REMEMBERING: Fabergé's exquisite eggs go on display at V&A

FABERGÉ

 

Russian Fabergé exhibition contains 'at least 20 fakes', expert says

 

Andre Ruzhnikov accuses director Mikhail Piotrovsky of ‘destroying the authority of the museum’

 

Lanre Bakare Arts and culture correspondent

@lanre_bakare

Mon 1 Feb 2021 17.11 GMT

https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2021/feb/01/russian-faberge-exhibition-contains-fakes-expert-says

 

A Russian museum has been asked to close a Fabergé exhibition that contains items loaned from the personal collection of a billionaire, after a prominent expert said it contained more than a dozen fakes.

 

In a letter, the art dealer Andre Ruzhnikov accused the Hermitage Museum’s director, Mikhail Piotrovsky, of “destroying the authority of the museum” by hosting the Fabergé: Jeweller to the Imperial Court show, which runs until 14 March.

 

Ruzhnikov told the Guardian that the exhibition included at least 20 fakes, and that he thought the exhibition, which is the first big Fabergé event at the St Petersburg institution since 1993, should close immediately. He said: “I want the shame to end. I want this show to be closed and forgotten, and that’s it. You cannot subject the Hermitage to such shame.”

 

The Hermitage and Alexander Ivanov have denied the claims and the billionaire produced documents that support the authenticity of the items that were loaned from the Fabergé Museum in Baden-Baden, which he established in 2009.

 

Piotrovsky and the Hermitage did not respond to a request for comment.

 

Earlier Piotrovsky directed press to the show’s catalogue preface, which says: “The authenticity of each fresh item that appears on the market can always be challenged and disputed … the consensus of the expert community is not easy to obtain and is often lacking.”

 

One of the items at the centre of the Hermitage dispute is the Wedding Anniversary Egg that was purportedly gifted by Tsar Nicholas II to Empress Alexandra on their 10th wedding anniversary in 1904.

 

Last year a Fabergé researcher, DeeAnn Hoff, raised discrepancies with the item, including the claim that some of the portraits on the egg were based on recently colourised photographs taken after 1904.

 

Hoff also said the portrait of the Tsar seemed to come from an outdated photograph from 1894 that pictured him with four rather than five medals that he wore on his uniform from 1896 onwards.

 

Russian interest in Peter Carl Fabergé, the St Petersburg-based jeweller whose workshop officially supplied the Russian imperial court from 1885 until the revolution in 1917, has boomed in recent years, fuelled partly by patriotism with about 80% of buyers in the market estimated to be Russian speakers.

 

As interest has risen, Ivanov has become a leading intermediary – connecting collectors with Fabergé items. “There’s always a queue of people who want to buy things for me,” he told the Independent in 2010. “If I’ve bought it, people know it’s worth something.”

 

Ivanov rose to prominence in Europe after making several high-profile Fabergé acquisitions, including the £9m purchase of an egg that once belonged to the Rothschild banking dynasty and was the subject to a dispute over a missing VAT payment.

 

Ivanov served in the Soviet navy before starting business ventures including selling Amstrad computers at significant markups to Soviet factories. He has become one of Russia’s most prominent Fabergé buyers alongside the oil billionaire Viktor Vekselberg, who opened a rival Fabergé museum.

 

Peter Carl Fabergé, also known as Karl Gustavovich Fabergé (Russian: Карл Гу́ставович Фаберже́, Karl Gustavovich Faberzhe; 30 May 1846 – 24 September 1920), was a Russian jeweller best known for the famous Fabergé eggs made in the style of genuine Easter eggs, but using precious metals and gemstones rather than more mundane materials. He was one of the sons of the founder of the famous jewelry legacy House of Fabergé.

 

Faberge was born in Saint Petersburg, Russia, to the Baltic German jeweller Gustav Fabergé and his Danish wife Charlotte Jungstedt. Gustav Fabergé's paternal ancestors were Huguenots, originally from La Bouteille, Picardy, who fled from France after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, first to Germany near Berlin, then in 1800 to the Pernau (today Pärnu)[2] Baltic province of Livonia, then part of Russia, now Estonia.

