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William Stenhouse
From Spolia to Collections in the Roman Renaissance
Summary
This paper considers the emergence of antiquity collections in renaissance Rome against the backdrop of medieval traditions of spoliation. It analyses in particular the contributions of Salvatore Settis and Kathleen Wren Christian to our understanding of the political and social functions of collections, and their relations to earlier forms of display. The paper also examines the connections between renaissance collections and wider concerns about the preservation of the ancient city, the display of Christian antiquities, and other collections elsewhere on the Italian peninsula. Keywords: Renaissance; museum; collection; preservation; courtyard; garden; Chris- tian antiquities.
Dieser Aufsatz behandelt die Entstehung von Antikensammlungen im Rom der Renais- sancezeit vor dem Hintergrund der mittelalterlichen Tradition der Spoliierung. Insbeson- dere wird untersucht, was Salvatore Settis und Kathleen Wren Christian zu unserem Ver- ständnis der politischen und sozialen Funktion von Sammlungen und ihrer Beziehung zu früheren Präsentationsformen beigetragen haben. Der Aufsatz verbindet die Untersuchung der Renaissance-Sammlungen mit umfangreicheren Betrachtungen über die Bewahrung der Altstadt, die Präsentation christlicher Altertümer und anderer Sammlungen der italie- nischen Halbinsel. Keywords: Renaissance; Museum; Sammlungen; Bewahrung; (Innen)hof; Garten; christliche Altertümer.
Stefan Altekamp, Carmen Marcks-Jacobs, Peter Seiler (eds.) | Perspektiven der Spolienfor- schung Ǡ. Zentren und Konjunkturen der Spoliierung | Berlin Studies of the Ancient World ǢǞ (ISBN ǧǥǦ-ǡ-ǧǦǟǤǡǦǢ-ǡ-ǟ; URN urn:nbn:de:kobv:ǟǟ-ǟǞǞǠǡǧǧǦǢ) | www.edition-topoi.org
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ǟ Introduction
The century following Nicholas V’s ǟǢǢǥ election to the papacy and the subsequent con- solidation of papal power witnessed vast changes in attitudes to the material remains of antiquity. As a range of figures in Rome – from popes and sculptors to antiquities deal- ers and construction workers – tried to get hold of pagan relics, practices of excavation, protection, and representation shifted and evolved. The widespread emergence of an- tiquity collections is one of the best-documented of these phenomena. Various men took ancient objects – coins, inscriptions on stone and bronze, and sculptures of vari- ous types – and displayed them in their houses, palaces, and suburban villas. By the later sixteenth century, these collections had become a celebrated feature of the Roman land- scape, recommended alongside Christian sites and ancient structures to tourists from the north. How should we explain the emergence of these collections? For the most part, schol- ars have been more interested in the collections’ status as forerunners of the modern mu- seum than in the genesis of the collections themselves. Insofar as they have addressed the question, they have seen collections as a natural consequence of the renaissance ven- eration for classical antiquity, as a result of high renaissance artists’ need to have classical models to imitate (this on the model of Lorenzo de’ Medici’s Florentine ‘accademia’ re- counted by Vasari), or as a response to papal authority and initiative (in such a narrative the Capitoline antiquities that Pope Sixtus IV bestowed on the city of Rome in ǟǢǥǟ, and the papal collection of the Belvedere installed by Julius II in the first decade of the sixteenth century figure prominently as models for others to follow).^1 These assump- tions about collections tended to divorce them from practices of spoliate construction and medieval traditions of display at Rome.^2 In the last two decades or so, however, the gap separating scholarship on spolia and scholarship on collections has dissolved, thanks to the work of two scholars in particular, Salvatore Settis and Kathleen Wren Christian. In what follows I take their exemplary research and presentation of a wide body of material as the basis for my discussion, focusing on stone antiquities’ display
1 For the first, see e.g. Weiss ǟǧǦǦ. Vasari ǟǧǥǧ, ii.ǦǣǦ comments as follows: “This [Lorenzo’s] garden was in such wise filled with the best ancient statuary... And all these works, in addition to the magnifi- cence and adornment that they conferred on that garden, were as a school or academy for the young painters and sculptors, as well as for all others who were studying the arts of design...” On the garden, see Elam ǟǧǧǠ and Pommier ǠǞǞǟ. As well as not being necessarily applicable to what was happening in Rome, Vasari’s picture of the garden is likely to have been shaped by his own later experience as an
artist and student of ancient sculpture. On the Capi- toline donation, see Buddensieg ǟǧǦǡ and Christian ǠǞǟǞ, ǟǞǡ–ǟǟǡ, with previous bibliography; and for the Belvedere, Brummer ǟǧǥǞ. 2 Most scholarship on spolia at Rome focuses on late antiquity and the medieval period; exceptions that look at the sixteenth century tend to focus on eccle- siastical architecture: see especially Satzinger ǟǧǧǤ; Bosman ǠǞǞǢ, and the contributions of Bernhard Fritsch, Hermann Schlimme, and Christine Pap- pelau in this volume.
