmentary’ piece would have been more likely to exit Greece without stirring up any controversy. That would explain too why the pieces arrived in New York at different times. The first consignment also seems to have included a pediment that turned out not to be pertinent.50 The archive includes photographs of four other fragments (11, Figure 3.8b). Marshall asked Robinson for good photographs of the relief because he had heard rumours that further fragments of the piece were for sale and an amount of 2000 francs was paid to the dealer Triantaphyllos to secure the objects.51 The museum photos in the archive were taken after these objects were secured; there are none showing it without the fragment of the fourth figure (10). It is, however, clear that they were purchased later than 1911. Some photographs are staged in interiors made to look like an excavation storeroom, such as that showing a painted black-figure loutrophoros, now in Tübingen, and a marble funerary lekythos with a relief decoration (544, Plate XVII).52 Here the two objects are situated in a room with a bare wall and a small wooden doorframe, with the pottery vase placed on a wooden box used for packing. The vase has been heavily restored, creating a discrepancy between the appearance of the room as a storeroom of ‘fresh’ material that had been unearthed recently and the fact that the vase had been handled and reconstructed from many pieces. Such photographs are informal snapshots taken in a dealer’s depot. The visual appearance of the image may, though, deliberately or unintentionally create a narrative of contextualising the objects with each other – as in the grouping of objects discussed above, and with a physical setting that associates them with an excavation context. Photographs in the network In some of Marshall’s letters, dealers’ use of these photographs is explicitly mentioned. In a letter to Edward Robinson of February 1911, he explains how photographs were used to evaluate a sculpture of Hercules that he was offered (1373) and bought for The Metropolitan in 1911 (Plate XVIII).53 This also sheds light on the network of dealers and competition among the collectors, and how photographs were used to obtain a first impression of whether or not the object would be of any interest: I heard of it last Friday week. On the Monday following I had an appointment with Barsanti in Naples, when he was to show me an ara of bronze and some other things. – He managed to get from Sestieri’s photographer the very first photos of the piece taken since its arrival. These were sent express to Naples and arrived Sunday night: after being shown me they were sent back express to be delivered to Sestieri Monday morning. They were not well made, but they showed the piece 50

Richter 1954, 57–58, no. 84. In a notice to Robertson dated 2 January 1912, Marshall confirms the acquisition of the missing objects ‘when they have been found’, see JMA Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1912.01.02, thus these fragments were not acquired in 1911 but later. There are three photographs in the archive showing the stele with the fourth head attached, see 10. 52 The loutrophoros, Tübingen S10.1481, BA5913, has been newly restored, see CVA Tübingen, Antikensammlung des archäologischen institutes der Universität 3, Pl. 11.-28, 12.1-4, 13.1-5. The whereabouts of the marble lekythos have not yet been identified. 53 MMA 11.55. Richter 1954: 94–95. 51

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to be exceptionally fine. I said that if it were as good as it seemed, I would give £1,000 for it. Barsanti told me that he had offered 15,000 [lire] for it: but Sestieri wanted 60,000.54 Marshall returned to Rome and saw the sculpture, and the bargaining began. Most dealers were interested, but Marshall was successful after joining up with Barsanti and Roesler Franz and together paying 40,000 lire to Sestieri; in the end Marshall paid 44,000 lire for the sculpture on behalf of The Metropolitan. He ordered new photographs of the sculpture and sent them to New York. The letter testifies to the use of several sets of photographs. Those in Marshall’s archive are high-quality photographs showing eight different perspectives of the seated figure. They are all oversize and two of the prints are also found in Barsanti’s archive, of the same quality and size. Also in Barsanti’s archive there are several prints of the same image, some mounted on thick card boards (Plate XIX), others not. Unfortunately, we do not have Sestieri’s first, ‘not well made’ images, which were returned to him. Cooperation between Barsanti and Marshall is evident in the many similar prints that appear in both archives, both objects acquired by The Metropolitan, such as the statuette of Diogenes with dog (76) bought in 1922 and the Athena (96) bought in 1924, but also sculptures offered to Marshall and eventually acquired by others, like a head of Apollo, Kasseler type, acquired by the Badisches Landesmuseum in Karlsruhe (425).55 If it was Barsanti, rather than Marshall, who ordered the photos to be taken, can we say that those images reflect the dealer’s perspective and emphasise certain aspects that made objects valuable to his eyes? Marshall kept the photographs provided by Barsanti and, as one of his primary providers, it is not surprising that similar prints feature in both their archives. Conclusion The photographs in the JMA can be divided into two different categories. One is art historical, comprising images of objects that have been de-contextualised and presented according to nineteenthcentury aesthetics in the style of pictorialism representing objects detached from their surroundings, out of space and time. These photographs have no contextual or architectural references. The other group of photographs shows a far more varied typology. Here we find prints that have passed through several hands and bear the marks of their journeys in the form of written annotations, signs of wear and multilayered narratives, some of which can be further explored in letters in the archives in Rome and Oxford. These images arouse our curiosity, opening us to the process of photographing and staging the objects as well as to the studios, warehouses, dealers’ shops and private homes involved. Many of them are of a quality that would not qualify as archival by modern standards, but Marshall kept a large number of them anyway. They document connections, offers and availability on the market and thus also for him could be a tool of reference when objects were offered. However, it is remarkable that even mistakes, like the photograph of the himation statue (Figure 3.10c), were stored in the archive. In this way, Barsanti’s collection differs, as there are many fewer of these dealer photos, even if they are not altogether absent. Certainly, some of these photos also have an aesthetic quality. In the first publication of the photographic archive, Crawford focused on a group of photos showing a sculpture of a young athlete (105). Some of them are of casts and the lighting and environment create a certain homoerotic atmosphere that is completely different from the art-historical photos of the first group in the archive.56 Others have a different aesthetic feel, such as that showing a naked Aphrodite in a private setting, the five images 54

JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1911.02.10. Diogenes: MMA 22.139.1; Athena: MMA 24.97.15; Caligula: MMA 14.37; Caligula, Worchester Art Museum, inv no. 1914.23; Apollo: Karlsruhe Bad, Landesmuseum, 59/40. 56 Crawford 2003: 106–08. 55

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displaying different angles but also giving varying atmospheric impressions, most probably a result of technical problems caused by photographing the sculpture in a room surrounded by potted plants, but in this case the setting lends the sculpture a more aesthetic feel than in the other re-contextualised images (300, XX–XXI). I wish to end with Yanacopoulos, with whom I began the chapter. One of the photographs in the archive features a male person who is most probably the Greek dealer, posing next to a sculpture that was offered to Marshall, but was bought for the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen (367, Plate XXII). It is the only image of a dealer in the archive and the photograph is in fact a photograph of a pin-up board with another photograph showing only the sculpture. The photograph displays the many layers of a narrative in the trade through this economising practice of photographing more objects (here images) together, and not least by placing the protagonist beside the sculpture. Next to Yanacopoulos is shown the corner of a wooden box with straw, ready to be used to transport the sculpture to Copenhagen. The same kind of photographs showing dealers beside the objects they had sold to museums were found in the archive of Giacomo Medici.57 They represent the ‘hunter with trophy’; Barsanti’s archive also features a photograph of him with a large sarcophagus. There is, though, no photograph of Marshall himself with any objects. Perhaps this suggests that Marshall saw himself as a scholar – one of the few pictures of him we have depicts him writing at a desk – rather than an antiquities hunter. The technology that made it possible for dealers to take snapshots was available and was used, but relatively few of the photographs can be defined as snapshots, meaning images made in a second without preparation. As has been seen in this chapter, many of the photographs were created within scenographic arrangements that provided a setting for the objects, aiming to give them a neutral background that emphasised their formal values. However, only the photographs taken in professional studios have a high technical and aesthetic quality and aim to present the objects in an atemporal, neutral and de-contextualised space. The others perform different kinds of contextualisation, consciously or unconsciously, What is clear is that this did not prevent their use in the trade and they are even preserved in dealers’ archives. It is not the aesthetic quality but the documentary function that makes these photographs valuable to the dealer.

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Chapter 4

John Marshall, The Met and the Historiography of ‘Greek Sculpture’ (Plates XXIII–XXVIII) Guido Petruccioli The way the collection of classical sculpture at The Metropolitan Museum of Art looks nowadays is to a large extent the fruit of the cooperation of two individuals: Edward Robinson and John Marshall. The former had a grand plan, of founding nearly from scratch a collection of classical antiquities comparable to that of European museums in artistic value and typological comprehensiveness. The latter was hired to put the collection together by selecting antiquities that at the time were offered for sale in Rome and on the European art market. Robinson not only aspired to create a collection extending far beyond the chronological and geographical boundaries of ancient Greece and Rome, but also supervised the design and construction of the galleries in which it would be displayed. In spite of the unpredictability of the art market, Robinson and Marshall had a precise idea in mind of what the collection ought to look like, what types of antiquities should be included, and how they were going to be grouped and displayed. According to popular expectations, most of the effort and financial resources went into purchasing Greek and Roman stone sculptures, for which, from the very beginning, Robinson had reserved the largest and most important rooms in the future wing of The Metropolitan. Galleries and artworks were complementary parts of the same twentyyear museological endeavour that laid the ground for the development at the beginning of the twentieth century of an alternative attitude towards classical art. New American architecture and Ancient Greek sculpture In 1904, McKim, Mead & White – one of the most accomplished American architectural firms of the time – was commissioned to design and construct new exhibition spaces to extend the size of The Metropolitan Museum of Art.1 Well known for grand-scale projects – Pennsylvania Station, the Bellevue Hospital and the Brooklyn Institute of Arts and Sciences (later renamed Brooklyn Museum) – the famous firm had been associated with all major architectural and city planning projects during the great renaissance of New York at the end of the nineteenth century. For The Metropolitan, the architects were asked to add new rooms, increasing considerably the space available to exhibit the many art objects and collections that had been and would be acquired, while still maintaining at its core the original Victorian house and the extensions by Weston–Tuckerman and Hunt of 1890–1895. The ambitious building project was not going to burden The Metropolitan’s finances – funding came from the sale of $1.25 million worth of New York City bonds, in annual amounts not to exceed $500,000. Contrary to what happened to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts (MFA), where 1

Heckscher 1995: 39–45.

Ancient Art and its Commerce in Early Twentieth-Century Europe (Archaeopress 2022): 72–93

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Figure 4.1. Plan of the Classical rooms at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, after 1926 (from Richter 1930b).

acquisition budgets were seriously reduced by the expense of the construction of new galleries, The Metropolitan still had its precious Rogers Fund to concentrate on purchasing objects.2 In 1905, Edward Robinson (1858–1931), newly appointed assistant director of The Metropolitan and curator of the Classical department, had a plan in mind to create a collection that for the quality and variety of its holdings would become a reference point for the education of the greater public and the diffusion of classical culture in America.3 The collection was going to be displayed in its own galleries as part of a project of architectural expansion at the museum. He was actively and critically engaged in the planning and design of the new extension, sometimes finding himself at loggerheads with the architects.4 Along with the building plan, the criteria for grouping the objects to be displayed were discussed. At the time all antiquities – Greek and Roman sculptures, ancient pottery, glass, Egyptian art and other objects from ancient Mediterranean cultures – had been arranged by material and displayed in three galleries on the first floor of the north wing of the museum. It was eventually agreed that the future collection of ancient Greek and Roman art was so extensive in terms of time, space and materials that it would be best enjoyed separated from Egyptian and Middle Eastern antiquities and displayed in a sequence of rooms by period (Figure 4.1). Each of the eight galleries would host the bronzes, terracottas, vases, glass, gems, beads and other pieces belonging to one and the same epoch, with the exception of objects in precious metals that were displayed all together in a separate room for security reasons. This arrangement, suggested by Gisela Richter (then assistant curator), was thought to provide visitors with ‘a more comprehensive idea of the gradual development of classical art in all its branches’, from 2

See here, Chapter 6 (Barr-Sharrar). Robinson 1907: 5. On Edward Robinson’s professional career, see The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 26.5 (1931), 111–12. 4 Heckscher 1995: 51–53. 3

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prehistoric to Hellenistic times, as they walked in a clockwise circuit from one room to the next.5 It was in a similar manner that Wilhelm von Bode (1845–1929) organised the galleries of the Kaiser-FriedrichMuseum in Berlin, in which he placed paintings, sculptures and applied arts of the Renaissance side by side to evoke the cultural context – or the spirit of the time – in which they were created.6 Furthermore, a chronological arrangement of the ancient art collection at The Metropolitan would have reinforced the idea of stylistic evolution while downplaying other art-historical categories such as typology, provenance and archaeological context. The side rooms would open into the Central Hall – an oblong room (41 m long by 9 m wide) with a coffered, barrel-vaulted ceiling, in which the collection of large classical stone sculptures was displayed. Skylights on the top of the barrel vault illuminated the sculptures placed on sober, plainly moulded pedestals and plinths. Evening light was obtained by four powerful incandescent lamps, suspended from the ceiling and screened from below by heavy opaque glass bowls. The white stucco walls and floors of unpolished Tennessee marble made for an impressive space. The warm brownish-grey tone of Euville limestone used for the Ionic columns, doorframes and cornices in the doorways complemented well the whiteness of ancient marble. The walls were moulded to recall the ashlar masonry of a Greek stoa – quite unlike the opulent stone polychrome ornamentation of Munich’s Glyptothek or even the red-painted walls of the Elgin Rooms at the British Museum (before the 1930s renovation) or the Belvedere of the Vatican, and certainly unlike the galleries of the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, whose walls were painted in hues similar to those of the pigments that once covered ancient marble statues. The architects of McKim, Mead & White can be considered pioneers of modernism. Although academically trained in Beaux Arts schools, their style was unencumbered by the canons and prescriptions of classical architecture. They freely re-interpreted stylistic elements of high architecture to create an innovative architectural space. This new, all-American architecture manifested the ambition of The Metropolitan to offer an untraditional experience to the visitor. Planning the classical art collection at the Metropolitan At the beginning of the twentieth century, educational institutions in North America were still negotiating their function in the process of the reception of ancient Greek and Roman culture outside Europe. In universities, the study of classical culture entailed primarily reading literature. The first archaeological collections began with the purpose of teaching students about the ancient material culture mentioned in Greek and Latin texts. Classical art was not considered an independent subject and the discipline had not yet formulated the lines of enquiry and the methodology that were, for example, already implemented to study the art of later periods.7 Art museums, on the other hand, were formed as alternative channels of diffusion of classical culture, with the purpose of instructing another, much larger portion of the population that was mainly oblivious of ancient Greece and Rome. Because of their immediacy and emotionally engaging power, artworks were for many the only means to get to know the classical past without the need to learn Greek and Latin. And at the beginning of the twentieth century, Greek sculpture was considered one of the most obvious manifestations of classical artistic and intellectual achievements.

5

Robinson 1917. Seidel 2003. 7 Donohue 2013. 6

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That sculpture possessed greater aesthetic qualities than all other extant forms of Greek art was also Richter’s belief. In the Handbook of the Classical Collection in 1922 she wrote: In the absence of Greek paintings, which have practically all perished, and of architecture, which can rarely be transported, sculpture is the only form of high art practiced by the Greeks which can be adequately shown in a museum. A collection of Greek sculpture, therefore, assumes great importance: it represents for us the highest expression of the Greek genius. The gifts of the Greek artist could indeed find no more natural outlet than in the field of sculpture; for here he had full scope for his wonderful sense of form, structure, and line, and he could express his ideal of spiritual and bodily beauty.8 Before the arrival of Robinson and the appointment of Marshall in 1906, the collection of Greek and Roman sculptures at The Metropolitan comprised only a few odd yet significant pieces, including the foot of a colossal statue and a portrait herm of Herodotus from Egypt.9 The largest group was composed of twenty-one statues and heads found in Italy,10 of which the majority came from the collection of the Giustiniani family of Rome. The choice to invest in Greek and Roman marble sculpture might have been influenced first by Robinson’s aspiration to create a collection that was superior to that of its strongest competitor in America, Boston’s MFA. Both Robinson and Marshall had been personally involved in the formation of the MFA’s antiquities collection, the former as departmental curator, the latter as assistant to the main purveyor Edward Perry Warren.11 They both knew that the MFA had an extraordinary collection of painted vases and engraved gems, but did not excel in its ancient statuary. With the acquisition of the Canessa collection in 1905, Robinson and The Metropolitan managed to acquire in one go a respectable number of painted Greek and Italian vases.12 Though not particularly exciting and in no way comparable to what Warren was capable of acquiring for the MFA, the Canessa collection had the merit of including the most common types of vase from the main periods and production areas, meeting the expectations of both Robinson and Marshall. In contrast, putting together a comprehensive collection of marble statuary was going to be a long, expensive and very difficult task, especially because there were no significant collections to purchase wholesale at the time, and noteworthy pieces of ancient sculpture were becoming increasingly rare on the art market. The power of the fragment One of the most immediate aspects of The Metropolitan’s current collection of ancient statuary is that it is composed mostly of fragmentary objects. With the exception of the Giustiniani marbles, no statue has been restored to its supposed original appearance by means of modern additions. Nor are the holes and cracks filled in, unless structurally necessary. The modern viewer might be accustomed to fragmentary objects, or perhaps even expect ancient sculpture to bear the signs of its age in the form of wear, fracture, splintering and fragmentation. The characteristic and unique ways in which these sculptures have endured

8

Richter 1922: 201. MMA 89.2.2142 and MMA 91.8. 10 From MMA 03.12.1 to MMA 03.12.17. 11 On the Warren–Marshall partnership, see here Chapter 1 (Dyson). 12 Richter 1906. 9

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Figure 4.2. Plaster cast gallery. Dwight Memorial Art Building, Mount Holyoke College, South Hadley, MA (USA) (ph. JM [PHP]-21-1540 and 1541).

over time have contributed to defining their originality and therefore their significance as art-historical objects only in the past half century. Throughout the nineteenth century, however, the idea of ‘Greek sculpture’ in the mind of the American public was built on reproductions – photographs and life-size plaster casts. Cast galleries were the place in which scholars, students, artists or aesthetes who could not afford to travel abroad could learn about the history of Greek sculpture by close observation and direct comparison of the best-preserved pieces of each period (Figure 4.2). With this purpose in mind, The Metropolitan too started collecting sculptural casts in 1886. Over just a decade, a considerable collection of plaster copies of Greek and Roman sculpture (architectural and in the round), displayed in nine galleries, was purchased with money from a donation by Henry G. Marquand (1819–1902) and by private subscription.13 Although casts remained a popular collecting choice because of their reasonable price, quality and availability, within the museum community at the beginning of the 1900s a group of curators and administrators at the MFA started questioning the capacity of ‘mechanically’ reproduced models of ancient statuary to generate any aesthetic experience in the viewer. In their radical view, plaster casts were soulless copies, trite reproductions, references for new creations at best, mere ‘machinery’ available for the professional training of art historians and archaeologists – definitely not museum material.14 Art museums, they believed, ought to display unique art objects; plaster copies belonged to academies and workshops. As objects created in the past that survived through time, originals had the power to bridge the cultural divide and make the viewer experience ancient art in a way that casts never had. The belief that the public wanted ‘originals at all costs’ was the winning argument; the consequences were devastating. The casts were removed from the main galleries of the MFA as an obligation to the public. Needless to say, Warren, who was essentially the sole supplier of ancient Greek and Roman sculptures to the MFA, was among the strongest promoters of this new curatorial direction.

13 14

Howe 1913: 211, 252. Whitehill 1970: 183.

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The cast collection at The Metropolitan suffered a similar fate. In 1910, when Robinson and Richter published its catalogue, the collection counted more than 2600 casts of pieces dating from prehistory to Renaissance Europe, including more than 670 casts of Greek and Roman sculptures.15 The publication, which provided detailed information about each piece and references to authoritative scholarly sources, was written for a readership of students and teachers, perhaps as a desperate attempt to advocate for the presence of plaster casts in art museums next to marble sculptures. Casts were a complementary source of information and although they lacked the ‘aura’ of marble sculptures, they still contributed to a holistic approach to the understanding of ancient visual culture. Nonetheless, The Metropolitan’s mission to become an antagonist of the most prestigious European art museums could be accomplished only by collecting unique pieces. And thus the plaster casts never featured permanently in the galleries of the department of Classical Art.16 Celebration of the artist’s genius The same fascination for ‘original’ artwork and its unique communicative qualities underpinned the ‘scientific’ approach to ancient art taken by contemporary German art scholars. To them art – of any location and time – was a direct expression of the society in which it was produced and it should be investigated using the same scientific methods used to investigate other forms of cultural history: consultation of written sources and formal analysis of the artworks. The earliest studies produced by scholars implementing the methods of the ‘Science of Art’ (Kunstwissenschaft) were inspired by Jacob Burckhardt (1818–1897) and his work on cultural history and the social function of art in premodern times.17 In Burckhardt’s analytical model the artist was in prime position and his analyses combined artists’ biographies with the stylistic analysis of their artworks. Similarly, later writings by Carl Justi (1832–1912), Henry Thode (1857–1920) and Aby Warburg (1866– 1929) shared the same underlying belief that artists, because of their genius, were capable of transcending individuality and expressed through their work the spirit of their time. In the last four decades of the nineteenth century, a renewed interest in ancient Greece also led German scholars to investigate those artists mentioned in ancient literary texts and to identify their work. In 1859 Heinrich Brunn (1822–1894) published the first edition of his History of Greek Artists, organised chronologically from proto-history to Roman times, and structured in accordance with the philologicalanalytical methodology then en vogue.18 Improving on the research by Johannes Adolph Overbeck (1826– 1895) of two decades before,19 literary and epigraphic sources provided the footing from which to unravel a discussion of the distinguishing stylistic elements of individual artists. Brunn also connected passages in ancient literature with actual remains of ancient works from the Roman period that had been securely identified as copies of long-lost Greek masterpieces. Later on, Brunn also expanded his research to include previously unattributed sculptures, which he identified as stone copies of works of Greek masters (or their schools), according to his own interpretation of specific stylistic details – such as the rendering of anatomical parts – as tell-tale features in the style of individual artists. For example, he attributed the Strangford Apollo, an archaic kouros statue now 15

Robinson 1910: v–vi. Richter 1926: 8; 1930b: xviii. 17 Pinotti & Roli 2011. 18 Brunn 1859. 19 Overbeck 1868. 16

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at the British Museum, to the school of Callon, based on similar stylistic details in the statue and the pedimental sculptures of the Temple of Aegina.20 After the publication of his History of Greek Artists, Brunn refined his system of dating fragments according to their rendering of anatomical details. His process of formal analysis, explained for the first time in his 1905 article, was akin to the method used by the art historian Giovanni Morelli (1816–1891) to attribute Renaissance paintings.21 Both Brunn and Morelli relied on photographs – the relatively new medium of photography allowed observation and comparison of artworks with a degree of detail and immediacy that had previously been impossible. With the goal of providing scholars with images of suitable quality, in 1898 Brunn, with Friedrich Bruckmann (1814–1898), embarked on the very ambitious project of documenting photographically five hundred monuments of Greek and Roman sculpture organised chronologically (Denkmäler griechischer und römischer Skulptur in historischer Anordnung).22 When director of the Munich Glyptothek between 1865 and 1894, Brunn also put together one of the largest collections of plaster casts of ancient sculptures. As a reaction to Brunn’s efforts towards the identification of Greek masterpieces, other scholars joined in what had become a popular genre: the life and works of the most famous ancient Greek artists. To mention a few, Eugen Petersen (1836–1919) and Charles Waldstein (1856–1927) wrote on the art of Pheidias,23 Ludwig von Urlichs (1813–1889) on the life and works of Skopas,24 Wilhelm Klein (1850– 1924) on Praxiteles,25 and Arthur Mahler on Polykleitos and his school.26 For half a century, though, the study of ancient Greek masters (Meisterforschung) remained mostly confined within German academia. Adolf Furtwängler (1853–1907), one of Brunn’s pupils at Munich, was responsible for systematising the discipline and giving it international recognition. In 1893, Adolf Furtwängler compiled the results of his many years of studies on Meisterforschung into a book that had a big impact on the international public, especially after its translation into English by Eugénie Sellers–Strong.27 Adopting the methodological framework introduced by Brunn, Furtwängler focused on copies of the Roman period, which would have reproduced more or less faithfully the Greek originals mentioned in the ancient sources. By observation and comparison of tell-tale details that were accurately reproduced in the majority of copies of the same original or were unique to one or few copies, Furtwängler reconstructed the probable appearance of the original work, sometimes combining plaster casts of fragments from more than one copy.28 Furtwängler’s book had a profound impact on the Germanic and Anglophone scholarly community, and his improved copy-redaction method (Kopienkritik) provided classical art historians with a straightforward and ‘scientific’ framework for the study of ancient sculpture.

20

London, British Museum, inv. no 1864,0220.1. Smith 1904: 67 no. 206. See also Brunn 1872: 529. Brunn 1905. On Morelli and his method, see Ginzburg 1983. 22 See also here, Chapter 2 (Moltesen). 23 Petersen 1873; Waldstein 1885. 24 Ulrichs 1863. 25 Klein 1898. 26 Mahler 1902. 27 Furtwängler 1895. On the influence of Eugénie Sellers Strong on the favourable reception of the Morellian method among English-speaking connoisseurs, see Beard 2003. 28 See, for example, Furtwängler 1895: 4–26 on his reconstruction of the Lemnian Athena, a bronze original by Pheidias, by combining casts of a head from Bologna and of a headless body from Dresden. 21

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Figure 4.3 Plaster casts of the Chios head (MFA 10.70), detail of the mouth from different angles (ph. Cesare Faraglia, JM [PHP]-25-1786 to 1789).

Although Marshall never received formal training in classical archaeology, he was certainly familiar with Furtwängler’s work and method, most likely through the English translation of the Meisterwerke. It seems also that Marshall had an interest in Meisterforschung, at least in the earlier years. John Beazley said that Marshall was ‘one of the acutest and most experienced archaeologists of his day’ and that ‘good judges’ considered his study of the Chios head ‘one of the best single articles ever written on Greek sculpture’.29 The Chios head is an ancient marble head of a goddess that Marshall bought for Warren on the Greek island of Chios in 1903 (see Plate VIII).30 In his long article, Marshall presented what he believed to be compelling observations about the geometrical proportions of the face to identify the sculpture as an original fourth-century BC creation in perfect Praxitelean style, perhaps even the work of the master himself. In support of his attribution, Marshall compares the way of rendering specific anatomical details in the Chios head – such as the angle at which the forehead meets the nose or the curvature of the lower lip – with other sculptures attributed to Praxiteles: the Hermes, the Dresden Artemis, the Apollo Sauroktonos, and the Kaufmann and Leconfield replicas of the Cnidian Aphrodite.31 To corroborate his observations, Marshall included in his article photographs of plaster casts of the Chios head and other sculptures taken from the same angle. In the John Marshall Archive (JMA) there are also sets of photographs of a cast of the lips of the Chios head, which he purposely commissioned for the study (Figure 4.3).32 Kopienkritik informed Marshall the connoisseur. To which extent might Meisterforschung and the high status bestowed by Furtwängler and others on Greek originals (or their later copies) have influenced Marshall the antiquities purveyor? What was ultimately the criterion that guided Marshall in the selection of Greek marble sculptures for The Metropolitan? Here follows a survey of those pieces of ideal sculpture that have been identified, with varying degrees of certitude, as Roman copies of Greek originals. The degree of accuracy with which they reproduce the forms of their supposed original varies. They will be presented here in sequence, from very accurate replicas to free copies. 29

Beazley 1941: 337. MFA 10.70. See also here, Chapter 1 (Dyson). 31 Marshall 1909. 32 Marshall mentions in a letter to Adolf Furtwängler that he commissioned the Italian photographer Cesare Faraglia to take those photos (JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–FUR, unknown date). On Faraglia see here, Chapter 3 (Nørskov). 30

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‘Masterpieces’ known to Marshall In 1926, Marshall found in the gallery of Ugo Jandolo in Rome a marble head of Harmodios belonging to the so-called Tyrannicides statuary group (104) (Plate XXIII).33 The sculptors Kritios and Nesiotes are said to have made a bronze statue group dedicated in the Agora of Athens in 477 BC. The group, already known in antiquity as the ‘Tyrant-Slayers’, celebrated Harmodios and Aristogeiton, who slew the tyrant Hipparchos.34 The original monument has survived in the form of an inscribed base (upon which the two bronze figures were once affixed) bearing the signature of both sculptors. In 1859, Carl Friedrichs first connected the monument described in the ancient sources with a statue group in the Farnese collection, depicting the young Harmodios advancing with drawn sword above his head and the older Aristogeiton pulling his right arm back, sword in hand and ready to strike.35 Marshall must have been familiar with Friedrichs’ identification, for the marble head in his photographic catalogue is correctly described as Harmodius (see Plate XXIII). Three years after The Metropolitan’s acquisition, a comparable – and equally battered – head was acquired by the Museo Nazionale Romano (993).36 Similarly to the piece now in Rome, the Harmodios head acquired by Marshall probably came from a collection, as the photographs in the JMA show it mounted on a short pedestal. Pendant sculptures More than one marble copy of the same Greek original have been found together and the archaeological records seem to suggest that in antiquity paired copies of the same statuary types were originally displayed side by side.37 The number of surely attested statue pendants is unfortunately too small to clarify whether certain statuary types were preferred over others. Perhaps it is most interesting that to a close examination these pendants often differ from one another in craftsmanship and minor details. Two athletes’ torsos, immediately identified as copies of the Diskobolos by Myron, were found in Hadrian’s villa in 1791.38 In the ancient Villa of the Quintilii, the Torlonia discovered three (possibly four) copies of the Boy Strangling the Goose attributed to the Hellenistic artist Boethos,39 fitted with water spouts and used as fountain statues.40 From the Torlonia estate of Roma Vecchia also came a pendant statue group – also supposedly based on a Hellenistic original – of Hermaphrodite and Satyr.41 In 1950, a pair of marble pendant copies of the Pothos were found in situ, flanking a passageway of a Roman house under Via Cavour in Rome.42 Pliny recalls that Skopas of Paros, whose fame in Roman times rivalled that of Praxiteles and his relatives, created a statue of Pothos (the personification of longing).43 The iconography of Pothos – a winged figure leaning on a staff with a goose at his feet – was identified in 1901 by Furtwängler, who connected images from a gem and fragmentary copies in 33

MMA 26.60.1. Richter 1930b: 252; 1954: 21 no. 25. See also Brunnsåker 1971; Dubbini 2013. Pausanias 1.8.5; Lucian, Philopseudes 18. Hauser 1904; Pollitt 1990: 43. 35 Naples, Museo Archeologico Nazionale, inv. No. 6009 and 6010. Friedrichs 1859. 36 Rome, MNR, Palazzo Massimo alle Terme, Magazzini, inv. No. 80722 (formerly in Villa Mattei, Rome). Ambrogi, A. in Giuliano 1995: 3–4. 37 See Bartman 1988; Slavazzi 2002; Pafumi 2007. 38 Anguissola 2005: 321–22 nos. 4–5. 39 On the historiography of this statuary type, see S. Tuccinardi, ‘49. Copy of the Boy with Goose of Boethos’ in Settis & Gasparri 2020: 222–23. 40 Anguissola 2018: 18. 41 A. Anguissola, ‘Copying and Seriality, in Statuary’, in Settis & Gasparri 2020, 112–21, esp. 117, Figure 7–8. 42 Bartmann 1988. 43 Pliny, NH 36.25–26. On the original statue see Stewart 1977; Lattimore 1987; Palagia 2000; Calcani 2009. 34

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Figure 4.4. Marble torso, copy of the so-called Pothos by Skopas (426). Museo Nazionale Romano, Terme 479 (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0848).

marble.44 The torso of Pothos, missing the right arm and with only part of the draping hanging over the left arm, was offered to Marshall by Marinucci in 1924 (426) (Figure 4.4).45 Marshall did not recognise the fragment – on its card file, the sculpture is described as the ‘torso of a man’ (see Figure 4.4). For it was not until 1950, when two well-preserved marble copies of Pothos with a goose at his feet – just like the figure carved in the gem – were found in Rome, that finally Furtwängler’s identification gained credibility.46 The practice of displaying similar marble copies of the same statuary types side by side, as if to invite the viewer to contemplate them together and compare their differences in craftsmanship and details, continued after antiquity in the statue galleries and palazzos of Renaissance and Baroque Italy. In Palazzo Giustiniani in Rome, Marquis Vincenzo Giustiniani placed two statues of the Crouching Aphrodite side by side in his famous gallery at the beginning of the seventeenth century.47 Marshall did secure for The Metropolitan a Roman copy of the same statuary type (26) (Plate XXIV).48 The headless statue, depicting the goddess Aphrodite naked and crouching, is said to have been found in the sea off the Campanian 44

Furtwängler 1901. Rome, Museo Nazionale Romano, Terme, inv. No. 16770. It now has a portion of the left arm that is missing in the JMA photograph. 46 Colini 1940. See also Bartman 1988. 47 L. Buccino, ‘73. Statue of Crouching Aphrodite, Copy of the Doidalsas Type’, in Settis & Gasparri 2020: 258–59. On the statuary type and its fortune in the Renaissance, see Ghisellini 2009: 666. 48 Pliny, NH 36.35. 45

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Figure 4.5. Head of a satyr, from a statue of the so-called Wine-Pouring Satyr by Praxiteles (18). MMA 08.258.43 (ph. JM [PHP]-01-0038).

town of Pozzuoli.49 Marshall personally reported the acquisition of this statue in The Metropolitan’s Bulletin.50 In this article he begins by very briefly describing the actual state of the statue, then quickly moves on to discussing what the work would have looked like, using as reference one of the two statues from Palazzo Giustiniani (which later became part of the Torlonia Museum). The remainder of his article focuses on the Greek original – the Crouching Aphrodite by the third-century BC artist Doidalsas – including a few Kopienkritik-like remarks about the variance in size treatment of other copies, namely the statues in Vienne and Paris, and their differing measurements. Finally, he ends with a remark that reveals the long-living preconception, still widespread in his time, that Greek art reached its pinnacle in the second half of the fifth century BC and what followed lacked ‘the dignity and character of earlier sculpture’. The largest assemblage of one statuary type was found in the Roman imperial villa of Castelgandolfo in 1657, where four wine-pouring satyrs have been unearthed.51 The type has been long identified as the work of Praxiteles52 and was recognised by the end of the eighteenth century as the Satyr in the Act of Offering a Cup mentioned by Pausanias.53 A very fragmentary copy of this same type was acquired by The Metropolitan through Marshall in 1908 (18) (Figure 4.5).54 Only the head, neck and part of the 49

MMA 09.221.1. Marshall 1910a: 209–10. 51 Neudecker 1988: 141. They are now located in three museums: Dresden (Staatliche Skulpturensammlung, Albertinum, inv. Nos. Hm 100 and Hm 102), London (British Museum, inv. No. 1838, 1231.1) and Malibu (J. Paul Getty Museum, inv. No. 101). 52 Pliny (NH 34.50) dates Praxiteles to the 104th Olympiad (364 BC). 53 Pausanias 1.20.1. Visconti 1784: II, 59–60. 54 MMA 08.258.43. Richter 1954: 69 no. 108. See also another copy of the same statuary type, now Baltimore, The Walters Art 50

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shoulders are preserved. Curiously, whoever photographed this fragment was not aware that the head of the satyr should have leaned forward and turned to the left to look down at the plate in his hand. Marshall, perhaps misled by the picture and mistaking the pine wreath on the head of the satyr as a headband, described it in his catalogue entry as the ‘head of an athlete’ (see Figure 4.5). In November 1913, Marshall was approached by a certain Maniani, who offered him three sculpted heads, representing bearded gods in fifth-century BC Greek style: two replicas of the same Zeus type (48 and 372, Plates XXV and XXVI a) and a Zeus-Ammon (373, Plate XXVI b).55 Wolfgang Helbig had already shown him pictures of them after Jacobsen had turned them down.56 Shortly thereafter, Elio and Alessandro Jandolo, who acted as intermediaries, assured Marshall that the three sculptures ‘came, as did the Boston Homer, from near Porta Portese’.57 The head of Zeus-Ammon was of no interest to Marshall, even though Boston and Copenhagen – New York’s biggest competitors – had replicas of that type.58 The two heads of Zeus, however, were worth considering. Although Roman in date, in as far as they imitate the high-classical Greek style attributed to Phidias they would have been a desired addition to The Metropolitan’s collection. Marshall eventually decided to purchase only the better-looking head (48),59 for 15,000 lire, export permit included.60 Marshall, being a man of his time, could find little artistic merit in Roman craftsmanship and did not think much of the Zeus head, calling it ‘dull’ and ‘not a great beauty’.61 Gisela Richter was less resolute in her judgement, praising the Roman copyist for having reproduced the same air of ‘dignity’ and ‘repose’ that characterise the best-known Greek works of the third quarter of the fifth century BC.62 From a few short annotations in a notebook, Marshall seems to have been interested in the fact that all three sculptures offered by Maniani allegedly came from the same archaeological context. The two Zeus heads in particular could have made a pendant. Gary Hamilton first noticed the pairing of stylistically different copies during his excavations at the Tor Colombaro estate on the Via Appia.63 As Marshall also noted, and as we now know from archaeological evidence, in antiquity it was not uncommon to display pendant copies of the same statuary type that differed in craftsmanship.64 An uncertain attribution: The Petworth athlete by Kresilas In 1911, Marshall found in Rome a head from a marble statue of a young athlete (21) (Figure 4.6), of which four more identical heads are known: Petworth, Abbati, Riccardi and Trier.65 The piece is catalogued in JMA as ‘Head of 5th century athlete’, although in his correspondence with Robinson Marshall refers to it as the work of the Cretan artist Kresilas,66 evidently following Furtwängler’s attribution.67 The artist

Museum, inv. No. 23.22, in Marshall’s ‘Study collection’ (810) described in the index card as ‘Fauno di Praxitele’. 55 JMA, Sackler, Note, 1913.11.17. 56 JMA, Sackler, Note, 1913.11.16. 57 JMA, Sackler, Note, 1913.10.22. The head of Homer (1054) is MFA 04.13. 58 MFA 03.755; Copenhagen, NCG, inv. No. 2608. In 1923, Berlin also acquired a head of Ammon (Staatliche Museen, Antikensammlung, inv. No. SK 1777). On the type see Curtius 1931: 30–35. 59 MMA 13.231.2. Richter 1954: 34–35 no. 46. 60 JMA, Sackler, Note, 1913.11.26. 61 JMA, Sackler, Note, 1913.11.17. 62 Richter 1914: 64. 63 Hamilton & Smith 1901: 311–13. 64 JMA, Sackler, Note, 1913.11.17. 65 MMA 11.210.2. Robinson 1912; Richter 1930b: 252–54; 1954: 34 no. 45. On the copy in Petworth see Raeder et al. 2000. 66 JMA, Sackler, Telegram, MAR–ROB, 1911.07.04: ‘Petworth Kresilean Athletenkopf ’. 67 Furtwängler 1895: 161–65. On Kresilas see Pollitt 1990: 69.

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Figure 4.6. Marble head of a youth, the so-called Petworth Athlete by Kresilas (21). MMA 11.210.2 (ph. The Metropolitan Museum, public domain).

is remembered by Pliny – with his contemporaries Pheidias, Polykleitos and Phradmon – as one of the most highly praised Greek sculptors of their time.68 The youth wears a band tightly wound around his head; tufts of choppy curls fall over his forehead and partially overlap the fillet over and below the temples. On the crown of the head emerges through the hair a smooth, four-sided piece of marble that is thought to have once connected the head to the arm of

68

Pliny, NH 34.53.

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the statue. The remains of two similar four-sided struts are still visible on the Petworth head, one on the crown, the other above the left ear. The body type, posture and attributes of the statue are unknown. The athlete probably had the right arm resting over the head, imitating the posture of another Greek masterpiece, the Wounded Amazon, also attributed to Kresilas.69 This very detail is the only element that sustains the attribution of the Petworth Athlete. Unlike the Wounded Amazon, though,70 no statue of an athlete is mentioned by the ancient sources among Kresilas’ masterpieces. Robinson, who accepted Furtwängler’s attribution, wrote a brief article to notify the accession of the sculpture to The Metropolitan collection, in which he praised the harmonious proportions of the youth’s face and the subtly idealised features. He does not seem to have been in any way impressed by the technique used to render the athlete’s hair in tight curls, which not only sets it apart from the other replicas, but also makes it in itself a fine example of second-century AD craftsmanship. Formal characteristics that deviated from the main replica series, such as the rendering of the hairstyle or the absence of a strut on the left side of the head, were interpreted as the copyist’s alterations and thus deemed of little interest at the time. Greek replica series? The absence in The Metropolitan’s collection of a copy of what was identified by Friedrichs as the Doryphoros by Polykleitos, perhaps the quintessential lost Greek masterpiece, must have been a source of great frustration for Marshall. It seems that Marshall had a chance of buying a torso belonging to a copy of the Doryphoros (the so-called Pourtalès torso) when it was offered for sale in Paris in 1907.71 This torso, now in Berlin, was used as model by the German artist Georg Römer to recreate the original appearance of Polykleitos’ creation in bronze in 1910–1912 (Figure 4.7).72 In 1907, The Metropolitan purchased at the auction house Galleria Giuseppe Giacomini in Rome a marble head of a youth, soon after published by Robinson in the Bulletin as a Roman copy of a work by Polykleitos (Figure 4.8).73 Richter maintained the Polykleitan style of the head, but also introduced the possibility that the original model could have been a creation of ‘a close associate’ of Polykleitos. More than twenty copies of this statue type exist, some with part of the body preserved. According to betterpreserved copies it represented a nude athlete holding a discus.74 The attribution of this replica series to Polykleitos, first suggested by Carlo Anti, is based entirely on stylistic grounds, for there is no mention in the ancient sources of a ‘discus bearer’ among the works of Polykleitos or any other artist of the same period.75 According to Pliny, Praxiteles ‘also made a young Apollo who, close at hand, is lying in wait with an arrow for a lizard, which is creeping up, for which reason they call him the Sauroktonos’.76 There are many surviving copies of this Lizard-Slayer that,77 according to Winckelmann, is most accurately resembled 69

Ref. in ZPE (2004) 90 n. 54. Pliny, NH 34.74. 71 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1907.12.20. 72 Usually on display at the National Museum of Stettin (inv. No. MNS/AH/28), the statue was temporarily exhibited at the Prada Foundation (Milan) on the occasion of the exhibition Serial Classic between 9 May and 24 August 2015. I am very grateful to Fondazione Prada for granting me permission to publish a photograph of the statue. 73 MMA 07.286.116. Robinson 1908: 7; Richter 1954: 29 no. 36. There is no documentary evidence of this piece in the JMA. 74 Blümel 1930; Picón 1995: 229, 244 n. 7. 75 Anti 1920: 550–74 esp. 560. 76 Pliny, NH 34.69–70 (translation Pollitt 1990: 85). 77 Mancuso 2013 with previous bibliography. 70

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Figure 4.7. Bronze reconstruction by Georg Römer of the Doryphoros by Polikleitos (ph. Guido Petruccioli).

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Figure 4.8. Marble head of a youth, copy of a work attributed to Polykleitos (21). MMA 07.286.116 (ph. The Metropolitan Museum, public domain).

in the round by a bronze statuette in the Albani collection.78 The Metropolitan owns a battered marble torso belonging to a statue of a youth in the same leaning posture as Praxiteles’ Apollo Sauroktonos (92) (Plate XXVII).79 The remains of a strut on the right thigh indicate that, unlike the Sauroktonos, this statue had the right arm lowered. Also, remains of wings on the back identify the figure as Eros rather than Apollo, as Marshall tentatively recorded on its index card (see Plate XXVII).80 Only one other ancient copy of this statuary type is known.81 Richter, writing about the Metropolitan Eros in the museum catalogue, identifies it as a copy of a Greek original, ‘perhaps also a creation by Praxiteles’.82 Assuming that Roman sculptors copied as faithfully as they could sculptures by Greek masters and never created original statuary types in perfect classical Greek style, she deemed it more believable to attribute the Eros to a Greek artist. Her prejudice was widely shared among most at the time, including Marshall, and remained essentially unquestioned until the beginning of the 1970s.83 Greek originals as palimpsests In 1924, Marshall bought a headless marble statuette of a woman wrapped in a himation (99; Plate XXVIII).84 The word Europé in Greek letters – of Roman date – and a palm branch are carved on the 78

Rome, Villa Albani, inv. No. 952. Bol 1989. See Winckelmann 1764: 343. See also Haskell & Penny 1981: 151–53 no. 9 for earlier identifications of the Saurokotonos type. 79 MMA 24.97.14. Richter 1930b: 266–67. On the Apollo Sauroktonos type see Preisshofen 2002 with previous bibliography. 80 See Palagia & Pollitt 1996: 115 n. 121. 81 Rizzo 1932: 41–42 pl. LXV. 82 Richter 1954: 68 no. 107. 83 That the Romans were indeed capable of original creations in the Greek style is now widely acknowledged. On the evolution in the scholarly perspective on Roman art and its relation to Greek art, see Hallett 2015a: 11–21 with previous bibliography. 84 MMA 24.97.31. Richter 1954: 25–26 no. 30.

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plinth. In 1900, Walther Amelung had observed that a similar headless life-size torso in the same costume would fit a veiled female head now in Berlin’s Pergamonmuseum.85 He combined casts of the two pieces in a very credible statue. Amelung’s reconstruction was almost unanimously accepted, even though it could not be definitely confirmed until 1954 when an integral life-size marble statue was found in the Roman baths of Baiae.86 On the identification of the subject it portrays, however, scholars did not agree. Throughout the nineteenth century, that veiled female head was thought to belong to a copy of the Aphrodite Sosandra, created by the Greek artist Kalamis,87 that Pausanias saw in the Propylaea of the Acropolis at Athens.88 Amelung instead suggested that it portrayed Aspasia, Pericles’ mistress, after a veiled portrait herm with her name.89 Marshall seems to have agreed with Amelung’s identification (see index card in Plate XXVIII). The headless Metropolitan statuette was most probably a representation of neither Aphrodite Sosandra nor Aspasia. If we are to assume that the inscription it bears on the plinth refers to the subject represented, it is more likely that we are looking at the image of a mythological figure named Europe or of a Roman woman with such a name.90 After all, making portraits of Roman individuals by combining ideal body types with the facial features of the sitter was standard practice.91 The use of the Aspasia/Sosandra as a palimpsest for Roman female portraits is attested in Crete,92 Pompeii, possibly Aquileia,93 Aquino,94 and even Rome.95 Were the Aspasia/Sosandra costume and stance deliberately chosen by the Romans to attribute to the sitter some of the moral qualities of Aspasia or Aphrodite, the saviour of men? None of this seems to have been Marshall’s concern. Whether it portrays a deity or a person, this statuette is an interesting case in which iconographies from the Greek past were adopted critically by Roman sculptors and sometimes adapted to meet new representational needs.96 An almost unique copy In 1925, Ludwig Pollak showed Marshall a recently excavated statue that he had found in the depot of the Roman antiquities dealer Ugo Jandolo, which did not seem to replicate any statuary model known at the time (Figure 4.9).97 The nude man, wearing a Corinthian helmet, is represented striding on a slanting base and leaning slightly backwards. He once had a metal object (a shield?) attached to his left arm and possibly held a spear in his raised right hand. The imbalanced position that imbues the statue with great energy has been interpreted either as the gaining of the necessary momentum to throw a spear against an enemy or the falling of a wounded man. On the statue support a sword of the Greek type is hanging. 85

Berlin, Staatliche Museen, Antikensammlung, inv. No. Sk 605. Napoli, MANN, inv. No 137885. See Napoli 1954. 87 Patroni 1905; Pollitt 1990: 46–48. 88 Pausanias 1.23.2; Lucian, Imag. 4. See also Torelli 2010. 89 Vatican, Museo Pio Clementino, Sala delle Muse, inv. No. 272. Amelung 1900; 1902; Valeri 2006a; Picozzi 2015: 131. 90 Richter 1925b: 108. In the first case, the statue has been suggested to be an image of a) the goddess Europe; b) Europé, daughter of Danaos; or c) Demeter Europé. Whether the palm branch carved next to the inscription may be a pagan or a Christian symbol and how it does nonetheless help in identifying the person portrayed, see Richter 1954, 26 with previous bibliography. 91 Feijfer 2008: 335–48. 92 Guerrini 1974. 93 For a small-scale copy of this type in Aquileia (Museo Archeologico Nazionale, inv. No. 336) that seems to have been fitted with a separately carved head, see Laurenzi 1960. 94 Berlin, Staatliche Museen, Antikensammlung, inv. No. Sk 1518; Alexandridis 2016. 95 Amelung 1900: 181–84. A headless statue of the same type was offered by Natale Miccio (273) in 1912 before it was seized by the Museum Authorities of Naples (JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1912.12.12); Ferrara 1999. 96 Stirling 2017. 97 MMA 25.116. Richter 1954: 22–23 no. 27. 86

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Figure 4.9. The so-called Protesilaos. MMA 25.116 (ph. The Metropolitan Museum, public domain).