 

Until he was 14 years old he went to the German St Anne School in Saint Petersburg, Russia.[citation needed] In 1860 his father retired from his jewelry business and moved with his family to Germany. He left the House of Fabergé in Saint Petersburg in the hands of his business partner. Carl Fabergé undertook a course at the Dresden Arts and Crafts School. In 1862 Agathon Fabergé, the Fabergés' second son, was born in Dresden, Germany, where he went to school as well.

 

In 1864, Peter Carl Fabergé embarked upon a Grand Tour of Europe. He received tuition from respected goldsmiths in Germany, France and England, attended a course at Schloss's Commercial College in Paris, and viewed the objects in the galleries of Europe's leading museums.

 

His travel and study continued until 1872, when at the age of 26 he returned to St. Petersburg and married Augusta Julia Jacobs. 1874 saw the arrival of his first child, Eugene Fabergé and two years later, Agathon Fabergé was born; Alexander Fabergé and Nicholas Fabergé followed in 1877 and 1884 respectively. For the following 10 years, his father's trusted workmaster Hiskias Pendin acted as his mentor and tutor. The company was also involved with cataloguing, repairing, and restoring objects in the Hermitage during the 1870s. In 1881 the business moved to larger street-level premises at 16/18 Bolshaya Morskaya.

 

Upon the death of Hiskias Pendin in 1882, Carl Fabergé took sole responsibility for running the company. Carl was awarded the title Master Goldsmith, which permitted him to use his own hallmark in addition to that of the firm. In 1885 his brother Agathon Fabergé joined the firm and became Carl Faberge's main assistant in the designing of jewelry.

 

Carl and Agathon Fabergé Sr. were a sensation at the Pan-Russian Exhibition held in Moscow in 1882. Carl was awarded a gold medal and the St. Stanisias Medal. One of the Fabergé pieces displayed was a replica of a 4th-century BC gold bangle from the Scythian Treasure in the Hermitage. The Tsar, Alexander III, "Emperor and Autocrat of all the Russians", declared that he could not distinguish the Fabergé's work from the original and ordered that objects by the House of Fabergé should be displayed in the Hermitage as examples of superb contemporary Russian craftsmanship. The House of Fabergé with its range of jewels was now within the focus of Russia's Imperial Court.

 

When Peter Carl took over the House, there was a move from producing jewellery in the then-fashionable French 18th century style to becoming artist-jewellers. Fabergé's production of the very first so-called Fabergé egg, the Hen Egg, given as a gift from the Tsar to his wife Maria Fyodorovna on Orthodox Easter (24 March) of 1885 so delighted her that on 1 May the Emperor assigned Fabergé the title Goldsmith by special appointment to the Imperial Crown of that year. This meant that Fabergé now had full personal access to the important Hermitage Collection, where he was able to study and find inspiration for developing his unique personal style. Influenced by the jewelled bouquets created by the eighteenth century goldsmiths Jean-Jacques Duval and Jérémie Pauzié, Fabergé re-worked their ideas combining them with his accurate observations and his fascination for Japanese art.[citation needed] This resulted in a revival of the lost art of enameling and a focus on the setting of every single gemstone in a piece to its best visual advantage. Indeed, it was not unusual for Agathon to make ten or more wax models so that all possibilities could be exhausted before deciding on a final design. Shortly after Agathon joined the firm, the House introduced objects deluxe: gold bejewelled items embellished with enamel ranging from electric bell pushes to cigarette cases and including objects de fantaisie.