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only after connotations of prestige were added to it through its purposeful reuse in a number of contexts whose significance was usually determined by power rather than by taste.^8
The process of displacement therefore served initially to enhance the political status and standing of the new owner; collections should be seen in their political and cultural roles. Building on Settis, we can see that the sense of distance from the past did not emerge in a straightforward way; in order to enhance their status, renaissance figures often used spoliate construction to stress their links with, rather than their removal from, the classical past.^9 In a number of precise studies of individual Roman collections, and now in a book, Kathleen Wren Christian has confirmed Settis’s basic picture, while adding important detail and nuance to it. Christian directly identifies the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries as the “transitional period” in the “shift in the status of antique images ... from building materials to collectable art objects.”^10 Very broadly speaking, she shows how collectors in this period expanded the range of objects that they collected, from coins to inscriptions to figural sculpture. Their backgrounds changed, too: ecclesias- tical dignitaries gradually replaced indigenous Romans. Like Settis, Christian empha- sizes the contingency and variety of this process. Collectors used antiquities to enhance their prestige in a variety of ways: as a means to demonstrate their magnificence, their liberality, and eventually their appreciation of beauty; but also to show their commit- ment to the development of the city; to emphasize their connections with antiquity, and therefore their established presence in Rome; and more specifically, as a means of connecting themselves with a pre-imperial (and so pre-papal) republican past, remind- ing viewers of their potential political power. Thus for Christian, a collection could be “an active agent of cultural change”, and more concretely a means for ambitious figures in Rome to promote themselves and establish roots.^11 Both Settis and Christian show that late fifteenth- and early sixteenth-century collectors explored a variety of sites for the “purposeful reuse” of their “art objects”, including the street façades of their residences, but also the semi-public courtyards of their palaces, private studies and libraries, and, eventually, purpose-built sites, including pleasure gardens whose major function was to highlight antiquities. As we shall see, in comparison with the medieval period, we are well-informed about the political and social purpose and reception of these new sites.
8 Settis ǠǞǞǦ, ǟǢ. 9 See Koortbojian ǠǞǟǟ, ǟǤǡ, who argues from three fifteenth- and sixteenth-century case studies pre- cisely that “the use of spolia was intertwined with a conspicuous and deliberate attempt to negate the great gulf of time that lay between now and then.”
10 Christian ǠǞǟǞ, Ǡ. 11 Christian ǠǞǟǞ, Ǣ; she cites the work of Paula Find- len as a particularly important influence on this ar- gument.
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ǡ Antiquities from façade to courtyard
By ǟǢǣǞ antiquities had long been used in the façades of buildings to advertise their owners’ distinction. The most famous example was that of the twelfth-century Casa dei Crescenzi, where an inscription, visible today, even attested to the civic commitment of its owner, asserting his desire to “renew the ancient splendor of Rome.”^12 By the time Manuel Chrysoloras visited Rome at the beginning of the fifteenth century, he could comment that “Here the streets are full of … statues, images of the ancient heroes cover ... the walls of houses ... walking through the city, one’s eyes are drawn from one work to another”^13 , and even if he overstated his case, it seems clear that he was referring to a common phenomenon. Private citizens of the second half of the century continued the trend. Lorenzo Manlio, for example, a successful apothecary, built ancient inscriptions and bas-reliefs, including one with the portrait of a freedman (Manlio could have rec- ognized in an ancient freedman a figure of equivalent status to his own), into the façade of his new house (Fig. ǟ).^14 A huge, classicizing inscription began with the assertion that ‘Rome is being reborn in her former guise’ (‘Urbe Roma in pristinam forma[m] [r]enascente’). Like the Crescenzi, therefore, Manlio placed his decision to display an- tiquities on the outside of his new house within a wider civic project of the renewal of classical Rome. The rest of the inscription complicated that position, however. It was dated from the founding of the city (ǠǠǠǧ ‘ab urbe condita’ rather than AD ǟǢǥǤ), and connected Manlio with ‘the Manlius name’. Manlius could refer either to an ancient Roman general who defended Rome in ǡǧǞ BCE, or to a rather less prominent Manlius Homullus celebrated in one of the inscriptions immured in the façade.^15 With these details, then, the newly-prominent Manlio presented himself as having deep roots in the city and asserted a continuity between his own time and classical antiquity; if this was a renaissance, it did not follow a clean break with the past.^16 Manlio’s house, with its inscription, helps us understand other, less explicit façades. Like Manlio, some families included inscriptions referring to Roman individuals bear- ing similar names to their own. The De’Rossi, for example, showed an inscription fea- turing a Roscius.^17 Others created more pointed displays. In ǟǢǣǥ Andrea Santacroce included a fragment of the consular Fasti (an inscribed list of Roman magistracies) fea- turing P. Valerius Publicola on the façade of his house. To this he probably added a
12 Gramaccini ǟǧǧǤ, ǥǧ–ǦǞ; for the inscription, Lans- ford ǠǞǞǧ, ǟǤǢ–ǟǤǣ: “Rome veterem renovare decorem.” 13 Translation of Smith ǟǧǧǠ, ǠǞǠ, from Manuel Chrysoloras, Comparison of Old and New Rome. 14 Tucci ǠǞǞǟ; Christian ǠǞǟǞ, ǥǢ–ǥǤ, and ǥǦ on freedmen.