89

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Stylistic details – the treatment of the hair, the positioning of the body in simplified planes, the folds of the cloth on his shoulder and the pose frozen ‘in momentary action’ – were all considered characteristic of the style of mid-fifth-century BC Greek sculpture. The deeply incised pupils and the type of curved tree-trunk support, however, would instead place the carving of the statue in the first to second centuries AD.98 This combination of chronologically discordant style and craftsmanship has suggested to scholars since Marshall’s time that the statue is a Roman copy of a Greek original. No evidence of this object, including its photographs and inventory card, is currently in the JMA.99 The story of the discovery and acquisition of the statue is nonetheless mentioned in detail by Ludwig Pollak.100 As in the case of many pieces sold on the Italian art market at the time, the exact archaeological context in which the statue was found is unknown – rumour had it that the head and body were unearthed on separate occasions during the works for the construction of the Ostia Railway, outside Porta San Paolo in Rome in the early 1920s. In 1924–1925, Ugo Jandolo acquired it from his uncle, Alessandro Jandolo, and kept it in his depot on the slopes of the Capitoline. Pollak first offered it to Georg Swarzenski of the Frankfurt Art Museums (the same who bought the Stroganoff Athena)101 and then showed it to Marshall, who bought it on 20 April 1925.102 Bernard Ashmole, at the time director of the British School at Rome, saw it at Marshall’s apartment still in pieces.103 Although much of the statue is preserved, its iconography remains somewhat evasive and open to different interpretations. The identification of the person represented also is still the object of debate. If it is a Roman copy of a Greek original, as most still sustain, it certainly is a rare one. For there is only one other fragment known that might belong to a similar statue: a marble torso and base, now in London, bought in 1876 and allegedly found at Kyzikos in north-west Turkey.104 Even though the two statues in New York and London are similar enough to suggest a common model, is it legitimate to postulate that such a model was a Greek original? Such a question might be seriously debated among modern scholars, but seems to have been disregarded at the time of its discovery and for quite some time afterwards. Initially, Pollak identified the statue as a marble copy of the Man Fainting from Wounds (Volneratus deficiens), a work in bronze of the mid-fifth century BC by the sculptor Kresilas mentioned in Pliny’s Natural History.105 Before Pollak’s attribution, the masterpiece known as the Man Fainting from Wounds by Kresilas was commonly identified with a bronze portrait of Dieitrephes Shot through by Arrows that Pausanias saw in the Propylaea of Athens.106 This portrait statue perhaps once stood on top of a base, bearing the dedicatory inscription of a Hermolykos, son of Dieitrephes, and the signature of Kresilas, found on the Athenian Acropolis.107 Whether Pliny’s Volneratus is the statue of Dieitrephes in Athens is still open to question. It is interesting to note, however, that Furtwängler noticed that the statue that once stood fastened to Hermolykos’ base on the Acropolis was standing with the main weight resting ‘probably upon the ball of the right foot, which was drawn back and fastened with a strong peg, while

98

Richter 1929b: 28. Langlotz 1971. Correspondence dating to 1925, in which Marshall and Robinson appraised the statue and discussed its acquisition, is held in the archives of The Metropolitan Museum of Art but remains inaccessible. 100 Merkel Guldan 1988: 205–07; Pollak 1994: 26–27, 140. 101 On the Stroganoff Athena, see here Chapter 2 (Moltesen). 102 Merkel Guldan 1988, 205–07; Pollak 1994, 26–27, 140, 161. 103 Ashmole 1994: 45. 104 London, British Museum, inv. No. 1538. 105 Pliny, NH 34.74. 106 Pausanias 1.23.3. 107 IG I 402; Loewy I.G.B., 46. 99

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the left, with the sole on the ground, must have been advanced’.108 The passage seems to describe a statue with the same peculiar backward leaning. Thirty years before the discovery of the Metropolitan statue, Furtwängler published a depiction of a falling soldier on a white-ground Attic lekythos: he is nude, wearing a helmet and armed with a lance and a shield, and leaning backwards in the same manner as the statue at The Metropolitan.109 Pollak and Marshall must have been familiar with Furtwängler’s Masterpieces and must have noticed the striking resemblance of the warrior painted on the lekythos and the statue in Jandolo’s possession. Thus, Marshall must have believed that the Dieitrephes of Pausanias and the Volneratus deficiens of Pliny were the same statue, when he wrote to Robinson that he had found a marble version of Kresilas’ monument.110 Among the handwritten notes in Marshall’s notebooks there is a transcription of a report, addressed to Warren, by someone who inspected personally the statue in the depository of the British Museum, giving a detailed description of the fragments. He says that the statue’s support might have been a dolphin – difficult to know with certainty. The observer also did not find any evidence of wounds that might have been carved on the body of the statue.111 Later claims as to the existence of a gash on the dorsal half of the right armpit have been questioned.112 Richter, still of the opinion that the New York statue was a replica of a Greek masterpiece, never accepted the identification proposed by Pollak and Marshall. Instead, following a suggestion by Warren, she published the statue four years after its accession as the image of the Thessalian hero Protesilaos, the first of the Greek army to set foot on the Troad.113 A prophecy said that whoever stepped on Trojan soil first would be the first to perish. Warren’s identification is supported by the fact that the London replica has a slanted base carved to resemble the prow of a boat riding over waves,114 and Philostratos, writing in the third century AD, saw a statue of Protesilaos ‘standing on a base shaped like the prow of a boat’ in a temple at Protesilaos’ grave in Elaios. In the end, the available evidence still does not lead to making one identification more probable than the other. Both are based on the assumption that the Metropolitan statue must be a copy of a lost work by a Greek artist. Conclusion At the moment at which American museums abandoned plaster casts to collect originals, the idea of ancient Greek sculpture was being defined by the large collections of European state museums and contemporary studies in connoisseurship. In particular, after the publication of Furtwängler’s book, the accepted idea of Greek art originated from the interpretation of ancient textual evidence and its stylistic evolution was exemplified by the lost works of artists mentioned in ancient texts. However, the evidence from the art market shows that copies of so-called Greek masterpieces accounted for a small fraction of all the sculptures that once adorned the house and public buildings of Rome. In 108

Furtwängler 1895: 124. Furtwängler 1895: 122–28, esp. 124 fig. 48. 110 Frel 1970: 172, quoting a passage from correspondence between Marshall and Robinson. 111 See also JMA, Sackler, Letter, WAR-?, 1925.03.31. The report, with several spelling mistakes, was probably transcribed by a non-English speaker (Annie Rivier?). See also JMA, Sackler, Letter, ?-MAR, Lewes, 04.04.1925 for a detailed drawing of the base. 112 On the debate, see Frel 1970, 1973; Langlotz 1971, 1977. 113 Richter 1929b: 28; 1929c: 192. 114 Smith 1904, no. 1538. 109

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Figure 4.10. View of the Peristyle Court in Wing K. New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art, circa 1926 (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0161).

fact, the discoveries of such statues during the first two decades of the twentieth century were rarities. They all became the best holdings in the newly created Museo Nazionale Romano and were displayed in designated galleries named ‘Halls of the Masterpieces’. The wounded Niobid from the Horti Sallustiani (279 and 358), for which Marshall strenuously negotiated,115 the statue of Venus found in the Baths of Cyrene by Italian archaeologists and brought to Rome, the Ephebe from the Neronian villa of Subiaco, and the headless statue of Juno from the Palatine were located in the small rooms of the Museo Nazionale inside the former Baths of Diocletian. Two other exceptional pieces, the Girl from Anzio and the Discobolos of Castelporziano, stood in their own cubicula on the upper floor. By looking at the corpus of Marshall’s purchases as a whole, it appears that so-called Greek masterpieces were of interest to Marshall, although their subject matter did not make them a priority over other 115

On the events see here, Chapter 2 (Moltesen).

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sculptures. His choices seem to have been driven more by the intent of putting together a comprehensive collection of marbles of different typologies, subject matter and chronology. At The Metropolitan there was no ‘Hall of Fame’ of Greek sculptors – replicas of Greek masterpieces stood in the same gallery (the Central Hall), next to unattributed works of ideal statuary, decorative reliefs, grave stelai and portraits, the smaller positioned in rows against the long walls, the larger in the middle of the room. The Central Hall, with its simple yet impressive scale, evoked architecturally the fundamental ideas of solidity, strength and elegance associated with classical sculpture. Meandering along its longitudinal axis, the visitor explored Greek sculpture, experiencing its aesthetic and stylistic evolution from archaic to Hellenistic times. Space was maximised – there was no room for benches – and the sculptures were arranged so as to offer the visitor an overview of the entire collection and suggest visual connections between pieces. At the opposite end of the gallery, a doorway opened into Wing K, designed like an ancient peristyle garden (Figure 4.10). There the viewer was drawn into its setting, the aesthetic experience enhanced by objects blending into the architectural surroundings. Conceived as a space of contemplation and rest, Wing K invited a more personal dialogue between objects and viewer. Visitors could follow the chronological evolution of Roman art in its most representative form by following a semi-circular path through three sides of the peristyle and observing the collection of sculpted portraits, dating from the Republican period until the time of Constantine, placed in the colonnades and the central court. Wing K represented a further evolution in the process of re-thinking the museum’s gallery as an evocative, unique setting. While the Central Hall was conceptualised as a modern architectural space rooted in the classical tradition, Wing K was a convincing replica of an ancient Roman peristyle. By challenging historical collecting criteria and museum display, The Metropolitan fostered a new vision of classical antiquity and laid the ground for new directions in the study of art history. With their new collecting paradigms, museum curators began to challenge the overwhelming importance attributed by connoisseurs and art historians to the role of individual artists and their works in the development of Greek art. At the same time, the practice of identifying and attributing Greek masterpieces, although still practised now, seems already to have lost its momentum after Furtwängler. When The Metropolitan’s collection of classical art was presented to the public in its consolidated form, the seeds were sown for the development of a new vision of Greek art – more archaeological and less textual – that matured over the span of half a century into Rhys Carpenter’s idea of Greek sculpture as ‘an anonymous product of an impersonal craft’.116

116

Paribeni 1928; Carpenter 1960.

Chapter 5

Faces in Stone: A Case Study of Marble Portrait Sculptures of Roman Date Purchased by The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York via John Marshall (Plates XXIX–XXXV) Susan Walker This chapter offers an assessment from the perspective of a former museum curator of the range of Roman portraits mostly purchased by Edward Robinson, third director of The Metropolitan Museum of Art (MMA) from 1910 to 1931, through the agency of John Marshall. Principal sources used are the John Marshall Archive (JMA) at the British School at Rome and The Metropolitan Museum’s collections online facility, which includes display details, in most cases a number of photographs, dimensions, label information and select bibliography, recently updated, for each object.1 As the entries on the latter website may conveniently be consulted by museum accession number, MMA numbers are given in footnotes for every piece discussed individually. At the time of peer reviewing the text, a new catalogue of all Roman portraits in The Metropolitan Museum prepared by Paul Zanker was published.2 This chapter has been revised to include Zanker’s observations on the portraits obtained through Marshall. A concordance (Table 5.1) is given at the end of the chapter linking the JMA and MMA inventory numbers with the numbers given in Zanker’s catalogue. Zanker’s catalogue includes two introductory essays on the history of Roman portraiture, but, like Richter’s earlier publications of the collection, lacks any overall treatment of its history. However, information and observations significant for the more recent history of individual portraits often appear in the catalogue entry, within a sub-section headed ‘Condition’. The reader is referred to Zanker’s catalogue and The Metropolitan Museum’s website entries for further bibliography. Why Roman portraits? A note on scholarship The English term portraiture, derived as it is from the Latin protrahere, to draw out, might literally be defined as the art of marking an individual out from the crowd. Innumerable ancient portraits painted on wood or cloth or carved or cast in precious or semi-precious materials such as gold, silver, bronze or ivory have been lost through re-use or decay. However, thousands of Roman portraits in stone have survived, and marble – in antiquity gilded or painted – was particularly favoured for the rendering of human flesh.

1 2

http://www.metmuseum.org/collection/the-collection-online. Zanker 2016.

Ancient Art and its Commerce in Early Twentieth-Century Europe (Archaeopress 2022): 94–103

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Living in a highly competitive, aspirational society with no centralised set of beliefs in an afterlife, Romans engaged in many ways with portraiture,3 an art form so central to Roman urban life that portraits of exceptional quality have survived from sites in north-east Africa to north-west Europe, and from the last two centuries BC to late antiquity. Roman portraits of individuals were typically carved, cast or painted in a style evoking realism for the modern viewer, though the ancient viewer might have been more interested in the moral qualities and social status of the subject, these too evoked by an apparent interest in realism on the part of the artist.4 Re-contextualising Roman portraits and attempting to recapture the ancient viewer’s experience of portraiture have dominated recent scholarship.5 The direction of recent research has inevitably marginalised de-contextualised museum and private collections, though it has also helped to identify and date individual works (see further below: 61, a head of Mindia Matidia, also known as Matidia Minor). In Marshall’s day, scholars were principally concerned with the identification and taxonomy of individual portraits, and with defining and evaluating Roman art, notably in relation to Greek.6 From 1882 to 1894 the Swiss scholar J. J. Bernoulli published a multi-volume study of the identification of individual imperial portraits, for which the author developed a mathematical methodology based upon counting individual locks of hair within their sequence on the head, notably around the brow. Bernoulli also identified hierarchies of replicas deriving from a single original.7 Bernoulli’s work was to prove of lasting influence and provoked considerable scholarly debate, notably on the questions of the role of the artist and the influence of major events on portraiture.8 Recent years have seen a revival of use of Bernoulli’s methodology, notably by Dietrich Boschung.9 The enduring influence of Bernoulli’s publication was fuelled by a growing interest in Roman portraits, one eagerly embraced by museum curators engaged in building collections of educational value. Where there was scope to display marble portraits outside showcases on individual plinths at adult head height, portraits could give museum visitors the sense of a personal encounter with figures already familiar from written history and drama: Caesar, Augustus, Claudius, Hadrian, Constantine among many others, just as the early imperial subjects of Suetonius’s Twelve Caesars had given focus to earlier, private collections.10 Moreover, since the calendar ruling dates of all Roman emperors are known, imperial portraits can provide a helpful timeline for constructing a gallery of Roman art and archaeology. And since Roman subjects were inclined to imitate the imperial family in their own, aspirational portraits, the timeline could be socially and geographically extended well beyond the members of the imperial court in Rome. By the close of the nineteenth century Roman portraits had already enjoyed a long history of appreciation by private collectors in Italy and northern Europe. In Italy the conflict, social upheaval and urban redevelopment accompanying the unification offered opportunities for purchase by museum curators developing public collections in the United States: from an American perspective, buying from historical 3

For a recent summary see Wood 2015. Zanker 1983; Walker 1995; Flower 1996. 5 Stewart 2003, 2008; Elsner 2007; Feijfer 2008; Friedland et al. 2015. 6 Furtwängler 1895, 1896; Strong 1907. 7 Bernoulli 1892–1894. The author’s family, of Belgian origin, had in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries produced an exceptional number of distinguished scholars who pioneered advances of lasting significance to applied mathematics and physics: https:\\en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bernoulli_family. Much of this paragraph draws upon an unpublished paper on the history of lockcounting given in Oxford by Ellen Perry in October 2014. 8 Brendel 1931; Curtius 1932–1935; Wegner 1939, 1956, 1971; Wegner et al. 1966, 1979, 1984. 9 Boschung 1993; see also Bonanno Aravantinos 1988–1989 on the portraits of Marciana, with comments by Fittschen 1993 and Jucker 1995. 10 Ladendorf 1958a, 1958b; Paul 1985. On recent displays of Roman sculpture, see Powers 2015. 4

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collections was less legally and morally controversial than acquiring recently excavated objects, though export and import restrictions still applied in Italy and the United States.11 Most privately owned portraits were in the form of busts, or heads once designed to be inserted into statues. These were relatively easy to ship and display and, as indicated above, could provide an evocative experience to the modern viewer. Full-length stone statues were more problematic, bringing practical issues of size and weight. No fulllength portraits in marble were shipped to The Metropolitan through Marshall’s agency, though some heads (for example 60) had clearly been cut through the neck and thus had once been carved with the body, many in a single block of marble. The value of the collection to the public and to scholars For The Metropolitan, Marshall sourced some thirty Roman portraits of high quality, among them four images of emperors, two (12, 73)12 representing Augustus, one of Caligula (43, Plates XXX–XXXI)13 and one of Lucius Verus (20).14 Marshall IDs 73 and 20 are of monumental scale; ID 20 and 43 are of exceptional quality, the portrait of Lucius Verus chosen to illustrate the front cover of Zanker’s recent catalogue and that of Caligula very well preserved and unusually elegant with a scalloped edge to the bust.15 Marshall also supplied six portraits of imperial women (9, 44, 60, 61, 65, 72).16 Ten portraits (5, 6, 12, 20, 44, 45, 46, 60, 73, 78)17 have proved of interest to researchers and curators selecting works for themed special exhibitions elsewhere. The chronological range of the collection runs from the second– first centuries BC to the early fourth century AD: like the British Museum, The Metropolitan divides its departments of Greek and Roman and Medieval Art with the emperor Constantine’s legalisation and promotion of, and eventual conversion to, Christianity. One hundred and ten Roman portraits were included in Richter’s second edition of 1948. Of these, forty-six were in stone, and twenty-five of the forty-six – that is, over 50 per cent – were acquired through Marshall (see concordance in Table 5.1). Another three portraits acquired through Marshall were not included in Richter’s book. Zanker’s catalogue includes one hundred and three portraits, excluding engraved gems and cameos, and Marshall IDs 7 and 54, stone portraits now regarded as modern. In all, The Metropolitan’s collection of Roman portraits constitutes an instructive and interesting conspectus of the subject, if lacking the impact of, say, the near-contemporary collection of the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen. The latter had the advantage of a stellar start by Carl Jacobsen in 1887 with the acquisition through Wolfgang Helbig of the sculptures from the Tomb of the Licinii.18 ‘It is especially moving’, wrote Jacobsen to Helbig on the opening of their display in Copenhagen on 3 October 1887, ‘to see these important, earnest beings; they stand as if they had wandered out of the grave together. The audience is enchanted – and for the first few days I was intoxicated....’ Nonetheless, despite their piecemeal acquisition, the enduring quality of the thirty portraits acquired by The Metropolitan through Marshall is evidenced by the fact that all but four (4, 7, 51, 54)19 remain on display a century after their acquisition, and indeed were recently re-selected for a re-installation of the Roman collections. Those not currently displayed are either now regarded as modern or (from the present author’s observation 11

Mallampati Gleason 2015. See also here, Chapter 10 (de Tomasi). MMA 08.258.47, 21.88.94. 13 MMA 14.37. 14 MMA 13.227.1. 15 See Herrmann 1991 on the surprisingly large number of surviving images of Caligula, some of which must have been hidden for safekeeping after his demise. 16 MMA 13.229.3, 14.130.7, 20.200, 21.88.35, 18.145.45 and 22.139.2. 17 MMA 10.231.2, 09.221.5, 08.258.47, 13.227.1, 14.130.7, 14.105.1, 14.130.8, 20.200, 21.88.94 and 23.160.6. 18 Moltesen 2012: 87. 19 MMA 08.258.45, 11.197, 15.144, 16.172. 12

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of recent photographs) too damaged for public appreciation. The lasting value of the collection for public display is testimony not only to Marshall’s discrimination, but also to the judgement of The Metropolitan’s director Edward Robinson, and not least that of the exceptionally gifted and industrious curatorial assistant, from 1924 to 1948 chief curator, Gisela M. A. Richter (1882–1972), who published in the 1940s and 1950s catalogues of both the Roman portraits and Greek sculpture in the collection, among many other works of lasting academic distinction. As mentioned above, the select bibliography given in the current web pages of The Metropolitan is mostly focused on museum journals, handbooks and catalogues, and catalogues of exhibitions to which certain portraits have been loaned. A fully corrected and reconstructed scholarly bibliography forms a key element of Zanker’s publication. However, a limited survey indicates that these portraits have found their way into the scholarly literature concerning the iconography and especially the date of their subjects, notably of course the images of the imperial family. For example, delving into the references given to the portrait head of Marciana (60, Plate XXIX),20 we find Ines Jucker21 referring to an article on the iconography of Marciana by Bonanno Aravantinos,22 in which, using Bernoulli’s methodology of lock-counting, she classifies this and a portrait with an exactly similar hairstyle in the castle at Ennetwies as two of only four surviving images made in Marciana’s lifetime, though Fittschen23 found such classification over-rigorous, and Zanker is cautious about the identification, dating the portrait to the late Hadrianic period.24 Similarly, Fittschen disputed Richter’s early Antonine date of the head of an infant wearing a vine wreath (45), insisting on the resemblance of the hair to portraits of Caracalla as a child. The museum’s website entry retains Richter’s dating, as does Zanker.25 Issues of date are sometimes more radical, raising questions of authenticity. In her catalogue of Greek sculpture in The Metropolitan, Gisela Richter published as a Hellenistic original the basalt head and shoulders of a naked man, evidently cut from a statue and re-shaped as a bust (54, Plate XXXIV). By the 1970s and 1980s Kiang and Wood were comparing the facial resemblance of this figure to the marble head of Philip the Arab in the Vatican Museums, ‘excavated’ at Castel Porziano in 1778, thereby provoking a debate about the antiquity of both pieces.26 The Metropolitan’s figure is now not displayed and is regarded as a modern work. The portraits supplied by Marshall have also been used to explore possible instances of the re-working of ancient imperial images (9, 44)27 and the production of small-scale images (101).28 Unsurprisingly, given the relatively large number of female imperial portraits, the collection has been used to explore images of Roman women (44, 46, 60, 65).29 However, it appears that the Roman portraits in The Metropolitan are perhaps not as well known to scholars as, say, the comparable collection in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. Partly this is surely due to the lack of a contextual or chronological focus within the collection, 20

MMA 20.200. Jucker 1995. 22 Bonanno Aravantinos 1988–1989. 23 Fittschen 1993, 1996. 24 Zanker 2016: 212, with further bibliography in n. 3–4. 25 MMA 14.105.1; Fittschen 1999: 103, no. 139 (not no. 13 as given in the MMA website references). Zanker 2016: 173–74, no. 62. 26 MMA 16.172: Richter 1954: 98–99, no. 189: Hellenistic; Fittschen 1977: modern; Kiang 1978: perhaps eighteenth century; Wood 1982: 244–45, pl. 39.1: third century AD. This sculpture is not catalogued by Zanker. 27 Zanker nos. 79, 75, neither of which he considers re-worked; the box-shaped cutting on the side of the head of no. 75 is interpreted as an ancient repair. Herrmann 1991: 47–48, Figure 21; Matheson 2000: 73, n. 31; Bartman 2001: 20, n. 106. 28 MMA 25.78.27 = Zanker no. 66, itself a reworking of a second-century bust for a Gallienic commission; Dahmen 2001: 182, no. 143, pl. 143. 29 MMA 14.130.7, 14.130.8, 20.200 and 18.145.45 = Zanker nos. 75, 97, 78 and 70; Kleiner & Matheson 1996. 21

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offering little scope for the interests of contemporary researchers. Moreover, until the current research project by Zanker, Richter’s catalogues have not been re-issued, replaced or updated beyond the extremely useful website entries. It may well be the case that the lack of a recent, up-to-date, hard-copy edition of Richter has to some extent inhibited academic use of the collection.30 Scholars tend to explore objects appearing in well-documented and illustrated catalogues: displays and publications arising from special exhibitions of limited duration such as I, Claudia: Women in Ancient Rome and From Caligula to Constantine: Tyranny and Transformation in Roman Portraiture may thus have a considerable short- to medium-term impact on research into the Roman portraits in The Metropolitan.31 Marshall’s sources John Marshall was appointed agent to The Metropolitan Museum of Art after he left Edward Perry Warren’s household in 1907. Among the five hundred and thirty-three marble and forty-two stone sculptures acquired by Marshall, of the thirty Roman portraits in stone that were accepted for purchase by the museum (see the concordance and Table 5.1), his first acquisitions were made in 1908 and continued until his death in 1926, with a peak of eleven in 1912–1914 (1, 2, 3, 9, 13, 20, 43, 44, 45, 46, 352).32 The increased traffic may reflect the removal in 1909 of the United States’ tariffs on importing ancient works from private collections.33 Twenty-three (possibly twenty-four) of the thirty portraits have suppliers named by Marshall.34 Since Marshall was based in Rome, nearly all the purchases were made from Italian dealers, notably the dealer-collector Alfredo Barsanti and the Jandolo family, each supplying five portraits, though the German scholar Paul Hartwig is actually the most prominent of the suppliers, selling eight (possibly nine)35 known portraits to Marshall. Ludwig Pollak supplied two, and one each came from Simonetti, Fabiani, Newton-Robinson (based in southern England), Yanacopoulos (Athens and Paris) and the Canessa family (Naples, Paris and New York). Co-relating the suppliers to the peak of acquisition, the dominant supplier in 1912–1914 was Paul Hartwig with six (possibly seven) portraits, followed by Alfredo Barsanti with two and Ettore Jandolo with one (see Graphs 5.1 and 5.2 showing all named suppliers of Roman portraits overall and those named during the peak years of acquisition). 30

For Boston, see Comstock & Vermeule 1976 and for the University of Pennsylvania Museum, see Romano 2006. Kleiner & Matheson 1996; Varner 2000. See also Powers 2015: 69–70. 32 MMA 13.115.2, 13.231.1, 12.233, 13.229.3, 13.229.5, 13.227.1, 14.37, 14.130.7, 14.105.1, 14.130.8 and 12.232.3 = Zanker nos. 83, 54, 42, 79, 49, 26, 21, 75, 62, 97, 48. 33 Mallampati Gleason 2015: 4. 34 See here, Chapter 2 (Moltesen) and Chapter 9 (Petruccioli) for further details of individual dealers. 35 MMA 13.229.3, a late Hadrianic portrait of a woman sometimes identified as Matidia (9), was purchased with the head of Lucius Verus (20): JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–DUN, 1913.3.10. 31

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Unsurprisingly, the rate of acquisition declined during the years of World War I, Richter commenting presciently in February 1916 that ‘only a few pieces have been received and it is doubtful how soon the rest can be despatched with safety’.36 Correspondence shows that the bust of Caligula (43) was already under negotiation by Marshall in the autumn of 1913, as was the funerary bust of a woman resembling Plotina, sent to New York via Lewes in March 1914, six months before the outbreak of war (44).37 The other two acquisitions of 1914 were a funerary altar purchased from Paul Hartwig (46) and the head of a child as Dionysus, purchased from Ludwig Pollak (45), the latter negotiated in 1913.38 One portrait supplied by Ugo Jandolo (51), part of a cache of funerary sculptures destined for a lime kiln (see below), was discovered in 1915. In 1918, the head of Livia (65) was bought from the dealer Canessa in Paris.39 Perhaps significantly, no card or correspondence survives in Marshall’s archive for the basalt head and shoulders of a naked man previously mentioned (54, Plate XXXIV), now regarded as modern, which was shipped in 1916. Perhaps due to post-war sensitivities concerning the various finds from this source, the notes on the archaeological context of the Jandolo portrait (51, Plates XXXII–XXXIII) were not added to the reverse of one of Marshall’s photographs until 1926.40 The consistently interesting features of the portraits suggest that Marshall was responding to the needs of the museum by looking for works of potential educational interest as well as aesthetic quality. Considering further the range of portraits offered by Marshall’s individual suppliers, as might be expected Hartwig consistently provided the most interesting pieces, at least from a scholarly point of view. They include a (most likely funerary) bust of a soldier, perhaps of Greek origin (2); the head of a long-haired man thought to have been an official at a triumphal procession (13); a partially preserved head of outstanding quality of the emperor Lucius Verus (20); feet shod in senatorial shoes, beside a helmet placed on the plinth of a large, evidently military statue (28; this piece is not currently displayed and is not further considered here); a bust of a woman resembling Plotina (44); possibly a head of Matidia (9); and the upper part of a funerary altar with three busts (46). Hartwig supplied a bust apparently carved in bluegrey Carrara bardiglio marble and possibly representing a man of African origin (352).41 Barsanti supplied two portraits of imperial women that have attracted scholarly interest: Matidia Minor (61, Plate XXXV a) and Sabina as Venus (72, Plate XXXV b), along with a portrait of an unidentified Flavian woman (59), another with hair coiffed in the style of Faustina the Younger (1), according to Zanker found immediately south-west of the church of Santa Pudenziana, and an imposing bust of a naked man of the Trajanic era (5), acquired from a historical collection (see below).42 The portraits supplied by the Jandolo family are also of interest to historians of Roman portraiture. Ugo Jandolo supplied the only portrait head with any recorded archaeological history (see further below), while Ettore supplied a Thasian marble funerary bust probably of republican date (3), representing a man of similar appearance to the subject of a head surely observed at death or modelled from a death mask, now in the British Museum (British Museum Greek and Roman Sculpture 1966, acquired from 36

Richter 1916b: 38. MMA 14.37, 14.130.7 = Zanker nos. 21, 75. On the latter, see JMA, BSR, card file: ‘bought Jan. 1914. Sent to Lewes March.’ Sackler, Notes, 1913. 10.31 and 1913. 11.26. 38 MMA.14.130.8 and 14.105.1 = Zanker nos. 97, 62. On the latter, see JMA, Sackler, Note, 1913.12.01. 39 MMA 18.145.45 = Zanker no. 70: the provenance is (uniquely for this group) noted on the MMA website. See also JMA, BSR, card file, Canessa 1918, no. 25. 40 MMA 16.172 (not catalogued by Zanker), 15.144 (Zanker no. 46): on the latter, see JMA, BSR, note on reverse of photo, 1926.02. 41 MMA 12.232.3 = Zanker no. 48, a rare instance of a private portrait imitating the style of Domitian; the use of coloured stone attracts no comment. See also Cain 1993: 181, no. 62. 42 MMA 21.88.35, 22.139.2, 20.188, 13.115.2, 10.231.2 = Zanker nos. 80, 77, 72, 83, 53. 37

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the Rome dealer Castellani); the sole freedman relief (36: supplied by Jandolo & Tavazzi); the headless statue of a poet or musician (58), a signed copy by Zeuxis of an Hellenistic work not further discussed here, and a head from a colossal statue of the emperor Augustus (73).43 Also of scholarly interest is a remarkable, highly polished portrait of Marciana, perhaps carved in Docimaean marble from Phrygia, and evidently cut at the neck from a life-sized statue (60, Figure 5.2a).44 Though the workmanship of the head strongly suggests that it was made in Rome,45 the notes on the back of the photograph (Plate XXIX) record that the head was supplied in 1920 by the Greek dealer G. Yanacopoulos, who also sourced classical and Hellenistic Greek sculpture for Marshall. Marshall also noted various exotic provenances: Yanacopoulos had told him that it came from Susa (it is not specified whether this refers to the distinguished city of ancient Persia or the modern city of the same name, ancient Seguvium in northern Italy) and from Asia; however, a pencilled note added below on 16 April 1920 suggests the more likely provenance of Asia Minor, Smyrna (modern Izmir), a long-established market for antiquities. In the same shipment was a basalt statuette of a youth, from Çesme, also in western Turkey, and some Rhodian ‘stuff ’, along with a small bronze supplied by the Paris-based Greek dealer C. A. Lembessis and a nude Hermes, its feet missing.46 A basalt bust of Gaius Caesar (7)47 was doubted by Richter (no. 32), a view contested by Fittschen and Frenz but convincingly supported by Roberta Belli Pasqua.48 This was acquired from the English collector Charles Edmund Newton-Robinson, who had inherited it from his father, the artist John Charles Robinson, in the 1850s and 1860s chief curator of the South Kensington (later Victoria and Albert) Museum, along with a number of busts of Greek philosophers also acquired by Marshall; these are now in the Liverpool Museum. On The Metropolitan’s website entry, a date in the first century BC is retained, though the head is no longer displayed. Archaeological and historical contexts In contrast to portraits supplied in the same period to the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen, most Roman portraits in The Metropolitan have no recorded earlier history, being largely acquired on the art market or from historical collections. The sole – and unspecified – archaeological context recorded concerns a marble head of a balding man, perhaps of Flavian date (51, Figure 5.4a),49 supplied by Ugo Jandolo. This was noted by Marshall in February 1926 as having been found about 1915, the year of its acquisition (Figure 5.4b).50 With it were found a foot and an arm of the same statue, three sarcophagi sold by Fausto Benedetti to Edward Perry Warren and two very fine (‘bellissime’) statues of women, still in place in 1926. The ensemble, surely from a tomb or tombs of some significance, was found close to an old lime pit, to which it was being consigned at an unknown date when the process of destruction was interrupted for unknown reasons.51 It is not now displayed, perhaps because of the unsightly breaks in the neck. These are cautiously ascribed by Zanker to a Flavian re-working of what was originally a Claudian portrait. Nonetheless, despite the cogent arguments for the ancient re-cutting of this head, in the view 43

MMA 12.233, 09.221.2, 09.221.4, 21.88.94 = Zanker nos. 42, 95, 14 and 17. MMA 20.200 = Zanker no. 78. 45 Zanker, personal communication. The catalogue entry simply notes the museum’s recorded provenance ‘until 1920, with Yanakopoulos, Paris’. 46 JMA, BSR, note on back of photograph JM (PHP)-01-0123, latest entry dated 1920.06.04. 47 MMA 11.197, not catalogued by Zanker. 48 Belli Pasqua 1991: 12–13, no.4. 49 MMA 15.144 = Zanker no. 46; JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–DUN, 1908.08.06. 50 JMA, BSR, Note, 1926.02 (day not specified) 51 Richter 1948, no. 52 gives the provenance as ‘Said to have been found near Rome’. 44

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of the present writer the breaks are more likely caused by the brutal removal of the head from the body, whether by the consigners of the statue to the lime kiln or its modern finders. A marble bust of a naked man of early second-century AD date (5) is recorded as having been purchased from Alfredo Barsanti, who said that it came from an old collection in the Villa Gentili, north of Rome.52 Marshall recorded the price of 16,000 lire as very high, though he noted here, as in some other instances, that the cost included an export permit.53 It is likely that the historical provenance, then as now, would have added to the bust’s value. The bust was consigned to New York in 1910; it is not clear when Barsanti acquired it. Damage to the portraits Several portraits exhibit damage consistent with a fall from a pedestal: typically, the tip of the nose is lost, with damage to the lips and chin sometimes sustained. Some portraits were designed as busts, while other heads were designed with the neck carved as a socket to fit into a draped herm shaft or full-sized body, the drapery concealing the join. While many of these survive more or less intact, some sculptures in the collection have been cut or fractured through the neck (see above). This may have occurred in late antiquity or indeed at the time of or shortly after discovery, no doubt for re-use or ease of transport, whether to a lime kiln or in more recent times to make the heads attractive to potential buyers and easy to display in a museum or private home. Export practice The archive is rich in evidence for bending the rules of export of antiquities from Italy. Thus, despite securing an export permit, Marshall sent the Gentile bust via London together with a Siren sarcophagus bought from Jandolo. In a letter to Edward Robinson of 11 May 1910, apparently responding to a complaint of the excessive cost of shipping the sarcophagus, Marshall explained that the permit was paid by the museum to Jandolo, who had given it to an unnamed shipper (It: speditore) based in central Rome on the Via Frattina.54 The reason for sending antiquities via London was to circumvent US regulations for the import of antiquities. On this occasion, Marshall had instructed Jandolo not to send the sarcophagus via Warren in Lewes, Sussex. Marshall informed Robinson that he had consulted with Jandolo and the speditore about the price, which he regarded as much too high; the shipper had explained that the export permit had to be obtained in Naples, bringing the overall cost to 40,000 francs. Marshall made it clear that he had no role in the export process, which had to be negotiated by the dealer. The museum could negotiate for a reduction, in his view, but there was no way to check the veracity of the shipper’s charges for dazio (export duty); the shipper was in their hands (exactly whose hands was not specified, but presumably those of customs officials who imposed the duty, both parties no doubt inclined to add commission). Marshall explained to Robinson that the American consulate insisted on photographing antiques exported from Italy ‘and the photos might get into the hands of the government’. He does not specify which government, so it is not clear whether this was a legal or tax issue. As seen above, the bust of the woman resembling Plotina (44) was sent to the English destination of Lewes, the home of Marshall’s former employer Warren, who no doubt expedited the forwarding of consignments to the 52 Not so far identified, unless there was a confusion of direction for south-east, where the former Villa Gentile on the Via Columbia now serves as a didactic archaeological museum. Amanda Claridge suggests a potential confusion with the Villa Gentili, Piazzale Sisto V, built 1741–1748 and owned by the Principessa Elisa Chermenteff (1861–1913). 53 MMA 10.231.2: JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1910.2.22. 54 The shipping company was most probably B&C Tartaglia, with their headquarters at Via Frattina 4. On Bruno Tartaglia see here, Chapter 9 (Petruccioli).

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Marshall Metropolitan ID Number Museum of Art Accession Number 1 13.115.2 2 13.231.1 3 12.233 4 08.258.45 5 10.231.2 6 09.221.5 7 11.197 9 13.229.3 12 08.258.47 13 13.229.5 20 13.227.1 36 09.221.2 42 11.212.5 43 14.37 44 14.130.7 45 14.105.1 46 14.130.8 52 15.144 59 20.188 60 20.200 61 21.88.35 65 18.145.45 72 22.139.2 73 21.88.94 78 23.160.6 101 25.78.27 352 12.232.3 927 08.258.46

Zanker Catalogue Number 83 54 42 52 53 47 Not included 79 15 49 26 95 84 21 75 62 97 46 72 78 80 70 77 17 85 66 48 65

Table 5.1. Concordance of numbers between John Marshall Archive ID numbers, museum accession numbers and Zanker’s catalogue of 2016.

United States. The correspondence concerning ‘the old market woman’, a Hellenistic genre statue (8), shows Marshall distancing himself from responsibility for the ‘lies of the Jandolos’, and expressing his concern for the potential closure of the preferred export route via Naples as a result of intrigue among the dealers.55 The same distancing may be seen in Copenhagen, in this case between the museum’s founder Carl Jacobsen and his agent Wolfgang Helbig: in the letter from Jacobsen to Helbig quoted above, Jacobsen closes by saying: ‘Now I am just sorry that I cannot speak your name out loud.’56 Clearly, both the Italian and the American authorities were trying to regulate the antiquities trade, but there were ways of circumventing the restrictions, by the shippers’ use of a route through Naples and by Marshall shipping via 55 56

MMA 09.39: JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1910.1.3. Moltesen 2012: 87.

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London and/or Lewes. It is not specified in the preserved correspondence why the Neapolitan route was more convenient; it may have been for practical reasons, or more likely for official willingness to overlook the rules, a laxity that no doubt incurred further cost. The Metropolitan had to take the financial risk in such situations, but the payment of high fees effectively distanced it from legal risks and, as Marshall pointed out with regard to the Siren sarcophagus mentioned above, in many cases it had acquired at a fair, expertly negotiated price works of art of high quality and lasting value that would only appreciate over time. It seems that the deception here was largely targeted at customs officials, and may have been practised for financial as much as legal reasons; financial concerns dominate the correspondence, and in her publications Richter evidently had no qualms about citing Rome or Athens as the place of purchase or reputed origin of many of the portraits. Conclusion The thirty Roman portraits supplied by John Marshall to Edward Robinson proved to be of lasting value for display and public engagement in a major museum, with over 80 per cent retained in current displays. They have proven of more variable interest to scholars, whose research agenda has moved from the taxonomy of individual pieces to the cultural context of Roman portraits and thus from museum collections of varied originals and casts to contextualised finds from archaeological sites. It is to be hoped that Zanker’s publication will increase the interest of the collection for research. The process of acquisition was unexceptional for the early twentieth century and is reflected in purchases made by other nascent public museums. Though American museums clearly had larger sums of disposable cash, allowing their European agents to work freely within an overall budget, controlling cost was evidently a matter of recurring concern, to which Marshall was evidently expected to pay diligent attention. World War I lessened but did not entirely close the supply of antiquities; it certainly interrupted communications, so contemporary documentation is scarce for objects acquired in 1915–1916. Pre-war liberalisation of import restrictions in the United States arguably had a greater influence on patterns of purchase.

Acknowledgements I have received much advice and help in the preparation of this chapter from Dr Carlos Picón and Dr Christopher Lightfoot of the Department of Greek and Roman Art at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York; from Professor Amanda Claridge and Professor Paul Zanker; and not least from Dr Guido Petruccioli. I am most grateful to them all. Any remaining errors are my own responsibility.

Chapter 6

The Bronzes in the John Marshall Archive (Plates XXXVI–XLVIII) Beryl Barr-Sharrar John Marshall’s long experience as a discerning supplier of Greek, Roman and Etruscan bronzes to important museum collections can be said to have begun in 1898. This is the year recorded in the John Marshall Archive (JMA) of the purchase by the Museum of Fine Arts (MFA), Boston, of an Archaic bronze statuette of an athlete that was in the private collection of Marshall’s close American friend and collaborator Edward Perry Warren (1062). Included in the same archive identification and together with it in Marshall’s photograph are two more Archaic bronze statuettes. One is a Hermes Kriophoros, purchased by the MFA in 1899, the other an Artemis, purchased in 1903, both from the Warren collection. A second, smaller Archaic bronze Hermes Kriophoros (1070) and an early fifthcentury BC bronze mirror stand in the form of an Aphrodite with an Eros at each shoulder (1072), also from the Warren collection, were purchased by the MFA in 1904.1 These purchases were made by the MFA under the directorship of Edward Robinson. In 1905, Robinson resigned to go to The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York and, with knowledge of Marshall’s contacts with collectors and dealers and in recognition of his perceptive eye, he asked Marshall to become The Metropolitan’s purchasing agent of Greek and Roman antiquities. Thus began over twenty years of acquisition by The Metropolitan of many of its most important Greek, Roman and Etruscan bronzes. Full recognition of Marshall’s critical role in the development of the collection of Greek, Roman and Etruscan objects in The Metropolitan is attested by the dedication by Carlos Picón, curator in charge of the department of Greek and Roman Art in 2007, of his catalogue of that year, Art of the Classical World in The Metropolitan Museum of Art, to those he calls the three principal players in the museum’s purchases of antiquities in the early twentieth century. They are Edward Robinson, by 1906 assistant director as well as curator of the department of Classical Art and by 1910 director of the museum; John Marshall, whose services Robinson secured in 1906 as European-based purchasing agent; and Gisela M. A. Richter, hired by Robinson in 1906 as an assistant and made full curator by 1925, in that order.2 Of the one hundred and seventy-one ancient Greek, Roman and Etruscan bronzes in Marshall’s archive, The Metropolitan acquired fifty-eight, of which forty-eight are currently on view at the museum,

1 All catalogued, with bibliography to that date, in Comstock & Vermeule 1971: Athlete, pp. 29–30: Francis Bartlett Collection 03.996. E. P. Warren Collection. ‘From Olympia.’ H 16.6 cm. Ca. 540 BC. Artemis, pp. 20–21: H.L. Pierce Fund 98.658. E. P. Warren Collection, Tyszkiewicz Collection. ‘From Mazi, near Olympia.’ H 19.2 cm. Ca. 525 BC. Hermes Kriophoros (smaller one), p. 24: H. L. Pierce Fund 04.6. E. P. Warren Collection. ‘From Arcadia.’ H 16.7 cm. 520–510 BC. Hermes Kriophoros, pp. 25–26: H.L. Pierce Fund 99.489. E. P. Warren Collection. ‘From Sparta.’ H 25 cm. 520–510 BC. Aphrodite and Erotes mirror stand, pp. 242–43: H. L. Pierce Fund 04.7. E. P. Warren Collection, Forman Collection. H 25.6 cm. Ca. 500 BC. For the two Hermes statuettes, see also Kozloff and Mitten 1988: 77–86, no. 8 (smaller one, dated ca. 520–500 BC) and no. 9 (dated ca. 500–490 BC). 2 Picón et al. 2007: 21.

Ancient Art and its Commerce in Early Twentieth-Century Europe (Archaeopress 2022): 104–120

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a testament to their enduring pertinence.3 These purchases and others made during the years before Marshall’s death in 1928 were largely implemented by the highly opportune bequest of an endowment of four and a half million dollars by Jacob S. Rogers, a businessman from Paterson, New Jersey.4 The criteria for acquisition by the museum were based on the quality and condition of the proffered object, together with, importantly, the museum’s objective of assembling a comprehensive collection of Greek, Roman and Etruscan bronzes. In the Preface to her 1915 book on those purchased by the museum since her arrival in 1906, Richter remarks that a number of bronzes were acquired every year, ‘almost all of first-rate importance … so that now our collection ranks among the best of its kind in the world’. And it is John Marshall whom she names first in her list of acknowledgements.5 While Robinson and Richter rejected more than two-thirds of the bronzes proposed by Marshall, the quality of the classical bronze antiquities acquired by The Metropolitan through his agency is high, and the scope of Greek, Roman and Etruscan material is broad. The masterpieces Some of the most significant of the fifty-six ancient bronzes that Marshall enabled the museum to acquire are awarded special recognition with colour illustrations, several full page, in the museum’s 2007 catalogue, a book published to celebrate its new galleries of Greek, Roman and Etruscan antiquities completed that year. Given the over seventeen thousand objects in the collection of the department of Greek and Roman Art, choices for this pictorial distinction were of necessity selective and each one chosen suggests the high esteem in which that work of art is held by the institution a century after acquisition. The best known of the bronzes acquired by the museum through Marshall and distinguished in this way is the Augustan life-size portrait statue of a boy wearing a himation, or mantle, at hip level, a bronze statue of major importance. In his archive notes, Marshall says it is from Rhodes and suggests it could be Tiberian, a perceptive judgement very close to current scholarly appraisal. It was supplied to him by E. P. Triantaphyllos (137; Plate XXXVI).6 Richter honoured the statue with the frontispiece photograph in her 1915 book and suggested it was probably the most valuable piece in the museum’s collection at that time.7 Following the recently published book on its collection of Roman portraits by Paul Zanker, the museum now identifies the statue as a portrait of Gaius Iulius Caesar (20 BC–AD 4), son of Agrippa and Julia and adopted grandson of the emperor Augustus.8 It could have been erected on Rhodes some time in the first century BC, when Gaius was sent there as a proconsul. According to Marshall, Triantaphyllos also furnished him with a plaster cast of the entire statue and another of the head.9 This supplier is not 3

A similar observation is made in Chapter 5 regarding the marble portraits acquired by the museum through Marshall’s auspices (Walker). Some of the bronze objects currently not on view can be found, together with many of those that are, in Richter 1953. For the remaining bronzes listed in the archive as belonging to the museum that are neither on view nor catalogued by Richter in 1953, see relevant notes below. 4 Picón et al. 2007: 7. 5 Richter 1915b: v–vii. 6 MMA 14.130.1. Rogers Fund, 1914. Picón et al. 2007: 351, no. 405. H. 132.4 cm. Roman, Augustan, 27 BC–AD 14. ‘(T)he island of Rhodes was famous for its schools of philosophy and rhetoric, and this boy wears a Greek himation (cloak) instead of the traditional Roman toga.’ 7 Richter 1915b: 149–50, no. 333, dated to the first century BC. Richter is explicit about its condition at the time of purchase: both feet and the fingers of the left hand were missing, the right arm had broken off and was re-attached, there had been a break across the middle of the body, and only one ivory eye was preserved. See Lahusen & Formigli 2001: 83–84, no. 35; with a photograph before restoration, 366, no. 35a. For its highly sophisticated original production, using a combination of indirect and direct methods of casting, Hemingway et al. 2002. Most recently, Daehner & Lapatin 2015: 260–61, no. 35. 8 Zanker 2016: 124–27, where it is said to have been with Theochares, in Rhodes, until 1914, when it was purchased from Theochares through Triantaphyllos. 9 If sent to the museum with the sculpture, the plaster casts were very likely gifted or sold during the museum’s dispersal of all its casts beginning in 1958.