 

In light of the Empress' response to receiving one of Fabergé's eggs on Easter, the Tsar soon commissioned the company to make an Easter egg as a gift for her every year thereafter. The Tsar placed an order for another egg the following year. Beginning in 1887, the Tsar apparently gave Carl Fabergé complete freedom with regard to egg designs, which then became more and more elaborate. According to Fabergé Family tradition, not even the Tsar knew what form they would take— the only stipulation was that each one should be unique and each should contain a surprise. Upon the death of Alexander III, his son, the next Tsar, Nicholas II, followed this tradition and expanded it by requesting that there be two eggs each year, one for his mother (who was eventually given a total of 30 such eggs) and one for his wife, Alexandra (who received another 20). These Easter gift eggs are today distinguished from the other jeweled eggs Fabergé ended up producing by their designation as "Imperial Easter eggs" or "Tsar Imperial Easter eggs". The tradition continued until the October Revolution when the entire Romanov dynasty was executed and the eggs and many other treasures were confiscated by the interim government. The two final eggs were never delivered nor paid for.

 

Although today the House of Fabergé is famed for its Imperial Easter eggs, it made many more objects ranging from silver tableware to fine jewelry which were also of exceptional quality and beauty, and until its departure from Russia during the revolution, Fabergé's company became the largest jewelry business in the country. In addition to its Saint Petersburg headquarters, it had branches in Moscow, Odessa, Kiev and London. It produced some 150,000 to 200,000 objects from 1882 until 1917.

 

In 1900, Fabergé's work represented Russia at the 1900 World's Fair in Paris. As Carl Fabergé was a member of the jury, the House of Fabergé exhibited hors concours (without competing). Nevertheless, the House was awarded a gold medal and the city's jewelers recognized Carl Fabergé as a maître. Additionally, France recognized Carl Fabergé with one of the most prestigious of French awards, appointing him a knight of the Legion of Honour. Two of Carl's sons and his head workmaster were also honored. Commercially, the exposition was a great success and the firm acquired a great many orders and clients.

 

Stock, Russian Revolution and nationalisation

In 1916, the House of Fabergé became a joint-stock company with a capital of 3-million rubles.

 

The following year upon the outbreak of the October Revolution, the business was taken over by a 'Committee of the Employees of the Company K Fabergé. In 1918 The House of Fabergé was seized by the Bolsheviks. In early October the stock was confiscated. The House of Fabergé was no more.

 

After the nationalisation of the business, Carl Fabergé left St. Petersburg on the last diplomatic train for Riga. In mid-November, the Revolution having reached Latvia, he fled to Germany and first settled in Bad Homburg and then in Wiesbaden. Eugène, the Fabergés' eldest, travelled with his mother in darkness by sleigh and on foot through snow-covered woods and reached Finland in December 1918. During June 1920, Eugène reached Wiesbaden and accompanied his father to Switzerland where other members of the family had taken refuge at the Bellevue Hotel in Pully, near Lausanne.

 

Peter Carl Fabergé never recovered from the shock of the Russian Revolution. He died in Switzerland on September 24, 1920. His family believed he died of a broken heart. His wife, Augusta, died in 1925. The two were reunited in 1929 when Eugène Fabergé took his father's ashes from Lausanne and buried them in his mother's grave at the Cimetière du Grand Jas in Cannes, France.

 

Fabergé had five sons, four of whom lived to adulthood: Eugène (1874–1960), Agathon (1876–1951), Alexander (1877–1952), Nikolai (1881-1883), and Nicholas (1884–1939). Descendants of Peter Carl Fabergé live in mainland Europe, Scandinavia and South America.

 

Henry Bainbridge, a manager of the London branch of the House of Fabergé, recorded recollections of his meetings with his employer in both his autobiography and the book he wrote about Fabergé.The autobiography also given an insight into the man from the recollections of François Birbaum, Fabergé's senior master craftsman from 1893 until the House's demise.

 

A Fabergé egg (Russian: Яйца Фаберже́, yaytsa faberzhe) is a jewelled egg created by the jewellery firm House of Fabergé, in Saint Petersburg, Russian Empire. Possibly as many as 69 were created, of which 57 survive today. Virtually all were manufactured under the supervision of Peter Carl Fabergé between 1885 and 1917,[citation needed] the most famous being the 52 "Imperial" eggs, 46 of which survive, made for the Russian Tsars Alexander III and Nicholas II as Easter gifts for their wives and mothers.