15 The inscription was CIL VI.ǟǟǟǢǠ; Tucci ǠǞǞǟ, ǠǞǡ– ǠǞǢ. 16 Koortbojian ǠǞǟǟ, ǟǣǢ–ǟǣǤ. 17 CIL VI.ǠǣǢǥǦ, first recorded by Sabinus in the ǟǢǧǞs; Mazzocchi ǟǣǠǟ, fol.ǟǢǠv–ǟǢǡr records it ‘in domo’ as opposed to two other inscriptions, not mention- ing Roscius, which were ‘ante domum’ and ‘supra portam’.
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In the courtyard of his palazzo, Francesco Porcari displayed various ancient reliefs showing pigs (porci) , related to the pig that appeared in the Porcari family coat of arms.^20 These spolia suggest a somewhat playful association with Roman antiquity. Giulio Por- cari, Francesco’s son, however, went further, and added a political edge to the family’s displays. In the courtyard, above a doorway at the head of a flight of stairs, he installed an antique cornice, and added a new inscription above, which proclaimed “I am he, Cato Porcius, author of our progeny who, with arms and diplomacy, brought his noble name to the lips [of all].”^21 The Cato Porcius could be either the elder or the younger Cato: both were distinguished for their upright service to the Roman republic, and the younger in particular for his resistance to the tyranny of Caesar. Giulio Porcari’s grand- father, Stefano Porcari, had been executed in ǟǢǣǡ for mounting a conspiracy against Pope Nicholas V that appealed to republican ideals.^22 As Christian argues, therefore, when Giulio Porcari, like Manlio and Santacroce, chose to highlight a famous republi- can servant of Rome, all three were demonstrating a commitment to independence from papal government even as they accommodated themselves to individual popes.^23 In the second half of the fifteenth century, then, medieval traditions of spoliate construction were given a contemporary political resonance, by engaging contemporary humanists’ knowledge of Roman history, Roman visual culture, and Roman inscriptions. Considering these carefully-chosen displays, Settis asks “if we think, say, of the patchwork of sculptures on the walls of Lorenzo Manlio’s house, can we call it a col- lection or not?” and answers that “I leave the question open, maintaining that it is more important to recognize in it ... a transition from reuse to collection.”^24 We should not, though, see the façades in isolation; by the later fifteenth-century they advertised the treasures that their owners kept behind the walls. These collections could include in- scriptions, sarcophagi and reliefs, like the Porcari pigs, but increasingly, towards the end of the century, free-standing figural statues as well. Even the relatively humble Manlio owned statues, according to Francesco Albertini, writing in ǟǣǟǞ,^25 and more prominent civic and ecclesiastical figures developed significant collections. Andrea San- tacroce’s nephew, Prospero, also a conservator (in ǟǢǧǣ), added various figural statues to the family collection, including a torso of Venus. Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere dis- played various inscriptions in front of the complex around the Basilica dei Santi Apos- toli, which he began to restore in the late ǟǢǥǞs; inside his palace he included a garden courtyard, which featured two immured inscriptions, and a series of free-standing stat-
20 Modigliani ǟǧǧǢ, ǡǟǞ–ǡǟǟ, ǡǡǞ–ǡǡǟ; Christian ǠǞǟǞ, ǡǣǢ–ǡǣǦ. 21 Minasi ǠǞǞǥ; Christian ǠǞǟǞ, ǥǟ–ǥǠ and ǡǣǣ. Modigliani ǟǧǧǢ, ǡǟǟ and figs. ǧ–ǟǞ. 22 Modigliani ǟǧǧǢ, ǢǢǣ–Ǣǥǥ.
23 Christian ǠǞǟǞ, ǥǤ–ǥǥ. On the place of antiquity in the resistance of the Roman nobility to papal con- trol more generally, see e.g. Miglio ǠǞǞǡ. 24 Settis ǠǞǞǦ, ǠǢ. 25 Albertini ǟǣǟǞ, QǠv.