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mentioned elsewhere in the archive as a procurer of a bronze, but he was the second largest provider to Marshall of antiquities from Greece after Lembessis. Also illustrated in full-page colour in the museum’s 2007 catalogue is the large hollow cast bronze statuette of a horse supplied by Feuardent Frères (147),10 Parisian dealers responsible for other bronze antiquities purchased by the museum through Marshall’s mediation. Richter considered it one of the most important objects from the fifth century BC in the collection and suggested it was part of a dedicatory chariot group like a similar bronze horse discovered in Olympia.11 The horse is now said by the museum to be a classicising work of the Late Hellenistic period (late second to first century BC), but Richter’s date of the early fifth century BC is still maintained by some experts. A third bronze acquired by the museum through Marshall’s agency included in full-page colour in the 2007 catalogue is a mid-fifth-century BC Argive hydria of exceptional quality and preservation, the significance of which is increased by an inscription on the mouth identifying it as ‘one of the prizes from Argive Hera’.12 The inscription distinguishes it as a prize awarded to a victor at games held at the sanctuary of Hera in Argos in the Peloponnese. One of several large bronze vessels purchased by the museum through Marshall, it was supplied to him by Kampanes and Jacob Hirsch (162), dealers whose names, like Feuardent Frères, recur in the archive. One of the most widely published bronzes in the museum’s collection is a late Republican–Augustan statuette of a philosopher, a small bronze adaptation of a third-century BC portrait of an Epicurean standing on an Ionic capital that is the top of a bronze stand from which lamps were originally suspended (126, Plate XXXVII a).13 The archive entry names Paul Hartwig as purveyor. The bronze has recently been dated to 50–20 BC by Zanker, who believes it is based on an original third-century BC honorific statue of an Epicurean.14 At the time of its acquisition, the statuette was dated by Richter and others to the Hellenistic period. Richter thought the philosopher portrayed could be Hermarchos, who succeeded Epikouros as head of the Epicurean school about 270 BC, calling it ‘the finest Greek portrait on a small scale now in existence’.15 Both legs of the figure were cast separately, and Marshall’s notes, as well as the photographs for the figure, indicate that the figure’s left leg with its attached foot, which was apparently broken off the leg in antiquity, was found separately. A testament to Marshall’s experienced eye was his recognition of the missing left leg in the possession of Hartwig, who did not know the rest of the statue, and Marshall’s

10

MMA 23.69. Fletcher Fund, 1923. Picón et al. 2007: 214 no. 250, 453. H 40.3 cm. Richter 1930a: 58, Figures 62–63, dated 480–470 BC with references to earlier publications by others; Richter 1953: 65–66, dated 480 BC; 206, Figure 46; Richter 1959: 197–98, Figure 280. In Richter 1953, the author juxtaposed photographs of the New York and Olympia horses, Figure 277-8; Richter 1970b: Figure 369-70 (New York horse) and Figure 371-2 (horse from Olympia). At first Richter thought it was cast solid (Richter 1930a: 58), but later examination proved that it is hollow, cast by the direct lost-wax method. In the late 1960s the authenticity of the horse was questioned, but extensive scientific investigations at the museum proved it genuine. The investigations included thermo-luminescent examination of the clay core. 12 MMA 26.50. Joseph Pulitzer Bequest, 1926. Picón et al. 2007: 112, no. 122, 429. H 51.4 cm. Richter 1953: 82, 224, pl. 64 a, h. 13 MMA 10.231.1. Rogers Fund, 1910. Picón et al. 2007: 220, no. 258, 455. H 27.3 cm. Dated there to the late first century BC. as an adaptation of a Greek philosopher statue of the third century BC. 14 Zanker 2016: 42–45, with multiple photographs, extensive discussion and useful literature. Said there to have come from Ostia Antica and to have been with Ludwig Pollak until 1910 and acquired by the museum in 1911 from Paul Hartwig. This follows letters written by Marshall (below n. 16) and Kozloff & Mitten 1988: 154–59. 15 See Richter 1953: 124, pl. 103a; Richter 1959: 203, dated to c. 280 BC; and Bieber 1961: 68, Figure 230-1, dated to 270–260 BC as Hermarchos. For a comparison to a small inscribed bronze bust of Hermarchos, see Richter and Smith 1984: 129. For further dating of the statuette to the late Hellenistic period, see the bibliography in Zanker 2016: 45. 11

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subsequent purchase of the leg.16 While the photograph in the JMA entry does not show the capital of the column of the lamp stand that acts as a decorative base for the statuette, traces of the statuette’s feet on the base plate prove that they belong together. Richter described these traces in her 1912 book. She did not interpret the base as a lamp stand.17 A large, highly refined Hellenistic bronze statuette of Aphrodite purchased through the agency of Marshall, and illustrated in colour in the 2007 museum catalogue, is one of the most appealing of the variants in bronze of the fourth-century BC marble Aphrodite of Knidos by Praxiteles.18 It is as well known to bronze experts as the philosopher statuette, but less widely published (1111).19 In a letter to Robinson on 7 March 1907, Marshall said that the statuette belonged to A. S. Drey of Munich, who bought it from a family in Hungary, and that the original owner was the Austrian ambassador to Athens.20 A few years after its acquisition by The Metropolitan, Richter described the statuette as notable for its size and for its relationship to the famous Praxiteles marble, despite some variations from the original as it was identified on Roman coins from Knidos. She said that the proper left hand of the statuette very likely once held drapery like the presumed original ‘as we understand it’, adding that there could be no doubt that ‘the execution is Greek, not Roman’. She suggested that it was probably ‘a late Greek work of a school of Asia Minor’. Necessary restorations were considerable, and Richter discussed them at length.21 A Roman bronze portrait bust of an unknown man with inlaid ivory eyes, produced to be inserted into a herm, has recently been dated ca. 20 BC to AD 1 by Zanker (124; Plate XXXVII b).22 It is of superior quality and Zanker calls it a masterpiece from the Augustan period. Zanker suggests it came from a ‘villa-like hortus (garden) in Trastevere’, which ‘would accord well with the work’s outstanding quality’. After the museum’s 1913 purchase of it, Richter called this bronze portrait bust ‘one of the finest bronze portrait busts that I know’, dating it late Republican or early Imperial Roman.23 Marshall did not record the name of the purveyor of this fine portrait bust, nor his own response to it. On the whole, in fact, Marshall’s archive notes for the bronzes are brisk, factual and devoid of art-historical or connoisseurshiplike comments. In his letters, however, he often reveals his eagerness to buy a piece, and most of the 16

According to a letter to T. D. Duncan (JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–DUN, 1910.05.24), Marshall paid Pollak nine hundred English pounds for the ‘Hermarchos’ statuette in 1910. In a letter to Robinson the following year (JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR– ROB, 1911.01.09), Marshall says Hartwig ‘fortunately’ did not know the statuette, a circumstance that allowed him to buy the missing leg for forty francs. Kozloff & Mitten 1988, 158, also say that Marshall found the missing leg in the possession of P. Hartwig. There dated Roman, end of the first century BC. 17 Richter 1915b: 70–74, no. 121. 18 On this statuary type see also here, Chapter 4 (Petruccioli). 19 MMA 12.173. Rogers Fund, 1912. Picón et al. 2007: 208, no. 241, 451–52. H 51.8 cm. C. 150–100 BC. 20 Kozloff & Mitten 1988: 106–10 write that in ‘(a) report preserved in museum correspondence’ it is said to have been found in ‘the Greek village of Hagios Sostis, near Andritsana in Elis’, and to have been until its purchase by The Metropolitan in the collection of A. S. Drey, who ‘purchased (it) from a Count Palfi at Pressbourg (Bratislava since 1918)’ (109). 21 Richter 1915b: 74–77, no. 121. Richter 1953: 110, 248, pl. 88b. The figure’s left leg from the middle of the shin down is modern, and so is the right leg from above the knee; the right arm has been re-attached, the joint hidden by restoration; the left arm has probably also been re-attached and part of the upper arm restored; there are slight restorations on the upper back. In the letter in Marshall’s archive that he wrote to Robinson (JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1907.03.07), these restorations are first reported. Richter augments them to add that a depression on the bottom of the proper right foot was probably made to fasten the figure to a base, and that the heel is pierced for the insertion of a modern dowel. As a bronze parallel, she cites a statuette in the de Clercq Collection in Paris (de Ridder, A. H. P. (1906) Collection de Clercq. Paris, Leroux: III, 6, nos. 4–6). For comparata, see also Bieber 1961: 20, Figure 26-27. The Aphrodite has been frequently published since, most recently by the present author in Barr-Sharrar 2017: 113, Figure 13.8. 22 Zanker 2016: 119–21, no. 37, with excellent photographs. MMA 14.40.696. Bequest of Benjamin Altman, 1913. Picón et al. 2007: no. 381, pp. 330, 481. H 38.1 cm. There dated Late Republican or Early Imperial, c. 50 BC–AD 54. Said to have been found in Trastevere in Lahusen & Formigli 2001: 146–47, no. 87, ‘Claudian’. 23 Richter 1915b: 142–43, no. 325. She praises, with good reason, the portrait’s beautiful modelling, adding that in style it stands between the realism of Republican portraits and Augustan idealising. Zanker says much the same thing: ‘The sculptor succeeded in combining the new classicizing forms with a subtle rendering of the subject’s actual physiognomy.’ Zanker 2016: 121.

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choices he made of bronzes to offer to the museum, among what must have been many hundreds that suppliers and dealers brought to him, suggests a high level of discernment. Richter’s obvious enthusiasm for all the bronzes that came to the museum through Marshall’s mediation is telling. Continuing her superlatives about Marshall’s selections in her 1915 book on the Greek, Roman and Etruscan bronzes in the museum, Richter calls an appealing Archaic Etruscan bronze statuette of a young woman, first on loan and subsequently a gift to the museum from Pierpont Morgan (121 and 135; Plate XXXVIII),24 ‘one of the finest Etruscan statuettes in existence’, praising its grace and delicate charm.25 It is awarded a full-page illustration in the 2007 museum publication and today is prominently displayed in the Etruscan galleries of The Metropolitan. Many museum acquisitions in bronze that were facilitated by Marshall, almost all on view today, are discussed and very often illustrated in one or several of Richter’s many books, notably including her well-known handbook of Greek art in The Metropolitan, first published in 1953 with many subsequent editions. Discussions of objects always include references to her initial publications in the Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin or other scholarly journals.26 For the facility of the reader, the bronzes that the museum acquired through the agency of Marshall and not discussed above are grouped below by culture and date. Most are notable for high quality and for Richter’s eager reception of them. With the exception of three under-life-size Roman portraits, as well as some Greek, Etruscan or Roman vessels, most are large or small statuettes or objects of small format. Many of the smaller bronzes are displayed in cases in the Study Collection that opened with the renovation of the Greek and Roman department in 2007. Greek, fifth-century BC A small, highly appealing early fifth-century Greek bronze statuette of a god (Zeus or Poseidon), 10.5 cm high, was supplied in 1921 to Marshall by Ludwig Pollak (143; Plates XL–XLI).27 With his right arm raised to wield a weapon or missile, the little bronze figure is displayed today in a prominent place in one of first-floor Greek galleries of the museum. A mid-fifth-century BC Greek bronze cauldron or lebes, a large vessel for mixing water with wine that would originally have been supported by a stand, was procured for Marshall by Augusto Jandolo (150).28 It can be found today in the Study Collection in a case with the title ‘The Symposium in Classical Art’. The museum suggests it is Campanian. Richter includes in her 1953 handbook another bronze cauldron offered to the museum by Marshall that she dates to the late sixth to early fifth century BC (149).29 Marshall names no supplier for this cauldron, not currently on view.

24

MMA 17.190.2066. Gift of J. Pierpont Morgan, 1917. Picón et al. 2007: 282, 471, no. 324. H 29.5 cm. Dated to the late sixth century BC. The pointed shoes are distinctively Etruscan; the figure’s left foot is a modern restoration. Morgan was the president of the museum before his death in 1913 and was well known to Marshall. See Sox 1991: 110 and passim. Kozloff & Mitten 1988: 194–98. 25 Richter 1915b: 34–38, no. 56. It was on loan to the museum by 1910. 26 For a comprehensive list of Richter’s pertinent publications, see the bibliography in Zanker 2016. 27 MMA 21.88.52. Richter 1953: 67, 208, Figure 48b. Dated to the first quarter of the fifth century BC and said to have been found in Cyrene. Richter suggests it could be a giant hurling a stone. 28 MMA 23.160.24. Rogers Fund, 1923. Mid-fifth century BC. 29 MMA 23.160.26. Richter 1953: 82, Figure 64c. H 15 3/16 inches. Marshall illustrates it on a stand that is not included in Richter’s illustration nor in the museum’s online photograph. Dated by the museum to the sixth to fifth century BC.

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A very small, solid cast bronze head of a youth, 4.1 cm high, dated c. 480–470 BC, with a small loop of bronze cast into the crown of his head, was either part of a utensil or used as a weight (155). Marshall reports the seller as ‘D. B.’30 Greek, South Italian, fifth-century BC An early fifth-century BC South Italian mirror support in the form of a naked man, with the protome of a horse on each shoulder and the upper figure of a woman on his head, was supplied by Feuardent et Frères (141).31 It can be studied today in one of the Greek galleries on the main floor of the museum. Greek, Central Italian, fourth-century BC A fourth-century BC Praenestine bronze oil flask with a relief of a griffin attacking a nude youth (129)32 is praised by Richter in her 1915 book for its excellent workmanship and the skilful adaptation of its design to a round format.33 Greek, fourth-century BC Richter catalogues two bronzes of the fourth century BC purchased by the museum through Marshall’s agency that are not on view today: a bronze relief of a Nereid riding a sea goat or ram (165)34 and a bronze folding mirror cover with a relief of an Aphrodite and an Eros cradling a large cornucopia in his arm (151).35 Feuardent Frères supplied the Nereid relief; the mirror cover came from Elias Yiayias. Feuardent Frères were also the purveyors of The Metropolitan’s Greek horse (147 above), an early fifth-century BC South Italian mirror support (141 above) and a small Roman statuette of a woman in a chiton with long overfold (166 below). These Paris dealers are also found in Marshall’s archive of bronzes in association with some important works that The Metropolitan declined to purchase and are now in other museums (below). Elias Yiayias is named only in association with the Aphrodite and Eros mirror cover. Two more fourth-century BC Greek bronze folding mirror cover reliefs purchased by the museum through Marshall’s agency are also currently not on view. Papinos, from Greece, supplied a badly damaged twofigure relief said to be from Rhodes (136),36 and Feuardent Frères was responsible for a bronze mirror cover with a relief of Aphrodite reaching out to Eros (164).37

30

MMA 24.97.20. Fletcher Fund, 1924. The eyes are deeply pierced. Richter 1953: 67, Figure 47c. H 2 in. Richter says it is from Akri in Sicily. Perhaps ‘D.B.’ is the ‘Dr. B.’ whose collection was sold at auction in Paris in 1910 (Catalogue, Hotel Drouot 1910). 31 MMA 20.203. Rogers Fund, 1920. Greek. South Italian. Early fifth century BC. 32 MMA 10.230.1. Rogers Fund, 1910. Picón et al. 2007: 303, no. 356 with colour illustration. Diameter 9.2 cm. ‘(A) Central Italian adaptation (of a) South Italian model.’ The youth is an Arimasp, people who were said in antiquity to live east of the Black Sea where their gold was protected by fierce griffins. 33 Richter 1915b: 61–62, no. 94. Richter dated it to the end of the fifth century BC; its date has been brought down to the early to mid-fourth century BC. Picón et al. 2007: 303, no. 356. 34 MMA 25.78.88. Richter 1953: 111, 125, Figure 91 d. H 3 ½ inches. Cut out in silhouette; probably from the hammered decoration of a mirror cover. 35 MMA 22.139.86. Diameter 5 1/8 in. Richter 1953: 111, 249, Figure 89 f. Dated by the museum to 350 BC. No image is available in the online catalogue. 36 MMA 14.130.4. The relief depicts a seated man on the left, naked and bearded (a Silenus?), and, on the right, a male figure in trousers wearing what appears to be a Phrygian hat (?) stepping up on a rock as he holds out his right hand in apparent greeting. The museum website suggests this is on view in gallery 158, but another mirror relief with a chubby Eros seated frontally (MMA 06.1060, a–c. Rogers Fund, 1906) may have taken its place. 37 This was consigned in 1925 according to the archive, but no museum inventory number is available.

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Hellenistic Several notable Greek bronze statuettes of Hellenistic date were acquired by the museum through Marshall in addition to the Aphrodite discussed above (1111). A large bronze statuette of a young satyr, 45.7 cm high, whose legs appear to be in a dance step and body in rhythmic movement, has pointed ears but no tail. Missing both arms just below the shoulder, where separately cast arms were originally attached, the young satyr is dated by the museum to the mid third to mid second century BC (498; Plate XXXIX).38 It was provided to Marshall by Cesare, Ercole and Amedeo Canessa. A bronze statuette of a drunken Herakles, considerably smaller at 15.6 cm in height, is on view in one of the Hellenistic galleries, dated by the museum to the third to second century BC (138).39 Marshall names no supplier for this bronze. The figure’s drunkenness is indicated by his posture, with legs spread wide as he staggers backwards. Both arms are missing below the shoulder, as is the right lower leg and the left leg just above the knee. Other statuettes like this well-known type include a wine cup in an extended right hand. Another small Hellenistic statuette acquired through Marshall is a young boy in the pose of an orator, his right hand held out in a speaking gesture, his left arm under his himation. Displayed not far from the drunken Heracles, it was supplied to Marshall by Giuseppe Sangiorgi (153).40 Etruscan, fifth-century BC Some bronzes acquired through Marshall early enough to be discussed in Richter’s 1915 book are three similar fifth-century BC Etruscan bronze oinochoai with distinctive ‘beaked’ spouts. On view in the museum’s Etruscan galleries, they are of a type that was widely exported and probably produced in Vulci. Alfredo Barsanti supplied one (132),41 Giuseppe Sangiorgi the other two (13342 and 13443). All three, according to Richter, were found in the same tomb in Civita Castellana, one of the largest of the excavated sites of the ancient Falerii.44 A fifth-century Etruscan acquisition made by the museum through Marshall somewhat later was a small bronze statuette of a dancing satyr, offered by Alfredo Barsanti (153).45 In an Etruscan case in the Study Collection, the little satyr, 11.5 cm high, raises his right foot, perhaps originally placed on a musical 38 MMA 29.73. Fletcher Fund, 1929. Richter 1953: 125, 264, Figure 104. Currently on display in the Hellenistic Treasury: ‘Dancing satyr. Greek.’ Richter thought it was a Roman copy of a Hellenistic work (because) the ‘workmanship is rather bad’. She notes the provenance was said to be Carthage. Bieber 1961: 112 associates this statuette with the first Pergamene School (second half of the third century BC), dating it to c. 200 BC. Richter included it, along with other museum bronzes, in Richter 1970b: 36 and Figure 61. 39 MMA 15.57. Purchase, Samuel P. Avery Fund, 1915. Said to be from Smyrna. Richter 1953: 125, 264, Figure 104 d. Included in Richter 1970b: 43 and Figure 139. 40 MMA 21.88.173. Rogers Fund, 1921. Third to second century BC. 41 MMA 12.160.3. Rogers Fund, 1912. H 30. 3 cm. 450–400 BC. The handle attachment is a simple leaf-shaped element. Richter 1915b: 186–88, no. 488. The handle is fluted and ornamented with beading; its arms (resting on the mouth) are decorated with a spiral pattern in relief and end in couchant lions. On the trefoil lip is a tongue pattern in relief with two rows of beading above and a lion at each corner. 42 MMA 12.160.2. Rogers Fund, 1912. H 30. 3 cm. 450–400 BC. The handle attachment is in the form of a satyr with upraised arms over a volute and palmette design. Other decorative details are similar to the jug above, the arms of the handle ending in couchant lions. Richter 1915b: 188, no. 489. 43 MMA 12.160.1. Rogers Fund, 1912. H 32.1 cm. 450–400 BC. The handle attachment is in the form of the head of a bearded satyr over a design of scrolls and palmettes. Other decorative details are similar to the two jugs above. Richter 1915b: 189, no. 490. 44 Richter 1915b, 180, photo of group, 179. For a short account of this tomb group, Richter, G., Metropolitan Museum Bulletin, December 1913, 266. 45 MMA 23.160.51. Richter 1953: 95, 235, Figure 75-6. H 11.5 cm. Dated to the second half of the fifth century BC. Two other bronzes are included in Marshall’s ID 153 entry.

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instrument, and holds both arms out at the level of his head. A small fifth-century BC Etruscan bronze statuette of a youth displayed nearby was provided by the same dealer and purchased the following year (159).46 In the same location in the museum is a small bronze Etruscan statuette of a discobolus, holding the discus in his right hand, for which Marshall does not name a supplier (157).47 An Etruscan mirror of the fifth century purchased by the museum was supplied to Marshall by Teodoro Riccardi (152).48 Etruscan, fourth-century BC A second Etruscan mirror, dated to the first half of the fourth century BC, was purveyed by G. Peytel (1844–1924), a collector living in Paris who is named in the bronze archive only in association with this object (168).49 Both mirrors are exhibited with others in the Etruscan galleries of The Metropolitan. Marshall credits himself as supplier of a late fourth-century BC Etruscan jockey type helmet with cheek guards displayed in a case nearby (169).50 Late Hellenistic or Roman An early acquisition made by the museum through Marshall is a very small bronze statuette of a sleeping Eros, 21 cm long, displayed in a case in one of the Hellenistic galleries (123; Plates XLIV).51 It is a miniature bronze version of a third- or second-century BC Greek original, the conception of which is characteristic of a personal view of the deity. It is a well-known Roman type, as Richter discussed after its acquisition.52 An entry in Marshall’s archive made in association with its sale to the museum in 1913 includes text that indicates payment for it to Galleria Sangiorgi, identifying that dealer as its source.53 The miniature bronze reverses the pose of the museum’s large sleeping Eros from Rhodes, purchased some years later.54 Roman A small bronze bust of a highly individualised but unidentified bearded Roman with furrowed brow and short hair, today in the museum’s southernmost Roman gallery (125; Plates XLII–XLIII), was described by Richter in 1915 as ‘a piece of exceptional interest because of its good execution and preservation’.55 46

MMA 24.97.100. Fletcher Fund, 1924. MMA 25.78.34. Fletcher Fund, 1925. H 8.6 cm. The feet are missing. Classical Etruscan, fifth century BC. 48 MMA 22.139.84. Rogers Fund, 1922, with an engraving of Achle (Achilles) fighting Memnun (Memnon) and Theson (Eos) retrieving the body of her son Memnun from the battlefield. C. 450–420 BC. On Teodoro Riccardi, see here Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). 49 MMA 26.60.63. Praenestine, from Praeneste. with an engraving of Perseus with Athena and the Graiai, the sisters of the Gorgon, their names inscribed, retrograde, in Etruscan. Dated 400–350 BC. 50 MMA 26.60.83. Fletcher Fund, 1926. This is one of several Etruscan helmets of this type acquired by the museum. In her 1915 book, Richter presents one purchased in 1908 that is almost identical to the Marshall helmet except for the direction of the diagonal fluting on the decorative brim: MMA 08.258.13. Richter 1915b: 416–17, no. 1549. The purchase of a second helmet so similar may have been a gesture of friendship towards Marshall. 51 MMA 13.225.2. Rogers Fund 1913. Dated conservatively by the museum today to the first century BC–second century AD. 52 Richter 1915b: 89–91, no. 132. Richter 1953: 124, 163, Figure 103b. 53 The asking price, according to a letter from Marshall to Edward Robinson in which he suggests purchase, was 880 British pounds (JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB 1913.06.03). Robinson apparently baulked at this amount (JMA, Telegram, ER-JM 1913.05.13). 54 For the large sleeping Eros, MMA 43.11.4, not purchased through Marshall, Picón et al. 2007: 206–07, no. 240, 451. Richter 1953: 123–24, Figure 102. It is now considered by the museum to be Hellenistic in date, a possibility entertained in Richter 1953: 124. 55 MMA 13.225.1. Rogers Fund, 1913. Richter 1915b: 153–54, no. 335. H 22.2 cm. Dated there to the first half of the third century AD. 47

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The man wears a toga with layered folds falling diagonally across his chest in a unique style that has been identified as from the Severan era. Richter’s date of the first half of the third century AD has been maintained by Zanker, who narrows that to ca. AD 220.56 Marshall’s correspondence suggests the price paid for this portrait bust to its supplier, Simonetti, was 160 British pounds.57 Two small bronze portraits of the emperor Gaius (Caligula) were purchased by The Metropolitan through Marshall somewhat later, in 1923 and 1925. Neither is associated in Marshall’s archive with a supplier or a provenance. One portrait, 25.5 cm high, notable for its inlaid glass eyes, was probably once in a household shrine (148).58 Zanker makes the interesting point that portrait busts of such small scale had to be freely modelled, therefore frequently deviating from the portrait types established in larger format, and praises the workmanship for displaying features ‘so characteristic of Caligula’.59 The provenance for this bust given in Zanker is the Mond collection in London.60 There is no Marshall photograph for the second bronze Caligula portrait, a head irregularly broken at the neck from what must originally have been a bust. It is very small in size, 6.8 cm high (160). 61 The complete bust was probably also produced, like the one above, for domestic votive use. Small private portraits of this nature were often thrown away after Caligula’s assassination; several have been retrieved from the River Tiber in Rome. Zanker says this portrait is derived, like the one above, from the major type of Caligula bust, and praises the ‘astonishing articulation of (the) forms’ in a portrait so small.62 Miniature royal portraits were cast in bronze as early as the Hellenistic period.63 The provenance of the small Caligula portrait is given by Zanker as the Count Stroganoff collection in Rome 1910–1920, thence to his descendants, Palazzo Stroganoff, Rome, (ca. 1920–1923), subsequently sold in Rome to Giorgio Sangiorgi – a familiar name in the JMA – and purchased by the museum from Sangiorgi in 1925.64 The JMA file (160) for this bust gives the inventory number and date of consignment, but lacks this further information and the card file. An unusual bronze of considerable importance purchased by the museum through the agency of Marshall is a bronze male torso believed at the time of acquisition to be Archaic Greek, but identified correctly today as a Roman overcast, a replica of a Greek bronze statue of the early fifth century BC (144).65

56

Zanker 2016: 176–78, no. 64 with excellent photographs and additional bibliography. For the toga, 178, with reference to Goette, H.R., Studien zu römischen Togadarstellungen, Mainz, 1990: 150, no. L47. 57 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–DUN, 1913.02.26 and 1913.03.13. 58 MMA 23.160.23. Rogers Fund, 1923. AD 37–41. 59 Zanker 2016: 77–78, with photographs and bibliography. See especially Lahusen & Formigli 2001: 129, no. 71. 60 Said to have been until 1923 in the collection of Ludwig and Frida Mond, London, acquired in 1923 from Mrs. Mond. Zanker 2016: 77. 61 MMA 25.78.35. Fletcher Fund 1925. AD 37–41. 62 Zanker 2016: 79, no. 23 with photographs and bibliography. 63 A decorative bust of Ptolemy I Soter as Dionysos (reigned 323–285 BC) may be the earliest. H. Kyrieleis, Bildnisse der Ptolemäer (Berlin 1975), pl. 7, 1–2; Barr-Sharrar 1987: C 79, pl. 26. See also a miniature bronze bust of Ptolemy XII Auletes, Kyrieleis, Bildnisse, pl. 68, 6–7. 64 Zanker 2016: 79. 65 MMA 20. 194. Rogers Fund, 1920. H 29 5/8 inches. Richter 1953: 66, 207, Figure 47b. Richter believed it at the time to be late Archaic. The ‘ancient repairs’ she mentions in her text were later proved with scientific investigation to have been included in the overcast, as were the holes on the surface where ancient patches had fallen out, important factors leading to our current understanding of the torso. See Mattusch 1996a: 202–06. The torso was not on view in 1996, but, helpful for teaching the bronze casting process, it is now exhibited in a major gallery on the first floor, correctly labelled a Roman overcast. There is no way to determine the date it was made. To learn about its provenience, see Introduction (Petruccioli).

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Fausto Benedetti brought Marshall a gracefully shaped two-handled Roman amphora from the early first century AD displayed in one of the Roman galleries of the museum (167).66 At the base of each handle is a satyr mask with large ears, long beard curls and moustaches. Nearby is a bronze mule head fulcrum attachment, for which Marshall himself is credited by the museum as donor (163).67 In another of the Roman galleries is a tubular bronze object purchased by the museum with Marshall’s assistance in 1918. With four shallow hooks on its sides and a top decorated with the relief mask of a Gorgon, it is reminiscent in its iconography and style of the large Gorgon relief from one of the famous ships found at the bottom of Lake Nemi, dating from the time of the emperor Caligula (37–41 AD). Perhaps with the finds from Lake Nemi in mind, Marshall identified it as the top of the rudder of a galley, but it is more correctly identified by the museum as an ornament from a chariot pole, and dated to the first or second century AD. Marshall names Elio Jandolo as purveyor together with Giuseppe Sangiorgi (493).68 Some years later, in 1927, Sangiorgi supplied Marshall with a bronze disc with the relief of a Gorgoneion identical in iconography and all details. Catalogued in Marshall’s archive as a pyxis lid (492), the museum understandably declined to purchase it as it was clearly a forgery based on the relief on the chariot pole ornament, as Marshall himself suspected.69 Marshall bronzes in the Museum’s Greek and Roman Study Collection The number of bronze statuettes and other objects of small scale acquired with Marshall’s help in the early years of the twentieth century is extensive. Many of these are displayed today in the Greek and Roman Study Collection of The Metropolitan; most are Roman. One of note is an unusual Roman bronze relief of a soldier with his foot on the back of a kneeling barbarian, whose hair he pulls as he draws his sword (now missing) (130). The supplier was Paul Hartwig, the price 900 lire.70 This was probably originally the decoration of a military vehicle; Richter called it a ‘spirited composition’ of ‘fair execution’.71 Other Roman acquisitions made through Marshall and discussed by Richter in her 1915 book are displayed nearby. A bronze statuette of a Roman priest making a sacrifice – that is, a heavily draped and veiled man wearing sandals, a garland of laurel leaves on his head, his left arm extended with an incense box in the palm of his hand, his right arm missing below the shoulder (131)72 – was supplied to Marshall by C.A. Lembessis for a price of 140 British pounds.73 66

MMA 27.122.7. Fletcher Fund 1927. Roman. First century AD. Similar amphorae have been found in Pompeii. MMA 27.253.1. ‘Gift of John Marshall.’ First century AD. Apparently received with a bronze stirrup, MMA 27.253.2, which shares the same JMA Electronic Database number, and does not seem to be on view. This is one of several bronze mule heads from fulcrum attachments on wooden and bronze beds of the Hellenistic and early Roman Imperial period belonging to the museum (MMA 13.227.9, 13.227.10, 23.160.79), the first two of which are a pair. 68 MMA 18.75. The museum’s online catalogue says it has silver and copper details. Consigned in 1916 to Marshall and dated by him to the first half of the first century AD. Small artefacts may have been retrieved from the Lake Nemi shipwrecks as early as the fifteenth century when the existence of Roman antiquities at the bottom of the lake was well known. The two ships and their furnishings were first systematically studied in 1895 when some of the bronze animal head protomes were recovered. Further study and retrieval of material were undertaken again sporadically from 1927 to 1936. The finds are displayed today in the Museo Nazionale, Palazzo Massimo alle Terme in Rome. For the Nemi shipwrecks see Ucelli 1950; the ‘Medusa’, Ucelli 1950: 206–07, Figure 228-9. 69 On the basis of the photographs, the relief appears to be an awkward copy of the Gorgon on Marshall’s ID 493, MMA 1875. Marshall thought it badly made and suggests in his card file that it was a fake by Fasoli (?) who sold it to Sangiorgi, who, in turn, offered it to Marshall in 1927 for the highly inflated price of 60,000 lire – an enormous amount. Its location today is unknown. 70 JMA, Sackler, Telegram, MAR–DUN, 1911.03.20. 71 MMA 11.140.8. Richter 1915b: 141–42, no. 305. 72 MMA 13.227.6. Rogers Fund, 1913. Late first century BC. Richter 1915b: 134–35, no. 270. 73 JMA, Sackler, Telegram, MAR–DUN, 1913.08.25. 67

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A charming group of small Roman or Etruscan bronze animals – toys or votives – was called by Marshall a miniature farmyard (128). There are twelve pieces, all solid cast bronze: a cart, a plough, two bulls, two oxen, two sheep, two goats and two pigs, 6.6 to 14 cm in length. Richter says they were found together in a tomb and constituted either a votive offering or a child’s toy. Though roughly modelled, she says, all the animals are ‘carefully characterized’.74 Alfredo Barsanti supplied these animals for a purchase price of 2500 lire, or 100 British pounds.75 A Roman statuette of a young woman, supplied in 1927 by Feuardent Frères, wears a belted chiton with a long overfold, part of the lower edge of which she holds up at breast height in her left hand (166). Marshall gives the provenance as Egypt.76 Her right arm has been restored since the photograph in the JMA was taken. A lar, a boy in a dancing attitude in a short tunic holding a rhyton high above his head, a bronze statuette type found in Roman Imperial domestic shrines, was supplied by Teodoro (catalogued with an Etruscan satyr statuette, 153 above).77 The lar is displayed today with other lars familiaris among a large group of Roman bronze statuettes. The dealer C. A. Lembessis, who supplied the statuette of the sacrificing Roman priest (131 above), was also the source of a statuette of a Roman god Mercury. The god has wings on his head and a muscular torso, but is badly damaged, with both hands and lower legs missing (142 and 484).78 Some of the small bronzes were brought to Marshall from individuals who are named in the archive only once, in association with a single Roman statuette or fragments of bronze statues. Like the small portrait above of Gaius (Caligula) (160), these may well have been chance finds from the city of Rome or its vicinity. There are two Roman statuettes of Jupiter, both examples of well-known types often found in Imperial domestic contexts. A Jupiter Capitolinus, seated with a mantle covering his lower body and draped over his left shoulder and upper arm, which is raised to hold a sceptre (now missing), and holding a thunderbolt in his right hand, came from one of the Scalco brothers (139);79 a standing nude-type Jupiter with a mantle draped over his upraised left arm, the hand holding a sceptre (here intact) and a thunderbolt in his outstretched right hand, came from a certain Mr Day (146).80

74 MMA 09.221.20, a–n. Rogers Fund 1909. The Museum says they are Roman or Etruscan, second century BC–first century AD. Richter 1915b: 167, no. 412-25. 75 Paid in two instalments. JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–DUN, 1909.02.03; 1909.02.09; 1909 02.15. 76 MMA 27.122.12. Fletcher Fund, 1927. Second century AD. 19.4 cm. Her right arm from just above the elbow was separately cast, and in Marshall’s photograph is missing. Richter 1953: 95, 235, Figure 75c, with the arm restored, as it is today. In both hands the woman holds unidentified objects. 77 MMA 22.139.15. Rogers Fund, 1922. The rhyton protome is the head of an antelope. 78 MMA 20.190. Rogers Fund, 1920. First to second centuries AD. The double catalogue entry, first as offered and declined, then accepted, suggests a change of mind. Perhaps the price was reduced for the well-modelled, but damaged, statuette. 79 MMA 17.230.32. Rogers Fund, 1917. First to second centuries AD. 80 MMA 22.139.37. Rogers Fund, 1922. Late first century AD. In Marshall’s card file, H 7 ¾ inches. Two other bronze statuettes, both on round bases, are included both in this inventory number and in Marshall’s 146: a standing nude youth, perhaps Mars (H 8½ inches), and a nude Venus (H 8 5/8 inches) accompanied by a small Eros on a pedestal, neither of which the present author has been able to locate. Perhaps the seller was the well-known antiquarian and collector Mr Robert Day of Cork in Ireland, who sold the Limavadi find of Celtic gold ornaments to the British Museum: Cook, E. T. (1903) A Popular Handbook to the Greek and Roman Antiquities in the British Museum. London & New York, Macmillan. Mr Day’s collection of Irish antiquities was sold at auction by Sotheby’s in 1913.

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A bronze Jupiter bust that may have decorated a wooden chest or was perhaps placed in a household shrine was supplied by Tartaglia; a highly decorative inlaid bronze satyr bust that may originally have decorated the fulcrum of a Roman bed, a wooden chest or possibly a wagon, was brought to Marshall by Pietro Stettiner. Marshall had both photographed together (57; Plate XLV a).81 Two small bronze female panthers (145 and 500) are both listed as supplied by Cesare and Ettore Canessa.82 In a case in the museum’s Study Collection entitled ‘Roman Sculptural Fragments’ are a gilded bronze horse hoof with its fetlock, purchased from Mario Jandolo (161),83 the large right foot of a colossal Roman bronze statue, and the bronze left foot with part of the lower leg of a smaller statue. Both statue feet are associated with a bronze oinochoe, all three items sold in Rome by Miss Anna Lydia Kopf, heir of the artist and collector Prof. Joseph von Kopf (1827–1903) (154).84 Three ancient bronzes in Marshall’s archive said to be in the Museum but not located A small solid cast statuette of a woman standing on a high narrow extension that is called Archaic and may be a fixture of some kind (1580)85 is not on view, nor can it be found in the museum’s online catalogue. Marshall also lists, with its museum inventory number, a bronze fragment with an inscription dated 490–480 BC, for which there is no further information or photograph (156).86 Without a museum inventory number, but said by Marshall to be in the museum, is a bowl apparently cast in bronze from an Arretine mould, for which Fausto Benedetti is credited as supplier (140).87 Twentieth-century bronzes in Marshall’s archive Of a distinctly different significance, but highly informative in a characterisation of Marshall’s aesthetic interests, are bronzes in his archive that are works by his famous contemporaries Auguste Rodin and Henri Matisse. It seems highly probable, though not certain, that Rodin’s bust of Puvis de Chevannes (1131) and the sculpture of an old woman called ‘The Old Courtesan’, or by its French title La Belle qui fut heaulmière (1132), came to The Metropolitan through Marshall’s agency. While Rodin frequently had more than a single bronze sculpture cast from a clay or plaster model, it is unlikely to be a mere coincidence that examples of these two sculptures were given to the museum in 1910 as gifts of Thomas Fortune Ryan, a close friend of Marshall and of Edward Perry Warren.88 On 6 January 1908, Marshall wrote to Robinson that he had spent three mornings with Rodin at his studio in Meudon and suggested to Robinson the strong probability that the museum could purchase some of his good sculptures now, ‘while (Rodin) (was) still alive’.89 81

The Jupiter bust is MMA 17.230.2. Rogers Fund, 1917. First century BC–first century AD. The copper inlay in the proper right nipple survives. The satyr bust is MMA 17.230.25. Rogers Fund, 1917. Said to have been found in the Tiber. Barr-Sharrar 1987: 60, C 107 (with earlier references) and pl. 35. H 14 cm. First half of second century AD. The satyr’s eyes are inlaid with silver and the mouth is clad with copper. 82 MMA 22.139.6 and MMA 22.139.35. Rogers Fund, 1922. Of different styles, but both on their original bronze bases and probably originally attached to Roman chariots. Both dated to the first or second century AD. 83 MMA 25.78.70. Fletcher Fund, 1925. First or second century AD. 84 MMA 23.160.22. Rogers Fund, 1923 (large foot). MMA 23.160.21. Rogers Fund, 1923 (smaller foot). Both dated first or second century AD. The Roman bronze oinochoe MMA 23.160.25 included in Marshall’s 154 is not on view. 85 MMA 25.78.36. Fletcher Fund, 1925. 86 MMA 24.97.19. 87 On Loeb’s terracotta molds see here, Chapter 7 (Nørskov). 88 Bust of Pierre Puvis de Chavannes by Auguste Rodin. MMA 11.173.8. Gift of Thomas F. Ryan, 1910. H 21 inches. Modelled probably 1890, cast probably c. 1910. The Old Courtesan (La Belle qui fut heaulmière) by Auguste Rodin. MMA 11.173.3. Gift of Thomas F. Ryan, 1910. H 19¾ inches. Modelled probably c. 1885, cast 1910. 89 Rodin was 68 at the time. Ryan apparently provided $25,000 for these purchases. Sox 1991: 114.

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Also featured in Marshall’s archive are two sculptures now in museums in the United States by Henri Matisse, whose small figurative bronzes are always unique casts. The statue of a seated woman (769) is in the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden in Washington, DC; 90 the standing man called The Serf (771) is in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art, New York.91 Both are considered masterpieces. Bronze antiquities in Marshall’s archive declined by the Metropolitan Museum of Art and acquired by other museums A number of significant bronze antiquities offered by Marshall to The Metropolitan were declined for purchase by Robinson and Richter, and subsequently acquired by other museums. Offered to The Metropolitan in 1924, and rejected, was an impressive early Roman bronze portrait head of the mid first century BC, purchased two years later by the Ny Carlsberg Glyptothek in Copenhagen (520; see Plate VI–VII).92 Another Roman bronze head, a portrait of a woman whose coiffure is covered by a hair-net pattern, offered to and declined by The Metropolitan, was acquired many years later, in 1980, by the Princeton University Art Museum (654; Plate XLVIII).93 Marshall’s card file of 1912 lists the head as a forgery, a notation probably made after it was offered to the museum, and in 1913 Giuseppe Sangiorgi, who had purchased it in 1912 from Alfredo Barsanti, asked Marshall to testify to its lack of authenticity so he could return it. The head, the provenance of which is listed by Marshall as Chiavenna, Italy, has since that time been thoroughly studied. After extensive modern technological investigation, the presence of the hair-net pattern has been explained and the portrait is accepted as genuine. It is dated to the early second century AD, most recently to the reign of Trajan.94 The original supplier of the Princeton portrait, Barsanti, was also responsible for offering Marshall in 1910 a chair (481, Plate XLV b) built in modern times out of all the bronze components of a late Hellenistic kline that can be dated to about 100 BC. Since 1949 it has been in the collection of the Walters Art Gallery in Baltimore, MD, and is correctly restored, but unfortunately missing the Eros bust from the lower terminal of one of its two fulcra (leaning headrests). Both busts are present in Marshall’s photograph.95 A small, highly appealing Hellenistic bronze statuette of a running Eros, represented as if in a torch race, on loan to The Metropolitan in 1910 from J. Pierpont Morgan, president of the museum until his death in 1913, is now in the collection of the Morgan Library and Museum in New York (122; Plates XLVI– 90

The Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Washington, DC. Henri Matisse, ‘Decorative Figure,’ 1908. H 28¾ inches. MoMA Acq. No. 553.56. Provenance: Mrs. Ruth Dubonnet, 1956 (?). Henri Matisse, The Serf, Paris 1900–1903. Bronze. H 363/8 inches. ‘Matisse’s first important sculpture.’ Elderfield 1978: 30–31. 92 This is Marshall’s only mention of Rousios Lekas. For the head see here, Chapter 2 (Moltesen). 93 Inv. 80-10. Fowler MCornick Fund. H 36.6 cm. ‘Acquisitions 1980.’ Record of The Art Museum, Princeton University, Volume 40. No. 1 (1981), pp. 18–19. 94 Jenkins & Williams 1987: 9–15; Padgett 2001: 40–43, no. 9 (Michaela Fuchs: Trajanic). For scientific examinations of it, Mattusch 1996b: 293–96, colour pl. 7, p. 58, and especially Lahusen & Formigli 2001: 213–15, no.129, Figures 129, 1–5. Lahusen & Formigli say it was found in 1879 near Chiavenna on the north side of the Lago di Como, buried in the garden of a house, and was purchased in 1912 by A. Barsanti and the Galleria Sangiorgi, subsequently passing through the hands of several dealers and owners until purchased in 1978 by a New York dealer, who sold it to the Princeton Art Museum. 95 Walters Art Gallery, Inv. 54.2365. Published shortly after its acquisition, Hill 1952–1953: 49–61. There said to be from a chamber tomb in Canosa di Puglia. More recently, Faust 1989: 160, cat. No. 27, pls. 14, 2; 15, l.2 traced it to a 1936 sales catalogue of the Arnold Ruesch Collection, with subsequent ownership by William Randolph Hearst and Joseph Brummer. For the Eros bust that survived with the kline until its purchase by the Walters Art Gallery, Barr-Sharrar 1987: 63, C 118, pl. 37. 91

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XLVII).96 Supplied to Marshall by Cesare and Ercole Canessa, whose large statuette of the dancing satyr was later acquired by The Metropolitan (498 above), the Eros must have been purchased by Morgan for his private collection at least as early as 1903, when it was exhibited at the Burlington Fine Arts Club.97 Unlike a pair of figures in similar running postures from the Mahdia shipwreck, there is no connection between the hollow arm and the fixture in the figure’s hand, so it was not, in itself, an oil lamp.98 A bronze statuette of Demosthenes, 23 cm high, supplied by Jacob Hirsch, Paul Arndt and Kampanes (522), was offered to The Metropolitan, but rejected in 1927 by Richter, by now full curator. Richter was still ‘suspicious’ of its authenticity in 1965 in her publication on Greek portraiture.99 The statuette is now in the collection of the Harvard Art Museums, where it has been extensively studied.100 Another Roman bronze statuette, this one supplied (uniquely) by Sciortino,101 a standing young Herakles holding a lion skin over his left forearm and his right arm bent with his hand on his hip, was turned down by The Metropolitan in 1921 (501). It is now in Kansas City.102 As the figure wears a fillet, he may represent a ruler as Herakles, but the facial features are too idealised to identify a specific individual. The Nelson-Atkins Museum dates the statuette, which seems to have its original base, to the first century BC–first century AD.103 Several more bronzes that were offered to The Metropolitan and declined, and one apparently not offered, found homes in European museums. A beautifully modelled, well-known large bronze statuette of Aphrodite, 24.5 cm high, listed in the JMA as ‘Not offered’ (834), is in the collection of the Antikensammlungen in Munich.104 Consistently said to be from Veroia in ancient Macedonia, the figure, whose hair is wrapped in a turban with a few short locks protruding out to rest on the back of her neck, has lost both arms to below the shoulder where, cast separately, they were once attached. She looks down to her right, perhaps originally at a mirror held in her lowered right hand. The supplier is listed as Marietti, whose name appears in Marshall’s bronze archive only in association with this statuette. The figure has sometimes been called a ‘bathing girl’, which does not obviate her identification as Aphrodite. Originally assigned to the end of the fifth century BC,105 the date of this bronze statuette has been revised down to the late second or first century BC.106

96 Richter 1915b: 85–90, no. 131. On loan from J. Pierpont Morgan, 1910. H, with pedestal, 58.9 cm. H of figure, 51.4 cm. Late second century BC. Said to have been found in a villa at Boscoreale at the mouth of the river Sarno (not the villa in which the frescoes purchased by The Metropolitan in 1903 were found) and formerly exhibited in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Richter includes previous publications. The eyes were inlaid with silver, still partly preserved. 97 Strong 1904: no. 30. 98 Richter 1915b: 90. 99 Richter 1965: 222. Richter says she saw only photographs, but writes ‘there is a misunderstanding in the pendant fold at the back, a meaningless extra member having been added’. The hands are clasped with interlacing fingers, as in the original full-size bronze as described by Plutarch (Demosthenes 31, I), but Richter says a fake terracotta statuette once in the Campana Collection in Rome also had clasped hands. The bronze is not included in the discussion of Demosthenes’ portrait in R. R. R. Smith’s abridgement and revision of Richter’s 1965 book (Richter & Smith 1984: 108–13). Margarete Bieber thought the statuette authentic, saying it was ‘not of good workmanship, but is in a perfect state of preservation’. Bieber 1961: 67, Figures 226–29. 100 Harvard University Art Museums 2007.221. Gift of John W. Straus in honour of David Mitten. The most recent assessment (positive) is Stähli 2014: 133–45, with full illustrations. The ‘pendant fold at the back’ is still problematic. 101 See here, Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). 102 Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, inv. No. 46-37. 103 Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art website. The total height of the statuette with base is 57 cm. Originally it may have been taller; the fillet may be missing an (identifying?) element at the top. The base is 7.6 cm high × 13.6 cm wide × 9.3 cm deep. 104 Munich, Antikensammlungen, inv. No. 3669. 105 Ohly n.d.: 56. 106 Maas 1979: 28–29; Rolley 1984: 203, Figure 183; Thomas 1992: 136, Figure 138.