 

Prior to 1885, Tsar Alexander III gave his wife Empress Maria Feodorovna jeweled Easter eggs. For Easter in 1883, before his coronation, Alexander III and Feodorovna received eggs, one of which contained a silver dagger and two skulls. The egg came with messages including "Christ is risen" and "You may crush us–but we Nihilists shall rise again!" Before Easter 1885, Alexander III's brother Grand Duke Vladimir Alexandrovich suggested Peter Carl Fabergé to create the jeweled egg. The inspiration for the egg is believed to come from an ivory hen egg made for the Danish Royal Collection in the 18th century. Known as the Hen Egg, it has a 2.5 inch outer enamel shell and a golden band around the middle.The egg opens to reveal a golden "yolk" within, which then opened to revealed a golden hen sitting on golden straw. Inside the hen lay a miniature diamond replica of the Imperial crown and a ruby pendant, though these two elements have been lost. It was given to the tsarina on 1 May 1885. The creation's cost was then 4,151 rubles. Just six weeks later, the tsar made Fabergé the supplier to the Imperial Court.

 

Maria was so delighted by the gift that Alexander appointed Fabergé a "goldsmith by special appointment to the Imperial Crown" and commissioned another egg the next year. After that, Peter Carl Fabergé was apparently given complete freedom for the design of future imperial Easter eggs, and their designs became more elaborate. According to Fabergé family lore, not even the Tsar knew what form they would take—the only requirements were that each contain a surprise, and that each be unique. Once Fabergé had approved an initial design, the work was carried out by a team of craftsmen, among them Michael Perkhin, Henrik Wigström and Erik August Kollin.

 

After Alexander III's death on 1 November 1894, his son, Nicholas II, presented a Fabergé egg to both his wife, Alexandra Fedorovna, and his mother, the Dowager Empress Maria Fedorovna. Records have shown that of the 50 imperial Easter eggs, 20 were given to the former and 30 to the latter. Eggs were made each year except 1904 and 1905, during the Russo-Japanese War.

 

The imperial eggs enjoyed great fame, and Fabergé was commissioned to make similar eggs for a few private clients, including the Duchess of Marlborough, the Rothschild family and the Yusupovs. Fabergé was also commissioned to make twelve eggs for the industrialist Alexander Kelch, though only seven appear to have been completed.

 

Following the revolution and the nationalization of the Fabergé workshop in St. Petersburg by the bolsheviks in 1918, the Fabergé family left Russia. The Fabergé trademark has since been sold several times and several companies have retailed egg-related merchandise using the Fabergé name. The Victor Mayer jewelry company produced limited edition heirloom quality Fabergé eggs authorized under Unilever's license from 1998 to 2009. The trademark is now owned by Fabergé Limited, which makes egg-themed jewelry.

 

Restoring Mrs. Frick's Boudoir / The Frick Collection

The Frick Collection became a public institution when Henry Clay Frick bequeathed his art collection, as well as his Upper East Side residence at 1 East 70th Street, to the public for the enjoyment of future generations.

 

Frick started his substantial collection as soon as he began amassing his fortune. A considerable portion of his art collection is located in his former residence “Clayton” in Pittsburgh, which is today a part of the Frick Art & Historical Center. Another part was given by his daughter and heiress Helen to the Frick Fine Arts Building, which is on the campus of the University of Pittsburgh.

 

The family did not permanently move from Pittsburgh to New York until 1905. Henry Frick initially leased the William H. Vanderbilt House at 640 Fifth Avenue, to which he moved a substantial portion of his collection. He had his permanent residence built between 1912 and 1914 by Thomas Hastings of Carrère and Hastings. He stayed in the house until his death in 1919. He willed the house and all of its contents, including the works of art, furniture, and decorative objects, as a public museum. His widow Adelaide Howard Childs Frick, however, retained the right of residence and continued living in the mansion with her daughter Helen. After Adelaide Frick died in 1931, the conversion of the house into a public museum started.