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ues with a giant porphyry vase in the middle.^26 Della Rovere, in fact, probably created his courtyard in response to the earlier example of Prospero Colonna, who had created an enclosed space to display ancient statues as a backdrop for elite gatherings very close to where della Rovere was building.^27 By the end of the century this model was in- creasingly common. When della Rovere was elected pope, as Julius II in ǟǣǞǡ, it is not surprising that he soon turned his attention to creating a purpose-built statue court, the Belvedere, for his new Vatican palace.^28 Ostensibly, these spaces lacked the political thrust of pointed façade-displays. When Cardinal Cesarini placed an inscription at the entrance to his collection, he announced that it was to provide “honesta voluptas” for his contemporaries, and one observer called the Belvedere a viridarium , the term used by Roman writers for a garden for relaxation.^29 The collections were withdrawn from the business of the public street, except on spe- cial occasions.^30 A visitor to Rome from Milan in ǟǢǧǞ, Giovanni da Tolentino, reported that he was accosted outside the della Valle residences by “a certain Roman citizen”, who asked “What if you were to come across works in a private house probably not inferior to those you have seen in public?” before presenting the courtyard and statuary that it con- tained.^31 The house was not entirely private, but the contemplation of the works that it contained – and hence the pleasure that they could provide – was at the behest of their owner. The ǟǢǥǟ donation of Sixtus IV to create the Capitoline antiquity collection is sometimes assumed to have paved the way for more public collections, but the evidence suggests the opposite is true; in the two generations following Sixtus, antiquities were increasingly moved out of public thoroughfares into private dwellings. A direct connec- tion with figures from antiquity, such as Manlio boasted, remained a central mark of status for Roman dwellers (there are several sixteenth-century examples of families high- lighting inscriptions to demonstrate a connection with classical Roman families),^32 but the simple ownership of beautiful remains became an increasingly important sign of status, too. These courtyards did not necessarily break with earlier traditions of spoliate con- struction. For the most part they continued to include antiquities in their new walls.
26 Magister ǠǞǞǠ, Christian ǠǞǟǞ, ǡǤǦ–ǡǥǠ. 27 Magister ǠǞǞǠ, esp ǡǧǞ–ǢǠǟ for the relationship between della Rovere and the Colonna; and for Colonna, see Christian ǠǞǟǞ, ǡǥ–Ǥǟ. 28 Della Rovere moved some statues from his collec- tion to the new space, which would have made the link clear to his contemporaries: for the Apollo Belvedere, see Brown ǟǧǦǤ. 29 Christian ǠǞǟǞ, ǠǧǤ; Stinger ǟǧǧǦ, ǠǥǠ. 30 For Leo X’s possesso of ǟǣǟǡ, della Valle erected a temporary triumphal arch as a sort of display-
scaffold (and so prefiguring Raphael’s ability to dis- tinguish statues from structure in the Arch of Con- stantine): see Paoluzzi ǠǞǞǥ, ǟǤǡ–ǟǤǥ, and Christian ǠǞǞǦ, ǢǞ and ǢǦ with previous references, and for the context of the contested Via Papalis, Cafà ǠǞǟǞ. 31 Schofield ǟǧǦǞ, ǠǣǢ–Ǡǣǣ, translated in Christian ǠǞǞǦ, ǡǥ–ǡǦ. 32 These include the Porcari ( CIL VI.ǟǦǣǠ, first recorded in the ǟǣǢǞs), the Massimi ( CIL VI.ǟǢǞǥ, again first recorded in the ǟǣǢǞs), and the Cenci ( CIL VI.ǧǧǥǦ, first recorded in the ǟǣǤǞs).