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In the Loeb Collection of the Antikensammlungen in Munich is a Roman bronze statuette offered to The Metropolitan, and declined, in 1922, by which time the museum had acquired a statuette of similar subject and size and probably did not see the need for another one. Supplied to Marshall by the Paris dealers Feuardent Frères, the Loeb statuette is a nude youth in an attentively seated pose on a rock from the ancient forum of Segusianorum, in modern Feurs in South France (494).107 Like the statuette The Metropolitan had already purchased from elsewhere in 1920,108 it is a small adaptation, with pose reversed, of the well-known seated bronze Hermes from Herculaneum in the Museo Archeologico Nazionale, Naples, identified as the messenger god by the wings on his sandals, and associated with the School of Lysippos. Other bronzes said to have been offered to The Metropolitan that are now elsewhere, all catalogued without the names of the suppliers, are the following: a Greek mirror stand of the fifth century BC in the form of a standing nude youth (1010) now in the British Museum, London, said to be from south Italy;109 a bronze hollow cast head of a bearded man identified as Antoninus Pius that appears to have been torn from a statue (651) now in the Römisch-Germanisches Museum in Cologne; a miniature portrait bust of Caligula ‘from Rome’ (477) in the R. Schinz-Ruesch Collection in Zurich, said to have been found in the Tiber;110 and a statuette of Jupiter on a round stand with a thunderbolt in his right hand and a himation over his shoulders and upper left arm, raised to grasp his now missing sceptre (1425), said by Marshall to be in the Colchester Museum, Essex.The Jupiter is a well-known Roman bronze statuette type, an example of which was purchased by The Metropolitan through the agency of Marshall in 1922 (146 above). A small, bearded half-clothed bronze male figure that must have been part of a relief (476 and among a group of fourteen statuettes, 1029) is said on Marshall’s card file to be in the British Museum, having been offered and declined by The Metropolitan.111 The relief figure was supplied by Paul Hartwig.112 Notably, as it appears in many textbooks, an early fifth-century bronze statuette from south Italy of a girl wearing a peplos, 21.7 cm high on its unusual conical base (475), mistakenly identified by Marshall as a ‘charioteer’, was declined by The Metropolitan, perhaps because the girl’s gestures seemed ambiguous. The suppliers are listed as Campagni and Jacob Hirsch. Today the figure is recognised as a spinner, and is in the Antikenmuseum, Berlin.113 Although it cannot be found in Marshall’s archive, we know from a letter written in 1926 from E. P. Warren to its ultimate purchaser that a well-known bronze statuette of Aphrodite, now in the Rhode Island School of Design Museum of Art, was first offered to The Metropolitan. Warren says in the letter

107 The Loeb Hermes: Sieveking 1930: 2–4, pl. 3-4 (shown seated on a bronze rock). Bieber 1961: 41–42, Figure 109. The modern rock is the work of the French sculptor Vallois. 108 MMA 20.202. Rogers Fund, 1920. Roman. First to second century AD. 109 Walters 1899: 71 no. 514. 110 Boschung 1989: 114 no. 27. 111 There are fourteen small bronze statuettes included in 1029, of unknown location. No dealer is named except for the one that is also catalogued as 476. 112 See Sox 1991: 55 and passim. See also here, Chapter 2 (Moltesen). 113 Inv. 30.082. The figure, 16.7 cm high without its base, held the distaff in her left hand, and with her right hand twisted the thread from which the spindle hung. Her eyes were originally inlaid, probably with silver. See Lamb 1969: 150, pl. 55b. Published as early as 1913 by Wiegand in the 73rd Berlin Winckelmannsprogramm, and later in Neugebauer 1921: 72, Figure 36. For more recent commentary and bibliography, Thomas 1992: 96. Thomas suggests the bronze stand to which the figure was attached, perhaps representing a basket placed upside-down, may originally have been attached to the lid of a large bronze krater, a plausible idea.

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that The Metropolitan had rejected the statuette over the objections of Marshall, who ‘growls at the museum’ as a result.114 While the well-known Herakles Epitrapezios in the National Museum, Naples, is catalogued as offered and rejected, with Cesare and Ettore Canessa listed as suppliers (485), it was actually seized by the Italian government.115 Equally surprising to find in the offered and declined category is a group of bronzes and marble fragments from the famous Mahdia shipwreck, discovered in 1907, for which C. A. Lembessis and H. A. and C. Radon are named as suppliers (480). Among the bronzes recognisable in Marshall’s Mahdia photograph is the well-known bronze herm of a bearded Dionysos, there with a heavily corroded surface. This was one of the first shipwreck finds brought to shore in 1907 by Greek sponge divers off the coast of Tunisia near Mahdia and briefly in the souk in Tunis before the French antiquity officials were alerted. Tunisia had been a French protectorate since 1881, and the earliest explorations for the ship and more of its finds were subsequently undertaken from 1908 to 1913 under the auspices of Alfred Merlin, director of the Antiquities Administration in Tunisia and official of the Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres in Paris. Together with finds from later diving expeditions, the bronze herm and other objects in Marshall’s photograph are now conserved and housed in the Bardo Museum in Tunis.116 No current locations have yet been found for a number of bronzes of greatly varying quality that were offered to The Metropolitan but declined during Marshall’s employ, for which the suppliers to Marshall are named in his archive, sometimes with the date. Some of the suppliers were successful with other offers for The Metropolitan, but not with these. Among the providers of antiquities rejected by The Metropolitan, the locations of which cannot be traced at this time, were the Feuardent Frères. In 1912 they offered a heavily bearded nude ‘barbarian’, seated with his arms bound behind his back and attached with a modern screw to a bronze plaque, presumably Roman (482), and somewhat later a bronze statuette of a quadruped (perhaps a hound) of undetermined date said to be from Thebes (503). Baron Rothschild offered Marshall a stalking Roman lioness (490). Ugo Jandolo, in 1926, offered a standing Etruscan youth with a long hair lock hanging over each shoulder, the lower legs and feet missing, presumably fifth century BC (521), and in 1927, a partially draped bearded man in a seated position with widespread legs, originally astride a horse, possibly late Archaic Greek (524). Charles Seltman, in 1927, in the only mention of this name in the archive (526), offered an Etruscan statuette of a woman in an ankle-length robe and pointed shoes, veiled with a fillet on her head, holding a lamb in her outstretched hands, presumably fifth century BC. 114

Murley 2012: 298–304, Figure 143. For this Aphrodite, whose right arm is bent with the hand held up over her shoulder and the missing left arm inappropriately restored in a lowered position, see Kozloff & Mitten 1988: 113–19. Both arms were almost certainly originally raised, her hands holding the ends of the silver-inlaid fillet that is wrapped around her coiffeur. The Metropolitan was later gifted a bronze statuette of Aphrodite in the same pose, less mannered and earlier in date, also missing its left arm. MMA 35.122. Gift of Mr and Mrs Francis Nelson, 1935. Both statuettes refer to an original of the fourth century BC, possibly one by Praxiteles. In his note 1164, Murley misstates the technological study of the two Aphrodites and a similar one in Toledo in Mattusch 1996a: 267–72. These statuettes refer to the same fourth-century original, but they were not based on the same (workshop) model. That would imply the same date for all, but they differ too much in distribution of masses, contours of forms and general style. 115 Museo Archeologico Nazionale, Naples, inv. No. 136683 (2828). H 75 cm. Found in 1902, with the limestone rock on which he sits, in the peristyle of a Roman villa near the River Sarno near Pompeii. First published in 1902: Paribeni, R., Notizie degli Scavi 1902: 572–75, fig 3. Most recently, Daehner & Lapatin 2015: 220–21, no. 17; with colour plate and bibliography. A letter from Marshall written on 13 May 1917, refers to the debate that began at that time as to whether this could be the statuette of Hercules Epitrapezios (at or on the table) owned by the Roman collector Novius Vindex, as described by Martial (Epistles 9.43 and 44) and Statius (Silvae 4.6), who reports that it was signed by Lysippos. 116 The most recent, and definitive, publication of the Mahdia shipwreck is Hellenkemper Salies et al. 1994). As Guido Petruccioli has pointed out, Marshall’s photograph, presumably taken in the souk in Tunis, is an indication of the wide scope of his contacts. The photograph of the Mahdia herm in Daehner & Lapatin 2015: 283, no. 45, is reversed.

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An Archaic bronze statuette of a naked girl on a low stand suggestive of a turtle, with surviving fragments of the feet of the felines balanced on her shoulders to help support a mirror disc, was supplied by Segredakis (523). In 1927 it was offered to and rejected by The Metropolitan, which long before, in 1874–1876, had purchased a very appealing sixth-century BC Laconian mirror support in the form of a naked girl, this one on a stand in the form of a frog sitting on a folding chair.117 A number of other bronzes, mostly statuettes, were offered by Marshall to The Metropolitan and rejected for purchase before his death in 1928. Marshall names the suppliers of most; only a few bronzes in this category are listed in the archive without the identity of the dealer. None of these objects is of a quality, or of a specific interest, sufficiently outstanding to suggest that the museum made a mistake in declining its purchase. Marshall’s ‘Study Collection’ A number of the photographs in Marshall’s archive comprised a ‘Study Collection’. Among these is the so-called Spinario, a Roman pastiche in the Musei Capitolini (Palazzo dei Conservatori) (845),118 of which Marshall offered a replica supplied by Mario A. Bassi of Venice to The Metropolitan in 1923 (470). The museum declined it. Other objects of which there are Study Collection photographs include a large early fifth-century BC bronze statuette of Poseidon, found in 1897 in the port of Plataia in the bay of Livadostra off the coast of Boeotia, the site of ancient Kreusis, suggesting that to some extent Marshall was alert to recent archaeological discoveries. The archive photograph is from Alinari (no. 24453). The statuette, over a metre high, is in the National Museum in Athens.119 Also in the Study Collection are the six full-scale bronze girls from the Villa dei Papyri at Herculaneum in the National Museum in Naples (838),120 the bronze head of Augustus from Meroe (southern Sudan) in the British Museum,121 a bronze Etruscan head of a youth (1165) and a bronze Etruscan mirror (1396) from the Vatican Museums, a plaster cast of the Delphi charioteer (843), and a variety of objects for which no photographs are included.

117 MMA 74.51.5680. Picón et al. 2007: 63, 418, no. 59. H. 21.9 cm. Circa 540–530 BC. Said to be from Kourion, Cyprus. The Cesnola Collection. Purchased by subscription, 1874–1876. 118 Haskell & Penny 1981: 308–09, no. 78, Figure 163. 119 Inv. no. X .1.1761. Kaltsas 2001: 86, no. 146. H 1.18 m. Circa 480 BC. On its original plinth, on which is inscribed (in Greek) ‘Sacred to Poseidon’. Both arms are missing, as is a portion of the right leg, knee to tarsus (restored in the Alinari photo). 120 See Mattusch 2005: 195–215, with bibliography. 121 British Museum. GR 1911. 9-1.1. H 44,5 cm. Ca. 27-25 BC The head was cut from a statue. Found under the steps of a temple at Meroe (northern Sudan). Walker 1995: 67, vi. Lahusen & Formigli 2001: 58–60, Figures 18, 1–4; 354-5, Figures 18, a–d and 18, 5–18; further bibliography, 58.

Chapter 7

­John Marshall’s Dealings with Vases and Terracottas (Plates XLIX–LV) Vinnie Nørskov When John Marshall decided to settle in Rome as the agent of The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, vases and terracotta figurines were among the objects most widely available on the market. These two groups of objects are in fact very different as collector’s items. Figured vases had been admired for the quality of their painting ever since Johann Joachim Winckelmann included them in his highly influential Geschichte der Kunst des Altertums in 1764 and the extensive publications of William Hamilton’s collections by Chevalier d’Hancarville in 1766–1776 and Wilhelm Tischbein in 1791–1795.1 In the following century, a number of excavations at Etruscan sites brought large quantities of painted pottery onto the market and Athenian black- and red-figure ceramics in particular stimulated research and collecting and made vases some of the most coveted pieces on the art market. The collections in Berlin, Munich, Paris and London were already extensive and in many ways representative by the beginning of the twentieth century. During the latter part of the nineteenth century and the early twentieth, museums mainly sought out vases from Greek cities other than Athens to complement their collections of Greek pottery. During his companionship with Edward Perry Warren, Marshall dealt particularly in Athenian vases. Warren was convinced that Athenian painted vases were extremely important for collections in America, as they were available in large numbers and provided a path towards the understanding of Greek art when sculpture was not available: ‘To one vase we must go for instruction or pleasure of a certain kind; to another for quite different sort. Some are like note-books illustrating Plato and the Golden Age. Some show us the decline, and a different way of looking at life’.2 In a letter to his mother, Warren stressed the connoisseurship needed to select the best of the vases ‘that have some claim to be considered high art themselves’.3 But his argument also emphasised the role of vases in the dealers’ network: through vases connections were opened up and maintained and they thus became the means of obtaining the right contacts in the art market.4 Warren and Marshall’s first major acquisitions were made in London on the occasion of the 1888 exhibition of the collection of A. van Branteghem at the Burlington Fine Arts Club, for which a catalogue was prepared by Wilhelm Fröhner, friend and adviser to the collector and also the author of the 1892 sales catalogue. In both catalogues, Fröhner emphasised one aspect of Greek vases of particular importance: the signatures.5 When Marshall and Warren began their collecting activities, their path to understanding Greek pottery passed through the study of signatures and they quickly became deeply involved with this group of collectors and dealers who studied and collected inscriptions. Through the inscriptions by potters and painters and the praise of young male members of Athenian society in the so-called kalos inscriptions, vases became a way of understanding the artists behind the paintings as well as the connections between a group of citizens to which scholars and collectors could relate. These 1 For the history of Greek vase collecting, see Bothmer 1987; Jenkins & Sloan 1996; Nørskov 2002; Bourgeois & Denoyelle 2013; Schmidt & Steinhart 2014. 2 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 152. 3 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 151–52. 4 Nørskov 2002: 98. 5 Fröhner 1888: 1, 1892: VI–VII.

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were Marshall’s background, professional experience, knowledge and network when he began to work for The Metropolitan. Ancient terracottas first became attractive collectors’ items and highly sought after during the latter part of the nineteenth century, driven by the extensive finds of fine Greek terracotta figurines at Tanagra in Boeotia.6 The Tanagra figurines with their fine sculptural qualities, well-preserved colours and illustrations of a private feminine sphere offered insights into a new area of the classical past. This interest was spurred by illicit excavations during 1872 and 1873 that emptied up to ten thousand graves and quite literally flooded the market in Athens with terracottas.7 Collections formed in the years immediately afterwards are thought to be free of fakes, but the sudden demand instantly led to a massive production of forgeries. Some fakes were pieced together using broken ancient parts, others were completely new.8 As most ancient figurines had been restored and often repainted, distinguishing the ancient from the modern became very difficult. As a result, the market for terracottas in the early twentieth century was challenging to navigate. Marshall was extremely concerned about forgeries, but we know most about his investigations that eventually led to the unmasking of the sculptor Alceo Dossena. Ironically, his most important acquisition of terracotta figures was no doubt that of three colossal Etruscan warriors, later shown to be forgeries by Joseph Noble’s technical analysis in 1960.9 The circumstances of this acquisition have been very thoroughly published in Dietrich von Bothmer and Joseph V. Noble’s account, presenting the correspondence and evidence in the archive of The Metropolitan.10 I will begin this chapter with some general information on Marshall’s acquisitions of vases and terracottas for The Metropolitan. Two criteria can be considered essential: filling gaps and improving the quality of the collection. I explore a number of case studies, mostly concerning pottery and only in a few instances including terracottas, to illustrate this and shed light on the procedures followed and the trading networks that Marshall used. The Archive The documents in the John Marshall Archive (JMA) on Greek pottery and terracottas consist mostly of photographs and Marshall’s cards and a few letters, mainly from the years before World War I. There is more information, especially on prices, in the documents in the Sackler Library, but most of the discussions in the letters concern marble and bronze sculptures. Overall there is astonishingly little information on terracotta figurines – a few photos in Marshall’s ‘Study Collection’ and virtually no mention in his letters and reports to Robinson; these appear only when reporting the sums paid to dealers and generally provide so little information that it is impossible to identify the objects. About half of the photographs of vases and terracottas belong to the so-called Study Collection (a total of 272 objects, but some objects have several photos attached). The photographs, many of them by Alinari, show pieces from four European museums: the Vatican, the National Museum in Athens, and the Louvre and Cabinet des Médailles in Paris. The photos from the Vatican and the Paris collections mainly show red-figure vases of the late Archaic and Classical periods, with about twenty black-figure vases. By 6

Higgins 1986: 29–31. Higgins 1986: 30. 8 Higgins 1986: 163–66. 9 Richter 1937; Bothmer & Noble 1961. 10 There are no documents in Marshall’s photo archive concerning these objects and I shall not discuss this case here. 7

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contrast, those from Athens include Classical red-figure vases, white-ground lekythoi, Geometric and Proto-Attic vases alongside some black-figure vases, and thus are clearly the kind of pottery found in Attica; the objects in the Vatican and the Louvre mainly consist of finds from Etruscan tombs. Non-Attic black-figure pottery is virtually absent and there are few South Italian vases.11 This composition reflects the majority of the vases collected by Marshall for The Metropolitan. There is only one photograph with Tanagra figurines in the study collection and they are from a dealer (847), and a few Etruscan terracottas including the Apollo and Hermes figures (1369 and 1370) found at the Portonaccio temple in Veii in 1916. This underscores Marshall’s lesser interest in terracotta figurines. Marshall’s acquisitions for the Metropolitan When Marshall began working as an agent for The Metropolitan, the newly appointed assistant director Edward Robinson set out his master plan for developing the collection. The aim was to develop ‘the Museum’s collection of classical art along systematic lines, strengthening it where it is weak, rounding it out as a whole, maintaining for its development a high standard of artistic excellence, and making it ultimately both a large and a choice collection’.12 This would ultimately create a collection showing ‘in an unmistakable manner why the Greeks should be still our guides in matters of taste and refinement, why their standards of beauty are still the purest and highest that the world has seen, and why their principles of form and design may still be followed with the utmost confidence by the artist and the craftsman as the sanest and the soundest that can be offered them’.13 The aesthetic ideal behind this vision was rooted in the Winckelmann tradition that saw Greek art as supreme, and especially the Greek art of the Classical period.14 Marshall’s acquisitions followed this line, focusing on incrementing the core areas of Greek art that would support this vision. When Marshall was appointed, the vase collection was dominated by Cypriot pottery from the Cesnola collection. In 1906, the museum acquired the so-called Canessa collection comprising a selection of different kinds of vases, thus laying the groundwork for further collecting.15 It had been ‘collected’ by the Canessa brothers, antiquities dealers in Naples to whom I will return below. The acquisition of pottery and terracottas shows that it was essential for the museum to build up a representative collection comprising the finest examples of known categories of antiquities. Consequently, pottery and terracottas from Greece itself were particularly important acquisitions, as they were less well represented in older collections and new excavations during this period were constantly broadening the repertoire. Likewise, the various Athenian painters and potters were important, as it was desirable for the collection to represent the most important artists. During his first few years working for The Metropolitan, Marshall collected the chosen acquisitions and shipped them to New York by the end of each year. Although photographs of sculptures were regularly sent to New York for approval or consideration by Robinson and the trustees, we find no references in the archive that the same procedure was followed for terracottas or vases; the Etruscan warriors may be an exception. Other references suggest that Marshall was responsible for choosing minor artefacts.

11 The exceptions are two Laconian cups in the Cabinet des Médailles (1357, 1358, 1359), some Melian Geometric vases (1270, 1272) and a pithos from Crete (1276). 12 Robinson 1907: 5. 13 Robinson 1907: 5. 14 For the role of Winckelmann’s aestheticism in the United States, especially through the influence of German scholarship during the nineteenth century and later through German immigrant scholars in the twentieth century, see Dyson 1998. 15 Richter 1906; 1936a: 1.

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According to Bothmer, Marshall had full authority within the annual appropriation.16 For instance, Marshall refers to several vases in the possession of Paul Hartwig, writing that ‘the Onesismos I must have’.17 In the letters to Robinson, acquisitions of vases are seldom mentioned and when they are it is to pass on information and not to make queries. Terracotta statues are mentioned even less frequently. During World War I, the procedure of sending acquisitions once a year was no longer viable and Richter explains in the Bulletin of 1920 that many purchases of recent years were stored in various countries,18 leading to an increase in acquisitions after the war. In the Bulletin of January 1921, Richter emphasises the quality of these acquisitions by noting the difficulty of acquiring ‘first-rate quality’ objects.19 In all the museum’s publications, sculptures and bronzes are given pride of place, and vases and terracottas are mentioned last in the annual presentations of the year’s important acquisitions.20 When the objects arrived in New York, they were presented to the public in special exhibitions of new acquisitions and described in the Bulletin by Robinson or Richter. Marshall did not keep a full photographic register of all the objects he acquired for the museum and we do not know whether he actually had photographs of all the objects.21 Many vases were bought from dealers in Rome, especially Paul Hartwig, but only a few photos come from him and these are mostly of objects not sent to New York. Other pieces were purchased at auctions. As such, the photographic evidence in the JMA does not represent a complete collection, but rather a random choice of objects that Marshall was offered or given the opportunity to purchase during his years as agent for The Metropolitan. Filling gaps in the collection ‘It is particularly satisfying that our collection is enriched by some examples of early Greek vases, which are as yet very poorly represented in this Museum, and it is gratifying that the eight new Dipylon vases are splendid specimens of that style and also exceptionally well preserved’,22 wrote Richter in the presentation of a group of Geometric vases bought in 1910. She emphasises that these acquisitions rank among the finest specimens of this style hitherto found, and that their decoration is so rich that most of the designs used in this type of pottery are represented.23 The photograph in Marshall’s archive shows seven of the vases set on a table with black cloths in the background (177, Figure 7.1). To the left is a view of the room behind and traces of boxes (?) can be glimpsed; a small part of the belly of the last vase is also visible. The two largest amphorae stand on an unstable tray or cupboard and behind them is part of a picture frame hanging on the wall. The objects are presented casually, though the black cloth suggests that some care was taken to give them a neutral background. The grouping, however, might also give the impression that the vases were part of the same find and some of them may indeed have come from a single tomb, for instance the two very similar bowls on a tall foot. Two comparable bowls were found together in a tomb at Kerameikos in 1916 (tomb 98).24 In the same year, the Louvre in Paris acquired two very similar bowls, said to have been found in Athens, from the dealer C. A. Lembessis, who also delivered the group acquired by Marshall, as demonstrated by Mary B. Moore in a full publication of 16

Bothmer & Noble 1961: 7. JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1909.12.21. 18 Richter 1920a: 107. 19 Richter 1921: 9. 20 I.e. Richter 1909a. 21 On the content of the JMA and Marshall’s collection of photographs, see here, Introduction (Petruccioli) and Chapter 3 (Nørskov). 22 Richter 1910c: 276. MMA 10.210.1–8. All eight are illustrated in Richter 1911a: 33–35, Figure 6-13. 23 Richter 1911a: 30. 24 Kübler 1954: 271, pl. 126 (Inv. No. 301 and 302). 17

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Figure 7.1. Seven Geometric vases offered by C. A. Lembessis and acquired by The Metropolitan in 1910 (177). MMA 10.210.7; MMA 10.210.8; MMA 10.210.2; MMA 10.210.3; MMA 10.210.4; MMA 10.210.5 (ph. JM [PHP]-05-0356).

the group in a CVA volume of 2004.25 She argues that these eight vases should be seen as a tomb group, though there seems to be no evidence for this other than the dealer’s photograph and the combination of vases. Yet the objects are not of the same period – as she knows – ranging from Late Geometric Ia (with the skyphos being the oldest, c. 750–740 BC) to Proto-Attic (c. 700 BC) for the two bowls on stands and the amphora with mourners on the neck, all attributed to the Vulture Workshop. Though tomb groups may be a combination of old and new objects, I would consider her theory that they belong to one group a reflection of twenty-first-century research agendas, where provenience has become essential for a large range of research questions. There are several instances in the photographs of vases being grouped together that were surely not found together, for instance groups of objects offered by E. P. Triantaphyllos (580–584). This group might well be a combination of some objects found in the same place – like the three by the same workshop – and others from different tombs. It was normal for dealers to combine several objects in one photograph to present an attractive group of objects from a collector’s point of view. The fact that two very similar bowls on stands were sold to the Louvre in the same year by the same 25

CVA Metropolitan Museum of Art 5 (USA 37): 54.

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dealer might suggest that Lembessis was looting and selling off an area of tombs of the same period – or one very large tomb – in that year. Documents in the Sackler Library reveal that one large Geometric amphora was bought in 1910 from Lembessis, who had summoned Marshall to Paris to see it. Marshall agreed instead to meet him in Lausanne, where he bought the vase for £250.26 There is no reference to a group of vases, but ‘a very fine, but … very dear, Dipylon vase, probably as good a one as there is anywhere’. Therefore this remark probably does not refer to any of the vases belonging to the group of eight; but in that case, to what does it refer? An important acquisition in 1911 was a Proto-Attic vase with a depiction of Herakles and Deianeira fighting Nessos (247).27 This is one of the few instances among the pottery where there are several photos in the JMA. Four photos show the vase mended but still with gaps where pieces are missing, and three others show the restored vase (Plates L–LI). The card in Marshall’s index file is missing and there is only one reference to a Geometric jug bought from Paul Hartwig in 1911 for the price of 300 francs.28 Could the transaction with Lembessis in Lausanne mentioned above in fact concern this Proto-Attic vase? Nor do we know when and where it was restored. Some vases were restored at Lewes House, and many in The Metropolitan in New York.29 Richter praised the vase in her presentation in the Bulletin as an important link between Geometric and later Attic black- and red-figure pottery. At the time of the acquisition, knowledge of Proto-Attic pottery was still rather limited, with the group being defined as late as 1887 by Johannes Boehlau.30 Marshall had the merit of being able to provide objects to fill the gaps in the museum collection that emerged when new groups of material were identified. Richter describes the decorations on the Geometric jug as crude, primitive and almost childish, but emphasises force and vitality as the elements giving the vase artistic merit.31 There is a dichotomy at play here that we see in many of Richter’s presentations: the collection is clearly defined as an art collection and the artistic and aesthetic qualities of the objects are primary concerns. However, filling gaps remains important, even if this entails including ‘primitive, crude and childish’ drawings – and even here she transforms this into artistic merit, seeing it as foreshadowing the later Attic artists. Proto-Attic vase painting was, however, clearly more attractive to art historians than, for example, Corinthian vase painting, which is rare among Marshall’s acquisitions. Another example of filling in a gap was the acquisition in 1919 of three Orientalising vases, one plate and two jugs, the latter acquired through Warren (188). They were purchased at the auction of the Pozzi collection in Paris in June 1919.32 This was a pottery style that was not represented at all in the Metropolitan collection.33 These are vases in what was called the ‘wild goat style’, at the time ascribed to

26

JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1910.02.11; MAR–DUN, 1910.02.09. Richter 1912a. MMA 11.210.1. The card is missing in the archive, so we have no information on who provided the vase. 28 JMA, Sackler, MAR–DUN, 1911.03.20. One other jug was acquired by The Metropolitan in 1911: MMA 11.212.6, said to be from Cumae; it therefore seems more likely that this was the vase acquired from Hartwig. 29 Restorations at Lewes House are for instance documented in a letter to Furtwängler, in which Marshall informs him that some larger vases are being pieced together ready to be drawn – presumably for the Furtwängler-Reichholdt volumes: JMA, Sackler, MAR–FUR, 1907.07.06. Restorations in New York are for instance described by Richter 1910a and von Bothmer in his account of the Etruscan warriors, Bothmer & Noble 1961: 7–8. 30 Boehlau 1887. 31 Richter 1912a: 71. 32 Galerie Georges Petit 1919 (Pozzi Collection): lot 440. 33 Richter 1920a: 107; 1920b: 253. MMA 19.192.12, 19.192.13 and the plate: 19.192.10. 27

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Rhodes though the place of production had been disputed since the 1880s; it is now clear that they were not made in Rhodes but in various places along the Ionian coast, including Miletos.34 Filling gaps in the field of Attic vases fairly quickly became a matter of purchasing high-quality pieces in an art-historical sense. As Richter stated as early as 1908: ‘The size of our present collection of Attic vases is now sufficiently large to render only examples of high artistic quality or special archaeological interest desirable. All the new additions satisfy these demands.’35 This is especially evident in the purchases of late Archaic and early Classical vases. The love of the pioneers When acquiring vases for the museum, Marshall worked closely with Paul Hartwig in Rome.36 At least during the early years, Hartwig seems to have provided Marshall with most of his red-figure vases and various other kinds of objects. Hartwig doubtless had direct connections to the tombaroli who supplied newly excavated materials from the Etruscan area. In 1908, Marshall informed Robinson of the good news that a number of fragments belonging to a cup he had bought the previous year for the price of 500 francs had just been found.37 One of the fragments bore the signature HIERON EPOIESEN, making it especially interesting. Marshall explains in his letter that he believes the fragments to come from Civita Castellana, the ancient Falerii, and that he will have to pay well in order to secure any other fragments that might turn up in the future, belonging to that or to a krater purchased together with the first pieces of the Hieron cup. The price for ten small cup fragments amounted to 250 francs.38 It was clearly important to be the first to obtain information about new finds, as even fragments could be sold to others. For dealers, this was a way of extracting more money, since offering new pieces of a vase that had already been acquired was highly attractive, as seen here in Marshall’s case. However, this manipulation using fragments had far-reaching implications, as we will see below. Interestingly, Marshall begins this section of the letter with the words ‘Unimportant, but pleasing’, almost like a footnote in a letter dealing with ‘four important things’ that is news on four sculptures on whose purchase he was working. The krater mentioned in the letter is a fragmentary calyx krater, later attributed by Beazley to the Kleophrades Painter.39 The fragments are mentioned in a letter to Hartwig in 1907: ‘I should like very much the Amasis fragments, especially if they produce a vase anything like the Corneto krater. Please let me know about them.’ He refers to the name of the vase painter Amasis II, provided by Hartwig based on an inscription on a kylix in the Cabinet des Médailles and a calyx krater in the Tarquinia Museum.40 In the Beazley Archive and in the museum publications the vase is said to be from Cerveteri.41 However, Marshall’s letter suggests that he thought the two vases came from the same site. Perhaps the reference to Civita Castellana was passed on by Hartwig only in connection with the second batch of fragments belonging to the Hieron vase.

34

Cook & Dupont 1998: 32. Richter 1909b: 101. 36 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–HAR, 1907.08.28. On Paul Hartwig, see also here, Chapter 2 (Moltesen). 37 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1908.12.14. MMA 08.258.57. BA 204890. Richter 1910a: 41; 1910b: 144; 1917b. 38 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR-DUN, 1909.1.14. 39 MMA 08.258.58, BA 201688. 40 Hartwig 1893: 400–17; Richter 1910b: 144; CVA Museo Nazionale Tarquiniense 2 (Italia 26) : pl. 15, 1–2. 41 Richter 1936a: 36. 35

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Another vase by the Kleophrades Painter, a red-figure neck amphora with twisted handles, was acquired in 1913 (185),42 also through Hartwig, for £400 or 10,000 francs. Going through the payments, a redfigure hydria by Kleophrades for which Marshall paid only 1000 francs is mentioned in a letter to the treasurer Thomas D. Duncan in 1911.43 This does not necessarily mean that prices had risen enormously in the space of two years or that there was high inflation; the value of vases by the Kleophrades Painter may have been influenced by Beazley’s publication of his first article on this artist in 1910.44 However, Beazley later attributed the hydria to the Syleus Painter and the price of the vase was probably determined by its quality.45 This example shows that the names of well-known painters were used as reference points and as a way of expressing quality. This is especially true of the names of the ‘Big Four’. The reports from The Metropolitan are full of praise of early red-figure pottery from Athens. In the 1913 report, Richter emphasises two cups with the signatures of Euphronios and Hieron: ‘Signatures on Greek vases are valued as highly as those on Renaissance paintings and for the same reasons. They are not only of historical interest, assigning a work indisputably to a certain master and period, but they are, generally speaking, also a mark of high excellence.’46 The four names that came to be most appreciated were Euphronios, Brygos, Douris and Hieron. Hoppin described this trend in his 1919 Handbook of Attic Red-Figured Vases: ‘the fashion of setting up the “Big Four” so to speak as a veritable Procrustean bedstead to which every red-figure vase was fitted willy-nilly’.47 They became a kind of canon of early red-figure painters in Athens in this period of developing research on Athenian vase painters.48 Richter, too, refers to precisely these four names in the aforementioned report. Hartwig was one of the researchers who contributed to this with his publication Die griechischen Meisterschalen der Blütezeit des strengen rothfigurigen Stiles of 1893, and as noted he seems to have been Marshall’s main source of Attic painted pottery until his death in 1919. The cup by Euphronios acquired in 1912 is one of the vases with a signature by the potter, and not the painter, Euphronios. Furtwängler had defined the difference between the two signatures EGRAPSEN and EPOIESEN only a few years earlier, pointing out that the paintings on the vases by Euphronios the potter could not have been executed by the same artist as those signed Euphronios EGRAPSEN. Most of the vases potted by Euphronios were thus attributed to the so-called Panaitios Painter, including the cup acquired by Marshall, as Richter also concludes in her publication of the cup.49 In a letter to Robinson of 1909, Marshall writes: ‘Hartwig has several good vases, notably an Onesimos (a hydria) very beautiful (6,000) and a big stamnos, all black save for a very small lion on the shoulder (1,500?). The Onesimos I must have and probably the other too.’50 The Onesimos vase was bought for

42

MMA 13.233, BA 201666. Richter 1936a: 36–37. MMA 11.212.7, BA 202498. JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–DUN, 1911.03.20. 44 Beazley 1910. 45 Richter 1936a: 50. 46 Richter 1913: 153–54. 47 Hoppin 1919: xxiii. 48 I have taken this from A. Tsingarida’s excellent paper on the van Branthegem collection and the relationship between the collector and the researchers, especially Klein: Tsingarida 2014: 118, n. 37. 49 MMA 12.231.2, BA 203221, The cup was published by Richter 1916a, 126–33. On the history of attributions, see Rouet 2001 and Tsingarida 2014. 50 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1909.12.21. The black stamnos is probably MMA 10.210.15, also from Civita Castallana. In this letter, Marshall recommends not revealing the place of origin of some pieces, as the acquisition of a marble sculpture (MMA 09.39) and its publication had led to an investigation by the Italian state. This warning is repeated in February 1910 when he asks Robinson to tell Miss Richter not to reveal information about the provenance of any objects, JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1910.02.11. 43

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£24051 and J. D. Beazley later attributed it to the Berlin Painter. In Richter’s handbook it is considered one of the finest vases in the collection.52 Both vases are said to be from Civita Castellana. A red-figure psykter by Oltos bought in 1910 – called Smikros by Marshall because of the kalos inscription – is also stated to be from this site.53 Hartwig did not just provide red-figure vases, but was a source of numerous objects and had good contacts in a large area around Rome. In 1912 he provided three Siana cups from the vicinity of Naples (171, 186, 532) for 9000 francs. The cups are very similar and may be from a tomb context, but there is no information on this.54 A cup attributed to Psiax bought in 1914 (182), is described by Richter as ‘One of the finest vases yet acquired by the museum’.55 It was offered by Bruto Marini, who had moved to Rome from Alfonsine, a village between Ravenna and Spina, in June 1914. There is no provenance information, perhaps suggesting that the cup was found in the Spina region.56 Another cup, possibly by the same artist but bilingual and thus earlier, was bought through Hartwig: an eyecup with a Pegasos.57 In the 1920s after Hartwig’s death, we find several acquisitions of early red-figure vases from different sources in the archive: an amphora by the Pan Painter (193), an amphora by the Syleus Painter (194) and a cup signed by Hieron and attributed to Makron (195), all three bought from Moltez in St Raphael in 1920; a lekythos by the Oreithyia Painter (189) and a pyxis by the Taliarchos Painter (190) acquired through the Canessa brothers in Paris in 1920; a hydria by the Pioneer Group and one by the Syleus Painter bought together with a Classical bell krater by the Menelaos Painter and a Classical stamnos from Warren in 1921 (192, Plate XLIX a)58; a lekythos by the Berlin Painter (203) and a cup by the Brygos Painter (214), both in 1921; and in 1922 three cup fragments, one attributed to the Brygos Painter by Marshall (201),59 one by Douris and one attributed to the Hischylos Painter (202), all three acquired through Ludwig Pollak. The role of fragments The fragments purchased from Pollak are not the only ones acquired by the museum, but most of the photographs in the archive show complete or restored vases. However, there are also examples of fragments and over the years Marshall acquired several very fine fragments for the museum, such as a South Italian red-figure fragment showing a seated Zeus.60 The trade in fragments is a rather complex issue that has only recently been tackled by scholars. Specialists in vase painting have been reconstructing vases from fragments in different collections since the early twentieth century, but only recently has the 51

JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–DUN, 1910.02.01. MMA 10.210.19. BA 201987. There is no information on provenance in the Archive. In Richter’s catalogue of early red-figure vases of 1936, she states that it is said to be from Civita Castellana, Richter 1936a: 39. 52 Richter 1917a: 103–04. 53 MMA 10.210.18. The purchase is mentioned in a letter to Duncan as a ‘vase by Smikros’, JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–DUN, 1910.05.31. In 1933 Richter reported that Beazley had identified a fragment in the Villa Giulia as belonging to the vase. The fragment was exchanged with publications and attached to the vase, see Richter 1933a: 34. 54 MMA 12.234.1–3. Richter 1913: 156. CVA Metropolitan Museum 2 (USA 11), pl. 4a–d (12.234.2), pl. 5a–d (12.234.3), pl. 7a–e (12.234.1). 55 Richter 1915c: 99. MMA 14.146.1, BA 200029. Richter 1936a: 14–16. 56 http://alfonsinemonamour.racine.ra.it/alfonsine/Alfonsine/Famiglie/Marini%20(ramo%20Francesco%20e%20Bruto).htm. 57 MMA 14.146.2, BA 200038, Richter 1936a: 17, no. 1; JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–?, 1913.10.28. The cup was one of three objects bought from Hartwig for 16,500 francs, the two others being a Roman portrait and a torso of Narcissos. 58 Three of the vases are illustrated on a photo with the rhyton, but the rhyton seems not to have been acquired by the museum. 59 MMA 22.139.80, BA 203958. Marshall also attributed a cup to Douris bought the following year but not in the archive: 23.160.64, see Richter 1936a, 80–82. 60 MMA 11.212.12.

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deliberate dismemberment of vases by dealer-scholars been discussed. Norbert Eschbach has discovered some interesting connections between the fragments offered to the collection at Göttingen University by Hartwig.61 He names Hartwig, Hauser, Warren and Pollak especially as the main actors in this business. Hauser and Hartwig, for instance, offered collections of fragments to the universities of Leipzig and Göttingen respectively under the title Verzeichnis einer Sammlung verschiedener Stilproben antiker Keramik.62 By breaking up vases, specimens of different vase painters could be offered to different collections all wanting to possess representative collections of the most important painters. As in the case of the Hieron cup discussed above, this was also a way of raising the price and securing future sales. So many fragments circulated on the market that some collectors or scholars even specialised in fragment collections, perhaps the best known being Dietrich von Bothmer at The Metropolitan, whose collection of approximately sixteen thousand fragments of Athenian painted vases was donated to the museum in 2011.63 We find several instances of vases bought by Marshall in a rather fragmented state to which further pieces were added later. The cup signed by the potter Euphronios, to which fragments were added in 1921, 1923, 1971 and 1972, has already been mentioned.64 This is a natural result of the practice of manipulating the finds during this period and illustrates the confusion caused by dispersing the shards. Acquisitions from older collections In 1911, the consignment sent to New York included a rare South Italian vase, an Apulian loutrophoros (172); as Richter mentions in her account in the Bulletin, it did not come from a recent excavation like most other acquisitions, but from an old collection.65 It was first published in 1817 in the introduction to vase painting by Dubois-Maisonneuve. Richter calls the vase ‘a typical example of the magnificent but somewhat over-decorated vases’, and explains the reason for the purchase as being the interesting iconography of the decoration. In the upper zone, Zeus is seated on a throne between two female figures, a scene that has been variously interpreted but most probably illustrates the two goddesses Aphrodite and Persephone awaiting the judgement of Zeus in their dispute over the beautiful youth Adonis. Consulting these older publications, it becomes clear that the history of this piece is less transparent than one might hope. In the first publication of the vase, Dubois-Maisonneuve placed it in the museum in Naples, but Stephani mentioned that Panofska had seen it in a pharmacy in the city in 1824.66 Marshall was offered the vase by the Greek dealer Georges Yanakopoulos, who was mainly a source of sculpture; besides the loutrophoros he sold only two very fine South Italian red-figure fragments to Marshall (191).67

61

Eschbach 2007: 86. Eschbach 2007: 86–87. Eschbach identifies collections of fragments bought from Hartwig in eleven university collections between 1892 and 1922. 63 This was a working collection housed in Bothmer’s office at The Metropolitan and all visiting scholars were invited to study it. When it was presented to the museum, special permission was needed from the Association of Art Museum Directors (AAMD), as the museum was at this point obliged to follow the rule of not acquiring objects without a provenance history not known before 1970, introduced by the organisation in its 2008 acquisition policy and revised in 2013: AAMD Guidelines on the Acquisition of Archaeological Material and Ancient Art (revised 2013), see https://aamd.org/object-registry/new-acquisitions-of-archaeologicalmaterial-and-works-of-ancient-art/992. Another recent example is the collection of Robert Guy, donated to the Arthur M. Sackler Museum at Harvard University in 1995, see John Harvard’s Journal 5: 1998: https://harvardmagazine.com/sites/default/files/ html/1998/mj98/jhj.html. 64 See n. 49. For the signature, see also Cohen 1991. For the addition of fragments in 1971, see the online database: 1971.54: http:// www.metmuseum.org/collection/the-collection-online/search/255336 and 1972. 39.1–2: http://www.metmuseum.org/ collection/the-collection-online/search/255355. 65 Richter 1912b: 95–96. MMA 11.210.3 a, b. It has been attributed to the Darius Painter. 66 Dubois-Maisoneuve 1817: pl. 67; Stephani 1860: 317, note 2. 67 MMA 20.195, MMA 20.196. 62

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Many of the late Archaic and Classical vases were found during the excavations at Vulci by Lucien Bonaparte, Prince of Canino, from 1828 to 1842. The finds were dispersed through private sales and various auctions in Paris in the 1830s and 1840s. One vase acquired by The Metropolitan comes from these excavations, a cup signed by Hieron and painted by Makron.68 According to Richter, the museum purchased it from a dealer in Paris, so we do not know whether Marshall was involved in this case. The high prices paid for vases painted by Makron are attested by a skyphos bought by Marshall from the Marchese Marcello Spinelli in 1911 for 20,000 francs.69 However, the latter did not end up in The Metropolitan, but was bought by Warren and sold to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts (MFA) in 1913 (1079).70 Another vase from Canino’s excavation was a black-figure eye cup acquired in 1912 and bought in Paris. It was for sale at an auction in June 1911 and Marshall seems to have bought it in November of the same year.71 Very few vases have a collecting history and a note of 1925 seems to suggest that Marshall was actually trying to avoid objects from older collections and much preferred newly discovered pieces.72 He received a visit from a certain Cavalier de Bernard offering a fragmented cup with a maenad in the tondo and two obscene but well-drawn scenes with a satyr and maenads on the outside. Bernard asked for 40,000 lire and explained that it was a recent find made by his Orvieto friends. Marshall replied that he would only be willing to pay 15,000 for a recent find, but thought he had seen the vase in the Faina collection in Orvieto. The next day Pollak called in as he had received a similar visit and believed the cup to be a recent find. Marshall assured Pollak that he only wanted the piece if it was a recent find, but they discovered that it was indeed published in an 1888 publication of the Faina collection. Pollak was still interested in buying the object if he could obtain a receipt from Count Faina, but the seller could not provide this. This story demonstrates that recent finds were cheaper and also that the dealers of the time did not consider them to be ‘of questionable provenance’; on the other hand, nobody could claim the objects. The only potential problem was the denial of an export licence. Problems with export licences ‘I am sorry to report that the Gov. has vetoed the following pieces in my sending,’73 Marshall informs Robinson in a letter of December 1912; the pieces in question are an Etruscan acroterium of a harpy, a red-figure hydria by the School of Kleophrades and a red-figure alabastron. He then goes on to mention some other objects that the government are ‘hesitating letting out’. Remarkably, the works vetoed here are terracotta objects and not the marbles mentioned afterwards. There are otherwise few known instances of such refusals: one is a group of fragments in a very poor condition registered as offered in 1900 (232). 68

Richter 1917b: 2. MMA 12.231.1, BA 204828. (Another from Canino’s excavations was acquired in 1925, a black-figured cup signed Epitimos epoiesen, see Richter 1925c.) 69 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1911.01.01. 70 MFA 13.186. The vase was found in 1879 during Marchese Spinelli’s excavations in Suessula, see Castaldo 2009, especially 99–101. According to the entry in the MFA database, the museum paid $18,948.70 for a large group of objects acquired from Warren in that year (MFA 13.186-13.245), see http://www.mfa.org/collections/object/drinking-cup-skyphos-with-the-departureand-recovery-of-helen-153876. Why the vase eventually went to Warren even after the purchase was reported to Robinson in the letter cannot be ascertained from the available documents. 71 MMA 12.198.2, BA 13327. CVA Metropolitan Museum 2 (USA 11), pl. 42 a–f. The vase was first sold at the auction of Canino’s vases in 1840 (lot 56) and then again in Paris in 1911 at the sale of the Delessert collection. Bothmer refers to N. Plaoutine’s notes in the Louvre archive concerning this information in the CVA. In Plaoutine’s notes, information is added in pencil: Marshall 14-1111, as well as the price of 305 francs and the inventory number of The Metropolitan. 72 JMA, Sackler, Note by Marshall on a vase from the Fania collection in Orvieto. I saw the note in 1996 in the Ashmolean Library when I examined the Warren–Marshall documents, but the documents have since been moved to the Sackler Library, and the note was unfortunately not to be found among the papers when they were examined in March 2016. 73 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1912.12.18.

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On the back of the photograph, Marshall has noted two references to publications and the fact that the fragments were seized by the Roman Export Office in 1926. They are now in the Villa Giulia museum.74 In spite of very strict regulations, especially after the implementation of new laws after 1913,75 export licences do not seem to have been refused very often. According to the dealer Augusto Jandolo (1873– 1952), Marshall only exported what was allowed by the Italian authorities, but this is not entirely true.76 Pollak refers to a rather peculiar case in which Marshall had bought a black-figure cup with a Komos scene covered by an export restriction.77 Paolo Orsi heard of the purchase and thanks to political intervention the vase was returned. However, due to negotiations about a large loan from New York to Italy, the museum was able to demand the return of the vase as a precondition for the loan, and Mussolini interfered and ensured that the vase could stay in New York.78 Whether or not there is any truth to this story, it appears that there was often room for negotiation between foreign institutions and the Italian government in the process of obtaining export permits. Contextual finds In 1911, Marshall bought the contents of three tombs at Taranto for 7000 francs.79 There are no photographs of this interesting group of objects and Richter only mentions them briefly in her report, stating their value to be primary information about the ‘regular tomb furniture’ of the Hellenistic period.80 The object database of The Metropolitan lists fourteen terracotta figurines, a bronze disc, four terracotta statue bases, two miniature oinochoai, a doll carved from bone and three pieces of jewellery that can be connected to these three tombs.81 This is one of the few examples of archaeological significance being the chief reason for a purchase. Compare this with the following statement by Marshall in a letter to Robinson of 1909: ‘Yesterday I went to Corneto to see the contents of a tomba a pozzo which were for sale there. The things were much too archaeological for my taste, but there were one or two important pieces which the Museum may want to get.’82 Clearly, Marshall very seldom acquired complete funerary equipment, but rather carefully selected whichever objects he found interesting from an art-historical point of view. There are a few exceptions to this rule. In 1909, an entire tomb ensemble was acquired: nineteen vases of 300–250 BC found together in one grave.83 The group was found in Teano and consisted of a set of very fine and well-preserved black-glazed vessels with fine painted floral decorations, including a large black-glazed hydria and cups, plates and jugs, described by Richter as a dinner service for the tomb. They were purchased from Hartwig for the price of 3000 francs, and here again aesthetic value and the concept of dinner service rather than an archaeological tomb context must have been important for the choice.84 Particularly among the objects offered from Greece or by Greek dealers, there are several larger groups of objects, many of them unfortunately missing from Marshall’s index file (580, 581, 582, 583, 584). There 74 Rome, Villa Giulia museum, inv. No. 50321. BA 15306. The fragments were published in 1900 in NSc and then by Hauser in 1904 in an article on the Tyrannicides (Hauser 1904). 75 See here, Chapter 10 (de Tomasi). 76 Merkel Guldan 1988: 187. 77 Pollak 1994: 167. 78 The vase in question is the black-figure Komos vase MMA 22.139.22, Richter 1925c. 79 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–DUN, 1911.02.03. 80 Richter 1912b: 98. 81 MMA 11.212.17, 11.212.19, 11.212.21-29, 11.212.31-33, 11.212.35-44, 11.212.48, 11.212.53. 82 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1909.02.08. 83 Richter 1910a: 41; 1910b: 145–46. 84 MMA 09.221.46a–r. JMA, Sackler, MAR–DUN, 1909.03.29.