 

John Russell Pope altered and enlarged the building in the early 1930s to adapt it to use as a public institution. It opened to the public on December 16, 1935. Various additions to the architecture and landscape architecture of the museum site have been considered over the years including the placement of a prominent magnolia garden from the 1930s. As stated by the museum announcements: "As a result of a decision of the Board of Trustees in 1939, three magnolias were selected for the Fifth Avenue garden. The two trees on the lower tier are Saucer Magnolias (Magnolia soulangeana) and the species on the upper tier by the flagpole is a Star Magnolia (Magnolia stellata)."

 

Expansion and controversy

Additional expansions of the museum took place in 1977 and in 2011. In 2014, the museum announced further expansion plans, but came up against community opposition because it would result in the loss of a garden designed by noted British landscape architect Russell Page. Landscape preservation advocate Charles A. Birnbaum of The Cultural Landscape Foundation garnered widespread attention when he and others disproved statements that the garden had been intended as only a temporary installation. The garden was saved when Birnbaum produced a contradictory original document issued by the Frick clearly identifying the space as a permanent garden. The Frick ultimately dropped those plans and is said to be considering other options.

 

In March 2021, the Collection temporarily relocated to Frick Madison, at the Marcel Breuer-designed building at 945 Madison Avenue, during the renovation of the Henry Clay Frick House.

 

Collection

The Frick is one of the preeminent small art museums in the United States, with a high-quality collection of old master paintings and fine furniture housed in nineteen galleries of varying size within the former residence. Frick had intended the mansion to become a museum eventually, and a few of the paintings are still arranged according to Frick's design. Besides its permanent collection, the Frick has always organized small, focused temporary exhibitions.

 

The collection features some of the best-known paintings by major European artists as well as numerous works of sculpture and porcelain. It also has 18th-century French furniture, Limoges enamel, and Oriental rugs. After Frick's death, his daughter, Helen Clay Frick, and the Board of Trustees expanded the collection: nearly half of the collection's artworks have been acquired since 1919. Although the museum cannot lend the works of art that belonged to Frick, as stipulated in his will, The Frick Collection does lend artworks and objects acquired since his death.

 

Included in the collection are Jean-Honoré Fragonard's masterpiece The Progress of Love, three paintings by Johannes Vermeer including Mistress and Maid, two paintings by Jacob van Ruisdael including Quay at Amsterdam, and Piero della Francesca's St. John the Evangelist.

JEEVES INTERIORS ...

In this 'post' I provide some images of my interiors.

They were raised in a slow and long process of searching and trouvailles in flea markets or simply of things found on the street, at a time when sloppy nephews left in the trash the contents of recently disappeared aunts and grandmothers.

The continuity of the neoclassical theme dates from the period of my University studies in Art History, History of Architecture and Archaeology.

I leave you with quotes from the first two 'post' of Tweedland  below and with the revisit of the house of Mario Praz and his obsession with the Empire Style.

 

My first post in Tweedland consisted of only one title: "A King may make a Nobleman but he cannot make a gentleman" (Edmund Burke) WEDNESDAY, 26 NOVEMBER 2008

And in the second published in the same day, i said in Portuguese ( now quickly translated for you by GOOGLE) :

“The condition of "Gentle man" does not constitute a statute but a "state of soul".

In this sense, in a search that has as its initial premise "the being", the priority is given to "becoming" and not to "having".

In this process the civilizational attributes for which the gentleman longs and seeks a "way of being", are the reflection literally of "longing" of a lost archetypal place, to which it is necessary to "return", through the creation of a parallel and symbolic world, a true metaphor and micro-personal universe of quality, where he can "dwell".

The true moral, ethical and aesthetic posture for which the "Gentleman" naturally yearns and for which he tends, is that of the "Aristos", as defined by the Greeks .... the excellence of soul, the rigor of a code of conduct, fidelity to the vote, the persistence in faith.”