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Ǣ Courtyard collections and the discourse of preservation
Wholly private hoarding of antiquities, however, served the interest neither of the own- ers – whose magnificence and generosity would not then be apparent – nor that of participants in a developing debate about the ownership and preservation of Rome’s classical treasures. Della Valle’s and Cesarini’s inscriptions made it clear that their col- lections were not for family alone, but rather for guests and visitors, or more specifically poets and painters, as above (Maarten van Heemskerck’s drawing of the courtyard was adapted as a popular print).^39 In addition the renaissance collections emerged at a time when both papal and civic authorities were attempting to regulate the excavation and export of antiquities. In this climate, owners were able to present their collections as contributing to the preservation of ancient Rome, and hence to the glory of the con- temporary city. As David Karmon has recently shown, fifteenth- and sixteenth-century humanists’ frequent complaints about the degeneration of the ancient city’s built environment have obscured the fact that several deliberate attempts to preserve classical Roman structures succeeded in this period.^40 Both the papacy and civic authorities increasingly used their powers to protect existing structures, and directed builders looking for construction material to excavate for it, rather then to take it from visible buildings. In the course of the ǟǣǠǞs, Karmon argues, we can see “that papal legislation [became] considerably more specific in its efforts to preserve ancient remains”, and identify “a new interest in locating the source of value [for the city] precisely in the age and antiquity of Rome’s historic artifacts.”^41 For collectors of antiquities, this environment had various conse- quences. Excavations, of course, regularly turned up displayable antiquities as well as broken stone, and collectors could justifiably claim that by taking these remains to their homes, they were saving them from the kiln.^42 More generally, the careful display and celebration of objects would maintain them. In his famous letter to Leo X on the Arch of Constantine of around ǟǣǟǧ, Raphael had begged him to “ensure that ... what little remains of this ancient mother of the glory and renown of Italy is not to be completely destroyed and ruined by the wicked and the ignorant.”^43 By this point, collectors who
39 On questions of representation and access, see Cof- fin ǟǧǦǠ; Falguières ǟǧǦǦ and Stenhouse ǠǞǞǣ. A copy of the print of van Heemskerck’s drawing is available at http://www.britishmuseum.org/ collectionimages/ANǞǞǟǞǧ/ANǞǞǟǞǧǞǧǣ_ǞǞǟ_l.jpg (consulted ǥ September ǠǞǟǤ). 40 Karmon ǠǞǟǟ; see also e.g. Franceschini ǟǧǦǤ. 41 Karmon ǠǞǟǟ, ǧǥ.
42 As Fancelli notes (Fancelli ǠǞǞǣ, ǣǥ): “Spolia vuol dire, appunto, riutilizzo, re-impiego, di certo spoli- azione, sottrazione, talora scavo mirato allo scopo. Ma altro era il raccogliere, quasi naturaliter, dei brani sparsi a terra, altro la caccia al materiale nel sottosuolo, altro ancora era, oltretutto con i pericoli derivanti, perseguire il fine previa manomissione di un monumento ancora in piedi.” 43 Hart and Hicks ǠǞǞǤ, ǟǦǟ; see Di Teodoro ǟǧǧǢ.
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saved fragmentary remains could legitimately present themselves as already protecting Rome’s glory. Andrea della Valle went one step further. In a ǟǣǡǞ letter – whose main purpose, interestingly, seems to have been to ask Cardinal della Valle to make sure that he dis- tinguished the public road from his private property – the papal Camerlengo Agostino Spinola referred to della Valle’s project as follows: “restoring [statues and other stones] to their former appearance, imitating buildings collapsed through time, and refreshing them for the new use and enjoyment of us and our descendents.”^44 Della Valle certainly restored some of the antiquities that he displayed – one of his new inscriptions stated that the garden was “for the restoration of collapsing statues” – but the link between imitation (imitando) and refreshment or restoration (reparando) requires more explana- tion. Spinola seems to allude to the source of some of della Valle’s pieces. Della Valle worked hard to gather material for his new creation, and unusually for the period paid for deliberate excavations.^45 He also looked around for material from buildings that were still standing, including the Arcus novus on the Via Lata. This had suffered sig- nificant damage when Innocent VIII restored the church next door (Santa Maria), but its remains were still visible in the early sixteenth century.^46 Della Valle got hold of a number of reliefs from this structure, and had them placed in structures influenced by triumphal arches. Thus della Valle was not simply preserving them from further depre- dation, but also recreating their ancient structure, both imitating and restoring. Alexan- der Nagel and Christopher Wood’s recent explorations of notions of replacement and substitution in fifteenth-century artistic production are relevant here.^47 If renaissance
44 The version of this letter in the Vatican archives seems to be a draft, and resists a straightforward translation. For the full text of the first section (taken from Archivio Segreto Vaticano, Divers camer., armadio Ǡǧ vol. ǥǧ, fol.ǥǤv) see Frommel ǟǧǥǡ, ii.ǡǡǥ: “... Laudabile tue ... propositum quod in exornanda amplificandaque urbe roma unde oriunda est plurimum usatur marmoreas porphi- res easque longenj temporis subterraneas statuas et alios lapides dignorum artificum manibus ela- boratos historijs memoratu digna sculptos clara maiorum gesta vivificantes ad lucem restituendo priscam edifitia vetustate colapsa imitando eaque in novum et modernum posteriumque nostrorum usum et delectamentum reparando non solum com- mendatione et approbatione sed etiam omnj favore gratia admonimento [?] dignum esse existit monu- mentum [?] ... cum nuper accepimus eandem tuam Reverendissimam dominationem pulcherrimum quoddam edificium pro suo posteriumque suorum
usu et commoditate urbisque decoreo novis et ve- teris lapidibus exornatum in regione sancti Eusta- chij construere inceperit [?] eademque et[?] pro ea quandam plateolam que Cardinalis ipsius edificat et existit.” I have taken “resitituendo” with “statuas et alios lapides”; cf. Christian ǠǞǞǠ, Appendix IX.ǧ. 45 Vacca ǟǥǞǢ, ǠǠ; Christian ǠǞǞǦ; Campbell ǠǞǞǢ for rescue archaeology. 46 Lanciani ǟǧǦǧ–ǠǞǞǠ, i.Ǡǥǡ–ǠǥǢ. On the arch see the useful summary of LTUR i.ǟǞǟ–ǟǞǠ. 47 E.g. Nagel and Wood ǠǞǟǞ, ǡǟ: “This book argues that the apprehension of historical artifacts in the late medieval and early modern period, as well as the production of new images and buildings, was built on the following paradox: the possibility that a material sample of the past could be both an es- pecially powerful testimony to a distant world and at the same time an ersatz for another, now absent artifact.”