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are some acquisitions that may have been contextual finds, but this conjecture is based mostly on stylistic features. One example is the three bucchero kraters bought in 1916 (186).85 Stylistic research has defined them as being products of the same workshop, but what does this tell us about their findspot and use? Even if it enhances the possibility that they were found together, it should be kept in mind that dealers might group objects according to other criteria than findspot, as shown above. Procedures: dealings with the Canessa brothers As mentioned earlier, the first collection of Greek pottery to enter The Metropolitan was the Canessa collection. The brothers Cesare and Ercole Canessa were among the largest international dealers in Marshall’s network.86 They also worked as experts for a number of auctions in Paris, including the sale of the Borelli collection in 1913, where Marshall bought two Greek vases. The letter to T. D. Duncan about the transaction shows that the money was transferred to Rollin et Feurardent, who must have bid for him at the auction.87 Otherwise objects were acquired directly from the Canessa brothers in Naples, Paris and New York, as is evident in a letter to Canessa asking him to wait for payment for a vase ‘taken some time ago’ until Marshall himself comes to Paris.88 A number of objects were acquired through the Canessa Galleries in Paris: an early Apulian red-figure krater depicting the myth of Europa was bought in 1916 (184)89, an Athenian red-figure lekythos with black-figure palmettes on the shoulder (189)90 and a red-figure pyxis with a squatting satyr on the lid (190)91 both in 1920 (in May according to the card file), a white-ground lekythos with a black-figure decoration (204), a Corinthian tripod pyxis (205), a terracotta statuette of Eros (206) in 192292 and a black-figure column krater in 1924 (230).93 In November 1922, Marshall was also offered a Corinthian pyxis with three female protomes (575). He did not buy it; it was on sale at the 1924 auction of Cesare Canessa’s collection in New York and was eventually purchased by The Metropolitan in 1935.94 In the presentation of the acquisition in the Bulletin of 1936, Richter emphasised the vase’s importance for establishing a chronology of Greek sculpture thanks to the protomes on the handles.95 She had already published her first major work on Greek sculpture in 1929 and was working on her study on the development of Archaic Greek sculpture, subsequently one of the most influential books on its development and chronology. The acquisition is thus understandable in this later context, whereas Marshall might not have been aware of this aspect when considering the vase for acquisition in 1922.96

85

MMA 16.174.7–9, it is suggested by de Puma that it comes from the same workshop near Vulci, see Puma 1974: 28–36. On the Canessa brothers see here, Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). 87 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–DUN, 1913.06.13. The objects bought were a vase in the shape of a duck, MMA13.225.11, and a Corinthian lekythos, MMA 13.225.11, Hotel Drouot 1913: lot 211 and 212, pl. XIX. 88 In connection with information about the payment for the so-called Nekyia vase acquired by Marshall in 1908 for £1200, MMA 08.258.21. Richter 1936a, no. 135: 168–71. JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–CAN, 1908.06.19. In the note to Duncan about the withdrawal the amount is just £480, so Marshall must have had part of the payment already, JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–DUN, 1908.06.19. Here Marshall also says that Canessa said he had bought the vase outside Italy. 89 MMA 16.140. 90 MMA 20.197. BA 205582. 91 MMA 20.253a–b. BA 200660. Said to be from Greece. 92 MMA 22.139.3, MMA 22.139.4a–b, MMA 22.139.5. A bronze statuette of a panther, MMA 22.139.6 also belongs to this group of objects acquired en bloc from Canessa in Paris. 93 MMA 24.97.95. 94 MMA 35.11.21. Richter 1936b: 104–05. It was published in the Canessa Sales Catalogue (Canessa 1924: no. 53) and sold for $360. 95 Richter 1936b: 104–05. 96 Richter 1929d. Richter’s fundamental study on Archaic kouroi (Richter 1942) was published in 1942, but the results were already presented in a lecture series in 1938; see Mylona’s review in Art College Journal 1943: 120–22. 86

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There are a number of other vases offered by Canessa and not acquired by Marshall in the archive: a lid of a pyxis from Centuripe with a rich plastic decoration that Marshall saw at the Canessa Galleries in October 1920 and considered restored (569); three black-figure amphorae (596), one offered in 1922 (576) and another offered both in 1924 and 1925 (598); a red-figure hydria in 1925; and a small vase in the shape of a satyr head that on the card is registered as purchased and a forgery (649). A red-figure hydria (577) is now in the Cleveland Museum of Art.97 It was offered to Marshall in 1922. In the same year he was offered a red-figure bell krater with Apollo, Leto and Artemis on one side by the art dealer Gaetano Pepe (574, Plate XLIX b). The same vase was offered by Canessa two years later, when it sold for $1100 at the Canessa auction in New York and was then acquired by the museum (229).98 These examples show that the Canessa brothers worked through direct sales, but also used auctions as a tool both to increase their own stock and to arrange sales of their collections. The case of Arretine pottery The acquisition of terracotta objects was almost exclusively focused on Greek pottery. However, one type of Roman pottery provides interesting information about Marshall’s procedures: I refer to a number of purchases of Arretine pottery and moulds. In 1907, Marshall acquired three moulds of Arretine bowls. As described by Robinson in his presentation of the purchase in the Bulletin, their ‘combined rarity and beauty have given them a fictitious value from the dealers’ point of view, and they are now extremely difficult to purchase’.99 The most interesting bowl was acquired in 1910, but unfortunately we do not know by whom. It was part of a larger ensemble including two Teano bowls, a red-figure cup and four jugs (546, Plate LII). The bowl was signed TIGRAN on one side and the other side is missing, but the signature has been reconstructed as Perennius Tigranes.100 The workshop of Perennius was the earliest producer of Arretine ware in the later part of the first century BC.101 Robinson links the Greek names of the potters to the ‘artistic traditions of their past’ and sees the ‘spirit of Greek art at its most refined period’ in the design of the bowl.102 It is remarkable that the first CVA volume of The Metropolitan deals with Arretine pottery. Published by Christine Alexander in 1943, it included six stamps, twenty-one moulds, nine mould fragments, eight cups and fifty-six vase fragments, nearly all purchased during Marshall’s years as agent (Figure 7.2). It is a rather remarkable collection and also turned out to be too good to be true. The first three moulds were bought from the dealer Fausto Benedetti for 15,000 lire: ‘The price is high, but one of the pieces … is exceptionally good,’103 Marshall informs Robinson, adding that Benedetti still has seventeen moulds available at a low price. However, others were also interested in moulds, including a very active collector, the German-born American James Loeb who had returned to Munich in 1906 with his collection.104 Some months later Marshall told Robinson that according to rumour, Loeb was interested in buying six of the moulds from Benedetti and that he had offered 120,000 francs for them.105 This was far more than Benedetti had asked for the moulds when offering them to Marshall, and 97

Cleveland Museum of Art, inv. Nos. 1927.433 and 1924.197. Richter 1925b: 262–64. Canessa 1924: no. 63, copy with prices in the archive of The Metropolitan. MMA 24.97.96, BA 207169. 99 Robinson 1909b: 125. MMA 08.257.36, MMA 08.257.37, MMA 08.257.38, CVA Metropolitan Museum 1 (U.S.A. 9), pl. XIX, VII, VII. 100 Richter 1911a: 36, Figure 1 p. 30. 101 Porten Palange 1990: 563. 102 Robinson 1909b: 129. 103 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1907.02.21. 104 Wünsche & Steinhart 2009. 105 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1907.07.26. 98

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Figure 7.2. Arretine pottery and moulds exhibited at The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1927 (ph. Keystone View Company, gelatin silver print. Keystone-Mast Collection, UCR/California Museum of Photography, University of California, Riverside).

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Marshall was now extremely worried that Loeb’s offer would significantly raise their prices – if Benedetti obtained this kind of money once, it would be impossible for others to acquire anything of the kind in the future. Marshall advised Robinson to inform Loeb – if he wanted the moulds – of Benedetti’s offer to Marshall so that he could get an idea of the possible prices. Marshall only bought more pieces in 1919 and in the archive we find a photograph of a cast of one of these (140, Plate LIII,106 showing Nereids carrying the arms of Achilles.107 Two stamps and a mould were bought in 1920, one mould in 1921 and in 1923, and three stamps in 1926.108 In 1989 and 1990 two articles were published revealing that museum collections all over Europe and the United States contained a very large number of forged moulds.109 A mould and a stamp used for the mould in the Antikenmuseum in Berlin had been dated using the thermo-luminescence method, showing that it had been fired between eighty-seven and seventy-nine years previously; that is, between 1899 and 1907.110 Two bowls in the Ashmolean acquired from Warren and two bowls in New York were subsequently tested, with the same results.111 Following the Berlin tests, Francesca Paula Porten Palange thoroughly investigated a number of suspect objects, with devastating results: all the moulds and stamps bought through Marshall for The Metropolitan were forgeries.112 The museum also asked to have the bowl from the Perennius workshop tested, however this turned out to be ancient.113 Porten Palange successfully traced the production of the forgeries and showed that Benedetti was their source. The forger was very probably Angiolo Pasqui (1857–1915), the archaeologist who excavated in Arezzo and found a large quantity of mould and bowl fragments, mostly from the workshop of M. Perennius, in the gardens of Santa Maria in Gradi in 1883 and 1886/7.114 Documents in the archive of The Metropolitan reveal that Benedetti had obtained the two stamps and the mould bought by Marshall in 1920 from Pasqui’s widow. In the 1980s, a set of 142 stamps was offered for sale and turned out to be the so-called instrumentarium of Pasqui, still owned by the family.115 In fact, none of the forged stamps was available during Pasqui’s lifetime – his wife sold some of the stamps only after his death. Ten years after his excavations in Arezzo, in 1897, Pasqui was appointed curator of the museum of Etruscan antiquities of Villa Giulia, rising to the post of deputy director in 1900, after Felice Barnabei stepped down in the aftermath of the so-called ‘Villa Giulia scandal’.116 In 1908 Pasqui became Director of Excavations of Rome. Porten Palange dates Pasqui’s activity as a forger to 1887–1900.117 Pasqui’s father, who may have played a role in the production, died in 1900; at the same time, Pasqui’s work in Rome intensified.118

106

Fifteen moulds were acquired in 1919: MMA 19.192.16 to MMA 19.192.29 and MMA 19.192.66. Marshall’s 140 is MMA 19.192.20. Porten Palange 1990: 534, F 61. 107 MMA 19.192.20, CVA Metropolitan Museum 1 (USA 9), pl. XX, Porten Palange 1990: 534, F 61. 108 MMA 20.229, 21.88.165, 23.108 and the stamps MMA 26.81.1–3. 109 Heilmeyer 1989; Porten Palange 1990. 110 Heilmeyer 1989: 265. 111 Heilmeyer 1989: 267. 112 This is clear from the online database from which they have all been removed. One of the stamps was published by J. Mertens in the handbook of the Greek and Roman collection in 1987 (Mertens 1987: 113, Figure 84), but no Arretine ware was included in the new handbook published in 2007 (Picón et al. 2007). 113 Porten Palange 1990: 544. 114 Porten Palange 1990: 622–23, 627–32. 115 Porten Palange 1990: 546, 623–24. 116 Dyson 1998, 101–02. Barnabei & Delpino 1991: 21. Porten Palange 1990: 630–31. See also here, Chapter 1 (Dyson). 117 Porten Palange 1990: 627–32. 118 Porten Palange 1990: 632–34.

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Pasqui’s work is of such high quality that nobody doubted the authenticity of the Arezzo moulds until the 1980s. The only sign that there may have been some suspicions is a note in the MFA concerning a fragment bought by Warren in Rome in 1893 and presented to the Boston museum in 1913; Marshall had been suspicious about this fragment because he had found another very similar one in Berlin.119 Interestingly, this is believed not to be a forgery. Pasqui made all the stamps, including the Nereid riding a seahorse in The Metropolitan, out of casts from original moulds in the Arezzo museum.120 He made new creations out of authentic motifs. The case of the forged Arretine moulds has not attracted the same publicity as other forgeries and is, for instance, not mentioned in the book by Thomas Hoving on fakes, based primarily on objects acquired by The Metropolitan, perhaps because these objects fall within the category of minor arts.121 Terracottas: a forgotten group of acquisitions Over the years, Marshall acquired a large number of terracottas for the collections of The Metropolitan.122 In the first consignment the number of terracottas was relatively large, with seventy-two pieces, mostly from Greece, and in 1910 it rose again to a total of one hundred and thirty-two according to the museum Bulletin, including a group of one hundred and twenty-nine from Taranto.123 Taranto in fact seems to have been a major source of material. In a letter to Robinson of 1912, Marshall reported: ‘Nothing of any consequence in the market. Little things have been offered to me. 4 Taranto terracottas which I am anxious to get and for which I have offered 7,000 fr.’124 In 1911 the three tomb groups from Taranto mentioned above were acquired and in 1923 six pieces of terracotta sculptures, four of them from a temple in Metauros, Gioia Tauro, in Calabria, excavated in 1902 by Paolo Orsi..125 Few objects can be identified in the archive, for instance five Tanagra statuettes bought in 1911 (181), and, as mentioned, the prices in the documents can only rarely be related to purchases, with one exception being the 5100 francs paid for fifteen terracotta figures of actors bought from Lembessis in 1913.126 As noted at the start of the chapter, the terracottas from Tanagra and Myrina had been extremely popular, but by the beginning of the twentieth century the market was crowded with forgeries. Jandolo tells an anecdote in his memoirs about a group of twelve Tanagra figures that Count Stroganoff had acquired in Paris.127 When Pollak studied them in his apartment in Rome, he concluded that they were all fakes. Stroganoff gave the terracottas to the art dealer Tavazzi, who in turn gave them to the young Jandolo, then in his early twenties. However, they were unable to sell the terracottas as nobody trusted the provenance of the Stroganoff collection. Stroganoff was asked to write a letter of confirmation and 119

Porten Palange 1990: 620. Porten Palange 1990: 546–47. 121 Hoving 1996. 122 It is difficult to study these acquisitions because the museum has never fully published its collection of Greek and Roman terracottas. Basic information is available through the online database and a number of pieces are also illustrated. Remarkably, however, there is no published catalogue and only a few pieces are included in the main introductions to the Greek and Roman collections, for instance Mertens 1987 includes only one terracotta, a Roman bust, MMA 16.141. 123 Richter 1911b: 93–94. Richter describes this set of objects as coming from Taranto, but it is highly diverse, with antefixes, discs and a large number of small terracotta heads from different statuettes, as well as some objects that she interprets as belong to a ‘funeral feast group’. It is clearly not one or two tomb groups, but material gathered by a dealer. 124 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1912.12.12. It is difficult to identify the four objects, but five objects acquired that year have Taranto as their supposed provenance: MMA 12.232.11, MMA 12.232.12, MMA 12.232.14, MMA 12.232.15, MMA 12.232.16. 125 MMA 22.139.54, MMA 22.139.55, MMA 22.139.56, MMA 22.139.57. 126 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–DUN, 1913.07.28. 127 Jandolo 1939: 68–72. 120

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initially wanted to write that he had parted from the terracottas because their authenticity had been questioned. Obviously, this made them unsellable; only when he wrote a note that he had handed them over to the dealer because he no longer enjoyed seeing them were they able to be sold. Of course, Jandolo tells this story to illustrate his intimate relationship with one of the most famous collectors of the time, but it also provides us with an idea of the interrelations between collectors and dealers. People like Stroganoff were perhaps not actively engaged in dealing, but he was deeply involved with the dealers and supported their trade in much more profound ways than simply buying from their stock, as for instance in providing fake documentation. They also had no qualms over selling known forgeries as authentic pieces to other collectors. How did Marshall deal with the problem of terracotta forgeries? In a letter to Furtwängler concerning a terracotta head of Zeus exhibited at the Burlington exhibition in 1909 in London, Marshall claims that the head is a forgery.128 He compares it with a terracotta head that he had acquired earlier from Rhousopoulos and that turned out to be fake – its only odd feature was the fact that it was hollow, since it otherwise appeared authentic. Unlike Stroganoff, Marshall felt that forgeries had to be called out and forgers denounced. This had been his mission since early on, when he is said to have tracked Greek forgers of terracotta figurines while still working with Warren for the MFA. Apparently Marshall sent a detailed report, which included pieces by individual forgers as samples, to the Boston museum.129 Marshall learned at his own expense how sophisticated forgers had become and he is reported to have once said ‘that there was only one way of learning to distinguish between a forged antique and a genuine: to buy one, pay plenty, and find it false’.130 Vases not suitable for the Metropolitan As already mentioned, Marshall was offered various objects of which he had photographs in his archive, but which he did not select for The Metropolitan. Some ended up in the collection through other paths, like the late classical Attic red-figure hydria by the Meleager Painter showing Poseidon and Amymone (548).131 It entered The Metropolitan in 1956 with a larger group of vases from the William Randolph Hearst Collection. Marshall’s card file mentions Jacob Hirsch (1874–1955) as a supplier. Hirsch was the leading dealer in ancient coins from the early nineteenth century, when he established himself in Munich. He moved to Genf on the outbreak of World War I and set up the firm Ars Classica there from 1921 to 1938, later opening galleries in Paris and New York.132 Hirsch was one of Hearst’s main suppliers, so it seems probable that he sold the vase to Hearst after unsuccessfully offering it to Marshall. Many of the other vases offered can be traced to other collections today. One photo shows two red-figured column kraters from Hartwig (534), neither of them acquired for The Metropolitan (Plate LIV). The vase to the left is now in the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek and was acquired in Rome in 1925.133 It was formerly in the Charles Woodyatt Collection and sold at auction in Rome in 1912, where it was probably bought by Hartwig. Hartwig died in 1919 and the vase was purchased by the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek from Alfredo Barsanti in Rome,134 who might have taken over or bought Hartwig’s stock after Hartwig passed away. 128

JMA, Sackler, Letter MAR–FUR, [probably 1909].07.24. Burdett & Goddard 1941: 338. 130 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 337. 131 MMA 56.171.56. Bothmer 1957. 132 Mildenberg 1953–1956. 133 Copenhagen, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, Inv. No. IN 2754, BA 205810, CVA Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek 1 (Denmark 10) pl. 59–60, 63.34. 134 I am grateful to Mette Moltesen for providing me with this information. 129

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On the same picture is another column krater depicting Athena crowning a youth running with two spears towards a winged Nike. This vase has an unusually tall foot in the photo. Its present whereabouts is unknown, but we can trace it on the art market during the twentieth century. It was registered by Beazley in the Ars Antiqua Gallery in Lucerne, and published in an auction catalogue in 1962 with reference to Pollak and the Woodyatt collection.135 The reference to that collection links the two vases in the photograph.136 Pollak was asked to write the catalogue and he explains in the Preface that he has no information on the provenance of any of the objects acquired by Woodyatt, who lived in Naples.137 The vase was auctioned again in 2003 at Christie’s, but none of this information is mentioned.138 Both the photograph in the Woodyatt catalogue and that in the Christie’s catalogue show a normal-sized foot. It is difficult to see whether the vase was mounted on a stand or whether this was in fact an older restoration that was later removed. In the latter case, it is also possible that Hartwig sold the vases to Woodyatt and that the photograph in Marshall’s files in fact shows them before they entered that collection. A red-figure lekythos attributed to the Berlin Painter is on a photo from Canessa with another redfigure lekythos (595, Plate LV). It was bought by the University of Pennsylvania Museum from the art dealer Joseph Brummer in 1926 for $630.139 According to the Beazley Archive, it came from the Gaspare Giudice Collection in Agrigento, a piece of information to be found in neither Marshall’s nor Brummer’s card files. Marshall was offered the vase in 1925. According to Brummer’s file it arrived in his gallery in November the same year and was sold to the museum in January 1926. On the back of the card, Brummer writes that the vase was bought from Canessa in Naples for 5000 lire, the equivalent of $200. Thus, there is no need for Marshall’s involvement. Other vases also suggest connections to Brummer. A red-figure column krater in the archive (170) was acquired by the Mount Holyoke College Art Museum in 1913.140 The museum purchased several vases from Brummer, so the same provenance has also been suggested for the krater. However, the original transportation documents are still in the museum archive: the krater was imported by Louise Fitz Randolph, instructor at Mount Holyoke from 1892 to 1904 and then appointed professor in art history and archaeology from 1904 to 1912. The krater was shipped on the SS Cretic, which sailed between Naples and Boston. Marshall’s card file includes the information that there were twelve copies and two positives, so more photos may have been sent. Marshall, or his secretary, recorded the vase as being in The Metropolitan. Remarkably, more of these objects ended up in American collections. We can add a hydria (600) in the Walters Art Gallery – bought by Henry Walters in 1926141 – and a black-figure plate in the Royal Ontario Museum (1026). This might be a coincidence, but it is also possible that Marshall contacted other institutions about objects available on the market without otherwise acting as an intermediary. Some at least went through Warren, who donated or sold objects to museums other than the MFA. One instance is a number of fragments offered to Marshall in 1922 through Guglielmo de Ferrari in London 135

Ars Antiqua 1962, lot 137. BA 214738. On Ars Antiqua, see Nørskov 2002: 253. Jandolo & Tavazzi 1912, lot 47 (that in the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek) and 52. 137 Jandolo & Tavazzi 1912. 138 Christie’s 2003, lot 250. http://www.christies.com/lotFinder/lot_details.aspx?intObjectID=4088340. 139 Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, inv. No. 5706. BA 202020. http://www. penn.museum/collections/object/2503. 140 Mount Holyoke College Art Museum, inv. No. 1913.B.S11, BA 214450. See also the collections database of the museum for further illustrations: http://museums.fivecolleges.edu/detail.php?t=objects&type=ext&id_number=MH%201913.1.B.SII. I am grateful to Taylor Anderson at the Mount Holyoke Museum of Art for providing me with information from the museum’s archives on the acquisition of the vase. 141 Baltimore, Walters Art Gallery, inv. No. 48.264, BA 370, purchased in 1926 by Henry Walters and given to the museum by bequest in 1931. According to the information from the museum, the hydria was in the Sambon collection: http://art.thewalters. org/detail/31250/red-figure-kerch-style-hydria, but I have not been able to trace the jug in any of the available sales catalogues from 1914 and 1920. 136

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and supposedly belonging to a cup by Euphronios (578).142 De Ferrari first sent a letter to the director of the museum, who was told by Robinson to forward the offer to Marshall, who received the letter and the photograph.143 The kylix is described as highly fragmentary and missing its internal decoration, but Ferrari’s price is nonetheless $2500, considered reasonable given the general price level. He also asks that the photo be returned if the museum does not want to buy the object. Marshall did not return the photo, though the museum did not buy the kylix. On his card file he wrote ‘Ferrari calls it by Euphronios’, a phrasing that suggests that Marshall did not agree. Indeed, had he thought it to be by Euphronios it would be very surprising that he did not secure it for The Metropolitan, as Euphronios was, as stated above, one of the Big Four. Even in her 1936 publication of the Athenian red-figure vases, Richter specifically mentions that the museum does not have a vase painted by this artist.144 But it is also clear evidence of the importance of the attribution to specific painters in pricing objects. The fragments are now in the Rhodes Island School of Design in Providence.145 They were published by Stephen B. Luce in an article in AJA in 1928, where the author identified the vase with one listed in Beazley’s Attische Vasenmaler as a late work by Epiktetos in the Ferrari collection. Clearly, therefore, he did not know that Ferrari was the seller. Luce later published the CVA of the Rhodes Island Collection, including the history of the gift of Warren in 1925 of twenty-five vases, including the cup fragments. It thus seems that eventually Warren bought the vase fragments from de Ferrari. Two other vases in the archive can be found in the Rhodes Island School of Design (RISD). The first is a Geometric jug that came to Marshall through C. A. Lembessis (173). On Marshall’s card file it is registered as being in The Metropolitan, but it is clearly the jug given to RISD in 1915 by the president of the school, Mrs Eliza G. Radeke, wife of Gustave Radeke.146 The second was also a gift from Mrs Radeke in February 1928, a lebes gamikos attributed to the Pan Painter and offered to Marshall by Feuardent. Other vases ended up in European collections. A pyxis attributed to the Washing Painter is now in the Martin von Wagner Museum, Würzburg (530).147 The pyxis was part of an auction at Galerie Helbing in Munich in 1913 containing material from various sources, the pyxis being part of a group of antiquities in private hands.148 The provenance is Athens. The pyxis was formerly in the collection of Philippos Margaritis, photographer and professor at the Academy of Arts in Athens. He died in 1892, whereafter various objects from his collection were acquired by the Martin von Wagner Museum. Other museums also purchased objects from the same collection at this point. The 1913 auction may have been the remains of the collection still in the possession of his family. The pyxis was donated to the museum in 1914 by Oskar Neidert, who was Kommerzienrat and one of the benefactors of the museum. Marshall’s card file does not reveal the year of consignment or from whom he obtained it, though it must have been before the 1913 auction. Another pyxis was acquired by The Metropolitan in 1909 and perhaps this better-preserved one attributed to the Meidias Painter was chosen instead.149 142

On De Ferrari see also here, Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). JMA, BSR, Letter, KEN–MAR, 1922.09.07, JMA, BSR, Letter, FER–MAR, 1922.06.21. 144 Richter 1936a: 33. 145 Providence RI, Rhodes Island School of Design, inv. No. 25.077, BA 200478. CVA Rhodes Island School of Design 1 (USA 2), pl. 14. Luce 1928: 435, purchase through an appropriation to which a special gift was added. I am grateful to Gina Borromeo of the RISD for providing me with information about the Warren gift. See also the introduction to the CVA volume concerning the purchase from Warren, p. 5. 146 Providence RI, Rhodes Island School of Design, inv. No. 15.006, CVA Rhodes Island School of Design 1 (USA 2), pl. 8.2. 147 Würzburg, Martin von Wagner Museum, inv. No. H 4455, (L541), BA 215006. CVA Würzburg 2, Taf. 34, 1-5, 35, 1-8, Abb. 37. I am grateful to the curator Jochen Griesbach for providing me with information about the purchase and the collection history of the vase in the museum archive. 148 Auktion Galerie Helbing 1913, Anhang 2, lot 601. 149 MMA 09.221.40, BA 220655, Richter 1910b: 145. Another vase in the archive now in Würzburg is a red-figure alabastron offered to Marshall through Kampanes (553), Würzburg, Martin von Wagner Museum, inv. No. L 546, BA9472. 143

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Other vases in European museums include a calyx krater offered in 1923 by Marulli and now in the Ulster Museum in Belfast (590). It was bought by Gallatin at auction in 1930 and auctioned again by Sotheby’s in 1966, when it was acquired by the museum.150 A black-figure lekythos offered to Marshall by an individual named Nocera from the Sicilian town of Terranova in 1924 is now in the university museum in Bonn 2670 (592).151 A red-figure lekythos (545) without a mouth is today in the Antikenmuseum Basel und Sammlung Ludwig, donated to the museum as part of a bequest by Prof. Peter von der Mühll (1885–1970).152 It was first auctioned in 1914 at the sale of the Sambon collection and again in 1954 at the Basle firm Münzen und Medaillen, where it must have been acquired by the collector. The intervening owners are unknown. So when Marshall considered an offer not to be of interest for The Metropolitan, he sometimes kept the photographs. He did not keep track of the objects, though he may sometimes have known where they went. Nonetheless, in many cases it is possible to trace the objects from the JMA and thus supply another piece of the provenance puzzle of these museum objects. Certainly, more objects will be identified in the future. Conclusion Evaluating the material in the archive concerning Marshall’s work as an agent, he clearly belonged to a diverse and rather complex network of dealers, collectors and excavators active in Rome in the early twentieth century. His main concern was the collections in The Metropolitan and he followed the plan developed by Robinson, while also being guided by his own aesthetic judgement. His remit was to fill gaps in the collection, but clearly aesthetic and artistic quality was the main priority. That suppliers knew this is clear in the case of the Arretine moulds: here objects were produced that were not only extremely important for the understanding of Arretine pottery, mostly known from smaller sherds, but also aimed at attracting the interest of the buyers through the choice of motifs, which in this case were erotic. Vases and terracottas were at the lower end of the hierarchy for ancient art collectors during the early part of the twentieth century. The objects were so cheap that the annual amount Marshall had at his disposal could cover their cost, albeit not of exceptional pieces like the Etruscan warriors. This also means that the purchases were chosen by him alone and did not have to go through a process of approval by the museum director and the trustees, as was the case for those expensive sculptures and bronzes that needed extra funding. There was less competition for these pieces and Marshall’s trained eye was able to select only the most interesting with regard to the collection already established at the museum. The examples of vases not acquired by Marshall but later bought at auctions in America by the museum, such as the Corinthian pyxis, underline Marshall’s aesthetic criteria as key in understanding his contribution to the collection at The Metropolitan.

150

Belfast, Ulster Museum L58.13, BA206837. The Sotheby’s catalogue refers to Spink and son, Highly Important Egyptian, Western Asiatic, Greek Etruscan and Roman Antiquities, Sotheby’s 13 June 1966, lot 47. 151 Akademisches Kunstmuseum Bonn, inv. No. 2670, BA9023389. Here is stated that it was in the Salvatore Nocera collection in Gela before reaching Bonn. 152 Antikenmuseum Basel und Samlung Ludwig, inv. No. BS 462, BA3754. Galerie Georges Petit 1914: 24, lot 105, Münzen und Medaillen 1954: lot 85.

Chapter 8

‘Non-antique’ Objects in the John Marshall Archive (Plates LVI–LXVII) Roberto Cobianchi John Marshall’s undisputed position among the classical art experts residing in Rome in the early decades of the twentieth century was publicly acknowledged by his contemporaries. In 1935, the Roman antique dealer and writer Augusto Jandolo (1873–1952) published a short posthumous portrait of Marshall in his Memorie di un antiquario, emphasising the scholar’s expertise on classical antiquity: ‘A cultured man, scrupulously honest and loyal, he, throughout his life, bought only from those dealers he held in high esteem ... he bought nothing but excavated objects because he knew them well from having assiduously studied them.’1 Acting as the exclusive agent in Europe for The Metropolitan Museum in New York from 1906 until his death in 1928, Marshall seems to have done few deals during this period outside the field of classical sculpture and ancient artefacts, especially Etruscan and Greco-Roman art. Among the more than 2500 printed photographs constituting part of his legacy to the British School at Rome, approximately 200 show non-antique objects, belonging to a variety of periods and styles, from the fifth century AD to the nineteenth century.2 The type of objects recorded is also extremely varied, encompassing paintings – on either panel or canvas – sculptures – also made of different materials such as marble, bronze, terracotta and wood – ceramics, tapestries and pieces of furniture, as well as a fifteenth-century map on parchment. Their limited number compared to those recording archaeological items is not surprising, as they do not represent the objective and primary interest of Marshall’s studies and activities as agent. Yet despite its marginal nature, the non-antique material recorded in the archive is worth consideration on various different levels. It represents a curious case study within the field of research on photographic archives documenting post-classical works of art, a considerable number of which belonged to art historians.3 The printed images that Marshall categorised as ‘not-antique’ and ‘offered’ – meaning that the items portrayed had been submitted as potential purchases – and that were kept separate from the ‘Study Collection’4 were accurately filed in accordance with the system he had devised for his entire archive, thus indicating that the non-antique material, too, was an essential part of the documentation.5 Alas, a 1

Jandolo 1935: 398­–400 (trans. G. Petruccioli). In this essay I will not discuss the glass negatives of non-antique objects included in the John Marshall Archive (JMA). 3 On photography and art history, see Roberts 1995; Ferretti 2003. See also the essays collected in Caraffa 2011; Bacchi et al. 2014; Serena 2014. The need for photographs as an indispensable research tool is epitomised by Bernard Berenson’s well-known exclamation published in 1932: ‘Photographs! Photographs! In our work one can never have enough’ (Berenson 1932; the quotation is in the Acknowledgements, dated November 1931). Antique dealers too had been using this medium for quite some time. A pioneer was Stefano Bardini (1836–1922), the most eminent antiquario active in Florence from the late 1870s and a leading figure on the international art market, who was probably the first to make extensive use of photographs; not only did he buy and commission photographs in large numbers, but he himself became a photographer (Poggi 2000). Thus photographs were study instruments, useful tools for restoration and the manufacture of forgeries, circulating extensively among potential buyers and art mediators. 4 The Study Collection consisted, for the most part, of photographs taken by specialised photographic companies, such as Alinari, depicting well-known works of art. 5 On Marshall’s cataloguing system see here, Introduction (Petruccioli). 2

Ancient Art and its Commerce in Early Twentieth-Century Europe (Archaeopress 2022): 142–161

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small number of photographs were not catalogued at all, were not listed in the filing system and often do not have handwritten annotations on the back, making their position within the archive, as well as their pertinence to the material offered, difficult to assess. For this reason, I will consider only one of these photographs at the end of this essay. My objective is to provide an overview of this sector of the archive, using a series of significant examples. Essentially, I have investigated this material from the perspective of an art historian equally interested in attribution and collecting history, in order to unravel Marshall’s working procedures and his exchanges with scholars and art dealers, as well as some less well-known figures on the margins of the Roman art market. Photographs documenting post-classical works of art In late 1907 or the early days of 1908, Marshall and his wife Mary Bliss visited the Parisian studio of Auguste Rodin (1840–1917), as on behalf of The Metropolitan he was negotiating the commission of two works. In order to help the Committee on Sculpture select the masterpieces the museum was keen to buy, Marshall sent to New York photographs he took with his wife.6 It is worth noting that the only two photographs of Rodin’s works to be found in the archive (1131 and 1132) are by Adolphe Giraudon (1849–1929), a Paris-based professional photographer and publisher.7 In the majority of cases, the photographers who took the pictures of non-antique objects are anonymous, with the exception of a few names: Brend’amour, Simhart & Co, a German enterprise operating in Düsseldorf and Obercassel (668);8 the Venetian Paolo Salviati (1818–1894) (692);9 the above-mentioned Giraudon; and the Romans Alessandro Vasari (1866–1929) (1031)10 and Alessandro Dell’Otti (1032).11 The absence of photographer’s marks indicates that the photographs were not taken to be sold to the public but on behalf of the owners of the objects, and were likely used and circulated in the art market. For instance, the photograph of a Madonna and Child with St. Jerome (683) attributed to Pinturicchio, to be found in many photographic archives, has the size of the painting inscribed on the photograph itself (683) (Plate LVI).12 A large photograph of a bronze crucifix (732), offered by the object’s owner Baron Albert (Bela) Eperjésy de Szászváros et Toti (1848–1916), is the same that Robert Cust (1861–1940) used to illustrate the piece in a short article published in 1910 in The Burlington Magazine, in which he supported its attribution to Benvenuto Cellini.13 The photograph was given to the scholar by Eperjésy himself, and the same must have happened with Marshall, who also had a second photograph of the crucifix (see also 732) showing a detail of the head of Christ, to my knowledge never published before 6 On the acquisition by The Metropolitan of Rodin’s bronzes, see Vincent 1981. In particular, on Marshall’s involvement in selecting the pieces: Vincent 1981: 25–30; in two of the picture’s captions published in her article Clare Vincent refers, without further explanation, to the fact that the photographs sent to The Metropolitan were taken by Marshall and his wife: Vincent 1981: 33–34 figs. 34–35. 7 On Giraudon, see Le Pelley Fonteny 2005. 8 Fifteenth-century German tapestry showing the Crucifixion and episodes from the Passion of Christ, offered by the German painter Otto Sohn-Rethel (Piazza Mattei 10). Year of consignment unknown. 9 Two eighteenth-century views of Venice attributed to Canaletto, offered by Attilio Simonetti. Year of consignment unknown. On Salviati, see the entry by Mambelli in Bacchi et al. 2014: 248. 10 The Death of Virginia by Vincenzo Camuccini. 11 Unknown sixteenth-century Flemish painter, Christ preaching (Sermon on the Mount). 12 Supplier and year of consignment unknown. On the painting, now at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, long attributed to Fiorenzo di Lorenzo, see Kanter 1994: 220–22, cat. 68. 13 Cust 1910a (incl. plate). The same photograph of the crucifix was also used as the title page for the second volume of the new English abbreviated version of the life of Cellini that Robert H. Hobart Cust also published in Cust 1910b.

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Figure 8.1. Donatello (from a model by), Madonna and Child, the so-called Madonna di Verona (741) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1373).

(Plate LVII). Furthermore, in a letter that can be dated to 1911, Albert Eperjésy described Cellini’s Crucifix to Marshall, among other works in his collection that he was presumably proposing to sell, mentioning that it had recently been published by Cust at the suggestion of the British diplomat and art connoisseur Sidney Churchill (1862–1921).14 Marshall’s photographs occasionally differ from those portraying the same objects in publications or held in other archives I have consulted looking for comparisons, especially those that once belonged to two eminent art historians: Bernard Berenson (1865–1959) and Federico Zeri (1921–1998). A terracotta Madonna and Child (743, 744) recently attributed to Donatello, for instance, is documented in two of Marshall’s photographs with a polychromy that was later completely removed (Plates LVIII–LIX).15 Three photographs of one of the several known versions of a Madonna and Child (741) by Donatello, the so-called Madonna di Verona, also show the same bas relief at different points in its conservation history;

14

See also relating text in JMA, BSR, Letter, JM[DOC]-0895. It should be noted that Sydney J. A. Churchill had contributed to Cust’s 1910 edition of the Life of Cellini, in the appendix, with a bibliography of Cellini literature. 15 For the attribution to Donatello, see Bellosi & Gentilini 1996.

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Figure 8.2. Donatello (from a model by), Madonna and Child, the so-called Madonna di Verona (741) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1374).

in one instance the piece had been cleaned16 (Figures 8.1–8.2). The composition of this Madonna and Child is named after the plaster version still on the façade of a palace in Via delle Fogge, Verona. Like the Verona relief, Marshall’s photographs show the Virgin Mary flanked on each side by a musician angel, but the figures are set inside a box-like frame and each angel is standing on a lion.17 Thanks to the two lions, this version of the Madonna di Verona can be identified with that formerly in Vienna among the possessions of Camillo Castiglioni (1879–1957), as it is described and reproduced in the auction catalogue of the collection published in 1926; the catalogue photograph shows a different arrangement of the object (Figure 8.3).18 Whether or not Marshall submitted it to The Metropolitan cannot be established from the documentation available in Rome, yet in 1912 the museum purchased a different terracotta version of the Madonna di Verona, proudly presented among the new acquisitions in the Museum Bulletin as a genuine work by Donatello.19

16

Supplier and year of consignment unknown. In the photo archive of the Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florence there is a photograph (173855) that reproduces an enlarged detail (the Madonna and Child) of ph. JM[PHP]-20-1374. 18 Castiglioni 1926: No. 37. The JMA, like the sale catalogue, is silent about the provenance of the piece. 19 Valentiner 1912. 17

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Figure 8.3. Donatello (from a model by), Madonna and Child, the so-called Madonna di Verona (after Collections Camillo Castiglioni de Vienne. III Catalogue des tableaux, sculptures, meubles, orfèvreries, bijoux antiques, boîten or, tapisseries, tapis, étoffes, etc. Amsterdam 1926).

Marshall’s agency must have occasionally involved other kinds of collectibles, as suggested, for instance, by a note to Robinson of January 1911, in which Marshall makes reference to four cannons and a collection of gloves put on the market by the well-known Roman painter, collector and antiquario Attilio Simonetti (1843–1925).20 A photograph of the cannon barrels (754) is still in the archive (Figure 8.4).21 A network of scholars On 11 October 1921, Joseph Breck (1855–1933), curator of the department of Decorative Arts, wrote with ‘Mr. Robinson’s approval’ to Marshall in Rome, asking the agent to examine a piece that had been offered as a potential purchase to the museum by Count Carlo Guicciardini from Usella near Prato 20

On Attilio Simonetti, see here, Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). See also relating documents in the JMA. The asking price was also accurately written on the back of the picture of the four cannon barrels, presumably by the antique dealer himself: ‘For all four cannons, 4,000 lire each, for a total of 16,000 lire. One cannon alone, 5,000 lire’ (trans. G. Petruccioli). 21

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Figure 8.4. Four cannon barrels (754) (ph. JM [PHP]20-1393).

(761).22 The work in question was an embroidered ‘bed cover’, now dated to the 1360s, depicting episodes from the legend of Tristan.23 The museum agent was asked to contact the owner, view the piece and try to set a price. In his letter, Breck mentioned a 1913 article in which the philologist Pio Ràjna (1847–1930) discussed the textile on offer together with its companion piece, the so-called Tristan quilt, that the South Kensington Museum in London had acquired in 1904, also from the Guicciardini family.24 Whether or not Marshall had the opportunity to see the piece cannot be established, but he did obtain photographs of it (761) (Figure 8.5). In addition, a large professional photographic print of the London coverlet, marked on the reverse with the museum’s official stamp, features in the Marshall archive. Marshall’s file card for this piece is extremely accurate, listing under point ‘a’ two photos of the Prato piece and under point ‘b’ one photo of the South Kensington quilt. Marshall carefully scrutinised the object, producing a diagram of the subject 22

See also appended letters, written by The Metropolitan curator Joseph Breck to John Marshall (JM[DOC]-0877) and Count Guicciardini (JM[DOC]-0882). 23 On the piece, now in the Museo del Bargello in Florence, see Proto Pisani et al. 2010. 24 Rajna 1913.

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Figure 8.5. Embroidered ‘bed cover’ depicting episodes from the legend of Tristan (761) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1404).

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of the embroidery, in which he also refers to Ràjna’s article (Figure 8.10). The reason The Metropolitan did not buy the precious textile cannot be determined from Marshall’s archive; perhaps some sort of export issue intervened and eventually, in 1927, the Guicciardini sold it to the Museo del Bargello in Florence.

Figure 8.6. File card referring to 761 (ph. JM [PHP]-31-1405).

Possible contacts between the agent in Rome and museum curators other than those in the Antiquities department at The Metropolitan cannot be easily determined, and it is only indirectly possible to suggest Marshall’s involvement in The Metropolitan’s attempted acquisition of non-antique masterpieces. There is no evidence, for instance, that he was in direct work communication with Roger Fry (1866– 1934), briefly curator of paintings in 1906–1907, or with his successor Bryson Burroughs (1869–1934), acting from 1909 until his death.25 Marshall knew Fry, who had been appointed to The Metropolitan in the same year that he started to work as agent for the same institution and who remained European adviser on painting until 1910.26 Warren, in a letter to Bernard Berenson of 6 April 1906, made specific reference to Fry’s appointment, adding: ‘My dear Berenson … J[ohn] M[arshall] mentioned your name to Fry & thought that Fry’s face clouded. I give you this for what it may be worth. I’ve never seen the man or, if I have, I don’t recollect him.’27 It is well known that the friendship between Fry and Berenson, who had first met in 1898, deteriorated in 1903 because of a quarrel over articles published in the Burlington Magazine.28

In a letter to Bryson Burroughs of 12 March 1909, Roger Fry, still European adviser to The Metropolitan, recommended the purchase of a Trecento altarpiece by Taddeo Gaddi: ‘Horne, the indefatigable, tells me of a quite magnificent polyptych altarpiece by Taddeo Gaddi as fine as anything of the kind which he did – which he thinks can be had for about £ 500.’29 Though there is no photograph of Gaddi’s painting in the JMA, Marshall created a file card for it in which he acknowledged its acquisition by The Metropolitan (266).30 Furthermore, he mentioned the altarpiece in two of his reports to Robinson

25

On The Metropolitan acquisitions under Fry and Burroughs, see Bayer 2015: 85–91. Pope-Hennessy 1984; Gennari Santori 1999. 27 Villa I Tatti, Archive, Cartellina 109-3 3/5 Warren, Edward P. to Berenson, 13 letters 1906–1917, n.d., 15 folios. I am grateful to Michael Gorman for his help in deciphering some of the words in Warren’s letters at I Tatti that were illegible to me.. 28 See Samuels 1979. See also Elam 2019: 96-102. 29 Fry’s letter is published in Suddon 1972: I, 316–17, letter 261 (quoted passage from p. 316). Acquired by The Metropolitan in 1910 (MMA 10.97). 30 No photograph is to be found in the JMA. 26

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(22 and 26 February 1910), providing evidence for his mediation on behalf of the museum with the polyptych’s owner Marcello Galli Dunn (1842–1912), in order to try to reduce the price.31 Even more significant in this context is another quotation from Fry’s correspondence of 31 March 1909 – the only letter to mention Marshall – again addressed to Burroughs: I send with this the photo of the Pietro or Ambrogio Lorenzetti of which I told you. It is, you see, a most beautiful and noble thing in spite of its condition. I told you, I do not think £ 800 excessive for it but as a matter of fact the Classical department ought to contribute towards it, as Marshall thinks the only way in which the Museum can repay many valuable services rendered by Dr Helbig is by buying this picture at a good price. If you think well of the chances for this we might go together and examine it in Rome, when you are over.32 The German archaeologist Wolfgang Helbig (1839–1915) lived in Rome and belonged to the same network of scholars and dealers as Marshall;33 it is not hard to believe that he was an extremely useful contact for the Metropolitan agent. Notably, from Marshall’s quoted opinion, we also gain a glimpse of one possible way the agent could compensate those who helped him to secure important archaeological finds for the museum. According to Marshall’s photographic archive, Helbig had offered very few objects from his personal collection, only six, four of which were non-antique. Among these were Pietro Lorenzetti’s Madonna and Child (689),34 therefore the painting advocated by Fry, and another two presumed Sienese Trecento panel paintings: a Madonna and Child (687)35 and a Gothic pinnacle with the Virgin of the Annunciation (688; Plates LX a–LXI).36 The three panels were published in 1908 by the art collector and connoisseur Guido Cagnola (1861–1954), who had been shown them by Helbig’s wife Nadine (1847–1922) at Villa Lante, the couple’s residence; notably, Cagnola says that Mrs Helbig herself had bought the paintings in Siena.37 Nadine Helbig, née princess Šachovskaja, was a talented pianist known in Roman society for her sophisticated hospitality, and the annotations in French on the back of two of Marshall’s photographs, which assign the paintings to Simone Martini and Duccio, respectively, are probably in her hand. Marshall may have had a limited personal interest in the trade in paintings, as a remark he made about the magnificent collection of Grigorij Sergeevic Stroganoff  (1829–1910) may imply: writing to Edward Robinson in 1911, shortly after the Russian count’s death in Rome the previous year, he stated: ‘Stroganoff 31 JMA, Oxford, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1910.02.22: ‘I have written to Mr. Galli Dunn, who has retired from business and lives now in a villa at Poggibonsi. I expect to hear that the picture is already sold but I shall try to trace it.’ JMA, Oxford, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1910.02.26: ‘Reporting Galli Dunn’s answer about the Taddeo Gaddi. I should write declining and hope he will reduce the price.’ A collector and antique dealer from Piedmont (Carrù, Mondovì), Galli Dunn had settled in Tuscany, where he restored in Gothic revival style the Castello di Badia at Poggibonsi, near Siena, which housed the collection (see Maccanti 1912). 32 Fry’s letter is published in Suddon 1972: I, 318–19, letter 263 (quoted passage from p. 318). 33 See here, Chapter 2 (Moltesen). See also Cobianchi 2020: 172–73. 34 On the painting, now at Brera, Milan, see the entry by Marina Sirtori in Della Valle et al. 1992: 51–53. 35 A handwritten annotation in French on the back of the photograph reads: ‘Madonna avec l’Enfant Jèsus d’aprè Liptat Simone Martine. Hauteur 1 m. 10 cm; Largeur 47 cent.’ 36 A handwritten annotation in French on the back of the photograph reads: ‘Madonna of the Annunciation. Le Baron R. G. de Liptat croyait qu’elle appartenait a l’ancona de la Cathédrale de Sienna de Duccio. Je l’avais achetée avant la recostruction presente de la Ancona. Hauteur (a) 35 cm; Largeur (b) 27 cm.’ 37 Guido Cagnola, who bought the Lorenzetti Madonna in 1930, described with deep feeling his visit to Villa Lante: ‘I would like them [the readers] to experience the enjoyment I felt when, one day being at that enchanting Villa Lante on the Janiculum Hill, where the gaze can scans the entirety of Rome and sweeps to the distant hills of Latium. The courteous lady who lives there, Mme Helbig, known as much for her noble soul of artist, as well as for her enlightened philanthropy, knowing my interest in Sienese Art, showed me the panels she had bought in Siena a few decades earlier, when the major artists were, if not ignored, neglected’ (Cagnola 1908; trans. G. Petruccioli). For the Helbigs at Villa Lante, in particular on Nadine and her role in Roman cultural life, see Örmä 2005.