JEEVES/ António Sérgio Rosa de Carvalho / Architectural Historian

 

'EMPIRE' ! 'EMPIRE' ! .... MARIO PRAZ "House of Life "

In 1934 he went to live at the Ricci Palace, in the via Giulia. Then, that particular meander of baroque Rome lived tranquilly in a city of provinces. And the book, with a title as suggestive as The House of Life, tells the story of how that gloomy Roman palace, aged but noble, became filled with beautiful things, objects of the past found in European antiques markets. Empire-style furniture and small artefacts that the history of art with a capital 'A' considered simply to be 'art mineur' or at the very most decorative art. And there he spent his days in that over-refined setting, surrounded by trinkets, a little bit beyond life itself, like the reflected images of the Empire-style mirrors which decorated his house, and which the writer loved so much. They are, said Praz talking of the mirrors, like the glass of an aquarium which separates our own state from another, populated by silent creatures. Happy in his shipwreck - melancholy is the joy of being sad, said Victor Hugo - his life was blighted by the thought that true happiness was to be found elsewhere, in places never visited or seen, and for which he felt a profound nostalgia. The House of Life was a finalist for the 1958 Strega Prize, awarded to the prince of Lampedusa for The Leopard - a novel which was also made into a film by Luchino Visconti, with Burt Lancaster playing the part of a ruined aristocrat who the old professor in Gruppo di famigita in un inferno would later remind us of. This coincidence in the same literary event signified the meeting of two voices which belonged to the time of reflection during the postwar period, the moral landscape of Europe having changed, where writing seemed to be the only way to immortalize the old ways. The Majorcan writer Llorenç Villalonga, soul brother to the Sicilian Prince, was also have been tuned in to that time. Remember that what The Leopard and Beam, two books published simultaneously, have in common is the aristocratic decadence of two Mediterranean islands. To read any of these three authors is to return to a serene, balanced style of writing, that is to say neoclassical, which exudes clear nostalgia for the past, a lack of faith in the present, and curiosity for the future. It could be said that they lived convinced that the only paradise was paradise lost.

DANIEL CID MORAGAS



Mario Praz Memorial House
Museo Mario Praz
Palazzo Primoli
Via Zanardelli, 1

This museum stores over 1,200 objects dating from the late 18th and mid 19th centuries that were owned by the collector Mario Praz, as described in his book La Casa della Vita ("The House of Life").
Open Tuesday through Sunday 9am-1pm and 2:30-6:30pm
Guided tours every hour
Closed on Mondays

On the top floor of the Palazzo Primoli—the same building (separate entrance) that houses the Museo Napoleonico—is one of Rome's most unusual museums. As if in amber, the apartment in which the famous Italian essayist Mario Praz lived is preserved intact, decorated with a lifetime's accumulation of delightful baroque and Neoclassical art and antiques arranged and rearranged to create symmetries that take the visitor by surprise like the best trompe d'oeil. As author of The Romantic Sensibility and A History of Interior Decoration, Praz was fabled for his taste for the arcane and the bizarre; here his reputation for the same lives on. The apartment, prettily done up in Empire style, can only be seen on group tours. (fodor's)

THE HOUSE OF LIFE. By Mario Praz.

 

On Exhibition; THE HOUSE OF LIFE. By Mario Praz. Translated from the ltalian, “La Casa della Vita,” by Angus David­son. Illustrated. 360 pp. New York: Oxford University Press. $10.

 

Nov. 8, 1964

https://www.nytimes.com/1964/11/08/archives/on-exhibition-the-house-of-life-by-mario-praz-translated-from-the.html

 

Credit...The New York Times Archives

See the article in its original context from

 

This is a digitized version of an article from The Times’s print archive, before the start of online publication in 1996. To preserve these articles as they originally appeared, The Times does not alter, edit or update them.

.

“I AM going to build a little I Gothic castle at Strawberry Hill. If you can pick me up any fragments of old painted glass, arms or anything, I shall be excessively obliged.” Many years ago I read those lines in a volume of Horace Walpole's letters. From then on, night after night, I built and furnished Strawberry Hill with him, till the fatal day when the explosion of a gunpowder deposit blew down its sham battlements and shattered its stained‐glass windows. It provided me with one of the greatest pleasures to be found in English literature. I never hoped to repeat the experience. In the first of these books, “The House of Life,” Mario Praz has given me that pleasure all over again, and more besides.