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Fifteenth- and early sixteenth-century observers do not seem to have seen the connec- tion as especially important or appropriate, nor does the family seem to have exploited the potential of the building to display their pieces. In ǟǣǟǞ Francesco Albertini men- tioned the theater without mentioning its owner in his section on ancient Rome, and then, in the section on cardinals residences in ‘New Rome’, noted that Cardinal Savelli owned two marble sarcophagi, and the labours of Hercules, and then simply that un- der the house was “the Theater of Marcellus, most beautifully constructed in the Ionic and Doric orders, as its remains reveal.”^55 Baldassarre Peruzzi’s work on the building and its foundations after ǟǣǠǣ does not seem to have changed that situation.^56 By the middle of the century, however, as prominent figures at Rome began to exploit the possibilities of display in the suburban villas and gardens, they used classical ruins as the backdrop, or even the housing, for their stone sculpture. When Francesco Soderini bought the Mausoleum of Augustus, he excavated for statues, and displayed them in the structure. Flaminia Bardati suggests that Jean du Bellay used the south exedra of the Baths of Diocletian, which he had acquired in ǟǣǣǢ, to show off his collection.^57 In these later collections, therefore, the creation of gardens for leisure and contemplation maintained buildings and objects, as well as preserving, in the case of the Baths, the buildings’ one-time function as a place of relaxed retreat.
ǣ Collections and Christianity
The examples of Leto and Pontano, above, raise the related question of the connection between these collections and Christianity. As Settis argues, there is a general move in this period to the desacralization of newly-displayed antiquities: when the popes exhib- ited a statue of Apollo in the Vatican, they were not encouraging pagan worship. Yet the process of desacralization was not completely straightforward, either. On the one hand, suspicion persisted in the sixteenth century about the potentially dangerous idols in the collections of ecclesiastical grandees; on the other, pagan material remains continued to be adapted for use in churches. Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere, for example, happily added an ancient carved eagle to the entrance of Santi Apostoli (Fig. Ǡ), with a new in- scription announcing that he had it was “saved from so many ruins”.^58 He also seems to have adapted a pagan altar for the church.^59 The classical altar, decorated with rams’
55 Albertini ǟǣǟǞ, Gr and [Y iv]r. 56 For Peruzzi, see Tessari ǟǧǧǣ, ǟǠǡ–ǟǡǤ. 57 Bardati ǠǞǟǞ, ǢǠǤ–ǢǡǞ; Dickenson ǟǧǤǞ, ǟǞǠ. For the site, see Günther ǟǧǧǢ. 58 Magister ǠǞǞǠ, ǢǠǦ; Bober and Rubinstein ǠǞǟǞ, Ǡǡǥ–ǠǡǦ; Christian ǠǞǟǞ, ǡǤǦ. The inscription reads
“TOT RVINIS SERVATAM IVL CAR SIXTI IIII PONT NEPOS HIC STATVIT”. 59 The altar is now in the Palazzo Altemps. The in- scription reads “EVCHARISTIAE/ IVL. CAR. SAX/VM EX VRBI/CA RVINA RE/LICTVM OB E/LEGANTIAM/ EREXIT”; see Christian ǠǞǟǞ, ǟǥǣ– ǟǥǤ and Ǡǧǣ, who attributes it to Cesarini.