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coll. Pictures in hand of Muñoz. Countess Scherbatoff expected Feb. or March. Proposing they give me carte blanche for the vases and that they employ Herbert Horne for the pictures etc.’ (689).38 Yet Marshall was intimately familiar with the circles of art historians operating on the international art market, and refers here to the connoisseurship possessed by Herbert Horne (1864–1916), the British art collector and scholar of Italian Renaissance art who had settled in Florence. Horne, whose association with Fry was mentioned above in the context of the possible purchase of the Taddeo Gaddi altarpiece, also advised collectors of the stature of John Graver Johnson (1841–1917), a prominent lawyer from Philadelphia.39 Nonetheless, Marshall himself had a certain degree of experience of dealing in paintings. Earlier, envisaging a possible sale to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts likely to be orchestrated in partnership with Warren, in 1900 Marshall had acquired the Lamentation over the Dead Christ by Carlo Crivelli (1435– 1495), which had once belonged to the extraordinary Florentine collection of Ferdinando Panciatichi Ximenes d’Aragona (1813–1897).40 Receiving news from Marshall about the painting, Warren declared: ‘The Crivelli is a satisfaction. It is not for the M.F.A. yet’;41 in 1902, the painting was sold to the Boston museum, which bought it with the financial help of an anonymous donor, likely Warren himself.42 The Panciatichi Ximenes collection was dispersed in March 1902 by the auction house Galardelli and Mazzoni on behalf of Marianna Panciatichi Paulucci (1835–1919), Marquis Ferdinando’s daughter, but Marshall had bought the Crivelli well before the auction took place, evidently through a confidential negotiation.43 Not coincidentally, the same year that Marshall acquired the Crivelli, Bernard Berenson secured for himself four paintings from the same collection, including Domenico Veneziano’s Madonna and Child now at Villa I Tatti, sold for 10,000 lire as a work by Piero della Francesca, but believed by Berenson to be by Alesso Baldovinetti.44 By 1900 Berenson had had a long-standing connection with Warren, who in 1884 had helped him to be admitted to Harvard University; later, in 1887, he and Isabella Stewart Gardner (1840–1924) were among a group of affluent Bostonians who financially supported his visit/graduation trip to Europe. Warren must have fostered Marshall’s social and commercial contacts with Berenson, as Marshall’s name is often mentioned in Warren’s correspondence with Berenson for the years 1894–1917, now held at I Tatti. Over the years, the personal relationship between Berenson, Warren and Marshall became tangled up with the art business and the hunt for masterpieces. In a letter of 1902, for instance, Warren stated: The general situation is this. Boston does not provide enough money & I shall try other places. Johnny may come with me. It would be, I fancy easy to combine Renaissance things, with antiques by adding your name to mine.45

38

See also appended text. See Strehlke 1989–1990: 427–38. 40 On the painting see Kanter 1994: 230–32, cat. No. 73. 41 Whitehill 1970: I, 190. 42 See Ilchman 2015: 55. 43 Panciatichi Ximenes 1902. 44 On Domenico Veneziano’s painting, see the entry by Caroline Elam with Carl Brandon Strehlke in Strehlke & Brüggen Israëls 2015: 236–43. Berenson’s receipt for the purchase of the four paintings, dated 16 April 1900 and addressed to Marianna Panciatichi Paulucci, has recently been published twice, first in Santacroce 2014: 51, fig. 11, and secondly, with a discussion of the paintings, by Strehlke 2015: 25, fig I.10. 45 Villa I Tatti, Archive, Cartellina 109-2 2/5 Warren, Edward P. to Berenson, 12 letters 1902–1903, 14 folios; from a letter of 19 September 1902. I am grateful to Michael Gorman for his help in deciphering some of the words in Warren’s letters at I Tatti that were illegible to me. 39

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Warren’s dealings in non-antique art may therefore have had repercussions for Marshall’s professional career as well. Shortly after Marshall was appointed by The Metropolitan in 1906, Warren wrote to Berenson: J. M[arshall] agency for New York does not alter his life with me but it frees me from responsibility. He will make the best of the arrangement (at present a one-horse affair) which the men of business think business-like, though it isn’t. I imagine that he will gain such confidence that it will be altered. To me it is a joy to be able to appreciate his character the more, but very likely was not as well informed as I.46 Again, in February 1907, Warren discussed possible purchases with Berenson, in which Marshall was also involved: My dear Berenson, Johnny tells me that you have some pictures and so forth. I am glad that you mention it, and should like to see the photos. You should understand my position. I prefer the monastic life, Plato & the saints, and curse all things; Johnny vice versa. Now if he buys this & that from me for New York, I am willing, so far as my finances permit, that he should put the proceeds into other things. He bowls me over, however, with new plans every day. Or rather he doesn’t bowl me over; because I leave the question to him, interfering only when I cannot overcome a natural dislike to what is truly artistic….47 Photographs, either sent to or intended to be sent to Berenson, are mentioned recurrently in Warren’s letters, and still kept together with part of the correspondence are four images of a Baroque carved ceiling originally in a church in Tolentino.48 Some of these photographs can also be found in Marshall’s archive at the British School in Rome (758),49 but it is impossible to establish whether Marshall, Warren and Berenson were involved in the sale of the ceiling, which was purchased in Rome in 1924 by the American magnate and collector William Randolph Hearst (1863–1951), through the sculptor Luigi Gallandt, Hirst’s Italian agent on commission; it now overhangs the Refectory of Casa Grande at Hearst Castle in California (Figures 8.7–8.8).50 From the Roman antiquari In Augusto Jandolo’s portrait quoted above, Marshall is said to have bought only from dealers he trusted and, not surprisingly, the most prominent Roman antiquari are also among the suppliers of some nonantique art. A member of the Jandolo family, Ettore (†1924), offered two pieces, a Byzantine sarcophagus (717)51 and a heraldic shield by the della Robbia workshop (737), plausibly depicting the rampant lion 46

Villa I Tatti, Archive, Cartellina 109-3 3/5 Warren, Edward P. to Berenson, 13 letters 1906–1917, n.d., 15 folios; from a letter of 6 April 1906. On the working and living relationship that bound Marshall and Warren see here, Chapter 1 (Dyson). 47 Villa I Tatti, Archive, Cartellina 109-3 3/5 Warren, Edward P. to Berenson, 13 letters 1906–1917, n.d., 15 folios; from a letter of 28 February 1907. Marshall and Berenson’s acquaintance is also documented by Berenson’s little diary, in which the art historian listed his daily appointments. Visiting Rome in June 1915, for instance, he had tea with Marshall on the 8th and lunch on the 10th. Similar engagements are listed during a subsequent visit in February 1916: on the 14th, on the 17th and on the 27th. I am grateful to Sanne Wellen for providing me with this information. 48 Villa I Tatti, Archive, Cartellina 5/5 Warren, Edward P. to Berenson, various notes and clipping + 4 phs. The folder also contains an 1885 booklet on the ceiling: Servanzi Collio 1885. 49 From ‘Marcucci, Tolentino’; year of consignment unknown. 50 See Kastner 2000. 51 Year of consignment 1911–1912. On Ettore Jandolo, see Batini 1961: 139. The sarcophagus appeared at a New York auction at the Anderson Gallery, 26–29 January 1921 (Anderson Galleries 1921: 142, cat. 796, with illustration). I am grateful to Alessandro Taddei for bringing to my notice that the sarcophagus passed through the New York auction. These days a Byzantine sarcophagus would be regarded as an antiquity, but not in Marshall’s opinion.

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Figure 8.7. Baroque carved ceiling (758) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1398).

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Figure 8.8. St George from a Baroque carved ceiling (758) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1399)

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with a branch of quince of the Attendolo Sforza family from Cotignola52 (Plate LXIIa and Figure 8.9). Similarly, Attilio Simonetti, for instance, offered several objects including the Annunciation to Zacharias (681) by the Sienese painter Giovanni di Paolo, now in The Metropolitan.53 Alfredo Barsanti (1877–1946), a Roman antiquario and a highly distinguished collector of Renaissance bronzes, presented twelve non-antique objects to Marshall, together with a substantial amount of antique material, all extremely fine Medieval and Renaissance pieces of sculpture, including Donatello’s Madonna and Child discussed above, offered in 1914/15 for the price of 120,000 lire.54 Remarkable are the St Catherine of Alexandria (722) (Plate LXII b) attributed to Andrea Ferrucci (1465– 1532), now in The Walters Art Museum in Baltimore, and a group of three angels (723) (Plate LXII c) ascribed to Giovanni Antonio Amadeo (1447–1522), the whereabouts of which is still unknown, 52

Figure 8.9. Della Robbia workshop, heraldic shield, plausibly of the Attendolo Sforza family from Cotignola (737) (ph. JM [PHP]20-1369).

Year of consignment unknown. On the back of one of the two pictures: ‘Altezza 95 cm/Larghezza 61 cm/ Fondo bleu/ Fondo dello scudo giallo/ Leone bianco/ Fiore Manganese/ Foglie Verdi/ Jandolo (Ettore)’. Since 1464 the Attendolo Sforza, lords of Santa Fiora, had been patrons of Andrea della Robbia’s workshop, commissioning extensively for the decoration of the church of Sts. Fiora e Lucilla at Santa Fiora (Grosseto).

53 Year of consignment unknown. Marshall’s photograph, showing the panel before it was trimmed along the pointed arch top, is identical to that published in 1914 by Frederick Mason Perkins, who claims to have seen the painting in Rome for the first time in 1911 (Perkins 1914: 164). We can speculate that Marshall was given the photograph in around 1911, before the panel was acquired by Robert Lehman (1891–1969) in 1914. On the painting see Pope-Hennessy & Kanter 1987: 121–24, cat. 50. Simonetti presented some other non-antique items, including a few other paintings, but none of the same artistic importance: Portrait of a Little Girl with a Dog (670), year of consignment unknown; two Views of Venice attributed to Canaletto (see above, n. 9); Small Fountain (716), year of consignment unknown; bronze bas-relief of the Virgin and Child with St John the Baptist, St Elizabeth and a Patron after a marble by Pierino da Vinci (726), year of consignment unknown; two bronze versions of this relief are known from photographs in the Bodemuseum (mentioned in Kusch-Arnhold 2008: 155, cat 8.4 and 8.5). Four cannon barrels (see above footnote 21); Gothic window (1157), year of consignment 1926; on the back of the photograph: ‘Two four-light windows carved on both sides / column-base and capital in Greek farciato marble / the arch in Istrian stone / Northern Italy 14th century. Total height 4.03 m; width 2.39 m / Simonetti 1926/ 250,000 for both’ (trans. G. Petruccioli). The tracery of the window is almost identical to that of those on the façade of I Frari in Venice.

54 For 744 the specified year of consignment is 1914, for 743 it is 1915; but these are two views of the same object. On Barsanti see here, Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). In 1914, together with Donatello’s Madonna and Child, two other Florentine terracotta works were presented: relief of a Madonna and Child (745) and Bust of Christ (758). The bust appeared in 2005 at an auction in Venice (Finarte, Venice, 27 February 2005, lot 152).

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both offered in 1914.55 On the back of the photograph depicting St Catherine of Alexandria a handwritten annotation in Italian, very likely by Barsanti, states ‘Prof. W. Bode, in a letter, attributes this work to Giovanni da Nola, adding that it is a masterpiece of his.’56 Thus Marshall had been made aware of the attribution suggested by Wilhelm von Bode (1845–1929), a piece of information not to be overlooked in tracing Marshall’s network, as Bode was one of the greatest connoisseurs of his time, the curator of the Kaiser Friedrich Museum in Berlin as well as the adviser to important European collectors such as Prince Johann II of Liechtenstein (1840–1928). Undoubtedly, the great connoisseur had made an attribution of absolute sensitivity and intelligence, which could hardly have been questioned at a time when the activity of Tuscan sculptors working in Naples at the beginning of the sixteenth century was still relatively mysterious. By contrast, the attribution to Amadeo da Pavia of the three angels, also recorded on the file card and on the back of the picture, is not credited to a specific scholar, and may have been suggested by Barsanti himself, who was an accomplished connoisseur. Had this attribution also been by Bode, it would probably not have been neglected. Barsanti also offered the exquisite Saint Andrew (713) standing in a classicising Renaissance niche by Andrea Bregno (1418–1503), which was originally part of an altar in the Old Basilica of St Peter in Rome.57 The photograph in the Marshall archive shows a pastiche of three photos together: the Saint Andrew, a detail of the shell-topped niche and four heads of angels (Figure 8.10).58 Eventually Barsanti sold the Saint Andrew in 1909 to John Pierpont Morgan (1837–1913) who later, in 1917, donated it to The Metropolitan. A group of three Renaissance marble bases (714), one of which presents a Medici coat of arms, were also submitted by Barsanti.59 These pieces can be identified among the art works formerly owned by the antiquario Gioacchino Ferroni († 1909) and auctioned after his death, in a joint enterprise by Jandolo & Tavazzi and the Galleria Sangiorgi. The photograph Marshall possessed was that used to illustrate the items in the auction catalogue (Plate LXIII a–b ).60 After five years of hard work, in 1922 Ludwig Pollak (1868–1943), a Czech scholar resident in Rome, completed the catalogue of the Italian bronzes belonging to Alfredo Barsanti, lavishly published with a foreword by Bode.61 Famous for being an extremely accomplished archaeologist, as well as the adviser to some of the most renowned collectors in Rome such as Count Stroganoff  and Baron Giovanni Barracco (1829–1914), Pollak seems to have engaged in an intense trade in archaeological finds with Marshall and Edward Perry Warren.62 Yet in March 1923, at a fairly late date in his activity as a dealer, he also presented to Marshall two paintings, a Saint John of Avila (706) by Pierre Subleyras, now in the Louvre, and a Crucifix (707) of the late fifteenth century, ascribed hypothetically to Andrea del Castagno, but 55

On the St Catherine of Alexandria, see Naldi 2002: 213–15. Riccardo Naldi quoted part of a letter from Bode to Barsanti, dated 10 October 1913, concerning the attribution of the statue: ‘Dear Signor Barsanti, his marble statue, representing “Santa Caterina”, seems to me a very beautiful work of the Neapolitan school of the first half of the 16th century. I believe it is the work of the main teacher of this school, Giovanni da Nola, who left many monuments in Naples. But few figures in his monuments are so graceful and so well worked as his St. Catherine. Giovanni da Nola was influenced by A. Sansovino’ (Naldi 2002: 213; trans. G. Petruccioli). 57 Year of consignment unknown. For the Saint Andrew, see Wardropper 2011: 40–41. 58 See also additional image: enlargement of the four angels’ heads. 59 Year of consignment unknown. 60 Marshall also had an albumen photographic print of another painting from the Ferroni collection, The Lamentation of Christ by Jan Provost (677). In 1933 the painting entered the Clark Art Institute at Williamstown; for its pre-1933 provenance see Clark 1957: cat 405. 61 Pollak 1922. In 1928 the catalogue was followed by a sort of appendix in which letters of compliment from both individuals and institutions were published in facsimile, including a letter in Italian by Warren of 8 June 1923, in which Marshall is mentioned: ‘Dear Mr. Barsanti, passing through Lewes I saw your splendid gift of which I had already heard from Mr. Marshall in Greece’ (Barsanti 1928: 217–18; trans. G. Petruccioli). 62 See Merkel Guldan 1988 and Pollak 1994. See also Cagiano de Azevedo 2010. 56

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more likely by an unknown Florentine artist of the circle of Cosimo Rosselli (Figure 8.11).

Figure 8.10. Andrea Bregno, Saint Andrew (713) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1330).

Among Marshall’s suppliers we also find the antique dealer Mariano Rocchi (1855– 1943),63 who presented four non-antique pieces including, for the asking price of 50,000 lire, a work allegedly signed by Michelangelo da Caravaggio, a seventeenthcentury painting depicting a ‘Master of Music and two pupils’ (673) later identified as the Portrait of the Lute Player Girolamo Valeriani by Ludovico Lana (1597–1646).64 The picture enjoyed considerable repute, to the extent that it was chosen to exemplify Caravaggio’s portraiture style at the 1911 Florentine exhibition dedicated to Italian portraits,65 and we could envisage a crafty marketing strategy orchestrated by a highly enterprising antiquario, at a time when the reappraisal of Caravaggio’s art was just beginning. Rocchi also presented a metal bottom of a fireplace with the Chigi coat of arms that, according to the annotation on the reverse, was designed by Bernini and came from one of the papal palaces in Rome (753).66

Mariano Rocchi was from Perugia and though his shop was in Rome, part of his supply came from Umbria. For 1000 lire he presented a small bronze plaque with the Entombment of Christ (728), considered to be by the Renaissance sculptor Vincenzo Danti (1530–1576) (Figures 8.12–8.13).67 Marshall’s handwritten note on the reverse is worth noting: ‘Bought by Mr. Rocchi from Contessa Amelia della Zenga (Assisi) March 1898. In the receipt she writes: «Detta plachetta appartiene ai miei antenati Alessandro (Ghigi) e fu sempre nel mio palazzo. Vincenzo Danti fu l’orafo che lo modellò» Price given in receipt 75,000 Frs. Mr. M.’s silver is signed C. D. (or C. O.) in SW corner. Thought by Dr. Bode to be Flemish.’ Together with the important piece of information about the provenance, we find another recorded opinion by Bode that Marshall must have considered attentively, 63

Silvestrini 2008; Cobianchi 2020: 166–68. See also here, Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). Year of consignment unknown. On the reverse of the photograph, presumably handwritten by Rocchi: ‘50,000 lire signed by Michelangelo da Caravaggio (M. Rocchi)’ (trans. G. Petruccioli). On the painting, see the entry by Lucia Peruzzi in Benati & Peruzzi 2003: 64, no. 2. 65 Palazzo Vecchio 1911. In the same year Hermann Voss correctly attributed the painting to Lana (Voss 1911: 736–38, with ph.). Of the several early twentieth-century photographs of this painting, Marshall had the same one used by Mariano Rocchi himself in about 1911–1912 on the front cover of a booklet publicising his collection and business. Different photos were used in 1911 to illustrate the painting in the exhibition catalogue and Voss’s article. At about the same time two professional photographs were also taken by Alinari and Brogi. 66 Year of consignment unknown. On the back of the photograph: ‘Large iron fireplace backdrop modelled by Bernini with the date 1656 bears the papal coat of arms and was in one of the Papal palaces in Rome costing five thousand Italian Lire’ (trans. G. Petruccioli). 67 Year of consignment unknown. 64

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Figure 8.11. Circle of Cosimo Rosselli, Crucifix (707) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1322).

Figure 8.12. Monogrammist CB, Entombment of Christ (728) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1351).

Figure 8.13. Back of photograph in Figure 8.12 (728) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1351).

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since it was expressed by one of the most authoritative art historians and connoisseurs of the time. In fact the relief, which entered The Metropolitan in 1938, is now ascribed to Monogrammist CB, presumably a Dutch sculptor of the seventeenth century.68 Furthermore, the reference to the second silver piece belonging to ‘Mr. M.’s’, to be identified with that owned by John Pierpont Morgan and donated in 1917 to The Metropolitan,69 shows that Marshall could draw from and use a wealth of accurate information in his research even outside the field of ancient art. Considering Marshall’s position within the international art market, he was probably acquainted with Bode, who visited Italy regularly to buy for the collections of the Kaiser Friedrich Museum. Bode’s name is referenced on one further occasion in the section of the photographic archive under investigation here, concerning a fifteenth-century triptych now attributed to the so-called Master of Pratovecchio (682), but at the time considered to be by Alesso Baldovinetti, and judged by the German art historian, according to an annotation on the back of the photograph, to be one of the painter’s best works: ‘Alexis Baldovinetti/ Florentin (éléve de Paolo-Ucc/ 1427-1499/ m. 2.16 haut/ m. 2.10 larg./ 10000/ dernièrèment jugè pour Mr/ le Dr. Bode comme un des/ plus beau’ (Plate LXIV ).70 A fascinating and elusive figure connected to the antique market in Rome is Beatrice (Bice) Castellani (ca. 1849–1917), the daughter of Alessandro Castellani (1823–1883), a member of the renowned family of goldsmiths and antiquity dealers.71 Bice was a strong supporter of Wolfgang Helbig on the occasion of the Villa Giulia scandal.72 Fragmentary evidence that Bice herself traded in antiquities has been identified; in 1889, for instance, she sold to the Archaeological Museum in Florence the Etruscan ivory pyxis from the Pania cemetery near Chiusi.73 To find Bice Castellani as the only member of her family among Marshall’s suppliers is perhaps surprising, the more so because she presented only two fifteenthcentury paintings – neither of which can be traced – a Madonna and Child (690) and a Profile Portrait of Young Lady (691) (Plates LXV a–b).74 Though given its poor state of conservation we can say little about the stylistic quality of the first panel, the Profile Portrait of Young Lady is very likely to be a forgery; one of the few to be found among the non-antique works of art presented to Marshall, together with the two alleged Sienese paintings mentioned above that belonged to the Helbigs. Also apparently a forgery is the Portrait of a Young Man in Armour (672), shown half-length behind a windowsill-like frame (Plate LXVI).75 Either a pseudo-Sienese thirteenth-century panel painting, or a heavily repainted one, is a Madonna and Child (704) (Plate LXVII) offered, with an attribution to Guido da Siena, as part of a lot of three panel paintings, by a supplier from Tivoli recalled as ‘cav. Silla Rosa’;76

68

MMA 38.152.3. MMA 17.190.327. 70 Supplier and year of consignment unknown. However, by 1910 the painting was in Rome, at the Galleria Sangiorgi, attributed to Alessio Baldovinetti (Galerie Sangiorgi 1910), and before 1914 it was already in Paris, at Arthur Sambon. Formerly in the Getty Museum, the painting was sold in 2011 and is now in Newark, Alana Collection. 71 On the Castellani, see Moretti Sgubini 2005. 72 On Beatrice Castellani, see Barnabei & Delpino 1991: 302, n. 97. On the ‘Villa Giulia scandal’, see here, Chapter 1 (Dyson). 73 Minetti 1998: 33. 74 The year of consignment is unknown for both paintings, but it must predate Bice’s death in 1917. 75 Supplier and year of consignment unknown. 76 Madonna and Child (704), on the back: ‘Guido da Siena’. Madonna and Child (704) on the back: ‘Madonna and Child/ panel painting, landscape background/ by famous painter S. Severino’ (trans. G. Petruccioli); in 1948, following Roberto Longhi’s attribution to Ludovico Urbani, Federico Zeri published the painting, which at the time was in a private collection in Rome (Zeri 1948: 167–70, fig. 196). Madonna and Child and St John the Baptist (704) on the back: ‘Innocenzo da Imola Certified/ panel painting’ (trans. G. Petruccioli). 69

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not a professional antique dealer, but, perhaps more interestingly, identifiable as the local scholar and honorary inspector of monuments in Tivoli, Silla Rosa De Angelis (1876–1951).77 A capital in a domestic interior I wish to conclude by discussing one photograph showing a capital in a domestic interior (1156), already presented in this volume (see Figure 3.5).78 This photograph, which was not given a catalogue code and for which there is no file card, shows the carved piece standing on top of a slender side table. The room is almost completely concealed by a damask curtain with a fringe (more likely a table or bed cover), clearly intended to create a temporary setting for the object. The piece can be identified as the capital with four carved heads now in The Metropolitan, in The Cloisters, the outstanding work of a sculptor active in Apulia, in southern Italy, in the 1230s.79 Given to the museum in 1955 by James Hazen Hyde (1876–1959), the Metropolitan capital made its first appearance in Paris in 1928, at an exhibition of ancient, Medieval and Renaissance sculpture organised by the renowned numismatist and art dealer Arthur Sambon (1866–1947).80 It is impossible to establish when the picture of the capital with four carved heads came into Marshall’s hands, but it was taken when the piece was still in Italy and before Marshall died in Rome on 15 February 1928, as proven by the fact that the back of the photograph is stamped ‘cartolina postale Italiana’. A handwritten pencil note by Marshall, also on the reverse, states: ‘At Canessa’s / belongs to Palumbo’. The Canessas were mostly renowned for dealing in classical antiquities and it is not surprising that, apart from the Metropolitan capital, all the other photographs show ancient objects, in keeping with Marshall’s main concerns and activities as a dealer.81 Solid and intricate bonds link Canessa’s to Arthur Sambon, and it was presumably via Canessa’s that he was made aware of the capital with four carved heads and had the opportunity to present it at the Paris exhibition. In Marshall’s photographic archive the name Palumbo, that of a supplier from Naples, is associated with six antique objects all presented in 1923.82 In 1913 a certain G. Palumbo offered to the Metropolitan agent, on behalf of a ‘Signora Chissa’, a statuette of a Venus Anadyomene (294).83 Still attached to one of several photographs of the aforementioned Venus is Palumbo’s carte de visite: ‘Prof. Gerolamo Palumbo/ 181, Viale della Regina, Roma’, on which Marshall wrote the date and the object’s asking price: ‘10.3.13 told me net price was 180.000’. Gerolamo Palumbo’s position on the Roman art market has just started

77

On Silla Rosa, see Hermanin 1952. See also Cobianchi 2020: 173–74. See here, Chapter 3 (Nørskov). 79 On the capital, see the catalogue entry by Lisbeth Castelnuovo-Tedesco and Jack Soultanian (Material and Conservation) in Castelnuovo-Tedesco & Soultanian 2010: 136–38, 138–41. 80 Sambon 1928: 30, no 174. Arthur Sambon was the second son of Jules (1836–1921) and a member of a dynasty of numismatists. On Julius and Arthur Sambon, see Grierson & Travaini 1998: 495–99. 81 On the Canessa brothers, see here, Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). 82 218; 220; 585; 586; 587; 589. Of the objects that Palumbo presented to Marshall, two Greek Attic vases were eventually acquired by The Metropolitan in 1923: a terracotta oinochoe attributed to the Pan Painter (MMA 23.160.55) and a terracotta bell krater attributed to the Danaë Painter (MMA 23.160.80). 83 JMA, Sackler, Note, 1913.03.18: ‘Marble statuette of Venus Anadyomene offered to me by Prof. Palumbo on behalf of Signora Chissa for 180000 net: also by Signora Chissa for same price. Was offered to Mr. Morgan 2 years since for Attic vases were Sangiorgi, Sen. Roux (proprietor of the Tribuna) and Lubat being in the business. March 18. 1913 Sangiorgi told me that the owner wished him to take the thing in deposito, he to advance a big sum (?60000). He said too that the owner Dr Perrot (of Milan or Turin) was angry now with the Signora Chissa for having spoilt the sale of the piece.’ I am grateful to Guido Petruccioli for providing me with the transcription of this document. 78

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to be determined,84 though it seems unlikely that he was the same Palumbo from Naples who owned the capital with four carved heads. Only further discoveries may also provide more information about the circumstances in which the capital was found and on its previous collecting history. Conclusion There seems to be no rationale behind the accumulation of the images of ‘non-antique’ objects, and we could suggest that most of these photographs, obtained from individual owners and dealers, were assembled accidentally over the years. Yet random as the collection might be, it documents the variety of non-antique art available on the art market of the time, especially in Rome, to some extent reflecting the aspirations of contemporary collectors to possess old masters and Renaissance and Baroque objets d’art, and their sophisticated taste for assembling and mixing works of different periods. The study of the photographs of ‘non-antique’ objects in the JMA, together with that of the card file, contributes significantly to a better knowledge of Marshall’s entrepreneurial network outside the more specific field of the classical art market, and forms a complement to any information that may become available in the future. At a time when forgeries of all sorts were flooding the art market, Marshall was offered only a few non-antique objects of dubious authenticity, and this must be credited to his good reputation, as well as to his abilities and experienced eye. Albeit sparsely, Marshall’s way of thinking and working methods have emerged from an unexplored aspect of his expertise and enterprise. Paintings and sculpture are almost equally documented in the archive, and although some items remain to be located or attributed, a substantial number have entered public collections. However, none was acquired by The Metropolitan through John Marshall’s mediation.

84

See Cobianchi 2020: 168–70. Gerolamo Palumbo is the professor, painter and antique dealer otherwise known as Girolamo (the uncertainty in the spelling between Gerolamo and Girolamo is not uncommon in Italian), active in Rome in the early decades of the twentieth century. In 1916, for instance, he sold two oil sketches by the seventeenth-century painter Gian Battista Gaulli to the National Gallery of Palazzo Corsini, Rome (Mochi Onori & Vodret 2008: 209). Palumbo also possessed a third oil sketch by Gaulli, the Glorification of Saint Ignatius of Loyola (Perotti 1916: 223). In 1917 Palumbo sold to the same National Gallery of Palazzo Corsini a picture by the Genovese painter Giovanni Andrea de Ferrari (1598–1669) (Mochi Onori & Vodret 2008: 172).

Chapter 9

John Marshall’s Trading Network (Plates LXVIII–LXXVII) Guido Petruccioli The second and third decades of the twentieth century, coinciding approximately with the years in which John Marshall was acquiring antiquities for The Metropolitan Museum of Art, represent a moment of change in the history of the art trade. Throughout the second half of the previous century, a favourable historical, economic and social climate made Italy, and Rome in particular, one of the most vibrant centres for the trade in classical antiquities. However, by the beginning of the new century supply was dwindling at its source. The unearthing of conspicuous portions of Rome’s archaeological layers in preparation for the large-scale building projects for the newly established capital of Italy in the 1870s and 1880s was at an end, or was shortly to be so. Also, if the largest collections of ancient art belonging to Italian aristocratic families had not been acquired by the government, they had already been sold. At the same time, demand for European art objects of all periods was at its highest, now that wealthy foreign collectors and museums were aggressively combing the market for new acquisitions. In response, the Italian government issued more restrictive laws, if not to prevent at least to curb the legal exportation of Italy’s artistic and archaeological heritage. On top of that, the plague of forgeries – an inevitable side effect of the imbalance between supply and demand – was polluting the market. Dwindling supply, increasing demand and more efficient governmental regulations made the Italian antiquities market a rather chaotic place. Marshall’s documents offer a comprehensive cross-section of the people involved in the business at the time. Chart 9.1 describes the state of the international antiquities market and the extent to which it was affected by the individual activity of those people who offered or sold objects to Marshall. The distribution of the data is consistent with a complex trading environment, characterised by a large number of players – 156 to be exact – of which none ever had a position of absolute superiority over the others. The very few largest sellers are well known; many others though remain otherwise unknown and might have been nothing more than a chance acquaintance to Marshall himself. Among the latter there are probably many artisans and low-wage workmen, such as porters, peddlers and street sweepers, who sold antiquities – sometimes of surprising value – in spite of their absolute ignorance on the subject.1 The geography of Marshall’s network in Italy How would Marshall have gone about finding antiquities in 1906, when he first moved to Rome and started foraging for art objects to send to New York? Presumably, he was somewhat familiar with the art market in Rome from the earlier days when he had toured Italy with E. P. Warren.2 Who were his contacts and where were they located? In Italy, the trading of antiquities took place almost exclusively in 1

Tolosani 1911. Burdett & Goddard 1941: 151–73. See also here, Chapter 1 (Dyson). Among the documents in Warren’s archive (formerly in Lewes House, now in the Ashmolean Museum) there is an address book filled with names and addresses of contacts and dealers, mostly located in southern Italy.

2

Ancient Art and its Commerce in Early Twentieth-Century Europe (Archaeopress 2022): 162–188

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Chart 9.1 The number and distribution of items offered to John Marshall between 1906 and 1928, ordered by seller.

three cities – Naples, Florence and, above all, Rome – functioning as gathering places for objects coming from the surrounding regions. Apulia, Calabria and Sicily Northern Campania and Apulia had been intensively excavated by small groups of entrepreneurs since the 1850s, and the trade in southern Italian antiquities was still controlled by a few intermediaries.3 Naples functioned as a hub for antiquities discovered not only in the nearby bay area, but also elsewhere in Calabria and Sicily. Several of the professional dealers from the region in Marshall’s network collected primarily coins and occasionally sold small bronzes and south Italian painted vases. The Hertziana Library in Rome holds a copy of the catalogue of gold coins and medals belonging to the Caruso collection, put up for sale in Naples on 26 June 1923. The owner of the catalogue had painstakingly written down the 3

Iasiello 2017: 135–244.

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buyer of each lot and the price paid. Several of the persons listed were contacts of Marshall in south Italy: Chevalier Giovanni Varelli, Chevalier Mario de Ciccio (1843–), his brother Monsignor Giuseppe de Ciccio (1873–1953) and Carlo Knight.4 For a long time, Calabria was not among the locations scouted by antiquities buyers. Because of the inaccessibility of the territories and rampant banditry, the area was visited only by the most adventurous of foreign travellers until the beginning of the twentieth century.5 Excavations and antiquities collecting continued to be the activity of the local gentry until the 1920s, when the government carried out the first archaeological investigations. In the John Marshall Archive (JMA) there are no pieces with a certain Calabrian provenience. Antiquities from Sicily were offered by the de Ciccio brothers. Marshall was in contact with Mario de Ciccio, owner of a gallery in Palermo.6 He was a numismatist and is known to have sold antiquities to the government, including twenty-seven coins from Sicily and Magna Graecia to the Museo Nazionale Romano.7 With his brother, the priest Giuseppe de Ciccio, Mario was accused of receiving looted archaeological material from Sicily for more than thirty years. Giuseppe frequently travelled abroad by train and was said to have smuggled precious coins out of the country inside his cassock. On 20 June 1928 the authorities were tipped off that he was going to deliver some coins to Lucerne in Switzerland.8 Police in Como were alerted, but it was too late and de Ciccio had already crossed the border.9 Campania Three known Neapolitan dealers are mentioned in Marshall’s papers in connection with the acquisition of painted pottery. Giovanni Varelli, who offered to Marshall two painted vases of south Italian origin (187, 560), was among the well-known coin dealers of Naples who founded the Circolo Numismatico Napoletano.10 Gaetano Pepe was the owner of a red-figure bell krater (574) now in New York.11 Judging from the photographs of these objects in Marshall’s possession, the vases came from recent excavations. Of a different origin, perhaps a private collection, seem to be the painted vases of the dealer Filippo Falanga, who owned one of the largest coin shops in Naples.12 The name of the goldsmith Carlo Knight is generally associated with painted vases, which were legally and illegally excavated from the necropolis of Cumae.13 He was also involved in the attempt in 1911 to sell a relief depicting Europa (or Nike) with a bull found in Terra di Lavoro in Caserta province (274).14 At the time, the relief, for which Knight was asking 20,000 lire, was in the possession of Mr Woodyatt in Naples. The auction house Jandolo & Tavazzi sold the piece to Cesare Canessa for 9500 lire, and he eventually sold it to the Museo Nazionale

4 Canessa 1923. The sale catalogue is held at the Bibliotheca Hertziana, Rome. The handwritten notes in pencil must have been made by Filippo Tavazzi, whose last name is written in the cover of the catalogue. 5 Morrone & Papasidero 2012: 491–527. 6 Cagiani 1925: 58. 7 Cesano 1925: 178. 8 Jacob Hirsch (1874–1955) was perhaps in charge of selling the coins at auction in Lucerne, as he did for the collection of Greek coins of Prof. Samuel Pozzi (1846–1918) on 14 March 1921 at the Galeries Fischer. 9 ACS, M.P.I., D.G., AA.BB.AA, Div. II 1925–1928, Posizione 4. Oggetti d’arte, Busta 107, Fasc. 2552. 10 Marshall ID 187, a red-figure lekanis with lid, was purchased (now MMA 17.230.42a–b). 11 MMA 24.97.96. 12 Cagiani 1925: 63. 13 See for example the case of two columnar kraters he was accused of trafficking in 1904: ACS, M.P.I., D.G., AA.BB.AA, III Vers. II Parte, Busta 436, Fasc. 763, S.Fasc. 2. 14 Rome, Museo Nazionale Romano, Terme, inv. no. 124138.

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Romano for only 2500 lire.15 The names of two more Neapolitan dealers – Giuseppe Marulli (590)16 and Pietro Affaitati (228)17 – are reported in the JMA. Their identity and biography are otherwise unknown. In 1923 and 1924, Francesco Ciardiello offered to Marshall three headless statues in white marble, perhaps coming from the Bay of Naples (402, 412, 421, 422). The headless Peplophoros was eventually acquired by the National Archaeological Museum of Naples.18 According to Marshall’s records, two standing statues (412 and 421) had been previously offered to him by a certain Torre, of whom nothing is known. One statue (421; Plate LXVIII), resembling a young hero in Hellenistic Greek sandals and long cloak (Apollo?) was eventually bought by the dealer J. H. Duveen and offered once again to Marshall in 1924.19 The herm of Athena (422) became internationally known when Arthur Sambon published it in the art magazine Musée.20 Natale Miccio of Castellammare di Stabia sold a headless marble statue of the Aspasia-Sosandra type (273) to Marshall, before it was seized by the export office of Naples and bought by the Italian government for 4000 lire.21 Finally, the artist Francesco Jerace (1853?–1937) offered to Marshall a torso of Venus (300; see Plates XX-XXI). Jerace was born in Calabria into an affluent family and at a young age moved to Naples to study art, eventually acquiring fame as a sculptor.22 He became known for the many funerary monuments he sculpted for the Neapolitan and Calabrian aristocracy. He was also commissioned for several public commemorative monuments inspired by classical sculptures. His two best-known pieces, Victa (1894) and Il trionfo di Germanico (1900), imitate ancient fragmentary statues and Roman historical reliefs, respectively. Marshall replied to Jerace’s offer of 20,000 lire with a counter-offer of 15,000 lire on behalf of John Pierpont Morgan (1837–1913), who supposedly was interested in the statue.23 It is unknown whether Jerace obliged. Umbria and Northern Latium Marshall’s list of providers also includes Ariodante (commonly known as Amedeo) Riccardi (1888– 1970) from Orvieto in south-western Umbria. With his brother Riccardo he owned a pottery workshop. Along with their own production, they sold Etruscan antiquities that they gathered from the region. It has emerged from later investigations that throughout the first two decades of the 1900s they also used the facilities at their workshop to produce terracotta forgeries, including the famous three ‘Etruscan Warriors’.24 Perhaps they inherited a penchant for fraudulence from their father, Pio Riccardi, a goldsmith with a shop in Rome, who has been accused by the epigraphist Margherita Guarducci of being the maker of the famous Fibula Prenestina, still believed by some to be a fake.25 According to Marshall’s secretary, Roberto Paribeni (1876–1956), at the time director of the Museo Nazionale Romano and Archaeological 15

Jandolo & Tavazzi 1912: 37 no. 263. See also ACS, M.P.I., D.G., AA.BB.AA, Div. 1 1908–1924 Busta 301 Fasc. 20. Belfast, Ulster Museum, L58.13. 17 MMA 24.97.104. 18 Naples, Museo Archeologico Nazionale, inv. no. 141198. From a modern villa in Casoria (Naples). See Elia 1932: 284–86. 19 The current location of this statue is unknown. It is reasonable to assume that, like the other statues owned by Ciardiello, it also came from the Bay of Naples. For a similar copy of this standing Apollo, see Rome, Villa Albani, inv. No. 145. 20 Sambon 1925. 21 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1912.12.12. See also report in ‘Cronaca delle Belle Arti’, 2.11 in Bollettino d’Arte (1915) 8; Naples, Museo Archeologico Nazionale, inv. No. 137885. See Elia 1932: 286-7. 22 Le Pera 2001: 95–100. 23 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–JER, 1911.03.30. 24 See here, Chapter 1 (Dyson) and Chapter 7 (Nørskov). 25 Guarducci 1980. 16

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Superintendent of Rome and Lazio, knew of Marshall’s dealings with the Riccardis and in 1926 warned him against buying from them. They had long been watched by the government because they were ‘known to know Etruria thoroughly and to have made excavations with and without a permit’.26 Paribeni might have heard rumours about the terracotta warriors, but it is more likely that he knew about other objects that Marshall had more recently bought from Amedeo Riccardi, such as the marble head of a barbarian in 1923 (77), or the many bronze objects and painted Greek vases he bought from Teodoro Riccardi, Amedeo’s cousin, between 1920 and 1923.27 The dealer Fausto Benedetti (1874–1931) acquired antiquities through excavations, which he organised and directed, with his father Annibale, in northern Lazio and Umbria. As licensed excavators, the two of them were involved in the official inquiry of 1899 that followed informal accusations by Wolfgang Helbig of inefficient recording of finds from the Faliscan tomb groups of Narce, near Civita Castellana (ancient Falerii).28 The accusations were directed primarily at the Villa Giulia Museum and its director, Felice Barnabei. Nonetheless, to prove his innocence, Benedetti published a pamphlet in 1901 in which he described in detail the contents of each of the tombs he excavated at Narce, deflecting the blame for the mix-up entirely onto the Villa Giulia Museum, to whom he consigned them.29 By his own admission, he was not an archaeologist and any mistake he might have made in the recording would have been avoided if the functionaries of the Ministry had visited the site more regularly. It is probable that the Villa Giulia ‘scandal’ and the defamatory pamphlet backfired and perhaps even jeopardised Benedetti’s eligibility as a contractor in state excavations. Certainly, he continued excavating for profit on private land, at least until 1907, when Marshall asked him to carry out an excavation to retrieve more fragments of the three Etruscan bronze tripods found at Fonte Ranocchia in San Valentino di Marsciano near Perugia.30 They had been found fortuitously and bought by Ettore Jandolo, who sold them to the collector Gioacchino Ferroni, who finally sold them to the American banker and philanthropist James Loeb (1867–1933) in 1905. Benedetti knew the location of the tomb where the tripods had been found and gave Marshall a small fragment belonging to one of them as proof.31 The terms of agreement for a new excavation at San Valentino were simple: the operation would cost Loeb 3000 lire: 1000 lire for the land owner, 1000–1500 lire as digging expenses and 500–1000 lire as Benedetti’s fee.32 One-third of the findings would go to the land owner. To have a head start on the competition, Benedetti had already signed an agreement that forbade anybody else from excavating the property where the tomb was located. A draft of the letter Marshall wrote to Loeb to report on the possible excavation is the last mention of the matter and it is unknown whether Benedetti ever excavated at San Valentino. Florence Florence was a secondary centre for the trade in antiquities at the time: recently excavated Etruscan and Roman objects usually gravitated to Rome, although some Roman antiquities, which had been brought from Rome to Florence in the fifteenth to seventeenth centuries to decorate the courtyards and staircases of aristocratic palazzi, could be found in the galleries of a few Florentine dealers, such as the statue and architectural fragments (381) at Guido Fallani’s (see Plate XV). 26

From a report by Annie Rivier (Marshall’s secretary), quoted in Bothmer and Noble 1961: 10. MMA 23.160.9. Detailed list: complete red-figure oinochoe (199; MMA 21.88.148), Etruscan bronze mirror (152; MMA 22.139.84), bronze statuette of a lar (153; MMA 22.139.15), black-figure fragment of a vase, with a painted scene of two horses and a young man (200; MMA 20.259), two incised kylikes (212; MMA 23.160.11 and 23.160.16), red-figure kylix (214; MMA 21.88.150), two small painted vases in the shape of a warrior’s head (215; MMA 21.88.170 and 21.88.171). 28 Moltesen 2012: 77–82. 29 Benedetti 1900. 30 See also Pollak 1994: 166. 31 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1907.06.26. 32 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–LOE, 1909.04.16. 27

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The former artist and dealer Stefano Bardini (1836–1922) was known for collecting ancient marble fragments, sculptures, inscriptions and coats of arms from dilapidated Florentine houses, which he held in a restored medieval tower, the Torre al Gallo.33 He was also an avid collector of marble sculptures that he bought in large quantities from dealers and aristocratic families – he was a friend of the Borghese – in Rome.34 In Bardini’s archive can be found photographs of two objects that were acquired by The Metropolitan: the Archaic bronze statuette bought by J. P. Morgan in 1910 (135)35 and the marble figure of Meleager belonging to a Roman sarcophagus (75).36 Gabriele Egidi, also in Florence, offered the marble torso of Pothos (see Figure 4.4).37 The statue was previously owned by a certain Marinucci, perhaps the famous collector Enrico Marinucci of Rome. Luigi Grassi (1858–1937) was a talented restorer of historical paintings and twinned his position of head restorer in the Florentine Galleries with that of art dealer. He had a brother (also in the same business) who lived in Rome and went to London twice a year to buy paintings to re-sell in Italy.38 In 1924 Luigi sold to Marshall – according to Pollak for 105,000 lire – a marble torso of an Eros Sauroctonos (92, see Figure 4.9), believed to have disappeared 150 years before.39 Northern Italy The restorer Publio Podio of Bologna is the only identifiable northern Italian dealer in Marshall’s archive. He specialised in the restoration of paintings, but evidently had an entrepreneurial spirit and must have heard of Marshall and his interest in antiquities, since he presented him with three marble sculptures in 1924 (416, 417 = Plate LXIX, 418). The three pieces, which do not bear signs of recent unearthing, have been photographed in front of a solid black backdrop, probably by a professional. Publio Podio is known to have commissioned the photographic studio Jacquier of Florence to photograph many of the artworks he bought and sold.40 Rome, the heart of the antiquities trade Historically, antiquities had been favoured by Italian and foreign aristocratic collectors. By the last two decades of the nineteenth century, however, the social demographics of collectors had changed and the categories of collectable art expanded to encompass objects previously considered unfashionable. Interest in Greek and Roman art had diminished as the new Italian and foreign bourgeoisie started decorating their houses with Medieval, Renaissance or early modern art objects, paintings, furniture and ornaments.41 As the concept of collectable art evolved, so did the professional figures involved in the trade. From the Renaissance and throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the Italian term antiquario described the learned collectors of Greek and Roman antiquities. In modern times, the term lost its intellectual connotations and by the beginning of the twentieth century was commonly used to describe a merchant of ancient art and all other decorative objects, from jewellery to furniture. 33

Capecchi 1993: viii. Capecchi 1993: 6–9, 15–21. 35 MMA 17.190.2066. See Capecchi 1993: 33, 60, no. 11. 36 MMA 20.187. See Capecchi 1993: 39, 146, no. 106. The photograph in Bardini’s archive depicts the relief embedded in a wall and with sixteenth-century restorations still attached; in the JMA restorations have been removed and the relief is propped against what looks like a wooden partition. 37 See here, Chapter 4 (Petruccioli). 38 Pollak 1994: 137. 39 MMA 24.97.14. Pollak 1994: 160. See also here, Chapter 4 (Petruccioli). 40 Tamassia 1995: 14. 41 Goffi 1969. 34

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In Marshall’s day, no art dealer traded exclusively in objects of a particular period, let alone antiquities, which brought meagre profits in comparison to Medieval and Renaissance paintings. The variety of ancient and non-ancient objects in the JMA shows that even collectors known for their almost exclusive interest in a specific period or typology were often offered pieces of all kinds and dates. In the city of Rome, antiquari shops were clustered in the most touristic areas. Those catering to people in search of affordable souvenirs were conveniently located near major monuments such as the Roman Forum, the Colosseum or St Peter’s. Other shops could be found in close proximity to the fanciest hotel district. There were also several craftsmen and some artists who, though not in the public traders’ registers, are known to have done business with Marshall and other art collectors. Craftsmen, artists and part-time dealers The Scalco brothers worked occasionally as purveyors of antiquities, though officially Eugenio was a wood and ivory sculptor and Giuseppe an engraver. One of their shops was located in the Borgo Nuovo district, in the vicinity of St Peter’s; the other in Lungotevere Tor di Nona, on the left side of the Tiber opposite Castel Sant’Angelo, in an artisans’ neighbourhood. Pollak recalls that the younger of them – no name mentioned – was known for his ability to clean ancient bronze coins.42 He was probably the brother who sold Marshall the bronze statuette of Zeus (139).43 Giovanni Fabiani (1862–1931) was introduced to the trade when working as a restorer in the shop of the very famous Francesco Martinetti.44 He then became a regular source of antiquities for the dealer Ugo Jandolo and by 1922 he was already dealing independently.45 He owned a depot located on the ground floor of Via Claudia 42, a street of antiquari on the Caelian hill, near the Colosseum (Map 2, no. 22). He was known among daily labourers who worked as trench and foundation diggers at building yards all over Rome, and bought from them all sorts of fragments of statues, marbles, ornamental friezes and terracotta lamps that they occasionally found. He then sold these to collectors or museums. To Marshall he sold thirteen marble fragments over the span of four years (1923–1926): pieces of Roman portrait statues in the round (78, 80, 99, 115), architectural elements (108, 109, 117) and decorative reliefs (88, 91, 114, 116), including a fragment of tabula Iliaca for which – Pollak says – Marshall paid 5000 lire.46 Only one of these objects – an unfinished statue of a centaur (410; Figure 9.1) – seems to have been of no interest to Marshall and was thus turned down, although it might have been quite informative for the understanding of ancient sculpture techniques and it would have been a very good demonstrative piece for the ‘Room of Technical Exhibits’ that Richter created shortly after in a small room in the basement of Wing J at The Metropolitan.47 Fabiani also sold and donated to the Vatican Museums more than twenty fragmentary inscriptions, most of them funerary, which he collected from building yards across the city between 1924 and 1929.48 The painter Mariano Rocchi was the owner of an art gallery at Via Nazionale 243, in proximity to the newly built Termini train station, the Opera theatre and the Palazzo delle Esposizioni (Map 1, no. 18). 42

Pollak 1994: 146. MMA 17.230.32. 44 On Francesco Martinetti see here, Chapter 2 (Moltesen). 45 Merkel Guldan 1988: 104; Pollak 1994: 146. 46 MMA 24.97.11. See Pollak 1994: 175. 47 Richter 1930b: 337–44. 48 Di Stefano Manzella 1990: 31–58 nos. 5, 7, 8, 10, 11, 13–17, 21–22, 24, 33; Di Stefano Manzella 1994: 62–74 nos. 6, 15. See also AttiPontAccArch Rendiconti 5–6 (1928) 133 (inscribed basalt statuette), 136 (Christian inscription). 43

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Figure 9.1. Unfinished marble statue of a centaur (410) (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0810).

