Translation by Francesco Mazzaferro
Giovanni Mazzaferro
Indiana Jones and the “Venetian Secret”:
from the Provis Manuscript to Mary Philadelphia Merrifield
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| Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones in "Raiders of the Lost Ark" |
The events
related to the English search for the "Venetian Secret" (a method
that would have allowed the old Italian masters, especially Titian, to use colours
with amazing results) may seem simply to remember Indiana Jones' movies and have anecdotal value. Actually, they
help to reconstruct a cultural climate and to demonstrate specifically how, in
the mid-nineteenth century, Mary Philadelphia Merrifield proved able to
approach the question from two points of view: on the one hand the archival
research and on the other one scientific experimentation [1].
![]() |
| Titian, Christ and the Adulteress, Glasgow, Glasgow Museums, Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum Source: Wikimedia Commons |
The English
admiration for the art of Titian, and especially for his coloristic technique,
was genuine. It emerged since the years when Joshua Reynolds was running the
Royal Academy of Arts. Reynolds died in 1792 and was followed as President by
the painter Benjamin West. At the end of 1795, West was approached by an
unknown girl named Mary Ann Provis, and his father, Thomas Provis. The girl
(who had been treated for mental problems) claimed to be in possession of a
copy of a manuscript that contained the "Venetian secret". The
original manuscript would have been handed over to the grandfather of Mary Ann,
in unclear circumstances, by a certain Signor Barri, and would have been
destroyed by fire, luckily not before she had been able to make a copy. And here
is an item that seems to have escaped the authors of the literature on this
case (see Note 1). Giacomo Barri was a little-known artist, but really existed.
In particular, he was surely known in England. Barri had French origins but
lived in Venice, and was the author of the first pocket-art guide of Italy. The
guide was translated into English in 1679 and represented for decades the only
text supporting the English scholars who inaugurated the fashion of the Grand
Tour [2]. At the end of the eighteenth century, the translation of Barri
(operated by William Lodge) had been largely superseded by other texts, such
as, for example, the travel guide by Jonathan Richardson senior, but it is
extremely likely that West knew the name of the little-known Venetian painter.
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| Gilbert Stuart, Portrait of Benjamin West, 1783-1784, London, National Portrait Gallery Sources: Wikimedia Commons |
Whatever
the reason, West had no doubts about the authenticity of the manuscript and
began taking lessons at Mary Ann's house. Meanwhile Thomas Provis did not fail
to spread the voice of the discovery among the other members of the Academy and
soon some of the members of the association claimed their right to be informed
about the contents of the Venetian Secret. The agreement was found with a
subscription; a sum of six hundred guineas was collected, with which the artists
acquired the text and, especially, all rights on its exploitation. The idea was
to repay the investment by charging for the communication of the contents.
The Provis manuscript
is now lost, but three copies still remain. One has been handwritten by Joseph
Farington (another member of the Academy) and is preserved at the Royal Academy
in London with the mark 5172, 25. Farington was one of the partners of West for
the purchase of the text and also narrated the story in his memoirs, later on
published at the beginning of the twentieth century. Probably not
coincidentally, the history of the Provis manuscript was expunged from the published
material. From the copy preserved at the Royal Academy, one can learn, first of
all, that the document proposed by Mary Ann Provis was not only limited to the "Venetian
Secret", but was entitled, in general "System of painting according to the Several Great Italian Schools".
Among the recipe it contains, for example, a "Raphael Green". Certainly,
the bulk of the attention was devoted to the "Titian Shade", composed - according to John Gage in an article
- "by equal quantities of Lake, Indigo
and Hungarian (Prussian) or Antwerp Blue, plus rather more ivory
black. This shade was the universal shadow-colour for flesh,
drapery and clouds".
In reality,
the reading of the manuscript and the indications provided by Mary Ann Provis
revealed soon to be what they actually were: lies. While the focus of public
opinion grew spasmodically, West tried to paint two canvases based on Provis
method: a "Cupid stung by a bee" and "Cicero discovering the tomb
of Archimedes". The latter painting was shown at the annual exhibition of
the Royal Academy in 1797 and made him realize immediately that a good part of
the community of academics had been the victim of a resounding false.
![]() |
Benjamin West, Cicero Discovering the Tombs of Archimedes, 1797, Private collection
Source: http://www.blouinartinfo.com/news/story/272345/he-who-laughs-last
|
The scandal
was huge. West naturally found himself at the centre of polemics. Among the
most visible reactions, two are to be mentioned in particular: an open letter
written by the painter James Barry (Irish, but a figure of reference within the
British art world) to the Society of Amateurs, which stated textually that
"such a concurrence of ridiculous circumstances, of so many, such gross absurdities, and such busy industrious folly, in contriving for the publicity, and exposure of a quacking disgraceful is -
I believe - unparalleled in the history of the art." The members of the
Academy did not appreciate and quickly seized the opportunity to expel him (the
only case in the history of the institution until 2004).