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heads, eagles, and a Medusa, includes a renaissance inscription which reads as follows: ‘To the Eucharist. Cardinal Giuliano put this stone up, which was left from the city’s ruins, for its beauty’. The Giuliano of the inscription is not specified, and following Lanciani, it is usually assumed to be Cesarini; Francesco Caglioti argues convincingly, however, that Lanciani misread a record of the inscription’s site, which should be Santi Apostoli.^60 The language of the inscriptions added to both pagan pieces is certainly sim- ilar (and mirrors the dedicatory inscription for the restored church as a whole: Giuliano “restored this church, which had almost collapsed”); perhaps the paired eagles appealed to the cardinal.^61 Whatever its site, the altar’s decoration is not particularly appropriate for a Christian context, and so we should take the inscription at face value: the elegantia of the object seems to have made it an appropriate dedication for a church, in Rome. An- other earlier example of the ostensible Christianization of pagan remains is the famous interpretation given by the Santacroce to their classical funerary relief, showing three freedmen, displayed outside their palazzo.^62 Andrea Santacroce seems to have added the inscriptions: beside the man, there is “HONOR”, beside his wife, “VERITAS”, over their son, “AMOR”, and then above all three the title “FIDEI SIMVLACRVM”. Phyllis Williams argued that this was a trinitarian interpretation of the relief, as representation of Faith connected to the restoration of S Maria in Publicolis.^63 A further inscription, though, makes clear the link between the ‘renovata templa’ and the family’s ‘lares’, the household spirits of pagan Rome, and it seems that this reinterpreted and adapted relief provides a sort of bridge between pagan antiquity and the classical present. Christian suggests that it was placed between the family’s house and the church,^64 though origi- nally it may have been in the house of Andrea, and by the time of Giacomo Santacroce, in the sixteenth century, it was certainly inside the house.^65 There is also some evidence that collectors of pagan antiquities were interested in early Christian objects. Although a recognizable field of early Christian antiquarian in- vestigation does not really emerge until the seventeenth century, some humanists were certainly interested in the realia of the early Church at Rome. Maffeo Vegio’s De re- bus antiquis memorabilibus Basilicae Sancti Petri Romae , written between ǟǢǣǣ and ǟǢǣǥ, is a good example of the application of the interests of Biondo to Christian remains,
60 Caglioti ǠǞǞǞ, i.ǟǢǥ–ǢǦ n.ǟǦǧ. 61 For the restoration, see Frank ǟǧǧǤ, ǟǟǥ–ǟǠǞ and Magister ǠǞǞǠ, ǢǠǦ. The inscription read “SEDENTE SIXTO IIII PONT. MAX./ IUL. CAR. S. PET. AD. VINC. NEPOS HANC/BASILICAM PENE COLLABENTEM RESTI/TUIT”. 62 Christian ǠǞǞǡ, ǠǣǦ–Ǡǣǧ.
63 Williams ǟǧǢǞ–ǟǧǢǟ, ǣǠ–ǣǦ; see Wirth ǟǧǦǥ, Ǧǡǟ– Ǧǡǡ. The inscription, with details of early records, is edited as CIL VI.Ǣ*b. 64 Fifteenth-century epigraphic collectors stated that it was “in domo domini Andreae de Sancta Cruce”, though for the Mazzocchi ǟǣǠǟ, ǟǠǠv, it was suppos- edly in the same place as another inscription, “Ante fores Sanctae Mariae in Publicolis statim a sinistris in quodam pariete”. 65 Vicarelli ǠǞǞǥ, ǥǧ–ǦǞ.
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benefits to thinking of the collection of antiquities in toto, as there are to considering spoliation practices in churches and secular buildings together.
Ǥ The singularity of Rome
Finally, how unusual was the city of Rome in the emergence of collections as a means of reusing and appropriating antiquities? Because of the wealth of ancient remains under the city, no other city had anything like the number of collectors. The city’s increasing wealth and political importance in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth century also means that it is reasonable to assume that cultural patterns in Rome could have consid- erable influence elsewhere. On the other hand, many Italian cities had well-established traditions of the collection and display of antiquities by the fifteenth century, and so it would be unwise to search uniquely Roman explanations for changes in collection and spoliation practice in the city.^69 Some time in the early fifteenth century, for ex- ample, seven heads were placed on the outside of the Palazzo Trinci in Foligno, home to the city’s seigneurial family; it is fairly clear that the busts were associating their gov- ernment with the authority of the Roman past.^70 When the sarcophagi were placed in the Campo Santo, in Pisa, they were raised above the ground, apparently in order to make them more easily seen.^71 In Naples, Diomede Carafa planned a palace in ǟǢǢǞs, which he completed between ǟǢǣǦ and ǟǢǤǣ (roughly contemporary, then, to Andrea Santacroce in Rome) adorned with antiquities, including in the cortile an ancient col- umn, placed over an ancient cippus, which Carafa had reinscribed.^72 In the courtyard, Carafa included a welcoming inscription to his guests (hospes), and next to the court- yard, a small garden including an inscription proclaiming that nymphs lived there. The use of a welcoming inscription of this sort predates Roman examples, as does the idea that a garden could be a nymphaeum.^73 Carafa’s attitude to the display of antiquities and the imitation of ancient forms thus appears precocious in comparison with Rome. Above the gate, though, we learn that the structure was designed ‘for the praise of the king, and the beauty of the country’ (‘in laudem regis patriaeque decorum’). From that, at least, we see none of the ambiguous attitudes towards ruling authority that existed in fifteenth-century Roman noble collections. In the northern Italian cities, the veneration and display of antiquities became a means to express the prestige of the town as a whole. This is well-illustrated by proposals