A promotional pamphlet, with articles in English, French and German, claims that his collection was ‘indeed one of the richest and most valuable in Italy, and has been put together at great expense and with the loving labour of half a life-time’. He was originally from Perugia and moved to Rome in 1905/6.49 ‘Being a native of Umbria,’ the pamphlet continues, ‘Professor Rocchi was still able to ransack every town and village and neglected hamlet of that region in search of art-treasures, and although he had been preceded by others who had carried off artistic booty by the cart-load, he was still able, thanks to his surprising knowledge of the subject, to reap a harvest which many art-collectors the world over may well

49

On Mariano Rocchi and his collection, see Silvestrini 2008.

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envy him.’50 His collection of works of art included pictures, bronzes, marbles, terracottas, pastille groups, drawings, prints, coins, porcelains, stuffs (textiles) and Greek, Etruscan and Roman objects of every kind. Among those who contacted Marshall with the intention of selling antiquities is the Maltese sculptor Antonio Sciortino (1883–1947), known for the monuments he was commissioned for across Russia, Brazil, Malta and Italy. Since 1911 he had been honorary director of the British Academy of Arts in Rome, located at Via Margutta 53B (Map 1, no. 6), where he gave free sculpture lessons to British Commonwealth, as well as Italian, artists.51 He was not known in the business as a dealer, though he organised a meeting between Harold Woodbury Parsons and a clergyman in the Vatican who was said to own an Antonello da Messina he wanted to sell in 1918. Upon inspection, Parsons recognised the painting as the work of Vangelo, a forger well known to both Parsons and Marshall. Parsons’ suspicions were confirmed when, as he was leaving the Vatican, he saw Vangelo coming in.52 It is unclear from Marshall’s account what Sciortino’s role was in the scheme: was he the mastermind, an accomplice or an unwitting mediator? Sciortino also offered a bronze statuette of Young Herakles (501) to Marshall in 1921.53 Marshall refused the offer and Sciortino sold the statuette to the dealer Ugo Jandolo for the staggering price of 250,000 lire, claiming to have bought it in Malta from an Anglo-American gentleman named Mr Clarke.54 In 1936 the British Academy of Arts in Rome was closed down and Sciortino retuned to Malta, where he eventually died. The sculptor Alfredo Restoven worked by commission of the Municipality of Rome as restorer of public monuments, including the monument to Terenzio Mamiani della Rovere in Piazza Sforza Cesarini in 1925 and Bernini’s fountain in the middle of Piazza Navona the following year. He was also entrusted by the archaeologist Lucio Mariani (1865–1924) with the restoration of the ancient statue of an athlete at Villa Borghese.55 Between 1918 and 1920 he sold Marshall five stone fragments (64, 69, 70, 71, 80),56 four of which were photographed individually against the same backdrop, supposedly at the request of Marshall if not by Marshall himself. It is unknown how Restoven acquired any of these fragments, though since the time of Bartolomeo Cavaceppi (eighteenth century) Italian restorers have been dealing in art and offering their expertise to collectors. Pietro Stettiner (1855–1920) will be sadly remembered as the man who sold Marshall the ‘Etruscan warriors’.57 A native Italian of German descent, he was an inspector general of the Postal Services and his job allowed him to travel extensively and buy Roman coins (his passion), ancient sculptures and paintings.58 He also wrote a history of Rome and its monuments, from the seventh century BC to 1871.59 He sold to Marshall a Roman terracotta relief (30)60 and a bronze fulcrum in the form of a faun’s bust (59).61 He also sold to Jacobsen a head of Chrysippos,62 and to the Nelson-Atkins an Antonine marble 50

Rocchi 1911–1912: 35. Munro 1953. 52 JMA, Sackler, Note, 1918.05.21. 53 Kansas City, Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, inv. No. 46-37. See also here, Chapter 6 (Barr-Sharrar). 54 ACS, M.P.I., D.G., AA.BB.AA, Div. I 1908-1924 Busta 1139 (Roma 1920-1924), Fasc. 16. 55 Mariani 1919: 139. 56 Respectively, MMA 18.145.43; Marble torso said to be coming from Tivoli, no inv. No. and sold in 1927 to Brummer Gallery, New York (inv. No. N2396); MMA 19.192.85; MMA 20.191; MMA 23.249. 57 He lived at Via del Boschetto 68, on the Quirinal hill. 58 Pollak 1994: 152 59 Stettiner 1911, translated in English as Stettiner (1912) Rome in her Monuments: Described Historically and Chronologically with 580 Illustrations. Rome, Loescher & Co. 60 MMA 08.258.31. 61 MMA 17.230.25. 62 Copenhagen, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, inv. no. 2575. 51

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bust (290),63 for which he was asking 20,000 lire.64 The portrait head of Nero now in Oslo was at some point owned by Stettiner.65 Several other pieces of Roman sculpture, whose current location remains unknown, had been in his collection. Among them there was a nude marble bust of a woman (469) – an obvious forgery – that Stettiner tried to sell to Marshall in 1914. Apparently, a certain Vangeli had already offered it to Marshall, asking 80,000 lire to part with what he claimed to be the work of the ‘fifth-century Pergamon School’.66 Eventually, Stettiner found a buyer and the bust managed to cross the Atlantic, to end up in the collection of Ercole Canessa.67 Many more pieces in Stettiner’s collection are known only through undated photographs in the archive of the German Institute of Rome,68 taken by a professional photographer, if not by Cesare Faraglia, who is known to have worked for him.69 At Via Frattina 4 (Map 1, no. 11) was located the office of B. Tartaglia & Co., one of the largest shipping companies in Rome.70 The owner, Bruno Tartaglia, was himself a collector and dealer in antiquities. He was listed among the creditors of Evan Gorga (1865–1957), a former opera singer known in Rome for his compulsive collecting, which eventually brought him to financial ruin.71 Marshall bought from Tartaglia a small bronze bust of Poseidon (57, see Plate XLV a)72 and a marble torso of a youth (85).73 In 1925 Tartaglia also presented Marshall with a small marble head of a wreathed athlete (997; Plate LXX). The full extent of Tartaglia’s collection is unknown, since only two pieces he owned seem to have ever been published: a Roman painted funerary inscription and a marble portrait head of Matidia.74 He sold some of his antiquities to the Museum of Villa Giulia in 1910: three south Italian painted vases and an Etruscan sarcophagus from Toscanella.75 The professionals (antiquari) The better-known antiquari of Rome had shops in the area of Via Margutta and Via del Babuino, near the fancy hotels, where the wealthiest tourists sojourned and Roman artists and art dealers had lived and worked since the seventeenth century.76 Jandolo was the largest and longest-lasting family of such merchants. A certain Luigi Jandolo sold some antiquities to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts through Rodolfo Lanciani in 1888.77 Beside his business relationship with the Boston museum, virtually nothing is known of Luigi Jandolo or his relation to Salvatore Jandolo, a man of poor means and little education but of great curiosity and with an eye for business, who opened a shop in Via Sistina, at the corner of Via dei Cappuccini, in 1871 (Map 1, no. 16).78 63

Kansas City, Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, inv. no. 59-3. JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1908.01.16. 65 Oslo, Nationalgallerie. Inv. no. 1248. 66 Notes written by Marshall on the back of the photograph. 67 American Art Association 1930: lot 124. 68 Available through Arachne, the Central object-database of the Research Archive for Ancient Sculpture at the University of Cologne and the German Archaeological Institute (DAI), neg. nos. 29-344 (Head of a woman); 3056 (Statue of Eros); 3062 (Torso of a draped woman); 3063 (Torso of a draped woman); 3064-3065 (Bust of a woman); 3066 (Head of a woman); 3070-3071 (Head of a man); 3077-3078 (Portrait head of a man); 3079-3080 (Head of a man); 3081 (Head of a man); 3095 (Leg from a bronze statue); 3087-3088 (Portrait head of Didius Iulianus); 6243-6244 (Head of a woman, Candia type). 69 On Cesare Faraglia see here, Chapter 3 (Nørskov). 70 According to his records, Marshall shipped his purchases on behalf of The Metropolitan through either B. Tartaglia & Co. or Roesler Franz (with an office at Via Condotti 19B, inside Palazzo Torlonia). 71 Pollak 1994: 153–54; De Angelis d’Ossat 2013. See also JMA, Sackler, Note, 1913.11.25: ‘Pollak told me that Gorga was bankrupt for 800,000.’ 72 MMA 17.230.2. 73 MMA 17.230.21. 74 Cagiano de Azevedo 1951; Carandini 1969: 154–59 no. (V) 24, Figure 90-99. 75 AA BB AA Div. I 1908-1912 Busta 93, Fasc. 2068; AA BB AA Div. I 1908-1912 Busta 93, Fasc. 2070. 76 Di Castro 1954, 2006. 77 Boston, BFA 88.538–88.644; 89.9–89.31. 78 Merkel Guldan 1988: 108, 110, 113, 165, 344, 349, 354, 363, 367, 371, 380. 64

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Although each had their own shop and they occasionally sold objects to one another, the Jandolos sometimes invested together in the most valuable objects. They also seem to have shared a cavern dug into the Capitoline hill as a deposit for large marble sculptures – there Marshall first saw the Old Market Woman (8),79 the Crouching Lion (38)80 and the Protesilaos.81 The Jandolos also held public sales at the auction house Jandolo & Tavazzi, in Palazzo Saulini (Via del Babuino 96–97, Map 1, no. 9), which they managed with Filippo Tavazzi (1897–?), art dealer and former confidant of Count Stroganoff.82 Ettore Jandolo (?–1924), son of Salvatore, first had a shop at Via Sistina 137A (Map 1, no. 16) and then moved to Via Margutta 51A.83 He appears in Marshall’s records between 1909 and 1923, sometimes as a solo seller, sometimes in partnership with his brother Elio (e.g. 38 and 1016).84 Among the antiquities that he offered to Marshall and were not acquired by The Metropolitan, there is a head of the ‘Ares Borghese’ type (403) that recently appeared on the art market.85 Two other sons of Salvatore Jandolo – Antonio and Alessandro – owned an antique shop located at Via del Babuino 92 (Map 1, no. 8), not far from their father. They were the people responsible for the sale of the aforementioned Old Market Woman (8) and its shipment to New York via Naples.86 Alessandro sold to Jacobsen the headless seated statue (285)87 and the sarcophagus with relief of erotes (301), now in San Francisco.88 Ha also offered to Marshall a 79 cm high marble relief depicting a woman in a peplos (Athena?) holding a jug and standing next to a nude hero (Herakles?) proffering a cup (436). Both figures are lacking heads, the upper part of the relief being missing. It was not acquired by The Metropolitan and its current location remains unknown. According to his nephew Augusto Jandolo, in 1901 Alessandro bought in Viterbo a plain Etruscan stone sarcophagus and asked a restorer named Carlo Preziotti to paint some decoration in order to increase its market value. Preziotti probably used as reference two Etruscan painted sarcophagi, believed to be authentic, by Adolf Furtwängler that Alessandro sold to the Field Museum of Chicago.89 Apparently, the adulterated sarcophagus was sold to an American from New York – in Italian contemporary folklore, Americans were always negligent, gullible and had too much money for their own good. But when it was stopped at customs, the government officials declared that such a piece could not leave the country. Apparently the Italian government insisted on purchasing the sarcophagus in spite of Alessandro Jandolo admitting that the painted decorations were modern.90 It is hard to believe Jandolo’s account of events, which resembles a quintessential piece of Italian comedy – the story of how a cunning dealer fooled the credulous American millionaire and the opinionated government official with the help of a talented craftsman. Reading between the lines, one can sense the social and nationalistic tensions that animated the antiquities trade at the time. Besides touching upon the issue of forgeries and deceit as instruments through which dealers could settle their score with the antagonistic authorities, the story of the painted sarcophagus also tells of their general lack of concern for the ideological values that the Italian state attributed to antiquities. Furthermore, reading these 79

MMA 09.39. Pollak 1994: 132. MMA 09.221.3. See here, Chapter 2 (Moltesen). 81 MMA 25.116. See here, Chapter 4 (Petruccioli). 82 On Count Stroganhoff and his collection, see here Chapter 2 (Moltesen). 83 Merkel Guldan 1988: 139 n. 90, 143, 185, 363. 84 See here, Chapter 2 (Moltesen). 85 Christie’s Sale 3403 (New York, 11.12.2014), lot 154. 86 See here, Chapter 10 (De Tomasi). 87 See here, Chapter 2 (Moltesen). 88 San Francisco, M. H. de Young Museum, inv. No. 54662. 89 Tarbell 1917: 63. 90 Jandolo 1938: 52–56. 80

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stories, one has the feeling that the Jandolos and other seemingly cunning dealers considered themselves true art connoisseurs. Selling forgeries or adulterated art objects, inventing fake proveniences, attributing previous ownership to well-known collectors, or fabricating any lie or piece of information that collectors or learned experts would believe was a way of proving their intellectual superiority. Ugo Jandolo, grandson of Salvatore and son of Antonio, was hired initially in the workshop of Leopoldo Innocenti, a goldsmith known for making reproductions of ancient jewels and selling old trinkets at Via Sistina 66 (Map 1, no. 13). He later bought and restored the sixteenth-century papal palace Palazzo Borromeo, at Via Flaminia 126.91 There he opened his up-scale art gallery, strategically located behind the Villa Giulia Museum. He was among Marshall’s most successful providers, and he proved to have connections outside Lazio. Although he specialised in marble ideal statuary (47, 53, 90, 104) and portrait sculpture (51), he sold to Marshall pieces of Etruscan (100) and Roman (118) funerary monuments, as well as terracottas from Tarentum (219, 241) and Apulian painted vases (242). Some of his sculptures, refused by Marshall, were eventually acquired by other North American museums: a head of Demeter (1002),92 the armless portrait statue of a Neronian matron (419)93 and a fragmentary relief plaque (284).94 Mario Jandolo belonged to the youngest generation of the Jandolo dynasty. In 1924 he is registered as the owner of the shop at Via Margutta 51A (Map 1, no. 5), which had belonged to Ettore Jandolo until his death in that year. Mario was not among Marshall’s most assiduous trading partners. His name appears in connection with the sale of just two objects: a gilded bronze fragment of a horse’s leg (161)95 and a black-figure drinking cup with a painted scene of centauromachy (236).96 Thus, it seems that Mario might have normally dealt in other types of antiques. It is quite possible that in the last years of Marshall’s life Mario tried to expand his business into other kinds of art objects, or attempted to reach a different clientele. Similarly, the young Marcello Jandolo (either a brother or a cousin of Mario), who might not even have owned his own shop at the time, was probably taking his first steps in the business at the beginning of the 1920s. Nothing is known about Marcello, although Marshall noted that he bought a red-figure hydria (240)97 from him and turned down his offer of a heavily restored nude marble statue (437, Plate LXXI). In 1905, Vittorio Timolini owned an art gallery at Via d’Azeglio 21, near the Termini station, but is also known to have had a shop at Via del Babuino 61 (Map 1, no. 7) and an art gallery at Via Margutta 53C, right next to the British Academy of Arts. He sold to Marshall a fragmentary statue of Isis that never made it to New York – it was held at customs in Naples in 1917 and then transferred to the Museo Archeologico Nazionale (404). The dealer Alessandro Marcocchia, with a shop at Piazza di Spagna 43–44 (Map 1, no. 12), was one of several owners of the well-known Apollo from Palazzo Odescalchi (337; Plates LXXII–LXXIII).98 Four photographs of the statue are in Marshall’s archive, though recorded as property of an otherwise unknown ‘Marocchi’ – most certainly a mistake, which perhaps denotes Marshall’s unfamiliarity with this art dealer. Formerly placed on the staircase of Palazzo Odescalchi in Rome, where the archaeologist 91

Jandolo 1947: 32–33; Merkel Guldan 1988: 21, 104, 159, 184, 198, 204–08, 226, 231, 246, 340, 344, 349, 363, 367, 371, 380. MFA 16.62. 93 Minneapolis, Institute of Arts, inv. no. 32.16. 94 Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, inv. no. MS 4918. 95 MMA 25.78.70. 96 MMA 25.78.69. 97 MMA 26.60.75. 98 Now Budapest, Szépmüvészéti Múzeum, inv. no. 6040 A. 92

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Friedrich Matz saw it before 1882,99 the statue passed through the hands of several Roman dealers.100 Prince Odescalchi sold it to Giuseppe Sangiorgi, who sold it to Eliseo Borghi in 1895 or 1896 for 4000 lire. In 1902 the Apollo passed to one of the Jandolos, who requested an export licence with the intent of selling it in Paris (in the Canessa Galleries?). The piece was valued at 15,000 lire and the export licence was granted. Jandolo eventually decided not to send the statue to Paris, but to sell it in Rome instead. Nothing was heard of it for several years until April 1907, when the Apollo was sold at auction by Jandolo & Tavazzi to the dealer Alessandro Marcocchia for an unbelievable price. For a statue whose market price was about 8000 lire, Marcocchia paid 40,000 lire (45,000 lire including commission). Suspicions arose that Marcocchia’s public offer was fake and he never paid such an outrageous price – it was all a setup to convince the officials of the Export Office (who were present at the sale) that the statue was of such value that it should become state property. Sure enough, it was Marcocchia’s intention to offer the statue to the government, which he did five years later (on 26 March 1912) for 45,000 lire. Considered of no exceptional historical or artistic value, the Apollo was never purchased by the government. Marcocchia eventually sold it to Count Andrássy of Budapest for 20,000 lire on 23 May 1913.101 The famous coin merchants Pio (1887–1939) and Pietro Santamaria, owners of Santamaria P. e P. and editors in chief of the numismatic journal Numismatica e Scienze Affini, had their shop at Piazza di Spagna 35 (Map 1, no. 10), not far from Marcocchia’s.102 Like other numismatists, they also dealt in small bronze objects of little significance, including an Etruscan mirror (517), a figurine of Athena Promachos type (1135) and a satyr (1136); Marshall bought none of them. Of very humble origins, Alfredo Barsanti (1877–1946) discovered his talent as a merchant at the age of fifteen, when he started working as an apprentice for the dealer Attilio Simonetti and was hired on a meagre salary to assist Simonetti’s son Aldo.103 Immediately, he proved to be very ambitious and started dealing with large-calibre collectors behind his employer’s back. Easily persuaded to leave his underpaid job, Barsanti became the business partner of Eliseo Borghi, the antiquario who owned a shop at Piazza Barberini 11 (Map 1, no. 17), and was famous (or infamous) for fishing out of Lake Nemi the bronze fittings of two sunken Roman ships.104 Marshall and Barsanti perhaps met for the first time when the latter sold a piece of pedimental sculpture – the so-called ‘Borghi Amazon’ (1102) – to Warren for 8000 lire.105 Augusto Jandolo106 reported that Barsanti had bought it in Rome for just 50 lire.107 When questioned by Marshall and Pollak on the provenience of the sculpture, Barsanti said to the former that it came from Campania; to the latter that it was found ‘in the Sallust gardens, somewhere near via Ludovisi’. It turned out – Marshall mentions a trial (processo) – that the sculpture, sold to Barsanti by a certain Mr Bonazzi in Rome, was of unknown provenience.108 The episode of the Borghi Amazon taught Marshall that a dealer’s word on provenience was never to be trusted.

99

Matz & Duhn 1881: I, no. 180. The following account is based on official documents held at the Archivio Centrale di Stato of Rome: ACS, M.P.I., D.G., AA.BB.AA, Div. I 1908–1924 Busta 351, Fasc. 5; ACS, M.P.I., D.G., AA.BB.AA, Div. I 1908–1912 Busta 75, Fasc. 1686. 101 Hekler 1929: 174–75 no. 173. 102 Cagiani 1925: 82 also lists Pio Santamaria as a collector of Italian Renaissance medals. 103 Jandolo 1938: 338–44. 104 Borghi 1901. On Aliseo Borghi, see also Pollak 1994: 140–41. 105 MFA 03.751. See Caskey 1925: 90. 106 Jandolo 1938: 341–42. 107 Jandolo reports that Warren paid 48,000 lire for the ‘Borghi Amazon’, while according to Marshall’s notes (written behind photograph 1102) the price paid by Warren was 8000 lire. The figures have been grossly exaggerated by Jandolo to stress how talented a dealer Barsanti was. 108 JMA, Sackler, Note, undated, no. 5 100

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Eventually, Barsanti terminated the eight-year partnership with Borghi and went off on his own, opening a shop a little north, at Via Sistina 48 (Map 1, no. 15), closer to Piazza di Spagna. By then he was already establishing connections with various members of Roman aristocracy, including Prince Enrico Ruspoli (1878–1909), who lived south of Rome in a palace overhanging Lake Nemi and with whom he excavated the nearby site of the temple of Diana Nemorensis in the years 1901–1905.109 In Barsanti’s restricted group of intimate friends and most assiduous customers was Ludwig Pollak, who wrote many affectionate notes about him in his diary until the summer of 1928, when their relationship abruptly ended. The reasons that brought such a strong friendship to an end are unknown, but Barsanti was said to behave unreasonably at times.110 Although uneducated, Barsanti understood the historical significance of antiquities and, as far as his occupational interests allowed, he tried to facilitate the acquisition of ancient monuments by the Italian government. Having bought many fragments of two marble antefixes belonging to the Ara Pacis, he painstakingly pieced them together and offered them to the government, hoping that the rest of the monument would soon be excavated and restored to its original appearance.111 Barsanti is best though belatedly remembered in Italy for his unique collection of Italian bronzes, dating from the fourteenth to the seventeenth centuries, which he avidly gathered throughout his life and saved from the greedy hands of foreign collectors.112 He eventually parted from his 109 bronze sculptures and sold them to the Italian government in 1934.113 Marshall’s own accounts, on the other hand, attest to Barsanti’s indiscriminate activity, sometimes involving forgeries (e.g. 345 and 346),114 and the large number of ancient artworks he sold to The Metropolitan. He was in fact Rome’s top ancient art dealer in Rome and the majority of the antiquities he offered to Marshall are now in New York. Among those marble sculptures that Marshall did not buy are two statues that Barsanti offered to him in 1925: a colossal torso of a seated man (427; Figure 9.2, Plates LXXIV–LXXV) and a life-size statue of a seated draped woman, possibly Magna Mater (428; Plates LXXVI–LXXVII). Both of them appear to have been photographed in the same courtyard in front of a brick wall. Behind them, a stone relief (of an eagle?) is covered by black cloth. It is very likely that the two belonged to a dynastic statue group, depicting an emperor and a female member of the Imperial family, as was particularly customary in the Julio-Claudian period.115 The socket between the shoulders of the colossal statue, carved in antiquity possibly to insert a new portrait head, gives reasons to hypothesise that the original might have portrayed an emperor that suffered damnatio memoriae, such as Caligula. The price asked was high – $5000 (approx. 20,000 lire) for the smaller and $7000 (approx. 28,000 lire) for the larger – but not outrageous, considering that it included delivery to New York.116 Guglielmo De Ferrari sold antiquities in his shop at Via in Miranda 7 (Map 2, no. 19), conveniently located behind the Roman Forum. Marshall’s friend and esteemed specialist in Greek vase painting John D. Beazley once praised a red-figure kylix attributed to the Greek painter Panaitios owned by De Ferrari as ‘remarkable in many ways’, no doubt increasing its commercial value.117 Two years later, De Ferrari 109

ACS, M.P.I., D.G., AA.BB.AA, III Vers. II Parte, Busta 65, Fasc. 131, S.Fasc. 13. Merkel Guldan 1988: 91–94, 157, 162, 198, 203–04. 111 Jandolo 1935: 200–06. 112 Pollak 1922. 113 Cannata 2011: 20–25. 114 See here, Chapter 2 (Moltesen). 115 See Rose 1997; Boschung 2001. 116 Exchange based on historical records for the year 1925: US Federal Reserve Bulletin, Foreign Exchange Rates, 1922–1928, Yearly averages, published in January 1929. 117 Beazley 1922. 110

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offered this kylix to the Museum of Villa Giulia for 500,000 lire or in exchange for Roman gold coins of equivalent value. The museum was interested in purchasing the piece, which, however, it valued at no more than 5000 lire. This is not the only painted Greek vase known to have been in De Ferrari’s possession. In 1907 he offered to the Museum of Villa Giulia a Greek Archaic vase.118 At the end of June 1922, he wrote to Marshall to offer him a fragmentary kylix attributed to Euphronios (578).119 He had previously offered the same piece, for 5000 lire, to the Museum of Villa Giulia, together with a fragment of an amphora that he attributed to Euthymides.120 Museum director Giulio Quirino Giglioli turned down the offer and, suspecting that the fragments came from the illegal excavation of a major Etruscan necropolis in the Orvieto area, alerted the authorities to keep an eye on De Ferrari’s dealings.

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Figure 9.2. Colossal marble torso of a nude man (427) (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0849 to 0853; JM [PHP]-26-1827).

On the other side of the Roman Forum, at Piazza della Consolazione 45A (Map 2, no. 20), was the shop of Elio Jandolo who, by 1916, is also registered as the owner of another shop, in partnership with Ernesto Magnani, at Via della Consolazione 43–43A (Map 2, no. 21).121 It is probably at the latter address that Roberto Paribeni saw in August 1917 the statue of a seated philosopher that Jandolo was offering to the Museo Nazionale Romano for 15,000 lire.122 Paribeni promised to forward the offer to the 118

ACS, M.P.I., D.G., AA.BB.AA, III Vers. II Parte, Busta 304, Fasc. 587 S.Fasc. 6. See also here, Chapter 7 (Nørskov). 120 ACS, M.P.I., D.G., AA.BB.AA, Div. I 1908-1924 Busta 302, Fasc. 26. 121 See, for example, ACS, M.P.I., D.G., AA.BB.AA, Div. I 1908-1912 Busta 92, Fasc. 2050: request for a terracotta to be exported to Berlin; denied, object bought for the Villa Giulia Museum (21 February 1908). 122 ACS, M.P.I., D.G., AA.BB.AA, Div. I 1908-1924 Busta 737, Fasc. 3. 119

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Ministry and recommend its purchase. In his letter to the Ministry, Paribeni stressed that this statue would have been a valuable addition to the collection of the Museo Nazionale Romano, especially because the museum was missing a similar statue while the Vatican Museums had two (the Poseidippos and the so-called Menander). Time passed without a response and Alessandro Jandolo contacted Paribeni at the end of April 1918, offering to reduce the price of the statue to 8000 lire. Two days later the High Commission in charge of governmental acquisitions decided not to purchase the statue on account of its low artistic value and bad state of preservation. Whether the statue Paribeni saw is the seated orator now in Copenhagen (285), which Alessandro Jandolo offered to Marshall in 1913, is not certain. There is however a correspondence in chronology that strongly suggests so. Coming from all walks of life, but never from wealthy families, the art dealers were among the most eccentric merchants in Rome. Although they worked fervidly, none of them died rich. Many of them desired social recognition and the trade gave them unique access to artists, intellectuals, industrialists, monarchs and members of high society, from Italy and abroad. Most of them had a past as artists or craftsmen, or cultivated literary inclinations. Many wrote essays for journals on the history and folklore of Rome (Roma: Rivista di studi e di vita romana, Capitolium, L’Urbe, L’aquila romana, Strenna dei Romanisti). The common denominator of all was an interest in promoting Rome’s culture and the self-appointed entitlement of scholars and preservers of Rome’s history and traditions. Their shops or ateliers, such as that of the painter Augusto Jandolo (1873–1952), doubled as salons for informal gatherings of Italian and foreign gentlemen with a passion for the past and contemporary history of Rome. Augusto was also a poet and a writer, and enjoyed being surrounded by artists, journalists, fellow novelists and poets, archaeologists and amateur linguists who shared his interest for the Roman dialect. The most successful antiquari of Rome were also direct supporters of public cultural events. On the occasion of Rome’s International Exhibition of 1911, pieces from the collections of Benedetti, De Ferrari, Gorga, Rocchi, Sangiorgi and Simonetti were displayed alongside objects from municipal and state collections.123 Beside the occasional loan of pieces, at the beginning of the twentieth century antiquari and scholars interacted regularly, exchanging information and offering expertise to one another. The coin dealer Pietro Santamaria, for example, was the first president of the Associazione Archeologica Romana, a society founded in 1902 for the diffusion of classical culture and the study of recent archaeological discoveries in Rome. Among the members of this society were collectors and dealers as well as professional archaeologists. Throughout its history, several of the leading scholars in Roman archaeology, such as Giuseppe Lugli (1890–1967), Pietro Romanelli (1889–1981) and Ranuccio Bianchi Bandinelli (1900–1975), joined the ranks of the Associazione Archeologica Romana. John Marshall and his secretary Annie Rivier became members in 1924.124 After Marshall’s death, official relations between antiquari and the academic world dwindled. Because of the pivotal role they played in facilitating – legally and illegally – art objects leaving Italy, dealers were attacked by the government and accused of being responsible for the dissolution of Italy’s national heritage. After its unification from politically heterogeneous states into a monarchy in 1861, Italy needed a strong ideological stance. Official propaganda found in the glorification of the past the foundations on which a national identity could be built. All Italians were encouraged to consider themselves the lawful heirs of any material evidence of their cultural heritage, the Italian government its guardian. 123 124

Esposizione Internazionale di Roma 1911. Bollettino dell”Associazione Archeologica Romana 14.1 (1924): 6.

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Whoever fostered in any way the endangerment of Italy’s heritage, or obstructed its public fruition, was acting against the interests of the whole nation. The antiquari agreed with and contributed to the nationbuilding programme, but disagreed with the Italian government on export policies – Italian art should not have been confined by law exclusively to Italian museums. Thus, Italian scholars distanced themselves officially from collectors and dealers to demonstrate moral integrity and patriotism. In response, many dealers subscribed to the Società Italiana fra i Cultori e i Commercianti di Antichità e Belle Arti in 1903, in the hope of acquiring stronger legal representation and gaining public approbation.125 Nonetheless, in spite of all their efforts, public appeals and legal disputes, the antiquari continued to have a bad reputation. Sales galleries and auctioneers Entire collections of art and furniture were regularly auctioned in the largest sales galleries, located off the touristic circuit of Rome, inside fancy multi-storeyed palazzi, where they received a more sophisticated and affluent type of Italian and international customer. Sales usually lasted several days, each day starting off with bidding for antiquities, which were rarely the most expensive pieces. Illustrated catalogues exemplify the eclectic nature of these collections: terracotta vessels and lamps; Etruscan jewellery, figurines and mirrors; bone tools, gems and Egyptian amulets; and marble sculptures (presented with pieces from later periods under the category marmi). Antiquities were generally referred to as oggetti di scavo, ‘dug-up objects’, denoting their relatively low value. Pellegrino Sestieri owned one of the fanciest galleries in Rome, located inside a brand new palazzo a short walk from the Mausoleum of Augustus (Map 1, no. 4).126 He specialised in religious ornaments, historical fabrics and antiques of the settecento, though he occasionally sold antiquities, such as the statues from the stairways of Palazzo Giustiniani, which he bought in bulk at the end of the nineteenth century.127 After more than two very successful decades, business decreased and Sestieri moved out of Palazzo Meregri to relocate into the more modest studio of Hermann Corrodi at Via Maria Cristina 5 (Map 1, no. 1), which was eventually closed down, because of the financial crisis, in 1929. In 1911 Sestieri sold to Marshall the marble torso of a seated Herakles (1373; see Plate XVIII),128 after some negotiations, for 44,000 lire. Marshall had written to Robinson claiming that, though he did not wish to praise the piece too much, it was ‘the best man’s torso’ he had ever seen in the market.129 The sculpture was said to have come from Spain, where Sestieri frequently went to purchase velvet embroideries. Marshall concluded that the statue, which showed no signs of modern re-working, must have been found in Rome and then brought to Spain in the sixteenth century, before ancient sculptures were customarily restored.130 A couple of weeks after it was purchased, however, Marshall wrote in his notebook that the torso was found in an excavation at the site of Clunia Sulpicia, once located in the Roman province of Tarraconensis, in the city of the Arevaces.131 We do not know the person from whom Marshall acquired the information (Sestieri?) and whether the source is in any way reliable. It is possible, though, that Marshall himself fabricated such a detailed provenience to elude export restrictions – if the statue was proven to come from Spain, Italian customs officers had no reason to seize it and prevent it from leaving the country.

125

Monaci 1904: 528. Palazzo Meregri, at Via Fontanella Borghese 35. 127 Pollak 1994: 145. 128 MMA 11.55. 129 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1911.02.10_2. 130 Richter 1954: 94–95 no. 181. 131 JMA, Sackler, Letter, MAR–ROB, 1911.02.24. 126

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Giuseppe Sangiorgi (1850–1928), the owner of the largest gallery in Rome, pretentiously named in French Galerie Sangiorgi, embodied the Italian art dealer of the new century. Coming from a modest background – his father was a shoemaker – and having only a basic education, his life is the tale of success based entirely on entrepreneurial skills. Like many of his high-profile clients, Sangiorgi became a socially involved philanthropist. He was the founder and main sponsor between 1903 and 1910 of the Casa del pane, a private charitable operation that provided sustenance for the poor. Sangiorgi’s career in the art trade started by chance, just like his many other successful financial ventures, from selling sawing machines to extracting pumice in Sicily. Having bought en bloc the estate of a Swiss collector, he made a fortune stripping the properties of furniture and décor and re-selling the items piece by piece.132 He always claimed to know nothing of the things he sold – he only bought and sold things that he liked.133 Founded in 1892, the Galerie Sangiorgi was located in the fancy venue of Palazzo Borghese, across the street from Sestieri’s gallery (Map 1, no. 3). Comprising a 5000 square metre display area over several floors accessible by elevator and furnished with a specialised library, it was the largest art gallery in Italy and most renowned in the world – its advertisement says – for honest prices and reliable expertise.134 Advertising hoardings, set up on major roads leading into Rome, reminded English-speaking tourists that no tour of Rome could end without a visit to the Galerie Sangiorgi. Sangiorgi also enjoyed close relations with the archaeologist Felice Barnabei (1842–1922) when he was Director General of the Ministry of Antiquities and Beaux Arts, and acted as an intermediary between dealers and governmental authorities.135 Between February 1921 and June 1924, Sangiorgi and his associate Guido Borelli sold what remained in Rome of the Stroganoff collection – including the precious ivories, Byzantine antiquities, Medieval wooden sculptures and tapestries – to foreign collectors.136 On several occasions, to obtain permission to export the objects Sangiorgi used an old diplomatic trick: he donated to the National Museum some other objects, asking in exchange for the ban on export of some of the Stroganoff pieces to be lifted.137 Pollak had used the same manoeuvre in 1908, when he offered to donate a military diploma of Elagabalus in exchange for permission to export to Germany a large inscribed cippus from Palazzo Falconieri in Rome.138 Contrary to what would be expected, the Galerie Sangiorgi was not among the regular sources that Marshall used, perhaps because antiquities were in little demand among the clientele to whom Sangiorgi catered. He dealt mostly in paintings, post-antique wood and terracotta sculptures, tapestries, draperies, lacework, ivories, bronzes, weapons and antiquarian books. He also offered decorative objects in the antique style made by contemporary artists. Sangiorgi’s clientele was of the most diverse kind: from Italian and foreign aristocrats to bourgeois tourists, from assiduous collectors to occasional visitors. The gallery essentially provided affluent collectors with a variety of objects and pieces of furniture to decorate country villas, palaces and castles, or more modest metropolitan residences. Lord William Waldorf Astor, First Baron of Hever, hired Sangiorgi for the whole furnishing of his villa at Sorrento, which he had restored in full-blown Pompeian style. 132

Sangiorgi 1922; Jandolo 1938: 344; Scarpa 1956: II, 256–57. Tolosani 1928. 134 See, for example, Sangiorgi 1910: Preface: ‘Le secret de son rapide succès doit être recherché dans le principe de vendre à des prix très modérés, et de déclarer toujours les objets anciens comme anciens, et les modernes comme modernes.’ 135 Barnabei & Delpino 1991: 321, 334. Some letters and notes that Sangiorgi and Barnabei exchanged are currently held at the Biblioteca Angelica in Rome (Carteggio Barnabei, b. 398/6). 136 ACS, MIN. BB. CC. AA., Ufficio Centrale, BB.AA.AA.AA.AA.SS., Div. V, 4 Roma, Notifiche ecc., 202. 137 See, for example, the case of the ivory plaque, formerly in the Stroganoff collection, that Giorgio Sangiorgi sold in 1925 and is now in Cleveland, Museum of Art: Moretti 2010: 103. 138 CIL XIV 2607. ACS, M.P.I., D.G., AA.BB.AA, Div. I 1908-1912 Busta 92, Fasc. 2054. 133

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Giorgio Sangiorgi (1886–1960 or 1975), who had been administering the gallery with his father since 1910, became an ancient glass and textile specialist. Over the years he assembled an impressive collection of ancient fabrics, which was publicly exhibited in Castel S. Angelo in 1911.139 His equally impressive collection of ancient glass was later dismantled and acquired by private collectors and museums.140 Across the river from Palazzo Borghese, at Via Vittoria Colonna 11, Attilio Simonetti (1843–1925) owned a large art gallery inside a palazzo newly built by his friend Prince Baldassarre Odescalchi (Map 1, no. 2).141 Son of a goldsmith and jeweller, Simonetti studied with the Spanish artist Mariano Fortuny y Marsal (1838–1874) and became an acclaimed painter. At first he collected old costumes and exotic objects, which he employed as references for the settings of his historically accurate painted scenes. By 1883, though, he had almost entirely given up painting to dedicate himself to dealing.142 His sale in that year was astounding for the number and variety of objects offered: 1282 pieces, including Roman coins and Greek and Roman terracotta objects.143 Simonetti was among the first art dealers in Rome to have expanded the range of art collectables beyond antiquities and paintings, educating the public on European furniture, cuirasses and weapons, tapestries, shoes, gloves, majolica and arabesque objects from Spain and Morocco.144 The German Emperor, Duke Alexander of Russia, the millionaire William Kissam Vanderbilt, the Duke of Aosta and various other members of Italian royalty were among his most illustrious patrons. Simonetti’s gallery had an area of 1000 square metres arranged in eighteen rooms located on two floors. His eclectic collection was grouped according to geographical themes, historical periods or by typology. The objects were well spaced and nicely arranged, with more precious items placed inside vitrines, to create set-ups that re-created the living rooms and drawing rooms of the wealthy aristocracy. Etruscan vases and small Roman oggetti di scavo in terracotta and bronze were scattered around all the rooms, on top of tables and other furniture, sold as decorative pieces. One entire floor was devoted to paintings, from the fifteenth to the nineteenth centuries, and included some of Simonetti’s own works. A large garden, filled with ancient marble sculptures, was located in the courtyard of the palazzo. Canessa, dynasty of international antiquities dealers At the beginning of the twentieth century, the Canessa brothers – Cesare, Ercole and Amedeo – became leaders in the antiquities trade in Italy and abroad. Unlike the majority of contemporary Italian art dealers who operated regionally, their enterprise was founded on a wide network of excavators of important archaeological sites, a long list of wealthy international patrons, three art galleries and – most of all – an extraordinary business acumen. In 1884–1885, Cesare Canessa (1863–1922) opened a gallery with annexed auction hall at Piazza dei Martiri 23, Naples, inside the neoclassical Palazzo Nunziante, a large and elegant three-storeyed building. He was a well-known specialist in ancient coins,145 founding member of the Circolo Numismatico 139

Esposizione Internazionale di Roma 1911: 179–86; Muñoz 1911. Sangiorgi & Froehner 1914. On a recent auction of many pieces from the Sangiorgi collection of ancient glass, see Ancient Glass Formerly in the G. Sangiorgi Collection. Auction: Christie’s, New York: June 3, 1999. The full extent of the original collection remains unknown. A large number of pieces were acquired by the Corning Museum of Glass (see Whitehouse 1997). 141 Carboni 2012. See also Pollak 1994: 138. 142 As recently shown by Walker 2017: 33, at the turn of the century art dealing had become a more profitable activity than painting, even for the most established Italian artists. 143 Capobianchi 1883. 144 Spinazzè 2010. 145 Barnabei & Delpino 1991: 325 n. 31. 140

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Napoletano and by 1894 a corresponding member of the Italian Numismatic Society. An expert in Greek and Roman coins, he was hired by Ettore Pais, director of the Naples Archaeological Museum, to catalogue its numismatic collection and identify possible forgeries. Canessa asked no recompense for his consultancy and even donated two coins missing from the collection of Naples National Museum. In spite of Canessa’s apparent good intentions, he was eventually accused of taking advantage of his unmonitored access to the numismatic collections to steal and substitute some specimens, which he allegedly offered for sale to Warren and Marshall.146 His brother Ercole (1867–1929) was based in Paris, where he directed their Galeries Antiquaries.147 Their younger brother Amedeo (1874–1934) was in charge of the New York gallery that opened at 479 Fifth Avenue in 1906, moved to 547 Fifth Avenue in 1914–1915, relocated to the private gallery formerly owned by Benjamin Altman on 1 West 50th Street in 1916 and finally relocated to 680 Fifth Avenue in 1924.148 By specialising in archaeological objects from the Vesuvian area, especially bronzes, and maintaining their own galleries abroad – a practice that other Italian dealers imitated much later – the Canessas earned a leading role in the international trade by taking upon themselves every step in the process, from acquisition, to exportation, to sale of Italian antiquities. The Canessas were also known for their foul play. In 1895 they illegally exported silver treasure from Boscoreale, which they sold through their Paris gallery.149 A certain Vincenzo de Prisco, excavating a Roman villa located in his property at La Pisanella in Boscoreale, discovered one of the most complete sets of Roman banquet silver ever unearthed, comprising 109 pieces weighing a total of 30 kilos. Rumour has it that the Canessa brothers hatched a very ingenious grand-scale plan to bring the treasure out of the country and avoid being stopped at the border: they organised a fictitious transalpine amateur bicycle race from San Remo in Italy to Nice in France, giving to their many accomplices in the large crowd of participants one piece of silverware each to hide in their clothing, bags or even water bottles.150 The ease with which the Canessas were capable of exporting many more important ancient art objects was a source of great frustration for the Italian authorities. After the Boscoreale silverware, there followed a sale in Paris in 1903 of sixty-eight fragments of Roman wall paintings (also found by De Prisco at Boscoreale) to The Metropolitan.151 Officially, the wall paintings were sent to auction by Arthur Sambon (1866–1947), numismatist and owner of one of the largest Parisian galleries of the time.152 Everyone knew, though, that the Canessas were masterminding the operation. Accusations of international trafficking of antiquities from Italy to France, with the alleged complicity of custom agents, brought official investigations.153 There were rumours that smuggling between Italy and France was such a profitable business that one could find couriers specialised in delivering art objects

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Nizzo 2010. There is no recollection of such events in the JMA. Canessa’s Parisian gallery, opened in 1889, was first located at 19 rue La Fayette, moved to 125 avenue des Champs-Élysées in 1911 and finally to 93 avenue des Champs-Élysées in 1920. See D’Orazi 2018: 26. 148 D’Orazi 2018: 26–29. 149 According to Canessa 1966: 49–59, Mr De Prisco and Canessa shared the excavation expenses in equal amounts, and therefore each became owners of half of what they found. The majority of the silver hoard of Boscotrecase was sold to Baron Edmund Rothschild for 500,000 lire. 150 Reported twice in Italian newspapers: F. Canessa in Il Mattino (10 July 1988) 3; G. Picciano in L’Unità (12 November 2001). 151 Rumour has it that it was sold for no less than 400,000 lire. Guglielmo Canessa (1966: 59) reports a more conservative price of approximately 300,000 lire. 152 On Arthur Sambon, see Grierson & Travaini 1998: 495–99. 153 ACS, M.P.I., D.G., AA.BB.AA, III Vers. II Parte, Busta 436, Fasc. 763, S.Fasc. 2. 147

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by express train from Naples to Paris, evading customs controls. There follows an account of how an operation of this kind was organised in 1920: The French crew members of the Wagon Lit are organized to operate on a large scale, and … the Italians are their accomplices. They are sponsored not only by antiquari, but also by members of high society. Whenever there is anything to smuggle, one of the crew members visits the owner to get an idea of what kind of object [needs to be smuggled]. When an agreement is reached on the fee, the owner is instructed to deliver the object to the crew member at the train one hour before departure, to avoid attracting unnecessary attention. He will be waiting and, with the help of railway employees, he will hide the object – I believe in the laundry closet or the W.C. reserved for crew members. The fees asked by the French for such a service … is so meagre that one would reasonably think that the French government tolerated, or even approved of such behaviour.154 In 1915, with the excuse that the Great War could bring damage to their irreplaceable masterpieces, the firm C. and E. Canessa and Co. took the highlights of their Naples and Paris galleries to San Francisco to showcase them in the Italian pavilion of the Panama-Pacific Exposition.155 It was a great opportunity for the Canessas to expand their business to the western coast of the United States; an opportunity that they seized, demonstrating ambition and business acumen. Some objects from the New York gallery were also included. Classical antiquities amounted to a small part of the 236 objects on display, which also included Egyptian sculpture and Scythian jewellery in gold, silver and bronze.156 The Canessas were equally among the first to exploit the potential for world-wide advertising offered by the upsurge of illustrated magazines in Europe and America during the first decade of the twentieth century. And between 1904 and 1925 they financed what was intended to be a monthly review of ancient art entitled Le Musée. Revue d’art mensuelle, edited by Arthur Sambon (1866–1947), with Georges Toudouze (1877–1972) as editor-in-chief. Only eight issues were published, the last two coming out after a hiatus of fifteen years between 1909 and 1924. Every issue was richly illustrated with photographs and drawings of antiquities on sale or sold by the Canessas and Sambon to major collectors, and – not coincidentally – most articles pertained to typologies of objects or topics in ancient art that were of most interest to contemporary collectors. A mix of scholars, artists and art dealers contributed by writing articles on various aspects of ancient art – from reviews of public and private collections to news about recent excavations, from literary commentaries on the reception of the classical past to tirades against contemporary legislation controlling the antiquities trade. It is perhaps in these polemical articles, signed ‘Le Musée’ to stress the unanimous vision shared by all members of the editorial board (including the publishers), that the underlining propagandistic purpose of the magazine is brought to the fore. The Canessa brothers and Sambon in particular must have been quite sensitive to the topic since their responsibility in the Boscoreale scandals became public knowledge.