In
September, then, a colour print was published, the work of James Gillray, the
famous caricaturist, which portrayed the members of the Royal Academy in an irreverent
satire. The print was titled "Titianus Redivivus, or the Seven Wise Men consulting the New Venetian Oracle." The
scene is eloquent: three figures, bottom right, are running away furtively.
Among them is West. The author of the print identifies them as those who have
tried to make money by exploiting the Venetian Secret. The seven wise men (all
members of the Academy) watch with their palettes in hand, the glorification of
a young maiden with a long trawl dress. Supported by the Muses, she is going to
give proof of his ability, helped by a winged donkey, which seems to hand her
the brushes.
Between
September 2008 and January 2009 took place at Yale an exhibition entitled
"Benjamin West and the Venetian Secret". Right at the Yale Art
Gallery, in fact, is preserved a painting entitled "Cicero discovering the
tomb of Archimedes" that West painted a second time, seven years later,
this time in accordance with his standard procedures. The exhibition presented
both versions of the painting (the one of 1797 is currently in a private
collection) with X-ray analysis to highlight the differences in execution techniques.
There were then two of the three today existing copies of the Provis manuscript
and the original of the contract by which the Academics undertook to buy the
Venetian Secret from Mary Ann Provis; of course, the hand-colored engraving of Titianus redivivus by James Gillray
could not miss.
What happened next?
The Provis
story is the pinnacle of the spasmodic interest with which the British expressed
their enthusiasm for the Venetian artistic techniques. John Gage summarizes
some stages: in 1802 John Singleton Copley claimed to have discovered the
medium that was the basis of the secret; in 1806 some members of the Academy
(including Farington) assigned a medal to Sebastian Grandi for the technique
with which he realized paintings "in
the old Venetian style"; in 1815 a little book was published (whose
author was later identified as Miss Calver) with the title "Account of a New Process in Painting by means of Glazed Crayons;
with Remarks on its General Correspondence with the Peculiarities of the Venetian school". It was reissued in
expanded version in 1821. Miss Cleaver claimed to have casually discovered the
method in 1807. Also in that case, there were those who did not fail to believe
her.
Mary Philadelphia Merrifield
All this to
say that when, in 1845, Mary Philadelphia Merrifield was tasked from the
British government to travel to Italy to collect manuscripts in the archives of
the peninsula that would shed light on processes and methods of the Old Italian
Masters, she was recognized an undisputed competence in the field. Merrifield
had proven it by publishing the first English translation of the Book of the art by Cennino Cennini
(1844) and releasing, the following year, an anthology entitled The Art of Fresco Painting,
investigating fresco techniques. Her strength comes from the ability to combine
scientific interests (which led her to keep up to date her knowledge of
chemistry) with the systematic study of the sources, both printed and manuscript:
a bibliography of the sources of the Brighton scholar is still missing today
(but I know that it is under construction). However, just browse her books to
realize the magnitude of her knowledge. No doubt, Merrifield arrives to Italy with
the burden of half a century of astonishing announcements and equally resounding
flasks so. Once she has arrived in Venice, she is once again told yet another
fantasy: a communication from England that Pietro Edwards would have discovered
the Old Masters’ secret of oil painting and that he would sell them to local
government: once again, the myth of the Venetian Secret returns to make his
way. This time, however Merrifield does not repeat West’s mistakes. She claims
to have visited the archives of the Academy (of which Edwards had been President),
had examined his papers and have come to the firm conviction that the Venetian
Secret, the Holy Grail of all the artists of the English first mid-nineteenth
century, never existed, it had never been sold and had never been purchased. A
short answer, which put an end to a case lasting at least fifty years.
NOTES
[1] This
article is written using as sources: John Gage, Magilphs and Mysteries (1964), reprinted in Issues in the Conservation of Paintings, edited by David Bomford
and Mark Leonard, Los Angeles, Getty Conservation Institute, 2005; Claire
Barliant, He Who Laughs Last, available online, but originally published in the
December 2008 / January 2009 issue of the magazine Modern Painters and finally the
notes to be consulted on the Internet on the exhibition Benjamin West and theVenetian Secret, organized by the Yale Center for British Art (18
September 2008-4 January 2009). But in reality all this would have been unknown
to me, if I had not read a very useful, tiny note by Linda Borean (n. 32 p.
110) in her Venice and England. Artists,
collectors and art market. 1750-1800 in Art
collecting in Venice. The eighteenth century, edited by Linda Borean and
Stephanie Mason, Venice, Marsilio, 2009.
[2] See in
this blog review to Angelo Maria Monaco, The "French" Giacomo Barri and his Picturesque journey to Italy, Florence, Edifir, 2014






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