 

The house of the title is an apartment in the Palazzo Ricci, in Rome. The book tells how the author furnished it over the years with a vast number of pieces of furniture, pictures and knick‐knacks belonging to the period known to collectors as Empire, largely in the neoclawcal style. Many of the pieces he collected have a high artistic value: some are so‐so; and some have no value at all except in the eyes of Mario Praz, for like all great collectors, including Walpole, Praz has a weakness for the occasional piece of junk.

 

Part of this remarkable book, then, is the description of the joys, the agonies, and the downright pottiness of a devoted collector. It is brilliantly done. Praz tells how he operates, but never makes the mistake of saying why. A collector's mania can never be explained. It must remain a mystery, as William Ewart Gladstone knew. In the millions of words that fell from his lips in his lifetime, Mr. Gladstone never once explained why he went out into the streets at night and collected London prostitutes.

 

He used to put them in a Home, and we may suppose he was happy that they were off the streets and safe under a roof, just as Mario Praz is probably happy when a sofa is safe out of the hands of some vandal of an antique dealer and in the Palazzo Ricci. However, Gladstone did not say so, and neither does Praz. We collect with him as we read, we thoroughly enjoy doing it and we do not know why.

 

THE description of his collection is only the frame for a series of portraits in words of the people he has met in the course of his life. If, as he says, some of his Empire pieces are “unfortunately defective” ” these human portraits are of a dazzling perfection; good enough, one might almost say, to be put up at Sotheby's.

 

The major figures in this part of the book are the women with whom he fell in love. Mario Praz has a soft spot in his heart for a flawed antique, but for the defects of his mistresses (if they ever became that) he has a practised eye and a prose style as sharp and smooth as a chisel. The best of these portraits is that of Doris, a married woman in Liverpool (Much of the book deals with the author's long stay in England).

 

As Praz's English friends said, Doris was a silly women. He insisted that she had great intelligence. Doris, unfortunately, entirely agreed with his English friends. She clearly liked her Italian lover, up to a point. She was happy when he called her beautiful but with Liverpudlian commonsense, she drew the line when he called her brainy. Finaliy, exhausted by the mental effort, she broke off the relationship.

 

Only one person, in a whole gallery of portraits, is vaguely drawn. This is the woman who became his wife. The marriage broke up. He says very little about the lady, but she seems to have been of an obliging disposition. He does not tell us of the final cause of the rupture, but to judge from the photographs in the book, it is possible that she courteously moved out to provide more room for her husband's rapidly ex panding collection of objets d'art.

 

The break‐up provides Praz with one of his finest passages of exquisite irony. His wife is sitting opposite him in the apartment, embroidering. “Perhaps,” says Praz, I abdicated my position as a man for the first time on that fatal day, when, not satisfied with the way in which my wife had worked a rose, I took it upon myself to instruct her. As I managed to make a rose less like a cabbage than hers had been, I grew proud. . . I betrayed something feminine in myself, such as exists in anyone who has a feeling for the arts. But this discovery of my skill was like the discovery of the lure of a vicious inclina tion. I in the blindness of my understanding, whetted my sight upon the bewitching wools” — and he worked a sofa cover. In the picture it looks very well done, but it cost him his wife. She took the hint and ultimately left him.

 

That, then, is a sample of Praz on himself. He is as good, and even better, in a hundred other little scenes: a Pre‐Raphaelite gathering in England, witih William Morris's daughter, wearing amber beads, an eyeglass, and an almost white moustache; a meeting with John Masefield, “dressed like a porter on Sunday .. with a lock of hair falling down his forehead as if he had just come out of the water,” a meeting in which Masefield's wife did all the talking; some haunting glimpses of Rome during the war, and a lyrical journey down the River Thames. Slowly, as one turns the pages of this beautifully produced book, one realizes that it is not a description of a house or an autobiography, but something much more. It is a masterly example of that most difficult of all things to write, the long essay.

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