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ACS, M.P.I., D.G., AA.BB.AA, Div. II 1925–1928, Posizione 5. Esportazioni, Busta 116, Fasc. 2902. The Art News 14.4 (1915) 1. Catalogue: Canessa 1915. 156 In particular: a sculptural group of the ‘Three Graces from Capua’, formerly in the Ferroni collection (Canessa 1915: no. 5); the bust of a young Roman woman, once owned by a Mrs Lelong of Paris, said to come from Rome (Canessa 1915: no. 9); a bronze tripod, from the ‘vicinity of Rome’, ex-Kircherian collection (Canessa 1915: no. 11); a life-size bronze bust of a ‘Bacchant’ said to come from Constantinople, once owned by Mr Nelidow, Russian ambassador in Paris; two silver statuettes (Collection Borelli 1913: 46–47 nos. 405–06, pl. XXXVI–XXXVII; Canessa 1915: nos. 32–33). Many other pieces were acquired at the Paris sale of the Borelli Bey collection in June 1913 (see Collection Borelli 1913). 155

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Ercole Canessa had a long-standing friendship with financial tycoon and avid collector J. P. Morgan, notorious for his willingness to pay exceedingly high prices for objects he fancied.157 Morgan regularly visited Cesare’s shop in Naples in search of Roman bronzes that were discovered in the fields around Mount Vesuvius. The large bronze statuette of Eros (122; see Figure Plates XLVI–XLVII),158 said to be from Boscoreale and now on display in the Morgan Library in New York, is one of the most remarkable examples of Cesare’s profitable deals – he bought it for 100 lire from a peasant and delivered it to Morgan at the Savoy Hotel in London, demanding 100,000 lire.159 Cesare Canessa also facilitated Morgan’s acquisition of the bone fragments, supposedly found in the villa of Lucius Verus on the Via Cassia, that Evan Gorga had restored into an ancient kline.160 Ercole Canessa was responsible for having put together Morgan’s numismatic collection by purchasing coins at auctions from 1896 to 1910, acquiring specimens from the collections of H. Osborne O’Hagan, Frank Sherman Benson, Martinetti and Nervegna, Carlo Strozzi and Paul Hartwig.161 Morgan might have supported Canessa’s interests as trustee (1888–1904) and later president (1904–1913) of The Metropolitan. And he might have been among those who approved the acquisition of the Canessa collection of painted vases in 1906. The Canessas were also involved in the attempt to export the bronze statuette of a seated Herakles found in a Roman villa at Torre Annunziata in 1902 (485) – suggested to be the same location from which Morgan’s ‘Running Eros’ came.162 The Canessas offered it to Marshall,163 possibly because it was not the kind of object Morgan would have liked. With significant funds to maintain their operations, the Canessas were perhaps to The Metropolitan more of a competitor than a trading partner. Through their network, they were capable of bringing valuable antiquities out of Italy and placing them on the international art market, where competition, and bidding prices, were considerably higher. One of Marshall’s tasks on behalf of The Metropolitan was to intercept art objects before they ended up for sale in Paris or New York. Conclusion The collecting history of The Metropolitan can be considered paradigmatic of the phenomenon of collecting antiquities in Italy at the beginning of the twentieth century: three decades of intense trading were followed by a severe drop in acquisitions by all foreign collectors. The sudden interest expressed by American museums and private collectors in classical art originals had brought enormous capital to the Italian market and influenced the trade according to their demands and expectations. The market then was fluid, accessible to non-professionals and free from monopolies. Even on the qualitative level, there were no set standards – sellers might have been in possession of valuable antiquities among mediocre pieces or forgeries. As word spread that there was easy money to be made, some tried their luck by offering Marshall whatever they had in their attic or found in their path. Professional dealers were not the only individuals involved in the antiquities trade at the time. On the contrary, Marshall’s notes and letters reveal that the population involved in the trade, one way or another, was far larger. Furthermore, government investigations provide evidence that the trade was thriving 157

Jandolo 1938: 237–39. Richter 1915b: 85–90 no. 131. 159 Canessa 1966: 61–64; D’Orazi 2018: 36–37. 160 Capodiferro 2013; the kline was later donated to The Metropolitan (MMA 17.190.2076). 161 A list of auctions and lot numbers purchased by Canessa on Morgan’s behalf is in D’Orazi 2018: 42. 162 Avvisati 2001 with previous bibliography. See also here, Chapter 6 (Barr-Sharrar). 163 JMA, Sackler, Letter, JM–ER, 1917.05.13. The statuette was eventually bought by the Museo Nazionale of Naples for 50,000 lire. See Daehner & Lapatin 2015: 220–21. 158

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because it was sustained by a large community of amateur dealers who, to the government’s dismay, saw antiquities as a profitable commodity. Marshall’s ability to create and maintain a complex network of providers was essential. Antiquities virtually disappeared from sale catalogues in the 1920s, replaced by paintings and furniture – ‘decorative pieces that are so much en vogue,’ a contemporary commentator complained.164 Consequently, it had become increasingly difficult to find on the Italian market objects that foreign museums wanted or desired. In 1924 Cesare Canessa died and the family sold his collection of 316 objects (Egyptian, Greek, Roman, Gothic and Renaissance) accumulated by merging older collections and by individual acquisitions over a period of more than forty years.165 Gugliemo Canessa opened a gallery of paintings in Milan. Shortly thereafter, the New York gallery was also liquidated on the death of Ercole Canessa and its collection auctioned off by the American Art Association and Andersen Galleries in 1930. It was the end of an era. Italian dealers continued trading, though with ever-decreasing profits. Because of the economic crisis that eventually precipitated the stock market crash of 1929, acquisitions by foreign collectors were sporadic. The results of public auctions in early 1930s Italy, regularly published in L’antiquario magazine, show that the highest bidders were always Italian – the market had become an island to which foreigners rarely ventured. Large buyers preferred to make their purchases in France and Germany or the UK. As for The Metropolitan, curatorial interests shifted towards unexplored or lesser-known ancient artistic cultures. By then, however, the museum had consolidated one of the largest and most comprehensive collections of antiquities in North America, largely due to the agency of Marshall and his Italian connections.

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Anon. (1928) La crisi antiquaria. L’Antiquario 15.1: 11. Anon. (1924) Canessa antiques to be dispersed. The Art News 22.15: 4. For a report on the most significant pieces sold and their individual prices, see Anon. (1924) Canessa Sale realizes $ 227,038. The Art News 22.17: 4.

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Chapter 10

Cultural Heritage Preservation during John Marshall’s Time: The Export of Antiquities from the Unification of Italy to the 1909 Law (Plates LXXVIII–LXXIX) Francesca de Tomasi When John Marshall, at the time in a close relationship with Edward Perry Warren, settled in Rome in 1892 with the mandate to develop useful contacts, assess the market and make purchases on behalf of Lewes House, the situation of the antiquities trade in Rome was more controversial than ever.1 Foreign acquisition policies often did not take into account contemporary Italian legislation and the two friends were aware of this. Warren wrote in a letter to Marshall of February 1892: An idea occurred to me in bed, very safe but requiring much care. You have it (the object) delivered at a dissecting room by Erhardt’s favour.2 There it is packed in a coffin and locked. The coffin is screwed in a rough box. It is exported as a corpse to England; then taken to a dissecting place, there boxed again by Althaus,3 so that it shall not arrive here in a coffin. You would have to have a certificate that it died by no contagious disease, and you or Matt [Matthew Stewart Prichard, 1865–1936] would go by the same train, for sentimental reasons in deep black and with a band round your hat’.4 Even if this was a limit case, such subterfuges to avoid custom checks were very common in the antiquities trade. In a time of strong political turmoil it was not easy to ensure the protection of the cultural heritage of the newborn Italian nation and to stop the sale of antiquities and artworks abroad.5 If it is true that the cultural heritage rules of the pre-unitarian Italian states had worked so far, it is also clear that the unification process brought about a completely new situation. First of all, Savoy, which had led the political unification of Italy, did not include in its legislation – the Statuto Albertino – any rule protecting public, but especially private, cultural heritage. The liberal principles by which the Statuto was inspired, in fact, stated that no limit could be imposed on private property and that every good could be traded.6

1 This chapter presents some of the findings discussed in my PhD thesis titled ‘Esportazione e commercio di antichità: Roma 1870 - 1909. Aspetti normativi, contesto socio-culturale e committenza straniera’, defended on 23 June 2015 at the University of Rome ‘Tor Vergata’. 2 Most probably Dr Wolfgang Erhardt (1819–1906): Pollak 1994: 123. 3 Dr Althaus, first name unknown, was evidently Warren’s doctor in England, as can be ascertained from several letters reported in Burdett & Goddard 1941: 149, 160, 170. 4 Burdett & Goddard 1941: 176. 5 On strategies adopted by dealers to circumvent export restrictions, see also here, Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). 6 On the cultural heritage rules of the pre-unitarian Italian states, see Emiliani 2015 (first edition 1978).

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After the unification of Italy in 1861, the need to control the rapidly spreading phenomenon of the international artwork trade was the main incentive that prompted the Ministry of Public Instruction to try, on numerous occasions, to draw up a bill on the preservation of cultural heritage.7 However, the law was not approved until 1902. In the meantime, article no. 899 of the new Civil Code of 1865 not only failed to introduce any form of cultural heritage preservation in the name of the protection of private property, but also sanctioned the abolition of the fideicommissum, the legal institution that had hitherto prevented the sale and division of inherited property, thus protecting large private collections. A collection left in a will could not be divided up for sale: the heir had to maintain the collection as a whole. The annexation of Rome to the Kingdom of Italy in 1870 led to the urgent need for measures to mitigate the effects of the new national law. Private collections in Rome were so numerous that it was impossible not to intervene to protect them. Therefore, in November 1870, a Royal Decree temporarily suspended the abolition of the fideicommissum in the former territories of the Papal States, with the aim of preventing the otherwise unavoidable dispersal of artefacts.8 After the annexation of Rome, the first bill submitted to the Senate was proposed by the Minister of Public Instruction, Cesare Correnti, on 13 May 1872, but was soon dismissed without discussion.9 A similarly oriented bill subsequently presented by Minister Antonio Scialoja on 20 January 1873 also failed to pass.10 Meanwhile, Article no. 5 of the Di Falco Law of June 1871 had re-introduced the pre-unification rules concerning antiquities protection.11 Thus, given the impossibility of passing a new law, it was decided to bring back into force all the cultural heritage protection rules of the pre-unitarian Italian states so that they could somehow contain the phenomenon of the sale of antiquities abroad. In Rome and in the former Papal State, the Pacca Edict, the papal law of 7 April 1820, was reinforced again. At the same time, the effectiveness of the provisions abolishing the fideicommissum was restored: upon expiry of the existing fideicommessum, collections would remain inalienable and indivisible until a new general law on national heritage was written and approved.12 The Pacca Edict required owners of artworks and antiquities to register their possessions and to report any possible future sale or transfer of property to the Ministry. The objects earmarked for sale were examined by a Commission and could be exported on payment of a customs fee of 20 per cent if not deemed ‘necessary or of high regard by the Government’. Furthermore, it was unnecessary for the state to purchase the artwork by exercising the right of first refusal to prevent its export; the Export Office could simply deny permission to export by preventing the sale. Alternatively, the objects were 7

On Italian cultural heritage institutions’ history, see Mattaliano 1975; Rossari & Togni 1978; Bencivenni et al. 1987, 1992. See also the activity reports of the General Directorate of Antiquities and Fine Arts edited by Giuseppe Fiorelli (Fiorelli 1876, 1883, 1885) and the Codice delle Antichità e degli Oggetti d’Arte by Luigi Parpagliolo (Parpagliolo 1913). 8 Royal Decree of 27 November 1870, no. 6030. 9 A.P., Senato, Legisl. XI, sess. II, Discussioni, session of 13 May 1872. See Mariotti 1892: 312–16, 331–37; Mattaliano 1975: 10–12. 10 A.P., Senato, Legisl. XI, sess. II, Documenti, 47-A. 11 Law of 28 June 1871, no. 286. 12 On the debate over the suspension of the fideicommissum established by the Civil Code, see Mattaliano 1975: 4–7. Before the approval of the Cultural Heritage Protection Law, many years later in 1902, collections were considered inalienable and indivisible in accordance with the law of 28 June 1871, no. 286. Later, it was established by the law of 8 July 1883, no.1461, that collections could be sold once the rights over them were passed to the state or to a province or to a municipality or to a non-profit organisation, with ‘the obligation to keep them open to the public forever’ (see Musacchio 1994: 22–23). The Regio Decreto of 23 November 1891, no. 653, established that an inspection of the collections once protected by the fideicommissum had to be made.

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sold under government licence after being reviewed by officials of the Office – or by committees of specially appointed experts. The price was determined by the quality of the material, the fineness of the workmanship and the period to which the object belonged. According to the Pacca Edict, objects found during archaeological excavations were the property of the land owner, who could always hand over his property rights if he had acquired such objects through a licensed excavation. At the time Marshall arrived in Rome, the Pacca Edict was officially in force. The law was certainly not suitable for regulating the extraordinary scale of the antiquities trade at the end of the nineteenth century, but still, as a result of the infeasibility of approving a more restrictive rule, it was the only legal institution that could curb the free trade in cultural heritage. The reasons why so many deputies in the Parliament opposed the approval of a new law were clear to Marshall who, a few months after his arrival in Italy on 15 March 1893, explained them in a letter to Warren: The Minister of Public Instruction, Martini, is being fiercely attacked for his proposed law. This law will make it absolutely impossible to carry on a trade in antiquities.13 All private collections are to be registered; and the best pieces may not be sold. Of the rest, none may be exported without dazio and permission. Everyone discovering antiquities must give notice within 5 days; no one may dig without a permission, etc. In fact it is the old Legge Pacca over again. In Papal times the L. Pacca, though nominally in force, was never carried out and was a mere dead letter. Now it is to be carried out with a will. The attacks are very severe and good reading. They resolve themselves into this: 1) If this list is made out, it will really be a list of everything good, and will warn off people from the things offered for sale. 2) That there are few or no private collections with anything good in them, and the few masterpieces outside the public galleries wouldn’t be missed (they instance the Amor Sacro e Profano).14 3) That Rome and even Italy are exhausted in the matter of antiquities. They quote Martini himself saying that good things turn up only two or three times in a generation. Italy has too many museums already: all the things worth having are there. There is no chance of anything good turning up, Why spoil trade? 4) The English pay mad prices for things not worth anything. And they buy forgeries. The new law will do away with all this trade. Italian art is in a bad way already, and if the forgeries are to be stopped Italy must shut up shop.15 Thus, according to those who opposed the approval of a new law, there was no need to provide the cultural institutions with new legal instruments. A large part of public opinion agreed with the idea that the antiquities trade was already able to self-regulate and, given the small number of important new archaeological discoveries, there was no reason to interfere with such a flourishing sector. In this situation it is not unreasonable to claim that, if part of the immense heritage that came to light after the annexation of Rome to the Kingdom of Italy was rescued from the antiquities trade, it was undoubtedly thanks to the Pacca Edict. Though the papal law did not fully suit the new historical context, it was still effective. 13

Ferdinando Martini was Minister of Instruction for a few months between 1892 and 1893 and tried to propose a bill to Parliament, but without any success. 14 The famous painting by Titian, L’Amor Sacro e Profano, belonged to the Borghese collection and was protected by a fideicommissum established in 1833. Not all the pieces of the collection, however, were included in the fideicommissum. For example, many of the statues unearthed during archaeological excavations in Monte Calvo (Brusini 2001) were sold by the Borghese family, in the face of strong economic difficulties, between 1889 and 1891 to the Ny Carlsberg in Copenhagen (Moltesen 1987, 2012). After the family declared bankruptcy in 1891, all the objects not protected by the fideicommissum were auctioned in 1893 (Capobianchi 1893), while the main collection was saved because the state bought it, after long negotiations, together with the villa in 1901. 15 Burdett & Goddart 1941: 178–79.

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Rome as capital city After its annexation to the Kingdom of Italy, Rome was a city undergoing a profound transformation. Torn between its attachment to the past and a radical need for renewal, Rome was politically and structurally unprepared for its role as a capital city. It was not easy to manage and control the numerous construction sites across the city, let alone regulate the unexpected archaeological discoveries found during agricultural activities or other types of construction works, or the many illegal archaeological excavations taking place across the entire country. Between the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, as in previous eras, the study of antiquity brought to Rome individuals who devoted themselves to archaeological research and did not disdain to frequent cultural salons, engaging in antiquarianism as an erudite pleasure.16 Alongside the traditional antiquaria of intellectual gatherings, which attracted antiquari, collectors and scholars, another type of archaeology – understood as a science in the modern sense of the word – had already emerged. I am especially referring to the first archaeological excavations promoted by the new Italian state that desired to prove that it was in control of the city’s archaeological heritage. The archaeological excavations in the historic centre were a way of re-connecting Rome to its glorious past that papal dominance had somehow interrupted. Regardless of political adherence, the symbolic significance of archaeological excavations turned them into a demagogic tool with a strong impact on the city and considerable consequences in terms of employment. The Superintendency for Archaeological Excavations and for the Safeguard and Conservation of Monuments in the Province of Rome (Soprintendenza per gli scavi di antichità e per la custodia e conservazione dei monumenti della provincia di Roma) was established by a decree of the General Lieutenant of the King on 8 November 1870 and the architect Pietro Rosa was appointed Superintendent. One week later, he was already excavating the Roman Forum. These excavations were followed by archaeological investigations on the Palatine Hill, Colosseum, Capitoline Hill and, from 1889, the Imperial Fora and at the Pantheon.17 It was the first time that major excavation projects had been conducted with the aim of increasing the knowledge of the ancient topography of the city of Rome, instead of to discover statues and archaeological objects to exhibit in private or public collections.18 Alongside this series of initiatives, major construction works were being undertaken. These were transforming the appearance of papal Rome with the intent of providing it with the infrastructure of a capital city. Post-1870 housing policy proved disastrous for archaeological heritage: the construction of new city districts, ministerial headquarters and infrastructure required massive earthworks that disrupted the ancient topography. Among the areas affected by the new buildings were the so-called Monte della Giustizia, located where Termini station was built; the new Esquilino district that arose nearby; the Ludovisi district, which took the place of the stately Villa Ludovisi, near Via Veneto; the construction of the Tiber river embankments; and the building of the monument to Vittorio Emanuele on the Capitoline hill.19 16

See here, Chapter 2 (Moltesen). For a complete overview of the excavations and interventions on ancient monuments in the early years of Rome as Italy’s capital, see Bonghi 1870; Colini 1971; Pisani Sartorio & Quilici 1983; Petter 2000. For the interventions in the Imperial Fora, see La Rocca 2004. 18 To better understand the cultural background and the debate on the issues only briefly mentioned here, see Guzzo 1993: 53–120; Settis 1993; Petter 2000; Antiquités 2001; Palombi 2006; de Haan et al. 2008; Troilo 2011; Capaldi et al. 2014; Barbanera 2015: 52–121. 19 For the new urban landscape after the housing boom, see Insolera 1976. For the complex history of the construction of the Ludovisi district, see Benocci 2010; for the monument to King Vittorio Emanuele II – the Vittoriano – see Coppola 2012. 17

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The majority of objects that archaeological excavations and the construction works were unearthing were largely destined for the antiquities market. This happened because the pre-unification law (the Pacca Edict) did not attribute to the state any property that lay below ground level. Therefore, the owners of the land where the excavations were undertaken were entitled to share the objects found during them. The objects that ended up in the hands of private individuals could be sold within the national territory or exported. To grant the export licences a special office was created: the Rome Export Office was established in 1877, while before that date the processing of licences had been the responsibility of local institutions. Pietro Rosa, as Superintendent of Rome and its Province, was responsible for overseeing the exports from 1870 to 1874. In June 1875, the responsibility for issuing export permits in Rome had passed to the Ufficio tecnico per gli scavi (Technical Office for Excavations) to which the applicant was required to submit the licence application on stamped paper and, once the licence was granted, pay the fee, amounting to 20 per cent of its estimated market value.20 In 1877, when the Rome Export Office was finally established, it was based at the Museo Kircheriano al Collegio Romano and Ettore De Ruggiero was appointed director.21 The head of the Rome Export Office was supported by two officers: one responsible for sculptures and one for paintings. They would assess export licence applications, estimate the market value of artworks and pass queries on to the Office. The Office granted permits upon payment of a fee calculated on the basis of ‘the value and quality of the objects’. The two employees thus had a significant responsibility, since they, and not the management, received the requests. Over time and with practice, it was decided that a seal should be applied to the licensed crates, so that customs authorities could easily identify them.22 In May 1881, the headquarters of the Export Office were relocated to the Rome Customs Office and its management passed to the General Inspector of Museums and Excavations of the Kingdom of Italy in the person of Pietro Rosa, who had already directed it until 1874.23 After Pietro Rosa’s death, Ettore De Ruggiero, who had in the meantime been appointed director of the new Museo Nazionale Romano alle Terme di Diocleziano (National Roman Museum at the Baths of Diocletian), resumed his post and the Office’s headquarters were relocated to the Museo delle Terme.24 In November 1888, new export regulations were enacted assigning the task of issuing export licences to special regional commissions staffed by representatives of the institutions ‘which have as their objective the study and protection of the artistic heritage of the Kingdom’.25 The headquarters of the export offices were established in the few public museums in Rome: the Museo Kircheriano at the Collegio Romano that immediately after the unification of Italy was confiscated from the Jesuits, and afterwards at the Museo Nazionale Romano alle Terme that opened in 1889.26 20

See ACS, M.P.I., D.G. AA.BB.AA., I vers., b. 387, fasc. 25-20. See ACS, M.P.I., D.G. AA.BB.AA., I vers., b. 387, fasc. 25-30. On Ettore De Ruggiero (1839–1926), see Barnabei & Delpino 1991: 107, n. 13; Elefante 1991. 22 A long report written by Ettore De Ruggiero on 24 November 1880 on the Export Office’s activities is preserved in ACS, M.P.I., D.G. AA.BB.AA., I vers., b. 387, fasc. 25-42. 23 Decree of 9 May 1881 (ACS, M.P.I., D.G. AA.BB.AA., II vers. I serie, b. 206, fasc. 3419). The regulations of the new office are dated 16 May 1881. On 30 June 1885, a new regulation for calculating the export fee for artworks and antiquities in Rome established that, from 1 July of that year, the proceeds of the export tax could be managed by the Ministry of Instruction itself (ACS, M.P.I., D.G. AA.BB.AA., II vers. I serie, b. 206, fasc. 3419). 24 ACS, M.P.I., D.G. AA.BB.AA., II vers. I serie, b. 208, fasc. 3436. 25 ACS, M.P.I., D.G. AA.BB.AA., II vers. III parte, b. 1 fasc. Esportazioni. Provvedimenti Generali 1889. 26 On the history of the museums in capital Rome, see Barnabei & Delpino 1991: 182–212; Bruni 1992, 2001; Bruni & Paris 2014; Curzi 1998; Pietroletti 2016. 21

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All the archaeological objects that came from the excavations undertaken by the Ministry of Public Instruction were brought as well to the Baths of Diocletian, where the first important experiments in systematic cataloguing were taking place. For the employees of the Export Office it was easier in this way not to grant licences for the kinds of objects not already included in museum collections. It cannot be said that they completely succeeded, but as long as the Pacca Edict remained in force, it was possible to prohibit the export of many objects without the state being obliged to purchase them in order to avoid their exportation. As an example we can mention the famous Ludovisi Throne, on which Warren and Marshall immediately fixed their eyes when it came to light during construction works in the Ludovisi district. Wishing to buy it for the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, they offered 180,000 lire to the Boncompagni Ludovisi prince. An attempt to export the Ludovisi Throne was made on 6 March 1894 by the procurator general of the prince, who requested an export licence for a ‘marble fragment found in 1887 in the Ludovisi Villa and therefore not included in any fideicommissum’. The Commission that examined it, however, decided that permission should be denied ‘for its historical provenience, and for its connection to another fragment existing in the Villa Ludovisi and protected by the fideicommissum’, since ‘it was in fact recognised that the carved marble is the main part of the seat or throne, on which sat the colossal statue of Venus, located in the famous sanctuary of the Horti Sallustiani near the Porta Collina’.27 The export licence was eventually denied and the Ludovisi Throne had to remain in the collection until it was purchased by the state in 1902.28 Perhaps this was the reason why the Boston Throne (1130; Plate LXXVIII) was illegally exported.29 Regulating the antiquities market Few legislative instruments would be able to stem the incessant demand for antiquities: the Pacca Edict had some obvious limitations and could be easily circumvented. The years between 1865 and 1902 represented a long period of adjustment and experimentation. Finally, in 1902, Minister Aldo Nasi succeeded in passing a bill30 proposing the introduction of a catalogue of works of historical and artistic interest. This law also required the state to abandon the imposition of an absolute ban on the international export of art objects, in cases where the right of first refusal had not been exercised. For privately owned objects not included in the catalogue, for which an export licence was granted, a progressive tax on the value of the object would be applied. Objects owned by municipalities, provinces and the church authorities, though, remained inalienable. The law also established that, if the state had carried out excavations for public utility works on private land, the landowner would obtain a quarter of the archaeological finds in addition to compensation. The maximum fee was 20 per cent for objects of an estimated value exceeding 80,000 lire. The Nasi Law managed to reconcile – at least on paper and with considerable compromises – the demand for protection of private property rights with the need to preserve Italy’s historical and artistic heritage. However, the law turned out to lack any significant impact, since the planning and design of the catalogue soon proved to be overly ambitious in their aim of comprehensiveness and speed of 27

ACS, M.P.I., D.G. AA.BB.AA., II vers. I serie, b. 223, fasc. 3828. See Palma 1983; Palma & de Lachenal 1983. 29 On the Boston Throne see Barbanera 2016. 30 Law of 12 June 1902, no. 185. The text was identical to that proposed – and already approved by the Senate – by the former Minister Gallo. 28

Cultural Heritage Preservation during John Marshall’s Time

195

preparation. The pre-unification laws remained in force for only one year after the enactment of the Nasi Law. The owners of collections and valuable objects – most formerly protected by fideicommissum – included in the catalogue were gradually notified.31 However, when the allotted time expired, in the absence of a complete catalogue, the law of 27 June 1903, no. 242, attempted to limit the damage by stating that the export ban would not cover only privately owned objects in the catalogue, but also ancient objects from excavations if the Export Office considered them of great archaeological or artistic value. In 1904 was the implementation of the Regolamento (regulation), which was highly complex and contradictory, consisting of 418 articles, and made law enforcement even more difficult.32 Thus, the 1902 law never became fully effective. While the 1902 law was being approved, Warren and Marshall had become part of a restricted group of European antiquities traders. Warren advised Marshall on the locations to visit and people to contact; Marshall proposed to Warren those objects he deemed worth buying. The system was well established and Marshall’s name was known to all the Roman art dealers. Often the works of art purchased in Rome, carefully selected and catalogued by Marshall in his photographic archive, were taken to Lewes House and kept there for a long time before being sent to Boston. Among the objects that Marshall purchased on the Roman antiquities market before 1902 and now owned by the Boston Museum of Fine Arts are very significant antiquities such as a statue of a veiled woman from a grave relief found in Rome and bought by Warren in 1898, said to have belonged to the famous collector Alessandro Castellani (1094);33 a head of bearded Heracles belonging to the TrevisanoGiustiniani collection (1059);34 a larger than life-size statue of Cybele acquired through the intermediary of the antiquarian Alfredo Barsanti in Castellammare Adriatico – apparently originating from L’Aquila – in 1899 (1061);35 a statue of Aphrodite riding a goose that belonged to the Somzée collection, purchased in 1903 in Rome (1089);36 and the so-called ‘Borghi Amazon’ (1102).37 In 1905, with the relocation of the director of the Museum of Fine Arts Edward Robinson to The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York as assistant director, Warren’s relationship with Boston dwindled while Marshall became the only purchasing agent in Europe for The Metropolitan. The circumstances were particularly favourable: in 1901, The Metropolitan received, almost unexpectedly, a donation of $5 million. The extraordinary figure bequeathed to the museum by the railroad magnate Jacob S. Rogers allowed for the arrival in the United States of artworks of incredible value, such as the Roman frescoes from Boscoreale, the Monteleone chariot and the Giustiniani Marbles.38 Meanwhile, Italy was slowly proceeding towards a new law. A first step was approval of the law of 27 June 1907, no. 386, which set out the functions of the Export Office more clearly. According to this law, the Office was responsible for the following tasks: monitoring illegal exports, issuing licences and proposing the purchase under the right of first refusal of the objects presented. The headquarters were to be housed in the management offices of museums, galleries or superintendencies and the Office would 31

The Borghese, Colonna, Doria Pamphilj, Aldobrandini, Torlonia. Barberini and Odescalchi collections were notified of a restriction (ACS, M.P.I., D.G. AA.BB.AA., III vers. II parte, bb. 237-238-239). 32 Regulations of 17 July 1904, no. 431. 33 MFA 98.642. 34 MFA 97.287. 35 MFA 99.340. 36 MFA 03.752. 37 MFA 03.751. See here, Chapter 9 (Petruccioli). 38 See Tomkins 1989: 87–92.

196

Francesca de Tomasi

employ superintendents, directors, inspectors and architects working in the same city, appointed by the Ministry. Superintendents and directors were responsible for estimating the market value of artworks, with the assistance of competent officials, while judgement on permission to export the objects or otherwise would be issued by three officials by majority vote. Many changes took place over just a few years. The administration could barely keep up with the exponential increase in the illicit traffic of works of art on the antiquities market. From a logistical point of view, there was also an evident lack of personnel and facilities suited to the tasks of prevention, control and issuing of licences. The structure and the way of functioning of the Export Offices were becoming more rigid. Nevertheless, if on the one hand the procedures for obtaining licences seemed to have become more complex, on the other hand the illegal exports had not been stopped. Only in June 1909 did the Rosadi Law abolish the catalogue and introduce a ‘notification of major interest’ for privately owned objects.39 If a notified object was sold, the state had the authority to exercise the right of first refusal or to communicate the notification to the new owner. The protection of cultural heritage was extended to all ‘real and personal property’ of ‘historical, archaeological, artistic or palaeontological interest’, except for the works of living artists or those the execution of which dated back less than fifty years. It was prohibited to export the ‘items’ listed above of such ‘historical, archaeological or artistic interest’ that their export would constitute a ‘serious loss to history, archaeology or art’. Anyone wishing to export an object had to present it to the Export Office for evaluation and the state could exercise the right of first refusal. The fee, if the licence was granted, was proportional to the value of the object. The Rosadi Law also allowed the state to carry out excavations ‘in any area of national territory’ by compensating the land owner ‘for the loss of profits’. The state would maintain possession of the archaeological finds and would grant the land owner a quarter of the artefacts or the equivalent value in cash. The state could also expropriate land to undertake excavations and stop excavations for which a licence had been granted. Half of the objects found during excavations undertaken by private individuals became the property of the excavators. However, the Ministry reserved the right to grant the equivalent amount in cash. Marshall’s subsequent activity does not seem to have been affected by the approval of the Rosadi Law. Likewise, antiquities dealers continued their business in agreement with the new post-1909 regulations, especially in the four years that followed the approval of the Rosadi Law. It was, in fact, only in 1913, with Royal Decree no. 363 of 30 January, that the regulations establishing the procedures to be followed to obtain a licence were finally implemented. These new regulations had the primary purpose of avoiding a large-scale exodus of artworks out of Italy: once an object was presented to the Export Office, the state could exercise the right of first refusal and buy the object. Alternatively, the Office could ban exportation, but still allow trade of the object within the national territory; or it could grant the export licence. The sale of the statue of the ‘Old Market Woman’ (8; Plate LXXIX)40 took place while the law of 20 June 1909, no. 364, was being discussed. The statue was discovered in Rome in Via di Monte Caprino (see Map 2, North of no. 20 in 1907 by workmen employed in the demolition of a building. According to an investigation conducted at the time by the Ministry of Public Instruction, the finders did not duly notify the authorities but had attempted to keep the discovery a secret. However, the General Director was tipped off and immediately sent his officials to the site along with a policeman. Since the discovery took place on land owned by a religious fraternity – who were not guilty, but themselves victims of 39 40

Law of 20 June 1909, no. 364. See Rosadi 1921; Balzani 2003, 2007. MMA 09.39.

Cultural Heritage Preservation during John Marshall’s Time

197

the workmen’s attempted fraud – the statue was not confiscated but instead left to its rightful owner, the Opera della Divina Pietà (Charity of the Divine Mercy), and was simultaneously published in the archaeology bulletin of the Ministry of Public Instruction, the Notizie degli Scavi.41 It was the religious congregation itself, however, who gave the statue to an intermediary, a Mr Szoldaticz, who, in turn, sold it to the brothers Alessandro and Antonio Jandolo for 24,000 lire. The Ministry only became aware of this exchange at the end of 1909 and the police immediately launched an investigation. Szoldaticz and Jandolo, charged with failing to legally communicate the change of ownership to the Ministry, provided the investigators with no clear information: they said they had sold the statue to a third man, Mr Ridolfi, for 26,000 lire. Eventually, the ‘Old Market Woman’ reappeared in New York.42 The news of the export was published in the national daily newspaper Il Corriere della Sera on 25 November 1909 with the headline: ‘The incredible emigration to New York of a work of art that vanished in Rome’. Ridolfi was only a red herring, since Marshall had bought the statue for 36,000 lire directly from the Jandolo brothers at the beginning of 190943 and, while waiting to be able to ship it, had kept it in a warehouse along with other objects.44 In early 1910, Szoldaticz and Jandolo declared that the statue had been sold by Ridolfi to Count Resse, who had since died. The main charge, namely failing to report the sale of the work of art, soon came to nothing, because it turned out that the Ministry had never notified the restriction of sale to the religious congregation, thus implicitly authorising the Opera della Divina Pietà to sell the work. There remained the charge of illicit export, but because the individual responsible had died, it was no longer possible to proceed.45 In December 1909, Marshall wrote to Robinson: A trouble had arisen about the old woman, whose publication in the Bulletin caused the Government to start an enquiry. Jandolo when questioned answered that he had sold it to Ridolfi; and then fearing trouble he begged me to give him back my receipt and to take another signed by Ridolfi. I hesitated and consulted my lawyer. He answered me that I did not enter into the matter at all, and that any change of the receipt might, did it become known, affect me badly. The exportation, it is good to know was quite according to all the rules: all Ridolfi’s papers connected with it were in order.’46 This sale represents an emblematic instance of the impotence of the state administration in the face of loopholes and subterfuges perpetrated by antiquari, intermediaries and collectors in the absence of rigorous legislation on the matter. In this regard, the approval of the Rosadi Law empowered the state to act as a guarantor of Italy’s artistic and historical heritage. Conclusion The antiquities trade adjusted itself to the new rules in order to continue to thrive and benefit from the strong demand that came mainly from the United States. By analysing the number and type of objects that passed through Marshall’s hands before and after 1909, we can immediately see on the one hand

41

Mariani 1907. Robinson 1909c. 43 JMA, Letter, MAR-DUN, 1909.02.03. 44 Here Ludwig Pollak saw it, see Pollak 1994: 132. 45 This sequence of events has been reconstructed thanks to the documents preserved in ACS, M.P.I., D.G. AA.BB.AA., Divisione I (1980-12) b. 6, fasc. 57. 46 JMA, Letter, MAR-ROB, 1909.12.21. 42

198

Francesca de Tomasi

an unquestionable increase in the number of deals and of the objects actually sold, and on the other a decrease in the size and often also the quality of those objects. Looking at Marshall’s transactions in Italy on behalf of The Metropolitan that can be traced in the database of the John Marshall Archive, we go from nine objects in 1909 – three of which are statues (the ‘Old Market Woman’, 8; see Plate LXXIX);47 the headless statue of a seated man, signed by Zeuxis (58);48 and the headless statue of a crouching Aphrodite (26; see Plate XXIV)49 – to eighteen objects in 1913 – which included busts (e.g. 1 and 2),50 heads (e.g. 9 and 19),51 statuettes (e.g. 123 and 131)52 and vases (e.g. 185 and 554)53 – to twenty-five objects in 1924 – among which are many vases (e.g. 224 and 230).54 fragments of statues (e.g. 92 and 96),55 heads (e.g. 98 and 219)56 and statuettes (e.g. 99 and 159).57 Furthermore, among Marshall’s letters there are lists of antiquities presented to the Export Office and reports of objects for which the licence was denied.58 And while Italy was struggling to find the most effective rules to protect its national artistic heritage without damaging the right of private owners of valuable objects to sell them, the United States Congress in 1909 was abolishing the 1897 Dingley Tariff Act, which imposed a 20 per cent duty on the import of objects more than a hundred years old, making it easier for museums and collectors to continue buying antiquities in the Mediterranean area and beyond. As in almost every context and epoch, the antiquities market of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries proves to be a complex world in which economic interests, ideological issues, desire for possession by individuals and institutions, and senses of national identity clash, mix and overlap. John Marshall was an active player in this contest and his activities exemplify the difficult path, made of many failures and some good results, that the newborn Italian state was following in the protection of its cultural heritage in the first decades of its existence.

47

MMA 09.39. MMA 09.221.4. 49 MMA 09.221.1. 50 MMA 13.115.2 and MMA 13.231.1. 51 MMA 13.229.3 and MMA 13.227.2. 52 MMA 13.225.2 and MMA 13.227.6. 53 MMA 13.233 and MMA 18.145.15 (1). 54 MMA 24.97.30 and MMA 24.97.95. 55 MMA 24.97.14 and MMA 24.97.15. 56 MMA 24.97.32 and MMA 23.160.95. 57 MMA 24.97.31 and MMA 24.97.100. 58 JMA, Letter, MAR-ROB, 1912.01.18 and JMA, Letter, HAU-ROB, 1910.03.15. 48

PLATES

a. Marble lion from Trastevere (38). MMA 09.221.3 (ph. JM [PHP]-01-0072).

b. Seated marble lion (333) (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0660). Present whereabouts unknown.

I

PLATES

Standing marble lion (335) (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0661, 0662, 0663, 0664). Present whereabouts unknown.

II

PLATES

III

PLATES

Small boy with a hare and grapes (345) (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0684).

IV

PLATES

Head of a statue of the emperor Trajan (1016) (ph. JM [PHP]-27-1934).

V

PLATES

Fragment of a bronze portrait statue of a Roman (520) (ph. JMA [PHP]-14-1029 and 1030 recto and verso).

VI

PLATES

Fragments of the cuirass of a bronze statue (520) (ph. JM [PHP]-14-1031 recto and verso).

VII

PLATES

Marble head of a girl acquired by the Boston Museum of Fine Arts in 1910 (975). Photo by Edward J. Moore, photographer at the museum (ph. JM [PHP]-25-1761a).

VIII

PLATES

Marble head of a youth dated to the second century AD acquired by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1914 (47; MMA 14.130.5). Photograph probably by Cesare Faraglia (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0092).

IX

PLATES

a. Portrait of Livia, acquired from Canessa by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1918 (65; MMA 18.145.45) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0129).

b. Torso acquired from A. Restoven by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1918 (64; MMA 18.145.43) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0128).

c. Torso acquired from A. Restoven for The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1918 or 1919 and de-accessioned in 1928 (69) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0133).

d. Torso acquired from A. Restoven by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1919 (70; MMA 19.192.85) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0134).

X

PLATES

a. Head acquired from E. P. Triantaphyllos by The b. Torso acquired from E. P. Triantaphyllos by Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1917 (62; MMA The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1918 (63; 17.230.131) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0126). MMA 18.145.44) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0127).

c. Torso acquired from E. P. Triantaphyllos by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1919 (68; MMA 19.912.83) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0138).

XI

PLATES

a. Satyr with panther offered in Paris. The curtain behind is flattened and more care has been taken to mask the setting (378) (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0748).

b. Satyr in a different setting with a rather carelessly draped curtain behind the sculpture (378) (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0749).

c. Satyr in another setting with a smaller curtain fastened to a cupboard and wooden support at the base (378) (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0747).

XII

PLATES

a. Himation figure (281) offered by E. P. Triantaphyllos in 1913 (ph. JM [PHP]-08-0574).

b. Himation figure (281) from a different angle (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0575).

c. Himation figure (281) in an unsuccessful photograph. All three seem to derive from the same photo session (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0576).

XIII

PLATES

Two Cypriot heads offered by G. Yanakopoulos, one supported by a Portuguese dictionary (319) (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0642).

XIV

PLATES

Marble female figure in courtyard (381) (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0753).

XV

PLATES

Grave relief acquired by The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1910 (62; MAA 11.100.2), photographed in a transportation box (ph. JM [PHP]-01-0062).

XVI

PLATES

Black-figure loutrophoros, Tübingen S10.1481, and marble funerary lekythos in a store room (544) (ph. JM [PHP]-15-1063).

XVII

PLATES

Marble statue of seated Heracles (1373) (ph. JM [PHP]-32-2382).

XVIII

PLATES

Marble statue of seated Heracles (ph. British School at Rome, Barsanti Archive).

XIX

PLATES

Headless torso of Aphrodite, ‘Syracuse’ type (300), photographed in dramatic light that places the statue outside of real time and space. In contrast to art photographs, in this image the outline of the statue was not cut out and pasted on a solid background, nor was it masked out on the negative plate. Abstraction is achieved by placing the statue in cross-light in a very dark room (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0610 and JM [PHP]-09-0614).

XX

PLATES

XXI

PLATES

Photo of Roman portrait statue of young man in himation with a person, believed to be the dealer G. Yanacoupolos, next to it and another photo just showing the sculpture that was offered to Marshall, but eventually bought by Carl Jacobsen for the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen (367). To save money, it was customary to pin several photographs together to a wooden board so that they could be photographed on one negative glass plate (ph. JM [PHP]-10-0719).

XXII

PLATES

Marble head of Harmodios from the Tyrannicides statue group by Kritios and Nesiotes (104). MMA 26.60.1 (ph. JM [PHP]-03-0215, 0217 and 0218).

XXIII

PLATES

Marble copy of the Crouching Aphrodite by Doidalsas (26). MMA 09.221.1 (ph. JM [PHP]-01-0052, 0053 and 0054).

XXIV

PLATES

Marble head of a bearded god (48). MMA 13.231.2 (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0096 and 0097).

XXV

PLATES

a. Marble herm of a bearded god (372). Current location unknown (ph. JM[PHP]-10-0733 and 0734).

b. Marble herm of a bearded god, Zeus-Ammon type (373). Current location unknown (ph. JM [PHP]-100735 and 0736).

XXVI

PLATES

Marble torso of Eros, Roman copy of a Greek original attributed to Praxiteles (92). MMA 24.97.14 (ph. JM [PHP]-03-0189 and 0190).

XXVII

PLATES

Headless statuette of a draped woman, copy of the Aspasia/Sosandra type (99). MMA 24.97.31 (ph. JM[PHP]-03-0204, 0205, 0206).

XXVIII

PLATES

Head cut from a statue of Marciana, frontal view (60) (ph. JM [PH]-02123). b. Notes on the back of the photograph of the head of Marciana (ph. JM [PHP]-02-123).

XXIX

PLATES

Bust of Caligula, frontal view and profile facing right (43) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0081 and 0082).

XXX

PLATES

XXXI

PLATES

Head from a statue known to Marshall as ‘the Orator’, AD 69–98. Frontal and profile views (51) (ph. JM [PHP] 02-0107, 0109, 0108).

XXXII

PLATES

Notes on the back of the photograph of the head of ‘the Orator’ (left) (ph. JM [PHP)]-02-0110).

XXXIII

PLATES

Head and shoulders from a portrait statue of a male, carved in granite, frontal view (54) (ph. JM [PHP]-02-112).

XXXIV

PLATES

a. Portrait head of Mindia Matidia. Frontal view and profile facing left (61) (ph. JM [PHP]-020124 and 0125).

b. Head cut from a statue of Sabina as Venus (72). Frontal view and profile facing right. The profile shows that the front of the hair was pieced (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0136 and 0137).

XXXV

PLATES

Life-size Augustan bronze portrait statue of a boy (137), with restored feet and plinth, since removed. MMA 14.130.1 (ph. JM [PHP]-04-0290).

XXXVI

PLATES

a. Bronze statuette of a philosopher (126), missing its left foot (later re-united). MMA 10.231.1 (ph. JM [PHP]-04-0262 and JM [PHP]-04-0263).

b. Roman bronze portrait bust of an unknown man (124). MMA 14.40.696 (ph. JM [PHP]-040257 and JM [PHP]-04-0258).

XXXVII

PLATES

Etruscan bronze statuette of a woman with pointed shoes (121). MMA 17.190.2066 (ph. JM [PHP]-32-2343, JM [PHP]-32-2344, JM [PHP]-32-2345).

XXXVIII

PLATES

Large bronze statuette of a dancing satyr (498). MMA 29.73 (ph. JM [PHP]-13-985).

XXXIX

PLATES

Small Archaic bronze statuette of a smiting god, Zeus or Poseidon (143). MMA 21.88.52 (ph. JM [PHP]-04-0303, JM [PHP]-04-0304, JM [PHP]-04-0305).

XL

PLATES

XLI

PLATES

Small Roman bronze portrait bust of a man in a toga (125). MMA 13.225.1 (ph. JM [PHP]-04-0259, JM [PHP]-04-0260, JM [PHP]-04-0261).

XLII

PLATES

XLIII

PLATES

Small bronze statuette of a sleeping Eros (123). MMA 13.225.2 (ph. JM [PHP]-04-0254).

XLIV

PLATES

a. Decorative Roman bronze busts of a Jupiter and a satyr (57). MMA 17.230.2 and MMA 17.230.25 (ph. JM [PHP]-02-0118).

b. Bronze components of a late Hellenistic kline (481) (ph. JM [PHP]-13-0950 and JM [PHP]13-0952).

XLV

PLATES

Bronze statuette of a running Eros (122). New York, The Morgan Library & Museum (ph. JM [PHP]-04-0251, JM [PHP]-04-0252, JM [PHP]-04-0253).

XLVI

PLATES

XLVII

PLATES

Roman bronze portrait head of a woman wearing a hair net (654). Princeton, NJ, Princeton University Art Museum, 80-10 (ph. JM [PHP]-32-1242 and JM [PHP]-32-1243).

XLVIII

PLATES

a. Set of four terracotta objects (192) acquired from E. P. Warren in 1921: a bell krater, a hydria, a stamnos and a rhyton. MMA 21.88.1; MMA 21.88.2; MMA 21.88.3; MMA 21.88.4 (ph. JM [PHP]-05-0379).

b. Bell krater (574) offered Marshall by the dealer G. Pepe in 1922, but eventually bought by The Metropolitan Museum of Art at an auction arranged by the Canessa Galleries in New York in 1924. MMA 24.97.96 (ph. JM [PHP]-15-1112).

XLIX

PLATES

Two photos of the proto-Attic amphora (247), one showing the vase without filling in of holes, the other fully restored. MMA 11.210.1 (ph. JM [PHP]-0485 and JM [PHP]-0490).

L

PLATES

LI

PLATES

Photograph with a selection of vases offered to Marshall (546). The Arretine cup in the upper row to the right was the only one acquired for The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1910 (ph. JM [PHP]-15-1067).

LII

PLATES

Photograph of a cast of one of the moulds (140) acquired by Marshall for The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1919. The card file (JM [DOC]0135) states that the mould is made of bronze, but the acquired mould was made of terracotta (MMA 19.192.20) (ph. JM [PHP]-04-0297).

LIII

PLATES

Two red-figure kraters offered Marshall by Paul Hartwig (534). They turn out to have been part of the Woodyatt collection and perhaps this photograph was taken before they entered that collection. The one to the right is now in the Ny Carlsberg and the one to the left was last registered in the art market in 2003 at an auction at Christie’s (ph. JM [PHP]-15-1051).

LIV

PLATES

Lekythos attributed to the Berlin Painter (595), offered to Marshall in 1925 by the Canessa brothers. He did not buy it and eventually it was acquired by the University Museum of Pennsylvania from the dealer Joseph Brummer in 1926 (ph. JM [PHP]-16-1146).

LV

PLATES

Pinturicchio, Madonna and Child with St. Jerome (683) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1287).

LVI

PLATES

Benvenuto Cellini (already attributed to), Crucifix (732) (ph. JM [PHP]-33-1356).

LVII

PLATES

Donatello, Madonna and Child (743) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1375).

LVIII

PLATES

Donatello, Madonna and Child (744) (ph. JM [PHP]-20-1376).

LIX

PLATES

a. Pietro Lorenzetti, Madonna and Child (689) (ph. JM [PHP]-31-1293).

b. Nineteenth-century forger, Madonna and Child (687) (ph. JM [PHP]-31-1291).

LX

PLATES

Nineteenth-century forger, Virgin of the Annunciation (688) (ph. JM [PHP]-31-1292).

LXI

PLATES

a. Byzantine sarcophagus (717) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1336).

b. Andrea Ferrucci, St Catherine of Alexandria (722) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1345).

c. Giovanni Antonio Amadeo (att.), group of three angels (723) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1346).

LXII

PLATES

a. Three Renaissance marble bases (714) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1332).

b. Three Renaissance marble bases in the Ferroni Collection (ph. Bologna, Fondazione Federico Zeri).

LXIII

PLATES

Master of Pratovechio, triptych (682) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1285).

LXIV

PLATES

a. Madonna and Child (690) (ph. JM [PHP]-31-1294).

b. Nineteenth-century forger, Profile Portrait of Young Lady (691). (ph. JM [PHP]-31-1295).

LXV

PLATES

Nineteenth-century forger? Portrait of a Young Man in Armour (672) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1275).

LXVI

PLATES

Nineteenth-century forger? Madonna and Child (704) (ph. JM [PHP]-19-1318).

LXVII

PLATES

Headless marble statue of Hermes (421) (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0837, JM [PHP]-11-0839, JM [PHP]-11-0840).

LXVIII

PLATES

Marble herm of a girl, similar to the bronze statue of the ‘Water Carrier’ from Herculaneum (417) (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0825, JM [PHP]-11-0826, JM [PHP]-11-0827, JM [PHP]-11-0828).

LXIX

PLATES

Miniature marble head of an athlete (997) (ph. JM [PHP]-26-1797, JM [PHP]-26-1806, JM [PHP]-26-1801).

LXX

PLATES

Marble statue of a man (437) (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0873).

LXXI

PLATES

Statue of Apollo from Palazzo Odescalchi in Rome. Budapest, Szépmüvészéti Múzeum. Inv. no. 6040 A (337) (ph. JM [PHP]-09-0666, JM [PHP]-09-0667, JM [PHP]-09-0668, JM [PHP]-09-0669).

LXXII

PLATES

LXXIII

PLATES

Colossal marble torso of a nude man (427) (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0849 to 0853; JM [PHP]-26-1827).

LXXIV

PLATES

LXXV

PLATES

Marble seated statue of a woman (428) (ph. JM [PHP]-11-0854, 0855 and 0856).

LXXVI

PLATES

LXXVII

PLATES

Three-sided marble relief, so-called ‘Boston Throne’ (1130). MFA 08.205 (ph. JM [PHP]-32-2364, 2363, 2365).

LXXVIII

PLATES

Marble statue of an old woman, so-called Old Market Woman (8) MMA 09.39 (ph. JM [PHP]-01-0021).

LXXIX

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