69 In general, Franzoni ǟǧǦǢ, ǡǞǢ–ǡǟǤ. 70 Settis ǟǧǧǡ, ǟǡǥǠ–ǟǡǥǡ; Sensi ǠǞǞǟ; Fiore et al. ǠǞǞǥ. 71 Tolaini ǠǞǞǦ.
72 Divitiis ǠǞǞǥ, Ǣǡ–ǟǡǣ; Divitiis ǠǞǞǦ (who argues for a local Neapolitan all’antica style). 73 In general, gardens for the display of antiquities re- mained much more common in Rome than else- where: see Franzoni ǟǧǦǢ, ǡǟǤ–ǡǠǥ.
̢̢̢̖̟̝̣̠̟̜̙̤̟̟̜̜̤̙̟̞̣̙̞̤̘̟̝̞̞̙̣̣̞̑̓̓̑̑̑̓̕̕̕̕
for civic collections of inscriptions in Brescia, Osimo, and Reggio Emilia. On ǟǡ October ǟǢǦǞ, the comune of Brescia made the following decree:
We have decided, with no one opposing, that the finished stones recently dis- covered in the ground and removed to the seat of our commune ... should be preserved for the public buildings of our community.^74
As a result, the inscriptions were preserved, in a wall in the Piazza della Loggia, where they survive today. In Osimo, various honorific bases were preserved on the site of the ancient forum, though the exact means through which this was achieved are not known; in Reggio Emilia, probably under the influence of the Brescian example, the commune decided that various recently-discovered ancient tombs should be placed “in a public place, so that they could be seen by everyone”, because the civic officials desired “that this city of Reggio should be adorned with similar antiquities, and so made famous.”^75 Un- fortunately in Reggio, the decree does not seem to have been followed, but the wording gives a good idea of what was at stake. Antiquities developed the prestige and standing of the city. In Brescia, the inscriptions were displayed on a secular, communal build- ing, but in Verona, for example, a classical inscription was placed in the façade of the church of Santa Maria in Organo, with the following addition: “what carelessness lost, carefulness restored to antiquity”, dated ǟǢǦǤ.^76 This example makes clear the origins of this form of display. The Brescian collection was described by an eighteenth-century Brescian as “il più antico Museo pubblico d’Italia”^77 , perhaps in an effort to efface the position of the Museo Capitolino in Rome, but as Claudio Franzoni points out, we should seek medieval precedents for the type of display shown there.^78 As in Rome, medieval spoliation was developed, not abandoned, in early renaissance collections on the Italian peninsula. We should therefore be cautious of privileging Rome, despite the wealth of remains there; in the early renaissance, at least, we can see other sites simi- larly influenced by humanism. In these cities and in Naples, though, collections seem to have lacked the political edge that conflicts between native and ecclesiastical nobility brought to Rome.
74 Zamboni ǟǧǥǣ (ǟǥǥǦ), ǡǞ, cited in CIL V.ǟ, ǢǠǥ: “captum fuit, nemine discrepante, quod lapides lab- orati nuper sub terra reperti et inde extracti apud domum communis nostri... conservari debeant pro fabricis publicis communitatis nostrae”. For the wider context of this decree, see Bowd ǠǞǟǞ, ǦǦ–ǧǞ. 75 Franzoni ǟǧǧǧ, Ǣǡ: “cupientes hanc civitatem Regi- nam similibus vetustatibus ornari etiam et celebrem reddi, omnes unanimiter … providerunt et ordi- naverunt quod infrascripti cives ... curent dicta sepulcra haberi in com(muni) (?) et reduci in hac civitate et collocari in aliquo publico loco ...”
76 Franzoni ǟǧǦǢ, ǡǣǡ: “QVOD INCVRIA PER- DIDERAT DILIGENTIA ANTIQVITATI RESTITVIT MCCCCLXXXXVI”. 77 Zamboni ǟǧǥǣ, ǡǟ. 78 Franzoni ǟǧǦǢ, ǡǣǢ: “questo uso medievale non viene scartato con l’arrivo delle correnti umanis- tiche, ma viene reinterpretato, prima isolatamente ed ancora in un edificio di culto... poi in un serie di costruzioni civili e secondo un programma piú vasto, nella piazza di Brescia.” For these collections and others, see Stenhouse ǠǞǟǢ.
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